Author's Note

The Gold Band Collar written by Sepia, edited by Silent Whisper, Pretty Penne and Dioxin

Contains: BDSM Themes

The Gold Band Collar

Soft Cell lets out a tired moan and drops her work bag and saddlebags beside the bench in the sub locker rooms. She hadn’t even gone home to drop off her stuff. Nope! Straight to the Society. And by Celestia is she exhausted.

Soft leans her shoulder against her locker’s neighbor, digging around her saddlebags for her badge. She raises it up to her locker, which opens for her with a click, and she pulls it open the rest of the way, stuffing all her bags down at the very bottom. She doesn’t need any of that right now.

No, she needs her Master.

Pushing herself off the other locker, she looks inside at the sparse contents. Collars and a few cuffs. Her collars and cuffs.

Another day she might go for a rough groupfuck, or maybe get some hard painplay, but today? Today, oh, she needs some rest.

Soft Cell takes out a soft, silken black collar with a simple golden band and holds it out in both hooves in front of her, sitting down on the bench. It reminds her of her Master stroking his hooves down her sides, of holding her close to his chest as he whispers words, words like, “I love you,” and, “you’re adorable.”

Words like, “Good girl.”

She hugs it tight to her chest and nuzzles down at the little heart-shaped lock with her nose, before squeezing it. But then her cheeks flush. There’re the times when he’ll tell her to lower down and nuzzle at his sheathe, when he’ll ask her to wag her tail like a dog and ruff for him while she licks at his member, even the times when he’ll tie her up tight just so he can hold her all the closer.

She giggles and holds her collar out again, her heart warm and fuzzy. She takes in a deep, slow breath, then runs her hooves up her forelegs, then down her chest and to her thighs, exhaling slowly as they brush through the strands.

He’ll probably offer to brush it for her, too. And her mane and tail. That makes her squee. Maybe she’ll even ask, or beg like a pup, hoofing at his hind leg while he laughs and pats her mane. Yes… yes that sounds perfect.

Soft Cell raises her collar up, tilting her head up to bare it. She sees his hoof in her mind, running all the way back from her forehead to her neck, and she lets out a soft moan just as the lip of the collar brushes her jaw. It’s just like how her Master scritches at her chin and raises her muzzle into a soft little kiss. She shudders and smiles, kissing the air, then giggles to herself again, wiggling on her haunches.

And then, as the collar clicks closed, she breathes out through her nose. She follows it up with a relaxed sigh, and she’s filled with a warmth, right in her core.

“Mmhn… yes, Master,” she says, and trots out towards his room.