“God that was off the hook!” Josh exclaimed for the sixtieth time that night.
“I’m so glad we got tickets,” Morgan agreed.
“Nice of you to come out with us, Morg, we don’t see you much anymore.”
“Sorry dudes, I’m just so busy with my job ‘n school ‘n all. I’ll try and make an effort to get out more.”
“I think we’re gonna try and scrap together a beach volleyball game if you want in on that,” Rob notes.
“Sounds great, sure,”
“Hey,” Rob speaks up again, “Why do you keep rubbing your neck? Did you get new ink or something?”
Morgan is glad no one can see him blush in the dark car. “Oh um, my boyfriend got me this silver necklace that I’ve been wearing a lot and it feels weird to not have it on. I didn’t want to lose it at the show.”
Rob makes a ‘huh’ noise.
“Ah,” says Josh, “Was wondering that too. Well, we’re here.”
“Awesome. Thanks for driving, Josh.”
“No problem. Bye Morgan, see you ‘around.”

Morgan exchanged farewells and fistbumps with his friends and then got out of the car. He looked fondly at the house in front of him, with its neat lawn and well kept gardens, then turned and waved the car off.

Morgan went inside and shut the door quietly. He turned on the overhead light and sat down on the landing to take off his shoes. As he worked the laces, Morgan noticed that the kitchen light was on. He smiled. Out of the humid summer air and into the cool place, Morgan was suddenly aware of how sweaty and gross his shirt was and so he peeled it off with great relief. The clicking of toenails announced their little French bulldog waddling into the room.
“Hey Porridge. Aw, you’re a sweet girl. Hello, did you miss me?” He gave the dog a few pets, amused at her excited snuffling.

After removing his shoes, Morgan stuffed his socks into his balled up shirt and left it on the landing. He stood up and reached for his collar on the table by the door. When his fingers touched the cool metal accents on the leather, he felt the nagging sense of loss he had carried all night melt away. It was satisfying to hold it in his hands again, to know he was close to returning to his proper place.

“Boy, are you home?” said the voice from the kitchen. Morgan felt an additional sense of peace at the low, velvety voice. He knew that the kitchen light had not been left on by accident.
“Yes Sir, I’m home.”
“Did you put your collar on yet?”
“No, Sir.”
“Bring it here, after you take off your shoes.”
“Yes sir.”

Morgan clutched it with both hands and strolled into the kitchen. He could see the scene before he even stepped foot in the dimly lit kitchen – his Master in his old, worn blue bathrobe, hunched over the kitchen table drinking tea out of a mug emblazoned with fading letters spelling out “Oingo Boingo”. He’d had that mug since he was a teenager, and Morgan lived in mild fear of dropping it.

In one swift motion, Morgan knelt at his Master’s feet and offered his collar with both hands up above his bowed head. Internally, he was begging for his Master to hurry up and just put it back on him already so he could feel right again. He heard the sound of the mug being set down on the table and the swish of the bathrobe fabric as Master Buford turned in his chair.

“Did you enjoy the concert?”
“Yes Master, thank you very much. I cannot …I cannot even put into words how incredible it was. The production, the sound, their stage presence! So much energy. Franz Ferdinand’s bass player is very talented.”
“I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed your reward.” Master Buford said, without a hint of displeasure. He yawned. Morgan tried hard not to smile at that yawn. 
He knew if he ever brought this up, he’d likely be spanked for it, but it didn’t make it any less true. The blogs and industry mags called Master Buford ‘the Bull of BDSM’ for his broad figure and gruff nature, but the fierce exterior hid a deeply sentimental man who hated to sleep alone. Buford loved to cuddle and hold his boy close in his thick arms as he slept. Bucroft scoffed at the old-fashioned idea of having your slave or sub sleep on a cot in a disused part of the house. God, did he love waking up horny and being able to have Morgan in arms length.
It wasn’t just a preference, it was engineering at this point. There’d be no sleep for Master Buford without his slave in his rightful place. Morgan loved knowing his Master had been waiting all night for his safe return.

The boy realized he’d been waiting for the familiar sensation of the soft leather and metal band to be strapped around the neck, but nothing happened. Instead a hand caressed his check. “Stand up. Go sit in the chair across from me. Get yourself a mug.”

The boy was confused and slightly alarmed. My collar! he thought. Still, he rose and found himself a less important mug and joined his Master at the table. It felt odd to be sitting across from him as an equal. To offset this, Morgan refilled his Master’s mug from the teapot before his own. He sipped at the hot liquid filling half his mug.
“Look at me, boy.”
Morgan raised his head. “Sir?” He didn’t understand the expression on Buford’s face. He seemed a tad perplexed, lost in thought.
“God, how bizarre,” Buford said after a long moment of reflection.

Morgan looked down at himself.
“What’s wrong Sir?”
Buford kept talking as if Morgan hadn’t said a thing. “It’s amazing to me how different you look without your collar. It frightens me a little to see you like this, to see you looking so …normal. I know we signed a little contract together, and you live here, but when I see you sitting there like a normal person, in your shorts and all, it scares me a great deal, because you could just be any normal person. You could decide you never want to put the collar back on again and walk away, and there isn’t a damn thing I could do. I would never again lay eyes on your tattooed form in all its naked beauty.”
Morgan stared at his beloved Master wide-eyed, feeling deeply privileged to be hearing his inner thoughts. “I would never–!”
“But you could,” he interrupted. “I mean, when I gave you permission to go to this concert tonight, you were just a normal guy hanging out with your friends. You went not as my boy, my sub, but as Morgan, a normal young man who has a job and a boyfriend like any other person. It’s bizarre to think there’s almost two of you.”
“I don’t – I don’t understand Sir, I’m …I’m just me.”
“Yes, you are you,” Master Buford agreed, sipping tea. “It’s like a magic spell. Don’t you agree there’s some magic in your collar? Like it’s enchanted or something?”
Morgan leaned over the table and put his hand on it. “Yes. I absolutely feel that. I miss it when it is apart from me. I feel that it connects me to you when you’re not here.”
“And if we broke the spell, then what? You’d be gone from me forever,” Master Buford said mournfully.
Morgan felt a bit caught off guard. Plus, the adrenaline from the concert had crashed, leaving him tired and blurry headed. “Sir, what inspired this? I am not leaving. I couldn’t wait to get back here and put the collar back on. Rob mentioned, in the car, why I kept rubbing my neck.”
“That…pleases me, a great deal actually. But I don’t understand why a boy of your age would choose this life over his friends.”

Morgan suppressed a yawn and took a big sip of tea. “I can have both, in proper doses. I like winning your attention and approval. The discipline and patience I’ve learned here has helped me so much in life. You’ve taught me how to respect other men, older men, and it’s improved my relationships with my teachers, bosses, even my father.”
Master Buford eyed Morgan over his cup. “Really? I did all of that?”
“Yes,” Morgan insisted, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming this. “And you have more to teach me, I just know it.”

Master Buford was quiet. He then yawned so hard his eyes watered. “You flatter this old man. I think it’s time for bed.”
“You’re not o- …Yes sir,” Morgan replied, quickly drinking the rest of his tea. “I’m exhausted. I need a shower too.”
“Take one in the morning after I’ve fucked you.”
“Mnn yes Sir.”
Buford stood up, holding his boy’s collar. Morgan fixed his eyes on it as his Master walked toward him, polishing it on the hem of his bathrobe sleeve. He abated behind Morgan and strapped the collar around his boy’s thick neck. Morgan exhaled in relief. “I missed this so much.”
Buford cupped Morgan’s chin, then ran his hand down his boy’s neck, over the collar.
“Yes. It belongs here. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Good boy. Come on, it’s bed time. You can tell me more about the concert tomorrow and what reward you want to work toward next.”

Morgan nodded. He rinsed the empty pot and cups, carefully handling his Master’s mug with two hands until it was safe in the drainage rack. He then dried his hands on a towel. He detoured to the entryway to pick up his damp shirt bundle, then followed his Master upstairs, turning off the lights as he went. Porridge trailed behind, and the family of three went to bed.

_________________________________
Text is fictional.