Collarspace.com

Horizontal Line
Vertical Line
Horizontal Line

Horizontal Line

Vertical Line

Update @ 6-7-08 Hiya CollarMe!!! It's me, ravenna. I know, I know, you never see me here anymore, except when I'm trying to find someone I met here ages ago to say hello. Sorry. But here I am again, saying hello to the whole wide weird world of CollarMe. Nothing much new with me, 33 now, still collared, still a slave, still in love, still very married to my Master, still very happily a part of the Hexagon, our poly family. We're up to NINE members now, our three Masters and the six of us slaves, and no, we're not changing the name. :^) Oh yeah, one more tiny update: I delivered my Master's adorable and perfect baby boy last November! Our very first baby, the first for the whole Hexagon, but not our last. Seven months and growing and he's still perfect. He's the second sweetest thing that's ever happened to me, right after becoming his daddy's slave...ten years ago this summer! Yes, we'll be celebrating. Have a great summer, CollarMe!
Love and luck (and a hug too), ravenna

Update @ 3-18-07. It's really been a while! Hi good old Collarme! It's ravenna. I'm still around, still enslaved and in love, still owned by my Master (and very happily married to Him). In fact we hope to be having a baby this year. I'm truly owned for life, and if by chance that's what you're here seeking, don't give up hope. It really can happen and you can build a life around it and it can be a wonderful life. My life is beyond wonderful, and I don't regret a moment of being a slave. (No choice anymore anyway! :) I logged on here today in hope of finding some word of an old friend, but I didn't find her. But I did find a surprising number of messages for me here, some going back quite a while, expressions of interest, admiration, encouragement, friendship, desire, and some just plain unclassifiable. Golly. Thanks! I'll try to reach my old friends here privately. If I don't know you and you just said HI and gee what a great something I said about something other, thanks for the warm thoughts. If you wrote to express an interest in meeting me, using me, buying me, trading me, renting me, etc., thanks again, no offense taken or offered, but I really am very securely owned and in use full-time. I am most definitely still a sex slave and always will be, but I am not available for use by anyone but my Master and the other members of our poly extended family, plus the occasional loan-out to other very trusted friends. If you're looking for a slave, you've probably come to the right place, but I'm not on the market. (My Master says I'll be the first to know if this ever changes.)
So long, Collarme, but not good-bye! I still feel so fondly about this site, but it's been months and months since my Master let me log on, and who knows when I'll be back. But break a leg, everyone, and may you find your heart's desire... ravenna -------------------------------------
I'm not here very often anymore, but CollarMe still means so much to me. As crazy and imperfect as CollarMe is, it's a place where people are trying to connect with each other, to meet their own needs and each other's needs, for a night, a weekend, a year, a lifetime, whether what we need is a dirty afternoon, or love and ownership for all eternity. I love this place. We all want to be free to find what will make us feel happy and at peace with the world. We all want to belong to something or someone and be important to them. To be free to find our place in the collar that was meant for us and then to be unfree to stray from it and lose that place. To be free to be unfree in the way we choose, and then to be unfree to choose to be free. To be free to be unfree. A paradox, like CollarMe.

It seems so natural to my master and me that a man should want to own the woman he loves, and love the woman he owns; that a woman should want to be owned by the man she loves, and love the man who owns her; that when the intensely intimate bonds of love and enslavement and marriage are added together, a man and a woman should find the life together they were meant to live. In our own crazy and impassioned and imperfect way we've found that life. We had to find each other, lose each other, and find each other all over again to get there, but it was worth all the pain to find out the truth about who and what we are, and to discover we were meant to be together as master and slave, husband and wife, best friends and lovers. We didn't find each other on CollarMe, but CollarMe helped me find friends and support and knowledge about what I am and the life I needed to live, it helped me become a better slave to my master. So my master and I wish all who pass through here al lthe luck in the world in finding the life you're looking for and the partner or partners to share it with.
ravenna 5/8/06


Update by ravenna, 11/04/05:

My master and i are back from our honeymoon and we are MARRIED MARRIED MARRIED MARRIED MARRIED! Can you tell we're happy?! i will always and forever be his slave, wife, lover, best friend, sidekick and faithful ponygirl, and i pledge to love him and serve him and make him happy with all my heart for so long as i live, maybe even longer. Yours forever, Master, and thank you for making me the luckiest slavegirl in the world!

Update by her owner:

The woman known here as ravenna is my property. She is a sex slave, Slave Registration Number 000-399-996, owned, collared, trained and marked by me. She is now my wife as well as my slave. I am proud to say that I will own her for the rest of her life. I pledge my life to her as her master and husband and lover and friend. You and me, babe.

Michelangelo

Who she is: My slave, my lover, soon to be my wife. Thirty, Irish-Italian, Catholic, fiery personality, beautiful, smart, funny, sexy, spiritual, articulate. Faithful, submissive, imaginative, eager to explore every mystery and exceed every limit, loves without limit, asks nothing but to serve, gives her all to me without reservation. Long curly black hair, porcelain skin (and a few freckles), sparkling blue eyes, 5'7", about 125 lbs., curvy figure, full breasts, round butt, narrow waist, stunning classic-movie star looks. Fit, firm body, a sexual athlete. Proudly bears my collar, my ownership marks, and now my wedding ring. I love her unconditionally, she is mine for life now, and I will protect her, honor her, treasure her, and never let her go.

Note: My slave ravenna is not available for acquisition, sale, trade, loan, display, party or play. She is permitted to participate in this web site solely to learn from and to share with other slaves and submissives, and to stay in touch with friends she has made here. She may also reply within limits to courteous and respectful communications from masters and dominants. ravenna is not permitted to keep secrets from me, and she is not permitted to post or exchange photographs, or to communicate by telephone, telegram, instant messaging, snailmail, courier, Pony Express, telepathy, or by any other medium without my permission. She knows my rules and obeys them; I also monitor her communications periodically to protect her against abuse and disrespect. Please respect these rules, or your communications with her will be blocked. My thanks and respect to all those here who have shown and continue to show the woman I love and own your kindness, friendship and support.

Horizontal Line

5/26/2009 8:05:52 PM
Hey CollarMe! I was feeling sentimental about the old place, or maybe just mental. ;^) I first advertised myself here as available for new ownership almost 4 1/2 years ago. I didn't find my Master for life here, he was right over my shoulder all the time, but I learned a lot and I made some friends for life. As crazy as this place is, I love it.

I just want to tell you what I always tell people whenever I drop by here. Slavery really is possible! It's a dream that can come true. Owning a slave and living your life as a slave are both possible. Hang in there, you'll find the one you were meant to own or belong to, here or somewhere else. I'm 34, happily married to my Master, mother of his beautiful little boy, and this summer I will have been his slave for 11 years (not counting an "interruption" of 2+ years when I belonged to someone else), a collared slave for 12 years, and in training to be a slave for either four years before that, or all my life, depending on how you count. I will be a slave for the rest of my life, and there is no other life I would rather live. Being a slave to the right Owner can be the most wonderful life imaginable. If this is what you really want, keep trying, you'll get there.

Bye, CollarMe, keep my cage warm in case I'm ever for sale again... ;^)

ravenna

12/25/2005 9:59:07 PM
MERRY CHRISTMAS COLLARME!

Just over one year ago, i first created a profile here in search of a new master and a new life. i didn't find a new master here; life and fate and incredible luck and the love of the most amazing man brought me back under the sovereignty of the man who is now my owner for life, my husband and master, the love of my life, my master Michelangelo. But i received so much welcome and support and encouragement here from other slaves, subs, masters, doms, switches, and seekers of every kind that it became an essential lifeline for me while i was trying to find my way into a new life. i have made several great friends here, friends i hope to keep for life, friends i would never have met but for CollarMe.

My best wishes and hopes to all of you here at CollarMe, i wish you all luck in your life and your search, whatever you're seeking and wherever you are. May the new year fill your lives with love. 

10/4/2005 9:52:14 PM
My master Michelangelo and i will be married on Saturday, October 8.  No slave on earth has ever been luckier or happier or more loved or more in love, or more securely owned. i just want to say thanks to all my friends at CollarMe for all their support and sympathy and kind words, especially when my life was not so wonderful just a few short months ago, last winter, when CollarMe was one of my lifelines. I've thanked so many of you in person or by email, and if i've missed contacting someone, please drop me a line! (You can email me at the email address listed at my blog, ww.livejournal.com/users/ravenna_amorosa)

Thank you everyone, i wish you all the happiness in the world! (i'm using a lot of it, but i'll try to leave a little for everyone else... ;-) And thank you CollarMe, i love you all!!!

8/24/2005 11:23:52 PM

Pssst...

It's not a secret! Many of my friends here at CollarMe have already found my other journal/blog/whatever it is, "My Fucking Memoirs." If you're looking for me, i'm at:

livejournal.com/users/ravenna_amorosa

And you know to put a www. in front of that to make it a real address, right? So please drop by and say hello if you're in the neighborhood...

7/8/2005 10:25:55 PM
Everything changes, nothing changes.

i've made so many good friends here at CollarMe, and i wanted to share with you all how my life is changing, and will change even more soon, and to thank you for your encouragement and friendship and support when things were at their darkest. And no, this is not good-bye, guys and dolls, just an update...

In January i was recollared by the two men who have meant everything in the world to me for years, and they resolved to own me jointly for the foreseeable future. Our triangle has evolved since then in a perfectly natural way that wasn't unexpected to them, although there was an element of surprise in it for me.  i am now wholly and entirely owned by my master Michelangelo, who has purchased the "minority interest" in me from his best friend and my now former master, Marco. It was a very friendly takeover, though not without some tears. (Who am i kidding, there were buckets of tears.) Marco will now move forward in his life with his significant other, a very lovely submissive woman who will now become his new slave in training. i love them both, and i wish them all the love and happiness in the world.

And this leads me to my second news bulletin: My now one and only master and one true love Michelangelo has asked me to become his wife as well as his slave -- and i said yes. (As if there were any doubt that i would!) Wedding plans are in progress for Colorado sometime this fall, the honeymoon to be in Paris, the happy couple, master and slave, to reside in Virginia, and if there's a single human being on Earth even happier about all this than my master and me, it's my mother.

My happy little polyamorous triangle that so many of you have patiently listened to me babbling about so rapturously has not ended but evolved, and will keep evolving, we hope. It has in fact turned into something like a hexagon made up of three couples, and we plan to keep it turning so long as it makes all our lives richer and more full of love and adventure and commitment. Looks good so far.

Whatever happens, my part in the geometry of our life together is my absolute and unconditional commitment to my master Michelangelo. To him i pledge everything i am and will be, forever, and i swear on my life to give him all my love, loyalty, obedience, devotion and imagination for so long as i live. And i promise to be his slave, his wife and his lover in whatever proportions he desires. Yours forever, sir.

And thanks for listening, CollarMe. i found so many people here just like me, looking for some kind of a happy ending that satisfies our particular needs and desires, and i wish you all the very best. Just remember, a happy ending doesn't stay the same forever, everything changes, a happy ending is really just a happy beginning... love, ravenna

6/26/2005 9:18:14 PM
Silly censorship.

i just discovered that my last journal entry here has recently been cut short by the CollarMe Powers That Be, apparently because i mentioned the website where my new live journal is located so my CollarMe friends could also visit me there. (i'm calling it "My Fucking Memoirs,"  hence the little comedy routine in the last journal entry, which now goes exactly... nowhere.) 

On the message boards there was a thread on censorship of journals and profiles; the whole thread has now simply disappeared into the cyberether. And emails i've  tried to send here that happened to mention the names of other BDSM sites, the ones that begin with the letters A and B, have been censored too.... Come on, guys! i understand the need to police the site here for legal issues, for the protection of all of us, but this is just silly! It's like General Motors not letting you mention F**d, or Microsoft slapping duct tape over your mouth before you can say A***e. Are we trying to create the illusion that CollarMe is the only BDSM connection and journal site in the universe? Sigh. Anyone who can use G****e or Y***o can find all the others! Anyway, anyone who wants to know how to find my other little journal, drop me an email here and we'll synchronise our secret decoder rings and see if we can pass the deep dark secret between us...

i love you anyway, CollarMe, but this is a silly idea. Isn't it?

ravenna_amorosa

5/25/2005 11:08:35 PM
My fucking what?

Whenever i ramble off on some endless sex-soaked sentimental digression here on CollarMe or launch into some long involved story in response to a simple question ? and my stories tend to include all the information you didn't want or need to know and to begin at the beginning, for example when dinosaurs still ruled the earth, and maybe even include lots of interesting but irrelevant speculation about the kinky sex lives of the dinosaurs ? one of my owners will eventually break in on me and say something like, "Just answer the question, darling, nobody asked for your fucking memoirs!"  And for years my guys have had a running joke that when i write my autobiography someday it will be entitled My Fucking Memoirs, because it will be mostly about, well, fucking. We amuse each other outlining memorable imaginary chapters of this mythical volume, along the lines of, say, "Chapter 37: In Which I Show the Fucking Rhino What That Horn Is For."



3/26/2005 12:03:01 AM
A walk in the park.

Left too long alone with just her humans, no other dogs around to play with, treated like a pampered pet, the beautiful bitch forgets she's a dog. She lounges on the sofa, hogs the remote, wears out the cell phone, orders pizza, leaves her collar on the doorknob, makes you fetch your own paper and slippers, looks at you as if to say, Who me? I'm the lady of the house, dude, get your own paper...

Like hell she is. She's a dog, she's your dog. Remind her whose dog she really is. The command, the leash, the collar, a long walk in the park. Remind her who trained her. Throw that stick hard and long, make her run, make her work for it, make her pant for your hands in her fur, your hands on her belly, push her down in the grass and roll her over, make her show you her stuff. Let the other dogs sniff her, chase her, bite her, mount her, push her down in the mud, mount her again. Show her what she's good for and make her like it. Make her love it. She can't help it, she's yours.

So tighten the bitch's collar, pull her leash taut, make her heel, say the words, let her know what she is and who she belongs to. Tell her she can play the lady of the house tomorrow, baby, but tonight
she's your bitch.

That's the kind of weekend i had. A walk in the park? Seventy-two hours of unrelenting discipline and sexual service alongside another slave girl, a brand-new slave for whom everything in this life is so new it makes my eyes feel as they've just opened again for the very first time, just to see it all through her eyes, serving two very demanding masters, one hers, one mine, has reminded me of exactly what kind of animal i really am. i needed to be reminded, i was getting to be too much of a pampered pet poodle, at least in my own mind. (My Master always knows just how much slack to let out in my leash, and when to pull me back.) Now i am down off the sofa and back at my Master's feet, where i belong, where i have always belonged. Now his leash is fastened to a shiny new ring, a ring right through my nose, where it was always meant to be, where it will always remind me of what i really am.

Please, Master, another walk in the park, Sir? i already have my leash and collar and my beautiful new ring...

3/13/2005 11:59:29 PM

Michelangelo.

 

Why the nickname: He’s an artist, a creator, the man who made me what I am. I may not be the Sistine Chapel or the Dome of St. Peter, but what I am is largely his creation. (God, my mama and daddy, my other owner Marco Polo and I all helped a little too.) When I nicknamed my owners here in my journal I could also have called them Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, after one of their favorite old movies, but then I’d have to visualize Butch not as Paul Newman but as…

 

Perfect Hollywood casting: A young tough sexy craggy Charlton Heston in The Agony and the Ecstasy (playing Michelangelo of course, and the title is too perfect). Or maybe in Ben-Hur, as a slave. (Irony!) Everyone who knows him either sees the Heston resemblance totally or they don’t get it at all. But he digs Chuck himself, so the name is okay, although he says at 32 he’s not ready to look like Moses yet. (And he says I can call him “Butch” anytime.)

 

Who he is: The “senior managing partner” of the two men who own me. Once my second owner, now my fourth, and the man who saved my life when I was ready to throw it away on a nightmare after my third owner set me free last year. The man who put my last collar around my throat for life. Ex-lawyer, ex-money guy, now semi-retired at  32 (so young!) and a fulltime artist, collector and gentleman horse and slave owner, while I’m starting over as a sex slave at 30 (so old!). The smartest, funniest, most capable guy I’ve ever known. (No slight against Marco, he thinks so too.) Crinkly laugh lines, but a look that can stop a charging rhino. Could lead lemmings back up out of the sea. My leader, too.

 

How he’s changed: Once he thought he was finished with me, he says, that I was complete, a finished work of art ready to share with (unleash on?) the world. Now he says he realizes he’ll never be finished with me, that human lives are works in progress, that we live in the process, not the product, and he says he’ll never share me again with anyone other than Marco, his brother-in-all-but-blood. I think he’s wiser, funnier, sweeter, tougher. He laughs at all this. I tell him he’s changed from the brilliant young hotheaded commando who charges into the machine guns in the first reel to the cool tough battle-hardened commander who gets his men (and his woman) through the battle in one piece and off into the closing credits. (Sorry, I’ve never been in a war, but I have seen the movies.)

 

Where we are now: He says the three of us will be the stable emotional tripod that keeps us all centered, connected, unified and in touch with our crazy past, and we’ll still be the wild unpredictable sexual hothouse that keeps us all off-balance, on-edge, falling forward into the future together. He says I’m the football that keeps the two quarterbacks in motion, the chain that keeps the crankshaft and the wheel turning together. (Not quite sure what all that means, but if there are chains and shafts involved, I’m there.)

 

What I say to him: Use my blood for your paint, use my flesh for your clay, use my body for the stone under your hammer and chisel, cut me free from the marble but never let me fall from your hands, shape me and polish me and fill all the empty spaces in my body, heart and soul with your spirit, and I will be yours, for you to make of me what you will for as long as I live.


2/23/2005 12:08:00 AM
Please, Sirs, may i have another one?

Hooray! MY NIPPLE PIERCING EXPERIENCE IS FINALLY UP ON BME! It's dated Feb. 18, and it's entitled "My owner's beautiful pierced nipples (i just get to wear them)."  Michelangelo and Marco encouraged me to finally write it down and post it to my beloved BME, one of my very favorite web sites of all time since it's very beginning, one night when we were researching various thrilling piercings that maybe, might, perhaps might, if i'm a good little slavegirl and i'm ever so lucky and the stars are just right, one or two of them just might find their way into my oh-so-willing-and-grateful body...

And of course now i see all sorts of typos in it and a dozen things i could have added or explained better; it all happened about six years ago, not five, but BME just has these time periods to check if it wasn't recent; BME made me capitalize all my I's (made me feel very sassy); i had to simplify my unique dual ownership situation into just one Owner to make it less confusing, since i only had one owner (Michelangelo) at the time; and we have also remembered some more of the useful medical details, but i guess it's reasonably accurate and complete for having been written late at night after too much champagne with my two beautiful owners looking over my shoulders and playing with my nipple rings, just to "get me in the mood."  Well, it's working, fellas, but it's a whole different mood than the write-my-fucking-memoirs mood...

I confess to being a total slut for piercing and tattooing and body modification of every possible kind since before i was even a teenager, even though amazingly i only have seven piercings (so far) and one tattoo (and two little brands, that i'm told -- i can't see them without a couple of mirrors and a little help -- are fading fast and probably won't live out the year). And i was nineteen before i even had my ears pierced! (Marco did those, and my left nostril, since abandoned, and my navel) Every hole in my body had lost its virginity before my poor little earlobes, and they still only get to wear one hole apiece! (Something i meant to put in the BME piece: Whenever my nipple rings get gauged up, the old pair of nipple rings get to live in my earlobes. My nips are currently at 10 gauge, my ears hold their old 12s, and i'll soon be gauged up to 8s in the nipples, so their 10s will go into my ears. Result: My owners are very fond of toying with my earrings while murmuring sweet nothings like, "Nice nipple rings, babe."  This never fails to make me blush three shades of scarlet. And it's true, i am wearing nipple rings in my earlobes as well as in my nipples...) 

Simple reason i saved my skin: I was bound and determined to save myself unpierced and unmarked for my first owner, whomever he turned out to be, even though i had only managed to save one actual virgin orifice for Him (my ass).  Go figure; i was a wild promiscuous little teenage slut, but i was dead-set on giving Him the gift of my unpierced and unmarked flesh to mark for Himself as His new property. Good thing, otherwise i'd have a hundred holes in my body by now full of big steel rings, i'd jingle like wind chimes when i walk, and i'd be inked from head to toe like Lydia the Tattooed Lady. If i hadn't been on a holy mission to turn my body over to my Owner it would have been just irresistible. Thank God i'm not in charge of my body!

I have been blessed to be owned by two very classy guys who treasure my classic movie star looks (and my modesty), who don't want me looking obviously "alternative," at least not when i'm fully dressed, who greatly enjoy my ability to pull off a classic Old Hollywood glamour look on short notice. Give me the right gown and haircut and let me do my Forties film noir makeup and i can practically channel Katherine Hepburn and Rita Hayworth and Rosalind Russell and a host of other great old-movie dames...
 
And you'd never guess that underneath my glamourous Oscar-night gown, the one that shows off my new collar (which doesn't shout "slave!" at all), i'm naked except for my garter belt and stockings, and my gleaming nipple rings and my triangle ring with my dangling medallion engraved with my Slave Registration Number 399996 and my ownership monogram tattooed in jet-black ink on my pubic mound -- They all mark me unmistakably for life as the sex slave i reallly am...

And maybe soon, please my darling Masters, please just one more ring -- or maybe two?

2/10/2005 11:35:12 PM

Marco Polo.

Why I gave him that nickname:  He's a born adventurer and explorer; he's part Italian, like me; and long ago he ventured far away to an exotic land and discovered Ravenna.

Perfect Hollywood casting:  Maybe a young Robert Redford morphed with Jude Law; but that's not really even close. At 19 he was the sexiest, prettiest boy I'd ever met; at 30 he's turning into the most handsome man I've ever known. If you saw him on the street you'd assume the film crew must be right around the corner.

Who he is:  The man who owns half of me. No, that's not right, they both own all of me. But he discovered me, he was the first man to own all of me, my first true love, my first owner; then, now and forever. (How he discovered me? Another story.) He has his Ph.D. now, and he's a real scientist, not the laboratory kind but the rough-and-ready, get out in the field and dig kind, so he can go wherever he wants and play in the dirt to his heart's content.  Still an explorer.

What's different about him now:  The hot beautiful radiance he had at 19 is still there, but with a cool amused clarity on top of it. Back then he just wanted to get to the top of the next mountain, swim the next river, fly over the next horizon, instant gratification took way too long for that boy, and I thank God he wanted me along for the crazy ride. I was his lover, girlfriend, best friend, sex slave, sidekick, Sancho Panza, co-conspirator, partner in crime, and it's a good thing i was up for anything he wanted anytime he wanted it, because we never slowed down for very long. Now he wants to not only climb the next mountain, he wants to map it and explore it and claim it as his own and build a house on it. (He showed me the mountain, too; he says he's going to name it after me.)

Where we're going now:  He says he wants me to be everything I've been for him in the past and more, he wants me to be his anchor, his lifeline, his center for life, the third leg of his triangle with Michelangelo, his best friend and his brother-by-heart-if-not-by-blood, and the thing he can always count on to be his wherever he goes, the vessel that will keep him afloat. 

What I will do for him:  I tell him he can use my bones for his mast and my heart for his keel and my body for his sail and the breath in my lungs to fill it with wind, and I will be his ship to sail forever, right over the edge of the world.


2/4/2005 10:41:31 PM
In ravenna's perfect world...

Sex slaves would be officially recognized and registered as property. Upon first submitting to enslavement, a new slavegirl (or boy) would be taken by her new owner to the DMV, oops, sorry, the DHP (Department of Human Property), where she would be registered with a permanent slave number, which would then be tattooed on certain standardized places on her body; her forehead, the nape of her neck, behind one ear; wherever else her owner desired. The new slave would be ID checked, photographed, fingerprinted, DNA typed, drug and disease tested, and finally implanted with a permanent ID chip with her registration number encoded, just like a thoroughbred horse or a purebred puppy. For an extra fee she would also be implanted with a tracking transponder, to prevent theft. Her owner would pay an annual licensing fee and receive a numbered tag to attach to her collar (right next to her rabies tag). When she is sold, her old owner files a change of ownership form, her new owner registers her as his own new property, she gets a new safety and emission test, sorry, i mean medical test, and her permanent file is updated. And if she is lost or stolen or runs away, her owner simply calls the cops. This is how it would be in ravenna's perfect little world...

Well, my real world is not quite that perfect, but amazingly, it's now a little closer: My owners enrolled me on The Slave Register. To my complete astonishment and my incredible delight i am now Slave Registration Number 399996. They set it up as a little surprise (just one of a great many) when they recollared me last month; i had no idea there even was such a thing. They showed me my Ownership Certificate online, and they let me write there, with their input, a pledge of my devotion to them for life which left all three of us in tears for hours, and my eyes still get wet (and yes, it makes me wet there too, my owners always have both effects on me) whenever i look at it. Or even think about it. Later they framed a copy of it, and to seal our commitment, they gave me a tag, a heavy polished stainless steel medallion with my number 399996 engraved on it, to wear on the ring between my legs as long as i live.

Of course they would have to point out that the whole thing is entirely symbolic, there's no DNA test, no fingerprints, no ID check, no permanent record on a government computer (probably a good thing), and no law to send the cops after a runaway slave (quite the contrary). But the unbelievable power of that symbol of being registered and numbered forever as their property hit me like a runaway train. i'll never forget it, i'm still reeling from it...

And my number!
i am so in love with my Slave Registration Number! 399996. It's so perfect -- i'm the third leg of our little triangle, and now my permanent number has all those factors of three. And yet it was totally random; set up a registration, get assigned a random number. Must be destiny. My number is so perfect for me, my owners have been amusing themselves by nicknaming me "39," or sometimes just "3" for short. And they have assured me that when the time is right, and they have made all the necessary artistic decisions, Slave Registration Number 399996 will be tattooed forever indelibly somewhere on my body...

And my owners and i will together be one step deeper into ravenna's perfect world.

2/4/2005 10:40:42 PM
In ravenna's perfect world...

Ses slaves would be officially recognized and registered as property. Upon first submitting to enslavement, a new slavegirl (or boy) would be taken by her new owner to the DMV, oops, sorry, the DHP (Department of Human Property), where she would be registered with a permanent slave number, which would then be tattooed on certain standardized places on her body; her forehead, the nape of her neck, behind one ear; wherever else her owner desired. The new slave would be ID checked, photographed, fingerprinted, DNA typed, drug and disease tested, and finally implanted with a permanent ID chip with her registration number encoded, just like a thoroughbred horse or a purebred puppy. For an extra fee she would also be implanted with a tracking transponder, to prevent theft. Her owner would pay an annual licensing fee and receive a numbered tag to attach to her collar (right next to her rabies tag). When she is sold, her old owner files a change of ownership form, her new owner registers her as his own new property, she gets a new safety and emission test, sorry, i mean medical test, and her permanent file is updated. And if she is lost or stolen or runs away, her owner simply calls the cops. This is how it would be in ravenna's perfect little world...

Well, my real world is not quite that perfect, but amazingly, it's now a little closer: My owners enrolled me on The Slave Register. To my complete astonishment and my incredible delight i am now Slave Registration Number 399996. They set it up as a little surprise (just one of a great many) when they recollared me last month; i had no idea there even was such a thing. They showed me my Ownership Certificate online, and they let me write there, with their input, a pledge of my devotion to them for life which left all three of us in tears for hours, and my eyes still get wet (and yes, it makes me wet there too, my owners always have both effects on me) whenever i look at it. Or even think about it. Later they framed a copy of it, and to seal our commitment, they gave me a tag, a heavy polished stainless steel medallion with my number 399996 engraved on it, to wear on the ring between my legs as long as i live.

Of course they would have to point out that the whole thing is entirely symbolic, there's no DNA test, no fingerprints, no ID check, no permanent record on a government computer (probably a good thing), and no law to send the cops after a runaway slave (quite the contrary). But the unbelievable power of that symbol of being registered and numbered forever as their property hit me like a runaway train. i'll never forget it, i'm still reeling from it...

And my number!
i am so in love with my Slave Registration Number! 399996. It's so perfect -- i'm the third leg of our little triangle, and now my permanent number has all those factors of three. And yet it was totally random; set up a registration, get assigned a random number. Must be destiny. My number is so perfect for me, my owners have been amusing themselves by nicknaming me "39," or sometimes just "3" for short. And they have assured me that when the time is right, and they have made all the necessary artistic decisions, Slave Registration Number 399996 will be tattooed forever indelibly somewhere on my body...

And my owners and i will together be one step deeper into ravenna's perfect world.

2/1/2005 10:14:21 PM
Bumping into invisible walls (again).

i wrote a little journal entry that they wouldn't post (again). i guess because it was all about -- gasp! -- sex. (Again.) Is this a forbidden topic here? That would be ironic -- i'm a SEX SLAVE! It's been whispered there are even others like me hereabouts! Even Owners of sex slaves! Sure, i don't think about sex all the time, there was a minute or two just the other day when i thought about something else (i forget what it was, now). But it's right near the top of my job description, as a, ahem, full-time sex slave. And i read lots of much wilder stuff in other girls' profiles and journals... so maybe it's just me? Is my sex life so crazy or so over-the-top or what? (Maybe it's too dull; no flaming goats, no hot alien cannibals, no sexy rape scenes with Bigfoot...)

Grumble, grumble. i'm sure the censors here are just doing their jobs, keeping us all from unwelcome scrutiny from the Sex Police, but it's a little frustrating. Anyway, it's a good thing i have other things to do, among them, ssshhhh, don't tell anyone, but it's SEX!!! And there's my musical cue now --

love, ravenna

1/26/2005 9:52:23 PM
The party's over.

No, no, not that party! "Ravenna in Heaven" is still playing, what a bore, geez, it just makes you want to hurl how giddily happy one little slavegirl can be, it's just nauseating... No, just this little episode, the "Reenslavement of Ravenna" episode, where Ravenna got the surprise of her life getting recollared by both of her first two owners together, and then they all just zenned out for days and days in hypersexed bliss... But now Michelangelo has work to do, he has to go to Southeast Asia to check on post-tsunami reconstruction for a client, and Marco Polo has to go back home to Colorado, he has his own company and projects waiting, he had flown in for the big Ravenna's Ex-Owners Summit Conference and stayed to help put my life back together... So i get to go with Marco and stay with him for a month or so! i am so excited, we haven't been alone that long together in -- yikes, over six years. And he was my serious college boyfriend, my first true love, and my very first owner, the first guy i ever dared to tell My Big Secret to (then he told me his big secret).

Days of Our Lives Dept.: i'll get to meet his last ex-girfriend, sort-of a sub but not a slave, who really wanted him back and is now apparently totally unthrilled that i'm back in his life; i'll get to see my folks and some of my sisters (i'm the baby of five girls and one brother), the ones who still live there, especially the one sis who knows My Big Secret and wishes she were a slave too; some old friends from high school and college; and i'll get to see the old neighborhood... (No, i'm totally not an East Coast girl!)

And this isn't the thing i meant to write at all! i meant to tell the world about my beautiful new collar, which i would be proudly plastering photos of all over the web if i were still allowed to do that, but i'm not, so i'll have to just try to describe it if i can do it without crying, it's so amazing, but maybe next time, i'm getting dragged away to get packed for the trip, so all my best, ravenna!

1/23/2005 11:28:51 PM
Starting over.

i am starting my life all over. i'll get to the really BIG ways later; first, the very small way in which i'm starting over here on CollarMe.

The CollarMe authorities kept blocking my journal bits, sending me cryptic emails that they didn't conform to "community values." Not very informative, guys! Then i was offline for a few days, doing little things like, oh yes, GETTING RECOLLARED (hallelujah!), and finally when i tried to log in and catch up on some new friends, my name and my entire profile were gone, along with all the journal bits they DID approve and literally hundreds of emails and photos others had sent me and that i had sent. (Maybe dumping my whole presence here was just a tech glitch, i don't know, but on the heels of blocking my journal it sure seemed like an editorial comment: You, Ravenna: Out of here NOW!) And some of my blocked bits were pretty darn sedate; i think one was just people sitting around a table fully dressed, deciding what would become of that troublesome slavegirl, ravenna. Whereas i've read in other journals here such stuff as violent, nonconsensual gang-rapes, demands for money for sexual services, desires for permanent captivity, torture, full human toilet service, etc., so what was so off-limits about me describing my little troubles? (Oh, maybe mine were too boring...) 

Okay, okay, END OF MY RANT! i really do love this site, and with the exception of getting blocked and dumped by the authorities i have felt incredibly welcomed here, and if i offended anyone's sensibilities here i truly apologize. If this had happened a few weeks ago when CollarMe was practically my only lifeline to this world i would have been hurt, angry, devastated. However, thankfully, since my owners had just turned my life upside-down, my reaction was amazingly serene: Oh well, that little chapter's over too...

But my lovely owners revived my account and wrote an incredibly moving new profile for me, and now here i am back, with their blessing, ta-daa! ...i said, TA-DAA! (Sound of crickets...) Anyway, they think it's a swell idea for me to participate here and i agree completely, so i'll try to keep the ranting and raving and rambling to a minimum, whether anyone is reading this or not. (Besides, now that i'm owned again i'm absorbing all the testosterone and other delicious substances of not one but TWO beatiful guys, so i'll be hanging around online a lot less than last month, when i was a little lost unowned puppy...)

Bye for now, and all my best, ravenna

Vertical Line

Horizontal Line
Horizontal Line
OmegaMorningstar
 
 Age: 23
 London, United Kingdom