Standing in front of my fierce lioness and my rescue kitten, I drink in their stances. A smile grows on my lips, turning to a grin. Sara returns it, all feral and wild. This love that gives more and more.
Tara ducks her head but not before I see her shy smile.
“Tara,” I say softly, “Look up.”
Uncertain, she looks up. Her eyes meeting mine, waiting for the blow to come. I hold her eyes and say, “You are to meet my gaze. It’s OK to be emberassed. It is OK to smile at me. You hold your head up and meet my eyes head on.”
I make no mention of the master who told her to never meet his eyes. Who kept her deliberately lower than himself. Out of insecurity I’m guessing. Old habits linger and we work on them as they come up.
I expect obedience because they desire to be obedient. Not because I broke their will and this is the only choice they see. It is in that choice to follow that I find my greatest joy. I want them to consciously choose so often that the choice is immediate, but present. My style does not mesh well with brats but then I’ve never been a brat tamer
Turning my attention outward, I see Sara grinning. She knows that I just paused in my head to explain something. I do it quite often. She thinks it’s hilarious that I treat my own mind like it’s a Submissive to be trained. Returning her grin, I think well, she’s not wrong.
Tara is fidgeting. It fills me with a sunburst of joy. When she came to us, she would never fidget. That she does now is a great sign.
Letting the grin slowly die, I hold gaze until we are all serious again.
“Girls, The rules of the Day are as follows:
1. Be polite. Say Please, Thank you, May I. If you have a doubt ere on the side of politeness.
2. There will be other tops at this luncheon. They have no claim on your time or your self. Refer them to me. Be polite but firm.
3. If they cross the line, then defend yourself but try to keep it nonlethal.
4. We are declining all offers of additional submissives. Don’t lead them on.
5. You are my queens. Conduct yourself as proper ladies unless I direct you otherwise.
Lastly, Tara. Keep yourself to Sara or my side.
Now for the surprise. Tara. I will be declaring you as my collared pet. There will be a small ceremony and I will present you with my collar.”
Tara looks stunned. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and her mouth hangs a bit open. Like she was opening her mouth to protest, then thought better of it.
“You have worked very hard and you deserve to be publicly acknowledged for it.”
I look at my wife and nod my head to indicate to take care of her.
Sara walks over and gathers Tara into her arms. Tara starts crying in earnest. She never would have been confident enough to show emotion other than fear six months ago. She really has worked hard. I’m so proud of her. Now she will have a physical, tangible reminder of that pride.