On the leash

Over the course of my last relationship, I found I had an obsession with leashes. I adored being on the end of a leash, I couldn't get enough of it. I even came close to dying because of my love of leashes: I was leashed to the bed one night when she was here, and we went to sleep for the night, and I woke up in the middle of the night because I had turned over multiple times and was strangling myself. I never told her out of fear of never having a leash again (though at the time it seemed more like I'd rather die than never be on a leash again).

It's such a simple thing, too. It's just a chain that leads to my collar, but it can be so powerful. If the person holding it wants me close, they pull me in. If they want me further out, they give me some slack. If they want me to wonder around of my own accord, they take it off. If they want me to stay somewhere, they tie it to something. But even then, you're still under their control, still submitting to them, because you're where they want you.

I found immense comfort being leashed to things. Frequently when I was feeling low, she would leash me to the bed, or she'd put the leash on me and hold onto it while we sat on the couch. I remember one night at a party at her house, I got very sleepy and went to bed. She came in a little while later to check up on me, and I said I wasn't coming back out. She wrapped my old collar around my neck and leashed me to the bed, and kissed me goodnight. I felt so cared for, and loved at that moment.

I think I need to put leashes into the Need category for future relationships.