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Monday, 23 December 2019

Reich Girls 2

From Blushes Supplement 1
While Margit Hoffman still lay on her bed reliving that traumatic visit to the doctor, three other fully-fledged Reich Girls were at a villa not far from that same provincial German town, attending a party. They were all three nude, or rather they were nude apart from swimming caps.
It was at the house of a top Party official, Gauleiter Walter Mueller, who was entertaining two other important citizens: Herr Willi Friedman, an armaments manufacturer, and a Wehrmacht general, Fritz von Uhlendorf. Having finished dinner these three men were in the villa’s indoor swimming pool. Or to be accurate they were seated in chairs on the paved area next to the actual pool. Sitting sipping their drinks and watching those who were in the water, the owners of the pile of female clothing on a nearby chair. Three Reich Girls who had been sent along to provide attractive young female company. These young ladies, as has been said, wore only swimming caps.
The attendance of Reich Girls at such a party would naturally not be for public consumption. To the nation they were known for their displays, at Party rallies and State functions, when they would perform traditional folk dances or marching routines. They would also act as attendants and decorative usherettes at these and other State occasions. The Reich Girls were an extremely popular attraction: the blonde flower of German girlhood in national costume, or in their demure uniform of white blouse and black tie and skirt; but these public appearances were not their only duties. There were those more private affairs: parties and informal gatherings where they might meet privately the highest in the land. Parties such as that at Gauleiter Mueller’s. But these must be kept highly secret; because it would be so easy for enemies of the State wilfully to misinterpret what might take place; in an attempt to sully the high reputation of the Reich League of Girlhood.
At Walter Mueller’s the three nude girls continued splashing and laughing in the water until a servant appeared with towels and a tray of drinks. It was their signal to climb out and they did so, close to where the men were sitting. The girls removed their swimming caps, shaking out their hair. All three were blondes of course and clearly the genuine article with fair delicate skins and blonde pussies as well as heads.
The girls began rubbing themselves down, and accepted the (non-alcoholic) drinks, but made no attempt to get dressed. Reich Girls were trained and obedient: they would get dressed when told to. They equally made no attempt to hide their nude bodies from the men. Important citizens were free to gaze upon the flesh of fair German girlhood; that was something else they were quickly taught.
The general, a heavily built man of 50 or so, addressed his host. ‘Well, Mueller, what do these young Frauleins get now after their little swim. A little discipline perhaps?’
They are here to oblige, General,’ replied Herr Mueller. ‘Is that not so, Fraulein Sophie?’
Sophie Langer, 18 and the senior of the three girls, said, ‘Certainly, Herr Gauleiter.’ Sophie’s ash-blonde hair was cut short and she was more solidly built than her two comrades, with sturdy thighs and hips and full breasts. Her quite large nipples were at present erect and sticking out after immersion in the water.
‘Let’s have a look at you then, young Sophie,’ said the General. ‘Let’s have a look at those hindquarters.’
The girl’s first day at the Reich Girls Training Camp in the Bavarian mountains — Brigita’s first real test for ‘warm-bloodedness’ is an outing in the snow with the doctor. Not all of Brigita’s near nakedness is left unwarmed, of course.
Sophie dropped her towel and went to stand close to the general, with her back — and bottom — facing him. His hand reached out to the full but firm cheeks, squeezing, testing the resilience of the flesh. Then he turned her round, and his hand took hold of her pussy, cupping the mound with its damply curling blonde bush.
Sophie flushed slightly as one finger slid in between the lips. The General’s eyes met hers. ‘Do you enjoy a good strapping, mein kleines Fraulein?’
Breathing slightly heavily, Sophie pushed her hips forward onto the hand. ‘It is my duty, Herr General, to receive discipline. That makes me a better young citizen, and therefore I enjoy it, in spite of the pain.’
The General removed his hand and got to his feet. ‘Then perhaps, my clear Mueller, you have a little private room where I could deal with this young Sophie’s disciplinary needs.’
Herr Mueller said ‘But of course’ and spoke to the servant. Sophie draped her towel round her shoulders and, with the General, followed the man out.
The other two girls, Eva and Heidi, had meanwhile been patiently standing still and straight and, of course, nude. They were both slightly younger-looking than Sophie, with slimmer and less womanly figures.
Herr Mueller looked at his other guest. ‘Well, Willi, you now have the choice of these two young beauties.’
Herr Friedman looked them over, then asked how long they had been Reich Girls. Eva, the taller, with her blonde hair braided round her head, said nine months, while Heidi, who had fat plaits, was only three months past her sixteenth birthday and therefore had only been a Reich Girl for those three months.
‘Ah good!’ said Herr Friedman. ‘So our young Heidi is almost a new recruit and no doubt still being trained. I like a girl who is still being moulded into shape, so to speak; so if I may I will take the charming Heidi. That will still leave the most attractive Eva for you, eh Walter?’
The thwack of cane against thin knickers, and then the crisper sound of that same implement against bare girl-flesh, echoes through the forest and sends birds fluttering from the undergrowth. Brigita’s squeals fade away into the silence amongst the trees.
And so the pairings were made. Willi Friedman went off to another private room with Heidi, while the host, Gauleiter Mueller, remained where he was — and indicated to Eva that she was to sit on his lap. She did so. He put an arm round her shoulders while his other hand immediately started toying with her pink nipples.
Eva glanced at his face, then looked demurely away. He was not old, perhaps 45, and his eyes were not cruel. Some important citizens, especially Party officials, whom you had to meet as a Reich Girl could be quite vicious. And you simply had to take it. All for the glory of the Fatherland of course.
Herr Mueller continued toying. ‘So, young Eva. Do you, like Sophie, enjoy the strap and the cane?’
Eva smiled. ‘I am not too dismayed when I am not getting it, Herr Gauleiter. Although of course I know I must have certain training.’
‘You prefer perhaps to have these pretty nipples played with?’
She flushed. ‘Oh yes, Herr Gauleiter.’
The hand left her breasts and went between her legs. Eva gasped as a finger eased open the lips of her pussy… and found her clitoris.
‘And this, Liebchen. You perhaps prefer a little tune played on this?’ The pretty blonde arched her hips against the hand… and started to breathe heavily…
----//----
The General, meanwhile, with Sophie, had been shown into a small room which contained among other items a leather-pommeled horse. A vaulting horse with splayed out legs, on one side the legs joined halfway up by a rung, the other two legs with brackets to support feet. Feet which, to reach these brackets, must necessarily be spread wide apart. Shortly after the servant had shown the two guests into the room and left, Sophie was up on the horse; her body face-down over the leather back, hands holding the rung, legs stretched revealingly wide open.
The General slapped the full firm rump. ‘Now Fraulein, we shall give these fine hindquarters a little excitement, yes?’
In a cupboard there was a selection of correction instruments: canes, straps, riding crops. The General selected a multi-thonged whip, with six or eight separate thin leather thongs attached to a short-handle: a Riemenpeitche. He whistled it through the air, then showed it to the immobilised girl.
‘The Riemenpeitche, mein Fraulein. That should enliven the backside, yes?’
Sophie bit her lip and drew a deep breath. And then gave a gasping grunt as the thongs slashed down across her proffered rump. Each thong left its own red stripe on the full pale buttocks, while on her right flank were the seven or eight brighter red spots where the thong tips had made their mark.
Sophie braced herself for the next, and after a short space it duly came: a biting, stinging slash on top of the first. She expelled her breath in a hissing gasp. It stung like a swarm of hornets on her backside — and she felt the now familiar surge of sexual excitement. For Sophie had learned to love her canings and whippings; which if you were a Reich Girl was no bad thing because you certainly got them regularly. All for the glory of the Fatherland.
The wielder of the whip was also experiencing a similar build-up of excitement… and a nice firm tightness in the front of his uniform trousers. There was nothing like the pleasure of whipping a young Fraulein’s bare bottom except perhaps the heady excitement of war itself. That would not be long in coming now, but for the moment… He continued to slash the whip down. The young filly was bucking her hips now… A hot one, and no mistake!
General von Uhlendorf’s penis was quiveringly stiff, eager to have the girl but that was not on, not with a Reich Girl. The flowers of German maidenhood must remain maidens even if, at times, they were splendidly whipped ones. In any event he would not wish actually to — well, a man of his position must retain his essential juices… for when, shortly, he would go to battle for the Fatherland.
He continued wielding the whip, and soon there was a series of high-pitched squeals from Fraulein Sophie… and a frenzied thrusting of hips against the leather horse.
In another room the younger and less experienced Heidi was also taking it on the bare bottom. She was bent over the arm of an armchair, her blonde head in the seat and her straight-kneed legs spread wide. The taut young bottom was receiving the stinging attention of a three-foot rattan cane.
Heidi’s bottom was really burning and every time that awful cane landed she gave a muffled yelp into the seat of the chair; but she was just about managing to keep in position as instructed, with her slim legs wide apart and her knees straight. Heidi had certainly not learnt to enjoy a caning, like Sophie, but the three months she had so far had in the Reich Girls had taught her to at least endure it. To grit her teeth and hold on.
The cane finally stopped coming down and instead it was Herr Friedman’s hand on Heidi’s scorching bottom, fondling. And then the hand went between her legs. Heidi didn’t particularly feel like that, her bottom was hurting too much for one thing; but of course you had to accept it and indeed were supposed to act as if you enjoyed it.
Herr Friedman didn’t persist, however. He told her to get up. His rather fat face was now red and his eyes were shining.
‘Yes, Liebchen, quite a well-trained girl already, eh?’
She saw the front of his trousers was bulging. He took her hand and put it there… And then told her to unbutton his trousers…
----//----
About an hour later a chauffeur-driven limousine took the three girls back to the town and their homes. If the evening had been a trauma, as it certainly had for Heidi, it was now over. The three of them excitedly compared the jewelled necklaces which Herr Mueller had given them.
Then Sophie told them, ‘We’ve got a new recruit, you know. She’s called Margit Hoffman.’
‘Oh, I think I know her,’ said Eva. She laughed. ‘She’ll find it a bit hard going at first.’
‘Well we all do, of course,’ replied Sophie. ‘But if we suffer some pain it is always for the glory of Germany. Anyway I think she is to be initiated next Wednesday.’
‘So I expect she’s had her visit to Dr Streicher already,’ said Eva. She gave another little laugh. ‘Her little introduction! Dr Streicher’s finger up her bum, and afterwards, I am sure, her first taste of the cane. And then no doubt the good doctor bringing her off — just to relieve the tension, naturally!’
----//----
It is Wednesday, the day of Margit Hoffman’s initiation into the Reich League of Girlhood. Since her visit to Dr Streicher she had naturally been able to think of nothing else. The appointed hour came and Margit said goodbye to her parents and went off, her heart in her mouth. She went alone, because no outsider was ever allowed to accompany a girl to a Reich Girl function.
The local Reich Girl Unit had its rooms and offices in the party building, in the town square; that same square where, on the opposite side, Dr Streicher had his office and that fact, and the memory, made Margit even more nervous as she approached. On rather trembly legs she went in, and gave her name to a uniformed official. He at once took her up to the first floor and along a corridor. To a door with a plate announcing: Reich League of Girlhood: Commandant.
The official knocked. A voice said ‘Komm!’ Shivering, Margit went in. He was also in Party uniform, with officer insignia; a stern-faced man of perhaps 50 with steel-blue eyes and close-cropped hair. The stern expression melted slightly as he greeted her, getting up from his desk to take her hand and then sitting down again. Margit remained standing.
‘Nothing wrong with this little one. Herr Commandant — except she doesn’t have blonde hair. She has all the other attributes and virtues though — I think I could disguise her shortcomings.
The steel-blue eyes had gone briefly over Margit’s figure and now returned to her face as he welcomed her to the Reich Girls, and then proceeded to give her a lecture: on behaviour and duty and, inevitably, discipline. The Reich Girls were an elite group, the elite group for girls, and those accepted for membership must therefore conform at all times to the strict rules of behaviour and discipline.
‘Have you been caned, Margit?’ he asked.
She flushed. ‘Dr Streicher… caned me.’
The doctor’s nimble brain has led him to the conclusion that whilst peroxide will take care of the girl’s dark hair. that same remedy would not be especially appropriate for that other little place — which is likely to be ‘on parade, for inspection’ as often as any other part of her. The only practical solution would seem to be the complete removal of the evidence —
The Commandant pursed his lips. ‘Ah yes: of course. Dr Streicher gave you a little introduction perhaps. Well, that is good. Because I have to tell you that corporal discipline is widely used in the Reich Girls. It keeps a girl strictly up to the mark so that she can fulfil her duties to the State to the very best of her abilities. But at the same time, Margit, corporal discipline, like everything else which happens within these walls, is most strictly confidential. It must never be divulged outside. Failure to observe this rule would result in dismissal, which in turn would mean public disgrace for a girl and her family. Is all that clear?’
Margit nodded. She knew that already. Like any other State institution, the business of the Reich Girls was strictly secret.
‘Good! So with that understanding I am sure you will greatly enjoy your time with the Reich Girls. I repeat, you are one of a very small elite: a chosen few. And now please take off all your clothes. You will put on your Initiation Dress for the Ceremony of Introduction.’
It was like being in Dr Streicher’s office again — undressing under the keen gaze of the Commandant — though this time it was everything off, not even the knee socks retained. The Commandant had got up from his desk as she undressed and took out a plain white dress from a cupboard.
Margit was finally nude. The Commandant, like the doctor, ran his hands over her slim body. She tried to keep calm as he stroked her breasts and then her bottom.
The end of Brigita’s first day — 8 o’clock sharp in the physical education room.
‘Beautiful, Margit; very beautiful. And when you have been through the Ceremony I shall have the great pleasure of giving this beautiful body some of its first training. We shall see, mein liebe, how you take a good strapping on this lovely bottom for instance.’
She felt a bit giddy. He gave her the dress which, she now saw, was of white silk. She slipped it on over her nude body, with no underwear. It was calf length with an open wrap-round front, with just a white silk belt to keep it closed.
The Commandant pulled the dress together and tied the belt. ‘White for a bride,’ he told her. ‘A bride of the Fatherland.’
Margit put on the white high-heeled sandals she had been told to bring, and then she was ready. The Commandant rang a bell on his desk. A uniformed man appeared, was told they were ready, and disappeared again. A few minutes later the Commandant looked at his watch and led Margit out.
They went along the corridor and then into another room. It was in darkness except for the far end where there was a raised platform lit by candles. On the platform, which had large swastika banners behind it, were several uniformed men seated on chairs. Also on the platform, to one side, was a table, draped with a swastika flag. As they entered the room the music started up Deutchland Uber Alles. Margit followed the Commandant as he marched towards the platform. She was vaguely aware of other people on either side, in the darkness. They mounted to the platform and she now saw that on the flag-draped table, between a pair of candles in tall silver candlesticks, was a large ornate sword.
Heart pounding, Margit stood facing the semi-circle of seated men. One of them had got up and was going round lighting other candles on the platform, until it was ablaze with light. And then the Commandant, standing behind Margit, was reaching round her to the tie of her belt. Undoing it, and then opening the dress and slipping it off her shoulders. He let it fall to the floor. Margit was now standing nude except for her high-heeled sandals, in front of the five uniformed men.
She stood there, trying not to shake, as the Commandant went to stand behind the table. The music stopped. In the silence, in a low voice, he told her to come to face him, in front of the table.
And then in louder, declamatory tones he said, ‘We are here this evening to enrol Margit Hoffman as a handmaiden of the State, as a member of the Reich League of Girlhood. Do you, Margit, solemnly swear to carry out all your duties and give unswerving loyalty and obedience to the Reich League of Girlhood and to the German State?’
In a trembling voice Margit said, ‘I do swear.’
Then I hereby enrol you, Margit Hoffman, as a full member of the Reich League of Girlhood. Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuehrer!!
That rallying cry was immediately answered in unison by the other men on the platform and by girls’ voices from the darkness.
The National Anthem started up again as the Commandant took up the sword in both hands and came round to Margit and put the blade to her lips for her to kiss. And then he touched it firmly to each of her bare nipples. Margit felt a surge of heady excitement. The rousing, inspiring music, and the touch of the cold steel on her lips and then her breasts. She could feel her nipples stiffening.
The Commandant put the sword down and then was embracing her: a welcoming embrace to the Reich Girls, and her excitement intensified with his uniformed arms and strong hands round her and his male body hard against her nude form. The embrace ended and then the other men on the platform were standing and she was going along the line to be embraced by each in turn. One by one, their uniformed arms went tightly round her nude body: male hands clasping her slim back and waist, her taut buttocks. And two of the five in addition slid a hand down in front for a firm fondle at her bare pussy. She felt faint, her head spinning.
Then the lights were going on in the rest of the room and the dazed, still nude Margit saw the other girls sitting out there, in rows. Other Reich Girls, perhaps 20. The Commandant now picked up her Initiation Dress — that white silk dress which all this time had been lying in a crumpled heap in the centre of the platform where he had let it fall. He held it out and she put her arms in and he wrapped it round and tied the belt.
Having the dress on again at least had a somewhat calming effect on her. Margit went down off the platform with the Commandant, and the other girls were welcoming her and giving congratulations. Margit recognised Eva Schmidt and one or two others. They were all in the Reich Girl uniform of white blouse and black tie and skirt.
The Commandant allowed a few minutes for the general excitement to die down, and then said they must get on with the evening’s programme. The other girls went with two instructors to another room where they were to practise formation marching. Margit was to go with the Commandant.
Back in his office he closed the door after them and smiled at the new recruit. ‘Congratulations, mein liebe Margit! It is an impressive ceremony, do you think?’
Margit, still flushed, said ‘Yes’.
‘Good! So now you are fully a member of the Reich Girls; and now I, as I said earlier, may have the pleasure of testing you with a little discipline. But first you must have your uniform.’
Measurements had been taken earlier by Dr Streicher and the uniform was all ready: white blouses, the black knee-length skirt, a black tie, and sets of both black and white matching knickers and bra. Also a black suspender belt, black silk stockings, white knee socks. The Commandant told her the black underwear was to be worn with the stockings and the white with knee socks. There was also a pair of black high-heeled court shoes, and a pair of flat black shoes.
Once again the Commandant untied the belt of Margit’s Initiation Dress and slipped the dress off her. She was told to put on the uniform, with the black underwear and the stockings. Still a little shaky from the Initiation, Margit did so. She felt a further flush of excitement that finally she now had on that famous uniform. The Commandant told her she looked very smart, very charming. And then he told her to take the skirt and knickers off again.
Margit looked a bit bewildered. He smiled. ‘Our little session with the strap, liebe Margit. For that we need your pretty bottom bare, do we not?’
So, not feeling at all happy, Margit unfastened the skirt and took it off. And then slipped off the tight black knickers. She was now in just blouse, black suspender belt and the black silk stockings and shoes. Her taut buttocks were again nude, as was that furry blonde bush — which her hand automatically came across to cover.
The Commandant looked at her sharply. ‘We must learn not to be shy, liebchen.’ And he pushed her hand away from her pussy. ‘In the Reich Girls we are a close-knit family and there is no need for this shyness.’
And then Margit gave a little gasp as his own hand took hold of her between her legs, cupping that furry mound — as Dr Streicher and those two men on the platform had also done.
There was nothing to do but stand still and accept it. The hand eventually desisted and went behind to fondle and then slap her bottom. And then she was being told to get over the Commandant’s desk. Stand close at the front and bend forward and prostrate her body across the top. Hands gripping the other edge. And part her legs wide with knees straight.
Humiliation being no small part of the regime, everything is naturally carried out with Teutonic thoroughness — then there’s the little matter of a second caning to be taken care of.
The Commandant had meanwhile gone to his cupboard and came back with a two-tongued strap which he showed to the bent-over girl. He went behind her, out of her limited view. She waited, heart in mouth… then gave a hissing gasp as the strap came sharply down across the back of her left thigh above the stocking. And then across her right thigh. Then, considerably harder, it slashed across the crest of her springy buttocks. This time it wasn’t a gasp but a high-pitched yelp as the strap bit in.
The Commandant’s voice. ‘We must learn not to cry out, mein liebe. That is what girls learn in the Reich Girls.’ As he spoke he had splatted her rump with another crisp crack.
The strap cracked down again. ‘Yes, Margit, in the Reich Girls we learn to take our discipline bravely. A little noisy expelling of the breath, shall we say, is acceptable; but a Reich Girl learns not to cry out.’
The strap continued to slash down, across Margit’s buttocks, across her upper thighs, criss-crossing the pale flesh with angry red stripes. Desperately she hung on. Struggling to keep the cries in, and the tears back. She was a Reich Girl, a member of the elite, she told herself. And she had to learn to take these canings and strappings because they were evidently a very important part of the training. And once you were in the Reich Girls you were in, until you were 20 at least; there was no way you could leave. Not of course that she wanted to. Being a Reich Girl was such a high honour…
Finally the strapping had stopped. Her poor bottom felt like it was on fire, but at least that awful strap wasn’t coming down any more. But then suddenly on that red-hot rear there was something else — the Commandant’s hand. It ran lightly over, causing her to shiver. His other hand was on the small of her back, holding her still. And then the first hand dipped down and simply slid in between her legs.
Margit gasped, and gritted her teeth. As the Commandant’s hand started doing what Dr Streicher’s hand had done. ‘To relieve the tension,’ Dr Streicher had said.

4 comments:

  1. Elite males, those burdened with the stresses and cares of high office, such as royalty, leading politicians, high court judges, top industrialists and bankers, military top brass etc. are entitled to their little pleasures and diversions, their access to the creme de la creme of a nation's young womanhood. For whatever sometimes esoteric interests and passions take their fancy. As is the case here, I should imagine that for those who are selected for such service in the era of the 'new moral order', no greater honour could possibly be bestowed. For after all, this selection would be made from the ordinary ranks of class 3 and 4 National Domestic Service girls. Such young women would not only be the pride of their families but almost akin to minor celebrities in their local communities. But as with the 'Reich Girls', on pain of a one way ticket to a 're-education' unit, they would take a solemn oath of secrecy with regard to the exact nature of their duties and experiences, their official outward public role being, again as in the case of the 'Reich Girls', as decorative ornaments at important state functions and military parades. I am not at all sure, however, that a similar approach would be taken to their virginity. Certainly, a girl's virgin status would be a pre-requisite for entry into this elite band. But something tells me that no girl would remain 'intactus' for very long. Again, what a thrilling prospect for a young miss from a class 3 or 4 council estate to have her cherry taken by, who knows, possibly even a King or a Prince? Yes, I dare say it wouldn't take too long for any one girl to eventually be viewed as 'damaged goods' but the turnover of girls would be quite brisk, stocks would quite consistently be undergoing replenishment.

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  2. As a theme Reich girls really works; possibly because it's not too difficult to imagine it actually happening. Of course you could be any totalitarian regime if the Nazi tag offends to much. It's such a pity the Blushes stable didn't visit it more often. And wonderful photos of outside punishment in the snow.

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    1. You are quite right. There are numerous examples of the of the exploitation of young females in former communist regimes too. It seems inevitable that when human beings are invested with unchecked power some of the more unscrupulous will abuse it and the victims will inevitably be attractive and naive young females. The Lupus team have made several historical 'documentaries' about such events.

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