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Miss Spiteful's War

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Rolling With Pain
The Spy Who Never Was
Ingrid's First Date
For The Love Of Willi
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Future Imperfect
Reinhardt The Rampant
The Bomb Under The Bed
Hungarian Rhapsody
Against The Clock
General Josephine
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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
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The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

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The Sacred Feminine

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

Julia

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Miss Malcahy's Detention
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I Sign A Contract

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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 16 - Reinhard The Rampant

July 1944

“Ingrid, hurry up and come to bed. I’m losing interest.”

“Coming, Leibchen.” I replied. I’ll just be two minutes.” I went to the bathroom door and stood with one hand on the door-post and the other on my hip, giving Reinhard a view of my semi-naked body on which my SS brand, penis and testicles were framed by my blue suspender belt and black stockings. “Will this keep you interested until then?” I asked.

“OOOH, yes!” Reinhard groaned and grabbed at his large penis. “Well, save something for me.” I replied and went back to the bathroom mirror. I applied some more lipstick, licked my lips and then checked to see if my face needed any more powder. There was a faint blue shadow, but not enough to worry about. I wasn’t going anywhere else tonight except Reinhard’s bed and there were no bristles for him to feel. I squeezed some lubricating jelly on to the tip of a small phallus and pushed it into my sphincter, rotating it to make sure the jelly spread and that Reinhard would have an easy entry. I washed the phallus and my hands and then gave the suspender belt a tug up over my hips. I was very pleased with this garment; it was part of a set of blue satin and lace underwear from our shopping trip to Paris. I had also come away with more lingerie, a black cocktail dress, a smart costume, a pair of high heeled boots, several pairs of shoes and some night-dresses in satin and chiffon. The best part, however had been that I had not had to spend a Pfennig of my own money. The Mistresses had insisted that their wealthy companions had paid for my purchases as well as theirs, including our hotel accommodation and entertaining. Their kindness, as well as making me cry, had made me feel that, at last, I had been accepted into their little circle. I was still not privy to the secrets of their pasts but I was always invited to their social outings. In fact, we had all been out to a night-club that evening. But, for the moment, I had no time to dwell on reminisces; my Reinhard was waiting for me. I stepped into a pair of blue high-heeled shoes from Paris and went out into my lover’s bedroom.

Hauptmann Reinhard Von Schlee lay on his back on the metal framed bed, his eyes closed as he gently masturbated the long and thick penis that rose from his hairy groin. His body, arms and legs had a good covering of curly, black hair, but not enough to be grotesque. His long rugged, but handsome face had a dark shadow on his chin and his hair was a black shock of unruly curls, although neatly shaved at the sides, and he was all mine! We had met two months ago at the Army Headquarters on Bendlerstrasse, where he worked in the Communications Section, and to where I had been delivering intelligence reports. My status was known around the security community in Berlin and I wondered at first if he had heard of me and his attentions were just curiosity about ‘the freak in a frock.’ But, when I accepted his invitation to dinner, he had behaved courteously, escorted me home and had only kissed my hand before departing. The next morning, flowers had been delivered to our unit at Gestapo Headquarters, probably for the first time ever, causing great excitement amongst the mistresses. When I told Miss Spiteful his name, she used her encyclopaedic knowledge of everybody that was anybody in Germany and came out with his family background. “The Von Schlees, old aristocrats, money comes from big estates and investments in the Ruhr industries. His father is a Graf and was Minister-President of a Lander before the Nazis took over. Reinhard’s got elder brothers, so there’s no pressure on him to breed. If he doesn’t know about you already, tell him soon and, if he’s still interested, don’t let him get away. There’s enough money there to set you both up nicely.”

I didn’t share her pecuniary view of my suitor’s prospects but on our next date, Reinhard himself told me the same details and admitted that he had known about my true gender. He confessed to be fascinated by people of my status but had been overwhelmed when he had first seen me and now thought that he was falling in love with me. He gave me the opportunity to say goodbye there and then if I did not want our relationship to develop any further. Of course I did. That night, in his nice little apartment near the Zoo, I had undressed for him and he had fallen on his knees before me, nuzzling my genitals with his face, kissing my SS brand and then taking my penis in his mouth. He had sucked me gently, prolonging the experience for along as possible, while he stroked my legs and buttocks and probed my prostate and rectum with his fingers. Eventually I had exploded my semen into his mouth, which he had swallowed greedily and had then continued to suck and lick until I was moaning in protest. After that he had made love to me on his bed, again and again, filling my insides with his seed and leaving me both very sore and in admiration at his sexual stamina and powers of recovery.

From then on we indulged in und viel arschficken, usually preceded by some games based on my work in the Gestapo Interrogation Unit, which also fascinated him. Tonight would be no exception. As I had to go straight to work in the morning, my SS female uniform was hanging on his bedroom wardrobe, together with the black dress that I had worn earlier that evening. I found my black SS side cap, perched it on my blonde hair, picked up a cane, and stood with my hands on my hips in my best imitation of Miss Spiteful.

“What are you doing, you naughty boy?” I demanded. “Are you masturbating with out permission?”

“You told me to, Ingrid.” He replied.

“I did not! And you will refer to me as Miss Storm.” I whacked his shins with my cane, making him wince and yelp with pain. “Raise your legs!” I ordered and he lifted both legs in the air, exposing his bottom. Six times, I slashed at his buttocks with the cane and, although he gritted his teeth at first to avoid crying out, he was sobbing in pain by the time I had finished. “You may lower your legs.” I allowed, checking as he did so that he had not yet ejaculated. When he came, I wanted him to be inside me. He was trying to rub the painful marks on his bottom with his hands and I stopped him with another slash of the cane on his arm. “Stop that! Your hands are obviously not going to behave themselves. They will have to be restrained.” I retrieved a set each of wrist and ankle cuffs from a drawer and quickly secured his limbs to the head and foot of the iron bedstead. He rattled them in mock protest but was as eager as I was for the next part of our lovemaking. I dropped the cane and climbed onto the bed, kneeling on either side of his hips. I tweaked his nipples and ran my finger nails down the front and sides of his chest, making him writhe with pain and make gasping noises. Now, I was ready and lowered my bottom on his groin. The tip of his rampant penis touched one cheek and then slithered towards the little brown rose of puckered skin that was it’s target. I moved my body until he had scored a bull’s-eye and pressed down with my hips, catching my breath at the pain of the initial penetration. Then, as his foreskin rolled back and the glans encountered the lubrication within, his ingress proceeded more smoothly. Even at rest, Reinhard had a large male member and, when erect it was huge and very satisfying, no matter whether it was my mouth or my rectum that he inserted it in. Now I could feel every ridge and raised vein on his swollen penis through the walls of my colon.

“Also ich bin super zufrieden.” I sighed. “That feels great.” I leant back to make sure that he had penetrated as far up as possible, making Reinhard gasp with pain from the stripes on his bottom, and then crouched forward with my hands on either side of his chest. Slowly, I raised and lowered my hips, feeling his piston moving up and down inside me, pressing on my prostate and making my head swim with ecstasy. Reinhard was moving as well now, lifting his hips and trying to get in rhythm with mine. When we achieved harmony, we rutted like two beasts; grunting, groaning, panting and thrusting together, lost in the wonder of each other’s body. Then Reinhard’s hips began to jerk and I felt his penis pulse within me as his seed spurted from the top. We kept on moving, my sphincter muscles gripping his shaft to stop it slipping as his semen made the inside of my colon slippery. My knees and wrists were getting tired but I was determined to squeeze every last drop of his copious liquid into me. Finally, as he started to squirm with pain, I released his penis and crawled forward until my own was poised over his face. I gripped his head with my hands and lifted it as he opened his lips to accept my shaft. All too soon, I felt the hot needle-like pain in my prostate as, after a few thrusts with my hips, I ejaculated into his mouth. I dropped his head and clung to the bed rail as my body shuddered uncontrollably and he sucked and swallowed my sperm.

“Das es phantastichen,” I gasped as the last drops drained from me. We both remained still and still for a few moments, our chests heaving as we tried to regain our breaths after our exertions. Then I slid down onto the bed alongside Reinhard and, noticing a trickle of semen on his lip, leant over to lick it away. He turned his head towards mine and we kissed, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths and sharing the warm salty taste of my seed.

“Mistress Storm, please let me out of these cuffs,” he begged when we paused for air. “Certainly not,” I teased. “I will keep you tied up as my sex slave all night and you will make love to me every hour.” Nevertheless, I uncuffed his wrists and ankles and lit a cigarette for each of us before snuggling down in his arms. We lay there in silence for a while, his free hand exploring my breasts while mine played with his wet and flaccid penis.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” Reinhard asked. “Of course,” I replied. “I said that you were fantastic.” Reinhard laughed. “Thank you, but I meant earlier in the night club. You looked so happy and relaxed. Every time that I have seen you in public before, you seem nervous and reserved.”

How could I explain to Reinhard how much of a strain it was to keep up my assumed image? Did I do or say something masculine? Have I missed something shaving or made a mistake with my makeup? Will I meet someone who knew Johannes Hartemann? I was petrified of public recognition and denunciation when I was out alone but tonight I had been able to relax and blend in as just another female in the group of mistresses.

There had been no special reason for a celebration but then, at that period, Berliners needed no excuse. We had survived the intense winter bombing campaign, which had only ended when the allied air forces had switched to invasion targets in France. Now the Americans and British were ashore in Normandy, although we were launching thousands of flying bombs against London. The Russians had almost forced us back over their frontiers and were already fighting in Romania and Poland. In Italy, Rome had fallen and, finally, the allied bombers were back over Berlin. The air raids were not as bad as before but the citizens were determined to show their defiance and not be cowed.

It had been a great evening, we had drank, dined, danced, sang and drank. Miss Spiteful, who had looked stunning in a long red gown, had been accompanied by a jolly little man from the Reichsbank but all evening; other men had come to pay court at her feet. Miss Sapphire’s partner had been a horse-faced blonde in the uniform of the NS-Frauenschaft, the National Socialist Women’s Organisation, who had smoked through a long cigarette holder, and ignored everyone else except her lover. With Miss Solitaire had been a much-decorated U-boat Captain, on leave and determined to get drunk and laid, but Miss Stiletto’s companion had been the most interesting. Count Moshiro Yakido, a military attaché from the Japanese Embassy, was tall for his race, shaven headed, cultured and charming. We had danced and talked and found as we did so that we shared common interests in history and literature and had even discussed authors and their books in English. I, of course, had been with Reinhard, who was meeting my mistresses for the first time and I think he was overawed by the sheer sexual power that they exuded.

“What did you think of the others,” I asked flicking cigarette ash into the glass tray balanced on his naked stomach. “Oh, they were all magnificent,” he replied. “All so beautiful and so, so..?” “Dominant?” I finished for him. “Exactly,” he agreed. “And what about Miss Spiteful?” I teased. “Would you be her slave?” “Oh no,” he said. “I would never get between you two. I saw the way you worshipped her.”

Fortuitously, that line of conversation was cut off by the wail of the air raid sirens and I stubbed my cigarette out in anger. Sleep would be impossible now as the noise and the shock of the guns on the new flak tower in the nearby Zoo Gardens was worse than that from any falling bombs. “Damn them. Will this war never end and leave us in peace?” To my surprise, Reinhard whispered in my ear. “Perhaps it might, and very soon. You just wait and see.”

“But they will never make peace with us,” I declared. “It will be a fight to the bitter end.”

“No,” he said soothingly. “They will never make peace with the Nazis. But what do you suppose that they would do if a new government took over?” I was silent, the idea was too incredible to comment on.

“Are we going down to the shelter?” I asked. “Like this?” he joked. “No, if we going to die, I want it to be while we are making love.” He reached out to put the ashtray away on the bedside table and switch off the light. Then, as darkness rushed in from the corners of the room, he pulled my head down to his groin and my lips sought out his swelling penis.

In the event, the bombs fell miles away and the flak guns never fired. Sexually satiated and exhausted we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

To continue reading this story, visit The Bomb Under The Bed


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