Villawood Montana, 1959

She looked at the telephone only briefly before she snatched up the handset. The telephone was the same colour as her fingernail polish: bright red. It sat on top of a wooden box on the large oak desk. Printed on the box in bold letters were the words For Emergency Use Only. As far as she was concerned this was an emergency.

She unclipped the earring from her right earlobe and put the phone to her ear.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice said.

“This is Airman Samantha Steele… I mean… Samuel Steele. I don’t know where to start… things have gotten out of control here,” she said breathlessly.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice repeated itself.

“This place is crazy. It’s been crazy for months. Things are happening here that shouldn’t be happening. The experiment has gone off the rails. What’s happening isn’t right,” Sam said, her voice so choked with emotion it was hard to understand her.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” the disembodied voice said for the third time.

Sam didn’t know what else to do so she told the whole story or at least the part where things had started to spiral out of control right up until the present.

“So that’s what’s happening. What are you guys going to do about it?” her voice was hoarse from crying.

The Private on the other end of line was named Specialist Monroe and he looked up at Colonel Johnathan Flagg who was standing next to his desk with a look of consternation on his face.

“What do you want me to do sir?” Specialist Monroe asked.

Colonel Flagg leaned in and switched off the speaker and put his finger on the telephone cradle and broke the connection.

“Give me the tape son,” he pointed to the tape recorder which had recorded the conversation.

“You keep your mouth shut Monroe. We’re all bound by the official secrets act here son,” Flagg said tersely and the Private nodded.

He unspooled the tape and handed it to the Colonel who took it from the Private and left the room.

Samantha Steele looked at the handset in disbelief. She put it back to her ear and tapped the cradle, trying to re-establish the connection but the line was dead. She heard the creaking of leather boots behind her and turned around slowly.

Staff Sergeant William Brody had entered the office silently and stood in the middle of the room dressed in his faded but immaculately pressed khakis.

He put out his hand and Samantha gave him the handset. He put it back in the cradle and looked at Sam with his icy blue eyes that conveyed no emotion whatsoever.

“Get on your knees!” he grunted.

“Oh please no!” Sam whispered.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Bill Brody whipped the belt out of the loops of his fatigue pants and doubled it over and held it by his side menacingly.

Sam got down on her knees gingerly; her movement constricted by her tight pencil skirt. She was careful not to get any splinters in her knees from the sawn lumber flooring or to put a runner in her nylons. Nylon stockings were currently plentiful at the department store but the supply was not inexhaustible.

“You know what to do,” Bill smacked his belt against his thigh to emphasise his point.

Sam leaned forward and began to unbutton Bill’s fly. This was part of the punishment, making her unbutton him and take out his appendage. It was a means of degradation and control.

Sam freed Bill’s erect organ and it stood out proud from his groin: seven inches of turgid flesh with a sleek lustrous veiny shaft, terminating in a pink bulbous glans. She could smell the sweat and feel the heat coming from his crotch.

“Do it,” Bill put a hand on Sam’s head and guided her face to his groin.

She dutifully opened her mouth and took what he offered her. As much as she wanted to close her eyes she knew that would incite more punishment. She obediently raised her emerald green eyes to Bill’s face and stared at him as she began to suckle his cock.

She sucked on the shaft with her lipsticked lips while she tickled his fraenulum with the tip of her tongue. She knew from learned experience that it gave Bill optimum pleasure and that was the objective: to maximise his pleasure so that he climaxed as quickly as possible.

She batted her eyelids at him, her eyes big and frightened like a new-born fawn. Her eyes were embellished by thick black eyeliner and mascara and the lids painted with garish blue and pink eyeshadow. Bill glared down at her, watching her red lipsticked lips suck his hard cock. He sighed and patted her head like one might pat a good dog.

Sam felt Bill’s cock begin to swell to full tumescence and start to quiver. She was prepared for her mouth to be flooded with his seed. She knew that she had to swallow it all and not waste a drop.

But Bill had other ideas. He wrenched his cock from her face and held her head still as she attempted to take him back in her mouth. Samantha wanted him to ejaculate in her mouth because the alternative was unpalatable.

“Get up,” Bill held out a hand and helped Sam get unsteadily to her feet.

She tottered on her high heels but Bill held her tight so she wouldn't fall. He leaned in and kissed her and she let him; neither kissing him back nor fighting him off. There was no point in disobedience or noncompliance.

“Bend over the desk,” he growled.

“Please no,” Samantha pleaded.

Bill slapped his belt against his thigh and glared at her and Sam obediently turned around and bent over the desk.

Bill struggled to ruck Samantha's pencil skirt up her thighs because it fitted her tightly but it was worth the effort. Bent over the desk as she was, her pert derrière swathed in translucent lace-trimmed full-cut panties was a marvel to behold. Her garters ran down inside her panties emerging from the leg holes, clipped to the coffee-coloured welts of her fully-fashioned nylon stockings, the seams running down the back of her legs in dead straight lines.

Bill took a minute to admire the visage while he stroked his cock. He nested it in the furrow of her buttocks and rubbed it between the soft globes of her ass enjoying the feel of the silky cool fabric of her panties on his turgid phallus. Sam knew better than to move. If she was lucky he might ejaculate there; he’d done it before.

But not today.

Bill took a tube of K-Y Jelly from his pocket and placed it on the desk. Sam looked at it and choked. Another means of manipulation. She was duty-bound to apply the lubricant where it was needed because if she didn’t Bill would go in dry and that would be torture. Sam knew this from bitter experience.

“Not today please Bill, let me finish you with my mouth,” Sam pleaded but Bill remained silent.

She uncapped the tube of lubricant, squeezed a dollop on her fingertips and reached behind her and slathered it on Bill’s erect penis. She wiped her hands on a tissue.

“Open your panties,” he growled.

It was another means of exercising control over her. Making her do the very things she hated.

“Oh god no please don’t Bill,” Sam begged but she compliantly eased aside the gusset of her panties.

“You know where it goes,” he barked.

Sam took his penis and nestled it between her buttocks, guiding the glans to her puckered bud and then she held onto the desk and waited for William Brody to rape her.

This was how it always went when she was naughty. He made her wait. The indignity of being bent over with her skirt hiked up and Bill’s cock nestled in the furrow of her sphincter wasn’t enough; he made her wait until he was ready.

Bill slowly inserted his cock inside Samantha’s tight asshole.

It went the way it had so many times before. At first there was the pain, a dull ache that wasn’t so much unpleasant as it was uncomfortable. She resisted the urge to try to expel it. Then there was the stretching of her sphincter and the walls of her anus. She felt a fullness that was almost indescribable. She felt degraded and demeaned.

Then Bill put his hands on her hips and began to slowly push his cock in and out of her rectum.

This was where Sam wished he’d just ravage her and pound her ass like a jackhammer but he didn’t. He fucked with long, slow, almost loving strokes and she hated it. She hated it because it washed away any pain she was feeling and filled her aching anus with pleasure. The pleasure was overwhelming and insurmountable. She had no way of supressing it.

The first time she had felt it she was stupefied that such a carnal revolting act could cause her such delectable pleasure and deep satisfaction. The more she tried to supress it the more it intensified. It was the same every time and today was no different.

As William Brody’s long thick cock reamed her anus she gasped and grunted with pleasure. Ringlets of dulcet delight radiated from her tight sphincter and her prostate. The irony was that if she struggled all she did was intensify Bill’s pleasure and her own so she stayed still, bent over the desk, while Bill fucked her. He moved his hands to her thighs and stroked them.

She would never tell Bill how much she relished it when he did that. The very first time she had put on nylons she was enchanted with how they felt on her flesh but when Bill stroked and pawed at them it drove her wild with lust. She couldn't suppress a shiver of delight and Bill smiled wickedly and fucked her harder.

Her anus was so tight around his throbbing his cock. The first time he had fucked Samantha he was very trepidatious, thinking that what he was doing was a mortal sin but after that first time he couldn’t get enough of her.

He slammed his cock all the way inside Samantha’s slick tight ass and heard her gasp as he ejaculated; filling her back passage with his warm semen. Samantha wriggled like a stuck animal impaled on his hard throbbing penis. Bill wasn't sure if it was pain or pleasure that made her do that whenever he came inside her, and he really didn’t care.

It was pleasure. Intense pleasure. The feel of Bill’s cock buried inside her, spewing forth his issue, his groin pressed against her panty-clad buttocks his fingers raking her stocking-sheathed thighs induced deep carnal desires that Sam loathed but also cherished. She hated herself for enjoying it as her cock sputtered and filled her panties with her creamy issue.

Bill kept her pressed against the desk while the last of his spend filled her anus and god help her Sam loved it when he pushed himself against her buttocks in post coital bliss. Her own cock was tingling and throbbing as she dribbled the last of her seed into her panties.

Bill pulled out and admired his handiwork. Sam’s pink puckered bud quivered and dribbles of his semen ran down the crack of her ass and stained the tops of her stockings. He eased the gusset of her panties back into place and smoothed the fabric over her globes.

Then he stepped back and slapped her ass three times with his belt.

“You stay out of this office do you understand?” he barked and Sam nodded, unable to speak because of the pain radiating from her glowing buttocks.

“Good girl. And stay off the fucking phone,” Bill helped Samantha to her feet and pulled down her skirt and kissed her softly then let her go.

She straightened her skirt as best she could, feeling Bill’s seed dribbling from her asshole and her saturated panties rubbing on her skirt. It didn’t matter. There were plenty more of the same skirts in her size in the store.

She picked up her pocketbook off the desk and gave the red emergency telephone a final glance before she turned and walked out of the office.

The phone call had been futile. A waste of time and she had been punished severely for it. For the thousandth time she thought to herself: How had it come to this?

*****

Fort Leavenworth Kansas, 1959

In the 1950s in the grip of the Cold War the military were conducting secret tests at many different locations for a variety of reasons. There was nuclear weapon testing, biological agent testing, chemical warfare testing, psychochemical experimentation and many more studies conducted under the guise of enduring freedom. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were subject to physical and psychological experiments to see exactly what they could endure under controlled stressful conditions.

The US Navy had developed nuclear submarines that could effectively remain at sea indefinitely if they were resupplied at sea. NORAD had bunkers where men could be stationed indefinitely if needed should a nuclear threat loom. The Army was looking at stationing troops in secret locations for extended periods. The Department of Defense wanted specific data on what would happen to troops under condition where men were isolated for extended periods and had no certainty as to when they would return from duty.

A controversial study that explored the effects of authority on obedience had been conducted at Yale University which led to some surprising results. In the study, an authority figure ordered participants to deliver what they believed were dangerous electrical shocks to another person. These results suggested that people are highly influenced by authority and obedience.

The military wondered what might ensue if a small unit of servicemen was cut off from the chain of command but with unlimited resources at their disposal. Would anarchy ensue or would discipline and military structure prevail?

The experiment was to be conducted in complete secrecy at a remote location and would be left to run as long as the officer in charge of the study, one Colonel Johnathan Flagg, deemed necessary. The subjects would be given very little in the way of information or direction. They would be free to behave as the circumstances presented and in any manner they saw fit. The less they knew about the experiment the better the results would be.

Flagg needed a place to conduct his experiment and he found the ideal location in the remote rural town of Villawood Montana. The Excelsior Mining Company had a lease to mine copper and expected to make huge profits. Their business plan was simple: build a small town with all the amenities that a small workforce would need so that they would be happy to live in an isolated location and work long hours.

The idea was to induce miners to live and work in Villawood for extended periods without the need to leave town; the premise being that the high wages offset the isolation.

So Excelsior Mining built the town of Villawood and fully resourced it, including stocking the supermarket, the department store, the café, cinema and bar. Thirty houses had been built and furnished. Bulk fuel, groceries and necessities were stockpiled and a generator with backup was installed to provide power.

Literally days before Excelsior was scheduled to fly in the workers and their families, the government cancelled the mining lease. Excelsior Mining was compensated for their expenses and offered another mining lease elsewhere.

The Department of Defense compulsorily acquired the town of Villawood and the surrounding lands. They erected a twelve foot fence around the town which they electrified and posted warning signs. Not that the fence was really required to keep people out; Villawood was so remote that it was unlikely that anyone would just wonder in. The fence was erected more as a means to keep people in.

So what kind of people would be kept behind the fence?

Six servicemen were selected from numerous volunteers incarcerated at the United States Disciplinary Barracks Fort Leavenworth. Each was selected after extensive psychological testing to ensure there was a suitable range of subjects with varying psychological profiles ranging from alpha male to submissive follower from the Navy, Army and Air Force.

All of the candidates were keen to undertake any form of study that would free them from the confines of Leavenworth. Their crimes ranged from rape and assaulting a superior officer to fraud and insubordination and their ranks ranged from Staff Sergeant to Airman although as convicted felons none of them would be entitled to use the rank they had held before they were convicted.

That was all part of the experiment. Flagg had decided early on when developing the study that none of the subjects would be officers and that there would be no Marines. He wanted to see if those who had previously held rank would rise up and take charge or if a pecking order would develop based on people’s personality and disposition. Surely the meek would not inherit the world.

Staff Sergeant William Brody lay on the back seat of the olive drab bus as it rattled along the dirt road leading from the air field to the town of Villawood. He was fast asleep and appeared to care less about where he was being taken. The remaining inmates: Airman Samuel Steele, Petty Officer First Class Wesley Meakins, Private First Class Dale Snitterman, Senior Airman Buddy Flintock, Seaman Victor Benning, sat in separate seats and craned their necks to look out of the windows.

They had first met when they were transported from Fort Leavenworth to the airfield where they boarded the DC-3 for a destination unknown. All they knew was that they been selected to undertake a study that could possibly take years. Not that any of them were concerned about the amount of time the study would take – the longer the better so long as they were concerned. At least they were no longer incarcerated at Leavenworth.

As the bus approached the gates to the security fence that surrounded the town of Villawood, William Brody roused from his slumber as the road changed from rough dirt to smooth blacktop. He studied the fence as they passed through it as did the other prisoners. Fences were nothing new to them. Wherever they were going, it was just another prison.

The bus pulled up in a small town square which was just a lawn faced by an administrative building which had the words Villawood Montana - Excelsior Mining Company painted on a shingle above the entry doors. A full-bird Colonel in immaculately pressed fatigues and spit-shined boots stood at parade rest and watched the men disembark.

As they were military men they immediately fell in as a squad in front of Flagg without being told to do so. One of Flagg’s aides observed this and scribbled furiously in a note book.

“Gentlemen, welcome to Villawood Montana, your home for the foreseeable future. This town is brand new and pristine. It is well provisioned and will be re-provisioned as necessary. It is your job to keep this town running and maintain it to the best of your abilities,” Flagg began his short speech.

“You have been selected for a number of reasons and one of those reasons is that you all have different Military Occupational Specialties. You will for all intents and purposes be left alone to accomplish this task as outside interference will contaminate the study results,” Flagg went on, looking each man in the eye as he spoke.

“I’m not going to tell you much else; there is an Administrative Instruction inside this building. You’re all smart men you’ll figure it out. Specialist Monroe is going to give each of you a diary. You are to complete the diary every day and every Monday you are to deposit the diary in the box at the front gate and it will be returned the next day. All correspondence with me and my team will be via messages left in that box. There is an emergency telephone inside if the shit hits the fan but that is unlikely,” Flagg wrapped up his welcome speech.

The bus had already left and Flagg and his two lackeys jumped into a jeep and started it up.

“Sir! Sir! Just one thing. Who is in charge?” Buddy Flintock asked.

Flagg just gave him a wicked smile and sniggered.

“That's for you all to sort out son,” he tapped his driver on the shoulder and the men were left standing in a cloud of diesel fumes.

William Brody turned to face the other five men.

“Ok. Let’s get inside the building and find out what this shit show is all about,” he said, picking up his duffle.

“Who put you in charge Brody. There ain’t no rank here. We’re all inmates; we aint got no rank,” Senior Airman Buddy Flintock snarled at William Brody.

Brody walked over to Buddy and put his arm around him convivially.

“You’re right Flintock. Ain’t no rank here,” he smiled viciously.

Then he punched Buddy Flintock in the stomach and Buddy fell into the dust. Brody kicked him in the midriff three times and Buddy lay on the ground trying to breathe.

“Anybody else wondering who’s in charge?” Brody glared at the other young men.

The men filed meekly into the Administrative building following Brody. Airman Samuel Steele knelt down and assessed that Buddy Flintock was just winded and helped him to his feet.

The building smelled of new paint and was spartanly furnished with office equipment; just two offices and a conference room. In the main office a folder lay opened on the desk at the title page Villawood Rules & Regulations. Sitting in one corner of the desk was red telephone on a wooden box with the words For Emergency Use Only painted in bold letters.

“I guess we know what that’s for. As the person in charge here I’m going to say up front that no one except me is going to use that phone, unless of course I’m incapacitated and need help,” Brody patted the phone and sat down in the chair behind the desk.

“You all tell me who you are and what your MOS is,” Brody began to open drawers to see what was in them but he was listening.

“Airman Samuel Steele, Medical Corps,” Steele said in his high-pitched almost effeminate voice.

“Well there’s our nurse boys. What you in Leavenworth for?” Brody studied Steel's slight build and meek composure.

“I was caught stealing drugs and other medical supplies,” Steele said blushing with guilt.

“Ok. I’m guessing a town as isolated as this shithole has its own infirmary. You’ll check that out,” Brody began to flick idly through the Rules and Regulations.

“Private Dale Snitterman, Army catering corps,” Snitterman said, stepping forward.

“Well I hope you know how to cook something better than shit-on-shingle brother because your MOS speaks for itself. What you in for?” Brody stopped at random pages in the folder as the contents caught his interest.

“I was fudging the victualing orders at Camp Grohn in Germany. I was in cahoots with the civilian providore and we split the profits,” Snitterman shrugged his shoulders.

“I did a stint in Germany too kid. As you can see it didn’t do me any good either,” Brody sniggered.

“Petty Officer First Class Wesley Meakins, Disbursing Clerk United States Navy,” Wesley said in a voice that was almost camp, his demeanour was epicene.

“Let me guess… you had your hand in the cookie jar?” Brody raised his brows questioningly.

“Yes sir. I was convicted of fraud and theft. I stole cash from the Pursers safe and doctored the books,” Wesley blushed bright red and Brody suspected he was lying but he let it go.

“Don’t call me sir Meakins; I work for a living. You're the second ranking NCO here and your MOS ideally suits the task of being my clerk and Girl Friday,” Brody chuckled and Snitterman and Benning laughed with him.

Meakins just blushed a brighter red and hung his head.

“Seaman Victor Benning, Electricians Mate USN. AWOL, insubordination, drunk on duty and just about every other fucked up charge that Uncle Sam could throw at me,” Benning snarled.

He was a wiry angry young man with a quick temper but proud of being one of the few black men in the USN with a technical trade.

“Well you’ll be useful,” Brody dismissed him.

“Senior Airman Buddy Flintock, Mechanic, US Air Force,” the resentment in Flintock’s voice was still evident.

“We going to have a problem Flintock?” Brody glared at the Airman.

“No Staff Sergeant,” Flintock said through gritted teeth.

“Well good because this place has its own generator. Says so here in this file, so were going to need you to keep the lights on son,” Brody stood up and closed the file.

“There’s no rank here so we can use first names. That said I’m running the show unless someone wants to challenge. I got twenty years in and have combat and organisational experience and I doubt that there is anyone more qualified than me to lead this rag-tag bunch,” Brody looked each of the inmates in the eye.

“It’s early days yet but looks like we might be on easy street here boys and girls. Let’s fan out in pairs and check this place out and meet up here in two hours,” Brody pointed to a position on a map of Villawood mounted on the wall.

Brody had found a stack of town plans in one of the drawers and he handed them out.

The men divided themselves up in twos: Steele and Snitterman, Flintock and Benning, Brody and Meakins.

They were heading out the front door when Flintock stopped and turned to Brody.

“What did you do Sergeant Brody?” he looked William in the eyes.

“Shit don’t stand on ceremony son; just call me Bill. I’m in for rape and assaulting a superior officer. She had it coming but they threw the book at me. Now let’s get going people; we’re burning daylight,” Bill stepped out into the brilliant sunlight.

*****

Berlin Germany – American Sector, 1947

During the post-war occupation of Germany the US Army maintained a military installation in Steglitz-Zehlendorf, Berlin. In 1947 then Corporal William Brody was stationed at Andrews Barracks as part of the military security force. Male and female GIs were stationed there as part of the occupying forces and the barracks was well supplied and included a church, barber shop, movie theatre, service club, and a restaurant for soldiers use and spacious living quarters and public spaces.

The barracks mess hall walls had murals depicting military scenes and regimental insignia and American soldiers ate at tables which the civilian waitresses had decorated with flowers. One of those waitresses was thirty year old Heidi Baumgartner. She was an attractive buxom lass with creamy-white skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her fluency in English had landed her the job.

The civilian population were living just above the poverty line and any job working for the US occupation forces was considered a blessing. Even though Heidi was well paid relative to most of the population everything was rationed so she had to hand over exorbitant sums to black marketeers to pay for essentials and luxuries so that she and her young son could live a decent life. Heidi supplemented her income by offering herself to American servicemen who traded money and gifts for her company. Corporal ‘Bill’ Brody singled Heidi out not long after he arrived.

Heidi had caught Bill’s eye in the mess hall and she had returned his smile and went over to bus his table ensuring he was treated to a view of her ample cleavage. Her last lover, a supply Sergeant had shipped home a couple of weeks earlier and she needed a replacement. She slipped Bill her address on a napkin before he left the mess hall and crossed her fingers.

Bill arrived at Heidi’s apartment later that evening as she had hoped. Bill was still getting used to the desolation of Berlin. The German civilian population were living in squalor while they tried to rebuild their war-torn city. Heidi’s second floor apartment was at the top of a rickety staircase in a bombed out building where temporary repairs had been made to make it just about suitable for human occupation.

Heidi was wearing a black dress, battered high heels, heavy makeup and her blonde hair was coiffed as best she could, given the conditions in which she lived. The dress was nice but old and threadbare in places. A toddler lay sleeping in an iron drop-sided crib.

“I’m sorry, there is no one to take the child while I entertain you,” Heidi pulled a makeshift curtain across the room to isolate the infant.

Heidi’s eyes were big and beautiful and filled with hope and hunger, constantly drawn to the carrybag that Bill was carrying. Nylon and silk supplies during the war had been directed towards the war effort and stockings were in very short supply. Nylon stockings became increasingly popular on the black market, and sold for up to $20 per pair. Women who could not get their hands on nylons resorted to lotions, creams, stick cakes and painting seam lines down their legs to give the illusion of nylons.

There were riots in America as women scrambled to acquire the much sought after product when DuPont eventually began to release stockings onto the market after the war and in war-torn Europe they were still a rare commodity.

Bill noticed that Heidi had painted seams up the back of her legs and darkened the tops of her thighs with cosmetics to imitate the welts.

“That’s fine Heidi I understand things are tough,” Bill handed Heidi the carry bag and she almost snatched it from his grasp.

There were small quantities of chocolates, coffee, sugar, cigarettes, cosmetics and powdered milk in the bag and Heidi placed the items one at a time on the old wooden table, admiring each one like it was a Christmas present.

She offered Bill a seat on a battered couch that was draped with piles of comforters to cover the broken slats and exposed springs and she sat down beside him. She leaned in and kissed him and Bill pulled her to him and returned the kiss.

“Thank you very much Bill, you’ve no idea how hard things are at the moment,” she smiled at him and Bill could see that under the makeup she wore on her pretty face, her face was lined with fatigue and worry.

“I have a couple of other things you might like too,” Bill beamed at her and she looked at him expectantly.

Bill reached into his field jacket and produced a five dollar note. American currency was much sought after and five dollars was a lot of money; Bill’s wage was just over $100 a month.

Heidi snatched the money from his grasp and then she looked at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Thank you so much Bill you are more than generous,” she leaned in and kissed him again.

“I haven’t finished,” Bill produced four packages of nylon stockings from his field jacket and Heidi’s eyes lit up.

She reached for them but Bill snatched them out of reach.

“You get three pairs for yourself. The other pair are mine,” Bill grinned at her salaciously and Heidi looked at him confused.

“What do you mean?” Heidi was puzzled.

“You get three pairs to wear with your best clothes but the forth pair you wear for me in bed,” Bill explained.

“Oh I see,” Heidi said dispassionately.

“You didn’t think I was giving you all this stuff so we could play parlour games all night did you?” Bill grinned at her.

Corporal William Brody was a good looking young man with ice-blue eyes set in a tanned handsome face. His body was lean and rangy, his teeth white and his sandy hair clean and combed. Her last paramour had been a fat supply Sergeant with body odour and bad breath who pawed at her before climbing on her and humping her briefly with his stubby penis until he was satisfied and then he set about eating most of the delicacies that he brought to her in exchange for sex.

“I like a man who knows what he wants,” Heidi’s grimace softened and she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Why don’t I put them on now for you?” Heidi smiled at him coquettishly.

Bill sat back and watched Heidi take off her dress and step into a satin and lace suspender belt. She lifted her chiffon underskirt, a gift from a young Lieutenant who had dropped by for a one night stand, out of the way and adjusted the suspender belt around her hips.

Heidi’s was wearing tricot and lace full-cover granny panties with a seamless crotch, another gift from a generous serviceman, and Bill watched fascinated as Heidi threaded the garters through the leg holes of the panties. His cock became fully tumescent as he watched her carefully roll the nylons up her legs and clip the welts to the garter snaps.

“Would you be a dear and straighten my seams?” Heidi stood close to the couch and turned her back to Bill.

Her panty-clad derriere was at eye level and her long legs sheathed in the gossamer nylons were within his reach. He could smell her perfume and she gasped as Bill reached out and stroked her stockings and straightened the seams.

His fingers lingered as he traced the black seams along the back of her legs and then stroked the welts of her stockings. Heidi gasped as his fingers strayed under the leg-holes of her panties and found her soft bush. His fingers found her labia, fleshy, warm and wet. He could smell the musk of her sex mingled with her perfume and he pulled her down into his lap and kissed her passionately.

They wrestled on the couch as Bill awkwardly removed his jacket, tie and shirt and pulled down his pants. He freed her ample bosom from her brassiere and sucked her thick juicy nipples. Heidi guided his face from one teat to the other. She could feel his hard appendage pressing into her buttocks and she wriggled so that her silken-shrouded bottom pressed on his manhood.

Bill was hot and excited; he hadn't had a woman for some time and he was eager to take this beautiful mature woman. He wrenched his face from her bosom and kissed her, driving his tongue into her mouth as he prodded at her, trying to find her sex.

Heidi reached down and took his turgid manhood in her fingers and guided it inside the leg-hole of her panties into her downy bush. Bill sighed as she placed it at the entrance to her sultry moist sex. His glans slipped past her fleshy labia and into her steaming passage.

Heidi bit his lip as his huge cock slipped into her vagina. She pushed her sex against him so that his pelvis was pressing on her clitoris and then she began to ride him. Bill held her tightly by the hips and drove his cock in and out of her warm wet vagina, kissing her, tasting her lipstick, feeling her velvety panties and silky nylons on his flesh, smelling her sweet perfume and the pungent scent of her cunt.

Heidi draped her arms around Bill’s shoulders and rode him, trying to slow him down as he galloped towards his climax whilst she spawned a slow and steady progressive accumulation of carnal pleasures which would culminate in an earth-shattering orgasm.

She managed to time her orgasm with his as Bill pulled her down into his lap and buried his cock deep inside her and filled her with his scalding issue. Heidi gyrated her hips and ground her pudenda against him to heighten the delightful rings of gratification that radiated from her sex.

They pawed and ground against each other, gasping and groaning until their orgasms began to recede but they weren't done with each other.

Bill kept his cock buried in her vagina while she clung to him with her arms and legs wrapped around him as he rose from the couch and waddled to the bed where he lay her down, took off his pants and boots and started all over again.

Later as they lay in bed drinking schnapps and smoking cigarettes Bill asked Heidi about her son. Had his father been killed in the war?

Heidi rolled over on her side and propped her head in her hand and took a long drag on her cigarette.

“The Russians arrived in Berlin first and shot every man they saw. They looted the stores and rounded up the women. Most of the women tried to make themselves look ugly, blackening their faces with soot, wearing rags and so on,” Heidi whispered.

“I knew what was coming and that there would be no escape. I hid in a bombed out house but instead of making myself look ugly I put on my best dress and high heels, put on my makeup, brushed my hair and waited until I saw a Russian officer arrive in an armoured vehicle.”

“He was shouting at the soldiers but they ignored him. I saw soldiers gang rape a woman in the street, ten men lined up one after the other. I leapt from where I was hiding and ran to the officer, barely escaping the clutches of the barbarian soldiers who tried to grab me. They were drunk and could hardly stand.”

“I spoke no Russian and he spoke no German but he understood. I was put in his vehicle and driven to a house the Russians had commandeered as a Command Post. He took me into a bedroom and I willingly allowed myself to be used by him. In exchange for sex he gave me food and shelter and kept the other soldiers away from me.”

“After a few days he brought in an NCO who spoke German. The NCO took me with him in his car and we rounded up women who were young and good looking. I was made to explain to them that they could come with me and be fed and have clean clothing and a bed to sleep in or they could take their chances on the streets with the roaming gangs of drunken, undisciplined Russian shoulders bent on revenge.”

“Most came with me and we were set up in the basement under the Command Post. Fifteen beds lined up in rows with only curtains between them for privacy. We were given clothing and cosmetics that the Russians had plundered from the stores and nearby houses and told to make ourselves presentable.”

“We serviced a ceaseless procession of officers and senior NCOs stopping only to sleep for a few hours on the beds on which we were ravaged, fed twice a day with leftovers from the soldiers mess, but we survived. We had food, shelter and we were safe from the soldiers roaming the streets who often bayoneted women after they raped them.”

Bill nodded sagely. He had heard about the atrocities that the Russians committed in Berlin before order was restored and the city divided into sectors.

“It must have been awful,” he said taking a slug of schnapps.

“I have no sympathy for the Russians but they were poorly disciplined and in some cases encouraged to take revenge on the German population. Stalin is alleged to have said that people should understand it if a soldier who has crossed thousands of kilometres through blood and fire and death has fun with a woman or takes some trifle.”

“The rapes continued until Soviet occupation authorities finally confined the Soviet troops to strictly guarded posts and camps, completely separating them from the residential population in the Soviet zone of Germany. A senior officer arrived to take charge of the Command Post and was horrified to see that a brothel was operating in the basement. We were thrown out into the streets and I was one of the lucky ones who managed to get into the American Sector.”

“We were called ‘zhenshchiny dlya utekh’ or ‘women of pleasure’. It’s how I survived the first months of the occupation and why I have a son whose father he will never know. He could be any one of the hundreds of faceless Russian soldiers who lay on top of me.”

“I know how the American soldiers look at me in the mess hall and what they think. They know that I and some of the other waitresses whore out our bodies for the sundries that you take for granted but that’s how I survive. You are not the first American to use me as a woman of pleasure or a comfort woman and you won’t be the last.”

Heidi crushed out her cigarette and raked her polished nails down Bill’s chest.

“Do you want to fuck me again or can I go to sleep. I have to get up early to feed my son,” she looked at him with those beautiful eyes that concealed so much pain.

“I think I’ll go,” Bill climbed out of the bed and began to dress.

“I understand. I am what I am Bill and I make no apologies for it,” Heidi rolled over and pretended to sleep, tears running down her cheeks.

The next day in the mess hall Heidi bussed Bill’s table. He was sitting alone languishing over coffee and a cigarette. Bill reached out and his fingertips brushed hers as she reached for his plate.

“Can I come around again tonight?” he looked at her with both compassion and desire.

Heidi nodded almost imperceptibly.

Corporal William Brody and Heidi Baumgartner became lovers and their relationship lasted the entirety of Bill’s eighteen month posting to Berlin.

*****

Villawood Montana, 1959

The men could hardly curb their enthusiasm and joy at being in the wide open spaces. For the last five years they had been cooped up in sixteen feet wide by thirty feet long concrete cells with fitted steel bunk beds, a toilet and sink. There was no privacy as each cell was occupied by two inmates who shared each other’s farts, snores, coughs and colds and had to listen to the creaking bedsprings as they masturbated.

The boredom was broken only by stints of hard labour, the only recreation being a turn around the exercise yard, reading and masturbation. Some took to religion but none of the six inmates at Villawood were so inclined.

Buddy Flintock and Victor Benning began walking down the road to where they could just make out the drone of a diesel engine. About half a mile down the track they found a brick building that contained a diesel generator and a small backup that would start remotely if the prime mover failed for any reason.

Flintock checked the mechanics and Benning checked the switchboards and power distribution equipment. They found planned maintenance and repair manuals in a small workshop which was soon to become their sanctuary. They would bond and form an alliance over their love of things technical and mechanised and their matching quick tempers despite Flintock being white and Benning being black.

“This equipment is all new and working perfectly,” Victor Benning commented.

“Things break. Things need maintenance. Ain’t nothin’ man made that don’t need some looking after,” Buddy Flintock stated and Victor Benning nodded in agreement.

“Check this out,” Buddy patted Victor on the chest.

They walked over to where the twelve foot fence topped with razor wire ran past the generator house.

“They figured it wouldn't take us long to figure out that if we cut the power to the fence it would no longer be electrified,” Buddy got as close to the fence as he cared to.

“But unlike yonder power lines leading from the switch room to the town the fence is fed from another power source,” Buddy pointed to two steel towers from which hung the power lines that fed electricity to the fence.

Being the electrician, Victor was fascinated and he picked a long blade of grass out of the ditch and touched the tip to the fence wire.

“Fuck!” Victor dropped the blade of grass and shook his wrist.

“Well we know that fence is live and it aint just for show. Shutting down the generator won’t accomplish shit except we will be without power,” Victor shook his head.

“Let’s move onto the pump house,” Buddy pointed to the building that held the machinery that provided the town’s water supply.

Victor was dead right. Flagg had realised early in the piece that if the electric fence the Army had built to surround the town was powered by the town’s generator the inmates would simply shut down the jenny and the backup and cut the fence. It was uneconomical for Excelsior Mining to run power into the isolated town from the main grid because Villawood was 4.5 hours from a city in any direction.

So Flagg had the Army Corps of Engineers build him his own powerhouse adjacent to his headquarters located some three miles from the town next to the airfield. It provided power to both his HQ and the containment fence around Villawood.

William Brody and his self-appointed clerk checked out the administration building which if the town had not been owned by the mining company and was an ‘incorporated’ or a ‘chartered’ municipality would likely have been called the Town Hall.

The main office which Bill Brody had commandeered for himself held the Villawood Rules & Regulations which Flagg had referred to as the Administrative Instruction and not much else that related to ‘The Study’ the men were undertaking except for the emergency telephone.

The second office was crammed full of useless mining documentation.

“You’ll set up in here as my Company Clerk,” Bill nodded at the smaller office.

Petty Officer Wesley Meakins was used to being an underling to men who exercised power and command. He was pleased that he would be Brody’s right hand man and was secretly thrilled when Bill Brody had referred to him as his ‘Girl Friday’.

“We will have a morning parade in the conference room each day during the working week. I’ll write up some Company Orders and have you issue them. You will also collect the diaries and bring them to me before you deposit them in the box at the front gate,” Bill said.

“But aren’t the diaries supposed to be personal and kept secret?” Wesley asked.

Bill just glared at Wesley and Wesley nodded his acquiescence.

“All correspondence and messages left by Flagg’s team that box is to be brought to me unopened,” Bill stipulated.

Wesley didn’t interpret Colonel Flagg's orders that way but who was he to argue with his new Company Commander.

They went out back and found a small car park.

“Well looky there,” Bill nodded to an Army jeep; the only vehicle parked in car park.

“Let’s go and inspect our new domain Wesley,” Bill chuckled and jumped in the driver’s seat.

The small town’s amenities were laid out in a rectangle around the town square and Sam Steele and Dale Snitterman found the company infirmary because it was clearly labelled ‘Excelsior Mining - Company Infirmary’. It was well appointed with a small treatment room, a two-bed ward, a pharmacy and an office. In the staff ablutions facility were three lockers containing lab coats, and nurse’s uniforms.

Being a mining town it was expected that there would be accidents both minor and major and as some of the miners would have their families accompanying them there would undoubtedly be the odd family emergency.

Sam flipped through a thick tome labelled ‘Villawood Medical Procedures’ and from what he gathered was that the medical staff would have consisted of a ‘nurse-practitioner’ and two ward nurses. All serious cases would be airlifted to the nearest major city whilst the less serious cases would be dealt with locally. The nurse-practitioner would triage the cases when they came in. Sam guessed that would be his job now. He would have to ask Staff Sergeant Brody about using the emergency telephone in the event of a medical emergency.

There did not appear to an ambulance or MEDEVAC vehicle; maybe it would have been located at the mine.

Having finished with the infirmary, Dale Snitterman wanted to take a look at the Cobalt Café. It was located across the square from the infirmary next to the Copperlode Bar. A quick look around the kitchen at the Café was all Dale needed to deduce that he could easily be able to cook up a storm for the six prisoners. They had been surviving on mess hall prison slop for many years and Dale relished the opportunity to cook and serve sumptuous meals. He had no complaints regarding his role as the Company cook.

Next door the Copperlode Bar was a sight behold. It had been seven years since Dale Snitterman had seen the inside of a bar. The well was stocked with liquor, the refrigerator with cold beer and even the ice maker was plugged in and working. Dale pulled the handle on the tap but draught beer was either not available or the keg wasn’t connected. He took an icy cold bottle of Schlitz and passed it to Sam and then took one for himself.

They opened the bottles using the opener attached to a lanyard behind the bar, clinked the bottles and drank the contents in a series of long swallows. The beer went straight to their heads and they both held onto the bar for support and then they burst out laughing. Tempting as it was to further investigate the delights of the bar they had a job to do and they made their way across to the supermarket where they found the shelves were filled and the refrigerators and freezers stocked.

“The fresh produce won’t last long and we’ll need to bury most of it before it goes rotten but I presume I can just put in an order for fresh victuals in the message box at the front gate,” Dale Snitterman commented.

They each took a fresh apple and bit into it.

“You can do that through my Company Clerk, Wesley here. I will approve all outgoing correspondence,” Bill Brody and Wesley Meakins had just entered the store.

They too marvelled at the abundance of the provisions and each took some fresh fruit to munch on. Sam and Dale told them about the Infirmary, the Cobalt Café and Copperlode bar. Wesley was wide-eyed but Bill just nodded sagely.

“Let’s go next door to the department store and meet up with the others,” Bill said and they followed him out of the grocery store and into the adjacent Excelsior Department Store.

The store wasn’t that big but it was big enough to service the miners and their families. The most striking arrangement that drew their eyes as soon as they walked into the store was two mannequins standing on a pedestal.

The mannequins were authentic: one with blonde and the other with brunette hair. They had lifelike feminine features and were long-legged, big-breasted and slim hipped. They were both dressed in the latest fashions: one in a dark pencil-skirted suit and the other in a fitted dress. Their legs were swathed in nylon stockings and their feet shod in high heels. The mannequins were supported by steel poles fitted to heavy metal baseplates. The poles disappeared between their legs almost obscenely.

The men had not seen a woman for the entire period of their incarceration except for glimpses of wives and mothers through Plexiglas during visiting hours. None of the six had been visited by women except for Benning who had been visited by his mother.

The lifelike mannequins only served to remind the men that even though they had the freedom of the town and would have access to luxuries they had never dreamed of in Leavenworth, they would still have to live without the company of women.

“I bet you could fit into that suit,” Wesley Meakins jibbed and pushed Sam Steele in the shoulder playfully.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Sam blushed and pushed Wesley back.

“Enough horseplay ladies. Let’s look around and see what we can use. I’m happy for you guys to wear civilian clothing but we parade once a week in uniform so get to finding what you need and we’ll meet up at the conference room,” Bill ordered and dismissed his team.

Buddy and Victor went straight to the periodical rack to see if they could find any cheesecake picture magazines but it was a family store and all they could find was Like, Look and Men’s Adventures magazines. Buddy found some lingerie catalogues which he stuffed down his shirt. Masturbatory aids for late at night. The men were not allowed magazines in Leavenworth just books from the prison library from which had any titillating passages had been torn out or censored.

Back at the conference room Bill had some more announcements to make once he had everyone seated.

“Gentlemen, having made a tour of the town, heard your reports and read the Villawood Rules & Regulations, I have made some decisions,” he began.

“We maybe inmates but we are still a military unit and we have been given a mission which is to keep this town running and maintain it to the best of our abilities.”

“I’m not sure of the exact nature of Colonel Flagg’s experiment or study or whatever the hell he calls it but we’re under a microscope here that’s for sure. The observations and the entries we make in our diaries are obviously intrinsic to his study so make sure you are honest and forthright when you fill them in and submit them to Wesley.”

“We will enjoy the freedom of Villawood of course. After spending so many years in Leavenworth we’ve earned some freedom but there are rules and regulations and consequences if they are broken,” Bill said gravely.

“Why can’t we all read the Villawood Rules & Regulations in that binder,” Buddy Flintock pointed to the folder on the desk in front of Bill Brody.

“Because I’m in charge and I’ll issue orders and you will follow them,” Bill growled.

“Wesley will allocate you each a house. As well as your collateral duties it is your job to maintain your house. You have each been allocated specific duties relating to your MOS but there will be other tasks which will require us all to work together.”

“Unit cohesiveness and discipline are essential. It would be easy to become lazy, to become drunks, to become uncivilised and that’s not going to happen. For that reason we will have a morning parade and we will take our meals together at the Cobalt Café. The Copperlode Bar will be open from 1800 to 2200 during the week and from 1200 to 2300 on weekends,” Bill stated and this was met with approval from some and grumbling by others.

“Dale and Sam; you two will be our logisticians and your fist duty is lock away all the liquor securely except for when the bar is open. Sam, hopefully you won’t be kept too busy tending to our health so you work with Dale operating the café and the bar when you’re not required in the infirmary. The rest of our tasks are self-evident,” Bill was ready to wrap things up.

“See Wesley for your housing assignments. My door is always open gentlemen but please make an appointment with Wesley during business hours,” Bill did not ask if there were any questions.

As it turned out looking after the town of Villawood was a full-time job. Although everything is the town was brand new, the thirty houses and amenities required constant attention. They locked up the houses that they were not using but they needed to be cleaned and dusted one a month. Lawns and gardens needed tending, streets needed sweeping, things broke and needed fixing and Bill liked to issue orders and assign tasks.

Flagg and his team of observers were surprised at how well the inmates settled into their routines. Except for the once a week military parade one might have thought the prisoners were civilian villagers who took pride in their town.

The inmates settled into their routine and kept themselves busy working in their specialist areas and coming together when group effort was required. Dale took pride in the meals he prepared each day in the café and Wesley and Sam alternated tending bar at the Copperlode.

Life was busy but pleasant after the drudgery and austereness of Leavenworth. The only two things that the men were missing were complete freedom and female companionship. They would stop whatever they doing and look skyward whenever the weekly DC-3 flight flew over to land at the airstrip next to Flagg’s HQ.

Solace was found in a bottle at the Copperlode and in masturbatory fantasies late at night alone in bed. The men talked constantly about the lack of female companionship and Bill Brody submitted a request for ‘women of ill repute’ to be provided now and then for companionship and ‘stress relief’.

Flagg wrote back that he was not running a brothel and for the men to concentrate on their duties and keep their thoughts pure.

Six months into the experiment the men were gathered at the Copperlode telling war stories when Buddy Flintock chimed in.

“We went into the Manila as soon as the Marines cleaned out the Japs. Fighting was vicious but I was stationed at Clark and had it pretty good. The Air Force was still part of the Army in those days and the grunts didn’t like us being in the rear with the gear but we made the best of it,” Buddy Flintock was in his cups and telling war stories.

“We took R&R in Olongapo and boy did we do some fuckin’” Flintock reminisced.

As usual the talk had turned to women and sex.

“I had a cute little princess who treated me right. She was great in the sack but she was also a good companion. I kept her exclusive because some of girls were rotten with the clap,” Buddy drew on his cigarette.

“She spoke good English and also a little Japanese but she hated those fuckers. She told me that during the Japanese occupation that she was taken from her family and forced to be a comfort woman. She hated those little yellow fuckers with a vengeance,” Buddy motioned for Sam to get him another beer.

“What’s a comfort woman?” Dale asked.

“Young women forced into prostitution. The Japs had them everywhere. They’d invade a city and start raping all the women so the Jap hierarchy set up comfort stations where the comfort women had to service the troops; that way the senior officers had control and maintained discipline,” Buddy explained.

Bill was also well into his cups and he told the men about the ‘zhenshchiny dlya utekh’ or ‘women of pleasure’ that the Russians kept in Berlin. He didn’t tell them specifically anything about Heidi Baumgartner; that was private.

“Say what you like about the Japs and Reds; they knew how to look after their troops. A little recreational fucking after a hard day’s fighting is good for morale,” Victor Benning chimed in.

“Amen to that. You should ask Flagg to send us some comfort women,” Dale Snitterman guffawed.

“I already asked him and he denied my request to provide us with female companionship maybe once a week. We’ll just have to enjoy the delights of Villawood without the company of women I’m afraid. Sure beats the hell out being locked up in Leavenworth though,” Bill studied the end of his cigar.

“Yeah but I could sure use me one of those comfort women,” Buddy sniggered and they all laughed along with him.

To be continued.