I’m covered in bees and c’s

Except for that dommely period in my life (see interesting experiment), I’ve had a collar of some way, shape or form since 2005. My collars have always been metal and have had varying degrees of difficulty in getting them on and off, with my first collar winning the medal for most-stubborn-bastard-of-a-collar due to the fact that you almost needed a jeep and a winch to pull that thing apart.

In my hardcore days of 24/7 collar-wearing, which were most of the first 6 years, I used to tie the ‘o’ ring to the collar with a hairband when I went to gym so I (a) didn’t drive everyone in the room crazy with the jangling and (b) didn’t self-inflict bruises (you can nearly take an eye out with a wantonly loose ‘o’ ring!) I wore it to work, I wore it to the pool, the chiropractor, everywhere, all the time, then I got a ‘real’ job and M started to allow me to take it off to go to work.

My conditions for being allowed to take it off to go to work at the moment are that I immediately put it on when I get home – and to be more specific, put it on within the first five minutes of getting home every night. I failed in this respect a few times and had some attitude adjusting cane strokes last Sunday.

I get into trouble 99% of the time because of my logical brain that needs appropriateness and sense in everything I do. This is the part of me that I find almost impossible to switch off and it’s also the part of me that stops blind obedience, which is what you need a healthy dose of if you’re trying to be a good slave. 

When I get home past 8pm at night and I eat, have a bath and am in bed before 10pm, I don’t really see the ‘logic’ in putting on my collar, only to wake up the next morning at oh-my-god-it’s-too-early-o’clock to fumble bleary-eyed with an allen key undoing my collar so I can go to work. It just doesn’t compute with my brain. And because I’m the one who is responsible for putting the collar on and taking it off, I’m not ‘stealing’ his pleasure in not putting it on, I’m just doing the ‘logical’ thing because I’ll have to remove it myself in a few hours anyway and he’ll barely even get to see it. 

It all makes perfect sense to me, but not to M. In his world, no collar on neck=cane on ass. It’s as simple as that. It’s just another example of Master knows best, regardless of what the one with the collar around her neck thinks.

I used to have a problem with putting on and taking off my own collar but I’ve grown out of that needy phase of my slavery recently and have learned to be okay with it. I guess along with that I’ve also grown out of the ‘collar lust’ I used to have, in that I still know I’m a slave even without a lump of metal around my neck. I also might add here that my cunt full of metal is also meant to be a ‘collar’ of sorts, so even without the one around my neck, I’ve still got enough metal to remind of what I am 24/7. Apparently, a girl can never have enough metal on her though and there will come a day of his choosing when I will get a few more pieces of metal to add to my collection. When that day does come, I’m just praying that my body will cooperate and it won’t be a healing & rejection fiasco like my piercings generally are. Maybe if I start praying now I’ll earn enough brownie points to actually make it happen with the powers that be.




4 thoughts on “I’m covered in bees and c’s

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  1. I, too, once had that “needy” thing about putting on my own collar and taking it off — during that phase, I felt sure that doing it myself was equivalent to “pretending” to be a slave. I have probably not worn my collar at all in the last year. It languishes in the bottom of my jewelry box. I doubt He notices or cares. What I have found is that my slavery endures regardless of the fact that there is no metal around my neck. Can’t put that on or take it off it seems. Perhaps one day, the collar will again be something that He wants me to wear, and that I will likely put on and take off, much as you do. For now, I have just about quit thinking about it.


    1. Touching toys and putting on/undoing my own restraints also used to be a big psychological thing for me – it all just rubbed me up the wrong way. Now I’m okay with it.
      Like you, I don’t really know if he ‘cares’ whether I actually wear my collar or not, it’s more the disobedience factor involved that I guess forces him to feel the need to punish me.

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