Home

Back to the Stories Page

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

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 GOLD

Episode 47 - Grab Your Knickers and Run

September 1952

I froze. Helmut’s face was full of hate. No wonder. He had a black eye, several purple bruises and a large cut running across his forehead. He had obviously not found walking across New York in a Nazi Brown-shirt uniform a very congenial experience.

Over his shoulder, I could see two more men with the same close cropped haircuts, nasty expressions on their faces and wearing the same grey suits as Helmut.

I dug my fingernails into the naked breasts of the prostrate blonde beneath me. She screamed, opened her eyes and jerked her legs straight. The high heel of her left hand shoe caught the wrist of Helmut’s gun hand and her right heel slammed against his jaw.

Helmut went over backwards against his confederates while his right arm went up in the air as the automatic pistol ripped off a burst of bullets at the ceilings. Even if they did not see what had happened, every one in the vicinity recognised gunfire and the screaming and panic rippled outwards from this side of the stage. The red corseted blonde and her lover disappeared very quickly and I saw Helmut struggling to get to his feet and then being swept away and lost in the stampede for the exits.

I scrambled backwards on my knees, screaming to my companions; “It’s Helmut! It’s the Nazis! He’s got a gun!”

“Alles raus, schnell!” Miss Spiteful shouted, pushing our group down the steps. “Storm! What are you doing?” she demanded, seeing me still on my knees.

“I’m looking for my knickers,” I wailed. “I’m not leaving without them.”

Then I saw Alfred, leaning back against the stage, masturbating with one hand and pressing my black knickers against his face with the other. I cuffed him across the back of his head, grabbing my underwear and almost hurdling the steps in my effort to catch the others up.

“Stay together!” Miss Spiteful ordered as we were buffeted from side to side in the hysterical crush at the bottom of the staircases. I fixed my eyes on Natalya’s pink boa as I tried to join our phalanx, headed by Sugar, fighting and using my elbows like everyone else. Some lost their footing, stumbled and fell on the stairs, their terrible screams, as they were trodden on by the panic stricken masses, adding to the din.

I finally reached the first level, where the pressure eased because there was room for the fleeing crowd to disperse onto the dance floor. Sugar grabbed my arm and plucked me to safety as I ran blindly past our group.

“All eight here?” Miss Spiteful did a quick headcount before we bunched together again to tackle the last and shorter staircase to ground level. Just as we burst into the entrance hall, there was a shot from lower down the stairs and a bullet whistled over our heads to smash into the concrete ceiling. That produced more screams and another headlong flight for the exits to the street.

“Forget the coats!” Miss Spiteful yelled. “Just get out!”

But we had to stop when we saw a man standing between the two doors with a gun pointing at us.

“Halte! Hande hoch!” Helmut snarled as he and the other two Nazis reached the top of the staircase behind us, waving their guns to keep a clear area between us and them. I noticed that Helmut now had a gash on his chin and several new bruises had been added to his facial injuries.

Suddenly two huge naked black arms curled round the necks of Helmut’s followers and smashed their heads together with a sickening crack. They both collapsed when Marcius released them and rolled out of sight down the stairs. Helmut turned but Marcius grasped his gun arm and twisted it sideways. Helmut howled as his elbow was dislocated, dropped his gun and fell to his knees, screaming at the pain.

“Nobody fucks wid de Mistress,” Marcius growled at him, but I think Helmut was beyond hearing.

“Good man,” Miss Spiteful patted his massive arm. “Can you do anything about them?”

I turned to see that there were now three very angry looking gunmen inside the doors and they were advancing towards us through the fleeing customers. The leather jacketed security guards had made themselves scarce as had the ticket sellers and all of the cloakroom staff except for Trixi, who was cowering behind the racks of coats.

“Shit!” Marcius spat and picked up one the wooden tables that had been overturned in the stampede. He held it lengthways across his chest and charged at the three Nazi gunmen. By the time they realised what he was doing it was almost too late for them to take aim. Three shots rang out, two passing over our heads. We realised that the third must have hit Marcius because, after flattening the trio to the floor with the table, he dropped it on top of them and then collapsed himself. He rolled over, his hand clutching his chest over his left nipple, bright red blood pumping between his fingers.      

“Go Mistress, go!” he croaked and slumped back on the table.  

“Send our coats and any gear downstairs to our hotel,” I called out to Trixi. “Rudi knows which one.”

We ran out into the cold night air and stopped on the crushed rubble. As usual, there were no Polizie around when we needed them, just fleeing pedestrians.

 “Which way?” Sugar asked. “What about a Taxi?”

We were just estimating the distance to where we could see the illuminated signs on the tops of the cabs in the far corner of the car park when a gun cracked behind us and a bullet shattered a car window near us. At least one gunman had recovered enough to come after us but still we hesitated.

“No time!” Miss Spiteful decided. “And the Bahnhof’s out as well.” She pointed at two more men running towards us from the direction of Gesundbrunnen, cutting off our escape by rail.

“This way!” Sapphire grabbed Natalya’s arm and started straight running diagonally across the car park. As we followed, two more shots rang out and we heard more screaming as partygoers scattered or threw themselves to the ground. We dodged and ducked between the parked cars.

Sapphire did not stop at the edge of the car park, leading us across Behmstrasse, just as a bus swept around the corner from our left. The driver swerved, blasting his klaxon and then haranguing us from his open window.

“Now what?” Sugar panted when we reached the pavement on the other side of the road.

We could hear two-tone Police sirens in the distance but we knew that we did not have the time to wait around for them to arrive.

“Bornholmerstrasse Bahnhof is only one kilometre away, I can get us there through the back streets,” Sapphire declared.

“Well get going!” Miss Spiteful snarled. “The Werewolves are here!”

Two more shots hit the wall behind us as Sapphire started running towards the border checkpoint on the Behmstrasse Brucke. Then she turned left into Julicherstrasse and we were out of sight of our pursuers for a short period.

“Oh, I cannot run in this,” Natalya wailed as she hobbled along in her tight sequined dress.

“Do something, Sugar!” Miss Spiteful instructed and we slowed down as Sugar’s two brown hands gripped the hem of Natalya’s dress, tearing it upwards until the split reached the top of her muscular thighs.

Ach, that cost so much money!” Natalya cried but Sapphire seized her wrist and dragged her along.

“Come on, you stupid bitch!” Sapphire shouted. “I can buy you a thousand like that if you don’t get us shot!”

We were running down the centre of the road, Stiletto and Natalya had both hauled up their split skirts but we were all hampered by our high heels and, apart from Natalya, none of us were in the best of conditions. Kelly, in particular, was flagging, looking very pale and weighed down by the heavy canvas bag until Sugar relieved her of it. The insides of my waistcoat and skirt were sticky with sweat and blood from where my wounds had been rubbed raw again and my bruised ribs were aching.

“Right! Go right!” Sapphire flapped her right arm and we swung around the corner. We could still hear the sirens behind us but also shouting and running footsteps other than our own. The gunmen were still on our trail.

“Left! Left! Only four hundred metres to go!” Sapphire gasped out. Her face was bright red; she was puffing heavily and visibly slowing.

The next street was narrower, dimly lit and lined with those cramped terraced houses. At the far end, we could see bright street lights, traffic queuing for the checkpoint on the Bornholmerbrucke, the high arched girders of the bridge and the illuminated green sign that marked the entrance to the S-Bahn station.

But we literally ran into another problem within sight of our goal.

“Ach Sapphire!” Miss Spiteful complained. “Cobblestones!”

Now we were danger of injuring ourselves if our high heeled boots or shoes slipped on the shiny round stones of the road surface. We were forced onto the narrow and equally uneven pavement.

“Natalya,” Miss Spiteful forced the words out as she ran, gulping for breath. “Do you have any money in your handbag?”

“Ja?” the Yugoslav replied, puzzled at the question.

“Well run on ahead to the station, buy eight tickets and stamp them. You’re the fittest and we won’t have time to queue.”

Natalya nodded and increased her pace but, almost immediately stumbled as her heel caught in a cracked paving stone. She recovered, kicked her shoes off ahead of her and scooped them up as she ran past barefoot. 

Now my chest was tight, and each breath was a laboured agony. We were halfway up the road to safety but my legs felt like putty and I knew that we were not going to make it.

Renewed shouting from behind told us that our pursuers had sighted us and we all redoubled our efforts but it could not last. We were being overtaken.

A volley of shots rang out and Sapphire reeled into a doorway. She had not been hit but just could not run any further. Stiletto and Solitaire grabbed one of her arms each and tried to support her but just made a bigger target of themselves.

More shots, the bullets ricocheting of the cobblestones. Lights were going on  in bedrooms above our heads; voices were calling out in alarm but no door opened to give us sanctuary.

“Keep in the doorways and shadows,” Miss Spiteful panted. “They can see us under the streetlights.”

Dodging from doorway to doorway just slowed us down even more and, when Kelly fell to her knees, I knew that we had lost the race. I pulled her to her feet and felt the damp bandage on her shoulder. Her face had gone white and her eyes stared blankly at me. We were beaten.

I was not going to leave her but, even with only one hundred metres to go; none of the others could run another step either. We each sought shelter in darkened doorways and awaited our fate.  

 

To continue this story, click Vive La France

Back to the top