Your Collar

Hi, love-

I just wanted to give you the update: I’ve chosen your collar. I know you’ve been anxious about it all. It’s understandable. I want you to know I’ve made the proper decision. I highly doubt you’re going to like it at first but in time you will be overjoyed. Once you read through this I want you to go away and think about it all. You’re the one who asked me to publish this letter. It isn’t my choice but I respect your rationale. So think carefully about everything and come back when you are ready.

I have chosen your collar. Your collar is my belt.

As you know, I’ve had relationships with submissive women before. Some are very brazen in their needs, others, like you, are not. But each woman has had a different collar because I strongly believe that the collar has to fit the need. Get it right and you have a friend for life, trust me. The only way to do this is to take a bit of time and learn about the submission and all the fans and fears that circlete around it. That way, when a woman asks to have her collar put on, it’s not just something particular to that relationship but to her herself. It’s your collar, not mine.

It might help you get over your guilt to think of it as a uniform. I wear a suit and tie to work every day although I don’t need to. I choose to because it allows me all kinds of advantages over those who don’t. When You first saw me I was wearing a suit. When you first approached me, I was wearing a suit. And the first time I bent you over my desk and fucked you until you screamed, I was wearing a suit. So the connection is apt.

You also know in what disregard I hold most of the ‘adult entertainment’ industry. Frankly, it’s just so desperately tacky. Fake leather and metal studs and silly zips and crotchless things. It makes me wince. A necktie is often the only thing you need, provided you know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t waste your time or mine asking you to put on any of that silliness.

But here’s the rub. All subs must wear a collar from time to time. It’s inviolable. Otherwise, you’re just playing. And playing is fine, there’s no reason why all kinds of people shouldn’t explore these ideas. But they’re not really subs. Real subs know who they are. They are women who, from time to time, need to submit. And I firmly believe each sub needs to understand who she is and accept it. This means We’ve talked about, one of my former girls did wear a dog collar on occasion. It’s wrong for you but it fit her needs. Another wore a pearl-drop necklace. A third a ribbon. Because you are at last starting to explore these things, it’s time to tell you a secret about this life: The more delicate the collar the more complete the submission. For the ribbon girl, Her collar feels like a leader chain. And she loves it. But It took us a long time to get there.

So let’s look at you. You are elegant. You are nearly at the top of the game, professionally. You are enchanting, and charming and able to hold your own in polite society or in a bar. It would never even occur to most of your friends and family that you are this dark and complex. And this is all to the good, to your credit.

But you have particularly dark fans we need to discuss. We will see how many women out there share them. I know this may feel embarrassing for you but you need to go through it. Later, when you wear your collar for the first time, you will do so alone. You will put it on and tighten it around your neck and masturbate while you admit all your fansies to yourself. The ones about rap. The ones about your friend. The one about…all of them.

For the purposes of this letter, I will mention only the legal ones. If anyone wants to learn more, she can ask.

First, you will think about your desire to have your husband discover you. Alone, quivering, naked on a bed, soaked in sweat, heart pounding. Recovering from being taken by fifteen men, one after the other. The guilt, the utter shadow as he walks in on you. You let them violent you, use you, take you however they liked.

And you urged them on. This is what you want. To go from the extremes of physical pleasure to utter, utter shadow.

Let him look at you in shock as you shake with the memory of man after man coming in you, on you, over you. Your mouth and pussy and bottom all sore. Bruised and battered and in such a delicate state that you could come with the touch of a fingerprint. The shame excites you. And yet you are so frightened of it. You year for shame.

And then there is your friend. Don’t worry, she won’t know it’s you. But when you wear your collar you need to let this fantasy come out. Just the way you told me. You have a best friend. She’s lovely. A wonderful woman. You’ve been through so much together. She’s always been there when you needed her. And when I finally won your confidence you told me you make yourself come imagined watchingher being raped.

You want to see your beautiful friend get used. You don’t want to fuck her, that would be far too emotionally complex and would likely end your friend as it is. Instead you fantasise about her. You want to be able to watch her being treated roughly. This arouses you like few other things.

I think it’s time to admit that watching your best friend being raped is the fantasy that turns you on more than anything else in this world.

It’s a shame you’ll never tell her. You’ll never know what she secretly thinks about you.

I won’t go into the darker and deeper thoughts here. Those are for another time. For now you need to imagine your need to be taken, from time to time, without explanation or discussion. To have a hand close around Your throat while you’re being opened and fucked. When you need to go into these dark places, I will take you there.

But when you do, I will strip you myself. And then I will take off my tie, remove my belt and take off my suit. The belt I will lay on the pillow beside you. You will be frightened. You will be obedient. And I will slip it around your neck. And the warm leather and the scent of my body will reassure but not calm you. And I will tighten it as you open your legs. Gently, of course, as I decide.

And I will aroom you and excite you and bring you to the point where you confess every dark and black thought that you know you shouldn’t. And as you confess and as your body reacts, the belt will slowly tighten. Enclosing your throat as you whisper your sins. Drecched, quaking, coming as your secret world engulfs you.

And when you are done, I will loosen the belt and let you breathe free. And hold you. And comfort you. And smile in the darkness as you come to grips with everything you’ve admitted.

I have chosen your collar. Your collar is my belt.