The Slave Collared.

So, Friday night, we went to the lovely and upscale little sex shop and leather goods emporium to procure Ella her collar. As I wrote before, she is so petite (her throat measures 31cm), that finding a collar has been difficult. We looked last a few weeks ago, to no avail, at a different shop. I had had my heart set on a lovely collar with a locking loop. But such was not to be. All of the collars with that particular feature were far too large, or had inelegant spikes or studs which reflected neither my sensibilities nor Ella’s elegant charm.

But after many trials, and a somewhat nosy and overly-helpful shop assistant’s intrusions, a lovely, simple red collar. While it doesn’t have a locking loop, the nosy shop assistant did show me how to thread a lock through the buckle and an unused perforation to lock the collar around her neck. It’s not a perfect solution, and I may still have one made at The Collar Factory, just for variety’s sake.

But for now, my Ella looks sublime in her collar, which she’s worn pretty much nonstop since then when we’re alone. I’ll write this week about the reasons I don’t require her to wear it in public. For a girl who’s never worn a collar before, she’s taken to it with alacrity. Even having no trouble sleeping in it. She also discovered its more utilitarian purposed when I tied her cuffs to the collar with a short loop of clothesline, limiting her hands to excursions no further than a foot from her breasts, and ordered her to make the bed. An exciting exercise in domination and forced-ingenuity which left her dripping wet and begging to be fucked.

And now for our big Sunday. We’re going to a fancy-dress event. So before hand, I’m going to tie her up, shave her, torture her, fuck her, and then I’m going to put the other gift I got her this week around her neck: a sapphire pendant on an ultra-fine platinum chain, and she’ll put on her brand new black dress, and I’ll put on my brand new grey suit, and we’ll go to our event. And no one will be the wiser that this elegant and rapturous beauty is my own collared, willing slave.

-The Refined Dominant

Awaiting Her Master’s Claim.

Today is a special day.

To be clear, any day in the presence of my master is a thrilling one – terrible but wonderful, always brimming with joy and ecstasy, whether derived from a gentle, soulful declaration of his claim or an aggressive, fervent stake.

Today, though, carries a bit more anticipation. There’s the usual excitement of being reunited with my darling Rafe after far too many hours apart, the promise of the bounty of pleasures and torments that will leave me dripping wet and, ultimately, utterly satisfied. Even this ardor is amplified, though, as my master has forbidden me from pleasuring myself for days – and this is an order I dare not disobey. This week I must wait for my master’s touch. That alone would be enough to feed my expectation and desire. But there’s something more.

Today is the day I take my master’s collar. Today, after I am back in his grasp, after I have brought him release and yet remain deprived of my own, we will go in search of my collar. He, irrepressibly delighted, will lead me, suddenly bashful, into a fabulous shop we’ve visited in the past. We will find the array of collars it offers. He will ask me what I like, and I will find it nearly impossible to speak. And then, one by one, he will place those strips of leather around my neck, checking the fit and the look. There, before any who might observe us, I will tacitly confess his dominion over me.

I do not know if he will do it there in public, immediately after making our purchase, or whether he will wait until we are back in his home and I am stripped bare. But tonight, he will clasp that collar around my neck. It will stand there as a testament of my submission to him, of his control. But it will also serve as a symbol of his devotion and protection of his precious slave, of my desire and adoration for my beloved master. It will be more than a progression of our sexual explorations; it will be an emblem of our ever-deepening intimacy.

Then, and only then, will my master relent and offer the relief of orgasm – and then possibly the torment of many more.

For now, though, I wait. The anticipation builds. And I pray that I do not tumble over the edge of madness before receiving my master’s reward.

– The Elegant Submissive

A Short Fantasy.

It’s been a difficult day. Nothing is right at work. He loves his job and works with good people. But good people sometimes clash, and today they did. Everyone wants what’s best for the institution. They all have different ideas about what that is. He’s exhausted from arguing for his vision. He sits on the train on the way home, thinking of what is waiting for him there.

She had the day off from work. Their various institutions observe different holidays. She’s been home writing. He’s told her when to expect him, and what do do when he arrives. She has said, as she always does, “Yes, sir.” Lost in her efforts, she starts when the chime on her phone rings. She set it so as not to forget her task. The alarm means she has ten minutes to prepare.

She strips and quickly shaves any roughness from her pussy, she gathers up her collar and cuffs. She is not allowed to put them on or take them off. But she will have them ready for him. She puts out the memory foam mat on the floor of the foyer. She lays the instruments of her bondage on the floor, along with the crop and a blindfold. And then she kneels on the mat, naked and dripping, touches her forehead to the floor, stretches out her arms in front of her, and waits for his arrival.

He opens the door to find her waiting exactly as instructed. He walks past, doffs his jacket and shoes, sets down his bag, and returns to her, lifting her, placing the collar around her throat and the cuffs on her wrists. He blindfolds her and leads her into the living room, still on her knees, prodding her with a few well aimed snaps of the crop on her perfectly toned ass.

“I had a perfectly miserable day, my darling. Time for you to make it better.”

She needs no more instructions. They are clear. She reaches up to unzip his trousers, pulls him free. She gently pulls his scrotum out of the aperture as well, and begins licking and sucking his balls, while stroking his shaft with her long, elegant fingers. He runs his hand through her hair and tugs this way or that at the ring on her collar from time to time. But his intention is clear.

Very little improves his confidence and mood like his naked slave girl, kneeling and blindfolded, sucking his cock until he rewards her by coming in her mouth. She gratefully swallows him.

He gathers his breath. “Good girl. I needed that. Now, let’s get those wrists shackled and see about dinner.”

– The Refined Dominant

Her First Spanking.

When I first met my dear Refined Dominant, I had not the slightest inkling of the places he would take me, how much pleasure I would find there – or how much I’d learn about myself and my deepest desires.

A girl from a conservative upbringing in a conservative town, even though I’d moved and changed over years, I retained much of the timidity. I maintained walls and masks. Long responsible for my own pleasure, my sexuality was stifled. I thought myself a wholly unsatisfying lover.

When I first met Rafe, though, I felt an immediate and profound connection, a sense of honesty and openness that I’d never experienced. And from our first sexual rendezvous, there was incredible excitement and intimacy such as I had never known. He made an indelible first impression. Finally in the privacy of the bedroom, he commented on my soft, flimsy V-neck tee, “This is a nice shirt. Is it special?” The negative response had barely escaped my lips before he replied, “Oh good” and ripped it from my body in a perfect show of strength, a certain raw elegance.

But, oh, that… that was just the beginning. My darling Rafe began to introduce me, ever so gently and thoughtfully, to new ways of play and new aspects of sexuality. I was – and even occasionally now remain – slightly embarrassed to admit just how much I enjoyed the punishments, the pain, the sacrifice of power.

Just a few weeks after we started seeing each other, Rafe was visiting a town just a short train ride from my city of residence. He invited me to join him for the weekend, though he’d be there for just one night. It had been a fun but exhausting day – reunion at the hotel and a salutatory fuck before the day’s multitude of festivities.

We returned to his hotel room after dinner. He almost immediately stripped me bare. But he did not move to do the same for himself. Instead he turned me around and bent me over, my breasts pressed into the impossibly white linens, my ass presented to my master. One hand on my back, he ran the other gently over my ass. Then he removed it. When it returned, it was with a sting. The process repeated. The slaps became more forceful. His wordless vocalizations made his pleasure abundantly clear. I voiced a meek protest of the pain.

“Spankings are supposed to hurt,” he answered. “But let’s see what you really think.” He slid his hand down and two fingers deep inside me. “Hmm. Would you look at that? I think you like it. You’re practically dripping.” Another few smacks, and then his hand between my legs. “Every time I spank you, you just get wetter.”

I could not deny it. My body betrayed my true state. I liked it. Every strike aroused me further. My ass stung from the impact of his hand, but my clit tingled with anticipation for the next spank. It was my first exploration of my connection to punishment for the sake of pleasure. I still do not fully comprehend how and why pain can be so incredibly exhilarating. But now I accept that it is, and I am thrilled to continue this journey, finding new bounds of sexual excitement under the tutelage of my patient master.

– The Elegant Submissive

Her First Collar.

I suppose it’s appropriate that the beginning of this blog coincides with the decision to acquire a collar for the Elegant Submissive. As she and I begin this journey, we invite the reader to share in our exploration. To experience the joy we feel in our deepening intimacy and the profound connection we feel that blooms from the trust and affection required for a mutually nourishing BDSM relationship.

She’s simply beautiful. Crystal-blue eyes with flecks of green verging on iridescence. Hair perched on the rail between blond and auburn, tumbling in long, loose curls to the middle of her back. And oh, her back. My adorable little slave is a runner, and a fitness junkie. Her cream-colored skin taut over tightly toned muscle. Peach-sized breasts capped with puckered red nipples. And of course, a delectable, glabrous little pussy as tempting as a fresh fig.

From our first flirtations with spanking in hotel rooms, to our current explorations of bondage and power exchange, we have slowly and carefully advanced this facet of our sexuality, while not neglecting other aspects. We have discovered the Elegant Submissive’s rather intoxicating fondness for pain, especially when focused on her breasts. Her excitement at being bound, helpless, and subject to my desires. Our discovery that forced orgasms with the Hitachi magic wand leave her exhausted, unmade, and deeply satisfied.

And so we are beginning to look for her first collar. It’s a trifle difficult, because my darling slave’s throat is minuscule. We spent last weekend looking for collars at a leather shop, but they were all disappointingly over sized. We want a black leather band, with a D-ring for a leash, and a locking buckle. Perhaps with a red lambskin stripe.

My excitement when I tell her to crawl on all fours, blindfolded, to come find my cock and please me with her mouth until I tell her she’s finished is difficult to describe. The idea of that same slave, lithe and sinuous, crawling collared at the end of my leash is almost perfectly arousing. She is the embodiment of every fantasy for me. And I exalt her for it.

We won’t be able to look again for collars, due to scheduling fiascos, until next weekend. But I am already conjuring the images of her, in the store, being ever-so-slightly humiliated as I buckle each candidate around her neck. Right there in public. Laying claim to her, my precious captive. My own collared slave.

-The Refined Dominant