She felt herself throb as she took in the clover clamps, the sharp gleam from the Wartenburg pinwheel and from the corner of her eye she saw the collar. Two inches width of black shiny leather. She took in a sharp breath as she tried to look at it. The red thread stitching on the cuffs with it matched perfectly. In the centre of its length the collar held silver metal O ring anchored to the leather by a another thicker and quite beautifully crafted ring fixed to a round metal plate which in turn was embedded in the body of the collar.
The absence of a curve in the leather told her that the bindings had never been worn. Many weeks earlier during one of their many conversations He told her that He had acquired a set of cuffs with a collar just for her. "They are yours." He said. She had let the comment slip out of the conversation feeling both a sense of nervousness and excitement.
She didn't allow herself to look at the collar for more than a second or two. During her next few visits to the room the collar lay on the bench. It was quietly insistent on her attention. She had accepted the cuffs with ease but the collar was something different, even if it was only in play. Her next visit to the room she admired the collar from a distance. She began to wonder about the feel of it on her tender neck; what would it look like as she watched her own submission play out under His hand.
The next time she came to the room she touched the black leather and shiny cool metal as it lay on the bench. Her finger tips skimmed across its smooth surface. She began to long to feel it on her skin. Still He didn't beckon her to bring it to Him. Her breath grew short as she imagined herself with this small piece of leather circling her neck, His finger looped through the ring to guide her and push and pull her where He desired.
She felt the insatiable need in her as she travelled to the room. He would be waiting having had prepared the room to his liking. She knew the collar would be on the bench, like a beacon for her. The collar had a life of its own as it lay in silence waiting for her to come to it. She walked into the room on that final day. She undressed as He bade her, as He always did. Then without invitation she walked to the bench and with no hesitation she picked up the collar, turned and with an outstretched arm handed it in silence to Sir. She gathered up her hair and bowed her head as he placed the collar around her neck fastening the buckle at her nape. He hooked His finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. He smiled and kissed her cheek.
"Good girl."
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| photographer unknown. Sourced from the Internet |
