I lock this collar around my neck, close my eyes, and wonder.
‘Why is it so heavy around my neck, and how on earth is my heart beating this fast?’
A simple task of wearing a collar.
My heart beats as I feel my body tense. After all, I’ve been wearing it all day, feeling the tightness around my neck. I touch it and nearly whimper at the thought: ‘Oh, how badly I need to be used at my demise.’
I feel like I am finally free; this is an experience like no other, just aching to be told what to do. But that’s how bad that feeling is. I want to continue wearing it, showing off that I am owned.
I can feel myself quiver all day by a slight touch on the lock. I am aching to have a release.
But that’s on his demand, of course.
Then I think, this is what I’ve been searching for. My kinks, my desire, something deep inside of me that I have been longing for. I need to be told what to do. I need to fall into submission. I desire to be a sub. I’m good at listening and obeying; it’s a natural feeling for me.
I will be your pet. At your mercy. At your calling. I am yours, sir.
I am enjoying being owned by another.
I can’t wait to be called yours, sir.