The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S WAR

This serial has been written by slave Ian, one of my longest serving slaves. Here, he writes about me as the Commandant of a special interrogation unit set in Germany during the last war. A brilliant and historically accurate series of stories full of erotic content.

Episode 1 - The New Recruit

December 1941

"Kommen!"

At the sharp command that answered my escort’s knock, he pushed open the steel door and left me to march in alone, slamming it shut behind me. As I halted and stood to attention, I realised that the room was in darkness. No, not quite. Off to my left was a pool of light. I executed a half turn, crashed the heels of my jackboots together and threw out my arm in salute to the figure behind the desk.

"Prisoner Johannes Hartemann reporting to Obersturmbannfuhrer Boshaft as ordered. Heil Hitler!"

My eyes were fixed on the wall ahead and I was taken aback when a feminine voice rapped back.

"Heil Hitler".

I lowered my arm and looked down at a head of copper locks that gleamed in the light of the desk lamp. Then the head tilted back and I gasped at the vision before me. Beautiful eyes, rimmed with kohl, a milk white skin with a smear of bronze on each cheek and glossy red lips that parted briefly in a stunning smile before pursing tightly again. I tried not to stare back as I was visually examined but found my eyes drawn to the swell of her bosom beneath the crisp white shirt and bisecting black tie.

"Strip! Naked! Now!"

I jumped and began to unbutton my uniform jacket. As I did so, the Obersturmbannfuhrer pushed back her chair and stood up. She lifted a black pre-war SS uniform jacket, with it's blood red swastika armband, off the back of her chair and slipped it on, followed by a black leather belt with shoulder strap and pistol holster.

"Schnell! Stop dreaming and get everything off!"

At last, I stood shivering in my bare skin. I knew that I had been sent here for punishment but this was not what I had feared or expected. What was a woman, and a beautiful one, doing in the in the basement of Gestapo Headquarters?

Obersturmbannfuhrer Boshaft fitted her black peaked cap, with the SS Eagle and Death's Head in white metal, on her head and picked up a manilla file and a riding crop from her desk. Then she leaned forward and flicked a switch, turning on a single bright light over my head. Momentarily blinded, I found, when my eyesight cleared, that she had moved to stand in front of me. Close up, she was even more beautiful than I first realised. I noticed that her jacket must have been specially tailored, because the V of the lapels came down lower than normal and the waist had been tapered to emphasise her bust and her bottom. When I looked down and saw her black, knee length skirt and polished high-heeled boots, my penis slowly began to thicken and rise.

If she saw, she did not react but reached out with her crop and flicked my arm up to expose my SS serial number tattoo. Having checked the number with the file, she tossed it on the desk and stepped closer to me.

"I am Obersturmbannfuhrer Boshaft but, at all times, you will address me as Miss Spiteful".

"Jawohl! Obersturm-aaagh!" I started to reply but stopped as the riding crop slashed across my buttocks. The shock and the pain made me stagger, my eyes watered and I wanted to rub the site of my injury but returned to attention.

"Dummkopf! Pay attention. Now, what is my name?" My tormentor shouted in my ear.

"Miss Spiteful!" I shouted back to emphasise my compliance.

"Das es gut" She said in a more moderate voice, retreating to her desk and perching on the front edge so that I had a tantalising glimpse of two perfect, black stockinged knees, between the hem of her skirt and the tops of her gleaming boots.

"First, I shall explain to you the work of this unit." Miss Spiteful was idly tapping her crop against one boot as she spoke. "As you are no doubt aware, those services charged with the security of the Reich sometimes find it necessary to use physical persuasion to extract information or enforce co-operation from our enemies." I noticed how she had avoided the use of the word torture. "In most cases", she went on. "The threat of or the initial application of physical means is enough to ensure the desired result but, when more extreme measures are employed, the subject is invariably left in a condition to be of no further use to the Reich".

That made me shiver. She means that they are either crippled or dead, I thought to myself as she continued. "When our Security Services began operating in France, they were amazed to find that a number of prisoners were actually enjoying the interrogations and, in some cases, even holding out longer than necessary, just to prolong their sexual excitement. Of course, It was no surprise to me." One corner of Miss Spiteful's lips curled into a sneer.

"Anyway, it was decided to try some female interrogators to exploit the psychological and sexual weaknesses of the prisoner. The trouble was that they employed common prostitutes and the result was a shambles." Miss Spiteful shook her head, as if in sorrow, then stood up and came face to face with me. "The whole idea was going to be scrapped until Walter Schellenberg, head of the Sicherheitsdienst, suggested to Reinhard Heydrich, the Schutz Staffel chief, that they bring in an experienced Dominafuhrer. Me!"

Miss Spiteful gave a triumphant laugh. "Since then, we have successfully penetrated resistance groups in France and the Netherlands, exposed traitors here in the Reich, racketeers in Poland and provided valuable information for the Wehrmacht in Russia. Besides myself, there are three other girls, two men for the strong-arm work and we also use Gestapo interpreters and typists if needed. We are a Gestapo unit but have Allgemeine SS ranks and wear these SS uniforms. The black is so much more intimidating, don't you think? The Fuhrer does not know that we exist and Heinrich Himmler does not want to know, so I report directly to the Gestapo Chief of Operations, Heinrich Muller. The SiPo, the SD, the Gestapo, the Kripo, the Abwehr and the OrdnungPolizie all send us suitable prisoners and tell what information or collaboration is required. We also get any intelligence on the prisoner's weaknesses and then devise a programme to fit the individual. With the right subject and the appropriate use of pleasure, pain and humiliation, the prisoner ends up begging to tell us what we want to know, becomes loyal to the Reich and is relatively undamaged. They can then be used as informers or collaborators in the future, if needed"

Her lips twisted into a cruel grin and I jumped as I felt cold fingers close around my testicles and squeeze hard. Then her fingernails dug in, pinching and rolling the loose flesh of the sac.

"Pain and pleasure". She repeated, her face inches from mine. I met her gaze but gasped as she moved onto the shaft of my penis, pulling back the foreskin and scratching the exposed glans with a fingernail. Finally, the fingers began gently moving up and down the shaft, although a fingernail still scraped the swollen underside. I was fighting for breath and trying to stay at attention when suddenly she stopped and dropped her hand away.

"See? You want more, don't you? You would give anything for me to continue, wouldn't you?"

I could only nod wordlessly as my penis throbbed in frustration. With a smirk still on her face, Miss Spiteful tapped it with her crop making it bounce.

"So, Johannes Hartemann. What are you doing here?"

"I am to be punished, Miss Spiteful" I replied, partly regaining my composure.

"Really? Are you an enemy of the Reich? Do you have important information? I punish and interrogate naughty boys and girls but I am not a prison guard. I do not deal with common criminals. What have YOU done?"

I struggled to speak but could only hang my head in silent shame.

"Oh, very well". Miss Spiteful slashed angrily at my bottom. "If you want to do it the hard way, so be it! On your knees! Schweinhund! Now!" As I sank to the floor, she stalked away, throwing the crop on to the desk. In the gloom beyond she began to undress, tossing belt, jacket, tie, shirt and finally her skirt on to the chair.

When she came back into the light I groaned at the wonderful sight advancing on me. Still wearing the black visor cap and high-heeled boots, she now revealed herself in a tight boned, black, lace trimmed corset with thin straps over her shoulders and suspenders clipped to her stockings. Her creamy orbs, shoulders and thighs contrasting with the stark black of her underwear. I wanted to stroke her body, I wanted to bury my face in her breasts and between her thighs, I wanted to touch her clothes, run my fingers beneath her shoulder straps and suspenders, I wanted to lick her boots and kiss her stocking tops. I wanted to submit to her, I wanted to obey and, most of all, I wanted relief for my huge and aching erection.

Miss Spiteful strode past me on long shapely legs into the still darkened part of the room and returned a few moments later dragging, with one hand, what looked like a wooden saw-horse and holding some bundles of leather straps in the other. When the waist high wooden frame was placed in front of me I could see that that there was a leather covered plank on top, with the two open ends of a broad leather strap dangling underneath, and that there was a leather cuff on each of the four legs. She held one of the bundles out to me. "Put it on", she commanded, " I don't want a mess on the floor." I unwrapped the straps to find that they were all fastened to a rubber ring on the open end of a long glass tube. It was pretty obvious that the tube went over my penis and the straps fastened under my testicles and around my waist but I was still puzzled as to its purpose.

The other bundle was then thrust at me. "You will put this on me". I shook it loose and my eyes bulged when I discovered that this time the straps connected to a stiff leather triangle with a large penis, sculpted from black rubber, sticking out from the centre. I crawled to where she stood with legs wide apart, the glass tube swinging awkwardly from my groin. Close up, my senses were overwhelmed with expensive French Perfume, the polished leather of her boots, and my nearness to this marvellous creature. I fumbled with the buckles on the longest strap around her hour-glass waist and then had to settle the leather plate against the front of her knickers before tying two more around the tops of her thighs and pulling the last up between her legs, to fasten at the back of the waistband. I noticed that there was an intricate tattoo on her right hip and so wanted to trace the outline with my tongue and fingers but dare not touch. Nor dare I brush against the black silk of her knickers, the lace fringe on her corset or the shiny black stockings.

The sharp pointed toe of one of her high boots, applied to my ribs, spoilt my reverie. "Have you finished? Lie on the frame!" I did so, resting my stomach lengthways on the plank, which went from my neck to my groin, so that my toes just touched the floor and being careful not to bang my new glass appendage. Before I knew it, the leather cuffs were quickly and expertly fastened round both my wrists and ankles and the ends of the leather strap were being buckled behind my back. I was now helplessly pinioned with my naked bottom hanging over one end and my head the other.

“Now, shall we start again?” Miss Spiteful’s voice came from behind me. Suddenly, there was a swish and my arse received a really stinging blow.

“Count!” She commanded, but I was sobbing with the pain. There was another swish and more agony. “If you don’t start counting, I will keep on hitting you and, if you miscount, I will start again at one.”

“Eins! Eins!” I yelled, but too late to stop the next slash. “Zwei!” I was already bracing myself for the next strike but it did not come.

“See, already you are starting to co-operate.” I could only bob my head but my buttocks felt as if they were on fire.

“Now, I want your name and rank.”

“Johannes Hartemann, Untersturmfuhrer. ” I croaked.

“Good, and when did you join the SS?”

“On my eighteenth birthday, in January Nineteen Thirty Nine. I was selected for Officer Training in the Totenkopfwachsturmbanne.”

“And what was your unit?”

“Divisional Staff, Third ‘Totenkopf’ Waffen SS Division.”

“The Totenkopf!” Another shaft of pain shot through me but I remembered to call out. “Drei!”

“They were a disgrace! When the English counter-attacked in France, you ran away.”

I lifted my head to protest. “We were guard detachments on internal security duties in Poland when it was decided to reinforce the Third SS Division. One week we were rounding up Poles and the next we were in trucks on the Dutch border and told that we were now motorised infantry. We were inexperienced and had no combat training”.

Another swish and more blinding pain. “Vier!” I screamed.

“And then you executed English Prisoners of War. Not only cowards but murderers!”

“Nein! Nein!. The Officer was angry at his men and panicked and I was not in that Battalion.”

Then my discarded clothes were kicked past my face and another blow forced an agonised scream from me. “Funf!”

When I opened my eyes again, I realised that Miss Spiteful was now standing in front of me, the rigid black rubber penis inches from my nose, whilst she twitched a long thin riding whip up and down.

“But YOU are an even bigger disgrace to that uniform. You were arrested, courts-martialled, stripped of your rank and sentenced to a Punishment Battalion on the Eastern Front. Why?”

“I… I was caught wearing women’s clothes in a Polizie raid on a club in Berlin when I was on leave.” I finally admitted, the fear of the whip overcoming my shame.

“At last!” Miss Spiteful shouted triumphantly as she walked behind me again. “Why were you dressing as a woman? Do you want to be one?”

“Nein” I shook my head. “It just makes me feel more comfortable, at peace. We had taken heavy casualties when we went in Russia and I wanted to forget the horrors that I had seen.”

“Are you a homosexual?” This time my negative reply must have sounded less convincing because the whip made a new fiery cut across my bottom.

“Sechs!”

“Well, have you had sex with a man?”

“Ja”

“When?”

“In SS Officer Training, we were made to go nude for long periods and encouraged to touch and make friendships. It was thought that comradeship could come from physical affection.”

“And what happened?”

“Kurt Weiss, our section leader, chose me. He would join me in bed, cuddle up to my back and enter me.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Miss Spiteful demanded.

“It was an honour to be selected as his friend.” I replied and suffered immediately. To make things worse, I forgot to count out loud, was hit again and told to start back at one.

“Eins.” I moaned through gritted teeth.

“Now, did you enjoy having a man’s penis penetrate you and come inside you?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Would this pain and humiliation never end?

“And where is this Kurt Weiss now? Do you still see him?

“No. He was killed in Greece, earlier this year.”

“So, he was he the only one to do this you?” Miss Spiteful asked as I felt her cold hands on my buttocks, stroking the painful cuts from her whip, circling round and moving down, over my hips and then up my spine to the broad leather strap. The glass tube on my swollen penis was now pressed hard up against the underside of the board and the pressure was starting to hurt. As if I needed any more pain. Her fingers were now parting and probing between the cheeks of my bum, stroking down over the entrance to my anus, poking at my prostate and tickling the bottom of my testicles. That made my head swim and it was a moment or two before I realised that something hard, cold and slippery was pushing at my sphincter. I tried to clench my buttocks and inch away but was held firm by my restraints. Penetration was slow and, at first painful, as my muscles were forced open and the rubber penis slid up my colon. Miss Spiteful’s hands grasped my hips as she gave a final shove and I yelped as the full length of her appliance went all the way in. She moved closer and I could feel her booted and stockinged legs between my own naked ones.

Suddenly, her hands reached up to my shoulders and her fingernails came down my back, causing deep scratches and a lot of exquisite pain. As I screamed and bucked against the leather strap, Miss Spiteful began to thrust with her hips and my rectum felt like the cylinder on a piston.

“Pain and pleasure.” Miss Spiteful said, gasping with her efforts. “I told you that that was our technique. You have experienced both and have admitted your secret. You are a transvesti!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I was almost proud to admit it.

The scratching and the thrusting continued and I was overwhelmed with the conflicting sensations that my body was experiencing. The pleasure and humiliation of being buggered and the pain from her fingernails and the wounds on my bottom. Then it happened. I ejaculated at last. Held fast by the leather cuffs and waist band, the natural recoil as my penis spurted was inhibited but the glass tube banged on the plank as it jerked up and down and filled with my sperm. And I mean filled. The orgasm seemed to last forever as Miss Spiteful still pumped the penis in and out of my very sore rectum. I know that I screamed, shouted and cursed loudly but, to no avail, this was at her pleasure, not mine.

At last, my penis subsided and Miss Spiteful suddenly withdrew, none too gently and with a loud sucking plop, from my rear. I felt weak, sore and exhausted and realised that my body was soaking wet with perspiration. I let my head sag and, as the sweat ran down my face, was unprepared for another savage swipe on my rear from Miss Spiteful’s whip.

“Zwei”. My voice was almost inaudible but, thankfully, she heard me.

“What are you?” She was back in front of me again, the heel of her hand pushing my wet forehead up so that I could see the smeared black rubber pole before my face.

“I am a transvestite. Miss Spiteful” I confessed. I really did not care anymore who knew it. What I had just gone through had been greater that any shame.


To continue this story, click Enslaved In Skirts


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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

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