Collar

I have a collar.

That simple statement may seem strange given the nature of what our relationship is. I identify as a consensual slave in a BDSM poly family. I find my sexual/erotic/interpersonal power identity in the masochistic and submissive end of the power exchange. Given all of that, the fact that I have a collar seems, perhaps, almost something that might be assumed.

Ours is not a Master/slave dynamic that generally follows the "accepted" norms for such relationships within the community. We just don't do it the way most folks do. Ours is a relationship that is, in many ways, more "free-form," and more shaped to suit the quirks that are "us." So, there is really not any real reason why there has to be a de facto assumption that I would have a collar.

Actually, I didn't have one until the summer before last. Until then, I bore the marks of ownership in my flesh. Far more permanent than any sort of removable "jewelry" or leatherwork, the initials that were cut into my left shoulder blade almost three years ago remain a constant reminder to me and to any who see them, that I belong to The Heretic.

But collars carry significance in the BDSM community. They speak to all who see them... and to all who wear them. The simple fact is that I WANTED a collar. Particularly, I wanted one to wear when we were out in public with others who were "in the life." So, it came to be that the summer before last, at OLF, Master gifted me with a beautiful chain mail collar that T helped Him to pick out for me. I loved it from the moment He put it around my neck. I still love it everytime I put it on. I love how it looks and I love how it feels and I love the weight of it and I love what it means.

Unfortunately, I don't wear it a lot. It is too extreme and too evocative to wear to school. I do need the gig. Can't afford to be unemployed. That big, heavy, chain mail collar is just really not it for the Catholic school marm disguise I don each day.

I want to wear it more. It speaks to me of my belonging to Him. I have wanted it to be put on me. I am coming to realize now that I need to get over that. Having that collar on helps me to remember to whom I belong. So, I need to PUT IT ON. It really is simple, and not doing it for myself and for Him is a foolish bit of stubbornness and pride that is hurting me and inhibiting my slavery. So, I'm trying to remember that.

Haven't been real good at it this week. It has just been wild. Late nights every single night. I've been just toasted when I drag myself home at 8:30 or 9:30 or later, and I've forgotten to do it. Still, I see it there on the mirror each morning and remember that I forgot. That's a step I guess.

I want this.

I will learn.

I know it will help me.

swan

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