Chapter 33

The thick black training collar had not come off since Nick first fastened it around my neck.

It had become a permanent part of my existence at home — heavy, wide, and impossible to ignore. The sturdy leather sat snug against my throat, forcing me to carry my head with a slight, constant elevation. The large D-ring at the front moved with every breath, a quiet metallic reminder of my status. I no longer asked him to remove it. I had stopped questioning it altogether.

By mid-week, the collar and the chastity belt had merged into a single, unrelenting reality.

I moved through our condo like a woman caught between two worlds. During the day, when Nick was at work, I still tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy — cooking, cleaning, tending to the plants. But even alone, I felt marked. The thick leather pressed against my skin with every turn of my head. The chastity belt shifted between my legs with every step, keeping me in a state of low, aching denial.

The psychological toll was becoming harder to bear.

Simple tasks now carried layers of humiliation. Folding laundry while feeling the heavy collar around my neck made me feel small and owned. Preparing dinner with the metal cage pressing firmly against me turned ordinary movements into private acts of submission. I caught myself touching the collar unconsciously throughout the day, fingers tracing the smooth leather and the prominent D-ring, as if I still couldn’t believe it was real.