The Collar

Curled up in a tight ball against the headboard of her bed, she rocks back and forth, her knees drawn up towards her chest, arms tightly holding herself together as if she will fall apart any minute. Trying desperately not to feel. To become numb to the pain. But it hurts, a gut-wrenching ache deep down in the pit of her stomach. If she could only stop feeling it would not hurt so much, she wants Him so bad, with a fire that grows inside her and cannot be put out. Only He can save her from the flames that consume her. He is her heart, her soul and her only reason for being, without Him; she has no purpose, no direction in life. she cannot think straight, the burning will not go away and she needs Him, needs to be used and played with, to know she is useful and He is pleased.

she feels as though she will shatter into a thousand pieces if she cannot get to Him. To be near Him, breathing in His scent. Just to kneel at His feet would calm the burning inside her. To feel His hand on her hair, gently stroking it, playing with the collar He gifted her, telling her she is a good girl and that she pleases Him. she sits, sits, and waits for the day when He will come, to come and take this unbearable pain away from her and replace it with the pain that she craves. The kiss of leather against her unmarked skin as she is bound helpless for Him to use as He wishes, the sound and feel of His hand as He reddens her ass, presented to Him with unwavering submission. she is His, will always be His. her pleasure is to please Him, to give her all, her soul, for Him to break and remold.

But for now, all she knows is pain, inconsolable, unbearable pain. It grows like a virus every day, every minute she is away from Him. Can she be strong, can she endure the absence of His touch? she has no choice, no will of her own, she belongs to her Master in mind, body, and soul and therefore she must endure, she has to for her own survival. Because if she cannot then He will find her lacking and without control enough to believe that He will come to her when He can. she must believe in His love and trust and in knowing that He does everything for a reason and He believes she can handle what He does for her. she has trusted him in everything and knows deep down in her soul that He will never hurt her, never leave her too long, drowning in her fears and doubts.

In silent pain she waits for Him, trying to convince herself over and over again that the pain she endures is just another form of pain her Master wishes her to endure for Him. Just because He is not here with her does not mean this is not another test of her trust in Him of her will to overcome her fears. Realization dawns in her mind, like a light through the dark, and she can see her Master's beautiful face smiling, telling her to endure, to convert the pain of longing into love, the love she has for Him and He for her. He will come, he always does. she repeats this over and over again in her head like a mantra, slowly willing herself to calm the pain and believe in her Master.

Calmly she retrieves her collar, the only sign of her total submission to Him and buckles it lovingly around her neck. Her heart sighs with peace when she feels the leather wrap around her neck, reminding her she is owned, His pet, His to command and lead, wherever, and whenever He deems. It is a constant and emotional reminder to her whenever she wears it that she is loved and cherished. And so when the pain hurts too much, the collar reassures and comforts, like a warm blanket on a cold wintry night. She knows He is with her, in mind if not in body. Its restrictive feel around her neck consoles the fires in her stomach and brings about a sense of warmth, of anticipation, of trust, that when He does come, He will use her, as she needs to be used. To show her that she is His pet, His slut, His whore. So she wears her collar proudly, as a sign of her submission to Him, her gift of everything she is. And it calms the fire and binds her to Him always.