It is in the words I speak, in their content and tone, volume and inflection… In the way the vibration of my voice coils its tendrils across your auditory nerve, wrapping itself around your thoughts, pulling your attention – consistently un-insistent – toward my desires.

It is in the somatic memory of physical response, in the way your body stills as your cock stiffens, the catch of breath at the ghost-touch of my fingers – lacing through yours, tracing your collar bone, gripping your bicep, fisting their stroking demand around your cock – reminding you of pleasures shared, feeding your own desire.

It is braided ideas, corded discipline, chain-linked want…

Locked in place by your own free will.

The physical trappings so common to this dynamic…  Should you want them, you need only ask.

But no collar accoutrement will ever serve as a substitute for knowledge:

You are bound to me.