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The Dominafuhrer
Miss Spiteful's War

The New Recruit

The Dominafuhrer 1952
Miss Spiteful's Gold

Give My Regards To Bremen
Storm Takes A Bow
Two Long Winters
Bonnie Ingrid Of The Argylls
A Soldier's Wife For Me
What Became Of The Lively Ladies?
Walter's Warning
Castanelli Meets The Order
Kelly From Calgary
Three On The Bed
Solace For Solitaire
The Early Morning Tease Maid
The Chevvy With The Fritz On Top
J Edgar Hoovering
Signals From The Past
Gold In The Grave
Morning In Manhattan
Six Hatch A Plan
Back To Berlin
Two Little Girls From School Are We
Spoiling Miss Spiteful
The Taming Of The Slave
Kaffee At KaDeWe
Sugar's Stroll In The Park
The Checkpoint Chorus
The GDR People's Silvery Moon
Into The Tomb
The Festival Is Over
The Stasi At Night
Seraph Revealed
Old Photographs Never Lie
A Fair Exchange For Freedom
The Night Porter
Kelly's Heroines
Surgery En Suite
A Stiffie For Sapphire
The Torturous Twins
A Stilletto Up The Back
News From The East
We're Going To Wedding
Rudi's Revels
Down In The Dungeon
Nappies, Knots and Needles
Walkies With Alfred
Black Marcius For Miss Spiteful
The Return Of The Dominant 7
Grab Your Knickers And Run
Vive La France
Showdown With Seraph

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


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
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

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood



The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S GOLD

Episode 32 - A Fair Exchange For Freedom

September 1952

I was dimly aware of dogs barking, Miss Spiteful using her extensive vocabulary of obscenities at whoever was lifting me into the back of a truck and my naked body being wrapped in a rough blanket. I heard people climbing into the truck as well but, when it started with a jolt, I screamed and passed out again.

“Careful, don’t you dare hurt her.” Sapphire’s voice commanded as I was lifted again. The truck had stopped and I gasped at the pressure of hands on my wounds through the blanket.

“Here, stand her upright!” I heard Sapphire say and my bare feet touched cold tarmac.

I opened my eyes at the shock and recognised Sapphire and Stiletto as they pushed two Stasi guards aside so that they could grasp my arms. Just in time, as my head spun, my legs wobbled and I almost fell forward again.

Hier!” another Guard tossed a bundle out of the back of the truck and Solitaire caught it. She searched through the tattered and filthy remains of my schoolgirl uniform, found my shoes and laid them on the ground so that, supported by my friends, I could step into them. I tried a few steps but was too groggy to walk unaided and there seemed to be something wrong with my eyes, which were painful to keep open.

Solitaire shouldered my handbag with hers and was about to toss the rest of the bundle away when I croaked, “Halte! Not yet!” She looked at me in surprise but shrugged and clutched the clothes to her bosom.

Miss Spiteful and Oberst Hoeller appeared round the side of the truck and joined us under a wooden canopy between two huts. “Alles in ordnung,” Miss Spiteful announced. “We can go out onto the bridge.”

Hoeller, who was clutching a pair of binoculars, nodded and the Guards formed up around us. We set off past the truck and a gate in a wooden palisade was opened to let us through.

Out in the open air I could see the first pale blue tendrils of dawn stretching across the night sky above us as the remaining stars twinkled in the west. I shivered under my blanket as we were stopped by a wooden pole across the road. Despite the dim lighting I could make out the features of the Oberbaum Brucke ahead of us. A pretty and well loved bridge across the River Spree, it was built of concrete but covered in red bricks. An elevated arcade along the middle of the bridge carried a branch line of the U-Bahn and the central span had been supported between two crenellated towers. The Nazi defenders of Berlin had used explosives to prevent the Red Army using the bridge to cross the Spree and the central spans of the road and rail connections had been severed and the bridge badly damaged. The towers were shattered; the tangled ends of the railway lines hung down either side of the gap and the arcade was buttressed by metal girders placed along the road bridge beneath. Wooden planking bridged where the road had been blown up, strong enough to take pedestrians but not motor traffic. Since the crossing led only to the American sector on the other bank of the river, the Soviets, who controlled all of the bridge, were in no hurry to repair it.

A wooden palisade also blocked the roadway at the far end but, as we watched, a gate opened and we saw through it another pole barrier and a wooden hut. A light came on in the window of the hut and shadows moved across it. Two headlights were switched on, an engine started and the far barrier was lifted. A vehicle drove under the raised pole and slowly onto the bridge. At the temporary footbridge it stopped, reversed into a three point turn and then stopped again, facing the way it had come.

A figure, dressed in dark clothes, got out the cab, came round to the tailgate of the truck and reached into the back. For nearly ten minutes we waited as Sugar, for it was she, unloaded the twelve ammunition boxes and placed them in a row on the wooden planking. When she had finished she went back to the truck and flashed a torch once in our direction.

Hoeller had been watching the operation through his binoculars and also scanning the gap in the far palisade, as if expecting some treachery on our behalf. He finally made an upward movement with his hand, the barrier was raised, and he led us and our escorts out on to the bridge. As we advanced, arc lights on the side of the arcade snapped on all the way along the bridge and we could now clearly recognise Sugar, wearing a short, black leather jacket over a dark blouse and trousers, leaning against our truck and smoking a cigarette.

It was a long walk to the centre of the bridge. The cold night air and delayed shock set me shivering and Sapphire tightened her grip on my arm. I took a good look at her face in the lights from the arcade. Her swollen cheek, jaw and neck were covered with dried blood and there was a vivid purple bruise around the corner of her eye at the top of the thin whip cut. Blood had also soaked her white shirt but, when she met my gaze, she seemed more concerned about me. She smiled and bent her head to give me a kiss on my bruised lips.

“Oh Storm,” she sighed. “Why does it always happen to you?”

Stiletto, holding my other arm, gave me a hug without thinking and I gasped with pain.

As she apologised, Solitaire, walking behind us, called out. “Clumsy Peasant!”

“Dirty Slut!” Stiletto retorted and they stuck their tongues out at each other before giggling.

“Whatever made Seraph think that we knew nothing about Sapphic love?” Solitaire mused.

Mein Gott!” Stiletto laughed. “I went to a Catholic Convent School. By the time that I was thirteen, I had had my first period, wore a bra and had licked a pussy. I also learnt more from the Nuns on caning than Seraph could ever have taught me.”

“You should have been in the Girl Guides with me,” Solitaire chuckled. “When we went camping they didn’t issue badges for the field crafts that we practised. I should have had one for creative masturbation. It was even better if the Scouts were nearby. We were so sad when Hitler abolished both Movements and made us join the BDM and the Hitler Jugend.

I tried to laugh as well but groaned with the pain from my bruised ribs.

“Hi Girls!” Sugar called out as Hoeller halted us at the edge of the wooden planking. “You’re just not safe to be let out alone, are you?”

Hoeller used his binoculars to make one more reconnaissance of the far bank before snapping his fingers in the direction of the ammunition boxes.

“Open them!” he demanded.

“I don’t take orders,” Sugar replied laconically and Hoeller angrily motioned one of the escorts forward.

The Guard shouldered the strap of his sub machine gun, quickly flipped open all the catches and lifted the lids. As before, eight were filled to the brim with sand and the other four with bank notes. The Guard plunged his hands into the sand in one of the boxes and pulled out a golden brick. He carried it back to Hoeller, who eagerly grabbed it from him. While the Guard was extracting and stacking the rest of the bars, Hoeller was turning the one that he held over and over in his hands. He held it up to the light, weighed it speculatively in one hand, traced his fingers over the stamp marks and then scratched at the surface with a fingernail. Still not satisfied, he went forward and examined the other thirty one bars as well. Then he picked over the bundles of bank notes, flicking through several before dropping them back into their boxes.

“What about the photographs?” he growled.

“We told you,” Miss Spiteful answered. “This finishes here tonight, now. The photographs will not be posted but, if we are threatened by you again or anything happens to any one of us in the future, Uncle Walter will be getting some interesting mail.”

Hoeller still looked unhappy and again picked up one of the golden bricks. He scratched it and then patted one his coat pockets.

“Can we go or do you want to us to wait while you set up an assay office on the bridge?” Miss Spiteful’s voice was edged with sarcasm and Hoeller abandoned his search. He waved us past him and made a signal to his own end of the bridge. Behind us we heard the engine of the Stasi truck start up and drive slowly through the gate.

All of our former escorts were now refilling the ammunition boxes as we crossed over to Sugar but Miss Spiteful paused to grasp Hoeller’s arm.

“Herr Oberst, I cannot forgive for what you allowed Seraph to do to us but I must warn you to be on your guard.”

Hoeller’s jaw dropped in surprise as she continued.

“I know that Seraph has been feeding you information on the activities of the Nazis but do not trust her. She has been telling the Werewolves what you are doing as well.” 

Hoeller shook his head in denial but Miss Spiteful persisted.

“Do not trust her. Do you honestly believe that, seven years ago, she would have killed Von Kreps and then calmly told you where the gold was hidden. Do you think that it would have been your men who turned up first in West Berlin tonight if we had told you where we had taken it? She has been playing you off one against each other since the end of the war, betting that whoever got to it first she would be there as well. She’s not in her room sulking right now; she’s arranging a reception committee for you on your way back with your loot.”

“That’s utter rubbish!” Hoeller blustered. “They would not dare in our side of Berlin.”

Miss Spiteful sighed. “Otto Skorzeny is a ruthless and daring man. You must know his history. Wooden notices mean nothing to him.”

She released her grip on his arm and followed us to our truck leaving Hoeller even paler in the face than before. His own truck had come up now and the Colonel turned to supervise the loading of the heavy boxes into the tailgate.

Sugar winced when she saw Sapphire’s face and frowned with concern when she saw mine, despite her flippant comment. “I hope that you girls don’t intend going near a mirror any too soon.”

Sapphire and I both smiled as much as our battered faces allowed but did not reply. Sugar put her hand out to help me into the truck but I turned away.

Ein moment!” I requested and took my bundle of filthy clothes from Solitaires arms. I walked to the nearest parapet and dropped them into the dark cold waters of the River Spree. Seven years before I had consigned all that remained of Johannes and Ingrid Hartemann into the same river during my escape from Berlin. Tonight Kelly, my friend and lover, had died in the Spree wearing her schoolgirl outfit. Sending mine to join her body and my past was the only way I knew of showing my grief and my remorse at how I had treated her.

Once Sapphire and I had been carefully seated, Solitaire and Stiletto joined us in the back and Miss Spiteful got into the cab with Sugar. As we drove slowly forward I searched in my handbag for my cigarettes and lighter. My hands were shaking as I tried to match the flame to the tip of the cigarette indicating how traumatised I was. I coughed as I drew the smoke down into my lungs and then looked back at Hoeller and his men completing their task of loading the gold into their truck.

“Miss Spiteful is right,” Sapphire slurred through her twisted lips. “I don’t give much for their chances of getting back to Genslerstrasse with those boxes. Skorzeny and Seraph will see to that.”

None of us felt one pang of sympathy for our former captors.

After our truck passed through the gap in the palisade ahead, Sugar stopped at the hut, the gate was closed behind us and the pole barrier lowered by some real American Military Policemen.

There was a group of figures waiting on the darkened porch of the hut and one of them, a tall man, with close cropped grey hair and wearing a white raincoat stepped forward and peered into the cab.”

“Are you all ok, Miss Spiteful?” he enquired. “Mr Hoover was most concerned to hear that you had run into trouble. Can I tell him that everything went satisfactorily?”       

“Oh yes, Mr Thorn.” Miss Spiteful replied. “We are all back safely, thanks to your information and assistance. Please tell the Director that Mary will get a special treat as a reward.”

“The CIA is always pleased to co-operate with the FBI,” the Agent continued. “Although these are very unusual circumstances.”

“Well, we did tell you that we were only going into East Berlin to sing at the Festival,” Miss Spiteful was using her sweet and innocent voice. “The Stasi mistook us for spies and we were just lucky that we had something that they wanted in exchange. We would not have been able to arrange that without your assistance though.”

“It’s a pleasure, Ma’am,” the American nodded and then peered over Miss Spiteful’s shoulder to see who was in the back of the truck. When he saw the state of mine and Sapphire’s faces, illuminated by a floodlight on the fence, he looked concerned.

“Do you ladies back there require medical assistance? The Doctor is just finishing in the checkpoint. Or we could escort you to the Military Hospital. They have excellent facilities there.” 

“Thank you, but not at the moment,” Miss Spiteful cut him off. “We would be grateful however if the Doctor could come to our hotel later today. What we need right now are hot showers and our beds.”

“Certainly.” The CIA man stood back and gave a half wave, half salute to Miss Spiteful. Sugar started up the engine of the truck just as someone ran out of the door of the hut, scrambled into the back of the truck, and sat down beside me.

“Can I have one of your cigarettes? Mine got soaked and Sugar is more generous with her virtue than her Virginia Tobacco.”

I was too stunned to reply. Unbelievably, here was Kelly, alive and laughing, a big white bandage around her left shoulder and upper arm, a plaster on her forehead and wet hair, and wearing the strapless black frock that I had bought for myself in New York.

Everyone else cheered and clapped but I just pulled her towards me and embraced her tightly. Tears run down my face, no longer from pain and remorse but from relief and joy.   

 To continue this story, click The Night Porter

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