Having my collar sawed off from my neck - a unique slave experience

And now, ironically, I'm not collared anymore.

Well, I'm "collared" in the sense of being just as owned as before, there's been no relationship drama. There has, however, been rather a lot of health drama, with me having allergic reactions and then most probably having reactions to the allergy medication, and well, I don't know, possibly also to the new mattress we got a couple of days ago.

The end result has been me having fatigue, dizzyness, nausea and also looking like a watermelon in the face, bright red and swollen. The  most annoying part for me, apart from the fatigue that has really wrecked our schedule, has been incessant hot flashes, were I've been simultanously been dripping with sweat and feeling like a pressure cooker while my feet are icicles, no matter what I do with them. Thoroughly unpleasant, the whole thing, and more than a little scary.

Yesterday when I'd been laying in bed more or less since 10 AM, trying to get up every now and then only to go back to miserable featal position, Mistress had enough and started a de-allergenprocess. I got out and stood in the snow storm for a while, and we hauled the new mattress out to storage so it could get rid of it's new-matterss-stink on it's own for a while. But the first thing she did was getting out the key to the collar and starting to unlock it.

She was very clear that it wasn't any kind of punishment, but since I had been swelling around the neck and getting red in the face on and off for more than a week by then, she wanted to be sure I wasn't somehow reacting to the collar. I haven't had it off for more than a few minutes since she put it on this spring, so if it was doing something to me, we wouldn't really know until she took it off and kept it off me for a while.

Well, it was a good plan, but the tiny tiny little screw in the locking mechanism wouldn't budge. Okay, so she went and got the extra key. And then she oiled the lock, and tried again. But no. It was stuck, and when she worked on it it only got worse. In the end, she gave up.

And went and got the saw.

So yeah. Yesterday I spent an uncomfortable twenty minutes with Mistress holding a hacksaw to my neck, and with a very firm grip on the collar sawing it off of me. Slowly and with great effort, I might say too, because it was a thick one and didn't much want to be sawed in two. It was bizarre, a little scary, a bit painful and a lot sad at the same time. I don't have my collar anymore. It's in the trash, and my neck is all bare.

Ah well. I'm still hers. We'll get another collar. Right now, my main focus is getting back on my feet and to stop looking like an overly ripe watermelon. 'Cause that look is so 90's.