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The Dominafuhrer
Miss Spiteful's War

The New Recruit
Enslaved In Skirts
Ingrid and Fate
Walter's Enigma
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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

Stories

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

Episode 1

Norseland

The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood

EXIT

EXIT THIS SITE

The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S WAR

Episode 10 - For The Love Of Willi

September - December 1942

And so it was. Willi was a good companion. His eyes popped when he saw me and was a bit tongue tied at first but he soon loosened up over food and wine in a little Hungarian restaurant. We chatted easily about our mutual likes and passions, only avoiding discussion of our pasts and our current work.

Later, we walked hand in hand to my little room and I invited him in for some coffee. But, before I could fill the kettle, he took my face in his hands and, for the first time in my life, I kissed another man. I tasted tobacco, wine and spices on his tongue as it touched mine and then our arms were around each other and we were locked in a long passionate embrace. I desperately wanted him to make love to me but I was afraid that it would end in disappointment for him. He released me and pulled my dress up over my head and eased the straps of my petticoat down over my shoulders. I started to tremble, not with cold, but with trepidation as I stood there in my underwear. Willi reached round my back to unclip my brassiere and, when they were revealed, sought my nipples with his hands and lips. I had never had such a feeling before. Electric tingles were running up and down my spine, my erection was straining at my knickers and my knees threatened to fold under me.

Willi undressed rapidly. Boots, uniform, shirt and underwear were tossed into a corner and then he was naked. He was moderately hairy on his chest and limbs but I was surprised to see that he had shaved his pubic hair and, above his adequate and erect penis, had the same SS brand as myself. I reached out and took his member in my hand, slowly rolling back the foreskin. I felt the shaft swell and twitch in my grasp as Willi tugged at the sides of my knickers.

“Willi!” I cried, “You know what I am.” He stopped and stroked one of my cheeks with his hand.

“Ingrid, you are a very beautiful young woman. You have no idea how much I am in love with you. That’s all I care about.”

He kissed me again and then pulled my panties down over my hips so that they could fall to my feet. He stared at my penis and brand mark and then sank to his knees and guided my shaft into his open mouth. The touch of his teeth and the flicking of his tongue on my glans made me gasp and then howl.

Without remembering how, I was on the bed, lying on my side with Willi behind me, the tip of his penis poking at my sphincter muscles. I hoped that I would not feel the same shame or disgust with myself when a man had entered me before. I wanted this to be wonderful for us both. It was. Once the initial resistance and pain had passed, I marvelled at the pleasure that I felt from having this long hard muscle inside me.

Once comfortably settled, Willi’s hands came round my body to fondle my breasts and he slowly began to thrust backwards and forwards with his hips. There was a brief return of the pain before the pleasure took over as he fondled my nipples and he breathed harshly in my ear.

“Please! Please! Don’t stop!” I begged him as his breathing and motion quickened until his penis began jerking. His hips thumped against my buttocks and warm, sticky liquid was being squirted inside me. What a wonderful feeling it was! Willi howled and continued to pump away as his slippery semen made the action easier until he had nothing left for me and stopped moving.

We lay there, locked together, while we got our breaths back. Then Willi moved his hands down to my groin and touched my still erect penis. He withdrew gently and sat up.

“Ingrid, you have not come! Please, let me do this for you. I want you to enjoy this as much as me.” I was already, but he rolled me onto my back and, kneeling over my body, lowered his head to take my shaft in his mouth. The most incredible feeling of pleasure pulsed through me and there was a rasping noise as I rubbed my nyloned legs together in ecstasy. One of Willi’s hands cupped my testicles, tickling them and then a finger poked at my prostate, causing me to spasm. I writhed, trying to prolong the experience, but a red-hot needle moved up my shaft to the tip and I ejaculated. I bounced on the bed until I had finished as Willi continued to suck and swallow all of my semen. At last, he released my penis and looked up at me. We smiled at each other as he slid into my outstretched arms and our lips locked together so that we could share the taste of my seed and seal our love.

Later, we huddled together on my narrow little bed, kissing and caressing as we explored each others bodies, with the occasional break for a cigarette. My fingers traced the raised scar of Willi’s brand and I asked him why it had been done to him as well.

“Mistress always brands her slaves.” He replied and went back to sucking one of my nipples. “But why SS?” I persisted. “We’re already tattooed.”

He lifted his head and looked at me. “SS has nothing to with the Nazis. You’ll find out one day. Just be glad that you were chosen by her. She is very careful about only taking those onto her team whom she knows and trusts. Miss Spiteful is a good friend of my family and she looks after all of her people.” As usual, I had a lot more questions but he cut me off. “You know that Mistress does not like any of us to talk about our pasts, especially hers.”

So instead, he told me how much he had admired me and had been working up the courage for some time to ask me out for a date. He also told me why he felt that he could better serve his country by volunteering for active service at the front. I hugged his head to my chest so that he could not see the tears in my eyes. I wanted to tell him how much he was mistaken. I had been there, it was not the heroic place that he thought it was. I kept it to myself though, I did not want to spoil this night.

We made love again, more slowly this time, to prolong the passion and then, before we fell asleep curled up together, Willi promised that he would come back to me and would write regularly.

And he did write. I received a letter every couple of weeks as he trained as a Panzer Grenadier and was then posted to an SS unit in Stalingrad. Then, on the 26th of November, the city was cut off by a Soviet pincer attack, trapping the German Sixth Army in a pocket. I received the last letter from him several days later, written before the Russian offensive, in which he told of the bitter cold weather, the desperate house to house fighting, the mounting casualties and how his love for me kept him going.

Over the next month, I followed the plight of our defenders closely, trying to find out as much as I could, hoping against hope that my lover was safe. But our own propaganda masked the true situation.

On the first day back after Christmas, Miss Spiteful and I were sorting out the mail and I was babbling on about the Christmas Day greetings that had been broadcast from Stalingrad.

“Don’t be stupid, Ingrid!” She snapped. “That was faked here in Berlin by Goebbels.”

I hung my head and sulked over my work until I realised that my Mistress had gone very still and silent. She was reading a black-edged letter from an envelope that had been hand addressed and marked ‘Personal’. On her blotter was a buff Telegram form, which she pushed across to me. A cold hand clutched at my heart as I saw that it was addressed to Willi’s mother.

Regret to advise you that your son - Oberschutze Wilhelm Marschall - was killed in action defending the Reich on December 1st 1942.

Heil Hitler!

I let the form slip from my fingers, unable to speak, as the tears rolled down my face. My Lover was dead and never coming back to me. I was alone and desolate again. I looked up at my Mistress, ready to hate her for letting Willi go off to be killed but saw that the corners of her kohled eyes were wet and glistening.



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