(Note: This post is about my physical slave collar, rather than traditions, meanings, or emotional aspects—subjects for another day.)
Decisions about my collar took several things into account.
We had started with the idea that it would be something I wore 24/7, not taking it off without a serious reason (like some sort of medical need). This created most of our considerations. It would also be a literal collar—around my neck.
We wanted it to be relatively tame in several ways: color, pattern, sizing—so it wouldn’t necessarily draw attention to itself, or seem mismatched, as I would be wearing it in public and in front of vanilla company such as family.
We wanted something that looked nice on me, but wasn’t too out of place for the everyday, that would fit in at a formal or casual event.
It had to be practical for any rough play we did, leashes when they were used; as it would be my only collar, it had to serve every function we needed—even if it wasn’t the main function.
We also considered comfort: in size, texture, and any other ways. We weren’t looking for a sadism device on my neck 24/7.
It also had to be of very good quality to not fall apart with constant wear.
Finally, it was important to both of us that we were both thrilled with it overall.
Then, other ideas became important. Mistress would make the collar herself—it would be one of a kind and personal. The collar would be permanent—in some way, physically unremovable.
Mistress made my collar around my neck as I knelt at her feet, a three hour process with the occasional short break to stretch.
It is made of natural hemp rope, fairly close fitting, with a small stainless steel shackle that attaches a stainless steel o-ring. At even its weakest point the collar can support far more than my body weight. It is permanent in that the only way to take it off is to destroy (cut) it. It is made of one piece of rope connected to itself via a long splice, and where each end of the splice meets, it’s reinforced with a palm and needle whipping.