“Master, I need to talk to you for a moment. I would really like to go shopping with Zuzanna next week. It has been a long time since we have shopped together and she has superb taste. She always knows how to pick out the most beautiful things for me and is usually on sale as well. I need to ask your permission to go, please, Master?”
It took some effort on my part to strain and listen closely as Sylvia whispered into her phone, making it difficult to catch her words. She was out on a lunch date with her best friend, Zuzanna. A school friend she kept seeing all those years. They were two peas in a pod. Without a doubt, Zuzanna was privy to every intimate detail of our marriage, even the ones that made us blush, and vice versa.
“Why are you whispering, little one?” I asked.
“I’m in the bathroom, Sir,” she said, the sound of running water in the background. “Before deciding, I had to ask for your permission. Normally I would have just waited and asked you first, but she needs to know right away, so I went to the toilet to call you.”
I raised my voice so they could hear me in the next stall. “Little One. Stop this nonsense. If you have anything to ask, don’t hide in a toilet, but go to your friend and say, excuse me, I just have to ask my master for permission,” and hung up.
It was interesting to find out whether or not she would call me back. She could just let it slip, but I also knew the attraction of shopping with her friend. I waited a while by the phone, but finally went on making lunch for myself as she apparently chickened out of it.
My phone sung its ringtone. Hmmm.
“Master, I would like to ask your permission to go tomorrow out to shop with Zuzanna.” I heard Zuzanna giggle in the background. “Can I go, Sir? I would really love to.”
“Of course you can go, little one.”
“Thank you, Master.” I disconnected. It was nice that Sylvia now had someone to talk about her feelings and what was happening to her. She was a sharing person. She needed to talk and feel. A shared secret would make the talk easier for her.
When she came home, she was all fired up. There was such much to tell about her conversation and it had to come all out, and all at once as she passed our front door. I held my hand in a stop-gesture.
“Little one, we have a new rule. The old Sylvia could go on for an hour and tell me all the details of how Zuzanna responded to your little confession. However.” I paused. I had her attention now.
“However”, I repeated, “This is the all new Sylvia, the renewed and improved version of herself. And with the renewed Sylvia, the moment she steps through our door, she realises she is not the most important thing anymore, that her story can wait. Her master is what her entire focus is on. And she trusts he will give her enough space to tell her the complete story when he is ready. And not a second before. So what would be our new rule, little one?”
“A new rule, Master?”
“Whenever you return home – not just briefly stepping out to take out the trash…”
“I never put the garbage out in all these years, Master. You do.”
“Stop interrupting me. As I said, you go straight to the attic, clothed as you are, in your shorts or dripping wet from the rain. You will undress in there until you are nude. Kneel in a corner of the dungeon and say your mantra over and over again. Tell me your mantra, little one.”
Like she did so many years ago, she went to her knees and closed her eyes. Her face changed as I reminded her of the mantra. Like she had finally found the peace she had been searching for. Her eyes, once filled with worry, softened, and a gentle smile curled at the corners of her lips. The tension that had gripped her features melted away, leaving behind an expression of serenity. It was as if all the burdens she had carried for so long had been lifted, and in that moment, she was free. Softly, Sylvia said, still on her knees.
“Eternal flame of my heart. I am yours.
With every breath, our souls intertwine.
Love’s pure essence binds us as one.
In your presence, I am whole. I am home.”
“Repeat it over and over again, little one. Leave the real world behind you. You are with your master now. He will take care of you and all your needs. You are not just home, you are his home.”
Like every so often before, emotion came out through tears silently streaming down her cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of release—a quiet acknowledgement of the deep, unspoken feelings in words we could not express any other way.
“Take 10 minutes to meditate on your new role and then change into your slave dress. It will help you feel with every inch of your nude body against the fabric that you are vulnerable and in need of my protection. Not because you are weak, but because you are strong enough to surrender. Knowing that you make me happier than ever before, by doing so.”
“Oh, master. What did I do to deserve you? I will do better in the future, I swear I will.” Sylvia babbled, her cheeks still wet with tears. On her knees, she lowered my zipper. Do you know the difference between a blowjob and a face fuck? Whenever Sylvia blows me, she folds her hands on her back. With no influence or suggestion from me. Without a single tie. And you know what that does to you? If you don’t, you clearly never have had the experience. Teach her, learn her to make it a completely automatic gesture. The rewards are beyond human imagination. With a blowjob, the woman uses her hands to control the depth, the speed and the pace of the fuck. But if you fuck her face with her hands behind her back, you are the one that controls her. Imagine there is no difference between fucking her cunt or her face. Make sure her hair is long enough for you to push and pull her face however you like it. The feeling of power that washes over you in waves at that moment is irresistible, even for the most vanilla guy in the world.
It’s the little things that mean a lot.
“What are you doing, Master?”
“Tell me what I am doing, little one.” She looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
“You are tying my legs to the bed frame, obviously. I thought we were going to sleep now, Master, but if you want to continue playing…”
I could see she was tired. Her pussy was filled with two doses of the finest quality of semen possible. She was confused and thought we were done. She had to do all the work to receive the second load, so I could see sleep was on top of her agenda. It was both technically possible and practically impossible she would reach down and release her legs from the rope. I doubted she could reach the floor with her feet. The rope was that short. I just walked around to my side of the bed and slid in.
“Goodnight, little one. Sleep well. Love you.”
“WHAT? Are you going to leave me like this, Master? You can’t. You know I often have to get out of bed at nights to go the bathroom.”
“I know.”
“How am I going to untie myself, and do I need to retie myself after?”
“You can’t. If you need to go to the bathroom, you wake me up and ask your master if you can go.”
“Really?” She looked at me with those enormous eyes of hers, and her gaze held a question, a plea of understanding and I silent hope I could see beyond the surface to the depths of what she was feeling. I just nodded to her, and all I could see was love coming back at me.
“Master, I truly hope I can sleep like this.”
“Little one, this will be the way you sleep every single night from now on, as it is the new routine we have established. Sleep well, I love you.”
“I need your debit card, little one.”
I assume the Dutch use their debit card like Americans use a credit card. For anything and everything. Here we pay a newspaper and a new car with our ‘pinpas’. So it didn’t surprise me when Sylvia said, “But… I’m going shopping with Zuzanna today.”
“Do I need to ask again, pretty one?”
“No, Sir.” I could use a metaphorical shovel to wipe away the disappointment from Sylvia’s face. “That means I won’t be able to buy anything today.”
That sounded like my boys in the toy store when they were young. She looked awful young now, my Sylvia. Did I tell you guys how pretty she is? Do you mind if I take a moment to ramble about her beauty? You do? It’s not your lucky day, today. Where do I even begin with describing the beauty of my wife? It’s like trying to capture the sun’s warmth in a single ray or the depth of the ocean in a handful of water. Her beauty is something that goes beyond what words can express, but I’ll try my best.
On the outside, she’s stunning in a way that makes time stop for a second whenever I look at her. The combination of her petite frame and the way her long hair nearly reaches her butt. Or how her smile can brighten the days. Her eyes, those incredible eyes, reflecting kindness, wisdom, and a hint of mischief that I absolutely adore. And her laughter—oh, her laughter. It’s a sound that’s both comforting and exhilarating. Yet it’s her inner beauty that truly captivates me, the kind that only gets more profound the more you know her. She has this incredible strength, an inner fire that keeps burning even through the hardest times. There’s a grace to her that doesn’t come from how she moves, but from how she treats people—with compassion, empathy, and a level of understanding that makes you feel you’re the most important person in the world when she’s with you. She’s wise in a way that’s not just about knowing things, but about knowing people, understanding them in ways that they sometimes don’t even understand themselves.
And then there’s her heart, which is her most beautiful feature of all. It’s a heart that loves fiercely, protects those she cares about, and never hesitates to give of itself. She’s the kind of person who will stay up late to listen to a friend in need, and has done so many times in the past. A woman who will go out of her way to make someone’s day better, even when she’s exhausted. It’s a heart that’s been through so much, yet still beats with hope and love, never growing cold or bitter. To say that my wife is beautiful is an understatement. She’s a force of nature, a blend of everything that is good and true and wonderful in this world. I am in awe of her, and I feel incredibly lucky that she chose to share her life with me. These last months prove how special she is, and I can’t help but fall in love with her all over again.
I grabbed my wallet and pulled out six fifty euro bills. Made fresh by our ATM this morning, still crisp like warm croissants. “Is this enough?”
“More than enough, Master. Thank you.”
“I will hold on to your bank card. You won’t be needing it anymore. Bring me a receipt from everything you buy, little one. And…”
“Yes, master?” She looked a bit like she might crumble under my look, but then something shifted. She squared her shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and in that instant, I could see the courage battling to overcome the anxiety.
“… And send me a selfie of every outfit you are planning to buy. Use the mirror in the fitting room. Ask me permission to buy it. If I don’t respond within 3 minutes, you can use your own judgement. Otherwise, use mine.”
She smiled a big smile. “Of course, Master. May I kiss you?”
So we kissed for a long time and she left with Zuzanna to better places. According to Zuzanna, heaven looked like a giant clothing store. It was now ten o’clock, and I certainly didn’t expect them back until six. After an hour, my phone sang. Sylvia’s face appeared on the screen. I could see that she was not comfortable being in this semi-private room, where anyone could hear what I had to say.
“Put on your airpods, little one,” I said and waited until she had. She looked much more relaxed now.
“Thank you so much, Master. You are so good to me.” She whispered. “Do you want to see what I have on?”
“Show me, little one.” I half expected her to be nude, but that was wishful thinking. She flipped the camera on her phone and pointed to the mirror.
“Describe to me, little one, what you like about this dress, pretty one.”
“Master, when I’m wearing this sexy, elegant evening dress the moment the fabric brushes my skin, I feel a surge of confidence as if the dress is an armour made of beauty and refinement. The way the dress drapes, the way it moves with me, every detail has been chosen with care, and I can feel the elegance of it elevating my entire presence. In this dress, I feel admired, not just by others, but by myself as well. I feel seen. I’m more than a small boobed woman, and I feel the power and grace of the dress. It’s a feeling that’s both intoxicating and liberating, Sir.”
“Looks like that dress did little for you.” I said dryly. Can you afford it, little one?”
“Do you approve of it, Sir?”
“It looks gorgeous on you, little one. I can’t wait for you to come home so I can rip it off you and fuck you senseless.”
Sylvia blushed. “Zuzanna is still looking for others. I will keep this one apart, yes?”
“Whenever you are ready, call me.”, I said and pushed the red button with the phone on it. My phone rang three times more, but none of the dresses she had on exited me as the first one. I could see her friend behind her, presumably to help her dress. I couldn’t phantom another guy in my fitting room, but then again, I’m not a woman. Then the phone rang once again, I was surprised. I thought she had made her choice after the last call.
Even more surprised after I saw the women had changed positions. Sylvia was in the back now and Zuzanna was standing in front of the mirror holding Sylvia’s phone, with white plugs in her ears.
“Do you like this dress, Sir? And don’t ask me to describe it, because I’m not into that kind of romantic shit!” Like so many best friends, Sylvia and Zuzanna were totally different. Sylvia was small in stature, almost flat chested and elegant. Zuzanna was one full head higher, four cup sizes bigger. 20 kg more weight, I guessed, and with a skin that was slightly tanned even in winter. Sylvia was tactful, Zuzanna was blunt. Together, they formed a bond that no one could break, and luckily no one tried, especially not me.
“Good, so I will describe the dress for you, girl. These days, so many men get criticised for looking at a woman’s breasts. And though I value you very much as a friend, Zuzanna, if you buy this dress, I will look at your tits all day long. There must be magnets in this dress because I do not know how they can make a revealing strapless dress like this, without you having to live in fear if this thing will drop. And when it drops, it becomes very, very clear that you are wearing nothing under that. You know I am a breast man, Zuzanna, and I always try to be respectful and look you in the eye. But if you buy this dress, that is simply not possible. The magnets in the dress will pull my eyes to it, and there will be nothing I can do about it.”
She blushed and giggled, like a child discovering a hidden secret for the first time. My screen went blank.
Without even acknowledging me, Sylvia came back after six indeed. She went straight up to the attic, and I smiled. Good girl, little one.
After fifteen minutes, she descended, wearing her blue slave dress. She looked good enough to eat. She came to me and knelt before me. First, she kissed my right hand, and then she moved on to my left hand. Then she took my fingers into her mouth one by one and started sucking on it. All this time, she looked into my eyes and made me feel like the most important and powerful man in the universe. Superman and Batman all in one.
“Thank you for the dress, Master. It’s a wonderful gift and I cannot wait to wear it. And thank you for whatever you said to Zuzanna. She made it clear she wouldn’t repeat what you had said to her. She’s not so lucky as me, Master. Like a parched plant reaching desperately for the sun, she is starving for attention. And God bless your soul, you said exactly the words that she needed to her. In this world, your kindness, Sir, is a rarity that is truly remarkable.”
I’m sure you’re not interested in a detailed description of the hours that we fucked like bunnies that night. Let me just say we were both completely drained by the time we crawled into bed that night. I do not know how long it took Sylvia to sleep with her ankles tied to the bed. I know I was gone within a few minutes.