Betrayal – Mata Hari, the Goddess of Seduction

Tears were running down her beautiful face. Her love was wounded and she wasn’t allowed to see him. Oh, how she longed to hold him in her arms, her Vadim. The captain had been hurt but as a woman without French nationality she was denied to visit the hospital where he was taken care of. The year was 1916 and the war was holding Europe in its grip.

“Madame, I can not grant you access to that part of the battlefield. You need to understand. It is a matter of national security.”, the officer said.

“Please, I need to see him. I need to hold him. I’d do anything. I know I’m Dutch, but my heart is French. And didn’t my Russian sweetheart fight for your country. Please, Monsieur.”. She was sobbing. She was so very worried.

The door to the hot and dimly lit room opened. Two men in fashionable suits entered the room. They waved at the officer and he closed the door behind himself, leaving the three of them alone.

“Madame Zelle wants to see Monsieur Maslov, yes? And you are willing to give us something for that, yes?”

“Yes, monsieurs, anything. I give you anything!” The woman was now standing up and taking a step towards the men. Her face was still wet from the tears. She removed the scarf that was covering her naked shoulders and let it slowly drop to the floor.

“No, madam, we don’t want that kind of favour. Please be seated again.”. She walked back to the chair, sat down and looked at the men with hopeful eyes.

“You can go and see your amour if you promise us that you will set off to travel to Germany in a week’s time. We can arrange for you to dance at the Kaiser’s court. You will get closer to his son, the crown prince. We need to know what the Germans are planning. Moments of passion are the best to time get out information out of someone, yes?”

She swallowed. “You-you want me to seduce the – the crown prince and then get important information about the war out of him, monsieurs?”

“Yes, Madame Zelle.”

“Anything for my Vadim. Anything.” She got up and shook both men’s hands. “Yes, I will do it. Now, can we go and see my love, please? I can’t wait any longer.”

The Journey Begins

A week had passed and Margaretha Zelle was on the NordExpress train from Paris to Berlin, passing Brussels, Cologne and Hannover. The memories of her wounded love were still fresh on her mind. The bandages covering his eyes, his hands holding her tightly, the tears they shared over his blindness. Her sad eyes were looking over the European landscapes, wondering how her life had made a big turn now. She was the biggest dancer, she was beloved and adored. And now a spy? She smiled to herself. At least things never got boring for her.

Arriving in Berlin, she got picked up by two dashing German gentlemen wearing the royal emblem on their red jackets. “Frau Mata Hari, ja? Please come this way. We have a car waiting for you.”

People were turning their heads as she walked past them. She had dressed her best, making sure that if she ran into the crown prince, he would not be able to take his eyes off of her. Silken white clothing, golden jewelry, her breasts barely covered, a head piece fit for a queen. She liked this kind of game. She knew what to do. Her nipples hardened as she thought about the possibilities ahead of her.

Dancing Queen

At the palace, a flustered butler showed her to her room. The place was gigantic and she knew that she wouldn’t have a lot of opportunities to spend time with the crown prince. But she was part of the entertainment tonight and she would need to get his attention. After a short nap and some refreshments, she set out to the garden to prepare for the evening. Stretching her beautiful body, trying out a few new dance moves, Mata Hari looked like a goddess in the summery afternoon sun. Bending over to touch her toes, a pirouette, a jump, stretching arms and neck, she didn’t notice the tall figure on the balcony watching her. The crown prince thought he had spotted his prey for the night. He smiled with content and walked back inside, to rejoin the meeting with the admirals.

“A French woman dancing at for the Kaiser during war times? That is a terrible idea. We are at war!”. One of the courtesans of the palace shook her head as she observed a gorgeously dressed Mata Hari coming down the stairs. “You are just jealous, silly woman. She is Dutch, by the way. She is not a threat to our victory.”, her friend replied.

A long see-through skirt barely covered her naked bottom. A golden jeweled bra pushed her breasts into place. She gracefully, slowly and mindfully took each step, her bare feet seem to be barely touching the cold marble. Big earrings were dangling down each side of her beautiful face. Her hair was intertwined with a headpiece that held a huge feather at the front. The whole room was staring at her. She seemed out of this world.

Once she had reached the middle of the room, she nodded to the band that stood ready, holding their instruments. Legs closed, face down, hands touching above her head, she waited for the music to start. As the first notes hit the air, she started her dance. Moving her hips seductively, she twirled around the room like a swan dancing on water. Jumping, bending, stretching limps, shaking breasts and wiggling her bottom. She used all her best moves to impress everyone in the room. Twenty minutes later, a ear-numbing applause replaced the music. She bowed and smiled at everyone, knowing that she had been victorious.

A group of men followed her as she was walking towards the refreshments. It was hot and sticky in the room. A young man stepped in front of her. “Hello Frau Mata Hari. I am Wilhelm, the crown prince, and I welcome you to our humble home.” She froze for a second as he kissed her hand.

He was a tall blonde man, with a mustache, as it very much was in fashion in Germany. He was wearing a rather dashing suit and his mannerisms seemed soft, yet demanding. She found herself attracted to him instantly. Their eyes met. “Thank you ever so much, crown prince. What an honour to meet you!”. She felt the eyes of most of the women in the room fixed on the two of them conversing. And she understood why. Not only did he hold a lot power, he also was clearly the most handsome man in the room.

“Can I interest you in a glass of champagne and a walk in the garden?”, he looked at her with a smile. “Oh, most certainly. I imagine it is a beautiful summer night!”. She put on a pair of flattering shoes and threw a scarf over her shoulders. “Shall we go?”.

Passionate Moves

The two of them left the room, and she could hear the whispers among the guests. It almost seemed as if they knew just as much as her what was about to happen. After about five minutes under the stars, the two of them were standing on the grass next to a fountain, kissing. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk as the tension between them was sparking and both felt the need to get physically closer. They were laughing as they ran back inside hand in hand, down corridors and closed the door to Wilhelm’s chambers behind them.

He took the scarf off her shoulders and grabbed her bottom. “You are very delicious” he whispered into her ear. She could feel something hard pressing against her womanhood. Pearls of sweat and wetness had gathered in her bush. She removed her bra and his lips enveloped her left nipple, while his hand was pressing her right breast. She moaned and enjoyed him taking command, relaxing in his strong grip.

He took her hand and they walked over to his bed. There, he lifted her up and laid her on the soft sheets. He pulled down her skirt and she quickly removed her headpiece. He traced pearls of sweat running down her beautiful body, stopping at her breasts, circling them and slightly scratching the needy skin of her belly. Kneeling down in front of her, he pushed her legs open with both hands, and let his tongue wander over her mons pubis and then disappear between her swollen lips. She felt him sucking and playing with her clit, two fingers had found their way into her drippingly wet slit.

She moaned and felt relief approaching. She pushed herself against him, moving her hips in his rhythm. Then he stopped. She opened her eyes and watched him lean over her. “Oh, Herr crown prince!”, she yelled out when he entered her. His hard manhood had conquered her and she felt happily defeated. Finding the perfect rhythm, they moved and pressed against each other, moaning, both breathing heavily. “You. Are. A. Perfect. Woman.” He twitched inside her and his warm juices squirted out of him. She felt the wave of pleasure hitting her and twitched in sync with him, moaning, lips pressed against each other, tongues intertwined.

He rolled over and she put her head on his chest. Minutes later they were both engulfed by a sweet slumber, put asleep by the hot summer air and the passionate dance they had just engaged in.

Crossing Lines

Mata Hari woke up when the first sunbeams of the new day tickled her face. She stood up, finding a morning robe and covering her naked body with it. She looked around the room and saw a desk at the other end. She observed the silent, peacefully sleeping man next to her, and sighed.

She walked over to the desk and found a map on it. She recognized different locations of frontlines and important landmarks to be conquered. She turned around and looked at the crown prince. She took a piece of paper, found a pen, and scribbled down the locations of the different lines that were indicating attacks. She stopped for a moment, put the piece of paper into the pocket of the robe, leaned over and added the French troops’ planned movements to the map in front of her. She smiled to herself as she put down the pen. They had shared this information with her, those silly French. They made her betray her Vadim. Now they will feel the sting of betrayal too. She silently left the room.

At the train station, she handed over the piece of paper to a man, just as it had been planned. She stepped onto the train, wondering if those European landscapes she was to look at during her ride were going to be forever changed. She felt her life was definitely never going to be the same again.

(Parts of this story are based on actual events and people. Mata Hari never made it to the crown prince, although she had danced for the Kaiser before. Instead, she travelled through Europe, played both the Germans and the French and was eventually executed for being a double agent)

Wicked Wednesday… a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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4 Responses

  1. I love how beautifully you have worked the historic events into the story. Mata Hari was quite a woman!

    Rebel xox

  2. jupitergrant says:

    This is really well written, Deevie, an excellent blend of history and fiction. I love the ending!!

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