The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S GOLD

Episode 39 - News From The East

September 1952

“Frau McNair!” The Hotel Hall Porter called out from his kiosk as I entered the lobby from the street door. “Your husband, Herr Kapitan McNair, telephoned again, a short while ago.”

I brightened expectantly and walked carefully over to the counter. I had been for a stroll to the Tiergarten after breakfast but, like Kelly the day before, found the experience draining and had had to take a taxi back to the hotel.

“The Herr Kapitan was sorry to miss you again but he said that he will see you tonight,” the Porter read from his notepad.

“You mean that he will speak to me tonight,” I corrected him.

The Porter shook his head and pulled a face as he looked at his notes again. “I did ask him to repeat the message but the Herr Kapitan’s German was not good and I had trouble understanding his English.” The poor man was almost ashamed to admit that David’s accent could have defeated him and I laughed sympathetically.

“Keine angst, er ist Schottisch,” I consoled him and he clicked his heels in appreciation.

“Your friends are in the Lounge taking morning coffee,” he added and I turned in that direction instead of taking the lift back to my room. Locating my party, I slipped onto the couch alongside Kelly who gave me a welcoming smile. We had both slept deep and had woken in each other’s arms. Apart from a kiss, we had had no need for more physical expressions of our love and she had gone back to her own room to get ready for her appointment with the Doctor while I coped with the awkward and painful task of shaving my battered face.

“How’s the shoulder?” I asked.

“Fine,” she gently padded the bulge under her pink blouse. “I’d bled a bit but the Doctor was pleased. He said that the healing had started but I should avoid strenuous physical exercise.”

“That’s a shame,” I whispered. “We’ll have to stick with our hands and mouths.”

We giggled together until I realised that she was searching in my handbag for my cigarettes.

“I‘m so glad that you’ve arrived,” Sugar called across from her armchair. “This Slave is now worth more than she has ever earned before in her whole life and she still cannot afford to buy her own cigarettes. Just how much does that mean bitch Spiteful pay her slaves?”

“I’ve no idea,” I replied. “She got the SS to pay my wages.” It was then I realised that the subject of our conversation was not with us. “And where is our glorious leader?”

Sapphire looked up from the ‘Berliner Zeitung’ newspaper that she was reading. “She was called away but I don’t think that she will be long.”

Sapphire was looking very smart in a sleeveless yellow top, a white pleated skirt and white high heeled shoes. Sunglasses and a white, wide brimmed hat rested on the arm of her chair. Like me; she had used the theatrical makeup to conceal her facial bruising and scar.

“You look good, Sapphire. What’s the occasion?” I enquired.

“She’s going to watch the tennis this afternoon,” Solitaire giggled.

Sapphire sniffed and ignored her. It was obvious that she had been subject to some banter before my arrival.

“Thank you, Storm. You are so good to me.” She smiled sweetly at me and then looked puzzled at the ribald laughter that erupted from the others.

At that moment Miss Spiteful joined us and, as she poured herself some coffee, looked round in the hope that someone would tell her what the joke was.

“There’s a couple of interesting news items in here,” Sapphire rattled her newspaper to attract all of our attentions before turning back a few leaves to find the page that she wanted. “The first is a report of a gun battle in Hohenshonhausen, early yesterday morning. Unnamed eyewitnesses say that a military truck and a car were ambushed by men with machine guns and that all of the occupants were killed. The East German Ministerium fur Staatssicherheit have denied that was any gunfire but have confirmed that a number of Stasi personnel have died in a tragic road accident.”

“I did warn Hoeller,” Miss Spiteful shook her head. “That means that Seraph and the Nazis know by now that the gold and cash we handed over were worthless. The sooner we are out of Berlin the better. What does the other one say?”

Sapphire grinned as she refolded the paper. “The Mayor of East Berlin condemns the recent acts of vandalism in the Friedhof der Marzgefallen. Tombs have been opened, remains have been disturbed and skeletons left scattered on the grass. He blames dissidents, fascists, capitalists and homosexuals for these acts of desecration and urges all citizens to be vigilant against further outrages!”

We all hooted with laughter, causing heads in the lounge to be turned towards us and Miss Spiteful rapped the coffee table to restore order.

“I didn’t realise that the Mayor knew us so well. Anyway, let’s get on. No problems with the crates, Sugar?”

Sugar waved her hand. “None. Stacked in the garage and locked up.”

“Good. Well I went to pay Erich and thank him for his excellent work and was ambushed by Rudi Tollweg. He’s been looking for me since he ran into Sugar the other day. All of you, except Kelly, will remember him.” 

Indeed, I did know Rudi. He had been the doyen of Berlin’s sadomasochistic venues, homosexual, lesbian or transvestite bars or clubs and meeting places for any other fetish or sexual perversion and deviation that you could name. Much persecuted by the Nazis for his refusal to co-operate with them, everything that he had opened, sometimes in a different location every night, had eventually been raided and closed. He had owned the bar where I had where I had been arrested and, from my cell, I had heard him being beaten in the Police Station. Somehow or other he had survived and was still an entrepreneur of Berlin’s darker side.

“He is trying to get the Berlin scene going again and is opening a new BDSM venue tonight and wants us all to make an appearance as Guests of Honour and give a short demonstration each,” Miss Spiteful continued. “He’s given me an address in Wedding, up in the French sector, and claims that it is going to be the biggest and best that he has ever put on.”

“He told us that the last Christmas before you went to Paris, nineteen thirty six wasn’t it?” Sapphire mused. “It turned out to be an unheated tram shed. We were all frozen. Seraph’s goose bumps were as big as her tits.”  

“Never mind that,” Miss Spiteful went on dismissively. “This is likely to be the last time that we shall ever be all together in Berlin and we might as well make an exit to remember. Rudi’s trying to get in as many of the characters of the pre-war Berlin that he can find and it would be nice as well to see some of them again. He also says that the new crop of Dominatrix are useless, just girls on the make who have no idea how to torture properly. Shall we remind Berlin of how it should be done?”

“I thought that we were supposed to be keeping a low profile until we get on that plane to Zurich on Monday morning?” Sugar asked.

“Oh, no one knows that we will be there and, as Sapphire said, Rudi does exaggerate. His promised vast crowd will probably mean about fifty people at the most and the guest list will outnumber the paying customers. It will be perfectly safe for us to venture out. Now, if we are all agreed, I’ll call Rudi and confirm that we are coming. Kelly can book a couple of taxis for us with the Porter, since we don’t have a car any more, and we’ll all meet down here this evening in our best Dom outfits. Sind alle einverstanden?”

We all nodded agreement. Despite some reservations, I think that we were all inwardly excited at the prospect of attending an S and M event.

“On the subject of outfits,” Miss Spiteful announced. “If you haven’t brought anything suitable with you, I’m sure that the girls here can recommend an establishment where you can buy gear at extortionate prices. Just don’t bother trying to borrow any more money off me. Having paid off Rudi and bought the air tickets to Zurich, I have barely enough left of my bank overdraft to settle the hotel bill on Monday. That brings me to my final point. I have just come from an uncomfortable meeting with the Hotel Manager. He read out to me a long list of complaints from other guests and the staff about your behaviour. Apparently, some of you have been banging on doors and shouting and swearing in the corridors late at night; there have been screaming and beating noises coming from your bedrooms; you have been coming in at all hours, dirty and dressed in strange costumes; making impossible demands on the staff and leaving blood on the bed sheets. I could only apologise to him on your behalves for your appalling behaviour.”

Ignoring our gasps of indignation and outraged looks, she concluded. “In the light of that, I think that we should try and make a discreet exit from the hotel tonight. Make sure that your coats cover up your outfits and don’t frighten the tourists. Once we are out of here, it doesn’t matter who sees us. Let’s try and make tonight a memorable one!”

After lunch, I bought a bunch of white roses from a flower stall on the Kurfurstendam, while Miss Spiteful hailed a Taxi. The two of us rode in silence to the cemetery of the Saint Matthaus –Kirchof in Schoneberg.

Miss Spiteful sat on a bench while I began my search amongst the graves. Finally, I was able to lay my flowers on the tombstone on which one of the names inscribed was: Reinhard Von Schlee 1916 – 1944, but the grave beneath was empty. Reinhard’s body, along with those of Claus Schenk Graf Von Stauffenberg; Reinhard’s friend, Werner Von Haefton and the others executed in that courtyard on the Bendlerstrasse, had been dug up by the vengeful SS, cremated and the ashes scattered. Miss Spiteful had not allowed me to visit the grave during the war as we were still trying to hide my connection to the bomb plot to kill the Fuhrer.

I smoked a cigarette before returning to Miss Spiteful, who put her arms around me while I sobbed on her shoulder and exorcised another ghost from my past.

To continue this story, click We're Going To Wedding



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