Every time I get out of a long distance relationship I swear I will never do long distance again. It sucks. And yet, due to all the amazing, sexy people being hundreds of fucking miles away, I always find myself back in them.

Long distance is hard, that’s not news. What was news, to me at least, was how important collaring was to me. Some mostly unrelated media made me realise how much I really wanted it. Being collared had always been something that I’d just assumed would happen; I’d grow up, get married, be collared and live kinkily ever after. For reasons I’ll go into in the future, that life plan is no longer relevant, but said media did spark a discussion with Daddy about collars.

Fast-forward a bit and I’m proudly wearing his collar. When it arrived I was so excited, daft grin random squealing excited! Times are hard right now but that feeling of belonging, of being owned, grounds me. I’m reminded every second of every day that I’m not alone and that somebody values me enough to want to mark me out as his.

I love being his. He is, as I’ve told him, the Mary Poppins of Daddys. He sees every facet of me, he does a frankly incredible job of keeping ahead of my brain gremlins, and he helps me be better in so many ways. He makes me laugh and smile when I feel sad. He makes me feel like I’m not an awful human when I think I am. He makes me feel safe and loved and held, even from across an ocean.

It’s not the kinkily ever after I’d imagined but it’s still wonderful.

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