With the wedding now a cherished memory, Jutta and Koen took a short honeymoon, a relaxing escape to enjoy some quality time together as newlyweds. Without me. I drove them to Schiphol International Airport, where they checked in for their flights. They looked happy. Happily married.
I wanted to say goodbye in the departure hall and go home as soon as I could. This whole thing was far from pleasant.
“We would be grateful, Master for your indulgence, to allow us a quick trip to the girls’ restroom,” Jutta explained, seeking his leave. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, wasn’t it? She never needed permission to visit the bathroom, anyway. Maintaining a distance of precisely two steps, I trailed behind her. Observing her deceleration as she carefully manoeuvred through the bustling departure area, where many people were walking without paying attention to their surroundings, I mirrored her cautious approach by slowing my pace.
The women’s bathroom at Schiphol International Airport is a whirlwind of movement, mirrors, and muffled conversations. The scent of soap, perfume, and airport air freshener mingles in the air, punctuated by the occasional sharp hiss of an automatic air dryer.
A row of sleek, well-lit mirrors stretches across one wall, where women of all ages and backgrounds stand, adjusting their hair, touching up makeup, or simply taking a moment to collect themselves. Some are hurriedly swiping on lipstick, while others carefully apply mascara with steady hands, their expressions focused. A traveller in a business suit balances her phone between her ear and shoulder, murmuring into it as she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ears.
Further back, the soft clatter of suitcase wheels echoes as women navigate between stalls, some struggling with overstuffed bags or juggling young children. A mother wrangles a squirming toddler onto a changing table, her voice a mix of exhaustion and patience.
Despite the bustle, there’s a strange sense of order—an unspoken choreography of women on the move, each in her own world yet sharing this transient space, a brief pause in the endless flow of travel.
Immediately, and without any further ado, Jutta pulled me into an unoccupied stall. With a firm grip on my neck, she draws me closer for a passionate and intense kiss that lasts for a while. I have no doubt that the kiss she kissed me with all the love she felt for me. It worked, and a noticeable lightness filled my body washed over me instantly. Around me I heard the toilets flush in an unpredictable symphony, and the automatic faucets gurgled to life with a metallic hum as hands darted beneath them.
“Raise your skirt, slut,” Jutta ordered. In a single, fluid motion, I pulled my long, black skirt up from around my ankles, the smooth material whispering against my legs, holding it at my waist. I am giving her an unrestricted view of my bare pussy. Kissing me again, she inserts one finger into my dew-filled cave and masturbates me like as though we were standing behind the school shed, vulnerable and exposed, and a sudden discovery of our presence was imminent. All I could do was moan in unbridled lust.
She pulls back to look me in the eye as two of her fingers now are doing a frantic dance in my sopping pussy. Perhaps she will grant me an orgasm as a farewell gift. I feel as though a seemingly endless amount of time has elapsed since I was last permitted to come. My nipples are burning with desire as her other hand rubs them through my clothes. She must have seen in my eyes I was on the verge of coming. Women know much better than men where our breaking point is. Seconds before my body would release all that pent-up feelings into a glorious, devastating orgasm, she pulls back. Overwhelmed by disappointment, my body trembled uncontrollably, causing me to collapse, sinking weakly through my legs before landing with a thud on the toilet seat. Mistress smiled gently and rubbed her fingers under my nose.
“That is to remember me by, slut”, she whispered softly in my ear. Then again, suddenly all business, she picked up her bag and retrieved a bunch of envelopes from it and gave them to me. Still shaking, I grabbed them.
“Surely you didn’t think I would forget that you still belong to me, did you? I will control you, even if I am not there. All these envelopes are dated, my slut, and you will open them on that day. You will find within these envelopes a set of instructions for the day; follow these instructions to the letter.”
“Thank you, mistress, for taking care of me so well. You know my innermost desires and every curve of my body. I am yours, mistress, body and soul. I will do as you ordered and I will follow your instructions as if you are there.” A deep sigh escaped my lips. “Take good care of our Master. His love for you is as deep as mine.”
She raised me up. So I could stand on mountains. She raised me up to more than I could be. We hugged for a while. Her warm body enveloping mine. Holding nothing back, I gave myself over to her completely and without hesitation.
Total surrender.
Once Koen and Jutta were through the gate and out of sight, I allowed myself to look at the envelopes. There were five of them. One dated today, the others for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, a day missing, and two days more. I put the remaining envelopes in my bag and opened today’s. I recognised Jutta’s handwriting right away.
Darling,
I know this is hard for you to see us leave together. We have never been apart since the day you came back to us. These days will not be easy for you, my little slut. And I am going to make them harder, much harder, for you if you carry out all the assignments in these envelopes. The schedule for the next few days includes two consecutive days, a day of rest, and then a two-day assignment period. You will need your rest in between, that I can promise you. Once you opened the envelope, you are required to carry out the assignment.
To be perfectly clear, we are currently enjoying a relaxing and carefree holiday, and I want to emphasise that you have the same opportunity to do so as well. You are not obligated, nor are you required, to perform any of the tasks contained within these envelopes. Should you choose not to undertake any or all of the assigned tasks, you have the option of leaving the envelope unopened. Should you choose to proceed in this manner, please be assured that there will be absolutely no negative consequences, repercussions, or expressions of disappointment from us whatsoever.
There are twenty-five 20-euro bills inside this envelope. Within the next five days, you are required to use the 500 euros that is our gift to you. I want you to spend it all. The remaining amount of money should be less than five euros. I need you to show proof of all expenditures with receipts to show that you have used all the money. Regardless of whether you spend it all at once or make a thousand separate purchases, the key is to ensure that you have nothing remaining.
You should not expect to hear from us at any point during this week. You know when our return flight is due. I expect you to be at the airport at the allotted time to pick us up. Please be prompt.
We love you and see you soon.
Your mistress.
PS: Count the money somewhere private and put it safely away.
PS2: I didn’t tell Koen about the envelopes. I’ll tell him on the way back. That will give him enough time to worry about you. Besides, it will remind him once again that his wife is not only your mistress but also his slave, who he has to correct every now and then.
PS3: Wear your sheer black blouse without a bra, the skirt you are wearing today and the black fuck me heels when you are going to pick us up from the airport.
PS4: Make sure your nipples are hard when you come and greet me!
This is actually the very first time that she has ever called me darling. Reading the word “Darling” filled me with such joy that I couldn’t help but gaze at it repeatedly, completely mesmerised. I sat down on a quiet bench somewhere and read the letter over and over again. My mistress had taken the time to write me a letter. No. She had written five. Until now, the subject that I would not have any money for this week had not occurred to me yet. Koen had destroyed all my bank cards, plastic shopping cards and what not. Mistress had made sure I had enough money to eat out every day of the week if I did not fancy cooking. She made it possible that I could buy me a nice dress. No restrictions, remember? Or I might treat myself to the lovely, hardcover edition of Watership Down, by Richard Adams, a book that has been on my wish list for a long while.
If only to keep my mind off Honeymoons, mine or Jutta’s, I opened the first envelope.
Darling,
Thank you for taking on my first assignment. Let’s do the boring chores first, shall we, so we’ll be done with that. Today, I want you to spend the morning with nothing else than to clean the attic. From top to bottom. Clean every surface. Make all items of your torture shiny that need to shine. Be sure every piece of leather is supple and well taken care of with leather grease. Wax the wood until it shines. Make sure you do a good job, because I will inspect your work after I come back.
Below the mattress under my bed, you will find an envelope with new instructions for the rest of the day. You may ignore this envelope if you so wish.
J.
I folded the letter carefully back into the envelope. The moment I got home yesterday, I shed my clothes. I was so used to walk around in the nude now, my clothes felt heavy and uncomfortable. I could have made myself a nice cup of coffee before I started work upstairs. Let’s face it, the reality is that I couldn’t start each day with the comforting aroma of coffee and the satisfying crunch of a stroopwafel. The usual daily routine consisted of me drinking water and M&M’s drinking coffee on most days. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to have a fika-moment until I was already on my way up to the attic. Jutta’s commitment to my healthy diet and exercise, my strength comes from the sweat and strain of hard work, a far cry from the polished machines of a fitness centre. It led to significant positive changes to my health. The results have been amazing; my body is now much more toned than it used to be. My health was better than it had ever been.
I was humming and working in the dim glow of the lights in the attic, my hands damp from cleaning the St. Andrew’s Cross. I glanced at the neatly mopped floor, the soft glow of well-maintained whips. It hit me – this was my work, my effort, my accomplishment.
For years, I had rolled my eyes at home work, brushing them off onto Koen whenever I could. They had seemed tedious beneath me, a distraction from more exciting things. But now, standing here in the silence of my home, I saw them for what they really were: the glue that held our complicated life together. The proof of care. The quiet victories of being a slave that did the hard work so my Master and Mistress could spend their day together.
A slow, almost amused smile crept onto my lips. When had this changed? When had I changed? Maybe it had been gradually slipping into me without notice. Or maybe it had always been there, waiting for me to see it.
With a satisfied sigh, I took the wood polish and buffed the rough wood until it shone. Finally finished, I went downstairs to have a couple of sandwiches. Time for the next challenge. Under the mattress of her bed, my bed, there was indeed in a large brown envelope. In it were three small white ones with big numbers on them. I opened the one with the big one written on it. A piece of paper in it with in her neat handwriting:
Gather two handfuls of nettles wearing gloves.
Nothing more. I resisted the urge to open envelope 2 and 3. I grabbed from the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink a pair of thick latex gloves and went to our backyard. Perhaps I was technically not naked with gloves on, but it sure felt vulnerable.
The remoteness of our place makes it fairly secluded. Even with the existing obstructions, a view of me from the bike path that runs along the eastern edge of our property remained unobstructed. Without a moment’s hesitation, I immediately began searching for a place where a substantial number of stinging nettles thrived. I was cautious. I would get to know them well enough later, because I was not under the impression that I had to pick them to put them in a vase. Once inside, I wrapped them in a damp newspaper to keep them fresh.
Unlike the letter in the first envelope, the second envelope held a letter with a substantially longer message. My trembling hands made the paper shake. Did the tension stem from something inside or merely from dealing with the nettles outside?
Darling,
You are a glutton for pain, but you probably know that already. Follow all the steps in this letter to the letter.
1. Undress if you are not in the nude already.
2. Close the curtains of all windows downstairs and turn on the lights. Lock all doors.
I went downstairs and shut all daylights out, closing the curtains in the middle of the day. As instructed, I turned on a couple of table lamps. As was the custom for farmers in this region, we left our doors unlocked throughout the day and only locked them at night before retiring to bed. After a swift inspection to ensure all appliances were safely turned off and posed no immediate danger, I collected the nettles and went back upstairs.
3. Turn on the lights of the bedroom, but leave the curtains open.
4. Take this letter and the nettles with you to the attic.
I forced myself not to read on, but took the prised possessions, lowered the stairs to the attic, and went up.
5. Position the spotlights in such a way it illuminates the steel cage. Place a portable lamp in front of the cage.
Koen had mounted the spotlights on the ceiling, so I had to lug the heavy cage a little over a meter or so, to position it in the middle of the beam of light. It was not easy. I followed her instructions precisely, not just for the reader’s enjoyment. I did this because I wanted to. I was sweating profusely, because I wanted to please them even if they were not there to see me. All of you who are reading this can see me now. I hope you believe me to tell you the truth here, despite all the things you read about me before. This is not kink content to make you happy or horny, I swear. Perhaps this is a suitable moment to apologise sincerely for the harsh words I said to you at the beginning of the story. I apologise. Our Lord would never send you to the purgatory for reading porn. It’s likely he is reading some of it himself. I said it because I was angry. Angry at myself, not at you. Anyway, please find mercy in your heart and forgive me.
6. The cage will be your lover for some time. Kiss in gratitude for keeping you safe from mischief every centimetre of the steel bars. Top, sides and bottom. Make sure you will not skip a single piece of that magnificent hard steel.
It took me the best part of an hour to cover all round parts of the steel bars with my loving kisses. There were no witnesses to see if I really complied. There was no Mistress behind me to correct me if I skipped a bit. And yet I took my time. Drinking some water in between to wet my lips. As though my kiss had left a mark, detectable only in ultraviolet light. I poured all my love for them, both of them, into these kisses. The top being their head, their ears, eyes and lips. The left, representing their back and backside. On the right, the row of steel bars being my beautiful mistress’s front and on the floor, the image of their feet. My Master’s feet, firm and strong, like everything about him. I went to the bathroom before I read on. I had a hunch it would be a while before I got another chance.
7. Put on your pink leather ankle and wrist cuffs. Attach the chain that is hanging next to it, the 50 cm length, to the cuffs with padlocks.
8. Get a diaper out of the closet at the back. One shelf higher are rolls of stretching bandages. Get two of these and return to the cage.
All of our padlocks have one key to open them all. Courtesy of Kink Paradise. There are no issues regarding which key corresponds to which lock. Walking if you can’t move your feet barely half a metre is difficult. Try it sometime if you don’t believe me. The pit in my stomach told me I knew what was coming next. I bet you do as well. My poor pussy.
9. Place the purple belt around your waist. Attach the chains to each D-ring of the belt. Secure them with the padlocks.
I will skip a whole lot of detailed instructions that followed. They all related to preparing chains and locks at various places in the cage, all of which I was supposed to fasten once I was in the cage. All things I needed to take with me in the cage. So a whole list of instructions later, I came to the one I had feared all along.
21. Put half of the nettles into the diaper and seal the diaper with the adhesive strips real tight. Place the rest of the nettles on your tits and tie them as tightly as possible over your titties with the stretch bandages, so you feel them crushing against your flesh.
It’s difficult to attach nettles to your chest and binding them at the same time. The bloody things keep falling on the floor. It took longer than I would have liked, but finally most of them were in contact with my skin and I could start binding them as firmly as I could to my chest. I tried to ignore the pain, to concentrate on locking my ankles and waist to the cage. It was not easy.
Open envelope 2.
I did.
Darling,
Put the ball gag in. Lock your right hand with the last padlock on the cage. You can still move your left hand freely around, except there is on the outside of the cage a counterweight of 15 kg attached to the chain. Try not to use your left hand. Besides, as it is not your dominant hand, it will be a bit clumsy as well.
I had to pull the short chain through the top of the cage to attach it to my left handcuff. The chain was too short for the weight to drop to the floor, so basically I had my hand was more the counterweight than the bag outside.
What’s left to do?
Oh yes, before you pull the hood over your head that will blindfold you, throw the key from the lock that closed the cage away as far as you possibly can.
After the key is far away, you can open envelope 3.
Pain attacked me in several places at once. I needed to act fast, to be coherent enough to open envelope 3. Three was already open and when I shook the letter fell out. After two failed attempts, I could unfold the letter well enough to read it. It was in large print.
Slut,
There is no way you can escape from this cage. I asked your friend Zuzanna to let you out. We haven’t set a date or time. I hope for you she comes soon, but she could also stop by in two days.
Have fun,
Your mistress.
As the adrenaline wore off, the pain intensified. The moment I had brushed against the nettle, it was like a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin all at once. At first, there was just a faint prickling sensation. A warning, no doubt for the sharp, burning pain that seemed to radiate outward from my pussy. From my tits.
The pain was relentless, a constant, throbbing ache that made it impossible to ignore. It felt like the combination of a burn and a sting. As if something hot and venomous had scorched me. I tried to rub my titties against the bottom of the cage, hoping to soothe it. It only made it worse. The friction seemed to spread the irritation, and I felt the welts grew more pronounced.
As the minutes passed, the burning sensation intensified, almost as if the nettles had injected some kind of slow-acting toxin. My skin felt tight and hypersensitive, like even the slightest touch would send fresh waves of pain shooting through me. I could feel my heartbeat in the affected area. A dull, rhythmic pulse that matched the throbbing of my head.
The itching started soon after, an insidious, maddening itch that seemed to come from deep within the skin itself. It was the kind of itch that made me want to claw my groin, my chest. I wanted to scratch until the sensation went away, but I couldn’t, obviously. Besides, scratching would only make it worse, spreading the irritation and possibly breaking the skin. My delicate skin down there. Still, the urge was almost unbearable, a constant, nagging reminder of the nettle’s lingering effects.
Over the next hour, I felt the welts raise. In my mind, they had become as large as bumps on my skin. My hide felt suddenly warm. No. It felt like it was burning. I felt sweat pouring down from my forehead in my eyes dripping down. I had to concentrate on breathing as my mistress had learned me to prevent panic. It was a close call, but I made it. The pain had subsided slightly, but a deep, persistent ache that made it hard to focus on anything else replaced it.
By the time several hours had passed, the worst of the pain had faded, but the itching remained. My skin felt dry and irritated, as if it had been rubbing raw. The welts had flattened a bit; it seemed. I had no idea of time. Perhaps I was in the cage for two hours, maybe six or seven. For a while, all I could think of was pain. I could see nothing in the attic with all those lights blinding me. They were warm, what made the itching worse.
As per the letter’s instructions, I was thankful to find two water bottles inside the cage, which was a relief. With a throbbing shoulder, I finally located the bottle with my left hand, cursing myself for not having opened them before entering the confining cage. I tried to open the cap. I tried hard. It was impossible. In a last-ditch attempt to open the cap, the bottle fell and rolled through the cage bars.
As time went by, the pain of my cramped posture in the cage replaced the pain from the nettles. My knees hurt, by back was killing me now. I heard rain falling on the roof. I wished I was in the garden. Outside, I could have opened my mouth to absorb some moisture.
Somewhere in eternity, the rain had stopped. Prior to this moment, I hadn’t realised the curious fact that a seemingly empty house is, in reality, filled with a multitude of faint and often unnoticed sounds. Strange noises coming from the attic filled me with such a creepy feeling that it gave me the creeps.
Rats? Mice? After hours, long painful hours, I drifted away in blissful nothingness.
