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Tiffany
Tiffany was unsure if she was excited, terrified, or both. She couldn’t fathom how she would feel if she were more than a mere spectator. There was an intensity in the air which was putting her on edge. She felt marginally calmer as Lukus led them to the seat of honor in the middle of the semi-circle of comfortable chairs arranged for an intimate view of the upcoming events.
Taking her cue from the already seated couples, she was about to kneel next to her Dom’s chair when Lukus reached out to grasp her hand, gently guiding her to sit in his lap. A quick scan of the space showed only Brianna and Violet sitting on their Dom’s laps. The other seven couples had the submissive either kneeling quietly—or, in the case of one submissive, being ruthlessly face-fucked by her Master as they awaited the start of the ceremony.
The room was subdued in anticipation of what was to come. The sound of the slave on her knees gagging on her Master’s thrusting cock added perfectly to the naughty atmosphere. Tiffany faced the couple and was mesmerized by the spectacle.
No wonder Lukus likes watching me as I suck him off. Witnessing her being forced to take her Master deep in her throat is hot.
As if, once again, he were reading her mind, Lukus whispered against her ear. “You look even sexier when you’re getting face-fucked, baby.”
Before she could reply, Derek and a man she presumed to be Master Michael appeared from behind the stage curtain and made their way to center stage, near the makeshift altar. Rachel followed a few feet behind, eventually kneeling on a large pillow a few feet behind her husband. She assumed a classic slave pose, knees spread, head lowered, palms up on her knees. Tiff admired her sleeveless bustier corset dress, which was similar to the dresses she and Bri were wearing, and wondered if Derek took Rachel to Mistress Martha’s for her naughty outfits, too.
Derek and Michael turned to face the back of the stage. All eyes, except Rachel’s, monitored the door with interest. Tiff didn’t know what to expect. The vision of the Master Trainer pushing through the door, solemnly carrying a robed Miranda in his arms as he approached the altar, had Tiff’s heart racing with anticipation.
He stopped a few feet short of the platform, locking eyes with Master Derek. When she saw Derek’s silent nod, Tiff realized that the Trainer was awaiting approval to proceed to the dais. He stepped deliberately, emulating a bride’s walk down a church aisle, stopping in front of the table, facing Master Michael.
The Trainer and Master faced each other, before the men grasped arms beneath the slave between them. They paused for mere seconds, but it was enough for Tiff to detect the brief bond of all three participants before Master Michael pulled his wife towards him, requiring the Trainer to take a step back, empty handed. There was something poignant in the official handing off of a trained submissive to her new Master.
Miranda wrapped her arms around her new husband’s neck as her Trainer leaned in to deposit a chaste kiss on her forehead in the way of a farewell, before turning to walk between the observing couples and stand behind the row of guests. His job now done, he was relegated to mere spectator.
Knowing Derek as well as she did, Tiffany could tell he was nervous. She realized this was most likely the first ceremony of this nature that Derek had officiated solo. She suspected it would normally be Lukus leading the festivities and, once again, was reminded of just how much changed in all of their lives the day Brianna decided to let Jake fuck her again.
Master Michael gently set his slave on her feet. She immediately fell to her knees on the large golden pillow next to her husband. Her translucent robe did little to conceal her body; the material so light, it floated down to settle around her.
Derek stepped in front of the couple, facing the spectators, as a minister does before a church congregation. He cleared his throat before addressing the participants, glancing at his notes.
“We are here to witness the collaring ceremony of Master Michael Townsend and his slave, Miranda Townsend. Earlier today, they were legally married in the eyes of the law. Tonight, we are privileged to witness a commitment that is even more important to them as they pledge their devotion to one another. At the conclusion of this ceremony, they will be bound together not only in law, but more importantly, they will be bound by their intimate promises made to each other as they embark on their total power exchange relationship. They have asked me to thank the witnesses they have invited to attend this most important event of their lives. They trust that you are among the few who understand the level of commitment being pledged this night.”
Derek paused nervously, perhaps forgetting what comes next.
“We begin with your verbal commitments,” he went on. Turning to look directly at Master Michael, Derek asked a round of questions, similar to vows in a wedding. “Master Michael. Do you vow to protect, discipline, guide, provide for, and love your slave, Miranda?”
Master Michael’s response was strong and sure. “I do.”
“Do you promise to ensure that she is cared for as your most cherished possession, forsaking all others while reminding her daily of her submissive place at your side?”
Michael glanced down at his kneeling sex slave before answering with a simple, “I do.”
Derek turned his attention to Miranda. “Slave Miranda, do you willingly enter into servitude, understanding that Michael will now be Master of every aspect of your life? You will submit to his every desire and decision, and will be corrected should you fail to live up to his expectations. In exchange, he will love and cherish you, protect and provide for you every day for the rest of your life. Do you enter into this relationship willingly?”
Tiffany held her breath as Miranda’s answer did not come immediately. It was soft, but she did hear her clear, “I do.”
Derek nodded in Michael’s direction, who turned to face his wife before assisting her to her feet. He was a full six inches taller than his slave. Tiffany’s heart contracted at the romantic gesture of his gentle finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his own. It was easy to see on their faces the love they felt for each other. Without breaking their visual connection, Michael unfastened the single large button holding the sheer robe closed, guiding the delicate fabric across his wife’s shoulders to the floor, leaving her naked.
With a tap to her shoulder, she dropped to her knees before her Master. Michael reached into his pocket to retrieve what looked like a gold one-inch–wide choker that sparkled in the dancing torchlight.
Derek directed the couple. “Michael, do you offer this collar willingly as a token of your commitment to your submissive slave?”
“I do.”
“Slave Miranda, by accepting your Master’s collar, do you willingly turn over your mind, body, and soul to his care?”
Miranda’s voice quavered, but she didn’t hesitate this time. “I do, Sir.”
Lukus hugged Tiffany closer. They observed Master Michael placing the heavy gold collar on his slave’s neck. There was no chance Miranda would ever forget her commitment considering she now wore a constant reminder against her skin. The new slave had a look of sheer joy as she peered up at her Master from her position on her knees.
Derek moved them to the next phase of the ceremony. “Now that you’ve exchanged your vows and your collar of commitment, you may consummate your union. Master Michael has chosen to complete this important rite of passage in their union in front of the invited witnesses. Every hole of his submissive will be christened by her master. The consummation may begin.”
