At Work Ch. 13

Anne spent the day in her cell, finishing the remains of last night's dinner left in the bowl.

Toward the evening (she guessed) a figure was brought in. Anne was unsure at first if it was a girl.

She was short, rather pretty in a way, with close-cropped light brown hair and small breasts and buttocks.

And she wore a black ribbon around her neck just above her collar.

She hung her head in dejection as she entered, and continued to stare at the floor as matron locked the door and left.

Not surprising, really. She was marked for execution; such girls are rarely high-spirited. Anne tried to engage her in conversation.

She sat on the floor and invited the girl to join her. After a moment she did.

Her name was Lee. Her owner was a Mr. Huld; he bought her for her androgynous name and figure, and used her daily but only as a boy, bent over a table or his desk. Her rear was sore from his constant attentions.

One day she asked him if he would have her like a girl instead; her womb yearned for him to possess her there.

This little act of rebellion so angered him that he put her aside and ordered her sent to Teri's to be executed.

She wept as she described her immediate repentance, begging him for mercy; she would agree forever to anything her master chose if only he would relent. But he was known for his iron determination; once he gave an order, it must be obeyed.

Shortly after, the lights in the cell went out and Anne lay down to sleep. Each time she woke during the night she heard Lee sobbing quietly.

Mr. Huld arrived the next morning accompanied by matron and two of Teri's guards. Lee knelt at his feet, alternately weeping and kissing his shoes. She promised to obey all of his orders from now on, whatever they might be.

It had no effect; his face remained set and hard, though a smile briefly creased his features at her promise.

As if by prearrangement one of the guards released her bracelets. The other handed him a garrote and he ordered her to put it on.

Still weeping, she complied. He asked everyone else to leave and wait for him in the corridor; he would not be long.

Just then Teri entered the cell holding a piece of paper.

"Your refund," she said. "You remember our agreement when you bought her."

He scowled and accepted the check with reluctance.

"Plus ten percent, to keep you happy." He read the amount, brightened, and looked up.

"And you can use Anne here with my compliments."

Anne took the hint and bent over a metal table. Its surface was cold against her breasts and belly as the gentleman parted her cheeks and drove into her.

It was all over in a minute; he stood up and adjusted his clothing as Teri spoke.

He asked if she was for sale; Teri regretted that she was not.

"Now come to my office and have tea with me. I want to hear about your new place in Morocco."

They left arm in arm, friends once more.

Anne remained on the table, enjoying the memory, happy to be a boy for him. It was good to be of use to someone.

Lee was weeping now from joy. Matron ordered her to stand and removed the garrote before telling her to lie down and get some rest. She could have today off; tomorrow she would be cleaned up and put back on parlor duty, waiting for customers.

"You're lucky the madam is such a softie; let this be a lesson to you." She untied the black ribbon.

Lee covered the floor in front of matron with kisses before going to a corner of the cell and curling up to sleep.

One of the guards led Anne outside to be whipped. In the evening she was returned to the now empty cell. She ate her dinner and lay down, reflecting on how precarious was the existence of girls like her. She would not last a month at Mr. Huld's; a thoughtless word, a look, her "ladylike" attitude would doom her to the garrote.

The daily routine varied little at Teri's; she slept on the stone floor of her cell until about dawn, when a guard fed her and took her upstairs to clean the parlor where girls like her in the evening waited for employment, and the "cribs", the rooms on the upper floor where they served their customers.

When the matron was satisfied - a single ball of dust was cause for punishment - Anne was led outside to one of the frames for her beating, along with any other girls chosen for theirs.

They were whipped until they could barely remember their names; soon the memory of Anne's kidnap attempt was erased from her mind.

They remained outside in all weathers until mid-afternoon when they were fed again and cleaned up for the parlor.

Most of the girls on display there were unbound. Anne was not; her bracelets were fastened in back except when she was doing chores or hung up.

She was glad of this; it emphasized her lowly status for customers, the staff and the other girls. She grew accustomed to being pinched or goosed without warning.

One gray afternoon in the parlor waiting in vain for clients to appear, Anne leaned on a window sill and stared out at the steady rain. She was so lost in her dark mood that she did not hear a man come up behind her until he slipped a garrote over her head and pulled it snug.

This terrified her out of her self-absorption; the other girls watched as he mounted her from behind and rode her, still leaning on the sill, until she was so weak that her legs buckled. He withdrew and left; she never saw his face or learned his name.

Tired but contented now, Anne returned to her duties and served five or six more men before she was returned to her cell after midnight.

In the following weeks, rain always reminded her of that afternoon and how the stranger cured her of her melancholy.

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

The next morning she was summoned to Teri's office. Unsure if she had committed some fault, she knelt before the woman's mahogany desk, the end of her leash held by a guard.

Teri had heard about yesterday's scene; she should have thought of this herself. She spoke with Francesca who approved the idea.

Anne would wear a garrote around her neck at all times when she was here. In her brisk fashion Teri enumerated the reasons.

It would concentrate Anne's mind on the present moment. It would remind her of the consequences of giving offense to anyone; even a kitchen maid held life or death power over her now. It would keep her humble. And it appealed to customers who would pay for the option.

From a drawer in the desk Teri produced a garrote woven in bright primary colors around a wire core. She passed it to the guard who tightened it just enough to constrict her breathing. It would not be a hindrance, but it could never be ignored.

Anne bent her head and in a slightly raspy voice thanked Teri. "That reminds me," said the woman. "From now on you are forbidden to speak when you have it on. It would be bad for your throat and you need the discipline."

Supposing a customer asked her a question, the guard said; what should she do.

"That is not our problem," Teri said. "We are not here to make life easy for her."

Soon she became so used to wearing a garrote that she felt naked without it. She smiled at the thought.

On her last day at Teri's as she knelt in the parlor waiting for customers she was surprised to hear familiar voices. Her first owner Paul brought Ernest and Debbie to see her.

Less than two years had passed since she met Paul, when she was still a rising young star in the firm and Debbie was her secretary. Always perceptive, Debbie saw at once that her boss was learning submission and adopted the dominant role, making Anne kneel at their meetings and feeding Anne from her hand.

Ernest was a naive eighteen year old when he selected Anne to be his "first time" at the brothel where she worked. Briefly infatuated with her, he came to hold her in contempt for her easy virtue. She hoped he was over that as well.

He worked now as a scout for Paul, finding girls who wanted to enter the life like Anne and turning them over to him for training.

They stood above her; Paul inquired if she was for sale and Teri said enigmatically "Not yet".

She handed the end of the leash to Debbie, who shook it as a sign for her to stand. Teri returned to her office and the others went upstairs to an unoccupied room.

She knelt at once and kissed Debbie's shoes. Then Ernest's; he laughed as she touched her lips to each of them. Paul declined the honor; they were newly shined and he did not want anything on them.

But he opened his trousers; at least she could serve him that way. She remembered how he liked her to do him and he rose quickly, finally rewarding her a minute later.

Ernest was next. As Anne expected, he was cool to her; she was still the whore he once loved who betrayed him with every passing stranger. She must be as meek and submissive as possible in the hope of earning his forgiveness.

She knelt before him with her head down until he told her to open her mouth. His sex was already out and she received it with infinite respect.

At first he showed no response. But he was human, and male; little by little she was able to attract his interest. Paul made some joke and he dropped back; she resumed her labors while the two compared her to other girls they had shared.

Behind her, Paul was fingering her garrote and playing with it. He liked the colors, he thought he would have a couple made up like it.

Ernest told him to tighten it; Anne's eyes grew wide in fear and without thinking she stuck her tongue forward. That excited him, he liked her this way, kneeling at his feet afraid of his next move.

It excited her too. She eased her tongue back and massaged him with it slowly, gently.

She was nearly overcome by the perfection, the sheer beauty of the scene. Bound and garroted on her knees serving old friends and masters. At their mercy, her fondest wish fulfilled.

But she must keep her mind on her work.

Soon his youthful member was rigid in her; she prolonged his ardor for another minute before he burst and she struggled to contain it all.

Anne felt the two men's seed mingle in her and was at peace. She thought young Ernest's was sweeter, smoother and thicker than Paul's; but perhaps that was just her imagination.

One (or maybe both) of them had left a number of curly hairs behind as well; she liked that, something to remember them by.

Had any of her visitors had ever whipped her? She did not think so. Well, you could not have everything.

That evening Teri's van took her to her owner's cottage and she resumed her accustomed routines.

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

The next morning, Francesca invited Anne to go out on the trail with her. This was a command she could not refuse, to repeat the exercise that proved so dangerous before.

Her owner had a reason she was not telling. Anne feared the worst.

Her mind, muddled by lack of sleep, panicked and ran in anxious circles. Was it because of Thomas? Or Yvonne? She waited dejectedly while her owner changed into a track suit.

Francesca led her out to the old roadbed where they went before, the one where they barely escaped the first assault. She directed Anne to go in front.

Anne saw her end approaching. "Yes, ma'am."

They ran at a slow pace for several minutes, past the location of the snare for a quarter mile, when Francesca cried out "Stop!" in a low voice and pulled back on Anne's leash. Anne looked down at the wire in front of her as her mistress dashed off into the brush before the operator of the trap had time to escape.

After the sounds of a scuffle she emerged grasping Celeste by the collar. "Go home without me; be careful. I'll be back later."

Anne walked pensively, her hands bound and her leash dangling. The door to the house was locked but her cell was open so she sat inside and waited. Some time afterwards Francesca returned, looking tired and drawn.

Letting Anne into the house, she sat in a chair and asked for a glass of wine. Anne brought it to her and knelt silently at her side.

She said "Thomas's plan worked; I think we're safe now."

"Thomas's, ma'am?"

Francesca explained. It was his idea that whoever tried the first time was an amateur who would try again if the chance presented itself. When they went out with apparent unconcern - Anne had to be kept ignorant - she were caught off guard.

She marched Celeste over to Maria's and confronted her with what happened. The woman handed Celeste over to Renee.

She did not want to describe what happened next. Renee had an aptitude for that sort of thing.

Anne made dinner for Francesca afterwards while she rested in bed before coming to the table. She was relaxed and emotionally restored, playing with Anne's hair and holding morsels between her fingers for her. Afterwards Anne knelt at her feet and she resumed her narrative.

She suspected Celeste - who was not the greatest thinker - saw that Maria wanted Anne and tried to ingratiate herself. Renee may have gone along with it just to cause trouble. Hers were the second set of footprints.

She believed Maria was in on it too, though with Celeste out of the way now she and Renee could place all the blame on her.

"Do you think Sir Nigel was involved, ma'am?"

"Him? No. I think Renee was making that part up. Still, there's no way of knowing for sure."

The next week brought a number of changes. Renee disappeared and Maria had no idea, or said she had no idea, where she had gone. Francesca and Anne were able to use the trails around town without fear for the first time in weeks, and took advantage of the weather nearly every day; after work on weekdays, or after Anne was whipped in front of the village on Saturday and Sunday.