I rarely have any reason to dress up in formal attire, but to my chagrin I got invited to an event that demanded a suit and tie. I find that type of clothing fussy and uncomfortable, and I particularly don’t like the feeling of a shirt collar done up around my neck – ironically enough, considering that I wear My Lady’s leather collar whenever I’m home alone and not in the shower. It’s the only thing I wear to bed at night, and I can feel its slight weight on the back of my neck as I type these words. However, I’m allowed to keep My Lady’s collar quite loose, and I’ve had nearly a year to get used to its presence. By contrast, I’m definitely not used to shirts that have to be buttoned up all the way.
So, I was trying on clothes in front of the mirror one night, trying to work out what to wear to the event. The dreaded top button posed even more of a problem than usual, and in most cases I literally couldn’t push it through the hole. Had my neck somehow become thicker in the many moons since I last had to perform this ritual? It seemed unlikely. Perhaps I simply wasn’t putting enough effort into my attempts?
I did get the top button of one shirt done up, but then found I couldn’t easily undo it again. As I flirted with a deeply non-erotic form of asphyxia, however, I suddenly realised that the collar I had just fastened around my neck with considerable effort wasn’t the only one I was wearing.
My Lady has never explicitly said that I’m allowed to temporarily remove her collar when trying on dress shirts. However, I think she’ll forgive me for unbuckling the thing and setting it aside for the remainder of my sartorial session, which went more smoothly with the impediment removed. If I’m lucky, she’ll even take this incident as a pleasing indication of how accustomed I’ve become to the band of tough leather that symbolises my acquiescence to her firm and intimate control over my life, rather than merely the latest proof of her boy’s absent-mindedness. Either way, I hope that she – and you – will find it amusing. Surrendering to a woman like My Lady can lead to pain, pleasure and submissive ecstasy, but it can also lead to moments that seem more like a brief comedy sketch than a page of Venus in Furs.