I’ve written before that I take my Master/slave contract seriously, and I probably considered it more thoroughly than I ever did my marriage certificate or vows. I thought that the contract was the biggest step and that a collar would be the icing on the cake. We had signed our contract weeks ago, and although collars had been discussed, sir hadn’t made any decisions.
He offered me the silver pocket of fabric wrapped in a white, satin ribbon, after a particularly long session of anal sex. We were both sweaty and covered in bodily fluids. I felt a wide grin spreading across my face as I opened the present. I knelt on the floor in front of him, my clothes hanging off me in sweaty abandon. A round, blue box was revealed and inside was a ring. It was composed of a wide, polished band of silver with a silver bead in the middle, pierced by a silver ring. Sir gave me a Ring of O for my birthday.
Sir told me I could wear it on any finger that fit, but he said that his preference was my left hand. The position of the ring felt significant, and even though he didn’t say it out loud, I knew he thought so too. I stared at the silver on my hand, letting the weight of it sink into me. The last thing I had worn on my left hand had been my wedding rings. I could feel something welling up inside me, but I tried to ignore it. I was ecstatic–overflowing with joy. And I felt the echo of something else… a warning.
The ring was bait in a trap. And the echo of warning was a reminder of what I had sacrificed years ago for a different ring from a different man. Everything felt like a jumble, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that all my safeties were in place. I had a safeword and a contract, and my voice and my strength. I wasn’t a victim this time, and sir wasn’t here to hold me back or try to make me into a different person. If anything, our dynamic was setting us free to do amazing things together. Things we had been fantasizing about and hoping for.
As I stared at the ring, I realized that I also had something to lose. Frankly, I had something to lose since sir and I met for our first scene. Our relationship, my feelings for him…all of it had been building since our first email exchange. The ring seemed to solidify all these feelings, bringing them home in a way that I had been avoiding. I expected sir to be the one that had commitment jitters, not me.
Sir herded me upstairs with the promise of a shower. I gently washed his body as he talked, my tension draining away under the hot, staccato spray. There were no emotional walls between us, and when I wound my arms around his neck, I whispered how grateful I was that he had found me. There was no relationship that would guarantee me a perfect happy ending, and I would be the biggest fool if I stayed on the sidelines because I was too afraid to try.
I would have absorbed him into my body in that moment, merged our spirits in the same way that our bodies fit together. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes as I stared up at him, and he said, “I will protect you and take care of you.”
“And I’ll do the same for you,” I said.
I saw his intentions for us in this silver band, his commitment to me and to our future. We called it “our game” but its meaning was more akin to “our life.” A life together. He gently moved my body so that I was leaning against the back of the shower. I thought of more things I could say, more promises I could give, but my words were lost the moment his mouth touched my clit. I lovingly memorized the path of his spine to the curve of his ass as pleasure spiraled through me. I had time, I told myself. Time to tell him everything.