Chapter 21 Welcome to new beginnings

The lingering smell in the attic alerted us to the necessity of ventilating the space completely before M&M would arrive, so that all the odorous evidence of what had happened here would have been diluted.

I will spare you the details of this torture. Jutta had already gone into great detail with her description in her letter. Should I tell that it was painful? Didn’t you get that already from her description? I owe you the number of times I sewed my lips shut. You think I was brave enough to take six stitches? Think again. Three was far over my limit. But I did it anyway. I was absolutely petrified. I won’t do that ever again. They will have to kill me first. The thumbtacks bark worse than they bite. Two hours. It took me two hours to conquer my fears. Two hours of work left me with a tiny row of pits in my skin. Not very flattering as a moustache. My tits, still red from nettle rash, were less visible. The tiny drops of blood were gone. Zuzanna sterilised all the puncture wounds using alcohol. That was even more painful.

True to her word, she kept her mouth shut during my endeavour. She didn’t need a suture thread for that.

“Next envelope, please,” I said to her.

“No. Have you not suffered enough for one day? What more do you have to prove to her? You just went to hell and back. Why do you need to complete the last challenge? She will be proud of you without doing the last one. You know that. Is it not bad enough to face Koen with punctured lips?”

“Next envelope, please,” I repeated.

Zuzanna sighed. “I will present the court exhibit A, conclusive proof that wisdom doesn’t come with age.” And presented me with the last envelope.

Darling,

The last challenge is always the hardest. Tie your legs wide apart on my bed. Use your hands. Edge 20 times without coming. I will see you tomorrow. I am proud of you.

J.

I glared at Zuzanna. “Do you want a chair at my bedside to see my snatch?” I asked, full of sarcasm. At least, that is what I wanted it to sound like. But it didn’t come out that way. It sounded more like a plea, if I am honest.

Much to my astonishment and disbelief, she actually responded affirmatively to my proposal. If you expect me to give you a detailed description of what Zuzanna had seen, you are sorely mistaken again, my friend. If you have your dick ready for a rub by rub report of my large clit, switch to another story. It’s so difficult if you have been on a dry spell for months now, and stimulate yourself to prevent yourself from a big climax. No matter how desperate I was for a good come, I was determined to prevent that. The more times you edge, at the end you are bound to fall over. Those are the worst. As soon as I feel from deep inside my body and mind trembling with lust, I stop. I shake and tremble, but there is nothing satisfying about that. With my hands pressed tightly against my sides, I used all my willpower to keep them there. How easy it is when they are bound and unusable, eliminating any possibility of my utilising them.

“Twenty”, I heard Zuzanna say somewhere in the distance.

It was the last time we would use Club Kinky Kinta. The hotel owners were not pleased with us keeping the BDSM-club next door. They came back to their decision not to buy the dungeon. Their purchase price is three times the amount of what we originally asked, because of their prior mistake of rejecting to buy the dungeon. They wanted it empty by next week. To celebrate their wedding with all their regular customers, M&M had planned one last celebration in the club.

We made the last club meeting special without regard to cost. Koen received all the guests. Jutta and I were also at the entrance, but we were mere attributes. A friend of a friend was a body painter and earned some money at the side as a living statue. And that was what he made us. Kind of. Jutta stood on the left on a revolving plateau that turned her slowly around. She looked like a Victorian doll. Her naked skin was covered completely with a pale foundation, with a white powder for that soft, powdery texture like real porcelain. Her cheekbones and nose had that delicate sheen with lightly applied with pearl highlighter. While eyeliner enlarged her doll eyes, accented by doll like false eyelashes. He shave her eyebrows off and made soft and rounded fake eyebrows that gave her an innocent doll look. Her lips were drawn in a rounded, heart-shaped lip with red lipstick. Her cheeks adorned with heavy blushes.

The artist masterfully applied black eyeliner all over her body to make her skin look cracked. Jutta was wearing a painted a Victorian gown on her nude body, including with painted lace gloves, stockings and a choker around her neck. The result was a real doll at the front. The back was bare skin, and as she revolved, guests could make fun of her exposed backside.

No make-up or painting for me. The artist made a sign above me that said ‘Barbie doll. Free for all to play with.’ Next to me was a box with wigs, clothes with holes at strategic places, high heels and higher heels. A small box with nipple clamps, dildos, anal plugs and vibrators for the guests that came in to use on me. And in me.

Jutta was admired. I was used. Both objects, but one was to show the world what a pretty doll she was, cherished, valuable, unique. I was not more than an ordinary Barbie. People could touch me, bend me, put things in and on me. A doll to play with. And to discard when you didn’t feel like playing any longer.

We expected approximately 40 guests, which translates to about 20 couples, to come to the last club meeting. The dungeon was relatively small, so about forty was the utmost we could fit inside. Most of the guests I had never seen before. We had been relatively new, and some couples came to Kinky Club Kinta for many years. Every fifteen minutes, a new couple was scheduled to arrive. That meant from the first couple to the last about five hours standing there without moving for Jutta and five hours being used by the arriving guests. At the sound of it, they were amused by our antics.

About halfway through the arrival of the guests, my heart suddenly stopped beating. A handsome young man came in, holding a naked young girl on a short leash. He was wearing all black leather that looked so well on him. There stood my son Sandor and on his leash stood a smiling Ilse. We interrupt this program for breaking news: A woman of 63 - with a vibrator buzzing away in her cunt, a black dildo a little over halfway in her throat wearing the remains of her black wedding dress with holes cut out so everyone could see her titties and bald cunt - died from shock in a seedy club in Germany. Hello Son, welcome to our party.

With a glance, Koen’s eyes not only found me but also Jutta, acknowledging both of us with a single, shared look. He showed absolutely no sign of being surprised; his expression remained perfectly composed and nonplussed.

“Welcome to Club Kinky Kinta. Sandor it’s your first and last visit to the club. Ilse for you it’s an end of an era, and yet I suspect it’s a new beginning as well. Sandor, you might want to explain to these two very frightened dolls over there what brought you to us today.”

“We made that decision rather spontaneously and impulsively, with little prior planning or consideration. Ilse’s invitation to come today led to her inviting me to spend several weeks with Martin and Helga at the Weber Ranch. From the moment we first met, Ilse and I developed an immediate connection, and she subsequently introduced me to a completely new way of life. She actually explained, quite forcefully, that for us to have any kind of future together, it was absolutely imperative for me to accept the role of Master of the House, a role she felt was essential to our success as a couple. I promised Ilse to keep her on a very short leash, and she, in turn, promised me to learn everything I need to know in my new role. Martin and Helga helped us, and I trust that the three of you will offer your support as well.”

I will tell you what I didn’t do. I didn’t go up to Koen and slap him in the face for pulling that stunt on us, knowing how my mistress and - perhaps to a lesser extent - I would feel about that. I didn’t tell my son to get the hell out of here, that this was an adult play for like-minded people. I didn’t run away to a hiding place and never come out of there. What I did do was stand there with a mouthful of dildo, with a wet pussy from the vibrations of the vibrator, and showed my son his mother’s breasts and vulva. I looked at my mistress who was still slowly turning around, showing Sandor her nude backside, her tits and - not very subtly hidden - her love for being a Little in a Daddy Dom-relationship. She also had that deer in headlights look in her eyes.

Koen picked up the riding crop that dangled from his belt. I felt the slap of the riding crop hard on my ass and saw that Jutta had a mark as well on her butt.

“This is not the place and time to talk extensively about that. We will soon have a long talk about this, I promise. For now, kiss the happy couple and wish them all the best and prepare for our next guest that are already coming.” Koen barked to us.

So we did. I kissed both of them and told them to enjoy themselves tonight.

The night was a typical club night, filled with couples who used the opportunity to show the connoisseurs the things they usually did within the privacy of their homes. Martin and Helga of course were one of the first that took the stage. The love Helga felt was nearly palpable in their play together. Some guests played more or less vanilla, more sex-oriented play with lots of rough love. Others with lots of impact play and serious pain to the submissive. I was glad Sandor was content with just watching and talking to a lot of dominants that night.

Koen took the stage. “As many of you know, Jutta and I got married two months ago. We had the privilege of meeting some of you at our wedding ceremony in The Netherlands. But Jutta is not just my wife. She is a my slave as well. Gossip has told you already my ex-wife is indeed the slave of my wife. To make it even more complicated, Ilse, Jutta’s daughter, has promised herself to my son Sandor as his slave. So, ‘Lifestyle’ is the perfect word to describe our family.”