The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S WAR

Episode 2 - Enslaved In Skirts

December 1941

“Excellent!” Miss Spiteful actually clapped her hands and then unbuckled the leather belt and cuffs securing me to the frame. “Just what I wanted to hear. Now sit up!”

I did so carefully, not only because of my painful posterior and my swimming head but also because of the now heavy tube swinging between my thighs.

“Please Miss Spiteful, what shall I do with this?” I asked, risking another blow for my temerity. But my beautiful torturer, who was removing her own leather harness, just smiled as she replied. “Oh, take it off and drink it” At the look on my face, she raised an eyebrow. “Have you never sucked a penis before?”

I shook my head as I undid the straps, being careful not to spill any of the contents when the rubber ring came away from the root of my shaft.

“We experimented as boys in the Hitler Jugend when we were masturbating together but we never came in each others mouths.” I held it up, giving it a very dubious look.

“Drink! It is an order!” Miss Spiteful’s voice had a firm edge to it.

I shrugged and closed my eyes as I tipped the contents down my throat. At first, I started to gag as the warm, slimy liquid filled up my mouth and I was forced into the swallow that I had been resisting. The aftertaste was not unpleasant and I finally got all of my semen back into my body.

“If you smoke, you may have one now.” Miss Spiteful called out as she leaned over her desk and switched on the rest of the lights allowing me to see the that the room was a lot larger than I had realised and was filled with more equipment and paraphernalia of her craft. Ropes, pulleys, hooks and suspension bars hung from the ceiling. The walls were lined with racks holding whips, crops, canes and other assault weapons and shelves containing all sorts of implements and devices. On the floor, I could see stocks, a pillory, a rack, a dentist’s chair, more tables and trestles and a huge wooden cross.

Having found my uniform jacket, I lit a cigarette with my still trembling hands and gingerly reseated myself on the frame, drawing deeply on the soothing smoke. My brain was still whirling. What next? Why the sudden change? I was glad of the interruption, but was it just another twist in some bizarre plan? Why had a minor criminal been brought to a secret unit in Gestapo Headquarters and subjected to interrogation? Would it now all end with a bullet in a cell deep under Prinz Albrechtstrasse?

“There’s an ashtray on my desk.” Miss Spiteful’s muffled voice called out and I realised that I was alone. “Come on in when you’ve finished.” I now saw that there was another door in the wall near the desk and, stubbing out my cigarette, entered to find myself in a small dressing room. There was a dressing table and mirror to the right and a large, mirror fronted, wardrobe on the left. Ahead was another open door from whence came the sound of running water. Miss Spiteful’s cap, boots and underwear was in a heap on the floor.

“You may use the salve on the dressing table.” Miss Spiteful called out, for which I was very grateful and began to gently apply it to my bottom, with the help of the wardrobe mirror. When she re-entered, she was wrapped in a large, white bath towel and smiling broadly.

“I do leave an impression, don’t I?” Miss Spiteful joked as she sat down at the dressing table, referring to the multi-coloured bruises that I was trying to cover. Freshly showered, she looked lovelier than ever and, on her bare right shoulder, I could see yet another extensive tattoo. She shook her wet copper hair and patted her body with the towel, giving me flashes of bare torso and legs.

“That’s better.” She said, “These sessions can be very draining for us as well.”

Hardly, I thought, but kept silent.

“I think that you’ve suffered enough, so I’d better explain.” Miss Spiteful sat back and gave me a long searching look. “I told you that we always research our subject’s weaknesses and secret desires and there are some, in fact a lot, who are fascinated or excited by transvestism. We never underestimate the depravities of the human mind and we seek to exploit them all here. I’ve always worked with a transvesti assistant before but, when I asked the Services for a volunteer, I was told that there were no transvestites in uniform. Well, even if I could get Willi and Friedrich, my two strong-arm boys, into a frock they wouldn’t get anyone excited so, I went through the courts-martial records and found you. I just used my influence to get your sentence altered. Consider yourself punished and assigned to this unit. I’ve seen you now and you’re not effeminate, homosexual or a hairy Feldwebel who likes masturbating into ladies knickers. I believe you genuinely enjoy the female role. You’ve passed the job interview.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. “There is no alternative. You know too much about a highly secret unit. You cannot go back to a trench outside Moscow in case the Russians capture you. The only way out of here leads to Sachsenhausen!”

Put like that, I had no argument. I certainly did not want to go back to the Eastern Front and, as a Deaths Head Guard, I had seen both Sachsenhausen and Dachau. Whatever the future held for me here it had to be better than ending up as inmate in a concentration camp. Miss Spiteful saw the acceptance in my face and nodded. “Das es Gut!”

She turned in her chair to examine her eyes in the dressing table mirror and, as she did so, her bath towel slipped down. Two wonderful breasts were revealed, ample in size but not too big; pink with little blue veins and pale brown nipples still beaded with water. I wanted to stay as near as possible to those.

“There are rules!” Miss Spiteful snapped, returning her attention to me. “From now on you will dress as a woman. In the wardrobe here are female clothes in a selection of sizes. As well as the black SS, there are other military uniforms plus nurses, French maids and schoolgirls outfits. You will be advised before each interrogation, which is needed. At other times you will wear the uniform of the SS Female Auxiliary Service. Off duty, you may wear civilian female clothes. What you cannot find here, you can purchase for yourself. A room will be allocated to you.” Miss Spiteful began to pat her body with the loose flap of the towel spoiling my view of her magnificent orbs.

“Let your hair grow but, until then, we have wigs that you can use. All other body hair must be removed, you will shave your face twice a day and we will start work on shaping your eyebrows.” She reached out and plucked at my damp pubic hair. “I’m going to have you tattooed there with the SS runes or, maybe I’ll use a branding iron.” Her fingers closed over my flaccid and weary penis and skinned it back, causing it to swell in her hand. “You’re not circumcised, that’s good. And you have an ample size.” Her fingers moved up and twisted one of my nipples. Ignoring my gasp of pain, she went on. “You will receive hormone injections to enlarge your breasts. If it effects your libido, tough but that is mandatory. I’ve seen men ejaculate just at the sight of breasts and a penis on a young man's body. Until then, we have rubber inserts for your brassiere.”

She stopped and raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I shook my head. “Have you had sex with a woman?”

“Oh yes. There was a girl in the Bund Deutscher Madel when I joined the SS. She was the first and I have been in brothels in Poland and France as well as here in Germany.”

“Well, understand this.” Miss Spiteful’s face darkened. “Neither I, nor the other girls are whores. You do not touch unless ordered or invited to. Das es verboten! If we choose to use you, fine! Get handy and you will be trying your luck in Sachsenhausen!”

I suddenly needed another cigarette.

“Anyway.” Miss Spiteful continued. “Your face and legs are still boyish enough to be acceptable. You’ll look good as a French maid and somehow I don’t think that you are adverse to anything that I have outlined to you.”

Of course not! If I had died and gone to paradise I could not have contrived a more acceptable hereafter. Suddenly all my dreams and fantasies had come true.

“As far as your duties go, you will assist myself and the other girls in interrogations, when required. You might have to perform some blow-jobs and be buggered and abused again along the way but there will also be opportunities for you to return the favours. We do have female subjects in here as well from time to time. By the way, what languages do you speak?”

“I have good English, French and Polish and passable Russian.” I replied.

“Excellent! You will be instructed in bondage, electrics, corporal punishment and all the other fine arts that we practice here. Shave and shower now and then we will see how you look in makeup and drag. There is a Russian Commissar on the way, who has information on Partisan Groups and, from what intelligence tells me, he was very partial in Moscow to boys who like to be girls. Is there anything else?”

“Can I have another cigarette first?” I asked.

“Certainly.” She replied, getting up. “I’m going to dry my hair and get dressed now. Get me a pack of stockings from the carton alongside you.” I bent down and picking out one of the many packets in the box, held it up so that I could look at the label. “Nylons?” I queried. “Yes”. She replied as she took the packet from me. “From America. Much better than silk and they look and feel great on the legs. Before Pearl Harbour, our embassy in Washington used to send over several boxes at a time. We still have plenty in stock, though. Wait till you try them on. It’s one of the benefits of the job.”

As I went out of the door, she called after me. “You are going need a new feminine forename. What shall we call you?”

“Ingrid.” I said without hesitation, admitting to another secret that only my mirror had known.

“Very well. I’ll get your records changed and new identity papers issued.”

I found my cigarettes and was bending over, picking up my scattered clothing, still unable to believe my luck, when I heard a swish behind me, just prior to yet another sharp pain across my buttocks, pitching me forward on my face. Shocked and sore, I looked up from the floor and there was Miss Spiteful standing over me, swinging her whip and wearing nothing but a wicked grin. For the first time I saw her completely naked and was immediately enslaved by this veritable goddess. From her shining hair and beautiful face above her silken body with those tattoos and perfect breasts down to the neatly trimmed triangular mound of ginger curls at the top of her long tapering legs, I had never seen anything so captivating.

“Drei.” I gasped and she held out her hand to help me up.

“Welcome to the Gestapo, Untersturmfuhrer Ingrid Hartemann.”


To continue this story, click Ingrid and Fate


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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

Julia

An Introduction

VO Stories

Jenny
Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss
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I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict

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65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
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
Z

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

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Norseland

The Vision
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