Cute Girls

Sam, Laura and Joanne Ch. 01

* The Decision*

They ate lunch together at least three times a week. She was semi-retired from the law firm she founded. She worked when she wanted; her office was in the same building as Sam’s. Sam was a political consultant. They usually ate in the bar down the street from their building.

“You know Sam, I’m not wanting you to leave her. I want us to be a family.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Sam,” she cut in, “I’m 56 years old. I’ve done this a few times before you know. Not to seem immodest but I’m very good at it and Laura’s a very nice woman. I like her; I “love” her, just like you. I wouldn’t want to hurt her either.”

“It’s just that, well, I like the idea. Hell,” he laughed, “I love the idea…every time I think about it, I get so aroused. I’m like a teenage boy.”

She whispered across the table, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “Yeah, I know. Remember the last time we talked about it in bed? I’ve never seen a lover’s cum hit my ceiling fan before.”

Sam grinned sheepishly, “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. You know Sam they say the force of the male ejaculation is directly related to reproduction. The more powerful the ejaculation the better chance the man has to “breed” the woman. You wanting to breed your new “bitch”, Sam?”

Sam looked down at the table, feeling a flush cross his cheeks. She was turning him on just by her conversation; she made him feel young despite the fact that he was 46. “Hey, I can imagine you …”

Their server brought their food and they waited until they were alone before talking again.

Sam finished his thought, “I can see you with a big belly. You’d look very sexy pregnant.”

Joanne hesitated a moment and eyed her lunch companion, “Uh huh. Well, anyway Sam, Laura and I are getting to be good friends. I think she’s ready. If I get the sense she’s going to be emotionally hurt or that I’m endangering your marriage I’ll back off. Promise.”

“So, uh, why me?”

Her fork half way to her mouth, she stopped and looked at him, “‘Why you’ what?”

“Why’d you pick me to be your lover? Why do you give yourself to me the way you do? Why do you let me do the things I do to you?”

“Well…,” she started slowly, taking the bite that she held and then going back to her salad, “you “did” hit on me first, remember?”

“Yeah, but you could have said ‘no’.”

“But I didn’t, right? And, by the way, “why” did you hit on me?”

He smiled and took a bite of his Reuben. “I’d noticed you. I’d been watching you for weeks. I think the first time you were wearing that steel gray suit with no blouse. And it was like you were holding court at your table. The men and women sitting with you were clearly your courtiers; you took no shit from anyone and they seemed to hang on every word out of your mouth. You just, I don’t know, you just radiated a kind of power and that appealed to me.”

She crunched a crouton, “So, you’re into the power, eh. You know, I “can feel it” when you fuck me; when you whip me.” There was the mischievous twinkle again.

“Uh, eh, well…I am a political consultant,” he shrugged, feeling a little foolish. He cleared his voice, “Well, back to you. Why didn’t you say ‘no’? I mean I’m a relative wall flower compared to those guys you lunched with.”

He took another bite of his sandwich, she looked down and picked a bite of salad, “Well, as for my lunch companions, they’re all associates in my firm. They know they damn well should be hanging on my every word. I have “vast” powers; I can grant partnerships,” she smiled a semi-evil smile. “But Sam, I swear to God, they’re all in lust with me but,” she pointed her fork at him and grinned, “none of those barracudas has the balls to come on to me, not even the women.

“Oh, there’s the usual brown nosing, but nobody has made a play. I mean I have a guy, an associate bucking for partner. He can foreclose on a widow’s house, deflower her virgin daughter and then tie the debauched daughter to the railroad tracks all before lunch and then “brag” about it at lunch. Christ, sometimes I wonder if the Serpent in the Garden has more ethics than this guy. He’s good.

“And divorces, oh my sweet Jesus! I’m always hearing about him shamelessly banging the divorcee even before they get to the property settlement phase. But when it comes to me,” she laughed quietly to herself, stabbed an Italian pepper from her salad and crunched it, a little bit of juice running down her chin, “when it comes to me…,” she shook her head.

Sam leaned across the table and wiped her chin.

“Mmmm, thanks.

“Well, I got tired of waiting for him so I decided he’s going to fuck me in his office. I wanted to see what was so special that all the divorced women were so wild about,” she paused, “The moment of truth comes and he couldn’t get it up to save his life!

“Any way, you don’t seem to have that problem. You seem like a decent guy. And I had you checked out too. You are the “exact” mix I’ve been looking for in a lover since my husband passed away.”

“And what kind of mix is that?”

“You are a decent guy. But when push comes to shove, my investigator’s report says Machiavelli would be proud. You can be what my former husband called, “a gentleman pirate”. And now that we’ve been together, de Sade would appreciate your appetites though not your attitudes.”

“And pray tell, what would de Sade have against my attitude?”

“Oh Sam, I’ll be disappointed if you don’t know what separates you from him. Or are you just toying with me?”

“Just toying,” he grinned. “You know it all has to be consensual and de Sade took his greatest pleasures non-consensually.”

“Hmmmm,” she smiled warmly, “that’s your mix. That’s what my husband had. He seduced me, debauched me and married me all when I was 18. We were married for the next 28 years. He was an excellent man, an excellent lover and master. He opened the world to me sensually.

“After he passed away I didn’t know if I’d survive. There was this vacuum, emotional, spiritual, and physical. Handcuffing myself to my headboard just wasn’t the same, you know?” She did a Groucho Marx with her eyebrows; her smile was dazzling and quirky at the same time, at least to Sam. Sam could deny her nothing when she looked at him in “her way” and Sam would find out, neither could most people.

“I spent a year or two whoring around. I played the Domme to a young lesbian for a few years. My last relationship was with a young couple. It ended a year ago. We’d been together five years.

“My husband and master had this thing after he had me trained to his liking. He absolutely loved having me seduce women, so we could both Dom them. If the woman was married, Robert would usually whore me out to the husband and then let me play with the woman after he was finished with her. God,” her voice dropped off and Sam could see she was fondly remembering past events.

“Anyway,” she came back, “like I was saying, my last relationship, was with this young couple, we were a family. I taught the wife to be submissive and the husband to be a good master. And, we’re still a family. I’m godmother to their children.”

“What happened to end it?”

“They moved back east and I just didn’t want to pull up stakes. Being alone was fine for a while but then you came along.”

Sam leaned back in the booth and took a sip of his drink. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Here’s what you say Sam, ‘I’ll think about it.’ If it’s just you and me, I’m more than pleased. If you want to bring Laura into this, I think you’d like it,” she looked him in the eyes, her eyes penetrating and twinkling - and that smile, “and I’d love it. And if I haven’t lost the touch, Laura’s going to love it too.” She was silent a moment then, without looking up, she said quietly, “I want a family, Sam. I want to be a part of a family. The “powerful Oz” deep down is lonely.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“Great…Thank you “My Master”,” she whispered across the table.

~~~~~~~~~~

The look on Laura Williams’ face alternated between bliss and severe concentration.

She rode up and down on her husband Sam’s cock. She controlled the speed, controlled the amount of depth she let his cock go in, controlled where he touched her and how.

Currently his fingertips were lightly caressing her hips. She whispered a breathy, plaintive whisper: “Play with my nipples.”

He moved his hands. She sat down hard on his cock, mashing her entire mound hard against him, feeling the tip poke at and deflect off her cervix.

She rocked once, twice, three times. Her face turned down, eyes tightly closed, panting shallowly. She looped her hair over her ears, licked her lips and then made a series of small, high-pitched noises.

Moments later she sighed and bent down to lay on top of Sam.

Sam kissed her gently and repeatedly as she got her breath.

Shortly she rolled off him and laid with her back to him. He caressed her back until he heard the steady rhythm of her breathing in sleep. He knew better than to wake her so he could take his pleasure.

Sam got out of bed and went down to his study and made a phone call.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Joanne, hey, it’s me. What are you up to?”

“Mmmmmm, I’m just laying here in my empty bed, legs spread, sweaty, just frigging myself; waiting for you to call.”

“Is it good?”

“Very, but it’s lonely. Want to use me? I have this nagging ache to be called names while you whip me with the crop I bought you last week.”

“Be over in 20 minutes.”

“I can’t wait.”

Joanne Durham hung up the phone and went back to masturbating; the only light coming in from the street through her partially closed blinds.

Her eyes were tightly closed and her teeth clenched as she stroked her clit, occasionally switching to lightly pulling on the ring in its hood. Her other hand pinched and pulled a nipple while she fantasized.

In her mind’s eye she alternated between two fantasy scenes.

In one scene she was the submissive. Her lover was alternating soft strokes of a deerskin flogger between her breasts and belly. The strokes fully covered her nipples and came tantalizing close to her mons and her distended clit.

All the while she heard her lover’s voice debasing her, egging her on as he flogged her.

In the other scene, Joanne was a mistress ravishing a red haired younger woman with a thick, long strapon.

She held the younger woman tightly by the hips in the doggy position as she fucked her hard and fast; the younger woman’s voice high and pleading, begging her mistress to fuck her harder, to use her “slut body”. And it was driving Joanne mad with lust to fuck this slut harder in her mind.

She was really fantasizing about Sam and Laura. Though the scene with Sam she had experienced many times since they became lovers; he loved to whip her though he was partial to the crop and Joanne loved the flogger.

She was so very close; so very close to coming.

Fingers on nipple and clit; her sex so full and slick, it was maddening, delicious, but in her late 50’s she had mastered keeping herself “on the edge” for hours. She was switching between scenes in her mind when she felt the penetration and her body involuntarily jerked at the intimate and forceful violation and she went over the edge with a grunt and a moan.

Sam was standing next to her, penetrating her with the handle of the crop she had bought as a present for him.

Her body stiffened, her cunt convulsed tightly around the leather covered cane handle and she felt the warmth and pulsing of her orgasm fill her belly and spread upwards. She stretched, eyes closed, a couple of fingers playing on the edge of her mouth and rode the wave.

“You were absolutely magnificent my dear. There is nothing so beautiful in the entire world as a woman’s face contorted in the throes of orgasm - or pleasurable pain.”

Sam knelt with one leg on the bed and put his fingers in her short-cropped salt and pepper hair, “Unzip me and suck me, cunt.”

Joanne shifted her body and unzipped him. She was mildly surprised that he wore no underwear. She reached inside to pull his cock out and noticed it was sticky in some places, slimy in others.

She looked up at him questioningly. “Sam?”

“Go ahead, Joanne, suck it. And it’s “Master” to you, you worthless fucking cunt.”

She licked his cock head like she was licking a Tootsie Pop and smiled, “Is “this” what I think?”

“Who, besides you, am I fucking - at least for now? Roll over on your back so I can finger you while you suck me off.”

As she rolled over she kept her eyes fixed on his, “Does this mean “yes”?” she asked eagerly but quietly.

He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. Smiling, he said, “What do you think, cunt?”

Joanne laughed with joy and with him gently pushing the back of her head she took his cock fully in her mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~

* Joanne Durham, Chameleon*

Joanne Durham would be a study in contrasts if more than a handful of people truly knew her. She made sure she played the appropriate, expected role to the appropriate audience and in this sense she was a chameleon in a society that increasingly demanded conformity to an ideology and/or a theology. But Joanne had a strong sense of personal integrity. Though she played her various roles, she was not acting, not a hypocrite. If push came to shove she would always speak her mind.

To her partners and associates at the law firm she founded she was the smart, aggressive lawyer whom you always wanted on your side and never against you.

To her former husband’s family, whom she kept in regular touch with, she was the favorite aunt to the nieces and nephews of her husband’s two sisters and one brother. To the two sisters, she was the favorite sister-in-law that they would have lunch with once or twice a month and maybe go on a family vacation with.

They knew her as a devout Christian and as their brother’s wife whom he loved more than life itself. They never knew what kind of intimate life their brother and Joanne enjoyed.

To the church congregation she attended almost every Sunday she was the elegant, handsome, successful attorney and business woman/widow who was deeply devout. At least twice a year she would teach an adult Sunday school class.

To the polyamorist, gay, lesbian, and transgendered sexual advocacy groups she would do “pro bono” legal work for, they had no idea that she was a very devout Christian who, though sexually liberated, very bi-sexual and deeply into the more esoteric aspects of sex, generally disagreed strongly with most, if not all, of the political agendas of their respective causes. She was not pro-choice but neither was she pro-life.

“Feminist” was generally a dirty word to her and would take it as an insult if ever called one. She generally voted Republican or Libertarian. She gave significant amounts of money to both parties. She privately felt that Hell could not possibly burn hot enough for some Democratic political leaders. But those were “her” private thoughts.

To the occasional lover she took after her husband’s passing, she was whatever the situation called for. Her first woman lover was a young woman that required training as a submissive. She trained her. But the relationship was played out entirely within the confines of Joanne’s home or where ever Joanne wanted to have her submissive sexually; the context was entirely sexual and not emotional beyond a shallow friendship.

Her next such relationship was reversed; she was the submissive to a woman half her age. Never did other aspects of personal life, emotion or love play into the relationship. She was there to use or be used, nothing more, nothing less.

It was to the young family she had been with whom she became emotionally involved. She was a lover to both the husband and wife and a surrogate grandmother to the children. With them she shared her life. They saw her cry, saw her sick and depressed. But also they saw her bring joy into their home and into they lives. And likewise, she made the emotional investment in the couple and their children.

When they moved to the east coast Joanne felt the great emptiness she felt when her husband died. Now Sam Williams was filling that void - and hopefully, so would his wife, Laura.

At 56 she looked maybe 50. She was tall and handsome with razor cut, close cropped salt and pepper, silver and black hair that she never bothered to color and that was just long enough for Sam to get a tight grip in if he wanted. Her legs were long and toned from running ten miles a week but she had a full, soft belly that defeated all attempts to flatten and tone it. She liked it now. It went well with her full, loose breasts that succumbed to gravity a little more with each passing year.

Her most prominent feature though was piercing slate gray eyes that gave her an ethereal quality. Those eyes drew friends and lovers to her like the Pied Piper of Hamlin magically drawing rats. But they gave a slightly demonic quality to those she faced as adversaries in her law practice. And one could feel quite uncomfortable, spooked even, by her stare that felt ice cold and malevolent.

She had been Sam’s lover and slave - her preference rather than the word submissive - for a year and knew Laura for a little more than eight months. Immediately she was drawn to Laura. A non-worldly wise woman, 44 years old with red hair and porcelain white skin and the body of “Venus rising from the sea” - the rounded belly, full hips and slack, small breasts from birthing three of Sam’s sons.

But as much as Sam had been fascinated by the idea of bringing Laura into the relationship he was wary and always told Joanne “no” whenever the subject came up. Finding out that he was being unfaithful to Laura would have been hurtful enough; Sam was always afraid of doing more emotional damage to Laura by a failed attempt to get her into a polyamorist triad, let alone one that was extremely sexual and into extreme BDSM with Joanne.

~~~~~~~~~~

*Rough Play in the Dungeon*

A few nights later, Joanne stood on her tiptoes, her arms extended over her head, her hands handcuffed to a strong spring in an eyehook in the ceiling of her basement. The strong spring was a safety device. If necessary, Joanne could exert enough downward pressure on the spring so that she could stand flat if she needed to.

She was blindfolded and gagged with a large ball gag that painfully distended her jaw. Her ass was violated with a dildo, larger than she was accustomed. It violated her deeply as well as by its circumference. She wondered if Sam was trying to tear her rather than open her in the way he took her with it but she reveled in his violating her this way. Whether it was with a dildo, a whip handle, a beer bottle or his cock, Sam had a way that always made the penetration of her sex, ass or mouth so “very, very intimate” and it drove her wild each and every time.

The instrument of her violation had two small nylon cords attached to its base. The cords extended over her shoulders and connected to nipple clamps. The nipple clamps coupled with the tension of the cords distended her long, full nipples and pulled her large, loose breasts up toward her chin, stretching them taut. Any movement of her sphincter against the dildo would change the tension on her breasts, either increasing or decreasing her pain - and her pleasure.

Sam circled her, striking her randomly with his crop, while quietly debasing her as a whore and a cunt and many other things. She was so turned on, so loved it, when he verbally abused her. Gradually he focused the sharp leather strikes against the delicate skin under her pulled taut breasts and over her soft belly and mons. Her sex was getting heavier and wetter to the point she wanted to spit the gag out and beg that he take her.

He pulls back on the dildo, which causes the opening of her pussy to stretch even more, pulling her lips taut and causing her clit to retreat under its hood.

“I love to play with your pussy. Tell me how it feels?”

“No. I don’t want to.”

He pinches her clit hard. She moans.

“I will let you come if you tell me.”

“It feels really big in me!” she exclaims. “Can I come? Please.”

She pleads.

He holds her clit. “Not yet.”

“Please!”

He picks up the wand vibrator and places it against the shaft of the dildo. The vibration is transmitted to her pussy. She rolls her hips in response. Slowly he moves the vibrator around to the underside of the shaft near her clit. Her writhing increases.

“You have to let me come. Please.”

“Ok” and he places the vibrator against her clit and she becomes to come.

She holds her breath and violently struggles against the restraints. She lets out a gasp.

“Oh. god.”

She tucks her hips under her, squeezing her ass cheeks together. She lets out a big gasp.

“Fuck.”

Shaking her head, “It’s too sensitive, stop. Please.”

He pulls the vibrator back from her clit and places it back on the shaft of the dildo. Taking one of the latex bands, he secures the vibrator to her thigh and the dildo. If she works at it, she can grind her clit into the vibrator. On the cord, there is a rheostat that allows him to vary the intensity of the vibrator.

He positions himself just in front of her head. He pulls his cock from his briefs and strokes his cock with a handful of her hair. Pulling her head up by the hair, he attempts to put his cock in her mouth. Her mouth is shut tight.

Pulling her hair hard, he slaps her in the face. This startles and catches her by surprise. However, she still does not open her mouth. He slaps her harder and she still refuses to open up.

“I am confident I can get you to open up.”

He turns the vibrator on and increases the intensity. Still she will not open. Turning the vibrator to the maximum, he places his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air. Thirty seconds into this, she begins bucking and convulsing.

Removing his hand from her mouth and nose, she gasps for air and he shoves his cock deep into her mouth. Holding the back of her head firmly, he just holds his cock deep inside her mouth.

Decreasing the intensity of the vibrator, he begins fucking her mouth.

Slowly he increases the intensity of the vibrator. She is slowly rolling her hips back and forth.

“Do you want to come?”

She nods yes, her mouth full, as he slowly fucks her.

Pulling his cock from her and holding her by the hair, “You can come.”

He feels her body tighten and release as her orgasm take her over.

“Fuck!”

He shoves his cock back in her mouth and comes deep in her throat. He can feel her struggle and gag while she tries to swallows his load.

Turning off the vibrator, he pulls his cock from her. Letting go of her hair, her head drops to the bed.

Panting, “God. No more.”

“Did you have a good day?”

“Yes.” Still panting.

He releases the air from the dildo and it falls from her pussy. With the release of each binding, she huddles closer and closer to the bed.

With the removal of the final restraint, she begins to cry and throws herself at him. He catches her and holds her.

“What’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I love you so much it scares me at times.”

“I know. It’s OK. Think of all the little moments in each of our lives that have lead to this moment. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Let’s go home.”

Once in the car, he said, “Baby, there’s something in the glovebox for you.”

Ruby opened the slim package she found there and threw him a flushed, excited grin. “Nipple jewelry! Thank you, Sir.”

“Put it on.”

Her cheeky grin froze and AJ realized that what he loved best about this woman was the quality of her submission. She did not “blindly” obey him. She did not “always” obey him. She gave him an intelligent woman’s thinking obedience that, to his mind, was the most powerful and seductive kind of submission.

Her hand trembled as she lay the golden chain on the seat beside her and reached to unbutton her pale green blouse. When she pulled the blouse apart and out of the clutch of her seatbelt, he confirmed what he had suspected throughout dinner. Ruby wore no bra. Gold loops glittered and flashed in each pert nipple, lit by the periodic strobe of passing street lamps.

His lower body tightened. “God! You have the prettiest nipples!”

“Yours,” she whispered, shivering a little.

“Mine,” he acknowledged with a jolt of satisfaction.

She hooked the nipple chain through each loop and sat with her eyes closed, her fingers curled into the edge of her shirt. She wanted desperately to pull the edges together, he knew. Essentially a very private person, Ruby found it extremely difficult to expose herself to strange eyes.

AJ’s gaze flicked to the road as he assessed traffic, “You may close your shirt when we arrive home and not before.”

The chain glittered, stretched between her breasts as she inhaled deeply and acquiesced, “Yes, Master.” And then…softly she whispered, “I “love” being yours.”

*His*. All his. His blood heated and sparked as though full of champagne bubbles and, of a sudden, he could not get her home soon enough.

At the curb, he helped her out of the car and then pinned her against it, sliding his hands inside her shirt along the satin heat of her skin and curving his fingers over her ribs just below her breasts. Her heart thumped heavily beneath his thumbs as he kissed her. “His”. The word beat powerfully through him, in time with his own pulse.

They never made it to the bedroom. AJ pushed her shirt off her shoulders and dropped it in the foyer as they cleared the front door. He hooked his finger on the nipple chain and tugged Ruby up to her toes, kissed her hard; kissed her long; kissed her so thoroughly they both gasped for air.

“”Mine”,” he said against her lips.

“Yours,” she breathed.

He kissed her again and drew her down onto the carpet with him as he opened his trousers. The cool air against the enfleshed flame of his cock seemed a taunt, a tease. He didn’t want cool, he wanted ignition. He wanted the sizzling humid clasp of his submissive’s body. AJ pulled inexorably on the nipple chain so that she had no choice but to straddle him, bending low over his chest obedient to the chain.

Ruby moaned softly as he slid his hands under her skirt.

“Ruby-mine,” he whispered with affectionate humor, cupping her smooth petal-soft sex, “no underwear at all! Good girl.”

AJ pressed upward and nearly moaned aloud as her body unfurled over the head of his cock. He pushed deep in one thrust and she shivered as she settled on him. Need of her drove him: the need to claim her, the need to possess her.

“Where am I?” he asked, as he lifted his hips and pulled up on the nipple chain, stretching her nipples taut.

“Home,” she gasped out, whimpering and trembling, “in your submissive who loves you-”

“Look into my eyes, don’t look away. Cum for me, lover.”

Her hair tumbled forward as she locked her eyes on his and rode him. He varied his thrusts, entranced by the effect on her: the way her breath whooshed out of her and the way her face flushed. The nipple chain swayed and glittered until he hooked his finger around it and jerked down sharply. Ruby whimpered, and responded by holding her body down against his as he pushed up.

Pleasure and passion, lust and love, bright intelligence and wanton joy, all flashed in her eyes as he impaled her again and again. Her breath locked hard in her throat when the first wave of her orgasm overtook her and then she moaned. Eyes on his, surrendering to the pleasure, surrendering to him, Ruby came and shook and flushed with release.

AJ curled his fingers in the soft flesh of her hips and altered his rhythm, driving for his own release. He praised her. At least, he meant to. But hot rapture overtook him in a glorious kind of amnesia; there was only her clinging heat, the liquid sound of them, the music of her whimpers and moans. And then. Then there was that lustrous expulsion, that bone-melting release, that sweet floating emptiness. His eyes never left hers.

“”*Mine”*,” he said.

*Journey Into Submission: The Collaring*

The day of the collaring ceremony dawned overcast and with sultry blossom-scented air. While AJ had seen to most of the details, each of them had written the vows they intended to speak and Ruby had secretly chosen the clothes she would wear.

Kayte, Chrissy, Amy and a host of others descended upon the orchard at the home of AJ’s younger brother, Donnal, with flowers, lights, rented chairs, laughter and excitement.

Diane had agreed to be Ruby’s attendant and she arrived just after noon for a ceremony walk-through. After the brief rehearsal, she spent the afternoon helping wherever she could.

The ceremony started promptly at dusk. Folding chairs had been arranged in a large circle among the flowering apple trees. Blossom petals drifted like scented snow across the grass. Tiny white lights twinkled around a dozen tree trunks. Tall vases here and there held bouquets of rose stems. Rose petals intermingled with apple petals on every horizontal surface.

“Attention, please.” Lisle stepped into the center of the circle as she spoke. “We are invited here this evening to witness a formal collaring between AJ and his submissive, Ruby. After the ceremony, Donnal and I will play hosts at the dungeon. Private play only, I remind you.” Lisle glanced briefly at AJ and at his nod, said: “Let the ceremony commence.”

The soft lovely music of Loreena McKennitt’s “The Mummer’s Dance” began to play from hidden speakers as AJ moved to the center of the circle with Donnal at his side. Both men were dressed in black.

AJ wore a loose silk shirt, open at the throat and tucked into black leather pants. He wore black leather boots that came half way up his calves; the silver buckles winked in the softening light. A light breeze ruffled his dark hair as he waited, facing the way she would come.

Donnal stood next to him, similarly attired, with one hand clasped in the other behind his back. A dark collar danced ’round and ’round through his fingers. His silver-tipped sable hair curled in a careless riot as though he had not thought to comb it. He watched the guests with a lively, amused interest.

When Diane appeared between the trees, walking slowly with a candle cupped in her hands, AJ felt his brother stiffen alertly.

She was dressed in a long soft sheath of deep scarlet. There was just enough breeze to mold the material playfully against her; first twining it ’round her legs then molding it lovingly over her breasts. AJ admired the effect as she approached and wondered idly if she knew - had planned for - the teasing combination of material and wind. Her dark hair hid her face as she watched her candle.

Diane looked up and smiled at AJ as she reached his side. With calm concentration she lit the candles in a tall candelabra next to him before placing hers in the last open spot. Though Donnal’s interest was plain enough to AJ, she seemed oblivious as she took her place opposite him at AJ’s side.

The music changed, slid into McKennitt’s “The Dark Night of the Soul” as a flicker of light drew AJ’s attention. His heart jumped. “Ruby”. She wore a diaphanous cloak of silver-edged, multi-layered indigo silk. The filmy stuff caught and reflected the light. It was just opaque enough to hide what she wore underneath as she walked into the circle.

She had left her hair loose and it spilled over her shoulders to her breasts in a fall of golden light. The breeze toyed with the glittering strands: lifting them, twining ’round them, dancing them into pseudo-life.

She clasped her hands in front of her as though in prayer. The silver chain was wound ’round them, binding them loosely palm to palm. The tiny golden key dangled just below.

As they had rehearsed, Diane took the chain while Ruby removed her cloak then handed it back in exchange for the silk. As she retrieved the chain and key, Ruby knelt at AJ’s feet.

She was dressed in a black and silver corset that pushed her breasts up and barely covered her nipples. Her black silk skirt was so short that the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings were visible. Black, thinly-strapped high heels showed off the feminine, sexy arch of her feet.

AJ understood with a swell of hot emotion that she had chosen to wear these clothes - to expose so much of her delectable self - as yet another measure of her devoted submission to him.

With the key resting on her open palms, Ruby looked up and spoke her vows in a clear steady voice, her eyes locked to his.

“AJ, my Master, I kneel before you, full of love and adoration.

“I offer myself to you: all that I am, all that I can be, all that I will be. And I make you this pledge:

I will submit to you now and always, for only in complete submission to you will I realize the depths of my love for you. I will be in submission to you, my beloved Master, whether or not you are physically present, for I am yours in all that I do.

“I vow to learn all that you wish to teach me to the best of my ability for I know that it is only through your loving direction, firm discipline, and appropriate punishment that I will reach my highest potential as your submissive.

“I shall have faith in your decisions to take me past my limits when you feel that I am ready, for therein will lie my greatest growth as both a submissive and a human being.

“I shall communicate with complete honesty my needs, desires, thoughts, reactions, and limits even when it may be difficult for me to do so.

“I shall give you my trust, secure in the knowledge that you will always protect me and keep me safe.

“I shall constantly seek opportunities to please you, for my greatest joy and delight is in knowing I have done so. I promise to do my best to fulfill your wishes and desires.

“I pledge to love and adore you, for we are opposite sides of the same coin: you are the warp to my weft, the earth to my moon, the reason to my emotion, the tree to my vine. You complete me.

“Beloved Master, I will accept your collar as a symbol of my submission to you and the pledge I have made you this day. I shall wear it with pride, always.”

AJ smiled warmly down at Ruby for a long moment and then spoke his vows:

“As I gaze at your kneeling form I am filled with compassion, affection, and pride.

“You offer yourself to me - all that you are, all that you will be, all that you can be - and in return for this precious gift I make this pledge:

I will love and cherish you for the woman you are: strong, loving, intelligent, and submissive.

“I will help and support you, guide and teach you, as you struggle to reach your full potential as my submissive.

“I will never belittle you, as a submissive or as a woman. I shall praise and encourage you always. I will take the trust you give me and build upon it, being open and patient with you as you grow.

“If you fall, I shall catch you, comfort and hold you, before placing you back on your path.

“I will protect you always, for I understand your fragile submissive heart and honor the gift you have made of it to me.

“I will act responsibly in all things, taking care never to harm you. I pledge to control my temper and to step back when it is necessary to cool down. You need never fear that I will take my anger out on you.

“If I make a mistake, I will accept the consequences and correct it to the best of my ability. I promise never to blame you for my own failures.

“I shall always communicate with you, even when it may be personally difficult.

“We complete each other. Dominant and submissive, two sides of the same coin, whole at last.

“Ruby, you are, and will always be, my joy, my love, my life, my jewel.”

To the guests, Ruby’s gasp and visible shiver seemed simply an emotional reaction to the moment. Only Ruby and AJ knew that she’d had an orgasm when he spoke her trigger word. Her eyes flashed to his and he let her see the confirmation she sought: that he was truly her Master and it pleased him to demonstrate in this way and at this time that she was truly his.

AJ put out his hand and drew her to her feet before turning to his brother to retrieve the collar.

“Beloved,” AJ continued smoothly, “this collar is a symbol of our pledge to one another; that from this day you are mine. I am no less yours.”

He placed the collar - black anodized metal in a vaguely Celtic pattern - around Ruby’s neck before taking the tiny key from her and locking it closed. After he placed the chain and key around his own neck, he met her eyes and smiled lovingly at her.

“My own.”

Ruby smiled back with transcendent joy. “Yours.”

Lisle stepped forward again, “Let all here present know that this woman has offered her submission and it has been accepted. She is claimed.

“Let all here present know that this man has accepted into his care this woman to guide, to treasure, and to Master to the best of his abilities.

“Let us wish them joy.”

*Epilogue:*

As AJ drew a glowing Ruby close to his side to accept the well wishes of their friends when they crowded ’round, Diane turned away to swipe at her tears; profoundly moved by the vows and the moment, her throat tight with emotion and longing. She was surprised to meet Donnal’s gaze and expected him to look away, to give her the illusion of privacy.

He didn’t.

He held her gaze, looked down into her for…an eon? Five seconds? While she stood there weeping both in joy for her friend and heartsick longing for herself: he continued to look, to see, to know.

He stared back at her with his dark discerning gaze and Diane could feel the moment stretch. She had the physical sensation of falling as the sound, sight, and scent of the world around her faded.

He captured her in that moment and would not let her look away until awareness of it flooded her eyes. Only then did he give her a slow smile.

“Here,” he said.

Dumbly, Diane looked down and realized that he offered her his handkerchief. But even as she took it from him, she knew she had accepted something else.

(This is NOT the end of Ruby and AJ”s story - Be assured that positive feedback will see the continuation. This IS the beginning of Diane”s story. To all of you who have encouraged and supported me, deepest thanks. And most of all, to the wonderful loving Master who has pushed and guided me so far…Moyd, Sir, it is my deepest honor and brightest joy to be your submissive. May we continue to grow together. jewel)

He filled her, marked her, claimed her. She was his. Body and soul, she was his.

Much later, after removing the cooled ginger plug and showering; after drinking glass after glass of water at AJ”s insistence, Ruby lay cuddled in his arms in their big bed.

“I am truly sorry, Master.”

“Enough.” He said firmly. “This episode is over and we will speak no more of it. You are forgiven, now and always.”

She sighed happily and sleepily licked his neck.

“Thank you for being my Master. I love you, AJ-sir.”

“Author’s NOTE: safe words should be discussed and chosen long before any dangerous or potentially damaging play

Thank you!”

Tags: Fetish, Story