“As far as kinks go, marking has to be one that’s stuck in my head the longest. Collars are the staple, the go to, and the first thing most people think of, at least in the kink community, to denote a claim. There around your throat is some thick leather band or delicate little day collar that someone else put on you. It doesn’t, or rarely, comes off, and eventually becomes so much a part of you that you forget it most of the time. Did you know one time one of my long term partners went into work with her collar still on? Lovely little leather number with pink under stitching. Goodness I could only imagine how red she was when her boss pointed it out.”
The chair under you is dreadfully uncomfortable. Heavy, wooden, high backed, no padding. You’ve been tied to it several times before, but tonight is different. There are no toys waiting to be used on your exposed body; just the rope binding you to your seat. Tonight I’ve taken far more time than usual securing your wrists and ankles.
“Jewelry is another one people often jump for. Wedding rings of course, but imagine instead a solid silver bracelet. Something engraved and hand crafted, fit to your wrist just perfectly. Thick enough you’d feel the weight with every movement of your arm. Think how often your hands and wrists are in your vision. You’d always see it, always remember that moment I first slipped it on. And even if it did manage to drift from your attention, someone’s bound to comment on its beauty and draw you back.”
“There are less considered options. You have things like perfumes, or clothing. Picking out how you dress out on the town, what you’ll wear to work, or what you’ll smell like. Each of them, large or small dictating how other people perceive you. I think that’s a fascinating degree of power to be given over a person.”
When I place the butane torch on my work table you begin to squirm. You can’t help yourself, I understand. Anxiety and fear causes every animal to find the boundaries of its leash. You however have nowhere to go, bound as you are. I start the flame before I dial in the heat. You watch in open fascination.
“My favorites are the permanent kind, or at least the nearly permanent. Maybe a tattoo on your hip that every one of your future lovers will see when they kiss their way down your body? Or maybe I’d like it a little higher. Tucked up near your collar bone. You’d see it only when you look in the mirror but you’d have to change your entire wardrobe. Either to hide it in shame or expose it to everyone you meet. Regardless I’m still dictating that control over you, forcing you to consider every future outfit choice. Even if you do decide to hide it you’ll have to show it off to some future partner. You’ll have to either explain the truth to them and watch the emotions play across their face, or lie to them. Break a vow of trust between you both because you couldn’t handle the alternative.”
“Where all those fail is their impermanence. Collars are made to be removed. Perfume can be washed off. Jewellery gets taken off before every scene. Even tattoos can be covered up, or naturally fade with time.”
I’ve put my back to you, my body blocking your view of the flame and whatever I was doing. Heavy boxes are opened, the sounds of metal hitting metal mixing with the roar of the torch. Smells you can’t place start to reach your nose as the torch warms something.
“Scars though? There’s one of my favorite ways to mark someone. This part of you, maybe even the whole of you, was unblemished before you met me. Now it’s imperfect. Changed. You’re just a little less whole, a little different than you were before and you’ll never escape that knowledge body or mind.”
“The impact of my intrusion on your life should leave physical consequences, don’t you think?”
In one hand you can see me holding the softly glowing length of a cattle brand, the air around the tip shimmering from the heat. Faintly you can make out the first initial of my name woven into the design of the metal.
“Just like I taught you, breathe through the pain baby.”
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