Just as she was busy admiring her new look, her eyes sighted something. Her eyes fell to her neck. The thick, plain metal collar still sat there, heavy and dull against the vibrant silk and the pale skin of her throat. It was the only thing that marked her as a captive, as a slave, and as a Collar.

It was a total contrast to what she was putting on now. The dress said freedom, but the collar screamed captive. It was a harsh reminder of her true place, no matter how grand the dress was. It was ...