Hitler's Secretary

The Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction with content suitable only for adults (and stable ones at that). If you are prohibited from reading such material by the laws or standards of your community please depart immediately. Likewise, if you can't tell the difference between reality and fantasy kindly leave and seek professional help.

Historical note: Hitler's actual youngest secretary was Gertraud "Traudl" Junge. She survived the Battle of Berlin to be a primary source on life in Hitler's inner circle. Other than contributing a name she has no connection with this story, which ir purely fictional.

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Hitler's Secretary

by

von Hentzau

Part I

It was a warm, muggy early August afternoon when the dozen accused were led into the Berlin courtroom. To say they were accused was not entirely accurate. They were among the thousands who had been rounded up in the aftermath of the July 20 ^th plot against Hitler. Family, relatives, friends, even some who had barely been acquainted with the conspirators had been seized by the Gestapo. To merely have been seen saying "Guten morgen" in passing on the street was sufficient evidence of complicity to make one an "accused". And in this court, the court presided over by Dr. Roland Freisler, State Secretary of the Reich Justice Ministry, an accusation was no different than a conviction.

The soon-to-be-condemned were lined up and forced to endure a twenty minute harangue. The Reich prosecutors made a desultory show of presenting evidence, evidence which was accepted without examination. There were no defense counsels. One elderly man, dressed in ill fitting clothes and holding up his trousers with one hand because he had not been allowed a belt or suspenders, tried to speak in his own behalf. He was shouted down by Dr. Freisler, who then launched into another tirade. No one else attempted to defend themselves.

At the end of the row of row of prisoners stood Gertraud Haber, known as Traudl, looking disconsolate in her drab, rumpled gray prison issue dress. She felt doubly humiliated by the clothing she'd been forced to wear. She had not been allowed underwear and though just twenty she was quite shapely and very well endowed. She knew every male eye, and many of the female eyes, had been fixed on her bobbling chest as she walked into the courtroom.

But then she'd learned new definitions of humiliation since she'd been arrested a week ago. She'd been stripped and searched in full view of male Gestapo agents. Then she'd been tied to a chair and questioned for hours, all the while stark naked. They hadn't beaten her, since they knew she would have to go to court to be sentenced and the bruises wouldn't look good. Instead she'd been spreadeagled, still naked, on the bare metal springs of an army cot. Electrodes had been placed on her breasts. More electrodes had been inserted in her vagina and rectum. They asked for names. She tried to tell them she didn't know any. She tried to tell them she wasn't involved in the plot. And they shocked her and asked again. Hour after hour it went on until finally she screamed out names. She didn't know whose name she screamed out, or even if they were real names at all. All she knew was that they finally stopped hurting her and she was thrown in a cell, given a filthy rag of a dress to cover herself and left there until today, when she'd been pulled out of the cell and added to a line of prisoners being loaded onto a closed van for the trip to the courtroom.

Eventually Freisler had run out of invectives to throw at them. A clerk began reading off the names of the accused. After each Freisler intoned, first, "Guilty!" and then "sentence, death." After eleven sentences the clerk reached the end of the row.

"Haber, Gertraud," he read off.

"Guilty," said Herr Doctor Freisler. "Sentence, death. And given the peculiar circumstances of Fraulein Haber's case, where one who has been so trusted, so welcomed into the Fuhrer's inner circle and still has turned against our beloved Fuhrer, I feel more than justified in ordering death, with special treatment."

There was a rumble of whispering among the audience. The death sentence was what they had expected. Many had come today simply because Gertraud Haber was on trial. Little Traudl. Formerly Adolf Hitler's youngest, and many said most beautiful secretary, stood accused of complicity in the Stauffenberg Conspiracy. And now she stood condemned to death, with special treatment. The audience buzzed with speculation of what that meant.

The condemned were marched out of the courtroom, flanked by a dozen SS guards, and loaded back onto the closed van. It was but a ten minute trip across Berlin to the prison where the executions would be carried out. No one spoke. They all knew there would be no appeals. The executions would be carried out within hours. The only hope was that it would be by a quick bullet. Rumors had already circulated about the slow, agonizing deaths meted out to some of the captured ringleaders.

The van pulled into the prison yard. Guards helped each manacled prisoner down. They were lined up beside the van, Traudl at the end of the line again. A sergeant went down the line checking off names. When he got to Traudl he motioned to two of the waiting guards who stepped forward. He handed one a folded piece of paper, then he ordered the rest of the prisoners to left face and they were marched off.

Traudl's guards turned her the opposite way. They marched her towards a fenced off building. A guard at the gate opened it for them, then immediately closed it behind them. They entered the building, passing through the doors into a large caged area. A sign over the wire mesh door read "Special Section, Female". Two husky looking woman guards, one seated behind a desk, the other standing, waited there. A third, an officer by her uniform, was striding quickly down the hallway.

One of Traudl's guards passed the folded paper through a slot in the wire mesh partition. The woman at the desk picked it up, glanced at it quickly, then passed it to the officer who had just arrived. She also looked at it quickly, then motioned for the door to be opened.

"Excellent," she said to her underlings. "One of those filthy traitors, here for execution."

Traudl was passed through the door. The standing guard took her by the arm and without any further ceremony she was escorted down a long hallway, the officer leading the way. They passed a series of metal doors, each identified only by a number.

Near the end of the hallway they turned right and entered through a metal door into a drab yellow room. Traudl's heart almost stopped when she saw what the main, and except for several chairs, the only furnishing of the room was. Slightly off center, standing in a shallow depression in the concrete floor, was the German version of a Guillotine. Unlike the French version, which relied on weight and gravity to bring the blade down, this improved German model was powered by two beefy springs. As they entered a stocky man in prison guard uniform was raising the blade against the power of the springs, pumping on a long lever, like a jack handle.

A curious thing Traudl noticed about the Guillotine. The table portion had an oval opening towards the top, while a wide slit went from the far end to almost the middle. She wondered what purpose the openings served.

The man who was preparing the blade looked up as they a walked to one side of the execution machine. Traudl was struck by his small, expressionless pig-like eyes, set in a broad, bland pig-like face. Seemingly disinterested he went back to raising the blade. It was nearly to its highest position and it took placing all the weight he had against the lever to raise it the last few centimeters. He then set a trigger device, removed the lever and took up a position at the back of the room. There was another door there. Traudl wondered if that was the door they removed the bodies through.

"Strip her," the woman officer said.

Traudl's manacles were removed. The woman officer moved in front of her, glaring, as if to warn her of any attempt to resist. She was a large woman. Not fat. Just taller than average and strongly built. Traudl guessed that she could give many average men a stiff fight if it came to that.

The other woman stepped to one side and began undoing the row of buttons down the front of Traudl's dress. Then she pulled it back, dragging Traudl's arms behind her as she did. Not having been allowed underwear, Traudl was now standing naked and exposed. She glanced over at the pig-faced man. If he was paying any attention to the naked, buxom 20 year old woman he didn't show it. She wondered if he was the one who would trip the lever that sliced her head off. How many women had he seen naked, just before he took their heads off?

Expecting to be led to the Guillotine Traudl was surprised when instead she was forced to sit in one of the heavy, straight backed wooden chairs. Her wrists were tied with straps mounted where the back of the chair met the seat. The officer and the guard took up positions to either side of her.

Then they waited. Several times the door opened. Each time Traudl's heart missed a beat, thinking this was the person or persons they were waiting for to carry out her execution. But each time one or two people entered, men and women, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes. They took up positions either to the side of the device or against the far wall of the room.

"How much of an audience do they need for my execution?" Traudl thought nervously.

Then the door opened and two guards entered, escorting a woman. They stopped near the end of the Guillotine's table. The woman wore a rumpled gray prison dress, like Traudl had been wearing. Her wrists were manacled in front of her. She was barefoot and her head had been shaven. She showed signs of having been beaten, a swollen lip and a black eye. She looked to be early middle aged, perhaps mid-thirties. She had been attractive, before she'd been beaten.

One of the guards undid the prison dress. When it fell open Traudl was surprised to see that the woman pubis had been shaved as well. Not only was it shorn of hair, but her mons, belly and upper thighs were red, as if they'd been subjected to abuse. The guard undid her manacles and then removed the dress completely. As it came off Traudl saw that the entire front of the woman's body was criss-crossed with red whip marks. Her breasts, full and somewhat pendulous, appeared to have been cruelly battered.

No sooner had the dress come off than the woman's arms were pulled behind her back and doubled up, wrist to elbow. Leather straps fastened them in place.

Now one of the people who had entered the room earlier stepped forward. He was an older man, in civilian attire. He removed a piece of paper from his pocket, opened it up and started to read from it.

"Hanna von Sweringen," he read in precise, clipped Prussian accented German, "having been found guilt of treason against the Reich you have been sentenced to death. By the authority of the Reich Justice Ministry I hereby order that that sentence now be carried out."

He stepped back. The pig-faced man stepped forward. He was carrying something in one hand, though Traudl couldn't quite tell what it was. He stopped in front of the woman and got down heavily on one knee. One of the guards seized her arms as if concerned she might try to escape, though Traudl couldn't see how she could have any hope of that.

Traudl was surprised when the pig-faced man slipped two fingers into the woman's sex slit and began working them back and forth. What this had to do with execution she couldn't understand. The woman closed her eyes and turned her face away, flushing red with embarrassment as he seemed to concentrate more on her clitoris. Soon her crotch was glistening with her juices, unwillingly released.

Now he switched the device to his right hand and Traudl got a better look at it. The thing had a handle, like a flare gun, with a long lever for a trigger. For a barrel it had a shiny metal tube, 15 centimeters long and about 2 centimeters wide. A spring ran along the top of the tube, connected to a mechanism of some sort at the end.

The pig-faced man placed the end of the tube over the woman's clitoris and began pulling the trigger. There was a light sound of pumping and Traudl guessed that he was pumping air out of the cylinder, sucking the woman's clitoris and the flesh around it into the tube. For what purpose he did this she was afraid to think of. When the tormented woman started to moan the pig-faced man stopped pumping. He worked a small valve at the end of the tube, then detached the handle with a twist. The shiny silver tube was left hanging off her body at an angle like an obscene semi-erect phallus.

The two guards now walked the woman to the end of the Guillotine table. They helped her mount it, then helped her lay face down. Her head and neck extended past the end of the table. Straps were fastened across the small of her back, across her shoulders. Her legs were spread and strapped at thigh and ankle. Then the table was slid forward until her neck was under the blade and Traudl could no longer see her face. The high rim of the metal catch basket concealed the woman's head.

But beneath the table Traudl could see the woman's breasts dangling free through the opening. They swayed back and forth from the motion of the table sliding. Farther down the obscene metal tube bobbed slightly.

The pig-faced man went to stand next to the Guillotine, near the woman's rump. Without any commands he reached toward the edge of the table and pulled a small lever. A knife blade, almost too fast to see, emerged from under the table, whipped around horizontally and sliced off the woman's left breast. She screamed as the meaty globe fell to the concrete floor with a sickening squishy sound. Blood began to drip into the concrete depression beneath the table, running in a small stream to the drain in the center.

Traudl trembled at the thought that soon they would be doing the same to her. Did they do this to all their condemned prisoners, she wondered? Force them to watch another woman's execution, to torture them with the knowledge of the horrors about to be inflicted on them?

Pig-face had moved to the other side of the table now. He reached down. Traudl couldn't see the knife, but she saw the other breast drop and heard the woman scream again. Pig-face stepped back a couple paces. He reached between the woman's legs. Traudl saw his fingers wrap around the lower end of the metal cylinder. He seemed to hesitate for a moment though it might only have been to draw out the woman's torment longer.

There was metallic "snick", followed by the most horrific animal wailing sound Traudl had ever heard. The cylinder fell to the concrete floor, followed by a trickle of blood. Traudl knew what she had suspected but hadn't wanted to admit could be true. The device was used for severing a woman's clitoris. She cringed inwardly at the thought that any human could be so perverse, so sick as to conceive of such a torment.

There was only one last step in the execution sequence now. Traudl could hear the woman moaning lowly as Pig-face walked to the front of the Guillotine. He tripped a small lever and the blade snapped downward. The woman's sobs ended abruptly. The sound of her head striking the bottom of the metal basket seemed to echo in execution chamber.

Pale faced ands shaken Traudl stared at the floor while the witnesses filed out of the room. Pig-face unrolled a hose fastened to a spigot on the far wall and began running water into the depression beneath the Guillotine as the guard untied Traudl's wrists and helped her to her feet. She would have collapsed if the woman guard and a male guard who had remained after the execution didn't catch her.

"Come along, liebchen," the woman officer said. "Your time has not come yet. Though soon you may wish it had.."

To be continued..............

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