Mr. B's Bordello Story

From the neighboring camps and prisons, the most beautiful girls and young women were selected and delivered here. They lived in the longer barrack and there were always sixty to seventy held, plus, also recruited from the jails and camps, a staff of hairdressers, cosmeticians and doctors. There was even a Jewish cobbler, a Jewish tailor and two Polish cooks, together about twelve to fifteen people. The girls that worked here had to be taken care of superbly.

Mr. B was also a prisoner at one of the camps, where he loafed in the electrician’s command. Being from a Silesian background, he knew perfect German and many times they brought him here, to fix this or replace that. He said that in his time, in that place there were Yugoslavians, Czechs, Poles, Ukrainians, a few French girls, two Belgians and even three Norwegians.

All of this, down to minute detail, Mr. B shared with me once when I drove him in a car he had borrowed, in the fog, more than a hundred fifty kilometers in one direction. It was unknown why Mr. B did not have a driver’s license, and the driver who had been previously arranged and even paid a substantial advance, had drank himself into paralysis.

Knowing that I was always doing something around cars, Mr. B, spurred by his wife Milena, asked me for this small favor. I always had a driver’s license. 

Four months before the end of the sixteenth year of my life, my mother, as a pre-war automobilist, even somewhat against my will, as I had some other equally attractive plans, signed me up for a four-month course on driving, such that my driver’s license, of which after all I was very proud and happy, I acquired precisely on my sixteenth birthday.

Russians, Mr. B continued, Gypsies and Jewish girls were not taken. This entire arrangement, though it started at the initiative of Reinhard Heydrich, the number two in the SS, was not executed by the SS at all, but by the TODD organization or something like that, and the women had, to an extent, better conditions here. An eight hour work day applied. 

Primarily in groups, under rather symbolic escort, because from the island there was practically no possibility of escape, they went to the mansion, where they worked.

As Mr. B told it, they all looked like film stars. Sophisticated hairstyles, mascara, manicures, pedicures. Working in the smaller barracks the support staff didn’t rest. Even every two days the girls had their pussies shaven exactly, because, as Mr. B joked, the Germans manically feared disease carried by lice or other small insects. In the mansion the group undressed immediately.

The girls worked naked, they had only on their legs deliberate shoes, very high heeled, the work of the Jewish cobbler, and small hand bags, where they kept their cosmetics, and mainly their prophylactics. On each handbag, on either side, there was affixed a large numeral. 

Despite the nation-wide restriction on using burnables, here the heater worked the entire time at highest level and there was almost never any accident to cause the frolicking naked girls to complain about the cold. In the enormous hall there was a bar where the interested sat. The girls had to trot upright around the room, to demonstrate their beauties. They were not allowed to sit at the bar. 

Whenever an übermensch decided upon what to pick, he would summon the girl with a wave of the hand, or called her by the number on her handbag, for example FRAULEIN EINUNDZWANZIGSTE. With a smile the girl came up to him. Then she was obligated to place her hands behind her head or neck, or even better, to demonstrate everything she had to offer by placing one leg, with a slight movement of her thigh, on the rung of the bar stool on which sat leisurely that day’s Hitlerite swine.

For a long time we were blocked by some truck in front of us, which despite our faster speed, would not let us pass. I tried several times to pass and each time at the last moment, when I was already almost at level with the truck driver, he forced himself into the left lane. 

At last, against all rules of driving, while going up some hill I was able to get past him. Already behind us, the driver, vindictively, probably wanting to punish me, put on his strong high beams. Our entire car was suddenly made bright. 

Glancing at my passenger, Mr. B, I saw him going about under his coat, as if nothing, striking the proverbial horse. I didn’t understand any of this anymore. He continued excitedly, that for example often the hand of the German checked the firmness of the breasts, or the softness of the skin between the thighs. 

Sometimes the Germans ordered them to turn around, testing the state and pertness of the girls’ butt cheeks. Most of this Mr. B had been able to gawk at when in the adjoining room for two days he mounted a crystal chandelier. He said that in his life he had seen much, but what he saw there had such a strong effect on him that twice he had almost fallen clean off his ladder. Presently, when everything was OK and a girl had been accepted, grabbing a towel by the entrance to the large staircase, she led the john to one of the rooms upstairs. 

There she was obligated, before his eyes, prior to being used and afterwards, to take advantage of the bidet, and afterwards she returned downstairs to the bar and repeated around like this for eight hours. The girls had to fulfill with no discussion even the strangest whims of the men, because in the case of any kind of insubordination they were sent immediately back to where they had been taken from, and as Mr. B said, out of the two evils, here they had good food and outside of the eight hours when they often really had to work themselves out, they had relative peace and complete relaxation. 

Mr. B was picking up his brother, who had apparently been a priest somewhere and had to pass some exams at a local clinic. On the way back, conversation did not form at all. The priest, who sat in the back, was decidedly uncommunicative. He was persistently praying out loud, which had actually so distracted me, that I nearly ran over some drunk unlit cyclist. Mr. B was also some kind of way, as if somewhat listless. It was nearly morning when we had returned.