"A Soldier's Diary"
It was in the fall of 1966.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Elliot shuddered from the chill in the air as he stepped off the streetcar on Haupt Strasse, in the Schoneberg section of Berlin. In the waning light of the late afternoon, he glanced in either direction, then quickly made his way through the crowd of people returning home from work. He stepped inside the door and brushed aside a hanging doorway drape that shielded the inside from the cold air when the door was opened. The moldy sour smell of the bar surprised him, and for a brief moment, it took him back in time as familiar odors sometimes do, several years back to when he was a young sergeant first stationed in Berlin.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit bar, Elliot saw a woman sitting alone in a corner booth, a cigarette in her hand, an empty glass in front of her. She was the reason he came back to Berlin.
Elizabeth, or Liz as most people called her, was a tall, attractive woman in her late forties, thin to a fault but with large sagging breasts. The woman had pale gray-blue eyes as one might expect with Germanic women. Her hair was ash brown, gathered in a French twist that gave her the appearance of a no-nonsense school teacher or governess. She had high cheekbones, a soft mouth, and an especially pleasant complexion, and like many of the women who worked in the sex trade, Liz used too much eye shadow to give herself a sultry wanton appearance.
Elizabeth was a dominatrix by trade and by nature, although lately, not a very successful one. The femdom market wasn't thriving, at least not in the circles Liz traveled in. Over the last few years, she had been forced to offer her services to whatever the client wanted and even that wasn't the lucrative business it had once been. Liz was sexually dominant, but she wasn't a sadist. Hurting a man didn't excite her, but the way they reacted to the threat of pain did. She loved to stand naked in front of a man, her legs apart, a riding crop in her hand, and watch him get down on his knees and beg to perform the most humiliating acts. Liz knew, while most of her clients were sexually aroused by the whip, they enjoyed the dire threat of a naked woman whipping them more than they enjoyed the actual pain.
Liz had been sitting in the bar since early afternoon. She had come directly from a hotel in a taxi paid for by a young Brit, a lance corporal stationed in Berlin. She tied the young soldier over a chair and whipped his bare behind with his belt until the young man got down on his knees and begged to drink her pee, just as he expected her to. The Brit was one of Liz's regulars except it wasn't as often as he or she wanted. Because of his low rank, the young soldier had neither the money nor time to see her often.
Liz was still wearing her red halter-neck dress, one of the two good dresses she owned, both well-worn. She would go braless when she wore the loose open underarm dress, as it allowed men to slide their hand in under her arm, to fondle her breasts. She knew, once the men felt her bare breasts, it would be hard for them to change their minds.
Like most of the German women at the time, Liz didn't shave her underarms. The hair under her arms was fine and sparse, as was the hair between her legs. She did one time shave her pubic hair, but only because a man she lived with had asked her to. He had begged her many times without success until he finally realized that he might try offering her money. She agreed to do it for twenty Deutsche Marks, at the time about five U.S. dollars. He paid her on the condition she let him watch her while she shaved. He knelt in front of Liz, his face close while he watched her slide the razor over her pubic mound. When she was finished, she wiped the fleshy cunt lips dry, and made him stand over her and masturbate onto her breasts, then she whipped his behind with a riding crop until he licked it off.
His name was Anthony, a Brit working in Berlin. He owned the riding crop. When drinking he would claim to be a spy for the Brits, not that Liz cared. Then one day Anthony packed up and went back home to Britain, and Liz thought most likely to his wife and family, but he left the riding crop behind.
Liz felt the chilled air when the door opened, and she looked up. She saw him come in and she was bewildered at first but pleased. She was sure she recognized him. He was the American she had met in this same bar many years ago. At that time, he was a sergeant in the Army stationed in Berlin. My God that was so long ago, Liz thought. Seeing him again made her feel good, even a little euphoric.
Liz thought back, to 1950, when they first met. They had shared a few drinks and she took him home to her small one-room apartment. Within two days of their first meeting Liz and he moved in together. She liked Elliot and had been happy to move in with him.
Chapter 1
It was the summer of 1950
"Building a house of cards."
She had found a place for them to rent, a room over a bar on Goerzallee in the Lichterfelde section of Berlin. Although Elliot didn't know it, it was the same place Liz had lived with another soldier a year earlier. The room they rented was small with slanted ceilings and a single bed, but most important, it was close to McNair barracks where Elliot was stationed. They had lived there for almost a year, and it had been a good time for both of them. Liz had even harbored thoughts of marriage back then, but she knew that wasn't likely.
Liz learned the handsome soldier had a fetish for the natural scent of her body. He liked to smell her, then lick and taste her body, especially her sweaty underarms and feet as well as her vagina and anal bud. The aroma of her body excited him so much that he begged Liz not to bathe before sex. Elizabeth was surprised at how avidly the young soldier responded when her body odor and flavor were strong. Elliot would say she was deliciously ripe and bury his face between her legs, using his tongue with a fervor she hadn't expected. It was as if the natural earthy scent and taste of a woman's body were an aphrodisiac.
When Liz was performing oral sex on him, Elliot would often ask her to bite down hard. "Please chew on me," he'd beg, telling her how much he enjoyed the pain of her teeth chewing on his cock. With Elizabeth's experience as a professional dominatrix, she quickly recognized the young man was a sexual submissive and what the women in Liz's trade called a painslut.
Liz was certain, from Elliot's demeanor, that he would get sexual pleasure from being whipped by a dominant woman, but she wasn't sure how to approach him about it. Liz knew that it wasn't unusual for married submissive men to keep their masochistic and subservient role-playing separate from their everyday home life. She was concerned if she introduced him to the whip, even though he may enjoy it, the confusion of being whipped by the woman he lived with might be so traumatic, the young sergeant might move out.
And if Liz was honest about it, she was quite happy with their living arrangement, especially the financial part. Although she didn't charge him for the sex per se, he paid for their food and the rent, and he always had American cigarettes. She knew he'd give her some money now and then, and she was skimming a few bucks off the top of the money he gave her for the rent and food shopping. With Elliot busy all day in McNair Barracks, Liz could easily find time to conduct her business, and on occasion, she even saved a few bucks by bringing clients to their room.
Liz had tried dropping small hints to Elliot about his desire for punishment, suggesting he might need a good spanking or whipping. Although her comments usually got a grin or a nervous laugh out of him, Liz wasn't convinced he wanted her to be the one who punished him. They had been living together for several months when Liz decided to see how the young soldier would react if he were to see her naked with a riding crop in her hand.
