Unable to break free from the gunners grip, Zarte found a rag forced into her mouth. It was large and oily, the taste bitter, rancid from repeated hand cleaning. It smelled of diesel fuel. She tried to spit it out, but another wrapped around her mouth and easily tied off at the back. Zarte's eyes bulged from her head in a terrified panic. The pain from her hand, that incessant grip and the fumes from her makeshift gag, made her feel sick.

She struggled, but it was pointless. The more she fought the more agony she suffered. Twisting her head, she tried to see what was happening as the Commander grappled with her coat, slicing and shredding in a downward sawing action with his field dagger. She felt the two halves of her coat separate and push down her arms. The old farmers' woollen jumper suffered the same fate, cut clean in two and pushed away.

"Fuck!" The Commander cursed. "This whore has more layers than an onion!"

The flimsy string that held up those oversized trousers was no match for his excited determination, or the sharpness of his blade. The trousers fell instantly around her ankles, revealing the whitest, smoothest naked ass, topped with a black corset, flimsy red straps and dark nylons. That did it for him. His erection was instant, hard and painful, trapped inside his tunic.

"Hold her tight!" He instructed as he fiddled with buttons and belts.

"I'm next though! Right Commander!"

"Yeah! Yeah! Just hold her still!"

With the aid of evenly smeared saliva over his exposed bell-end, penetrating SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Zarte Brise Schragmuller's vagina from behind, on the rear of his tank, in a wood, close to the polish border, was so easy. Zarte grunted at the sudden, stinging intrusion. Once fully inside, he took a moment to dwell on her heat and dry tightness enveloping his boner, but the urge to move, the urge to fuck was too great and seconds after forcing himself inside her, he pumped his pelvis back and fore with venom. This was her reward for the hell she had been through in the last three days. Zarte gritted her teeth. She would wait. She was good at waiting. Retribution would be swift and decisive.

"Hey Wilhelm! What do you think? Maybe I should ride into battle like this!"

With the remaining members of the crew, the radio operator, the gun loader and the driver all standing at the rear of the tank, they did their best to ridicule their commander.

"Hey Boss! Is that all you've got? It's not pretty from where I'm standing! Is this your first ever fuck Commander? It looks like it!"

He paid no attention to the piss-taking wasters he collectively referred to as 'das gehirn tot', the brain dead. This girl's ass was incredibly warm. He spanked it repeatedly as he rode her and yanked her head back violently, pulling on any loose strands of hair. Zarte's use of profanity exploded in a mixture of half a dozen languages. His repentant pace was so forceful, so fast, that he himself suddenly broke into a string of swearwords as his jism erupted inside the girls' savaged vagina. Even before he had finished grunting, he knew they would take the piss, the subject matter being premature ejaculation.

"That was quick Commander! Do you think you could ride your tank as fast?

"Yeah! Yeah!" He muttered wiping his shiny ejaculate off his prick and onto her backside.

"My turn!" The gunner shouted, letting go of Zarte's hands. She used the opportunity to turn, landing a fist in the Commanders face, but instantly his strength over powered her and she felt herself hurled from the tank, landing awkwardly to the ground. Before she could gather her thoughts, the four members of 'das gehirn tot' had grabbed her, yanking and tearing, pulling off the strands of tattered clothing. The sight of bare flesh, those soft and white breasts, that flattened tummy that delved downward to a shaven space between legs that sensually were covered in nylon, now partially torn by the Commanders grabbing fingers, were too much for the young tank crew. In a flurry of hastened activity, Zarte found herself on her back, arms pulled way over her head and legs hauled wide apart. Both arms and legs were entrenched, immovable by ropes tied tightly around wrists and ankles and tied off at any convenient tree.

Wearing nothing except a black corset, tattered nylons, held in place with delicate red straps and a pair of king-sized hobnailed boots, this young Polish peasant girl was ready for the taking. The gunner, claiming his prize, didn't need any lubrication, the Commanders generous helping of spunk made sure penetration was smooth and unhindered, his lily-white ass jerking up and down, spurred on by three others, unable to wait their turn. Six hands descended on two breasts, rubbing, squeezing and pulling. Tears erupted, almost as much as the ignored puss from an oversized nipple. Zarte struggled to breathe. The acidic fumes burned at her nose and throat. To struggle would be pointless, and she resolved to save what little strength she had left, willing her body to take the pain.

When he was done, the gunner withdrew, but couldn't take his eyes away from the pink, puffy flesh that spewed white sperm, bubbled and pummelled into a froth. Frustratingly, he was hauled out of the way by the radio operator, who already had his trousers around his ankles. His erection bobbed up and down as he positioned himself and guiding it with a free hand, he entered that abused vagina, fully, swiftly and as abruptly as he could. After just a few minutes, the young and inexperienced radio operator, screwed his face.

"Nein!" He whispered.

Doing up his trousers, he watched the fattened and hairy arse of the tanks driver; ram himself into the girls unguarded sloppy vagina. Already he was worried. The commander had fucked the girl for just seven minutes against the gun turret. Everyone, including him had taken the piss, and yet so far, none of the 'gehirn tot' had been able to fuck her for any longer. If the other two couldn't do it, then they would never hear the end of it.

"Cum for me baby!" The driver grunted. "Let me hear you squeal!"

Zarte's cold, steely look of utter contempt only spurred him on, as he fucked the peasant at speed. Her pussy felt on fire. It was so tight, so well lubricated. It was no use; these boys had not had a woman for months waiting for the invasion to begin.

"Fuck!" He slobbered in anger, before asking the gun loader what he was doing.

He didn't reply, instead he continued to remove the rope around the girls wrists and ankles. When finished, he calmly pulled out a knife and held it to Zarte's throat.

"Turn around!" He whispered.

Zarte obeyed, turning to her left so she could use her right hand.

"Sit up! Kneel!"

As soon as she knelt, she felt her head pushed forward and her bum rise into the air. Pushing and shoving, his bell-end separated spunk soaked and stinging labia. Her frazzled hood, which had caused so much discomfort in the last few days, erupted in stinging pain. Suddenly, she felt the full length of his erection bulge against vaginal walls and swiftly plunge back and fore. This one was so much bigger than the rest, that each lunge forced her to grunt.

"My God!" Zarte cursed under her breath. "He's fucking huge!"

Hands, large, determined and forceful, pulled violently at her hips every time he lunged into her. He was so big and her vagina so sore, she prayed for the first time ever, pleading with God that he would finish soon. It seemed her pleas had been heard when he suddenly pulled out, but when it nudged threateningly at her spread wide-open anus, Zarte could only grit her teeth. The mammoth phallus was so hard, so unbendable that even this sickeningly bulbous end had little problem forcing its way into a virginal ass. There was no subtleness, no consideration. Zarte squealed, huffing and groaning. Eyes bulged, teeth clenched and a single hand folded tightly together, as her sphincter tore wide apart to accommodate this unforgiving, violating thick shaft.

Inch after inch butchered its way inside Zarte's back passage.

"Please!" She begged. "Stop this!"

His response was immediate. Holding her waist with one hand and yanking hard at her hair, he picked up the same merciless pace inside her ass as he did inside her vagina. Then he suddenly stopped.

"Come on Corporal! We're just having some fun!"

Slowly, Zarte turned her head. Corporal Schmidt towered over them both.

"Get the fuck off the Captain!" He barked.

The tank commander, who had enjoyed watching his men blowing-off a little steam, leaped from his tank.

"Fuck off Schmidt! This has nothing to do with you!"

The Corporal pulled the bolt back on his rifle and pushed it forward, injecting a bullet into the breach. He pressed the barrel against the head of the gun loader.

"I will not tell you again! Get the fuck off the Captain!"

Fumbling for the button on his holster, the commander changed his mind as six Panzergrenadiers also cocked their rifles at aimed them straight at him.

With that hideously large penis removed from her back passage, Zarte turned, sat on the woods fallen foliage and covered her breasts in shame. She had never felt so violated or humiliated. As she removed that ghastly rag from her mouth, she shook from the sheer savagery of her attack, spitting at the ground.

"Karl! Give the captain your coat!"

"Me Corp?"

"Yes you Corp!"

"But Corp! Why me? It's cold today!"

Corporal Schmidt walloped the back of the boys head.

"Because you stupid boy, you're the only one of us, who is the same size as the Captain!"

Karl removed his grey coat and helped the first naked girl he had ever seen into it. She slapped his hands when he tried to do up the buttons.

Without speaking a word, Zarte dizzily stepped over to the tank Commander and removed his side arm. She flicked a button, ejecting the magazine, looked at its payload and reinserted it. With her eyes staring ablaze into the commander, Zarte's finger pushed over the safety button. She raised the gun to his head.

"Captain!" The squad leader, alarmed at the quiet purposefulness of the Captains actions and the reputation SS officers had for their ruthlessness, stepped forward and whispered in a calm tone.

"Please Captain! Think what you are doing!"

For a moment, he thought he had got through, but five bullets fired from the Luger, with pin-point accuracy, in less than two and a half seconds, smashed their way through five skulls. Within seconds, five members of the Fourth Panzer Brigade lay dead on the forest floor.