He reached up hesitantly, and pulled down the neck of the sweater he was wearing.
The collar was thick black leather, with a silver buckle at the back. It was pulled tight around his neck. Silver studs were dotted all along its length about an inch apart, and there were rusty lines trailing down from them, some fresher than others. Blood, of course. It was the spikes on the other side of those studs that were digging into his neck and making him bleed. He couldn't take it off, though. It wasn't a matter of being able to, of reaching around and pulling it off...it was a matter of having the will. He was too scared, too freaked out, too paralyzed to do it himself. Just thinking about the man who'd put it on him left him feeling weak and frustrated. By all accounts, he was miserable.