You come to me and kneel. You hand me the collar, the collar that I have given you: my collar, leather and steel, the engraving claiming you as my property.
“Please Ma’am, will you put your collar on me?”
It makes me smile every time you ask me, every single time, it makes me melt, it brings you close, sometimes I reach to kiss you, and always, I say “Yes”.
I put the collar around your neck as you kneel before me, you lean down, bring your face into my lap and you rest there, your skin warm against me, waiting for me to affix the clasp, to close the padlock. You feel it slip into place, hear it click shut and you raise your face to me, all soft and open affection, your eyes a question mark, sweetly hoping for a kiss.
And tonight, for the first time, you have to put it on yourself, my collar, and I am happy that you have it and I love that you will wear it, and I am heartbroken that I am not there to put it around your neck.
You ask me, “Please Ma’am, may I put your collar on?” and it makes me melt and it makes me so intensely sad, and I feel something crack a little.
“Yes, baby, yes, put it on…”