Liberated Through Submission

A reflection on being collared and free.

In my latest Audio Dispatch, I gave y’all a recap of my time in Phoenix with Kount for PleasureVerse 2026. This is a slight spoiler, but if you follow me on Instagram, you already know that I also received my first collar from Kount while we were together that weekend. I’m not gonna front; it is a beautiful collar. It is cobalt blue, which happens to be Their favorite color. I look gorgeous in it.

I spent the better part of 5 years exploring and learning about submission while happily unowned. For three of those years, I was self-collared. I am very grateful for the time I spent as an unowned submissive. I got to know who Lola Rosé is, the kind of submissive I wanted to be, and lastly, the qualities I needed to see in a Dominant before I even thought about approaching them (or even liking them, for that matter).

But I was also honest with myself–and with you, Dear Reader–that the desire to belong to Someone Deserving never left me. Experience taught me that it was best not to rush into a D/s dynamic, especially if it involved chasing after somebody who was ultimately going to waste my time or worse, mistreat me in more dangerous ways.

Wearing Kount’s collar is not only an outward symbol of my submission to Them. For me, it is a symbol of Their care for me and our collective devotion and commitment to the dynamic we have mutually agreed to build together.

It is an outward statement that says: “I trust Them to guide and protect me, and I trust myself to serve and represent Them to the very best of my ability.” And that matters to me more than the aesthetic satisfaction of how good Their collar looks around my neck (even though it really does look the fuck good).

I also experienced another first: being collared and leashed. I have said to friends, fellow submissives, and to Kount before that I wouldn’t let just any ol’ nigga leash me because the way my psychological risk profile is set up, I wouldn’t trust just any ol’ nigga to lead me anywhere. It takes a certain level of trust to know that the person holding the other end of that leash not only knows what they are doing, but has a deep understanding of what I need to feel safe.

At no point did I worry that I would be put in harm’s way by Kount or by anyone in the room. In fact, I felt even safer on the leash than I would have in a new environment without it. I had trust in Kount’s ability to lead me with care and consideration. Additionally, being leashed by Kount while following the rules of our protocol, which requires permission from Them to speak to others (and for others to ask Them for permission to address me), was liberating in unexpected ways.

You see, I am a textbook extroverted eldest daughter: expected to be “on” at all times, lest I be caught slippin’, being the responsible one, the overachiever, and the family manager by default. The thing folks don’t realize about extroverts is that our social battery gets worn out, too. Being leashed allows me to let go of all of those internal and external expectations of how I show up in a room, especially in social settings.

Not having to fill the social role of accommodating others, sometimes sacrificing my own comfort and happiness, was more than just a relief; it was a pleasure. Knowing I could just be, and trusting My Kount to lead and decide how I interact with people and with whom, was liberating to me, someone who is a girlboss on most days. When I say that submission is often about letting go, this is exactly what I mean. I get to explore a different part of myself and see who I am when I can exist beyond the roles I am assigned in my vanilla life.

And that feels so damn good.