Berlin Republik Ch. 04-05

Chapter Four.

After collecting her meagre belongings and installing her in his apartment off Unter Den Linden, they made their way back to the salon, after Paul collected something from his bedroom side table, locking it as he left. Bette had to ask,

"Are you rich?" She smiled at her impertinence, "That apartment looked expensive, and the furniture wouldn't look lost in a gross schloss!" She glanced over to her protector, amused by the notion that she was sleeping with a nobleman or junker.

"The family was before the war. The estate had to be sold. The money bought that apartment and the country house in Wannsee. I took the best to furnish the apartment and the empty house," Paul spoke in a casual matter-of-fact tone. His title of Holzminden was merely ceremonial and held little authority, but it made Berlin liveable for him.

"I'm sorry," Britte said, looking out of the window. The war had stripped Germany of its treasure. The government had plundered private estates for coin, through taxes, and finally, the peace had broken the old aristocracy and made paupers of a nation. As he parked the car in the side alleyway and the couple slipped do through the ever-present rainfall and entered the salon. Paul took Britte through to the Manager's office, being deliberately rough, which Britte struggled against. She quickly grasped what Paul was attempting. They hadn't rehearsed what Paul would do to shake up the manager and get some answers, but he wanted Britte's true reaction.

As usual, Richter sat behind the desk, and his guard stood on his right. Paul pushed open the door, manhandling Britte and then shoving her against the desk. His tone was cold and hard,

"You knew what this was about, didn't you, Herr Richter? "Paul pulled his pistol from its shoulder holster and aimed it at the shocked guard, who was too slow to pull out his own pistol. " You! Gun on the ground!" Paul barked. The guard obeyed without question, "Sit down and sit on your hands!"

With the bodyguard, "You, Paul turned back to the now frightened Richter,

"What do you mean?" The man stammered, his hands still up in surrender,

"You are Ringvereine! A ring brother and so was Hoffman!" His tone was cold and hard,

Richter looked at his gold signet ring and then back at Paul," Yes, I admit it!"

"So, Hoffman was skimming off the top, with your scams?" Paul countered,

"How do you know that?" the manager asked, more nervous than a moment ago,

"Bette was raped, tortured and murdered, because she was fucking Hoffman on the side, as well as other men, and she saw his ring and put two and two together. She tried to blackmail him to get her visa, but she didn't realise who she was dealing with!" Paul snapped, as he raised his left hand and showed the manager his own signet ring, "I'm a brother too! I was christened German Oak! Now tell me everything!" Paul aimed the pistol at the sweating Richter,

"I only took the money, I didn't kill him or the girl!" the manager stammered, expecting a bullet in his head,

"So, you knew the girls were being tricked! You knew Hoffman was a brother and you informed the Ring; didn't you?" Paul drew the hammer back on the pistol, "Tell me and I'll be a brother to you and keep your name out of it!"

Britte had listened to all of it, and finally exploded into a shriek, "You fucking bastard! You were tricking me out of my money!" her voice shrill, but shocked that Paul was part of this ring group.

"Oh, you stupid bitch, you could have had your papers if you had opened your legs to me! But you were too high and mighty. No one was ever allowed to fuck your little pussy!" Richter spat,

"Enough! I'll take her in, and you will be protected by the Ring, but who did you speak to when you knew Hoffman was skimming funds?" Paul holstered his pistol,

"I only knew him as Siegfried," the manager dropped his hands, assured by his ring-brother.

Britte tumbled out of the salon and onto the steps. She spun round, "You're one of them?" her voice laced with venom,

"No, my feldwebel was. He died in '17. He gave his ring and his code name, as he was a magnificent crook. He gave his ring when he was shot and killed. I wore it when I joined the police and realised that the Ring brothers have their people in position in the force!" Paul explained as they walked through the drizzle to the car,

"So what now?" Britte asked, still smarting from the tricks that Richter and Hoffman were running, looking back at the salon,

"Right now, Richter is telephoning Siegfried and giving the false Ring name will give us a day, possibly two, to find that I'm not 'German Oak'. We have essentially painted a target on our backs, so we run away!"

Paul started the engine and pulled away down the alley,

"Where do we go?" Britte asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable,

"Wannsee. At least I will see them coming. It'll be my ground; my hunting ground! Can you shoot?" Paul glanced at Britte,

"Not well!" Britte admitted,

"I'll teach you," Paul smiled, "I know you have a killer's instinct, so it'll be a short lesson, I expect! Now, we need some provisions before we leave Berlin. I have to make a telephone call to the station."

"Is that wise? Didn't you say the Ring had people in the police station?" Britte was confused,

"They do, and when I tell them I'm taking some leave and heading out of the city, someone will remember about the house in Wannsee. Then whoever killed Bette will come for us. Only I'll be ready," Paul drove down to the main street towards the suburbs, looking for a grocery store.

"This is a terrible risk," Britte's voice was small,

"It's the only way, bring them out of the shadows and then bury them in the grounds of Wannsee. Revenge for Bette and then get you out of Germany!"

Chapter Five.

The house was set back off the waterways of the Wannsee on its own road. The house was an old 1880s building, its windows shuttered up and the small area of garden uncared for and overgrown. The rain had turned to snow now, as the narrow tyres of Paul's car skidded and gripped the rough road up to the house. Paul and Britte got out of the car and crunched quickly to the door. Paul fished out a bunch of keys and then pushed open the heavy door, unlocked it as Britte entered, and he returned to the car and retrieved an ancient, cracked leather bag from the car's boot. Once inside, Britte made for the kitchen at the rear, in the hopes of getting a fire going in the stove or range. Paul locked the door and made off to a side room, panelled in dark wood. The remaining furniture was covered in dust sheets, but luckily, seasoned firewood was aplenty in both the parlour, kitchen and main bedroom. Paul joined her in the kitchen, carrying two rifle cases and the leather bag.

"There's coffee, a loaf of bread, and some tinned ham in there. I'll get more supplies, if we need them," Paul shifted the rifle cases onto the white sheet-draped kitchen table. He looked up as Britte rooted through the cupboards and found a coffee pot, enamel mugs and crossed to the sink. She ran the water for a moment, until it was clear and filled up the stove pot with water and then turned,

"When were you here last?" She looked at the cases carefully," There are provisions here!"

"Last August, I had leave owing to me. It's my bolthole. When I need solitude, from the dirt of Berlin," Paul pulled a long muzzle hunting rifle, equipped with a short scope, from one bag and set it up against the wall. He looked up, then unsheathed the second rifle. A long double-barrelled shotgun,

"That looks fucking dangerous!" Britte remarked, wrinkling her nose in distaste,

"Well, it's yours now. We'll get you and Mitzi acquainted," Paul smirked.

"Mitzi?" Britte grinned childlike,

"All my guns have names. Mitzi, she's got a loud bark and sharp little teeth. My mother's little dog. She hated me," He hefted the gun to the wall and stood it up and retrieved the hunting rifle, "And here is Lotte, a nasty little bitch!"

"Who was Lotte? Your father's cat?" Britte grinned and walked up to him and lifted the gun from his hands, and held it up.

"My first girlfriend!" Paul smiled coldly,

"Oh, she broke your heart?" Britte put the rifle on the table and then draped her arms around Paul's neck,

"Yes, but not as badly as you will do," Paul pulled her close and kissed her fiercely,

"I never said I won't break it, did I?" She pulled away and smiled, " But I did say I would fuck you. Where's the bedroom?"

After starting up a fire in the bedroom, Paul joined Britte on the large four-poster bed and snuggled under a thick embroidered eiderdown, kicking off their boots. She pulled him close, struggled out of her thick sweater, and revealed her braless breasts,

"I want you to make love to me, I need to feel safe now," She said, smiling, anticipating his mouth on her flesh, as Paul rolled on top of her, and suckled at each nipple, causing them to stiffen and Britte to moan appreciatively. Paul gathered each breast and kissed the sensitive skin, and then nibbled at her nipples. Britte squirmed and wriggled her hands down to the waistband of her trousers and undid the button. His skin was warm, and now his prick was freed; it stood firm in her hands. Paul, taking the hint, began to undress Britte, trying not to dislodge the thick eiderdown and allow any cold air. After some giggling from the pair of them, they discarded their clothes, as the room began to warm up, and they could eventually throw off the eiderdown and undress completely. Paul suckled at Britte's nipples, biting them tenderly, dragging his teeth over her sensitive nubs, causing her to gasp aloud,

"Oh, mein Gott!" She shuddered, grabbed his head and pushed his head into her chest, crushing him against her tits, "Let me sit on you, please, Paul, I need you inside me!" Britte gritted her teeth. Paul arranged her body, and Britte reached down and found Paul's stiffened prick and threaded it between her legs and into her clenched pussyhole. Paul tilted his hips, and Britte pounded herself on his prick. The force of his entry made Britte gasp and Paul moan aloud. Their sex was full of desperate passion, with the threat of death looming, their urgency, their need for release was joyous and yet overshadowed by the fear that all this would end.

Terribly. Rolling her onto her hands and knees, Paul pulled her to the edge of the bed, and he stood on the wooden floor, threading his over-long prick in and out of Britte's cunt. Her sex was flooded with her juices, and Paul delighted in making her stretched cunthole squelch as he withdrew and plunged into her, pushing deep into her,

"Oh verdammte Hölle!" Britte gasped wriggling and shifting, attempting to accommodate the ferocity of his thrusting, " du reißt meine Fotze auf!"

"Warte, bis ich deinen Arsch strecke, dann wirst du schreien!" Paul spanked her buttocks and then pushed his thumb into her fluttering anus. Britte had denied him once, the tightness of her arse, but now she wanted to give him all of herself, but he had to be slow.

"Ja, benutze meinen Arsch, aber langsam. Dein Schwanz ist groß!" She cautioned him, with his large ardent manhood,

"Ich werde sanft sein, Britte, das verspreche ich," promising to be gentle as he could, despite his arousal.

Using her wetness, his spit, he worked his thumb into her anus, and then used two fingers. Soon, she relaxed enough for him to push his cock head into her anus, working past her ring of muscle and plumbing the depths of her asshole. Britte gritted her teeth as she allowed him to use her most sensitive hole, but found how much she found it more enjoyable. He was slow, and tender, and she used her free hands to rub furiously at her clitoris, and plunging her fingers into her vacant pussy to accelerate her arousal. He felt the pressure of his shaft penetrating her body, filling her full as he worked his prick in and out of her anus. After minutes of anal sex, Britte had found her arousal had skyrocketed. Paul, with such a machine-like pace and rhythm, had brought on an unexpected and hugely intense orgasm,

"Paul, Ich Komme! Ich Komme!" Britte gasped and panted loudly as her climax crashed wave-like inside her pussy and then her arsehole. Paul, encouraged by her arousal and excitement, found his orgasm building up instantly. He shook violently as he pulled out his stiff prick and unleashed a torrent of his pearl coloured semen upon her quivering buttocks, before collapsing beside her,

"Oh my god, Britte!" He gasped for breath as Britte shuddered and fell into his arms,

"I've never given myself to anyone like that!" Britte confessed,

"I've never wanted any woman like I want you!" Paul grasped her tightly, "I won't let anyone hurt you!"

Back in Berlin, Herr Richter was sprawled on the floor, his face bloody from a storm of vicious punches from the small bespectacled man, Otto Bauer, who smiled, enjoying the pain he was serving up. A second man was grey-haired and thin, watched impassively, waiting for Richter to succumb to the punches and give up any pertinent information to the Ring brotherhood. The last man, the most dangerous, was cleaning the long-bladed bayonet that had just taken the life of Richter's bodyguard, after delivering several deep cuts across the body and colouring the floor red. He was no stranger to bloodshed; in fact, he enjoyed it; only one thing that made him more satisfied, but opportunities were rare.

"Otto, give Herr Richter a chance to speak. I feel he has something to say," The grey-haired man sighed,

"Herr Schieder, I think you are right," Otto Bauer laughed. The last man, Marius Bonhoeffer, put his blade away and helped himself to a glass of schnapps from a table set to one side of the office, then crossed the room and stood over Richter's bloodied body. There was a distinct air of boredom from him, which fuelled Richter's need to confess. "Please... please... He told me that he was a brother! I telephoned Siegfried as soon as I could!" Richter spat out three teeth as blood filled his mouth and throat, "He was investigating Hoffman and the whores that worked here. That's all I know!" Richter sobbed, and in one swift motion, he was cut short as the third man unsheathed his bayonet and slashed at Richter's throat, killing him outright.

"Well, that cut short the conversation, Marius!" Otto laughed, "But he knew nothing to help us. I think we should adjourn to the bar, have a drink, and if there's time, I'd like to dip my wick with that little blonde whore, I saw as we came in."

"No, you can fuck the whore hiding out with the policeman, we need to report to Siegfried," Schnider ordered. Marius looked at him,

"Then she will be mine," Marius smiled thinly, remembering his vile delights he had heaped on Bette and imagining how he would repeat the torture on Britte,

The shotgun erupted in fire, spitting its deadly spray of shot into the air and striking the collection of empty bottles, shattering two of the six bottles that Paul had set up as targets. Paul had placed them on the low garden wall. The noise frightened the birds, and the recoil made Britte step back in surprise,

"Ouch! That was painful!" She scolded Paul, despite his expert instruction, she had neglected to press her shoulder hard enough. Paul took the shotgun, reloaded it and then gave it back to her,

"Tuck it in tight, it'll absorb the recoil and aim small, then you will miss small," Paul pointed to the middle bottle, that is Bette's killer, aim for his prick and let the gun do the rest!" Paul hissed, straightening her shoulders,

"I understand," She imagined the middle bottle was Bette's murderer and fired. The gun bucked with great control, and all the bottles shattered as the shot struck them, pieces of glass exploding in the air.

"Bravo!" Paul complimented Britte, clapping her shoulders,

"Danke! I want to kill Bette's murderer, Paul. I want to see him bleed," she turned t him, giving up the rifle.

The telephone rang and Siegfried, a brown-shirted SA commandant, lifted the receiver, "Ja? Ja! Danke," In front of him, Schnieder, Bonhoffer and Bauer stood waiting for instruction. The telephone message was a few seconds, but Siegried replaced the receiver and looked up, "My contact at Police Headquarters has come through. Holzminden had taken leave, and my contact has one address in Wannsee. I assume the whore is with him. Kill them both and then leave their bodies there and burn the house down. No evidence means no investigation," Siegfreid scowled at Schneider, " No mistakes this time!" Siegfried scribbled an address on a page of thick yellow note paper and handed it to Bonhoffer, who reached out his hand for his comrade.

"Jahowl, Herr Commandant," He snapped his heels together. He turned, and the two men followed him out of the cramped office.

End of Chapter Five.