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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 23 - Up Against The Wall

July 1944

Less than half an hour later, Freidrich rapped on the door, “Visitor for Ingrid” he announced. I gasped; it could only be one person. “Let him in if he’s unarmed” Miss Spiteful ordered. Moments later, Reinhard walked in. His face pale and bloody from a cut on his forehead, he was tieless and his jacket was open to reveal a blood-spotted shirt. “Ingrid, it’s a disaster!” he croaked and we rushed into each other’s arms. Miss Spiteful watched us, her face grim and her arms folded. We kissed and hugged as tears ran down my cheeks. “Oh Reinhard, what have you done?” I asked as he stroked my hair. “We had to try Ingrid. We could not let these monsters destroy Germany, but we failed. We waited too long to strike and, when Hitler survived, our support fell away. Fromm got to a telephone and organised a group of loyal Nazis to storm our operations room. Beck has shot himself, Hopner is under arrest and six of us, including von Rittenberger have been sentenced to death by drum-head courts-martial. I’ve managed to escape but they want us dead before the Gestapo arrive so that we cannot reveal the names of those who supported us and then betrayed us.”

“What do you intend to do then?” Miss Spiteful demanded.

“If I cannot get out then I shall give myself up to the Gestapo.” Reinhard turned to face her. “I don’t care what happens to me but I want to denounce those traitors.”

“All they will want from you is a list of names,” My Mistress snapped at him. “I’m in the Gestapo, remember. And beyond that list will be yours and their families and friends as well and that includes Ingrid!”

I screamed and Reinhard clutched me harder.

“How long before they find out where von Haefton’s bomb was last night and who slept in your bed, above it?” she went on. “Do you think that they will believe that Ingrid didn’t know about it? I wouldn’t. And when they have arrested everyone you know or are related to they will not put them in a prison or quickly dispatch them with a bullet. Hitler will want everyone to suffer for daring to kill him. Up the road is Sachsenhausen camp, they use a headsman’s axe on traitors or, maybe they will bring that man up from Prague that they call the Butcher. His party trick is to put piano wire around his victim’s neck and then hang the other end from a meat hook on the ceiling. You just hope that the wire slices through your windpipe before you are strangled to death. Is that what you want to see happen to Ingrid?”

Miss Spiteful strode to the door, “I’ll give you ten minutes to think it over.”

We stood in silence after she had closed the door and then Reinhard kissed me long and hard. His hands tore at the buttons of my blouse as he forced me back towards the vaulting horse. Reinhard had made up his mind. He wanted to say goodbye in a way and I could not deny him. While he pulled my breasts out of my brassiere and sucked and kissed at my nipples I was letting my skirt drop and trying to get my knickers down. Reinhard just reached down and ripped them away with one powerful and painful tug. His fingers clutched at my genitals, pulling back the foreskin and flicking the glans until I was fully erect. I turned and leant over the vaulting horse, thrusting my bare bottom towards him as he unbuttoned his trousers. He came up behind me, grasped my hips and pushed his penis into my rectum. We had no time for gentle love-making; this was our last chance to show how much we meant to each other. Reinhard had chosen to die to protect me and I wanted to show him how grateful I was for his sacrifice. As Reinhard’s penis began ramming in and out, one of his hands reached around to stroke my breasts and the other masturbated me. My own hands were gripping the frame of the vaulting horse to stop us toppling over. A lifetime too soon, Reinhard came with an explosion of semen inside me and then collapsed on to my back still rubbing my penis until, I too, ejaculated.

For our last few minutes together we stood like that until Miss Spiteful rapped on the door and called out “One minute!” Reinhard pulled up his trousers and tucked in his shirt while I collapsed on the floor, blood, tears and semen staining my body and remaining garments.

When Miss Spiteful opened the door, Reinhard bent down, kissed me and walked away but Miss Spiteful stopped him at the door “Take von Rittenberger with you, his uniform is in that suitcase there.” Reinhard nodded, picked up the suitcase and was gone without a backward glance. I barely had time to struggle to my feet when Miss Spiteful bustled in. “Pull yourself together Ingrid and get dressed. If you want to be here when the Gestapo arrive, I don’t. Friedrich, throw everything into the Kubelwagen, we are out of here!”

But fate had one last trick to play on me. We had just arrived at our vehicle in the darkened courtyard, when there were a series of shouted commands, the sound of boots running on cobbled stones and the headlights of a line of trucks snapped on, illuminating the wall opposite.

“Mein Gott! Nein!” Miss Spiteful groaned as a file of Unteroffizers armed with rifles marched into the courtyard and formed up into a line. Then, from another doorway, six white shirted figures emerged, escorted by more soldiers armed with machine pistols. Von Rittenberger and another man in red striped trousers, who must have been General Olbricht, were in the lead, followed by von Haefton whose was supporting a one-armed officer with an eye-patch, who shirt was badly blood stained. In the rear was my Reinhard and another officer. I tried to scream but Miss Spiteful clamped her hand over my mouth and pulled me back into the shadows from where I could still see the tragedy unfold. The six were lead to the wall by an army officer with a drawn pistol who quickly pushed them into a line and then retreated to his squad of riflemen. At that moment, the air-raid sirens wailed, but it did not save my Reinhard. As the officer gave his orders, von Stauffenberg stood up straight and shouted, “Long live free Germany.” A moment later the rifles of the firing squad crashed out and all six were slammed back against the wall, some spinning around and falling full length and others just crumpling into a heap. The lights went out and I couldn’t see Reinhard’s body any more but I heard six single shots from a pistol, the noise from each one slamming into my heart like a hammer on an anvil.

“The Oberhelferin is very upset at the death of traitors?” a voice came from behind us and we turned to see a tall man in a long black leather coat standing in front of a group of men in civilian clothes and SS uniforms.

“Obersturmfuhrer Hartmann holds a substantive SS rank as I do, but she has had a very distressing day.” Miss Spiteful replied.

“Ah! Obersturmbannfuhrer! We meet at last. Already your lone stand is acquiring the legend of a Hollywood western, and here I believe, is the cavalry.”

A growling of engines announced the arrival of a convoy of black cars and lorries which sped in under the archway from the Bendlerstrasse. They screeched to a halt in the now deserted courtyard and disgorged armed Gestapo and SS personnel who dashed into the various doors of the War Ministry.

“I am Standartenfuhrer Piffrader, also of the Gestapo.” The stranger introduced himself with a wry smile. “I’m afraid that my men and I were held as prisoners upstairs after we had tried to arrest the conspirators. When we were released, I tried to stop General Fromm carrying out these executions but he believes that dead men tell no tales. Unfortunately, that will not save him as I’ve already heard enough that he was in it up to his big fat neck before he backed out.” He put his hand on the passenger door of our Kubelwagen as Friedrich tried to open it for us. “Are you leaving us?”

“Ja!” Miss Spiteful replied. “I have all I need.” She gave him one of the carbon copies of the General’s confession and Piffrader flicked through it in the beam of the vehicle’s headlights. He looked up and smiled. “Excellent, your reputation at least will come out of this day untarnished.” He stood back, allowing us to embark and as Friedrich started to drive away, Piffrader and his men snapped to attention, gave us the Nazi salute and chorused “Heil Hitler!”

As Friedrich turned the vehicle towards the exit, our headlights illuminated the wall where my Reinhard had died and I saw six big red splashes of blood. We shot out through the archway with me vomiting out of the window.

On the way back to Gestapo headquarters, Friedrich ignored all the blackout regulations and the air battle raining death down on us from above. All that I remember was Miss Spiteful wiping my mouth and, unable to stem the tears and sobs racking my body, opening her jacket and shirt and pulling my head down so that I could suck on one of her nipples.

Miss Spiteful arranged for our unit to stay at home while the Gestapo and SS exacted their terrible vengeance on the conspirators, their families and their friends. This was not work for us but even three days later when we were told to report in, Gestapo headquarters was still bursting with prisoners awaiting interrogation or execution.

I was only just out of my shock and was hugged by Miss Solitaire when I arrived in Miss Spiteful’s dungeon. For once, I was not last, my Mistress herself was missing. We sat and talked quietly, trying to ignore the noise outside, until the door opened and Miss Spiteful walked in followed by a man in SS officer’s uniform. He was stout with a toad face, a tiny moustache and rimless spectacles. He looked around at each of us, beaming a smile that sent shivers down my spine and then sat in Miss Spiteful’s chair. She remained standing next to her desk, her face taut and her eyes black with anger.

“I have just come from a meeting with Reichsfuhrer Himmler.” Her voice was steady but ice-cold. “He passed on the Fuhrer’s congratulations on our recent successes, but said that, for some time, he has been concerned that the intelligence we obtain was not being used effectively. He believes that this is due to the fact that the unit leader, myself, only has middle rank and that, if an officer of senior rank headed the unit, more respect would be accorded to our reports.”

For a brief moment, I wondered if that meant that my Mistress would get the promotion that she richly deserved but my hopes were soon dashed. Miss Spiteful indicated the occupant of her chair. “I would therefore, like to introduce you to our new head of unit, Standartenfuhrer Victor von Kreps!”

To continue this story, click City Under Fire


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