🔐 The Day I Collared Myself

Why I Chose a Self-Collaring Ritual—and What It’s Taught Me About Devotion, Power, and Surrender

I used to think being collared meant that someone else had to choose me.

That a Dominant had to come into my life and see my submission—nurture it, protect it, claim it. That only through their presence could I unlock the next level of myself.

But I was wrong.

Because the day I collared myself, I realized something no partner had ever shown me before:

I belong to me first. My devotion, my surrender, my obedience to the path I’ve chosen—it starts here. With my own two hands and choice to commitment.

🪞 Why I Chose to Collar Myself

It wasn’t out of bitterness. It wasn’t a rejection of Dominants or D/s relationships.

It was a reclamation.

I had spent so much time waiting—for the “right” Dom, for someone who would see the submissive in me and say, “Yes, you’re mine.”But what if I was the one who needed to say, “Yes, I’m mine” first?

I realized I was handing my worth, my structure, and my power away in hopes that someone else would eventually reflect it back to me.

I was craving direction.Craving ritual.Craving something sacred to anchor my submission—not just in scenes or play, but in my everyday life.

So I created a ritual.And I gave myself the collar I had always been waiting for.

🧠 The Psychology of Self-Collaring

Self-collaring is powerful because it flips the script:It says you are worthy of structure, intention, and devotion—with or without a partner.

For me, the collar became:

• A commitment to honor my needs, not abandon them for validation.

• A symbol of discipline, not punishment.

• A practice in showing up for myself, especially when it was hard.

I began setting rituals: Morning protocol. Bedtime rituals. Self-check-ins. I gave myself rewards. I held myself accountable.And it didn’t feel lonely—it felt sovereign.

🧷 Choosing My Collar: Something That Spoke to My Soul

I didn’t just go on Etsy and buy the first choker I saw.

I spent days looking—feeling into what felt true.

Did I want something soft and delicate? Or strong and unbreakable?

I chose a simple, elegant titanium ring collar. It felt solid. Smooth. Purposeful. It didn’t scream “kink” to the outside world. But to me, it felt like a crown.

And that’s the thing—your collar doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It just has to feel like yours. I ended up getting my collar from Eternity Collars and I bought the Thin Titanium style.

🔥 My Self-Collaring Ritual

I made it a ceremony.Because it was.

Here’s what I did:

🕯️ 1. I prepared the space.

Candles. Music. A journal. A mirror. I made it intentional—not rushed.

✍️ 2. I wrote a vow to myself.

I read it aloud. I promised to honor my submission, to create structure when I felt chaotic, to return to softness when I hardened. I promised to listen to myself the way I hoped a partner one day would. I focused on self love.

🧎 3. I knelt before the mirror.

Not to see my body, but to witness my soul. I saw myself, truly, as a submissive—not because someone else told me I was, but because I knew and felt this truth deep inside of me.

🔐 4. I locked the collar around my neck.

And I whispered, “I belong to myself now.”

💬 Living in the Collar: What Changed After That Night

It wasn’t about being “owned.”It was about owning myself.

Every time I touched the collar, it reminded me:

• That I don’t need to wait to be chosen.

• That my submission is a sacred part of me, not a performance for someone else.

• That even in a world that moves fast, I can be intentional, present, devoted.

From the moment I locked it on, I wore it in the open—boldly, deliberately, even when I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to be seen. It wasn’t about defiance; it was about honesty. This collar was mine. I had chosen it, claimed it, earned it.

But being visible didn’t mean I was always comfortable.

There were moments I felt the stares linger a little too long. I imagined strangers asking questions I wasn’t sure I could answer. I wondered what they assumed, what stories they made up about the metal around my neck. There were times I felt the old whispers of shame rise up—not because of them, but because of me. The parts of me that still worried I was “too much,” “too different,” “too openly kinky.”

But I wore it anyway.

Day after day, I let the collar stay exactly where it belonged—on my skin, in full view. And over time, something softened. The discomfort didn’t vanish overnight, but it lost its grip.

I stopped wondering what people thought, and started remembering what I knew:

This collar is my promise. My ritual. My reclamation. It was for Me, not anyone else.

Some days, it felt like armor. Other days, like a soft reminder of who I am when no one else is watching.

But always—it felt like coming home to myself.

✨ If You're Considering Self-Collaring, Here’s What I’d Say:

1. You don’t need permission. You are allowed to claim your path, your power, and your submission—right now.

2. Make it a ritual. Light a candle. Write vows. Play music. Create an altar. Give your ceremony the same weight you’d give a wedding or collaring from a partner.

3. Define what it means for you. Does it mean daily protocol? Journaling? A physical reminder to stay soft? Create your own rules—and honor them.

4. It can evolve. You can release the collar. Re-collar yourself. Or pass it to a partner one day when it feels right. Nothing is fixed—everything is intentional.

🪶 Final Reflection: Devotion Begins Within

We often think submission is something we give to someone.

But the deepest submission I’ve ever experienced is the one I give to myself—Every time I follow through on my needs. Every time I rest when my body says stop. Every time I kneel in front of the mirror and remember who I am.

My collar isn’t just a symbol. It’s a compass. It points me back to my truth, over and over again.

So if you're out there, waiting for someone to give you permission to be the submissive you already are…

You don’t have to wait anymore.

You are allowed to choose yourself.

Today.

With love, discipline, and devotion,—RTR