tagBDSMThe Belt around My Neck

The Belt around My Neck

bybryndian©

"I think I want to wear the collar tonight," I said. In all honesty, when it popped in my head and I told you this, I was thinking of your fingers wrapped in the ball chain I wear sometimes and the way that feels against my throat and the control you exert when my lips are wrapped around your cock, and I thought the more substantial leather of the collar would be better for that. I wasn't actually thinking about the collar itself, that plain bit of leather dog collar that had lurked in my play bag for years, mostly untouched. It wasn't my favorite thing; I'd purchased it to use on someone else, someone who'd not lasted long enough to inspire me to clasp it around his neck, and it had languished in the bag still folded in the shape of the card it had come attached to, never softened by use or conditioning, still pristine and new. And I knew it wasn't your favorite thing, either. Our dynamic doesn't need things like a collar and what it traditionally represents. But I know your hands on my throat, your fingers wrapped in that chain, the way I sound when you're controlling the very breath I take... I know those things are among your favorites, just like they're mine. And that's all I was thinking about when I said those words to you.

You agreed, though. We were going to embark on one of our other favorite adventures, and we often talk of the things we want to do while we're high long before we ever actually consume the particular potable of the day. We had an entire lazy Saturday to ourselves. We'd ditched half-formed plans to stay in and play, laughing as we recalled the last time we'd done it and the fun we'd had, playfully discussing wishes and wants for the coming hours. You usually do agree when I want something like that. It's one of the things I love about you most, your willingness to help me explore the things I think I want. And one of the things I love even more is your ability to read the actual situation we're in and make a decision in the moment about whether or not to indulge those wishes. I've yet to be disappointed by the exclusions you make; you often give me so much more to be delighted about and I rarely even notice I don't get something until well after the sweat's cooled and we're cuddled up, basking in love and afterglow.

So it was with much anticipation that we dosed ourselves, this time on the LSD we'd stashed against a rainy day. And as the hallucinogen worked its way into our systems, we got ready for the intense experience that was coming. It's so funny to me how different we are. I'm not a fan of the rising high. You love that part. I took a shower and that helped the woozy feeling and you made a drink. I was feeling pretty good when I got out of the shower and you, as always, were so appreciative of my damp skin and clean smell. My skin is so very, very sensitive to begin with, and when I'm high it's infinitely more so. Your fingers on my skin, stroking softly across the damp surface, sends me rocketing to almost instant arousal and suddenly I'm ready for so much more. You're so much better at the patience game when we're high, though. Your ability to be patient when I'm so clearly not is such a huge turn on.

A frustrating and maddening turn on, but a turn on nonetheless. You're content to touch me and ramp it all up, make me ride the arousal and the high for as long as I can stand it, which honestly is usually a lot longer in reality than I think it's going to be. And ride it we did. The high this time was more intense than the last and I was well and truly lost in the sensation of your touch on my skin, the way you make me feel, the crazy floaty connected-yet-disconnected way that LSD makes me get. It was so intense I had to take my jewelry off. My rings were so distracting and they were completely freaking me out. That's when I noticed I didn't have my necklace on and when I remembered my request. And I asked you again for the collar; I was so incredibly caught up in riding the high I desperately needed the control, the feeling of your hand guiding me, moving me, tethering me to this reality.

You hesitated a moment... The collar was still in the toybox and we hadn't dragged that out this time, not yet. I thought for a minute you were going to opt out of the collar. I'd tried to explain what I wanted by asking for the collar but I wasn't sure I'd done that very well. I know now I didn't, but then... then, I just knew you were considering what to do and all I wanted was leather around my neck. And that was when you instead reached out and picked up your belt. Innocuous enough, it's a plain leather belt, one you wear every day. I'd coiled it up and left it on the dresser for you when I put laundry away. Without a word, you picked that belt up, slid the end through the buckle and looped it around my neck. And changed my... no, changed our life and dynamic forever.

As you slid the leather taut around my neck, I could feel how different it was from the collar. The leather was wider than the collar, the buckle a solid metal weight on my throat. The tail of the belt was a thing the collar didn't possess, a long length of leather down my back. You slapped me with the end playfully and it brought me out of the trance-like place my mind goes when I'm high and lost in a sensation. The leather warmed quickly and you cinched it tightly, testing the fit around my neck and how best to grasp it without causing the buckle to pinch and cause harm. You turned it several times, moving the buckle from the back of my neck to my throat, dragging the tail across my hard nipples until it came to rest at the juncture of my thighs, the tip of the belt barely brushing against my pussy, causing me to writhe a bit trying to get it to touch my clit. You laughed at me when I did it and used the tail to slap at my nipples before dropping it again to fall back to its tantalizing resting place.

At that point, our play was still lighthearted and teasing. You definitely enjoy ramping up my arousal any time we're intimate but there's something more to it when we start playing around with our roles, with control, with the negotiation of power between us. Add the intensity of the psychotropic and our playfulness got serious pretty quickly. The first time you managed to get the belt tightened in your hand just right I could feel it click in you, the trick to getting it tightened without pinching, and your actions got more confident, more sure and it translated to our chemistry. You're always careful not to push it too far but there's a hint of how far it could go in your touch when you're that confident and genuinely feeling the exchange of authority between us, that controlled power you exert and that bit is what makes it so incredibly and intensely hot... That you could absolutely hurt me but you don't because you control your actions.

That belt, though, took me to a place this time that the collar never does. Your belt, the one you wear every day, that mundane bit of leather that keeps your pants up, that belt looped around my neck was so incredibly intimate as the instrument of your control over me that day. Its weight was a tangible thing around my neck and down my body, and the buckle was large enough that I never forgot it was there. It's long been broken in, the leather supple and slightly worn, and once it was warm it conformed to my body like it was meant to be there. And when your fingers twisted around it to tighten it on my neck, my entire being was sharply focused on surrendering to your control. I didn't fight the lightheadedness or the restriction, trusting you to ensure I stayed conscious. Instead, I focused on the feel of the leather on my skin, the way my body responded to your touch, and the intense scrutiny you leveled on me while you staked your claim on me. I only thought it was intense until you slid the belt around and took me from behind, my hard, sensitive nipples aching as they brushed against the sheets with each thrust, your hands on the belt, keeping my head up and forcing me to think about the breaths I took, and your hard cock filling me, pounding me, bringing me to the brink over and over and over until I came hard, coming completely apart under your hands.

And you... you wiped my tears and held me, putting me back together again with your touch, with your love, with your control. You soothed my tremors and, yes, teased me again to arousal, though gentler and with different purpose this time. That day was far from over, of course. We romped and played for hours before we started to come down and get hungry and generally think about other things than the feel of our skin against each other. But I never did take that belt from my neck. I could have; you likely wouldn't have thought much about it at all. But I didn't. We ordered food and ate. We came back to ourselves and our conversation got more real, more normal.

There was laughter and a ridiculous and ill-advised movie. And we went to bed sated and tired and naked... except for the belt I wore around my neck. When we woke up the next morning and you realized I wanted... no needed you to remove it from my neck so I could shower, I think it clicked for both of us in the cold light of a sober day that our dynamic had changed again, like it does. In a good way, I think. We've done it the right way... we've talked about it, debriefed the experience, discussed how we felt about it. But I'll tell you now, you taking that belt from my neck was difficult for me, both for the realization that of what it implies that I needed you to do so for me, and because it had become so familiar and so much a part of the experience we'd shared.

We agreed that the belt would be an occasional thing. Its intensity is a big thing and we don't want to overdo it, nor sully it with familiarity. And in spite of that, we've repeated it. To test it sober, without the distorting effects of LSD; the intensity of this new dynamic has definitely proved it's there between us, solid and real. Oddly enough, I no longer think about needing a symbol or token from you. Much like the wedding ring I wear, I'd love one, but it's just not necessary. My place with you, my dynamic with you, the love and trust I feel for you is solid and real and carved into my heart and my psyche in a way that needs no token, no ring, no collar or mark. I am yours.

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bybryndian© 0 comments/ 5666 views/ 1 favorites

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