the collar is simple.
black, about an inch thick. not comfortable, or uncomfortable. not tight. not loose. you put it on me, buckle it slowly, warm fingertips against my skin. cold metal. stiff leather. I am standing. you have not said anything, it just appeared in your hands and i freeze. i am cold as you gently and carefully lift my hair to adjust it and arrange my hair on my shoulders after. i am shaking. i expect the leash, the sharp tug, the pain, my whole body is ready for it. i wait, afraid. but it doesn't come. you sit looking at me. the collar lays against my throat. simple, like a fact.
something must happen, my body is buzzing, illuminated. so i strip. directly, piece by piece, for your calm eyes. i drop my shirt, my black bra, my jeans on the floor. i stand again, naked and barefoot. you watch silently, and then look at my body and the collar. you like it, but you don't show it. i know to turn around before you even make a gesture. i lift my hair so you can see my back, the silver of the buckle and the loop. i stand still.
i hear you stand up and go to my knees right away. i kneel on my clothes and wait. i want to cross my arms, protect my body, but i don't. i open my palms at my sides and start breathing fast. i wait for the touch. i am burning.
but you walk silently past me to the bathroom and turn on the water in the tub. i hear the sound and wait. i can't bear to be away from you, but i fear to stand. so i crawl. i crawl into the bathroom, wood floor on my knees, then cool tile. you lean against the door and watch. i move slowly, my breath harsh. the collar seems like the only thing i've ever worn. but you don't come to me, don't touch.
"we're going out. help me now."
at last i have a task, so i can relax a little, although my skin shivers like it has frost on it. i go to you on my knees and raise my hands, palms up. you place then against your thighs casually, firmly. i peel your clothes off and then am very efficient. i fold them. i keep my eyes down, stay on my knees.
i help you into the bath and watch the water pour over your body. every inch. i get to eat you with my eyes. now yours are closed. i use soap, soft cloth, slowly rub it over you, like i am painting your body a different color. i love it. to get to touch you so slowly. slow, soap, rhythm, your eyes closed. i pour the perfect water over your skin. your eyes stay closed. i want to say that you are beautiful, but i cannot speak. at last i breathe one soft, "thank you" as i work. you do not respond.
i stand to dry your body--i put the towel on the radiator so it would be warm--and help you dress. this is interesting because i pick the clothes. i fear that you won't like my choices, but you are quiet, relaxed, you let me move slowly and steal little touches as i dress you. i know not to ask for too much. as soon as you are dressed, you move fast and suddenly for the first time. you walk from me, and throw a black dress on the bed, small, stretchy, i'd usually wear it with pants. you throw my black boots on top.
"just that. nothing else. and get out here."
we go out to a bar. when we get there, you lead me to the bar, one hand on the small of my back. i lean against it and you adjust my hair so it falls behind my back, not in front of my breasts. it is loud. i am self-conscious in the short, tight dress, but it is busy, and only the men near me let their eyes flicker over my heavy breasts--not big, but prominent--straining against the black cotton.
you get me a drink. a manhattan, one cherry. strong for me. i lean next to you, we look at the room. the collar could not even be noticed here--it could look like jewelry. i drink. it is strong. i start to relax. you are quiet some, you talk to the bartender, to a girl and her boyfriend next to us. you feel gentle and strong next to me.
i smell you every now and then when you lean over. my nipples are hard. i like the drink, i like people looking. i am getting comfortable. i pick up my glass and drain it. the second i set it down on the bar your hand quickly reaches for the collar and i hear a snap. my stomach lurches as you adjust the length of the leash around your wrist. in public? i am covered with a cold sweat. everything is blurry. you step away from the bar and give the leash a short sharp tug. the people near us see and look away, or look closer. i stumble. you don't wait. i catch up, walking quickly at your side to the back of the bar. more people stare--my face burns. the leash is slack as i walk by your side. we get to the hallway by the washrooms, loud, dirty, a long hall--i wonder where we are going. i say, "where . . ."
and you shove me against the wall. i gasp. you press my shulders back and say, "don't move." i don't. you pull down on the neck of the dress, so that more of my breasts are exposed. i am shuddering. i say, "please touch me . . ." you smile. for the first time all night. you say, "i think you're ready, my beauty."
and then, "down."
i am confused, i hesitate, it is loud, dirty, seems crowded, i am afraid.
"down. NOW."
i kneel clumsily and wait. you stand in front of me. you pull up on the collar and i raise my chin. you say, 'lick your lips." i do it. you pull down again on the dress. then you evaluate me. you reach down slowly and pinch both nipples through the dress, feeling them harden like stones. i whimper and pull back. you roll them between your fingers roughly. i am wet. you look steadily at my eyes and torment my nipples. when you decide i'm ready, you lean against the wall next to me. relaxed. my knees on the dirty floor, the dress riding up, nothing under it. breasts aching and pushing against the fabric.
i wait, tense, keeping my breasts pushed out like you like them.
you wait.
a washroom door opens.
he comes out of the washroom loudly, hand against the wall. young guy, drunk, blonde, athletic. he pauses a second as he sees me on my knees. you say, "hey." he greets you casually, a little uncertain. almost walks by. you make a joke, he laughs, i can't really hear. male voices above me, both laughing a little. you say, "show your tits, honey. show this guy what you've got." i am still, my heart beating fast. he's nervous too, but waits--you might be joking, but there I am, on my knees. i feel the loop of the leash gently between my shoulder blades. it makes me startle and push my breasts forward. you say, "go on. you want to see 'em, right?" the guy says, "uh, yeah . . . "