the life and musings of a kinky slut


I was nervous, terrified even. I was going to try this, going to let myself go to a place where I didn’t know how I would react.

I talked about it with him first.

“For our scene, could you do something for me? Could you take off my necklace?”

With all of the emotions wrapped up in the simple piece of chainmail (my expectations for myself, my incessant need for freedom, to the point where I claim ownership of myself), I wanted to know what it would feel like to take it away.

Put down the armour. Let go. Be free, exposed actually. To be adrift, but almost in a comforting way. To open myself up for possibility.

So I asked, and he said yes.

But, there were two conditions. His taking off of the necklace was only for the scene, only for the experience that night. Also, he would not put it back on me. I wholeheartedly agreed to both his terms.

This was me sticking my toe into the water. This was me opening up to the possibility, to the idea, to the thought of power exchange. This was me letting go, letting the idea in, letting myself be open and vulnerable, naked, exposed like I had not been before.

I trusted Gray. I knew this try, this action, was without commital, without the big scary idea of really delving into the power exchange pool. Just a toe in the water.

I had been scared to ask him but did so anyway. When he said yes, a new fear sunk it. How would I feel? What would happen when my necklace was gone?

We started our scene as we often do. I placed my bootblacking kit by the side of my mat. I stripped for him.

Then he turned me around and had me kneal down. His fingers tickled the top of my neck.

He had trouble initially finding where the metal unhooked. But then I felt the brush, the tell tale motion that he’d undone the necklace. It lightly fell away, sliding down my skin and off my body.

My eyes watered. A wave of ease settled over me. I felt lighter. It was, of all things, a release. It was as if my necklace, the metal, had been weighing me down.

I think it was the idea, the incessant need to be free, independent, to own myself because no one else would. The idea that I had to guard myself from the world, had to protect myself from being taken. Yet, instead, it was as if I was holding myself back, holding my feelings, my desires in.

Gray handed my necklace back to me when the evening ended. It stayed in my pocket for the rest of my London trip and has stayed in my pocket, whether at work or home, ever since.

I know eventually I will put it back on. Eventually I will want it back around my neck. Maybe during my next event (my last one for the year). Maybe one random day when I want the feel of the metal against my skin.

My necklace symbolizes many aspects of myself, a large chunk of emotions, but also in encapsulates my persona as poeticdesires. Most asurredly it will end up on my skin again.

But not right now. Right now, I feel light. I feel free. Right now I’m poetic, with or without the hardware.

Categorised as: D/s | Emotional | Gray | Grue | London

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