Chapter 10

“Master, I need to talk to you for a moment. I would really like to go shopping with Zuzanna next week. It has been a long time since we have shopped together and she has superb taste. She always knows how to pick out the most beautiful things for me and is usually on sale as well. I need to ask your permission to go, please, Master?”

It took some effort on my part to strain and listen closely as Sylvia whispered into her phone, making it difficult to catch her words. She was out on a lunch date with her best friend, Zuzanna. A school friend she kept seeing all those years. They were two peas in a pod. Without a doubt, Zuzanna was privy to every intimate detail of our marriage, even the ones that made us blush, and vice versa.

“Why are you whispering, little one?” I asked.

“I’m in the bathroom, Sir,” she said, the sound of running water in the background. “Before deciding, I had to ask for your permission. Normally I would have just waited and asked you first, but she needs to know right away, so I went to the toilet to call you.”

I raised my voice so they could hear me in the next stall. “Little One. Stop this nonsense. If you have anything to ask, don’t hide in a toilet, but go to your friend and say, excuse me, I just have to ask my master for permission,” and hung up.

It was interesting to find out whether or not she would call me back. She could just let it slip, but I also knew the attraction of shopping with her friend. I waited a while by the phone, but finally went on making lunch for myself as she apparently chickened out of it.

My phone sung its ringtone. Hmmm.

“Master, I would like to ask your permission to go tomorrow out to shop with Zuzanna.” I heard Zuzanna giggle in the background. “Can I go, Sir? I would really love to.”

“Of course you can go, little one.”

“Thank you, Master.” I disconnected. It was nice that Sylvia now had someone to talk about her feelings and what was happening to her. She was a sharing person. She needed to talk and feel. A shared secret would make the talk easier for her.

When she came home, she was all fired up. There was such much to tell about her conversation and it had to come all out, and all at once as she passed our front door. I held my hand in a stop-gesture.

“Little one, we have a new rule. The old Sylvia could go on for an hour and tell me all the details of how Zuzanna responded to your little confession. However.” I paused. I had her attention now.

“However”, I repeated, “This is the all new Sylvia, the renewed and improved version of herself. And with the renewed Sylvia, the moment she steps through our door, she realises she is not the most important thing anymore, that her story can wait. Her master is what her entire focus is on. And she trusts he will give her enough space to tell her the complete story when he is ready. And not a second before. So what would be our new rule, little one?”

“A new rule, Master?”

“Whenever you return home - not just briefly stepping out to take out the trash...”

“I never put the garbage out in all these years, Master. You do.”

“Stop interrupting me. As I said, you go straight to the attic, clothed as you are, in your shorts or dripping wet from the rain. You will undress in there until you are nude. Kneel in a corner of the dungeon and say your mantra over and over again. Tell me your mantra, little one.”

Like she did so many years ago, she went to her knees and closed her eyes. Her face changed as I reminded her of the mantra. Like she had finally found the peace she had been searching for. Her eyes, once filled with worry, softened, and a gentle smile curled at the corners of her lips. The tension that had gripped her features melted away, leaving behind an expression of serenity. It was as if all the burdens she had carried for so long had been lifted, and in that moment, she was free. Softly, Sylvia said, still on her knees.

“Eternal flame of my heart. I am yours.
With every breath, our souls intertwine.
Love’s pure essence binds us as one.
In your presence, I am whole. I am home.”

“Repeat it over and over again, little one. Leave the real world behind you. You are with your master now. He will take care of you and all your needs. You are not just home, you are his home.”

Like every so often before, emotion came out through tears silently streaming down her cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of release—a quiet acknowledgement of the deep, unspoken feelings in words we could not express any other way.

“Take 10 minutes to meditate on your new role and then change into your slave dress. It will help you feel with every inch of your nude body against the fabric that you are vulnerable and in need of my protection. Not because you are weak, but because you are strong enough to surrender. Knowing that you make me happier than ever before, by doing so.”

“Oh, master. What did I do to deserve you? I will do better in the future, I swear I will.” Sylvia babbled, her cheeks still wet with tears. On her knees, she lowered my zipper. Do you know the difference between a blowjob and a face fuck? Whenever Sylvia blows me, she folds her hands on her back. With no influence or suggestion from me. Without a single tie. And you know what that does to you? If you don’t, you clearly never have had the experience. Teach her, learn her to make it a completely automatic gesture. The rewards are beyond human imagination. With a blowjob, the woman uses her hands to control the depth, the speed and the pace of the fuck. But if you fuck her face with her hands behind her back, you are the one that controls her. Imagine there is no difference between fucking her cunt or her face. Make sure her hair is long enough for you to push and pull her face however you like it. The feeling of power that washes over you in waves at that moment is irresistible, even for the most vanilla guy in the world.

It’s the little things that mean a lot.

“What are you doing, Master?”

“Tell me what I am doing, little one.” She looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

“You are tying my legs to the bed frame, obviously. I thought we were going to sleep now, Master, but if you want to continue playing...”

I could see she was tired. Her pussy was filled with two doses of the finest quality of semen possible. She was confused and thought we were done. She had to do all the work to receive the second load, so I could see sleep was on top of her agenda. It was both technically possible and practically impossible she would reach down and release her legs from the rope. I doubted she could reach the floor with her feet. The rope was that short. I just walked around to my side of the bed and slid in.

“Goodnight, little one. Sleep well. Love you.”

“WHAT? Are you going to leave me like this, Master? You can’t. You know I often have to get out of bed at nights to go the bathroom.”

“I know.”

“How am I going to untie myself, and do I need to retie myself after?”

“You can’t. If you need to go to the bathroom, you wake me up and ask your master if you can go.”

“Really?” She looked at me with those enormous eyes of hers, and her gaze held a question, a plea of understanding and I silent hope I could see beyond the surface to the depths of what she was feeling. I just nodded to her, and all I could see was love coming back at me.

“Master, I truly hope I can sleep like this.”

“Little one, this will be the way you sleep every single night from now on, as it is the new routine we have established. Sleep well, I love you.”

“I need your debit card, little one.”

I assume the Dutch use their debit card like Americans use a credit card. For anything and everything. Here we pay a newspaper and a new car with our ‘pinpas’. So it didn’t surprise me when Sylvia said, “But ... I’m going shopping with Zuzanna today.”

“Do I need to ask again, pretty one?”

“No, Sir.” I could use a metaphorical shovel to wipe away the disappointment from Sylvia’s face. “That means I won’t be able to buy anything today.”

That sounded like my boys in the toy store when they were young. She looked awful young now, my Sylvia. Did I tell you guys how pretty she is? Do you mind if I take a moment to ramble about her beauty? You do? It’s not your lucky day, today. Where do I even begin with describing the beauty of my wife? It’s like trying to capture the sun’s warmth in a single ray or the depth of the ocean in a handful of water. Her beauty is something that goes beyond what words can express, but I’ll try my best.