Love’s Mask, Part 2

Here’s part one, if you missed it: Love’s Mask by LovelyLonelyLady

Something else about Max quickly caught Linda’s notice the very day after the honeymoon.  As if he were capable of juggling two personalities, he resumed the cold, sardonic manner of an SS officer.  At least, while he worked, that was the mien everyone saw.  Remnants of it remained when he came home at night; they lingered in the bite of his tone and the proud ruthless gait.  Often he would not speak much, explaining to Linda that it was better she not know about his day’s work.  She realized soon that there was really only one thing he wanted of her.  Or maybe he needed it.  He needed sex.

This state of affairs continued for a month.  Linda was on edge, firstly because she had no idea if she was in a safe position; perhaps Max had arranged something with the SS for her protection.  And secondly, she didn’t know how to act around her new husband.  He always got up, showered, dressed, and left before she woke up since he was a very early riser.  At night, she served him supper and used discretion when making conversation.  Sometimes they talked; other times he was depressed and tired.  She could always sense it, and she knew what was required of her.  That was her promise, after all: to be a wife to him.  Without reproach or argument, she would go with him to bed, and he would take her passionately, letting out some of his stress.

At last, something transpired between them that brought Linda’s courage to the forefront.

On a hot day in August, around four in the afternoon, Linda was busy trying to make a French pastry when the apartment door suddenly opened.

“Max!” she exclaimed, surprised to see him standing in the doorway.  “Why are you home already?”

He didn’t answer, but strode her way, caught her roughly in his arms, and kissed her with almost violent hunger.  When he released her mouth, she gasped for breath.

“Max, what is it?”

“I need you.  Now,” he said, his tone low and fierce.  His eyes burned, but not murderously.  It was almost panic.

Linda’s brows furrowed low over her eyes.  “What?”

“Will you hold to your promise, Linda?” he asked.

“My promise –”

“To give me what I need when I need it.”

She scanned his face anxiously.  A grayness had washed out his skin, and the whites of his eyes were scarred with red veins.  And his grip on her waist clenched like a metal vice.

“Yes, Max.”  She didn’t even realize she’d spoken.  All she saw was her husband in distress.

Leaving ingredients scattered on the table, she let him pull her to the bedroom.  In a way, she felt scared, not of him—for she knew by now that he would never harm her—but of the emptiness in his eyes.  He seemed not to see her as he backed her against the wall and hastily lifted her dress.  Then he unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers enough to free his shaft.  It was growing hard, though Linda couldn’t understand why.  His lips were hot as they nipped at her neck; she moaned, touching his arms.  A few moments of fumbling to move her underclothes out of the way, and then he forced himself into her.  She caught her breath.  Always the sensation was new, so filling and warm.

Like the first time Max made love to her, he went hard and fast.  It was a little painful, but strangely, Linda liked it.  The intensity bound her closer to him.  She had to cling to him in order to remain on her feet because his passion made her legs turn to jelly.  All thoughts about his trouble vanished; she focused on responding, on encouraging him with her cries and her words, and on devouring his lips whenever his face came close to hers.

He pounded her as though he were in a rage, flattening her against the wall and gripping her wrists on either side of her head.  The sweat ran in drips down his forehead and cheeks and soaked his shirt collar.  As his frenzy grew, his breathing rushed to a frantic gasping.

Then he abruptly stopped, still inside of her, and stripped off his jacket and shirt.  Linda groaned at the sight of his chest and rubbed her hands over it.

“Max, Max,” she murmured.

Desperate to resume, he planted his mouth on hers.  Their lips moved wildly, lustfully, and he plowed deeper into her body than he ever had before.  Linda almost shouted into his mouth at the power of his strokes.

When Linda’s knees almost gave out and she winced as her head hit the wall a little too hard, Max supported her in his arms and brought her to the bed.  First, though, he unzipped her dress and ripped it off of her, then pulled off her bra and slip and underwear.  She stretched herself on the bed for him, but he surprised her by saying, “Turn over, Linda.”  She did, receiving a tingling slap on her bottom when she presented it to him.  Then he knelt behind her, and she started when his hot tip probed at her hole, teasing the folds of delicate skin around it.  She was wet, and he easily went in.

This position was different and extremely sensational for Linda.  She felt the ridge of Max’s corona rake across the very sensitive spot near the front of her entry a number of times, and the stimulation almost made her pass out.  But it got even better when he forced her flat on her belly and then lowered himself on top of her. His chest pressed into her back, his pubic bone ground against her bottom, and their legs tangled together.  As he drove himself into her, his wet rod squelched erotically between her buttocks.  The heaviness of him on her and in her overwhelmed Linda, and she gasped and cried out.  This excited him and made him lose his control; his breaths were loud, merging into yells.  Anyone overhearing them would have known exactly what was going on.

Max reached beneath her to grab her breasts, his loins digging into hers.  His face was a deep scarlet.  They were both drenched in hot sweat and their bodies connected with a rich slickness.  Linda could hardly hold her head up, so overwrought was she by Max’s sexual power.  Feeling his breath waft at her ear intoxicated her the more.

Finally he roared, thrusting erratically and shaking like he was in a convulsion.  He was climaxing, and it delighted Linda.  It meant she was good for him.

“Oh yes, Max, come for me, cover me in your seed! Please! I want to feel it on my skin!” she gasped.  She could feel her own orgasm rushing in like an oncoming tsunami.

“Oh, God!” Max drew out and stroked his shaft with numb hands, and Linda’s finger dove down to her clitoris to rub herself to oblivion.  A long burst of white liquid erupted from Max’s cock and splattered on Linda’s bottom.  Then another, and then a long, wrenching third.  Max had never howled so in all his existence.  It seemed the very life was being yanked out of him through his tender meat.  Yet it was glorious to see the drips spilled all over his wife’s naked body.  She was writhing, trying to get her breath, her mouth pulled open by the force of her pleasure.  For a good twenty seconds, she was lost to him.  Then she went limp, arms flung out, legs spread, hair scattered.  He fell beside her, his hand covering hers.

Neither of them spoke.  They were exhausted.  Lazily, Max pulled himself up so he could put his head on his pillow, and Linda followed.  She reached for a handkerchief to wipe her back clean.  Her pelvic region felt stretched and kneaded.  Oh, it was good.  In the back of her mind floated a mist of gratitude to God for giving her a man who knew how to satisfy her.

Looking over at Max, her eyes studied every feature of his face with softness.  He had gotten a cigarette and was smoking while absently staring into nothingness.  That strange anguish still shadowed his eyes.

What had happened to make him so crazed?  It troubled Linda.  Yes, she was his wife, and she would give herself to him whenever he asked because he needed her.  But not only she could not live like this.  He couldn’t.  He suppressed too much, and letting it out only in this way might injure him—maybe not physically, but emotionally.  Linda gazed at his eyes, his strong brow, his jawline, his lips.  She loved him.  And she was the only one to see him like this, naked, defenseless, and tormented.  Right now he was mellow from making love.  This was the time to speak.

“When you came in like that… you were rather frightening,” she ventured.

He looked over at her, the distress plain in his eyes.  “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.  I’m just afraid that you’re hurting yourself,” she explained.  “Max, when I said I would be your wife, I meant that I would be in every aspect.  I’m part of you.  Whatever happens to you happens to me.  And… nothing that you tell me will make me hate you,” she added more gently.  “The Lord is teaching me to love you, though we believe such different things.  You said you trust me, and you trust me with your body; won’t you trust me with your mind?”

She had turned on her side so she might gaze straight up into his face.  Evidently, he was taking in her words since his jaw muscles were going taut and loose by turns.  With another long draw on his cigarette, he answered.

“I said on our wedding night that there were things about me that would help you love me.  I was wrong.  There are too many more that will make you despise me more than you did before.”

“Tell me.  Try me!” Linda pleaded, reaching for his hand.

He joined his fingers with hers and snuffed out the cigarette.  “I joined the Nazi Party in 1934.  I thought Hitler had the answers for our shamed country.  Then I discovered the real intent, and it sickened me with horror.”

A suspicion of the truth flashed through Linda, forcing her to sit up.

“The Fuhrer’s plans were in complete opposition to the ideals we true Germans hold,” Max continued.  “I opposed them.  But I could not do so openly or I would be promptly liquidated.  Others who had stood for their convictions had been so dealt with.  The only way I could do any good was in the capacity of a high official.  So I chose to live a double life.  Yes, I am an SS officer,” Max declared deliberately, looking Linda in the eye, “but in name only.”

A gasp broke from Linda’s lips.  “Max… you’re not… one of them?” she breathed.

His eyes clouded.  “I despise them.  It is a strain to pretend otherwise.  But I must.  There are many chances given me as an officer to do with prisoners what I see fit.  Thus I can get them to safety.”

“Oh, Max, I’m so glad…” Linda whispered, creeping close to him and resting her hand on his chest.

Abruptly he forced her hand away.  The fire was back in his eyes.  “You will not be for long,” he stated hoarsely.  “Today, twelve members of the French Resistance were caught and brought to me.  The penalty for all opposition is death.  They were to die by firing squad.  When I am put in such a position, I can usually arrange for switches, most often with actual criminals.  I have a system by which I can trick my superiors and smuggle the innocent to safety.  This time I could not.  The arresting officer would not leave until the task was done.”

Linda waited, her heart beating a little more quickly.  She didn’t know what was coming, but the darkness on Max’s face augured something dreadful.

“Six of those twelve were women.  Two were girls, hardly in their teens,” Max said softly.  He was staring off into nothing, reliving the event.  “The officer was Gestapo, evil to the core.  He commanded that I carry out the sentence myself.”  Max stopped, his neck muscles tight.  “I had no choice.  I shot them.  All of them.”

Silence hung heavy after his statement.  A troubling mixture of shock, anger, and pity swept through Linda.

“I am a murderer, the same as any man in the SS.”

Now Linda found her voice.  “No, Max, you are not,” she assured him.  “If you had refused and raised their suspicion, they would have either arrested or killed you there, and hundreds, maybe thousands of people would lose their rescuer.  You were forced into it.  And in war, we all do things we hate,” she added, repeating his own words from the first day they’d known each other.

When Max met her gaze again, she was dumbfounded to see wetness in his eyes.  Never had she dreamed that she would see him broken.

“You do not hate me?” he asked, the cracks quite audible in his voice.

“I think I love you more than I did,” she answered in a soft tone.  She moved close, pressing her exposed body against his and kissing the side of his head.

And that strong, heroic soldier began to sob.  The tears broke from him as if a bottle had been uncorked to release great pressure.  Startled, Linda drew down his head to her breasts, stroking his hair tenderly, whispering words of love and comfort close to his ear.  She held him.

That night they were very tender with each other, unwilling to leave their bed or separate for even a minute.  Linda gave herself over and over to Max; she knew it was the greatest thing she could do for him.  His internal battles would continue as long as he filled the role of SS lieutenant.  He needed someone beside him who could ease the pain of his conflict, and Linda was that someone.  In her touch and the soft compassion of her eyes, he felt comfort.  Sex became more beautiful because it was blent with her kindness.

She on her part delighted in the knowledge that he had revealed his secret to her and trusted her love.  He was not the Nazi she feared.  Yes, there was a lot of hardship and confusion in his situation, and he still needed that outlet for his tortured emotions, but he loved her.  Perhaps, Linda thought, as she basked in his arms and felt his body clenched against hers, she could soon speak to him of God’s love, which was even greater, and which could bring him peace.

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3 replies
  1. LovingMan says:

    LLL, I hope you’ll continue with this storyline. It is heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time! Making love can be such a comforting thing in marriage, but talking with each other is as well! “Pillow talk is so important to my wife & myself!

  2. SophTea says:

    I was waiting for this! I love how you develop the love of Christ in their relationship, how he is opening up to her about his pains and his own issues, including what wrongdoings he has done. The love of a wife, in my belief, is a great way to share the love of Christ and can help cultivate a Godly marriage. Please keep writing, I am actually writing something that, to some extent, is inspired by your stories! God bless 🥰

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