Kalung Hitam Di Leher Novels & Stories

Celine straightens up and turns to her, “If you had touched even one of them it could be locked to you, possibly inflicting massive amounts of pain. I had a crystal like this implanted inside me while I was in England. I am truly sorry for slapping your hand, but I promise it was to protect you.” His mother frowns, and Celine looks back at the necklace, “If they’re black, they might already be attached to someone. Or there’s a second part to it.” George nods, and his mother shakes her head slightly, “What?” Celine nods,

It was backless, slit dramatically up to the hip, held together by two thin straps that converged at the neck. The garment was less clothing and more frame, designed to showcase everything underneath while guarding nothing. Next to it: a velvet box, heavy and resonant with promise. Inside the box: a collar. Not a necklace, not a piece of jewelry, but a collar. Matte black leather, one inch wide, lined with silk so it wouldn’t chafe, a tiny concession to comfort that only highlighted the discomfort of the intent. A small silver ring sat precisely at the front. And engraved on the inside, hidden against my throat, pressed into my pulse: Property of M.

He blinked his eyes wanting to be sure he was seeing right. It was the same pale skin girl with long black hair and strands of blue, red and green giving color to her whole outfit because as usual she was dressed in her signature color black. His suspensions were confirmed when he saw the choker necklace he had had gotten her for her birthday. It was made of leather and looked like a belt with silver diamonds encrusted in it. His frown deepened as he made his way to the booth she was it.

Oliver The bathroom mirror is fogged around the edges, but the center is perfectly clear. I stand in front of it, staring at my reflection. The thick, matte black leather collar is still snug around my throat. It’s been there since Amsterdam. A constant, heavy reminder of exactly who I belong to. I love the weight of it. I love the way the metal O-ring rests in the hollow of my throat, constantly dragging my focus back to Kir, grounding the chaotic noise in my head into something quiet and manageable.

It was cool and heavy in her palm. “Open it,” he said. His voice was a low rumble, like stones grinding together deep in the earth. It vibrated through her, settling in her bones. She fumbled with the tiny clasp. Her fingers felt clumsy, too large for the delicate mechanism. Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a thin silver collar. It was delicate, almost like a choker necklace, but there was no mistaking its purpose. In the center, soldered to the band, was a small, perfect silver ring, an O-ring. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

"Where is the necklace?" Fennigan walked up to his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder, but he gestured to Leela. That's what we need to talk about," he said. "It's not... on her anymore." Leela stepped forward nervously. She reached up and pulled the collar of her shirt aside. The emerald and moonstone gem, embedded seamlessly into her skin, pulsed with a soft, green light. The white star-flower tattoos on her collarbone seemed to shimmer in the garage lighting.

The bedroom seemed like a small temple, prepared for a ritual that neither of them had named yet. Hellen waited seated on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, wearing a long black velvet dress that fell loosely to her ankles. Her bare feet touched the soft Persian rug. In her hands, a small navy blue velvet box, the size of a palm. Inside, something she had ordered weeks before from a discreet shop in Belo Horizonte: a day collar. Italian black leather, soft as second skin, with a discreet surgical steel ring in the front—thin enough to go unnoticed under a dress shirt, but strong enough to be pulled when necessary. No lock. No ostentation. Just subtle, everyday possession.

She cooed, retracting the onyx choker from inside the box. It was a custom-made choker from New Zealand with the inscription; JRL, Jocelyn’s new initials, artfully inscribed on it. “I'm glad you like it, my love,” I replied, lowering my gaze to her lips then leaning in to kiss her. After we disengaged from the kiss, she resumed the unboxing, bringing out a black leather mixed with pure gold harness, a frown etched into her face. “What is this?” She asked, and my heart warmed at her innocence.

The chain was adjustable, allowing Aqua to wear the pendant at just the right length so that it rested over her heart. As she wore it, Aqua noticed the stone's clarity, reflecting her calm and balanced state of mind. Whenever she felt at peace, the pendant remained clear and pristine. However, when her emotions stirred, the pendant would change. A slight hue of blue appeared when she felt sadness, while a warm golden tone emerged during moments of happiness. If anger or fear took hold of her, the gemstone would darken, turning a deep, unsettling black.

Perhaps they can sense the storm and it agitates them in some way. It makes me glad I have protection while Ethan is away, even if it is Blake I must turn to. I sit cross-legged on my bed and examine the collar he put around my neck. It is black and featherlight, with a faint pattern on it made up of crisscrossing blacks and greys and other shades of night. It’s made of silk, and I run it through my fingers. At its center, there’s a black obsidian stone that absorbs the light from my candle.