This story continues the Katja 1-14 stories, which told about her teenage TUGs.
Now she is around 25 and her daddy worries what has become of his little princess.
Katja 00: Prolog 1 - Early Signs viewtopic.php?t=23922
Katja 00: Prolog 2 - When TUGs were simple viewtopic.php?t=23905
Katja 01: What's a collar without a leash? viewtopic.php?t=23816
Katja 02: Making the shopping mall less boring viewtopic.php?t=23853
Katja 03: A question of peg and chain viewtopic.php?t=23881
Katja 04: Caged Birds Do Sing viewtopic.php?t=23931
Katja 05: How not to dance viewtopic.php?t=23950
Katja 06: A Bald Decision viewtopic.php?t=23963
Katja 07: The Big Red viewtopic.php?t=23977
Katja 08: Grandma's Wooden Spoon viewtopic.php?t=24038
Katja 09: Enjoy the Silence viewtopic.php?t=24055
Katja 10: Among Sheep viewtopic.php?t=24067
Katja 11: Reading Tolkien viewtopic.php?t=24096
Katja 12: All about David viewtopic.php?t=24109
Katja 13: Boxing Katja viewtopic.php?t=24151
Katja 14: Butchering Katja viewtopic.php?t=24244 ADULT!
Part 1 - The Wedding
Years have come and gone. My little princess grew into a young woman, finished school, went to university, dated boys and — I think — the occasional girl, graduated and found a good job in the big city. Visits to her father in his cottage became short and rare.
Five years ago, she called unexpectedly, asking when she could visit and introduce me to Marcel, her boyfriend. That was new! She’d had boyfriends before and told me about some of them, but she had never introduced me to one.
We met the following weekend. Marcel seemed like an honest, caring, reasonable chap. The way he led Katja by the wrist, when other couples would walk hand in hand — I counted that as an oddity. In a quiet moment Katja whispered “Remember that test mummification we did ten years ago?” viewtopic.php?t=23950
“Oh, that Marcel!” I whispered back.
A few months later, they visited me over a long weekend. Katja now wore a thin gold ring through her septum. When I looked at it a bit too obviously, she just smiled. “I finally did it” she said — because I hadn’t allowed her to get one when she was thirteen. viewtopic.php?t=23963
Marcel still led her by the wrist. Apart from that, we got along increasingly well.
On Sunday afternoon Marcel grew rather formal and visibly nervous; he asked me to sit down in the living room. Then he asked for my daughter’s hand. I found that a little old-fashioned, but I tried to stay serious and asked the questions a father is expected to ask in such a situation. His answers satisfied me — and who was I to object to two grown adults, anyway?
I gave them my blessing. They were happy and began discussing a date for their engagement.
“Does your mom know?” I asked Katja.
“Not yet, but we’ll tell her this week.” she answered. Apparently, her consent to this union was not required.
Their wedding was scheduled three months later — a traditional affair that fulfilled all the clichés. Katja’s maids of honor were Chloe*, whom I hadn’t seen in more than ten years, and Davena, a girl I didn’t know at all.
(*) Katja had known Chloe since primary school. When Katja was nine or ten, she asked if Chloe could spend the summer with us at the cottage because Chloe’s mother was in hospital. I hadn’t known what to make of her. At ten, she already seemed old to me — not like twenty, more like forty. The most boring, most 'vanilla' girl on earth. You get the idea. And she hadn’t known what to make of our peculiar daddy-and-princess dynamic. But somehow Katja and Chloe had stayed close all their lives. By now, Chloe had two children (and had gained quite a bit of weight).
It was my duty to lead Katja down the aisle. But when we waited outside the church and I reached for her hand, she pulled it back.
“Daddy, please lead me by the wrist!” she said.
“Why?” I asked, surprised.
“Because — please!”
When I took her wrist, she added, “The priest wouldn’t accept a leash.” viewtopic.php?t=23816
The party after the ceremony had all the bells and whistles — you get the idea. Katja danced a lot in her white gown: with Marcel, with me, with everyone — even with her brother. But I noticed she danced quite a bit with Davena, the other maid of honor. Davena was tall and athletic, like a swimmer. She wore the same peach-colored dress as Chloe, but she looked much better in it. Beneath her perfect makeup, her face was strong and striking.
When I went to ask Katja for another dance, she seemed to dodge the request and instead nudged Davena toward me. She was a great dancer. After two dances, we sat down and I got us drinks.
“We’ve met before,” she said, surprising me. Her voice matched her stature.
“You know me as David. I was the other bird in that Mozart opera. We shocked you a bit when I sat in the cage with Katja” she explained. viewtopic.php?t=23931
“We’re still close friends. Katja challenged me to come here en femme and be her maid of honor. What do you think — challenge accomplished?” she smiled confidently.
Impressed, I looked her up and down. “But you’ve been Davena before?” She gave me an enigmatic smile. Then we danced some more.
...
After the wedding, Marcel and Katja went on their honeymoon and it took six months before they visited me again.
I was more than a little shocked by their entrance. Marcel wore a rather severe-looking black suit; Katja now had a blond bob, high heels, and a very short black PVC dress — and he led her into the cottage on a leash attached to a thin silver collar around her neck.
But I knew Katja, and the confident way she looked at me stopped me from asking stupid questions. We went into the living room. I sat down on the sofa, Marcel took the armchair and Katja sat on the floor beside him. (I had the impression she was naked under her dress. Judging by how smoothly she sat and stood, she was clearly used to wearing it.)
I waited for them to speak. Marcel began:
“I hope we haven’t shocked you too much. But my slave said you could handle this.”
“Slave?” I asked, indeed shocked.
Katja nodded and Marcel explained “Yes, we’re in a Master/slave relationship. In fact, we have been for two years now.”
“You led her by the wrist when a leash wasn’t appropriate.” I realized.
“Yes — but we’re becoming more open about it, at least with people we trust.”
Did I want to be one of those?
“We refer to each other as ‘Master’ and ‘slave.’ Please accept that. Of course, you can still use ‘Marcel’ and ‘Katja.’”
“Thank you for that privilege.” I couldn’t help but say.
After a quick glance from Katja to Marcel and a nod from him, she said, “Master decides what this slave wears and how it looks. This slave no longer has a say in the matter.”
'This slave' — that was hard to swallow.
“This isn’t just our bedroom kink. We live this lifestyle full-time. She said you’d understand.” They both looked at me.
“You’re two grown adults — what can I say? Katja’s right, I’m less surprised than I should be. But I do wonder what I did wrong.”
“But Daddy, you did nothing wrong! I’m the happiest person in the world.” Katja blurted out.
That earned her a sharp tug on her leash and an angry look from Marcel.
“This slave will not speak without permission and will address its father respectfully. Expect an appropriate punishment.”
He turned back to me. “We want you to understand our way of living. We may look unusual, talk unusual, behave unusual, make unusual decisions — we don’t want to hide this from you.”
“You’re already quite good at being unusual.” I commented dryly.
Again, a quick glance from Katja to Marcel, then a nod.
“There’s more to come, Father. Mother doesn’t know yet. And Master doesn’t care about her opinion.”
‘Father’ and ‘Mother’ — really?
“Marcel, do you mind if I still call this slave ‘my little princess’?” I provoked him, at least I tried to.
He cringed but replied “Do as you please. This slave is your daughter.”
“What about her job? Will you lead her to the office on a leash in that scandalous plastic dress and tether her to her chair?” I asked.
That earned me a shocked look from Marcel.
“Wow, amazing — you two really think alike! That’s exactly the plan she came up with for the Halloween party in their office.
But four days a week she works from home. During video conferences, she wears turtleneck sweaters. Sitting at her desk, nobody can see her legs.
For office days I unlock her normal wardrobe — though I still approve what she picks.”
“Fair enough” I said.
I had bought supplies for a barbecue and we started to prepare it.
Conversation was awkward under their self-imposed roles, but they stubbornly stayed in character.
Small talk — standing at the grill with the Master of my little princess, beer in hand — was not easy.
She stayed in the kitchen, leashed to the counter, sweating in her PVC dress. Then she asked for permission to speak: “This slave can’t reach the fridge. Its leash is tethered too short.”
I went inside and retied her leash. Marcel watched us.
“This slave thanks her father.” she said, curtsied and smiled at me disarmingly.
A while later, while she was cooking, she again asked for permission to speak: “This slave’s dress is too short. Hot oil splashes onto its thighs. This slave asks permission to wear an apron.”
Marcel denied the request and explained to me “She’s a pain slut and wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Don’t you call my daughter a ‘pain slut’!" I countered "Even if she might be one sometimes.”
I was relieved when this slave set the table for three. I had feared she might get her food in a bowl on the floor. Over some wine and steaks, we all relaxed a little.
After we had eaten, Katja asked “This slave asks its Master to speak with its father privately.”
To my surprise Marcel nodded and left us alone. He went outside and started tidying up the grill.
[ continued in part 2 ]
I'd appreciate your comments.
Website Migration Update
I moved the website to a new host, which I think will be more tolerant of the content this website hosts. Nevertheless, I do want to take a moment to remind everyone that the stories and content posted here MUST follow website rules, as it it not only my policy, but it is the policy of the hosts that permit our website to run on their servers. We WILL continue to enforce the rules, especially critical rules that, if broken, put this sites livelihood in jeapordy.
*CALLING FOR MORE PARTICIPATION*
JUST A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT TO REMIND EVERYONE (GUESTS AND REGISTERED USERS ALIKE) THAT THIS FORUM IS BUILT AROUND USER PARTICIPATION AND PUBLIC INTERACTIONS. IF YOU SEE A THREAD YOU LIKE, PARTICIPATE! IF YOU ENJOYED READING A STORY, POST A COMMENT TO LET THE AUTHOR KNOW! TAKING A FEW EXTRA SECONDS TO LET AN AUTHOR KNOW YOU ENJOYED HIS OR HER WORK IS THE BEST WAY TO ENSURE THAT MORE SIMILAR STORIES ARE POSTED. KEEPING THE COMMUNITY ALIVE IS A GROUP EFFORT. LET'S ALL MAKE AN EFFORT TO PARTICIPATE.
JUST A SMALL ANNOUNCEMENT TO REMIND EVERYONE (GUESTS AND REGISTERED USERS ALIKE) THAT THIS FORUM IS BUILT AROUND USER PARTICIPATION AND PUBLIC INTERACTIONS. IF YOU SEE A THREAD YOU LIKE, PARTICIPATE! IF YOU ENJOYED READING A STORY, POST A COMMENT TO LET THE AUTHOR KNOW! TAKING A FEW EXTRA SECONDS TO LET AN AUTHOR KNOW YOU ENJOYED HIS OR HER WORK IS THE BEST WAY TO ENSURE THAT MORE SIMILAR STORIES ARE POSTED. KEEPING THE COMMUNITY ALIVE IS A GROUP EFFORT. LET'S ALL MAKE AN EFFORT TO PARTICIPATE.
Katja - Free to be a Slave (MMF/F -/F) - Parts 9-12 added
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Jenny_1972
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Katja - Free to be a Slave (MMF/F -/F) - Parts 9-12 added
Last edited by Jenny_1972 41 minutes ago, edited 6 times in total.
The people demand a scene where the father ties Davina up!!
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Jenny_1972
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'The people demand ...' - you really believe in 'mockcrazy ?
But I like your idea. Katja's father has a few more things to confess anyway - if he ever finds the courage to.
But this will be in another thread; the present one belongs to Katja.
Last edited by Jenny_1972 3 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Jenny_1972
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Part 2 - The Prophecy of the Purple Vet
K: "Father, do you remember that evening when the purple-haired veterinarian and I sat in her car and talked?" viewtopic.php?t=23816
F: "After which you wanted to sleep in my bed and then I sat next to your bed and held your hand until you finally fell asleep?"
K: "Yes, that night. I have never told you what we spoke in that car. Now is the time."
Like me, the young vet with the purple hair also wore a collar. I commented on her hair, she mentioned my collar, I mentioned hers, so we got into a conversation. Once in the car she asked me:
V: What makes a young girl like you wear a dog collar?
K: At first I wanted to annoy my mom. She forbade me to wear it. I did it secretly. It gave me a strange feeling. Like somebody's arm over my shoulder. It also made me imagine being led on a leash or being tethered somewhere. So I sneaked it with me when I went here on vacation, hoping daddy would be more understanding. He thought he could dissuade me from wearing it by putting me on a leash. But now we two even walk into the village like this.
V: That’s so brave from both of you. Everyone who wears a collar and leash in public contributes to the social acceptance for all of us.
...
V: Katja, you seem to be a smart girl. There’s one big difference between your collar and mine?
K: Mine is soft and of leather while yours is of shiny steel?
V: You are right but leather vs. steel - that’s just the looks. Think again…
K: Slowly, almost whispering: You can’t take yours off?
V: Indeed. This isn’t MY collar and I can’t take it off. It belongs to my Master. It might have no apparent lock but it's there." She showed me a tiny hole on the back of her collar. "Until last year I still had a spare key. But at his last birthday we laid it on the railroad tracks and waited till the next freight train squeezed it into a deformed piece of metal. He likes to wear it as a pendant on his necklace.
K: You, you said 'Master'!?
V: Yes, because I am his slave. He owns me. He decides what I do and how I look. I actually hate this purple hair. But he ordered me to dye it.
K: But, you drive around in this car, couldn't you just flee from him?
V: Why should I? I love my Master and he loves me. And if I fled I'd still wear his steel collar and I'm a little afraid of having it cut from my neck.
K: Aren't real slaves chained in the cellar of their Master's castle?
V: Castle? We live in a modest 3 room apartment on the 2nd floor. And - even with a castle - why should one chain a slave in the cellar? They must make themselves useful. I have studied veterinary medicine and working as the county vet I earn good money. But I am not as free as you think. You saw my vintage cell phone? That's all Master allows me to have. Without him no internet, no social media, only phone calls and SMS. You noticed that I made a short call before I offered you to sit in my car. I asked Master for permission to be 2 hours late, he has granted me 90 minutes. Being late without permission gets me a spanking. Take a close look at the zipper of my coveralls.
K: Is that a keyhole?!
V: Yes, the zipper is locked, I can't take this coveralls off until I am back home with Master. No hanky-panky with the young farmhands, if you understand.
K: But, what if you got to pee or ...?
V: I am wearing diapers. Why did you think my butt appears that fat?
K: Diapers - that's gross!
V: One gets used to it.
K: When I tried to spend 4 hours in my daddy's big suitcase we also discussed diapers. But to both of us this is a big no-no.
V: Climbing into a suitcase sounds familiar. Are there more such stories?
K: - Sitting in a birdcage, immobilized, muted in front of 600 spectators. viewtopic.php?t=23931
- Getting wrapped up in ducttape for 7 hours just to see if this might be my next Halloween costume viewtopic.php?t=23950
- Being dumped in a locker while daddy goes shopping in the mall. viewtopic.php?t=23853
- Tied at hand and feet and have the sheep lick salt from my feet. viewtopic.php?t=24067
- Riding to the village in the trunk of Grandpa's old Merc. viewtopic.php?t=23977
- Tying my yaw braces shut so I couldn't talk for the weekend. viewtopic.php?t=24067
and some more.
V: Oh. Did this begin only recently?
K: No. I think it has always been this way.
V: Is your daddy the instigator behind these 'games' or is it you?
K: Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's him, sometimes I must goad him - is this what you call 'topping from the bottom'?
V: (with tears in her eyes, hugging Katja) Oh, this sounds so familiar ...
You are not ready to hear this, but I don't know if we ever meet again, so I will say this now: Katja, you’ll be a slave.
K: (astonished) I don’t plan to be one. We have spoken only for a few minutes. How can you know things neither my mom nor my dad nor my teachers nor any of my friends know?
V: Do you know the saying 'It takes one to know one'?
You can’t choose your fate. Accept it and find someone who loves you just the way you are - as Master and slave. It has taken me 7 unhappy and dangerous years to learn the hard way what I teach you now for free. … Look at my hands closely!
The vet showed Katja her hands, palms and backs.
K: Why are there two nasty scars on both hands, inside and outside?
V: Smart girl, how does one get such scars?
K: (whispering) By crucifixion?
V: Indeed, those scars on the palm and back of my hand, they are from the nails of which I was hanging from a cross.
K: Why did your Master do this to you?
V: No, no way, I didn't have a Master then! I didn't even know I was a slave.
And today my Master would never let his most cherished possession get permanently damaged in such a way. This crucifixion was my own wish when I was still searching for myself. It took me long to find a group of 'friends' whom I trusted enough to let them do this to me. Then we still needed to find a doctor who would see that I survive without asking too many questions.
K: Having your hands nailed to the cross - did it hurt?
V: The nailing hurt like hell already, but then came the hanging from my nailed arms. I'd rather die than do it again. But you are asking the wrong question.
We had agreed to let me down when I'd get unconscious. I am tough, I lasted almost three hours. The doctor had a hard time to make me survive this ordeal, but she didn't recognize the damage that was done to my hands. They are messed up for good. As a vet I have access to some effective pain killers ... but I still pay for my foolishness every single day.
Only when I accepted that my destiny is being a slave and when I found myself a loving Master I stopped doing such self-destructive things and became settled and at peace with myself.
K: So, you feel freer as a slave than before as a normal girl?
V: Yes. Wow. Exactly. You are smart. Of course Master and I still fool around, but only under Master's control.
K: So, unlike on TV, there can also be happy slaves?
V: Yes. I am one. Happy, loved - and protected from myself.
With one hand she lifted up her collar, with the other she took my hand and put it at the back of her neck, smiling, proud. Can you feel this?
K: There is something small and hard under your skin!?
V: That's my ID chip. The same as any dog or cat gets.
K: Who put it there?
V: As a vet it's my job to chip animals. I explained Master how to do it, but with needles he is such a wuss. In the end I did it myself in front of our bathroom mirror while he watched.
K: Why did you do it?
V: So everyone in the world could read it as long as I live and will know to whom I belong.
K: These were the essential parts of our conversation, daddy.
F: Now I understand why you were all confused and worked up that night. She exactly foretold you your future. But you were much too young for this.
K: One girl at school was exactly my age and she returned from the same holidays pregnant. She wasn't too young to become a very decent mother.
We stood up and hugged each other. I went out to Marcel, thanked him and bade him back in. We had found a mode of understanding. I’d surely need a few weeks to get comfortable with the situation. But Katja seemed comfortable. With me in the know even more comfortable. Isn’t that the main thing? And they seemed to value my consent.
On the way back to their car Marcel offered me her leash. I declined. I was already deep enough in their Master/slave thing. Little did I know.
Later, when cleaning up the kitchen, I noticed that a certain wooden spoon was gone. viewtopic.php?t=24038
[ continued in part 3 ]
Your feedback is welcome.
K: "Father, do you remember that evening when the purple-haired veterinarian and I sat in her car and talked?" viewtopic.php?t=23816
F: "After which you wanted to sleep in my bed and then I sat next to your bed and held your hand until you finally fell asleep?"
K: "Yes, that night. I have never told you what we spoke in that car. Now is the time."
Like me, the young vet with the purple hair also wore a collar. I commented on her hair, she mentioned my collar, I mentioned hers, so we got into a conversation. Once in the car she asked me:
V: What makes a young girl like you wear a dog collar?
K: At first I wanted to annoy my mom. She forbade me to wear it. I did it secretly. It gave me a strange feeling. Like somebody's arm over my shoulder. It also made me imagine being led on a leash or being tethered somewhere. So I sneaked it with me when I went here on vacation, hoping daddy would be more understanding. He thought he could dissuade me from wearing it by putting me on a leash. But now we two even walk into the village like this.
V: That’s so brave from both of you. Everyone who wears a collar and leash in public contributes to the social acceptance for all of us.
...
V: Katja, you seem to be a smart girl. There’s one big difference between your collar and mine?
K: Mine is soft and of leather while yours is of shiny steel?
V: You are right but leather vs. steel - that’s just the looks. Think again…
K: Slowly, almost whispering: You can’t take yours off?
V: Indeed. This isn’t MY collar and I can’t take it off. It belongs to my Master. It might have no apparent lock but it's there." She showed me a tiny hole on the back of her collar. "Until last year I still had a spare key. But at his last birthday we laid it on the railroad tracks and waited till the next freight train squeezed it into a deformed piece of metal. He likes to wear it as a pendant on his necklace.
K: You, you said 'Master'!?
V: Yes, because I am his slave. He owns me. He decides what I do and how I look. I actually hate this purple hair. But he ordered me to dye it.
K: But, you drive around in this car, couldn't you just flee from him?
V: Why should I? I love my Master and he loves me. And if I fled I'd still wear his steel collar and I'm a little afraid of having it cut from my neck.
K: Aren't real slaves chained in the cellar of their Master's castle?
V: Castle? We live in a modest 3 room apartment on the 2nd floor. And - even with a castle - why should one chain a slave in the cellar? They must make themselves useful. I have studied veterinary medicine and working as the county vet I earn good money. But I am not as free as you think. You saw my vintage cell phone? That's all Master allows me to have. Without him no internet, no social media, only phone calls and SMS. You noticed that I made a short call before I offered you to sit in my car. I asked Master for permission to be 2 hours late, he has granted me 90 minutes. Being late without permission gets me a spanking. Take a close look at the zipper of my coveralls.
K: Is that a keyhole?!
V: Yes, the zipper is locked, I can't take this coveralls off until I am back home with Master. No hanky-panky with the young farmhands, if you understand.
K: But, what if you got to pee or ...?
V: I am wearing diapers. Why did you think my butt appears that fat?
K: Diapers - that's gross!
V: One gets used to it.
K: When I tried to spend 4 hours in my daddy's big suitcase we also discussed diapers. But to both of us this is a big no-no.
V: Climbing into a suitcase sounds familiar. Are there more such stories?
K: - Sitting in a birdcage, immobilized, muted in front of 600 spectators. viewtopic.php?t=23931
- Getting wrapped up in ducttape for 7 hours just to see if this might be my next Halloween costume viewtopic.php?t=23950
- Being dumped in a locker while daddy goes shopping in the mall. viewtopic.php?t=23853
- Tied at hand and feet and have the sheep lick salt from my feet. viewtopic.php?t=24067
- Riding to the village in the trunk of Grandpa's old Merc. viewtopic.php?t=23977
- Tying my yaw braces shut so I couldn't talk for the weekend. viewtopic.php?t=24067
and some more.
V: Oh. Did this begin only recently?
K: No. I think it has always been this way.
V: Is your daddy the instigator behind these 'games' or is it you?
K: Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's him, sometimes I must goad him - is this what you call 'topping from the bottom'?
V: (with tears in her eyes, hugging Katja) Oh, this sounds so familiar ...
You are not ready to hear this, but I don't know if we ever meet again, so I will say this now: Katja, you’ll be a slave.
K: (astonished) I don’t plan to be one. We have spoken only for a few minutes. How can you know things neither my mom nor my dad nor my teachers nor any of my friends know?
V: Do you know the saying 'It takes one to know one'?
You can’t choose your fate. Accept it and find someone who loves you just the way you are - as Master and slave. It has taken me 7 unhappy and dangerous years to learn the hard way what I teach you now for free. … Look at my hands closely!
The vet showed Katja her hands, palms and backs.
K: Why are there two nasty scars on both hands, inside and outside?
V: Smart girl, how does one get such scars?
K: (whispering) By crucifixion?
V: Indeed, those scars on the palm and back of my hand, they are from the nails of which I was hanging from a cross.
K: Why did your Master do this to you?
V: No, no way, I didn't have a Master then! I didn't even know I was a slave.
And today my Master would never let his most cherished possession get permanently damaged in such a way. This crucifixion was my own wish when I was still searching for myself. It took me long to find a group of 'friends' whom I trusted enough to let them do this to me. Then we still needed to find a doctor who would see that I survive without asking too many questions.
K: Having your hands nailed to the cross - did it hurt?
V: The nailing hurt like hell already, but then came the hanging from my nailed arms. I'd rather die than do it again. But you are asking the wrong question.
We had agreed to let me down when I'd get unconscious. I am tough, I lasted almost three hours. The doctor had a hard time to make me survive this ordeal, but she didn't recognize the damage that was done to my hands. They are messed up for good. As a vet I have access to some effective pain killers ... but I still pay for my foolishness every single day.
Only when I accepted that my destiny is being a slave and when I found myself a loving Master I stopped doing such self-destructive things and became settled and at peace with myself.
K: So, you feel freer as a slave than before as a normal girl?
V: Yes. Wow. Exactly. You are smart. Of course Master and I still fool around, but only under Master's control.
K: So, unlike on TV, there can also be happy slaves?
V: Yes. I am one. Happy, loved - and protected from myself.
With one hand she lifted up her collar, with the other she took my hand and put it at the back of her neck, smiling, proud. Can you feel this?
K: There is something small and hard under your skin!?
V: That's my ID chip. The same as any dog or cat gets.
K: Who put it there?
V: As a vet it's my job to chip animals. I explained Master how to do it, but with needles he is such a wuss. In the end I did it myself in front of our bathroom mirror while he watched.
K: Why did you do it?
V: So everyone in the world could read it as long as I live and will know to whom I belong.
K: These were the essential parts of our conversation, daddy.
F: Now I understand why you were all confused and worked up that night. She exactly foretold you your future. But you were much too young for this.
K: One girl at school was exactly my age and she returned from the same holidays pregnant. She wasn't too young to become a very decent mother.
We stood up and hugged each other. I went out to Marcel, thanked him and bade him back in. We had found a mode of understanding. I’d surely need a few weeks to get comfortable with the situation. But Katja seemed comfortable. With me in the know even more comfortable. Isn’t that the main thing? And they seemed to value my consent.
On the way back to their car Marcel offered me her leash. I declined. I was already deep enough in their Master/slave thing. Little did I know.
Later, when cleaning up the kitchen, I noticed that a certain wooden spoon was gone. viewtopic.php?t=24038
[ continued in part 3 ]
Your feedback is welcome.
Last edited by Jenny_1972 2 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Jenny_1972
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Part 3 - Visiting the Newly-Weds
Two months later I visited them in their apartment in the city.
Katja sported a new look: Her hair was dyed a brilliant blue. The golden nose ring was replaced by a thicker steel ring. She wore black contact lenses that made eye contact with her uncomfortable. She claimed she could still see well with them. Her hands were tied behind her back. She again wore that short black PVC dress.
"Don't you sweat a lot in such a plastic dress?" I asked her.
"I don't mind her sweating." Marcel answered.
Besides from that it was the normal visit when the newly weds show their father-in-law their newly furnished apartment.
Marcel showed me around. 'Rather modern, not my style, must not comment!' I thought.
"I guess that's what young people like today." I said, exchanging a glance with Katja. If she rolled her eyes I could not see it thanks to those stupid contact lenses.
When the tour that Marcel gave was over I noticed that he had omitted one room. Pointing at the door I asked
"And this will be the dungeon where my princess gets abused and mistreated?" (There might be a reason why many people hate their in laws.)
"This room isn't ready yet." was Marcel's answer - not directly a 'no'.
I stayed for coffee and cake.
"This slave asks for permission to respectfully ask its father to feed it." Katja, arms bound behind her back, asked Marcel who granted her wish.
No longer asking this master for stupid permissions we fooled around with coffee, cake and whipped cream like in the good old days. For such an activity a PVC dress that can be wiped clean is perfect. Feeding her was our daddy-princess thing. Master watched it amused. Maybe Master would later spank this slave.
"Master, this slave asks for permission to ask its father to wipe it clean." Marcel bemusedly granted her wish.
Katja stood up elegantly (well practiced), with hands at her back she fetched a kitchen towel, walked to me, turned around so I could take it from her bound hands, and resumed her previous position at the table. I first wiped her face, then proceeded gingerly to clean her dress. Where I removed the cream the PVC became even more shiny. She seemed to enjoy this awkward situation for Marcel and me immensely. Certainly worth a spanking.
In the following time we stayed in contact mostly by telephone.
Three months later I got a totally unexpected call:
C: "Hello John, this is Chloe speaking, I was one of the brides maids at Katja's wedding. She gave me your number."
F: "Hello Chloe. I still remember you spent a summer with us when you were about 10. Is something wrong with Katja?"
C: "No, I think she is happy. But they are asking for a 4 person meeting, Katja, Marcel, you and me."
F: "A video conference?"
C: "No, they insist we meet in person; seems to be serious and really important to both of them - but again, she said she's happy."
F: "So?"
C: "Katja said I should agree with you on a date and time for the meeting, it will be in their apartment."
We compared calendars. Finally we agreed on a date and time.
C: "Katja told me you know about their unconventional life style." Chloe asked.
F: "As long as she's happy." I didn't want to discuss this with Chloe.
C: "That's true. See you next week."
So we all met next week in their apartment.
[ continued in Part 4 ]
Two months later I visited them in their apartment in the city.
Katja sported a new look: Her hair was dyed a brilliant blue. The golden nose ring was replaced by a thicker steel ring. She wore black contact lenses that made eye contact with her uncomfortable. She claimed she could still see well with them. Her hands were tied behind her back. She again wore that short black PVC dress.
"Don't you sweat a lot in such a plastic dress?" I asked her.
"I don't mind her sweating." Marcel answered.
Besides from that it was the normal visit when the newly weds show their father-in-law their newly furnished apartment.
Marcel showed me around. 'Rather modern, not my style, must not comment!' I thought.
"I guess that's what young people like today." I said, exchanging a glance with Katja. If she rolled her eyes I could not see it thanks to those stupid contact lenses.
When the tour that Marcel gave was over I noticed that he had omitted one room. Pointing at the door I asked
"And this will be the dungeon where my princess gets abused and mistreated?" (There might be a reason why many people hate their in laws.)
"This room isn't ready yet." was Marcel's answer - not directly a 'no'.
I stayed for coffee and cake.
"This slave asks for permission to respectfully ask its father to feed it." Katja, arms bound behind her back, asked Marcel who granted her wish.
No longer asking this master for stupid permissions we fooled around with coffee, cake and whipped cream like in the good old days. For such an activity a PVC dress that can be wiped clean is perfect. Feeding her was our daddy-princess thing. Master watched it amused. Maybe Master would later spank this slave.
"Master, this slave asks for permission to ask its father to wipe it clean." Marcel bemusedly granted her wish.
Katja stood up elegantly (well practiced), with hands at her back she fetched a kitchen towel, walked to me, turned around so I could take it from her bound hands, and resumed her previous position at the table. I first wiped her face, then proceeded gingerly to clean her dress. Where I removed the cream the PVC became even more shiny. She seemed to enjoy this awkward situation for Marcel and me immensely. Certainly worth a spanking.
In the following time we stayed in contact mostly by telephone.
Three months later I got a totally unexpected call:
C: "Hello John, this is Chloe speaking, I was one of the brides maids at Katja's wedding. She gave me your number."
F: "Hello Chloe. I still remember you spent a summer with us when you were about 10. Is something wrong with Katja?"
C: "No, I think she is happy. But they are asking for a 4 person meeting, Katja, Marcel, you and me."
F: "A video conference?"
C: "No, they insist we meet in person; seems to be serious and really important to both of them - but again, she said she's happy."
F: "So?"
C: "Katja said I should agree with you on a date and time for the meeting, it will be in their apartment."
We compared calendars. Finally we agreed on a date and time.
C: "Katja told me you know about their unconventional life style." Chloe asked.
F: "As long as she's happy." I didn't want to discuss this with Chloe.
C: "That's true. See you next week."
So we all met next week in their apartment.
[ continued in Part 4 ]
Last edited by Jenny_1972 2 weeks ago, edited 2 times in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 4 - Becoming a Trustee
Marcel let us in and made Chloe and me sit on their couch. He offered us some wine. Katja wasn't to be seen. After the usual pleasantries he disappeared and returned with Katja. Her short hair had again changed from blue to green. Her nose ring appeared to be bigger. She wore white contact lenses that seemed to render her blind. Her arms were cuffed behind her, high up her back and chained to her collar. She wore high heels that appeared to be locked onto her feet. I marveled at how, from her standing position, she got down on her knees with these shoes and cuffed arms. Kneeling next to him she asked
"Master, may this slave speak to our valued guests?" "Granted." was Marcel'S short answer.
"Father, Chloe thank you for coming. You might be shocked by my appearance, but rest assured I am perfectly happy. In fact more happy than ever before. The more Master restricts me, the freer I feel."
"But you only gain freedom FROM, for the price of any freedom TO!" Chloe tried to interrupt ('Where did that come from?' I wondered)
"I don't wear these restraints all day, only from when I finish work in the afternoon until next morning. Yes, this means I don't come to leave our apartment much. The contacts blind me mostly, I can only tell if its day or night or if I forgot to turn off the light. I don't hide this collar anymore, no more turtlenecks for Zoom meetings. As you can see, Master currently prefers my hair green."
Neither I nor Chloe knew what to say.
"This all is well planned. We agreed on this development and schedule already before our engagement." Marcel told us. Katja nodded.
Chloe and I went even more silent.
"We have been part of an active BDSM scene in this city for quite some time." Katja nodded again.
"We know what we are doing. It all safe sane consensual so far. We have a community that gives us advice and support." Katja nodded
"What do you mean by 'SSC so far'?!" I asked shocked
"That's exactly why we invited you here. In 3 months time we'll have Katja's collaring ceremony. This not only means that she'll receive a permanent collar around her neck. Her entire status as a human being will change. She will become my property - no more say in anything. No more smartphone, no more email, no more Facebook, etc. We'll get a landline phone. No more Netflix. No car, no more drivers license, no more clothes of her own, no bank account, no cash except what I give her, no self-regard how she looks in public.
If I choose to lock her in a cage, it's my decision. If I send her to the grocery store naked, it's my decision. She'll have no responsibility for this anymore. And she'll forsake her safeword."
"You mean TPE?" Chloe asked. (Maybe she wasn't that vanilla?)
"You are utterly crazy!" I said and stood up. Chloe had the same impulse but took longer to execute it.
When we were standing Katja said "Please sit down again. What Master told you is true. But I want it. More than anything.
Up to now it was all play, extreme play, but always with a backdoor, a safeword, the possibility to return to normality.
I want this slavery for real. No more getting back." She had tears in her eye. Marcel nodded.
"Okay, but what have we got to do with that?" Chloe asked "Shall we sit chained up Katja while you are away on business trip? Give her water and bread and empty her potty?"
That line could have come from me.
"We have friends in the local community for such slave sitting tasks. No need for either of you to travel that far into the city. We are asking you for a much more important task."
"Signing you two up for the looney ward?"
Marcel managed to ignore this. "My wife said no more getting back. That would indeed be irresponsible. But we want to get as close to it as possible. We want you two to become the trustees of her slavery."
"You mean accomplices!?" I asked, but Marcel again ignored me. "I'm not gonna take it, never did and never will!" Marcel didn't get my reference.
"At the collaring ceremony you two will receive the only two keys to her slave collar - even I can't remove it. That way neither of us can renounce our commitment.
Twice a year one of you will visit her. These will be official visits as trustees. You'll talk with her freely, unattended.
If she can't convince you to continue her slavery you have the power and the obligation to unlock her collar and end this.
Apart from these official visits you can come to us as often as you want, but she might then be tied up in a position where she can't contribute much to it."
Chloe and I were listening.
Katja asked for permission to speak and explained "We have chosen you two because you are opposite extremes in your opinions and experiences. And you are normal people from outside the community."
The way she said it, it almost made sense.
Marcel said to me: "As long as my wife works, she will earn money. We want you, John, to be the trustee of her funds. Should she ever opt out of this she shall have some money to start anew. I would like to entrust you also with her savings, sell her car, manage her investment portfolio." Katja nodded silently.
To Chloe he said: "Chloe, you are a trained nurse. I entrust you with her health. You'll decide when she must see a doctor or if what we are doing is causing her permanent harm." Katja nodded again.
"We have thought about this over and over. This is what she and I want. It's all written down in a slave contract. We even had a lawyer, who is also in the community, work it over. We will hand it to you. Take it home and read it. Please don't answer before this week is over."
It was fascinating to see how Katja stood up with her high heels and chained hands, walked confidently over to the sideboard which she couldn't see, turned around and without looking grabbed two printouts from there and brought them to us. In front of us she turned around, waiting for us to pick one copy each out of her hands that were cuffed to her neck.
"How long have you been practicing for this?" Chloe asked, again stealing my line. She got no answer.
With this the meeting was over. A subsequent, relaxed unofficial part would have felt out of place. Chloe and I said them goodbye. This slave asked its Master if it may receive hugs from the esteemed guests. Down on the street Chloe said to me "My head is full. I can't talk about it now. Can I call you tomorrow evening? Exchange our opinions. They won't accept our decision until next week anyway."
This was the most reasonable thing I had heard all evening.
The next day when I started to read the contract it became obvious that indeed a lawyer had been messing with it. I was shocked to find a section titled "Change of Ownership". It stated that the party referred to as OWNER had every right to sell, impawn or rent out the party referred to as SLAVE. Crazy! Both of them!
But then it continued that any change of ownership required explicit written prior consent from both parties referred to as TRUSTEES. Now, I could live with that. Most fathers of normal daughters had less say when she wanted a divorce and marry anew.
Among the many things and rights Katja was about to surrender was also her name. Marcel would get the right to officially change the name that I had given my princess many years ago. I was more than a little hurt.
Another section that caught my attention was "Purchase Price" - how much was the market price of my daughter after all? Would I at least get rich? But the standard text of this section had been crossed out. Instead there was a handwritten insertion "Void due to concomitant marriage of MASTER and SLAVE."
And any offspring of their union was to be born free - how generous from Marcel.
Later that day Chloe called me:
C: "Have you read that contract?"
F: "Crazy!"
C: "But writing it all down must have taken them quite some time. And for them it wasn't too crazy to confide with their lawyer friend."
F: "Who is part of this so-called scene."
C: "They have asked us to be their trustees - two people who have known Katja since she was little, who have always supported her, but who aren't part of their scene."
F: "I don't know what to say. Do you think YOU could stop Katja? How close is your relation with her?"
C: "You know that Katja and I have known each other since kindergarten. Not always closest friends, never intimate, but most trusted friends, always there when one needed the other. I knew early on that Katja had a penchant for TUGs. Katja new that I didn't share it. At 13, when she came back from the summer holidays wearing this dog collar she asked me to lead her on her leash. I tried for five minutes, then I dropped the leash and ran away. When I told her about our dog's shock collar she had to try it immediately. She was never shy to carry her kink into the public: I remember her standing in front of the mirror in the shopping mall trying which leash would best match her collar. Or at the flea market where they offer cheap suitcases, asking for the price of one, then opening it in front of all the people, climbing inside, closing the lid and rejecting it because it was too big. She couldn't understand why I refused to wheel her away in it. When Katja received this 'revelation' from that veterinary girl, I think I was the only one she ever confided in. Later, at university, when Katja did some self-bondage I agreed to be her emergency release. And she did some extreme things - I must not tell you about - but she required my medical attention and care more than once. She trusts me, maybe BECAUSE I am not like her. I believe she introduced all her boyfriends and girlfriends to me. And before Marcel asked you for Katja's hand, Katja asked me for my ... consent?"
That last sentence - I was a little hurt.
C: "If we refuse to become their trustees, do you think it will stop them from going through with Katja's slavery?"
F: "Maybe it WILL. If their two closest friends refuse to support her, maybe she'll think it over."
C: "Katja thinking things over, honestly?"
We both laughed a little. After a lengthy silence:
F: "Okay, lets do it - for Katja!"
C: "Have you ever been to a collaring ceremony?"
F: "No, I wonder what we have to do."
C: "Me neither, I wonder what to wear."
And so I accepted to become the 'trustee' of my daughter's slavery.
[ continued in part 5 ]
Feedback accepted.
Marcel let us in and made Chloe and me sit on their couch. He offered us some wine. Katja wasn't to be seen. After the usual pleasantries he disappeared and returned with Katja. Her short hair had again changed from blue to green. Her nose ring appeared to be bigger. She wore white contact lenses that seemed to render her blind. Her arms were cuffed behind her, high up her back and chained to her collar. She wore high heels that appeared to be locked onto her feet. I marveled at how, from her standing position, she got down on her knees with these shoes and cuffed arms. Kneeling next to him she asked
"Master, may this slave speak to our valued guests?" "Granted." was Marcel'S short answer.
"Father, Chloe thank you for coming. You might be shocked by my appearance, but rest assured I am perfectly happy. In fact more happy than ever before. The more Master restricts me, the freer I feel."
"But you only gain freedom FROM, for the price of any freedom TO!" Chloe tried to interrupt ('Where did that come from?' I wondered)
"I don't wear these restraints all day, only from when I finish work in the afternoon until next morning. Yes, this means I don't come to leave our apartment much. The contacts blind me mostly, I can only tell if its day or night or if I forgot to turn off the light. I don't hide this collar anymore, no more turtlenecks for Zoom meetings. As you can see, Master currently prefers my hair green."
Neither I nor Chloe knew what to say.
"This all is well planned. We agreed on this development and schedule already before our engagement." Marcel told us. Katja nodded.
Chloe and I went even more silent.
"We have been part of an active BDSM scene in this city for quite some time." Katja nodded again.
"We know what we are doing. It all safe sane consensual so far. We have a community that gives us advice and support." Katja nodded
"What do you mean by 'SSC so far'?!" I asked shocked
"That's exactly why we invited you here. In 3 months time we'll have Katja's collaring ceremony. This not only means that she'll receive a permanent collar around her neck. Her entire status as a human being will change. She will become my property - no more say in anything. No more smartphone, no more email, no more Facebook, etc. We'll get a landline phone. No more Netflix. No car, no more drivers license, no more clothes of her own, no bank account, no cash except what I give her, no self-regard how she looks in public.
If I choose to lock her in a cage, it's my decision. If I send her to the grocery store naked, it's my decision. She'll have no responsibility for this anymore. And she'll forsake her safeword."
"You mean TPE?" Chloe asked. (Maybe she wasn't that vanilla?)
"You are utterly crazy!" I said and stood up. Chloe had the same impulse but took longer to execute it.
When we were standing Katja said "Please sit down again. What Master told you is true. But I want it. More than anything.
Up to now it was all play, extreme play, but always with a backdoor, a safeword, the possibility to return to normality.
I want this slavery for real. No more getting back." She had tears in her eye. Marcel nodded.
"Okay, but what have we got to do with that?" Chloe asked "Shall we sit chained up Katja while you are away on business trip? Give her water and bread and empty her potty?"
That line could have come from me.
"We have friends in the local community for such slave sitting tasks. No need for either of you to travel that far into the city. We are asking you for a much more important task."
"Signing you two up for the looney ward?"
Marcel managed to ignore this. "My wife said no more getting back. That would indeed be irresponsible. But we want to get as close to it as possible. We want you two to become the trustees of her slavery."
"You mean accomplices!?" I asked, but Marcel again ignored me. "I'm not gonna take it, never did and never will!" Marcel didn't get my reference.
"At the collaring ceremony you two will receive the only two keys to her slave collar - even I can't remove it. That way neither of us can renounce our commitment.
Twice a year one of you will visit her. These will be official visits as trustees. You'll talk with her freely, unattended.
If she can't convince you to continue her slavery you have the power and the obligation to unlock her collar and end this.
Apart from these official visits you can come to us as often as you want, but she might then be tied up in a position where she can't contribute much to it."
Chloe and I were listening.
Katja asked for permission to speak and explained "We have chosen you two because you are opposite extremes in your opinions and experiences. And you are normal people from outside the community."
The way she said it, it almost made sense.
Marcel said to me: "As long as my wife works, she will earn money. We want you, John, to be the trustee of her funds. Should she ever opt out of this she shall have some money to start anew. I would like to entrust you also with her savings, sell her car, manage her investment portfolio." Katja nodded silently.
To Chloe he said: "Chloe, you are a trained nurse. I entrust you with her health. You'll decide when she must see a doctor or if what we are doing is causing her permanent harm." Katja nodded again.
"We have thought about this over and over. This is what she and I want. It's all written down in a slave contract. We even had a lawyer, who is also in the community, work it over. We will hand it to you. Take it home and read it. Please don't answer before this week is over."
It was fascinating to see how Katja stood up with her high heels and chained hands, walked confidently over to the sideboard which she couldn't see, turned around and without looking grabbed two printouts from there and brought them to us. In front of us she turned around, waiting for us to pick one copy each out of her hands that were cuffed to her neck.
"How long have you been practicing for this?" Chloe asked, again stealing my line. She got no answer.
With this the meeting was over. A subsequent, relaxed unofficial part would have felt out of place. Chloe and I said them goodbye. This slave asked its Master if it may receive hugs from the esteemed guests. Down on the street Chloe said to me "My head is full. I can't talk about it now. Can I call you tomorrow evening? Exchange our opinions. They won't accept our decision until next week anyway."
This was the most reasonable thing I had heard all evening.
The next day when I started to read the contract it became obvious that indeed a lawyer had been messing with it. I was shocked to find a section titled "Change of Ownership". It stated that the party referred to as OWNER had every right to sell, impawn or rent out the party referred to as SLAVE. Crazy! Both of them!
But then it continued that any change of ownership required explicit written prior consent from both parties referred to as TRUSTEES. Now, I could live with that. Most fathers of normal daughters had less say when she wanted a divorce and marry anew.
Among the many things and rights Katja was about to surrender was also her name. Marcel would get the right to officially change the name that I had given my princess many years ago. I was more than a little hurt.
Another section that caught my attention was "Purchase Price" - how much was the market price of my daughter after all? Would I at least get rich? But the standard text of this section had been crossed out. Instead there was a handwritten insertion "Void due to concomitant marriage of MASTER and SLAVE."
And any offspring of their union was to be born free - how generous from Marcel.
Later that day Chloe called me:
C: "Have you read that contract?"
F: "Crazy!"
C: "But writing it all down must have taken them quite some time. And for them it wasn't too crazy to confide with their lawyer friend."
F: "Who is part of this so-called scene."
C: "They have asked us to be their trustees - two people who have known Katja since she was little, who have always supported her, but who aren't part of their scene."
F: "I don't know what to say. Do you think YOU could stop Katja? How close is your relation with her?"
C: "You know that Katja and I have known each other since kindergarten. Not always closest friends, never intimate, but most trusted friends, always there when one needed the other. I knew early on that Katja had a penchant for TUGs. Katja new that I didn't share it. At 13, when she came back from the summer holidays wearing this dog collar she asked me to lead her on her leash. I tried for five minutes, then I dropped the leash and ran away. When I told her about our dog's shock collar she had to try it immediately. She was never shy to carry her kink into the public: I remember her standing in front of the mirror in the shopping mall trying which leash would best match her collar. Or at the flea market where they offer cheap suitcases, asking for the price of one, then opening it in front of all the people, climbing inside, closing the lid and rejecting it because it was too big. She couldn't understand why I refused to wheel her away in it. When Katja received this 'revelation' from that veterinary girl, I think I was the only one she ever confided in. Later, at university, when Katja did some self-bondage I agreed to be her emergency release. And she did some extreme things - I must not tell you about - but she required my medical attention and care more than once. She trusts me, maybe BECAUSE I am not like her. I believe she introduced all her boyfriends and girlfriends to me. And before Marcel asked you for Katja's hand, Katja asked me for my ... consent?"
That last sentence - I was a little hurt.
C: "If we refuse to become their trustees, do you think it will stop them from going through with Katja's slavery?"
F: "Maybe it WILL. If their two closest friends refuse to support her, maybe she'll think it over."
C: "Katja thinking things over, honestly?"
We both laughed a little. After a lengthy silence:
F: "Okay, lets do it - for Katja!"
C: "Have you ever been to a collaring ceremony?"
F: "No, I wonder what we have to do."
C: "Me neither, I wonder what to wear."
And so I accepted to become the 'trustee' of my daughter's slavery.
[ continued in part 5 ]
Feedback accepted.
Last edited by Jenny_1972 2 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 5 - The Collaring Ceremony
The collaring ceremony was scheduled 3 months later. Regarding what to wear Chloe and I got essentially the same advice:
"You aren't part of the scene, you can wear the same as for our wedding. Just, don't embarrass us and yourself by coming in some BDSM costume." Indeed Chloe would again wear her peach colored dress and I would again wear my timeless dark suit.
They had reserved the ball room in a small hotel for the event. The ceremony was scheduled to start at 18:00 but I was expected to be there one hour before. I was told to meet them in the small conference room adjacent to their ball room. When I arrived there, Chloe was just leaving.
"They showed me what they expect me to do during the ceremony." she explained briefly, looking seriously worried.
I went inside. Around her neck Katja had a plain leather collar, her leash was tied losely to the back of her chair. She wore a 'slave dress' - think of a mini dress cut out of an old potato sack. Her short hair had returned to her natural black color. Her earrings and her ever growing nose ring were gone for the occasion and.she was barefoot. She stood up, walked towards me as far as her leash permitted and hugged me. Then I shook hands with Marcel. Another person entered the room, that I could best describe as 'androgynous latex priest'.
Except for the choice of fabric, the dress took strongly from the vestment of a catholic priest. On the head a kind of kippah. The makeup blended any male and female features.
"I think you know Davena," Marcel introduced "they are the preferred Master of Ceremony in our little BDSM scene". Davena smiled at me.
"They?" I asked, seeing only one person.
"One uses the pronouns they/them when neither male nor female seem adequate." Davena explained.
"Oh, okay."
Davena talked me through the upcoming procedure - where to stand, when to do what, what to say and gave me a sheet of paper so I could memorize everything. There were 30 minutes left until the start of ceremony.
The first part of the collaring ceremony followed the pattern of a civil wedding. Davena lead Katja, Marcel, Chloe and me into the ballroom. The chairs for the guests, which were still empty, were grouped on both sided of the aisle, which led to a big table (altar?). It was decorated with black candles, which Davena lighted. They (Davena) sat down at the single chair behind the table, then let us sit on the 4 chairs in front of the table, Marcel and Katja in the middle, Chloe and me outside.
Behind Davena was an official looking flag, striped in black, violet and white, with some red symbol in the middle.
Davena now asked us for our passports, checked them dutifully, made some notes. Then they handed them back to Chloe and me, Marcel received both his and Katja's. Next they handed each of us a copy of the contract, the fifth remained with them. They summarized the contract, asked if either of us had questions. Finally they rose, gesturing Katja to do so too.
"Katja Dorothea M., nee S., you have come here to voluntarily enter into real and irrevocable slavery.
Are you willing to become the property of your master, as stated in this contract?" to which Katja answered "I do."
"Marcel Thomas Jacob M., you have come here to make your wive irrevocably your real slave.
Are you willing to take this slave as your property, as stated in this contract?" "I do."
"Chloe Margaret W., you have come here as trustee of this enslavement.
Are you willing to accept and honor the special trust that this bestows on you, as stated in the contract?" "I do" and finally
"John Edgar S., you have come here as father of Katja and as trustee of this enslavement.
With Katja being married to Marcel, you have given up your right to a financial compensation for this transaction.
Are you willing to accept and honor the special trust that this bestows on you, as stated in the contract?" "I do" I said.
With that Davena handed us their copy of the contract and we signed it one after the other. When it returned to them they declared solemnly "Marcel, I declare Katja your property. Katja, I declare Marcel your owner."
Then they picked up the contract again, opened it on its last page and announced "The first trustee visit is scheduled in calendar week 5 next year.
We all rose and moved our chairs to the side of the altar. Then we withdrew into the small meeting room while the guests/audience/congregation filled the ballroom and took their seats.
While we waited, there wasn't much conversation going on between us, everyone seemed to be lost in his/her/their thoughts. After 15 endless minutes we heard a knock on the door - action!
----------------------------
The five of us positioned ourselves outside of the ballroom, whose entrance doors had been closed. Davena, Marcel and Chloe were first to enter. Davena assumed their position behind the altar, Marcel stood in front, Chloe sat on one of the chairs. Music started, it sounded like the familiar wedding march set in minor key. For the second time within a year I marched Katja down the aisle, but this time on her leash, dressed in potato bag. We stopped next to Marcel, I handed him her leash and stood half a step behind Katja.
"Dear guests, we welcome you here because of a rare occasion. A couple that most of you know, Katja and Marcel, has come here as husband and wife. Marcel and Katja will leave here as owner and property. Chloe and John agreed to become the trustees of this status. Shortly before you all entered here, we have signed the corresponding contract. I welcome you now to witness this ceremony that symbolizes the transition of Katja's state not only on paper but also in the flesh."
Davena gestured Chloe to join Marcel, Katja and me. Chloe looked more than a little nervous.
"Chloe will not only be a trustee of this union; she is also a trained nurse. Chloe will now verify that the commodity Marcel has acquired is without flaws."
Davena handed Chloe a round stamp. Chloe stepped behind Katja who leaned forward. Chloe donned a rubber glove, lifted Katja's dress, which Katja held up. She was naked underneath. Then Chloe kneed down and started to examine Katja's behind, not only in front of the guests, but also in front of me. It was hard to watch. Chloe took her time. Finally she pressed the stamp onto one of Katja's butt cheeks and proclaimed "Good."
As Katja straightened up, her dress came down again, Chloe stood up and positioned herself in front of Katja. Katja lifted up her dress, exposing her pudendum to Chloe. Chloe got down on her knees again and started to examine her. I was glad that the guests couldn't watch. Telling from Katja's reaction Chloe's examination of her front was as thorough as her behind. Finally Chloe pressed the stamp on Katja's pubic mound and proclaimed again "Good."
Chloe got up and put her hands under Katja's dress in order to examine her breasts. Thoroughly. Lastly Chloe went on to examine Katja's mouth. Like a horse trader she examined her teeth, even had a small flashlight. Then she checked her lips and tongue. In the end she pressed the stamp onto Katja's forehead. To Marcel she declared "Marcel, as you requested I have convinced myself that this commodity is without flaws." The guests applauded. Still nervous Chloe withdrew to her chair. Now it was on me.
Davena did the talking: "To become a true property, Katja gives up all of her personal belongings: car, driver's license, clothing, shoes, credit card, bank account, investments, etc. Also her smartphone, Facebook account, Netflix account, etc. How she looks, where she goes, even her name." While Davena listed this up, guests gasped at different moments.
They put an attache case onto the desk which Marcel opened. Marcel said to me "This is what Katja is leaving behind. Where she goes she'll no longer need it." In the attache case I could see her car keys, passport, credit cards, even the gold coins she received when she was born.
I got tears in my eyes. Two years ago my mom had died and the next day my father brought a box with all her belongings. He was too grieve stricken and asked me to deal with bank, tax, court. The contents of the attache case in front of me reminded me too much of grandma's box. Katja noticed that I was hesitating and briefly held my hand. So I accepted my daughter's worldly belongings. I closed the attache case and took it from the table. There was muted applause.
Now Davena put a polished stainless steel collar onto the altar, together with two keys. For a slave collar it was moderate. Something a really daring slave could wear in public most of the time. But Katja was no longer a 'daring slave'. Her looks and her appearance in public were no longer her concern. Marcel and Katja stepped forward to the altar. Davena and Marcel removed Katja's present leash and leather collar. Together they put the new steel collar around her neck and locked it.
Then they turned around to face the guests. They applauded enthusiastically.
Davena turned to Chloe: "Chloe, as trustee of this enslavement you have the key to this collar. You have been entrusted with the power to lock it and to unlock it."
Chloe stepped forward and unlocked the collar with her key, opened it enough so the guests could see it, then she locked it again.
I had to do the same: demonstrate to the guests that I could unlock the collar and lock it again.
We received some applause from the guests.
----------------------------
Davena announced:
"This concludes the ceremonial part of this event. Please stand aside while the hotel staff rearranges this ballroom. We'll have a buffet, a dining area and a dancing area. This should take about 30 minutes."
Some people stayed and chatted, some people left to their rooms to re-dress, some needed a smoke. I went to the reception to deposit Katja's attache case. By the time I was back the room had changed. There were plates with food, tables to eat at, and a small dancing area. Rather cheesy music was playing. Apparently being BDSM didn't improve one's taste in music.
Only now was I relaxed enough to take a closer look at the guests: Their clothes either followed their stereotypical propensity to "black and shiny" or they were non-existent. Most of them seemed to be couples, hetero, gay, lesbian - hardly any singles.
In most couples even my untrained eye could clearly recognize who was Top/Dom/Master or Bottom/Sub/Slave - often by looking who was on which end of the chain or leash. I wondered if any of them were in such an extreme Owner/Property relationship as Marcel and Katja.
Then Davena, who had been missing, entered the room. She had changed back into that peach colored dress I knew from the wedding. But also her body had changed. Yes "her", no longer "they". The androgynous priest had become a passable attractive woman, looking much better in that same peach dress than Chloe. Legs, heels, hips, breasts, makeup, posture and movements. I didn't want to know how she brought about this transformation - it might just have taken away from the illusion. In contrast to that Katja still wore her slave dress and was barefoot. (Later, on the dance floor Davena and Chloe with their non-black, peach colored dresses were easy to spot.)
I sat down at a table together with Katja, Marcel and Chloe. The food from the buffet was ... never mind. This slave did not ask its Master if the trustee formerly known as her father could feed her. Many guests came and congratulated Marcel to his acquisition. Some wanted to see Katja's collar, asked for the brand, price, delivery time, etc. Apparently this was the protocol: one didn't just speak to a property like Katja.
Similar rules applied if someone wanted to dance with Katja. They would ask Marcel for the dance with her. Then they'd untie her leash and lead her onto the dance floor. Afterwards they lead her back to her chair and retied her leash. I couldn't stand her short potato bag dress under which she was still naked and I would certainly not ask Marcel for a dance with my daughter. Dancing with Chloe was easier.
Dancing with Davena was difficult, because many people needed to talk with her and as many wanted to dance. When I finally got a chance I complemented her to her incredible transformation - she also dances like a woman.
We sat down on a table to catch a breath between dances (was the age difference showing?). Immediately one of the guests - a Mistress - approached her, whispering to her somewhat agitated. After she left, Davena rolled her eyes and explained "Lady Georgina asked why there is no designated place to tether ones slave. Just, the hotel wouldn't let us screw eyebolts into their walls for this event. Seriously, if you ever visit one of our events, stand among the slaves. Those who aren't gagged have the better stories to tell. Their dommes or masters always struggle to keep up the appearance."
In between I had observed the other guests. People in various state of restraint or body modification, some looked very extreme and permanent. When a particularly extreme example - that can't be described on this platform - had been dragged slowly crawling by our desk, Davena made a wide gesture encompassing the entire ballroom and asked genuinely concerned "You seem to be the least happy person in the entire room."
"Like any father who has just sold his daughter into slavery. But I couldn't have stopped her anyway."
Davena went quiet for a while.
"John, it's good that you didn't stop it, but at a time it was really in your hands. What they did today is extreme even by the standards of our scene. They had this in mind already before their wedding. But then to go the final step ... they asked me for counseling. They knew what they wanted to do. We discussed how they'd treat a 'No' from either Chloe or you. Could they accept it and live on as a normal married Master-slave couple? Or would they continue asking other people to become their trustees until they had found two who said 'Yes'? Katja not only loves you immensely, she highly values your judgment, always has. All her live you would understand and accept her kinks (Davena looked how I'd react) without condemning her; allow and even support them, but never letting her get harmed. Always considering her best - acting out her ideas or preventing her from herself.
We agreed: should she fail to convince YOU of their plan, the person who knows and understands her the best, they'd accept it and not pursue this ambition any further. ... Thank you, thank you from Katja, Marcel and me, for supporting their dream."
I went silent. Too long. Then I took another gulp from my beer, hoping I could discretely wipe away my tears while I held the glass in front of my face.
"Are there any other couples living like this?" I changed the topic somewhat.
"Indeed in this city there is one other couple in a similar state. But they made this final step only after both of them had retired."
"When their kids had left the house and their dog had died." I commented
"But making the step from Master/Slave to Owner/Property at Marcel's and Katja's age, that is courageous, you should be proud of her."
"Pride is the last feeling I currently have."
She gave me her business card with her mobile phone number. "John, I understand your doubts. If you need someone to talk to, call me anytime."
Then we danced some more.
When we had the next dancing break I was in a better mood and asked her half jokingly
"Just for the records: how much is the typical sales price of a slave?"
"There are no official tables to look this up but I would have recommended Marcel to pay you over the next years ... think of a nice car."
"Honda-nice or BMW-nice?" I asked.
"Rather Porsche-nice. But in your case it's more difficult as you are also the trustee of her funds.
Marcel had suggested to hand you a bag with silver coins on top of Katja's belongings, but - after I explained the symbolic meaning to him - he understood that this would have been very inappropriate."
"You seem to be an important, valued, respected person in this 'scene'."
"I am not only their Master of Ceremony. I also offer counseling, arbitration ... last month I premiered as a speaker at a funeral. I am of service to their community where I'm needed. I think of myself as their priest, rabbi, imam." Davena explained with visible pride.
Soon after I saw a Master-Slave couple, maybe 10 years older than Marcel and Katja, approach them. Marcel stood up and he and the other man seemed to have a short but serious discussion, repeatedly gesturing towards their slaves. Then they bid Davena to join them and the discussion continued. All the while the two slaves sat quietly at their seats, looking concerned. Clearly their masters were talking about them. Finally Davena disappeared briefly in the attached meeting room. When she returned she carried something that looked like a bull whip, which she gave to Marcel. Then she and both couples came over to me! Davena signaled the music to be stopped. The guests went quiet also. Davena spoke to the crowd:
"Dear Guests, a collaring ceremony is normally not an event to settle disputes and execute punishments. But in this particular case I see no better event. 15 years ago this slave (she pointed at the purple haired slave) sat in a car with this slave (pointing at Katja), who was then still an innocent girl of only 13 years. She talked with her about our lifestyle. (murmur came from the guests) Although she intended her very best, Katja was way too young to be told what she was told. And it's clearly against the rules of our community. Such an infraction demands a punishment. (She raised the whip)
Her Master has agreed that his slave may get punished by a foreign hand. Marcel, as owner of the harmed party would have the first right to execute the punishment. But since he wasn't her owner back then, he hands the punishment over to Katja's father." (With that Marcel handed me the whip. I looked at it rather puzzled. Should I publicly whip the veterinary, whom my father expected at our farm next Wednesday?)
Davena whispered "I don't expect you to execute the whipping yourself. Just hand back the whip, but in a way that the people can see it."
I stood up and slowly handed the whip back towards Marcel. But before Marcel could take it from my hand Davena had taken it and held it for all people to see.
"Let me punish this slave because what she did was also an act against our community rules." (Apparently this had all been discussed before.)
Still struggling with my feelings I withdrew to my hotel room and its minibar long before midnight. I had the feeling, later, down in the ballroom, things might happen that I wasn't keen to see.
Chloe called me later the next day - I had been right regarding 'things not keen to see'.
Soon after I was gone Davena had locked the ballroom doors and announced what the punishment would be. "Our rules say not to speak with persons under 18. Katja was 13. That is 5 years too young. So she shall receive 5 strokes with the whip." 5 strokes doesn't sound much but you have seen that whip. And Davena strikes like a man. After the whipping we brought the poor slave girl into the small meeting room where I looked after her.
...
These BDSM people are a strange folk: Davena had not only brought this awful whip and executed the strokes, she had also brought a professional first aid kit.
...
I told her she should see a doctor today but she wouldn't have it. After all she's a veterinary, kind of a colleague. She has all the medicine at hand and knows how to treat wounds.
On Monday after the collaring ceremony my father told me complaining that 'this purple vet chick' had called him and postponed her visit.
[ continued ]
The collaring ceremony was scheduled 3 months later. Regarding what to wear Chloe and I got essentially the same advice:
"You aren't part of the scene, you can wear the same as for our wedding. Just, don't embarrass us and yourself by coming in some BDSM costume." Indeed Chloe would again wear her peach colored dress and I would again wear my timeless dark suit.
They had reserved the ball room in a small hotel for the event. The ceremony was scheduled to start at 18:00 but I was expected to be there one hour before. I was told to meet them in the small conference room adjacent to their ball room. When I arrived there, Chloe was just leaving.
"They showed me what they expect me to do during the ceremony." she explained briefly, looking seriously worried.
I went inside. Around her neck Katja had a plain leather collar, her leash was tied losely to the back of her chair. She wore a 'slave dress' - think of a mini dress cut out of an old potato sack. Her short hair had returned to her natural black color. Her earrings and her ever growing nose ring were gone for the occasion and.she was barefoot. She stood up, walked towards me as far as her leash permitted and hugged me. Then I shook hands with Marcel. Another person entered the room, that I could best describe as 'androgynous latex priest'.
Except for the choice of fabric, the dress took strongly from the vestment of a catholic priest. On the head a kind of kippah. The makeup blended any male and female features.
"I think you know Davena," Marcel introduced "they are the preferred Master of Ceremony in our little BDSM scene". Davena smiled at me.
"They?" I asked, seeing only one person.
"One uses the pronouns they/them when neither male nor female seem adequate." Davena explained.
"Oh, okay."
Davena talked me through the upcoming procedure - where to stand, when to do what, what to say and gave me a sheet of paper so I could memorize everything. There were 30 minutes left until the start of ceremony.
The first part of the collaring ceremony followed the pattern of a civil wedding. Davena lead Katja, Marcel, Chloe and me into the ballroom. The chairs for the guests, which were still empty, were grouped on both sided of the aisle, which led to a big table (altar?). It was decorated with black candles, which Davena lighted. They (Davena) sat down at the single chair behind the table, then let us sit on the 4 chairs in front of the table, Marcel and Katja in the middle, Chloe and me outside.
Behind Davena was an official looking flag, striped in black, violet and white, with some red symbol in the middle.
Davena now asked us for our passports, checked them dutifully, made some notes. Then they handed them back to Chloe and me, Marcel received both his and Katja's. Next they handed each of us a copy of the contract, the fifth remained with them. They summarized the contract, asked if either of us had questions. Finally they rose, gesturing Katja to do so too.
"Katja Dorothea M., nee S., you have come here to voluntarily enter into real and irrevocable slavery.
Are you willing to become the property of your master, as stated in this contract?" to which Katja answered "I do."
"Marcel Thomas Jacob M., you have come here to make your wive irrevocably your real slave.
Are you willing to take this slave as your property, as stated in this contract?" "I do."
"Chloe Margaret W., you have come here as trustee of this enslavement.
Are you willing to accept and honor the special trust that this bestows on you, as stated in the contract?" "I do" and finally
"John Edgar S., you have come here as father of Katja and as trustee of this enslavement.
With Katja being married to Marcel, you have given up your right to a financial compensation for this transaction.
Are you willing to accept and honor the special trust that this bestows on you, as stated in the contract?" "I do" I said.
With that Davena handed us their copy of the contract and we signed it one after the other. When it returned to them they declared solemnly "Marcel, I declare Katja your property. Katja, I declare Marcel your owner."
Then they picked up the contract again, opened it on its last page and announced "The first trustee visit is scheduled in calendar week 5 next year.
We all rose and moved our chairs to the side of the altar. Then we withdrew into the small meeting room while the guests/audience/congregation filled the ballroom and took their seats.
While we waited, there wasn't much conversation going on between us, everyone seemed to be lost in his/her/their thoughts. After 15 endless minutes we heard a knock on the door - action!
----------------------------
The five of us positioned ourselves outside of the ballroom, whose entrance doors had been closed. Davena, Marcel and Chloe were first to enter. Davena assumed their position behind the altar, Marcel stood in front, Chloe sat on one of the chairs. Music started, it sounded like the familiar wedding march set in minor key. For the second time within a year I marched Katja down the aisle, but this time on her leash, dressed in potato bag. We stopped next to Marcel, I handed him her leash and stood half a step behind Katja.
"Dear guests, we welcome you here because of a rare occasion. A couple that most of you know, Katja and Marcel, has come here as husband and wife. Marcel and Katja will leave here as owner and property. Chloe and John agreed to become the trustees of this status. Shortly before you all entered here, we have signed the corresponding contract. I welcome you now to witness this ceremony that symbolizes the transition of Katja's state not only on paper but also in the flesh."
Davena gestured Chloe to join Marcel, Katja and me. Chloe looked more than a little nervous.
"Chloe will not only be a trustee of this union; she is also a trained nurse. Chloe will now verify that the commodity Marcel has acquired is without flaws."
Davena handed Chloe a round stamp. Chloe stepped behind Katja who leaned forward. Chloe donned a rubber glove, lifted Katja's dress, which Katja held up. She was naked underneath. Then Chloe kneed down and started to examine Katja's behind, not only in front of the guests, but also in front of me. It was hard to watch. Chloe took her time. Finally she pressed the stamp onto one of Katja's butt cheeks and proclaimed "Good."
As Katja straightened up, her dress came down again, Chloe stood up and positioned herself in front of Katja. Katja lifted up her dress, exposing her pudendum to Chloe. Chloe got down on her knees again and started to examine her. I was glad that the guests couldn't watch. Telling from Katja's reaction Chloe's examination of her front was as thorough as her behind. Finally Chloe pressed the stamp on Katja's pubic mound and proclaimed again "Good."
Chloe got up and put her hands under Katja's dress in order to examine her breasts. Thoroughly. Lastly Chloe went on to examine Katja's mouth. Like a horse trader she examined her teeth, even had a small flashlight. Then she checked her lips and tongue. In the end she pressed the stamp onto Katja's forehead. To Marcel she declared "Marcel, as you requested I have convinced myself that this commodity is without flaws." The guests applauded. Still nervous Chloe withdrew to her chair. Now it was on me.
Davena did the talking: "To become a true property, Katja gives up all of her personal belongings: car, driver's license, clothing, shoes, credit card, bank account, investments, etc. Also her smartphone, Facebook account, Netflix account, etc. How she looks, where she goes, even her name." While Davena listed this up, guests gasped at different moments.
They put an attache case onto the desk which Marcel opened. Marcel said to me "This is what Katja is leaving behind. Where she goes she'll no longer need it." In the attache case I could see her car keys, passport, credit cards, even the gold coins she received when she was born.
I got tears in my eyes. Two years ago my mom had died and the next day my father brought a box with all her belongings. He was too grieve stricken and asked me to deal with bank, tax, court. The contents of the attache case in front of me reminded me too much of grandma's box. Katja noticed that I was hesitating and briefly held my hand. So I accepted my daughter's worldly belongings. I closed the attache case and took it from the table. There was muted applause.
Now Davena put a polished stainless steel collar onto the altar, together with two keys. For a slave collar it was moderate. Something a really daring slave could wear in public most of the time. But Katja was no longer a 'daring slave'. Her looks and her appearance in public were no longer her concern. Marcel and Katja stepped forward to the altar. Davena and Marcel removed Katja's present leash and leather collar. Together they put the new steel collar around her neck and locked it.
Then they turned around to face the guests. They applauded enthusiastically.
Davena turned to Chloe: "Chloe, as trustee of this enslavement you have the key to this collar. You have been entrusted with the power to lock it and to unlock it."
Chloe stepped forward and unlocked the collar with her key, opened it enough so the guests could see it, then she locked it again.
I had to do the same: demonstrate to the guests that I could unlock the collar and lock it again.
We received some applause from the guests.
----------------------------
Davena announced:
"This concludes the ceremonial part of this event. Please stand aside while the hotel staff rearranges this ballroom. We'll have a buffet, a dining area and a dancing area. This should take about 30 minutes."
Some people stayed and chatted, some people left to their rooms to re-dress, some needed a smoke. I went to the reception to deposit Katja's attache case. By the time I was back the room had changed. There were plates with food, tables to eat at, and a small dancing area. Rather cheesy music was playing. Apparently being BDSM didn't improve one's taste in music.
Only now was I relaxed enough to take a closer look at the guests: Their clothes either followed their stereotypical propensity to "black and shiny" or they were non-existent. Most of them seemed to be couples, hetero, gay, lesbian - hardly any singles.
In most couples even my untrained eye could clearly recognize who was Top/Dom/Master or Bottom/Sub/Slave - often by looking who was on which end of the chain or leash. I wondered if any of them were in such an extreme Owner/Property relationship as Marcel and Katja.
Then Davena, who had been missing, entered the room. She had changed back into that peach colored dress I knew from the wedding. But also her body had changed. Yes "her", no longer "they". The androgynous priest had become a passable attractive woman, looking much better in that same peach dress than Chloe. Legs, heels, hips, breasts, makeup, posture and movements. I didn't want to know how she brought about this transformation - it might just have taken away from the illusion. In contrast to that Katja still wore her slave dress and was barefoot. (Later, on the dance floor Davena and Chloe with their non-black, peach colored dresses were easy to spot.)
I sat down at a table together with Katja, Marcel and Chloe. The food from the buffet was ... never mind. This slave did not ask its Master if the trustee formerly known as her father could feed her. Many guests came and congratulated Marcel to his acquisition. Some wanted to see Katja's collar, asked for the brand, price, delivery time, etc. Apparently this was the protocol: one didn't just speak to a property like Katja.
Similar rules applied if someone wanted to dance with Katja. They would ask Marcel for the dance with her. Then they'd untie her leash and lead her onto the dance floor. Afterwards they lead her back to her chair and retied her leash. I couldn't stand her short potato bag dress under which she was still naked and I would certainly not ask Marcel for a dance with my daughter. Dancing with Chloe was easier.
Dancing with Davena was difficult, because many people needed to talk with her and as many wanted to dance. When I finally got a chance I complemented her to her incredible transformation - she also dances like a woman.
We sat down on a table to catch a breath between dances (was the age difference showing?). Immediately one of the guests - a Mistress - approached her, whispering to her somewhat agitated. After she left, Davena rolled her eyes and explained "Lady Georgina asked why there is no designated place to tether ones slave. Just, the hotel wouldn't let us screw eyebolts into their walls for this event. Seriously, if you ever visit one of our events, stand among the slaves. Those who aren't gagged have the better stories to tell. Their dommes or masters always struggle to keep up the appearance."
In between I had observed the other guests. People in various state of restraint or body modification, some looked very extreme and permanent. When a particularly extreme example - that can't be described on this platform - had been dragged slowly crawling by our desk, Davena made a wide gesture encompassing the entire ballroom and asked genuinely concerned "You seem to be the least happy person in the entire room."
"Like any father who has just sold his daughter into slavery. But I couldn't have stopped her anyway."
Davena went quiet for a while.
"John, it's good that you didn't stop it, but at a time it was really in your hands. What they did today is extreme even by the standards of our scene. They had this in mind already before their wedding. But then to go the final step ... they asked me for counseling. They knew what they wanted to do. We discussed how they'd treat a 'No' from either Chloe or you. Could they accept it and live on as a normal married Master-slave couple? Or would they continue asking other people to become their trustees until they had found two who said 'Yes'? Katja not only loves you immensely, she highly values your judgment, always has. All her live you would understand and accept her kinks (Davena looked how I'd react) without condemning her; allow and even support them, but never letting her get harmed. Always considering her best - acting out her ideas or preventing her from herself.
We agreed: should she fail to convince YOU of their plan, the person who knows and understands her the best, they'd accept it and not pursue this ambition any further. ... Thank you, thank you from Katja, Marcel and me, for supporting their dream."
I went silent. Too long. Then I took another gulp from my beer, hoping I could discretely wipe away my tears while I held the glass in front of my face.
"Are there any other couples living like this?" I changed the topic somewhat.
"Indeed in this city there is one other couple in a similar state. But they made this final step only after both of them had retired."
"When their kids had left the house and their dog had died." I commented
"But making the step from Master/Slave to Owner/Property at Marcel's and Katja's age, that is courageous, you should be proud of her."
"Pride is the last feeling I currently have."
She gave me her business card with her mobile phone number. "John, I understand your doubts. If you need someone to talk to, call me anytime."
Then we danced some more.
When we had the next dancing break I was in a better mood and asked her half jokingly
"Just for the records: how much is the typical sales price of a slave?"
"There are no official tables to look this up but I would have recommended Marcel to pay you over the next years ... think of a nice car."
"Honda-nice or BMW-nice?" I asked.
"Rather Porsche-nice. But in your case it's more difficult as you are also the trustee of her funds.
Marcel had suggested to hand you a bag with silver coins on top of Katja's belongings, but - after I explained the symbolic meaning to him - he understood that this would have been very inappropriate."
"You seem to be an important, valued, respected person in this 'scene'."
"I am not only their Master of Ceremony. I also offer counseling, arbitration ... last month I premiered as a speaker at a funeral. I am of service to their community where I'm needed. I think of myself as their priest, rabbi, imam." Davena explained with visible pride.
Soon after I saw a Master-Slave couple, maybe 10 years older than Marcel and Katja, approach them. Marcel stood up and he and the other man seemed to have a short but serious discussion, repeatedly gesturing towards their slaves. Then they bid Davena to join them and the discussion continued. All the while the two slaves sat quietly at their seats, looking concerned. Clearly their masters were talking about them. Finally Davena disappeared briefly in the attached meeting room. When she returned she carried something that looked like a bull whip, which she gave to Marcel. Then she and both couples came over to me! Davena signaled the music to be stopped. The guests went quiet also. Davena spoke to the crowd:
"Dear Guests, a collaring ceremony is normally not an event to settle disputes and execute punishments. But in this particular case I see no better event. 15 years ago this slave (she pointed at the purple haired slave) sat in a car with this slave (pointing at Katja), who was then still an innocent girl of only 13 years. She talked with her about our lifestyle. (murmur came from the guests) Although she intended her very best, Katja was way too young to be told what she was told. And it's clearly against the rules of our community. Such an infraction demands a punishment. (She raised the whip)
Her Master has agreed that his slave may get punished by a foreign hand. Marcel, as owner of the harmed party would have the first right to execute the punishment. But since he wasn't her owner back then, he hands the punishment over to Katja's father." (With that Marcel handed me the whip. I looked at it rather puzzled. Should I publicly whip the veterinary, whom my father expected at our farm next Wednesday?)
Davena whispered "I don't expect you to execute the whipping yourself. Just hand back the whip, but in a way that the people can see it."
I stood up and slowly handed the whip back towards Marcel. But before Marcel could take it from my hand Davena had taken it and held it for all people to see.
"Let me punish this slave because what she did was also an act against our community rules." (Apparently this had all been discussed before.)
Still struggling with my feelings I withdrew to my hotel room and its minibar long before midnight. I had the feeling, later, down in the ballroom, things might happen that I wasn't keen to see.
Chloe called me later the next day - I had been right regarding 'things not keen to see'.
Soon after I was gone Davena had locked the ballroom doors and announced what the punishment would be. "Our rules say not to speak with persons under 18. Katja was 13. That is 5 years too young. So she shall receive 5 strokes with the whip." 5 strokes doesn't sound much but you have seen that whip. And Davena strikes like a man. After the whipping we brought the poor slave girl into the small meeting room where I looked after her.
...
These BDSM people are a strange folk: Davena had not only brought this awful whip and executed the strokes, she had also brought a professional first aid kit.
...
I told her she should see a doctor today but she wouldn't have it. After all she's a veterinary, kind of a colleague. She has all the medicine at hand and knows how to treat wounds.
On Monday after the collaring ceremony my father told me complaining that 'this purple vet chick' had called him and postponed her visit.
[ continued ]
Last edited by Jenny_1972 1 week ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
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Part 6: 1st Visit – Being a Trustee
After her collaring ceremony and apart from a few telephone calls Katja and I didn't meet until the scheduled date for the first official 'trustee visit' which Chloe and I had agreed that I would take. I drove to the big city where they live and rung at their apartment. Marcel greeted me and let me in. Then he directed me to the door of the 'unfinished' room - which I suspected to be their dungeon. It still appeared decidedly unfinished: the walls and ceiling were plastered but still not painted, the window was nailed shut, two simple chairs and a small table were the only furniture. All of this was illuminated by a single naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It all looked like the parody of an interrogation room in a cheap detective story.
Marcel made me sit on the right chair. On the table was the visit protocol and a pen to sign it - they had thought of everything!
According to the previously agreed procedure I laid my key to Katja's collar on the table - to him and to her as a sign of my authority. Marcel left for a moment. He led Katja in on a leash, let her sit on the left chair and tied her leash loosely to its backrest.
Then he said "Slave, you are free to talk." and left us alone. We looked at each other. She again wore her silly 'potato dress', her hair was dyed blue, her nose ring appeared thicker than before.
"Hello daughter"
"Hello father"
"New hair color?" I awkwardly tried to get this conversation started.
"Master likes it this way."
"Is your nose ring getting thicker?"
"Indeed, Master had it changed last month" she answered "This slave doesn't know what its Master has in mind."
"Oh for god's sake, Katja, cut this stupid 'this Slave and its Master' crap!" I snapped.
"Sorry father, it seems I have gotten used to this ... Father, I am his property now. So are this hair and this nose (she pointed at her head) - they are no longer mine. Marcel is only exercising rights I have relinquished to him. And he uses these rights to signal to everybody around me - you too - my new state."
"So, must I thank him for your increasingly outrageous look?"
...
"Do you want to know how much I got for your car?"
"Father, I trust you. I no longer worry about money." and before I could get mad "That's one of the perks of being an object."
"Then please be at least a smart object and listen to me: As agreed, I have returned your driver's license. Should you ever want to drive a car again, you will need to do the whole driving test anew."
"Thank you." she smiled.
"I have closed your bank account and transferred what was on it to a new account under my name. The price for your car also went there. I have canceled most of your memberships. The fitness studio refuses to accept my proxy. Your stock portfolio did well in the last 6 months. I'm still not sure how to handle your health insurance. Since you don't care anymore, I'll have to discuss this with Marcel."
"Father, I trust you and I really appreciate what you do for us."
"How does one live without a credit card, a smart phone, an email account ... ?"
"Mas... Marcel and I are still figuring it out. It's difficult for me but we're making progress. Some things require just a little workaround. Others I must accept as gone."
This was leading nowhere, she remained in her cozy slave land where she was free of any worldly worries.
...
"Those eyebolts on the wall behind you - is that were he ties you up?"
"Mas... He ties me up wherever he chooses, here or anywhere else in our apartment. Or sometimes in the small park near our house when its dark. Then he goes to the little 24-hour convenience store at the end of the park to buy his magazines."
"He leaves you tied up in the park, alone, at night? That's dangerous!"
"Yes, the rats running around there are really big. But that's part of the thrill. And he doesn't gag me, so I could call for help."
...
"You seem to sit a little inconvenient, did you get spanked recently?" (This was the explanation I knew from my own experience. Later, on my way home, I thought of others.)
She blushed a little.
"Well observed, father! Marcel puts Grandma's spoon to good use. Do you miss it? It really helps us set things right again when I have again been stupid, clumsy or naughty."
"No, I don't miss it. How do your colleagues at work react to your new style?"
"I was lucky. The works council pushed through that all video conferences are now held without camera, just sound."
...
"Chloe told me her younger child is now in kindergarten. She will work more now. I will call her after this meeting and give her an update, if its okay with you."
"'if it's okay with me' is a phrase I haven't heard for a long time."
...
"Marcel didn't do much with this room since you moved into this apartment."
"Not WITH - but we do a lot IN this room" she grinned.
...
"Katja, are you happy?"
"Yes, more than ever. I get as much TUGs as I want, and then some."
"Are you sure that you want to continue this live for at least another 6 months?"
"Yes, daddy, forever."
I lay my hand on the key to her collar and looked at her. She nodded. Then I pocketed the key and signed the visit protocol, turned it towards Katja who also signed it. We both stood up, I went around the table to her and we hugged each other for a while. I untied her leash and led hear out of the room.
"She wants to continue." I said to Marcel and handed over her leash. "Before I leave, can we discuss a few things about her affairs? … And even if Katja thinks her affairs are no longer her business, I want her at least to listen to our discussion."
We went into the living room, Marcel and I sat down, Katja had to stand in a very straight pose because Marcel had tied her leash to the ceiling lamp. The discussion with Marcel went surprisingly constructive. He was like when Katja first introduced him as her boyfriend. So we got most open issues cleared in a short time. Sadly, I never had the impression that Katja was following us while we discussed her affairs - her 'backup live' which I managed, should she ever choose to return from slavery. But I didn't want to speak about it now. This first trustee visit had gone quite okay, why spoil the mood? We got up, Marcel untied Katja and they led me to the door.
Katja curtsied "Its Master and this slave wish their esteemed guest and trustee a save trip home." was her garbled goodbye.
The next day I called Chloe and gave her a short wrap-up and an idea what to expect when it would be her turn to visit them.
[ continued ]
Feedback appreciated
After her collaring ceremony and apart from a few telephone calls Katja and I didn't meet until the scheduled date for the first official 'trustee visit' which Chloe and I had agreed that I would take. I drove to the big city where they live and rung at their apartment. Marcel greeted me and let me in. Then he directed me to the door of the 'unfinished' room - which I suspected to be their dungeon. It still appeared decidedly unfinished: the walls and ceiling were plastered but still not painted, the window was nailed shut, two simple chairs and a small table were the only furniture. All of this was illuminated by a single naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It all looked like the parody of an interrogation room in a cheap detective story.
Marcel made me sit on the right chair. On the table was the visit protocol and a pen to sign it - they had thought of everything!
According to the previously agreed procedure I laid my key to Katja's collar on the table - to him and to her as a sign of my authority. Marcel left for a moment. He led Katja in on a leash, let her sit on the left chair and tied her leash loosely to its backrest.
Then he said "Slave, you are free to talk." and left us alone. We looked at each other. She again wore her silly 'potato dress', her hair was dyed blue, her nose ring appeared thicker than before.
"Hello daughter"
"Hello father"
"New hair color?" I awkwardly tried to get this conversation started.
"Master likes it this way."
"Is your nose ring getting thicker?"
"Indeed, Master had it changed last month" she answered "This slave doesn't know what its Master has in mind."
"Oh for god's sake, Katja, cut this stupid 'this Slave and its Master' crap!" I snapped.
"Sorry father, it seems I have gotten used to this ... Father, I am his property now. So are this hair and this nose (she pointed at her head) - they are no longer mine. Marcel is only exercising rights I have relinquished to him. And he uses these rights to signal to everybody around me - you too - my new state."
"So, must I thank him for your increasingly outrageous look?"
...
"Do you want to know how much I got for your car?"
"Father, I trust you. I no longer worry about money." and before I could get mad "That's one of the perks of being an object."
"Then please be at least a smart object and listen to me: As agreed, I have returned your driver's license. Should you ever want to drive a car again, you will need to do the whole driving test anew."
"Thank you." she smiled.
"I have closed your bank account and transferred what was on it to a new account under my name. The price for your car also went there. I have canceled most of your memberships. The fitness studio refuses to accept my proxy. Your stock portfolio did well in the last 6 months. I'm still not sure how to handle your health insurance. Since you don't care anymore, I'll have to discuss this with Marcel."
"Father, I trust you and I really appreciate what you do for us."
"How does one live without a credit card, a smart phone, an email account ... ?"
"Mas... Marcel and I are still figuring it out. It's difficult for me but we're making progress. Some things require just a little workaround. Others I must accept as gone."
This was leading nowhere, she remained in her cozy slave land where she was free of any worldly worries.
...
"Those eyebolts on the wall behind you - is that were he ties you up?"
"Mas... He ties me up wherever he chooses, here or anywhere else in our apartment. Or sometimes in the small park near our house when its dark. Then he goes to the little 24-hour convenience store at the end of the park to buy his magazines."
"He leaves you tied up in the park, alone, at night? That's dangerous!"
"Yes, the rats running around there are really big. But that's part of the thrill. And he doesn't gag me, so I could call for help."
...
"You seem to sit a little inconvenient, did you get spanked recently?" (This was the explanation I knew from my own experience. Later, on my way home, I thought of others.)
She blushed a little.
"Well observed, father! Marcel puts Grandma's spoon to good use. Do you miss it? It really helps us set things right again when I have again been stupid, clumsy or naughty."
"No, I don't miss it. How do your colleagues at work react to your new style?"
"I was lucky. The works council pushed through that all video conferences are now held without camera, just sound."
...
"Chloe told me her younger child is now in kindergarten. She will work more now. I will call her after this meeting and give her an update, if its okay with you."
"'if it's okay with me' is a phrase I haven't heard for a long time."
...
"Marcel didn't do much with this room since you moved into this apartment."
"Not WITH - but we do a lot IN this room" she grinned.
...
"Katja, are you happy?"
"Yes, more than ever. I get as much TUGs as I want, and then some."
"Are you sure that you want to continue this live for at least another 6 months?"
"Yes, daddy, forever."
I lay my hand on the key to her collar and looked at her. She nodded. Then I pocketed the key and signed the visit protocol, turned it towards Katja who also signed it. We both stood up, I went around the table to her and we hugged each other for a while. I untied her leash and led hear out of the room.
"She wants to continue." I said to Marcel and handed over her leash. "Before I leave, can we discuss a few things about her affairs? … And even if Katja thinks her affairs are no longer her business, I want her at least to listen to our discussion."
We went into the living room, Marcel and I sat down, Katja had to stand in a very straight pose because Marcel had tied her leash to the ceiling lamp. The discussion with Marcel went surprisingly constructive. He was like when Katja first introduced him as her boyfriend. So we got most open issues cleared in a short time. Sadly, I never had the impression that Katja was following us while we discussed her affairs - her 'backup live' which I managed, should she ever choose to return from slavery. But I didn't want to speak about it now. This first trustee visit had gone quite okay, why spoil the mood? We got up, Marcel untied Katja and they led me to the door.
Katja curtsied "Its Master and this slave wish their esteemed guest and trustee a save trip home." was her garbled goodbye.
The next day I called Chloe and gave her a short wrap-up and an idea what to expect when it would be her turn to visit them.
[ continued ]
Feedback appreciated
Last edited by Jenny_1972 40 minutes ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 7: 2nd Visit – A Greenish Hue
Chloe's official visit was half a year later. As she told me, it followed exactly the formal pattern of my previous visit.
Marcel now preferred Katja sporting green hair. And Katja was led in with hands behind her back, chained to her slave collar.
One couldn't tell it properly under the single light bulb, but all over her body Katja's skin had a weird hue - a little greenish.
"What's wrong with your skin?" Chloe worried, part of curiosity, part of professional concern.
"Vacation in Phaik Tanh" Katja joked, but Chloe didn't get it.
"Master wanted me to dye my skin with self tanning lotion, but couldn't find the color he desired in any store. So we mixed in some hair tint. We are still getting used to the result."
"How long will you have to walk around like this?"
"By daddy's next visit it should all be back to normal."
Katja asked Chloe to have a close look at her septum piercing, but Chloe found it perfectly okay.
"Do you want to stretch it further?" Chloe asked but didn't get an answer.
Finally, Chloe asked if Katja wanted to continue this life for the next six months. "Forever" was Katja's answer
At the end of the meeting when Chloe had signed the protocol she was curious how Katja would countersign it - with hands chained in a reverse prayer position. She asked Chloe to lie the document on the floor under the table. With one foot Katja picked up the pen from the table, put it between the toes of her other foot and signed the protocol - at least readable.
"Nice trick." Chloe commented
"I could teach you, but it takes some practice." Katja replied.
I can't remember more details of this meeting. Chloe probably has told me - I think they discussed the bowel movements of Chloe's kids.
Chloe's official visit was half a year later. As she told me, it followed exactly the formal pattern of my previous visit.
Marcel now preferred Katja sporting green hair. And Katja was led in with hands behind her back, chained to her slave collar.
One couldn't tell it properly under the single light bulb, but all over her body Katja's skin had a weird hue - a little greenish.
"What's wrong with your skin?" Chloe worried, part of curiosity, part of professional concern.
"Vacation in Phaik Tanh" Katja joked, but Chloe didn't get it.
"Master wanted me to dye my skin with self tanning lotion, but couldn't find the color he desired in any store. So we mixed in some hair tint. We are still getting used to the result."
"How long will you have to walk around like this?"
"By daddy's next visit it should all be back to normal."
Katja asked Chloe to have a close look at her septum piercing, but Chloe found it perfectly okay.
"Do you want to stretch it further?" Chloe asked but didn't get an answer.
Finally, Chloe asked if Katja wanted to continue this life for the next six months. "Forever" was Katja's answer
At the end of the meeting when Chloe had signed the protocol she was curious how Katja would countersign it - with hands chained in a reverse prayer position. She asked Chloe to lie the document on the floor under the table. With one foot Katja picked up the pen from the table, put it between the toes of her other foot and signed the protocol - at least readable.
"Nice trick." Chloe commented
"I could teach you, but it takes some practice." Katja replied.
I can't remember more details of this meeting. Chloe probably has told me - I think they discussed the bowel movements of Chloe's kids.
Last edited by Jenny_1972 4 days ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 8: 3rd Visit – Farewell My Princess
There was an unexpected visit I cannot leave unmentioned — it affected me deeply for a long time. It happened on my birthday. They had announced they would come to see me that weekend. When the car finally pulled into the cottage driveway, Marcel appeared to be alone.
He greeted me, opened the trunk of his station wagon, and asked me to help him. Together we lifted out a sturdy wooden crate with solid handles on the sides, air holes in the lid and just large enough for my daughter to fit inside. We set it down in the cottage and Marcel went back to the car.
While he was gone I studied the box. I couldn’t find any lock or latch securing the lid. When Marcel returned, he was holding a cordless screwdriver. One by one, he removed twelve large screws fastening the lid.
Inside, curled up tightly, was Katja. Her body pressed against every side of the box — it seemed made exactly to her size. Marcel tilted the box and she carefully crawled out. She wasn’t tied; the narrow space had been restraint enough. When she finally freed herself it took a while before she could move again properly.
She was wearing the potato sack dress I recognized from her “collaring ceremony” and an adult diaper. I had the impression that she had used it during her stay in the box.
When she had recovered a bit, she looked at me and said formally
“This servant wishes its respected father and trustee a happy birthday.”
Then she curtsied.
I shot Marcel an upset look, which he seemed to understand.
“Speak freely, slave!” he said.
Katja smiled, hugged me and said “Hello, Father, happy birthday.”
Her smell confirmed my suspicion about the state of her diaper.
"Thank you, princess. But ... did you make a stinky?"
She blushed, nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I wouldn't transport her in the back of my car in a box with its lid screwed shut. What if you have an accident?" I couldn't help but say to Marcel.
"She told me about riding in the trunk of grandpa's car and how even your father was willing to take more risks than you. She's my slave, we talked about it before and she didn't object."
"Did she spend the whole drive in there?"
"Actually, I wanted to start driving early in the morning to avoid the traffic, so I packaged her already yesterday evening."
"She has spent the whole night and today's drive cramped like this?"
"Yes. As you can see I have given her a baby phone." Indeed, it was glued to the inside of the lid. "And before we had dry runs up to 18 hours at home."
I decided not to ask him how often she was getting locked in there, but the box didn't look cheap, not like a single-use item.
"How'd you get her to wear a diaper? Just the thought of it used to make her gross out."
"She's my slave, an object, I'm her Master - I told her to, simple as that."
He was right. That was the queer kind of freedom she had craved for.
Since I hadn't seen her take any kind of panties into the bathroom, I assumed she was naked underneath her potato dress when she came back.
The rest of the afternoon was unexpectedly peaceful — catching up on family news, sharing coffee and cake. Marcel even helped me move some furniture, as I was finally converting Katja’s old room in my cottage into a general guest room.
But what I truly need to tell you happened at the end of their visit:
“There’s something Katja wants to tell you” Marcel announced gravely.
Katja came over and knelt in front of me — a little too close for comfort. Looking up at me, she said quietly
“Father, I’ve always been your princess and you’ve always been my daddy.”
I looked at her, unsure where this was leading — or perhaps unwilling to know.
"But now I am a slave, an object at that. I've let go of my ties with my mother, I no longer care about ties with colleages and old friends. If they still accept me as a slave it's fine, if not I don't care. And that means some things must end.”
She paused, then continued “We’ll always remain father and daughter — that doesn’t change. But I can no longer be your little princess and you can no longer be my daddy. I want to thank you for everything — for the love, the freedom, for all the crazy things you let me do. But I also want to set an end to it, growing up, going my own way, led by my master only.”
Her words struck me like a blow. I couldn’t find any response. When I looked at Marcel, I realized the two of them had agreed on this together.
“I want to thank you in a way that will clearly mark this farewell and will deliberately tear apart our daddy-and-princess relationship.” she said softly "Something that neither daddy nor princess will forgive each other."
With that she put her hands onto my belt buckle and started to nestle with it.
I was like frozen, reacted not at all or in slow motion. I remember Marcel walking out on the terrace, leaving us alone. Katja acted faster than I could think. Without visible hesitation my daughter took her father's dick into her mouth. In my mind it felt totally wrong. But on a physical level it must have felt sufficiently good, because a part of me reacted as expected. When it was over she got up, swallowed hard and hugged me, whispering "Thank you, father". We remained like this, without a word, until Marcel came back in. When we parted our embrace both of us had tears in our eyes.
Marcel waved a fresh diaper at Katja. Without a word she took it and disappeared into the bathroom.
“I know this is hard for you — for both of you” Marcel said quietly. “We’ve talked about it for a long time. We both agreed that her special relation with you was no longer compatible with her chosen status. Please try to understand.”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I said nothing. Was he depriving me of my princess because of the many stupid comments I had made in the last years, trying to provoke him?
He offered me to help him put my prin.. my dau .. his slave back into its box, but I declined. When he drilled the 12 screws into the lid I almost felt them drilling into my back. Still, I helped him carry the box to his car — maybe just to stay near her a little longer.
I can’t recall what I said when they left. I only remember going inside afterward and breaking down in tears.
That evening, I spent hours sick over the toilet.
At eleven, unable to bear it alone, I searched for the business card Davena had given me at Katja’s collaring ceremony and called her. She wasn’t completely surprised.
“I told them not to do it on your birthday!” she said when I explained why I was calling so late.
“So you knew?” I asked.
“Yes. Before they came to this decision I received a similar nightly distress call from Katja. Yes, we discussed it together. The three of us agreed it was something that had to happen eventually. Did she actually kneel and…?”
“Yes,” I said. Davena sighed.
“That was her own idea. Marcel was against it at first. But she insisted if she only talked to you, you’d try to evade it with silly comments instead of facing it."
That might have been my exit plan, indeed.
"Sucking your dick hammered the message home. I had suggested something tamer like a walk with you again around the farm, leading her on a leash - until she finally unclips it or, better, cuts it. But she deemed that too subtle."
“How am I supposed to go on with her now?” I asked “Without my princess?”
“Exactly as she told you.” Davena said “You’re still her father, she’s still your daughter. Live that part fully. She needs that too.”
It became one of the longest phone calls I’d had in years and it helped a little. When we finally hung up, it was still hard to fall asleep, but at least the nausea had passed.
The next morning, after I assumed her children were at kindergarten, I called Chloe. She was surprised and somewhat shaken, but she already knew Katja had planned this step. She seemed to understand Katja’s reasons better than I could.
Katja herself called around noon, asking how I was. I told her about my talks with Davena and Chloe. And I tried not to adress her as 'princess' and to speak to her like a normal 'father'.
That evening, Davena called again, checking in on me.
“I’ll be visiting my parents next weekend.” she said “If you’d like, I can stop by your cottage.”
I gladly accepted.
Slowly, I began to feel something like normal again. Sorting through Katja’s old things was hard, but throwing away a few of her toys helped me accept our new reality.
[ continued ]
Your feedback is appreciated.
There was an unexpected visit I cannot leave unmentioned — it affected me deeply for a long time. It happened on my birthday. They had announced they would come to see me that weekend. When the car finally pulled into the cottage driveway, Marcel appeared to be alone.
He greeted me, opened the trunk of his station wagon, and asked me to help him. Together we lifted out a sturdy wooden crate with solid handles on the sides, air holes in the lid and just large enough for my daughter to fit inside. We set it down in the cottage and Marcel went back to the car.
While he was gone I studied the box. I couldn’t find any lock or latch securing the lid. When Marcel returned, he was holding a cordless screwdriver. One by one, he removed twelve large screws fastening the lid.
Inside, curled up tightly, was Katja. Her body pressed against every side of the box — it seemed made exactly to her size. Marcel tilted the box and she carefully crawled out. She wasn’t tied; the narrow space had been restraint enough. When she finally freed herself it took a while before she could move again properly.
She was wearing the potato sack dress I recognized from her “collaring ceremony” and an adult diaper. I had the impression that she had used it during her stay in the box.
When she had recovered a bit, she looked at me and said formally
“This servant wishes its respected father and trustee a happy birthday.”
Then she curtsied.
I shot Marcel an upset look, which he seemed to understand.
“Speak freely, slave!” he said.
Katja smiled, hugged me and said “Hello, Father, happy birthday.”
Her smell confirmed my suspicion about the state of her diaper.
"Thank you, princess. But ... did you make a stinky?"
She blushed, nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.
"I wouldn't transport her in the back of my car in a box with its lid screwed shut. What if you have an accident?" I couldn't help but say to Marcel.
"She told me about riding in the trunk of grandpa's car and how even your father was willing to take more risks than you. She's my slave, we talked about it before and she didn't object."
"Did she spend the whole drive in there?"
"Actually, I wanted to start driving early in the morning to avoid the traffic, so I packaged her already yesterday evening."
"She has spent the whole night and today's drive cramped like this?"
"Yes. As you can see I have given her a baby phone." Indeed, it was glued to the inside of the lid. "And before we had dry runs up to 18 hours at home."
I decided not to ask him how often she was getting locked in there, but the box didn't look cheap, not like a single-use item.
"How'd you get her to wear a diaper? Just the thought of it used to make her gross out."
"She's my slave, an object, I'm her Master - I told her to, simple as that."
He was right. That was the queer kind of freedom she had craved for.
Since I hadn't seen her take any kind of panties into the bathroom, I assumed she was naked underneath her potato dress when she came back.
The rest of the afternoon was unexpectedly peaceful — catching up on family news, sharing coffee and cake. Marcel even helped me move some furniture, as I was finally converting Katja’s old room in my cottage into a general guest room.
But what I truly need to tell you happened at the end of their visit:
“There’s something Katja wants to tell you” Marcel announced gravely.
Katja came over and knelt in front of me — a little too close for comfort. Looking up at me, she said quietly
“Father, I’ve always been your princess and you’ve always been my daddy.”
I looked at her, unsure where this was leading — or perhaps unwilling to know.
"But now I am a slave, an object at that. I've let go of my ties with my mother, I no longer care about ties with colleages and old friends. If they still accept me as a slave it's fine, if not I don't care. And that means some things must end.”
She paused, then continued “We’ll always remain father and daughter — that doesn’t change. But I can no longer be your little princess and you can no longer be my daddy. I want to thank you for everything — for the love, the freedom, for all the crazy things you let me do. But I also want to set an end to it, growing up, going my own way, led by my master only.”
Her words struck me like a blow. I couldn’t find any response. When I looked at Marcel, I realized the two of them had agreed on this together.
“I want to thank you in a way that will clearly mark this farewell and will deliberately tear apart our daddy-and-princess relationship.” she said softly "Something that neither daddy nor princess will forgive each other."
With that she put her hands onto my belt buckle and started to nestle with it.
I was like frozen, reacted not at all or in slow motion. I remember Marcel walking out on the terrace, leaving us alone. Katja acted faster than I could think. Without visible hesitation my daughter took her father's dick into her mouth. In my mind it felt totally wrong. But on a physical level it must have felt sufficiently good, because a part of me reacted as expected. When it was over she got up, swallowed hard and hugged me, whispering "Thank you, father". We remained like this, without a word, until Marcel came back in. When we parted our embrace both of us had tears in our eyes.
Marcel waved a fresh diaper at Katja. Without a word she took it and disappeared into the bathroom.
“I know this is hard for you — for both of you” Marcel said quietly. “We’ve talked about it for a long time. We both agreed that her special relation with you was no longer compatible with her chosen status. Please try to understand.”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I said nothing. Was he depriving me of my princess because of the many stupid comments I had made in the last years, trying to provoke him?
He offered me to help him put my prin.. my dau .. his slave back into its box, but I declined. When he drilled the 12 screws into the lid I almost felt them drilling into my back. Still, I helped him carry the box to his car — maybe just to stay near her a little longer.
I can’t recall what I said when they left. I only remember going inside afterward and breaking down in tears.
That evening, I spent hours sick over the toilet.
At eleven, unable to bear it alone, I searched for the business card Davena had given me at Katja’s collaring ceremony and called her. She wasn’t completely surprised.
“I told them not to do it on your birthday!” she said when I explained why I was calling so late.
“So you knew?” I asked.
“Yes. Before they came to this decision I received a similar nightly distress call from Katja. Yes, we discussed it together. The three of us agreed it was something that had to happen eventually. Did she actually kneel and…?”
“Yes,” I said. Davena sighed.
“That was her own idea. Marcel was against it at first. But she insisted if she only talked to you, you’d try to evade it with silly comments instead of facing it."
That might have been my exit plan, indeed.
"Sucking your dick hammered the message home. I had suggested something tamer like a walk with you again around the farm, leading her on a leash - until she finally unclips it or, better, cuts it. But she deemed that too subtle."
“How am I supposed to go on with her now?” I asked “Without my princess?”
“Exactly as she told you.” Davena said “You’re still her father, she’s still your daughter. Live that part fully. She needs that too.”
It became one of the longest phone calls I’d had in years and it helped a little. When we finally hung up, it was still hard to fall asleep, but at least the nausea had passed.
The next morning, after I assumed her children were at kindergarten, I called Chloe. She was surprised and somewhat shaken, but she already knew Katja had planned this step. She seemed to understand Katja’s reasons better than I could.
Katja herself called around noon, asking how I was. I told her about my talks with Davena and Chloe. And I tried not to adress her as 'princess' and to speak to her like a normal 'father'.
That evening, Davena called again, checking in on me.
“I’ll be visiting my parents next weekend.” she said “If you’d like, I can stop by your cottage.”
I gladly accepted.
Slowly, I began to feel something like normal again. Sorting through Katja’s old things was hard, but throwing away a few of her toys helped me accept our new reality.
[ continued ]
Your feedback is appreciated.
Last edited by Jenny_1972 40 minutes ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 9: 4th Visit – Ear Tagged
At the next visit I received another shock: Into the interrogation room came a big yellow sheep's eartag with my daughter dangling from it – at least that's what I felt.
"Hello Katja"
"Hello Father"
Seeing her with that degrading nose ring and the ridiculous yellow ear tag was almost too much.
"You really did it. As if this nosering wasn't enough." I commented
"This idea has followed me ever since that afternoon 13 years ago when Mr. Richardson explained me the sheep tags.
You know I have no say in how I look. But when I told Mas ... Marcel about this old dream of mine he immediately liked it. Come over, please take a look!"
Reluctantly I took a closer look. Her ear tag looked like the real thing. This wasn't jewelry, this was for live stock. On the front side there was a bar code and underneath it a lengthy number."
"What's that number?" I asked
"I tell most people it's my social security number. But it's in fact my number at the slave register."
"Slave register?"
"Yes, that's where slave owners register their slaves. It records identity, age, gender, ownership, status, return address, also if this slave has previously escaped.
I am registered there as an 'object', fewer than 100 slaves in the register have this status. Look also at the tag's rear side."
I looked there and saw a QR code and underneath the text "Property of Marcel T. M. Phone number ..."
"If you scan this QR code with your smartphone it takes you directly to my entry at the slave register."
I looked at the tag's upper end where it was (still is) attached to Katja's ear. This didn't look like a normal earstud.
"Yes, father, it's the real thing. I used a regular applicator to put it there."
"You did it yourself?"
"Yes, of course Mas ... Marcel watched me do it. He also had the ear tag custom printed for me. It was my birthday present."
"Did it hurt?"
"I surely twitched when I pressed down the applicator. But I was sitting in Marcel's lap and he held me tight. But soon after I was again jumping around like a happy lamb."
"How romantic. How do you take it off?" (I feared I knew the answer)
"Never, it can't be taken off. It stays on 'till the butcher'." she answered proudly.
"Did you see the small grey box next to the entrance door? That's an RFID reader. That way Mas ... Marcel can see whenever I pass the door. Ain't that cool? Nobody can steal Master's property without him knowing."
"I am so relieved."
When it came to signing the protocol of this visit I almost caved in.
What had become of my little princess? Where were this slave and its Master heading?
And most of all: could I have prevented it by being a normal, responsible father to my daughter, instead of playing with her daddy-and-princess all those years?
I had a lengthy discussion with Katja. She reminded me of the contract we had signed. The question was whether SHE was happy. I had to convince myself whether she was happy and whether she still understood this question. It was not whether I condoned their development. If I could no longer take the responsibility, I could lay down being their trustee. But then they'd find another one.
Indeed, that's what I had signed up for. And I didn't question that Katja was happy. And giving my responsibility into someone else's hand? Never!
If you look at the protocol of that meeting, you will see a very shaky signature of me next to a very determined signature of Katja.
[ continued ]
At the next visit I received another shock: Into the interrogation room came a big yellow sheep's eartag with my daughter dangling from it – at least that's what I felt.
"Hello Katja"
"Hello Father"
Seeing her with that degrading nose ring and the ridiculous yellow ear tag was almost too much.
"You really did it. As if this nosering wasn't enough." I commented
"This idea has followed me ever since that afternoon 13 years ago when Mr. Richardson explained me the sheep tags.
You know I have no say in how I look. But when I told Mas ... Marcel about this old dream of mine he immediately liked it. Come over, please take a look!"
Reluctantly I took a closer look. Her ear tag looked like the real thing. This wasn't jewelry, this was for live stock. On the front side there was a bar code and underneath it a lengthy number."
"What's that number?" I asked
"I tell most people it's my social security number. But it's in fact my number at the slave register."
"Slave register?"
"Yes, that's where slave owners register their slaves. It records identity, age, gender, ownership, status, return address, also if this slave has previously escaped.
I am registered there as an 'object', fewer than 100 slaves in the register have this status. Look also at the tag's rear side."
I looked there and saw a QR code and underneath the text "Property of Marcel T. M. Phone number ..."
"If you scan this QR code with your smartphone it takes you directly to my entry at the slave register."
I looked at the tag's upper end where it was (still is) attached to Katja's ear. This didn't look like a normal earstud.
"Yes, father, it's the real thing. I used a regular applicator to put it there."
"You did it yourself?"
"Yes, of course Mas ... Marcel watched me do it. He also had the ear tag custom printed for me. It was my birthday present."
"Did it hurt?"
"I surely twitched when I pressed down the applicator. But I was sitting in Marcel's lap and he held me tight. But soon after I was again jumping around like a happy lamb."
"How romantic. How do you take it off?" (I feared I knew the answer)
"Never, it can't be taken off. It stays on 'till the butcher'." she answered proudly.
"Did you see the small grey box next to the entrance door? That's an RFID reader. That way Mas ... Marcel can see whenever I pass the door. Ain't that cool? Nobody can steal Master's property without him knowing."
"I am so relieved."
When it came to signing the protocol of this visit I almost caved in.
What had become of my little princess? Where were this slave and its Master heading?
And most of all: could I have prevented it by being a normal, responsible father to my daughter, instead of playing with her daddy-and-princess all those years?
I had a lengthy discussion with Katja. She reminded me of the contract we had signed. The question was whether SHE was happy. I had to convince myself whether she was happy and whether she still understood this question. It was not whether I condoned their development. If I could no longer take the responsibility, I could lay down being their trustee. But then they'd find another one.
Indeed, that's what I had signed up for. And I didn't question that Katja was happy. And giving my responsibility into someone else's hand? Never!
If you look at the protocol of that meeting, you will see a very shaky signature of me next to a very determined signature of Katja.
[ continued ]
Last edited by Jenny_1972 39 minutes ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 10: 5th Visit - Mouth Wired Shut
The next visit was Chloe's task. I'll try to describe it as best as I can according to what Chloe told me about it. It followed the established protocol until Marcel had tethered Katja to her chair and left the two alone.
"Hello Katja"
"Huhh... Khlohhee" - that sounded weird
"Is something wrong with your mouth ... did you finally get a tongue piercing?"
"Mowf… whyuh… shuhh"
"You got your mouth wired shut? My God, did you have an accident .. or did he beat you?"
"R’duuf weh… Maah’uh seh ahm too fahh”
"You want to reduce weight, I understand. Cooking good for Marcel every day and not going to the gym - bad combination. But saying you are fat is impolite – even when he is your Master."
Katja nodded.
"And being tied up isn't an actual work-out either."
Katja nodded again.
"But there are other ways to lose a few pounds than wiring your mouth shut." Were there? Chloe reflected on her history of failed diets.
"Noh… temta’sh’n… an’ lehh shpeek”
"No temptation? To speak or to eat? I can hardly understand what you say." Probably both.
"Sohh’y… pra’ti’sheen… ohhly fo’ weeks"
"What do you mean by 'practicing only four weeks'? How long will this go on?"
"Th’ree weeksh… if… con’tin’yoo… loo’sin weh…"
"Then I hope you reach your weight goal by then. How can you eat at all?"
"Smooh’eez… geh ’nuh… cal’ries… pro’teen… vit’minsh…"
"Marcel couldn't wire your mouth shut himself. Where did you go to have it done?"
"D’v’na…"
"What? Oh, Davena!"
"D’v’na’s… pehh’entsh… ahh dentishh"
Chloe smiled. Katja smiled too within her limitations.
I knew that wiring her mouth shut wasn't Marcel's idea originally: viewtopic.php?t=24055
Last week Chloe called me regarding Katja's vaccination record:
"Huhh… Jawn… loo’kin foh Kahh’ya’sh… vak’sinash’n re’cohh…"
"Hello Chloe, is something wrong with your mouth?"
"Loo’sin shum weh"
"Your following the 'Katja Diet', I see."
"Vak’sinash’n… li’tle yeh’loh boo’klehh"
"Ah, I think I saw it with her passport and her driver's license."
"Shen’ ihh too mee, pleeezh"
"Okay, I will post it asap."
"Thangk yuhh…"
"Yuhh… ahh weh’come"
[ continued ]
The next visit was Chloe's task. I'll try to describe it as best as I can according to what Chloe told me about it. It followed the established protocol until Marcel had tethered Katja to her chair and left the two alone.
"Hello Katja"
"Huhh... Khlohhee" - that sounded weird
"Is something wrong with your mouth ... did you finally get a tongue piercing?"
"Mowf… whyuh… shuhh"
"You got your mouth wired shut? My God, did you have an accident .. or did he beat you?"
"R’duuf weh… Maah’uh seh ahm too fahh”
"You want to reduce weight, I understand. Cooking good for Marcel every day and not going to the gym - bad combination. But saying you are fat is impolite – even when he is your Master."
Katja nodded.
"And being tied up isn't an actual work-out either."
Katja nodded again.
"But there are other ways to lose a few pounds than wiring your mouth shut." Were there? Chloe reflected on her history of failed diets.
"Noh… temta’sh’n… an’ lehh shpeek”
"No temptation? To speak or to eat? I can hardly understand what you say." Probably both.
"Sohh’y… pra’ti’sheen… ohhly fo’ weeks"
"What do you mean by 'practicing only four weeks'? How long will this go on?"
"Th’ree weeksh… if… con’tin’yoo… loo’sin weh…"
"Then I hope you reach your weight goal by then. How can you eat at all?"
"Smooh’eez… geh ’nuh… cal’ries… pro’teen… vit’minsh…"
"Marcel couldn't wire your mouth shut himself. Where did you go to have it done?"
"D’v’na…"
"What? Oh, Davena!"
"D’v’na’s… pehh’entsh… ahh dentishh"
Chloe smiled. Katja smiled too within her limitations.
I knew that wiring her mouth shut wasn't Marcel's idea originally: viewtopic.php?t=24055
Last week Chloe called me regarding Katja's vaccination record:
"Huhh… Jawn… loo’kin foh Kahh’ya’sh… vak’sinash’n re’cohh…"
"Hello Chloe, is something wrong with your mouth?"
"Loo’sin shum weh"
"Your following the 'Katja Diet', I see."
"Vak’sinash’n… li’tle yeh’loh boo’klehh"
"Ah, I think I saw it with her passport and her driver's license."
"Shen’ ihh too mee, pleeezh"
"Okay, I will post it asap."
"Thangk yuhh…"
"Yuhh… ahh weh’come"
[ continued ]
Last edited by Jenny_1972 39 minutes ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 11: 6th Visit - Naked
Another visit another shock ...
I was already sitting on my chair in the interrogation room. As usual Marcel led Katja in - but this time she was naked. Both played it perfectly cool, Katja sat down on her chair, Marcel tied her leash and left us.
"Hello Katja"
"Hello Father"
"You .. you are naked." I stated the obvious.
I don't know when I had last seen my daughter in her birthday suit – probably when her grandparents and I showed her first hand how pigs used to be butchered. I looked down on her and discovered a few small golden piercings I didn't want to know about.
"Yes, Mas ... Marcel has withdrawn my clothing privilege. And you never liked my 'potato dress' anyway."
"I didn't know clothing was a privilege; I consider it a basic human right."
"You know that I have no more say in how I look and what I wear. He has withdrawn this privilege for 4 weeks as a punishment." sitting there stark naked, nevertheless grinning - almost mischievously?
"Unfortunately he has taken away only your access to clothing. I'd rather see your nose and your right ear naked, too."
"You know that the ear tag can't be removed, and regarding the nosering - that's something you must discuss with Marcel.
"So you can't leave the apartment for 4 weeks?"
"More or less, of course I still put out the garbage bags late at night. And to attend our monthly scene meeting, Marcel has stuck me into his huge suitcase. Being wheeled through the city sitting naked in a suitcase feels incredible. And Marcel needn't buy a second subway ticket for me."
"What did you do to deserve this punishment?"
"You know Marcel's collection of 800+ music CD of the 80s and 90s that we have in our living room?”
"He is always proud how he has sorted it meticulously by band and style and year ... "
“Well, when I was cleaning the living room I had the idea this collection would look much nicer, if the CDs were sorted by color. Like a rainbow from red to violet."
It took me a moment to understand. First I was really shocked thinking of my own record collection being reordered this way, but then I chuckled.
"I still think it looked better when sorted by color. Alas, in the evening when Marcel came home he didn't like it at all. He sentenced me to listen to every single one of his 800+ CDs before he restored it to its correct position. But this was a cruel and unusual punishment! After the third CD I safeworded out. So being naked for 4 weeks is my alternative punishment."
We both laughed.
Apart from her being naked, the remainder of this visit was pretty normal.
[ continued ]
Another visit another shock ...
I was already sitting on my chair in the interrogation room. As usual Marcel led Katja in - but this time she was naked. Both played it perfectly cool, Katja sat down on her chair, Marcel tied her leash and left us.
"Hello Katja"
"Hello Father"
"You .. you are naked." I stated the obvious.
I don't know when I had last seen my daughter in her birthday suit – probably when her grandparents and I showed her first hand how pigs used to be butchered. I looked down on her and discovered a few small golden piercings I didn't want to know about.
"Yes, Mas ... Marcel has withdrawn my clothing privilege. And you never liked my 'potato dress' anyway."
"I didn't know clothing was a privilege; I consider it a basic human right."
"You know that I have no more say in how I look and what I wear. He has withdrawn this privilege for 4 weeks as a punishment." sitting there stark naked, nevertheless grinning - almost mischievously?
"Unfortunately he has taken away only your access to clothing. I'd rather see your nose and your right ear naked, too."
"You know that the ear tag can't be removed, and regarding the nosering - that's something you must discuss with Marcel.
"So you can't leave the apartment for 4 weeks?"
"More or less, of course I still put out the garbage bags late at night. And to attend our monthly scene meeting, Marcel has stuck me into his huge suitcase. Being wheeled through the city sitting naked in a suitcase feels incredible. And Marcel needn't buy a second subway ticket for me."
"What did you do to deserve this punishment?"
"You know Marcel's collection of 800+ music CD of the 80s and 90s that we have in our living room?”
"He is always proud how he has sorted it meticulously by band and style and year ... "
“Well, when I was cleaning the living room I had the idea this collection would look much nicer, if the CDs were sorted by color. Like a rainbow from red to violet."
It took me a moment to understand. First I was really shocked thinking of my own record collection being reordered this way, but then I chuckled.
"I still think it looked better when sorted by color. Alas, in the evening when Marcel came home he didn't like it at all. He sentenced me to listen to every single one of his 800+ CDs before he restored it to its correct position. But this was a cruel and unusual punishment! After the third CD I safeworded out. So being naked for 4 weeks is my alternative punishment."
We both laughed.
Apart from her being naked, the remainder of this visit was pretty normal.
[ continued ]
Last edited by Jenny_1972 38 minutes ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Jenny_1972
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 106
- Joined: 3 months ago
Part 12: 7th Visit – The Final Ring
The following visit was again Chloe's task. As usual she called me afterwards and gave me a short update. The only part I can remember is:
...
"And she has a bigger nosering."
"Again?"
"No, I mean really big. It's dangling down all the way to her lips. I think she said 40 mm."
I tried to picture this.
"40 mm, are you sure? That's grotesque. As if her collar and her eartag weren't bad enough. Nobody she meets can ignore such a ring."
"She said Master likes his slave this way. She can't take it off, as far as I understand. But she wears it as if her appearance was no longer her business. Eating and drinking get complicated due to that giant ring. She always needs one hand to lift it up when she wants to lift a glass or some cutlery to her mouth. She is only worried that the ring might chip off a bit from her front teeth. Apart from that, she accepts it, claims she's happy and is determined to continue. Just wanted to tell you, so that you are prepared when you see her next time."
"Thank you, Chloe"
I had a telephone call with Katja and Marcel one of the next days.
"This slave will humbly ask it's Master to send a photo of its nose ring to its esteemed Father."
"Cut that crap. He must remove it, now!"
"This slave asks its esteemed Father to discuss the nosering with its Master."
"Then get me this Marcel on the phone!"
"Listen Marcel, this is going to far! With a nose ring like this dangling in front of her face - she's putting off everyone she meets. Do you want to confine her to your apartment?"
"You have seen how Katja progressed to ever bigger rings. This has been planned for a long time. In fact, Katja bought this final ring - she still had her own money then - when she got the initial septum piercing with the thin gold ring. The way she looked so far, she could still pass as a normal girl with an admittedly strange fashion taste. Now this is no longer an option for her. She must interact with people according to her chosen status as a slave and object - no more hiding, no more pretending, no more benefit of doubt. She accepts it as another step to her liberation, like giving up her credit card was. She says you'll understand - someday."
Then Marcel was giving Katja a short command.
"And unlike her ear tag, I know how to remove the ring without destroying her nose." he whispered conspiratorially.
Somehow I was glad that Marcel forgot to send me a photo.
[ to be continued ]
Feel free to leave me your feedback.
The following visit was again Chloe's task. As usual she called me afterwards and gave me a short update. The only part I can remember is:
...
"And she has a bigger nosering."
"Again?"
"No, I mean really big. It's dangling down all the way to her lips. I think she said 40 mm."
I tried to picture this.
"40 mm, are you sure? That's grotesque. As if her collar and her eartag weren't bad enough. Nobody she meets can ignore such a ring."
"She said Master likes his slave this way. She can't take it off, as far as I understand. But she wears it as if her appearance was no longer her business. Eating and drinking get complicated due to that giant ring. She always needs one hand to lift it up when she wants to lift a glass or some cutlery to her mouth. She is only worried that the ring might chip off a bit from her front teeth. Apart from that, she accepts it, claims she's happy and is determined to continue. Just wanted to tell you, so that you are prepared when you see her next time."
"Thank you, Chloe"
I had a telephone call with Katja and Marcel one of the next days.
"This slave will humbly ask it's Master to send a photo of its nose ring to its esteemed Father."
"Cut that crap. He must remove it, now!"
"This slave asks its esteemed Father to discuss the nosering with its Master."
"Then get me this Marcel on the phone!"
"Listen Marcel, this is going to far! With a nose ring like this dangling in front of her face - she's putting off everyone she meets. Do you want to confine her to your apartment?"
"You have seen how Katja progressed to ever bigger rings. This has been planned for a long time. In fact, Katja bought this final ring - she still had her own money then - when she got the initial septum piercing with the thin gold ring. The way she looked so far, she could still pass as a normal girl with an admittedly strange fashion taste. Now this is no longer an option for her. She must interact with people according to her chosen status as a slave and object - no more hiding, no more pretending, no more benefit of doubt. She accepts it as another step to her liberation, like giving up her credit card was. She says you'll understand - someday."
Then Marcel was giving Katja a short command.
"And unlike her ear tag, I know how to remove the ring without destroying her nose." he whispered conspiratorially.
Somehow I was glad that Marcel forgot to send me a photo.
[ to be continued ]
Feel free to leave me your feedback.