In the Pink

Continuing in the series of dusting off old pieces worthy of a second look. While this piece was not published here initially, it could have been. Enjoy.


My dom does not call me bitch, nor cunt, nor whore.

The collar that I put on when I’m with him — or more accurately, that he puts on me — is part of the beauty of our connection. I am not his bitch — I am his.

When he holds the leash, it is indeed a sense of “belonging”, but it works in both directions.

I belong to him as much as he belongs to me — the leash is that which binds us.

Yes, we each have our own role to play in this equation, and yes, our roles are clearly defined — my role is completely different to his.

But the equality and weight of the two parts to be played are exactly the same — which is what makes the “us” of what we have work so well.

The collar and leash are merely one part of the circle that we form. The circle also consists of our hands, and our hearts — no beginning, no end, simple and complete.