At Work Ch. 11

The next morning at the office Barbara in her new scarf was coolly impassive, even when Anne curtseyed to her. Later as Anne knelt beside her owner's desk, Francesca spoke to someone on the telephone. "All right little one, I found out a solution to make everyone happy." She smiled a sly grin and fed Anne some pellets from her hand.

She took an early lunch at her desk and led Anne home. Around noon, Georges and the plant facilities director arrived. She had Anne assume various postures in the enclosure while Georges held a tape and called out lengths. When they settled on a satisfactory set of measurements, Francesca led Anne into the house and draped her over the kitchen table. She held Anne's leash while each of the two men took their turn in her.

After they left, Francesca observed "With all this commotion, I haven't exercised you in the longest time. We're going to play hooky for a while. Come with me." Anne followed her unsteadily out to the back yard, where she suspended Anne on the frame and went inside for her crops.

"No audience this time, just us two," she said as she began with a series of gentle strokes, building gradually in force. She brought Anne to the edge and held her there for an unimaginably long time before taking her over it. When she was done, Anne hung limp in her bonds. Francesca hosed her off and left her to dry while she went inside and showered, returning afterwards.

"Ready to go back to the office, little one?"

"Yes ma'am. Do you think we could go slowly? I'm a little tired."

"I don't wonder. But you know you're not allowed to ask that, Anne. Have you forgotten your training?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did. I'm sorry. I was wrong to say that." She knelt at her owner's feet and touched her head to the ground.

They returned to work at a leisurely pace with Anne taking very small steps. As Barbara filled the water bowl Francesca exchanged a conspiratorial wink with her secretary.

When they returned home at the end of the day, Francesca led Anne straight to the enclosure. The chains were the right length and they were lighter and easier to bear. Anne marveled that her owner had managed to get the work accomplished so quickly.

Francesca just looked at her. She said "Oh," and turned a deep red.

A pleasant surprise awaited them when they entered the living room; Anne's portraits had been delivered. The two drawings sat on the table and the full-size oil leaned against a wall nearby.

A note from the director thanked Francesca for allowing him to be of service that afternoon. Anne resolved to repay his generosity the next time she had the chance.

Georges had given Francesca the life-size oil painting of Anne suspended by her wrists from the ceiling. Also two smaller drawings in colored charcoal of her back as she faced away: bent forward (a study for the painting he chose for himself) and spread on the frame.

The oil painting was so large that only one location in the house was suitable: in the living room next to the hearth, facing the sofa and chairs.

The two smaller drawings offered more possibilities. Francesca decided the picture of Anne on the frame should be hung in the back hall, next to the closet where she kept the whips. The drawing of Anne bent over would go in the reception area of her office at work, on the wall opposite Barbara's desk and the visitor chairs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anne remained anxious and frightened from the kidnap attempt. Francesca spoke with Thomas and he invited them out to dinner at a local restaurant; Anne would take them there in the chaise.

In the afternoon Francesca hung Anne up and washed her for show. She applied rubbing alcohol to bring out the fading marks of the scourge and steel comb; soon they stood out nicely against her pale skin.

She took Anne inside to the kitchen while she changed, and emerged from her bedroom attired for a night out. She even wore lipstick; this was going to be a special occasion.

Thomas arrived and the three of them went in back to the carriage shed. Francesca harnessed her to the chaise. At a sign from her owner, Thomas took the driver's seat and Francesca sat next to him.

Soon the three were heading downtown. Anne enjoyed being out in public and looked around her. A whip sat in a holder next to Thomas but he left it unused, directing Anne with verbal commands.

He held the reins in a light easy grip with plenty of slack, unlike Francesca who kept her under a tight control. She needed that, they both knew it, but this slight relaxation was pleasant.

Still she missed the occasional snap of correction on her thighs. It defined her status and it was, well, stimulating.

Especially if placed just right; the boy Morgan knew how to do that when she pulled his carriage, he could make her jump.

The owner greeted Thomas as they arrived; he and Rosa were old friends. She helped Francesca unhitch Anne and remove her bridle. Inside, she led them to a table by a small stage where a band played on dance nights.

Anne prepared to take her place between them, but Thomas led her up to the stage. She stood to be viewed for a moment before he told her to kneel. Paul once took her to a place like this on a date last year. That was different though, he didn't own her then and she was allowed to wear clothes.

She remembered how happy she was to be with him at their table, eating out of his hand. And afterwards when the recruiter for a "gentlemen's club" wanted to inspect her, Paul made her stand and open her blouse for him in front of everyone.

She continued to muse; what would her life be like if she had met Thomas before Francesca. Of course that was impossible, he never came to Mr. Schuyler's estate and he surely did not buy girls like her. But suppose she met him before she gave herself away to Paul? Would she have entered this life then?

It was too much for her, she shook her head to clear it. This was the result of allowing her a touch of freedom.

Thomas stood her in the center of the stage and released her hands. At a gesture from him she placed them on her head and turned slowly around to display her marks. She smiled at being the center of attention.

Next Thomas had her do some tricks. She fetched the ball in her mouth and brought it back for him to throw again, just like in his yard. At his command she even rolled around on the floor of the stage as if it were grass.

The best part came next. He told her to go down on her hands and knees. Instinctively she turned to present her rear to the audience.

Surely no one would take her here, on the stage, in front of a roomful of diners. But it would be exciting if they did. She was musing on this when she heard steps behind her.

She braced herself for the first man and tried to open for him; but he was large, and instead of spreading her apart (which would have made it easier) just forced himself in, almost knocking her flat.

He worked her for a minute or two before finishing her off, and she was more ready for the next man. He pulled her open and slid in before getting down to work, which lasted she did not know how long.

After that was another, and another, she lost track. At the end she lay exhausted on the stage, flopping weakly like a fish, her face pressed against the wooden floor.

A waiter set a pair of bowls in front of her and Thomas admonished her in gentle words to rise.

He and Francesca had their dinner at the table while Anne took hers on the stage. She was in heaven before a room of attentive onlookers, wondering which of them used her. Some reminded her of men who had her at the playground; their size and pacing, the way they grunted once they got inside or sighed when they were done.

She ate like a circus animal, lapping carefully at the water and selecting each feed pellet with poise, eager to display her training.

These were good pellets, infused with herbal notes that lingered on her tongue. When Thomas took her up again and gave her a cookie, the audience stared and it was a moment of pure bliss. Francesca patted her on the head and she almost burst into tears.

Teri the company director came over to their table and examined Anne. She complimented Francesca on her girl and mentioned that she had an opening in her stable to fill. She could pay a good price for the right type, like this one. Francesca thanked her but said no more.

On the way home a warm rain began to fall. Thomas and Francesca shared an umbrella while Anne pulled the carriage, delighting in the shower.

They approached a woman and her girl next to a chaise in the sand beside the road.

The girl nursed a sore ankle; the woman asked them for help in pulling the carriage back up. Thomas unhitched Anne and harnessed her to it.

Anne pulled with all her strength, but the wheels were stuck too deep. She tried again and failed.

On the third attempt, just as she was about to give up, the unexpected snap of the whip on her buttocks made her jump forward and she got it out of the rut and back on the paving.

Behind her she heard Francesca praise Thomas.

He demurred; she was the trainer, he could not compete with her there. He had his own way.

Francesca was silent for a moment and agreed. What it would be like, Anne wondered, to have two owners?

They continued on to Francesca's cottage. She handed the leash to Thomas and went inside, returning with a pair of towels. The two dried her off and her heart overflowed with love and desire. She felt they were somehow communicating with each other through her and wondered if they would both do her tonight.

But her hope (if she entertained it) was not realized that evening. Francesca led her to her cell and chained her up while Thomas watched and the two went inside. Anne fell asleep at once, pleased that Thomas had used the whip on her. Maybe he would again.

The next morning she was startled out of sleep when Thomas entered her cell. Facing away from the door she thought it was an intruder and shivered with fear.

"Nothing to be afraid of, just me" he said as he released her padlocks. She looked up at him with trust like a little dog. As impeccably dressed as the night before, he led her into the kitchen where Francesca was reaching up in the cupboard for a pair of coffee mugs. She was naked.

Anne shook her head to clear it. She rarely saw her owner like this even in the intimate quarters of their small cottage. Her eyes lingered on Francesca's firm breasts, her tight rounded buttocks and sturdy thighs, her -

Thomas coughed and interrupted her reverie. "Make some coffee for us, please." There was a new firmness, a tone of command in his voice.

He wound the leash around Anne's neck and released her bracelets. She filled a kettle and set it on the stove before putting milk and cereal on the table for them.

When all was ready she knelt beside Thomas at a sign from him. Her shoulder brushed against his trousers and reminded her of the time he hugged her in his basement.

Kneeling, her eyes were below the table. She saw Francesca's bare thighs and a scrap of dark curly fleece between them. Thomas's hand was clasping one of hers; last night left them comfortable together. Maybe even in love. They would make a wonderful couple.

She heard them finish their breakfast and stood to take away the dishes as they lingered over coffee. She refilled their mugs and leaned a little forward to present her breasts.

But they were deep in discussion; Thomas had heard Teri's veiled offer to buy Anne and wondered how much she would offer. Francesca named a sum. Thomas doubted she would go so high, maybe half that.

"Judge for yourself."

Anne put down the coffeepot and hastened to obey the unspoken command. She sank to her knees and drew out his sex; it was already rising as she kissed it before taking it into herself. She wrapped her lips around it and used her tongue to welcome him.

He had great self-control; he allowed himself to grow in stages as she caressed it and came in her just as she reached the peak of her own excitement. She received it and knelt before him, her mind empty of thought, the taste of him lingering in her mouth.

After a minute she heard them talking above her and looked up. Francesca stood before him; her fleece, just at the level of Anne's eyes, glistened with wetness. It reminded Anne to bring her knees together lest her own overflow embarrassingly.

Thomas agreed with her owner; Anne was a very valuable property. She was a born whore.

"Do you really think so?"

"For the right buyer, you could name your price. She's good."

"And very appealing; dangerous to fall in love with, though", he added meaningfully.

He turned away; she saw them go to the front door. They kissed and embraced, Francesca pressing her body to his before he left and she returned to the kitchen. Wordlessly she set out Anne's breakfast (today's coffee grounds and some leftovers from before) and led her to her cell for the day.

Anne had much to think about as she lay on the dirt floor. The house was quiet, Francesca had gone out somewhere.

She worried if Francesca would be jealous. She gave the order and seemed to enjoy it. But still...

Francesca returned at the end of the day. Anne glanced up anxiously as her owner led her into the kitchen. They would dine together; she relaxed.

Her dinner was pellets this time, she must have eaten up all the kitchen scraps; they were good pellets, fresh and dry. Francesca was quiet but she seemed happy. It did not occur to Anne to ask where she had been.