It's funny how little things hurt the most, you know. I remember one of the nights when I thought I was going to die for lack of pain... and he spoke, he brought out a shadow of himself and named it Kim, turned himself into the slave I needed.

Another one, he was kneeling, cell phone against his ear, and he had me in tears, just from the image of him with that collar of words... he didn't remember that I could hurt just as much as he could, that I could tear at him as easily as he tore at me.

And another... oh, he promised me the world, and a leather collar around his throat made me believe it, three metal rings for his promises, his love, his submission... the collar is lying on the floor, unused for months, a dream of something I can't have.

More? Oh, there were more indeed. There was the one with skin as black as his heart, and he gave me that Heart... then took it away, let me see it only in tears and suffering, beat me for each glimpse, turning it to torture.

There was the one who was a dream... ah, I can't blame him for the loss of a collar, we were young and it was all so distant, then so sudden... he is still a memory I treasure, even if the pain of that loss still makes me ache at times.

So why am I bitching? BECAUSE I WANT, just once, to KEEP one in a collar... to have it when I need it, not to have to beg for it. I want a slave. I want one NOW... and I have none. Argh. I think I need a cold shower.