The next morning she asked me if I was game for another little one day or that we would visit the tattoo shop. Boutique, I think she called it. Right. So I chose the little one day of course.
“How long has it been that you went to the zoo?” she asked me.
“Ages”, I confessed. “The last time was when the kids were six or seven. After that, they kind of lost interest.”
“That’s good, because we are going today.”
“To the zoo?” I asked, not very bright.
“No, to the strip club”, she said.
“We are going to a strip club.” I teased.
“We need to take with us the first aid kit.”
“You drive.” I said.
“I’m driving, Sir?” She looked surprised.
“Of course. These Germans drive like lunatics.” We walked to her car. An ageing Audi, but it was clean and still run well, Jutta said.
“Most masters out there like to be in the driving seat themselves”, she said semi nonchalant, following the navigation instructions. I made myself more comfortable.
“Between the person behind the wheel and the person in the back dictating the destination, who holds more power?” I said. She slowly nodded.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Anything,” she replied.
“Why did you allow Ilse to go with Martin and Helga, knowing they are going to put her through hell? As a parent, I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that.”
“After Martin died, Ilse and I became very close. We are more friends than mother and daughter. We both grieved so much over his death that we needed each other to survive. So our relationship changed from authority to equality. I needed her as much as she needed me, and it elevated our connection to an intimate level. She had known about the Master-slave relationship ever since she walked in on us when we were playing in the dungeon. And we talked about how I felt, and how I missed a master. And she reciprocated by telling me she has had these submissive feelings ever since she was a little child.”
As a kid, she loved the book ‘Ella Enchanted’ about the gift of obedience bestowed upon princess Ella, which made her instantly and literally obey any command given to her. Ilse told me she had identified with Ella so much she had her friends call her Ella in school. I realised Ilse had inherited my submissive genes and, like Ella in the book, her future looked extremely insecure and dangerous. The navigation on her phone interrupted her with detailed instructions to leave the highway. For a while she was concentrating on the road until we entered a long straight state road.
“It’s nearly impossible to find a trustworthy and good partner if you are a submissive, bordering on being a masochist, like your wife.” I protested, but she silenced me with a hand gesture.
“She is, but I we have gone through that before. We have both seen in the club that the excellent masters are all rather old. That makes sense. Older men have more life experience, they have more sexual experience and have had a career where most of them have or have had a powerful position in their work. If you are a 20-year-old girl, a man of 50 or 60 is probably not the partner you want to submit to and potentially raise a family. There are a few young masters in the club, but to be honest they are…, well how do I say this nicely? They have a lot to learn about controlling themselves, before even thinking about controlling someone else. “
“Master Martin is in an age somewhere in between and besides, he’s already married. He is not marriage material. But he is a very skilled master who can read women very well. We had a conversation with both him and his wife and they told us they could teach her. Teacher her what she wanted out of BDSM and all those things that were a red flag for her. If she has that experience under her belt, she’s a year older and wiser. And even if she finds a young master that wants to take her under his wing, she will learn him what she needs and coach him to give that to her. It will give her confidence to find the right man.”
“You have got a point there”, I had to admit.
“Do you mind if I call you Daddy, instead of Master?” Jutta asked.
“Yesterday was weird.” I said. She said nothing and waited for me to continue. “At first it was hard to understand what the attraction was. It quickly became clear to me you were not attempting to put on a bizarre performance. You really were with your heart and soul a little girl, and that made me feel suddenly very protective towards you. It was a surprising reaction that I never expected. But it felt good. I always thought that the play was bordering on incestuous role play and centred around diaper play.”
We were quiet as she had to concentrate on some really sharp hair pin corners. Out of the blue, she started to talk.
“The term ‘Daddy’ is a consensual, symbolic role-play element that involves nurturing and authority. It is exclusively between adults who have agreed to these roles. Paedophilia, on the other hand, is a psychiatric disorder characterised by an adult’s sexual attraction to prepubescent children, which is both illegal and unethical. The crucial distinction lies in that BDSM involves consensual relationships between adults, whereas paedophilia involves the exploitation of children who cannot give consent.”
“My mother passed away while giving birth to her fifth child. Even though my dad never fully recovered from the breakup, as the oldest child, I had to step up and take care of my siblings when my father started drinking excessively. I totally missed out on my childhood being always the responsible one. My husband learned me the concept of being a little. It changed my life. My husband took the responsibilities of being an adult from me, and I could be a child again. And I loved it. I felt captivated. It really resonated deep within me. At first I was kind of shy and didn’t dare to give myself completely. But his reaction to my actions made it feel natural.”
“He often called me little one, privately and in public, just like you do. David never was cruel to me like a master of a slave can be, but he corrected me if I was a brat with a few spanks or a time-out in the room’s corner. I don’t know if you want to hear this from me right now, but you are a natural Daddy Dom. You have that caring, that allowing your little to flourish and grow because encouragement is in your genes. Tell me if I’m wrong, but you want to be your slave to become the best person she can.”
“All Doms want that little one.”
“Possibly,” she responded, “but considering what I’ve witnessed from you and what Sylvia herself has shared, you possess the tender spirit that a little yearns for. I need to ask you a question: Are you up to the challenge of me being a little in the zoo?”
“Yes.” She expected more, but this is what she got.
“Oh, really?”
I had a great time yesterday.
That’s exactly what I was hoping you would say. She said.
“Maybe not the best day to go to the zoo”, Jutta said as she turned on the windshield wipers.
“Never mind, the animals don’t mind a little rain.”
She smiled. “It seems like you didn’t bring a raincoat.”
“I don’t need it. You have an umbrella on the backseat.”
The parking lot of the zoo was half empty. Good.
“Could you get me the wheelchair they provide for free at the entrance, please?”
I didn’t ask why we would need one, but went along with her plan. When I returned, she had already wrapped her upper leg up to below the knee in elastic bandages. The white bandages contrasted with her dark miniskirt above it. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, particularly with women, but I can still comprehend why I had to get the wheelchair. I lifted her from her seat and carried her into the wheelchair. There was no queue at the ticket office when we arrived.
“My Daddy and I are going to see the animals today. I want to go see the monkeys. I love monkeys. They are so funny, aren’t they, Daddy?” Jutta said in a very childish tone.
“Monkeys can be hilarious, Jutta”, I said in my best patronising tone.
“Can I pay, please Daddy? Please, I want to pay.” This time a nagging tone that children use when they want something they likely aren’t getting. Like a toy in the toy store. Daddy, can I have that one? No, we are not buying something here. I looked back on many confrontations with my misbehaving boys in the toy store. The tone they used then was a copy of Jutta’s tone of voice just now.
“No, little one. The sooner we have paid for our tickets, the sooner you can see the monkeys.”
The cashier, a lady in her fifties who was on the heavier side, went from being surprised to understanding when she noticed that the woman in the wheelchair, who was also around her age, was not conforming to societal expectations of how someone her age should behave.
“That will be one ticket, your…” she hesitated. “Daughter is free.” She pointed at a sign on the window that stated “disabled individuals only need to pay for their caregiver.”
“The person you are referring to as my daughter is actually my wife”. I said coldly.
“Because she is in a wheelchair, she is exempt from paying. However, you have the option to pay if you want, but it is unnecessary. Are you sure you are up to the whole day in the zoo, love?” she asked compassionately as I paid for our entrance as the rain came pouring down now.
“She insisted on going to the zoo today. Our anniversary tradition is going to the zoo. This morning, when I suggested we could skip this year because of the accident, she insisted on going. So here we are.” I lied smoothly.
She cooed, “I can see that you are still both very much in love.”
As I grinned, I got my ticket and an additional one for Jutta, then I stopped at the entrance for the zoo photographer to take a picture. A girl of high school age with a big digital camera under her raincoat.
“Please pause a second for making a nice photo of the two of you?” she said.
As it started raining cats and dogs now, posing for a picture was the last priority on my list. Pushing Jutta’s wheelchair and holding an umbrella was not possible, so I gave Jutta the brolly.
“Yes, Daddy I want pictures. Lots of pictures. Can we, can we, please, please, pretty please? I will be nice all day, I promise. Please?” Jutta pleaded.
“Of course we can, little one. But you will have to close the umbrella, otherwise we don’t see a thing of you.” I teased.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Could you take a couple more, please of the both of us?” The girl seemed satisfied enough to do so, probably because she had little else to keep herself occupied because of the adverse weather.
“Kiss Daddy, kissy, kiss.” Jutta said. I gave her a peck on the lips, but that was not enough for little Jutta.
“No, no, Daddy, that doesn’t count. Kiss me like this!” She grabbed my head and gave me a lengthy French Kiss.
“It’s our wedding anniversary today.” I said as an explanatory excuse to the photograph girl.
“Congratulations! The photos will be ready in two hours. You can pick them up at that rack over there.” She said. I thanked her, and we followed the signs on Park Route. We visited the lions and zebras. The camels and the sea otters. And the monkeys.
The monkey habitat was teeming with life and energy. Tall, sturdy trees, their branches intertwining with vines, dangle from the branches, creating swinging ropes for the monkeys to play on. Some trees have platforms and ropes attached, adding to the fun. In the centre of the habitat, there’s a large, rocky outcrop where a few monkeys sit, grooming each other under the warm sunlight. Nearby, a small waterfall cascades into a clear pool, where a couple of younger monkeys splash and play in the water. The sound of the water mingles with the chatter and calls of the monkeys, creating a lively atmosphere in the otherwise silent zoo.
“Look Daddy, they are fighting!”
“They are not fighting, little one, just playing.”
“I find it sad if he hurts him.” She insisted.
“No look, they are playing tag, see?” The monkey we were observing may or may not have been seeking revenge, but Jutta seemed appeased by the answer. Although the rain had ceased, I was still soaked.
“What do you say about a cup of warm coffee, little one?”
She giggled. “Daddy, you know I don’t drink coffee.”
“Well, maybe some hot chocolate for you?
We arrived at the huge cafeteria. A handful of people and bored staff were behind the counter.
“What do you want?”
“Could I get a big serving of fries, please?” With her hands, she visually represented the size of the fries on her plate. At its peak, the fries measured 20 centimetres in height.
“My, that is quite a bit. Are you absolutely certain that you don’t want something more nutritious, like a lovely salad?”
She burst into laughter and said, “No way, Daddy! Only bunnies eat salad.”
Sporting a smile, I ordered and treated myself to a pile of junk food as well. Anything to get the motor running to put some warmth up my body. I paid a ridiculous amount of money and sat down. My hamburger had already vanished by the time she had a few fries. Halfway to lunch, Jutta turned to two little kids, two tables away from us. Speaking in a voice that was a whisper but was still audible to half the room, she addressed the children.
“When my father is hungry, he tends to get grumpy, but aside from that, he is quite nice. Your daddy seems not happy as well.”
As soon as the kids burst into giggles, the mother swiftly stood up and hurriedly instructed her children to put on their coats, while the grumpy dad collected the tray and made his way back to the cleaning belt in the restaurant’s corner.
“Daddy, I have to pee.”
I cleaned up and took Jutta in her wheelchair to the toilets for the disabled. I wheeled Jutta in.
“Don’t forget to lock from the inside, little one.”
“Daddy! You cannot leave me here!” Jutta cried actual tears. Don’t ask me how she produced them in that very minute, but she did. “Help me, please daddy?”
I sighed and got in as well, before we created a scene outside the bathroom door.
“Little one, you are big enough to do this by yourself.”
She cried louder and her whole body was sobbing now. “I cannot get out of the wheelchair, daddy. It hurts too much. Please help me?”
I lifted her from the wheelchair and put her in front of the toilet. She pulled her string from beneath her miniskirt all by herself and sat down. I turned around and heard a loud hissing sound as she relieved herself.
“Daddy?” she said in a small, childish voice. “Can you pull up my panties for me? I can’t reach them.” With no commented I grabbed her panties and gently pulled them up again, leaving the last bit to her. Without thinking, I pressed my lips against her abdomen and blew a raspberry, trying to inject a bit of lightheartedness.
She giggled “DADDY!”
With care, I guided her back to the chair, aided her in washing her hands, and discreetly left the bathroom without causing a spectacle.
“Daddy. Do you mind if we go home now? I am tired.”
We made our way back to the car. I was happy to head home, since my clothes were still damp and uncomfortable. We made a brief detour to the photo booth in order to retrieve our pictures. It came as no surprise that Jutta wanted all six of them.
Back on the road again, she turned up the heat to maximum, and that felt good. We both were quiet for a long time.
“I finally truly understand it. It goes beyond just my mind, reaching deep into my heart and soul. Thank you so much Jutta for finally make me see.”
“What are you talking about, Master Koen?” She said.
“It has taken me quite some time to process Sylvia’s departure, and I struggled to comprehend why I couldn’t provide her with what she desired. It was perplexing for me to grasp the unfulfilling emotions she felt as they showed a longing for something that was lacking. And finally, after today… the penny dropped. I always thought Daddy Doms were kind of sick person. Pretend that you are the father of a child and then fucking her. It was as close to incest as one can get.”
“But you were so convinced I had the genes of Daddy Dom in me, so yesterday and today I went in with an open mind. And I… realised Sylvia must have felt this with Martin. A sense of coming home, a feeling that filled a void in me. I had never felt that way before and didn’t even know it existed.”
“So I didn’t embarrass you today?”
“It was fucking wonderful, Jutta. I think I’m hooked. It wasn’t a simple matter of liking it. I loved it.”
I saw a radiant smile spread across Jutta’s face as if the sun broke through, illuminating her with pure happiness.
“Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“Of course not! My honesty comes with a lifetime warranty.”