Mein Kink

The grim-faced SS officer entered the war room and saluted. “Heil, Herr Standartenführer Dietrich.”

“Heil, Herr Obersturmbannführer Krüger.” The superior officer removed his peaked cap, nervously running his fingers through his ash blonde hair.

“The front remains favorable to our cause, I presume?”

“Uh, yes, yes. Quite favorable.” Dietrich fiddled with the corners of a dossier. “Listen, Kruger. I just got off the line with Brigadeführer Webber. He has some,uh, reservations. About your methods.”

Krüger straightened. “Are the results not satisfactory? I will redouble my efforts.” He swiftly turned on his heel.

“No, no, the results have been satisfactory. More than satisfactory. Save for the Butcher of Prague, no other interrogator has advanced our cause more.”

Krüger turned back and beamed.

“I fear the concerns are not about results, but accusations rather. Of impropriety.”

Krüger’s brow rose. “Impropriety, Herr Standartenführer?

Dietrich walked to a nearby table and spread the contents of the dossier out. A series of photos.

“I see,” said Krüger, taking in the visual summary of his handiwork. “The Führer’s eyes are everywhere.”

The photos were of busty bound blondes in lacy lingerie suspended from trapeze bars, bent over balance beams, and bound to raised platforms.

“It’s just…we’re trying to run a respectable organization here, Herr Kruger. And Herr Webber wants to know, that is to say…” Dietrich cleared his throat. “Is this all really necessary?”

“Necessary?”

“It’s just…there’s been a lot of complaints. About the moaning.”

“I see,” said Kruger. “I assure you, Herr Standartenführer, every action undertaken by my unit is for the glory of Third Reich and the Third Reich alone!” He stomped his feet and saluted.

“Yes, well, we can’t quibble with results, can we…”

“Is there anything else I can help with, Herr Standartenführer?”

“Oh, uh, no, no.” Dietrich flipped through the photos, pausing occasionally. “That train car of ballgags you ordered should arrive within the week.”

“Wunderbar.” Krüger clicked his heels, saluted, and turned to leave.

“Oh, uh, there was one more thing…a personal matter, really.”

“Yes, Herr Standartenführer?”

“Well, my wife got a peek of these photos and, uh, she had a question.” Dietrich averted his eyes. “A request, really.”

“A request, Herr Standartenführer?”

“Yes,” the superior officer smiled sheepishly. “She wanted me to ask: do you take volunteers?”