You take your clothes off.
You kneel.
You do not make eye contact.
You have come to beg for me to put a collar on you because you so desperately want to feel like mine.
You know what happens when the collar is on. It means that you will do anything that I say without hesitation or question. It means I own you. It means you’re my bitch.
You beg. Your eyes cast down, all you can see is my ankles, my feet in my heels.
When I am unmoved, you bring your forehead to my feet, groveling. You know this pleases me, to see you make yourself pathetic, to show me how needy you are.
You feel my heel on the back of your neck, digging in to your skin and your cock starts to get hard. You know if you turn your head now and look up, you could see my whole leg, all the way up my skirt. But you wouldn’t dare.
My heel comes off your neck. You hear each step as I walk away. Your forehead is on the floor. You are naked on your knees. Hoping. Straining to hear any clue.
You hear a drawer open. You’re getting excited. If I put your collar on, you will have all my attention. You will serve me. You will be used. You hear a clink of metal. Then the drawer closes, my footsteps get louder. Without seeing me you know I am smiling that smile. You know I love seeing you on your knees, desperate.
“Kneel up,” I say.
You lift your torso and head from the floor and rise up on your knees. Your eyes are level with my pussy. You cannot see it through my skirt, but you can feel its heat so close to your face. And you remember that one time…that one time so long ago… when you were so good you were allowed to lick it. You crave that taste.
You let out a little whine. Like a dog, eager to go on its walk.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Please collar me, Miss Kate,” you say.
“Why?”
“I need to be yours. I need to be used.” Your voice is desperate. Your cheeks flush. Sometimes you cannot believe the things you will do for me. But you don’t care anymore. You surrendered your pride a long time ago.
I lean forward and you feel my breasts brush your hair as I secure the collar on your neck. I stand upright.
“Look at me,” I say.
You look up at my statuesque body. You are overwhelmed at the intensity of our eye contact.
“Crawl,” I say. “Slowly.”
You drop to all fours and slowly start to crawl, turning your ass to me. You know I like to see your balls between your legs, your asshole exposed to the air as your crawl around like a dog. You can feel precum dripping from your throbbing cock. You were a good boy and followed the rules. You’ve been edging yourself for the past week, but you haven’t cum. Your balls feel so heavy.
“Heel,” I say.
Without hesitation, you crawl back to me. This time, sitting like a dog at the side of my right leg. You used to hate protocol. You used to resist doing as you were told. You used to try to get your way. But by now you’ve learned…there is no way except mine. And the protocol serves its purpose: you can feel yourself going to that place – that sub space – where you become a mindless toy. Pretty soon, you’ll be powerless. Pretty soon, you’ll be free.