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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
Programme

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 18 - Hungarian Rhapsody

July 1944

“So, Count Szabor, what did you discuss in Berne with Herr Allen Dulles of the American OSS?” Miss Solitaire had just delivered six introductory strokes of her whip across our prisoner’s buttocks and stood before him awaiting a response. Her black hair was tied back in a pony-tail, which swished sexily from side to side as she moved and also emphasised the slant of her eyes. She was dressed in a tight black corset, which pinched her already slim waist and pushed up her bust, tight black silk shorts, from beneath which suspenders ran down to black fishnet stockings, calf length high-heeled boots and long black leather gloves.

“You cannot do this to me!” The Count sobbed. “I am an accredited diplomat and have immunity. We are your allies!”

“Then why are you talking to our enemies?” Miss Solitaire demanded but the Hungarian chose not to reply. The Count had been part of a delegation meeting American agents in Switzerland to explore the possibility of a separate Hungarian surrender. The Hungarian Regent and Dictator, Admiral Horthy, had been an enthusiastic supporter of the Axis when we had been in ascendant but, since the tide had turned in the Allies favour, he had tried to distance his nation from ours. The Fuhrer had ordered German Forces into Hungary in March and had forced the appointment of a more amenable but unpopular Government. But Horthy and many other leading Hungarians had continued with their own agenda. Our Intelligence Services knew that these factions were having secret meetings with the Americans and the Russians and watched and waited for their chance. The Count was a known womaniser and, when his delegation had departed for their aeroplane back to Budapest, he had stayed behind for an assignation with a beautiful woman he had met. Both the woman and the men waiting in her hotel room were agents of Walter Schellenberg’s SD, who drugged him and put him on an aeroplane, but this one was a Lufthansa flight to Berlin, from where he was delivered to our unit.

Miss Solitaire and I were the only ones working today, the others supposedly being at home and sleeping off the effects of our night-club visit. Miss Solitaire did not seem do have a visible hangover but I did notice her stifling a yawn when we were discussing our tactics as we changed in her dressing room. I liked working with Miss Solitaire, she was young, beautiful, kind to me and very enthusiastic and inventive in her scenarios. I was looking forward to this one!

“Oh dear,” Miss Solitaire said. “If you don’t want to tell me then I shall have to encourage you.” The prisoner was naked and hanging star shaped in chains, secured by the wrists and ankles, and Miss Solitaire reached out to take his genitals in her gloved hand.

“Is this what all your women find so wonderful?” She asked as she gently rubbed with her fingers. When she ran the fingers of her other hand through the hairs on his chest the Count moaned and his member began to swell. “That’s better,” Miss Solitaire said. “I would hate to think that I didn’t interest you.” She released his penis and moved round behind so that she could rub her bust against his back and stroke his striped buttocks. Szabor groaned again and flinched as she pinched at his whip marks and his penis began vibrating.

“I think we are ready now.” Miss Solitaire said as she stepped back. “Let me introduce you to my maid, Ingrid.”

I wiggled my way out the dark corner where I had been waiting and gave a coquettish curtsy. I was wearing one of my French Maids outfits, a short black dress, with a low cut neck which showed off my bust, a white apron, lots of frilly petticoats, black stockings and high-heeled shoes, all topped off with a small white cap on my blonde hair. I turned round to pick up a tangle of electrical cables on the floor and, keeping my legs together, gave him a good view up my legs to the top of my seamed stockings and the white knickers stretched taut over my behind.

“Ingrid will just wire you up and then we can begin.” Miss Solitaire said as she idly flicked her whip against the side of one of her high-heeled boots. I sorted the cables and attachments out and thrust the bakelite tube up the Count’s rectum. Prisoners did not get lubricant! He was still howling as I snapped a crocodile grip on each of his nipples and then slipped a sheath of flexible wire coils over his semi-erect penis. At the stomach end were two hinged plates, one of which, lay flat on of top the coils and the other fixed at an angle slightly above. The wires ran from the plates, met the ones from the other attachments on the floor and went to the usual transformer box and the power supply.

As the Count, still groaning with pain, looked down at the strange arrangement, Miss Solitaire stepped forward and placed her whip on the underside of his penis.

“My good Count, since you refuse to co-operate, we must use persuasion. I'm sure that, if we used more brutal methods, we would get the information that we require but I don’t think that sending you back to Budapest without any fingernails would be good diplomacy. So, we will be approaching the problem from another angle and, talking of angles, please note the two plates on the top of your shaft.” Miss Solitaire lifted her whip, fractionally pushing up the Hungarian’s penis and the lower plate with it until it met the upper angled plate. “You see,” she said. “Quite simple isn’t it.” She lowered her whip, his penis dropped and the plates fell apart. She made a pull gesture to me with her left hand and I turned the power supply on. The transformer hummed and a yellow light lit up on the top.

“Shall we try that once more?” She asked, taking a step back before raising her whip again. This time, when the plates met, there was a sharp bang from the Count’s groin, several bright blue flashes followed by a steady crackling and the smell of singing hair and flesh. All this was drowned out however by the shrieks of pain coming from Szabor’s mouth as he writhed and danced in agony, wrestling against his chains and trying to escape the fierce electric charge coursing through his body.

“Isn’t that brilliant?” Miss Solitaire enthused, dropping her whip and ending the Count’s ordeal. “I got it from this little Doctor in Vienna who used it for something he called aversion therapy. Of course, I had to make a few adaptations.” Count Szabor wasn’t listening. He hung from his chains, his head down and his chest heaving as wisps of smoke curled up from his pubic hair.

“Wake up!” Miss Solitaire demanded and gave him another slash across his backside with her whip. Szabor howled but brought his head up.

“Now, Ingrid. Are you sure that these clips are on securely?” Miss Solitaire wiggled both of the crocodiles clips unnecessarily but little trickles of blood began to run down his chest and matt with his hair as the teeth punctured his flesh. Szabor’s eyes bulged and a strange gurgle escaped from his throat. He was just about ready for our little scenario.

Miss Solitaire touched his penis again with her whip. “What do you think of this Ingrid? Would this make you go weak at the knees if it slid into your wet pussy?” She made a winding motion with her other hand and then beckoned to me. I lowered the electrical charge, because we did not want to permanently damage him, and went over to join her. This was the part that I really enjoyed as she took me in her arms and we had a long, wet kiss, the tips of our tongues flicking against each other. Our hands were exploring each others bottoms when the electrical plates made contact again and, although there was no bang this time, the Count screamed as blue sparks danced on the electrical coils around his penis. Our lips moved down to each other’s busts, taking it in turns to kiss and lick the exposed flesh and becoming oblivious to the agonies of our prisoner as he crashed backwards and forwards in his chains. Miss Solitaire had to swallow to get her breath as she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to my knees. I slowly pulled her tight, shiny black shorts down over hips and suspenders until they fell to her feet, exposing her vulva. As I leant forward with my tongue extended, her hand stayed my head for a moment and she bent down to whisper. “Be gentle, I’m still very tender. My U-Boat Kapitan had a very long periscope and none of the torpedoes he fired were duds.”

She released my head and my face went into her already wet pubic hair, my nose pressed against her hard clitoris and my tongue sought the swollen outer lips of her labia. My nostrils were filled with her womanly odours, overpowering my senses and making my head swim. My tongue moved inside her vagina, licking at her warm wet flesh. She shuddered and her hands pressed against the back of my head, pulling me in further.

“I’m coming!” She shouted over Count Szabor’s screams and I broke away from her grip. Miss Solitaire had the rare ability of being able to ejaculate her natural vaginal lubricant and we had perfected a little trick for our audiences. I moved my head back a few inches and opened my mouth. She gasped for breath as her entire body ogasmed, her hips jerked and liquid, first dribbled and then spurted out in a little fountain from her vagina. It hit me on the cheek under my eye and then my nose and chin until I was able to catch it in my mouth and swallow greedily.

At that moment, the Count ejaculated and, as his penis bounced up and down, the plates kept making contact, racking his body with short sharp shocks. One of the crocodile clips on his nipples tore free and blood ran down his chest. “Enough! Enough!” He shouted. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” He then began to babble all the details of the negotiations in a mixture of Hungarian and German.

‘Well, you could have let us finish first.’ I thought, as the final act in our scenario was for Miss Solitaire and I to reverse positions so that she could suck my penis. She pulled me to my feet and licked my face dry. "Oh dear," she sighed. “I suppose we had better release him while he is still able to talk and then get him cleaned up.”

I had just turned off the power and was about to start disconnecting all the cables, when there was a knock on the dungeon door. Freidrich, one of our SS strong-arm boys entered and whispered apologetically. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mistress, but Miss Spiteful wishes to see you both urgently in her dungeon.”

To continue this story, click Against The Clock



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