by John Savage
During WWII when Nazi Germany attempted extermination of undesirables, a special unit of the SS called Unit 43 was formed with the sole purpose of picking the most beautiful young women from those being herded off to camps, and placing them in a special whorehouse. Hidden in a castle Schloss Rosengarten near the Polish border, this whorehouse catered to the extremely kinky tastes of the elite of the Nazi military and Party. Unlike a normal whorehouse, sex was not the main item on the menu. The abuse and torment of these young woman was far more to the liking of the clientele’s perverted and sadistic minds.
When a particularly beautiful young woman is yanked from a camp-bound train, it sets her brother off to hunt her down and rescue her. But can he find her before her beauty is ruined by harsh treatment at the hands of sadists?
“So you are Captain Bauer,” came a voice from behind him. The speaker immediately passed by him and around the desk. Helmut saluted, and held it until returned.
“Yes, sir. Obersturmführer Helmut Bauer, reporting as ordered.”
“Relax, captain. This is not a front line unit. We are a little loose with the formalities. Please, sit down.”
Once they were seated, they both were looking at each other, judging what kind of man they faced. For his part, Helmut saw a battle-hardened colonel of the old military school. Probably middle forties. He had no scars on his face or hands, but did have the hard look that only comes when you have seen enough battles to understand just how close death can come. The hair was cut short, very military, and graying at the temples. The face was lean and showed no hint of smiling. Helmut felt himself tense. This was the man he was assigned to assist, and already he felt uneasy in his presence.
“I am Colonel Alrich Schiller,” came across the desk. From his side, the colonel saw a young man, perhaps just turned twenty-two. He had the look of a college student, not a soldier, but he was fit looking and the colonel knew from his record that this man had already seen several combat actions, including the one he was wounded in. “I hope the weather isn’t giving your knee too much trouble.”
“I get by. Thank you.”
There came the slightest hint of a lifting of one corner of the colonel’s lips. A smile trying to get out?
“You seem unhappy. I’m sure that your recent wound is painful. But I also think maybe it is more than that.”
It was obviously a question for him to reply to. Helmut hesitated. Be truthful or lie? Having been an officer only two years, he had not yet learned the ins and outs of being deceptive.
“I am a soldier. I was hoping to be able to return to my unit as soon as possible.”
“And instead, Berlin assigned you here. What is so bad about being away from combat for a while?”
“As I said, I am a soldier. It does not seem right to be assigned to a…”
“To a brothel?” the colonel filled in. “A whore house?”
“Don’t bother. That is what the Rose Garden is, a brothel. But… This is a very special brothel.”
“So the customers get to fuck in an ancient castle instead of a hotel room.”
The colonel tilted back his head and laughed. “I like you. You’re honest! How refreshing!” He seemed genuinely amused. “This is a castle, true. Built a few hundred years ago by some minor king or another. A year ago, I got my orders to turn this into a very exclusive brothel. Those orders came from one of the highest men in the Party. Buddy of the Führer, you might say. This man was not happy with the brothels in Berlin. Not unusual enough for him. What is that word the Americans use for it? Kinky, I believe. He wanted a place where anything goes, and the harsher the better.
“We’re not far from Berlin, about a three hour drive by car. Furstenwalde also boasts of a small airport, granting access to visitors who do not wish to sit in a car for so long. Our visitors include high-ranking Nazi officials, both military and party members. Only the highest elite know of its existence, and fewer ever visit here. They come for short visits, usually only a day or two, before returning to Berlin or wherever. When I showed this high ranking man this castle, it amused him to call it the Rose Garden.
“These ancient stone rooms have been modernized into comfortable accommodations, including a gourmet restaurant and well-stocked bar.
“As you can imagine, the customers do not pay for the pleasure of spending a night or at least an hour with one of the lovely young ladies here. Nor are the ladies paid for their services. At any one time, at least two dozen “ladies of the evening” are kept here. I’ll show you their sleeping quarters. Resemble prison cells more than bedrooms.
“The customers pick which sweetie they want, and take her off to one of the various bedrooms for the sole purpose of entertaining the customer.” He laughed again. “Nothing much unusual about that. The Party has established numerous brothels or “pleasure camps” for the use of the military and others around Germany and our newly acquired countries. There is the famous Salon Kitty in Berlin, and the “Blue House” in Frankfort. But you probably never heard of them.
“What makes Rosengarten different is that normal sex in the missionary position is rarely on the menu. Rosengarten caters to the kinky crowd, of which there were many in the higher ranks of the Nazi Party. And most of the kinky activities going on there involved the infliction of pain upon the working girls. Most men are sadists, no question about that. We like to hurt women. Even the act of sex itself is often a violent act. If the woman happens to enjoy it, that is of no consequence. It is only the man’s pleasure that counts.”
Helmut remained silent while the Colonel paused before continuing. “I am sure you can understand the other name given to this brothel: “Haus des Schmeezes,” or “House of Pain.”
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Helmut asked himself silently. Openly, he said, “And what are my duties to be here?”
“Oh, just assist me. But mostly I need someone to watch over the girls. Keep them in line and such.”
The Colonel glanced at his watch. “I’ll show you around, but after dinner. We have a fine cook here. I stole him from General Plenzdorf! Come. I’ll have your bag taken to your room.”
It was a confused Captain Bauer who was escorted to the dining room. A part of him was intrigued, but another part said that this was no work for a good, true German soldier. Still… Might be interesting.