Before Master locked His collar on me, I had it in my possession. Over the course of a couple of weeks, I progressed from wearing it around the house, to wearing it for a few hours out during the day to wearing it full time (unlocked). I had to report on my experiences. This was my last report. He collared me the next night.
During a bodywork session today, the therapist noticed my collar. He looked up close and touched it. I smiled. And that was it. He didn’t ask about it, and he didn’t say anything.
I have to admit that made me mad. Not at him. I was mad I was going to have to report to you that “nothing happened.” It proves the points you’ve been making that I’m more worried about what people will think than what they will actually think. And even though I agree with your points, something in me wants to prove my points – to justify my fears and all the feelings that go along with them.
I can feel anger welling up inside me…and I’m trying very hard not to direct it at you. I felt it on Saturday when I shared my fears about my family. I was mad at your curt (although very Domly) responses.
When I read your “OK” response, I was seething. Did you just not want to deal with me and these feelings? Were you dismissing them? I know you don’t do that, but that wasn’t stopping these irrational thoughts from picking up speed.
I was wearing the collar. I’d worn it at home all day. And I ripped it off when I read your “OK” response. It was almost midnight. I knew my assignment to wear it non-stop would start on Sunday. But in that moment I wanted control. I wanted you to respond a certain way. I wanted to be right. I wanted things my way.
I left the collar off for about an hour. I put it on when I went to bed. I was fighting with myself – both wanting to be angry and to let it go. But I’d already decided I was going to carry out my assignment as directed and – by God – I was going to wear the collar no matter what! I was NOT going to push a panic button on my first day of wearing the collar full-time.
After getting through Sunday and writing my report, I did feel better. My anger seemed to subside, and I was hoping it was momentary. Then when you wrote back that the report was humorous (and serious), I thought, “I wasn’t trying to be funny!” I felt the anger swell again. And it swelled more with each e-mail message you sent last night.
I sat here last night and wanted to rip this collar off. I didn’t want to give you a single ounce of control at that point!
I didn’t rip it off, but my will was not letting up. I was going to keep control by not giving you the satisfaction of taking it off! (and now I’m laughing at myself while I write this…)
In the shower on Tuesday morning as I’m washing around my collar, I admit I’m panicking. I’m not taking off the collar but I’m panicking. I wonder if I’ll ever be ready for you to lock it. I’m wearing it right now with the instructions to not take it off, but the truth is I still have the power to take it off. I can make the decision to take control back. Even though I might suffer some consequences, I still have the choice. I still have my own will.
I’ve tried not to fantasize too much you locking the collar on me but – in a word – I’ve imagined it to be “sweet.” You’d lock the collar with some nice fanfare, and I’d happily submit to this next step of our journey together.
With the water running over me, I noticed I was just standing there staring at the shower floor. I’d been in a trance. I was fantasizing about you taking me by the hair, pushing me to my knees, exposing my neck to you and with your strong hands grabbing my throat and locking your control around my neck. I imagined that I was crying and telling you I wasn’t ready yet…that I needed more time to get used to the idea. Without words, you did not indulge my fears. You just took me forcefully and locked the collar.
I indulged this fantasy while driving home Tuesday night. After locking the collar I collapse and just bawl. You let me cry but you don’t leave me alone. You spread my legs and start fucking me. You comment on how wet I am for someone who said she wasn’t ready to be collared. You fuck me; you bite me; you spank me. In between sobs I’m saying no, but I cum over and over again and my resistance wears down. You fuck my mouth; you fuck my ass. You cum inside me and on me. You mark me as your own.
When you’re done, you let me lay in your arms. I’m not crying…I’m not fighting. I know my will is no longer my own. I’m Yours.
There is that part of me that wants to hold on to every bit of freedom I have and is not going to let it go easily – if at all if you leave it up to me to let it go.
I want to be taken. I want to be claimed. I want to feel your power over me. You don’t want to rule by force (and I don’t want to be ruled by force), but I want to feel your power over every cell in my body and know my will is Your Will.