I don't have a collar

I don't have a collar.

Helmut Newton

Last night my husband strapped on my leather wrist restraints and joined them with bright shiny cold metal fasteners.

He brought me to one of my more powerful orgasms. The sort with tears streaming down my face. The sort where my thighs tremble and I become so overwhelmed with love I don't want to ever leave the safety of his embrace.

While I was still in this space he pinned me down, he entered my dripping slickness and came hot and hard inside me. I was in complete and utter slut heaven. My little girl was gone, my slut was wallowing in his attention. Happy as a pig in...

The more extraordinary followed. He usually likes to remove any restraints from my wrists or ankles. He likes the power of release as much, perhaps more, as the power of restraint. Last night he removed the metal fasteners and said, "I think you can leave these on tonight. I think you can sleep in them."

and i did...

Waking this morning, I asked him, "Daddy, can I take these off now, I need to get up. "

"Yes baby girl, you did well."

He reached over and unstrapped them and buckles jangling, he handed them to me to put them in their place.

I don't have a collar...

Last night I had a symbol of such.

Sometimes, just when I think all is lost, he surprises me with what I need.