Weekends always felt like being sent away. Like a child dropped in a daycare centre, Mum and Dad both too busy to care. I could not but feel myself cast out – not by strangers, but by the two people I believed were closest to my heart. As Friday evening arrived, I often was overcome by a torrent of negative emotions; a sense of betrayal washed over me, intertwined with jealousy, and a feeling of abandonment. Intellectually, I grasped they needed alone time, but emotionally, I felt like the third wheel on a wagon. Left out and insignificant. I’m not good at being alone.
For two days, Koen would lavish her with attention, his focus solely on her, treating her like his precious princess. And my mistress, who was so good to me, loved it. I had a new room, a normal bedroom, and my solitary confinements in my ‘cell’ were a thing of the past. At least on weekends. Keeping myself entertained proved challenging. I went off shopping. I went to the cinema. A pity the Germans don’t use subtitles in their movies. It is a shame and quite regrettable that films in Germany rarely utilise subtitles. Hearing ‘möge die Macht mit dir sein’ is not quite the same as ‘may the force be with you.’ I liked to have dinner in a restaurant on my own, but I was fed up with men who, when I was eating alone, felt the need to join me at my table. So most Saturdays I went back to the hotel and watched Netflix in my room.
I couldn’t see the fascination my mistress had with DD/lg (Daddy Dom/little girl) play. I don’t know if I could remain serious, to see my mistress play with Barbies and wearing nappies. It’s kind of ridiculous, wouldn’t you agree? I mean… what has that got to do with a B and a D and a S and an M?
I have never seen them play. It’s always behind closed doors. Well, the closed door of her bedroom, to be precise. I’m curious, though. With payback weekend just around the corner, I was eager to spring my surprise on them. I believe my mistress expected I would retaliate and respond to her harsh behaviour with similar severity, mirroring her tough treatment of me. My impression was that Koen harboured a silent wish for the retaliation to be confined to Jutta and me, allowing him to remain uninvolved. Tough luck for both of them.
“Next weekend is payback weekend. Jutta, you will obey Sylvia as if you would obey me.”
“Yes, master.”
Turning to me, Koen tried to look impassive. “Can I trust you to be the mistress of the love of my heart, slave Sylvia?”
“No.” I said.
His jaw dropped, and he stared at me, speechless. I let out a dry chuckle; his reaction was a hilarious mix of disbelief and nervous reflex. I saw them hesitate for a second, and I could tell he was questioning whether or not he had misheard me. He had asked a question expecting reassurance, but instead, he had been handed the answer he wasn’t ready for.
“Explain, slave!” He growled.
“To avoid upsetting Jutta, perhaps it’s best if we discuss this privately.” I tried.
Although Jutta stood up to leave the room, Koen was determined to prevent her from doing so and ignored her attempts to depart. “Jutta will stay here, no matter what happens. I am completely open and honest with her, and it is my wish that this will always remain the case.”
“I want to spend next weekend with you both as Jutta’s mama.”
“No.” Jutta and Koen said at the same time.
“Listen, I understand that this is Jutta’s and your thing. I do. I get that. This is alone time, a special moment of connection, just for you two. Am I right?”
Her eyes alert and watchful, Jutta offered a quick nod, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
“Do you know what is worse than not knowing what is going on behind your closed bedroom door?” I answered my rhetorical question: “It’s imagining what is going on there. Look, I’m not jealous of your time alone. Well, perhaps I am, but that shouldn’t be your problem. I am not asking to be there with you every weekend. Just once a year would be enough to feel me… feel included.”
We patiently waited to hear what Koen’s decision would be. You might assume that we make all the decisions in our household, but that couldn’t be further from the reality of how things actually work. Although we come up with suggestions and recommendations, the ultimate decision-making authority rests solely with Koen.
“Weekend days are special for Jutta and myself. To strengthen our bond and create lasting memories, we need that special time alone, a time that is meaningful for the both of us. You understand this perfectly, I know. And yet it’s a fact that this excludes you from that part of our lives. Neither Jutta nor I wish for you to suffer harm from that. Playing the mommy-role, however, is completely out of the question. The only way I will allow you to be there is as a silent observer. A peeping Tom. If you still want to, you and Jutta can get the cage from the dungeon and put it in the middle of Jutta’s bedroom. I will gag you, so you cannot speak, but still can see and hear and even smell everything that we do. There’s enough room in the cage for you to turn around, so you will have a front-row seat in the house. You can be there, but I don’t want to hear a sound from you. If you don’t like that suggestion, feel free to offer another.”
“I accept, Master.” I said.
When we lugged the cage to the bedroom, I had the chance to talk to Mistress about this.
“Mistress, if you truly object, we can cancel it.” I opened.
“It is sweet of you to say so, slut. But my Master has spoken. We do not always have to agree with his judgement. That goes for you, but for me as well. It doesn’t matter what we think about it. We are slaves and all we have to do is follow his orders.”
“Following his orders makes me happy, Mistress.”
“It’s no different for me.” My mistress said.
On Saturday morning, I crawled into the cage. I guess this room once was the living room. I have never before seen a bedroom of such impressive size as this one in any home I’ve ever visited. Even with the cage in the middle, there was plenty of space to… do whatever they did here. My Mistress attentively put some soft blankets on the bottom. I locked the cage and shoved the key a little out of my reach. I had sufficiently locked myself in. Part of the deal was that I would gag myself. I could remove the gag at any moment because my hands were not bound.
Koen and Jutta came into the room, completely ignoring me. He sat down in his comfy chair and Jutta crawled on his lap. She put a thumb in her mouth and started sucking on it. Koen caressed her hair lazily. Jutta was still in her PJs and not fully awake, it seemed.
“Little one?”
“Hmm, hmm”, she moaned around her thumb.
“It’s time to get something into your tummy, girl. You haven’t got your breakfast yet.”
Jutta took her thumb from her mouth and almost yelled: “Pancakes, daddy. I want pancakes.”
“We have had pancakes yesterday, pretty girl. We are having oatmeal for breakfast today, and it is much better for you than pancakes. Well done, Daddy. Thank you for all these good nutrients that you are giving me,” Koen said mockingly.
“I don’t like nutrinunts! Nutrinunts taste bad. I want something yummy. Bread with Nutella! That’s good for you, too.” I heard them continue their argument in the kitchen. Somehow I felt that Jutta had to eat oatmeal as well, was enough payback for the entire weekend. Every day she made oatmeal for me and I ate it without the use of my hands on the floor. I had become damn good at it, too. Now she got a cookie from her own dough, and she didn’t like it much. The screaming from the kitchen grew louder.
“I won’t eat it. I hate it!” Jutta screamed.
“Why don’t we eat it in your room, and not in the kitchen?”
“I can watch TV and eat.”
“Oh, no young lady. I already said, no TV.”
“Oh, daddy, I will eat everything and my plate as well. Please, can I watch TV? Daniel Tiger’s Neighbourhood is on, and I have not seen it for like forever! I want to see Katerina Kittycat, Prince Wednesday and O the Owl. I have missed them, daddy, you always say: No television, no television.” Her impression of his voice was spot on. “Daddy, I NEED to see this.”
Jutta ended up with a plate on her lap in front of the TV. Two things surprised me; one: the ease with which Jutta got her way and two: she did indeed know exactly what time which children’s program was on. I smiled around my gag – if you think that is easy try it out some sunny day – as I noticed Koen was far away in his book again, not paying attention to the TV, nor to Jutta’s behaviour and she had not eaten one bite from her oatmeal yet.
The program ended, and they aired another episode immediately afterwards. Koen finally woke up from his book and sighed.
“Little one, you said you would eat if I let you watch. And your spoon is still clean. How can that be?”
“Perhaps I licked it clean, daddy,” Jutta giggled.
“No, you did not. Eat your oatmeal. This is the last time I am telling you this.”
“It’s cold, daddy. I can’t eat this,” Jutta said.
Another sigh from Koen. “OK, I will heat it up, and then you finish it all.” Koen went away, and I heard in the kitchen the ping from the microwave. He caressed her hair.
“Eat, my little one. This is really good for you. It makes you stronger and sharper.”
“It’s too hot! I can’t eat that.”
“Then you have to blow,” Koen said dryly.
“It is burnt. You have burnt it, Daddy. I can’t eat burned eatings.”
“Eat.”
“No!”
“Last chance, Jutta. I am serious now. You eat like a good little girl and then we can do some fun things today. If not, we will have to stay inside all day long.”
Jutta grabbed her bowl in both hands and threw it, oatmeal and all, on the floor. The stone bowl lay on the ground in five pieces, covered in porridge.
What a world of difference between the adult Jutta and her child version! That recalcitrant toddler behaviour was so far removed from the calm, always self-assured Mistress that you couldn’t imagine this was the same woman. Completely in her role, Jutta started crying.
“You know what happens next little one.” Koen grabbed Jutta’s hand and led the sobbing girl to a corner of the room. These were actual tears. What I saw shocked me. These were not just to adults playing doctor, but at least for her, this was total reality.
“Stop crying. You threw the porridge on the floor on purpose. That’s why you’re standing here in the corner. Cool down a bit, girl. I’ll be back with a bowl of fresh porridge.” Koen meticulously cleaned up the mess, ensuring he collected every broken piece. When he was finished, I realised he had been watching her all the time.
“You can come back now, little one,” he said and sat down in his chair. Jutta came running towards him. Koen placed a finger on his lips to keep her quiet. “So, I hope you have learned we will not throw food around here, and certainly not breaking things. You walk a lot on barefoot here, and if you stand on one of the shards, it will do ‘outh’. So what is my girl going to say?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I will not do it again.” Zuzanna said in a tiny voice.
“Good girl. Now come here and give me a big hug. Daddy still loves you, you know. How could I not? You are my princess.”
I surprisingly felt tears on my cheeks. What I just had seen seemed so genuine, so delicate and intimate. I felt a prickling unease, like I was violating a sacred boundary, as I watched them. I never felt that way about the sex-games they played, oddly enough. It had been a stupid wish of mine, probably fuelled by jealousy. I had no business being here. When Koen was in the kitchen, I asked my Mistress to open the cage door for me. Without a word, she complied with my request. I hugged her as tight as I could.
“I am sorry, Mistress. I am so sorry. This is both Koen’s and your thing. And the interaction between you both is so intense and beautiful that you should that you both have to go through it together. With no onlookers around. I’m sorry I forced myself on you like that. Please tell Koen that he’s a great father?” I bolted to the door in shame and ran past Koen to my room.
Jutta came to my room a few hours later. Wearing the Mistress’ clothes this time.
“What is wrong, slut?” She asked.
“I was wrong in forcing myself upon you guys”, I said calmly. “Forgive a poor slave her jealousy, Mistress. What transpires between you and your Master is private. I promise now I have seen you both, I will never be jealous again.”
“It’s a difficult relationship we have, my slut. Because we all love each other doesn’t mean that we can’t be human and feel jealousy or angry sometimes. We all have to deal with powerful emotions sometimes. By looking out for one another, the three of us can build a stronger relationship than most married couples.” Jutta hugged me once more, and hopped back to her daddy, back to her safe haven, back in time.
Alone in my room, I was browsing in my old diaries. Don’t understand me wrong, my diary is not one book, it’s three. I started journalling before it became popular. I think I started when I was nine years old. Maybe 10. It seemed a long time ago. Among the many diaries I looked through, one fell open to the page that I had revisited most frequently.
Dear Diary,
June 13th
We have a new boy in class this year. He comes from the big city and his name is Koen. Koen de Groen. School gossip already confirmed he was different. How different appeared on Monday morning.
I was hanging out with my friends, Zuzanna and Petra, when he came up to us. It takes guts to go to a group of girls in a full schoolyard and speak to them. Most boys shy away from us, or act like fools. This guy nodded to Zuzanna and Petra and turned to me.
“Pleased to meet you princess, I am your humble servant Koen. Koen de Groen. And I will spend my first paycheck on suing my parents for giving me a first name that rhymes with my last name. I can hardly wait, my lady, to hear your name, which is undoubtedly as beautiful as you are.” The girls giggle. And so did I. So I graciously give him my name, I hope. As much grace as a giggling schoolgirl can muster. I introduced him to my friends.
“As beautiful as all you pretty ladies are, you will have to forgive me. I have only eyes for my princess Sylvia here.” That brought fresh rounds of giggles, but they finally left us alone.
“I am sorry about chasing your friends away, but I cannot feel sad about it. So I have to do two things. The first is to chase your current boyfriend away, and the second to plan a date for our wedding.”
He is fourteen. Other boys made funny sounds with their voices suddenly high and unexpectedly low. Hello. A high hel and a low lo. I am in love with Koen’s voice. He carries a rich, resonant timbre, like Leonard Cohen. Perhaps he is an old man in a boyish body.
He sounds like he was wise beyond his years. When he opens his mouth, people listen. He talks to girls. More accurately, he listens to girls. And he makes sensible comments. He doesn’t agree with everything we say, unlike the other guys. And that is so sexy.
After a week in school, I claimed him and stuck to him like a creeper. I have never had a boy with whom I could talk about literally anything. I would be comfortable sharing anything with him, even if I was suffering from menstrual discomfort. What fourteen-year-old boy buys chocolate for his girlfriend when she has cramps? Koen did. It doesn’t help, but it’s sweet, anyway. He not only calls me his princess, he treats me as one. I am the subject of envy for every girl in my class, and even those in the classes above us.