After four years, there are things that you do regardless of whether you wear the shiny thing or not. I guess they just become a part of life, a part of me when the line between ‘kitten’ and ‘me’ is more opaque than solid.
Like last night I decided to make dinner wearing an ”outfit”. It used to be that I did ‘slave greetings’ on the days when I was home before M and I’d wear an outfit or just be naked and in boots. I’d kneel with my head down just inside the door so when he came home, I could greet him properly as his slave. Since I’m no longer a slave, I didn’t think the greeting would be appropriate, so I went for the ‘sexy cooking’ scenario instead.
I was going for a maid-look but somehow ended up with wanton hussy with my boobs hanging out of a black pvc top, a little black ballet skirt and thigh-high pvc boots. For the first time in four years I wore something because I wanted to, not because it was expected, and it felt nice for a change.
That’s the thing about the collar – wearing it means you’ve got this whole list of expectations to live up to. Not only expectations from the one who owns you, but also from the people around you. I mean, you see someone in a collar and you expect them to do certain things, right? You expect them to be submissive, to have ouchie things done to them, to be appropriately respectful and so on and so forth.
My belief about collars was that they were supposed to give you the freedom to be who you really were. I know people generally talk about the ‘freedom in slavery’, but in my case, the collar was forcing me be something I wasn’t. I found it stifling and restricting.
Not physically, of course. After four years of having it around your neck 24/7 and going through the doctor’s appointments, the dental x-rays, airport security, gym sessions, swimming with whale sharks and everything else I did with it on, you get used to the noise, the weight, the discomfort and the realities of it all. Physically wearing it really didn’t bother me, but the implications of wearing it did bother me. A whole lot.
I guess because it was there for all to see: around my neck, difficult to hide, and carrying a whole lot of meaning to those who knew what it was and even to those who suspected.
On the other hand, my rings aren’t things that are easily seen.
M said he wanted them to stay in. They might mean something slightly different to him than they do to me now, but honestly I’m okay with them. If they still gave me pain it would be a completely different matter; I’d be hauling my ass down to the piercer’s quicker than you could say, “Is wonder woman invisible in her invisible plane?!?” But ever since I took out that nasty one in the middle, my crotch has been blissfully pain-free and if truth be told, since they’ve settled down I’ve gained a new appreciation of them. Silver rings really can have a silver lining 🙂
M thinks I’m scared and that’s why I’ve rejected slavery. He thinks that because I hate to fail at anything, I’m removing the chance that I might fail before I even have to face it. He thinks that I’m scared about what he wants to do to me in the future and that’s why I’ve retreated to my ‘comfort zone’ where I don’t have to face the thought of failing as a slave by not being able to submit to what he wants.
I think that if I was truly secure in my slavery and convinced that that ‘s what I was and there wasn’t anything else I could be, I wouldn’t be scared. Like when I first had my labia rings done. My belief in my place and status as slave got me over the wall of fear and allowed me to submit to what he wanted.
I couldn’t imagine ever submitting to anything like that now. I don’t have that support, that unwavering belief that would get me through. So I guess you could say the thought of what he wants to do scares me a lot, but it scares me because I’ve rejected slavery.
The rejection is not the result of the fear, but what brings about the fear.
(I think I just hurt my head coming to that conclusion. Can you tell I’ve had a little too much time to think over the past couple of days?? lol…)
Oh and just as a last tid-bit, M also thinks that I’m going through a ‘phase’ and that eventually I’ll come around.
(Don’t you just love NOOH’s (non-owning other halves) and their optimistic outlooks? 🙂 )
But thanks everyone for your messages of support and concerns. I’m actually really good. I’ve been sleeping better and haven’t binged on food (which is a classic sign I’m stressed) for a whole week! Yay!
The only way is up?