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 4 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 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4 - Wednesday Afternoon

"Clothes shopping for a girl!" I thought gloomily as I left the house,
collar in tow. I did not really know where to start looking, but there
was that shop in the arcade with the white window-display dummies. It
had caught my eye before, so maybe we could begin there.

Except for the collarserve it was empty. This was surprising at 3.00 pm
on a weekday, but I suspected it was not crowded at the best of times.
Anne stopped as we walked in the entrance, eyes wide. "So, what do you
need?" I asked. "Go on, choose what you want."

"Anything, Sir?"

"Yes  well, I have a hundred to spend, so try not to go over that."
My mother had charged my fone with the money before I left; she was
that anxious to give me no excuse. What puzzled me was that she trusted
me to dress up the collar at all. Perhaps she was going to take it all
back and exchange it as soon as I got it back to the house? On my side,
I had realised that for any chance to sell this thing at a good price, I
needed to make sure she was decently presented.

"A hundred pounds!" she whispered in a tone of horror and awe. "Sir,
you must not spend that much money on clothes for a collar!"

"Fair enough, then, let's aim at fifty" I smiled "but I have no idea
where to start. You must know what you might wear  just pick
something out."

So off she went, her little face glowing, glancing at me every now and
then for approval and becoming a little bolder at my every nod. She was
endearingly worried about my money  even though it was really my
Mother's  and the only garment that could in any way be regarded as
an extravagance was the fluffy woolen beret. I cannot say I understood
all the undergarments, except that there seemed to be a lot of straps,
and that none of them were bigger than a handkerchief. On the other
hand the few outer garments she picked out seemed both attractive and
sensible.

However she came to me after a bit, with a concerned face. Obviously
there was some sort of problem. "Sir, I don't think they have much in
the way of collar clothes in this store. There are no dresses."

"Of course there are!" I pointed to the display racks of summer dresses
and long skirts that occupied most of one wall.

"Oh, no Sir. I could not possibly wear one of those!"

I walked over to inspect them, and realised what she meant. There were
no short dresses anywhere in the store.

It was funny, but I had never thought about it before. We all knew the
clichιd cry of the irate father to a daughter 'going out' in a short
skirt. "You are NOT leaving this house looking like a collar!" But
similarly, you would not be forgiven for dressing your collar up to
look like a lady. Just as fixed as the unwritten rule for ladies to
hide their knees, was the requirement for collars to display their
thighs. Collarwaits, collarserves, collarsecs - all wore miniskirts or
dresses slit to the hip.

That of course was the strange thing about the switch in clothes for
girls at school, I mused. Schoolgirls, like collars, showed off their
legs, but hid their emerging chests. But on the day of their sixteenth
birthday they were suddenly in long dresses and competing to see who
could display the most cleavage.

Proles, on the other hand, did not seem to care much. Prole girls did
not wear a uniform to school anyway, and even the grown women seemed to
wear nylon stretchy stuff to show their figure, rather than bare flesh.
If they had any focus I supposed it was on going see-through, or an
exposed midriff.

Very interesting, but this was not going to help us here. We would
obviously have to pick a dress and skirt for her elsewhere.

It was when we got our pile of pickings to the till that the trouble
started. The collarserve, perhaps in its twenties with one of those
painted faces that seemed de rigueur in a swanky clothes shop, stood
immaculate behind the till. "This one must ask, sir, for whom the
purchases are intended," was delivered in a voice managing to be both
servile and disdainful at the same time. The 'serve had presumably been
following our progress around the shop  there was not much else to
watch.

"Ah... it's all for my collarmaid here, of course."

"Then this one regrets to inform you, sir, that it is not the policy of
the establishment to provide garments for... restrained persons." It
took a moment to get over my amazement at the scorn in the voice,
before the meaning sank in.

"What!" How could it stand there and speak to me, a Master, about
serving collars when it was one itself? Suddenly it was very hot and
airless in there. "You little... !" I spluttered, and then nothing
mattered as much as wiping that supercilious expression off its face.
My hands, groping blindly, grasped the edge of the display unit next to
us. A glass case, full of perfume bottles on little glass shelves. What
sort of noise could that make! One wrench and it would be all over the
floor and... and I would throwing a tantrum again, like I used to
before I turned sixteen.

I stood stock-still for a moment, collecting myself. "I take it you
would have no objection to showing me where this policy is displayed?"

It seemed discomforted for a second. "It... it is not displayed, but it
is in the Mistress's instructions to this collar-serve."

"And the Mistress is where?"

More discomfort. "The Mistress is momentarily absent, sir."

I stared at it for a second, and then smiled. The 'serve did not seem
to like the smile.

"Usually out on Wednesday afternoons, is she?" The 'Mistress' should
not have left the collar alone, and such rules were not only to prevent
an unattended collar from making mischief. They were also to protect the
collar itself. The collar's stricken face said all I needed to know.

"Anne, slip over to the door, will you? There is a small sign hanging
on the inside. Just turn it around so the side that reads 'CLOSED' is
against the glass."

If the shop's owner chose to return in the next ten minutes I could get
into trouble. On the other hand, I got the feeling that this absence was
a regular Wednesday afternoon thing, and that whatever was going on
here, I might not be the only one interested in not making a fuss.

Silently, I moved around the counter. It made a move as if to prevent
me, but did not dare. However, what I needed was not on the shelf under
the counter, nor in the drawer.

A little drunk on that sense of power that comes from abandoning care
to the winds, I looked around. The office door was at the back. The
door was locked, but the architrave showed a dirty smudge at the
left-hand end of the top. The key was actually just to the right of
there.

"What do you think?" I asked Anne in a conversational tone, as I opened
the door and sauntered in. "I would go for the desk, top right-hand
drawer." The drawer key was plainly visible in the pen tray but the
drawer was not even locked. And there we were. Right first guess.

I hefted the zapper in my hand as I returned to the counter. It was a
utilitarian model with a cheap steel case. The look of dismay on the
collarserve's face was very satisfying.

"Now, you have been very unpleasant to my collarmaid here, and I think
you should make amends."

It collapsed to its knees. "This collarserve is very sorry to cause
offence, Master."

ZAP. It was only a one, just a tickler, but the way the 'serve flinched
was impressive. "No, not me, her. Her name is Anne, and despite being
restrained, she is also a person."

It turned slightly on its knees to face Anne. "This collarserve is very
sorry to cause offence to the Master's collarmaid Anne."

ZAP. One again. I sighed. "Not quite what I had in mind." This was
going to be fun. "I'm beginning to think this needs to be a physical
apology, something real." A bizarre thought occurred to me. "Anne, how
clean are your shoes?"

Anne looked puzzled, but the 'serve knew exactly what I was talking
about, and without a murmur, bent down with an extended tongue. Anne
jumped back in alarm.

"What is it doing?"

"Just making amends."

"But I don't want my shoes licked!  Oh! Sorry, Sir." This last was
obviously in contrition at objecting to my idea.

"Hmmmmm. What about your feet?"

"I... whatever you say, Sir" said Anne, reluctantly but obediently, and
kicked off her shoes.

I nodded at the 'serve, and without a word it bent down to extend its
tongue over Anne's left foot. I watched in amazement as it actually
washed over her nylon clad toes.

"Ew, my stockings are getting wet!" cried Anne, but now she was
giggling, not complaining. Interesting.

"Perhaps this one could take them off then?" suggested the kneeling
collar in a strangely tense voice. I nodded, frowning but fascinated.
Anne reached down for the hem of her skirt, but I blocked her hand and
shook my head at her.

The collarserve paused and stared for a moment at her long slender
legs, then slid its hands up to the top of Anne's thighs to unclip her
stockings. A pretty flush spread over Anne's cheeks as the fingers
disappeared under the cloth of her dress, but she said nothing to
object as the 'serve slowly stroked its hands up and then down Anne's
legs, pulling the stockings with them. It seemed to take a particularly
long time in clearing the folds of nylon from her feet, while Anne
watched, fascinated. Finally it took one foot up to its mouth and
without hesitation licked between her toes. Anne turned to me with a
question on her face, but it never got out. She shivered, and I looked
down to see that the 'serve was now sucking the little toe and running
its tongue around it.

Suddenly, it was very still in there. I could hear a tiny slurp as it
finished with one toe and went on to the next  and the faintest of
moans from Anne. She was now slumped back with her elbows on the
counter, her mouth open but her eyes closed, while the 'serve was
bending to its task, not with disgust, but with enthusiasm.

I was not sure what was happening. This is not what I had expected.
Hesitantly I opened my mouth to stop what was going on, and then shut
it again. The only thing that could tear my eyes from the vision of
that wet mobile pink tongue was the sight of Anne's expression. I
turned away from them to adjust my underclothes.

"Oh, Master!" whispered Anne, between her panting.

"Enough!" I commanded at last.

There was a pause. And then "My Mistress makes me kiss her bottom,"
suggested the 'serve, quietly. "French kisses."

Amazingly, I realised Anne was considering the idea seriously.

"Come, that's enough." I repeated, my voice hoarser than I had
intended. Whatever had taken hold of these girls, we needed to get out
of there. "Anne, get your shoes and stockings back on. Now you, we will
just take these items and let us have no more nonsense."

The 'serve rang up all the clothes and took my fone to charge the order
without meeting my eye. But before turning away, I reached up and lifted
up its chin. "Why? You were never going to get away with that behaviour.
Why did you refuse to serve us?"

Amazingly its eyes filled with tears. "The Master's maid is so pretty,
and the Master was getting all those lovely things for it. This one
serves its Mistress with all its heart and she never buys it anything.
This collarserve was... was jealous. It is so sorry, Master, it is so
ashamed."

It now looked so forlorn, I almost wanted to hug it, or kiss it better.
A different idea occurred to me. "You are forgiven. Anne  give our
'serve here a kiss good bye."

Anne stepped round me to the serving girl with a reassuring smile and
leant forward to give it a kiss on the cheek, but it twisted to catch
her lips on its own mouth, and I watched in amazement as their lips
melded for a second. Wide eyed, Anne pulled away and stared. Then she
reached out to touch the tips of the other girl's fingers. "Bye," she
said softly, and as we walked out with our parcels her head was twisted
over her shoulder, her eyes locked on the other girl for as long as
possible.

We were strangely reserved going round Woolworths to purchase what we
had missed  which, frankly, was most of it. We got a suitable maid's
uniform for her, and a couple of other outfits, then picked up the few
missing bits and pieces she needed in the department store over the
other side of the High Street.

It took me all of the journey home to muster the bravado to broach the
subject with my collarmaid. "So, what was going on, back in there?"

Anne was silent for a moment but did not pretend not to understand. I
waited her out. "It was as if she liked me the way you like me, Sir.
She looked at me just the way you do. It made my tummy go flip-flop
inside."

"That's silly, what, you mean like a boy likes a girl?" The notion was
ridiculous  but the image of Anne's face as the collarserve's tongue
writhed around her toes was with me still.

"I have heard of that happening, Sir. And..." she fell silent.

"Well, spit it out, you have to tell me the truth remember."

"I have just thought, that at the school, Sheila used to look at Honey
like that. I mean, we all knew they were really close friends, but
sometimes they would really kiss. I mean, really, like a boy kisses a
girl. Not that I would know, Sir." She finished in embarrassment.

Girls kissing girls like... ? This I would just have to store away and
deal with later.

After tea, Anne was fidgeting so much that I had to ask her to sit
still. "What is the matter with you?

She looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Sir, I did not notice I was doing it. I
will be still."

"Yes, but why were you wriggling?"

"I could not possibly say, Sir."

"Arrgh! Yes, you can. That is the whole point, I want you to be honest
with me."

"But Sir, it did not concern you. I was just impatient. It was a thing
I was looking forward to doing, and I was just being childish."

"So, ask. Hmmmm. I know what. We are going to have a rule that, while
you are in this house, each day you get one favour or chose one special
thing to do. No exceptions, every day you have to think of something to
ask for, understand?" In a way I was being mean, but the thought of
testing her determined servitude was irresistible  and she did
deserve a treat every now and then.

"Oh. Yes Sir, if you say so Sir. But what if I can't think of anything,
Sir?"

"Then you must try, or earn my displeasure." I pretended to frown
severely. "So, what is it to be for today? Why not the thing that had
you fidgeting?"

"Well, it's just, if you would let me, Sir, it would be such a treat to
be allowed to try out my new clothes."

I could not help laughing at the magnitude of the favour. "Fair enough.
Upstairs then."

In my room, surrounded by wrapping paper and bags, she tried so hard to
remember to be polite and respectful, but I could not help grinning to
myself when she forgot. It was like watching a child open her Christmas
presents.

"These are for going out in," she explained, picking up and displaying
a smart but conservative blouse and short skirt.

"And this  if you wanted to show me off somewhere. Is it too much?
What do you think, Sir?" and she slipped her dress off over her head
before putting on a silk cheerleader's skirt and halter top, in yellow
and bright blue. It certainly showed her off all right, although I was
not sure I would have the nerve to take her out on the street like
that.

What was it with this girl? I thought, as she pirouetted in front of me
and the pleated skirt flared out to flash her pretty little knickers. It
was like she had this unconscious desire to display herself for me. But
as I admired her curves I realised that it really did show her off to
good advantage. If I was going to sell this little collar, a few
pictures of her decked out like that would certainly not get in the
way.

Then there was the maid's costume she intended to wear around the house
 I just hoped the Geoffrey had learned its lesson  and then
finally the nightwear. She modeled it over her underclothes, and then,
blushing, seemed to find it necessary to ask my permission to wear it
without any underwear in bed.

All right, I had seen her naked. I had even rubbed a towel over her
naked body for Christ's sake. But each time she coyly slipped out of
one outfit and hunted for the next she seemed to be much more, I don't
know, flexible than usual. And, although I could understand that she
was happy and excited, I could not recall as much giggling going on
when she was dressed in more clothing.

Nice as it was to play the audience for dressing up games, the alarm on
my fone reminded me of my appointment up the High Road. If I missed my
slot with my Father's tailor, my Mother would roast me alive.

To say I was in a bad mood when I returned from my abortive trip to the
tailor's would be putting it mildly. Even worse was finding my Mother
waiting for me.

"I have just come off the fone to Grieves and Robertson," she
trumpeted, and I bowed my head down to let it wash over me.

All right, maybe I did blow up in the shop, but if you had seen the
things they were trying to get me to put on, anyone would have. I may
have shouted, but how could I ignore the way they spoke to me?
Obsequious condescending bastards. The arrogance! After all it was my
ball, my money, and my dress suit. If they didn't want to do it my way,
then why were they pretending to be helpful? And I didn't throw anything
around. A few things might have got knocked over on my way to the door,
but it served them right!

"Do you want us to freeze that trust deed? There is plenty of time for
your Father to do it before Monday's meeting at the lawyers." That got
my attention  but maybe not in the way she intended.

"Go ahead, see if I care! I don't need money from dead people."

"Your Father and I are hardly dead yet, whatever you might wish, and I
had hoped you held your late Grandfather in better regard than... " she
remonstrated but I was in no mood to be lectured.

"You think you can control me just by dangling that over me 
well, you can't! I am going to make my own way in the world. I'm going
to earn my own living! Proles do it, and they live free, like people
should. This is all bullshit! Christ, I despise it, your whole stuck up
pretentious life. Inheritance! You can stick it!"

Before I knew it I was on my back on my bed again, with the room door
quivering. I sighed to myself. So much for my determination yesterday,
not to ever end up sulking in my bedroom again. But they were going to
find out that I was not to be ignored.

Saturday's ball. It was going to be a formal "Coming Out Ball". These
had really come back into fashion in that last few years. The idea of a
dance or party to celebrate your sixteenth birthday was as old as the
status of sixteen as the age of majority, but these days it was more,
much more. This "Ball" was going to be where my parents displayed their
newly adult son to the world for inspection and approval  and, as I
had no doubt, for sizing up as a prospect in marriage. Any notion that
my few friends or I would have FUN was a long way down the list.

For a start, Rob and Liz would not even be invited. Well, I sort of
understood why that was the case, but neither would my Mother bother
inviting those few of the gentry that I actually liked.

Which made it all the more suitable that the Ball be the setting for my
revenge. The next half hour was spent in a very satisfying daydream,
involving ever more bizarre ways of humiliating my ridiculous parents
and their stuck-up friends and offspring. But, I realised, even if I
abandoned my more extreme flights of fantasy, there was still a lot of
scope.

A further half hour was spent sitting with my fone at the screen,
constructing much more plausible plans. The ingredients for stink bombs
turned out to be very easy to get hold of, while causing a blackout by
cutting the fuses to lights seemed too simple, to say nothing of the
ease with which one could set off the fire alarm and sprinklers. Then
to do it all in sequence within the same ten minutes? Perfect!

The prole that Liz called Peter greeted me when I went around to
collect Liz, and led me into their front room. It was the only room I
had ever seen in her house, but I always suspected that no one normally
went in there. It all had the preserved slightly dusty look of furniture
only used for "best".

Peter, I had always liked. He was Liz's Mum's current partner, but when
I say "current" he had been around for as long as I had known Liz, which
must be seven or eight years. That was almost unheard-of between proles,
and sometimes I even wondered if he was Liz's father, although it would
have been too rude to ask. Probably they did not even know. Still, I
never saw any other man about the place, even with such a good-looking
woman as her mum. Whenever I had seen him around, he had been both
friendly but also surprisingly protective of Liz (as if she needed it!)
He was obviously fond of her, and that was good by me.

"Well, Master James," he started in his deep buzz, then corrected
himself. "Sorry, it's Mr. Pilsbury, now, ain't it? You take my
congratulations now!" and grabbed my hand to shake it. I grinned in
embarrassment at his enthusiasm. "Now, our Lizzy 'as told me you an'
'er are gettin' together tonight, an' so she's asked me to pimp for
'er. Which I am 'appy and proud to do."

I nodded. I should have expected as much. Whatever Liz and I meant to
each other in private, she was hardly a society belle to ask out
formally, so we could not do it "my" way. I just had not been sure we
were going to do it the prole way. "Whatever you say, Peter. You should
know what I think of her, and price is just not going to be an issue."

"Very kind of you to say so, Mr. Pilsbury, and I know she could not be
going with any gennleman more upright than yerself. So, bearin' in mind
that youse is a special friend, but rememmerin' how this is 'er first
time, I thinks fifteen poun' be about right."

Fifteen pounds? Fair enough, I did not mind paying for the pleasure of
her company when I took her out  it was how prole women earned their
keep, after all. Either they lived with someone long term, like Mary and
Peter, and were kept by the man, or they charged by the occasion, on
every occasion. And as a gent, I would expect to pay more than a prole
would have, but fifteen pounds was ridiculous! I reckoned I could get a
proper High Street escort for the evening for a fiver; after all it was
only for two hours to catch a film.

Then with a shock, I realised what he must be thinking, and I could
feel my cheeks colouring. "Peter, I don't want to do... sex! We are
just going out to the cinema, to see what that new film would be like."

He chuckled. "Well, that maybe your plans Mr. Pilsbury, but I wouldn'a
rely on our Lizzy goin' along with it that way. So why don't we leave
it open so yer can play it as yer finds it? I've set aside the front
bedroom for ya this evenin', an' it's there just in case. Now, I'll be
in the kitchen with 'er Mum when yer done, and yer can sort it then."
With which he stood and showed me out into the tiny hallway.

Liz appeared at the top of the stairs, as if she had been waiting for
the click of the parlour door latch. She was looking stunning  so
sexy I could not believe it. The whole lot  hair, makeup, tight boob
top and flounced skirt  must have been done by someone else, and when
I saw her Mum looking proudly out of the kitchen door, I did not have to
guess who. "Liz, you look amazing," I said to the girl coming down the
stairs, but I winked at the woman in the kitchen door, and muttered out
of the side of my mouth "Thanks, Mary."

She laughed "Get on with yer. And if yer decide to carry on back here,
don'ee worry about any noise. Peter and I can't hear nothin' from out
back."

"Mum!" cried Liz, but with a grin.

I held out my arm, and she looked at it, puzzled, before realising what
I meant. She grabbed it and dragged me out the door with a cry of "See
ya later!"

The film was disappointing, but sitting in the dark cinema next to Liz
was not. This was apparently only the second new movie to be made this
decade. I can see why there were not more. Fair enough, someone might
like to experiment, but the result was so pathetic I could not see it
being out for long. Why bother when you could get vids of the pre-Crash
greats on your home screen any night?

Having my arm around Liz was something else. I had worried that it
would be awkward, but she had changed so completely from "buddy" to
"sexpot" I was left with my feelings in a whirl. I wondered how long
she had been thinking this, maybe even planning it.

"Don't be shy," she giggled, wriggling down in her seat and dragging on
my hand, currently dangling innocently over her left shoulder. "I won't
bruise if ya touch me." When it was pulled down so it covered her left
breast she seemed happier, and returned her attention to her hand,
burrowing between my thighs.

"Liz, how long have you been feeling like... this?" I asked, trying,
vainly, to concentrate on anything other than what her hands were doing
in my lap.

"For years, you idiot," she hissed, happy now she had three of the
buttons on my flies undone, so she could get her little fingers in.
"I've turned down some great offers since my birthday, so yer'd better
come good on me now!" She giggled again. "Figuratively!"

I knew enough about how prole society worked, to guess what those
offers might have been. "I'm sorry. You should have said something."

"Don't sweat it. It's only money. Anyway, I like to keep an eye on the
long chance. I know a good investment when I see one."

What on Earth did that mean, I wondered, but my capacity for coherent
thought was disappearing rapidly as her fingers pulled out their prize
and started working on it.

"Gaahh... Liz, maybe we shouldn't... be doing this here... "

"You're right. This is rubbish. The film ain't no good neither. Wanna
get back to my place?"

Have you ever felt like it was all going a little bit fast, as if the
train had missed your stop, and you were not sure where it was going
now? I think I was heading for the buffers and there was no sign of a
driver in the cab.

Back at Liz's house, we went straight up to the front bedroom without
even looking for her Mum.

"Well, here we are. Like the place?" she asked, looking around at the
small room. It was cramped, but surprisingly neat and tidy.

"It's not the place I like, it's you!" I replied with desperate
gallantry, smiling and only half in jest.

She laughed. "Oh, a real gent, ain't we!" she teased, calmly undoing
the buttons down the side of that tube top. And then, as if by a switch
she was calm and serious. "James, I'm real sorry I blew you up
yesterday. I shouldn't 'a. It was my fault for not 'avin' the guts to
come clean to ya. I ain't sorry you're dumpin' that little collarslut,
though," she growled, facing me, and I was suddenly aware of her dark
nipples staring at me, almost as aggressively as the finger she was
waving in my face.

She glared at me for a second, and then just as quickly she relaxed and
laughed again. "Now, I don't mean to bully you. It's just that I've
waited so long for this, and it's going to be soooo great. Come on,
let's get on with it."

At that point it was impossible to ignore that she was now completely
naked.

It's not that she had "WOW" breasts - she didn't. It wasn't a vid-star
face  she looked like determined pixy most of the time. It wasn't
the legs  hers are long and slim but with too much muscle for most
tastes. It might have been her actual body  that slender mobile
torso  and her little bottom was certainly cute enough. But frankly
it didn't matter what the body looked like, if it contained Liz.

"Clothes OFF," she ordered. Her face was in my face and now her mouth
was sucking my mouth and my brain had stopped working, while her
fingers helped mine tear my shirt and trousers and underthings off.

Liz pushed me onto the bed, and dropped to her knees in front of me. My
penis was rampant between my splayed legs, but my momentary twinge of
embarrassment disappeared at the sight of her expression. She explored
the thing tentatively with her fingertips. Then she licked the tip of
it and I nearly slid off the bed from the feeling. The next thing I
know, my prick was disappearing into her mouth and I was leaning back
on my hands, holding on to the bedspread.

Liz slid her wet lips up and down my shaft, sucking experimentally as
she went. Mesmerized, I watched her doing me. I realised I was rocking
my hips to meet her throat with every stroke. A few times she coughed
or gagged and then backed off. The sensations were incredible. Anne's
tentative effort didn't hold a candle to what Liz was doing to me. My
urgency increased as I feel myself getting more and more excited. Now I
couldn't stop thrashing wildly and Liz could hardly keep me in her
mouth.

"I'm going to do it!" I groaned. It wasn't enough of a warning, because
I erupted in her mouth before it was out. Liz was determined to keep my
penis in her mouth however, and sucked down every drop. She was still
carefully working her tongue as my prick softened and collapsed. I held
her face still and gently lifted her off my penis. "Wooah, enough, Liz."

She looked up at me and grinned wickedly. Her lips were smeared with
something and her chin was glistening wet. "You taste good," she said
with a chuckle at my expression. "Now it's my turn."

Deep breath. Christ, how could I match that? But I moved over and
patted the bed next to me. She sat down and leaned back on her hands.
Her legs were spread wide. Very wide.

"Look, I don't really know what I'm doing," I whispered to Liz.

"Just start running your fingers over my pussy. I'll shout if I don't
like it."

"Fair enough," I said.

Her pussy was spread out for me, looking like a pink flower nestled in
black grass. It wasn't obscene, it was beautiful. I ran a single finger
over her folds and felt the wetness that had been leaking out of her.

"Get a couple o' fingers and jus' move 'em round over my lips,"
whispered Liz, moving one knee up on the bed to give me room to attack.

I did as she told me. Those lips were getting even wetter and more
slippery if possible.

"Now get one finger and just sliiiiide it in an' out o' me a bit,"
continued Liz in a strained voice. Her eyes were closed.

I felt about for a second unsuccessfully. "Lower," she muttered, and I
found the opening. It was tight but there was enough of a hole to slip
a finger in. I was not sure what a maidenhead would be like, but it
seemed rude to ask if she was a virgin, so I just went carefully. Her
breathing was getting laboured. Every so often she gasped and then
sighed.

"Oh James, that feels so good," moaned Liz. She then whispered. "Move
your fingers to the top. There's a bit of a bump there."

I did just as she told me but I couldn't seem to find this bump she was
talking about. "Nearly, down a bit," she gasped. "God YES!" I knew I had
found it. I pushed at it but she winced. "Woah, ease off, be gentle!"

I eased off and listened to her noises so I could tell what was good
for her. My eyes were glued to the amazing little lips and folds that
my fingers were touching, but every now and then I glanced up just to
enjoy the sight of the expression on her face. After a few minutes of
this she was gasping and sighing again. Every so often she whimpered
and whined. "Faster now, James," she gasped. "A little faster." I
complied, and soon I was rubbing vigorously around that little pip of
flesh. Her whimpers turned into cries of pleasure. "Oh God, yes,
JAMES!" screamed Liz before she clamped her legs shut, trapping my hand
between her shuddering thighs. Finally she relaxed and pulled my hand
away from her sex.

I stared at her, panting almost as hard as she was. Christ, did I do
that to her? Her head was waving from side to side as she got her
breath back. "You alright?" I asked uncertainly, as I noticed that she
seemed to be shaking. I turned her face towards me, and saw it twisted
 in silent laughter.

"More than alright, you loverly silly boy, you," she replied, when she
could. "I was expecting t' have to... well never min' what I was
expecting. You done good, boy!" and she lay back, looking like the cat
that got the cream, grinning at me. I leaned forward to give her a
kiss, but she slipped her face away. "Nah, don't be soppy. Now, isn't
about time you got to fucking me?"

"Do you mean... ?" I asked uncertainly  it was not a word I had
heard before, but I could guess what she meant.

She dramatically spread her arms and legs, and with a little grin,
said, "Take me!"

Nervous as I was, I couldn't help laughing. "Take you? Take you where,
anywhere I know?"

"Mom watches romance vids. I steal 'em," she giggled. "And when the
young virginal 'eroine surrenders her virtue to the 'andsome, dashin'
'ero, she always sez 'take me!'"

"So is that what 'fucking' means, then?"

"You stiffs! Yeah, cock in cunt action at last! Sorry, I mean, do
please carefully insert your penis into my vagina, kind sir." and she
grinned wickedly at me again.

"But what about, you know, is this your first time?"

"Hey, you're such a sweetie. Yes, ya will be the first bloke to stick
'is pole up there, and yes I am on the pill. Now, quit stallin'!"

(The combined contraceptive and anti-viral pill has made a huge dent in
unwanted pregnancies and sexual diseases, but there are still a few
idiots who get caught every year. Given that it is free, and one
hundred percent effective against AIDS, which was now almost wiped out
 why not use it? I suppose there is no accounting for stupidity.)

I should have been reassured but just then I didn't care. So this was
it. God, I hoped I was going to be good enough. I climbed over her body
and held my weight off her on stiff arms. She wriggled under me to line
us up and then reached down between our bellies. Her fingers were
adjusting my prick, by now completely hard again. "So, 'ow does that
feel, big boy?"

Awkward, was how it felt, but I pushed experimentally with my hips. She
shifted the head of my penis about in her soft and slippery folds until
it met a part with less resistance and I gave an experimental push. Not
much happened.

"Go on then" she encouraged. "I'm not going to break!" and she pulled
her fingers from between us to grab my buttocks.

I was not sure but she seemed to know what was going on so I pulled
back a bit and then gave a determined shove. She flinched but things
yielded and now the head of my penis was clutched in the close embrace
of her body. I opened my eyes to see her face, wincing, with her lip
caught between her teeth. "You alright?" I asked, concerned at her
expression.

"Yeah, course, this bit's supposed to 'urt some," she hissed. "Do it
again"

I leant on her again, and without fuss my penis pushed further into her
insides. Wow. I had my penis right inside her. My lower belly was
leaning against hers; I could feel her pubic hair against mine. Now, it
was starting to feel good.

"Move it in and out, dummy!" she whispered.

I obliged, and the good feelings multiplied. Shove, withdraw... I
speeded up, I could not help it. Wow, this was... no wonder...
WOW..."Ooof" I grunted as my balls emptied into her body. I collapsed
on her, gasping for breath.

I had done it!

"Move over, oaf!" she grunted, but without anger, shoving me at the
shoulder.

"Ooops, sorry" I rolled off her and looked at her. She was smiling
again as if we had achieved something really clever.

"So, was that the dog's bollocks? Or was it?" She asked.

"It was really easy! Is that all there is to it?"

"Yeah, well I've been told it can get a bit more complicated if ya
want." she smiled at me with a raised eyebrow. "Wanna book a few
practice sessions?"

I had to look to see the gleam in her eye. She was teasing.

"Only if the rate is competitive," I retorted, grinning back.

She punched my shoulder, softly. "Come on, where are all yer clothes."
She got up and started rifling through the mess on the bed, throwing
discarded garments at me at intervals.

I did not know what to feel, as I slowly got dressed. It had all been
so fast  in an odd way what had been billed as a turning point in my
life turned out to a bit of an anticlimax. But it was still pretty good.
Finally, I had done it!

Mary and Peter were in the back kitchen, as she had said they would be.
The room was warm with the light of the oil lamps, cluttered with homely
bric-a-brac, and smelt of ham and toasted crumpets.

Suddenly I was just envious of them. They could not be married 
there was no way for proles to do it  yet this man and this woman
were closer to each other than my parents had ever been, with all their
pretentious social life. These two could not own property, or a collar,
or indeed anything valuable, and between them probably brought in a
tenth of what I might be earning once I got settled, but I would count
myself very lucky if I did as well out of life as they had.

"Now, I know we said yer can't hear nothin' from back 'ere, but yer
could have spared a thought fer the neighbours," teased her Mum. Liz
glared but couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"So, she got her wicked way with ya after all?" asked Peter, with a
smile splitting his face. "Looks like ya owe us that there fifteen
smackers then!"

Fifteen pounds. I wondered what was the going rate for the virginity of
a pretty but small-chested prole girl. I wondered what was the going
rate for your first sex with your best friend. I had no idea what I was
doing, but I did know I wanted to give them more than that. I shook my
head firmly, and held out a fifty pound script.

Peter worked down at the timber yard in Potters Bar, and although I
wasn't sure what he did, that must have been a week's wages for him. He
frowned. "Mr. Pilsbury, yer know I ain't got no change for a thing like
that."

"No, I don't want change. That's for Liz. And you. All of it."

"Now then, we don't take no charity neither." His frown deepened, and
then cleared. He was looking over my shoulder and I glanced round just
in time to catch Liz gesticulating wildly. She stopped and smiled
sweetly at me. "Tell yer what, we'll make it job lot," he continued. "A
month's worth. Whatever yer like with our Liz, for the rest o' the
month."

I nodded, relieved that he had found a way of accepting it  and not
disappointed that it might involve a few repeat visits. Then I noticed
the time on the old wind-up clock on the top shelf of the painted
sideboard. If I was going to get home before eleven, I had better get
going.

"Well, thanks. But I have to go. And Liz... " I had no idea what I
could begin to say.

"Ah, just get off with yer. Look, I'm busy tomorrer but come round
Friday night, okay? About seven?"

"You bet! Goodnight everyone."

But she stepped through the front door with me and grabbed me. Leaning
against the outside wall of the little house she found my mouth for one
last kiss.

"Mmmmmmmm," she murmured. "I'm thinkin' I might keep yer after all. So
just yer remember, if ya want more of this..." and as she spoke she
took my hand and ran it from her flat stomach up over one breast. Her
little nipple was like a marble in the woollen cloth under my palm.
"... then ya better keep yer eyes off any other cunts out there.
Savvy?"

I certainly did.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

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

Chapters five and six will be posted Tuesday 6th Nov 08