Epilogue

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.