"As you said, Beth, it is the one year anniversary of your collaring." The hand not holding my chin slides down to the edge of my leather collar, removed only once weekly during the past year to go to the grocery store. "And tonight," You say, looking deep into my eyes, "I consider this part of your training complete. Tonight," Your hand tilts my head down and I can feel Your hand at the back of my neck, undoing the collar. "I would like you to walk as My equal." I am staring my collar in Your hand, my neck feeling so very vulnerable, and I simply cannot believe what I just heard. I kneel before You in stupefied silence, and it becomes even more profound as your precious face appears before me. You are kneeling! I open my mouth to protest and You place a single finger over my lips to shush me, just as you did when I was first collared. "I said, this part of your training. You know your role. You are an excellent pet." Your hand drops from my lips to my hand. "But being a pet is not all you are worth. It is time you learned to be something… more." You smile and kiss my hand. Slowly, You stand, my hand still in Your grasp.
"Now, Beth, as you Master, I say, stand and look me in the eye. Allow me to hold you as an equal." You help me up by my hand, and I stand on shaking legs, still reluctant to raise my face to You.
You laugh softly and lean over to kiss me. Your lips meet mine and I am so terrified of doing something wrong, of displeasing You, that I can barely kiss You back. Unperturbed, you pull my trembling body close to Yours and wrap my arms around Your waist, kissing me deeper as I slowly start to respond. I can feel salty tears flowing down my cheeks.
"Shh, my sweet," You whisper into my neck, and I can feel Your breath on the skin where the collar was. If I turn my head a little, I can see that discarded strip of leather on the ground. "Shh. I never said that part of our relationship was over. Things will still be the same, when we want them to be. But I have known you for a year as a pet and a slave. I want to know you now as a woman."
You step back and look at me. "And this will never do," You say, and proceed to pull me up the stairs, to Your bedroom. I have to hold tight to Your hand and the railing for fear my legs will collapse. Gently, You sit me on the edge of the bed nearest the door, and sit next to me. "Are you ready for a surprise?" You ask, kissing the side of my neck again.
My eyes widen. Another surprise? As if the last half an hour hadn't held more than it's share. Standing, You move to Your dresser and open the top drawer. You withdraw a green silk bra and a matching pair of panties, then move onto the next drawer, pulling out a pair of jeans and a lovely green sweater. Clothes? I break into fresh tears and throw myself at Your feet. "Master," my voice is anguished, hot tears pouring down my face, "Doesn't my body please You any more?" I have only worn clothes once a week in the past year, on those same hateful days I had to remove my collar and go out to the store.
You laugh again and lean over to pick me up, standing me on my own two feet and once more stroking my face softly. Your other hand gently follows the curves of my body, relishing the smell and feel of me. "First," You say, "It is no longer Master unless I give the signal. Second," You tweak one of my already-erect nipples, "your body please Me very much, always has and always will. But you are mine, and I want to take you places. You need clothes for that, because I do not want other men's eyes on this lovely skin." One of Your hands grabs the panties off the dresser and dangles them in front of my face. "Consider them another form of collaring, if it makes it easier. Consider these clothes I bought you to be My mark and wear them with pride, as you did My collar."
You kneel before me and lift each of my feet into the legs of the panties, pulling them slowly up over my soft skin to my thighs. The silk feels strange between my legs, sliding up softly against my dripping cunt. Your hand follows them up to snug them against me, Your fingers lingering teasingly and then moving on to arrange the panties on my hips. You step back to admire Your handiwork and I stand there in a state of high tension. Not only am I terrified, I am conflicted between my need to throw myself at Your feet and beg for sex and my suddenly powerful urge to walk up to You as an equal, kiss You, as an equal, and take You to bed. As an equal.
But instead of giving me the time to do any of these things, You grab the bra off the dresser and come forward, lifting each of my arms into the straps and pushing the cups up tight against my breasts as You snap the bra in front. You smile serenely at me and kiss me again. "You're going to have to learn to do all this for yourself again, you know." I just nod my head dumbly. All these accoutrements used to feel right at home on me. Now they feel tighter and more restraining than I could ever imagine the collar or bonds feeling. You adjust the straps over my shoulders, smiling slyly at me. "You are so beautiful. So, so very beautiful, and so Mine."
Next come the jeans, stiff fabric jarring the sensitized skin of my legs. They fit perfectly. How could You have known? But then, of course, no one knows my body like You do. You dress me like a doll, carefully and meticulously. You slide the sweater over my head and smooth it to my body, undoing a top button, so some of the cleavage shows. Then, You lead me back to the bed and set me down. Going to the bathroom, You produce a brush and move over to sit behind me on the bed, pulling me close and whispering to me about love and lust and all the stages in between while You gently brush my hair. Finally, You stand and produce a new pair of expensive flats, which You slip onto my feet. I am fully dressed for the first time in a year. Even those times at the supermarket I only wore a slip over dress and pair of cheap shoes. No bra, no panties. I feel out of place in these things. But I want so much to please You, even if this is only a whim, I will go along.
I still feel the need to serve and I know that dinner must be almost done, so I request Your permission to go downstairs. I step away from the edge of the bed and move down the hall, the fabric rubbing my skin warmly, chafing softly So strange to walk down these halls, not crawl, to stand upright and wear clothes. In the downstairs and when I am cleaning up here, I can stand. When called for. But now I am standing, walking and You are following me, watching my ass sway in the new jeans, the way the sweater clings to my skin. I step uncertainly down the stairs, certain the shoes will make me fall, flat as they are. But somehow I make it down and into the kitchen, where my pot roast is perfection and the table is already set.
You let me putter around the kitchen, knowing this servile task will calm my nerves, watching me move in the unfamiliar clothes. Your eyes seem more glued to me now then when I had been naked. I keep catching Your eye and turning before You can see the smile on my face. I walk over to the table with Your plate, setting it carefully down in front of You as I have always done. "Your dinner Mas-" I catch myself, and catch a look from You. It is a pleading look not like the stern ones that meant I was going to get it if I didn't obey, I was going to be punished. This is a look of need, from You, my Master! I do not know how to deal with this. Frankly, it frightens me more than the anger.
I settle down to my customary place at Your feet with my plate and feel a small tug at my hair. I look up. "Beth," You give me the stern look. "Up to the table, please." I blush and stand up. I was so used to settling on the floor at Your feet, I did not even realize that I belong at the table now. There are going to be so many things to get used to again. I sit across from You and You smile at me over Your plate, Your glass of Chablis. You actually look proud of me.
Peering nervously down into my plate, I hope the food will just go away, because I am too nervous to eat. I see a hand in my peripheral vision, Your hand, held out to me. Placing my own in it, I look nervously up at Your face. Your eyes soothe me, and Your voice comes out in a low rumble. "Beth, I know you cannot possibly understand what all this is about right now. Give it time, it will sink in. But for now, just understand that by finding yourself again, you are pleasing Me. That is what you want, is it not?"
I smile shyly and whisper "yes, M-" and catch myself once again. The tears return. "I'm sorry, Master I just cannot bring myself to call You by the familiar name." I pull my hands away from Your s and bring them up to cover my face. I cannot look at You. Your hand touches the back of my head in the old signal of affection, and my sobbing subsides, although I still cannot move my hands from my face. Strong fingers wrap around my wrists and my hands are pulled from my face, pinned in my lap, and Your hand locks onto the back of my hair. You force my eyes to meet Yours.
