Valentine’s day 22

You know, what seems simple as you drift off to sleep is never quite the same as dreams fade. I know I had a great idea that put me at my ease but now I just can’t recall it.

My eyes drift across the softly snoring form of my Sara. I could have Tara wield the whip, but no she’s not ready for that. Leashes and walkies? No, Sara dislikes humiliation and she’s done nothing to deserve a punishment. Simple may be best.

I slip out of bed and pad to the closet. Simple slacks and a buttondown worn untucked. The grey slacks and cream shirt with the herringbone buttons. Clothing is a form of armor but in this case merely a canvas for later ventures.

I walk the five feet back to the bedroom and see Sara watching me. My smile pours out; matched by her grin until, like a candle, it’s snuffed out. I school my face to impassivity. A cool mask belied by wicked eyes.

“First position,” I purr.

Languid, almost boneless, Sara falls graceful as a cat to her knees. She leans back. Sitting on her legs folded underneath, shoulders thrown back, eyes cast down.

“Wait here, in position, until I return.”

“Yes Sir,” her voice a deep pool of acceptance.

I walk to Tara and gently shake her awake. Her eyes slowly open, telling me that her sleep is feigned. Never in the time I’ve known her has she ever woken so easily to a interrupted sleep.

“Put on your collar, my little fox. Let us go for a walk in the garden.”

Walking in the garden is something we do when dear Tara is feeling a bit more animal than human.

Proudly, Tara places her new collar around her neck, pulling the clasp closed but not tightly. I reach down and cinch it down. Close enough to not chafe but not so tight so as to choke. Tara reaches into my pants for her lead and pulling the soft leather leash snaps it into place. Shyly looking at me, she places the lead into my hand. I beam at my dear pet. I know she’s seen Sara do this but I didn’t expect her to be so equally bold.

I lead her to the black oak toy chest and pull the chrome butt plug with fox tail from its position. She shifts and smiles up at me, skipping my heart a beat. With thoroughness, her eyes a heady weight on my motions, I slather the plug in velvety lube.

“Present, please,” my voice soft but full of command and desire.

Tara turns and leans against the hardwood floor, cheek pressed flush, head turned, presenting the soft pink pucker for her present.

I run my fingers around, exploring the edges. Soft, pleasant loam drifting from her. I work the remaining lube over her. Into her, probing with wet fingers, the slight hitch in her breathing my reward. I press the point of the bulb in. Meeting with resistance then relaxation sucks it in as I press, inexorably, in.

And voila, my foxy girl has her tail. And a gentleman has his pet.

Valentine’s day 12

The girls, they’re women but they are my girls. The girls walk ahead of me smiling and holding hands in the early February sunshine. Ahead of us is the small garden that our friends planted in late fall. The early spring blooms delicate and just waking to a early spring. The harsh cycle of snow and thaw all but unknown in this shady almost desert. The soft rays of sun caress us.

We walk through an archway of delicate looking peach blooms, more greenery than flowers but small buds are showing their first blush of growth.

The small garden has 3 tables with guests already seated. We are all lifestyle partners, but aside from a few collars, my wife included, it is more Sunday sundress than fetish.

The men are all in various spring suits, mostly white or tan. I stand out like a raven amongst doves. Dressed all in black with a black fedora. Death at the ball.

Peter, a friend and officiant of these proceedings approaches. Sara and Tara kiss me on a cheek each, bookends of my love, and stroll off to mingle and find our seats.

Peter says, his voice pitched low, “It’s all arranged. Does she know what we’re doing here?”

“She knows half of it, she’s already ours this just makes it more so. If the laws were different, I would take another course but needs must,” I reply.

“Well, I hope you know what you are doing. This could go awry very easily,” Peter said doubtfully.

“Pete, I know my girl. She’ll be happy and Sara knows. Sara came up with the contract and got one of her managing partners to make it legal. We all do what we can,” I say decisively.

“Well, if you are sure, let’s get you married. Again,” smiled Peter.

I walk to our seats, Sara on my left and Tara on my right. Normally they are seated opposite and I can see Tara is curious but not scared of the change. This was Sara’s idea. To show Tara her importance, that Today is her day. Leaning back in the comfortable chair, Sara hand held in my lap and Tara clutching my other in hers.

Truthfully I’m a bit nervous. I am almost certain that Tara will say yes but I’m not positive. There is always a bit of trepidation with these things and you can rarely tell how it will turn out. All you can do is hope.

Peter stands at ease at the front of our little gathering. He starts.

“Welcome everyone to our Valentine’s day event. We’ll be serving a complete high tea for which we thank Victoria and Kevin for their service to us today. It is through their hard work and dedication that our garden is as beautiful and immaculate as it is. A round of applause for Victoria and Kevin.”

We all clap and smile at Peter’s service submissives. They are in little waitstaff outfits and they are smiling with their heads bowed at the praise of their master and the approval of the gathering. Without these two, these events would need to be catered and less private. Victoria and Kevin are married to each other but are bound in Service to Peter. It works for them and watching how their dynamic worked these past few years is what gave me the courage to seek a third. Sara and I have always been polyamourous, but short term liasons have been…unfulfilling, if not disastrous. With Tara we just clicked.

Peter continues. “Today is a special day for three of our little group. Pel and Sara have been with us for a few years and we’ve all enjoyed their company. Some of us more than others,” Peter smiles.

“They’ve cut a bit of a swath through our ranks, engaging one or another in various fun and hijinks. But today they bring into their family a new love. Tara. Tara comes from outside the group, for which our long term partnerships are grateful.”

The group chuckles lightly.

“I kid, but seriously, the pull of a Dominant switch and a aggressive pain slut is almost too much for some of us to resist. But thankfully, that won’t be much of a problem, because adding Tara to their dynamic is going to leave them completely exhausted. Believe me, I know of which I speak.”

The group grins and laughs.

“Tara, please come up here,” Peter asks.

“Go ahead my dear.” I say, steel in my voice. An order, but she smiles and goes up to the front. Walking like a little girl. Carefree.

Peter looks at Tara and asks, “Tara, are you here of your own volition?”

Tara replies calmly, “I am.”

“Are you being coerced in any way?” Peter continues.

“No, I am not.”

“And last, but not least, Are you being abused emotionally, verbally, or physically?”

There are bruises forming on her arms from this mornings activities. But this is a question of intent. And of her feelings, regardless of the intent of the master. Just because the Dominant does not think something is abuse doesn’t mean it’s not.
The submissive decides for themselves what is too much. We use this ceremony to make sure that the submissive is not so cowed that they cannot choose for themselves. And it allows for Peter, the clinical psychologist, to try and get a read and make sure no one has been broken.

Tara replies, “I’m with Pel and Sara of my own free will and nothing we do is abuse.”

There is a ritual to this and she added the second part. I beam at her, smiling like a wild thing. Improvisation in the face of authority. I am so proud of the progress she is making.

Peter smiles and says, “Well, ok then. Pel come on up here.”

I get up and walk to the front. It’s no more than six steps but it feels like a mile. I have Tara’s collar in my left pants pocket and ring in the right. It’s like walking through lead until I see Tara looking at me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears but her whole body is relaxed and almost smiling.

I let loose a breathe I didn’t realize I was holding, tension eases out with the last two steps.

Peter moves to the side, leaving Tara and I front and center.

“Tara,” I say, “you have been more of a blessing than either I or Sara could have imagined. You are not only our lover. You have also set our whole household in order. All the little things that seemed to have fallen by the wayside, you found and fixed. And we love you for that. But more than what you do, we value and love you for who you are. Every day is a new journey and a new challenge but every day you seem to make us laugh or comfort us on our bad days. We love you and want to make you ours. I present this collar. The collar of our possession of you.”

I place the white soft leather collar around her neck, snug but not tight. A small gold heart dangles from the little ring on the front.

“This collar marks you as our owned pet. None may touch you without your consent but now, none may touch you without our acquiesce either. Additionally, you are under our protection and a slight against you is a slight against us.”

Tara leans onto me and holds me close, burying her head against my neck.

Then she composes herself and gets ready to head back to her seat.

Normally, that’s the end of the proceedings. And Tara has seen one of these and been coached by Sara.

I let her take a step, then say “Wait, please.”

Tara turns back to me.

“I have one more thing to say. Tara, this collar makes you officially ours. But for us we want to take it a step further. Both Sara and I.” I sink to one knee.
I present her shocked visage with the antique platinum and 4ct. Flawless blue sapphire.

“Both Sara and I want to ask, will you marry us?”