Excerpts, Inherent

It was my intention to post NE’s entire letter regarding our recent scene.

I won’t. Her honesty in the letter burns through me and it is something I want to savor for a while yet.

But I will share a few excerpts.

***

If you’ve been reading my writing for very long, you will know I have a fascination with throats. A place of vulnerability. Of warmth. I am most often content to let my will be the collar that binds. Representation of this will can come in many forms – a slave bracelet, a choker – a look.

But I wanted something more substantial for this scene. To embrace it with an idea – to encircle it with a presence – to entrust it to leather existence as a physical reminder.

“I remember you put the collar on.

The feeling is incomparable to anything I know. Fucking black, thick leather. Not too tight, not too loose. It was just tight enough that when I bent my head back I could feel it constrict like your hand does. I was surprised that it matched my neck that way. Nonetheless, you did put your hand on my neck during this scene more often than you have lately. I remember that I kept falling into it.”

…a collar around the neck is not quite enough. You must be marked. Often my mark is in the ache of my attention, both in pleasure and pain; the echoes of teeth on nipples, a neck sore from being held so tightly. But there are times something more visceral is required…

“I remember standing with my back to you. I was…wait, I don’t know what I was wearing…but I felt sexy and open. My ass was bare, and you started kissing it. Then you said that you were going to leave marks on me today and that I would have to be strong. I love a fucking challenge. I imagined marks all over me. You taking your time and giving each one to me purposefully, making me wait for it. You bit me hard. I still have the bruise. But I didn’t jump; instead, and I don’t do this often, I just luxuriated in the pain. I knew at that moment you could have taken me very far that day…turns out that you did, but in a completely different way than I was thinking of at that moment. Then you just rubbed your warm hands over it and every time you did, I felt a pulse in my body, in my clit. The moments I live for…”

…and the place of truth. I grip fully, my hands on the back of your shoulders, throwing you forward.

“I remember being told to get dressed. I did. I remember you handing back each piece of my jewelry that you took off. I remember waiting for you to take off the collar, except that I knew you wouldn’t. I knew it. You had warned me during the last scene that I would be wearing it out. I know you, but still a part of me couldn’t believe that you would do it. You did. We went out.”

“…but having said all of this, it did make it easier. I wouldn’t have dared order my own food. I took your pulling me across the table by my collar to talk to me without question. It made it easier.”

And to NE’s unasked question, not seen here – you did not fail. These are not the sorts of tests that you can fail at. For you to fail as a submissive, is for me to fail as well (as the hand that guides you).

But if you are looking for a passing grade, then look no further than that first step out the door with my collar around your throat.