Author: Old Softy
Title: The Collar Around the Heart
Summary: James is sixteen today, and his birthday present is pretty unusual. But the future is a foreign country; they do things differently there.
Keywords: mf ScFi rom 1st slave bd oral anal
Part: Chapter 5 of 14

Chapter 1 is at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_1.txt

DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction contains sexual situations not 
suitable for children. It may not be reproduced in any way where 
readers are charged for it. Copyright reserved Old Softy 2007 
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Chapter 5 - Thursday Morning


I awoke, bemused. There was an unfamiliar but pleasant ache in my
balls. Last night I'd had real sex, with Liz of all people. I had
actually shafted her, no  fucking is what Liz had called it. Now
there was a smell of hot buttered toast in the air, and that little
collarmaid was at the side of my bed again.

My collarmaid. It was coming back. We had slept side by side again, and
now there she was, dressed in her maid's uniform and kneeling by my side
as if she belonged there. "Anne?"

"Good morning, Sir," she replied. She met my gaze and as she smiled
into my face the room lit up as if someone had pulled back the
curtains. Wow. Where had that been hidden? "Would you like some
breakfast, Sir?"

Suddenly, I would. The smell was revealed to be coming from a tray,
with hot porridge, cream, and a boiled egg, alongside the toast. This
could not be a coincidence. How did she discover my favourite breakfast
things and get them assembled with such perfect timing?

I jumped out to use the toilet, forgetting to be worried about her
presence. As I tried to shake off that last drop, the one that always
goes down your pyjama leg, it was perturbing to notice that she had
slipped over to kneel facing me, from only a foot away.

"Please let me do that, Sir" she asked, and before I could work out
what she had in mind, she leaned forward to replace my hand with hers,
and somehow licked the end of my penis.

"Gah! What are you... ?" I spluttered, and pulled away from her,
shocked by the wet warm sensation on the end of my tool.

"Just what every good collar should, Sir," she explained as if butter
would not melt in her mouth. I stared, flabbergasted and ready to
defend myself against further attacks, but she made no more advances.

Shaking my head in wonder, I hopped back into bed with a couple of
pillows behind me. "Just get on with the breakfast," I instructed.

It was pretty good. There is something so spoilt about having breakfast
in bed, especially with someone running around, setting it up and
getting anything I needed for me. Now that I had got over the shock, I
was almost regretting that I had stopped her so abruptly, and memories
of what it had felt like yesterday were creeping back to me. It did not
hurt that that her little navy blue skirt was too short to cover her
stocking tops even when she was standing straight, and of course
keeping me fed involved a lot of running about and bending over.
Fifteen minutes later I was feeling fuller, and actually pretty happy.

It was weird having this thing at my beck and call, but perhaps I was
getting used to it. I mean, for the next couple of days I could do
anything to this girl, right? Suddenly both bold and curious, I leaned
forward to look at her.

"Take your blouse off."

She looked up in surprise, but then came over eagerly enough to kneel
next to my bed and start on her buttons.

"No, stand up so I can see properly."

"Yes, Sir." She got up quickly and had the top off in no time, to
display a lacy white brassiere. "This as well, Sir?" I could see no
reason why not, so I nodded, and it followed the blouse.

They were really sweet. Not enormous, but the shape seemed perfect, the
size just right, and the nipples were so pink it somehow emphasised
their nakedness. I watched in amazement as the little wrinkled nubbins
swelled and extended in front of my eyes. It must be what happens when
they escape the constriction of that brassiere.

"You really don't mind doing this?"

"Oh, no, Sir," she answered shyly. "I am so pleased you wanted to ask.
I know you don't want to use me for sex, and I suppose you are used to
inspecting much prettier girls than me, but it is still nice to be
looked at."

I chuckled. "You must be joking. I have never 'inspected' anyone, as
you put it, before. Don't you know that you are the first girl I have
ever seen without clothes on?"

"Sir! I had no idea." She paused, as if gathering her courage. "Then
would you like to see the rest of me, Sir?"

It seemed churlish to disappoint her, so I nodded. Quickly, without
fuss, her skirt, petticoat and panties joined the folded pile on the
chair. "Stockings, Sir?"

I shook my head. Somehow, the suspender and stocking get up seemed to
frame the sweet little patch of brown fluff between her legs so nicely.
By now my hard-on was making a nuisance of itself, and I reached under
the blankets to release it from my pyjamas.

"Oh, Sir, would you let me do that?" Her face was so eager, indeed
hopeful. How could I not nod again? I lifted the covers and her hands
reached for my penis. Oh, what the hell, I thought, threw off the
covers and slid down the bed to lie flat on my back. I closed my eyes,
and let her slim fingers explore my shaft with such gentle strokes.
There was no difficulty in recognising the touch of her soft lips, even
though my eyes were shut. I said nothing but just reached out run my
hand over her naked back and shoulder as she set to work.

This morning was different from yesterday. Last time had the feeling of
something done from the textbook, doing it the way it had been taught.
This time, I could tell she was on a voyage of discovery. Her hands
stroked the skin up and down my shaft as she shifted it this way and
that, testing its resilience, and her fingers were feeling my scrotum
as if trying to get the measure of what was inside. Rather than trying
to take the whole thing in her mouth, she was just licking the head and
kissing it, running the soft inside of her lips over it; exploring with
her mouth. I remembered her words from yesterday. If this is what it
took, she could practice as much as she liked, although I could hardly
believe it could get better.

Slowly but surely the boiling pressure was building inside me and
although I would have liked to try and string out the gorgeous
sensations, I hardly knew how to. I tapped her shoulder to warn her,
but I was not surprised when she looked sideways at me and shook her
head around my penis, before sucking it right into the roof of her
mouth. I closed my eyes and just let go.

It was strange how different it felt from last night, with Liz. Better?
It was difficult to say. Certainly it was amazing. But almost as amazing
as the feeling of satisfaction and release as I pumped into her cute
little mouth, was watching her afterwards. Still on her knees, she
straightened up and swilled the little packet of liquid around her
mouth, as if trying to memorise the full flavour and texture. Open
mouthed, I stared at the satisfied expression on face.

"Thank you so much, Sir. I was so disappointed to think that you were
not going to try me out."

Gah! What can you do with someone who thinks like that!

My Mother was not usually an early riser, and I was surprised to see
her at the breakfast table, almost as if she was waiting to see me.

"Good morning James."

"Morning, Mother," I replied, hopefully not sounding as guarded as I
felt. She waited until I had a fresh cup of tea in front of me, before
addressing me further. I was still stuffed from Annie's handiwork
upstairs, so it was easy to ignore the devilled kidneys laid out on the
silver platter in front of us.

"James, I realise that we both got carried away yesterday. Possibly
some of what I said was unfair, and I would like you to know that your
Father and I decided not to make that call to Ellis and Baker." She
paused, waiting to see my response.

Well, she was not actually apologising, but it was as close as I had
ever heard her come to backing down before. I had been pretty sure they
would not block my trust fund but it was a major concession to lift the
threat just like that.

"Thank you, I suppose." I shrugged. I could not quite think of what to
say next. Despite the amazing session of fellatio I had just endured, I
was determined not to admit that the collar was in any way a good thing.
All right, I may have been having second thoughts about returning it,
but I did not have to make up my mind yet, and anyway, I was certainly
not going to tell her that. So, what could she be she looking for in
return? "Presumably you want me to turn up at that Ball."

"What do you think, James?"

All right, if I stepped outside my own point of view, I could see that
it would be pretty disastrous to cut the Ball. My Mother and Mrs Jones
had spent the last six months planning it, my Father had already paid
for it, and most of polite society in Cricklewood was looking forward
to it. She had pulled back from the nuclear option of cancelling the
Trust Fund, so I supposed I could do the equivalent.

"Just don't expect me to wear anything concocted by that pack of
donkeys at Grieves and Robertson." She ignored my frown, and reached
out to touch my shoulder before I could avoid it.

"How about if you go to my dressmaker to get something that suits? Mrs.
Haversham has been known to condescend to outfitting a gentleman before,
and she has that individual touch. I suspect you two will get on
famously. And, eccentric though she is, I trust her judgment. If you
can get her to approve of your choice I will pay for it, whatever the
cost."

Eccentric? Despite myself I was intrigued. After all I would have to
wear something. Perhaps this woman might even let me sort out something
decent? I nodded, slowly.

"Excellent. I will make you an appointment for this afternoon."

I still had not got used to being a Prefect, and seeing other kids
scurry out of my way as I walked down the corridors. But what was
stranger was the girls.

Yes, I understood that I was now of age, marriageable if you like. But
it was as if I had glitter dust sprinkled over my hair. Every girl
seemed to be aware of me as I walked past. All the younger ones stared,
and if I actually looked back, giggled and huddled with their friends.
Just out of mischief I winked at one and in front of my eyes she turned
beetroot and rushed off, suddenly late for something. Even the other
female Prefects acknowledged me now. It was not just the ones I knew
from my dance class  they were fair enough. But these were the smart
set; fashionable young women with ambitious tastes. I was pretty sure
they did not even know I existed. Why were they smiling and nodding to
me in passing, as if I was an old acquaintance, when I could not even
think of their names?

Second lesson was Dancing. Being as awkward as I was around females,
you would have thought that this would be my least favourite pastime.
But oddly, I got a real kick out of it. It was great to engage in
physical exercise that required enough skill to be pretty challenging,
and then to discover that I was at least comparatively good at it. To a
man, the other chaps were fugitives from the playing fields. Well, so
was I, but at least I had better co-ordination than a five-legged
spider, so it was not difficult to shine in comparison. And the girls
were not actively hostile. One or two of them actually seemed to choose
to dance with me from preference, particularly if Montmerancy and
Bertram (the least unattractive males in the class) had already been
allocated. The girls kept their distance of course, but I had always
hoped it was out of politeness rather than actual revulsion.

But today, the careful politeness was replaced by something else. We
were setting up to do some classic Latin, Samba and then Rumba, but
there was some sort of contretemps about who was going to partner me. I
missed the subtle undercurrents, but the two who lost out looked really
annoyed, and did not bother hiding it.

Sophie, who had won, smiled sweetly at me, and as Mr. Moxley started
the music I led her off. Now, those of you who are used to dancing a
Samba with someone who actually liked them and knew what it was about,
will laugh at my surprise. It took me the first eight bars to get used
to the new way she nudged her hips against mine, and another dozen to
catch up with the sashaying sway she put into her backbone. Above all,
there was the way she was looking up at me, as if fascinated by
something in my eyes.

"Now you have it Mr. Pilsbury! How long has it taken you to understand
what this rhythm is about?" cried Mr. Moxley in approval. I dared not
tell him I was just following my partner.

The Rumba, with Patricia, was the same except that I got into it
quicker, and so was the next with Claire. We finished off with a couple
of Tangos, and even if I say so myself, I was pushing the envelope
towards the end. But wherever I threw her, Jennifer hung onto my neck
as if she longed to be there. Christ knows what was going on, but I had
not had such fun in a classroom for ages.

Bemused, but more than cheerful, I was walking past the empty geography
room when I suddenly remembered that I needed to get my geog. books to
do my homework over lunch. But when I flung open the door I almost
bounced off the bulk of Cribbens, one of Vince Murdoch's stooges.

"Sorry, I was just going to dive in and get "

"Not in here, you're not, Pilsbury" he growled, grabbing my arm.

Well who was I to argue. But before I could turn away, I heard the
gruff voice of Murdoch himself from inside the room.

"Jasper, is that Pilsbury? Get him in here."

Cribbens seemed as surprised and unwilling as I was, but turned his
push into a pull without effort. I was inside the room behind the shut
door before I could squeak.

Vincent Murdoch was one of the least pleasant characters in the school,
not least because his father, as Sheriff of Cricklewood, ensured that
any complaint got precisely nowhere. His mop of dark hair topped a
rugged face with a prop forward's nose. He could have been handsome
except for his eyes, which were too small; somehow oddly mean and weak.

Avoidance was the best tactic with him, and I had hitherto prided
myself in my success in having nothing to do with him. It seems my luck
had just run out. I could see the luck had also run out for the poor
girl held down on the desk in front of him. With the side of her face
pressed against the wood, she was naive enough to still be trying to
talk to him.

"Vince, don't, it's uncomfortable! Please let go."

"Oh, darling, sorry about that!" he apologised, and flipped her skirt
up over her back without shifting his grip on her neck.

"Vince! Don't! They'll see!" Her whine had changed to panic and I
presumed she was starting to realise what trouble she was in. As to
what we could see  kneeling on that chair, her bottom was high in
the air, displayed on view for all in the room and completely naked.

Even while wondering how he had arranged that, my temperature was
beginning to rise. That pose was just a bit too close to how my poor
collar had looked on Tuesday, which may be why I made a really stupid
decision. There were Vince and the two goons in the room, any one of
whom could flatten me. I was going to have to talk pretty fast if I was
going to get her out of this.

"Hey, that's little Emily Bradshaw, isn't it?" (God knows how her name
came to me. She was in the year below us, but I vaguely remembered her
shyly going up to receive some prize or other at assembly last month.)
"Yes, that's it. Her dad's on the Town Council Appropriation's
Committee with mine." It could not hurt to remind him who my father was
at the same time  I was pretty sure that that, and knowing how to
keep my head down, was how I had avoided his attentions this far.

"Bit scrawny isn't she?" I continued, walking round to look at her. He
glowered at me, non-plussed for once.

"Oh, I suppose you are just ticking her off. I know I might go for a
little Fifth Year, but I'm not like you. The girls in our year won't
look at me." I sighed forlornly. "Oh, well, we can't all be as
successful as you, Vince." I could see him sifting my words, and I
desperately hoped he did not think I was taking the Michael. Had I laid
it on too thick?

"Here, you want her? Go on, give her one on me," he offered, catching
me completely flat-footed, and stepping back to give me room. I grabbed
the hair at the back of her head, hopefully without revealing my shock,
and, just as I had hoped, he released his own hold on her. I brushed my
other hand up over the satiny naked skin of her exposed buttock and
something inside me both winced and exalted. I pretended to consider
the offer for a second, and then tugged her skirt back down over her
legs.

"Naaa, a bit young even for me. Now get out of here, you, Vince wants
to talk to me." So saying, I flipped her up on her feet and gave her a
shove towards the door. Unfortunately she was about one and a half
seconds too slow on the uptake. Cribbens grabbed her arm at the door
and jerked her back unkindly. "Where do you think you're going?" he
grunted.

"Yes, hold it there." I marched up to her. "Just make sure that nothing
in this room goes any further, or you are going to get into real
trouble!" I warned her sternly. She nodded in genuine fright, and I
went to lift Cribbens' fingers off her arm.

I might as well have tried to prize the hinges off the door. He ignored
me and looked questioning over at Vince. My heart was in my mouth as I
saw Murdoch's brain cells laboriously balancing his abandoned plan to
shaft her, against the risk of getting in hot water with his dad if her
father really was important, and the loss of face in being seen to want
sex with a lowly Fifth Year.

He shrugged and Cribbens let go. This time she had the sense to bolt
for it, and I stared for a second at the slamming door, not believing
my luck. No, her luck. My luck, now, was really going to be tested.

Murdoch waved as if dismissing something not important. "So, how are
you doing, Pilsbury? Good birthday?"

This was becoming bizarre, and I could think of nothing to explain his
apparent friendliness. "Very good, thank you," I replied, trying not to
sound too guarded.

"I hear you got a new collarslut. Any good?"

"Yeees. Just a maid, for around the house, you know. I might not keep
it." How the hell had he heard about that already? And why was he
interested?

He was playing with something he had fished out of his pocket, and I
recognised a collar controller. "I got one, too," he remarked. "We
should compare notes some time."

Shit. Vince Murdoch getting matey was all I needed. But I had no choice
but to go along with... "BBRRRRRRRRRRRING" I was saved by the bell.

"Yeah, sure thing, Vince. I'll just get my stuff." Amazingly, I
remembered why I was there in the first place, and I grabbed my
geography books. "See you around," I called, heading for the door
without a pause, and breathed a sigh of relief as Cribbens let me get
away with it.

Pheww. Close call. God, I can just see Murdoch and me with our heads
together discussing the finer points of collar maintenance, I thought
as I slipped quickly down the hall. Still, at least I had got out of
there alive.

Around the corner, though, the sight of a small tableau dragged me to a
halt. There on a bench was Emily herself, sandwiched between two friends
while tears streamed down her cheeks. "That's him!" she gasped on seeing
me. The girls on each side tightened their arms around their charge, and
almost hissed at me in defiance. "No, he's the one who got me out. Thank
you, it's Mr. Pilsbury, isn't it? I don't know what I would have done
without you."

Got raped, I thought, frowning to myself, but did not say. I sighed and
shrugged. "It was nothing. I am amazed he let you go; it was more luck
than anything I did."

"Oh, no, you were wonderful." She sniffed and caught her breath while
pushing away the girl on her left. "Would you sit with me for a sec?"
The friend slid along the bench to make room for me but did not relax
her suspicious glare for a second. Oh, hell, I was not going to get to
History on time anyway, and perhaps I could exercise my newfound right
to skip lessons if I felt like it.

She gazed up at me. She was quite attractive in a naοve sort of way,
and her current condition gave her a perversely erotic appeal. She was
sporting big tear-stained eyes in a pretty face, hair in a mess, a
school uniform in disarray and, I realised with dismay, an expression
of outright worship. "Is there anything I can do to thank you? Anything
at all?"

I flatter myself that I managed to resist the more obvious answers with
barely a regret. "Yeees," I replied slowly. "You can tell me what the
hell you were doing in there in the first place. I just hope he had to
drag you in there kicking and screaming."

Her face fell. "No, I just went along with him," she whispered. "He was
so persuasive." Vince Murdoch, silver-tongued? She glimpsed my face and
carried on, looking ashamed. "But he's Rugger Captain. He's so strong,
and everyone looks up to him! He... he was going to teach me about
kissing."

"I'll bet he was. And about stripping and about shafting and... " I
relented at her expression  I was terrifying the girl. Suddenly she
looked very young, barely more than a child.

"Would he really have... you know?"

"Oh yes." I hesitated, and then ploughed on. How could she be in doubt?
She needed to know, and so did her friends. "He intended to have sex
with you, right there and then. Proper, penetrating, get-you-pregnant
sex, with lots of grunting from him and plenty of discomfort for you.
If you did not resist you probably would not have been hurt too much,
but there was a chance he would have offered Cribbens and Boyle a turn
as well." She shuddered and started crying again. "Not only that, when
you complained to the staff you would have been listened to carefully
and then ignored. And if your Dad had taken it to the Sheriff, guess
how far he would have got?"

"Oh. Oh, I see. His father. I have been really stupid haven't I?" Her
voice was very small.

I relented. "Yes. But there was no real harm done in the end. Now you
know to give him and his mates a wide berth. What you must do is tell
your friends  every one you trust or care for, what nearly happened.
Don't let anyone else in the Fifth Year make the same mistake, alright?"

She looked up at me, and nodded. The grateful expression was back again
and her eyes were shining. "I don't suppose that you would be interested
in giving kissing lessons yourself, would you?" she asked, wistfully.

I laughed. "Come and see me in a year's time."

"You'll be married by then," she replied ruefully.

God, I hope not, I thought, but I could follow her thinking.

"Look, young Emily, no more Sixth Years or Prefects, alright? You find
yourself a decent Fifth Year, and don't worry if he looks shy. Practice
walking out together, agree to keep your clothes on and stick to it.
Next year will come around quickly enough, don't you worry."

"I suppose so. Thanks, Mr. Pilsbury. You've been so great."

"Yes, well enough of that. Off you go."

"See you around."

"Oh, and Emily!"

They turned back to me.

"For Christ's sake, get someone to lend you some knickers."

She blanched and nodded, chastened, while both her friends looked at
her aghast, and then the three of them were gone. It was all of two
days past my sixteenth Birthday, and already I was feeling worldly-wise
and weary.

Lunchtime was painless but still strange. Never mind the Sixth Years
and Prefects; now all the Fifth Year girls were whispering amongst
themselves as they stared at me, although I could guess at the reason
for that one. I wandered off to my Geography lesson early, wondering
how to make sense of it all.


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Chapter six is at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_6.txt

If you liked it so far, drop me a line to 
'oldsofty  @  hotmail.co.uk' (don't forget to remove the spaces)
