“Tie her to the rack”, master Koen said to me. “Make sure Little One cannot escape.”
So I tied mistress Jutta to the climbing frame sports in her own dungeon. It looked pretty much like those racks in the gym when you were in school. I didn’t want to hurt her, so my ties were rather loose. Master Koen checked her ties and re-tied all of them. This time tight.
“30 with the flogger for slave Sylvia for disobedience. Slave Jutta could escape with no effort. 15 with the flogger for slave Jutta, for dishonesty. She could have told me she was not tightly bound. We will deal with that later.” Master Koen never addressed my mistress as ‘slave’ before. It’s always ‘little one’ this, ‘little one’ that. I looked at her to see if there was any sign of guilt for doing something wrong. Jutta works hard to please master Koen. No command, however outrageous, did she fulfil as if she were carrying out a commission for the king without hesitation, accurately and with full focus. Unlike me, teasing is not in her dictionary. She lives to please him, whatever it is. She is a role model, this tiny bomb of submission.
There was only confusion in those eyes, and perhaps a bit of fear. Just a little fear is good. It keeps you sharp as a submissive. When you make a mistake, you have to wonder what your master or mistress will do. It is like watching a horror movie: you know nothing will really happen to you, and yet you are afraid to watch sometimes. If you make a mistake and you know nothing will happen, you will ultimately lose respect for your master. I speak from experience.
Jutta was wearing a neatly pressed, knee-length A-line dress, cinched at the waist with a slim belt. The dress has bright, cheerful polka dots on them. She styled her hair carefully into soft curls, adorning it with a headband. Her make-up was soft but immaculate. Tasteful red lipstick. I have never seen her without it. She looked like an ad in a magazine in the fifties. She looked so good, stretched into an X-shape. Her being fully dressed, eagle spread on the rack… It looked. Kinky.
“Slut, come and stand beside me”, Koen ordered. I ran to him. Naked, of course.
“Turn around.” I did a fast pirouette.
“Slowly!” So I did. Part of my bottom was in bandage. There were also some large gauzes on my chest.
“Perhaps you would like to tell me what I am looking at”, said Koen pointing at my nude body., pointing at bandages around my pussy.
“We went a little overboard, master, no harm done.” I said, trying to minimise collateral damage.
“Does it look I am talking to you, slut?” Koen snapped at me. I have seen him angry. His expression wasn’t one of furious anger, but of a more contained irritation, a twitching eye and the slight clenching of his jaw betraying his feelings.
“It is called ‘The Luminous Altar’, Master. It is a long plank at hip height with seven burning candles on it. I made slut walk the walk of fire, putting all candles out with her pussy.” Jutta said.
“How?”
“With one leg on each side of the plank, she had her legs tied together with a chain. When she was on her toes she was above the flames, when she stopped walking on her toes, she would kill the flame in an instant by dropping her pussy on to it. It’s not dangerous, Master. I have played this game with Ilse many times; it’s nothing to worry about. It’s perfectly safe.” Jutta said, completely unconcerned.
“As your daughter is now with her perfect master, we cannot confirm or deny that,” Koen sneered. Martin remained a weak spot. “Why the bandages if this is as safe as claimed?”
“Just a precaution, Master. The skin, already irritated and slightly inflamed, demanded gentle treatment.” Finally, Jutta belatedly understood that Koen felt she’d overstepped her bounds with me.
“Master, it’s just a game. I’m certain this game won’t cause any lasting damage, otherwise I would never play it. It takes courage Master to extinguish a flame with your tits or your pussy. And if you are a masochist, you love this challenge. You can ask your slave here. She will speak the truth.”
Koen didn’t ask me. Instead he said to mistress Jutta, “I don’t want to interfere how you treat your slave. I don’t want to constantly inspect Sylvia for wounds every time you play to ensure she’s uninjured. I realise you possess a deeper understanding and more experience than I do in managing interactions with masochists. But there are limits. Damaging my property is one of them.”
“But Master…” Jutta protested.
“Gag her.” He said to me. It didn’t feel right. She was my mistress, and I had zero interest in dominating her. I looked over to master Koen. He was in ‘Yes-sir-mood.’ Any other answer will only annoy him further. I gagged her with a red ball gag from the rack on the right. Koen waited impatiently, the riding crop slapping against his leg with a rhythmic thwack-thwack, his agitation palpable. I sat at his feet, and we both watched mistress Jutta, who was now very nervous. Master Koen just looked her in the eye. He said nothing. I don’t know how long we sat there in silence. Perhaps three or four minutes. Perhaps ten or twelve minutes. Every second an eternity. Jutta was opposite us. Soaked in sweat and crying hysterically. Her nasal passage was becoming blocked, and I worried about her breathing. Just as I was going to speak, Master Koen talked.
Master Koen was talking to me now. “Checks and balances in life ensure that no single person or entity has absolute power, fostering fairness, accountability, and harmony in relationships. I’m not stating here, for the record, that your Mistress’ use of authority was inappropriate. But I want to make sure that both of you are playing safe, sane, and consensual. So one weekend a year, 48 hours, your roles will be reversed. Jutta’s loyalty, a mirror image of the obedience she showed me, will be yours without question. Whatever she did to you, you are free to reciprocate. I’m sure you’ll pay her back, and that will settle any hard feelings between you two.”
The intensity in Koen’s eyes, a silent warning, prevented me from speaking my mind. Master Koen walked to Jutta, removed her gag, and silenced her by kissing her. From Koen, the kiss was a one-way street initially, yet Jutta’s return was overwhelming, her lips mirroring his fervour. In those moments, all I could hear was the symphony of their moans blending together in a chorus of pleasure, allowing me to stay calm and composed. A harsh, rattling gasp for air, loud in the otherwise silent dungeon, cut through the heavy air.
“Permission to speak, Master.” Jutta said, still gasping for air, all red in her face.
Koen was not in much better shape. “Speak, Little one”, he gasped.
I looked at Jutta. Suddenly, she became serious; her playful demeanour vanished, replaced by a quiet intensity. I had a feeling this would not go well.
“Master, I have no problem with a pay-back-weekend. But I must be frank and say that I cannot, and will not, guarantee that I will never harm your property. I will continue to do so, employing far more brutal and unforgiving methods. Your love for this woman should not prevent you from seeing her true self. It’s important to consider her dark side. She will be the first to admit that she needs this more than anything — more than the sustenance of food, drink, or even sleep itself.”
“Impossible.”
“Your love for Sylvia stands in the way of her desires.”
“You think I still love her?”
“Of course, Master. And please do not deny that you do. It is obvious to all of us,” Jutta said softly.
“I have not touched her since we took her back to here, Little one”, Koen said to Jutta.
“No, you didn’t master, but I wished you had fucked her daily. You have been her protector for a very long time. Perhaps it would have been easier for you just to let her go. You have shifted from tormenting your wife to torment yourself. From my perspective, there are two possibilities. The first thing to do is to hand your present back to you. Another possibility is selling her to a different master. This is a lose-lose situation; either way, I will hurt our relationship, but there is nothing else I can do,” Jutta said.
“You cannot sell her.” Koen protested.
“Of course I can. You gave her to me; therefore, she is mine, body and soul. I can do with her whatever the hell I want to. Considering his reputation and capabilities, Master Martin appears to be the most suitable choice. However, I trust you will reunite with her and resume your old life. It is possible this will make you happy; however, I can assure you with complete certainty that it will have quite the opposite effect on Sylvia.”
Our lifestyle is filled with so much nonsense and delusion that people find it hard sometimes to distinguish fantasy from wishful thinking, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. The “k”-shaped brand on my thigh, a mark of supposed ownership, does not, in fact, transform me into a kajira, a slave within the confines of the brutal GOR system. We do not live on the planet GOR. There are, however, many people in our way of life who engage in pretending to be nothing more than a GOR-slave. As if we were children ourselves, using rope and whips as substitutes for plastic tableware as props within our imaginative game of father and mother. The game is the same. We play the role of helpless slaves, imagining ourselves being sold to the highest bidder at an auction, a fate we risk facing if we fail to continuously satisfy our master’s demands. So all this big talk about renting or selling, we all knew it is an alternate reality.
I’d heard enough about myself, so I finally said something. “But…” That was as far as I came.
“Did I give you permission, slut?” My mistress said, and that was enough. It never occurred to me to continue talking. My mistress had forbidden me to talk, so I kept quiet.
“I’ll release you so we can have a calm discussion.” Koen mentioned and went for the rope over her head that was holding her arms in place.
“Do not dare to untie me”, Jutta said furiously. “You planned to punish me, so be a Master and let me see what you can deal out.”
Many of us make the mistake of underestimating Koen. A few women, but mostly men, complain that he is not up to the task of being a master. For the reader’s benefit and to aid in their understanding, please make a mental note to consult the future chapters of my journals and check for further information on this subject, as I will discuss this at greater length. If I don’t, well, I am a glutton for punishment, as you all know.
I could see in Koen’s face Jutta would get what she asked for, with perhaps a bonus.
“Grab that sponge over there and make your mistress wet all over. Use your hand to make her pussy wet as well.” Koen said to me. As calm as a peaceful summer day again. He went out of the dungeon for some reason. I felt bad for Jutta. All she was trying to do was help me, and yet, the only result was Koen’s anger directed at her, which was completely undeserved given her selfless actions.
“You struck him a blow that directly targeted his pride, Mistress, and I urge you to prepare yourself for the consequences.” I said to her.
“I know, slut. Put the gag back in. Somehow, I think that will be easier.” I did what Jutta said. She was my Mistress. If she would say ‘kill me slowly’, I would. Because she said so. I was glad she only asked for the gag.
Master Koen came back. An enormous bunch of nettles, which looked quite threatening, was contained in his gloved hand. “Fortunately, we have quite a lot of nettles near the compost heap back in the garden. Nettles thrive in nitrogen-rich soil, did you know that?” He asked Jutta, who was staring at him with huge eyes. “Moisture can soften the skin, making it more susceptible to penetration by the stinging hairs. Did you know that?”
It was the first time Jutta saw the dark side of Koen. He has one, Vantablack. Never heard of it? Vantablack absorbs up to 99.965% of visible light. He crushed a bundle of nettles against her beautiful tits. On impact, Jutta screamed. Hitting her with the nettles would hurt, but crushing them against her skin most hurt. Koen took his time. I saw a million little bumps appear on her skin. He turned to me.
“Make her tits dripping wet.”
Water did not help to ease her pain. He stuffed her bra full of nettles and put on her bra. One hook tighter than normal.
“Lick her clit.” So I did. She was dry as the Atacama Desert. I started giving small licks to her inner labia, sucking and working my way up to her clithood. Without permission, I used my index finger to stir up her pussy some. This lady surely did not like pain, and especially not when her large breasts were on fire. It took me a quite a while before her clit came out to play. I understood why. Anything against that bundle of nerves, 8000 in the glans alone, would make her jump to the roof. If she was not tied, with nowhere to go. Koen had filled her panties with a huge bundle of burn weed. In one swift movement, he released her legs and pulled her panties swiftly all the way up to her crotch. An explosion of pain made Jutta shake and burn. It left her in a world of pain, that was not our world at that time. It was a different universe. Dante would call it hell. I would not, but I could understand very well that Jutta felt that way.
Koen looked at me. “Slap her cunt in the same rhythm I am slapping her cheeks. I couldn’t see them, but the rhythmic slaps on her face, a sharp left and then a right, were unmistakable. I followed his slaps, counting them unsolicited. “Seven… eight… nine… ten”. I stopped counting, but heard another one. I was late for mine. Too late.
“Ask mistress Jutta tomorrow to deal with that”, he said unwavering.
“Yes, Master.”
SLAP, SLAP.
“Twelve, Thirteen.”
“Untie her from the rack,” Master said to me.
Mistress Jutta was a bundle of misery. As gently as I could, I retrieved her from the rack. I did not dare to hug her. Any pressure against her brassiere would cause considerable pain again.
“Slave Jutta, sit over there.” Master pointed to the other side of the dungeon. Two wooden chairs were next to the wooden horse. It took little imagination to guess who should mount the horse. As Jutta sat on the wooden chair, fresh tears fell. Master Koen sat in the middle. I was on his right, my feet 20 cm above the floor. The weight of my body completely supported by the sharp triangle between my legs. Although I wasn’t a stranger to this horse, a minute into the ride reminded me why I loathed it. Mistress Jutta was in no better shape.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Let us have a quiet chat. I was planning to do this a bit earlier, but Slave Jutta was not ready yet for a thoughtful, open conversation. I hope she is now?” He looked to his left.
“Yes, master,” Jutta said demurely.
“Good. First point on the agenda: do I still love slave Sylvia? The answer is: yes, I do. This leads to another question: Does that mean I don’t love slave Jutta or love Jutta less? The answer is, I am very much in love with my slave. She is my first among equals. She is the one that speaks her mind, as bluntly as if she was Dutch. Because of her influence, she is a stable factor in this complicated threesome. But there are limits. One of them is when my slave tells me what to do. It gives me little joy to hurt you, little one, but I need to remind you that you are not just a little one who has a nice daddy, but you are my slave as well. Perhaps I spoil you a bit too much and I have to remind you of your status. I will not apologise for loving and protecting slave Sylvia.”
“This is not a punishment for the way you treat our slave. Neither is this a retribution for trying to beat some sense into my brain. I understand why you do that, and I love you for it. You are in pain right now, because you asked for it. You said ‘be a Master and let me see what you can deal out.’ So I showed you. I am lenient with you because I choose to, but never forget that I am your master, and I can and will do with you whatever the hell I want. And that includes selling you to Master Martin so you can join your daughter in a cage, right next to her in that barn. Sweetheart, is everything clear to you now about our relationship?”
Master Koen asked Jutta.
“Yes, Sir,” Jutta said meekly.
“Good. And as for you, slut…” Koen moved over to me. “You were and still are Mistress Jutta’s property. And you will suffer beautifully for her. Once a year’s pay-back weekend remains on the calendar. Now get off that high horse and get some vinegar from the kitchen. Rinse your mistress’ body parts well until she smells like a bag of English chips.
What are you waiting for, a starter’s pistol shot?”
