Collared. Permanently.

For some time now, years to be certain, I have desired to lock around the neck of my sweet sex servant a permanent collar. A symbol of her objectification and slavery, of course, but one that I personally feel that every slave should wear. A collar that cannot be removed by their own hand or at their own will. Though I would prefer a heavy metal band, locked with a complex lock, resources and need have presented me with a challenge.

The collar needed to be both obvious and subtle. It needed to be secure, firm, the embodiment of my ownership over her. However it also needed to be delicate enough to avoid amateur detection and scrutiny. We have a choke chain, a throwback to the very early days of her slavery. It is strong, has some weight, but thin enough to be accepted as a piece of neigh inconspicuous jewelery.

It took some work, but I cut through the links holding the rings and fixed them together around my girl's neck. It is tight enough to ensure that it will not slip off, but loose enough to allow other collars to be used during play, for example my favorite thick metal collar.

Thus affixed, my slave is at long last now a permanently collared girl. It is such a pleasure to know that as she sits in her classes, surrounded by her classmates and instructors, she does so as a marked piece of property. A slave amongst the free people, hidden in plain sight. So delicious...

Metal

Master has a fetish for metal. Handcuffs, leg irons, chains... He loves it. The color of it, the chill of it, the permanence of it.

For me, i prefer the softer things - leather, rope (yes, Master, i know i gripe about it), duct tape, saran wrap... To me, these things feel more like an embrace, being held in Master's ownership.

To me, metal is cold, uncaring, unloving, inescapable. It is something that i loathe first and love last. Cuffs and leg irons bite into me, making me edgy, uncomfortable and sometimes afraid. Metal scares me before it can excite me.

And, while we've used handcuffs, leg irons and chains (including a choke chain collar) in our play, i had never felt cold, unyielding metal around my neck. The choke chain has always had some give to it, and being chained (like my little icon at the start of each of my entries) always left me some movement.

Things change.

A box arrived in the mail yesterday, and i had sneaking suspicions about what exactly Master had ordered. In truth, i wasn't sure how i would handle it, if my suspicions were confirmed. When Master finally got home and opened the box, it was indeed as i had suspected and at first opportunity, Master locked that steel collar around my neck. (By the way, we both adore Autumn's sub-shop.)

Metal is cold. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Cruel. Inescapable. Heavy.

In part, i think the reason Master has such a fetish for metal is because it becomes so inescapable.

At first, all i could think of was the weight of it, and while that never went away, i was also reminded of how much my position as His slave is like that collar. This is something that doesn't go away just because it's uncomfortable, or too much. Because of the time that Master and i have invested in our Master/slave relationship, we (together) have made it something that i cannot leave. i cannot escape. i don't want to escape.

But it's heavy, rough, unyielding, inescapable.

Regardless of whether or not He locks that collar around His property's neck, i am His, and the weight of that, the cold, inescapable nature that is now present in our scenes, in our day-to-day lives, is always with me.

And the collar being locked around my neck -- i can't say i was comforted by its cold grip, that i handled the inescapable nature of it with perfect grace -- but as much as i prefer the leather collar Master uses on me, i did enjoy the physical reminder that i cannot escape.

After all, i helped Master build the cage of my life.