Choosing a Collar

  I arrived at Mr. D’s home on a Friday night for the weekend. I try to dress for him every time but sometimes I’m tired from the week and today was such a day. I was showered and shaven at least, so I had made an effort but I was dressed in slouchy clothes and flip flops. Some days by the time evening arrives all my energy is gone. I could barely pack a bag with clothes. I was going to an event on Sunday without Mr. D. I figured I could go home and grab clothes then if needed for Valentine’s Day. He had indicated that we would stay home and relax, so I wasn’t worried.

I greeted him and curled up next to him on the couch. “We will be going out tonight baby girl.” Murphy’s Law in full force, I was in leggings and a t-shirt. “When I tell you to, you will go into the bedroom and dress as I tell you to dress.” This was different. Where were we going? “We’ll have dinner and then you’ll dress. We’ll leave in 45 minutes and it’s an hour drive to get there.” Now I was really intrigued. What could we be doing and where could we go on a Friday night after 8pm? I was mulling this over in my mind. I had no decent shoes here! I was so unprepared.

“What are you thinking baby girl?”

“Well, what are we doing and I don’t have any decent shoes to wear for you.” I said. He thought for a minute.

“You’ll wear your red zipper dress for me and if you don’t have any shoes then you’ll just wear your flip flops. Don’t even think about wearing the red shoes.” I blushed. Damn, he knew me well. The red shoes are glossy, red, four inch stiletto, platform heels. I can barely walk in them. He usually has me crawl if I wear them for him.

We got in the car and he had worn flip flops as well so I didn’t feel out of place. I am always surprised and touched at how he takes me into consideration with everything he does. I’m more familiar with being the one who takes care of others.

He asked me, “So, where do you think we’re going?”

“A dungeon?” That’s the only place we’ve driven to that far away and in the late evening. I thought it was a good possibility.

“No, it’s not a dungeon.” I was stumped. “Tonight your life will change permanently.” I looked at him. What did that mean? I was at a complete loss. I trusted him and he was being mysterious so I thought, okay I’ll just hang on and he’ll tell me when he’s ready. I wondered but I didn’t have any sense of trepidation at all.

He waited a couple minutes like he was mulling it over in his mind. Quietly, he said “Tonight we’re going to get your collar.”

I looked over to him and my heart raced. I know he’d mentioned collaring me in the heat of the moment not too long ago but otherwise we hadn’t talked about it at all for a long time.

“When I mentioned it the other night, I thought maybe you hadn’t noticed but you did. You definitely caught it.” He said. I remembered then that I’d written about it. I had most definitely caught it. When you hear something that makes their heart pound and your breathing struggle to keep pace…yes, I not only heard but felt those words even though they were in the heat of the moment.

“We’re going to a sex shop that I found that carries them. That’s where we’re going.” So, we continued on our way. My face was flushed but my heart full. Then I was nervous. What happens next?

“What are you thinking baby girl?” Oh! He always asks that right when I’m thinking about some half-formed fear. I don’t always want to answer but I usually do.

“I was wondering what comes next.” He reassured me.  Eventually, we realized we had driven far past our destination, so we had to back track and our conversation switched to the very immediate need of finding our way.

We finally arrived at the shop and when we walked in were greeted mb a gorgeous girl with caramel colored skin and a man who Daddy said was definitely gay. The girl’s name was Wicked…how fitting for a sex shop. The collars were right behind them so Daddy ushered me to the case and tried several collars on me. It felt so surreal and yet comfortable at the same time. 

Only in a sex shop does no one bat an eye watching a man putting many different collars on a woman. He asked which ones I thought might work and I picked up a thick, black, leather collar with a red leather fringe. He tried it on me and it fit very well. “Nice choice baby girl. We’ll take this one.” I was a little worried about the height of it at 2-3 inches tall, almost a posture collar but not quite as severe.

As we were walking about the shop he asked me if I was happy with our choice. “I am, I’m a little worried about the thickness of it. I’m not sure if you can do everything you want to with me in it.”

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he said, “if it’s doesn’t work we’ll get you another one.” His easy practicality assured me. 

Afterwards we spent time in the shop looking at all the other fun, weird and kinky things they had. Daddy purchased two extensions for the Hitachi there as well. They have protrusions on them so that the vibrations can extend inside me in different ways depending on the attachment. 

We wrapped up our visit and went home. 

Photo courtesy of Picabay through Public Domain

Reality Becomes Fantasy

I was laying in Daddy’s bed and decided to play with myself.  He had left for work and I’d have to leave soon myself.  We had such a great, huge steak dinner Daddy made the night before that neither of us had wanted sex.  But when I woke up in the morning I was aching for him.  

He had been talking the night before about when he chooses to fuck someone else.  We are in an open relationship after all.  I want us both to have that option but I’m  secretly scared for when it happens.  

Granted, I still haven’t told you about my play session or my telling him about it, I’ll get to that.  But last evening he was talking about his future playing.  He was telling me that he invests so much heat into any tryst that the women always want him more and sometimes they get catty about it.  It was some kind of warning but my mind was more wrapped around thoughts of him with other women than about how I would have to deal with them.

As I was laying there, I couldn’t get the thought of him with another woman out of my head. I thought about him on top of a plump and juicy girl, his cock buried up inside her.  I couldn’t see her face because he was in the way.  I just saw her legs wrapped around him while he ground into her. I touched myself then.

As this point, my little scenario took on a life of its own. He looked over to me with a grin on his face. “Watch me fuck this girl, my little slut.” I realized I was kneeling beside the bed watching them.

“Yes Sir, I am.” I felt so turned on and yet he could see the trepidation my eyes. I could feel him reading me as he does.  He had that dominant look on his face.  All the while he continued to fuck her.

“Don’t worry slut, I’m still going to give you my come.  Would you like that?”  I nodded and felt relief that he wanted to give me that even though he was fucking her. He would pull out and I would suck him dry like I do when he masturbates.

I heard her moaning and watched him pump her as he turned back to what he was doing.  He looked over at me a couple times as he fucked her and I saw something there that I didn’t catch quickly enough.

“Come here slut.” I leaned over the bed close to him as I he began the panting that leads up to him orgasming. I got ready for him. He thrust in her harder and faster and then I saw a momentary impish glint in his eyes as he thrust deep and came inside the other girl.

I felt so betrayed in that split second until he said, “There you go baby girl, now you can have my come.” I looked down at her dripping pussy and realized the full extent of what he meant. 

I felt like such a slave right then and I came so hard.


I usually write everything in chronological order. Today though, I’m changing that up a bit.  I’m sitting in Mr. D’s room in my new collar and nothing else.  He commanded me to write and to be naked while I did so for him.  I have so much to tell you and I may not get through it all so I thought I’d start with now and work my way back in time.

This morning while Mr. D washed up from the gym, I made us a small breakfast. We ate and talked with his roomie and laughed about last night.  I’ll tell you about last night in the next post.  We were lounging on the couch and Mr. D said, “I want you to go dust my dresser please.” I looked up at him.  This is his new command for me while in public.  This means I’m to drop what I’m doing and go to his room.  I strip and put my collar on then present himself to him on my knees.

I looked up to him for a moment, gauging the seriousness of the order. We had just been laughing and joking, I needed to be sure.  “Now.” He said gently but in a tone that left no doubt.  That was all the confirmation I needed.  I walked into the room and took off my clothes.  I took my collar out of his drawer and started to put it on.  I had not yet put it on myself and was still fiddling with it when Mr. D came in the room.  He turned me around and finished buckling it while I held my hair out of the way.  Once I was collared, I knelt at the foot of his bed, legs spread, hands clasped behind my back, eyes downcast.

He stepped over me to get behind me. I thought he needed something in a dresser drawer but then I felt him against my back.  His hand curled around my neck caressing my sensitive skin above the collar and pulling my gaze up to him.  His hand continued downward, caressing my chest and my breasts.  From one side to the other, his hand caressed and tugged at my nipples.  His other hand pulled my hair back and my eyes met his.  He was so close behind me that I felt a drop of his come land on my clasped hands.  He was as turned on as I was in that moment and I was awed at such a provocative sign of that.  I rubbed the droplet into my skin as he got onto the bed and lay down before me.

“You may rise.” He said as he lay on the bed stroking his cock. I rose to my feet and stood at the end of the bed. “Put your left foot on the edge of the bed and touch your clit.” I lifted my foot and placed it on the footboard.  My hand rubbed my clit while I tried my best to keep my eyes down.  I watched him stroke his cock while I worked my fingers over my already swollen clit.  “Imagine you are an art piece tied and bound in a museum.  You have the hands of many strangers touching you, feeling your face, your body.  They see you and have their hands in your hair, their fingers in your sex.  You are blindfolded and Daddy’s voice whispers in your ear.   You see a void now.  All you know is my voice.  All you feel and sense is me.  Look at my cock.” I was transfixed by the images he created.  I looked at his cock in his hand.  He was so hard.  “You want Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy, I do.” I could feel the silkiness of him even as I watched.

“There is a lot of pre-come dripping from me because of you. Come lick it off.”  I crawled onto the bed between his legs and licked the come from the tip of his cock.  He continued to talk to me but my attention was captivated by his taste and the feel of his cock on my tongue.  The sensation of him in my mouth is like no other.  The silken skin over the hardness of his muscle drives me to distraction.  And right then he was so very hard; harder and thicker than usual.  I put my lips around the head and circled my tongue around him.  I pulled him deep into my mouth.  I wanted to fill my throat with his girth.  Once I had him all the way in my mouth with my lips wrapped around the base I felt his leg come up around my back.  He pulled his leg in close and I was pushed down on his cock. He began to pull his leg in and out on the back of my neck fucking my throat with his cock.  The mixed feelings of his strong leg forcing me down and his cock fucking my mouth were impassioned.  Just when I was out of air, he would release me and say, “Catch your breath.” As soon as I did then he would wrap his leg around me again.  It was so hot.

Afterwards he fucked me for a short time. He chose not to come and stopped us after a while.  While he was fucking me, though, he saw a look on my face.  “What is that?” He asked.  I couldn’t put it into words.  I was aching for him.  I couldn’t say that right then.  I didn’t know that’s what it was.  His eyes were on me, I felt exposed.  “Ohhh, I see.  It’s need.” I nodded finally.  “Tell me.”

“I need you.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“I need you Sir. I need you to use me. I need your domination.” I whispered.  I felt the heat in me rise.  I felt so exposed to him.

“Again.” He said. I moaned. Not again, I thought.

“Sir, I need you to use me! I need to be your fuck toy!” It took everything I had to say it loudly, to say it to him.  He fucked me harder then and as quickly stopped.

“No.” He said as he lay beside me. I was on my stomach next to him.  As our breathing returned to normal I could feel how deep down the rabbit hole this mind fuck sent me.

As we rested he said, “Dust.” My new position is to have my face level with his cock, my cheek on his thigh and my body wrapped around his leg. I feel so completely submissive to him in this position.  My only view is of his manhood.  I am slave to him now, this is my place.

While I’ve been writing this, he was having a drink and a smoke. He just came in and undressed.  He lay on the bed before me and began to masturbate. I could barely concentrate on the writing.  My pussy is throbbing.  The sounds of the porn and the sounds of his hand covered with lube stroking him cock are driving me mad.  I am sitting like a good girl but all I want to do is be with him.  I want to hear him yell out and come deep inside me.  We’ve had sex several times this weekend and he hasn’t come.  Now, I am collared and slave.  His come is for him to give and me to take as he chooses.  As turned on as I am, I’m also saddened.  I will learn that when I’m collared it is not for me to want but for me to serve.  I will take my joy in serving him and in being dominated.  It is a wildly more intoxicating gift than any other desire I have.

“Slut, come here.” I put aside the laptop and sat on the bed by his stroking hand. I could tell by his breathing that he was very close.  I put my lips on the head right above his hands and as he came I sucked all his come in my mouth.  He shoved me down on his shaft and convulsed as I swallowed his load.

“Thank you.” I heard him say as he convulsed the last time. My happiness in my place is so present now.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Apologies and Punishment

I owe apologies to Mr. D, my Daddy. I haven’t written about our last three trysts and feel him waiting. He is so patient with me and I still let him down. How do I keep doing that? It’s life and focus and oh I don’t know…a thousand excuses.

Slavehood. Will this ever come to fruition if I can’t follow simple orders? “Write for me.” He says. I do. I’m sporadic. I’m taken away from my devotion by life. He understands mostly. Still. How will I ever match up to the desire to be his slave if I am not solely focused on fulfilling his desires?

I think about this today as I sit down to write about our last three times together. Of course, it’s been days and weeks so the details are eluding me. The general memories are there and as I begin to write the details usually percolate. But then, if I had written them when the memories were fresh, I’d have a much more complete story for you and for him. If I’m striving for the raw material of the story I know I spend less time on the craft of telling it. It’s subtle but there’s a difference.

How do I expect him to be able to properly guide us if I don’t give him information? I’m not being overly guilt-ridden here; I’m just posing the questions in my mind. This is really what punishment is for, I feel. If I don’t have consequences…if most of us don’t have consequences, there is not always the necessary drive. I truly desire to be the best service-oriented submissive I can be. So there is inherent drive. I don’t need to be punished to want to please. I just do. But sometimes I lack the proper motivation. 

I often wonder about how I would respond to a full 24/7 power exchange relationship. Sometimes I think I’d love every minute of it. But at times like these, when I have let him down, I think perhaps I’d be a poor choice of a slave. I love the ideal. I love the thought of serving him perpetually. I love the idea of feeling his Dominance more, having more guidance and more stringent parameters. But then I wonder if I will fail at that miserably when I can’t even do this properly.

I have been reading Beast and belle’s blog. They each write about one side of their dynamic. I really enjoy reading them. Recently Beast was talking about how Belle failed when he left her with standing orders but thrived with more immediate orders. Perhaps that is simply what’s happening to me. I need to learn how to make the sense of immediacy more prominent in my mind otherwise I become distracted by parenthood and career while I’m away from Daddy. Then when I return to him, I’m so sad that I’ve let him down. I never want him to feel like I am not there for him, that I’ve put my duties and care of him aside.

Today, I commit again to being a good submissive and doing all that my Daddy wants purely because I love to feel his joy, and desire to fulfill my submission to him fully. As with anything I am committed to long term, I falter. Most importantly, though, when I fail I get back up and commit to being better once more.

Too Long

It is too long between writings.  I feel the time stretch out like a taut rubber band.  I leave Mr. D’s side and go back to my professional single mom life.  I think about what I will write.  Life and child and work fill each day to overflowing. 

The band stretches further.  I long for Him.  I ache to write for Him.  I know the time is racing away.  I feel the vacancy.  It winds around me while I work, while I toil for others.  The absence of Him.  The absence of the me I am with Him.

The band reaches critical stretch.  I must choose.  Child and boss or Master and slave?  Each day I choose the child and the boss because they are my iminent responsibilities.  Though my heart chooses my Master in the longing I feel, the ache that is ever constant while I’m away.

The band splinters and breaks.  I am gone so long from Him.  The writing  is an empty page.  The days of caregiving are all there are in this world.  The fulfillment of Master and slave a distant photograph.

The slave bows her head.  She returns to her Master in shame.  She knows before He says it.  She drifted too far from His sphere.  She drowned in the sea of other cares.

His hand on her neck.  His touch so gentle, so loving and kind.  His words so vulnerable and clear.  “I need your words.  I need to know your thoughts.  I am not angry and you are not in trouble.  But you need to know how important your words are to me.” His breath warm, his touch a silken caress.

Her tears and sadness stained her face.  The pain filled her heart.  For she had disappointed Him. She felt it like a wound.  Deep inside she felt the pain but also joy. He loved her enough to tell her what she did wrong and how deeply He needed her, needed her words.