Slave Collar Novels & Stories

“I don’t loan.” Another nod. “And I don’t leave things unfinished.” He leaned forward and fastened the collar around my throat. It locked with a quiet click. His fingers brushed over the tag, and I swear I felt it pulse. “This isn’t decoration. It’s not play. It’s not temporary.” His voice hardened. “This collar means you belong to me. You come when I say. You kneel when I command. You come only with my permission. Speak only with my leave. Your submission is total.”

Still wearing a speculative look, the storekeeper murmured, "I think I have the perfect piece for you," then led me to a back room. The walls were lined with various toys, but it was the collar that caught my eye—a beautifully crafted piece of silver with an intricate clasp. "It's the awakening twist," she said, holding it up to the light. "But it’s also protection." I stared at the collar, feeling the weight of what it represented. Submission to Alex, protection from Hartwell. "I'll take it," I murmured. But I wouldn’t be wearing it for submission.

The captured slaves were branded and put to work into different sectors. And the particular look she wore was used to decorate the pleasure slaves (the ones bought for the sole purpose of sexual pleasure) from regular slaves. The collar being the way to know the one owned by the richest man because it would be very expensive. Her mouth twisted cynically as the weight of the gold and jade collar weighed her down. “Answer me, Esme!” His voice cut like a whip through the silence, ringing with vibrating angry impatience. “Who the fuck gave you these to wear? I had already sent up a dress for you to wear. Why didn’t you wear that?”

Like she could see through every part of him that he kept hidden from the world. “You crave correction,” she said at last. His cock throbbed. She walked to a cabinet and retrieved a black velvet pouch. Out of it, she pulled a thick steel collar. Not like the training one he had worn before. This one was heavier. Custom made. Engraved on the inner rim. She knelt in front of him. “This isn’t jewelry. This isn’t a symbol.” She slid the cold metal around his neck and locked it with a soft click. “This is a contract. You belong to me until I say otherwise.”

I arrived home to an empty house. I dashed into my brother Edmund's room. There was his storm jacket, hanging up with the dust cover still on. I checked for the tell-tale signs the salesperson had shown me. The label was raised. The fabric was stiff, windproof, and smelled faintly of new clothes. The price tag was still on it, with the store's security strip stuck to it. It was the real deal. It was brand-new and the real deal. It even looked a little different from mine.

I opened it discreetly, hiding it from Leyla’s view, and froze. Inside was a choker made of fine black leather, with a small silver charm in the center. It wasn't a common piece of jewelry; it was the crest of a rampant wolf surrounded by thorns. My eyes filled with tears of rage. Killian had sent me this collar as a seal of ownership. I quickly tucked the case under my pillow before Leyla could turn around. "It’s too much, Ivy. If you returned it, you could pay for six months of your degree with that money," Leyla said, coming back to reality. "Are you going to wear it?"

"There's your present Baby, you may crawl over and get it" Linda crawled over the richly carpeted floor, she picked the box up and turned it over, it was gorgeously made and gleamed in the light. She opened it reverently, inside lying on a velvet cushion was a collar and leash. Linda picked up the collar first, it was understated and had no decoration except for a circular silver tag with the words "Office Slut" engraved on it.

What did he do to me? Dragomir tilts his head to the side, admiring the scorching object around my neck. “Proud to know the collar fits. This is your new identity. You shall always wear it and never be separated from it.” A collar. An object worn by Omega and Rogue slaves. Life is cruel to women. “Son, ease the collar. The slave looks like a prey fighting for survival," Alpha Grey mocks. “Let her stay this way. It’s a little punishment.”

Inside was a collar. "What is that?" I stepped back. "Your punishment," Lucas sneered. "Since you made Ella lose her wolf, you should feel what it’s like to be powerless. This collar is laced with silver powder and wolfsbane extract. Once it’s on, you’ll feel a constant burn, and your wolf will be suppressed." "You can't—" Lucas didn't give me a chance to fight. He lunged, pinning me down and snapping the collar around my neck.

“That’s it, soak your brother’s cock. Milk me with that tight little-pussy. I’m going to keep you dripping every single day until you’re swollen with my child.” When the spasms finally slowed he pulled out, fisted his cock glistening with her juices, and painted her tits and belly with thick ropes of pre-cum, marking every inch of skin like territory. Then he reached under the pillow and produced the final collar. Black Italian leather, two-and-a-half inches wide, butter-soft lambskin on the inside, heavy brushed-silver O-ring at the front. A discreet engraved plate hidden against her throat would read: PROPERTY OF SAINT VALENTI – RETURN IF FOUND CUM-SOAKED.