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Miss Spiteful's War

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Enslaved In Skirts
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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
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 33 - The Name Of The Goddess

May 1945

Now, twelve days after I had left Berlin, tired, dusty, hungry and very footsore, I was on the eastern outskirts of Schwerin. Here the troops of the Second British Army had halted when they met those of the Soviet Second Byelorussian Front. Once through the checkpoint ahead, I was sure that I would be able to travel faster in a direct line and without fear of discovery.

“Next! Gor blimey! Get a fucking move on! Are you blind as well as stupid?” The British Corporal’s hand propelled me to the makeshift table. I had been so lost in memories that I had not noticed that it was my turn to be questioned.

“Ausweis!” The nearest Sergeant demanded. He was a bald headed man in his thirties with wire framed spectacles. He thumbed through the papers that I had handed him and looked up at me. “You are Polish? From Lodz?”

His German was grammatically correct but his pronunciation was terrible so I could be confident that he could not tell whether I was replying in German with a Polish accent.

“Ja. That is so. I have been working as a typist in Food Distribution.”

“Lennie?” He pushed my papers along to his companion who also had a ‘Field Security’ badge on his shoulder. He was younger, with Jewish features, glossy black hair and spoke German with an accent from the East End of London.

“If you are from Lodz, why are you going west?” he asked.

“I am looking for my brother. He was a slave worker in Hamburg. I have a letter.” I held out a well-folded and tattered letter, perfectly genuine but, as it was in Polish, I might as well have been offering them a menu in the same language.

Lennie cocked an eyebrow at my offering but did not take it.

“Remove your headscarf.” He ordered, holding up my identity card so that he could compare my face with the photograph. I obeyed and lifted my head.

“Vok tak! That’s the one!” A female voice called out in Russian “Vot on! He’s the one that forced me to have sex with him!”

The two Sergeants turned round and, with everyone else, looked to see what the commotion was about.

I was horrified. A small figure in a Soviet Army tunic, blue skirt and boots had broken out from the group by the armoured car and was running towards us, her arm pointing accusingly as she screamed. Despite her white pallor, thinner face and the dark hollows around her eyes, I had no difficulty in recognising her. It was Anya, the nurse that I had abused during the interrogation of her and her NKVD Colonel lover, nearly two years before.

She was up onto the road and about to jump onto the table to get at me when the British Corporal wrapped his arms around her. She screamed and struggled in his grasp.

“Any idea what the fuck she wants, Sarge?” He asked. “She’s really worked up about something.”

“Not a clue,” Lennie replied. “Hey! Georgie! We need you!” He called out in German to the other Russians at the Armoured Car who had been watching Anya with some amusement. A fat Russian Private, in a baggy uniform, puffed his way over and questioned Anya in her own language. She sobbed and gasped for breath as, still held firmly by the Corporal, she repeated her accusations. Georgie listened to her and then, in equally bad German, translated to the two Englishmen.

“She says, he is German Officer. He interrogated, tortured and sexually abused her.”

They both turned to look at me, the bald headed one adjusting his spectacles on his nose to make sure that they were focused properly.

“What the fuck’s going on?” The Corporal demanded as Anya made yet another attempt to escape him.

“She claims that this person is a German Officer and that, she or he sexually abused her.” Lennie enlightened him.

“Bloody hell!” The Corporal looked at me with interest. “Don’t look like a bloke to me.” He commented.

“Nor me.” Lennie agreed as he turned his back on Anya.

Realising that she was not being taken seriously, she renewed her struggles and screamed louder.

I have been looking for him since I was released. I swore that I would not forget his face. He is GESTAPO!”

That word did not need translating. Every eye turned on me and the next in the queue, an elderly man, backed away.

The British seemed dumbfounded but, more ominously, the group of Russian Soldiers had stopped laughing and the Officer, a Major, was strolling towards us.

I wished that the road would open up beneath my feet and swallow me just so that I could escape the fate closing around me. I could not believe that I was going to fall just as I was about to clear this last hurdle. I did not know what to do until something stirred in my memory and I heard Miss Spiteful’s voice. “Don’t forget the word. If you are ever in trouble, anytime, anywhere in the world, just call out to the Goddess and a sister will come to your aid.”

I hadn’t believed any of that nonsense but, in my despair, I was willing to try anything. I spoke the word out loud and waited. Nothing happened.

“What did she say, Basil?” Lennie asked. “Was that Polish?”

“No.” The bald-headed one replied. “It actually sounded like Sumerian. But it can’t be. You know, I was on a dig in Ur before the war and we discovered these amazing reliefs. Some were quite erotic but not as pornographic as Pompeii or Herculaneum.”

He leaned back in his chair, gazing into the distance as he continued his musing. Lennie pulled a face and then leaned forward in his chair to look down the road at the column of refugees behind me.

“Yes,” Basil continued. ““It seems that there was this cult dedicated to a Goddess with the head of a cat. Priestesses only, but there were men and women devotees. I never thought that I’d hear that name mentioned in the middle of Germany.”

The Corporal was also looking down the road and gratefully threw Anya into the arms of the Soviet Major as he arrived. We could hear a car-horn tooting, getting louder as it got nearer.

“Now what the fuck’s happening?” The Corporal stood on his tip toes to look over the heads of the queue. “Oh my gawd! What a bleeding shambles! Fucking Foreigners, rambling Professors and now a fucking Yank!”

I turned to see an olive green staff car, nosing its way through the line of Refugees, forcing them off the road or up against the barricades. The Corporal clumped off down the road, shouting to his sentries. “Shift the fucking barricades! Let him through before he squashes someone!”

I let out a sigh and turned back to face my accuser. The Major, a big moon-faced man was clutching Anya to his barrel like chest as she sobbed and babbled her story to him. He spoke soothingly to her but, every now and then, would look up and give me a venomous glance.

“Out of the bleeding way! Get those barriers back up behind him and these scum back in line!” The Corporal was back, reorganising the queue as the car, released onto the open road, cruised past behind us. I turned to glance at it briefly, noting the big white stars painted on the bonnet and doors and the two red boards on the front fender. One had two white stars and the other a white ‘A’ inside a white clover leaf design.

I bowed my head. It was all over. Suddenly, I heard the car’s brakes applied; a door open, slam shut and then boots crunching across the concrete towards us. The two sergeants climbed reluctantly to their feet and assumed a pose something near to attention.

“Relax, relax.” An American voice drawled in my ear. I saw a pair of pressed olive drab trousers tucked into ankle boots next to me and I looked slowly upwards to a short, dark brown, field jacket with medal ribbons on the broad chest. A leathery, weather-beaten face was topped by a fore’n’aft overseas cap with two gold stars on the side. He was taller than me and smelt strongly of cigars.

“Major General Harper. US Ninth Army. Is there a problem here, Gentlemen?”

The two Englishmen, seated again, looked at each other uneasily and then Basil answered.

“The Russian lady,” indicating Anya, “is accusing this one,” he pointed to me, “of being a Gestapo man in disguise. She also claims that he forced her to have sex with her. He or she has Polish identity papers.”

I felt myself being scrutinised looked up to meet his dark brown eyes.

“Doesn’t look anything but female to me.” He said and then looked around him, taking in the compounds on both sides of the road.

“What happens to them?” He nodded at the ones guarded by the Russians.

Lennie shrugged. “We’re looking for Nazi Officials, Gestapo and SS Personnel. They’re after Russian, former Russian or Yugoslav Nationals. We send ours into Schwerin for further investigation. In practice we let the Russians have whomever they want. They are supposed to take theirs back to Stettin but, if I’m honest, I don’t think that they bother going any further than that forest a couple of miles down the road.”

I gulped and closed my eyes. It was obvious that the Russians were not wasting time or petrol on transporting condemned men any great distance. Already I could imagine being lined up in some forest clearing, hearing the rattle of the machine gun and feeling the bullets striking my body.

“Well. Just you all hang on one minute. I’ll be back.” General Harper returned to his car, opened the back door and leant inside. After several minutes he stood up again, clutching two brown paper bags. As he came back to the table, he seemed to stumble and lurched against me. “She says that you should show them your breasts.” He whispered in my ear in English. I was too astonished to react for a moment, gazing at him open-mouthed until he gave me an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

I opened my coat and cardigan, unbuttoned my blouse and pulled down the bodice of my slip and the cups of my brassiere so that my breasts flopped out into open view.

“Strewth!” The Corporal whistled. “This job’s suddenly got better!”

“Oh, I say!” Basil blinked behind his spectacles and Lennie grinned and winked at me. The Russian Major leaned forward to get a better view and Anya screamed as she realised that she had lost his attention.

“Well, I think that that has cleared up any doubts that any of us may have had.” General Harper put his paper bags on the table and lifted the contents out. One hand held a carton of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a bottle of American Bourbon was in the other. He offered them across the table to the Russian Major with the greeting. “Allies? OK?”

The Major gently pushed Anya away and, with a grin that split his face from one side to the other, reached out to claim his booty. “Da! Da! Allies! Da!”

Anya screeched and beat her fists on his back in frustration.

“Vot on! He’s the one!” She cried.

He turned to her and barked. “Khvalit! Enough!” Grasping the American’s hand, he began pumping it up and down. “Ike! Da! Allies.” He waved the carton and the bottle at his comrades by the armoured car, who cheered and applauded. When he jerked his head, Georgie took Anya by the arm and dragged her away from the table, still flinging accusations at me.

“That appears to be it, Gentlemen. I wish you all a good day.” General Harper beamed at me as I covered my chest again and scooped up my papers from the table before anyone could object. Then, while the American was shaking hands with Basil and Lennie, I grasped the handle of my suitcase and scuttled west as fast as I could.

I expected at any moment to be called back but all that I heard was the foul-mouthed Corporal urging the next Displaced Person forward.

About two hundred metres up the road, I stopped to put my papers in my shoulder bag and light a cigarette with trembling fingers.

I was shaking, feeling sick, and sweat was running down my back inside my frock. I took a deep draw on my cigarette and then jumped out of the way when the car horn tooted behind me. As the American Staff Car swept past me, I looked in through the window of the rear passenger door and caught a glimpse of copper hair, a white fur collar, a brown suede leather arm waving at me and the wonderful smile that I knew so well. The car accelerated away down the road, still blowing its horn to clear the refugees out of its way. I watched it disappear, smoked my cigarette to the tip and threw it away. Suddenly, I felt a lot better. I was a Dominatrix. I now knew that someone would come to my aid if I called, just as I would go to the aid of another Sister.

I picked up my suitcase again and started walking. The first stage of my journey was over but I still had a long way to go. I set out with a jaunty step, swinging my suitcase and whistling. It took a moment or two before I realised that the tune was ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy!’

I picked up my suitcase again and started walking. The first stage of my journey was over but I still had a long way to go. I set out with a jaunty step, swinging my suitcase and whistling. It took a moment or two before I realised that the tune was ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy!’


The End

To read the further adventures of Miss Spiteful and Ingrid in "Miss Spiteful's Gold" click Give My Regards To Bremen

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