Freaky Friday: My Collar

From July 2015:

A collar has such special significance. It always has for me anyway.

When I first began to explore this side of me almost three years ago, it was because of a series of books about U S Marine Doms by a writer named Kallypso Masters. Her stuff may be hot (and it is!!! She is one of the few authors that I personally endorse) but it is pure romance. And markedly different than the realities of this lifestyle that I discovered the very hard way over the past three years.

One of the things with which she is out of step in terms of the BDSM community (at least the one I have known here) is the collar. In her books, the Rescue Me saga, a collar is as strong a symbol…if not more so than a wedding band. I bought that one…hook, line and sinker. I used to say…I have worn two wedding bands, I shall only ever wear one collar.

Of course, anyone who knows Doms knows that is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I had a play partner, who kept trying to get me to wear a ‘play’ collar. I had a mentor, who wanted me to wear a ‘training’ one. I even went to a club once, where their over-the-top shit got my girlfriend punished for bringing someone who was not ‘submissive’ enough to wear the ‘house’ collar for the night. And my first Dom…slapped a huge Medieval steel one around my neck, kissed me and said ‘Mine.’ That was the beginning of the end for us as we truly saw the significance of that differently.

Then there was him. I honestly thought I had done it all right this time…loads of negotiations, talking about the serious stuff…especially the fact that I wanted a ‘real’ relationship. So when he gave me a collar, I used to stay truly stupid shit like the only way it came off was if they pried it from my cold, dead hands.

Until the day I discovered something…we did not see a collar the same way either. To me, a collar was as much his acceptance of the responsibility to care for and cherish me as it was a symbol of ownership.

To him…a collar only meant…you are mine (what it said actually). And that meant he could do what he wanted with me…regardless of how it affected me. I was convenience…there for him when he wanted, and put away in some corner of his mind when he did not.

I remember going to events and watching as subs with these huge, wide leather, studded monstrosities walked around with a leash attached to the D-rings on collar. The sub would be holding the other end of that leash in their hand…while their Dom was busy doing his/her thing. Then when the Dom wanted them, they immediately jumped and handed the other end of the leash to them. That was what I had with him…and it was bull shit.

Domination is not something that you turn on and off when it is convenient. If I did that with my submission, ‘sorry, I am too busy/tired/whatever today to be your sub,’ I would be called on it…punished? Released? And rightly so.

So why should a sub settle for your Domination when it suits your needs?

So when I discovered that he and I saw a collar and the responsibilities of a Dom to his collared sub differently, I did the only thing that I could…I asked to be released from it. He agreed. But even then…I as the sub could not bring myself to remove the damned thing…that was not right. He agreed to having a mutual friend remove it. In the end though, it was more symbolic than that, my older daughter called bull shit on it and jerked the damned thing over my head and tossed it across the table…on Independence Day. How cool was that?

So how do I feel about collars now? Honestly as idealistic as the moment I first read about them in Kallypso Master’s books. Today I wear MY own collar…a reminder that no matter what…if I never kneel before or submit to another man…I cannot change who/what I am. I am a submissive…with or without a collar.