When Vera Put the Collar on Me for the First Time

My name is Elena. I’m twenty-one, with shoulder-length brown hair and a curiosity about sex that has always gotten me into situations that are hard to explain. This is the hardest story of all: it’s the story of how I started out looking for something new on an ordinary night and ended up with a collar around my neck that I still haven’t taken off.

Rodrigo and I had been together for almost two years when we started talking about bringing someone else into our bed. We were open in that sense: we had watched porn together from the beginning, we had explored roleplay, we had had long conversations about fantasies without either of us feeling attacked. The possibility of a threesome came up naturally, without drama, without ultimatums. The only real question was whether we wanted a man or a woman.

I always voted for a woman. I found it hard to admit out loud, but the truth was that I’d been attracted to women for years without doing anything about it. The movies we chose on Friday nights almost always ended up with lesbian scenes, and I got more hooked on those scenes than I ever confessed to Rodrigo. I’d watch one woman spread another’s legs and eat her pussy in close-up, and I’d feel my panties getting wet under the blanket, and I’d press my thighs together so he wouldn’t notice.

“I know someone,” he told me one night while we were doing the dishes. “An ex-girlfriend. Her name is Vera. She’s smart, direct, and she likes being in control. A lot. You know what I mean?”

“I think so,” I said.

I didn’t. Or maybe I did, but not in the way I was about to live it.

The night of the meeting, Rodrigo asked me to wear something specific: a short ivory nightgown, no bra, nothing underneath. I spent the afternoon nervous, moving from one room to another without knowing what to do with my hands. At nine o’clock sharp the doorbell rang, and my breath caught in my throat.

Vera came into the apartment like it was her own home. She was ten centimeters taller than me, wore her black hair in a tight bun, and had on a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark tailored trousers. She was nothing like I’d imagined. There was something in the way she moved that filled the space, claimed it, never asked anyone’s permission.

“So this is Elena,” she said, looking me over with absolute calm. “Rodrigo told me about you. A lot.”

She didn’t extend a hand. She came closer and kissed me at the corner of the lips, just a brush, then stepped back as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. I could feel it in the way my heart was pounding, and in how my nipples hardened beneath the nightgown, so obvious that Rodrigo turned his face away to hide a smile.

Rodrigo poured wine for both of us. Vera sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and kept looking at me while he and she talked. They had agreed beforehand that I wouldn’t speak unless asked. I took it as part of the game and lowered my eyes, hands in my lap.

“Do you know why you’re here tonight?” Vera asked suddenly.

“For the three of us,” I answered.

“No.” Her voice never rose a single notch. “You’re here to serve us. To obey both of us. That’s the difference. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

Vera gestured to Rodrigo. He stood up, came behind me, and tied my wrists behind my back with a silk scarf she had taken from the pocket of her jacket. When he tightened the knot, I felt something in me loosen at the same time. It was a strange sensation: the stillness that opened something inside.

Vera got to her feet, stood in front of me, and looked at me for several seconds without speaking. Then she took my chin in two fingers and lifted my head until our eyes were level.

“Tonight you don’t decide anything,” she said. “You only do what I tell you. Can you handle that?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, and as I said it, something in me gave way completely.

Vera yanked my nightgown up to my waist without warning. I was left with my pussy bare, hands tied, kneeling in front of her with my knees apart because she had positioned them that way. She ran two fingers over my vulva, very slowly, from top to bottom, and when she reached my clit she stopped.

“She’s soaked, Rodrigo,” she said without turning around. “Really soaked. Does she always get this wet with women, or is it just me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered from the armchair, his voice rough. “I’ve never seen her with one.”

“Then let’s see what one does to her.”

She made me kneel in front of her and ordered me to unbutton her shirt slowly. With my wrists tied behind my back I could only use my teeth. I worked my way down button by button, biting the buttonholes, pulling with my mouth, while she looked down at me with a half smile. When I was done, her shirt fell open and I saw her breasts, free, small and firm, with dark nipples already hard.

“Suck,” she said, grabbing my hair and bringing my face to a nipple.

I traced circles around it with my tongue, first timidly and then with hunger. I took the whole nipple into my mouth, squeezed it between my lips, rolled it with the tip of my tongue. She pulled my hair when I got too fast and let go when she liked what I was doing. I switched breasts without her having to ask. I bit down slowly and felt a short, contained sigh escape her, one I didn’t quite get to savor.

“Enough,” she said, and pulled my head away by the hair. “Rodrigo. Strip her.”

Rodrigo stood up, pulled my nightgown off over my head by working it down my tied arms, and left me completely naked in the middle of the room. Vera undid her trousers calmly and let them fall. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She sat on the sofa with her legs open and pointed to the floor between her feet.

“Come. And use your tongue. And if you come before I give you permission, you’ll regret it.”

I crawled on my knees to her, my hands still tied behind my back, and buried my face between her thighs. I had never eaten pussy in my life. She tasted like something I’d never tried, salty and sweet at once, with a smell that fogged my head at the first contact. I ran my whole tongue through her slit, bottom to top, and she sighed and gripped the back of my neck with her hand so I wouldn’t pull away.

“Higher. The clit. Suck it. Like they do to you.”

I found her clit with the tip of my tongue, found it swollen, circled it, trapped it between my lips, and started sucking in a steady rhythm. I slipped my tongue inside and came back up. She rocked her hips against my face, smearing my mouth and nose with her wetness, and I swallowed everything she gave me. Rodrigo had taken out his cock and was slowly stroking it from the armchair, watching his ex fuck my mouth with her hips.

“Good girl,” Vera murmured, and those two words made me moan against her cunt. “Very good girl. Keep going.”

She kept me eating her for a long time. When she came, she did it almost silently, pressing my face harder against her with both hands, trembling deep inside without letting out much of a sound. She left me there, face pressed to her sex, breathing in her scent, until she felt like letting me go.

Then she looked at Rodrigo.

“Fuck her.”

Rodrigo came over, turned me so I was kneeling on the rug with my chest against the sofa beside Vera, and entered me from behind without preamble. I was so wet he slid in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt. I let out a long moan, mouth open a hand’s width from Vera’s thigh, and she grabbed my hair and held my head in that position so I couldn’t hide my face.

“Look at me while he fucks you. I want to see your face.”

Rodrigo fucked me hard, his hands gripping my tied hips, and I had to hold Vera’s gaze the whole time. Every thrust made me moan, and every moan drew a small, satisfied smile from her, as if she were evaluating and approving me at the same time. She put two fingers in my mouth. I sucked them. She pulled them out and ran them over my nipples. Then she put them back in, this time deeper.

“Do you like being seen like this?” she asked. “Fucked, tied up, mouth open?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, my voice broken.

“Yes, what are you?”

“Yes, I’m yours, Mistress.”

“Perfect.”

Rodrigo sped up behind me. I could feel him growing and his rhythm starting to shake, and I could also feel myself coming close, my clit burning, my pussy walls tightening around Rodrigo’s cock every time he went in. I begged Vera with my eyes. She shook her head, just a tiny motion.

“Hold it.”

Rodrigo came inside me with a long grunt. I felt him emptying, his cum spurting hot against the back wall, and still I didn’t let go because Vera hadn’t allowed it. When he pulled out, I stayed there panting against the edge of the sofa, Rodrigo’s load sliding down my thighs, my whole body trembling from holding back.

“Now turn toward me,” Vera said.

She turned me with her hands as if I weighed nothing. She opened my legs with her bare foot, pressing the arch of her foot against the inside of my thigh until she spread them wide, and crouched in front of me. She began exploring me with her fingers unhurriedly, as if she had all the time in the world. Two fingers slid in easily because I was full of Rodrigo’s come. She moved them inside, curling them, searching for a spot I didn’t know I had, and when she found it I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t scream.

“Not yet,” she said, never taking her eyes off me.

With her thumb she found my clit at the same time. Two fingers inside, thumb outside, constant skilled pressure unlike anything I had ever done to myself. My legs shook. My vision blurred. I begged her softly, without words, only with my breathing.

And still, I came before I could ask her permission to do it.

“Next time,” Vera said, pulling her hand away and wiping her fingers on my thigh, “you wait until I tell you.”

Vera left after midnight. She left me sitting on the edge of the bed with the silk scarf in my hands and a feeling in my chest I wouldn’t know how to name until weeks later.

***

Three weeks passed in which I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I got distracted at work. I burned food. I woke up at three in the morning with the image of her hand in my hair and her voice telling me what to do. I touched myself in the shower thinking about her mouth, her fingers, the way she said “good girl,” and I came within minutes leaning against the tiles. Rodrigo noticed, and one night, without me telling him anything, he asked me directly:

“Do you want to see her again?”

“Yes,” I answered. “But not like last time.”

He nodded slowly. I think he understood before I did.

He called Vera. The message he relayed to me was brief: she didn’t want another threesome. What she was offering was different. I would move in with her as her slave. Rodrigo would be free. It wasn’t a proposal open to negotiation, but a condition. Either I accepted everything, or there was nothing.

The night the three of us sat down to talk it over, Vera arrived in a black leather skirt and a satin blouse that showed more than was necessary. It was deliberate. She did it so I wouldn’t be able to think clearly, so desire would beat fear, and she succeeded.

“I’m not taking anything from you, Rodrigo,” she said, addressing him without taking her eyes off me. “I’m doing you a favor. Elena needs something you can’t give her. And I can.”

Rodrigo didn’t argue. Neither did I.

Vera opened her bag and placed on the table a black leather collar with a silver buckle and a small plate engraved with a V. No one spoke for a long moment.

“If you put it on tonight,” she said, “it’s final. This isn’t a weekend. It’s a decision.”

I reached out and took the collar.

***

Vera’s house was large and orderly, with an inner terrace and a library that covered an entire wall of the living room. She gave me a small room at the end of the hallway, with a single bed and a drawer for the little clothing she allowed me to wear. She explained the rules the first night with the same precision used to read contract terms.

“You’ll wear the collar inside the house at all times. You’ll clean every day before I get home from work. Dinner will be ready at eight. You won’t wear underwear unless I say so. And when you speak to me, you’ll call me Mistress.”

Calling her Mistress took me the first few weeks. Saying it out loud felt strange, almost theatrical. But Vera had patience when she wanted to and was demanding when it was necessary. That combination was what most disoriented me and what bound me most tightly to that house.

Sex with Vera was unlike anything I had ever known. She knew exactly what to do and when. She knew when humiliation was arousing and when it crossed a line she wasn’t interested in crossing. In that sense she was precise, almost clinical, and it was that precision that made me trust her without reservation.

There were nights when she tied me to the headboard, legs open and strapped to the bedframe, and spent a whole hour without touching me. Just looking at me. She sat in the armchair next to the bed with a glass of wine and watched while I, unable to close them, slowly dripped onto the sheet. When she finally came over, she ran the tip of one finger along the inside of my thigh, moving slowly upward, and made me beg out loud for her to put it in. And only then did she slide in two fingers, three, sometimes the whole fist, and fuck me until I cried from pleasure without being able to move my hands or legs.

There were other nights when she clipped a leash to my collar and made me walk on all fours into the living room. I knelt between her legs and ate her pussy while she read a book, unhurried, without giving me permission to look up, until she came against my mouth almost absentmindedly, as if I were a useful appliance. Afterward she would stroke my hair, long and slowly, and that touch was worth more to me than any orgasm.

There were others when she ordered me to kneel and wait without moving while she read or worked at her desk. And I waited. Without complaint. With a calm I didn’t recognize as mine but that was, definitely, mine. When she was done, she closed the book, turned in her chair, and said, “come here.” I’d come to her on my knees and unbutton her trousers with my teeth.

She taught me how to suck a dildo she would place in my mouth for full minutes at a time, to practice the reflex. She taught me to hold my breath when she wanted me to eat her pussy without pulling away. She taught me to come only from her voice, without touching me, sitting at the foot of the bed while she described in detail what she was going to do to me later. And it worked. When she wanted, she could make me come without laying a finger on me.

On Sundays we went out together to the market or for walks in the park. Vera chose what I wore: always something that showed more than I would have chosen for myself. I wore the collar sometimes in plain sight and other times hidden under the neck of a sweater, depending on what she felt like. No one on the street knew what it meant. Only I knew what I carried around my neck and what it did to me inside.

Over time I began to understand the difference between obeying out of fear and obeying by choice. Vera never gave me reasons to be afraid. She gave me reasons to choose her every time, and I did. Every morning I put on the collar was a choice. Every night I made her dinner was a choice. Every time I lowered my gaze when she looked at me was a choice. That was what was hardest to explain to people on the outside: that this didn’t make me less free, but more so.

***

Three months after I moved in, Vera told me a friend was coming for dinner.

“Her name is Clara,” she said. “She’s someone I trust. And I want you to know her well.”

Clara arrived on time, with short hair and pale eyes that belonged to someone who appraises quickly. She was younger than Vera, direct in the way she spoke, and from the very first moment I knew this wasn’t an ordinary visit.

“So this is the famous Elena,” Clara said, looking at me without hiding it. “I wasn’t lied to.”

Dinner was long. I served the plates, cleared the glasses, stood by the table while they talked. Clara asked me direct questions and I answered briefly. It wasn’t shyness. It was discipline. Vera watched me from the other end of the table with an expression I still didn’t know how to decipher completely.

After dinner, Vera ordered me to wait in the living room. When the two of them came in, the night changed character. Clara had accepted an active role without needing explanations. She was dominant by nature, not by training, and you can tell the difference. Together they occupied the space in a way I couldn’t resist even if I’d wanted to.

Clara came over first. She framed my face with her hands and looked closely at me, studying me, before kissing me slowly. She was different from Vera: more direct, less calculating, with more urgency in every movement. When Vera joined in from behind, holding my arms against my body while Clara kept kissing me, I closed my eyes and let myself fall completely.

Vera ripped my dress open down the back without ceremony and pulled it down to my waist. Clara took my breasts in both hands, bent down, and sucked my nipples one after the other, biting down on them now and then. I moaned between her fingers and felt Vera’s breath on the back of my neck, Vera’s tongue licking me slowly behind the ear.

“On the floor,” Vera said.

I knelt. Clara undressed in front of me without breaking eye contact. Her body was firm, her breasts larger than Vera’s, a silver piercing in her navel, and a shaved pussy with full lips already shiny. She sat on the edge of the sofa and spread her legs.

“Eat me out. And do it properly, because Vera promised me the best.”

I buried my face between her thighs. She tasted different from Vera, more acidic, more intense, with a stronger smell. I sucked her lips fully, one and the other, parted them with my tongue, found her clit and took it into my mouth. Clara grabbed my hair with both hands and started fucking my face without restraint, moving her hips against my mouth faster and faster until I had to breathe through my nose so I wouldn’t choke.

Behind me, Vera had also knelt. I felt her hands on my ass, parting my cheeks, and then her tongue, warm and precise, between them. She licked my asshole from top to bottom, very slowly, and I moaned against Clara’s cunt without being able to control myself. Vera licked me from behind while I ate Clara from the front, and the two of them worked on me as if I were an instrument between them.

Throughout the night Vera quietly gave Clara instructions, pointing out what to do and when. Clara performed with precision. I was the center of all that and had neither a voice nor a turn. At one point, Clara ordered me to lean over the back of the sofa. Vera tied my wrists with the silk tie she always kept handy, positioned me so my ass was lifted and my face pressed into the backrest, and Clara took the bottle of lubricant Vera had left on the table.

I felt Clara buckle on a harness with a black dildo that Vera had just handed her. I felt her coat it with lubricant, unhurriedly. I felt the tip rest against my asshole and begin to press. The anal penetration came slowly, carefully, but without pauses. Clara pushed in an inch first, waited, pushed another, waited, and so on until I felt my whole ass opening around the rubber cock. Vera stood in front of me and held my gaze the entire time.

I couldn’t take my eyes off hers. I didn’t want to.

“Breathe,” she told me. “And let her in.”

I breathed. And Clara finished sliding it all the way in. She started fucking my ass slowly, with long controlled thrusts, while Vera stroked my face and wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. Vera put two fingers in my mouth. I sucked them. She pulled them out and put them in my cunt while Clara kept working my ass, and I felt both penetrations at once, the rubber behind and her fingers in front, and my legs shook so badly they could barely hold me up.

“She’s close,” Clara told Vera, panting over me.

“I know,” Vera said. “Don’t give her permission. Keep going.”

Clara sped up. She fucked me harder from behind, her hands on my hips, and Vera fucked me with her fingers in front at the same rhythm. I was wrecked. I couldn’t get enough air, my eyes were tearing up, my mouth hung open against the backrest. I begged Vera to let me come. I begged her with a broken voice, without dignity, without anything.

“Please, Mistress, please, please…”

“Not yet.”

When Clara finished, she withdrew slowly and Vera replaced her. She put on the harness herself, adjusted the straps, and fucked my ass with the same calm she brought to everything. Clara moved to the front and sat where Vera had been, and put my mouth on her cunt to make me lick her while Vera fucked me from behind. I was between the two of them, fucked front and back, tied, unable to move, and I could no longer hold anything together.

And when I was already at the limit of what I could endure, Vera gave me permission with a single word.

“Now.”

I came trembling, my face pressed to the back of the sofa and my wrists still tied. It was a long, dirty orgasm that shook me to my core and left me with no strength for anything. Clara kept licking me through it, prolonging it, and Vera kept fucking me from behind while I convulsed between them.

When Clara left, after midnight, Vera untangled me and sat me on the edge of the bed. She stroked my hair in silence for a long moment.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Good,” I said. “Better than good.”

She nodded. Coming from her, that was enough.

***

It’s been two years since that first night in Rodrigo’s apartment. I’m still in this house, still wearing the collar, still calling her Mistress. Rodrigo found someone and is happy. Clara comes by now and then, and when she does I know the night is going to be long.

I’m writing this because Vera asked me to. She wants me to tell my story, to put it into words so others can read it. I’m not doing it only out of obedience, though obedience is part of who I am now. I’m doing it because I think there’s something in this account that might resonate with someone who, like me, used to watch movies on Friday nights and get hooked on the wrong scenes without fully understanding why.

There’s a kind of freedom that only comes when you take off the weight of deciding. Not at every moment in life, of course. But in a specific space, with the right person, with clear and agreed-upon rules, that weight disappearing is the lightest I’ve ever felt. Vera taught me that. And I thank her every time she calls me from upstairs.

She’s calling me now.

I’m going.