From Serious To Psychopathic
Previous - this entry written on January 05, 2003 at 7:46 am - Next


Have you ever been collared?

Have you ever spent hours, or days, or even weeks or months, knowing that without a collar around throat and heart both you were unprotected... not from the world, your Owner would always stand between you and anything else... not from serious damage, that too you were safe from, because you were owned and loved... but from the little random cruelties, from that one extra lash or the moment more spent in uncomfortable bondage, from the too-tight nipple clamps and the kiss that leaves a bit too much bruising, it's that you are unprotected from? Unprotected from your Owner's casual violence, from the sadistic urges that a collared slave would usually be spared. Unprotected from anyone your Owner decides to let touch you, use you. Unprotected from so much... including your own mind.

When you KNOW that there is no collar around your throat because in your Owner's eyes, you have not earned such a mark of favor and ownership, you find yourself constantly nervous, constantly frightened, always striving to do not only your best, but somehow even better, in hopes of earning even a scrap of leather, a few strands of rope, or a cheap vinyl dog collar. You tremble each time your Owner's eyes are on you, serving desperately, eagerly, knowing that now all that stands between you and the fiercest of punishments is your own ability to earn mercy, not your Owner's protection and kindness.

Have you ever found your hands wandering to your throat, pressing against the skin there, having to fight back tears just because your neck is bare? Or, perhaps, caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and sunk to your knees, unable to do anything else, so miserable because your best efforts so far have not been enough to earn even such a common token of ownership and protection?

Most people, when they see a collar, assume that it is either a fashion statement, or perhaps a slave collar, and that if it is the latter that it was given without hesitation, forced onto the slave's neck.

They are wrong.

Like their Owner's Mark, like their Name, a slave's collar can have more meaning than most peoples' wedding rings or birth certificates or even tombstones. It means enough to them that they would beg and plead to be allowed the privilege - yes, privilege - of wearing it...

...if they are aware of the meaning, if it pleases their Owner to teach them of its meaning and make sure they appreciate the fragile and so-important bit of material around their throat.

I teach my slaves and my pets exactly what their collar represents. When one of them has their collar removed, whether because they foolishly took it off without permission or because I removed it either as punishment or because I felt they no longer appreciated it, they quickly know just how much safer they are with a collar. Kadin, Torian, Caleb, and others. They understand.

Here... read this...

...and darn it, in the course of hunting for other related entries, mine and others, I got VERY distracted reading this. All kinds of nifty. *grins* Damn, but I miss Alex right now... however, there are other things on my mind as well. Back to the original topic!

Actually, it would be reasonable if I explained WHY I'm on this topic, yes? A very simple reason, involving Ryan, in fact. As a Christmas present, his roommates are paying a fellow named Malice to make a custom-designed collar to fit him. I'd thought of asking Clint but neither of them have locking buckles and his housemates know and like Malice, so they are buying from him. *wry grin*

Anyway, he's learned just what a collar means... and has spent the last few days waiting for the collar to be finished, nervous, a bit frightened... even feeling a bit untreasured and uncared-for because he knew he was not yet granted that protection. Mind you, he knew as well as I did that the lack of the custom collar wasn't his fault, but as he said, there were chains and ropes available, if I thought he deserved a collar he would have one on the spot.

Last night, after a long conversation, a few tears on his part, and my decision to let him finish earning his collar while he had the protection it grants... he has indeed been given that protection. He will not be properly Collared until the collar I have chosen for him is locked around his throat, and he knows, I trust, that the protection and the collar can both be revoked if he shows me that he does not deserve that protection and care.

For now, though... for now, he sleeps knowing that he is held safe, that he has as much protection as I can give. Admittedly, considering how much time I've spent over the last few weeks curled up in a ball and feeling utterly miserable, it's really NOT much protection from anyone else, and certainly not much attention or care; but now he's likely to be spared some of the near-instinctive violence that I tend to lash out with when I'm feeling truly miserable.

Ok, interruption - ended up watching part of a thing on abortion, and talked to Lani, who uses Angelica tea to keep herself from getting pregnant. She's going to give me the recipe, and - note to myself here - I am going to look up Goldenthread (possibly goldenseal, but I don't think so) and Mistletoe (which is dangerous, and so I am least likely to try that) and see if they can be mixed with the Angelica. Then I'll get samples of each and take them in to get allergy-tested. If this works, likely it'll be better than most of the other things I've tried, or at least that's what I'm hoping.

Anyway, once again I am being distracted. I suspect it'll keep happening for a while - it's now almost 9:00 in the morning and I'm a bit tired, a bit bouncy, and a LOT happy... well, as happy as someone who is in f'ing agonizing pain again/still. *twitch* It wasn't too bad for a while when I was on 10 vicodin, which should tell ya about what degree it's at. *shudder*

And I've been writing long enough now, been taking breaks between paragraphs to NOT look at the screen which is now ceased working, that I need to log back off. *twitchshuddercough* Yuck. YUCK. I'm gonna go see if I can sleep yet.

And just to close this on a truly irrational note, here's some random quotes from a messenger conversation I am having with one of said housemates:

Jo3 of Excellence� says:
Disclaimer: Do not dispose of this message by fire. Do not puncture the messenger client, as contents may explode and cause harm to nearby software. Thank you for reading this message. It makes the effort somehow more meaningful.

Jo3 of Excellence� says:
Disclaimer: Data and information provided in this chat is for informational purposes only, and is not intended for trading porpoises. Not for internal consumption. Use only as directed, and if pain persists, you have my sympathy.

Jo3 of Excellence� says:
Disclaimer: The message you have just read was typed by a man, with a plan, currently seeking a canal and in negotiation with Panama. Padme Amidala rocks. This message will self destruct in a number of milliseconds after the delete key was pressed and the e-mail client trash emptied.

- the above disclaimers were created by One Mad Monkey, and no, I didn't give him that name, he told me to use it -

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