I slept in my play collar last night. Collars are hot in play, and sexy as hell; they are a lovely way to formalize the transition from one state of being (partners, lovers, friends) to another (D/s, kink partners, owned and Owner); but there is a feeling of security in sleeping in collar that is above and outside all that, somehow – the feel of the buttery leather encircling my throat; of his hand, straying to it all through the night; the reminder, even in my sleep, of all that has gone before and that continues to be: that I am his.

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