The wedding was beautiful, just us and a few family and friends in that small stone chapel down near Chatham.  It was smart of you to decide to get married in the morning and save the reception for nightfall, since it gives us lots of time to relax and prepare and be alone.  It was hard explaining to our parents just why we wanted to do it this way, but when we said, "We want to make our own traditions," well, they couldn't argue with that.

     Now we're at the hotel, and as you're getting out of your dress--hanging it carefully so that if we have a daughter you can pass it on to her--I'm looking through the small leather case, the one that used to be a doctor's bag, making sure I packed everything we need.  And I pull each piece out and put it on the table:  the cuffs (with rings that lock), the clamps for your nipples, two different plugs for your ass (the smaller stamped with two Xs, the larger with three), the dildo.  And the strap, which is short, tan leather and harder than any hand.

     Now you're kneeling in front of me, smiling up at me.  The wedding raiment is gone, the dress and the bra (and I remember the argument we had over that one, when you said your mother would die if she saw you on your wedding day without a bra--I grudgingly conceded, but tied you over a chair and gave you a hard paddling for being sensible; that was the first day I ever made you count the blows, and you made it to twelve before the first tears came, and I wiped them away with my cock and kissed you).  You did agree that you wouldn't need underwear, and we both liked the stockings, which is all you're wearing now, white against your skin, mid-thigh and held by elastic.  And you're so beautiful that all I can do for a moment is stare at you and wonder how we found each other.  I'm quiet for so long that you chuckle and say, "Well?"

     I take the cuffs and fasten them around your wrists and link them behind your back.  And then the newest piece, the collar.  We went to a pet store to pick it out, and then chose a tag for it, waited while they engraved it with your name:  Isabelle.  And the look on the clerk's face when he looked at the name on your credit card and then the tag and back again, and then at you, the smile you gave him, and he turned red and asked if you wanted a bag.  You said no, thanks, and handed me the collar and we walked out of the store smiling, the clerk watching us the whole way.

     I take off my jacket, toss it over a chair, loosen my tie.  Stand over you and unzip and pull my cock free, and it's hard.  Has been since we kissed in the chapel--did you notice how quickly I escorted you to the car?  You lean forward and kiss its tip, taking the head between your lips, running your tongue in the slit, tickling me, pulling out the pre-cum.  I know you're teasing me but I don't want to let go so soon, so I just promise another smack or two and put my cock back inside my pants.  I don't like the smirk on your face, but then it will be gone soon enough.

     I link my finger to your collar ring and pull you to your