Le cadre historique :entre 1940 et 1950, France.

Apolline s'ennuyait, le mercredi, les cours étaient deux fois plus insupportable et il fallait redoubler les efforts afin de maintenir éveillé et de ne pas succomber à l'appel du sommeil.
Elle y assister cependant à ces cours, n'ayant guère d'autre choix, surtout si elle ne voulait pas subir les réactions plutôt atrabilaire de ses parents. Il y avait mieux que la philosophie, en terme de matière, mais elle y passait quand même du bon temps : les auteurs et autre philosophes avaient, pour dire, des concepts assez ridicule, voir malsain, qui pourrais prêter au rire.
Il faut dire que le professeur était, malgré lui, un sujet aux moqueries. Cependant, c’était plus des taquineries que des moqueries, sans une once de méchanceté derrière.

Le mercredi était aussi le jour où elle allait à l'église pour se confesser.
C'était assez bien étrange, car la plupart des personnes allaient se confesser le dimanche, mais pour une question de temps et d'ennui, elle préférerait le faire le mercredi. Munie de son vélo, elle fonça vers l’église, qui se situait à côté d’une forêt.
Aller à l’église était toujours intéressant. Bien sûr, Apolline avait d’autre centre d’intérêt. L’église se situait un peu à l’extérieur du village, ce qui fessait un peu de route pour Apolline, mais ça ne la dérangeait pas. Jamais.
Peu importe la météo ou l’heure, elle prendrait son vélo pour aller confesser. La confession n’était pas vraiment l’objectif premier d’Apolline. Quand elle va à l’église, c’était pour voir le prêtre : il était jeune encore, les cheveux claire et plat, toujours bien coiffés. Ses vêtements étaient toujours bien repassés... Il rayonnait de bienveillance et de gentillesse, on pouvait le lire dans ses yeux. En parlant de ses yeux, ils étaient la source de fascination d’Apolline, elle n’avait jamais vue des yeux aussi clairs de toute sa vie.
Il avait les yeux d’un Saint.

Étant arrivée à l’église et, après avoir attaché son vélo, elle entra dans le dite église et pris place sur les bancs des derniers rangs.
D’un coup d’œil, elle remarqua que la salle était assez vide, à l’exception de quelques vieilles femmes et fermiers seuls traînaient par-là, donnant au grand hall un aspect fermé, voir secret. Elle sortit, de son pull, son chapelet, qui était toujours autour de son cou, tenant la croix dans ces deux mains, qu’elle rapporta devant son menton, mimiquant le geste de prière.
Tout passer dans sa tête, sauf la formulation des prières.
Le rideau s’ouvrit soudainement et une assez veille femme y en sortie. Ses longs cheveux blancs flottaient derrière elle comme le voile d’une mariée. Ses mains étaient entrelacées devant elle. Elle se déplaçait en basculant vers l’avant et vers l’arrière à chaque pas. Cela ressemblait (très fortement) au mouvement de prière que les Juifs effectuer lors de leur liturgie.
Apolline serra sa mâchoire et baissa les yeux pour ne pas éclater de rire, ce n’était pas le genre d’attitude à avoir dans un lieux sacré, tel qu’une église. Après avoir attendu pendant quelques minutes (qui semblait être des heures pour Apolline) et que quelques personnes se sont confessés, la nef était complètement vide. Malgré les couleurs vives des vitraux, la salle restait froide.
Le regard de la statue de la vierge Marie lui paraissait comme suspicieux, voir critique, comme si elle savait en avance son projet. Cela contrastait avec la mine innocente de l’enfant Jésus des tableaux, son petit sourire en coin approuvait l’attention malicieuse d’Apolline.
Balayant son regard dans toute la nef, elle vérifia si une autre âme qu’elle était présente. Ne voyant personne, elle se levât, et marcha vers le confessionnal. Elle tira le rideau et pris place sur le prie-Dieu.

- Attendez, mon Père, ne partez pas, je vous en prie, je veux me confesser, annonça Apolline d’une voix calme.

Le prêtre répondit de prendre place et elle commença a se confesser. À vrai dire, elle ne se confesser pas vraiment, elle lui disait tout ce qui passait par la tête, un mélange de vérité, et de mensonge. Beaucoup de mensonges. Pendant que le prêtre parlait lui parlait du «Pardon Divin», elle releva sa jambe en mettant le pied sur le support des genoux, afin que ses jambes soient écartées. Elle releva sa jupe plissée et commença a se toucher à travers le tissu de sa culotte. La voix bienveillante et chaleureuse du prêtre lui fit monter en elle des désirs impurs, sales : elle voulait se faire tringler par lui, ce père divin et propre. Elle se demandait si il était vierge, ou si, plus jeune, il avait déjà goûté aux plaisir charnels... Elle demandait s’il avait déjà utilisé sa verge, s’il avait déjà fourré dans un vagin ou bien même un cul. S’il avait déjà vu son propre foutre...

Toutes ces questions l’excitait encore plus, elle ne pouvait plus se retenir.
Elle interrompit le prêtre dans son discours en toquant sur la petite fenêtre grillée, collant à presque son visage. Elle chuchota, sachant que le prêtre était tout près :

- Père ! Pardonnez-moi, mais j’ai des pensées impures !

Surpris, le prêtre lui demanda qu’elle s’explique, en toute innocence, espérant l’aider dans sa quête de rédemption.

- Père, presque tous les soir, je me touche. Je pense à Dieu et Jésus, à chaque fois que je fais ça.
Je suis en recherche de plaisir et de plaisance. Je suis excitée à chaque fois que je vous vois. Après la messe ou la confession, je rentre chez moi pour me toucher. Des fois, je prends mon crucifix pour le frotter contre mon vagin. Je vous imagine, me prendre et darder avec votre verge, violemment, brutalement.
J’imagine votre foutre dégoulinant... Je vous veux, mon Père !

L’autre côté restait silencieux.

- Mais je ne vous ai pas dit le plus horrible, mon Père. C’est que... je me touche en ce moment-même. En fait, je me touche depuis que j’ai commencé à vous parler. Apolline se retenait d’éclater de rire, le prêtre était sans doute rouge de gêne.
Pour faire encore plus, elle commença à gémir doucement, elle continuait de chuchoter le nom de Dieu en vain.
Cela dura un moment, Apolline commençait à trouver ça ennuyant, elle se leva et alla devant le compartiment central du confessionnal. Elle s’y pencha discrètement pour vérifier si le prêtre ne se toucher pas lui aussi, puis martela de trois grand coups la porte de l’armoire, en s’exclamant :

- Eh bien ! Prêtre, que faites-vous ?! Vous vous touchez, vous aussi ?

L’armoire restait silencieuse.

- Aucune réponse ? Alors, j’ouvre !

La porte du confessionnal s’ouvrit brutalement, d’un seul coup. Apolline vit le prêtre, tête baissée, ses mains tenant un chapelet, posées sur ses genoux. Apolline l’entendait murmurer des prières de pardon et comme quoi il était «dégoûtant». Elle était tentée de le moquer, mais se reteint.
Elle s’avança jusqu’à qu’elle soit tout près du prêtre, posa son pied sur le siège et releva sa jupe, d’une main. De l’autre, elle continua a se toucher. Le visage du pauvre homme était près, le niveau de son regard correspondait au niveau de la vulve d’Apolline. Son regard était cependant dirigé par terre, c’était comme si il se concentrait pour ne pas regarder. Apolline remarqua qu‘il était rouge (comme elle le pensée) et que son front était ruisselant de sueur.
- Regarder, prêtre, regarder l’effet que vous avez sur moi ! Mmh... ah, prêtre, regarder, comment je suis horriblement mouillée... ... Mais regarder !

Le prêtre lança un coup d’œil discret avant de rapidement regarder ailleurs. Il se décomposait devant Apolline et elle adorait ça.
Elle s’écarta et s’agenouilla, avant de relever sa soutane et d’en défaire quelques boutons. Elle déboutonna son pantalon. Un sourire apparut sur son visage, elle n’avait pas besoin d’enlever son caleçon pour voir qu’il bandait déjà. Le prêtre avait peut-être sa tête tournée sur le coté, mais son regard était pose sur Apolline. Elle releva sa tête, au même moment, le prêtre détourna son regard, pour ne pas rencontrer ses yeux.
Elle pouvait voir qu’il se mordait les lèvres, et que ses yeux était à présent fermés, ses joues maigres étaient teintées de rouge, quelques mèches blondes collaient à son front.

- Vous... vous devez me prendre pour– pour un hypocrite, un misérable..., dit-il d’une voix basse, presque comme un murmure.

Apolline était comme quoi surprise de l’entendre, pas qu’elle voulait qu’il reste silencieux.

- Non, pas vraiment, essaya de rassurer Apolline, Dites, vous êtes vraiment tendu, vous le savez ?

Le prêtre la regarda avec des yeux incrédules, sa bouche s’ouvrit mais se referma rapidement, comme pour ne pas dire de bêtise.

- Comment vous vous appelez, de toute façon ?

- James... James Théodorin-

- Oui, oui, je n’ai pas vraiment besoin de savoir toute votre vie, prêtre, coupa Apolline, d’un ton odieux.

Sur ces mots, elle sortit du caleçon la verge du prêtre. Elle était longue, dure et rose, ce qui accompagnait avec la peau plutôt pale de James. Du bout s’échappait du liquide pré-éjaculatoire. Apolline pris en main cette monstruosité et commença à effectuer des mouvements de haut en bas.
James pencha sa tête en arrière, laissant échapper des sifflements. Apolline arrêta ses gestes pour les remplacer par sa langue. Elle la passa partout : près de la base (ou son nez était chatouillé par ses poils blonds) du long jusqu’au gland rose, la seule partie ou elle mit entièrement dans la bouche.
La réaction du prêtre changea, de son silence, des gémissements venait de sa bouche.
Ses yeux n’étaient plus au ciel, mais regardaient directement Apolline, plus spécialement sa bouche. Des bruits de succion se fessait entendre, se rajouter à ça les gémissements étouffés et la respiration haletante de James.
Apolline commença à fredonner, comme pour provoquer James encore plus. Ce qui a apparemment marché, car il tenta de repousser Apolline en mettant sa main sur sa tête, mais elle la repoussa par un tape brusque sur son poignée. Apolline fixa directement James, il avait l’air terrorisé, de peur que quelqu’un pouvait les surprendre a tout moment. Ou bien parce qu’il se fessait sucer dans la maison de Dieu ?
Il avait sûrement peur de la colère divine du Tout Puissant, ce qui était compréhensible.
Apolline se releva et ôta sa jupe, ainsi que sa culotte. James la regarda avec de grands yeux.

- Quoi ? Me ne regardez pas comme ça, ça serait dommage si on finissait comme ça, non ?
Elle se positionna sur les cuisses de James, en sorte qu’elle était assise sur lui, sa vulve tout près de sa verge.

- Dites-moi, Père James, avez-vous déjà baiser quelqu’un ?

- N-n-non, enfin...

- Vous êtes déjà touché alors ? Votre verge, elle a déjà servi, non ?

Il secoua la tête, des larmes commençaient à couler lentement sur ses joues.
- Non ? Même pas ? C’est intéressant..., déclara Apolline, tout en essayant de mettre la queue du prêtre à l’intérieur d’elle.
Elle senti des mains se poser sur ses épaules. Elle regarda le prêtre, qui la suppliait du regard. Il fesait de la peine, on aurait dit un chien battu. Ses lèvres bougeaient, mais aucun son n’en sortit.

- Oh mais, James, mon Père, pourquoi pleurez-vous ? Ne pleurez pas, profitez s’en, ce n’est pas tous les jours que pourrez goûter le corps féminin.

Elle prit le visage du prêtre entre ses mains et l’embrassa. Ce n’était pas brusque, ni violent, mais elle l’embrassa avec toute la douceur qu’elle pouvait rassembler. Ce baiser était très chaste, très pure. Il était dénué de toute sensualité (ironique, jugeant de la situation). C’était le même genre de baiser que des enfants naïf auraient eu.
Apolline continua de l’embrasser, laissant des baisers sur ses joues, sa tempe, le coin de sa mâchoire et dans son cou. Il sentait l’eau de Cologne, ce qui avait un coté rassurant. Cela rappela à Apolline sa grand-mère, qui, quand elle était plus jeune, lui en mettait tous les soirs avant d’aller la mettre au lit.
D’une main, elle lui caressa ses cheveux, doux et fins, et, de l’autre, lui essuya ses larmes, qui coulaient encore... à moins que c’était de la sueur.

- Mon Père, lui susurra Apolline dans le creux de l’oreille, mon Père, James, je vous aime, plus que Dieu et tous les autres saints. Aimez-moi en retour, je vous supplie...

Ses lèvres continuaient de l’embrasser, sa main guida la queue toujours dure du prêtre dans son trou humide et baveuse, et elle l’y introduit. Tous deux frissonnaient de plaisir.
James commençait à trembler, ses mains timides et hésitantes saisissaient la taille d’Apolline. Elle ne savait pas c’était pour la baiser ou pour essayer de l’arrêter, la dernière proposition était la plus probable. Ce n’est pas vraiment ça qui aller l’arrêter. Elle continua le chevaucher, avec des mouvements de viens et va.

- Ugh, Dieu... la débaptisation,... le Jugement Divin, sans fin,... la pendaison...

Un nouveau flot de larmes tombaient des yeux du prêtre, il murmurait, sans doute, les conséquences qu’il imaginait si on les surprenait. C’est vrai que, faire ce genre d’acte dans la maison de Dieu, serait vu comme indécent.

- La mort... Père, Mère, pardonnez-moi, je vous en prie !

- Mais vous allez arrêter de parler pour rien, oui ? Si vous voulez parler, dites mon prénom ou alors, taisez-vous !

Elle redoubla sa vitesse, elle voulait sentir toute la longueur de sa verge. Des bruits liquides vulgaires provenaient de leur acte sexuel. Le changement d’allure provoqua une exhalation du plaisir chez le prêtre, un semblant de béatitude se lisait sur son visage, des plaintes sortait de sa bouche. C’était exquis, Apolline n’avait jamais vu un homme si honteux d’éprouver du plaisir.
Elle posa sa tête sur son épaule et se retenait de gémir, contrairement au prêtre, dont les pleurnichements devenaient de plus en plus fort et moins gêné.
D’un coup, Apolline s’arrêta. Elle sentie les mains de James serrer ses hanches, des bruits plaintifs s’échapperaient de la bouche de James. Apolline se releva et son regard croisa celui du prêtre : son regard était honteux, il suppliait le pardon de Dieu. Ses yeux bleus bénins, contrastant avec la rougeur de ses joues, la questionnaient.

- Eh bien ? Vous ne croyez quand même pas que j’allais faire tout le travail, tout de même ? James ! Dieu et la vie ne vous a donc rien appris ? Si vous voulez obtenir quelque chose, vous devez travailler ! Aller !

James la regardait, comme si la fille qui se tenait devant lui était extraterrestre, cette situation était juste surréelle. Il balbutia, il ne se savait où poser son regard, ses mains tremblantes n’osaient pas explorer le corps d’Apolline. Il essaya de bouger, mais à chaque fois qu’il lever sa verge, de violents spasmes traversaient son corps. Apolline n’était pas sûre si il essayait de la repousser ou si il n’avait sérieusement jamais fait l’amour avant.

- Mon Dieu, mon Père, vous baisez affreusement mal ! Laisser tomber, je terminerais moi-même, déclara Apolline, boudant faussement.

Entre quelques sanglots, le prêtre implora :

- A-Apolline, je vous en supplie, arrêter,... Je-Si vous partez maintenant, je vous jure que je ne dirais rien... À personne, je le dirais. Je prierais pour votre âme, je prierai-...

- Oh James, arrêtez de raconter n’importe quoi, je sais que vous voulez finir en moi, et je le veux aussi.

Et avec ça, Apolline repris de plus belle avec ses mouvements de va et vient. Cela dura pendant un instant avant qu’Apolline sentie en elle un plaisir montant.
Ces mouvements de haut en bas devenait de plus en plus vite, de plus en plus bestiale, frénétique. Le plaisir grandissant devenait tellement agréable que le prêtre s’y adonner aux mouvements (du moins, il essaya). Tous deux s’abandonnaient aux plaisirs de la chair. Le climax arriva et le pauvre prêtre cracha son foutre dans Apolline.
Avant de jouir, Apolline serra le cou du prêtre : elle avait appris durant des cours d’éducation sexuelle, faite pendant les heures de SVT (et en écoutant les bavardages de ses camarades), que les hommes, lors de la pendaison, bandaient. Logique, puisque le sang, alors concentré dans la tête, doit circuler dans une autre partie du corps.
Un élément qu’Apolline remarqua c'est qu’au moment de la jouissance totale, le prêtre la pris dans ses bras et la serra fort, comme pour ne pas la perdre. Elle s’affala un moment sur le prêtre et entendit de petit sanglots et de doux hoquets. Elle se redressa pour voir le prêtre pleurer de plus belle, une main sur la tête d’Apolline.

- Apolline, mon enfant,... Jésus, je vous demande Pardon, toi et le Tout Puissant, je vous en supplie, ne me damner pas, sniff... Marie ! Jésus ! Joseph !

Et il répéta ces trois prénoms iconiques encore et encore.

Apolline l’embrassa longuement, même si le prêtre ne retourner pas son affection.
Elle le regarda et se leva, elle eut un léger spasme quand elle sentit la verge, qui était profondément en elle, ainsi que l’abondance de foutre blanc, collant et épais, en sortir. Elle s’accroupit devant sa jupe pour y sortir un mouchoir en tissu de la poche.
Ses cuisses et son entre jambes furent nettoyés en premier, puis vint le tour du prêtre. Pendant qu’elle nettoyer la souillure, elle le regarda fixement. Lui, tête baissée, une main tenant son chapelet, se laisser faire, totalement vaincu.
Elle l’embrassa une dernière fois et se rhabilla rapidement.
Elle quitta les lieux, non sans avoir adressé un dernier regard, puis franchit les portes de l’église pour aller rejoindre son vélo, un sourire radieux en coin, presque fière.

Setting : 1930, near Haguenau, France.

Living in the north of France was getting a little bit out of hands, for Apolline’s taste.

Not only there were more and more nationalist movements, coming from disappointed veterans of the Great War, but apparently, the NSDAP ideology had seduced a lot people, resulting in the creation of similar political group, but never equalizing in term of popularity.
Apolline, who had planned to travel to Germany, had to cancel her trip. She felt sad that people like her couldn’t go anywhere or do anything now, as it was getting too dangerous, especially with the fast rise of the NSDAP party.
Joachim had moved from Nancy to Switzerland. He had promised her that he would wait, that what best friend do. In the mean time, he had been working, making enough money to enjoy himself there. He would describe everything in his letters, sending her photos and painted cards as well.
It was quite adorable, and Apolline couldn’t wait to rejoin him.
Joachim was really thoughtful and had been sending her, within his letters, enough money to buy a train ticket, if not multiple train tickets. Actually, he had send so much money that Apolline could had bought a bike. But since she was too embarrassed to take all the money, she would just spend it on the strict necessary, deciding to give him back the rest (that she didn’t spent).

Today was a cold day, being that it was october. Apolline liked Fall.
She liked this season so much that she would go walk outside, appreciating the sunlight on her face, despite the cold weather, she also appreciated the sound of dead leaves, crunching under every step, not to mention the attractive colors : the forest were an ocean of warm colors, so many shade of red, orange and yellow, with green. It gave a romantic aura to it.
Apolline didn’t really plan anything when going out, admiring the simple beauty of the forest was the only thing on her mind.
She walked until the saw one of those old barn. It’s was the size of a house, if not bigger, Apolline never really saw one that close, she noticed that the doors were wide open, it was like it was abandoned, but even if it looks old, it wasn’t in bad shape. The barn was still standing and blocks of straw and hay were still in there.

It was quite curious, but she didn’t really pay no mind to it.
As she was about to continue her walk, she heard steps behind her. Apolline stopped in her track, what if it was some NSDAP lunatics ?
Nowadays, it wasn’t that unusual to see some men sporting the Brown shirt, iconic uniform of the ideology. They had a tendency to brutalize everyone that wasn’t in the «Aryan ideal» or didn’t approved of their political party.

"Apolline !"

She turned back, to see that it was none other than Karl !

Apolline couldn’t believe her eyes, it was Karl ! It’s been a while since they had seen each other, and she had been reminiscing that day, in the year 1927, where Karl caught her and Joachim, in the woods, resulting in them frolicking with each other, thus creating a strong friendship between the three of them. A smile appeared on Apolline’s face, she was so glad to see her friend again.

Unfortunately for Apolline, it wasn’t the Karl she wanted to see. He was relatively the same : always the same charming, boyish face and oddly cut short bangs, but instead of his traditional wool suit (or whatever he would have borrowed from his father), he sported a Brown shirt and everything else the other NSDAP nut-jobs wore: black pants, matching with great, black shiny boots and a black tie, with a NSDAP pin on it, surely to show his support towards the movement.
If Apolline was honest, she thought he looked elegant.
But elegant or not, this is absolutely not what she expected. Apolline was petrified, washed with dread, she was so scared she couldn’t even move a muscle. Karl was simply smiling at her. It was a nice, warm smile, but his eyes had a tinge of malice in them. Apolline could feel his gaze on her body.

"Guten Tag, Apolline. It’s been a long time since we hadn’t seen each other, ja ?"

It was like Apolline lost her voice, all she could was to blink and try to mouth words.

"You are still the same. You didn’t change that much."

Apolline pointed Karl’s uniform, arm trembling : "Wha... what happen to you-what is this ?"

"This ? I finally found a political party that resembles me, they understand and represent people like me like we should have been represented. After this damn war, every other country had just humiliated us- my Germanic origins were synonym of plague. People like me were blamed for all the death of every soldier that died in this war, other people accused us of being the cause. People like you, Apolline, french people."
Karl drew closer and closer towards Apolline, who back-walked, not wanting to get closer to someone like him, "I don’t hate you personally, Apolline. On the contrary, I quite like you. I’ll be lying if I told you that I didn’t love you. I’ll be lying if I told you that I wasn’t jealous of the relationship that you have with Joachim."

At this point, Apolline felt something really hard, she looked down to see a gun pointed on her stomach. Karl was in front of her and his face really close to her. He was so close, Apolline felt like his lips was grazing hers.

"What do you want ?" Apolline whispered. She felt his hand on her jaw and his lips on hers. She smelled alcohol on his breath.
Since when he was drinking ? How long was he drinking ? Did he drink today ? Was he drunk ?
Karl kissed Apolline, his hand slowly creeping up to her hair.
Suddenly, he grabbed it, Apolline winced and gasped, surprised by the sudden change of his action.
She looked up to him, fear written all over her face. Karl’s expression was just plain hateful, he took her hand and dragged her to the barn. He turned to her :

"If you don’t do what I want, I will empty the full magazine into your skull. And I know you want to see that Joachim again."

They entered the barn, Karl frantically looked around, as to verify they were no one else in there. He put his gun to Apolline’s head.

"Kneel."

Apolline obliged, not wanting to have her brain spill on the ground and her blood painting the whole ground. She had the presentiment that even dead, her body would be desecrated, in one way or another. She looked up, and noticed that Karl’s hands were too busy zipping down his pants, his eyes fixed on her mouth.

"You will understand now what my country had to go through, you understand the consequences that your miserable Frankreich had caused."

"Karl... "

"I don't want to hear my name coming out of your disgusting (whorish) mouth."

Apolline looked down for a moment : she thought of running out of the barn but she feared that he didn't came alone. Nobody could predict the actions of the NDSAP. She also feared his gun, she still wonders if he had gotten a license for this or if it was part of their gear.
Karl pulled out his member in front of Apolline, who subconsciously gulped. It was bigger than she remembered and he was already hard.

"Open your mouth." Karl demanded. In response, Apolline glared at him.

"Don’t give me that look, it’s payback for the (Great War) humiliation". Karl smirked, cock in hands, dragging it across Apolline’s lips. He then tried to force her mouth open, but it remained shut.

"Apolline ! Open your damn mouth ! I don’t think you are in the position to choose here."

Karl was right, not having other choices, Apolline yield. Thankfully (if you can use this word), all of Karl fit in her mouth.

"See, its wasn’t that hard, was it ?"

With his fingers in her hair, he began to thrust, hard and fast. Apolline refrained herself from gagging and moaning, as she didn't wanted to arouse Karl even more. Quiet little moans escaped Karl‘s mouth, a sneer formed on his face. Apolline wanted to bite him, with all her might, but she was terrified of the consequences.
Of course, she had heard of the rumors going around town, she had heard of the massacres of opponents. She couldn’t bear being treated like that, not by her (former) best friend, she couldn’t bear seeing pleasure on his smug face.She gave him the dirtiest look she could muster, but it was all she could do.
The fucking of her mouth got so impulsive, so brutal... that tears began to form and roll down her cheeks, saliva was dripping everywhere. Karl slowed down his pace. Was he finally showing some mercy ?
Maybe he became remorseful and didn’t wanted little Apolline to suffer anymore.
None of that, he pulled out and forced Apolline to stand up, his clutch on her arm was painful. He then shoved and bent her over some haystacks (that was placed near nearby). Apolline could feel Karl through the fabric of her skirt.
Karl then pulled up her skirt, before removing her underwear. Apolline couldn’t believe this, Karl, her own friend, doing this to her.
Where does this rage and hate came from ? Was this the rage of the Ideology ? Why her ?

As Apolline silently prayed to God that Karl will change his mind and not to do what she is thinking, he started to flicker his cock across the opening of her cunt.

"Mmh,... ... mmh, Apolline, you’re getting wet. You like this ?" Apolline remained silent.
"God, you’re so pathetic." he added under his breath.
As Karl was going on a tirade of insults and vile threats, Apolline noticed a cross hanged on the wall that was in front of them. She hoped (naively, desperately) that, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too late to change Karl’s mind. Maybe evoking Jesus will wake up Karl’s merciful side.

"Karl, please, not in front of Jesus, I beg you !"

"I couldn’t care less of Jesus, Karl said before looking up to see the cross, my parents taught me all about Christianity, but it bore me. The Führerprinzip is all I believe in now. You know, there is no getting out of here and God won’t help you."

All was left to do was praying, and hoping that he would come quick or that somehow, by some chance, someone came across this gross scene.
But Apolline’s hope diminished when she realized that it probably was night time now. The children had stopped playing and had gotten home, the workers were probably sleeping in the beds that they had dream all day long. Apolline began to silently cry, in complete despair and sadness.
Karl noticed it and mocked her :

"You’re crying already ? I didn’t even fucked you."
He then licked his fingers and spat in his other hand : as he began to jerk off, mixing his spit with his precum, he rubbed Apolline’s twat. He didn’t however out right finger her, he just massage her in a way. Apolline was ashamed to admit it, but she found this sort of exciting.

"Stop crying, would you ? Hearing you whine and cry isn’t really arousing, per say."

He then pushed himself entirely inside of Apolline. She cringed and loudly gasped. Karl quickly put a hand over her mouth.
"Shut your damn mouth !"

Karl was pushing himself further and further. Everything was silent, excepted for the sobs of Apolline and the hitched moans of Karl. Apolline felt really shameful : the harder Karl was thrusting, the harder it was to resist to the temptation of Pleasure.
No ! She couldn’t let Karl know that her body enjoyed it. She couldn’t admit to herself that she might enjoy this. She closed her eyes and bit her lips, as to not make any more sounds.
Karl was paying close attention to her reaction, relishing in her resistance of giving in. Seeing her trying to fight her basic instinct to what was happening, he pulled her hair, making Apolline whine. Karl tried to break any form of resistance in her. If she gave in, the result would be more than gratifying. After some time, Apolline felt something coming, something she didn’t wanted to feel, not right now, not with him. Apolline supposed that Karl felt the same, because his grip on her hips became tighter and his fucking more bestial, more vulgar. So vulgar in fact that Apolline began to hear the sloppy sounds of their fucking. She found this sickening. Well, the whole scene was sickening.
She was disconcerted, what she was supposed to to ? She felt her legs tremble. She tried to look at him.
Karl noticed that she was blushing. Was she really blushing ? Or maybe it was because she cried ?
Her glare was mix of rage, indignation and disappointment, but he didn’t really cared. He replied with a sneer, with all the contempt that he had and mouthed : « weak ».

As Karl felt the climax coming, he came with a final thrust. Finally, Apolline gave in and moaned, crying God’s name. She felt so dirty for coming, as well by the pleasure that she felt. Conflicting emotions appeared to her.
As Karl pulled out, he felt satisfied when he saw his hate dripping out of the cunt he just savagely violated.

Spams roamed through her body, Apolline softly sobbed and hiccupped, she felt feverish.
Her dignity was now no were to be found. He could had fucked her one more time, but he didn’t saw that as necessary. He didn’t had the time anyway : politics were more crucial to him than satisfied his «vengence» anger-fuelled sexual needs.

As a final insult, Karl took Apolline’s head and kissed her cheek.
He then pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned himself, before throwing on Apolline’s bottom.

“Clean yourself, people don’t want to see whores like you in the streets.”

He quietly left the barn, leaving Apolline crying, feeling disgraceful and tainted.

Having Germans in the house added a new deal of stress for Apolline.
It’s been a few months since they were occupying her house. They choose it because it was one of the few that stood out in term of size, it wasn’t big enough to consider it a mansion, but it wasn‘t like as small as Myrlène’s house.
Apolline wasn’t the only that had her house occupied, Madame Jeanne‘s farm had also been taken. It was already hard, with her husband gone, fighting to the battlefront and her boys. Thankfully, she had the animals, the farm productions and her oldest son to help and compensate, even if some soldiers abused their status sometimes to take what they want.

The fact that Apolline owned a field of apple trees made some German really interested in it.

The first time that she met the Germans, she was gardening and cleaning her roses, that when she heard voices. Voices who were speaking german and came from the orchard. Intrigued, she went to check, thinking it was some lost travelers. Her heart almost stopped when she saw them : soldiers, in Feldgrau uniforms and shiny boots. The fact that they were in uniforms didn’t, at first, struck her. No, but the fact that they were stealing and eating her apples, made her incredibly angry.

She stomped towards them and almost yelled at them :

"Are you out of your mind ?!"

The two soldiers looked at her with surprise.

"What are you doing, stealing the apples from my orchard ?!" she said, pointing the apples and them, alternatively.

One of the two soldier, a rather thin and blond guy, approached Apolline, apple in hand :

"Hallo, Fraülein. Das ist a... errr, how do you say again ? he then turned to his comrade, Beschlagnahme ?"

The other leaned forward to whisper to the blond.

"Right! Das ist a requisition !"

"What ? But you can’t do that ! You cannot steal my apples !"

The blond laughed at her, as if she said some stupidity.

"Meine good Frau, we can do this ! Ich can and will take things from you, if ich want to."

He took some folded paper from his front pocket and presented it to her : it was an official, administrative paperwork, signed by the Hauptmann himself. It authorized the requisition of goods, materials and also the hosting of german troops into occupied houses.
The occupied would get a refund, of course, with the justification that they housed soldiers and their goods had been requisitioned. The refund wasn’t extraordinary, giving the fact that the country was led by Pétain, a boot-licking pushover.
Apolline already thought of going to the Kommandantur to complain, but changed mind when thinking about it more.
After all, it was just some fruits and it’s not like she would have starve with some apples gone from the abundance of them in the orchard.
But she wasn’t to let those thieves get away, german or not.
She gave back the paper to the blond soldier and look angrily at him.

"Even if you can requisition things from me, you could at least still ask !"

The blond got in Apolline’s face : "Why ask if we are authorize to take it ?" he said, while laughing.

He then dropped the half-eaten apple on the ground, before walking to Apolline’s house. Anger made Apolline speechless. The other German, who was carrying a basket of apples, tried to catch Apolline’s attention :

"Ich... I am sehr sorry for meine comrade’s behavior. Usually, he ist nice, aber... He can be rude sometimes, he can be..."

"Insufferable, yes, I have noticed", she completed, walking towards her house, trying to catch the blond, so he wouldn’t rob everything that she own.

"Fraülein !"

Apolline turned back, she looked at the other soldier and, for moment, studied his face, she noticed that she didn’t really took a good look of him, too busy being angry at the blond.
They both had clear eyes and really fair skin, but unlike the blond, his front bangs were shorter. He had a rather trustworthy face and he seems friendly but appearances can be deceiving, and Apolline had to keep in mind that he was german, an occupant, therefore, an enemy.

"Yes ?"

"What ist your name ?"

Apolline was surprised, why did he ask her name and why now ? Was he trying to be friendly with her, or maybe he wanted to have her name to use it against her later. Suspicion was in her mind, she had learned from the other in the village to not trust the Germans, but she had decided to give her name anyway.
He replied with his own name, which was Günther. Apparently, the other was named Heidrich.

It’s been more then some years after this first encounter. Apart from the presence of the Germans, not only in the village but also in her house and the extra chores she had to do, life wasn’t that different, maybe because Apolline became used to this now. She had considered herself to be quite lucky, compared to others in the village : Madame Jeanne’s oldest boy, Claude, had gone missing, refusing to live in the same house as those «Boches».
Poor woman, first it was her husband, now it was one of her children. Apolline prayed and hoped that Claude will be found in the next few days.
At this point, hope was the only solution, the moral of everyone were already down the slope and there were no place for despair.
She also heard from the younger kids that come collecting apples that one their friend, Fernand, had been arrested. Fernand was a new boy that came from Alsace, due of his accent, the habitants first thought he was german but turned out Fernand was jewish.
He had refused to wear the yellow star and unfortunately, it look likes he had been denounced by Antoine.
Antoine was one of the few (if not the only one) to be somewhat happy about the German occupation, he would always follow them and try to help them, even when they didn’t ask, he would put in nose in other people’s businesses and take note. Apolline was pretty sure that Antoine was as annoying for the French as he was to the Germans.
He also had a weird habit of staring at her whenever they would meet or when she went to the bar to listen to the local radio.
Once, Suzette, the bar owner, had semi-joked that he had a thing for her, but she rather not think about it. Antoine looked similar to Heidrich, now that she thinks about it. Same blond hair, but Antoine’s was slick back. He was also less pale. His characteristic being a mole on his face, like an American fashion model.
She would wait impatiently to be in the end of the day, so she could see Günther again. He was surprisingly more kind and playful then Heydrich. Well, Heidrich was playful too, but in his own cruel way. He would pinch Apolline’s side, resulting in her gasping in surprise and he would mock her.
Thankfully, all the German were not this mean. Günther would play tunes for her on the living-room piano and he would teach german to Apolline. In return, she would help him with french, so communication would be easier.
She tried to be nice to Heidrich as well, but he rejected her offer, saying «Ich will not learn stupid, inferior Sparche !»

Overtime, Apolline had come to the conclusion that she might begin to feel some love for Günther, she never had other masculine presence in her life before.
Despite the war going on and the situation, his kindness and his happiness made her feel flustered. She would spent time in front of the window, looking afar, thinking of him. She wanted to hug him and expressed her love to him.

It was wrong, but she didn’t thought like it was. Was loving the enemy was an act of treason ?
Surely, the others of the village wouldn’t understand, they would insult her, the kids would mock her, the Mayor would hate and shame her... But the worst would be the Germans. If they knew, they would shoot her on the spot.
Let’s not forget Antoine, he would probably be angry, confused and highly jealous.

Lost in her thoughts, the sounds of explosions and fighter planes almost made her heart stop.
Terror and panic washed over her, and she ran as quickly as she could upstairs, to her room, to hide under her covers. The act was so laughable and incredibly childish, but she couldn’t help it.
As she felt the covers over her head, she felt, at the same time, safe. Not that it will save her from anything.
It felt like eternity, but the attacks eventually stopped.
Apolline didn’t dare to move, maybe because she didn’t want to see the destructions of her apple trees.
The house was dead silent, until the sounds of door creaking and footsteps echoed. There was also some mumbling. But since it was so quiet, Apolline couldn’t tell if it was german or not. Maybe it was Günther and Heidrich, or maybe not... maybe they died and other soldiers had replaced them.
Apolline felt sadness fill her heart : if Günther died, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. If he was dead, she would regret the rest of her life not confessing to him. She would miss Heidrich too. Even in his maliciousness, he could be quite charming sometimes.
A hand however touched her, making her pull off her blanket. The first thing that Apolline saw was the those blue eyes that she liked so much. It was Günther ! Same hair, fair skin, same grayish-green uniform...
She thought she was about to cry, she placed a fast, chaste kiss on his cheek before hugging him with all her might. Günther returned her embrace.

"Was is wrong, why are you so upset ?"

"I’m scared... and I thought you were dead !"

A moment of silence reigned over them.

"Do you care... ...about me ?, Günther quietly asked, out of simple curiousness.

Apolline didn’t dare to look at him.

"Well, I... I do, I love you a lot but it’s wrong ! I know it, but I love you so much, I can’t help it !"

Apolline looked at him, tears in her eyes :

"Either by the others in the village, or either by your Hautpmann, everyone ! They would arrest us, call us degenerates and kill both of us ! Just because I love you, oh my God ! What am I talking about, you probably already have a lady waiting for you, in Germany ! Günther, I’m so scared ! I don’t know what to do !"

Günther looked at her, tried to wipe the tears away and kissed her. Since he wasn’t adroit with words, he chooses to express his love with actions.
Apolline was completely enamored, he took her in his arms and she placed one hand on the back of head, brushing his hair. She could feel his embrace tighten, as if he was scared to lose her, scared to lose the new found love in the insanity that is the war.
They laid down, and parted from their kiss. While touching him, her eyes contemplated every details of him : from his blue eyes to his soft, short bangs and his faint freckles,...

"Apolline, sweet Apolline, little Mädchen, Gunther murmured while stoking the side of her face, I love you so dearly too. Where were you, all those years, away from me, my life ?"

Apolline supposed it was the answer of her question from earlier, a little smirk crept on her face, although she tried to suppress it. Suddenly, she gasped and put her hands on Gunther’s shoulders :

"Günther ! What about Heidrich ? What- Did he heard us- Where is he ?!"
"Apolline, bitte, he smiled a little, Don’t worry, Heidrich is in the kitchen, probably drinking."

---

The kitchen was deadly quiet. Or maybe it wasn’t that quiet, but Heidrich couldn’t tell, all those rifles sounds made his ears ring.
Although Günther said he was going to go sleep, tired from today’s attacks, he didn’t feel like sleeping now.
Too excited to calm down, he had decided that he would treat himself with wine and a dessert. He was first surprised to not find Apolline in the kitchen or to not see food on the table either.
Usually, she would prepare something for them.
Heidrich waited for Günther to go to his room, before getting the wine bottle and some food. Günther didn’t like taking things without Apolline’s approval, it was simple politeness but Heidrich didn’t care about those kinds of things.
It was almost midnight and the alcohol was taking place in Heidrich’s mind.
Completely drunk, he thought to crash on the living-room couch, too lazy to climb up the stairs. But since Günther was supposedly already asleep and there were a chance that Apolline was still up, the idea of satisfying his needs came to his mind.
After eating came sex.

However, blurred visions and sluggish moves made everyday actions such as taking the stairs insanely difficult, it took Heidrich some minutes before realizing there was a handrail and grabbing it.
Finally upstairs, Heydrich brushed aside his blond bangs from his face. He quietly walked toward Apolline’s room, where soft moans escaped form the room.
Heidrich licked his lips, grinned to himself, he thought that maybe Apolline wasn’t that prude after all. His thoughts revolved around Apolline, how she might look like without her clothes, if she would cry or if she would enjoy herself when he will fuck her...
It’s been a while since he had set his eyes on her, this village wasn’t the first one he had «visited». But there were more girls in the last one. Easy girls, yes, but at least, they knew how to have fun.
He started to rub himself, closely listening to the breathy sounds emerging from the room, but stopped dead in his track when he heard Apolline mumbling something along the lines of «Günther».

No !

But... ... ...could it be ?

Could it be that Günther, his comrade, his own brother in arms, from the great Deutschland, could it be that he failed his duty as a soldier and caught some feelings for the enemy ? Did he surrendered to the enemy ? More like she seduced him to betray his ideals and values.
Was he jumping on conclusions too quick ? Maybe he misheard, maybe Apolline was with her lover ?
Impossible, he never saw her with another men then them and if she had one, she never talked about him, but, she never talk about anything... At least, with him...
Or maybe it was one of her friend, he had heard that french people tend to be a little «libertine», but, he had practically never saw her with any friends. Not that he cared about her personal life, but he could hardly imagine her having one. He didn’t had any arguments, due to the fact he only spent his time in her house during the early morning, the evening and night, thus, he didn’t see her much.
Refusing to believe his comrade’s «betrayal» to him and to the Führer and because he wanted to be sure, he discretely and very, very cautiously open the door, who was already ajar.
He then very carefully peeked his head through the door opening and almost choked on his own spit : Günther was here... fucking Apolline (there were not better way to put it).
They were lying sideway, with Günther caressing Apolline’s breast, his head was rested on her back. One of Apolline’s leg rested on Günther’s thigh, giving Heidrich a full view. She also had her hand in front of her mouth, surely to not alert him, or make any noises, which proved to be unsucessful. He watched as her mouth formed little o, he watched as Günther thrusted into Apolline.
He also noticed that he wasn’t ramming his dick into her, maybe because it was their first time ? It didn’t seem that Apolline was in any pain and there were no blood either, but it’s not like Heidrich could see anything in details. Judging by the window that was behind them, it was probably around midnight, which helped him not get caught. Or maybe Günther was just acting like a gentleman, and didn’t wanted to brutalize Apolline.
In a way, it didn’t surprise Heidrich, brutalization wasn’t one of Günther values.
Of course, he loved his country and the values and was for the war, but unlike Heidrich (and surely the Führer), he wanted the union of France and Germany. He believed in this, that why he believed in the invasion of France and this war.
Needless to say, he didn’t knew what Heidrich knew : that France was a country to be destroy and taken for the Teutonic population, das Volk. Him fucking her was (maybe) the representation of his believes.
If he didn’t knew who they were, he would had continue to touch himself. But, the more he thought about it and the angrier and disappointed he felt. He discretely and quietly moved away from the room, and went to his own room. Thankfully, Apolline’s house was big enough so everyone had their own room.

Too unnerved, he had decided to go to sleep. He took off his boots and his jacket, along with his panzer side-styled cap, and turned off the lights.

He went under the covers and closed his eyes, trying to forget what he just seen.
But the task revealed to be difficult, he was still angry and a little drunk as well. He didn’t knew what to think.
Sure, he had slept with some french girls before, but it was before the Occupation, even some time before the war. He didn’t considered them as enemy back then. Apolline was different, this whole village was different, the time as different as well.
As he tried to legitimate his comrade’s new found love for the enemy, speeches from the Führer echoed in his head, speeches from Herr. Goebbels and his Hauptmann too. Speeches about dignity and triumph, about the glorious, prideful and strong Deutschland.
The first time he had heard them, Heidrich had stars in his eyes. He had found it so noble, inspiring,... ...so German. Those speeches reminded him of his Heimat, and mostly, his father.

But all those promises and speeches made him almost forgot that he was still hard.
Was it wrong to be aroused by this kind of scene ? It wasn’t really his fault after all, and it wasn’t him who was fucking her. He silently got up and opened the door, where he could still hear moaning. Getting back in his bed, he unbuttoned his pant and hesitantly slid his hand in it.
His head was filled now with confusion, speeches and sexual thoughts.
As he started to stroke his dick, he bit his lips, as to not make any sounds, his moans turned down to very faint whimpers. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. He reminisced the rallies he had attended to, where he had the chance to see the Führer himself, the proud look that his Hauptmann often gave him, that time when Günther reassured him and tried to cheer him up when they invading Metz and the other northern french villages.

He thought, maybe the reason he was so angry, it’s perhaps because he wanted to feel the same kind of affection that Günther had for Apolline, maybe he was jealous of her. Although he had many comrades, Günther was the only one that he considered as his friend, a real friend.

---

Alternate ending.

Setting : in Germany, in a boring, rustic Dorf, mid-70’s.

It was Wednesday.
Wednesday was always a boring day to Apolline and the school’s subjects made it even more boring.
Beginning the day with 2 hours of Philosophy wasn’t that exciting, she would always found herself half asleep, even when she did try her best to follow the soft, soporific words of the teacher. But, somehow, she would always manage to write everything down.
Today, though, after a long afternoon of procrastination and sleeping, she had decided that she’ll go to a pub. Thankfully, her parents were very lenient about her curfew, something that her older brother didn’t get the chance to have. Maybe their early harsh treatment made them regretful. Who knows ... and who cares ?

She asked for her mother for a little bit of money, something that she hated to do. Her mother, this generous lady, gave her enough to have fun all night long.
Apolline kissed her mother goodbye and rolled her eyes when her dad advised her to be careful in the streets.
Although annoying, he was right, those streets aren’t so safe after all.. She knew that, just like every other child and teen in Germany (and probably other countries).

She went on her way, in the streets of this desolate, depressing, post-struck war Dorf.
She walked through the town, not knowing where to go or what to do : go to a restaurant ? No, Apolline thought that eating alone was sad and embarrassing. Go to one of those Nightclubs ? No way, since this town was so culturally late, the only music that was playing right now were songs from the 50’s, if not from the Inter-war period. And besides, she heard at school it was full of junkies.
It’s when she walked across some random cul-de-sac that she saw... it. The place to go : a pub ! The building’s construction was weird : the windows were all covered by old, crimson velvety curtains, and there were no others visible windows on the other levels. Not to mention the endless trash all around, excepted in front of the main entrance. The neon-lights were buzzing and flashing, pleading to be replace.

The exterior walls were painted a filthy yellow, almost a puke color, but it was probably the havoc of times and war, Apolline thought.

Intrigued, she entered into the building.
The first thing that struck her was the smell : pungent, bitter alcohol and fetid cigarette smoke. Apolline wasn’t surprised, she didn’t really expected something classy from those kind of building.

The people there were all middle-aged if not older, with some exception : few (2 to be precise) lost and dreamless, awkward youngsters drinking and wasting their time away. But not many people, Apolline noted, comparing this bar to the one she went once with her friends that was in the big city of Düsseldorf, where the place was just crawling with people. Some of them were dead drunk, sleeping on the counter or at the plush cushion american-styled booths.

By the way those cushions booths looked, Apolline choose to go sit at the counter. Thankfully, there were still some unoccupied seats. Faint music could be heard, it wasn’t the modernish hip music that you would hear on the radio, mind you, but kitsch songs that were more appealing to her parents’ taste, songs of the like of Heintje, Rocco Granta and Bata Illic.

"What would it be for the young Fraülein ?"

Well, at least, the barman was nice.

"Do you have any wine ?"

"Only one kind of wine, Bordeaux", the barman rose an eyebrow, cleaning a glass at the same time.

"I’ll take it, one glass, please. How much is it ?"

"7.82 DM."

Apolline took out her wallet form her pocket and gave the barman some DM banknotes. The Barman smiled at her and went searching for a glass and a bottle. Apolline looked around : Fucking depressing, she thought.
Apart from the people sleeping, there were two ladies dancing a bastardization of what Apolline assumed to be waltz together, an old man (who appeared to be some kind of veteran) was slouching on himself, vomit covering his beard and legs. He looked asleep but his eyes were wide open. Apolline wasn’t sure if he had died, but she rather not think about it.
Her eyes were roaming the room, and stopped when she saw this man .She couldn’t really make out his face, because he was partly covered by darkness (the lightings were quite dim and it was 22 h, way past her bedtime, especially when she had school day the next day). But she was sure he was staring at her.
She shrugs it off, the barman came back with her drink anyway.

She took a sip and immediately regretted it.
Why on God’s Earth did she ask for wine ? She didn’t even drink alcohol ! To her, it was just expired grape juice, not that she expected some exquisite wine for 7.82 DM.
The barman came back another drink. He leaned and semi-whispered to her : "The second drink is offered by this gentleman over there.", pointing at the strange man who was staring at her.

To her right, was a broker, drinking whatever alcohol they serve in here. Apolline assumed he was a broker because of the really nice suit he was wearing, his slick-gel styled hair, his thick glasses and leather handbag. In a way, he looked similar to Paul Desmond.
But maybe he wasn’t, looks can be deceiving : people always thought she was smart because of her thick glasses, and she liked to think she is the smartest, but truth is, she probably was foolish.
Having finished her wine, Apolline stood up from her seat, with her second drink in hand, and walked toward the man across the room. Broad shoulders, a bit hunched (or maybe he had scoliosis). From what she could see, he wore slightly tight jeans, old fashion leather shoes (the rich kind) matching with his leather jacket.
The most striking was his face : unconventionally unattractive. People from the big city would have say "ugly bastard". Apolline disliked judging by looks, what was worth judging to her was personal hygiene, if you had the basics of education and behavior. But Apolline always found something cute, pretty or quirky in people : for example, one of the drunk ladies had beautiful sandy-blonde hair and the broker next to her looked very elegant.
This man’s face, however, was... deformed, that was the best way to describe it.
His nose was horribly twisted, his jaw had a very, very slight overbite, his eyes were darkly scowling and his hair was either damp with sweat and grease, or gel-styled, Apolline hoped it was the latter.
He also sported a fine mustache and big, golden frame double-bridge glasses. One of those "pedo glasses", as Apolline came to classify them.

"Excuse me, I would like to thank you for buying me a drink."

"Don’t mention it."

"You don’t mind if I sit next to you, do you ? "

The guy shook his head.

"Cheers then !" Apolline smiled, clinking her glass with his. He mumbled back, something of the lines of «thankyoutoocheers», he then leaned really close, whispering, trying to sound «friendly» :

"If you want, there’s plenty more in my apartment."

Apolline thought for a minute : she wasn’t particularly into drinking alcohols, but there were nothing else interesting. She had considered proposing to go the movies, but only old flicks were shown at this time of the night. One of the disadvantages of living in such rural burg. But she wasn’t against some fun one-night-stand, the night was still young.
Apolline finished her drink and whispered back : "Let’s go then !"
When they exited the bar, the broker gave them a look, like a disapproving dad, the same kind of look her dad would have gave if he was present right now. But Apolline didn’t cared.

This guy lived in a cramped apartment : the bedroom and the living-room were relatively medium size, but the width of the bathroom, kitchenette and utility room were laughable. The guy went to the living room, followed by Apolline.

"Sit on the couch over there", he pointed to a red divan. On the wall, behind the divan, was some sort of collage of naked ladies and porno scene from adult magazines.

"Classy", mentally mocked Apolline, pursing her lips, stopping it as soon as she sat, not wanting to appear rude.
Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t really smart to follow him back to his home. He could be one of those insane killer, a Serienmörder. But Apolline didn’t worry though, if he really was a serial killer and he did kill her, he would immediately be arrested. Her parents would do anything possible to track and protect her. Perks of having protective parents.
She looked around : this living-room was really kitsch, apart from the sophisticated, handy collage-craftwork, were on the walls red and yellow flowery pattern on green striped background. Some wooden furnitures (armory, a tiny night stand...), a red divan, matching with a red armchair, a TV... Nothing really surprising, Apolline’s attention was on the TV, who was playing an episode of «Hamburg Transit». One of her parents favorite.
The guy came back, with a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey in his hand and a glass on the other.
Apolline could make out the shape of a cigarette pack in his pocket, but it wasn’t the only thing that was contoured. She blushed at the sight of it, biting the inside of her cheek, trying not to smirk.
He sat next to her and proposed her to drink, she politely refused. In response, he gave her a mocking look, rising one eyebrow and began to drink, directly from the bottle.

"I didn’t even asked your name yet !"

He glanced at her, still drinking, slightly surprised. "It’s true... I’m Heinrich Fritz, or Heinz. What is your name ?"

"Apolline."

"It’s pretty... It is french ?"

Apolline nodded and focused back to the TV program. Boredom, it was one of the thing Apolline feared the most when she went to people’s house. She had hoped for exciting night, but she was too shy to make the first move or notify him of her sexual needs, maybe he was of the same nature.
He continued drinking, watching that damn show. Unexpectedly, Apolline felt his hand touch her lap, creeping up to the inner thigh and slowly caressing it. She felt hot, but content, for that is what she was hoping for. He didn’t stop either, he switched the televised thriller for a porno (Apolline didn’t even knew there were such programs on TV). He put down the bottle on the coffee table, and started to rub his crotch, eventually pulling down the zipper and getting his dick out. Apolline moved closer to him and started to kiss him, on his cheek, jaw and neck.
As soon Apolline touched his crotch and tried to jerk him off, his body became stiff.

"What are you doing ? " Heinz asked sternly.

"What ? I thought you wanted it too, I mean, you were the one to touch me first !"

"I-..., he sounded severe, I don’t want you to touch me down there. You can kiss me, but don’t touch, nor look at my dick."

"Okay, I understand" NOT, thought Apolline. Well, then again, maybe he was self-conscious about himself, or maybe he was small (something Apolline doubted, judging from what she saw earlier), but all that, she didn’t cared. The only thing she cared about was to fill the void of her boredom with harsh, masculine presence.
Apolline moved across him, in a way that she was straddling him. Still kissing him, she began grinding on him. Heinz kissed her back, still touching himself but this time, one of his hand was on her hip, grunting. The taste of alcohol was strong, every time they exchanged saliva, Apolline felt a burning sensation in her mouth. Though slightly unpleasant, she had found this oddly intoxication. Maybe because she had never drank anything that strong alcohol before.
Every time Heinz would kiss her neck, the roughness of his cheek would tickle her. It kind of reminded her of the time she would kiss her father goodnight, the same harsh on her soft skin. Apolline felt disgusted, thinking of her dad in a moment like this, what the hell ?

Heinz abruptly stopped jerking himself, tucked his dick back in his pants. Rather, he grabbed Apolline’s wrist, effortlessly, painfully, to the room next door and laid her onto his bed, with a visible hurry.
There were no communication, he didn’t say anything and Apolline didn’t asked either, but both of them knew what was going on and what will happen. Apolline thought it was quite particular, but didn’t thought anything of it, everyone had their own way of expressing their needs and desires. Heinz went to his bathroom, surely to retrieve a condom. He came back fast.

"Undress yourself.", he demanded as he took off his leather jacket.

Heinz was making intense eye contact, whether it was intentional or not, he was transfixed on her, specifically on her body.
She returned the eye contact, trying to maintain the same level of intensity. Apolline stripped herself, slowly : first, her stockings, her skirt, then her iconic blue cardigan. She carefully put them on the night stand that on her right. As she was about to take off her undergarments, Heinz interfered : "No, keep that on.", while searching for some lube.
Apolline rose an eyebrow but ultimately shrugged it off. She didn’t had the mind to question him or his choices, she felt hot and flushed red. She layed there, on her back like a cat, arms stretched out to each side of the bed, she felt the soft sheets under her. The longer Heinz was gone searching, the hornier Apolline felt. She begin to touch her clit, her head to the side, she could feel her eyes closing and her mind drifting away.
Suddendly, there were a firm grasp on her wrist, she opened her eyes only halfway and saw Heinz looming over her. He looked really menacing, intimidating,... and hungry. Disgustingly hungry.
Apolline refrained herself from commenting how predatory he looked. She didn’t even knew how old he was, maybe 23, give or take, 5 years older then her, not that she cared anyway.

As Heinz positioned himself in front of her, removed her panty and pried open her legs, Apolline couldn’t help but lightly smirk. She was looking at him (since she couldn’t look at his dick), and ran a hand across his face. He didn’t cared, too busy to stuff his cock inside of her. Grabbing her hips, he started to eagerly thrust into her, pushing himself more and more with each movement.
Apolline never felt this, never in this way, never this intense.
She could have swears she saw stars, her hands were caressing his back, touching and patting his damp hair. Her mouth were making quiet little moans, whispering his name pleadingly. But it’s seems the more Apolline cried out his name, the more Heinz would thrash her more.
His rough hands roaming on her body were overwhelming.
"Hmm... God, Heinz ! God, please, hurt me more ! Apolline begged, Kiss me more, bite me, please, put your hand on my throat !"

Heinz remained mostly silent, if not for some groaning and german insults that he muttered. He pulled up her bra and angrily stroke her chest, pinching her nipples in the process. He pressed his lips on Apolline’s, in a lame attempt to kiss. She didn’t mind though, as she felt something coming. Inside.
Heinz must have felt the same way too, because his clutch on her neck tighten and his breath hitched. Apolline thought she had died and went to Heaven, she was in such a state of euphoria, in complete happiness. With a final thrust, Heinz buried himself deep into Apolline’s entrance, filling her with cum. Apolline threw her head back and shouted how much she loved him (which might had been a lie (or not)).

When Heinz pulled himself out of Apolline, the condom was full and dripping with spunk. Thankfully, it didn’t break !
Heinz got up to throw the condom to a trash bin, before sitting beside Apolline, who immediately took his face in her hands and covered him with soft kisses and hugs.
Another thing that Apolline noticed was the multiple red lipstick imprints on him, mostly on and near his mouth, others were on his cheeks and jaw.
Heinz didn’t know what to do, so he stood here, rigidly. He took back the alcohol bottle (was it the one from earlier, or an old one ?) and drank from it.

"Can I sleep here, please Heinz ? I am too tired to go home..."

Feeling a little guilty from all the insults that he threw at her, he replied :

"Ja, no problem,... Do-do you want a drink ?"

Apolline nodded negatively. Heinz then asked bashfully :

"You-can we do this again ?"

"More like, «can I fuck you again ?»" Apolline sneered to herself. But in was, in all likelihood, a total change from all the drunk women from this shitty bar that he had surely fucked before, she thought, however she enjoyed his dominant behavior and aggressive, masculine sexuality. He could be something fun to add in her life.

"Yes, when ?"

Weak.

That’s how Alice felt at the moment.

Today was just another day in the studio, another day of recording, another day of screaming into a microphone, another day of listening to scratchy synthetic melodies, electronic drums and chiptune-like noises. She quite like those melodies actually, even if most of them sounded more like computerized digital vomit than anything else. They brought a sense of familiarity and it made her feel safe.
But it also made her feel uneasy.

She had a love-hate relationship with those recording : on one hand, she love to sing and scream as loud as she can (even if, sometimes she does regret it afterward) but on the other hand, she hated how Ethan stares her down.
She hated their «friendship», if you can even call it that. She’s pretty sure Ethan doesn’t even consider her as a friend, but a tool for his music, a pleasure thing when he’s horny or bored... a sex-object.
Let’s not forget the daily remarks and insults, how Ethan minimise her everytime he gets the chance to. How everyday she feel more ashame of herself for being so weak.
And the worse thing is it’s not just Ethan who’s doing it,... well, at least, not the physical abuse. (Ethan had the privilege to be the only one to do that). Alice closed her eyes as she took a drag of her cigarette. She could feel the hardness of the ground even after sitting on two mattresses.
Alice hated those mattresses, not only for theirs horrible clashing colors (neon orange and dark olive) but also for disgusting memories that she would have rather choose to forget.
Recollections of Ethan, pinning her down, muttering insults at her, comparing her to a little child, to a baby... That without him, «she would be nothing». Slapping was usual when he wasn’t too mad, otherwise, he would have use his fists. Feeling his mouth on hers, while she tries her best to close her lips as tight as possible, one hand roaming on her frail body, the other clamping on her skinny wrists.... If she retaliate, he would add another bruise to her already mistreated body.
If you ask Alice, she’ll say that the first times were the most horrific, but after a while, you get used to (even though it’s still hurt)...
When Ethan comes into the recording room or the studio alone, Alice knows what he wants and lay on the mattresses. If they’re not here, she just lay on the ground. Ethan doesn’t need to say anything anymore, Alice understands.
She took another drag and felt her lungs being filled with smoke. She looked down to see a half empty alcohol bottle next to her foot. Alice wanted to drink so bad, just to forget for a little while and feel warm, even if it last a minute.
But she fought her drinking urges, she can’t let herself get drunk, especially not in the studio. Last time she drank, she woke up half naked with sore muscles. She suspected Ethan, but he would never look at her or pay attention when she attempted to talk to him.
He would never make eye contact when he was abusing her either.

The studio was really calm. A sense of creepy uneasiness washed over her, the calm made her nervous.

She looked at her reflection in the vintage mirror that was placed in front of her, across the room.

She looked her messy black hair. She looked at her face. Too much makeup for Ethan's taste, heavy thick eyeliner, mascara and pink lipstick.
She looked at her pale arms, a lot of blue, purple and yellow all over them.
Alice didn’t cover them, she never cover them. It’s not like anyone in this studio ignored them, they never intervened or said anything when Ethan slap or abuse her. Alice put her hand on her arm, brushing her bruises She can feel sadness creeping up.

Everyone knows.

Alice can feel the tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

But no one cares.

Tears rolling down, Alice cries alone in the coldness of the studio, muffling her whimpers with her other hand.
Deep down, she’s praying to God, even if she doesn’t really believe in him, she prays for better days.

Setting : Nancy (north of France), 1927.

Walking in the woods was the only thing that wasn’t boring to Karl.

It’s been 9 years after the end of this damn war, and the fact that he was german really didn’t help. Being german in France in this time of history was really tough, a thin film of depression reign over his house. Although, he was the age of working and could have had his own place, he still lived in with parents. Apparently, industries didn’t appreciated the sound of his name, too german for their taste.
All he could do was to continue his studies and hope for improvements in the near future.
But as for right now, he was on school break and had been lurking around the woods, near his parent’s house.

Karl wanted to take his mind off the current, stressful things, hoping to find inspiration for his poems or for short writings. Karl had walked for a long time now, he didn’t even knew what time it was, not that he didn’t own a watch but he didn’t cared enough of those mankind conception. He just wanted to enjoy the nature.
He was pretty deep into the forest. He had heard, that from time to time, you could find bunnies in this part and he looked forward to see some. He heard some weird noises when he walked near some bushes. Thinking it was the bunnies he was looking for, he slowly approached and crouched behind the bushes. He silently shoved away the leaves in order to not scare and observe the animals.
Instead, what Karl saw was two teens, lying on the grass, a guy on top of a girl. They were passionately kissing, the guy fondling the girl chest. Karl wasn’t really expecting this, but it wasn’t that surprising. The woods were reputed to a place of unusual activities.
Karl felt like he should leave, but he didn’t want to. It wasn’t something that he saw every day.
Sure, there were some peepshows in the slums, outside of his village but he was too embarrassed to go those into kind of places. And besides, he didn’t wanted his peers to acknowledge the places he went to.
Karl felt hot.
He began to rub his cock through the wool fabric of his pants. He didn’t remember the last he had touched himself. He felt dirty, touching himself while looking at other people without their knowledge. He felt dirty, but he was too aroused to care.
As he was ready to take out his member, he heard :

"You know, you can join us."

A sense of fear and shame washed over Karl.

He looked at the two, who were now looking at him, in curious manner. They didn’t insulted him but instead, invited him. Karl bit the inside of his cheek, got up and joined them. The guy moved over, to ensure that Karl had a place between them. Karl sat.
Nervously, he quickly looked at the guy and the girl : the guy had well combed hair and blue eyes. It was the bluest eyes Karl ever saw (and the prettiest). He smiled like he knew Karl, like an old time friend. He was also wearing a wool suit, but instead of being navy like the one Karl had, it was black. The girl wore glasses and gave him a tiny grin, with her painted red lips. Another thing Karl noticed is that they mostly were dressed in black.

"What’s your name ? " the girl asked.

"Karl", he timidly replied.

The girl looked at the guy, who raised his eyebrows, giving her a knowing look. Karl felt the uneasiness of the situation, he was really tense, he could feel his intense blushing. The girl lifted her hand to slowly brush Karl’s cheek.

"Hey Karl ! If you don’t feel fine, you can still go away."

"No, I can-... hm, stay..., uh."

"Apolline, my name is Apolline. And this is Joachim." she pointed to the guy.

Joachim winked at him and started to touch Karl‘s thigh, massaging his apparent boner. Apolline planted a kiss on Karl’s cheek, who blushed and look elsewhere right away. Not knowing what else to do, he clumsily returned the kiss on Apolline soft lips. Joachim laughed :

"Are you some kind of virgin ? You never kissed a girl before ?"

Karl wanted to reply with something snarky, but it was like the sexual activity made him puny.
Joachim leaned closer, whispering to his ear "It’s not that bad, being a virgin, you know." before kissing his jaw, then moving to his neck. Apolline unbuttoned Karl’s pants and slid her hand into it, pulling out his dick, lazily stroking it. Karl softly moaned, it was way different from masturbation. He felt like he could come anytime now.

"Are you going to cum already ?” Apolline asked, surprised. Karl nodded, so Apolline drew her hand away. Karl whined.

"What ? Did you really thought that we were going to only satisfy your needs ?"

"It wouldn’t be fun." added Joachim.

They both lowered down on his body, so that they were at head level with his prick. Joachim was the first lick him, it was an experimental lick though. Apolline joined him too, licking on the other side. She looked up to him and smiled.
Karl was flattered, he couldn’t help but grin.
Joachim shifted his attention to the balls, pressing chaste kisses and touching them. Apolline engulfed all of Karl and sucked. She felt it twitching in her mouth, grazing the back of her throat. That’s how big Karl was.
Karl laid down and put each of his hands on Apolline and Joachim heads. As he patted Joachim’s hair, he grabbed the curly locks of Apolline, forcing her mouth to the base of his cock and her nose onto his almost-faint pubes. He could have felt her long eyelashes flutters, the wetness of her warm mouth made him crazy.
It felt just great, but he wanted more.
Apolline’s eyes started to burn, she wanted to cry, the filthy, sloppy sounds she made only made Karl hornier. As she pulled away to lick the tip, Karl saw the lipstick smears on his shaft. He felt pretty proud of it, thinking it was really arousing, smugly smirking.

Joachim lightly pocked Apolline’s shoulder, who looked at him. He quickly titled his head and stood up. He kneeled beside them, unfastening his belt and pants, and started to jerk off. Apolline removed her long skirt and her panty, revealing some black thigh-socks. She got on top of Karl, straddling him : her cunt was practically in front of his cock. Karl’s eyes shifted between at Apolline’s face and her cunt. He thought he was dreaming, couldn’t believe what was happening to him.
Feeling more confident, he grabbed Apolline’s hip, one of his hand going through her shirt, caressing her chest.

"Do you- uh..., do you want me to put it inside ?" Karl meekly asked.

"No, she laughed, Oh no, I’m just going to rub myself on you."

Karl didn’t knew if he was disappointed, they already sucked his cock, and all he wanted to do now was to release himself. He just shrugged and began to thrust, his grip becoming firmer. Apolline licked her lips and pushed up his blazer, in order to not soil it with spunk.
She was very good to him, accompanying his thrust with hers. Her moans were quieter than Karl’s, who also whispered her name, softy, eyes closed, in pure pleasure. At the same time, Joachim got closer, he was basically jerking on top Karl’s face.
Their «frottage» became more and more wet, more and more sloppy and messy.
The first one to come was Karl, sticky mess covering his stomach. Joachim spilled at the sight of the blissfulness that was on Karl’s face, glazing his face (precisely across his bridge nose). Apolline also came, after all, it wouldn’t be fair if her needs weren’t satisfied too. Apolline got off Karl and took a lace handkerchief, to clean the filth that was now his stomach and face.
Apolline and Joachim both rearranged theirs clothes and hair. They then sat near Karl and help him fix himself : Apolline brushed off the dirt on his wool blazer and readjusted his white collar shirt, whereas Joachim brushed his hair, with a small wooden comb. They both smiled at him.

"Did you enjoyed it ?”

"Well-... yes ! Karl beamed, uh, is it possible that..."

"We do this again ?" Apolline completed. Karl nodded.

"Well, sure, we don’t see what not, Joachim said, We did had pleasant time with you." Karl blushed.

“Could be fun to keep him around”, Apolline added, but talking mostly to herself. “How about you go with us to a café or something, Karl ?"

Setting : 31 may 1978.

It was a sunny day and Karl was walking through the streets of a belgium village, not to far from the german border. He had decided to take some alone time for his birthday.
He had spent all his days (and sometimes nights, Ralf would call him at 3 in the morning with the idea to try and experiment new sounds) working on the their lastest album, die «Die Mensch-Maschine».
He was also rather exausted by his bandmates’ perfectionnist attitude. Well, mainly Ralf and Florian, Wolfgang didn’t seem to care enough. But they were acting like maniacs at times. Once, during a recording, Ralf made them record the same song 5 times in a row, because «something didn’t sound right»... whatever that meant.
Moreover, those two seems to have picked up a strange obsession with biking. At first, Karl was interessed too, but when Ralf had proposed them to buy a quadruplet tandem and to ride at least twice a week, he couldn’t look at a bicycle without feeling some hate.
Thankfully, Ralf wasn’t a tyran and he let him go to Belgium for his birthday. Karl didn’t knew why he chosed Belgium, maybe because he always wanted to travel and visit european countries. Beside, it’s pretty near Düssoldorf anyway.
He was staying in a hotel, he had plan to stay for a week, at least. He wanted to stay a bit longer, but he didn’t wanted to take chance with Ralf.

Karl was merrily walking though the streets. It was a fresh change from the everyday landscape of Germany, the houses and apartements were stacked together, and there were little stores, such as chacuteries, convinience stores,... It was lovely.
The only thing that was weird is how quiet the streets were. Quiet was nice, especially after hearing the same cold, electronic sounds of synth and drums, but it was a little too quiet for Karl. He still continued walking none the less.
That when he noticed a black car following him. And it wasn’t discret either, it was driving real close to him. It looked like one those russian cars that would abduct people, like the one he saw on the news once.

Karl swallowed harshly and stared to walk faster, only to realise that the car speed up to his pace. He walked into an alley and hid behind a dumpster. He watches the car drive passed him and waited until the car roar fainted away.
As Karl stood up, he felt a hand on his mouth and an other grabbing both of hands, putting them behind his back. To say that Karl was scared was an understatement, he wanted to scream and fight, but he struggle to even move, fear was paralysing him. The guy that was holding him was pretty strong too. Karl could feel some fabric covering his eyes, and his hands and legs getting tied up.
He felt himself being lift from the ground, by the strong guy, probably. He opened his mouth to scream, but he felt something cold touching his cheek.

"Don’t you dare scream, if you don’t want to get blown away", a nasally voice screeched.

That all Karl heard before being thrown in car trunk.

Karl didn’t know how long he was in that trunk, he felt hot and his back hurt, the two guys that kidnapped him were driving like idiots.
He know that he was on some sort of highway, judging by speed of the car and the sound of the engine.
Karl broke down, he cried, he didn’t wanted to die. He wished he could be back to Düsseldorf, he wished he could be back in the studio. He thought of Wolfgang, Florian and Ralf,... if, by some miracle, he was still alive and saw Ralf again, he would go with biking with him everyday, and will never mock him for his bike obsession.
Karl prayed and prayed, thinking about his parents, his life, his high school,... "My life is going to stop here, he thought, Why ? Who did I wronged ? Why me ?"

It felt like an eternity until the car finally stopped. Karl was too fearful to even think of sleeping.
He heard the truck open, and two strong arms taking him. He didn’t walk, he was carried on the strong guy’s shoulder. A door squeaked open, they took some stairs and they knocked on something, a door, surely.

"Ja, who’s there ?" someone whispered.

"It’s us, we have «him»." replied the guy with the nasally voice.

"Oh, gut ! Enter, and put him on the chair."

Karl was sat on a chair, his ties were undone and his blindfold was removed. It wasn’t a big change, the room was pitch dark.
Karl was shaking and terror-stricken, still crying, he prayed, whishing to be dead already...

Suddenly, lights went on.

"Surprise ! Zum Geburstag viel Glück Karl !"

Karl opened his eyes and saw Ralf, Florian and Wolfgang with birthday hats on. In front of him was a nice Frankfurter Kranz, with some candles. There were also a bottle of wine and champagne on the table, with some gifts on the left.

"Was ? W-What’s going on ? Why are you guys doing here ?" asked Karl, with a small voice.

"Well, it’s birthday, isn’t it ?" said Ralf.

"Ja, but..."

"And you were in Belgium." added Florian.

Karl nodded.

"Well, I- we thought that we could celebrate together. We kinda thought, leaving you alone was sad, so we paid some guys to bring you back !" happily said Ralf with a wide grin. Karl looked at them, well, mostly at Ralf, with disbelief. Behind Ralf, he saw Wolfgang shrug.

"Come on, let’s celebrate !"

Florian gave a glass of champagne to Karl, who looked awful : his eyes and cheeks were red and his hair was messy.
From this day on, Karl never trusted Ralf ever again.

Himmler was drowning in paperwork, on his desk were piles and piles of files and papers, new records of Jews, Polish and French prisoners. He was already busy with the old prisoners. Everyday, the train would keep coming and pour out more and more Jews and others prisonners.
More prisoners means more mouths to feed, more to exterminate but also more to keep record of.
Well, Heinrich couldn’t complain, he knew what kind of work he was assigned when he was promoted head of the Schutzstaffel. But sometimes, he just wished he could work in his farm, with his chicken and his crops. Heinrich stopped what he was doing and took a sip of the water that was placed near a desorganized pile, he sighed and eyed the never ending pile of paperwork that was to his left . He took another sheet and, as his pen barely touched the paper, the door of his office widly swung open.
" Heinrich ! We need to talk ! Jetzt !"
Heinrich didn’t move, he didn’t even looked up, he just continued to write because he knew who entrered, he could recognize that voice anywhere.
Tall and proud, in his perfectly groomed black SS uniform, with slick blond hair, was Heydrich Reinhard. He was Heinrich’s partner and friend for a long time.
On camps, they would spend time in each other presences and sometimes in theirs offices. It wasn’t a «best friend relationship», in a sense that they wouldn’t drink tea with each other or go fishing and what not…. But it wasn’t strictly professionnal either. It seems they just enjoy each other presences.
Once, Dr .Mengele mocked them for being so close by calling them «the Twins». Heinrich even heard some of the soldiers wondering if he and Reinhard were secretly in love. Well, they were probably joking, but joking or not, there was definitly a tension between the two. It wasn’t a romantic tension. It was… something else.
Heinrich had confliting feelings toward his friend : a part of him hated him for being all the thing he wasn’t, all the thing that der Führer liked and adored... He also hated his ‘Holier than thou’ attitude, his percing cold blue eyes…. Everytime that Heinrich felt thoses eyes on him, he could feel his heart skip a beat.

He didn’t love Reinhard, he didn’t think he did, he was married to Margarete. Well, he also have Hedwig in his love live, so loving Reinhard wouldn’t be too much of a stretch and loyalty was already out of the window.
His thoughts was abruptly cut by Reinhard slamming some paper on his desk.
Heinrich looked at the paper and then looked up at Reinhard, who had his arms crossed and was visibly upset.

"Heydrich, what’s wrong ?" he asked softly.

"What’s WRONG ?! Did you even read the papers or heard the news ? 3 prisoners escaped ! No one had seen anything and the others refused to talk, even after I shooted 6 of them and threaten them !"

It was strange, Reinhard was rather intimating and prisoners never remains silent under his cold glare, threats or even his mere presence. Even for him, Heinrich felt slighty frighten, especialy when Reinhard was angry. But Heinrich didn’t have the time to treat thoses papers or this incident, he was just too busy. Reinhard have to treat this by himself. Heinrich got up form his chair and walked next to Reinhard, putting the papers back in his hands.

"Heydrich, bitte, I am really busy, I cant treat this, you’ll have to be by your own."

Heinrich immediately regreted what he just said, the expression that was on Reinhard’s face was mixture of anger, dissapointment and coldness. Saying that he was displeased would have been an understament. Chills runned down Heinrich’s spine, he wished that his secretary (or someone really) burst in the office, he wished he could be to his farm...
Reinhard slowy walked to him, Heinrich walked backward until he felt the cold wall behind him. He didn’t move, he couldn’t, he was petrified. He knew that Reinhard wouldn’t hesite to kill him, he would be excused anyway, he was too important for der Führer.
He felt Reinhard’s eyes on him. Reinhard lifted his hand, Heinrich flinched. He felt confused when he felt the hand brusing his cheek. His hand was surprisingly warm. Reinhard brushed him with the back of his hand. He then took Heinrich by the chin and look him straight in the eyes. Heinrich felt hot and dizzy, the fact that Reinhard was touching him, that theirs faces were so close and they were locking eyes… It was such a private moment, the kind of moment Heinrich would see between two lovers. Reinhard smirked, he was no longer angry. Heinrich’s reaction was just too funny.
Reinhard always took a malicious pleasure to make Heinrich embarrass and blush.

"Very well then, I will do this myself."

And just before closing the door, he added : «Oh also, Mengele want to see you. Tchüss !» Heinrich, still against the wall, took an handkerchief and wiped his face.

Life on the meteor was pretty boring, at least for Nepeta.

Though, she was happy to see her moirail again, Equius. She was also very excited to «see» the other trolls :
Before Sgrub, she knew theirs Trollian handles, but she couldn’t put faces on theirs names, though she talked to some of them for sure (Terezi, for example, whom she roleplay with pretty often) but she had never actually met them. Even through Equius’ descriptions of them, she just couldn’t imagine them and besides, she didn’t had the time to, way to busy to pounce and hunt for food and play with her Lusus !

Now that she was on meteor with everyone else, she could talk with everyone ! But right now, everyone was pretty busy :
Arab0t was getting fix by Equius, Eridan was trying to spike up a kisimisitude with Vriska (who didn’t reciprocated and was just laughing to his face), Terezi was laughing with Vriska, Kanaya was trolling one the humans (Rosie, Rosa, Rox… ? Nepeta wasn’t sure anymore of the alien kid’s name, not that she really cared).
Gamzee was slouching on his horn pile, smiling and giggling with Tavros by his side, Feduspawn cards in hands. It’s was pretty tempting to go slouch and purr with them, but she didn’t wanted to bother them. Her eyes continued to roam the room, until she saw Karkat. Her Karkitty, who was angrily ranting to no one specifically about how stupid of a game Sgrub was, that his hive got obliterated, how he hated everyone, this meteor and himself…. All thoses things he was saying, he didn’t mean to, he likes them, deep down... Well, that’s what Nepeta was hoping for. She shifted her head towards the computers when she heard giggles : Sollux was on one of the computer, coding probably, while talking to Feferi, who was sitting by his side.

"Eurg, Ff, ii do not understand how you can be friiend wiith Ampora ! He’th tho fuckiing loud, ii can hear hiim from acroth the room, you must be thome kind of thaint or thome thit."

"Hehe, oh Shellux, don’t be so angry, otherwise, you’ll end up like Karcrab !"

"HEY, I HEARD THAT, YOU ASSHOLES !"

"Heh, Sollux snickered, But thill Ff, ii can’t/don’t understand how you can tolorate hiim. Actually,ii don’t unsderstand how you tolorate everyone, half of them are complete athholeth or weird degenerateth. Even ii, ii am a complete jerk to everyone, ii mean,tha’th how ii feel like."

"Shellux, don’t be so harsh with the others, they are fun ! I’m sure that if you open more and you take a scale back, you like them !"

"ii’ll… try, thomeday. But, uhm, Feferii, thankth for being nice with me and thtaying by my thides, it’th pretty cool, you’re a fun girl"

And before Feferi could say anything, Sollux stopped typing, put his hands over his face and hair, pulling it and angrily exclaimed :

"WHY THE FUCK DIID II THAID THAT ?! Why everythiing ii do and thay iith EMBARRASIING ? WHAT THE HELL WRONG’TH WITH ME ??"

All Feferi could do was to put a reassuring hand on Sollux’s back, kissed him on the cheek and half-whispered : "Please, Sollux, please, stop be so hard on yourself."

A scream echoed through the room, Nepeta turned her head to the right to see Eridan, with Vriska standing on top of him somehow, with Terezi laughing and clapping.
Feferi quickly left Sollux to rescue Eridan, Sollux just mumbled something about «stupid fishface», before going back to his screen. An idea popped up in Nepeta’s head and a smug grin appeared on her face. With all the attention focused on Eridan, Vriska and Feferi, she silently creeped up behind Sollux, like when she’s hunting her preys. Sollux, still typing, felt something flickering his hair. He stop, glance over his shoulder and sighed, going back to typing.

"Nepeta, thop it."

But it was too late, Nepeta was drawn to his oddly cut hair, touching it, giving it soft little punches, like it was some cat plaything. The more Nepeta was playing, the more Sollux was getting angry.
At the corner of his eyes, Sollux saw Kanaya’s bag of yarns, beautiful, colorful and warm balls of yarns. He looked around to see if she was present, she apparently left. He knew he was risking his life by touching Kanaya’s supplies, but he couldn’t tolerate Nepeta’s strange new found obsession with his hair.
He picked up a fuzzy pink yarnball and threw it, not so far, but far enough to get next to Karkat. Karkat, looked up, confused, but soon became livid as he saw a blur of what appeared to be Nepeta, running towards him at full speed, with playful glee in her eyes.
She jumped on him, Karkat screamed.

"SOLLUX ! I WILL KILL YOU ! I HATE MUOUPHM... !"

That’s all Sollux heard of Karkat before his scream got muffled by Nepeta. Sollux snickered to himself before going back to his screen and continuing typing.