Collar Drawings Novels & Stories

‘She was his salvation. He would be her damnation.’ To escape her Father’s choking cage over her, Eve Bianchi didn't need a knight. She needed a monster. And she chose Lucille ‘Hellhound’ Hellfire— a man the Mafia world feared for his madness and cruelty. He agreed to be her husband. He never agreed to be gentle. His obsession is a collar around her soul. He doesn't want her obedience; he wants her surrender. To feel her pulse throb against his palm as he reminds her that every gasp of air is a gift from him. ⸻ Content Warnings: obsession, possession, stalking, manipulation, toxic power dynamics, dubious consent, worship/degradation, breath play, BDSM, violence, cursing, criminal activity, morally grey characters, unhealthy romance and of course, explicit sexual details.

"Dont- DON'T TOUCH ME!" His frantic voice rang out through the store. Why now? Why did his heat have to come NOW?! Rayan Neel is a mistake of nature, a male omega. Omegas make up less than 5% of the world's population, and only about 1% of them are born male. Omegas in general are looked down upon as the lowest social class, and have only recently, as far as political timelines go, been given rights as citizens. The collar he wears both labels him and keeps him safe, but it doesn't make life easier. He doesn't need any help. He's perfectly capable of supporting himself, in spite of what he is. Sure, there's not much room for luxuries, but it's an okay life. No time for romance. Well, maybe just a little...

Maturity Warning ⚠️ This story is a dark romance intended for mature audiences (18+). It contains explicit sexual content, predatory behavior, power imbalances, blackmail and taboo themes. Reader discretion is advised. **He's my Professor. He's my Step father. And he's the only man who devours me at night.** I am a science student who failed every course and was hated by my professor. But on one faithful morning my mum announced a heartbreaking information. She was going to marry the professor I lusted over. The one man I had imagined one day he would pin me down to his bed. Mr Chadwick is cold, brilliant, and sexy. He hated me for being dull and feminine but behind those eyes filled with fury, his darkest desires loomed around me. In public, Mr Chadwick is the perfect academic and the perfect step father. But behind closed doors of the study, he is a predator who had discovered my darkest secrets: a sketchbook filled with obsessive drawings of him. Now, the lessons have changed. Chadwick doesn't want me to study books; he wants me to study him. It was supposed to be a punishment. He curses me on the outside but claims me like a hungry lion every night. Under my mum's roof. It was supposed to break my spirit. But he found out, he lusted over the very thing he hated.

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?"

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.

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.

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.

**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."

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.