Chapter 26

The next morning she asked me if I was game for another little one day or that we would visit the tattoo shop. Boutique, I think she called it. Right. So I chose the little one day of course.

“How long has it been that you went to the zoo?” she asked me.

“Ages”, I confessed. “The last time was when the kids were six or seven. After that, they kind of lost interest.”

“That’s good, because we are going today.”

“To the zoo?” I asked, not very bright.

“No, to the strip club”, she said.

“We are going to a strip club.” I teased.

“We need to take with us the first aid kit.”

“You drive.” I said.

“I’m driving, Sir?” She looked surprised.

“Of course. These Germans drive like lunatics.” We walked to her car. An ageing Audi, but it was clean and still run well, Jutta said.

“Most masters out there like to be in the driving seat themselves”, she said semi nonchalant, following the navigation instructions. I made myself more comfortable.

“Between the person behind the wheel and the person in the back dictating the destination, who holds more power?” I said. She slowly nodded.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Anything,” she replied.

“Why did you allow Ilse to go with Martin and Helga, knowing they are going to put her through hell? As a parent, I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that.”

“After Martin died, Ilse and I became very close. We are more friends than mother and daughter. We both grieved so much over his death that we needed each other to survive. So our relationship changed from authority to equality. I needed her as much as she needed me, and it elevated our connection to an intimate level. She had known about the Master-slave relationship ever since she walked in on us when we were playing in the dungeon. And we talked about how I felt, and how I missed a master. And she reciprocated by telling me she has had these submissive feelings ever since she was a little child.”

As a kid, she loved the book ‘Ella Enchanted’ about the gift of obedience bestowed upon princess Ella, which made her instantly and literally obey any command given to her. Ilse told me she had identified with Ella so much she had her friends call her Ella in school. I realised Ilse had inherited my submissive genes and, like Ella in the book, her future looked extremely insecure and dangerous. The navigation on her phone interrupted her with detailed instructions to leave the highway. For a while she was concentrating on the road until we entered a long straight state road.

“It’s nearly impossible to find a trustworthy and good partner if you are a submissive, bordering on being a masochist, like your wife.” I protested, but she silenced me with a hand gesture.

“She is, but I we have gone through that before. We have both seen in the club that the excellent masters are all rather old. That makes sense. Older men have more life experience, they have more sexual experience and have had a career where most of them have or have had a powerful position in their work. If you are a 20-year-old girl, a man of 50 or 60 is probably not the partner you want to submit to and potentially raise a family. There are a few young masters in the club, but to be honest they are..., well how do I say this nicely? They have a lot to learn about controlling themselves, before even thinking about controlling someone else.”

“Master Martin is in an age somewhere in between and besides, he’s already married. He is not marriage material. But he is a very skilled master who can read women very well. We had a conversation with both him and his wife and they told us they could teach her. Teacher her what she wanted out of BDSM and all those things that were a red flag for her. If she has that experience under her belt, she’s a year older and wiser. And even if she finds a young master that wants to take her under his wing, she will learn him what she needs and coach him to give that to her. It will give her confidence to find the right man.”

“You have got a point there”, I had to admit.

“Do you mind if I call you Daddy, instead of Master?” Jutta asked.

“Yesterday was weird.” I said. She said nothing and waited for me to continue. “At first it was hard to understand what the attraction was. It quickly became clear to me you were not attempting to put on a bizarre performance. You really were with your heart and soul a little girl, and that made me feel suddenly very protective towards you. It was a surprising reaction that I never expected. But it felt good. I always thought that the play was bordering on incestuous role play and centred around diaper play.”

We were quiet as she had to concentrate on some really sharp hair pin corners. Out of the blue, she started to talk.

“The term ‘Daddy’ is a consensual, symbolic role-play element that involves nurturing and authority. It is exclusively between adults who have agreed to these roles. Paedophilia, on the other hand, is a psychiatric disorder characterised by an adult’s sexual attraction to prepubescent children, which is both illegal and unethical. The crucial distinction lies in that BDSM involves consensual relationships between adults, whereas paedophilia involves the exploitation of children who cannot give consent.”

“My mother passed away while giving birth to her fifth child. Even though my dad never fully recovered from the breakup, as the oldest child, I had to step up and take care of my siblings when my father started drinking excessively. I totally missed out on my childhood being always the responsible one. My husband learned me the concept of being a little. It changed my life. My husband took the responsibilities of being an adult from me, and I could be a child again. And I loved it. I felt captivated. It really resonated deep within me. At first I was kind of shy and didn’t dare to give myself completely. But his reaction to my actions made it feel natural.”

“He often called me little one, privately and in public, just like you do. David never was cruel to me like a master of a slave can be, but he corrected me if I was a brat with a few spanks or a time-out in the room’s corner. I don’t know if you want to hear this from me right now, but you are a natural Daddy Dom. You have that caring, that allowing your little to flourish and grow because encouragement is in your genes. Tell me if I’m wrong, but you want to be your slave to become the best person she can.”

“All Doms want that little one.”

“Possibly,” she responded, “but considering what I’ve witnessed from you and what Sylvia herself has shared, you possess the tender spirit that a little yearns for. I need to ask you a question: Are you up to the challenge of me being a little in the zoo?”

“Yes.” She expected more, but this is what she got.

“Oh, really?”

I had a great time yesterday.

That’s exactly what I was hoping you would say. She said.

“Maybe not the best day to go to the zoo”, Jutta said as she turned on the windshield wipers.

“Never mind, the animals don’t mind a little rain.”

She smiled. “It seems like you didn’t bring a raincoat.”

“I don’t need it. You have an umbrella on the backseat.”

The parking lot of the zoo was half empty. Good.

“Could you get me the wheelchair they provide for free at the entrance, please?”

I didn’t ask why we would need one, but went along with her plan. When I returned, she had already wrapped her upper leg up to below the knee in elastic bandages. The white bandages contrasted with her dark miniskirt above it. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, particularly with women, but I can still comprehend why I had to get the wheelchair. I lifted her from her seat and carried her into the wheelchair. There was no queue at the ticket office when we arrived.

“My Daddy and I are going to see the animals today. I want to go see the monkeys. I love monkeys. They are so funny, aren’t they, Daddy?” Jutta said in a very childish tone.

“Monkeys can be hilarious, Jutta”, I said in my best patronising tone.

“Can I pay, please Daddy? Please, I want to pay.” This time a nagging tone that children use when they want something they likely aren’t getting. Like a toy in the toy store. Daddy, can I have that one? No, we are not buying something here. I looked back on many confrontations with my misbehaving boys in the toy store. The tone they used then was a copy of Jutta’s tone of voice just now.