It seems a bit fitting to feel so lucky on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s not the luck o’ the Irish, though…it’s how lucky I feel to be owned by my Master.

Today He placed a new collar on me. As He put it, this one is more socially acceptable. It also fits me better since the other one was getting too big from the weight I’ve lost.

It’s beautiful, and I smile when I look at it in the mirror. I also keep wanting to touch it. Touching it is like pressing a button that whispers in my ear, “I’m His.”

It’ll be interesting to see how people react to my new collar. I’m sure people will notice it’s new, and especially in contrast to my previous collar. That collar drew its share of attention for being unusual.

In the days before He collared me, I was nervous that wearing the collar would be like wearing a neon sign on my forehead that said, “I’m a submissive.” Once He collared me, though, I loved the fact that it declared in its prominent yet subtle way that I’m owned. When people would comment on it, I would break out in a deeply satisfying smile. No matter what their reaction was, I reveled in the contentment of being His submissive.

I’m very happy with this new collar, but I will miss the old one. It was a catalyst for being more comfortable with myself in general and was – in a way – permission to let me shine through in ways that I previously thought I needed to hide. People don’t need to know about my submissiveness or my sexual proclivities, but they can see a more confident and content me. I’m sure that will continue to blossom with this new collar.

It’s been a little over a year since Master collared me. Before He locked it, I wore it unlocked in various scenarios. I wore it home during the day for a few hours and at night, then out in the day for a few hours, then all day and then 24 hours unlocked for a couple of days until He locked it. One of my biggest concerns during this period was how other people would react to my collar. I was sure that it was the equivalent of wearing a neon sign on my forehead that said, “I am a submissive.” I worried and had a lot of anxiety about what other people would say about it.

The thing is nobody ever really says anything about it. A few family members initially looked at me and asked, “What is that?” I replied, “A new necklace,” and then the conversation stopped. Every once in while someone at a store might say, “Nice necklace” or “What an unusual necklace?” but – for the most part – people keep their comments to themselves.

There are two scenarios, however, where I have received comments. One is at airport security and the other is with small children.

About a six weeks after being collared, I went on an airplane trip. I didn’t think twice about the metal on my collar, so I walked through the metal detector and set it off. I had to go through a hand wanding procedure and a pat down. I guess the good thing about that trip is I didn’t have a chance to think about it. Since I hadn’t had a chance to ask Master if He’d be willing to unlock it for travelling, I had to deal with it being locked. I realized pretty quickly that I could travel with it locked; I’d just have to plan for the time delay at security and be willing to have the hand wand and pat down.

On another trip about six months later during my TSA pat down, the security woman tried to joke but said with concern in her voice, “Did someone hogtie you?” When I told Master this afterwards, He asked, “Did you say yes?” While I was tempted to, she said it with enough seriousness that I didn’t want to add to her obvious concern. As it was, it was the most thorough pat down I’d received to date (which in a fantasy context is kind of hot!). She asked me how I got the “necklace” off, and I told her there was a key, but I didn’t have it on me. Every time I go through security, the TSA personnel in general look at me with such incredulity that the “necklace” does not come off.

So, I’ve gotten used to this as I go through security. I became concerned this past month as the new “enhanced pat downs” have been added to security procedures. Some people’s accounts of these pat downs got me worrying. First I don’t agree that the pat downs should be implemented (but that is a topic for another blog); second it is one thing to fantasize about a pat down like this but it is another to experience it. I didn’t think about this in time to ask Master if He’d be willing to unlock it (He was already travelling Himself), so I just had to deal with it. My concerns were not well-founded, though. I was subjected to the “enhanced” pat down. While it was a bit more “touchy feely” than previous pat downs, it wasn’t really any worse than before. So, as usual had a slight delay at security and went on my merry way.

I could ask Master to unlock/remove the collar before I travel; however, since I’m not always travelling with Him, it can add to the logistics. Also, I’d rather not have the collar unlocked or to not wear it at all while I travel. So, going through security and doing the pat down ends up being a small price to pay.

The second scenario where I get comments on my collar is with small children. Two, young girls of a friend of mine have seen me twice in this past year – about six months apart. The first time they saw it, the older one asked, “What’s that around your neck?” I said a necklace. She commented it was different. I told her it was a choker-type necklace.  Since she didn’t know what that was she just started to worry it was hurting me. I assured her it wasn’t hurting me and let her put her fingers underneath to show that. The younger one then said, “That doesnt look like a necklace” and later asked, “Does your necklace come off?” I just smiled and told her it was a special necklace for me and that I don’t take it off.

When I saw them six months later, they were still fascinated with it. The older one asked, “Have you been wearing that since you were born?” I just smiled. I said I’d been wearing it for a little over a year. “Does it come off?” I said it can come off but I don’t take it off. She wanted to touch it and see the clasp. She said, “I’ve never seen you without it.” Well, I don’t see them very much, and the last time I saw them was this past summer. I guess her memory of “never” seems like a long time. The younger one touched it and said something. I didn’t hear her, so I asked her to repeat it. She wouldn’t. She said never-mind. I told her it was OK to say whatever she said. So, she told me it looks like a leash! I just smiled. Out of the mouths of babes! I’m sure these are questions adults want to ask but don’t.

My fears about people noticing and commenting on my collar don’t exist anymore. I proudly wear my collar, and enjoy when people do notice it. Even if they don’t comment, I know people notice and wonder. When I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or even as I look in the mirror one last time before heading out the door, I always smile at how the collar adds to “my look.” I feel sexy and pretty with it, and I love wearing something every day and out in public and reminds me who owns me.

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.

Master called me in between meetings this morning. He said he was thinking about me…about punishment, restriction, me flooding the bed and all the ways He could fuck me. It put a silly grin on my face that I’ve had all day long.

I reach behind my neck and rub the clasp of His collar. I am owned…and really nothing could make me happier.

It was the second time this week that I felt His ownership of me tingle through me and fill me up. We had this text message exchange on Monday where I shared that I still had bruises from sex on Friday.

So then, why do I still struggle with the thought of being an object?

Sometimes I think I’m in a dream, exploring territory few dare to go. I’ll be riding along and a part of me jolts and wonders when this dream bubble is going to pop. I find myself wanting to be prepared. I want to make sure I don’t crash into the ground when it does burst.

It’s not like the essence of this struggle is endemic only to M/s. Women have found themselves in this situation a lot (especially my mother’s generation) where making a man their world sets them up for a fall. My own mother left college to marry my father only to find herself nine years later having to get a job that would support herself and two kids and finding limited, low paying choices. I saw her fall, and I’ve seen others fall.

I know I’m not in this type of situation. I have my degree; I run a successful business; I no longer see my submissiveness and my independence as mutually exclusive. Still, I sometimes panic.

From Day One, He’s told me I don’t have to compromise. Both my submissiveness and my independence make up the essence of who I am. He values all of me, and He wouldn’t find me attractive if I didn’t have both.

As I go down this path toward being His slave, I’m discovering more about myself that surprises me. Deeper needs to be used, to be humiliated, to experience extreme pain are surfacing. As I let these desires see the light of day, they sometimes feel overwhelming, and I wonder if the scale is tipping too far toward being just an object.

I’ll fantasize that His power will drown out this voice inside me that panics. I imagine that He has the power to remove the struggle within me instead of realizing I have the power to surrender.

I trust Him more than I ever have right now, and the trust inside myself is growing more and more.

Well, I’m not feeling particularly inspired with a D/s topic for my blog this week. It’s been a crazy week with my business, which sort of pushes primal urges down the priority list. It would be easy to skip a week in this case, but I set my intention to write at least once per week. Feeling vanilla at times is part of the D/s lifestyle, too, so it’s not entirely off-topic.

There are little reminders in my day, however, that I am His. I’m relishing wearing His collar again. My habit of reaching for the clasp at various times during the day continues. When I’m working, it could just be a flash of a reminder, but I like that those reminders pop to my mind at random moments.

I had to get my picture taken for an access badge today. The picture captured the collar. I also met some new people that I’ll be working with on this new project. After I got my picture, I was aware of the collar and wondered if people noticed. It was a giddy feeling…like are they noticing it and saying to themselves, “What an usual necklace?” Whether they do or don’t, it is just one more reminder in my day that I am His.

I realized a long time ago that my submissiveness is not something I switch on or off; yet it is kind of a new feeling for me to think about it in my day like this. Maybe my awareness in just changing. While I’ve known I couldn’t turn it on or off, I tried to keep it in a box – at least in my mind – and separate my submissiveness from the rest of who I am. I tried to make it something I could turn on or off and to keep a strong boundary between the two (and keep control).

My fear was that if I let it out (even just to myself) that everyone would see some big sign on my forehead that said “submissive.” That fear is lessening every single day…to the point where I’m looking back and wondering what I was so afraid of.

But when who you are is so bottled up, fear takes over. The fear consumes so much of you it starts to seem like it is who you are. I’ve been unraveling that for a long (long) time, so feeling all the facets of who I am – including my submissiveness –  in everyday circumstances is refreshing.

“There are many things on my agenda today. First, go sit on the bed,” He says.

I go into the bedroom and sit on the bed. He enters the room with a bag, sets it down and starts to open it while he declares. “Today is punishment day.”

My pussy immediately tingles. Punishing a masochist with pain is an interesting paradox.

He blindfolds me, and then tells me to lay face down on the bed with my hands just at the edge of the bed. I hear him jingling items around until he walks to my hands and starts to cuff them. He also places a bar in between the cuffs.

The tail of the blindfold has fallen over my mouth. With my head close to the bed, I start to have a bit of trouble breathing. He asks me if I can breathe, but I manage to move the blindfold away from my mouth with a few strategic open and closings of my mouth.

He spreads my legs. He lubes my ass and works an object into it. Many things can remind me that I’m owned, but having Him play with or fuck my ass is near – if not at the top – of the list. In order to let Him in fully, I have to let go. Relaxing my sphincter puts my whole body into a very receptive state.

He caresses my body while He tells me a bit of His thinking. He was trying to decide how many lashes: 25 seemed like too few and 100 seemed a bit much. He suggests the number will be something in between…and tells me that I don’t have to keep count because He predicts I’ll be too overwhelmed to do so.

The first lashes start. I want to keep count, but lose my place after about 4. I know it is important to keep my legs spread, and I feel grateful for the bar between my arms to help me keep them in place. I’m writhing, and the lashes are painful. Then one hits right at the small of my back and top of my buttocks. It’s the one that sends me over the edge to crying.

He alternates between what feels like a flogger and what feels like a cane (although I’m not sure exactly what instruments He’s using). The stings on top of the tender skin from the flogger feels almost unbearable. I grab the bedding with my fists and mouth, trying to diffuse the pain. When I let the bedding out of my mouth and gasp for breath, I feel the drool running out of my mouth.

He tells me to turn over, and helps me maneuver the spreader bar to do so. I keep my legs open although I fear that my pussy is next. Instead, He starts swatting my nipples. I don’t have time to warn Him that something is wrong with my left nipple. He hits it and I scream while starting to curl up into a ball. He commands, “Keep your legs open!” In between sobs and trying to catch my breath, I say that I have to tell Him something. It’s hard to put together the words, but I manage to spit out that the left one has a small tear or something near the nipple ring. I’ve been soaking it in salt water, but it is not healed yet. He works around it with subsequent lashes, although he does end up hitting it again. These are the only two times I move my hands and legs from their assigned positions.

Before I know it, He is lashing my pussy. He’s using the cane-like device, and the pain is intense. He comments that I like it, and I do in way that I’m still trying to comprehend.

As He finishes, he asks, “The next time…will you talk instead of reacting?”

I say yes but it kind of eeks out and doesn’t match my conviction, so I repeat louder, “Yes.”

He has me sit up. I hear rustling. He then comes up behind me on the bed, and pulls my hair to the side. I feel the collar around my neck and take a deep breath. I take several more as he works to lock it. I feel His hand brush my hair lightly in circular motions as he turns the wrench. I couldn’t be happier.

I looked in the mirror as I was cleaning myself up after sex. I just smiled. I’ve often told Master that when I look in the mirror, the person I see isn’t how I see myself in my mind. Wearing His collar starts to change that. I look and feel more of who I am when wearing it.

Sitting on the couch in the living room afterwards, I asked, “Did you count?”

“Yes,” He replied.

“How many?”

“115″

I keep reaching for His collar. I’m still without it. I’m not sure Master’s intention was to keep it off me this long, but our schedules have been crazy lately for spending time together. Maybe it is intentional, though. The longer I’m without His collar, the more I’m appreciating it.

I traveled this weekend to see my Mom for Mother’s Day. My sister and I came together. The collar sets the security scanner off, so I have to be wanded when it is locked. Since I’m not wearing it right now, I didn’t have to worry about that this weekend.

When I’m traveling by myself, it doesn’t feel like a big deal that the collar sets off the security alarm. The first time it happened, I just smiled. I then knew on the way back I’d just have to expect it.

This trip would have been the first time traveling with someone else where I would have been wanded…and with my sister no less.

My sister knows I’m submissive. I told her years ago when I was doing online personal ads on alt.com during a time when I was released from Master. I wanted to be able to tell her when I was going out with someone new in case I needed to call someone for safety purposes. She was pretty open and accepting. I think in her mind it is just bedroom games. I imagine her having a very negative reaction to the whole idea of slavery.

When I was first collared, I worried about her reactions to it. I figured she would know it was a D/s collar right away, although how she would know this I’m not sure. We never really talk about D/s, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t investigate it on her own.

She did notice the collar when I first started wearing it. She mentioned that it was unusual, but didn’t say anything more. She didn’t ask where I got it or why I was wearing it.

If I’d been wearing His collar this weekend and it’d set the security alarm off at the airport, she would have asked more questions. Instead of being relieved at averting her questions, though, it just made me a little sad. I’d rather be wearing it than not. Plus I’m realizing I don’t feel anxiety about her reaction anymore. Simply it doesn’t matter what her reaction is because I proudly wear His collar.

I’m really looking forward to wearing it again.

I am collared, but right now I am not wearing His collar.

As he was leaving Wednesday night, he removed it from my neck and walked out the door.

My heart immediately sank and tears welled up in my eyes. “This scares me,” I said as he put it in His pocket. All I could think about was the conversation we had after the act for which I’m being punished. I expressed my anger and fears to Him, and he said, “You only need to worry if I rip the collar off your neck myself.” And here…it was happening (maybe not ripping but…).

About a month ago, I got mad during one of Master’s visit. He didn’t know it because my tendency is to just withdraw and get stoic when I’m mad. I didn’t express it while he was here. After he left, though, I started to let it out. I was so mad that I took advantage of the fact that the collar is broken and not locked at the moment, and I ripped it off my neck.

I thought of going into detail here on the blog about what happened and why it happened (my reasons). I’m very good at recounting and reliving the stories (over and over again). I know why it happened is not an excuse for what happened, and telling the story is dwelling on the details instead of facing the issue at hand.

Rather than trusting Master with my feelings and being transparent about how I was doing and what I was thinking, I withdrew. I didn’t want him to see this “ugly” side of me, and I took control. I chose to rely on ingrained, habitual ways of dealing with what feels like overwhelming emotion (and pain) rather than being in the moment and trusting that both of us could handle it.

It took me two days to even tell him I was mad (and during this time, I left the collar off). When I ripped it off my neck, I did so knowing the feeling was temporary and not some statement of not wanting to be His collared submissive. I wanted to feel better in that moment. A lot of my old habits are about that…feeling better in the moment without regard for longer term consequences.

When I finally did share that I was mad, I knew I couldn’t hide what I had done with the collar. Technically, I could have gotten away with not sharing it with Him, but I would have known. I felt very guilty for treating something I treasure so cavalierly.

For the past two days, I’ve found myself reaching for the clasp of my collar. I didn’t realize what a habit it has become to reach for and rub it in my everyday activities. I like rubbing the clasp as a reminder that I’m His.

The first morning without it, I looked in the mirror before I left for my meeting. I felt naked without it. I wondered if the people I was meeting with would notice it was gone. I was so worried six months ago when I was being collared about people noticing it and thinking it was an odd necklace. Now I wondered if they’d notice my unusal necklace was gone…and kind of wishing they did notice…like noticing someone is out of sorts and asking them if something is wrong.

I rub my bare neck and realize how sobering not wearing His collar is. At some level, I’ll always be His (collared or not) but I don’t want to just be His. I want to fully blossom and be the slave I am meant to be. I want to serve Him in all the ways I know are possible.

…and I can’t do that when I hide.

On this Thanksgiving Eve, I count my blessings.

I think about my Master and smile. My whole body tingles thinking about his latest directive: “No masturbation until I say so…” His power and His presence over my whole being feels like a warm blanket, comforting me and loving me in ways I’ve doubted were possible.

I rub the clasp of His collar and feel my soul relax.

“Surrender,” He whispers to me. His voice waking me from my unconscious repetition of patterns that once protected me but no longer serve me.

“Surrender,” He repeats. His voice reminding me His authority is replacing excuses and justifications.

“Surrender,” He states. His firm voice melting my defenses into the safety and comfort of His control.

Master,

Thank you for seeing me when I’ve felt invisible. Thank you for hearing me when I’ve felt silenced. Thank you for your steadfast presence when I’ve felt alone. Thank you for all your patience, wisdom, compassion and discipline that makes surrendering to You the sweetest, most delicious part of this Thanksgiving.

I am forever Yours.

The subtle smell of leather
tantalizes my senses.
The scent carries me
into a daydream
where i plea and beg
for the opportunity
to show You
how good of a submissive i am.

Since having the collar
in my possession,
i’ve fondled and admired it
at times
when i think of You.
i thought about
putting it on myself
yet without Your control
it’s just
a beautiful piece of jewelry
and nothing more.

Driving to Your house
i imagined
how i could ask You
to put it on me.
Actions seemed more appropriate
than words
as i envisioned myself
crawling
then kneeling before You
with Your collar
hanging in my teeth.

Your hand
wisped my growing hair
away from my nape
and clasped Your control
firmly around my neck.
my desire to serve You
only increased.

With Your attention diverted,
i wondered,
will i have the chance
to serve You this evening?
What had been
a building and seething
desire for sex
during the last few weeks
now turned into
a building and seething
desire to serve.
i trusted Your choices.

“Thanks for being patient,”
You uttered
as You joined me in bed.
Would there be a reward
for my patience?

i could have
licked Your ass
all night.
If that had been
the only thing
we did,
i would be content.

Your hand
slapping my ass
then caressing
my stinging skin
intoxicates me.
i dream of the day
that You beat me
for what seems like
hours.

With my head
swimming in satisfaction
i fell into a slumber
feeling both
my independence
and
my submissiveness
for the first time
at the same time.