I’d been up and cleaning since daybreak, with only a slave collar to keep me warm. It was around elevenish when the Mistress told me to get dressed, because She wanted to do some serious shopping. Now, wearing a collar in public didn’t bother me a bit. On the contrary; I wore it with pride. Besides, removing a collar after a couple of days is a chilling experience for the neck. But the Mistress had a surprise for me in store that day, because She attached a leash to the collar. And Holy Chihuahua, that’s a real game changer! Because most people won’t even notice that you’re wearing a collar, but I can assure you that everyone notices a man on a leash. Even the blind organ grinder on the corner told me I looked like Labrador. Young and old, Women and men; everyone understands the symbolism of the leash. In that respect the leash is immensely powerful statement. And a lovely treat for a slave.
A slave collar is like a badge of honour really. Attaching a simple leash to the collar however, transforms it into one of the most humbling tools I can think of. From honourable sub to sloppy dog in three seconds flat. It doesn’t really matter if the leash is made of leather, metal, rope or the tiniest thread: from a slave’s point of view it’s unbreakable. However, there’s a big difference of course between being collared and leashed in the safety of a room or wearing it outdoors. The former is as innocent as a baby shower, the latter is utterly humiliating. Somehow I haven’t been on the right side of the leash that much, to be honest. And unfortunately there’s no such thing as a Lease Leash; a dog-walking centre for slaves. That would be so lovely! I shall be re-leashed, as the song goes. Let’s hope and pray that’s true.