Tuesday, January 25, 2011


BDSM is in a lot of ways a very symbolic relationship.  To "cement" a relationship - there is usually a collaring ceremony and some sort of collar is placed around the submissive's neck.  Some submissives - like myself - had more than one collar.  A collar for everyday vanilla life and one for BDSM times.  

Now I wanted THE collar as much as the next submissive - it seemed important to announce to the world I was "owned".  And yet I HATE things around my neck.  Purely psychosomatic - but it always felt as though it was choking me.  It wasn't long before the collar was rubbing my skin raw.... the leather collar felt as though it was slicing the skin on my neck.... and I began to wonder what was so special about wearing a collar. 

Last March I had no problem removing my everyday vanilla collar from my neck - I had no problems packing up the leather collars to go back to Warren's.  I even thought how silly the whole thing had been....... collars pffffffffft !!!  

BUT there was one thing I couldn't remove - I couldn't return and I hoped against hope that Warren wouldn't ask me for it.  It was my slave ring.  It had not been part of any collaring ceremony - it was just a little something Warren picked up for me in the January sales some 8 or 9 years ago.  It went on my hand and has never come off..... ever!

That is until last Monday - when Warren took me to the ER.  I knew I couldn't go in with jewelry so I removed the ring and put it safely on my bureau in the bedroom.  For the 3 days I was in hospital I worried that finger.  I would tug at it and go to turn the ring and realize it wasn't there.  I would look up and Warren would be sitting there right beside my bed and I felt safe....... but I wanted my ring back on.  

Wednesday afternoon when I came home one of the first things I did was squeeze that ring back on my finger (squeeze because the damn IVs had made my hand and fingers swell) 

I came to realize that ring meant more to me than all the collars Warren has bought me over the 10 years.  It truly symbolizes (for me anyway) my submissiveness, my being owned.  

It has also started me thinking in more concrete terms what didn't work before and what I think might work now........ but more on that another day.  The mind is willing but the body is still very very weak ................. 

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