“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He finally looks up. “I’m here now,” he whispers. I gaze into his eyes and drink in the sight of him. “It’... been seven hundred years,” I tell him. “You could have come back to me.” “Kiss me,” he whispers. There are tears in my eyes now. “Please forgive me,” he growls, his face inches from mine, his breath hot on my skin. I nod and bring my lips to his. I take in his taste, his scent, everything. He doesn’t waste time in deepening the kiss. His lips feel as smooth. I'd told her that though anyone can wear a collar for someone else that doesn't make them a pet. Being a pet is about patience and submitting oneself to another however the Master chooses them to serve. A collar can be taken off whenever and without regard by someone who is not seriously dedicated to their craft and those type of people are definitely not pets, just someone with a fancy for imitation of a specific lifestyle. Likewise just because you tell someone to wear a collar that doesn't. More

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