The Blooming Season

Tonight, instead of a traditional wedding ceremony with all the bells and whistles, the public will be witness to something just as lawfully and spiritually binding, but decidedly more clandestine and symbolic. The whole thing was Amy's idea. Who was I to argue with such inspiration? After all, the wedding is more for the bride than the groom. It's the honeymoon that's all mine. And what surprises I have in store for my Amaryllis.

After many late nights and long discussions with Jack and Janie. The kids were finally won over, accepting the truth about their mother, about us, in a shy, curious, and embarrassed sort of way. I don't think it was the content of any one or several discussions that finally had them so willing and understanding. I think it was seeing their mom happy, truly happy, and comfortable in her own skin that had them listening rather than simply hearing what we had to say.

Amy has no bridesmaids and I, no groomsmen. Tonight, nobody gives her away and I ask for nobody's permission to take her hand. I've rehearsed my lines, but I doubt that when the time comes I'll be able to recite them word for word. Oh, they're fine words filled with meaning and good intentions, but I know myself too well. I'll say what comes from my heart and really, what else matters?

I've skipped the usual wedding attire, preferring to dress in my leathers and silk shirt, the garb of a master. The collaring ceremony was her idea. She felt a traditional ceremony was simply too conventional for two unconventional people like us. I agree. Tonight my collar, not the black leather one she usually wears at the club, but a thin golden collar, fine enough for any queen will encircle her neck.

To the untrained eye, to someone not in the lifestyle, the collar looks like any other piece of jewelry. Only to people like us is its true intent and purpose understood. The collar is simply a band of brilliant gold, locked into place by a tiny, delicate lock. I'll say my vows. Amy will say hers. Then I'll lock the collar into place and secure the key in the safest place I can think of, on a chain around my neck, resting next to my heart.

Ginger has taken the initiative of a ruler and opens the doors for the public to begin filing inside. Tonight, for as long as it holds out, there's cake and punch to be enjoyed by all. The planning and pleasantries are all very nice, but I can't wait until the long night is over and I've got my Amaryllis in bloom all to myself.

I eye the whip coiled in my fist. This is the last time I'll hold it before handing it over to Ginger. I have complete faith in her. I know she'll wield it with a just, wise, and somewhat kinder hand than I did. She stands beside me, overseeing the crowd in a regal way truly fit of a queen. "It's show time, huh?"

"Whenever you're ready, Master," she replies in soft understanding.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. Opening my fingers curled around the bulk of the whip, I extend my hand to her. Gingerly, she takes the weathered and well used leather from my grip. "You know something, Ginger. I am. I truly am." I don't look back as I wind through the crowd, making my way to the stage. My eyes are focused forward, on the future, and I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

Amy

Janie gives my hair one last fluff and pass over with a brush. I wasn't certain when I finally worked up the courage to tell her the truth about myself how she'd take it. But, I was surprised. Janie is a stronger girl than I give her credit for. Both the kids were great, listening and asking questions, accepting the answers for what they were, and completely supporting me in whatever I decided.

It's difficult when I look back to where I was a year ago compared to where I am now, about to be a bride. Last year I was certain I'd never find what I was looking for at a fetish party. Last year, I didn't think I deserved a second chance. I was so very wrong on both counts. I not only got my second chance. I found exactly what I was looking for in the most unlikely of places.

Tonight, I'm wearing something a bit more conservative than my usual fetish attire. I'm surrounded by a waterfall of white satin, from the curve hugging corset to the flowing length of the skirt. My hair is up, artfully styled in ringlets and pinned back from my face. Tonight, I'm no queen. I'm a princess about to ride off into the sunset with her very own prince charming.

I won't say the past year has been one hundred percent unicorns farting rainbows and sunshine. That'd be a lie. Just as it is with every other couple, Dane and I have had our fair share of disagreements. He certainly has his quirks and truthfully, I have plenty of my own as well.

Sometimes, we test each other's limits. But, there are some boundaries that we simply won't cross. It's laughable, how many nights we spend cuddled up on the couch, just the two of us enjoying one another's company, simply being Amy and Dane. But there are other nights, sometimes at the club, sometimes in the privacy of our bedroom when he's Master Dane and I'm his Amaryllis in bloom. I can't honestly say which of the nights I like the best. All of them, I guess. It doesn't matter if I'm in my comfortable pajamas or naked and bound to a St. Andrew's cross, just as long as we're together and we enjoy what we're doing.

Tonight is one of the rare nights when Master Dane waits for me. Usually, I'm the one on my knees. Tonight, it's him. I take my time finishing up. I'm grateful Master Dane never gave up on me. That he saw the woman I was hiding beneath the façade of cool indifference. Dane forced me to confront my fears and I'm a better person for it. We're both better people for it. I wouldn't be about to make the longest walk I've ever made alone if we weren't.

Turns out, in the end it wasn't other people or even myself that I was afraid of. It was love. I had learned to associate love with disappointment and pain. Master intended to free me from that fear. In the process of being freed, I freed him as well. We've conquered our fears and now, a year later; stand on the other side of them.

I don't worry about forgetting who I am. The honesty of submission and the pleasure/pain of leather striking skin make it impossible to forget. Dane would never allow me to get lost. I don't worry about being able to find myself again, because he's always there to guide me home.

Janie waits for me to say the word that I'm ready. Cassandra stands in the doorway ready to clear a path through the crowd. I finger the sweat softened black leather collar round my neck. I consider the collar my engagement ring. Tonight, I'll exchange it for a band of gold.

I don't have to ask myself if I'm ready. If I'll safe out and make a run for it. I know better. I know exactly who I am. Exactly what I want. And he waits for me on the other side of the closed door. Haughtily as any queen, I gather up my rose bouquet and regally walk the last walk I'll ever walk alone.

Cassandra parts the crowd and eager eyes scan over me from top to bottom. At one time, all of this attention would have been enough to have me screaming for the hills. Now, I've grown accustomed to it. I hold my head up high, fling my shoulders back, and take the first steps toward the man, the master, that is my final destination.

Once on stage, I drop to my knees at Master's feet. His hands are gentle on me as he removes my old collar and affixes a new one around my neck in exchange. My heart is pounding as he speaks, not the words we practiced, but what's truly in his heart. I hold the key to the lock securing my collar in place in the palm of my hand. I could have given him a ring, but it's this tiny key that is the entirety of my being.

Holding my palms upwards to him, I open my hands. He takes the key and slides it onto the gold chain hanging around his neck. He owns me now and it's irreversible. But, I'm not afraid. As he drops the chain and it falls, I realize that the key comes to a rest over his beating heart. I own him as well and it's forever that we'll own each other, body and soul.