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 /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