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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 11 - Meeting The Staff

October 1943

The crowded Tram rattled along the debris-covered streets, rubble from still smoking bomb craters crunching between the iron wheels and the rails. As it lurched round the bends we, the standing passengers were crushed against each other.

“Forgive me, Fraulein”. The hook nosed, little old man in a leather cap and shabby overcoat had contrived, yet again, to get his face into my bust and was in no hurry to withdraw. I gave him a false smile and managed to edge myself away.

With the windows almost covered to prevent light getting out and the glass being blown in, it was becoming very difficult to know where we were on the route, especially as the relentless bombing was constantly changing the landscape of the streets. I knew that I was only a couple of stops from my destination and bent down to peer through the small aperture left in the nearest window, hoping to recognise some familiar feature. I gasped as I felt hands touch and explore my bottom. I could not believe it! I was in SS uniform, albeit the Female Auxiliary Service, and some lecher was touching me up in public. When I straightened up and turned round to glare at the little nuisance, he avoided my eyes but had a definite smile on his lips.

Just as I was about to challenge him, the Tram stopped and we were all pushed and shoved, as passengers wanted to disembark or get on. I lost out in the fight to get a seat but managed to grasp one of the hanging handles with my right hand. My new close neighbour was now a young man in a grimy blue uniform of a Luftwaffe Flak Unit. His cheeks were dirty and unshaven and his eyes dark hollows in his grey and drawn face. Within moments of the Tram restarting, he was asleep, his body leaning against mine and pinning my left arm to my side. We now so crushed together that even a swaying movement was impossible.

Then I felt those fingers again. This time they were touching my knees. My first irrational thought was ‘Mind my American nylons, damn you. They are so hard to replace.’ My kneecaps were slowly traced in outline and then the hem of my uniform skirt was lifted. Unable to move away, I stood on tiptoe and peered over the young anti-aircraft gunner’s shoulder. The leather capped, little creep was in the seat behind and leaning forward so that his arms could reach round the Flieger’s legs to touch mine. I was trapped and, even if any of the other passengers could have seen what was going on in the crush of bodies, they were too lost in their newspapers or fatigued to realise.

My stockinged thighs were gently stroked up and down, reaching further upwards each time until the fingers were at my stocking tops and the cold bare flesh above.

“Any moment now”, I muttered as my suspenders were twanged and the searching fingers slid under the elastic of my knickers. I braced myself, which was just as well for, as my penis and testicles were grasped, the Tram came to a shuddering halt and everyone was thrown sideways.

“Mein Gott!” I heard the little pest cry out in surprise and, taking the opportunity to free my left arm, gave the Luftwaffe man’s gas-mask tin a hard shove. It swung back on the shoulder strap and smacked the groper full on his hooked nose, knocking his leather cap off. His cry of pain, his release of my male member, the Luftwaffe Gunner waking up and the Tram Driver making an announcement all came at the same time.

“Achtung! Herren und Damen. The Tommies have bombed the tracks. We can go no further. Everybody off! Alle Raus! Bitte.” The collective groans of the Passengers masked those of the little man and, as everyone shuffled past to the exits, he began dabbing at his bloodied nose with a handkerchief. I stood back until everyone else, including the Driver, had left the Tram. In his misery I don’t think that the pervert realised that I was still there because he bent down to feel on the floor for his cap. I stepped forward and stamped down hard on his right hand with the heel of one of my shoes, twisting, grinding and pressing down with all my weight. He screamed in anguish as tendons snapped and bones shattered. Nearly two years in the Gestapo had taught me to be relentless in causing the maximum of pain. As he sobbed in agony and held up his crushed and limp hand by the wrist, I leant forward and waved my brass Gestapo Identity Disc before his weeping eyes.

“Secret Police.” I growled, reverting from my usual feminine husky voice. “We’ll be watching you!”

It’s not easy to run gracefully in heels and a skirt and manly strides would betray my assumed gender but I was still one stop short of Gestapo Headquarters on Prinz Albrechtstasse and I could not be late for the morning meeting. Somehow I managed to enter Miss Spiteful’s dungeon at the appointed time but I was the last to arrive and her look of disapproval had more impact than words.

“Thank you for joining us, Ingrid. Take your seat.”

I crept into the chair alongside her desk and fumbled in my handbag for my cigarettes to avoid meeting any of the others’ eyes. Miss Spiteful turned her attention back to the papers on her desk and I was able to look at her beautiful profile. I was still as much in love with her as the day that we had first met. She had saved me from certain death on the Ostfront , given me a new future and identity and fulfilled my fantasies by allowing me to live and dress as a female all the time. Besides arranging for hormone injections to give me female breasts, she had allowed me to study and copy her walk and female mannerisms and had coached me in hair styling, makeup and softening my male voice. She had even let me move out of my room in Gestapo HQ and find my own accommodation, hence my use of the Tram service to get to work. I owed her my life, my everything. Johannes Hartemann was no more. I had even been promoted and was now Obersturmfuhrer Ingrid Hartemann.

“Can we start now?” Miss Spiteful snapped to gain the attention of the four others present. “We all have work to get on with.” As the gossip ceased, she picked up the top sheet of paper. “ I have news of Miss Stiletto. She is still in Rome with our Boss, Heinrich Mueller, convincing wavering Fascists that they should still be supporting Mussolini and the new Italian Social Republic and not the treacherous Government in exile. As the only one of us that can speak Italian, I’m afraid that she will be away from us for some weeks yet.”

Miss Stiletto, our missing unit member, was a slim dark haired woman with a pale and sweet complexion that belied the depths of cruelty that I had seen her sink to.

“Now, what have you got on today?” Miss Spiteful looked up at Miss Solitaire, another slim female with black hair but with darker skin and a hint of Slav in her eyes. Of all the Mistresses, she was the youngest and had been the kindest to me. I think that I was also a little bit in love with her as well. Her black uniform skirt was over the back of her chair with her jacket and she was stretching out her black stockinged legs to admire her calf length, high-heeled boots. From where I sat I could see up to the tops of her legs, where her suspenders disappeared beneath the tails of her white shirt. Her black silk knickers were stretched tight over a bottom that was as equal in perfection, if not better, than Miss Spiteful’s. She too, could still smile sweetly while viciously carving bloody wheals across a prisoner’s bottom with a whip or causing agony with her fingernails.

“My subject is a senior Dutch Civil Servant who has been questioning some of our Governor’s decisions and speaking out against them. He’s a popular figure and Seyss-Inquart wants him back, undamaged, but more co-operative.” Miss Solitaire was stroking her thighs as she spoke and I could feel my sexual organs starting to swell in my knickers. I had to put my handbag on my lap to hide my erection while I searched for another cigarette.

“And what is his dark secret?” Miss Spiteful asked.

“ Young girls. There are several Police warnings on his file. No assaults, but he likes to get close and touch.”

“And you will be..?”

“In pigtails, gingham frock and white socks.” Miss Solitaire finished the sentence for Miss Spiteful and then pushed out her lower lip in mock petulance. “Why do I always have to be the schoolgirl?”

“Some are more suited than others”, Miss Spiteful observed, before turning to the last of the quartet of Mistresses.

“ Miss Sapphire, I believe you have a guest from France?”

Miss Sapphire was a well-built blonde, handsome rather than beautiful but, in makeup, black leather underwear and boots, she was erotically intimidating. My relationship with her was more distant than with the other three since she made no secret of the fact that she was a lesbian and, despite my hormone induced breasts, I still had a male penis and testicles and did not interest her. Some of our scenarios required the mistresses to simulate sapphic lovemaking in front of our frustrated subjects but none of the other girls shared her sexuality. Indeed, there were several subjects that the Mistresses never discussed in front of me: their backgrounds (although I did pick up interesting snippets now and then), their love lives and their views on the war.

“That’s right.” Miss Sapphire replied, “The SD are sure that, while not involved himself, this Police Chief has knowledge of and has been turning a blind eye to espionage, sabotage and the passage of escaping prisoners or allied airmen through his area. He is to be persuaded to share that knowledge with the Security Police in future.”

“And?” Miss Spiteful raised an eyebrow.

Miss Sapphire sighed and also pulled a face before answering. “He likes to be treated as a baby. I will dress as a nanny, put him in nappies, potty-train him, spoon feed him, put him in a play pen and slipper him, amongst other things.”

“That sounds very messy.” Miss Spiteful smiled. “Call for the photographer when you need him. I’m sure that there will be many happy memories to be recorded. That goes for you as well, Miss Solitaire.”

”As for Ingrid and myself,” My Mistress continued, opening the next file on her desk. “We have two subjects to see. As you all know, there is at present a huge battle being fought on the Eastern Front for Kiev. Although we have recently suffered a reverse, the battle lines are still fluid and, three nights ago, one of our Panzer Units attacked and advanced several miles. Amongst the prisoners taken at a Field Hospital was a Colonel on the staff of General Vatutin, Commander of the Voronezh Front. Field Marshal Von Manstein expects the Soviets to attack at any time and believes that this Officer has precise knowledge of the Russian offensive and their order of battle.”

“Excuse me, Miss Spiteful, I interrupted. “You said that we had two subjects to interrogate.”

“Indeed I did, Ingrid. The Colonel was captured naked and in bed with an Army nurse. She is the other subject. We will use her to break down his resistance. Just to emphasise how important it is that we extract this information and quickly, they were flown directly from Army Group South HQ to Berlin. Perhaps, this time, we will be listened to when we pass on intelligence.”

This was a touchy subject with Miss Spiteful. On her black uniform jacket was an Iron Cross, awarded for obtaining the intelligence in time for our Army to crush the Soviets at the battle of Kharkov, earlier that year. Yet, only a few months later, when she warned that the Russians were laying a trap at Kursk, the High Command had ignored her because no one had the courage to alter a plan approved by the Fuhrer. This time it was our Panzers that had been smashed and the Southern Front had collapsed back from the River Donets to the Dneiper in the Ukraine.

She turned round to the two SS Troopers on the couch behind her. “Friedrich, Heinz. Bring them in while Ingrid and I get changed. Both are to be naked and chained upright. Ball gag the girl. Then you can supply Miss Solitaire’s and Miss Sapphire’s dungeons.”

Heinz had replaced Willi as one of our strong-arm boys, as Miss Spiteful called them. Willi had volunteered for active service in the Waffen SS and had perished in the frozen ruins of Stalingrad but before he had left he and I had had a brief affair. It was my first but it had given me the confidence to form other relationships. Without a real vagina I cannot know how a woman feels during lovemaking but I get great sexual satisfaction from a large swollen penis gently moving up and down inside my colon, followed by the churning feeling in the prostate that becomes almost unbearable as the pace quickens and then the pulsing and jerking as it splatters hot sticky semen upwards. I regard myself as bi-sexual rather than homosexual as I am attracted to both men and women. In fact, when my status became more widely known, with my hair grown and my breasts filled out, I became something of a novelty in the SS, Gestapo and other Security Services. I had been dated, wined, dined and bedded by several interested men and a couple of curious women. I hoped that I had given satisfaction but had not formed any lasting relationships. My lovers might have been less satisfied if they had known that I gave detailed reports on every encounter to Miss Spiteful, who entered them in her secret files. With the girls in the unit, I could love and lust in my heart but was not allowed to touch unless invited. I had however found a way to circumvent that, of which more later.

“Finally.” Miss Spiteful concluded. “I have arranged another fact finding mission next month to Paris to assess the interrogation methods of Security Units there. We all know what that means.”

“Shopping!” Miss Solitaire sat up, clapping her hands in delight.

“Yes, ladies.” Miss Spiteful gave one of her stunning smiles. “Time to stock up on wine, perfume, lingerie, outfits and shoes in the Parisian shops. If you have any wealthy admirers you might wish to accompany you, please me know their names and I will arrange travel passes for them. This time, Ingrid can also come with us. For now, we have work to do and customers waiting. Let’s get on with it!”


To continue this story, click Dressing For Work


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