Collared

I’m wearing V’s collar now and happy to be marked as her boy.

We met earlier this afternoon and will be spending the weekend together. After months of talking on the phone and Skype, to finally be with her and under her thumb is pretty fucking intense. V said she has no problem with my writing about our time together, so I’ll be journaling about significant moments here at some point. Though, obviously, I won’t be writing over the next few days.

Months of contact and correspondence meant I already knew she was intelligent, sexy, and intense, yet nagging doubts remained. That’s only natural as you just don’t know whether you’ll ‘click’ with someone until you meet and spend some time with them. But a few minutes after actually meeting V found me reassured the person I’d connected with so strongly at a distance stood before me.

Oh – and she’s both dominant and sweet. A killer combination that turns me into a puddle of boy.

After checking into the hotel, we went up to the room. I was extremely nervous both in the lobby and riding up. Of course, V did nothing to soothe my nerves.

While she’d toyed with various scenarios around actually collaring me, V ended up securing it around my neck almost as soon as the door shut behind us. It was immediate, without ceremony, and felt right. It almost felt as though I was hers all along, and she was slightly annoyed that something didn’t mark me as owned yet.

It’s a stainless steel day collar with an O ring in front, a padlocked clasp in the back, and wont be coming off anytime soon.

I was still smiling like a goofball and running my fingers over the metal links when V told me to strip. Grabbing the room key, she said she was going to get a bucket of ice and expected to find me naked and kneeling on the bed when she came back

Though I couldn’t see her face, I’m fairly sure she smirked upon returning to find me waiting as instructed.

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