Collared … at last

When I entered the living room, he had dimmed the lights a little and put some music on low. I took a few paces, did a slow twirl and stood still. I knew he liked to look at me; I liked him to look.
“Oh, Sally. You are beautiful. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I was happy with what I saw in the mirror, yes.”
“You should be. I am one lucky guy.”
“Not luck Marcus. You deserve me. You taught me to love myself. And I deserve you.”
I walked over to him and held out the choker towards him.
“Put it down on the table and come and sit down.”
When I’d done so, he turned so that we were facing each other.
“Happy with the rules?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He reached behind a cushion, and pulled out another present, handing it to me. I started to unwrap it, finding a square flat box inside. I opened it. A collar. I picked it up; soft black velvet about a centimetre wide, with a fastening at the back. At the front, there was a silver knot; hanging from it were several fine slinky silver chains, six or seven centimetres long. I suddenly realised it was a tiny flogger. I looked at him.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
“That’s my gift to you. That is your submission. You own it. If after tonight this becomes a part of our lives, I can’t tell you to wear it. Only you can gift it to me.” He was looking deep into my eyes; his voice soft, but strong. “But when you do, when you put the collar on, or give it to me to put on you, you’re mine. Until I take it off, or you call safe; you’re mine. Yes?”
“Yes, Marcus. Yes.”
I leaned forward and kissed him gently. Straightening up again, I ran my fingers along the collar and held it out towards him. He reached out and took it from my hand.
“Stand up.”
He led me to the centre of the room and stood directly in front of me; close. I could feel my heart beating. He moved behind me, and I felt the collar brush me, as he draped it around my neck. He found the best place for it and fastened it. I could feel the silver chains moving against my skin. He came to face me again.
“Is that comfortable, Sally?”
“Yes, thank you … Sir.”
A shiver ran through me as I said the word for the first time. ‘Sir’. I’d never used it before; not in this context. Now I stood in front of a man who I was happy to call ‘sir’; at least, occasionally.
“Good,” he said, still soft. “Now you’re mine. You will do what I say, how I say, when I say. Until I say stop. You will only speak when spoken to. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He kissed me.
“Good girl.”
Another shiver. He went and sat down. I stayed exactly where I was. I could feel his gaze following every curve of my body. I enjoyed it now, knowing how he felt about me. And with that confidence came a happiness; a freedom to show myself off. For him.