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"I'm sorry!" She looks away. "I was just talking about you and it just slipped out! I didn't say what it was! And most of them already felt like you were gonna celebrate today, since it's, you know, an anniversary, so it's not like I said you bought r-" You clamp her mouth shut with your hand.
Your wives might already know you had something planned, but you didn't want to reveal what it was yet. "Mel, I'm planning to keep that specifically as a surprise for all of you, so I'd like to keep this hidden until later today. Am I clear?" She nods her head.
"Yeah, crystal clea- w-wait, 'for all of you'? Y-you mean you even got me- ?!" You clamp her mouth shut.
"Yes, even for you." You get closer. "You're mine to cherish now, remember?"
"Mmhmm." Her face is fully red now and she was starting to tear up. You decided to give her a hug and a kiss.
When you joined the others for breakfast it was obvious they were nervous.
Ruby was the only one whose personality became confident and smug after you said you'd see about buying her books. In your own mind, however, you made a mental note to skim over each individual one before buying them.
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You had danced with those that were up for it, despite not really being much of a dancer.
"Opps, sorry Master~" Bertha was far worse than you, however. In contrast to her, Mel was the most graceful.
Herta used her magical chains to produce little figaments which in turn made some pretty lights. Ayane was chatting up a storm with everyone. The rest of the girls were either eating or relaxing. Whenever you saw a slave of yours seem sad or alone you gave her your attention. In this way you were able to make sure you were all happy.
Dusk arrived, and you were ready to enact your plan. It took some finesse and 10 gold coins convince the staff. Some waitresses and waiters carrying seven cloches came by, subtly and gradually setting them on a large table along some good looking food. The natural light of the sunset beamed down from the window, helping form the scene.
Calling your slaves to the large table, you tapped a glass with a spoon. You instructed them, before doing anything else, to lift up the plate covers. They did so, and in all seven of them were rings sitting on cushions.
Your wives are speechless, many covering their mouths with their hand or slack jawed.
Herta looks at it for a few seconds, slips it on the same finger the iron ring is also on, then wordlessly snuggles against your arm. The one you gave her had an intricate butterfly pattern on it, a quick detail you were able to carve yourself.
