Collared Novels & Stories

That had been the beginning of the collars. To achieve equality and fairness as the jealous folks had termed it, they had created collars with little bits of grinded silver designed in a way to keep their wolves at bay. Kaden had rejected it at first, but when some of them had been taken captive by the rings, he had succumbed to the plan. So, they couldn’t shift nor could they remove the collars. The pain that accentuated from that numbed them for a while.

The collar arrived on a Tuesday. It came in a black velvet box, delivered by a silent assistant who left it on Lila’s desk without a word. No note. No explanation. Just the box, cool and mysterious, sitting on her keyboard like a dare. She stared at it for a long time. It was slim. Black leather. A single silver loop at the front. No name tag. No key. Just simplicity and control. Her fingers brushed over it. Her thighs clenched.

It was a deeper connection, a silent acknowledgment of our shared fate. He reached up, brushing away a tear that had escaped my control, his cool touch gentle against my skin. "Yes, kitten, I guess I did want us to match... But you understand you don't have to wear it once we finish the academy, right? I don't want this for you for eternity." The collar, a mere strip of leather around his neck, was a testament to centuries of survival, bending without breaking. It stood as a sad reminder of the sacrifices and burdens borne, not for the sake of submission, but for the intricate dance of power and protection that defined this world.

"A leather studded one please" "OK here you go , last one in the shop, lead to match as well" The collar was made of inch thick leather and was regularly studded, it had a large brass ring attached, for hanging the tag of off presumably. Now the hard part thought Fay, the man was hovering behind her she could feel his presence, his stare burning into her back as he took in her attire.

They didn’t need to. They landed like the truth. Not a question. Not a declaration. A fact. There was no hesitation. No permission sought. Just the full weight of Milo’s claim dropped like a stone into still water. My breath caught. Something twisted low in my belly, sharp and fierce. And then he reached into his coat. No box. No soft presentation. Just the cold glint of silver and black against his palm. A collar. Smooth leather. Polished. Black as midnight. At the center, a jewel,round and dark, catching the overhead lights with a glint that felt more dangerous than pretty. It was too large for subtlety, too perfect for coincidence.

The complete and utter possession. I should have been disgusted with myself. Instead, I was... what? Confused? Angry? Aroused? No. Fuck that. I shoved the thought away and swung my legs over the side of the bed. That's when I saw it. The collar. It sat on the nightstand like a coiled snake. Black leather. Silver buckle. Simple. Elegant. Unmistakably a claim. "Since you came to me on your own accord, you belong to me now."

It was a weapon disguised as fabric—and the collar resting beside it was the blade. Not a tracker. A symbol. I watched her storm into the hallway barefoot, shouting after Sia. “Sia! What the fuck is this?” “Part of the outfit.” “It’s a goddamn collar!” “It’s part of the event dress code.” She chased her like she thought logic still had a place here. “What kind of business event requires—” But Sia was already gone. Elevator doors slicing between them like the chapter break I needed. I leaned back in my chair, laced my fingers together, and stared at the paused feed of the collar still sitting on her vanity. High-grade leather. Silver hardware. Custom sizing.

Anestra laughed loudly, tossing her head back. “You cannot stay in there forever,” said Anestra. “You’ve come here to kill me but I will show you mercy,” she promised with a wicked grin. “I will add you to my collection,” she said, jingling the three collars at them. Cory watched as the three collars mended themselves in Anestra’s hand. The collars then unclasped themselves though Hayden had not been able to get the clasp open earlier. The collars were ready to be clasped onto new necks now.

But he's no gonzo inventor–he's Maurice Hart, head of Research and Development for Neuroworks, a trillion-dollar tech titan. Now this human is sitting in front of me, claiming he’s invented a collar–a fucking collar–that will stop a wolf from shifting. It allegedly works by disrupting electrical impulses in the brain. He’s explaining all this to me very excitedly, so pleased with himself. Maurice hands me the silver collar. It doesn’t look like a totally janky piece of shit, unfortunately. It’s smooth and cold and looks legit. “Let’s take it for a test drive,” I say.

He's a ball of energy as he shows us to the back room where there is a whole wall display for collars of all colours and designs. "Are you thinking metal or leather?" Demi asks and shows us both sections. "Metal I think, so it's discreet for everyday wear," Marcus says while looking at them all. I look at the chain collars and like a black titanium chain with a combination lock. That means it won't have a padlock or keys which will be more discreet and practical. "What about this one?" I ask and Marcus comes over and smiles. "It's amazing, can we get it shorter so it'll sit on his collar bones?" Marcus says and Demi takes it out of the case and shows us where he can take some of the links ou