No-one has ever offered me a collar – I’ve just never been in a relationship where that was either desirable or appropriate. Although I fantasise about having that intensity of D/s relationship, in many ways I’m still too jaded and distrustful to contemplate that degree of commitment without fear.
Having been (briefly, disastrously and unhappily) married, I’m wary of any kind of ceremonial binding that indicates permanence. In that, I am a hard-headed rationalist first and a romantic last. Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. Promising lifelong devotion is just setting myself up for failure. I made those promises once before a roomful of happy people, and I broke them. Extenuating circumstances; but nonetheless, I did.
I know that collaring doesn’t mean permanence unless the participants choose it to do so (and even so, the relationship can be dissolved by either party at any time) – in that, it’s much more sensible (to my mind) than the model of marriage we have in this country at the moment. And that makes me wonder if my aversion is more sour grapes than principle, simply rejecting the idea because it’s not within my reach? It may come within my reach someday and if it does, perhaps my feelings will change. Perhaps, if ever offered a submissive’s collar by a Dom/me who I love and trust enough to accept the symbol from; I will admit that this is what I’ve wanted all along.
And perhaps not.
I do have a couple of leather collars that I wear because I enjoy the look and feel rather than any symbolism. I like having my throat encircled. I like to run a chain from one nipple clamp, through the ring on the collar, to the other clamp so that my breasts are lifted, and they tug at the collar as they swing to the rhythm of being vigorously fucked.
I worried at one point that it was somehow ‘not ok’ for me to appear in public wearing a collar for my own pleasure, that collars were somehow reserved only for subs who had been granted them by their Dominant. And then I thought ‘sod it, I’m not hurting anyone by wearing something which I like simply because I like it’ and stopped worrying about it. Feel free to disapprove of my choices but do please refrain from sharing it with me.
I close the door of the hotel room and lean against it, kicking off my kitten-heel shoes with a sigh. Conferences are always so exhausting once the high of getting my geek on wears off. My mind is racing; notes to make, follow-up emails to send, ideas, conversations, names, faces…it’s all too much to cope with right now. I reach for my phone and text Him.
From the kitchen comes increasingly desperate clattering sounds as Anika searches for a very specific wooden spoon with all the urgency of a trapped miner who knows there’s one more stick of dynamite somewhere under the rubble. more “The Dinner Party”
See that sweet spot right there in the middle? I never used to believe it existed. It’s such a small, low-probability intersection, considering my limited capacity to differentiate between romantic love and naive infatuation. I stopped believing in ‘happy ever after’ a long time ago. I don’t miss my illusions. They got me into all sorts of trouble. more “Love, Sex, Kink – a Venn diagram”
She is a silent presence behind him. Bound to the chair in the corner, blindfolded, commanded to stillness and quiet; her very presence is a vortex of frantic energy. She wants attention, gratification, sensation, and has yet to learn that these things must be earned. more “Patience”
CONTENT WARNING: this post describes an abusive, violent relationship, which may be traumatic for you to read. If domestic violence, consent violation, gaslighting or alcoholism are subjects that you cannot safely read about then please back out now. Always take care of yourselves and each other. more “Face slapping – a hard limit”
I read Marie Rebelle‘s brave and poignant “So Many Firsts” blog post and it got me thinking….I guess there’ll always be new firsts to encounter, but when it comes to what separates the ‘only-once’s from the ‘it’s a habit’s and the ‘last time’s, things get a lot more complicated. This came out as more of a stream of consciousness than having any particular point to make but it was therapeutic for me to write it and so I hope you’ll bear with me for sharing. more “My first boy-snog”
Submission is not masochism, although you know she becomes aroused by pain, you’ve seen and heard how she shudders and gasps at the sting of the paddle. You’ve twisted her nipples and felt her response in the flood of wetness from her cunt. You’ve held her throat while driving yourself hard and fast into her, watching her eyes glaze with pleasure, feeling her tighten and spasm around you. It’s pain as physical pleasure, sure – but it’s more than that. It’s tangible surrender, the marks you leave are badges of her trust in you, symbols of faith and belief. more “Your girlfriend is a submissive.”
He licked me as though he were a sun-blind desert nomad and I an ice sculpture of his most longed-for mirage. No tip-of-the-tongue delicacy, no butterfly-soft tease; he gave me the full weight of his tongue from the cleft of my buttocks to the nape of my neck as I moaned and my legs opened in involuntary expression of my arousal. more “Licking: A Love Story”