European Nightmare Part VI - Sex Stories

European Nightmare Part VI

... drops just hanging before falling into the bowl. “There we go,” Jeremiah said as he picked up the paddle again, “all done. I bet it tastes fantastic, thank you, Holly. But there are a few drops left, shall we shake them free?” He swung the paddle, crashing it into Holly’s midriff to make her toned stomach a red sea of pin-pricks from the embedded wires, knocking the air from her and cutting her scream short. As her tits danced, more drops fell into the bowl. Waiting for her breath to return, he crunched her again, creating an airless scream, then gestured his assistant to speed up. As the cock only moved another two inches into Holly’s stretched pussy, her tunnel still wasn’t stimulated and its rubbing hurt her dry walls. But that pain was nothing to the agony of its tip slamming into her cervix. Her tormented screams soon had other causes as he began slapping her bruised behind and crashing the paddle onto the underside of her tits, making them jiggle wildly. Assaulted from three directions, squealing like a stuck pig with every blow, thrust or slap, the intensity of her screams grew. And as she screamed and screamed, she hoped the ground would open up and swallow her. But it didn’t. ----------------------------------------------------------------- “Come in!” the voice boomed from behind the door and Detective Daniel Hannemann gingerly entered, clutching his file tightly. He was sweating nervously for this was a huge moment for him. If all went well his career, his life, ...

... could change dramatically. “Ah, Hannemann,” the man behind the desk exclaimed, his deep voice seeming to fill up the room, “It’s been a long time. Come in, take a seat.” Shuffling forward in his tattered shoes, the greying man sat, relieved to take the weight off his feet. Looking at his Commissioner, he suddenly felt more nervous. Reporting to someone this high up was surprising but the nature of the case explained it. The imposing man sitting behind the desk still seemed to tower over the detective. His bald head and massive grey moustache made him look like a character from a period drama but Hannemann knew this was deceptive. Rising faster through the ranks than any police officer since Germany’s unification, Rudolf Papen was Munich’s most senior officer despite unconfirmed rumours his father had been a key officer in East Germany’s infamous Stasi. Although his portly physique and seemingly gentle nature suggested otherwise, this man had deep connections. If Hannemann impressed him, it would help his flagging career immensely. “Right,” the man said, looking up from the work on his desk, “you called my office in a hurry late last night. And obviously didn’t have time to shave this morning. What is it, Hannemann?” “Well, Sir,” the man stammered, rubbing his unshaven face, “it’s about these missing girls.” This got the man’s attention as he leant forward, his fingers twirling one end of his great whiskers. “The English ones?” “Yes, Sir.” “Excellent! London are pestering me for ...