By profession, I am a farrier, and I operate a small shop out in the country.
There, I forge metal into horseshoe nails and other items while also making my own horseshoes.
Even some of the neighbors who come from the nearby villages are familiar with me.
I don't promote myself.
The others take care of that, and occasionally city residents who frequently have unusual special requests also join them.
However, if you'd like, I can also forge dollhouse vases or awards.
The older woman, who had her hair pulled back and wore a long leather skirt, was also a city resident.
When she strolled through the village, she immediately attracted attention because she had rented a room at the inn.
Some mongrel dog who always accompanied her seemed to be a dependable friend.
As the inn was diagonally across from my forge, I frequently saw the woman and kept a close eye on her.
She had a sophisticated, unsettling, and unsettlingly beautiful movement to go with her lean frame.
I wasn't married.
I never received it.
I recently got married at 58 years old.
But with this woman, I passed out in a way that I had only ever experienced once before.
I've always been a quiet, reserved person.
I was afraid to approach a woman.
But at the village festival, I occasionally danced with the elderly herbalist after I'd had a few fruit brandies.
Additionally, she was by herself and always laughed so sweetly when I grabbed her hips.
The slender city woman frequently came to my side to observe me at work while petting the horses that were awaiting shoeing.
She only said, "Good morning," and it's no accident that I go by the nickname "Brumma" because I would much rather be left alone than talk nonsensically.
She spoke with me one afternoon.
The malnourished woman inquired, "Do you only make horseshoes, or can you also make other shoes?".
I complained, "I like it," and then I looked back at the young gray, which was bucking against the fresh hoof.
I was so irritated by her smile when she said, "I have a special challenge - for YOU," that the gray horse kicked me for briefly becoming disoriented.
She had a witchy air about her, so I made the decision to exercise caution.
She repeated while her green eyes flashed:.
with you in mind.
I got out of the tack room and rested my shin and the white horse.
An injury would result from that.
There was no doubt about that.
The townswoman asked, "Have you ever heard of slave branding?".
The ancient Romans must have had it.
I gave a nod.
"Would you be curious.
To make me a branding iron?," she asked, pausing for an absurdly long time and staring into the depths of the earth.
I simply repeated, stupidly, "I like it.".
nice.
She then turned and walked over to the inn, where she sat in a chair and read a book, promising to return the following day with a drawing.
I followed her, my mind racing with memories of the past.
I returned to Johann with the white horse after shoeing it.
Johann and Anna lived on top of a mountain, so the journey took a while.
I needed to walk a long distance because my mind was racing, so that was perfect.
During my training, I had spent some time in the city.
To complete my professional training, I had to go to a school there that wasn't available here in the nation.
I was a young, inexperienced person, and I had never been to the city before.
At school, I met a student.
She was a student teacher at the school and not much older than I.
I was completely obedient to this lanky woman with green eyes.
She played with me, took advantage of my shyness, and I enjoyed being her servant.
The others started making fun of me because I always carried Renate's school supplies and followed her around like a dog when she gave the order to continue playing this game of dominance and submissive slave, and we eventually gave up.
Renate was one of the three women I had something akin to sex with.
She allowed me to kiss her shoes, which were lovely strappy sandals, and she touched my penis, which hardened in her delicate hand.
We were in a corner of the schoolyard.
As soon as I squirted, she slapped my cock with the palm of her hand and reprimanded me.
I enjoyed when she reprimanded me.
I also liked it when she would order me to do something for her: buy ice cream, brush her hair, walk behind her.
She had attractive legs, and I enjoyed the way her butt moved.
Once Renate brought a magazine with her that featured a man with a tattoo.
I was completely enthralled by it at the time because it was still unique.
It had a letter with a snake coiled around it.
I should give you one of those, or better yet, a brand like the cows, Renate said.
Then you are mine.
´.
I wanted nothing more than to be hers and I would do anything to get it.
I told her that.
My school days ended a short time later and although Renate had promised to come visit me in the village, she never came.
She hasn't gotten back to me.
I received nothing more from her besides a postcard from New Zealand that said "Greetings from R." and featured a snake.
When I got back from Johann and Anna, it dawned on me that the gaunt woman could be my Renate.
I wanted to go over to the inn and ask her, but it was getting late and the skinny lady was no longer at the door.
To go in and ask for her, I didn't have that Courage.
The next day there was a drawing on my doorstep.
It was a capital R with a snake coiled around it and chills ran down my spine.
My hands were shaking and everything I started that day failed.
The landlady from the Fischerhof came over to me and brought me the news that the thin woman had gone back to town.
But she would be back in a week.
I know why.
I asked the Fischerhof landlady what the woman's name was, but she only knew that she had read Miller on the debit card.
If it was my mistress Renate, she must have gotten married.
In the evening I sat down in my courtyard, lit a cigar (I hadn't smoked for years, but I still had the box of cigars in my drawer from the gentleman from Portugal, for whom I had forged an iron goblet with his family crest and who almost burst out of gratitude kneeling in front of me, which made me extremely uncomfortable) and looked at the drawing.
My thoughts wandered back to the day at the lake when Renate brought the tattoo magazine with her.
At the time, she suggested that we could play BDSM mistress and servant.
I didn't even know what BDSM mistress meant and hell knows where she knew the word from. She questioned what it would be like if she whipped me as if I were her slave.
It burned, but it was also a blessing.
Renate laughed when I moaned, and somehow the whole situation was quirky and odd.
Then she stopped and came over to me and stroked the welts on my back.
Her hand was so delicate, so soft, so warm. I could never forget that moment of her soft hand on my back.
As I studied the drawing and wondered if I could make such an iron, it got dark.
It took me another 2 days to get to work. I forged the blank, refined the iron, and was totally engrossed in my work.
Dissatisfied with the result, I began to improve everything again and when the branding iron was ready I knew that it was intended for marking slaves.
With this branding, who would become the property of the mistress?
I shuddered at the thought and at the same time wished I was.
The week went by and I couldn't sleep knowing that now she would come back.
As if controlled by some alien power, on the day of her return I began to stoke the fire and heat the embers to the right temperature to heat a branding iron.
It was afternoon before I could saw the highway approaching.
She was wearing a leather coat, sunglasses, her hair pinned back up.
She smiled as she approached my workshop, didn't greet, just asked, 'Are you ready?'.
I placed the branding iron in her hands, briefly touching her hand.
this hand.
Yes, it was that hand.
Yes, I was ready to become the property of my BDSM mistress.
I was ready for the slave branding I had been waiting for for so many years.
And I wanted to know what it would be like to be a mistress' slave.
But I didn't say that.
I complied with her wish - as always.
She made me gather some twigs and tied them into a whip that looked like a wild broomstick.
I should take off my shirt and turn around.
Then she hit me with the branch whip and I felt the branches on my back.
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