Last Friday was the one year anniversary of Master collaring me.
I almost didn’t remember the date. I was browsing through some older blog entries this past week, and that’s when I realized the anniversary was approaching.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a year.
I never did blog (or even journal privately) about being collared. I wanted (and intended) to, but it was difficult because I was embarrassed about the way I acted that night.
Two nights before Master collared me, I wrote break my will as a private message to Him. It was the culmination of slowly wearing the unlocked collar more and more until I was wearing it full time. I had so many fears about what people would think and doubts about whether I was ready. Writing and asking Him to break my will was very freeing. I’d fantasized about Him forcefully locking the collar. When He responded so positively to break my will, I imagined that not only would He lock the collar, but this fantasy of having Him forcefully take me would come true.
He called that Thursday night and asked if He could come over. It was about 8:30 pm, and His call caught me off guard. Butterflies filled my stomach as I waited for Him to arrive.
He calmly pulled my hair to the side and locked the collar. I told Him I wanted to fight Him…trying to figure out how to make this fantasy of Him forcefully claiming me to come true without it being too contrived. He heard my request and answered by telling me to lay down on the bed.
I’ve often laid naked in front of Master in this position, but I never felt as exposed and vulnerable as I did in that moment. He caressed my body as tears started to trickle down my face. He asked me what I was thinking, and I could not form the words. It’s still hard to put into words what I was feeling in that moment. The embarrassment of trying to provoke a more forceful scenario had set in, but I also couldn’t believe the moment I’d longed for was here.
He marked me as His own by giving me bruises on my breasts and my thighs. I honestly don’t remember if He gave me the bruises with His hand or some other object. I remember admiring them the next day as I do when He marks me. Bruises, however, fade; now I was wearing a mark that wouldn’t fade: His collar.
He didn’t fuck me, but He did have me suck his cock. I welcomed the opportunity to just serve and be (rather than thinking) in that moment.
As He was leaving, we were talking and then hugging. In response to some of what we were talking about, He told me I needed to remember I was the bottom in this relationship. My forehead crinkled with confusion because – of course – I am the bottom. Little did I realize or know in that moment that I still had a lot to learn or – to be precise – more to let go.
This first anniversary comes on the heels of me having my first experience of cumming on command. I’m still trying to reconcile that experience for myself. The steps to relinquishing control feel very out of control – at least in the initial moments.