“hai raam!” I groan as I wake up battered and handcuffed in a field tent. I found myself shackled and completely naked except for my poonal.
My vision is blooded and blurry. All I can make out in the dim light of a field lantern is a silhouette holding a crop whip. Even in my concussed state, I can discern that the silhouette is female: a thin waist, huge thighs, proportionate bust. She is petite yet imposing at the same time.
I am brought to my senses by the sharp crack of her crop whip.
“ENGLISH, YOU ÜNDERSTÄND?”, she booms.
“Ji haah, yes. I understand”, I manage to meekly respond.
“You are Subedar Major Nagaraj, from the 44th Indian Armoured Division. Is this correct?”
“Yes”, I respond.
Clearly she had rummaged through my documents as she undressed me while I was unconscious. The last thing I remember is commanding my gunner to aim his QF 6-pounder at the closest Panzer IV before my antitank position was hit by artillery. I think that’s when I blacked out.
“Why am I shackled and naked? I demand my rights as a prisoner of war as outlined by the Geneva convention!”
“You have no rights as Üntermensch!” She boomed back. “Ve send your kind back to Fatherland as slaves.”
“Then why am I here? And why am I naked?”
“Your holy thread. Your pünal. This means you are of the highest caste, no?”
“Yes. I am a Tamil Brahmin Iyer”, I respond. “But what does that have to do with anything? All that concerns you is that I am a Subedar Major in the British Indian Army!”
“SILENCE!”, she whips me hard on the buttocks. As a soldier, it’s nothing I can’t take, but it will definitely leave a welt by morning.
“You may be Üntermensch, but you still have some Aryan blood in your veins. It would be shame to see you vorked to death in slave camp.”
She grabbed my buttocks as she said that. She clenched hard at the same spot she whipped a moment ago, making me wimper.
Here I was: a 6’2″ Subedar Major, held naked, powerless, and whimpering by a 5′ petite German blonde. My ancestors would be ashamed to see me held subordinate before a woman.
“I am SS Gruppenführer Braun”, she said as she removed her field coat, revealing nothing but a corset and an 8″ strap-on, “but you can call me Erika”.
“Now prepare yourself to be enriched by superior Aryan blood.”
I instinctively puckered my anus and prayed to Lord Venkatesh to give me strength for what I knew lay ahead.