“What about Sylvia? Are we going to get her back or not”, Jutta asked.
“What has changed, little one?”
“Only that you said that you suddenly found out you are a Daddy Dom at heart, something I have always said, by the way. But at the same time you have realised I think that treating Sylvia like a Daddy Dom will not help you getting her back.”
The rest of the day we spent talking about ‘battle plans’. She gave me a ton of suggestions I never thought possible. But I took them seriously. She was the one that had lived with a masochist for all of her life. That brought the conversation to Ilse.
“I almost forgot that Ilse is still staying with HIM.” I owned my own Lord Voldemort now. He Who Must Not Be Named. “That means we have to consider her safety if we get Sylvia away from him.”
“That depends on your point of view, Master. To you all blame is on Martin. He is the evil impersonated. But to me, Martin is just a Master that can provide my little girl with the necessary life experience. Yes, he pulled a crappy stunt here, but there were two people involved, and they both prepared for this, the lube included. Martin has Helga and Ilse. I’m sure he can find a replacement for Sylvia quickly. So I have no worries over Ilse at all.”
I do not know if she is telling the truth about this, but I will have to trust her judgement and I told her that.
“Thank you, Sir. It means a lot to me.”
It appeared that the plans to get a tattoo had been temporarily halted, and I found myself feeling somewhat relieved about it. The rest of the day, Jutta spent planning for her absence. And we each slept in our separate rooms. She may have been in love with me, or not, but as long as I was married, I was not sleeping with another woman.
Since I had booked my room until Monday, I checked out and insisted on paying the full price. Jutta came out with a suitcase and a little make-up-box-thingy. Our first discussion had already started prior to us getting underway. On the loading floor of my van, she undressed.
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer, and when she was completely naked, she opened her suitcase. Most of the suitcase contained all kinds of BDSM stuff. She took out a few of hemp ropes. She leaned against the wooden panelling of the car.
Smiling, I commented, “They designed it for the safe transportation of all kinds of cargo, not naked girls.”
She pulled a sleeping mask out as well and blinded herself thus effectively. Her legs slightly spread she bent her elbows so the back of her hands were resting against the rough wood and her palms facing me.
“Please do not untie me Sir until we reached our destination.”
“What? Am I supposed to drive you like this to North Germany? You must be joking. What if the police pulled us off the road and they see you?”
“I have sent that video you saw yesterday to your phone, Sir. I suggest you show it to them if you get into trouble.”
“This is madness.”
She sighed. “With all due respect, I don’t want to battle you on every small decision, Sir. The reason we agreed to do this was to impress your wife. We all know first impressions are the ones that last. We are not playing a game here, Sir. I suggest you get your mindset in the right order.”
“Ouch.” Without further comment, I tied her ankles to the first board and upwards. So I used a lot of rope, using every board to make sure she couldn’t move, although there was some slack in the ropes. This was a ten-hour drive or more with my slow Transit van. I took a picture for my before and after photo collection. The sides and the back doors of the Transit were both closed, so people could only see her from the front window. And even then, you had to look very well. As long as I drive within the speed limits and give other motorists the right of way, we should have no issues.
“I appreciate you are not putting a gag in my mouth, Sir. Perhaps you should have the last two hours, but it would be nice to chat a bit to pass the time.” She said after we left her hotel and turned towards the Autobahn.
We drove on the A9 all the way from Feuerburg to Berlin. The first stretch of road through the mountains was beautiful. I stopped at one of the tank stations to get some diesel. Checked on Jutta. The ropes were still all nice in place. When I wanted to take her sleep mask off, she responded furiously.
“Master!” she nearly shouted. “You know I love you. But to love someone, you must have some respect for them as well. And I’m telling you now put some steel in your spine, sir. Or grow a set of balls.” She was panting now. “I can’t do this all alone, master. I need you to be firm with me. It makes it easier.”
My pride was taking a hit once again. This was me again, being a pussy. I tightened the ropes so they would leave nice rope marks on her legs as we would arrive. Nothing that would interfere with the blood flow but still visible marks on her legs. Jutta moaned. After I finished, I offered her a water bottle. She gulped the liquid. It was getting warm in the back as the weather showed its best side today.
“Thank you, master.”
I smiled. Still master, huh? I still have a couple of hours left to let my balls grow a bit. We had half hour blocks where we talked, half hours where talking non-stop was a requirement for her and half hours we listened to Bach on my phone. Internet radio offers a variety of channels dedicated to playing Bach’s music.
“Master?”
“Yes, kitten?”
“Are we almost there?”
“Stop acting like a little kid, my kitten.”
“Yes, sir.”
In the Netherlands, we’re always whining about traffic. I learned the hard way that not just my country fixes roads. Cars that are not moving as far as you can see in front of you.
“Master?”
“Yes, kitten?”
“I need to pee.”
“Same answer as before. Please stop whining. I’m not in the mood.”
“I really need to go, master.”
“Well, you can’t, so just keep it in.”
“Yes, master.”
The navigation software pointed out that we were 134 kilometres from our destination.
“Master?”
“Do I need to gag you, kitten?”
“No, Sir. But you can if you want to, of course, Sir.”
“What is it this time, kitten?”
“You might want to give Martin and Helga a call to let them know you’re heading their way.”
“Excellent suggestion, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Master.”
I veered off onto one of the side roads and found a spot to park by the roadside. I went to the back of the car. The road was as quiet as a whispered secret in the dead of night. I retrieved a spider gag from her suitcase. Nasty things spider gags. I didn’t open it too far, but far enough to play with her tongue a bit. Yet more than enough to hurt like hell after already a short while. Carefully, I opened the door again and when the coast was clear, I jumped out, locking the door behind me.
“Weber-Residenz, hier spricht Helga Weber.”
“Oh, hello Helga. I haven’t talked to you in ages. How are you doing?” Going out and embracing fully the all-American culture of meaningless chit-chat.
She sounded on guard at once. “Koen, you are the last person I expected to call today.”
“Oh, why is that? And by the way, remind your husband to punish you for not addressing a Master properly.”
“What can I do for you, master Koen?” she said, without answering my question.
“I thought I should tell you I’m roughly ninety minutes away from your location. I’m coming to collect Sylvia.”
“Oh, in that case, I should probably put you through to Sylvia herself,” Helga said.
“Don’t bother. I need my eyes on the road, anyway. People drive here like madmen. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, so it’s not a surprise.” I pushed the horn of my car twice. “Oh dear, I got to go. See you soon.” Red phone button. So far, so good. I swiped the ‘do-not-disturb’-button on my phone so I could focus on the roads. The driving here provided me with valid reasons to complain, as the roads were filled with honking horns and aggressive drivers.
It takes longer than you think to travel over 100 km on country roads. Perhaps you think I was getting nervous after such a long drive in my rattle cart and being so close now? With each kilometre closer, an almost serene feeling enveloped me, putting me at ease. My navigator told me we were close now. I stopped the car. I’m going to pee for a moment, I told my girl at the back that was drooling now all over her tits, but kept her body fluids from getting out so far. So I emptied my bladder in the bushes, shielded from sight by my van. I sighed with relief. No problems with the police, and my good old Transit had behaved miraculously.
Time to get the missus home.