Oh, when did that happen?

This morning, she woke me a little earlier, as I had asked her to. And I went back to sleep.

Later, she came back in with a slightly barkier tone in her voice telling me to get up. When I groaned at her, she acted by pulling the covers down (CRUELTY!) and then grabbing a cane, with which she struck my hip, the place I really hate to be struck with anything. I made a terrible effort of pulling the covers back over me and she pulled them back down. “Okay okay, I’m up, I’m up!” as I started getting up out of bed.

“Lie back down, on your stomach.” She wasn’t done with me. She caned me, perhaps a dozen strokes, but still, enough to get some blood flowing and whimpering from me.

“Okay, I’m up!” I whined and started sliding off the bed.

“No! Back up there!” I resumed my position. “Two more for whining” she said as she brought the first stripe across my ass, harder than all the others. She followed up with a second one, equally painful.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, pup.”

I then proceeded to make the bed, as is my morning ritual, she helped with some of it as well, as it’s so much easier with two people. I drowsily tucked, folded, stacked pillows setting it all up for the evening, my cock half erect and rubbing against sheets and wool blankets. I removed my collar, hung it up and asked for my glasses. She gave them to me. I set about my morning duties in the rest of the house – mostly drinking coffee, checking our social media efforts and simply waking up.

His collar hanging

A collar hangs on the lamp post

After she left, I showered and returned to the bedroom, I looked at the collar, as you see it hanging in the photo. I reached up to my neck in disbelief, even though I knew I never would have worn it in the shower, to feel my collar. It really wasn’t on my neck. I tried to remember when I put the collar on the lamp. Did I? Did she? When did the collar show up on the lamp? I honestly could not remember. I was hit by this pang of sadness and grief. How could I forget taking it off? It’s my collar. Well, it’s her collar that she uses exclusively on me. I remembered putting it on the night before. I asked her “may I please have my collar? ” and put it on before we lay down together and I read to her until she fell asleep. I remember that. I remember feeling it between my neck and chest, keeping me from bending my neck down to properly read the computer screen. I remember that discomfort. But I could not remember removing it this morning.

It upset me that I could not remember this part of the ritual. This part of my life with my Mistress. It’s a very symbolic part, but it is a secure collar. She has used it to direct me where she wants me to go. She has pulled me into her to lick or kiss here or there. She has held me fast with the leash and collar. So it is more than symbolic, but it mostly serves as a reminder that I am hers, owned by her. I wear her collar as her property and proudly so. And yet I could not remember one of the more important parts of my day, removing the collar for the vanilla day.

And now, writing this, I’m thinking “Well, why will I need to remove the collar once the last roommate heads out for her winter away?” Then I won’t be removing the collar in the morning. It will get removed when I shower. It will get removed at some point before work. It will get placed back on after work and I return home, so maybe it’s okay. I’ll have time to awaken, sip coffee, get into the morning and really wake up, then be able to remove the collar for my shower and place it wherever it goes before leaving for work. So, at the same time I’m feeling upset that I forgot how the collar was removed this morning, I’m thinking and smiling at the idea of the collar staying on for so much longer. I look forward to the days when being naked in our house except for my collar are a regular part of our days. I very much look forward to it. And then the collar will have a new home – not on the lamp. I’m not sure where, but I can’t see why it will live on the lamp, particularly if I’m putting it on when I get home from work. And for that, I can smile.

Sometimes a post starts in one place and through writing it, it goes somewhere completely different. I look forward to the future to come with Mistress – that one where she can act out on stories she writes in her mind and I can take a deeper look at my service to her in the days to come.

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