Saturday Morning

I was slow to wake, and when I did open my eyes, sunlight was once again flooding into the room. Someone had opened the curtains. It was Saturday, I remembered, so I was in no hurry, and I yawned with the luxurious slow stretch of someone who knows the alarm is turned off. This time I remembered Annie, and looked for her. Sure enough, she was kneeling at the end of the bed, and there was the breakfast steaming gently.

"Morning, Boss!" she welcomed me cheerfully, lifting the tray. I laughed at the sight of her and her burden.

"How do you manage it? How do you manage to have a three-minute boiled egg cooked to perfection, ready for me the moment I wake up?"

"Trade secret, Boss" she replied cheekily. "Do you want to visit the bathroom first?"

"Hmmmph. A collarmaid can get too cheerful for her own good around here. We might have to do something about that."

"Yes please, Boss!" she replied eagerly, her eyes following me across to the toilet. It was no longer embarrassing to relieve myself in front of her, and I let her clean me off without even thinking about it. Well, without being surprised by it, anyway. The feeling of her soft lips and mobile tongue was definitely something to notice. "Mmmmm, mmmmmm." She was getting into more than just cleaning, now, and as my penis stiffened in response she gave a quick daring glance up at me before starting to bob her head.

"Gah, hey stop that! I haven't had breakfast yet." The wet slurp was audible as she reluctantly pulled her mouth off me.

"What about my breakfast, Boss?"

"I thought you had cereal downstairs with Geoffrey?"

"Oh, yes, but I haven't had my liquid protein breakfast, Boss."

"You cheeky little thing!" I scolded, but I could not help laughing. "Anyway, I do not like my boiled egg cold and solid, so I'm going to resist your charms long enough to do justice to this lot, and you are going to behave yourself."

"Yes, Boss," she replied, and demurely got to work on serving up the goods. I could not help wondering however, if that amount of knicker flashing was strictly unavoidable.

When I had finished and she had cleared away, she came over to stand by my side, head down and hands behind her back. Having her stand at attention awaiting my instruction was hardly a surprise. But now she now looked quite serious for some reason, almost worried.

"Boss, can I say something?"

"Yes, of course," I replied, waving my hand magnanimously. In my current mood she could do whatever she wanted.

"Boss, it's just ... I feel upset that you never got to take my virginity. As my first Master, it should have been yours, and I want to make it up to you."

What a funny little thing she was. "Look there is not much we can do now, so don't worry about it. I don't see how I can ask you to be any more attentive than you already are."

"But, Boss, there is something we can do. I am still a virgin in one way."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" After the last couple of days, if this young woman was any sort of virgin, I was a Dutchman.

"My bottom. My ... my anal virginity." She shot a glance at me from under lowered eyebrows and blushed, looking remarkably endearing. "I've even got the equipment. The man in the collar shop let me have it last night. He was very helpful, and he told me all about how to do it. He said if we bring it back unused, you won't have to pay, but if we use it..."

How the hell did she manage that without me seeing, I wondered?

"That was a bit cheeky, giving you stuff I had not seen, even on sale-or-return." I muttered, prevaricating for time. I was completely bemused by the girl — this collarmaid would never cease to amaze me. I wondered vaguely what "equipment" meant, and was I going to go along with this? Although I had heard that really perverted people sometimes did that sort of thing, it was not something I had ever imagined. Then the memory swam back; the feeling of my middle finger exploring Annie's hot soft bowels yesterday while that tight ring of muscle held on to it.

What the hell, why not explore everything while she was around?

It took only a few minutes for her to get out what turned out to be an enema kit and some of that lubricating gel I had seen him use in doing the examination in the shop. Annie had obviously already studied the instructions, and was stripped off and ready to go before I could get out of my pyjamas.

Kneeling on the tiled floor of the shower alcove, she laid the stuff out in front of her. Without ceremony, she brought the nozzle to her anus, and tried to push it in, but the sphincter was clearly resisting. As she twisted round I could see her working the plastic probe at her pink rosebud until she managed to get the tip in. She frowned and squirmed a little as she pushed it deeper into her rectum. Annie released the clip and handed the bag up to me.

"You should do this, Master," she explained in a curiously husky voice. Concerned, but also strangely excited, I held up the bag and gently squeezed it. As I watched the cold fluid flow up the tube into her body, I wondered how it would feel inside her. Her eyes widened then her face fell into a faraway expression as her bowels accepted the slow intrusion. Fortunately the grip of her sphincter around the nozzle was so tight that no liquid escaped.

As soon as the bag was empty, Annie reached out for it, then stretched round to hold the nozzle in her anus while she hustled on wobbly legs over to the w.c. My eyes followed her, too fascinated to be embarrassed, and watched her squat over the toilet then reach between her legs to work the nozzle loose. She let out a moan (of relief or pleasure?) as a stream of dirty water shot out of her rectum and into the bowl. The flow continued for several seconds and then slowed to a trickle, running down the crack of her bottom. Grabbing the toilet paper, she carefully cleaned herself, then looked up at me. Her face was pink.

"Oh, God, doing that with you watching me, Boss. It's made me feel ... well, anyway, are you ready to use me now?" Annie walked only a little strangely as she headed for the bed. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled up the covers, then waved her sweet bottom in the air, knowing she was being provocative.

"Are you certain about this?"

The back of her head nodded, vigorously. As I knelt behind her on the bed she spread a large glob of the lubricant on her fingers, and reached behind to transfer it to her own crack. She shuddered involuntarily as I stroked my fingers experimentally over her bottom cheek, and then froze as I gently pressed a finger against her sea-anemone sphincter. With only a wriggle I got the tip in, and gradually I inserted more of my finger into her. It felt extraordinary to be exploring the inside of her bowels. I extracted my finger then grabbed the tube myself and used it to spread some of the slippery substance onto two fingers. It took longer to get both past the elastic muscle of her reluctant sphincter, and I was careful to be guided by her winces.

Her insides were stretching — although that ring of oiled silk still gripped my knuckles, I could slide them in and out now. She was as warmed up as she was going to get, and the whole affair was actually starting to look possible. I applied another generous dollop of lubricant to my shaft, which by now was rock-hard. Annie shivered again with anticipation as I grabbed her hips and gently pressed the tip of my cock against her rear entrance.

"You sure it won't hurt?" I ask her.

She replied by looking over her shoulder with a nod, but I could tell she didn't really know. Fighting my own sense of urgency, I began to lean forward firmly but cautiously. Suddenly it gave way and my cock head slipped past the ring and into her. That lubricating stuff really worked. It felt so tight as it gripped the rim of my prick that I paused for a moment. She grunted impatiently and I leaned into her again and watched in amazement as it slowly disappeared between her cheeks. Occasionally she let out a small whimper and I paused until she nodded again. It took several minutes but finally I had inserted my entire length into her rectum. I stopped to admire the sight of her body impaled on my penis, her bottom a pair of soft ripe globes split by my organ. It was all so tight and warm and clinging that I closed my eyes to revel in the sensation.

"You still alright?" I managed to ask with a tinge of concern.

"Oh, yes, Master. So full, so full," she groaned in reply.

Feeling more confident, I very slowly began moving in and out of my hot little servant. I didn't want to rush things and ruin it. At first she just yeilded to me, but soon she was meeting each of my thrusts with a thrust of her own. I was distracted by the smooth feel of her buttocks, soft and hot against my thighs each time she pushed back against me.

She was grunting and mumbling "Yes ... yes ... push ... push..." in time to the thrusts. Unbelievably, she wanted more, so I gradually increased the strength of each push into her tight rectum. The pressure of her anal muscles against my throbbing member combined with the moist heat of her bowels. A fog of pleasure descended on me.

I could just hear Annie's mutterings getting louder. I hoped it was in pleasure, but now I could not control myself. With my cock buried deep inside her I clutched her to me and shoved and shoved and shoved, before finally convulsing in the three eruptions that emptied my balls into her insides.

"Aaaaaah Maaaaaster!" she cried. We collapsed together on the bed and I slumped back motionless.

My limp prick pulled out as our bodies separated. Almost immediately Annie wriggled around to face me. "Was it alright, Boss?"

I laughed helplessly at her anxious need for reassurance. "It wasn't alright, it was stupendous, amazing, mind-blowing." I kissed her forehead but her face disappeared as she slid down the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Just have to ... mmmmh ... clean up ... like a good collar..." her lips were around my softening shaft and she was licking and slurping it shiny wet and clean.

"Annie, you don't have to do that!" I remonstrated but it was too late. Her grin as she looked up at me betrayed her glee at doing a nasty job for me despite my objections.

We took a shower together, and it was fun to override her reluctance to have me do anything for her. My pleasure at cleaning out her little personal corners was only matched by having her naked body so close to me. Yes, it was sexy, having her breasts and buttocks and arms brushing against my skin all the time. But it was also natural and sweet.

Above all it was so easy when it was my turn — to enjoy the whole experience while my hair and body were washed and dried and dressed for me. Everything she did for me seemed right somehow, without her ever getting in the way or pushing me around.

"I could get used to this," I thought, as I sat back in my armchair and watched her doing up my shoe buckles. No, I was already used to this. It was not the sex — well, alright, part of it was the sex — but now I would really miss having her around. For some reason, a picture from that silly little book slipped into my head, of a single rose under a glass bell. What was that cumbersome phrase? "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

I stared at the top of her head as she struggled with the last buckle. The ones at the top were slightly too small, and they were always a bastard to do up. The tip of her tongue was just visible from my angle, poking out as she concentrated. He was right — she just fitted. No, more than that, she had tied herself to me in ways that I would never understand. I could hear Sam Weller's gruff voice echoing, "It's not the collar round the neck that matters; it's the collar around the heart."

Was I really going to let that overgrown ape Murdoch ruin this for us? And who was Liz to tell me who I could or couldn't have around me? The more I thought about it, the more I was determined. I had no idea how, except for knowing that it would not be easy. But she was worth it.

"Annie," I called softly, and she looked up. "Do you really want to stay with me?"

She gasped, wide-eyed, then swallowed and nodded vigorously as if unable to trust her voice.

"Even if it meant we could no longer have sex together?"

She slowly nodded again, less certain this time, and then found her voice. "Yes, Boss. Anything to stay with you. But what would you do for relief, Boss?" Then, her mind working, she nodded to herself. "Oh. You have found a lady. You are going to get married ... of course, Boss." Amazingly, the smile on her face was not diminished. She did not seem the least disappointed at the thought.

"No, I have no intention of getting married, not yet anyway. But there is a girl — she would be my mistress, I suppose — and I know it will be difficult enough to get her to accept you, never mind if we were sleeping together. But if you want it, then I will keep you on as my maid, even if we have to keep our hands off each other."

"Boss I will do anything you want, be anything you want. I can't believe I might get to stay with you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" And before I could stop her she was hugging my knees, and pressing her cheek to my thighs.

"Hey, alright, you are happy! I get it! Now let me go so we can get downstairs."

She glowed. Even from the back, as she slipped in front of me to open the doors as we made our way to the dining room, I could see she glowed. Yes, she was worth it, even if it made out my parents to be right. I sighed. Well, there would be another bike, some other time. After all, in two years I would be rich enough to buy whatever I fancied.

I had no regrets, but now I would have to break it to Liz. She would kick up a stink, but I was determined to be firm about this. Perhaps tomorrow, though, I thought. I had plenty on my plate with the Ball coming up, and one unpleasant task per day was enough.

And then — Murdoch. My Father's words came back to me. It was no good pretending that I would not have to deal with the bastard at some stage. On Monday I would damn well face him down. Quite what would happen next — well, damn it, I would worry about that on Monday.

Despite the storm clouds no doubt heading my way, I was feeling ridiculously cheerful. I had not realised what a shadow that decision had been, lurking in the back of my mind for the last few days. Now it was made, for good or for ill, and once again I felt like a young man, now sixteen with the world at his feet.

Nothing lasts. As I wandered towards the dining room and more breakfast, whistling tunelessly, my Mother nabbed me. "James, we need to talk. Now." She needed it more than I did, I thought grumpily as I allowed myself to be led off to her private parlour, but I said nothing aloud. I knew Annie was waiting for me in the dining room, and I could smell the bacon from the hallway, so this had better be quick, I muttered to myself.

You would have thought that, as the parlour of the mistress of the house, this room would be full of frills and frippery, but it was actually uncluttered, and the pastel colours of the fabrics and walls gave it a light and airy feel. Against my prejudices, I rather liked being in there.

I sat on the small sofa, and studied the carvings on the legs of the coffee table while I waited for the pep talk to begin. She leapt in with no prevarication. "James, why do you think we chose to give you a collar for your birthday?"

I bit back the obvious answer, that they had a perverse wish to thwart my every desire, and muttered inaudibly.

She sighed and started again. "Look, a week ago you were a complete misogynist. Even you would have admitted that. Now Marjory Jones tells me you actually made a social call on Penelope on Thursday night. And that you were very charming to her afterwards!"

I frowned. I should have known that it would get out. "I just had to see Penny about something. It was hardly a social occasion."

"Never mind the reason. Could you have done it, if owning that collarmaid had not brought you out of your shell?"

How perverse and how ironic, I thought to myself, for in a weird way she was right — if I had not had the humiliation of those three witches laughing at poor Annie I would not have been so rude to them, and Penny would not have asked to see me. Which, although I hated to admit it, had not been altogether a bad thing. And now, my Mother had obviously set herself the task of convincing me to keep Annie on, just when she did not need to.

"I'm keeping her."

"And you of all people must admit that the meals around here have taken a sea change for the better since it stepped in the kitchen."

"I'm keeping her!"

"And I have not seen you look so ... what?"

It was immensely satisfying to watch her expression, indeed almost worth the chagrin of giving in to them. "Look, I'm keeping the collarmaid, all right? And I'm going to your Ball!"

My Mother recovered her equilibrium with remarkable speed. "James, I ... Thank you."

"Just don't expect me to fit in with your matchmaking schemes, that's all," I added quickly.

She sighed and looked at me in exasperation. "But what have you got against going out with girls? I mean, what do think the whole point of getting married is?"

I groaned, but decided to take the question seriously. I supposed I owed her that much. "Well, she gets a home, and money and children I suppose, and..."

"No, James," she interrupted with enforced patience. "What do you get out of it?"

I hesitated, unwilling to voice the obvious answer to my Mother.

"And, no, I don't mean sex either, although I know you probably can't see past that for now. By now you must know that you don't have to marry to find a woman for that. No, James, the point is that you get someone to look after you,"

"Expensive housekeeper," I muttered.

" ... someone to look after you," she ploughed on, glaring, "but more importantly, to look after the social side of your life. And yes," she marched on ignoring my open mouth. "I know you think you will never be interested in that. But how do you think you will make your way in the world, when so much depends on whom you know, and how much you impress them? Every successful man has a partner running his social life in the background."

Or the foreground, I thought to myself, thinking darkly of my parents. "I will be getting all my advancement on technical merit, thank you. Why, don't you think I am good enough?" I demanded.

"James, I have read every school report you have ever had, and I have no doubt that if any exam contained mathematical symbols or a circuit diagram, then you could pass it. But that's not enough."

"Why not? It should be."

"And the world should be fair, and we should all be offered happiness without having to fight for it. Our husbands should cherish us and our children should honour us, and there ought to be fairies at the bottom of the garden."

I stared at her, perturbed by the sudden tiredness in her voice. My implacable fiery Mother had disappeared, and I was not used to the bitter middle-aged woman who had taken her place.

Although I could not admit my doubts to her, I had occasionally worried about how it was going to be, myself. In my mind I liked to think that advancement and success would all be about how good you were at your profession — but what if she was right? If my future was going to depend to any extent on impressing the boss's wife, then I was sunk.

She turned away from me, looking at the large painting over the mantelpiece — the double portrait they had commissioned when they had returned from their honeymoon. Her voice softened.

"A marriage might seem unattractive now, when you think you have the world at your feet, but life catches up with you faster than you think. Being middle-aged and by yourself is very lonely. And no, I still don't mean sex. I mean..." she shrugged, "someone to share your home and your hopes with."

"What, like you and Father?" I retorted, not bothering to keep the scorn out of my voice.

She looked surprisingly hurt, and I almost regretted the attack. "Despite everything, he has never been unfaithful to me, you know."

"What! How can you say that when every Friday he goes in for a Dress Down day and shafts half the collarsecs in his office! You were sitting with me in the restaurant when he was fondling that collarwait."

"Oh, yes but collars don't count. That's just masturbation, with a collar attached. He has never taken a mistress or even a companion, and most importantly, he has never looked at another lady." Despite her brave words, I could tell there was something wrong.

"It wasn't always like this, you know. Yes, I was once sixteen, although you cannot imagine it. I carried a big dowry, and he was a good match but it was not just the money when we first met. Back then, our friends used to tease us that we were joined at the hip. We did everything together, not because it was expected, but because we wanted to." She paused, and I waited, not wanting to interrupt her in this mood.

"But it all changed when his father died. You must remember; you were about eight. We got the fone message that he was ill while we were still on that holiday in Normandy. That's why we had to cut it short."

Funny, I had not remembered the details of how that holiday ended, other than the fiasco with the rabbit, of course. For some reason my throat was feeling tight.

"But, that was later, wasn't it?"

"No, the funeral was later, but he died the week after we got back."

"But wait, Grandpa was sick, but it was Flopsy that died. I should remember!"

"Ah yes, your rabbit. Poor little thing. In all the worry with your Grandfather's illness, we forgot all about the bunny. But your Father could never understand why you were more upset about a rabbit than about his own father. I am afraid I don't think he ever quite saw you in the same light afterwards."

This odd tense feeling was gripping the whole of my chest now.

"You didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what?"

"That Grandpa was dying!"

"James, it is a difficult thing to say to a child, particularly when..." She stopped, frowning, and then started again. "You were always such a secretive boy. I can't say I understood you even then. And you just would not admit that there was anything wrong; you were so fierce about it. Maybe I should have spelt it out more forcefully, but..." Her sigh was heartfelt, and my anger dissolved into confusion. She was not tired, I realised, but sad. How strange, that I had never thought of the possibility that my Mother could ever be sad.

I stared at her, silent, while ancient memories assailed me: corridors full of strangers with shiny floors and that strange smell; the echoes of brisk footsteps, while women in starched uniform dresses evaded my questions and told me that Mummy would be along soon; the memory of red eyes in familiar faces stretched with forced smiles; the echoes of reassuring words falling from tired lips in grey voices.

"I didn't know."

"James, of course you knew. What did you think happened to him?"

We never visited Grandpa any more after that holiday. What had I thought? I had never thought at all of course. All my life I had refused to think of anything that might have threatened my little world. My blank silence was all the answer I could give her.

"I am afraid your Father and I rather fell out afterwards. He started using collarsecs for sex and he just gave the Geoffrey to me as a present when I complained. That was the one thing I regret, accepting that I should use the Geoffrey, but at the time I was so angry. And now..."

"Surely it is not too late. I mean, do you still ... have you..." How do you ask your Mother if she still ever gets it on with your Father? But I didn't have to. She shook her head morosely and I did not have to ask what it meant.

"Then why don't you tell him what you feel?"

"Hah. He would not look at me now. Too much water under the bridge, and too many lines on this face."

This was just too much. My Mother, who had always been — I don't know — an irresistable force of nature, was reduced to an ordinary person, revealing her weakness in front of me. I could not cope. Silently I rose, and stepped towards the door, intending to be gone before she raised her head. But the weight in my chest was not for me; it was for her. I had to say something. "Mum, you don't know that. Hell, I can't give you advice, but ... I can give you that doubt. He may think more of you than you know."

I closed the door very quietly as I left.

Those of you who have more imagination than I, have no doubt spotted the flaw in my little scheme for taking Annie to the ball ages ago, and have been quietly laughing at me since. I had a lot on my mind, all right?

Annie had just finished clearing the dining room table of the dishes from the family's late breakfast, and I watched her pause in front of the enormous over-mantle mirror, straighten her hair, and adjust the collar round her neck to set it more comfortably. It was the sort of automatic gesture that someone with glasses uses to reset them on his nose. I stared at the collar in horror. No, not her, but the inch and a half wide black reinforced nylon collar, complete with stainless steel badge and plates, around her neck. The collar that would mark her out as a 'restrained person', unmistakably, no matter what dress or mask she wore.

Shit.

It's funny what the eye skips over, isn't it, when you are so used to something that you don't see it? I sat there morosely for a few minutes wondering if even my miracle-working friend Mrs. Haversham could get us out of that one, before realising that I would be better calling on Sam Weller. If anyone knew how to hide or remove a collar for a few hours, he would.

His black frown on seeing us enter the little shop made me wonder how I had unintentionally upset him.

"Here is the book. Thank you very much," I ventured nervously, pushing it forward over the counter.

"And?" he growled, looking at Annie. Suddenly I realised what he might be thinking.

"Oh, no. I haven't brought her in to sell her. I'm taking your advice; I am going to keep her on." One look at Annie's beaming face should have told him that, I thought.

"Congratulations, young man! I was 'oping you were goin' to see sense. So, you finally realised what you've tamed, then, eh?"

"Tamed?"

"Like the fox."

"Oh, 'The Little Prince.' Yes, I suppose so. Or maybe she tamed me, I'm not sure."

"Ah, well, that's 'ow it goes, ain't it. Remember what the fox said — 'You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.'"

I nodded, suddenly seeing how he was right. Of course I was responsible for her. And although a week ago that would have terrified me, now it seemed not only right, but also something I wanted.

"Well, um, I have to pay for that er ... stuff that you slipped her yesterday."

"Ah hah!" he laughed. "And were it useful, eh? Enjoy yerself did ya?"

I declined to rise to the bait and held out my wrist with the fone. He did the business.

"Anythin' else Sam Weller can do for yer then?"

"Well, I do have a different problem. You did mention that you were an expert on collar sets, didn't you?"

He guffawed out loud when I explained my plans to take Annie to the Ball, and my need to hide or remove the collar on her neck.

"You don't look for the simple life, do you, young man? Sorry, but the 'ole system is designed to make it impossible to allow anyone to escape from one of those things, and even if I admitted to knowing 'ow to cheat it, I would be risking ending up in one meself."

He looked at my crestfallen expression. "But 'ow about a different approach. What about a disguise?" I looked up, uncertain but hopeful. "Well, you'd been asking about alternative collar sets. 'Ow does your little thing feel about jewellery?" He fished an enormous bundle of different-shaped keys out of his pocket and started searching through it.

I looked at Annie, whose face was as puzzled as mine. "I suppose she likes jewellery, in principle," I replied cautiously, wondering how a pair of earrings was going to help us here.

"What's it think of this, then?" Mr. Weller had found the tiny key he wanted, and used it to open the back of one of the display cases to the side of us. From it he carefully withdrew a velvet plinth, on which was mounted a silver necklace. No, a choker, I realised, admiring the intricate filigree mesh. It was wide at the back but narrowed to the front where a single large silver ring hung at the centre. I could see that the workmanship was superb.

"This," he said, with obvious pride beaming though his voice, "is by Chatto and Windus, a one-off for a special client I once had. Never picked it up, did 'e, but I couldn't bear to send it back. Cost me over six 'undred smackers, and I'd let you 'ave it at cost."