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 9 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 9 - Friday Evening

In front of the unimposing frontage of the collar shop I hesitated and
glanced at Annie. Just two days ago this had seemed such a good idea,
but now I was not so certain. If only there was some way of hanging on
to her. But — Murdoch, Liz, the bike — I just couldn't see a way
around it. Anyway, it was only a valuation. I needed to know what she
was worth to be able to make any sort of proper decision about this
mess.

As Annie nipped ahead and held the door open for me, a bell tinkled,
somewhere in the back of the shop.

It was not what I expected. The place was well lit and tidy, but a
little shabby, as if the stock was not changed that often. The shelves
were full, not of shiny new controllers and neck collars, but of
strange things I did not recognise. The nearest one had leather straps,
no, harnesses, with steel buckles and bits of chain. It was more like
— what do you call those places that sell saddles and things for
horses? A chandlery?

Another rack had handcuffs, of all things, like the militia use, and
over there was an aisle of boots. They were not cheap workmen's boots,
but amazing high heeled shiny leather things, knee high or longer,
black and red with silver buckles and impossible toes. Then there were
books, picture comics and even film cassettes. When had I last seen an
actual book, with paper pages, on sale in a shop?

I picked up a box with a picture on the cover. A collarman was bent
over a strange wooden frame, tied down, while a lady loomed over him
with a horsewhip. She was wearing nothing but boots that could have
come this shop and some sort of leather corset. Oddly, he did not have
the usual muscular collarman physique. In fact he was almost fat, with
pallid skin and a flabby belly.

"She could have found a better collarman than that!" I whispered to
Annie, who was at my shoulder, eyes following mine.

She gasped. "He is not the collar!" she hissed. It took me a second to
see what she meant. The man was wreathed in a costume of leather straps
and buckles, but despite these and despite the hood hiding his head, you
could clearly see his bare neck. She, on the other hand, was clearly
proud of the metal spikes radiating from the black leather choker
around her neck. I dropped it, feeling completely out of my depth. Time
to get this business over and done with.

"Just wait here, and don't touch anything," I told her, and headed over
to the counter. The man standing there looked ordinary enough.
Thankfully he was clearly the owner — I was not sure I could have
faced a collar right then.

"Nice," he said, nodding in the direction of Annie. "How long have you
been training it?"

I was puzzled. "Well, I haven't had her long."

"Yes, I can see it's young. Let me guess. Three months — am I right?
Which training scheme have you been using?"

I shook my head, and said, more emphatically, "I have not been using
anything."

He smiled. "So everyone likes to say. But I can tell. I watched you
come in. I saw how it opened the door, how it moves around you.
Subconscious already — I bet that collar is not even aware of it, but
every second it knows where you are and what you are doing. Right now,
over there, its whole being is focused on you."

I looked over at Annie, who of course looked up just as I did, to catch
my eye. Her eyebrow raised in a "want me?" gesture, and I shook my head
almost imperceptibly. She nodded happily and went back to the display
in front of her.

The shopkeeper laughed. "Lovely. Now, what can I do for you?"

"You buy and sell collars, don't you?"

"Sam Weller, licensed broker and auctioneer, if that's what you mean."

"All right, Mr. Weller. How much would I get for her?"

"Hah, another one. You young men have a go at polishing up some untamed
bit of flesh, think you've turned it into something special, and then
try and make a turn on it. Sorry, but it hardly ever works."

He leaned over the counter to give me the benefit of his wisdom. "The
trouble is, you do too good a job. Yes, the point of a good collar is
it wants to be with you. Great if it gets off on obeying you. That's
submissive, that is. But you kids make it personal. That thing there, I
see how it looks at you, and I bet it would jump in the fire if you
asked it. Very nice. But what good is that to anyone else, eh?"

My heart sank. I did not really understand the point he was making —
after all, I had only been with Annie three days and I was pretty sure
she wouldn't wave a finger through a candle flame for me — well, not
without using the zapper in a way I was just not prepared to. But it
clearly sounded as if he was not interested in buying her.

"Look I might have to sell her anyway. At least tell me what she might
be worth."

Mr. Weller shrugged. "Not my funeral. You understand now, I don't buy
or sell for myself. You wanna sell it, I'll put your collargirl up on
the board with the rest, and I take fifteen percent if it goes. Or,
I've got an auction next month on the 14th, if you can wait. Usually
better prices, but you pay fifty to put it in the auction. That's on
top of the commission, whether it goes or not."

"What about a valuation?"

"Sure thing. I'll need the serial number, registration, MoC papers and
five minutes to look it over," he said, ticking them off on his
fingers. "Fifteen quid fee. Fair enough?"

It seemed a bit steep, but I couldn't trust my Father. I needed to get
some handle on what she really was worth on the open market. And a
valuation was useful; it could be quoted.

He saw me hesitate, and carried on. "Hey, I like the look of you. I'll
do it for a tenner if you help me, and if you take my advice after."

"What sort of advice?"

He snorted. "To keep it, you young idiot. This is your first one, isn't
it? I can tell. So you've accidentally landed a pretty young piece that
just clicks with you. You think the next one will be like that? I get
gents coming here wasting money on training courses and remedial stuff
and after a year their collar still hates their guts. Hell, I should
complain — it's good business. Of course, lots of people like their
collars to hate them. If you want to keep it struggling on a short
leash, fine. But you don't look that type. My advice is, if you get one
that fits, don't toss it away."

I looked down at the counter. "I might just have to." Yesterday the
idea of getting a motorbike in exchange for her had seemed a great
deal. Now the thought of explaining that seemed embarrassingly weak.
"Can I have the valuation, and I will think about your advice?"

I called her over to get started. The serial number was easy enough,
and although the paper registration document was back in my desk I had
a copy on my fone. But I could not find a copy of the MoC certificate
there, and now I came to think of it, I did not remember seeing it
either.

"Don't worry," he sighed. "I can look it up." He got his fone out and
plugged it in. Despite having a really old model, a brick without a
throat mike (you know, you have to it hold in your hand and speak at
it), he was quick enough using it and the pages flickered across the
shop screen until he found what he was looking for. "Let's just check
that serial number again?" he asked. I read it off the back of Annie's
collar once more. "No, the one on her skin." She lifted the hem of her
short skirt and pointed it out to me, tattooed high on the inside of
her thigh. As I bent down to look I couldn't help glancing sideways.
The fresh white cotton of her panties was stretched over her mound,
hinting at a groove in the soft swollen shape beneath. I gulped and
forced my eyes over to read the number out loud. Annie was blushing
slightly when she put her skirt back down.

Fortunately the number matched the one on her collar, but his frown
deepened anyway. "Berkhamstead School, they're pretty straight," he
mused. "So why has this thing got no sign of an MoC then, eh? Are you
sure there was nothing funny going on when you bought it? Anything odd
at all?"

Where could I start? But before I had got far into my hesitant tale of
my birthday present, he interrupted me.

"So, raped, you say? Mind you, you can't rape a collar; surely you knew
that. But they don't like illicit use, not from a School. If it's not
done by the legal boss it counts as maltreatment, see, goes on their
record with the RSPCC."

"But it wasn't their fault. Well, it was the visiting gardener, but I
think they made him pay damages."

"Never mind that. I can see the plan. They sell it to your dad on the
quiet. Your dad gives it to you, then you don't need an MoC until next
year, and by then the mistreatment doesn't count." He grinned. "Unless,
of course, you want to sell it beforehand."

I cursed my Father and his eye for a bargain. He looked at my falling
face. "Don't fret, young man. It's not the end of the world to knock
out an MoC, and you wanted a valuation anyway. Twenty-five for the
whole thing."

I gulped and nodded. Now I would have only thirty-seven pounds pocket
money left for the rest of the month.

"Alright, this will take about twenty minutes. I'll need to shut up
shop, but it's always quiet about now. You just get it in the back,
through that door. Oh, and get it stripped off."

It felt odd talking to her while she undressed. Somehow that man made
her feel like an "it" again, a possession to be valued and sold. "We do
have to get you valued, you know." I avoided her eye. "And whatever
happens, you will need an MoC."

She nodded as she slipped out of her panties, and looked directly at
me. "I know the score. It's alright, really." It wasn't, of course, but
what could I say? She covered her breasts and pubic area with her hands
as the shopkeeper bustled in from the front. Funny, really, considering
what happened next.

I cannot say I understood much of what he did, but he did look as if he
knew what he was doing. It involved a fair amount of poking and
prodding, and these doctor type tools. She did not like the stethoscope
— too cold, presumably. Then there was this little torch thing he used
to peer in her eyes and mouth, even her ears, ticking boxes on his
clipboard as he went. And why bang her on the knee with a funny rubber
hammer? Finally, he said, "Up on the horse, now, for the exam," and led
her over to this strange padded frame.

It took a moment for him to show her how to climb up, but she complied
without any of her initial modesty. That was just as well, considering
the position she ended up in: face down on elbows and knees, with her
feet towards us. What got me was the way he bustled around as if all
this was normal when the padded knee holders were so far apart that her
bum hole and pussy were held up on display for all the world to see. I
tried not to look, of course, but it was difficult. I had never seen
her pussy lips close up from this angle before.

Mr. Weller was running his hands over her torso, then her arms and
legs, not missing out anywhere. He paid particular attention to the
breasts, I suppose looking for lumps. I winced in sympathy as he tugged
the nipples down, and when he finished they stayed extended and swollen.
Then he snapped on a pair of surgical rubber gloves, and got out what
look like a tube of toothpaste. However, what came out when he applied
it to her bottom was clear and glistening. I suddenly realised what he
was going to do.

"Is this really necessary?" I started but her gasp told me that his
finger was already in there.

"All part of the service, young man," he replied cheerfully as he
pushed a second finger after the first. Annie was shaking her head, and
grunting quietly.

"Don't worry, it will be over soon," I said reassuringly, for my sake
as much as hers. Well, it wasn't the first time she had had a finger up
there, and hopefully it would be over soon. "Don't hurt her, will you?"

The man chuckled, as he carried on exploring the inside of her anus,
even turning round to get a different angle of attack. "No chance of
that. I'm not the first in here, am I? And unless I am mistaken, this
little thing doesn't mind at all." He stepped back. "All done! Let's
get you other way up!" and so saying he gave her a swat on the rump and
started to help her turn over.

Her face was flushed and for some reason she gave me a guilty look as
he arranged her on the frame again. This time she was on her back with
her arms above her head and her knees were in holders to the sides of
her chest, with her ankles in the air and as far apart as they would
go. I was beginning to see why this thing was such a complicated shape.
It could obviously accommodate a collar in several positions, each of
them with padded holders and restraints that would enable it to be
there for some time without damage.

"What about the cuffs?" asked Annie in a strange voice. What did she
mean?

"Why, you thinkin' of doing a runner?" grunted the man as he rooted
around in his bag, looking for something.

Annie was blushing properly by now. "I... It would make it easier to
hold my legs in position. Perhaps... my Master could do it." I looked
at her, puzzled, while the shopkeeper chuckled.

"Like that are we? Be my guest." He winked at her coarsely while he
showed me how the clasps worked. She was staring at me intently while I
fastened each one, at her wrists, ankles and knees, finishing with a
wide leather strap that passed over her belly and held her down firmly.
"Tighter, like this" he said, as he tugged on the strap causing her to
grunt as the air was expelled from her stomach.

With her body in this reclined posture and her legs at a right angle to
each other, her whole genital area was totally exposed and displayed
like she was the subject some obscene, gynaecological procedure.

Her outer vulva lips had unfolded into a wide, revealing oval,
displaying their smooth, pink inner surfaces and the inner lips of two
long, irregular folds of fleshy pink skin. The little clitoris, half
hidden by its soft, pink hood, was mounted prominently above the
junction of her inner lips, with her vaginal orifice at the bottom
where her inner lips met again. I could just see her anus peek out from
between her bottom cheeks.

"Surprise, surprise — no lube needed here," he muttered as he held
her inner lips apart. I could see what he meant — they were swollen,
pink and puffy, and I could even see the glistening of her juices on
the inner surfaces. How odd. "Now, let's just see..." he inserted
another of his strange stainless steel tools and operated it. In a
second it had expanded inside her, and was holding the walls open so he
could look right in. He got out the funny torch periscope thing to peer
in and ticked more boxes on the clipboard. "Now hang on, I have to open
up the speculum all the way. I need to see what your cervix looks like,"
he told her.

With unusual gentleness he cranked the handle on the speculum until it
was wide open and took his hands away, leaving her vagina pried open
grotesquely for his inspection.

He bent down, grabbed the torch and moved it in close, brightly
illuminating the interior of the tube. Her vaginal walls were fleshy
pink and they rippled with each breath she took. Now the clenched
button of her cervix was in clear view even to me. The sight of her
insides was weirdly arousing. I owned that, I realised. Her insides,
and her outsides and everything about her.

The man's head blocked my view for a moment, before he grunted in
satisfaction, then collapsed and removed the tool. That was not the
end, though, as he promptly replaced it with two fingers.

Annie was looking at me, not him, her gazed locked in mine as he
manipulated her insides. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and
her head was moving erratically from side to side. I couldn't read her
expression — I just hoped it wasn't hurting too much.

"There we are," he finally announced with satisfaction as he removed
his fingers from within her body and tugged the gloves off his hands.
"All done and very nice too. I'll just sort out the paperwork. Now I'll
leave you in private to finish it off. See you out front in a minute —
or should that be ten?" Laughing to himself he closed the door behind
him, leaving us alone. I wondered what he meant as I started to
unfasten the clasps.

"Boss, you don't have to..." she started but tailed off as I looked at
her questioningly. "I mean, if there anything you maybe want to do...
?"

"Just get you home," I grunted, as I released the last one. "You
alright?" I asked. She nodded, without speaking, although she seemed a
bit short of breath, and she did look a bit odd. She was lobster pink
all over, and her skin felt red hot. I held out my hand to help her
down, and I noticed that her breasts looked strangely ripe, as if ready
to burst.

I handed her her clothes and watched her as she started to pull on her
stockings. Despite what I had just seen, some reason it seemed indecent
to watch her dress, almost as erotic as it was to see her strip, and I
was suddenly aware of the steel hard-on in my trousers. "I... I'll see
you out front in a minute," I muttered and left.

The paperwork obviously took more than a few minutes. I waved Annie
away when she came out, looking cooler, and she went off to wander
amongst the merchandise. "Well, Mr. Weller, what is she worth?" I asked
anxiously, while he fussed about trying to get a box of paper into the
printer.

He frowned. "Young man, I will tell you one thing. I don't know what
you have been reading, but you have to be very careful with calling it
'her.' It IS right to think of it as a person, not an object, but it
does not do to get a name as a collar-lover. In this business, I should
know. Now, you remember what I said?"

"Yes, yes, I will think carefully before deciding. But I have to know."

He stopped what he was doing and considered carefully. "First off then,
it's in perfect nick. Lovely specimen, no faults or flaws, haven't seen
one as nice for ages. Very sexy, good reactions." He cut short my grin
with, "BUT that natural look is out of fashion these days. Everyone
wants one with the sex mods, or at the very least with some surgery,
you know breast and bum enhancements, and maybe lips. So not much
demand, see. But then the accomplishments are good, might get you an
income of two or three grand if you put it to work somewhere decent. So
less expenses and depreciation and with a yield of four or five
percent..."

He nodded to himself, as if deciding. "I can do a valuation at eleven
thousand. But I suggest you describe it as an investment, put it on at
ten, and make up your mind to accept nine. IF you decide to go ahead,
that is. And..." he glared at me "Don't think you are going to find
another one as good on any street corner!"

Shit. No better than my Father had suggested. So I was going to have to
swallow my pride and go along with his offer. Or... I looked over at
where she was browsing through... what... whips? She was a strange one,
but somehow she did, as he said, fit. The memory of her eyes, staring
into mine as a stranger fingered the inside of her vagina, floated in
front of me. Maybe she was worth giving up the bike for. Should I
actually think about keeping her? Liz's face swam in front of my eyes,
with a look that would freeze at a hundred yards. And somehow I would
have to keep Murdoch's greasy paws off her. Oh, hell, how could I do
this?

She looked up at me and I jerked my head to bring her over to us. She
was carrying a cardboard box, and inside was coiled a multi-tailed
leather whip, looking very similar to the one that Mrs. Haversham had
used on her collarserve.

"Master, this is what the lady in the dress shop had. What if I do
something wrong, and you need to punish me? I know you have said we
will not use the zapper, but surely you need some way to... keep
discipline." She was handling the whip as if it was both precious and
frightening and she was not sure how to hold it.

"Ho ho," chuckled the shopkeeper. "So that's how it is, eh? Just you
take that back, little thing. Get one of those riding crops instead,
see there on the top rack." As Annie did as she was bid, he murmured to
me, "Word of advice. Don't let it get hooked on pain, and don't you get
too fond of giving it neither. It happens easier than you think, and
it's never a good idea in the long run."

"I don't know what you mean." I was completely puzzled.

"Hmmm. Well, just keep it to that there crop, and never more than a
dozen in one session, alright?"

"Whatever you say." I was still mystified, but it did seem sensible to
have an alternative to the zapper. Anything was better than those evil
things. Then I had a thought. If I was going to sell or return this
girl, how could I stop someone else abusing the zapper? If only I could
arrange that, I could at least leave her with a gift worth something to
her. Any item I might give her would of course go to her new owner, but
perhaps I could do something subtler and more valuable.

"Can you modify the zappers?" I asked. "Is there away of limiting, say
the number four setting, to tone it down a bit or put a time limit on
it?" If I passed on the zapper with her, then at least I would know she
was moderately safe from exactly what I had subjected her to.

He looked at me, puzzled. "'Fraid not. Well not with that rig. It's
illegal for a start, and even if I was to admit that it was possible,
you'd need a better collar set. This one of yours, see, it's good
quality but simple. Not programmable in any way. Some of the fancier
ones, now, you can do clever tricks with, and that gives you a bit of
scope. Not that I'm saying I would, of course."

"Oh. And that would cost... ?"

"New collar rig? Fair bit of money. Its a complicated job, swapping the
collar set. It all depends on exactly what you want. Even if I am a bit
of an expert, it'll still take me at least an hour. Plus, well, see the
Parkinson set, here, it's the least that would do what you want, and
even that costs one seventy-eight, retail. You're looking at over two
hundred all in."

So much for that idea then. "I'll just take the riding crop," I sighed.

Mr. Weller saw my face and shook his head. "Look, young man, you
haven't thought this through. What were you dreaming of with that there
collar mod, eh?"

I could feel my neck turning red. "Well, I just didn't want someone
else to be able to hurt it, you know."

"Not like you will when you sell it, then?"

"No, I won't," I replied hotly. "I haven't touched the zapper since..."

"Forget it," he snapped. "You kids never understand — it's not the
collar round the neck that matters; it's the collar around the heart."

I looked at him blankly while he frowned at me. He just stared,
unmoving, and I dropped my eyes. It was as if I was being assessed, or
measured. "Humph. Maybe you might turn out to be human after all," he
continued grudgingly. He turned his back on me, and searched on a shelf
behind the counter for a moment. "Here, take this," he growled, handing
me a small, battered book. "Bring it back when you've finished."

I stared in bewilderment at the thing in my hand. It was a book; a real
children's book with paper pages and dog-eared covers. On the cover were
the words "The Little Prince" and a hand-drawn picture of a boy with a
mop of wild blond hair standing on a round rock.

Before I could question him, Annie wandered back to us, carrying the
chosen riding crop. "That will be thirty-four in all, then, young man,"
he pronounced crisply, ignoring my outstretched hand offering the book
back to him, and taking my fone as if the last conversation had never
happened. "Nice doing business with you. Don't forget what I said —
you sell that thing, and you will regret it later — and never more
than a dozen."

We were outside the shop, and the door was locked behind us, before I
could think of anything sensible to say. It had grown dark, and as we
headed for home our footsteps echoed along the empty pavement. Feeling
the little square shape in my pocket I was still trying to puzzle out
his words in my head. Why had he given me a book for children? And what
did he mean, "the collar around the heart"?

Annie slowed down too, and then stopped in front of me.

"Boss? It must have been a bit... hard... for you in there, with me,
you know, displayed like that. Do you want some relief?"

"Oh. Yes, it was a bit arousing, but I am fine now, don't worry about
it." She looked down, presumably a bit disappointed to have her help
turned down. No, I realised, she looked really uncomfortable. As I
studied her, she was shifting inside her clothes, as if they were
scratchy, or she was itchy. She tugged at the front of her dress, and I
noticed I could see the little peaks where her nipples were standing
out. "Annie, are YOU alright?"

"Of course, Boss!" But there was something in the tone of her voice.
Shit, why hadn't I seen it earlier?

"Annie, stop there." I ordered. "Here, let's go around the back where
it's a bit private. Now, stand against that doorway. Lift up the front
of your dress." She carried out my instructions, surprised, but the
hungry expression on her face was unmistakable. I could tell she was
holding her breath as she exposed the front of her panties to me. The
damp spot was clear, even in the shadow of the arch over us. I rubbed
two fingers against her pussy, and felt warm squishy lips through the
cotton cloth.

"Oh, Boss, what are you... OHHH..." She couldn't help the noise that
came out of her mouth as she writhed against my hand, and her head fell
against my shoulder.

"Ssshhh." I took both her hands and wrapped them behind me as I stepped
in to her and held her close. "Silly girl. You are the one who needs
relief. Why didn't you say?"

She hung her head and shook it, then nervously reached up and caressed
the back of my neck with one hand. With tentative lips she kissed me
shyly. Soon the kiss deepened and my tongue was deep in her mouth,
while her tongue responded with unashamed eagerness.

Then her other hand started rubbing over my chest and shoulders, and
she pulled away from me to mumble something unintelligible. I did not
need to hear to understand — her eyes said it all. Clumsily, I
gathered her to me again, but she slipped down to my feet and then
tugged me down so that we were crunched in that dark doorway, with me
half kneeling and half laying on top of her while she ground her crotch
against my thigh. The soft contents of her wet panties felt so hot
against my leg. Her lips searched blindly for mine again, and I knew
she must feel my hard cock pressing into her waist.

"Oh Boss!" she cried out, breaking our kiss and gasping for air.
"Please do it to me. Oh Master, please take me."

And so I did, without any pretence or foreplay. I reached down and
tugged the gusset of her panties to one side, so roughly that they
tore. Hearing her gasp as the flimsy material gave way really turned me
on. Then I reached down and started to undo my pants, pushing Annie's
hands away from where they had been fumbling with my buttons. I quickly
dropped my pants and knelt over her, trying to get into position. Annie
grabbed my prick and, moaning loudly, pulled it down towards her
slippery swollen lips. Then she wrapped her legs around my back and
wrenching upwards, impaled herself onto my cock.

Of course it was uncomfortable, kneeling with back bent while pressing
her against the rough steps. But in a matter of seconds she was calling
out loud as she clung to me. She was lost in an animal passion,
senseless of the concrete under her and my weight on her legs. She was
so hot and wet and tight that I pumped into her mercilessly, knowing
that I must not be gentle; that I could not hurt her; and she bucked
under me in response. After only a few minutes I could feel her
internal muscles spasm around me in that incredible sensation. On top
of the sexual tension of the evening, I could not bear it; with just a
few more strokes in and out of her I was pumping her full of my sperm.
As I slammed into her she threw her head back and screamed "Oh
MaaaAAASTER!"

It took me more than a few minutes to recover my breathing. I climbed
off of her, and looked down. I could not help admiring her disheveled
form. Somehow, even as a complete mess in torn clothes with her back
against a green painted door and her splayed legs over the cold
concrete steps, even with her newly naked lower lips red raw and shiny
with our combined juices, she grabbed my heart. Fresh fucked, ravaged,
displayed — she was beautiful and she was all mine.

"Oh Boss, that was so good!" she said softly, opening her eyes to look
up at me and smile.

Shit, I thought, leaning my head against the cold, hard brickwork.
Monday. If only Monday could be a month away.

I wandered downstairs, heading for the kitchen and a snack, preoccupied
again with thoughts of Murdoch. Who else could help, I wondered? Hearing
my Father's voice coming from the open door to his study, I paused for a
second. On the one hand, asking my Father for help would really stick in
the throat. And what if he just laughed and told me to get lost? On the
other — well, what little I knew of his business affairs suggested he
was probably pretty good at this sort of thing. And what did I have to
lose but a bit of pride? I owed to Annie, and myself, to try
everything.

At my knock, he waved me in while finishing off his officious fone
conversation with some colleague.

As I launched into my tale my heart sank. He was just humouring me; I
could tell from the way his eyes moved over the notes and letters on
his desk. But when I got to the bit about Murdoch torturing his
collarslut, he started paying attention, and by the time I had
explained Murdoch's trap to get his hands on Annie, his attention was
all mine.

The questions started. "Did he actually penetrate that Bradshaw girl?"

I explained it again in more detail.

"And his collarslut. What did you think — was he keen on sex with it,
or was he more interested in hurting it?" I could see what my Father
meant. Given the choice I bet Murdoch would have preferred to hurt it
than shaft it. He really was a nasty piece of work.

He heard me out and sat, thinking for a bit. "You may not realise,
James, but some of us have been quietly manoeuvring for some years to
find a way of getting rid of Murdoch, senior. It is not that easy. He
is a slimy character, and has no scruples about hurting people who get
in his way, but we are nearly there. All we need is the trigger, the
one event that I can use to put in front of Gladstone."

He noticed my blank face and clarified, "Sir Percy Gladstone. High
Sergeant of Hertfordshire. I have an intro, but I can only use it once,
and only if I am certain it is worth it. He appoints all the sheriffs,
and has a direct line to the Guards. You do realise that if we take
Murdoch down, Gladstone will have to call in the Guards. And you know
they go through a place like a dose of the salts."

Wow. The Guards.

Even in the worst of the crash years, amongst the desertions, the
mutinies, and of course the abortive coup of '23, the two Brigades of
the Coldstream Guards had stood firm. Everyone knew the tale of how
they had defended Windsor and the young King against Red Ken and the
rebels. But what struck me was how much the King had relied on them
during the Restoration. By the time they had finished, and the
Coldstreams had absorbed the remnants of the other Household Regiments,
Old Sir Bertie had made sure his regiment was the only military force in
the land.

Then he had forced through the draconian anti-gun legislation we still
enjoyed, and the King had leant on the other British Kingdoms to follow
suit. Even now, the Four Kingdoms were the only place in the world to be
gun-free, and I personally thought that it was a big part of our
relative peace and prosperity.

But even though we were all grateful for the stability they protected,
everyone hid a shiver of fear at the thought of attracting their
attention. They were the ultimate untouchable authority, answerable
only to His Majesty, and certainly they were good at sorting things
out. But they usually did it by shooting someone.

This was all getting a bit deep for me. "God, I would like to see the
Murdoch family get their comeuppance, like anyone else. But can you
really make it happen? And what can I do in the meantime?"

"James, I cannot fight your battles for you. I can give you advice, but
I know how much attention you have given that before now. Frankly, that
is probably just as well. I can back you up, and provide support, but
at the end of the day we all make our own way in this world. If you
think you have to get rid of your collar in order to protect it, then
that is your decision, although you know your Mother and I would prefer
you to keep it." He leant back in his old wooden chair and looked at me
seriously.

"I do suspect you would be just putting off the trouble with Murdoch. I
can protect you from the Father to a large extent, but eventually you
will have to deal with the son yourself."

And with that cold comfort, he dismissed me, although perhaps not too
unkindly.

Back in my room, I looked around morosely for some distraction. Lying
on my desk was that little book; I opened it and leafed through it out
of curiosity. Old books could be valuable, although this one looked too
tatty to be worth much. With Mr. Weller, I felt honour bound to take it
back to him anyway. But I could not think of what I was supposed to
gain from a kiddie's story.

The picture of the hat on the first page caught my eye. I read a few
paragraphs, and laughed out loud. An elephant in a boa constrictor! I
turned up the light and sat down on the sofa to get more comfortable.

An hour passed.

My throat was tight and my eyes were pricking. This was ridiculous! How
could I hurt over whether somewhere, we do not know where, a sheep that
we never saw has — yes or no? — eaten a rose? I took a deep sigh,
and eased my aching shoulders. I gazed at the window, where I had not
drawn the curtains, into the now black sky, and saw the stars above the
trees. Suddenly my little problems did not seem so vast, whatever
happened with Murdoch and Annie and the motorbike and Liz.

Liz! It was just as well I was not supposed to be there until nine. I
still had just enough time to have a shower and change before going
round to see her.

If nothing else my poor balls were grateful for a couple of hours'
rest, because she did not waste any time.

"First off, we ain't goin' ta waste no time with no film show tonight!
You get upstairs now."

Getting upstairs and undressed seemed really easy compared with
Wednesday night. "Kiss me, James. Let's get goin'!" demanded Liz. I
shrugged and kissed her lightly on the lips. She grabbed the back of my
head and met my kiss with a passionate onslaught.

I almost resisted at first but then melted into the kiss. Her tongue
was deep in my mouth, her lips ever moving on mine. She didn't let go
of me for nearly a minute. When she did, we both gasped for air. As her
tongue attacked mine again my hands went exploring then began massaging
her tiny breasts. She broke off and moaned quietly as my fingers worked
her nipples. They inflated like I had flipped a switch, and I tugged on
them, wondering at how hot and turgid they felt. Next I dropped my
kisses to her neck. I saw something like that in a movie vid once and I
was hoping it would affect Liz the way it did the girl in the movie. It
seemed to work, because Liz flung her head back and arched her neck out
at me.

She whimpered softly as I ran my tongue up and down the stretched
muscles of her throat. I carefully grazed her taut skin with my teeth.
God, I could almost feel my teeth biting into that neck, but I resisted
the urge. My kisses dropped to her chest, between her two small breasts.
I started to kiss one breast while my hand caressed the other. She
sighed deeply as I took one long stiff nipple into my mouth. I suckled
it until it throbbed, and then grazed it lightly with my teeth. She
gasped and threw one arm over my shoulders.

"James?" asked Liz in a husky whisper. I stopped and looked up at her
with a smile. "Yer getin' pretty good at this. Ya been takin' lessons?"

"Only from you," I whispered back, refusing to think about my collar
back at home. I winked at her and grabbed her other swollen nipple
between my lips.

I carried on sucking on Liz's hard little nips while her breathing
became more and more ragged and my right hand massaged the warm mound
under her pubic fur. She writhed in response and clutched me until she
was clinging to me for support. It was time to move on. I unhooked her
arm and lay her right back on the bed. Liz wriggled sensuously while
looking straight into my eyes, grabbed the pillow above her head with
both hands and spread her legs wide. With her nipples straining like
gun barrels and her pussy lips parting in front of me I didn't know
where to look. "Oh, take me, James," she cried in her high-pitched mock
heroine voice, and I grinned as I remembered the "romance vid" story.

"Abandon all hope now. Your body is mine!" I growled, playing the husky
"wicked villain."

She laughed. "Not like that, though. You still ain't returned that
favour from last time." I must have looked puzzled. "That nice blow job
I did on yer. Ya know, with my mouth. Can't ha' forgotten it already!"

"But what... how..."

"Ya just use yer tongue. See anythin' yer like, ya give it a lick." she
grinned at my surprise.

"Do chaps actually do that!"

"So they say. And it's 'sposed to feel real good, so I recon we should
try it."

I nodded, and swallowed before I took another long look at her flowery,
pink pussy spread out in front of me. Her dark curls framed it and
shouted out — here it was!

I kissed down her tummy towards that mysterious region. I could already
smell something interesting from down where her legs met. I moved off
the bed, dropped to my knees in front of her, and pressed her legs
apart even further with my hands. I ran one finger lightly over her
pussy, enjoying the feel of her plump swollen mound. I took a deep
breath, not knowing what to expect, and then tentatively ran my tongue
over her folds.

Her lower lips were incredibly delicate and deliciously soft and wet. I
wondered how she would react if I nibbled on them. To tell you the
truth, it wasn't obviously pleasant, but there was a perverse
attraction to her flavour nonetheless, like eating avocado or oysters.
I could tell it was going to be one of those acquired tastes, and I
couldn't wait to acquire it. Already I found myself wanting more, and I
suspected that I could lick her a long time if I needed to.

When I drove my tongue deep into her depths, she gasped from the
pleasure and grabbed my head in her hands. She seemed to be guiding my
tongue up towards her bump and I let her drive, figuring that she knew
her body better than I did. I knew I had hit the target when she ground
her hips right into my face and gasped loudly.

I centred on this spot that seemed to trigger so much pleasure,
swirling my tongue around her tiny nub. Liz grasped at my hair like it
was the one thing keeping her from falling off the bed. Suddenly,
inspiration struck me. It felt really good to have her suck on my cock,
right? So how good would it feel for her if I hoovered on her little
bump? There was only one way to find out.

As I tentatively sucked it between my lips, my head was suddenly
clamped hard between her thighs. Bingo! Her entire pussy contracted as
I worked that little nub between my lips and her whole body began to
tremble. Liz whined. The whine gradually wound up to a scream of
ecstasy.

"Fuuuuuuck Christ James WOT YER DOING SOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOD!" screamed
Liz. I lost contact with her pussy as her legs squeezed my head away
from it. Her entire body was trembling and it sounded as if she had
just run a marathon. I climbed up next to her and held her as she came
down from her noisy convulsions.

A few minutes later, we stirred together. "Wow, that was somethin'
else." grinned Liz. "What a beau. On top of being 'andsome and suave,
he's got a tongue like quicksilver! Now it's your turn. You can 'ave a
go in my cunny."

She lay back and supervised the mechanics of my climbing over her and
inserting tab A in slot B. But her grin was putting me off. Now that
she had her moment of passion, she was quite prepared to help me get
away, but not to take it seriously. It would have been better if she
had cracked fewer jokes, and despite the sexiness of her body around my
cock, it was difficult to get worked up when she treated it as a game.
The fact that this was my — what, fourth? — fuck of the day
probably did not help either.

After five minutes of action and teasing, both pleasurable and
frustrating, she pushed at my shoulder to roll me off her.

"Hang on in there, stud!" she instructed, "Let's see if we can't swap
over," and somehow she managed to turn us both over without
disengaging, until she was on top.

"That's better. Let someone who kin drive 'ave a go at the wheel," and,
grinning, she jiggled up and down a few times as if getting a feel for
it.

"Now, what about some..." she rose on her knees and despite my lifted
hips she was almost off me... WHUMP..."proper action!" and she dropped
back, impaling herself on my poor cock, hard.

"Shit, that's better," up again, "you just stay put"... WHUMP..."Mmmm,
that gets right to the places other fings can't reach!" up again...
whump... 

She was getting into a rhythm, and I just lay still to let the feelings
wash over me.

"You enjoyin' this, now?" she frowned at me.

"Yes dear," I said mock-meekly.

She glared at me. "Don't take the pee, Mr Pilsbury!" and then suddenly
stopped, sitting on my hips. I realised with surprise that she was
going to take me seriously for a second, even though I was still inside
her. "James, I do know the stuff about ya giving up yer inheritance and
rebelling ain't real. Christ, I wouldn't want yer if it was."

"Liz! Do we have to talk about this now!?"

"Yes we do, seeing how I got yer undivided attention. Now, it were fun
pretending, but we all know the sit rep. You — stuffed shirt. Me —
dumb prole."

"Liz!" I remonstrated in horror, but she didn't sound angry or even
upset.

"Come on, grow up a little. You're gonna get hitched, and I won't stand
in the way. Wouldn't want to. Just make sure she understands where she
fits in. She's goin' to be the trophy wife, and I'm goin' to be the
real mistress. Get it?"

"So, you really wouldn't mind..."

"Course not," she ploughed on over me, in more ways than one. She was
moving again, this time more slowly, and trying out some muscles in her
groin that were doing amazing things around my cock. "'appens all the
time. 'ow many of yer Dad's friends 'ave companions, or even keep a
mistress?"

"Yes but..." I couldn't explain, but it was the thought of exactly that
life that filled me with terror. The hypocrisy and the painfully correct
social mores upheld at all costs while underneath they played around and
just bought sex and didn't care who got hurt. Even if we... even if we
what? Why was I searching for ways of marrying her, of arranging the
impossible, when a few days ago I didn't even know I was going to like
kissing her?

"You'd 'ave to set me up as a proper mistress like, wiv a place o' me
own. None of that short term 'companion' business, 'cause if we get
together, it's gonna be fer keeps not just a month or so. Or maybe I
could move into your place, as 'ousekeeper."

"I'm not sure how my Mother would take to that idea!"

"Hey, I bet me an' 'er could come to some arrangement. She's a very
practical lady, your Mum. I reckon as long as the bint you got for a
frontispiece was up ter the job, we could work sommat out. Wouldn't be
the first time, would it."

No, it would not. Visions swam in front of my eyes; of living in our
house, no matter how extensive it was, with my Mother, Liz, and some
wife as yet unchosen. What was even more horrific was that Liz was
probably right. In a bizarre way, I could see just how well the two of
them would get on. Mind you it would worth being a fly on the wall if
the two of them did get down to negotiation.

"But any wife of ours is goin' to get shafted on 'er wedding night
only, then..." she paused and moved differently, experimentally "Hey,
that gets ya hot, don't it? I kin feel yer stiffen inside me... mmmm...
nice... 'ow 'bout this?" and she gave another one of those internal
clenches to milk my cock again. I gasped and then just lost it, unable
to stop from driving into her. I just gave myself over to the feeling
of spurting up into her, trying to fill her up. She gripped me tight
until I had finished and then lay down relaxed on me, ignoring my
panting. "Okay," she carried on more quietly, shifting to get
comfortable on top of me, but not moving off; "maybe yer can fuck 'er
once a year on the anniversary. But that's it. You and me, James, we're
gonna be the team, an' don't yer forget it."

Tonight we had more time. It was nice to lie there, with an arm round
her shoulders, although she fobbed me off again when I leant over to
kiss her. I suppose she thought I wanted to have another go shafting
her, but really, it was just — I don't know — perhaps she was
right, I was too soppy. She was just Liz, so practical, so
self-contained, even about the sex, that I could not help smiling to
myself in the dark. It was amazing how good she was at it, how she knew
what to do.

I could not help asking. "Liz, have you done this before?"

"Wot, ya forgotten Wednesday night already!"

"No, with anyone else!" I blurted out.

Silence for a moment. "Yeah, well I had to get a bit o' practise in,
didn't I" she replied quietly.

"Oh..." I realised how disappointed my voice sounded.

"Don' worry, it was only Rob. He was really good about it. Cute when he
cums, too!" she giggled.

"Rob! What, all the way?" I was confused — surely Wednesday had been
her first time?

"Naa, course not. Wan'ed to keep that for you, eh. Just fingers and
that. But I had to find out what a real cock was like, didn't I?"

Shit. Poor guy. No wonder he was so cut up about it earlier. I wondered
if Liz had told him whom they were practising for. Yes, she would have
just laid it out, and not thought anything of it. Sometimes I knew her
so well, and sometimes... 

"Liz, how do you feel about Rob?"

"Rob, well he's just Rob, ain't 'e?"

"Is he just Rob, though? Don't you ever wonder if he feels, maybe, a
bit more? Don't you feel anything special for him?"

Silence again, until I wondered if, uncharacteristically, she was going
to avoid the question. But in a different voice, quite unlike hers, she
replied "No. I can't." Then, so low I hardly caught it, "Not if this is
going to work."

She was very still inside my arm, and although neither of us had
shifted, somehow it did not feel so comfortable any more. I considered
removing it, but I dared not in case that confirmed the feeling.

Liz sat up suddenly and broke the awkward spell. "Come on then, ya
better get dressed and back 'ome. Ya got a busy day ahead of yer, an'
we want yer lookin' good for that ball." She was up and handing me my
clothes. "Now, yer mind wot I said. I don't mind 'er bein' cute, so
long as she's rich an' dim. 'Specially dim. Don't worry 'bout me and
jus' have fun, right?"

That night, I had meant to go straight to sleep. I certainly had no
intention of shafting Annie again. But when I climbed in to bed, it
seemed right that my ever-present collarmaid was already there, naked
and welcoming me.

It was just not possible to resist this writhing eager bundle of girl
flesh. She flipped so quickly from shy innocent girl to randy pervert
it was impossible to keep up. And she was so curious about stuff I had
never heard of, stuff I could hardly conceive of.

Just like before she wriggled under me, and slowly, gently,
irresistibly, we were moving together in the old dance of the beast
with two backs. Her breasts were so soft; her nipples were so hot and
eager. The feeling of my prick slipping into her welcoming loving pussy
was so natural, as if it had come home. It was not so much shafting as
just burying myself in her. There was no hurry — given the state of
my poor prick, there could not possibly have been any hurry — but she
seemed to want it to go on for as long as possible, and when she
orgasmed first she begged me to keep going, on top of her. New
sensations enveloped me as her finger explored and then carefully
penetrated my anus and her gentle moans of encouragement betrayed her
pleasure at my own slowly mounting excitement. My release at the end
was in some ways unspectacular, yet also somehow happier than anything
that had happened to me yet.

Whatever happened, I was going to protect this girl. But how could I
keep her away from Murdoch? And what could I do if Liz found out?

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Chapter 10 is at http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Old-Softy/The_Collar_around_the_Heart/The_Collar_10.txt
