I found Heaven...at the end of a leather belt.

We had the house to ourselves last night, as usual we were relaxing in the bedroom watching some TV. Musicman typically sits on the lounge, while I curl up on the bed. We have a king size water bed and I have a habit of making a nest for myself with the comforter and curling up in it.

It was early yet and we were in the middle of watching a program, so I was somewhat surprised when he came over and sat next to me on the bed. He had a question for me, "where's this new implement?'

"Ummm...tucked under the edge of the bed."

From where he was sitting, he didn't even have to get up, just reach down and there it was. Well, actually there were two of them. Once I had measured and cut down the belt, I was left with a longer piece. I didn't get rid of it, because I thought it would be better to let him pick which one he preferred. Turns out he preferred the longer one, though he did fold it over.

That gave me pause for a moment when I saw him fold it, but only for a moment. I just laid there, curled up in my nest, watching him as he worked with the belt, folding it, creasing it, adjusting his grip until it was the way he wanted. When he turned to face me, I didn't move, or do anything. I just laid there staring at him as he stood looking back at me.

He never said a word, just reached into my nest, removing my fleece pants and turning me over all at the same time. I ended up with my face buried in the comforter and my now naked ass up in the air. He was standing right at the edge of the bed. He grabbed both my feet and wedged them in between his legs. I was very effectively immobilized.

He didn't give me even a moment to think, which is good, no time to anticipate or panic. The strap fell quickly and repeatedly, such a nice sting, followed by that lovely warmth. He spent some amount of time attending to my backside and thighs. I was very quickly lost in subspace, squirming into the strap and begging for more.

The combination of knowing I was conquering a fear, along with the feel of the leather was intoxicating. I've orgasmed before just from spanking, but not as fast as I did last night. I hadn't even realized that he'd released my legs when he started to tap at my lady parts with the belt. That's usually all the direction I need to adjust position and open my legs. I must have been a bit slower then usual, cause it finally penetrated my haze when I heard him say, "spread'em". Of course, I did, I always do exactly what I'm directed to do when I'm in that head space.

I love having the lady parts spanked and this was no exception. He'd alternate between swatting my ass and my pussy. I love that, cause I never know where the next blow will strike. The anticipation is as powerful as the actual connection of implement to skin for me. I was soon exploding again, my own juices now flowing down my thighs.

I was still in position, kneeling, legs spread, when he reached for my ponytail and pulled me up and back against him. His hand left my hair and firmly encircled my throat holding me in place. He gave each of my breasts a few swats with the belt, then I moaned as his hand left my throat. It was just for a moment, long enough to pull my shirt up, then it was back. Holding me in place and comforting me all at the same time. He started in again on my breasts and this time alternated between them and the lady parts.

The only thing I remember from then on is the all over tingling in my body and the complete and utter feeling of being owned. That irrefutable knowledge, that my body is no longer my own. I knew, without a doubt, I belonged to him and he could and would, use me anyway he saw fit. I don't know how many times more I came before he released me and guided me as I sunk back down onto the bed.

I lay there limply, unable to even think. It barely registered that he had gotten into the bed next to me, until he started to position me again. Still face down, one leg over his lap, the other pushed as far open as it would go. The man gives a new meaning to the word torture, for torture me he did. Hands everywhere, spanking and rubbing and invading me into orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Barely letting me catch my breath after each one before starting the drive up to that glorious peak again.

There was much more that happened after, but all I really remember is, I found heaven, at the end of a leather belt.

Finally...He let me...

... wear my do me boots out of the house.

We had been invited to see Doc's band play last night. We don't go out all that much anymore, but we always enjoy going to see Doc play. I debated all day about what to wear. I really wanted to wear my white jean mini skirt(totally rocks wth the boots), but I didn't think I would get that past Musicman. Plus, there's a foot of snow on the ground and temp's below freezing, kinda makes a mini skirt a bit impractical. Of course, 4" stiletto heels aren't very practical either in that kind of weather, but sometimes it's just too much fun being impractical.

Instead, I chose some jean leggings and a cap sleeve, tunic style sweater. I hurried home after work to get ready. My thought was, if he saw me all dressed and ready to go, I might get away with it. He liked it and I did get to wear them. Walking through the snow in them was a bit of a challenge, but Musicman helped me with that. Once we got inside, they were very easy to walk, or should I say strut in. With boots like those you can't help but strut.

Musicman is a very possesive man, and he see's me as his most valuable possesion. I've know this from the very beginning, though it did take a few years to accept. Over the years friends have tried to talk him into letting me wear certain things(a black bathing suit I owned when we met, comes to mind), but no luck.

He never cared who said what, including me, I was his and he doesn't share. That's what he always says anyway. That hasn't changed, but something has. I think what has changed is the fact that I now acknowledge and even revel in the fact that I am his possesion. If he had said no, that I couldn't wear the boots, I would have taken them off. I have another pair that have a sensible heel and stop below the knee that would have worked with my outfit too.

I'm so happy he didn't say no, the boots were a big hit and the topic of many a conversation throughout the night. Yes, I'm a bit of an attention whore, I admit that. One thing I noticed last night, and the last time we went out to see Doc play, is that we must exude some kind of under current. An undercurrent of our dynamic apparently. Ya see, I'm used to getting stared at, and receiving compliments from other men. Musicman doesn't like that at all, and I don't encourage them.

Men still stare at me, but they no longer compliment me. They compliment him, about me. It's a little weird to be sitting right there and have other men tell Musicman how hot I am, or that they want to do his wife. The shit eating grin that Musicman gets on his face when they say those things is pretty hilarious too.

Is that one of those kinky collar things?

That's the question I was recently asked by someone in reference to my necklace.

I just smiled and said, "you never know, it just might be."

Obviously my necklace is in the collar style, but whether or not it is a collar is really up to me and the meaning I attach to it. I have thought a bit about what it means to me since I started wearing it. It really became clear what I thought about it when I removed it to start my new job.

To me a collar symbolizes ownership. Specifically his ownership of me. Do I really feel like he owns me? I wondered this for awhile and then I remembered something. I remembered a time back in the early days of our relationship. A time when his possessiveness of me was a huge issue. An issue that caused quite a few fights between us.

I remembered a specific argument we had where I was insisting to him that he couldn't own me. I used those exact words and many others, in a desperate attempt to explain to him in a way that he would understand that I could never allow that.

I also remember very clearly seeing the look on his face. That look told me in no uncertain terms that I could talk till I was blue in the face, but he wasn't going to change his mind. I was his and no one, not even me, was going to change that view.  I don't know why that argument was different from the many previous arguments.  Maybe it was the look on his face, but that is when I started to accept that he did in fact own me.

So then I wondered, what does that really mean? What does being owned look like to me? Does it mean I can never say no to anything, ever? No, and I don't think that is what he expects from me. I think for us what being his means is just that. I'm his, I don't deny him access to my body, ever, and I don't share it with anyone but him.

I've said before that Musicman is not much of a talker, rather he is a man of action. He may not say I am his very often, but he shows me everyday, through his actions.  The constant touching and groping every time I am near. It took me some time to get used to it, but not only did I get used to it, I soon learned to love it.

I became very comfortable with his constant intimate touches. I learned very quickly not to hide my body from him, he wouldn't allow that anyway. I learned very quickly that there was no good reason to deny him sex, he simply didn't accept no for an answer.

Over the years these things have had a very positive effect on me. It has made me very confident in how I look. I'm no supermodel, I definitely have my flaws, but he doesn't see them. He also doesn't allow me to say negative things about my body. Consequently, that confidence in myself has grown and spread to other areas of my life. It's made me a stronger woman then I might have been without his influence.

So, is that one of those kinky collar things? Yes, I think it is. It is a symbol of ownership, one that I am very proud of. I'm very proud to be his and I would scream it to the world if they were interested in listening.

When I took my collar off to start the new job I missed it immediately. I put it back on after only two days. So far I've gotten many compliments on it, but no questions about it's meaning. I suppose if asked my answer will depend on who is doing the asking.