It was a warm and sunny day and the cafes along the boulevards of Paris were open for business.
The year was 1943 and World War Two was at its height. The city was teeming with German troops. Dominique sat at a table on the pavement of one of the cafes in the Latin Quarter sipping her ersatz coffee. A couple of German officers were seated opposite her and she could see they belonged to one of the elite SS Panzer divisions that were in the Paris area.
Then a woman of about 60 walked by with a small dog. The soldiers could see by the way that she was dressed and her scarlet lipstick that she was in all probability a retired prostitute One of them called after her and asked her how much for all night? They both roared with laughter and the woman hurried on.
Dominique finished her coffee and was about to leave when one of the German's flicked his cigarette end and it landed at Dominique's feet. Her reaction was to stamp on it and grind it savagely into the pavement. She collected her purse from the table and stood up to leave. Suddenly one of the SS officers appeared in front of her.
"You do not like us Germans mademoiselle?" he asked.
Her heart missed a beat and she tried to cover her obvious disdain for them by saying something to the effect that she only meant to stub the cigarette out for him.
"Papers," her said tersely. "Papers mademoiselle." he repeated menacingly.
Dominique knew that at any time a Frenchman might be required to produce the identity papers that the German occupiers had given everybody.
"Papers if you please," he said for a third time and she could see that he was becoming exasperated.
Dominique fished the documents from her handbag and gave them to this arrogant SS officer. She could see from his manner that he despised the French as much as she despised them. The trouble was that it was the Germans who were in control.
He took the papers and leisurely sat back at his table with his colleague. Dominique could see that they were discussing whether they should let her go or not and Dominique was fervently hoping that he would return the papers and send her on her way. If the papers were investigated by the authorities it would soon become plain that Dominique no longer lived at the address given. She had been meaning to take the papers to be updated with her new address.
To her horror the soldier who had demanded them disappeared into the café and she could see that he was on the 'phone. Then he returned.
He told her that she would be taken for questioning.
"I really can't see why should be concerned about me," she said in a faltering voice.
"Your papers state that you are an unqualified teacher and to be quite frank mademoiselle your general appearance is not in keeping with such a post. You speak with an aristocratic voice and your clothes are very good quality. Are you an aristocrat?"
They had made an astute observation and what they said was indeed true. In fact she had been studying at the Sorbonne until the war started and her wealthy parents were in America and consequently she was stranded alone in Paris. Currently she had no job and was living on money from her father's bank. All citizens were required to have work otherwise the might well be shipped off to Germany for forced labour.
A truck with an open back drew up and she was bundled in between two surly looking German corporals. Dominique was becoming increasingly frightened by her predicament. Oh why didn't I just leave that butt end where it was?
She could see that people were staring at her as she went by in the back of the open truck, between the two soldiers. They must have wondered just what might be about to happen to her.
Then to her horror the truck entered the Avenue Foch and drew outside the notorious Gestapo headquarters.
She was made to wait in an anteroom for what seemed like ages until finally a grim looking woman warder beckoned her to a large room. Seated at a desk in the corner of the room was a Gestapo colonel. The only other occupant of the room was a woman seated in the opposite corner and typing busily away.
Dominique was told to stand in front of the Gestapo officer and he was looking down at her papers.
"Mademoiselle," he said finally. "We have telephoned the school where you say you are employed and they have no knowledge of you. What do you say to that?"
Dominique had only just turned 20 and the whole ordeal was making her increasingly flustered. "I did work at that school," she said "but it was required to move to another part of Paris and I had no means of getting there."
He looked at her through a pair of frameless spectacles. "You do realise that this is a most serious offence? We could have you sent to a factory in the east to do a dirty menial job. Your expensive clothes would soon look the worse for wear then."
"I know, I am sorry," said Dominique. "I have been trying to get a new job and intended taking my papers to be corrected as soon as I had found one."
"You say that you live at this address. Will this turn out to be incorrect as well?"
"I meant to take my papers along to be updated as soon as I found a job. Then I would have put my new address on it at the same time."
"So the address is false as well? I am not satisfied," he said. "Something is very wrong here. What have you got on your person?"
Dominique began to look in her jacket pockets.
"No, no," he said. "Not nearly good enough. Get undressed."
"What here – now?" she said, looking round in a panic.
"Yes here – now – be quick about it young lady. Or do you want some help, he sneered?"
Dominique glanced at the woman still busy on her typewriter.
Her interrogator smiled mirthlessly. "No not her," he said and nodded in the direction of the door.
Dominique really began to panic now because for the first time she caught site of a couple of burly thugs. They were putting their jackets on the back of a chair and rolling their shirtsleeves up ready for some action.
They walked up to Dominique and were about to grab hold of her when she said, "no, no. I will do as you say."
She took her jacket off and one of the Gestapo oafs took it. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it out from her skirt and it was quickly pulled off her shoulders.
"Hurry up, hurry up we haven't got all day," barked the Gestapo officer.
Next Dominique kicked her shoes off and released the belt of her skirt. It fell down around her ankles and she stepped out of it. It was obvious the two thugs were dying to strip her naked but the interrogator waved them away.
For the first time the woman secretary took an interest in the proceedings. She had probably witnessed similar humiliation many time before and held no pity for these French whores. Dominique was wearing an obviously expensive silk slip embroidered with lace and it was for this reason that the woman was now looking at her. Perhaps if anything happened to this girl she might claim it?
Dominique took a deep breath and pulled the slip over her head. Her breast was heaving as she stood there in front of the four of them wearing nothing but a pair of matching silk panties and bra.
He motioned to the thugs and one of them seized her as the other one felt her through her underwear to make sure that nothing was hidden there. He made a clumsy attempt to undo her bra and when he didn't succeed he simply ripped it off her. She stood petrified as his hands explored her body. "OK", said her heartless interrogator eventually, "you can keep your panties on." He then pressed a bell under his desk and the woman warder appeared again. She beckoned Dominique to come with her and down a flight of steps to a corridor with cells along the length of it. The woman chose a key from the bunch she had on her belt and the door was opened and Dominique was pushed in.
It was cold in the prison cell and Dominique was now terrified. She was certain she would be yet another victim of their ingenious tortures. She was convinced that they suspected her of being a spy.
She sat on a bench with her arms around her trying to keep her naked body warm. Then after what was probably a couple of hours the door was opened and her clothes were thrown on the floor before the door slammed shut again. Dominique was at least thankful that she could make herself decent again. She saw that the linings were torn where they had searched for any clues as to her real identity. The fact that her nice skirt and jacket were really only now fit for the ragbag was the least of her troubles.
The warder appeared once again and once again she said absolutely nothing but indicated that Dominique should go before her and into the dreaded interrogation room.
She stood in front of the Gestapo officer once more and cut a sorry spectacle with her torn clothes and her face streaked with the aftermath of crying. As for her lovely black hair, it was completely tousled.
"I am not satisfied with your story young woman," he said. "You know we have means of making you talk. You know that don't you?"
"I really do have nothing to tell you that you do not already know. Please, oh please believe me."
There was a long pause. "I have two options", said her inquisitor. "I can pack you off to a factory where you will really learn the meaning of work."
Dominique wondered what the second option was.
"Or I can send you to one of our leisure houses in Paris. I am not sure which option to choose. Wait outside and I will make some enquiries. One thing is certain, your days of deceit against the Third Reich are over and you will not be leaving this building a free woman."
Dominique was led away once more by the seemingly dumb woman warder. She sat in an anteroom for a few minutes and once more the warder appeared. For the third time she was paraded before the Gestapo interrogator.
"I have decided to be lenient mademoiselle." I will give you the choice. Would you prefer to sent to Germany and work in a factory or would you prefer to be sent to one of our leisure houses here in Paris?"
Dominique was in shock. She was well aware that she would be a victim of their fiendish forced labour regime if she was sent east. "The leisure place sir," she said, not knowing what he was talking about.
"Very well," he said and indicated to the grim faced warden to take her away.
This time she was led down the steps of the Gestapo HQ and was bundled into a waiting Citroen. The car sped off and Dominique found herself sitting beside an SS officer. She could see that she was being taken in the direction of the fashionable Bois De Boulogne district.
"These people you are being taken to 'phoned in this morning to ask if we had a suitable girl to send them, just as your fate was being decided by that sadistic Gestapo fiend." The SS detested the Gestapo almost as much as Dominique.
"I suppose he had you stripped naked in front of him?" Asked the SS officer.
"I don't want to talk about it," said Dominique.
"It doesn't matter if it is a young girl like you or a much older woman, he always finds an excuse to strip his female victims to satisfy his perversions. If the request from the establishment you are going to had not come through in the nick of time there is no telling what exquisite tortures you would have been submitted to. Never mind dear, it might be your lucky day after all," he said and gave her what was meant to be a reassuring squeeze on her thigh. "You are under the protection of the SS now and we will look after you."
Dominique was so shell shocked with the events of the day that the realisation of what he was saying and where she was being sent, had not sunk in.
The car arrived at a smart house in a desirable part of Paris and Dominique was told to get out. She was still dazed as she followed the officer inside. A number of SS officers were present and several attractive girls. Suddenly the penny dropped. Dominique was in a brothel! She looked round at the erotic murals and mirrors on the walls and the scent of perfume was overpowering.
A Frenchwoman who looked to be in her 40's took over from the SS officer who had escorted her. He clicked his heels. "Until we meet again," he said, and departed
"Come along my dear," she said in a motherly way. She could see that Dominique had just been through an ordeal and took her straight upstairs to one of several bedrooms in a long corridor. "This will be your room. Would you like one of the girls to bring you something to eat?"
Dominique still couldn't take it all in but her panic was receding and she said that," yes, she was starving."
Soon there was a knock on the door and an attractive young woman brought Dominique a tray of food.
Whilst Dominique ate, the girl began to explain what was to be expected of her. "I just consider myself so lucky to still be alive", said Dominique, "that I don't care what will happen to me."
The girl put her arm around Dominique. "You are very, very lucky", said the girl. "This is one of the smartest brothels in Paris and exclusively for the use of SS Officers. The house was a high-class brothel before the Germans came and Madam Deloise was the "Madam" then. They just threw the other girls out but kept Madam Deloise because of her experience. Two of the girls are here because they wanted to be high class prostitutes but most of us have been assigned here because we have upset the Germans in some way."
It was explained to Dominique that once she had been given the special "brothel" identity card she would be allowed to leave the house. "However", explained the girl, "you must never try to escape because the German authorities would pick you up within a day or to and what would happen to you then I do not know. Probably hard labour in the east. Very few of the girls leave the brothel because we are not paid anything and any money we had when we arrived has been confiscated. You are simply fed and clothed for your service to the "Third Reich!"
Madam Deloise was the woman who had welcomed Dominique and she once again put in an appearance.
"Feeling better darling?" she enquired.
"Yes thank you," said Dominique. It had been about five hours since she was picked up and it was now three in the afternoon.
"If you have a bath you will feel better. I will find something for you to wear."
Dominique had a hot bath and "Madam" opened the door just as she was getting out. Dominique quickly grabbed a towel but Madam Deloise just laughed. "Don't be so silly darling," she said. "Here, put these things on and I will put your mind at rest about what will be your life in here."
Dominique left the bathroom in a beautiful negligee with a neckline that nearly plunged down to her navel.
Madam Deloise took her to a room that was painted white and seemed to be fitted out to be some sort of medical room. It had a gynaecological chair and a plastic covered padded bench in it.
"Take your negligee off darling," she ordered Dominique. "Please don't argue with me darling," (why did she keep calling her darling?).
Dominique was still so relieved to have escaped from Gestapo Headquarters that she felt that anything that happened to her now was OK. Obediently Dominique slipped the negligee off and stood stark naked in front of Madam Deloise.
"Now lie on the bed," she said with a voice of authority.
The "madam" was mixing something at the sink and it was not until she turned to face her that Dominique knew what her next experience this day was to be.
"Open your legs darling. Ooh, lovely bush!"
She began lathering poor Dominique's pussy and began to shave her. Dominique found that the shaving brush was arousing her and Madam Deloise smiled. "I can tell you are a good healthy girl she said."
Naked pussy for "comfort girls" is official German authority regulations Madam Deloise explained. "For hygiene reasons you understand."
Madam Deloise began to chat to Dominique as she suffered the indignity of having her pubic hair shaved. "The Germans are very meticulous darling. No German officer is allowed to fuck you without a condom. If he requires you to suck him off you must put a condom on his cock before he cums..We don't want a sticky mess everywhere now do we?" And don't forget; always, always call him "sir", even when he is fucking you. They must know that they are in charge and you are a prostitute who is there solely for their pleasure and gratification.
Poor Dominique. She had been brought up as a middle class girl and had received a good education in a Catholic School. Now this French woman was talking in such matter of fact terms about what would be expected of her as a prostitute!
Madam Deloise finished shaving Dominique's pussy and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Then she put her face against Dominique's face and whispered confidentially in her ear. "That lovely little pink pussy is soon going to be so very, very busy darling," she said and put her hand firmly on it and gave it a playful squeeze.
Dominique just gasped.
"Now go and get dressed properly," Madam Deloise told Dominique. "The evening shift will be coming on soon and it is customary for the girls to wear evening dresses between six and midnight. You must do the same but you will not be "activated" until the doctor has examined you."
Poor Dominique! She was still reeling from the day's events and now she was to "advertise" her body for sale. Except that no money changed hands in this brothel.
One of the girls showed her an enormous shared wardrobe of clothes. Most of them had been looted from fashion shops when the Germans arrived. Dominique would probably have chosen conservative clothes but this wardrobe had been chosen especially for "ladies of the night!"
Dominique gathered the clothes and went to her bedroom to try them on. There was a knock on the door. It was one of the girls. Dominique recognised her as one the girls who had willingly entered into prostitution. She had told Dominique that she just called at the brothel one day and asked if they would take her on. "I just love sex," she told Dominique, "and its heavenly here. All those horny men to fuck you night after night!"
"We have just received a consignment of silk stockings," she said. "They are beautiful. Would you like a few pairs Dominique?"
Silk stockings were a real luxury and Dominique was tempted but then thought, why should I make myself alluring just to give these enemy soldiers a treat? "No, I don't think so," said Dominique.
"Why not?" asked the girl, whose name was Françoise. "You are going to have to wear sexy undies and glamorous dresses anyway because that's all we've got and you are such a pretty girl. I know what you're thinking, but to hell with the boys. Silk stockings are such a treat."
Dominique surrendered. She was a young girl with a young girl's desires and she couldn't wait to get dressed and look at herself in the mirror.
Françoise slipped Dominique's negligee off her shoulders and she stepped into a gorgeous pair of lace-trimmed panties. The girl had brought a suspender belt with her and Dominique went to put it around her waist.
"No darling," said the Françoise. "When we wear stockings we put our panties on over the suspender belt. We are kept much to busy to keep putting on stockings and taking them off!"
Dominique blushed as she realised the significance of that last remark. Nevertheless she did as she was told. Then the girl slipped a silk petticoat over her head. She held Dominique around her waist and turned her towards the full-length mirror. Françoise hugged and kissed her. "You look absolutely gorgeous she said."
Lace trimmed silk underwear and full cut panties were the height of fashion in the 1940's and Dominique couldn't help herself. She was thrilled with the opportunity to wear such expensive items.
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