Eternity Collar Novels & Stories

May you enjoy your new eternity. The one without me.

What he didn’t know was that if he could save time in a bottle, the first thing he’d like to do is save every minute to savour for the rest of eternity. Because, even if they are rare, some opponents don’t just fight you. They can change you. “And standing in the opposite corner,” the announcer continued, “a transfer contestant from the northern provinces, with no current recorded losses in certified duels: the man known as The Hourcarver… Cyrus Valen!” Silence. 'That was weird; even I got a cheer when he called out my name,' thought Kieran. Then whispers. Confusion. This was an international contest, where people from all countries can come and compete; however, something was wrong here.

“But we’re making it darker. You’re going to wear this every single day. And the only thing that will stop us is if you beg us to stop.” He held up a thicker, heavier collar black leather with a ring and a tiny padlock that clicked shut with a finality that made Emma’s breath catch. This one had no tag. Just their names etched inside: *Marcus & Ryan – Property Forever*. He clipped a short, stiff leash to it and tugged gently. “Open.” She did. The new collar locked around her throat with a sound like a brand. The difference was immediate the weight, the permanence, the way it felt like both men were gripping her inside and out at once.

A bit confused, I reached for it. Inside, on a black satin, was a slim leather collar. Black as midnight, butter-soft, lined with pale silk that looked like it would feel like a whisper against skin. A small silver tag dangled from the front O-ring. I lifted it closer. The engraving was tiny, elegant cursive: *Ava Daddy’s forever*

******************** Friday evening, Ethan stood in Marcus's bedroom, naked except for the collar Marcus was fastening around his neck. It was beautiful. Black leather with a silver ring in front, discreet enough to look like a choker to anyone who didn't know better. But both Ethan and Marcus knew what it really was. "There." Marcus stepped back, looked at him with dark satisfaction. "Perfect. My collar on my boy. How does it feel?" "Right. It feels right, Daddy." "Good. Now get dressed. We're going out." "With the collar on?" "With the collar on. I want everyone to see that you're owned. Claimed. Mine."

“The collars were adapted as a less painful solution. When slaves married into other families, the collar would be changed to reflect the new family, and over time, an exchange of collars came to represent marriage amongst them, with the groom responsible for providing the silver for the new collar and paying for it’s workmanship. The value and elaborateness of the collar was taken to indicate the groom’s love for his mate. And soon, the vampires admired the custom, the beautiful workmanship, and began to exchange them amongst themselves – of course, ours were of gold and precious gems.” He saw the square, felted jeweller’s box on the marble kitchen benchtop and opened it to admire what lay

That was also a symbol, and a mark of ownership. “Of an agreement between us,” he opened the box to show her. Within lay an open circle of metal, the ends joined by chain links through which was hooked a small padlock. A collar, she realized. A discrete, beautiful, blood slave collar, similar to the collars of submissives in the BDSM scene. The collar was made of white framed by yellow gold, and the white gold was tooled in a twisting pattern that reminded her very much of Rhett’s knotted triangle.

I paused, fixing my gaze on him. “How can you flip divorce papers at me as though it's some sort of contract letter? This can't be true, Alex.” I yelled, holding tightly to his collar. He flung my hands as I stumbled backward, losing my balance. “That is something you can never stop doing. Gripping my clothes as if I were a child. Emily, my heart doesn't belong here. It doesn't belong to you. Sign the divorce papers, please.” He said coldly. “That’s something I can never stop doing? Alex, have I ever held onto your collar like this?” I asked, my voice barely audible. My heart beat rapidly as I swallowed the lumps in my throat.

Elder John of the Silver Claw Pack stated, glaring at me as I walked in. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” I smile trying to put on my polite princess look. “We have some questions to ask you before we come to a decision about whether to continue your time limit to the end of your 21st birthday or whether to end it at the commencement of the Claiming before passing the throne to Fenry.” Elder Horis from our pack, Black Claw, stated. “I am happy to answer any questions the council may have if the answers ease their minds and instill confidence in their decision.” I continue my ‘playing nice’ routine.