Music / Real life / Religion / Uncategorized

knees down to the ground

Some people serve a particular deity (or more than one).

Some serve their own interests alone or the interests of their tribe without thought of something greater than that (i’d say i was solidly in that camp not so long ago).

Some choose to serve an earth-bound Master.

And yes… some serve many in multiple ways… it’s really not so simple, is it?

Ah, but this is my blog and this is about my path.

This weekend, the Leather family headed west to Indy and GLLA (the annual Great Lakes Leather Alliance Meeting). 

It’s a special weekend with Leather folk and it’s not something that is easily explained. i won’t try to give it all voice, but it is an important weekend to be with like-minded people in a place where we can be ourselves – in all our quirkiness – without worrying about what anyone thinks. It is a home.

During last year’s GLLA… on the 24th in fact, i was surprised by receiving my first earned Leather… a vest. This year, on the anniversary of that date, i found myself in the same venue and with all of the same people that had been there for that occasion. Sweet J was vending, A and his Lady were there (and winning a title no less), and C and her Master were there as well as my Master and His other slave (of course).  i was given the gift of a new collar to wear this year on that anniversary date.

When Master put the first leather collar on me two and a half years ago, it was with the admonition that it carried with it the stories of the slaves that wore it before -it had history and place- that it was His and that i could beg for release and return it, it could be stripped from me, or it could be worn indefinitely around my throat. It was always His. His collar. His slave’s neck simply held it for Him.

Over time, my neck shrunk… the original collar was too large… the buckle’s finish wore and the edges of the collar succumbed to wear and tear. i cared for it as best i could… cleaned and conditioned it, but it was time… Master decided… for a change.

IMAG2674He picked up the new collar right before we left GLLA and i had it on for just a few moments before we had to leave the hotel. As we pulled away and for several miles down the road, i held it in my lap before tucking it in the box where His collar lives when not in use… always with me. The new collar circled the first one. Before closing the lid, i marveled at its heft, the size of its front loop… and the back hook that allowed Him to lock it onto me. i swallowed hard… a bit of a flutter at that thought… different.

The first collar had been given to me to wear – my neck willingly placed in the stead of other necks that had been there before. Their unknown thoughts and feelings flowed in that black leather, and it gave me a sense of place… of belonging… of purpose. i was a slave of the Master who owned it.

This collar had been chosen for my neck. The knowledge that my spirit and service would imprint on that leather first… my story was the first story that would fill its fibers and infuse its metal… was not overlooked. He told me as He placed it on me that i was to hold it for Him until such a time that He asked for it back. That made my heart both soar and my stomach sink. The thought of that is hard to process, actually. The gift… it is a great one. Its loss? equally as monumental.

Then? There was the honor in being told that i was to keep the first leather collar. i was about to enlist the help of a bootblack to restore it … to make it as nice as it possibly could be for the next neck that was bared for it, but Master said i could keep it. The honor of that… wow.

i asked His permission to wear it when i got home and that’s the first time i saw it on my neck… in my bed… last night.  As i laid in bed, i read a post on fet about collars that had just been written by Lee Harrington (i out him not… he is out… wink) and all manner of emotions washed over me.

It was a good weekend of fellowship.

It was a relief to call Him Master… Sir… aloud… from waking to sleeping.

It was a chance to walk… not at His side… but one step behind.

It was opportunities to sit… not always next to Him… but at His feet.

as i wish it to be


Yes, this song is written by a follower of Christ… to be sung to his God… and that’s just fine by me. In my heart, it is for Him… my corporeal Master… my Belum Sang. It is before Him that i fall knees down to the ground. He is the one i want to please. 

i’ve taken the liberties of setting start/stop times to this video on my blog as i have no interest in the last four minutes of testifying… to each their own.

 

 

 

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