Harsh Words

Lying next to me, his fingers trail around my body.

“I have to admit, I fucking love looking at the marks on your body.” For the first time, I look down, my eyes going wide. There are bite marks all over my skin, red marks from where the whip had hit me, and cuts from the rope.

While I should be disgusted, I smile. It will be a reminder of tonight, a reminder of us being totally free to explore but, mostly, it shows that I am not free for anyone else to have. His hands begin rubbing the cream on my body like he always does, quietly just watching me as he does.

“I want to collar you.” His words throw me. I look up, knowing what he means, but unsure how it will work. I read about collaring, a ritual or ceremony where the Dom collars his Submissive, Slave or Brat.

It shows she is his, and it symbolises the transfer of power from a submissive to a Dom. While I have no issues with this, I’m not so keen on wearing the collar around my own family, so before I agree, I need to know how mu