The lingering smell in the attic alerted us to the necessity of ventilating the space completely before M&M would arrive, so that all the odorous evidence of what had happened here would have been diluted.
Darling,
You are always complaining about the size of your titties. This next assignment is more easy with bigger breasts like mine, but I will show you it’s possible with any size of tits. Seriously, I am glad you are doing it, instead if me. I could not stand the pain.
Step 1: In the attic, second shelf from above in the cupboard at the back, there is a package for you. In it there are 2 packs of thumbtacks and a roll of double sided adhesive tape. Get the chair from the kitchen and make sure the chair is stable. Use double-sided tape and attach it to the seat of the chair. Put all the thumbtacks upside down and press it onto the adhesive tape.
Step 2: Get some small size gorilla tape and the pack of sterile surgical needles. Bind the gorilla tape over your nipples as tightly as you can, go around your back and do it once more. Again over the nipples, but now with twice the strength, you wrap the tape around. I want your tits to separate in two parts, above and under your nipples. I want your nipples as tight to your breast as you possibly can. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. Go over with it a third time with all your strength. Don’t worry, the tape can handle it.
I know needles frighten you. So this is your private victory over fear. Using two fingers, grasp a fold of skin above the nipple and insert the needle straight through, then grasp the lower skin and insert the bottom of this needle through the skin as well. If you did it right, you sealed your tit over the tape. Now, fold the rubber band double. Hook it behind the needle above and under. The gap will be closed now. If it isn’t, fold it triple. Make a row of needles like this, so the tape is invisible.
The third step in this process, arguably the most challenging, requires significant attention and careful execution. You will find the greatest value in this, however, because of the considerable psychological impact it will have. Your mouth has brought you so many times into trouble. Now is the time to deal with that once and for all. Take the package with the sharp needle and the suture thread. Pull the thread through the eye of the needle and sew your lips together. Do this with at least 3 stitches, so that you can no longer move your lips. If you want, there may be more, but no more than six.
Last step: Put the timer in one hour and sit on the chair. After an hour, you may free yourself of all restraints. If you get into trouble, take the safety scissors and free yourself.
I will spare you the details of this torture. Jutta had already gone into great detail with her description in her letter. Should I tell that it was painful? Didn’t you get that already from her description? I owe you the number of times I sewed my lips shut. You think I was brave enough to take six stitches? Think again. Three was far over my limit. But I did it anyway. I was absolutely petrified. I won’t do that ever again. They will have to kill me first. The thumbtacks bark worse than they bite. Two hours. It took me two hours to conquer my fears. Two hours of work left me with a tiny row of pits in my skin. Not very flattering as a moustache. My tits, still red from nettle rash, were less visible. The tiny drops of blood were gone. Zuzanna sterilised all the puncture wounds using alcohol. That was even more painful.
True to her word, she kept her mouth shut during my endeavour. She didn’t need a suture thread for that.
“Next envelope, please,” I said to her.
“No. Have you not suffered enough for one day? What more do you have to prove to her? You just went to hell and back. Why do you need to complete the last challenge? She will be proud of you without doing the last one. You know that. Is it not bad enough to face Koen with punctured lips?”
“Next envelope, please,” I repeated.
Zuzanna sighed. “I will present the court exhibit A, conclusive proof that wisdom doesn’t come with age.” And presented me with the last envelope.
Darling,
The last challenge is always the hardest. Tie your legs wide apart on my bed. Use your hands. Edge 20 times without coming. I will see you tomorrow. I am proud of you.
J.
I glared at Zuzanna. “Do you want a chair at my bedside to see my snatch?” I asked, full of sarcasm. At least, that is what I wanted it to sound like. But it didn’t come out that way. It sounded more like a plea, if I am honest.
Much to my astonishment and disbelief, she actually responded affirmatively to my proposal. If you expect me to give you a detailed description of what Zuzanna had seen, you are sorely mistaken again, my friend. If you have your dick ready for a rub by rub report of my large clit, switch to another story. It’s so difficult if you have been on a dry spell for months now, and stimulate yourself to prevent yourself from a big climax. No matter how desperate I was for a good come, I was determined to prevent that. The more times you edge, at the end you are bound to fall over.
Those are the worst. As soon as I feel from deep inside my body and mind trembling with lust, I stop. I shake and tremble, but there is nothing satisfying about that. With my hands pressed tightly against my sides, I used all my willpower to keep them there. How easy it is when they are bound and unusable, eliminating any possibility of my utilising them.
“Twenty”, I heard Zuzanna say somewhere in the distance.
It was the last time we would use Club Kinky Kinta. The hotel owners were not pleased with us keeping the BDSM-club next door. They came back to their decision not to buy the dungeon. Their purchase price is three times the amount of what we originally asked, because of their prior mistake of rejecting to buy the dungeon. They wanted it empty by next week. To celebrate their wedding with all their regular customers, M&M had planned one last celebration in the club.
We made the last club meeting special without regard to cost. Koen received all the guests. Jutta and I were also at the entrance, but we were mere attributes. A friend of a friend was a body painter and earned some money at the side as a living statue. And that was what he made us. Kind of. Jutta stood on the left on a revolving plateau that turned her slowly around. She looked like a Victorian doll. Her naked skin was covered completely with a pale foundation, with a white powder for that soft, powdery texture like real porcelain. Her cheekbones and nose had that delicate sheen with lightly applied with pearl highlighter. While eyeliner enlarged her doll eyes, accented by doll like false eyelashes. He shave her eyebrows off and made soft and rounded fake eyebrows that gave her an innocent doll look. Her lips were drawn in a rounded, heart-shaped lip with red lipstick. Her cheeks adorned with heavy blushes.
The artist masterfully applied black eyeliner all over her body to make her skin look cracked. Jutta was wearing a painted a Victorian gown on her nude body, including with painted lace gloves, stockings and a choker around her neck. The result was a real doll at the front. The back was bare skin, and as she revolved, guests could make fun of her exposed backside.
No make-up or painting for me. The artist made a sign above me that said ‘Barbie doll. Free for all to play with.’ Next to me was a box with wigs, clothes with holes at strategic places, high heels and higher heels. A small box with nipple clamps, dildos, anal plugs and vibrators for the guests that came in to use on me. And in me.
Jutta was admired. I was used. Both objects, but one was to show the world what a pretty doll she was, cherished, valuable, unique. I was not more than an ordinary Barbie. People could touch me, bend me, put things in and on me. A doll to play with. And to discard when you didn’t feel like playing any longer.
We expected approximately 40 guests, which translates to about 20 couples, to come to the last club meeting. The dungeon was relatively small, so about forty was the utmost we could fit inside. Most of the guests I had never seen before. We had been relatively new, and some couples came to Kinky Club Kinta for many years. Every fifteen minutes, a new couple was scheduled to arrive. That meant from the first couple to the last about five hours standing there without moving for Jutta and five hours being used by the arriving guests. At the sound of it, they were amused by our antics.
About halfway through the arrival of the guests, my heart suddenly stopped beating. A handsome young man came in, holding a naked young girl on a short leash. He was wearing all black leather that looked so well on him. There stood my son Sandor and on his leash stood a smiling Ilse. We interrupt this program for breaking news: A woman of 63 – with a vibrator buzzing away in her cunt, a black dildo a little over halfway in her throat wearing the remains of her black wedding dress with holes cut out so everyone could see her titties and bald cunt – died from shock in a seedy club in Germany. Hello Son, welcome to our party.
With a glance, Koen’s eyes not only found me but also Jutta, acknowledging both of us with a single, shared look. He showed absolutely no sign of being surprised; his expression remained perfectly composed and nonplussed.
“Welcome to Club Kinky Kinta. Sandor it’s your first and last visit to the club. Ilse for you it’s an end of an era, and yet I suspect it’s a new beginning as well. Sandor, you might want to explain to these two very frightened dolls over there what brought you to us today.”
“We made that decision rather spontaneously and impulsively, with little prior planning or consideration. Ilse’s invitation to come today led to her inviting me to spend several weeks with Martin and Helga at the Weber Ranch. From the moment we first met, Ilse and I developed an immediate connection, and she subsequently introduced me to a completely new way of life. She actually explained, quite forcefully, that for us to have any kind of future together, it was absolutely imperative for me to accept the role of Master of the House, a role she felt was essential to our success as a couple. I promised Ilse to keep her on a very short leash, and she, in turn, promised me to learn everything I need to know in my new role. Martin and Helga helped us, and I trust that the three of you will offer your support as well.”
I will tell you what I didn’t do. I didn’t go up to Koen and slap him in the face for pulling that stunt on us, knowing how my mistress and – perhaps to a lesser extent – I would feel about that. I didn’t tell my son to get the hell out of here, that this was an adult play for like-minded people. I didn’t run away to a hiding place and never come out of there. What I did do was stand there with a mouthful of dildo, with a wet pussy from the vibrations of the vibrator, and showed my son his mother’s breasts and vulva. I looked at my mistress who was still slowly turning around, showing Sandor her nude backside, her tits and – not very subtly hidden – her love for being a Little in a Daddy Dom-relationship. She also had that deer in headlights look in her eyes.
Koen picked up the riding crop that dangled from his belt. I felt the slap of the riding crop hard on my ass and saw that Jutta had a mark as well on her butt.
“This is not the place and time to talk extensively about that. We will soon have a long talk about this, I promise. For now, kiss the happy couple and wish them all the best and prepare for our next guest that are already coming.” Koen barked to us.
So we did. I kissed both of them and told them to enjoy themselves tonight.
The night was a typical club night, filled with couples who used the opportunity to show the connoisseurs the things they usually did within the privacy of their homes. Martin and Helga of course were one of the first that took the stage. The love Helga felt was nearly palpable in their play together. Some guests played more or less vanilla, more sex-oriented play with lots of rough love. Others with lots of impact play and serious pain to the submissive. I was glad Sandor was content with just watching and talking to a lot of dominants that night.
Koen took the stage. “As many of you know, Jutta and I got married two months ago. We had the privilege of meeting some of you at our wedding ceremony in The Netherlands. But Jutta is not just my wife. She is my slave as well. Gossip has told you already my ex-wife is indeed the slave of my wife. To make it even more complicated, Ilse, Jutta’s daughter, has promised herself to my son Sandor as his slave. So, ‘Lifestyle’ is the perfect word to describe our family.”
Koen took a deep breath and turned to the corner where Jutta and I were kneeling. “Tonight I want to seal the relationship between myself and my slave with a collaring ceremony. Slut, bring your Mistress to the stage.”
I did what I was told and took my Mistress by the arm and led her to the centre stage. Jutta fell to her knees before Master Koen and I knelt behind her.
“I would like to invite Mistress Olivia to guide us through the collaring ceremony.” Perhaps you remember her from the Good Girl-story. She was wearing a red bustier and a long grey skirt that reached to her ankles. The scandalous amount of make-up matched the extravaganza of her earrings. She had a curvy body to die for. She looked like a mistress straight out of a porn novel. And that is a compliment, mind you!
“It’s a sad day and a happy day all in one.” Mistress Olivia said. “We all are a bit sad that this is the last time we can come here and be ourselves among friends. At the same time, we are thankful for those wonderful weekends we have spent here. And the reason we have to abandon ‘our’ dungeon is the best reason one can think of. Love. We fully understand that you want to follow your master wherever he goes, Jutta. And we wish you all the happiness in the world. And that is why it’s a happy day as well. We are gathered here today to join this man and his two women in holy slavery. And I am honoured to perform this ceremony that is as much as meaningful as the vanilla marriage ceremony. We have talked about it for some time, Master Koen and I, about the ceremony itself. Each one’s uniqueness is determined by the Master and slave who will be united. Could we focus the spotlight on Master Koen?”
There he was: Koen. My Koen de Groen. He belonged to Jutta now, but a piece of him will always belong to me. The lighting caught the sharp lines of his tailored midnight-blue blazer; the fabric hugging his frame just enough to hint at the strength beneath. A crisp white dress shirt lay open at the collar, a calculated touch of ease against the structured elegance of his attire. Jutta’s work. His charcoal-grey trousers, perfectly fitted, tapered down to polished black leather shoes that clicked softly against the floor. The old watch from his father glinted on his wrist, a quiet testament to his love for his departed parents. In the background, I recognised the soft sounds of Thomas Dunford playing the lute. Playing Bach, without a doubt.
“First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming. And I am as sorry as the rest of you that this club will seize to exist. But the sad truth is that nothing stays the same in life, even good things change over time. A big shout out to Mistress Olivia, who immediately said yes when I asked her to perform our private ceremony today.”
“We have come a long way in a short time, Jutta, Sylvia and I. Some of you may feel you know Jutta better and certainly longer than I do. And yet I have proof that she is officially mine. Not many people are blessed finding a twin flame at my age. Even less can say they kept their first soulmate in the process. I am not just happy. There hasn’t been a day I wallowed in bliss to have found these two girls who claim to love me as well. Like air, I cannot survive without them; they’re both absolutely essential to my existence. I do not care that outside this room, people don’t understand our relationship. We are not accountable or required to explain, let alone defend, our relationship. Today we will enter a new phase in our life. We will speak words today, but these words are not just words. They are the foundation of trust in each other. Every relationship, in any form, relies on trust. But in our lifestyle, we take that trust one step further. Is it not the ultimate form of love to give yourself completely away, out of free will and without reservation, in the trust that the one you love will take good care of it?”
The spotlight changed to Mistress Olivia again. “Today we will speak words of love, forgiveness and hope. Slave Jutta Peska, step forward to your Master, kneel for him and say your promise of love to your Master. Look each other in the eyes when you say these words.”
“My Master, love of my life. For a long time I was alone. Since my husband David’s passing, I had concluded that finding love again was an impossibility. A chapter closed forever in my life. When I saw master Koen I knew David had sent him to me. I recognise so much in Master Koen’s way of doing things, his way of handling ME, from the moment I saw him I knew he was my last chance of finding love again. I love you more than life itself, my Master. I promise to do better every day to deserve your love.”
From the dark Olivia said, “Slave Sylvia van Geelen, step forward to your Mistress, kneel for her and say your promise of love for your Mistress.”
Van Geelen is my maiden name. With wobbling knees I walked towards them both. Jutta had turned a bit so she sat beside his right leg and I took my place at his left leg. I felt like one of my former students, standing in front of the class. Completely unprepared to give a presentation before the group. I gathered my thoughts for a moment. You could hear a pin drop in the dungeon.
“The woman who has captured my heart. The world is filled with a vast number of people who exhibit kindness and generosity in their interactions with others. Although others may be kind and generous, none of them show such a large and compassionate heart as you do. A woman of sound mind and judgement would swiftly rid herself of the former partner the moment a suitable opportunity presented itself. Your actions went above and beyond simply keeping me. You not only convinced Master Koen to allow me to stay, but you also took on the responsibility for my healing. I am eternally and deeply grateful for that act of kindness. My love for Master Koen is boundless, Mistress, and I cherish him more than words can say. But I cannot help it. I love you just a little bit more.”
I was lost in my Mistress eyes. I was determined not to start crying. Reaching within, I found strength from my inner teacher. No one likes to see a crybaby. The words Olivia said next I missed. Jutta’s kind eyes completely absorbed me. I woke up when Master Koen started talking to me. “Slave Sylvia, or rather Slut, that is now your real name. And the name was very appropriate. Now that you have earned our forgiveness, your Mistress will give you a new name. You will no longer respond to ‘slut’.”
Jutta took over. “You have worked hard, as any woman ever has, to redeem yourself from your past. Today we bury the past. Today, we forgive you and wipe the slate clean. All that you think might have happened in the past has been erased, and we will start a new future with a new name. From now on you I will call you ‘girl’.”
I was so overwhelmed, I could not say a word. I wanted to; I wanted so badly. But I just couldn’t. All I could do was cry. A burden I had learned to live with disappeared, and in its absence, I realised just how heavy it had been.
Olivia waited for me to get my act together again, but when it became apparent that would not happen, she continued. “Letting your emotions show is a strength, never a weakness. Slave Jutta would like to say a few words to us about hope.” Jutta turned again a quarter, so she could look at Master Koen and me.
“My Master, you are my rock. With you on my side, I can do anything. I do not have to explain anything to you, because you understand me like no other. You gave me new hope. Hope to be yours forever and ever.”
“My girl, I hope some of your strength will reflect on me. You are the strongest of us all. I hope you will stay with us forever and ever.”
Mistress Olivia was again in the spotlights. “After all these words from the heart that touched us all, I think we will proceed to the last part of the ceremony: the exchange of the vows. Slave Jutta lie down on the floor with your arms and legs as widespread as you can. Your head our way. Master Koen, would you be so kind to sit above your slave with your knees on either side of her chest?
Would you look at each other and repeat after me, “Jutta Peska, with the placing of this collar around your neck and your acceptance of it, I vow to do everything I can to be worthy of you. I promise to hold you and keep you safe.”
He repeated the words. It was really a moving moment seeing his body towering over her helpless body. I don’t want to bore you with repetitions, so I will only write what Master Koen said. His words resonated in my heart. “I promise to stretch you and give you flight, to respect the needs of our relationship above all others, to love you, honour you, support you in all things and be sensitive to your needs and desires. I acknowledge the trust you have placed in me and the responsibility that goes with my acceptance of that trust. I will never violate or even threaten to violate that trust. I acknowledge and accept with all my heart the gift of submission you have made to me. This collar will be a symbol of that which we already know: that you are mine, and by wearing it, you will always be safe to be everything that you are. Do you accept this collar in the spirit by which it is given to you?”
In that moment, Jutta’s voice was tiny, a mere whisper, reflecting the true personality she had to keep hidden so often. “Master, of my own free will, with clarity of mind, heart and conscience, I surrender my life to you, submitting to your will in all things. I accept your collar as the outward and visible sign of my deepest joy: that I am yours. I gladly accept your authority and trust you to guide me on the right path. I vow to honour you with my every thought, word, and action. I promise to stay with you, support you and fulfil your needs and desires as you allow. You are the centre of my universe, the light of my life and the love of my heart. I give you my love, my heart and myself, now and always.”
With the click of the new and beautiful collar as loud in the room, the room erupted in applause. Again the lights dimmed and was Mistress Olivia the centre of attention. “To conclude this ceremony, I would like you, Koen, Jutta and Sylvia to stand in a triangle facing each other. Master Koen, you are the foundation of this relationship. Please put you dominant hand straight forward.”
Koen stretched out his hand in the middle of us. “Jutta, you are the glue that holds this relationship together. Please put your dominant hand on Master Koen’s hand.”
Gently she laid her hand on his, as if we were going to play soccer and needed the team to have faith in each other.
“Sylvia, you energise this relationship. Please put your dominant hand on Mistress Jutta’s hand.” Mistress Olivia took a red rope and bound our hands in a complicated knot. “Reach out your remaining hand to each other and hold each other tight. You are connected by rope and rope will hold you always.
“That concludes the collaring ceremony, dear friends. You can congratulate them, each in your own way as you see fit.” Olivia said beaming.
After a few hectic days to get all the equipment from the club to our barn in the Netherlands, the rest in our lives kind of returned. Ilse and Sandor moved into the barn that Sandor had converted into his new home. Many of the things from the club’s dungeon turned out to have found a nice spot in their home. The barn was twice as big as M&M’s house in terms of surface area. Ilse went to the University of Groningen for her psychology studies. Sandor got his desk job not far away from his house.
And I? I was at peace. At peace with the world, with myself, with my position in life. I loved both my Master as my Mistress. My son had found new love and was finally home, where I could see him every day. My only heartache was that I never saw my oldest son Peter again. With the help of Master Koen I finally had to accept that. He has to make the choices in his life that he thinks are the right ones. And a choice for his wife, above all others, is always a good choice. Says Koen. And he is right, as always.
My bad days are over. From now on, I am a good girl.