Collars, in plain sight
by Parker Dupris
When I’m out and about, every now and then I’ll catch sight of a young woman wearing a choker necklace. You know the kind – instead of hanging like a traditional necklace the choker wraps around her throat. The choker is more than a little reminiscent of a collar.
Of course, this sets my imagination rolling.
I didn’t realize this was a thing until I read someone’s similar take on this. I thought it was just my pervy imagination toying with me, but apparently that’s not the case. And that’s delicious.
I can’t see a girl wearing one and not imagine that she’s some dominant’s owned little toy. She is going about her regular life presenting as a vanilla girl, but one with a secret. People who know what to look for can guess at this secret and suddenly the barista, the bank teller, or the girl next to you on the train has a whole new depth. Her secret is this: she’s submissive, and has been taken in hand. Someone who ( presumably ) knows what their doing has taken this young lass, collared her, and is in the process of training her to be his sweet little fucktoy.
This choker is there to remind her in public, in a symbolic way, that she’s property. In a consensual, yummy sense of course. She might be whipping up your double-frap-whoop-tee-doo or verifying your IRA balance at this moment, but in two hours maybe she’ll be closing the door behind her, without a word stripping down nude, placing her real “working” collar on, and waiting patiently for her Master to arrive home and inspect her.
Maybe once she’s kneeling, she’ll snap a selfie to send to him, all art of the ritual and to verify she’s a good girl. No matter; she’ll likely get spanked for something when he gets home. But it won’t be because she forgot to send the “got home and am waiting” pic.
All this is going through my mind when I see her, out in public.
I also automatically look for thumb rings, because that’s what I’ve done in the past with girls I’ve had a similar arrangement with.
As she smiles at me, I wonder if she has a plug up her ass, something reminding her constantly of her status, keeping her sexuality on edge during her daily life, so that its exploration can be resumed when the two of them are together again.
These objects, these rituals, that’s what they are – constant reminders for her of what she she, her place in the universe as a sexual, sensual object undergoing training and striving for perfection in the the eyes of herself and her owner. And also maybe as an edgy sort of tease, one the dominant is almost certainly aware of and hopefully took care to explain to his little toy:
“Some of the men and women you see during your day will know what this means. they will know what you are, my sweet little pet. They will guess at what you do, and they will spend some moments imagining you doing it. To some faceless master, or to me. Have a good day…”
Of course, it was silly to think I was the only one imagining all this. We’re all way more pervy than we let on, aren’t we?