Awesome Badass Womanly Strength

Cause lets face it, Ani Difranco ushered me into dykedom...

I had my first beat down scene as a collared woman.

In September, Sara returned from an IMSL trip to San Francisco with a new collar; a titanium piece can be closed with a small metal screw. I had been wearing a choker collar for the months, a simple chain with tiny cuffs that Sara called my collar-in-training. I’d gotten accustom to being able to play with my collar, to take it off during showers and play with it when I got bored.

But this new collar is different. It is solely controlled by my lady and it’s a different feeling. It’s uncomfortable, hard to sleep in and I can’t take it off unless I ask permission. And I’m super conscious of it. I look in the mirror, feeling elegant and controlled by the thick silver that rests on my neck but I feel owned, like a possession. And of course, this is the point – to be collared is to belong to someone fully and since I’ve started wearing it, the D/s in our relationship has been pumped up a notch.

In the house, I’m required to call Sara “Ma’am.” The request isn’t foreign or unreasonable;  I am learning that many submissives  call their lady’s “Ma’am.” But as much as I love submission, I also resist it. I’m an only child, I’m a control freak and sometimes, just to feel safe, I can be a bit distant, especially back home in NYC. So following directions, taking orders and fully submitting – heart, body and soul – is my training and it’s something I desire to master for myself, my lady and for our committed relationship (which tends to take on a life of its own).

With a new collar and a bit more discipline brings more work on myself as a submissive to master obedience as a gift to my lady. I am starting to discover that my anxiety subsides when I take an order and when I receive a reward. I suppose you could say I’m being clicker trained with Starbursts but they are a treat for following through with a direction. Even so, my new collar has still been feeling uncomfortable – physically and psychologically.

I asked Sara if I could wear it to events only and if I could go back to my training collar. She said I had to wear it to Queer Invasion and then after, we could talk about switching back to the cuff chain as my “daytime collar.”

In planning for QI play dates, I made the mistake of telling Sara and Rider to surprise me with a scene. I should have known it would be a brutal, beat down by a pair of sappy sadists and maybe in the back of my mind I did, but in the moment I had no idea that I was asking for a hurtin’. A drive to Connecticut and a snowstorm later, I am in the Society space getting my first beating – a scene directed by my lady. I literally became the punching bag, surprised that my body could continue to take the blows. I’ve never even really been punched before much less in a fist fight. I never think I’m strong enough or brave enough, but trusted Sara to show me that strength I often doubt in myself.

Several purple and red arm and chest bruises are proving that I am a lot braver then I thought. Their colors are changing some ugly hues and after three days, I can finally fully lift my achy arms. Those bruises are about as ugly as the fears and doubt I have about my strength but every time I say something negative about myself, Sara pushes on my bruises – hard – and tells me that I really am a good writer and lover and friend. And the pain subsides and I can hear her clearly enough to start believing my awesome, bad-ass, womanly strength.

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