The Red Collar
The Red Collar
by Elliot Silvestri
copyright 2012 by Elliot Silvestri and Green Bush Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.
Also by Elliot Silvestri
Astrophil & Stella
The Collegiate Milkmaid
Cul-De-Sac: A Suburban Erotica in Around
Never Too Many Pregos
The Troll’s Trollop
True Cow Girl
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Analise had trouble buckling the bright red collar around her neck. Whether it was from trembling fingers, her inexperience, or just general nervousness she couldn’t decide. Time was getting short and she started cursing under her breath as she tried to make her fingers go through the correct motions as she watched herself fumble in the mirror.
“Here, let me,” Kim said stepping up behind her and taking the collar out of her hands. The older woman had absolutely no trouble buckling the strap of leather and sliding it around her neck so the D-ring faced forward. “See, easy enough. You’re just a little nervous. You’ll do fine.”
With an uncertain nod Analise tried to refocus herself. “Is it red to make it more visible?” she asked to try and cover her nerves.
“Sort of. Red’s the international color to stop. Don’t forget it’s also the house safeword. Some couples and groups will use other safewords, but red is always the signal to stop. When our guests see your red collar, they’ll know you’re there to assist and serve only—any sexual invitations are strictly prohibited.”
“Right,” Analise agreed. “And black is for slaves. Why don’t the masters and mistresses wear white collars?” she asked. Her mind not able to settle down. Her thoughts were scattered.
Kim laughed. “Because they are masters and mistresses they don’t wear collars, of course.”
“Right,” she repeated and looked at herself in the mirror. Pretty blue eyes with demure makeup to only slightly highlight them. As a servant she wasn’t supposed to stand out. Her long black hair she normally wore in a ponytail was pulled back into a tight librarian’s bun. The uniform she was obligated to wear was modeled after the typical French maid fantasy outfit. However, the top was little more than a corset cut far too low for Analise’s taste; Kim had to use lingerie tape to make sure her nipples would suddenly pop out. The skirt was ruffled out to a ridiculous level of poof and cut far too short. She was wearing full coverage black silk bikini panties, but her ass cheeks were on display every time she bent over. Half hidden under the skirt were garters that attached to a belt around her waist and held up the ornate fishnet stockings that covered her long legs. Somewhat practical heeled shoes with a buckle had been carefully fitted to her feet. Elbow length white gloves completed the ensemble.
Except for the red collar around her neck.
“Ready?” Kim asked her. Analise nodded. The pit of her stomach was tight and she felt completely exposed in her uniform, then she looked at Kim and realized, if anything, she was overdressed. Kim wore a full black leather corset that showed off an impressive amount of cleavage that Analise hadn’t suspected was possible on the thin-framed woman, black gloves, black knee-high leather boots, an elaborate silver necklace, and tiny black silk panties. Clearly she wasn’t inhibited about showing off her body because it was a part of her job. In the back of her mind Analise realized that Kim saw what she was doing as just a job, a way to pay the bills, but Kim obviously loved her job as well.
“Remember, Mrs. and Mr. Raynor are entertaining a group tonight, you’ll primarily be assigned to them, lots of fetching of drinks and small duties. Nothing to worry about. It’ll be a group scene for the missus while he watches. But until they arrive you’ll be working in the ...