Prisoner

Mengele sighed. She hated paperwork. First, the incident report, which needed to include a statement from everyone who witnessed the intruder. Second was the capture report, which was to be written by her, with statements of anyone who witnessed the capture or had seen the captive. Finally, there was the medical report.

She joked about faking the information. After all, they'd have to believe anything she said. Of course, she was curious enough so that the medical report did not bother her. In fact, she was anxious to know everything about the Dhampir.

She threw her head back, with a groan. It was quiet, she was bored to death, and probably the only one not busy with repairs. Each man involved was to see her once their individual job was completed. For all she knew, it could be hours.

Or a few minutes. A tall figure joined the woman, who was so relieved by the thought of company that she forgot to care that the young guard, Kurz, came in without announcing himself. Kurz was not particularly strong, which could be seen by anyone who looked at his weak, lanky body. Nor was he brave. He hid behind powerful weapons and ran to the alarm before thinking of opening fire on any intruder. He survived the Daemite attack (which was still going on in parts of the compound) by hiding in a box.

He was particularly ashamed of this. He pulled his hat off his blonde head and held it at his stomach in remembrance. He took a quick look at The Butcheress's bag before bringing his eyes back to her.

"Well," started Mengele, "What is it?"

Her eyes focused passed his body to the grey, concrete wall. She twirled the pen around, anxiously waiting for the young guard’s words. She rolled her eyes at his continued silence, while he struggled to find the words.

“The intruder, referred to by Bathory Mengele as ‘Rayne’ cost us many good men, and we should prepare for more threats of that magnitude. If one woman can kill so many men, imagine three, or even four of her like,” he said.

“Is that all?” the lady doctor complained.

“No. After much observation it is my opinion that occult operations be ceased, as the accidental release of the Daemites proved more harmful then the intruder Rayne. Also, Dr. Bathory Mengele, who showed great strength and bravery in capturing the intruder Rayne, was ineffectual in helping slow the Daemite threat. “

“Ineffectual?” She asked, angrily.

“You put as at risk, doctor. Your experimentation with the Daemites caused more damage then the Dhampir.”

Mengele closed her eyes for a moment. If only she could kill him, it would make it so much easier. She could simply not write his remakes, but he would probably send them to Jurgen Wolf himself anyway. She could let this one get out.

She stood up and walked behind him. Kurz stood perfectly still, breathing nervously. The woman was psychotic. If there was any chance she could get away with it, she’d kill him for what he said. No, he was safe. He had a good enough reputation that should couldn’t claim he had turned traitor. The Daemites were already isolated, so his death couldn’t be blamed on one of those. He felt a feminine hand on his heart, rubbing his chest. Mengeles breasts warmed on his back while her hand slipped down his shirt towards his pants.

“There is nothing you can do that will keep me from making my report to Jurgen,” Kurz told her.

Mengele felt the bulge through his clothe. She rubbed it gently and put her head on his shoulders. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He did not have to see her face to know her seductive smile.

“Of course there is something I can do,” She said, “If you really wanted to do anything other then blackmail me, you would have submitted a full report without telling me.”

She grabbed the bulge, and squeezed.

“Sir,” Kurz said, stopping to catch his breath, “I am going to have to report this too.”

She let go of the pulsating bulge and rubbed the clothe up to the waist, and stuck her hand into the crotch, and held onto the throbbing cock, squeezing, and letting go. Kurz tightened up. Mengele moved her hand back and forth on the stiff appendage. It was a good five or six inches, she couldn’t tell without seeing it.

“Then what can I do for you that you will not put on report?” She asked, listening to him moan. His legs were getting weak, and his knees were shaking.

“I,” he said, moaning after every word he attempted to say, “The Intruder. Rayne. I want her. We all do.”

“Oh, how many of you?”

“Myself. My brothers. The guards outside her cell,” he said, “Five of us all together.”

Mengele moved her hand back and forth against the warm, pulsating part of Kurz’s body. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t want her to get damaged too badly. Think you can do two at a time? Maybe three at a time at the most.”

“Ooh, yes sir,” He said.

“So, then,” she continued, “I have one condition.”

“What is that?” The pleasured man asked.

“I need to supervise you at all times.”

A hot stream of semen sprayed into Kurz’s pants. Mengele let go and pulled her hand out. She wiped the white stuff on her pant leg. She walked back behind the desk and sat down thoughtlessly.

“She is to be isolated for twenty-four hours,” Mengele explained, “You and the other four will join me tomorrow when we continue testing.”

Kurz heard the door open, and leaned up in his bed. He looked towards the door, only to see a silhouette and a severed daemite head flying towards him.

Mengele walked over, passed the bed, to the window, and broke it. There would be no way to trace the attack back to her. It was simply a stray daemite. She left the room, unnoticed in the early morning hours.