Chapter 8

“I was afraid you were going to stop halfway, Master.”

“I almost did, little one. Not knowing what I was doing scares the living shit out of me.”

“I know. But you have to trust me to stop you if I can’t take it anymore.”

She didn’t add ‘And you must have enough confidence in yourself’, and I was grateful for that.

We were in bed. I do not wish to reminisce about the romantic and tender words we exchanged. They are really embarrassing if you read them back later. However, at the moment you’re saying them, they all sound wonderful.

She took my hand and lead it to her pussy. My fingers have a mind of their own and they slipped on automatic pilot inside her.

“It’s not mine anymore, it’s yours now.” She said to me with watery eyes.

“What is?” I was still basking in the afterglow.

“My pussy. It’s yours now. I no longer have anything to say about it. It’s all yours, like Tarzan is yours.”

“What is that supposed to mean, little one?”

“You own it. You can put a vibrator in it when we go to a fancy restaurant and turn the remote on high. Or insert a bunch of nettles in it if we are working in the garden. You can fist it or wriggle your toes in it. You can have my labia pierced with holes, ring them and secure it with locks like a chastity belt. It’s yours, any day of the week, any place in the world and at any time of the day.”

My first reaction would have been to laugh about this ‘present’ she gave me, but on second thought, I just said “Thank you, little one.”

“Sir, can I ask a question?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Sir?”

“Tomorrow night is the answer to your question when you will be collared.”

She snuggled into my arms. “You know me so well, Sir,” she purred.

“It’s easy, little one.”

“What are your thoughts on clothes, little one? Are you going to be naked all the time when we are in the house, or do you plan to put something on?”

“Whatever you want, Sir.”

“Even though I like you to see in the buff, I think you should find something to wear at home. You know I’m a possessive guy. I like to keep you for myself, and I see no need to share your body with every mailman, delivery guy or pedestrian that walks by.”

“What would you like to see, Sir something sheer and sexy?”

“It’s your choice, but keep in mind I want you in your house uniform as we got visitors, including our friends or sons.”

The sudden realisation sobered her mood quickly.

Frugal. The Dutch are frugal. Nah, they just don’t see the need to waste good money. “I would like to make something myself, but I need fabric for that. When do you want it finished?”

“Tomorrow, little one.”

“OMG.” She jumped up. “We’ve got to run, Sir. I have to go to that little shop in the shopping mall. Can I go now, please Sir?”

“I will go with you. We’ll have a bite to eat there as well.”

She clapped her hands like a teenager that has got a date for the Prom. “Thank you, Sir, you are the best.”

I don’t know if she was still thinking that when her bum hit the seat of the Transit.

“We are taking the van, Sir?”

“Is rain wet, little one?”

“Yes, Sir”. That kept her quiet for the rest of the ride. After twenty minutes, we parked in the parking garage of the mall. All the big chain stores of Holland are here, as well as some boutique like stores. There is a model train store as well, and as I love all things in miniature, I like to spend the time with Sylvia goes shopping over there. Sometimes I buy some stuff, but most of the time I love just looking and dreaming of the stuff. One day, I will rebuild one of the boys’ room into a decent train room. Too early for that, though. I want them to know there is always a place for them at home if they need it. I gave Sylvia her phone so she could call me if she was ready. She left, and I knew it would take her more than an hour to call me.

I rarely left “my” store without purchasing something, however small. This time I bought a small red miniature English telephone box and an old Dutch one as well. Of course, it would be more enjoyable to assemble all the parts rather than watching television. I do not know why I love miniature objects. Nostalgia? Perhaps. It offers a break from the real world, providing a peaceful, serene environment that I can immerse myself in. The act of observing or creating miniatures can be meditative and relaxing. Perhaps it’s as simple as that, it’s the sense of Control that intrigues me. Miniatures allow people to create, manage, and control a small world in a way that isn’t possible in real life. The control provides me a sense of comfort and order, perhaps even offering an escape from the complexities of everyday life.

In one of our regular joints, I discovered a place with nice, friendly people and good food. I ordered a latte machiatto, and I was daydreaming about my plan. I love it when a good plan comes together. My phone rang.

“Are you ready, honey?” would be my standard question I had asked her for many years as we both went our separate ways in the shopping mall. But today everything was different. It was the beginning of our adventure. Our own polar steps.

“Are you ready, slut?” was my variation of the day. I heard her inhale. It’s nice to surprise my wife after so many years. I still haven’t lost it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Meet met at Madame Cuisine.” I hung up. Well, more like I pressed the red button.

It took Sylvia five minutes to join me, holding two bulky bags of different shops in her hand. I stood up and gave her a French Kiss. It is polite to greet your friends under the customs of their country. We were, after all, in a French restaurant. Sylvia blushed because I rarely showed affection in public, and she wasn’t used to it.

“Wow”, she breathed, “what was that all about?”