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Master Mark sprawled on the loveseat opposite Master Anthony, Jaime sitting on the floor cushion between his knees with a beatific smile. Master Anthony waved Master Damon into a nearby chair while Ellen settled gingerly onto the cushion beside him. Her bottom was still tender from the delicious paddling she’d received earlier that evening.
A young redheaded guy also wearing a trainee collar, his body shaved smooth, approached them and asked if he could bring anyone a drink from the bar. Master Anthony and Master Damon both asked for cognac, Master Mark for a beer. Lucia said she’d have fresh orange juice over ice while Jaime requested a glass of white wine. Ellen, already tired from her busy week and their two-and-a-half-hour drive from Charlotte, also opted for the orange juice.
Drinks in hand, they chatted amiably for a while, the men talking together while Ellen caught up with Jaime and Lucia. It felt so good to be back at The Enclave with her sister submissives.
After a while, Master Brandon, his cock apparently properly seen to, came up to the group, something in his hand. To Ellen’s surprise, Master Damon rose to his feet and the two men embraced like old friends. She hadn’t been aware Master Damon knew Master Brandon except by sight.
At the same time, Master Anthony got to his feet. “If I may have everyone’s attention,” he said in his deep, sonorous voice. “Our good friend, Damon Miller, who won our darling Ellen in a binding auction a little over five months ago, has returned to us not only to enjoy tomorrow’s dungeon party, but to invite us to witness one of our favorite rituals.”
Ellen looked up at Master Damon, confused. But he wasn’t looking at her, his focus instead on Master Brandon. Lucia leaned forward and whispered, “Take off your collar, Ellen.”
Ellen made a face, still not quite understanding what was happening.
“Don’t ask questions,” Lucia said with mock sternness. “Just do as you’re told.”
Ellen reached back and unbuckled the slave collar. She hated taking it off, and only removed it to shower or to replace with her “vanilla collar,” a silver, filigreed choker Master Damon had given her for when they visited family or other people who didn’t need to know they were in the lifestyle.
She had an idea now where this must be going. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from squealing with excitement. Master Damon, smiling down at her, held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her upright.
Holding the small, oblong box Master Brandon had given him, Master Damon led her to the second stone fireplace, a focal point in the large space. The room had gone silent, everyone’s eyes on them.
As they stood side-by-side, Master Damon reached for Ellen’s hand and threaded his fingers with hers. “First,” he said, addressing the room, “I want to thank Anthony from the bottom of my heart for seeing something in me that I honestly didn’t know was there. By giving me the opportunity to participate in the binding auction, he gave me a chance to discover something I didn’t realize I was capable of.”
Master Damon turned to Ellen, gifting her with his beautiful, lopsided smile. “That thing is love.”
Warmth flowed through her, her heart near to bursting with happiness.
Master Damon turned back to the room. “Second, I want to thank all of you for creating this amazing haven for people with a shared passion for a fully immersive BDSM lifestyle.”
Letting her hand go, he held up the box Master Brandon had given him. “And finally, thank you, Brandon, for crafting this beautiful symbol of the Master/slave relationship Ellen and I share.”
He opened the box, showing Ellen the most beautiful slave collar she had ever seen. It was made of thin strips of leather, some of the strands a deep blue, the others silver. They were braided together, the total effect reminding her of an ocean wave cresting to the shore. The clasp was a circle of silver with the words, “Master’s slave girl,” etched in tiny letters around its perimeter.
Taking the collar from the box, Master Damon said, “Kneel so I may collar you in front of our Enclave family.”
Tears of happiness filling her eyes, Ellen lowered herself to her knees. As she lifted the hair from the back of her neck, Master Damon tugged at the clasp, which opened without any catch that she could see.
Leaning down, he circled the impossibly soft leather around her throat. He let the clasp go and it snapped itself together. She understood then it contained a powerful magnet, an elegant and practical alternative to a buckle.
As Master Damon pulled Ellen up and into an embrace, everyone in the room, save for the poor girl still tethered to the punishment platform, burst into cheers and applause.
They stayed at the main house for another hour or so. When they finally made their way down to the cabin, Ellen was more than ready to collapse into the bed. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in Master Damon’s arms.
But before she could make her way to the bedroom or even slip out of her dress, Master Damon stopped her. He placed his hands on her shoulders as he stared down into her eyes. “Do you like your new collar, slave girl?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her hand flying up to caress the soft leather. “I love it.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out another box, this one a small velvet cube. To her shocked surprise, this time he was the one to drop to one knee.
Looking up at her with such love in his eyes that it took her breath away, he opened the box to reveal a sparkling emerald-cut diamond set on a slim band studded with tiny diamonds.
“You taught me how to love, to trust and to forgive,” he said in a voice at once solemn and tender. “Ellen, my love, my slave girl, my heart. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Damon,” she breathed, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks. “Yes. I will.”
His face splitting into a broad grin, Damon took the sparkling ring from the box. Taking her left hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
