Collar Girls

With a high-pitched roar, the razor lynx pounced. Light glinted off her namesake razor sharp claws, as well as the silver studs on her collar, as she soared through the air. This was Jessica’s chance. The mistake she was waiting for.

“Now Iris! Get her now,” she called out, pointing at the silver haired feline.

The command wasn’t really necessary. Iris knew what she was doing. The spearhead impala lowered her horns, aiming them so that the lynx would impale herself when she landed. Iris took a step back to line up the shot, and that’s when everything went wrong.

Iris’s rear hoof slapped on a rock as she stepped back, causing her to momentarily lose her balance. The timing was perfect. Her horns dipped for a moment as she adjusted, just long enough for the points of the horns to miss the pouncing razor lynx.

The lynx landed on Iris’ back, razor sharp claws digging into the beautiful impala’s reddish-brown fur. Blood started flowing. Iris kicked and bucked, trying to shake the creature. Suddenly, a fountain of blood erupted from the impala’s neck. In an effort to stay on the impala’s back, the Lynx dug in with her hind paws, catching Iris’s collar and somehow severing an artery.

“Iris, return!” Jessica called out, hitting the recall button on her wristband.

A line of light flared to life, connecting the wristband to the collar around the Impala’s neck. A glowing mote launched across that leash of light, speeding to the collar. When it struck, the struggling impala seemed to glow for a moment. Iris’s glowing shape became granular, then dissolved into glowing grains of light that were immediately sucked into the collar. The collar launched through the air, pulled by the leash, arriving in Jessica’s outstretched hand. With a click the wristband disconnected from her arm.

Pulling out her tablet, Jessica quickly checked on the condition of her collar pet. The health bar was in the red, but Iris was still alive. Jessica sighed in relief. It would cost a few heals, but Iris would be fine.

“Woohoo! I won. I actually won,” Brandon exclaimed.

He jumped up and pumped his fist. The razor lynx was his collar pet. Brandon was tall, scrawny, and goofy looking. If he put some work into it, there was a possibility he could put on muscle, but there was nothing he could do about his face. The young man had no chin. He was trying to grow a beard to hide the fact that his face just kind of blended into his neck, but it wasn’t working. Wispy hairs dotted his nineteen-year-old face, making him look even worse.

“You got lucky,” Jessica said, “You were at a type disadvantage. If Iris hadn’t slipped, your lynx would have impaled herself.”

“Oh, shut up! I don’t need to take advice from a loser,” he snarled at her, “Everyone knows razor lynx are the best collar pets. You’re just jealous I have one and you don’t.”

That was simply wrong on every level. Jessica didn’t even know how to start correcting him. By the goddess, how had she lost to such a pathetic trainer.

“Wait! That’s right! I won!” he exclaimed, “You’re going to follow through with our bet, right? You aren’t going to welch on me?”

Damn! She really wanted to tell him to take a hike, but that was a bad idea. If she didn’t follow through, then he would tell his friends, and they wouldn’t duel her anymore. Beating them in collar pet duels had become a significant portion of her income.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“Yes! Holy shit, that’s awesome. I’m awesome. Everyone is going to know I’m the best trainer,” he said.

“Barber, return!” Brandon called out, hitting the recall button on his own wristband.

The familiar leash of light appeared, connecting him with his razor lynx. A particle of light raced down the leash to strike the lynx, who was cleaning blood off her fur. The Lynx glowed for a moment and then dissolved into her collar, which retracted through the air to the young man’s waiting hand.

Moving with excited haste, Brandon stuffed the collar and wristband into a pouch at his waist. Then, he pulled out something different. It consisted of a wristband shaped handle, connected by a short rigid post, to an open collar. It was a capture device. With a twist, he extended the post into medium sized animal mode. A second twist of the arm band opened the gap in the collar wide enough to fit around a human neck. The capture device was ready to capture a collar girl.

“Okay, hold up,” Jessica said, putting away Iris’s collar in her own pouch and then her tablet in the opposite pouch. “You know the rules. You can capture me. I’ll acknowledge, and then you can call me once. It has to be here in town, and it has to be today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brandon replied.

“No touching! If you touch me, then the deal is off.”

“Fine,” Brandon said, fidgeting with the capture device.

“I want to hear you say it,” Jessica pushed.

“I said I won’t touch you!” Brandon exclaimed.

“Okay, let’s do this,” she said.

He didn’t waste any time, lifting the business end of the capture device in the direction of her neck. She pulled her auburn hair back with her hands. No need to add an unintended hair cut to this disaster of a day. With a quick thrust, the capture device slapped her throat. She was about to protest that he really didn’t need to be so rough about it, but the sensor picked that moment to detect it was touching her neck, and the collar snapped shut.

It held her throat in an iron grip. She couldn’t breathe. She could feel her heart pounding in her neck. The shaft of the capture device dissolved into light as the handle locked around Brandon’s wrist like a wristband. The wristband and collar were connected now by the wavy band of light. It looked like a leash. A crawling sensation on the back of her neck, under the collar, sent shivers down her spine. It was the probes lining themselves up. A sudden sharp pain made her wince as the probes drilled in. She knew that the probes were inside her skull when the pain suddenly stopped.

A wave of crazy sensations assaulted her mind. Nausea hit her, quickly replaced by vertigo. The vertigo gave way to a sensation of floating away and falling apart simultaneously. Lights seemed to flash all around her while random noises popped in her head. She tasted something sweet, savoury, and salty simultaneously. Finally, it felt like a grid square was entering her mind, entering her personality. It felt like everything she was, her every thought and feeling, the things that made her who she was, became a map. An outside force was laying down a coordinate system onto that map. It was marking out locations and positions for every aspect of her personality, mapping exactly who she was down to the finest details. It was a matrix in her mind, perfectly describing her.

She gasped for air as the assault of sensations ended. The collar was now integrated into her mind. It no longer felt tight. In fact, it felt comfortable, as if it belonged around her neck. Brandon had captured her. By law, that made her a collar girl. So, in a way, it did belong around her neck.

The world around her felt like it had been upgraded. It was as if she was seeing and hearing in ultra high definition. It always felt this way, whenever she was captured. It was part of the rush. As if she was connected to the world better than before. It felt like the matrix overlaying her mind was filtering out the noise, making the signal stronger.

Nearby, another trainer had a collar in his hand. He looked to be eighteen or nineteen, a few years younger than Jessica. He took a wristband, which matched the collar in his hand, and snapped it around his wrist. Then, he tossed the collar through the air so that it spun like a frisbee. It glinted in the light as it tumbled towards the grass, mesmerizing and almost beautiful.

“Dorsal, I choose you,” the trainer called out, pressing a button on the wristband.

The wristband clamped onto his wrist and a leash of light snaked out to connect with the collar. The collar froze in mid-air, as if it had been caught by an invisible hand. Motes of light erupted from the inside of the collar, connecting and agglomerating until they formed a vaguely animal shape. With a final flash the light solidified into a sleek canine form. It had long brown hair, strong shoulders, and teeth that looked like serrated blades. A sabre hound stood proudly in the grass, awaiting her owners command.

“Hey! Don’t space out on me,” Brandon said, drawing Jessica’s attention.

The handle of the capture device was secured to his wrist, taking on the classic wristband appearance. Jessica knew that it connected to her collar, even though the leash was invisible at the moment. There were buttons on that wristband, designed to give her quick commands. A wireless connection to the tablet in his other hand gave him more complex options on what he could do with her.

“Now the second part of our deal,” he said.

He wanted her to say it. The collar wanted her to say it. The grid overlaying her mind hummed in anticipation of her saying it. She didn’t want to say it.

“Come on now,” he said, encouraging her, “You agreed to this. It won’t be too bad.”

He smiled, trying to convince her. He looked even more ridiculous when he was smiling. Goddess, she didn’t want to do this. It was always the worst part. He reached out towards her arm.

“No touching!” she declared, stepping away from the threatening hand. She brought her own hand up to the collar around her neck. A clear warning in her eyes.

“Fine,” he replied, “But you have to say it.”

He was right. If she backed out now, then she was breaking their deal. If she didn’t complete the terms of their bet, then he would tell his friends, and nobody would ever duel her again.

“Yes, master,” she replied with a sigh.

By saying that word she disabled a safety feature in the collar. A feature designed to keep humans from being collared against their will. The final sequence of the process kicked in. She was captured and she was acknowledging him as her master. The matrix that the collar was projecting into her mind adjusted itself, shifting in her mind. In the process it made connections that weren’t natural to her personality. It connected concepts and ideas that wouldn’t normally be connected while simultaneously suppressing other important parts of her personality.

The matrix in her mind took her perception of Brandon and changed it. It connected him to authority. It connected him to affection and respect. It took the word and concept of ‘master’ and overlaid it on top of him. Brandon was her master.

The matrix wasn’t done there. It continued making changes to her mind, simultaneously affecting multiple parts of her personality. It took the concept of a collar girl and applied it to her sense of self. It made her think of herself as property. In her own mind, she was a collar girl, belonging to her master.

Her master was a wonderful man. He looked fantastic. He wasn’t goofy looking. In fact, his face was wonderful, with cute little wisps of facial hair that perfectly framed his mouth. She adored him. Men didn’t need chins to be attractive. She never liked chins anyways. She wanted to touch him, to feel him touching her. She wanted to rub up against him.

With an effort of will, she pushed down those thoughts. That was the collar. It wasn’t what she wanted. She was a person, and he was still goofy looking, even if it was in an adorable way. He looked down at the tablet in his hands and finished making an entry.

“Thank you, Sugar-Tits,” he said.

Elation filled her as the collar triggered the release of reward hormones in her brain. Her master was thanking her. She had done something to make him happy. She was a good collar girl, and she was being rewarded with his thanks. Sugar-Tits was a good collar girl.

She fought against the euphoria. That was an awful name. It was her name. She was a collar girl named Sugar-Tits. No! Her name was Jessica. Sugar-Tits was an awful name that he gave her using his tablet’s connection to the collar.

There was an evil smirk on his handsome chinless face. He knew what that name was doing in her mind. Happiness filled her. He was smiling. Her collar was rewarding her for making her master smile.

“Before you…” she started.

“Sugar tits return!” he interrupted, pressing the recall button on his wristband.

Faster than she could react, the band of light appeared, connecting the bracelet to her neck like a leash. A glowing mote launched from the wristband and followed the leash straight to her throat. She flinched away, but it was inescapable.

When the light touched her collar, sparks erupted across the matrix in her mind. Every point of her personality, every detail of who she was, erupted simultaneously. The world washed away in that flash of energy, leaving nothing but darkness.

The darkness was empty and without form. Jessica couldn’t see anything. There was no sound, no smell, and no taste to the darkness. She couldn’t feel anything, the darkness was a void of sensation. Jessica’s body was nothing more than data, saved within the collar. She was property, property that was recalled into storage.

It didn’t hurt to be in storage. In fact, it didn’t feel like anything at all. The matrix overlaying Jessica’s mind was dark, and it took her mind with it. There was no pain in the darkness. There was no shame at losing the duel, no humiliation at becoming a collar girl, no emotions at all. She was unaware. There was only one thing in the darkness. The eager anticipation that her master would call her.

“Sugar tits, I choose you!” a voice rang out.

Light appeared, cutting through the darkness. The matrix overlaying her mind flared to life, bringing her mind with it, back into reality. Sensation returned as her body coalesced. She found herself on her hands and knees on the ground. She was in a clearing, scrub trees surrounding a clear space. She recognised the location. It was on the other side of town from where she had been captured.

Jessica was elated. Her mind, with help from the collar, connected the experience of being called by her master with achievement and happiness. Her master wanted her. He had chosen her. Feel good hormones dumped into her freshly coalesced brain. She was wanted. She was chosen.

She was naked, of course. She was a collar girl, and everyone knew that collar girls were supposed to be naked. It didn’t take the matrix much effort to convince her that it was wonderfully normal for her to be in the nude. She didn’t feel any shame or desire to cover herself. In fact, it felt good. Clothing was itchy and uncomfortable. It always got bunched up and bound in sensitive places. Why did anyone ever want to wear clothes? Nudity was definitely her preference.

She looked up from her prostrate position. Her master was standing in front of her. He was her wonderful and handsome master. He called her. He wanted her.

“Stand up let’s get a look at you,” her master ordered.

She scrambled to her feet, moving quickly to obey. A quick burst of hormones, triggered by the collar, were her reward for obedience. Brushing at her knees, she tried to clean off some of the dirt. She wanted to look beautiful for her master.

His eyes started to rove wonderfully over her naked body. She stretched languidly. Hormones flooded her mind, rewarding her for the expression of pleasure on her master’s handsome face. Pleasing her master was a good thing according to the matrix overlaying her mind.

Her master wasn’t alone. There were other young men around her. Brandon had gathered his friends. She knew they were there. She could see them in her peripheral vision. It bothered her that they were there, but the collar made her focus on her master. He was all that mattered, and he was caressing her with his eyes.

She lowered her arms and thrust her chest forward with an arched back. She knew what he liked most about her, and the collar was rewarding her for giving it to him. The matrix that the collar was projecting in her mind was struggling now, trying to keep her happy. Her master was happy with her therefore she should be happy. The young men around her called out, encouraging her. She tried to ignore them. They didn’t matter.

She extended one toned leg and brought her arms up to the sides. The expression on her master’s face sent shivers down her spine, which the collar did it’s best to interpret in a positive way. Her master liked seeing her naked, therefore she liked showing him her body. Showing him her pale white skin. The nudity didn’t bother her. It felt right. It felt good to be free.

“Damn, her freckles really do look like brown sugar on her tits,” one of the men said.

“Oh man, look at that! Her pubes match her hair. I’ve never seen red pubes before,” another man commented.

There was pride on her master’s face. He was proud of her, proud to show her off to the men around her. She was making her master proud. The increasingly struggling matrix pushed her to continue, to make her master proud.

That’s when it started happening. She found herself breathing fast. She was getting excited. Her skin felt flushed with heat. She brushed a hand across her breast, lifting it and tracing the line of her freckles. Her nipples tingled as they hardened.

It felt like the collar was pushing her over a precipice. Long dormant thought patterns started to emerge in her mind. Thought patterns that were part of her personality but had nothing to do with the collar. She started dancing.

Her hips swayed to the memory of a song. It was music she hadn’t listened to for years. Her hands started roving over her body, caressing herself to the beat of the remembered music. Her breathing picked up even further. She opened her legs to give the man who was looking at her pubic hair a better view. She bent over and tensed her muscles rhythmically making her ass squeeze in rhythm to the movements of her hands. She could feel a hot and swollen sensation from between her legs.

This wasn’t the collar at work, not entirely. The collar was making her comfortable with her nudity. It was making her want to please Brandon and his friends, making her want to please a group of obviously aroused men. That was all it was doing. The dancing and the sexual arousal that came with it were coming from her. They were a part of her mind that the collar had awakened.

“I want to bend her over and pile drive that red haired pussy!” a man growled.

“I want to see her bleed. Make her fight your razor lynx. Let’s see some blood on those milk white titties,” another man called out.

Jessica didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. She tried to step away from that man, but her step only took her closer to the man who was talking about pile driving her. Fear bubbled up, driving away the haze of arousal. The collar didn’t stop her from being afraid.

Regaining her senses, she looked around. There were eight guys surrounding her, including her master. They looked angry and aroused. This wasn’t a good situation. With the clarity of thought brought on by her rising fear, Jessica realized that she had done everything she agreed to. The deal was finished. It was time for her to be released.

“Hey! Come on guys. You’re scaring her,” her master said.

That was nice. He was protecting her from the men around her. He was a good master, a handsome master. Did she really want to end it? He stepped towards her and took her arm by the elbow, trying to calm her. Her skin flushed at his touch. It felt good to be touched by her master. It was calming. She was his property, and the collar was telling her she was safe as long as he was touching her. His touch was triggering the release of hormones in her body, making her trust him, deepening their bond.

Anger flared in Jessica’s mind. That fucking shithead! He was touching her. That was her one rule. No touching! The collar reacted. It didn’t like her thinking of her master as a shithead. The matrix in her mind shifted to make her feel bad about what she was thinking. That was a double-edged sword. The collar couldn’t make her feel bad and good at the same time. It was making her feel bad while she was angry about her master touching her. Her anger surged. This had gone far enough.

She stepped back, slapping away his calming hand. An expression of surprise crossed his goofy chinless face. Reaching up, she put her hand on the collar encircling her neck.

“In the goddesses name, release me!” she yelled.

There were three conditions she had to fulfil in order to complete the ritual. Her hand on the collar, a clearly spoken desire to be free, and the mental desire to be released. The collar clicked. The fail safe had been triggered.

Inside of her mind, the matrix relaxed. All the changes it made began to unravel. The desire to follow Brandon’s orders faded, along with associating him with being her master. The connection between her sense of self and being a piece of property fell away. The sense of comfort she was feeling from being nude, shamelessly nude while surrounded by young men, disappeared. Her mind, her real personality, reasserted itself. The grid square overlapping her thoughts retracted. Simultaneously, a film seemed to cover her senses, making everything just a little less clear. She lost the feeling of being connected to the world, a downgrade from ultra high definition down to normal senses.

There was a tingling sensation as the probes retracted, sealing her skin and skull as they pulled out of her brain. The collar clicked a second time and opened. It came off in her hand, but the fail safe wasn’t done yet. The glowing line of the leash came to life. An angry spark erupted from the collar and zipped down the line of the leash towards the wristband that was still attached to Brandon’s wrist. He tried to dodge, swinging his arm away from the spark but it followed the leash, unavoidable. With a sizzling snap, the spark hit the wristband.

Brandon yelled in pain, clutching at his arm. The wristband fell away, trailing smoke. It was fried. An angry red welt marked where it had been on Brandon’s arm. He would have second degree burns. They wouldn’t scar if he was lucky. That’s what he got for a collar girl initiated disconnect.

“Woo! She really got you man,” one guy called out.

“Burned!” another said with a laugh.

The fear that she was feeling earlier spiked. Young men surrounded her. Now that she wasn’t being encouraged by the collar to focus on her master, she could actually look at them. She knew these guys. They were opponents she had beaten in collar pet duels. Men she took money off in bets. They had a motive to be here, to see her humiliated.

That’s when the reality of her nudity really sank in. Being naked was part of getting captured. The collar didn’t carry your possessions with you when your master recalled you. It was natural for collar girls to be naked. In fact, it helped protect the fail safe. The problem was that she wasn’t collared anymore. She was naked and surrounded by men.

With one arm she tried to cover her breasts, while bringing the other arm down to cover her crotch. A wolf whistle from behind her reminded her of her bare butt. In a panic, she moved her arm to cover her ass, but in the process her breasts spilled free. She didn’t have enough hands.

“Oh yeah, look at that! Her whole chest turns red when she’s embarrassed!” one guy called out.

“Why so shy all of a sudden Sugar Tits?” another guy asked maliciously.

She spun frantically, trying to keep everyone in sight, but they were all around her. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her breathing was getting out of control. She was hyperventilating.

“Where are my clothes?” Jessica demanded.

“Where you left them bitch,” Brandon snarled.

Wait, he couldn’t be serious. He just left her clothes where they fell when he recalled her into the collar? What about her own collar pets? Were they just lying abandoned on the side of the road?

“Hold up,” one of the guys said, “You left her stuff in the street?”

“Those are her possessions man. You’re responsible for them,” another guy said.

“That’s abuse of a collar girl. I was up for a show but not collar girl abuse.”

“Screw this! I’m out of here.”

The crowd of young men started to break up. Most of them had come to see a bit of ritual humiliation, a salve to their pride by seeing her taken down a notch. They didn’t come to watch her be abused. Brandon and two of his buddies remained where they were standing. It was a smaller, but far more dangerous group of three.

“She has your collar man. She can report you,” one of Brandon’s friends pointed out.

He was right. A collar girl’s former possessions were the responsibility of her owner. Leaving them lying in the street, abandoning them, was collar girl abuse. That was a crime. The defunct collar in Jessica’s hand could be traced back to Brandon. From the look on his face, he was figuring out that he screwed up. He could be fined for this. At the very least, he would receive a reprimand on his record as a trainer.

“Give me the collar!” he demanded.

“Give me my clothes!” she replied. That only seemed to enrage him.

“Give me the fucking collar you fucking bitch!” he said, making a fist with his uninjured hand. This was getting bad.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” A voice called out.

Jessica turned to see a police officer striding towards them. He had a truncheon in one hand and his other hand was resting on his service belt, next to his plasma pistol. He was ready for a fight. Standing out against his uniform, a woman’s backpack was slung over one shoulder. It was Jessica’s pack.

“Shit! Let’s get out of here,” one of Brandon’s friends exclaimed.

“Run!” Brandon yelled, following his own advice and running away from the police officer.

In moments, Jessica found herself standing alone, facing the approaching officer. A nametag on his uniform identified him as Sullivan.

“Are you Jessica?” officer Sullivan asked, hanging the truncheon from a hook on his belt.

“Yes,” Jessica replied, trying to cover her breasts with one arm and her groin with the other. She was still holding the defunct collar in the hand covering her breasts.

“One of the merchants near the training grounds saw you get captured. When he noticed your possessions lying around, he called me. It wasn’t hard to guess where you would be taken,” he held out her backpack towards her.

She went to grab it with the arm covering her groin, but he pulled it over to the other side of her body. She scowled and grabbed for it with her other hand. Officer Sullivan deftly snagged the defunct collar from her hand as he passed her the backpack.

“I’ll take that,” he said. There was no point in arguing with him. He was just doing his job. The collar was evidence in a crime, the abuse of a collar girl. Her abuse.

“Thank you, officer Sullivan,” she said, pulling the backpack against her body, covering herself with it.

Opening the pack, she found her clothing had been thrown inside, along with her trainer pouches. She quickly grabbed her blouse and pulled it on, covering her breasts. The bra could wait for later. Looking over, she saw that officer Sullivan had his back to her. It felt like he was guarding her as she got dressed.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Were you captured against your will?” he asked.

“No, I lost a bet,” she replied, pulling out her trainer pouches.

“Not the best idea to bet your freedom like that,” he said.

“They’re easy marks. I can make a hundred credits a week off them,” she answered.

She checked in the first pouch. All four collars from her collar pets were nestled in, safe and sound, clipped to their wristbands. That was a relief. They were her responsibility. She didn’t know what she would have done if they weren’t there.

“That’s if you win,” Sullivan said.

“Yeah, but I normally win,” she replied.

“Look,” Officer Sullivan said, “It’s none of my business, but I’ve seen this sort of thing before. You’re taking chances, allowing yourself to be captured. If you want to be a collar girl full time, then you should speak to the priestesses at the temple. They…”

Her snort of derision interrupted him.

“Not a fan of the goddess?” he asked.

“I don’t have a problem with the goddess. It’s her priestesses I don’t trust,“ she replied.

“Okay, well you need to start making better decisions,” he said.

“I don’t want to be a collar girl,” she replied.

Stepping into her underwear, she pulled them up, only to feel a surprising amount of moisture. She was wet. Residue from her sexual arousal minutes ago. It was humiliating to have pranced around naked in front of those men, showing off her body to them. At the same time, it was an incredible turn on. She couldn’t even blame the collar, not fully. It made her comfortable with being naked, but it wasn’t responsible for her sexual arousal. That was her, a part of her personality that she thought she buried a long time ago. Was officer Sullivan right? Did she actually want to be a collar girl?