All persons in this story are of legal age.
It was crowded in the Maulders' small flat above the restaurant. Jacob Maulder sat stone faced at the kitchen table fiercely proud and notoriously stubborn yet fearful for the safety of his beloved wife and daughter. The air crackled with an unrelenting tension. Still Jacob clung to the delusion that he was not without bargaining chips. He failed to realise that the unsoluble problem he had was the German's officer's enjoyment of the cat-and-mouse game. A game that allowed, even encouraged, Jacob to overplay his hand. Such was the confidence the Nazi had in his advantage, that he would deliberately spool out the thread of hope building the Jews confidence, only to snap him back to reality with an abruptness that verged on cruelty.
Jacob was a fine chef, renowned in Dresden for his exceptional cuisine. Schnurr was a fat bellied Nazi with a taste for fine food that was only exceeded by his appetite for pretty women. In Jacob Maulder's kitchen he had the means to indulge both of those passions.
Greta Maulder was a handsome woman of thirty-nine, still able to turn heads and cause a stir with just the glimpse of her lovely face and the hint of what jiggled enticingly beneath her conservative clothes. Greta knew she was pretty. She'd known since she was a child that her looks brought her a lot of attention and the occasional advantage. As much as Jacob's cooking drew customers to the restaurant, Greta's good looks often brought them back. The tables in the little dining room were filled nightly with the grey and black uniforms of German officers who had made the Maulders restaurant their special place. She and Jacob fed them well and they, in turn, always ensured the Maulders had the best ingredients when others around them had nothing. So many of their Jewish neighbors had been transported by the Nazis that Greta knew that their only hope of staying together depended on the restaurant remaining a favorite with the Nazy officers.
As difficult as it sometimes was, Greta made sure she was always gracious to a fault. She even endured the often crude comments of the soldiers and the occasional wandering hand as she bustled about between the tables, the perfect hostess. It was often Schnurr who took those improper liberties. She hated him for it but often flirted with him nonetheless, hoping he would see them and their little restaurant as worth saving. The powerful Schnurr could send them all to the trains for evacuation if he so chose, and she knew that.
And now there was Magda, their pretty eighteen-year-old daughter, just returned unexpectedly from an exclusive Swiss finishing school in Berne. Unfortunately, the funds to pay her tuition were no longer available once Jacob's accounts were frozen by the Nazis. She'd been safe there, away from the stigma that being Jewish brought with it here at home. But the Swiss were not in the business of charity. As soon as it became apparent that Magda's tuition was in question she was asked to leave.
Monday night she'd arrived at the restaurant during the supper hour causing a stir among the dinner guests with her books and baggage. A younger version of Greta just coming into bloom, she looked lovely in her school uniform. For a moment it seemed like the clink of forks and the rattle of dishes went quiet while the officers watched the young beauty struggle through the door with her bags. Had they not been so captured by the girl's fresh good looks they may have noticed her mother's expression of open-mouthed surprise. The pure joy of seeing her daughter was countered by a bitter dread that settled in her stomach as she saw the lascivious stares the girl was attracting.
Greta quickly waved her through to the kitchen where a distraught Jacob clattered a plate of schnitzel onto the warming cart. She held up a single finger cautioning her husband to silence while Jacob pressed his palms to his temples in impotent frustration. After a hurried hug and a tearful reassurance, the worried mother helped Magda into the alley and around to the stairs that led to their flat. There'd be time for themselves after the restaurant closed but for now feeding the customers and getting them on their way was all she could manage.
It was Schnurr who took special note of Magda's arrival and took it upon himself to question her mother about the girl. He knew no children were registered to the Maulders but he saw that the resemblance between the two women immediately. The school uniform was a dead giveaway. With the girl out of the country and away at school they must have thought they'd get away with it.
Greta was canny and smart. She thought quickly on her feet, knowing that Schnurr could check whatever explanation was offered. On the pretense that she and Jacob had simply misunderstood the regulation and thought that it was just children living at home that were to be recorded, she assured him that they'd correct it with the Registry office.
The Nazi looked at her impassively while she made her excuses. Discomfited by his unblinking stare, she finally had to break eye contact and glance away, feeling as if he could see right into her lying soul. For Schnurr that was enough for the time. She knew that he knew, and that was good.
Schnurr had had plans for the mother long before the daughter arrived at the restaurant that night. Now those plans would be more than just a gratuitous piece of ass from a grateful Jewish cunt. Now there could be more reason for her gratitude, more dedication to his needs. Getting either of the two Maulder women to do whatever he wanted would be easy. Women will do anything if they believe that "as bad as things are, they can always get worse". He was pleased that Magda looked so much like a younger version of her mother. The flawless skin and cascade of auburn curls framing beautiful green eyes left no doubt that they were mother and daughter. The silly cunts would each do whatever he asked, each thinking she may save the other from something even worse.
The girl's breasts had looked ample in the crisp white blouse of her uniform. Not as full as the mother's or as given to enticing movement when she walked, but nice. They both had lovely asses. The mother's larger again but nicely shaped, something substantial to hold onto when he'd sink his cock into her; the daughter's firm and well toned from exercise and school sports. The firmness was also evident in the the girl's legs, nicely displayed in the short grey uniform skirt. Greta wore her dresses longer but the occasional glimpse above the knee as she climbed on a chair to open the transom window or crouched to wipe a spill from the dining room floor was enough to confirm that her legs were exceptional.
Schnurr watched for a few nights to see if Magda would show up to help in the restaurant. When she didn't he felt sure that they were still trying to hide her. After all, from his brief conversation with Greta one would have expected her to go scurrying to the Registry Office to correct the file. When she didn't he concluded that she was gambling he'd keep her secret and not say anything. Perhaps he would. But such concessions didn't come without a price to be paid and the Maulder's were running up quite a tab.
On the Friday night, the restaurant closed before sundown as was the Jewish custom on the night before Sabbath. It was clearly an awkward time for the Maulders. Schnurr knew that when he arrived at their living space with an entourage of eleven demanding that the sullen chef abandon his Sabbath dinner and prepare an evening meal for the group of officers. The imposition on their privacy and the intrusion on their religious practice was calculated to underscore their subservience.
The intent was obvious to Greta but she showed no disrespect to their guests. Jacob, however, was incapable of hiding his feelings. He glared at the grinning Schnurr as if showing his displeasure would encourage the man's departure. Someone else to cook for the fat officer and his friends. It would not be him tonight.
The Nazi was amused by Jacob's transparent assumption that expertise in the kitchen could be traded for the personal safety. For a time, it had suited Schnurr's purpose to allow him that misconception. The reality was coming soon enough and the delivery would be sweeter for having waited. Maulder would do as he was told, nothing less.
Greta could see her husband's annoyance building and with it his obstinacy. He wasn't reading the German's intent very well and she couldn't catch his eye to caution him. Jacob's voice had become harsh, strident and uncompromising while the German Officer's body language was unmistakable. His response to Jacob's belligerence was inevitable. Even so, the crack of the riding crop slamming onto the kitchen table was like a gunshot in the crowded room startling everybody. Schnurr was on his feet in an instant ominously tapping the crop against Jacob's chest. There was no compromise in the Officer's voice when he snapped the startled Jew into silence. Any thought that Schnurr and his men were there for a congenial visit was immediately dispelled. Jacob Maulder needed to be taught a lesson and Schnurr was more than happy to oblige in front of the man's wife and daughter and eleven other witnesses.
The German officer turned his attention to the frightened Magda who had been folding laundry when they came in. She stood now with her head bowed trying to remain quietly inconspicuous. Schnurr liked that. He ran his hands over the fresh laundry and shook out a pair of women's underpants and held them up to the amusement of the other soldiers.
