Chapter 28

The Weber residence looked impressive. I mean, I have a nice place at home, but this was a different cake. And I was not sure I fancied a bite of it. The way to their house was almost a kilometre long and, even for German standards, it was remote. And this guy was loaded. The house, the stables, the fields ... All screamed money. It was after eight in the evening when we stopped before the stairs in front of their house. Martin and Helga greeted us. Sylvia was nowhere to be seen.

“Good evening, Koen. We’re curious why you’ve chosen to visit our estate at this late hour?” Martin said.

“I have come to collect my wife. She goes home with me tonight.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think so, Koen. She is not interested in going to your home tonight. From what I gather, she likes it better here.”

“I would like to hear that from herself, if you don’t mind.” I said.

“I’m afraid she’s unavailable tonight,” Martin replied.

“Make her available. I want to see if she is alright. If I’m not sure if she is alive and well, I will assume she is being held here against her will, and I will ask the police to investigate this place.”

“Wow, I see we are shooting directly with live ammunition.” Wait a minute, please. I will ask her to come out, you can hear it from herself. He said.

I asked Helga. “Would you be so kind as to collect my newest acquisition from the Cargo space of my van, please? I think she needs a bit of fresh air, and I don’t want her to pee in my van as well.”

I gave a totally stunned Helga the keys of the Transit and sat down on one chair of their veranda like I owned the place. I heard Helga gasp. After a few minutes, she emerged with Jutta. The poor girl’s hair was covered in sweat, and Helga supported her as she walked since her muscles were so cramped that she couldn’t walk independently. She stumbled onto a piece of grass to the side of the dirt road and fell on her knees. While she spread her knees, the pee was coming already out and kept going forever. A big flood, I don’t have another word for it. The relief on Jutta’s face was almost comical. I got out of my seat and took out her spider gag. I opened the front door of the Transit and took a bottle of water out and gave it to Helga.

Corrected: “Would you be so kind as to give her a bit of water in small sips, please? If she drinks too much at once, she can get sick.” I turned round and saw Sylvia standing there next to Martin with her mouth open.

“What is that?” Sylvia cried out.

“That is your friend Jutta from Kinky Club Kinta. You remember her? She volunteered to come with me and pick you up. So here we are. Are you ready to come with us?” I said calmly.

She laughed. I could tell from that laugh that there was no happiness present.

“Koen, do you think you can persuade me with that stunt? No, I don’t think so. I quite like it here. I finally learned here who I am and I embrace my submission proudly. Martin and Helga can give me both what I need. If you want to file for divorce, I won’t make it difficult for you. It pains me to say this so bluntly, Koen, but you have only yourself to blame for these absurd stunts that you pull.”

“If, just for argument’s sake, say if I could give you what you say you want so much, would you come back with me? Martin here has Helga and Ilse. He will hardly miss you, girl. I would. Miss you, I mean. I still love you.”

Sylvia’s face was suddenly full of pity and compassion. “Oh, Koen, we go back a lifetime together. And yet it’s my time to move on. Can’t you see that? I need this like an addict craves her next fix.”

“I think everything is said and done. I think we can wrap this up here.” Martin was leaning on the post of the veranda, looking a bit bored.

“Your wife invited my slave here under false pretences. Now my wife is claiming you are a better master than I am. That is not OK, man. My honour and reputation as a Master is here at stake. We need to settle this like men do.” I said.

“What do you propose, master Koen?” Martin said.

“This is not about subs what their level of submission is. This is about Sylvia claiming I’m too soft a Master and not a good enough to satisfy her. She might say it differently, but that is what it boils down to. So I propose Jutta and I will watch as you do a scene with her. Afterwards, I will do a scene with Jutta and have you and Sylvia watch us. You will do your worst on Sylvia and I will do likewise with my slut. If after that, Sylvia decides you are still the better Master I will not bother you or her again. If she realises I’m a Master after all, I will take her back with me.”

“Look, it’s late. I suggest you take care of Jutta and we will continue this conversation in the morning. It gives everyone a good night’s sleep over it, and things will look brighter in the sunlight.” Helga said.

“You are right, I said. Thank you for taking care of Jutta for me. We will find a hotel in the village we passed through, coming here.”

“Nonsense. We have plenty of rooms. You and Jutta can stay in one of the guest room. Sylvia will stay in our room anyway, so we have lots of space.” Helga replied.

Women fight more subtly. Unsure of Helga’s role in all of this, I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that this alleged slave was the driving force behind the charade. I glanced over at Jutta. I had done a number on her. She didn’t deserve to let my pride dominate me and tell Helga we would go to a hotel, regardless.

Following a brief quiet meal, we found ourselves in a spacious bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. It’s so luxurious that even a hotel room would be envious. Among the items available were multiple types of bath salts, toothbrushes that were individually wrapped, and miniature tubes of toothpaste. Two soft bathrobes were hanging on the door hooks. I lifted the still naked Jutta in the bath after checking if the water wasn’t too hot. I poured a generous amount of bath salt in the water.

“How are you feeling?” I said as I sat down at the edge of the tub.

“Sore, of course. This bath is divine, though. Thank you Master. It was just what I needed. Being confined for such a long time is causing my muscles to cramp, which is quite surprising, as I did not know of their existence.”

“Take your time, love. If the water gets cold, feel free to add as much warm water as you want to.”

“Thank you, Master.”

It was finally my turn to enjoy a long, relaxing shower, starting with a soothing stream of hot water and ending with a refreshing blast of icy cold water to invigorate my mind and body. I towelled dry and put on the bathrobe. After brushing my teeth, I retrieved the comb from the plastic. My hair is white. Not grey, but white. Family present. Both my grandfather and my father have had a full head of white hair. It aged me, and maybe even made me appear more knowledgeable. As the reader is painfully aware by now, wisdom doesn’t come with age or white hair. I helped to get Jutta get out of her bath, towelled her dry from head to toe and draped a bathrobe around her shoulders as well.

“Sit down on the bed, kitten. We need to talk.”

“We do, Master?” She looked at the Tarzan standing to attention between my bathrobe’s slips.

“Not today”, I said while closing the robe and hiding Tarzan from distractions.

“Do you have a plan for tomorrow, Master?” she asked.

I told her what I was planning to do with her in minute detail. It was only fair to give her the opportunity to consent, object or modify, as it was her canvas I would paint on. After I had finished outlining my plans, I fixed a stern gaze on her once again.

“Kitty, what do you have to say about this?”

With a twinkle in her eyes, she glanced back. “Master, I have full confidence that it will work.”

We talked for a long time about the details. Perhaps Jutta was even more excited about it than I was. Finally, we went to sleep. Each of us slept on our designated side of the bed.

Both Martin and Helga were wearing their normal attire at the breakfast table, as was I. Jutta didn’t bring clothes with her, and was therefore naked, Sylvia was wearing her new white slave dress, tits bare, and her area around her pussy covered this time. Jutta was kneeling on her own initiative and, after a moment, Sylvia slipped out of her chair as well, following Jutta’s example.

Helga, the slave that had been elevated somehow, remained seated on her chair as she addressed both Martin and me.

“We will have some ground rules for your contest to see who has the biggest.” Before we start: Do you ladies both volunteer to take part in this ‘contest’? She air quoted the word contest and her opinion about it clearly showed on her face. Both girls nodded.

“Out loud, if you please. Sylvia?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Jutta?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Good. First rule: nothing permanent. Whatever you do, a week from now, both ladies’ bodies will look like they are now.”

“Take off your dress, slut”, she said to my wife.

Sylvia didn’t hesitate a moment and pulled the slave dress over her head and neatly folded the dress afterwards.

“Stand over there, both of you against each other. Tit to tit, belly to belly, toe to toe.” Helga turned to Martin and me. “The both of you inspect them both like you would inspect a rental car before you take it out from the garage. Note every scratch and bump and write them down. You start at their backs and then do their fronts.”

I glanced at Martin, but he appeared completely unfazed by obeying her commands. Perhaps I was challenging the wrong one. We inspected them both. Apart from a few blue spots and faded welts, Sylvia looked unharmed.