A collar, to me, is just a symbol.
NE’s first ‘real’ collar was a many-layered black- beaded necklace. Her second was a more traditional leather adornment with a D ring onto which I can attach a leash. But there are other collars she has worn. There is an amethyst bracelet I bought for her many years ago. Why do I consider this a collar? Because when she wears it, I know both her and I are thinking the same thing. This is something he has given to me, a physical representation of that part of me that belongs to him. She wears it to tease, to appease, and above all, to please me.
In the end, however, it is my hand that makes the most effective collar, when my fingers are wrapped so tightly around her throat I can feel each breath she takes.
Just a symbol? Perhaps. But some symbols have the strength of one thousand pairs of hands.
I do so love my collar, but his words, his deeds, his dominance are the true tether.