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The Dominafuhrer
Miss Spiteful's War

The New Recruit
Enslaved In Skirts
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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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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 25 - The End Of The Unit

April 1945

‘Crapface’ was Standartenfuhrer Viktor Von Kreps, who had been placed in charge of our unit last July by Heinrich Himmler himself, supposedly to give our intelligence reports more credibility and authority. Miss Spiteful, with her wide range of contacts, soon assembled a full dossier on his background. First of all, the Von prefix to his name had been assumed and, before he had joined the old SA in Dresden, he had been a bankrupted bookkeeper and an unqualified dietician, amongst many other failed careers. A close associate of Ernst Rohm, head of the SA, he had switched sides to be an informer for Himmler and the SS in 1934, just before the ‘Night of the Long Knives’, when Rohm and his associates were murdered. After that, he had progressed in the SS with the reputation of being Himmler’s snoop. He claimed to be a close personal friend of the Reichsfuhrer and effected Himmler’s looks and manner down to the spectacles, cropped hair and wispy moustache. Unfortunately for him, he still looked like a bespectacled fat frog. Miss Solitaire commented, “He’d like to be Heinrich Himmler, but he lacks the Reichsfuhrer’s grace and charm.”

We soon found out his worth when a Rumanian Military Attaché in Berlin, well known on the night life scene, let slip that he had secret orders to return home immediately. SS ears pricked up and, instead of being back in Bucharest, he found himself in Miss Spiteful’s dungeon. She had already found out from her contacts what his particular tastes were and we were ready for him. All five of us sat on chairs, in a line, naked except for a corset or suspender belt, black stockings and high heeled boots. Starting with Miss Spiteful, he happily knelt and masturbated over each of our boots in turn, licked up his own sperm and then turned round to be beaten on his bare bottom. Experienced as they were, I believe that the Mistresses were still amazed at his powers of recovery as he able to ejaculate a copious amount each time. I was the last in line and was gratified that, when he saw my breasts and my penis, he came very quickly and expelled as much, if not more, than for any of the others. He then informed us that his King was about to dismiss Antonescu, the Conducator who favoured the Axis, and his government, conclude a peace with the Allies and declare war on Germany.

When Miss Spiteful presented this intelligence to Von Kreps, he refused to pass it on, insisting that this was a slur on a loyal ally and that, as no other Agency knew about it, we must be mistaken. Events unfolded on the 23rd of August, just as we had predicted and, when Miss Spiteful confronted Von Kreps, he denied that he had ever received such information from her. She checked and found that all the copies of the report had been removed from the files and that there was no record of the Rumanian ever having been in Gestapo Headquarters or Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, to which he had been sent. Miss Spiteful fumed silently and I kept out of her way as she would have thrashed me for the slightest error, just to vent her anger.

The following week a Finnish Air Force Captain was spotted taking notes of the numbers of Luftwaffe aircraft operating from an airfield in Finland against the Russians. He was swiftly bundled onto a Dornier, flown to Berlin and sent straight to our dungeon. A preliminary interrogation established his predilections and, both stark naked, he and I stood under the freezing cold shower in the dressing room. As he buggered me from behind, fondling my breasts and penis, his back, buttocks and thighs were slashed to bloody ribbons with a cane, wielded by a naked and wickedly grinning Miss Spiteful.

Once again, we were given advance notice of the defection of one of our allies and, this time, Miss Spiteful made sure that the intelligence went straight to one of her contacts at Wehrmacht Headquarters. When the Finns turned on us on the 7th of September, our Twentieth Mountain Army had had enough warning to enable them to make a fighting retreat into Norway. Von Kreps was furious, but Miss Spiteful just smiled sweetly and protested her innocence. The report had been put on his desk but it was through my stupidity that a copy had been sent directly to OKW. She promised that I would be suitably punished.

And so I was. She got me a date with a friend of hers, a diminutive blond in her late thirties called Karina. Although not beautiful, she had large breasts for a woman of her size, was bi-sexual and found my body fascinating. It was one of the wildest nights of sex that I had ever experienced and my first since the death of my own lover in July. We enjoyed vaginal, anal and oral sex in many positions with sado-masochism and water sports interspersed. At one point, we having sex up against her bedroom wall with her legs wrapped around my hips, thick butt plugs up our rectums, our fingernails tearing at each others breasts and our tongues in each others mouths.

I went into work the next morning very tired and bleary eyed but did not have time to thank Miss Spiteful before she ordered me into my French Maid’s uniform. A French Canadian fighter pilot, shot down over Holland, had been wearing ladies red knickers under his uniform and, under standing orders, any Prisoners of War with such strange habits were sent to us for interrogation. I dressed him and made him up as a French Tart, got him drunk and allowed him to have sex with me on the couch as Miss Spiteful watched. In his befuddled, post coital state, he told us that his squadron had been training to support a major airborne landing in Holland the following week. He had no further details and Von Kreps said the intelligence was not specific enough to be passed on. He threatened us all with arrest if we went behind his back again and Miss Spiteful had to agree. I know that she did call her contacts at OKW but this time they thought that story was too incredible to be believed. It was pure chance that, when the Allied paratroopers attacked on the 16th of September, two SS Divisions were refitting in the area around Arnhem and prevented the British Airborne Division seizing the bridge over the Rhine. The Allies plan to bypass the Reich’s West Wall defences was frustrated and the war on all fronts ground onwards until, winter, exhaustion and the need to re-supply brought the fighting to a halt in early December.

Von Kreps made a nuisance of himself in other ways by appearing during interrogations when we were in our scantiest underclothes, standing close and generally getting in the way until Miss Spiteful ‘accidentally’ caught him across one cheek with her whip. He made sexual overtures to all the Mistresses, including Miss Sapphire who, as a lesbian, rejected him quite rudely and explicitly. The others also gave him short shrift but he trapped me in his office, put his hand up my skirt and said that, in view of my record, I should be nice to him. I got away and reported the encounter to Miss Spiteful. She went upstairs to his office and, when she returned, said that Von Kreps had gone on sick leave as ‘he had something in his eye”. The bruise was still there when he reappeared a week later and we hoped that that would be the last trouble that we would have from him on that front.

We were kept too busy to worry about him anyway. The Fuhrer was planning an offensive under Feldmarshall Von Runstedt, against the Americans in the Ardennes. The plan was cut the Allied Armies in two with an armoured thrust aimed at Antwerp. Our job was to interrogate American Prisoners of War from the target area and extract as much information as possible. Time was short and there were so many to be seen that, for the first time, I was allowed to conduct an interrogation on my own in Miss Spiteful’s dungeon while she took a break.

My subject was a young Supply Corps Lieutenant from the Mid West who stood up to my beatings and sang ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ as I attached electrodes to his testicles and other extremities. But he broke down when I stripped off my black SS uniform, buried his face between my naked breasts and told him to call me Roxanne. That was the name on the photograph of a naked blonde girl that we had found in his wallet. He sucked on my nipples as I masturbated him and, it was only after he had given me the locations of fuel dumps in Belgium, that I found out that Roxanne was his sister.

Despite our initial success, the offensive failed in the face of determined Allied resistance, air power and our lack of fuel and ammunition. The main result was that we had lost the Panzer reserves that we would need when the Allies and the Russians resumed their assaults on our frontiers.

The war had already touched our little unit in other ways. Before Christmas, Count Yakido, Miss Stiletto’s Japanese lover, had sailed for home on a U-Boat. We all missed his charm, his intelligent conversation and his lessons on the art of bondage. The U-Boat reached Penang in Malaya but was torpedoed by a British submarine on the way south to Singapore. We all presumed that our friend had died and mourned for him. Many years later however, I bought a Japanese video and the featured Bondage Master, demonstrating his craft under another name, was none other than the former Count Yakido.

At the end of January Miss Solitaire heard first that her home-town in East Prussia had been flattened and over run by the Russians and then that her favourite U-Boat Kapitan, Lothar Behr, had failed to return from an Atlantic patrol. The Mistress was inconsolable at this double blow and quite unable to carry out her duties so, Miss Spiteful instructed me to take her home and give her a soothing massage. I had always had a special feeling for the dark haired little beauty but, with Miss Spiteful’s stricture that the Mistress must initiate any sexual activity, had had to restrain myself. My gift of massaging had earned me some favours but never the ultimate of sexual intercourse.

As she was still distraught, I undressed her and laid her on her bed and, once naked myself, proceeded to oil and then massage her body. Gradually, her sobs subsided and replaced with purrs of pleasure as I soothed away her grief and pain. Sometimes, she had indulged me with oral sex and I was hoping for a similar reward this time but to my surprise and delight she pulled me down on to the bed and knelt across my groin. I felt my erect penis slide into her soft and wet vagina and be gripped by very strong muscles. Tears rolled down her cheeks onto my chest as she moved her hips up and down, pulling at my shaft and I tried to thrust upwards. The bobbing of her olive skinned breasts fascinated me as did the flopping of her ponytail as her bouncing up and down increased in tempo. We came together in a satisfying climax, her love juices flooding out as I ejaculated up inside her. We then licked the mixture from each other’s organs before falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. We never mentioned it again and it was my only full sexual encounter with any of the Mistresses during my time in the dungeon. Still, I had satisfied one of my greatest fantasies and I didn’t mind at all that she had kept calling me Lothar.

Then we were busy again and flooded with subjects but it was soon apparent that none had any information of military or security value. Under the Sippenhaft law the kith and kin of suspected traitors or senior Army officers who had surrendered or retreated without orders were liable for detention, torture and execution. None had any knowledge of conspiracies, treason or espionage but would tell us anything just to stop their interrogation.

On the morning of the February 3rd Miss Spiteful, ignoring the air raid sirens, went upstairs to Von Kreps’s office and told him that the unit should not be wasting their valuable time on these people. He ordered her to continue and was threatening her with arrest when a stick of American bombs landed on Gestapo Headquarters, the first time that it had received any serious damage during the war. The other Mistresses and I had been evacuated to the deep shelter under Goering’s nearby monolithic Air Ministry, so formidable that it still stands today having been used by the Nazis, the Communists and the Unified German Government. We were sitting there, very frightened and tearful, when Miss Spiteful stalked in, covered in dust and debris, and swearing volubly. We were not sure whether she was angry at the Americans for trying to kill her, interrupting her argument with Von Kreps, or ruining her hairstyle and uniform.

Von Kreps decided that he had urgent business at Himmler’s Headquarters on the Eastern Front, leaving Miss Spiteful in charge, but his absence was of no benefit to us as we were effectively finished as a working unit.

It was two days before we were allowed to inspect the dungeons and only Miss Spiteful’s, although damaged by smoke and water, could ever be used again. The other three were filled with rubble where their ceilings had collapsed. I noticed that my mistress went straight to her dressing room to check that her secret filing cabinet was still secure and undamaged before she looked at anything else. It would be weeks before even her dungeon could be safe to work in and she found me work in the signals section of SS Headquarters next door while she and the others said that they would work from their homes. With the Russians on the River Oder to the east and the Allies on the Rhine in the west, there were few that believed that there would be any other outcome than the destruction of Germany and the Reich. Many turned to a hedonistic lifestyle and I believe that my mistresses were kept busy indulging those who sought their professional services. Others planned their escapes from the coming Armageddon, either to a neutral country or to the American or British Armies. Travel restrictions had been imposed and a pass from the office of the military commander of Berlin was required before any male could leave the city. Even leading Nazi Officials had to apply to the Army for these coveted passes and the ‘Golden Pheasants’, as they were called, could be seen queuing in their party uniforms at the command headquarters.

But we could not go. Von Kreps, on one of his rare appearances, gave me a strict order to pass on that none of us could leave Berlin but otherwise he did not give a damn what we got up to. He mentioned that he was working on some top-secret projects and vanished again, although he was spotted from time to time in both Gestapo and SS Headquarters.

In the middle of March, Miss Spiteful’s dungeon was back in use again with the equipment and clothing that was salvaged from all four. The Mistresses took it in turn to use it, calling me in when needed, but the number of subjects had been reduced. After the Allies crossed the Rhine on the 23rd of March, there were only two questions to be answered: when would the Russians attack across the Oder and would the Americans get here first?

On the night of April the 14th, there was a pounding on the door of my little flat and I opened it to find two Gestapo Officers who had been sent to collect me. My first thought was that someone had found out about my dead lover’s involvement in the bomb plot to kill the Fuhrer but it turned out that Miss Spiteful had urgent need of my services. A Russian Officer had just found out that his family back home had been arrested and executed by the NKVD for some transgression and he had deserted to his enemies even if we were about to be defeated. He was too upset to talk to the frontline intelligence officers and he had been rushed back to Berlin for Miss Spiteful’s attention, hence the midnight knock on my door which had not only alarmed me but also my neighbours.

When I got to the dungeon, Miss Spiteful was sitting naked on the couch with the Russian, also naked, kneeling on the floor with his head in her lap. He was sobbing and muttering in his own language as he nuzzled her pubic hair. She was stroking his head and, with her free hand, motioned for me to get undressed. I quickly stripped off and sat down beside her. She gently lifted his head and lowered it onto my groin whereupon I started stroking his short-cropped hair and speaking soothingly to him in Russian. He didn’t seem to notice that his face was pressed against a penis instead of a vagina. When Miss Spiteful got up and moved away, I was able to lie full length on the couch pulling Alexei, as he was called, to lay alongside me. He sucked my nipples and I masturbated him just as his mother used to do, or so he told me, and I soon established the time, date and locations of the twin Russian assaults across the Oder, which Miss Spiteful telephoned to OKW Headquarters. Twenty four hours later the shattering Soviet barrage of shells and rockets fell on empty trenches and fortifications, our defenders having withdrawn to their reserve positions in good time. The inevitable had only been postponed, the Red army soon steamrollered over the new defences and the pincers began to close around Berlin.

To continue this story, click The Toad Triumphs

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