"Collar" by CoverMeInPearls

"Collar" by CoverMeInPearls

Tucked away in a little black box, way in the back of my underwear drawer, I have a collar. It's just for play, but if I wanted, it's nice enough that I could wear it all the time. My boyfriend made it himself, out of soft pink leather. It has a black satin lining, all around, and a real silver buckle. That's all it is, really. It doesn't have a tag, just an empty ring in the front, for a leash. It has no words. It doesn't say I'm his Toy, or his Pet, or his Good Girl, not even stitched on the inside, where only I would see it.

It makes sense, I guess, because that's one of the rules. When I put the collar on, I'm not allowed to talk. No words. I used to think that was a problem, because I like words. I talk a lot, even in bed. I like being able to tell my boy, how much I want him, how much he means to me, or just how good he feels, harderbabypleaseyesjustlikethat. I like cuddling up afterwards and talking about the future, whether that's next year, or next week, or tomorrow, or even just round two. I like... you know, words.

But sometimes words are just words. Sometimes they don't mean anything, or sometimes they just get in the way, or sometimes there aren't enough. Sometimes I don't want to think about round two, or tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Sometimes I don't want to be his Toy, or his Pet, or his Good Girl. Sometimes I just want to think about now, and him, and being his, not his anything, just his, full stop, completely.

That's when I put on the collar. It might as well be a bow. When I do that, I'm giving him a gift of myself, of all of me, putting myself in his hands, and nothing matters but him, him, his pleasure, his love, and the pure, simple, wonderful way that they make me feel. I don't have to think, and that means I can pour every bit of myself into showing him how much I love him, and how much, really, if I've got that, the rest just doesn't matter.

And for a night, at least, I don't need words.