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The Dominafuhrer
Miss Spiteful's War

The New Recruit
Enslaved In Skirts
Ingrid and Fate
Walter's Enigma
The Italian Job
The High-Heeled Contessa
Rolling With Pain
The Spy Who Never Was
Ingrid's First Date
For The Love Of Willi
Dressing For Work
The Colonel And The Nurse
Anya's Curse
Future Imperfect
Reinhardt The Rampant
The Bomb Under The Bed
Hungarian Rhapsody
Against The Clock
General Josephine
The Bomb Plot
Gunfight At The OKH
Up Against The Wall
City Under Fire
The End Of The Unit
The Toad Triumphs
Kill Miss Spiteful
Heil Himmler!
Mistress Storm
Miss Spiteful's Revenge
Last Exit From Berlin
The Name Of The Goddess

The Dominafuhrer 1952
Miss Spiteful's Gold

Give My Regards To Bremen

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood



The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S WAR

Episode 12 - Dressing For Work

October 1943

I cannot help it. When I see myself naked in a full-length mirror, I have to stop and admire. I was alone in the dressing room for a few moments while Miss Spiteful was in the bathroom.

Not bad, I thought. My golden blonde hair was bob styled above my round boyish face with perhaps a little too much make-up, but I needed it to cover the shadow on my chin. I still shaved twice a day to keep my cheeks smooth and kept the rest of body hairless, mainly by shaving, but I think that the hormone injections that I received for my breasts might also be inhibiting growth. Oh, how I loved them! They would never be huge but a teenage girl would have been proud of them; round, regular and with little reddish brown nipples. I fingered the raised SS scars that Miss Spiteful had personally inscribed with a branding iron. They were sited on the shaven part of my lower stomach, just above the root of my penis, previously covered with pubic hair. Already erect with anticipation, I had ejaculated immediately I felt the searing pain of the red hot metal touching my skin. Fortunately, Miss Spiteful had been wearing one of our black rubber aprons but she had whipped me anyway for coming without her permission. I was also very proud of these brand marks as Miss Spiteful had told me that she always branded her slaves to remind them who owned them.

Sub-consciously, my hand had started to pull at my penis when Miss Spiteful, also naked, came out the bathroom and smacked me across my bottom. “Stop dreaming, Ingrid!” She snapped as she sat down at the dressing table to do her make-up in the mirror. “Otherwise, I will take the wine out the ice-bucket, forgo my massage later and just thrash you instead.”

Massage! That was how I had managed to get round the ‘no touching the girls’ rule. Almost by accident, it was discovered that I had a hidden talent as a masseuse. One day, Miss Spiteful had complained of a stiff and sore shoulder after a heavy thrashing session and I had offered to massage it for her. In a momentary lapse she had agreed and was surprised as myself at how good at it I was. In fact, I was instructed to carry on with the rest of her naked body as she gently purred, and even writhed at times, with pleasure. I was rewarded then, and every time thereafter that I performed the duty on her, by being allowed to masturbate in her presence. With further practice, I was able to perfect long, relaxing and erotic massages and, once the other girls found out, they insisted that I dispense the same to them as well. I was in my seventh heaven, besides being able to touch their naked bodies, including their most intimate parts, I was usually paid in kind, depending on how much satisfaction I gave and how aroused the girls themselves became. Miss Stiletto would masturbate me with her own hands so that my semen landed on her breasts after which I was allowed to lick it off. Miss Sapphire turned out to be a sexual howler, moaning and louder and louder as I progressed down her body until she would scream at me to suck at her erect nipples. Miss Stiletto however was my favourite, she liked me to finish her off by exploring the area between her legs, both front and back, with my tongue until she orgasmed and splashed my face with natural lubricant from her labia. Once, she had become so frenzied that she had seized my penis, taken it in her mouth and sucked me dry in one of the most fantastic blow-jobs that I had ever received. That was the furthest that any of the girls had permitted me to go with them and otherwise our relationships were strictly business, although we did occasionally visit a bar or a night club as a group. They always had their own companions with them and I was not included in their love lives.

“Now, Ingrid.” Miss Spiteful got up and began sorting through the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. “There are two problems when interrogating Russian Prisoners, especially dedicated Communists like this one. According to his Abwehr file, his family has been party members since the Revolution and his own rank is due to political influence. One, he hates Nazi Germany and everything associated with it, particularly uniforms and badges. Two, He believes in the inevitable victory of the communist system. So, first we remove the focus of his hatred, no uniforms, no swastikas and then we prove to him how ineffectual his beliefs are by hurting something that he loves. Namely, the girl.”

Miss Spiteful had found a wide, red leather suspender belt in the wardrobe and held it out to me. As she carried on speaking, I fastened it around her waist, smoothing it over her tattooed hip and bottom and untangled the dangling suspenders.

“Other prisoners from the Field Hospital have stated he was a regular visitor and slept with the Nurse on every occasion. He has a family back home but is obviously infatuated with her. We will hurt them both, telling him that she feels everything that he does and I will be taunting him that he and his communist faith are powerless to stop us. I want him to feel pain and know despair and that the only way to end the girl's suffering is to tell us what we want to know.”

I knelt down to roll a pair of our precious black nylons up her legs, my figures trembling as I clipped them to her suspenders. I always had problems controlling my emotions when touching or being near my mistress’s bare flesh.

“No brassiere or knickers, just my red thigh boots, Ingrid.” Miss Spiteful ordered as I stood up. “I want him to see me and desire me. You however, will wear the nurse’s tunic. If he lusts after them it will be an added frustration to see you in a uniform.”

I helped Miss Spiteful into her highly polished, high heeled, red leather thigh boots and she pulled on long red leather gloves. The boots were well polished because I had done them myself. One of my duties was cleaning the dungeons, the equipment and the clothes of the dirt, water, blood, vomit, urine and other body wastes that fell on them. The plus side being that I was permitted to do so wearing the French Maid’s outfit.

“Now Ingrid, I require you to do to the girl whatever I do to the Colonel. I’ve had her gagged so that she cannot speak but I want him to hear her groans. If he’s as besotted with her as I believe, I’ll need you to suck his penis and then have sex with the girl. I want him to feel guilt.” That was a bonus for me. We had very few female prisoners through the unit, just the occasional partisan, resistance worker or spy, and all except one had given in after the initial beating and degradation. The one exception, an Italian Contessa, had given me my first sex with a woman since I had become Ingrid.

Miss Spiteful picked up a manilla file from the dressing table and flicked through the pages as I located the nurse’s uniform in the wardrobe and then started to dress in lacy white brassiere, suspender belt and knickers, followed by a pair of seamed light tan stockings.

“According to this,” Miss Spiteful pointed to the file, “Colonel Suvlov speaks German and I want to conduct this interrogation in our language. It will terrify the girl, who only knows Russian and help me because my Russian is limited to ‘Take your trousers down and bend over’. Yours, of course, is good and you will translate anything I need to know before he can be persuaded to keep to German.”

I slipped into the short, white nurse’s tunic, which barely came down to my thighs and buttoned it up the front. I stepped into a pair of white, high-heeled shoes and we were ready. A knock on the door announced that our prisoners awaited us without. As he and Heinz left the dungeon, Freidrich turned and whispered, “The air raid sirens have just gone, Mistress. The radio says that it's fast-moving lone raiders, so it must be RAF Mosquito bombers on one of their sneak raids.


To continue this story, click The Colonel and The Nurse

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