Collared Slave

Collared Slave
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Inspired by: https://www.deviantart.com/lxxt/art/My-sweet-slave-445047878"Lot seven sold to purchaser LXXT." I shivered; that was me. I was lot seven. I had no idea who LXXT was, the six previous purchasers had also had code names. I didn't know how much I'd been sold for either. I shivered again when I heard a woman's voice say "Prepare her; you know what I like." My eyes widened in shock; a woman's voice! I was expecting to hear my boyfriend John's voice, not a woman.I was helped down from the auctioneer's block and into a small salon-like room. Unlike a regular salon, there were no mirrors so the occupants wouldn't get to see what was happening to them. There were also partitions between the seats and, worst of all, the chairs were equipped with straps that would hold the occupant securely in place. This was all wrong, John was supposed to "buy" me, I started to protest but was told to be quiet or I'd be gagged so I sat in the chair and let them strap me in, hoping that this was just part of the fun and thought of how I'd got here.***I'd had a conventional enough up-bringing; I was an only child with parents who loved me and cared for me throughout my time in grade school. I graduated high school and didn't have any real plans so started attending community college while living at home and working part-time making salads in a fast-food salad and burger restaurant. It was a dead-end job but it made me feel useful. A couple of months back, John came into the restaurant and started flirting with me; the restaurant was quiet and so I had the time to talk with him. He was handsome and muscular and had an easy manner, making him easy to talk with and, when he asked me when I got off work I told him and accepted his offer of going out with him for coffee. One thing led to another and we were dating within a week. I was at his place one day and saw a pair of handcuffs and asked him if he'd been a cop; he laughed and said "No, let me show you what they're for" and then cuffed my hands behind my back. I pulled at the cuffs and the feeling of helplessness made me instantly wet. We fucked and I came harder than ever before. I loved it and he slowly introduced me to more bondage. When he suggested that he could take me to an auction and I could be "sold", with him buying me of course, I jumped at it as it just seemed so scary and exciting and hot all at the same time.***I held on to the idea that John was playing a mind game with me, please let him just be messing with my head. I squealed in protest when one of the women buzzing around cut off my clothes. I started to protest when a finger was placed on my lips "Be quiet or we'll gag you, which makes our work harder!" I closed my mouth, afraid that if I made their life difficult, that they'd be harder on me."Tears formed in my eyes as I heard the scissors and felt the tugs as they cut my hair. Worse, the chemical smell let me know they were bleaching my hair prior to dyeing it; I blinked back the tears as I mentally prepared myself for whatever they were doing to my pride and joy, my crowning glory of naturally blonde hair. I was squeezed into a latex neck-entry catsuit, clinging to my every curve; latex gloves were added and then a pair of knee-high boots with heels higher than I'd previously worn. The only thing that made it even possible for me to walk with any grace was the high platforms. Finally, a collar was buckled around my neck and I was pulled in front of a mirror.My hair was now a bleached blonde messy shag; the black of my outfit and my near-white hair made my lips and the collar stand out; their redness contrasting wit the black and white. My head was bowed down in fear and some shame at how I looked. "Good, keep your head down for now!" I blinked nd was immediately tempted to look up; it sounded like the same voice who had said I was to be prepared. A leash was clipped to my collar and I was led outside. I caught glimpses of a latex clad behind walking in front of me in the most massive heels I'd seen.We got outside and she stopped, her hand lifted my chin up "Look at me for now; you won't get the chance often, but I want you to gaze on your new owner, study me, remember me always." I cried openly, John had betrayed me, I'd been sold and transformed. To be sure she was a beauty, also clad in shiny black latex, her hair up in a neat bun in comparison to my messy shag.She saw my tears "Don't cry my slave. Your life won't be easy, but it won't be terrible. I've bought you, you're my responsibility. My slave! My pet!" and with those last words she gave a slight tug on my leash, reminding me of the collar. The word "pet" and the tug made me suddenly realize that I was where I belonged. I settled. I was home!
Inspired by: https://www.deviantart.com/lxxt/art/My-sweet-slave-445047878"Lot seven sold to purchaser LXXT." I shivered; that was me. I was lot seven. I had no idea who LXXT was, the six previous purchasers had also had code names. I didn't know how much I'd been sold for either. I shivered again when I heard a woman's voice say "Prepare her; you know what I like." My eyes widened in shock; a woman's voice! I was expecting to hear my boyfriend John's voice, not a woman.I was helped down from the auctioneer's block and into a small salon-like room. Unlike a regular salon, there were no mirrors so the occupants wouldn't get to see what was happening to them. There were also partitions between the seats and, worst of all, the chairs were equipped with straps that would hold the occupant securely in place. This was all wrong, John was supposed to "buy" me, I started to protest but was told to be quiet or I'd be gagged so I sat in the chair and let them strap me in, hoping that this was just part of the fun and thought of how I'd got here.***I'd had a conventional enough up-bringing; I was an only child with parents who loved me and cared for me throughout my time in grade school. I graduated high school and didn't have any real plans so started attending community college while living at home and working part-time making salads in a fast-food salad and burger restaurant. It was a dead-end job but it made me feel useful. A couple of months back, John came into the restaurant and started flirting with me; the restaurant was quiet and so I had the time to talk with him. He was handsome and muscular and had an easy manner, making him easy to talk with and, when he asked me when I got off work I told him and accepted his offer of going out with him for coffee. One thing led to another and we were dating within a week. I was at his place one day and saw a pair of handcuffs and asked him if he'd been a cop; he laughed and said "No, let me show you what they're for" and then cuffed my hands behind my back. I pulled at the cuffs and the feeling of helplessness made me instantly wet. We fucked and I came harder than ever before. I loved it and he slowly introduced me to more bondage. When he suggested that he could take me to an auction and I could be "sold", with him buying me of course, I jumped at it as it just seemed so scary and exciting and hot all at the same time.***I held on to the idea that John was playing a mind game with me, please let him just be messing with my head. I squealed in protest when one of the women buzzing around cut off my clothes. I started to protest when a finger was placed on my lips "Be quiet or we'll gag you, which makes our work harder!" I closed my mouth, afraid that if I made their life difficult, that they'd be harder on me."Tears formed in my eyes as I heard the scissors and felt the tugs as they cut my hair. Worse, the chemical smell let me know they were bleaching my hair prior to dyeing it; I blinked back the tears as I mentally prepared myself for whatever they were doing to my pride and joy, my crowning glory of naturally blonde hair. I was squeezed into a latex neck-entry catsuit, clinging to my every curve; latex gloves were added and then a pair of knee-high boots with heels higher than I'd previously worn. The only thing that made it even possible for me to walk with any grace was the high platforms. Finally, a collar was buckled around my neck and I was pulled in front of a mirror.My hair was now a bleached blonde messy shag; the black of my outfit and my near-white hair made my lips and the collar stand out; their redness contrasting wit the black and white. My head was bowed down in fear and some shame at how I looked. "Good, keep your head down for now!" I blinked nd was immediately tempted to look up; it sounded like the same voice who had said I was to be prepared. A leash was clipped to my collar and I was led outside. I caught glimpses of a latex clad behind walking in front of me in the most massive heels I'd seen.We got outside and she stopped, her hand lifted my chin up "Look at me for now; you won't get the chance often, but I want you to gaze on your new owner, study me, remember me always." I cried openly, John had betrayed me, I'd been sold and transformed. To be sure she was a beauty, also clad in shiny black latex, her hair up in a neat bun in comparison to my messy shag.She saw my tears "Don't cry my slave. Your life won't be easy, but it won't be terrible. I've bought you, you're my responsibility. My slave! My pet!" and with those last words she gave a slight tug on my leash, reminding me of the collar. The word "pet" and the tug made me suddenly realize that I was where I belonged. I settled. I was home!
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Being A Slave Before Being A Master
The Language of Consensual Enslavement
Types Of Relationships In Slave Training
With Great Power Comes Greater Responsibility
Collars, or slave collars of one sort of another, are a common tool of both Enslavement and Reinforcement in consensual enslavement relationships. This includes collar replacing items like necklaces, bracelets and anklets or anything which is worn constantly or at least most of the time which indicate ownership to the people involved. Not everyone uses or keeps using them but that does not change their initial or ongoing usefulness.
The three most common kinds of slave collars are leather collars, usually with one to three rings on them. The Turian or round metal bar in a circle which is hinged and closed either with a lock or an Allen screw on the opposite side from the hinge. It may or may not include a ring. The third type is a plate or flat metal band also in a circle which is usually hinged in one or two places and closed with either a lock or an Allen screw. The Turian collar is one of the things taken from the Gorean books and incorporated into common BDSM usage. It is not the same thing as the torc slave collars used by the Norse. The plate collars come from historical slave collars except that they were not usually worn most or all the time.
The key part of this tool is the symbolism that a slave collar of any sort has come to have among people involved in consensual enslavement and various BDSM relationships. It shows both Control and ownership. A collar that is not removable by the slave is an even more powerful symbol. The fact that there is an object on their body which they cannot remove is a similar symbol. The strength of the symbol is continued and maintained even if it is later replaced by something which can be removed. If the collar includes a ring it can also be used as an attachment point for various sorts of bindings or a leash.
Using a collar, especially a locking collar, in a Collaring Ceremony denoting the transition from free to slave can be a powerful symbol and an excellent transition point where that line is crossed. The sound of the first time the collar lock closes is often remembered very strongly and powerfully. Each time the slave hears the lock close it reinforces that first time so I have found it useful to pause for a second or so before I close the lock so the slave can hear it clearly.
When you combine the putting on of a collar and locking it in place with kneeling or the Gorean slave position known as Nadu or alternatively using the Submission Position, it adds another level of reinforcement. I mention elsewhere the Ritual I use with changing between the locking collar and a necklace my slaves wear. I use the Submission Position only for the initial collaring ceremony and the modified, hands behind, Nadu for the other times. Actions which recall other actions of significance also reinforce the effect of what you are doing. A collar can be a very good cross reference point for that effect.
All material written and © Copyright 2018 by Malkinius unless otherwise noted.
For permission to quote or repost contact Malkinius at malkinius@consensualenslavement.com.
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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.
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I keep them all in locked steel collars

They can never forget.

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