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laineyjade -> donkey (8/8/2010 6:40:00 PM)
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Ever since I found the "lifestyle" online in my early 20's, collars have always been a Big Deal. They were always ornate or special, expensive, personally designed, symbolic, beautiful. Some of them were made of precious metals or had jewels in them. Some were one-of-a-kind designed by the master himself and hand-made by a jeweler. Some were engraved with beautiful phrases. Some were taken right out of a fantasy world such as Gor. Most were put on the slave's neck amidst special ceremonies resembling kinky weddings. All were extremely, well, meaningful.
Yeah, but what did my master first collar me with? An old, mildewed clothes line that he'd found in the back yard. Yes, he simply tied an old rope around my neck without a word, and that, girls, was that. You'd think he couldn't afford to buy the dog a new nylon collar and give me the ratty old one around the dog's neck as a hand-me-down.
But before you feel sorry for me, I have a weird thing with collars. I'd feel a bit too "special" with a fancy collar and a collaring ceremony. I'd feel.....well, vanilla. Like a bride. Like it's a wedding ring with a mild BDSM flavour. And I do not like that feeling.
I want to be a lowly slave. An object. I want to be treated like an adopted stray animal. This is fulfilling and erotic to me. I had never felt so....sexy, thrilled, heart-poundingly alive as when he carelessly tied that filthy old rope around my neck. Isn't that peculiar?
And now I'm chained more or less permanently with a 27-cent ordinary hardware store stainless steel chain around my neck, whose "clasp" is a wire key ring. And even this is nearly fancy and meaningful enough to make me feel a bit ill at ease. I mean it is new and shiny and I might feel better if it were tarnished or found in a vacant lot.
I want to be.....unimportant. Just a slave. Nothing to make a fuss over. I feel as bizarre being made a fuss over as if I saw a guy having a ceremony upon acquiring a new donkey. That would be absurd. I feel the same type of absurdity about Master making a fuss over me. I want to be lowly. I wish to be divested of the status of a woman.
That doesn't mean I don't want to be loved and cared for. One can, after all, love and care for one's donkey. One can appreciate one's donkey for the loads it carries, if it's a working donkey, or for the companionship and amusement it provides, if it's just a pet. I have the same needs for affection and intense intimacy as most healthy slaves. In fact I am downright clingy. But I cannot tolerate that love being romantic, or as an equal. I need a different loving. But still...can you imagine the absurdity of an owner fussing over the mystical significance of his donkey's bridle?
So anyway, that's my preferred status: donkey with an old rope bridle. Not a...hmm, a precious angel with a special collar.
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