Collar Drawings Novels & Stories

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

A warlord with fire in his veins. A captive princess with nothing left to lose. When the Dragon Warlord seizes her crumbling kingdom, Sera expects death—not a collar of gold and a vow of possession. Claimed as tribute, she is taken to the heart of the mountain, where fire breathes and ancient magic sleeps beneath the stone. Rhazien is ruthless, monstrous, and terrifyingly divine. But he is also bound by something older than war: the need to claim. To protect. To own. Sera refuses to break. But as power shifts and passion ignites, she learns that dragons don’t ask. They take. And this warlord doesn’t just want her obedience—he wants her heart. And if she gives it to him, she may never survive the fall. The Dragon Warlord’s Bride is a dark fantasy romance full of possession, power struggles, and slow-burn heat. Perfect for fans of monster lovers, mating bonds, and morally unhinged kings who’d burn the world for their queen.

When I was three and a half, the system sent me back to my dad's high school days. The good news—the brooding villain destined to destroy the world was still just a blond guy. The bad news—there were way too many blond guys at that school, and I could not tell them apart. Hence, every time I saw one, I called him 'Dad'. By the time I got to the 101st, I was robbed. He grabbed me by the collar with a fierce look on his face, like he was about to hit me at any second. The long-dormant system suddenly spoke up, "Kiddo, the one walking out of the school right now is your dad!" I sniffled and shouted, "Hey, you'd better be careful! I'm telling you, my dad's almost an adult! Right, Dad? Elliot!" Elliot Smith froze for a second and pointed at himself. "Who, me?"

I went to exactly one party in my new, wealthy neighborhood. Then my neighbor Brenda sued me. In court, she held her bruised and battered daughter, Tiffany. She accused my son of rape. Mid-hearing, Tiffany tugged her collar down. Red marks circled her neck. "He tried to rip my pants off," she sobbed. "He tried to force himself on me. I fought back. So he beat me. He ruined my face!" Outside the courthouse, protesters held up signs, calling my son a piece of trash, a spoiled rich kid. Online, a photoshopped memorial of me went viral. The caption read: The unfit mother should die with her son. My company’s stock plummeted. But I just sat there. Stone-faced. I asked for my son, Cooper, to be brought in. The courtroom doors opened. Cooper walked in. Everyone froze.

They say Don Julian Marconi would burn the world for one tear of mine. Five years ago, at the Met Gala, he spent millions to hang emeralds around my neck and swore I was his Madonna. Five years later, beneath the velvet boxes of our anniversary, I found a lace strap soaked in sin—and a fresh, crimson smear on his collar that told me exactly whose bed he’d left. I smiled. I asked him to sign a blank sheet of paper. And that meant he was agreeing to whatever I wanted. He called it love. I called it the death warrant for his empire. In fifteen days, I finalized our divorce papers. I boarded the Stella d’Oro as Serena Cole and burned Celeste Marconi to ash on the deck. Then I vanished with his fortune, his power and the one secret that would destroy him. I was the saint he worshipped. Now I am the ghost who haunts him. No groveling. No forgiveness. No second chance. Just ashes.

I signed for my sister's dinner. Not for love. Not for glory. Just so she wouldn't go to bed hungry again. Now I'm carrying his heir — and Clause 7 says I'll never see this baby's face. Elara is an omega with nothing left. So when Alpha Kael Blackwood — cold, haunted, called the Ice Alpha — offers her a contract, she doesn't hesitate. One year. One heir. $200,000. Live in his house. Carry his child. Leave when it's over. What the fine print hides: Clause 7. If the baby is a male heir — a True Alpha — Elara's parental rights end at birth. No visits. No goodbyes. Just a check and a locked door. She discovers this at fourteen weeks. After the morning sickness. After the first kick. After she's already named her daughter. Kael Blackwood is not a good man. He buried his entire pack at nineteen. He hasn't smiled since. But Elara sees the cracks. The hallway light he leaves on because she's afraid of the dark. Her sister's crayon drawings taped to his fridge. The way his hand hovers over her stomach — never touching — when he thinks she's asleep. He's not supposed to care. She's not supposed to want him to. When an old enemy discovers Elara's pregnancy carries the prophesied heir, the contract becomes a death warrant. Kael must choose: Follow pack law and lose her forever. Or burn his legacy down — and keep her. The Ice Alpha's Contract is a complete standalone dark werewolf romance. No cheating. No non-con. Pregnancy from Chapter One. Guaranteed HEA. ---

On our wedding anniversary, I ask my husband, Luke Blackburn, to buy me some fish stew. Since I'm in my first trimester, I keep vomiting every now and then due to morning sickness. Right now, I have an intense craving for fish stew. But Luke comes home empty-handed in the middle of the night. He claims that he's completely forgotten about my request. I don't say anything at all. All I notice is a strand of long hair sticking to Luke's collar that doesn't belong to me. Some time later, I see the fish stew I never got to eat in a photo that Luke's colleague, Ruby Pollard, has uploaded to her social media feed. The caption reads, "Luke ordered this dish for me. He knows that I love fish stew from this particular restaurant the most. I'm so touched by his gesture!" In the photo, I see a pair of familiar hands picking out fish bones from the meat tenderly just for Ruby.

**Dark Romance** Being the new girl is hard, Mary is shy, introverted, and prefers the solitude of being with her books than people. But in her new school, things became different as she got noticed by the wrong people. She catches the attention of the school's bad boy who begins to taunt and ridicule her. ***** I played with my fingers as he stared, he didn't stop staring and I was finding it hard to maintain eye contact with him. His stare was making me feel uncomfortable. I couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here alone. "Mary Davies," he whispered my name. "You are still a virgin right?" He asked smirking. "Hmmmn... Untouched. Innocent. Just like I have always wanted." He whispered, trailing a finger down my collar bone. "I am going to have so much fun with you," he whispered again, kissing my ear lobes. "So much fun." He added, stepping away from me. He began to walk towards the door. "See you tonight."

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

Taboo Entanglements: 40 Shades of Surrender One touch, one forbidden line crossed, and everything explodes. In this raw 18+ collection of "40 scorching erotic stories", desire doesn’t ask permission — it takes, claims, and ruins. A best friend’s father finally bends his daughter’s tempting best friend over his desk and fucks the innocence out of her. A possessive stepbrother locks his bratty stepsister in a collar and makes her scream his name. A dangerously obsessed professor corrupts his favorite student with ropes, lectures, and relentless age-gap domination. A grieving woman lets her dead brother’s best friend fuck her raw on his motorcycle to feel alive again. And a neglected married actress surrenders her body and marriage to the commanding touch of her dominant female co-star. Jealousy, guilt, filthy pleasure and pain that feels too good. Every story drips with unfiltered lust; dripping toys, bruising grips, BDSM so intense it hurts, and orgasms that break minds, no limits, no apologies, just pure, addictive sin. Forty stories, forty different ways to surrender completely. Once you start… you won’t stop.