I understand if you don’t understand all of this at all. Of course, it’s weird if you have two beautiful women at home that say they love the same man. Superman, I would understand, but there is nothing super about me.
It gets even weirder if both women urge you to be very strict to them and punish them, one harder than the other, but punish anyway. Of course, that is not normal behaviour, so let’s not pretend that it is. My slaves call me Master a hundred times a day, but I know very well that is just an empty title. I’m just a servant to the wants, needs and desires of these to two strong-willed women. A slave is not weak. She is the strongest of all women. Someone that can overcome their biggest fear repeatedly deserves the highest form of respect.
To illustrate this, I will tell you a tale that happened 14 days after we came back home from the Weber residence. The highest level of respect is involved, but I’m fine if you don’t comprehend it. I’m not sure I do either.
Jutta prostrated herself at my feet, and unsolicited licked my feet. Jutta was the first that started this, and I never thought I would love it so much. I never knew your feet, not just the soles, but my entire foot is so sensitive. Her tongue was not washing my foot just to get it over with. She paid homage to it. She adored it. Like it was the thing she wanted to do most in the entire world. She could lick my foot with these little licks. It made me moan from pleasure and if she kept going, I would come in my pants like a horny teenager.
Finally, she stopped and looked me in the eye.
“Can I ask you a question, Master?”
Hey, what can I say? She’s a woman. She could manipulate me, like the moon pulls the tides—effortlessly, yet irresistibly.
“What is it, little one?”
“It’s about my slave, Master.”
“What did Sylvia do this time, little one?”
“She is unhappy, Master. She knows she hurt you in a way no man would ever accept. To cheat on your husband is a vanilla relationship is the reason for bitter hate and nasty divorces. Within a D/s-relationship, it’s something that automatically will lose her collar. No master will permit that. And yet, here she is under your loving protection. And it’s eating her.”
“What?”
“Did she clarify that the golden rule entails being forgiven and starting with a clean slate once punishment has been given?” Jutta asked.
“She mentioned that, yes.”
“She cannot forgive herself if you don’t punish her in a way that fits the crime, Sir. Even if you have forgiven her already, she needs this to move on with her life.” Jutta licked my hands now like a dog. She was wearing a dog collar to match her behaviour. Recognising my need for reflection, she realised that pushing me too forcefully or swiftly would harm her chances of success.
Enrolling in the course ‘how to whip your woman until she bleeds with a bullwhip’ held no appeal for me whatsoever. But I understood that this punishment would need to fit the crime, so to speak. A few Hail Marys wouldn’t absolve her. I had to strike her in her weakest spot. But that didn’t mean I had to enjoy it one bit.
“Prepare her for anything, little one. Let her know that the punishment will take place tomorrow night in the dungeon. As for you, turn around and bend over my lap.” Without further ado, I laid 10 of my hardest spanks on her bottom.
“Thank you, Sir.” She said in a teary voice.
“Do you know the reason for your punishment?” I asked.
“Yes, Sir. But it was worth it. It hurts me to see my slave in so much pain.”
“Just talk to me, little one. Even with no further attempts to manipulate me, I would still take your proposal seriously.”
“I love pleasing you, Master. I did that for myself as much as for you.”
Gaining some familiarity with the German mountain roads in our vicinity has emboldened me to increase my driving speed slightly as I drove to Feuerburg the next morning. My first stop was the drugstore, followed by a supermarket for electrical appliances. I couldn’t help but spend two happy hours in Hans’ shop, surrounded by miniatures of the real world. On my way back to the parking lot, I saw a small boutique that mostly sells leather clothing. Normally I avoid clothing stores like the plague, but I saw big Solden and Sale signs on the windows, so I went in anyway. Without women, it’s a lot easier to shop. If you saw something you liked, you bought it. If not, you were out of there. Not spending an hour there, and then conclude they had nothing to sell you liked. I have been selecting and purchasing my own clothes for a long time, and I had no intention of changing that. Whether it’s one wife, two, or a hundred, shopping was never something I would like.
A man alone in a clothes store is a magnet for salesladies. It took her under two minutes to ask me if she could help me. I asked her if she spoke English.
“Yes, but I speak Dutch as well.”
I had been a while since I had heard someone talk in my mother’s tongue. Two people abroad talking to each other in their own language, it creates a bond. She was wearing a leather black skirt and a black silky blouse on top. I don’t know about you, but if I see a woman, old or young with a generous amount of cleavage, I just have to look. Her voluminous breasts had invisible magnets in them, so my eyes had no interest in meeting hers.
“I saw a leather jacket in the shop window I liked”, I said to her tits. Sylvia always said that salesladies don’t care if you don’t look them in the eyes. Attraction equals money.
“Of course, Sir. This is our on sale rack with jackets. May I suggest this one?” She lifted a jacket which was made of square pieces of leather, giving it a nice chequered look, which immediately appealed to me.
“The cow leather used to make this jacket provides a soft texture and a rich appearance because of its pattern. The inside is covered with thin, luxurious sheep leather, which is incredibly soft and makes it particularly well-suited for indoor use. Would you consider wearing that inside, Sir?” she asked.
“Perhaps.” I said.
“Feel free to try it on. You’ll find the fitting room at the back, on the right.”
I really didn’t need a fitting room to take off my jacket and try on another one. But like any other woman, don’t be smart to a saleslady in a clothing shop. Particularly if you wanted to continue gazing at her chest. She handed a jacket “that was my size”. I never told her my size, but apparently there was no need to either. After I changed, I came out showing my jacket.
“It’s tight. I think I’ll need a size larger.”
“Hmm. Would you consider wearing this on your bare skin? The sheep leather feels incredible against your skin and you certainly have the body for it.” She said.
I think I looked her sharply in the eyes for the first time. She blushed a little. Without comment, I went back and took off my shirt. I looked in the mirror. Mmm. I didn’t look all that bad. Fortunately, I see that old-man-that-still-pretends-to-be-a bad-ass-biker-look. I showed my outfit outside the fitting room.
“Ohh, wow. You certainly look attractive in that. Attractive as in Sexy,” she stretched out the last word.
“It doesn’t close well.” I said.
“It’s not meant to be. It’s seducing, and that is exactly what it does, if that is what you are going for, of course.”
Feeling emboldened by her contagious enthusiasm, I acted on a whim and made an impulsive choice. “I will take it.”
“Wonderful. I’m sure your wife will love it.” She said. I didn’t correct her singular. At the cash register, I realised I had never asked her the price. Out of nowhere, a brilliant idea struck me. Most likely, far too late. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I asked the woman if she knew of a hairdresser who also had a proficiency in doing makeup. I was looking for someone who could make two ladies look stunning. The only difficulty was that it had to be done tonight, with little time to prepare. Was she aware of anyone I could inquire about?
“My daughter is in the final year of hairdressing school. She would appreciate the opportunity to earn extra cash. Should I inquire on your behalf? Where is she supposed to be?”
“I would appreciate that”, I said and stated the address. She briefly spoke to her daughter over the phone. I stated a price that seemed to be satisfactory.
“She’ll be there by 6 o’clock. I make it a point to go with her whenever she visits strangers, and you can probably empathise with that.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way”, I said. “Besides, it’s my pleasure to see you again later today.”
She looked at the address she had written on a piece of paper. “Hotel Edelweißhafen. Perhaps you are more dangerous that I first thought, mister…”
“Koen. Koen de Groen. Don’t believe everything you hear.” I smiled.
With the jacket in my bag, I walked into a small barbershop and got a haircut myself. Just proving to my readers that I don’t need to overthink every small decision I make and being quite able and willing to be impulsive.
Sometimes.
“These are Karen and Milou de Vries. Karen is the owner of a boutique and her pretty daughter Milou hopes to be a top hairdresser some day. Ladies, may I introduce you to Jutta, owner of Edelweißhafen, soon to be my wife and Sylvia, my ex-wife. I understand you have all you need with you, so I would like to invite you to take up the challenge of making these two beautiful ladies even more beautiful.”
Milou, that looked younger than I imagined her, smiled bravely and went to work with my girls. “Perhaps we should leave the ladies a moment alone to talk about their hairdos and have a drink at the bar?” I invited Karen. She raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, it’s a very busy bar downstairs.” I said
She met some locals she knew at the bar, and they talked for a while. I wore my usual attire. A white t-shirt and a sports jacket I felt comfortable in. If you imagined me in a leather outfit, get your mind out of the gutter. Karen was wearing for some reason, something even more revealing than earlier today. I took her back to our living room and excused myself. At eight, the girls would be pretty and ready. I selected the slave dress for both of my girls. You’ll remember, the one with the holes where the tits stick out. The one with the flap that covered or when I cut off the flap that left the hill of Venus visible uncovered the crotch. I left both dresses on the bed and a quick note with instructions.
I took my time to get ready myself. This was a serious night for us all. There was more to it than a good shower and shave. I had to mentally prepare myself to be in the mood right for this. So I put on some old jeans and my very new jacket. Adidas sport shoes. Montale Arabians Tonka cologne. Skipped the briefs for today and went commando. This 63-year-old guy was feeling sexy again.
There were two ways to enter the dungeon. One was the big door in the hotel’s hall, the other was through Jutta’s house. Her tunnel ended in the long tunnel from the hotel. Fire regulations to have two different exits. It took me almost an hour to put everything in place like I imagined. Almost eight. Showtime.
I was already in the dungeon as I heard my two wives, girls as I like to call them, knocked on the dungeon door. Both girls exude confidence and grace. Sylvia’s long hair falls effortlessly around her face, adding to her overall aura of calm. The dim light plays off her skin, which appeared soft and luminous, with no signs of tension or stress. The simplicity of her slave dress adds to the serene image she projects.
Jutta could not hide a triumphant look. Her hair in countless braids made her look younger. A little one. Milou had done a great job with her make-up as well: impeccable, featuring a bold red lip that stands out against her fair skin and a touch of blush that gives her a youthful glow. A soft gold shimmer highlights her eyes, making them sparkle every time she smiles. She was wearing her engagement ring on her left hand.
I opened the door, beckoned Jutta in, and closed the door in front of Sylvia. Once I had given Jutta further instructions, I went back to open the door for Sylvia. I placed her in the centre of the dungeon.
“At ease, little one.” And she did that as best as she could. I saw nervousness in her eyes now, not fear. I might have called everything off if I had seen that. As soon as I signalled Jutta, she began playing the music.
Only 10 centimetres separated us as I locked eyes with her, feeling an intense connection. At almost maximum volume level, the music sounded devastatingly hard. From four directions, the voice of Melissa Etheridge sang ‘Like the way I do’. The song serves as a heart-wrenching plea from Etheridge, expressing the pain she feels as her lover chooses someone else and receives the love that she once offered.
Tell me, does she want you, infatuate and haunt you?
She know just how to shock you, electrify and rock you?
Does she inject you, seduce you and affect you, like the way I do?
Oh nobody loves you like the way I do,
Nobody want you like the way I do
Nobody needs you like the way I do
Nobody aches nobody aches just to hold you
like the way I do
no, no, noooooo!
I kept looking into her eyes and we both cried. And Sylvia completely went to pieces. I waited until the song ended and the total silence after that, only interrupted by Sylvia’s wailing on the floor.
I walked over to Jutta.
“Kiss me”, I said. And we did. For a minute or so. Her ever self-sacrificing love washed over me, like a warm summer rain—gentle yet profound, nourishing the parched corners of my soul. It enveloped me completely, soothing every ache, leaving me drenched in a comfort I never knew I needed.
“Take care of her. I want her back in position.”, I said to Jutta. It took her 10 minutes of whispering before Sylvia was standing again in ‘at ease’ position.
“Are you prepared slave to receive your punishment for the lasting damage you have done to our marriage, the betrayal and the lies, knowing that the punishment will be more severe than anything you have ever received? Realising that once the punishment is over, not only will you be forgiven, but we will also never talk about it again, so it cannot harm us anymore. Are you ready to accept the punishment you deserve willingly?”
“More than anything, Master.”
“I have been thinking about many things, slave. We could do that would be appropriate. I was thinking about burning off your clit, and because you can only come by stimuli of your clittie. It would mean you have had your last orgasm ever. But I like the idea of a Chasity Belt way better. That means I control your orgasms without the smell of burning flesh. I have thought about learning to use the bullwhip and if I made beginners’ mistakes, well, you were the one that said when we started all of this that the rule of no permanent marks was no longer valid. But the bullwhip is not my cuppa tea.”
With a flourish, I pulled the white sheet away to reveal a chair and some materials behind it on a white piece of cloth.
“I have always loved your long hair, slave. I know how you love it as well. Milou has done a wonderful job with it. It looks so pretty all curled. I know how important hair is to a woman. There is a reason that many religions demand that women cover their hair. The nuns in the Christian faith, the Muslims who want to cover all their women as much as possible from the public eye, but especially their hair. Judaism ditto. All those men who want to have power over their women demand that the thing that makes their woman attractive, their hair and cover it with a headscarf. So I will remove all vanity, as you are just a slave now, and vanity is no asset to a slave. I will shave you bald and it’s Jutta’s job to shave you daily, so you will remain like that. As long as you are my slave, you will be a hairless woman.”
I turned to Jutta. “Bind her as tightly to the chair as you can.” It was a kitchen type kind of chair. Jutta bound her legs, her thighs and her body tight indeed. The only thing Sylvia could do was move her head. So there was the greatest challenge for her.
“I want you to keep your head perfectly still. Jutta, I want you to hold that mirror in front of her face so she can see what I am doing here.” Softly, Sylvia was crying again. I made a single, continuous motion and removed a section of hair from the middle of her head, extending from her forehead to the back of her neck, above nose level.
“Show it to her from all angles. Use your phone, so we will have delightful pictures for her to look back on.” Slowly and systematically, I removed row after row. Left, right from the gap that I had made.
Left.
Right.
Within a few minutes, everything was gone except for a few long hairs by the ears.
I had a small bowl of water and used to brush to wet the shaving cream to create a nice thick lather and soaped her head all up. Jutta was making pictures. Using disposable razors, I scraped her head until it was completely smooth. I used the clippers and razor to remove the eyebrows as well.
I turned to Jutta. She is your responsibility from now on. If I see a single hair on her, whether it is the eyebrows, the armpits, or her head, I will punish you, not her.
“Yes, master.” Jutta said.
“Suck my cock and make me come all over your bald head, slave,” I said.
“Yes, master”, Sylvia said.
Life is not a book.
Life is better.