Collars of leather and a 'collar' of metal

Earlier this month, on the fifth, we celebrated our two year anniversary of Sir having placed his metal 'collar' of sorts on me. I've worn his titanium band about my right wrist for all but one afternoon of the last two years.

I've written about the band and its significance to us before, but looking back over my earlier writings here, I realize I've never written about Sir collaring me in the first place.

For some people a 'collaring' becomes a ritual, almost akin to a wedding, complete with a ceremony, and members of their community as witnesses, etc. For us, it was a very private act.

Before we had gotten together Sir had done a work related trip to San Francisco. Over the course of his time there he made a trip to Mr. S. where he purchased some tools, including cuffs and a simple leather collar. As he describes it, on the feeling that he might be needing them eventually. On that same trip he also explored other parts of the CA coastline that years later he would bring me back to.

Going to those places together, years after his trip, showing me those places special to him was very important for us. They were places he enjoyed and thought of sharing with a partner long before we came together. To finally go there with him, and see them through his eyes, was a way of getting to know him and draw closer to him.

He did not put the collar upon me the night he first whipped me, nor did he place it around my neck soon thereafter when he came out to me and we first disappeared into a hotel suite together.

It was later, after I had come home with him and stayed at his apartment for almost an unexpected month long visit. I spent my days being his, lying across his black leather couch reading books and wearing his cuffs, waiting for him to return, or dressing and going out for walks around a nearby lake. In the evenings sometimes we would go out, other times, we spent quiet evenings home, realizing slowly how well we fit together how comfortable it was being together. How we could share a small space together yet not be in one another's way.

In love and in gratitude, I did small things, making the bed, tidying the apartment, washing dishes, and most of all, learning the small ways in which I found myself his. It was a time of massive changes in both our lives, yet somehow we had found one another.

Near the end of the month, not long before I was to return to my home, an otherwise ordinary evening changed everything for us. We had decided to eat in, Sir had cooked, which was not unusual for him. As we sat down to dinner we ended up having a discussion that amounted to (to vastly oversimplify) essentially a variation on 'eat your veggies.' Particular veggies I was certainly no fan of, and had an unfortunate 'history' with in childhood, but by the end of the meal he had convinced me to reluctantly nibble.

Ordinary as such may seem, after dinner, I found myself crying, not in that he had done something I didn't want him to, but in that I realized he was at times better for me, than I was to myself. Writing it, I suppose it sounds silly, but I had come to the realization that he was very good for me.

Being Queer, finding such in Sir, particularly so soon after the relationship with my wife ended, was in many ways very confusing. At times it all felt too soon, even as it felt so right. I was very guarded, afraid of throwing myself into someone new as some form of coping mechanism to deal with my sorrow and my loss.

Yet that month together showed me that this was more than merely a matter of grasping at someone, it somehow genuinely worked, and was growing into a relationship in its own right even as I at times hesitated, and perhaps most of all, I came to understand how much Sir genuinely cared about me and my own well being.

In that time together I had come to call him Sir, even as he felt odd about it. He had never envisioned himself as a "Sir" and did not know what to make of me calling him such. I, on the other hand, recognized almost from the beginning what he was, and what he was in relation to me. Nor did we say "I love you" back then. It took a long time before we came to that point.

But that particular evening, after I came to realize that yes, he cared deeply for me and my wellfare was when we came through to collaring me. I would be leaving soon, and no doubt the impending separation had some to do with it, but we had come to the strange realization that somehow we 'worked' together.

I laid across the bed in his bedroom and he asked me if the collar was what I wanted, if I would choose to be his? I thought for a long minute. We were less than 2 1/2 months into the relationship, it was less than a year since I had been in my previous relationship, in some ways it all felt so soon, and yet, it felt right.

I looked him in the eye and gave my assent. He placed the stiff new leather collar, a simple black band with two D rings, one at the front, and the other at the back that fit through a notch made for it around my neck. He unlocked a small padlock, slid it through the back back ring, locking the collar firmly around my throat. I slept beside him that night with his collar around my neck.

It was between the two of us, a private thing. There was no explicit detailing of what all being his would entail, to this day I think we're both still learning. But it was an absolute commitment for both of us, and I've always felt honoured to wear his collar.

The lack of 'spelling it all out' has at times been difficult, particularly for me. But whatever the hardships have been along the way, I'm still his.

After ten years together, we came to a point where it was rare for him to place the now well worn and cared for leather collar around my neck.

It can also be awkward at times. Being S/switch, it can be difficult for me to clearly signal my orientation while wearing a collar. There are times when wearing such is fully appropriate, but others when it can create confusion, not for us, but for those unfamiliar with our dynamic.

So to mark those ten years, and by way of putting a 'more permanent' collar or sorts on me, over the final Ohio Leather Fest Sir happened across the appropriate token, the locking band of titanium I now wear about my wrist. Rings on tapering fingers are removed easily by comparison. The hinged bracelet must be unlocked to be removed. I consider it a stronger commitment than a wedding ring.

Now I've worn the metal band for two years. Sir holds the key. I have an 'emergencies only' key for my own safety for when he is not present. In all, I've worn forms of his collar for close to 12 years now.

On our last trip through San Francisco, we stopped by Mr. S. and found a slightly more elaborate leather collar with a locking hasp that eventually we will have occasion for. As of yet, it waits, still unworn, for that day.

As some of you have no doubt noticed by now I often find myself writing about anniversaries and how long Sir and I have been together. I often mark the passing of time, be it the seasons, or the dates that matter only to Sir and I. Likely, it has much to do with how new all of this still is to me. I've never been in a relationship that lasted a decade before.

I sometimes see workshop presenters bios in which they remark upon having been 'in the scene' for five years or such. I can't help but feel not only the length of time I've been at this (I sometimes feel like such a dinosaur!) but also the time that Sir and I have been at this together.

Don't get me wrong, I still 'buck' plenty, and doubt, and question, and feel downright exasperated at times with some of the lack of focus or definition, but I can't imagine my life without him, and without being his. I never take that light band of metal around my wrist for granted.

Marking the anniversaries is but one way of saying I'm still aware of how special, how amazing, and how new this all is to me.

Thank you, Sir.

Listening to one's body, and responsibility for safety

So this morning in the pre-dawn Sir takes me.

"Now?"

"Now."

It's the first we've been together sexually since our recent trip. All the recent medical unpleasantness is finally behind us (it's been more a long stretched out annoyance in some ways than any one thing, per se.)

We've missed one another in that way, and we're both 'hungry' for it.

We're both absolutely mid, when he pauses ever so slightly to ask how the circulation in my feet (which happen to be straight up in the air at the time, cuffed to a strap that passes behind my neck, giving me something to both push against and relax into...) are and I lose that concentration. We were close, there was a certain focus, and then he paused to check on my safety, and I can't just pick back up again.

I blurt out something like,

"fine, fine, HARDER!"

But the moment is gone.

He, on the other hand doesn't realize anything has shifted, so we fuck, and I enjoy it, (don't underestimate that, in spite of it all) and he orgasms, and we go on.

Later, I explain to him, that while yes, it's one of those right things to do, positively textbook, actually, in circumstances like that, yes, even though I am very in the moment, I'd still alert him to a problem.

Naturally, we talk about kind of the usual nonverbal 'two squeezes or taps' (he taps, I tap back) but as he points out, whether verbal or nonverbal, either can form a stepping out of the moment. It's certainly something we have done, among other nonverbal signals, but ultimately, yes even when communicating nonverbally about such things, it does take a certain presence of mind that takes me at least out of wherever it was that I was.

That doesn't mean I didn't wander around all starry-eyed, and leaning against the furniture thereafter. But up until that point I was completely in that moment, and I was sad when he accidentally took me from it.

It's a "property-brain" thing far more than any physical effect.

When I'm fully in that mindset, I don't want 'real world things' pulling me back out of that moment. If anything, though it's hardly his fault, it feels almost like an annoyance, 'of course I'm watching that!' That's part of why I speak up when I'm 'submitting'. If my hand is going to sleep, it allows me to maintain if I bring the issue to him. If things pause while he checks or such, it can become impossible to regain.

As his, it's important that I honestly let him know what's going on, and that requires I be paying attention, and 'in my own body' enough to recognize what's going on. This does not mean, however that I don't go deep into what many call "bottomspace."

Odd thing is, rather than that responsibility pulling me 'back out', I've found ways to focus on such as a way of taking myself 'deeper'.

I don't know if other 'bottoms' articulate this often, but it is a particular skill.

Letting Sir know before my hand is cramped or asleep means an ability to work longer.

It can also have to do with not wanting damage to come to something that is his. Nerve damage etc would not only get in my own way of doing what he wants, it would also mean he would not be able to enjoy use of me in the same ways, whether that be just for a time, or more permanently.

So part of this being his, is in listening to my body.

Now, do I sometimes reach that place where I'm positively non-verbal? On a good day, with a tailwind- yes, I do.

But I don't rely only on words to bring something to Sir's attention.

If we're in sync enough, I can usually express such non-verbally, and if we're not in sync enough, that alone pretty much instantly pulls me back out to a place where words can come pretty quickly. But we've been together more than a decade, now.

It probably must sound pretty odd for me to be sitting here saying 'please, no don't stop to check!' but that's precisely where I find myself.

But it's by no means a universal, it's just a dynamic the two of us in relation to one another seem to have reached.