The evening rush at Rosie’s bar was coming to an end. Customers were finishing up their dinner and those who were in the mood for some entertainments were headed for the back room. Grabbing a cloth, Rosie started clearing tables, working around the few remaining customers. As the owner of the bar, she wasn’t above putting in a little bit of time cleaning.

The far wall of the room was taken up by the actual bar. It was polished wood, with a section behind it filled with bottles and glasses. Cassie, one of Rosie’s daughters, was behind the bar, preparing drinks. High seats were arrayed along the customer side, some of which were occupied. A holodisplay on the wall was showing ponygirl races, with a few of the regular customers gambling on the races. At one end of the bar, a door led to the kitchen. The rest of the room was taken up by tables and booths. Off to the side, a second doorway granted access to the back room. A sign above it read ‘Adults Only’.

By all appearances, Rosie was a middle-aged woman. Her hair was blonde, streaked with gray. She was far older than she looked. It was the benefit of regeneration technology. She had served the parents and grandparents of many of the customers who were in the bar today. She was dressed in comfortable slacks and a blouse, with an apron overtop displaying the logo for her bar.

At a nearby table, two women were talking. One of them was a brunette, wearing a baggy sweater. She sat hunched forward over a cup of coffee. She had a mousy and anxious appearance to her. The other woman was blonde, wearing a skirt suit with a low-cut blouse showing generous cleavage. She was sitting up, looking confident and proud. It wasn’t Rosie’s intention, but she could hear what the two women were saying.

“So, ummm, last night,” the mousy brunette said hesitantly, “I let George capture me.”

“Dammit!” the blonde in the skirt suit exclaimed, “That bastard! I knew you shouldn’t be dating that guy. I told you. Never date a trainer or you’ll end up in a collar.”

“No! It was my idea. I wanted to try it,” the mousy girl said.

“That’s what he wanted you to believe. You’re...” her friend started.

“I actually enjoyed it,” the mousy girl said interrupting the rant.

“What?” the confident woman asked, clearly confused.

“Ummm, well, it was my anxiety. I couldn’t get out of my own head. You know how sometimes...” she started explaining.

“I know hun,” her friend said, reaching across the table to hold her hand. They both stopped talking, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding as they held hands.

“All the more reason not to let him capture you though. Weren’t you afraid?” the confident blonde asked.

Rosie finished wiping down the table. Her curiosity was piqued though, she wanted to hear more. She continued wiping the table even though it was already clean. A second pass couldn’t hurt.

“Always,” the mousy girl replied, “But that’s why I wanted to try it. My meds weren’t working. I was going into a spiral.”

“And?” The confident blonde asked.

“It was wonderful. My fear just melted away. I didn’t have to worry anymore because my master was there to take care of me.”

“Master? Dammit he made you call him that?” the blonde demanded.

“It’s the collar that made me call him that. Collar girls are property, they have a master, that’s how the collar works. That’s not important. My anxiety went away. For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid,” the mousy girl said.

“Oh honey,” her friend replied. There was sympathy in her voice. It was a tired tone that spoke of years of feeling sorry for the mousy girl.

“He gave me a bath,” the mousy girl said.

“A bath?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been given a bath since I was a child,” she explained, “He took care of me. It’s the master’s role to take care of the collar girl. I didn’t understand until I was wearing the collar. I serve him and he takes care of me. I was sitting in the bathtub as he washed me. It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. I would never have been able to do it without the collar. I’d be too worried that I was saying something wrong or that I was doing something wrong. It would be too embarrassing, but with the collar, it felt right.”

Rosie found that she was continuously wiping the same spot on the table. That wouldn’t do, the women were going to notice that she was eavesdropping. Fortunately, there was another table nearby that needed clearing. She nonchalantly walked over to the second table and started slowly gathering the dirty dishes.

“He didn’t abuse you or force you to have sex with him?” the blonde asked. “I gave him a blowjob when he was finished bathing me,” the mousy girl replied.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You hate oral sex!”

“I did, but in the collar, it didn’t feel demeaning,” she explained, “I wanted to touch him. I wanted to kiss him and when he let me suck his dick, it was a privilege. He came inside my mouth, and it felt like victory, as if I achieved something wonderful. I was happy to swallow.”

“That’s the collar. It was messing with your head,” the blonde said.

“I know that. The collar doesn’t conceal what it’s doing to you,” the mousy girl replied.

“Look you can’t...” the blonde started.

“Do you want to know what the worst part was about the whole experience?” her friend asked, interrupting her.

“What?”

“It was when he took the collar off. My anxiety came back. I was worried that I did something wrong, that I said something wrong. All my doubts returned,” she said.

That silenced the blonde woman. Rosie took a peek and saw that she was holding her friend’s hand again, wordlessly comforting her.

“The long weekend is coming up,” the mousy girl said, “I’m going to let him capture me again.”

The confident blonde opened her mouth to respond, but she looked up and stopped talking. Cassie was walking over, having stepped out from behind the bar. Rosie’s daughter had short blonde hair, styled in a pageboy cut, with gold hoop earrings hanging from her ears. She was wearing short shorts and a halter top. Her outfit offered the illusion that she was naked under the apron when she was viewed at the right angle. It was an intentional look, popular with the men who paid her tips.

“There’s a group of trainers at the back door,” Cassie said, “They want to talk to you mom.”

“Why don’t they come in?” Rosie asked.

“They have a fire girl with them,” Cassie replied.

“Oh, it’s November’s party,” Rosie said with a sigh. She would need to meet them at the door. She wouldn’t be able to keep eavesdropping on the two women.

Rosie handed off the cleaning cloth to her daughter and then made her way to the doorway marked ‘Adult’s Only’. Customers normally used the doorway to access the back room and the entertainment found there, but Rosie turned in the opposite direction, accessing a short hallway that led to a service door. Opening the door she found three people standing in the alley outside the bar.

The first two were trainers, a young man and a young woman. Rosie recognised them. They were siblings, Frank and Heather Salisbury. The brother and sister were dressed similarly in shorts and T-shirts, with hiking boots and backpacks. They had matching trainer pouches on the front of their belts. Frank was wearing a wristband, which matched the collar around the neck of the third person at the door.

She was naked, except for the silver collar tight around her throat. Her pale skin was streaked artfully with ash, accentuating her full breasts which were showing the artificial perkiness of a collar girl. Heat was coming off her, causing her hair to float in her own updraft. She turned to look at Rosie as the door opened. The flames where her pupils should have been had a hungry and angry light to them. Her name was November. She was a fire evolution collar girl, otherwise known as a fire girl.

“How are you doing November?” Rosie asked.

“My name is November Liberty,” the fire girl replied. Her blast furnace eyes made her look angry, demanding that her full name was used.

“Okay, yes kitten, but that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Rosie replied in a calming tone, “Is it okay if I call you November?”

“November Liberty isn’t just my name. It is a promise. I will be free in November!” she declared. Light flared as a flying insect wandered too close to the fire girl and burst into flames. Heather flinched away.

“Are you telling me that you’re being held in that collar against your will? Is someone stopping you from using the fail safe?” Rosie asked.

“No,” November Liberty said looking down. She offered a shrug, which made her look a lot more human, “I’m not being held against my will, but I promised I would wear the collar until November. That was the deal.”

“Okay then November Liberty, tell me how you’re doing?” Rosie pressed. She was forcing herself to treat the fiery creature like she was a young woman, like she was human. It was hard to remember in the face of those eyes, but that’s what November Liberty was.

“I’m sharing my body with a fifth dimensional creature made of pure energy,” November Liberty answered, looking at Rosie with eyes that promised a fiery death, “It wants to burn everything. I can barely keep it under control. How do you think I’m doing?”

“I know its hard kitten, but my very flammable bar and I are happy you are keeping it under control,” Rosie replied.