Wednesday, July 1, 2009

The Collar

Two days ago, he bought me a collar. It was pink with a heart-shaped dogtag crudely engraved with words from our favorite games.

_ _ _ _’S LI’L SLUT
I WILL OBEY

He got it from a local store. Nothing expensive, but we both knew what it meant for the two of us and for our picture-perfect union. We were escalating to a new level, skyrocketing to greater heights.

We were in my car the first time I put it on. I barely trembled; that, in itself, was a testament to how much I had learned to trust him (and us). Before I could secure the buckle, he leaned over and did it himself. The small act sent a shiver down my spine, which I hid rather skillfully by shifting in my seat. He then leaned back as if to get a view of the whole picture. We both chuckled softly. The collar made me nervous and giddy. I was crazy excited; I was already thinking of the next opportunity to be alone long enough to make good use of my new collar. What would our first time with this little accessory be like? Handcuffs and blindfolds were the first suggestions my overstimulated mind came up with. They were immediately followed by a barrage of other ideas that only an erotica writer’s imagination could come up with. I had just the right amount of heart-pounding fear to cause butterflies in my stomach. I guess he might have been feeling echoes of the same elated emotions, because he barely said a word. We both admired how it looked around my neck. I stared at the sun guard’s mirror while he stared at me. Baby, I love it. Thank you. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, before letting him take it off of me again.