The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 62 - From Sapphire with Love

London October 1937

Liebling Spiteful.

How are you and how are you enjoying London? Are you keeping out of the newspapers there? I saw the report and the pictures of the crucified Argentinean in Paris and guessed that it was your work. Goebbels made a lot of it as an example of how depraved the non-Aryans are. There were also reports that the Duke of Windsor was visiting a beautiful Red Haired German Dom in Paris (no names, but we can all guess who) but all that has stopped since he and the Duchess have met the Fuhrer.

Miss Spiteful took a sip from her refreshed glass of wine and stretched her long stockinged legs as she tried to relax in her armchair. Sapphire’s handwriting was not difficult to read but Miss Spiteful still felt disturbed by her conversation with Sir Hartley. She felt a deep affection for her friend and client and usually got a sexual arousal from a session but something had happened afterwards that she did not understand. She was used to clients falling in love with her and could easily fend them off but, in this case, it was she who had been puzzled and a little disappointed that the older man had not continued to press his suit. Miss Spiteful shrugged and picked up the letter again.

One thing that has not made the newspapers is your ramming the neck of one of his champagne bottles up Von Ribbentrop’s arse. There was speculation as to why he had left London before the end of his term as Ambassador and most think that it was to get back to Berlin before the Fuhrer appoints someone else as Foreign Minister but the Nazi hierarchy and Berlin society all know what you did to him. I was told that, at a reception last week, Goering insisted on sniffing the neck of the bottle before his drink was poured and said he was checking on whether the grapes had come from the sides or the bottom of the valley. Ribbentrop blushed and everyone else sniggered, except the Fuhrer who has not heard the story and just looked baffled.

Your friend Willie says that you should not worry about any retribution; everyone either hates or despises Von Ribbentrop for his fawning and social pretensions. Heydrich apparently laughed out loud when he heard what you had done and even Himmler’s little moustache is said to have twitched. Willie did tell me that they are not happy that Walter Ulbricht was seen visiting you in Paris but he is not regarded as a problem as long as he stays out of Germany. 

“All right then Mistress? I got Sir Hartley into his taxi; I’ve laid your clothes out in your bedroom and your bath is running. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be off.”

Miss Spiteful frowned as she looked up her transvestite maid. Juanita had already cleaned off his makeup; changed the maid’s uniform for male attire and was looking anxious to be away. Miss Spiteful guessed that he would rush back to his room in the Lisson Grove, change yet again into some tighter and more coulourful clothes and then head off to meet his homosexual friends in some pub in Soho. He would then entertain them, over drinks, with tales about his ‘Hun’ employer and her clients and hope, by the end of the evening, to meet a man willing to pay him to share a bed for the night. Miss Spiteful wished that she had been able to find a transvestite or transsexual more enthusiastic about the role of maid but here in London, as in Paris, she had been sadly disappointed. Her first maid in Paris had been a pretty blonde French girl named Thais, who had at first performed her duties satisfactorily but then Miss Spiteful found out that she had either been telling departing clients where they could find a prostitute nearby to have sex with or performing the act herself for money in the kitchen or bathroom before they left. When questioned before dismissal by Miss Spiteful, Thais had explained that since Miss Spiteful did not copulate with her clients like the Parisian Doms, she thought that she was providing them the satisfaction that Frenchmen expected.

Her replacement was a transvestite but, despite his willingness and sweet nature, nothing could disguise Alexandra’s big nose and the dark shadow of his beard, even after the closest shave and the application of thick makeup. Not the image that Miss Spiteful wanted to project to her clients but at least there were no further problems about sex.

When she had set up business in London, Miss Spiteful had been saddened by the lack of response to her discreet enquiries for a transsexual or transvestite maid. It was pointed out to her that, under the peculiarities of English Law, although it might be difficult to successfully prosecute Miss Spiteful for her activities, any male she employed could be charged with living off immoral earnings. Finally, she found a less than reputable theatrical agency who provided for interview some unemployed actors or dancers who were not averse to taking feminine roles.

Johnny Cooper had not been the best looking candidate, although his slim stature and pert features made him look passably attractive, but he had had no problems with the nature of the work, was prepared to dress as a maid and be called Juanita. He could even cook acceptable meals, having also worked in the catering trade when ‘resting’ between theatrical employment. Miss Spiteful was not pleased with his disrespectful attitude to her and her clients. (She had overheard him on the telephone to one of his friends calling her ‘the Hun’, a term she resented since Germans were not descended from that Asiatic race and it had only come into use after a disastrous speech by the Kaiser to German Troops about to sail to China, in which he urged them to ‘act like Huns’ in putting down the Boxer Rebellion. Despite strict censorship, the story had got into the Foreign Press and the tag had been resurrected during the Great War.), She was also sure that she was being shortchanged on the shopping and other household expenses by as much as Half a Crown a week. Juanita also declined to move into the spare bedroom, preferring to go home every night, which restricted the hours that Miss Spiteful could work.

Despite her dissatisfaction, Miss Spiteful did not want to start looking for another maid in London but became more determined to achieve one of her personal ambitions to create her own transsexual slaves and maids. She still corresponded with Bridgette in Köln and did her own reading but one of the first acts that the Nazis had taken on gaining power was to ban all research on gender reassignment and treatment of transsexuals in Germany which had previously been in the forefront of experimentation on the subject. More promising however, were reports in medical journals that the estrogen Di-Ethyl Stilbesterol would soon become available in the United States. Miss Spiteful intended to obtain some when she arrived there and, when she found a suitable candidate, use it to turn a transvestite into a transsexual, while she moulded them psychologically and trained them to be her slave. What she was looking for a young and good-looking transvestite, not already too effeminate or an overt homosexual but still confused about their desires, their gender and their sexuality. The estrogen and Miss Spiteful would do the rest.

“Very well,” Miss Spiteful sighed. “Off you go, I will see you in the morning.”

“Tar rah, then”, Juanita chirped and moments later Miss Spiteful heard the front door of her flat slam shut. She winced, took another sip of wine and resumed reading Sapphire’s letter.

Of course, Goebbel’s rants against Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland and Russia still go on unabated and the word is that the Fuhrer intends to keep tightening the screws on Schuschnigg until he either lets the Austrian Nazis take over or he begs for Anschluss with Germany. The Army however is hoping that they are not ordered to invade Austria; I had a Generalmajor in my playpen the other week who said that they did not have enough transport and even the motor vehicles that they had would probably have to towed by horses because their engines were so unreliable. There could be good business for me if the rest of the Army Staff are like him and are shitting themselves!  Sorry, I know you do not like that messy subject. I do hope that there is not going to be another war because you are right, despite all the propaganda and patriotic posters, we will not be capable of winning for many years yet. I do envy you getting away from here.

A new girl has arrived in Berlin from near Tilsit on the far side of East Prussia, supposedly to train as a dancer, but gave that up when she discovered the Domination scene. Her name is Elisabeth Beck but she is calling herself Solitaire. She is small and olive  skinned but very beautiful with dark slanting eyes and a body like an eel. She asked me first to take her on as a novice and, as you have no doubt guessed, I have fallen in love with her. Then I  introduced her to Stiletto and the two almost performed a lesbian sex act on the floor of the club before going off together, leaving me alone and broken heated as usual. Seraph tried her usual threats but Solitaire just laughed at her in public, said some very nasty things about Seraph’s looks and size and then threatened to strip her naked and whip her up and down Friedrichstrasse if Seraph ever came near her or threatened her again. It was like watching David and Goliath but no one doubted that Solitaire was capable of carrying out her threat. Seraph just coloured and ran and I didn’t need to threaten her with her Doctor’s records but I am bit worried because she has been trying to be nice to me whenever we have met recently and I do not trust her.

Miss Spiteful frowned again and wondered if she should write to Sapphire to watch out for any treachery from Seraph but decided that her friend was quite capable of looking after herself.

So Spiteful, I am left to go to bed alone again and try not to think about those two girls in each others arms.  I shall dream instead of you coming back to me. How is your love life? Have you met any aristocratic and handsome Englanders who can match your exacting standards or are you keeping yourself for an American millionaire when you get to New York? You have not mentioned any of your male lovers in your letters so far from Paris or London and I am worried that you have found another woman and do not want to hurt my feelings. Do tell; I need something to fantasize over.

Please write again soon.

Mit herzlichen GrÜssen

Sapphire

Miss Spiteful sighed again and tossed Sapphire’s letter on to the side table. The reason that she had not written about her sexual adventures on her travels was because they had been virtually non existent. She had made love with two different Frenchmen in Paris but had then given up in disgust. Although they had been accomplished in their wooing and vigorous lovers they had then been more interested in finding out what Miss Spiteful had thought of their performance and were disappointed at her lack of effusive praise and thanks. She had accepted invitations from some of the Englishmen that she met in London but they seemed to think that they had to impress her with their material wealth and Miss Spiteful had not let the relationships go any further. A lover of fine wining and dining she found that her social circle was more restricted than in Berlin to clients who did not mind being seen in public with her, which included Sir Douglas Bradshaw and his neo Fascist set, none of whom she wished to have as sexual partners. The only plus side to living in Paris had been that no-one cared who was seen with whom, in fact most people went out of their way to show off in public, but then Miss Spiteful just had not liked the French, apart from their food and wine, anyway.

“Mein Gott, I need a fuck!” Miss Spiteful moaned and realised that for some minutes she had been stroking her already aroused labia through the gusset of her black silk knickers. For a moment she contemplated getting out the armchair to search for a dildo but, instead tugged her knickers down to her knees and exposed her crotch. The fingers of her right hand toyed with the ginger hair covered mound of her mons vagina and then slipped underneath the hood to tickle and probe at her clitoris. Miss Spiteful felt her face and body flush and she found it difficult to expand her chest against the restrictive basque that she wore as her breath quickened. Her knickers had slipped to her ankles and she kicked them away so that she could spread her legs and dig her high heels into the carpet as her back stiffened and then arched in the armchair. When her lubricant started to leak, Miss Spiteful pushed her fingers of her right hand between the lips of her labia, massaging the inner walls of her vagina until the digits were covered with sticky sweet fluid. These she withdrew to lick and suck dreamily while her left hand took over the business of bringing her to a climax by increasing the pace of the friction against her engorged sexual organs.

Her right hand had returned to masturbating herself when Miss Spiteful felt the first electric tingles along her nerves and a shudder racked her body as her purrs turned to moans. Her juices were flowing steadily now, soaking her hand, pubic hair and inner thighs. Then she let out her first animal scream and her body spasmed, jerking her breasts free of their cups in the basque and leaving them to swing free. She screamed again and again as her vaginal liquid spurted past her right hand which she now had plunged deep inside her, burying it up to the base of her thumb. It was several minutes before her body stopped convulsing, her breathing slowed down and her head no longer felt as if it about to explode.

Having withdrawn her hand from her genitals, Miss Spiteful tried to look down her body, past her breasts with their erect pink nipples, to her drenched groin but her vision was blurred and she realised that she was crying, tears welling in eyes rolling down her cheeks, leaving sooty trails from her ruined kohl eyeliner. She sagged limply back into the armchair feeling weak and drained as little beads of perspiration broke the skin all over her body.

“I need that bath now”, She muttered to herself. “But much more than that, I need a Man!”



 To continue this story, click Supping With The Devil 



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