The Summer of Francesca Ch. 02

She sank into a sweet dreamless sleep, this time without interruption until she felt a light squeeze on one nipple, then the other. She looked up into Francesca's smiling face.

"Wake up, little one; I have to get ready for dinner too." She helped Anne to her feet with firm hands on Anne's bare shoulders which thrilled at her touch. Anne knelt facing the door with her head bowed, trying to compose her jumbled thoughts.

After a while Francesca returned, attired in a pin-striped suit and looking for all the world like a successful junior executive, her hair neatly arranged.

"Oh ma'am, you're even more beautiful than before. I'm speechless."

"Thank you; do you like my perfume?" She held her wrist out for Anne.

"It's wonderful ma'am; the perfect match for you. I used to wear that when..."

"When you wore things," said Francesca, completing the sentence for her. "Stand up." She released the tether and led Anne on her leash out the door and across the cobblestoned courtyard to the open French doors of the dining room, from which a warm light spilled out.

They were the last to arrive; Paul and Carol were there, along with a heavily built man Anne did not know. All eyes turned to the formally dressed Francesca and her naked charge. Mr. Schuyler spoke.

"Georges, I don't believe you have met Mlle. Francesca before; allow me to introduce you. She is completing her graduate work with some distinction in a field I believe will interest you."

Francesca nodded gracefully as Georges kissed her hand. "Our host is too kind, sir; but I'm always interested in discussing my work if you find it worthwhile."

"Most assuredly, mademoiselle; we have need of new ideas and informed thinking in our business." He gave her his card. "Perhaps I might have the pleasure of your company at dinner another time when you can tell me of your goals. I expect to need a new manager in a few months' time."

Francesca pulled on the leash and Anne obediently stepped forward into Georges' view. She realized with a start that she had become an aid to Francesca's career, and wondered if her interest in Anne was merely practical. At the same time it came to her that she was head over heels in love with the woman who held her leash, and that in any case her opinions were of no interest to the others. She had not been invited for her mind.

"And this is the girl I bought from Paul." Mr. Schuyler pointed to Anne who made a deep curtsey to Georges, which he found amusing. "She appears to be working out better than her predecessor."

"Yes, Emily was a disappointment, so tense; she seemed all right at the academy. What became of her?"

"Different environments bring out different sides of their characters, I suppose. I gave her to Nigel; I don't expect to hear of her again." His neighbor Sir Nigel's tastes were barbaric; women sent to his estate did not last long.

"No, I suppose not," said Georges sadly, thinking of the wasted training. Brightening after this reflection, he tested Anne's breasts for firmness and squeezed her buttocks before placing a hand between her legs. Carol watched Anne's face as she reacted to his probing.

"This one appears satisfactory. We will see how she performs after dinner, eh?" They laughed.

"Francesca exercised her today; it was an inspired performance. We recorded the event, if you'd like to see it. I could make you a copy."

"Why yes, that would be most appreciated," he said as he removed his hand and dried it on a cloth.

Carol spoke up. "If you could make another copy, Mr. Schuyler, I'd like one myself. I'm sure Anne's old friends want to see what she's up to these days." Anne squirmed and shrank into herself.

"Certainly, mademoiselle, that can easily be arranged." Mr. Schuyler gave orders to a nearby servant. Others offered wine to the guests, and after more light conversation they sat down to a candlelit dinner.

Anne knelt between her mistress and Georges, her hands still bound and her leash held by a servant who stood behind her. A fly landed on one of her breasts and Francesca brushed it away. Georges reached down and fondled the other. She smiled up at him and leaned her head on his thigh as she had been taught. Georges' hand moved down to explore elsewhere, and she shifted to accommodate him.

As the guests were being served, a tumbler with a straw and a small bowl of feed were placed within reach of Anne's mouth. The conversation proceeded; Paul was taking Carol to the opera that evening. "They're performing 'Manon Lescaut'," he observed, and Anne reflected on favorite operas she had seen and the improbability of her seeing any more.

She selected some pellets from the bowl with her tongue and drew on the straw which made a loud sucking noise, interrupting the conversation. Even Francesca joined in the general laughter, though briefly; she pulled Anne's head back, retrieved the glass and gave it to a servant.

_I didn't know it was almost empty_, thought Anne as she reddened. _I should have looked_. Tears started to her eyes in her shame. Francesca patted her head as if she were a child who had blundered among grownups; she looked up at her mistress in gratitude. The servant returned with the glass filled to the brim. Anne did not touch it for the rest of the evening, fearful of making another faux pas when she was trying to avoid calling attention to herself.

But despite her efforts she had become the center of conversation. Georges studied her bowl of feed pellets, picking one up and examining it with a practiced eye. "Are you satisfied with her formula, Arthur?"

"No, I am not. Her stools are too loose and I'm looking for a corrective. It is most unsatisfactory." He frowned at Anne, who shivered. "I hope I do not offend you, mademoiselle," speaking to Francesca, "discussing such matters at the table. The condition of my girls affects their performance." Anne observed that her own views on the subject were not consulted.

"Not at all; in fact I noticed the problem this afternoon. I suspected it would diminish her value." Carol snorted while Anne bit her lip and stared down at the table.

"Sir Nigel recommends adding clay to the formula; I suppose we should try that, though it seems primitive."

After pondering the situation briefly, Francesca spoke up. "If I might suggest sir, the cause could lie elsewhere. Has her colon been washed out recently?"

"Not since she's been here, I don't believe. Paul, did the academy...?"

"Oh my yes sir; Frank made the staff give her one whenever he took her. And he took her quite a lot, ha ha ha." Most of the party joined in his merriment.

"Then a dusting of powdered culture on her feed might improve her symptoms. And her health in general, make her more vigorous for you. I can begin adding it tomorrow."

"Please do, mademoiselle; I await your report on the results."

Carol also asked to be kept up to date on Anne's progress; Francesca nodded noncommittally. Georges had become energized by the discussion and resumed exploring Anne with one hand, cupping a breast as if weighing it, then fondling her neck, her belly, and her back down to the cleft between her buttocks.

The table-wide discussion turned to other matters, to Anne's immeasurable relief. The wine flowed (though Francesca had no more than politeness demanded). At one point she saw Francesca turn and whisper something to a waiter, who left and returned with a small bottle which she placed in her purse.

Eventually the entree was finished and Mr. Schuyler rose.

"I have ordered coffee to be served in the courtyard; Georges and I will join you there shortly." He took Anne's leash. Anne began to tremble.

"Come along, young lady; this will be nothing new to you," said Georges, laying a beefy hand on her shoulder. For no reason Anne could name, she was afraid of him.

She followed the two men (Paul declined the invitation with a shake of his head) into the adjacent library, whose windows were open to the courtyard after the warm day. Mr. Schuyler pointed to the back of the sofa. Anne draped herself over it without delay and spread her legs, but fear overcame her and she was unable to open herself.

"Just like Emily," said Mr. Schuyler. Recalling her predecessor's fate, Anne tightened even more. He asked one of the servants to summon Francesca.

She sized up the situation at once and began gently to stroke Anne's haunches, assuring the men the problem was a simple one. She continued to talk to them, but really to Anne, in a low soothing voice. Anne was a good girl; skittish perhaps but these things passed quickly, she would loosen in moments, it had already started, she just needed a little time.

In fact Anne did feel it relaxing and opening. Francesca's confidence in her imparted faith in herself. Her poise returned and she became receptive, even eager as the trainer stroked her rear for another minute. Francesca placed a hand between her legs, gently caressing her, and the last of her tension drained away. She began to moan softly; she was ready. Francesca pulled her cheeks apart and inspected her before assuring the men they could proceed. Mr. Schuyler thanked her and she withdrew to the courtyard.

Without delay Georges took Anne from behind, plunging his full length into her in a single thrust. This so startled her that she screamed. She heard Carol giggle outside. Anne continued to cry out, weaker each time, as Georges proceeded about his business with methodical brutality and occasional grunts of pleasure.

Fantasies assailed her. She was skewered like a chicken on a spit for roasting. She was a fish and he had hooked her, driving his barb deeper with every movement she made. As a child she once saw a fisherman gutting a trout on the grassy bank of a river; that would be her fate when he landed her.

This excited her strangely and she moaned again - a long drawn-out wail - at the end. He withdrew and paused for a moment above the scene of his conquest before patting her on the buttocks.

Slowly awareness returned. She closed her mouth, Mr. Schuyler would not like her to drool on his leather cushions. The tears could not be helped. She reminded herself to breathe and took in great gulps of air.

She lived for these moments. With a woman it was also good; in a different way of course, but her thoughts were too confused to make the comparison.

Above her, Georges congratulated her owner on his new possession. She had "performed" well then; Francesca had saved her.

He gave way to Mr. Schuyler, whom she was more familiar with and (though this was not to be discussed) smaller than his enormous companion. She made noises and struggled to satisfy him as he used her.

Mr. Schuyler retreated, told her to stand and placed his hand on her head. She knew what this meant and knelt before the two men. Again Georges went first. She marveled at his size and at the puzzling bitter taste of him. Something in his diet, perhaps. When Mr. Schuyler had also taken advantage of her he tugged on her leash and she rose unsteadily at the command.

Entering the courtyard Anne presented a woeful picture. Flushed and shaking, her hair disheveled, her body and legs streaked with tears, sweat, and other fluids, she looked a ruin; but she had contented the gentlemen and this made her happy. Someone's - perhaps both men's - seed dripped from her chin. The sight of her prompted Carol to bring out a small camera. At her request, Mr. Schuyler stood Anne before a brick wall where she took several photographs of the drooping figure who struggled to smile, and Paul took one of her holding Anne's leash.

"This is wonderful," said Carol; "All her friends will want a copy. Stand straighter - open your legs more - there, perfect." She made Anne kneel at her feet on the hard flagstones and stood over her with a broad smile of triumph. A servant took the leash; she knelt beside him as the guests drank their coffee amid a clatter of cups and saucers. Francesca motioned for the servant to move her to a softer grassy spot. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

The two men who had just used her approached and stood over her.

"Your new one functioned most ably after her initial hesitation," observed Georges. "I did not notice the indisposition you spoke of." Anne lowered her head.

"Yes," Mr. Schuyler replied. "Francesca prepared her well."

"She should last for some time, perhaps the rest of the year if used sparingly."

"I do not expect that much; I anticipate this summer will be a busy one, and already I have asked Paul to watch for a replacement. But for now I am content. She is good at what she does, I will give her that."

"Does she have any other skills?" asked Georges.

"Not that I know of," her owner replied. "Some academic accomplishments, but nothing of use to me." So much for graduating first in my class, Anne thought; but her own choices had brought her here.

Soon afterwards Paul and Carol took their leave; he did not want to miss the overture. Carol cast a final gloating look at Anne as she departed. A little while later, Georges yawned and looked at his watch; he thanked his host for "a most pleasant evening" and repeated his invitation to Francesca before calling for his car.

Mr. Schuyler's servant handed the leash to Francesca. The cool evening breeze on Anne's moist skin and the need to step carefully on the slippery cobblestones restored her alertness and she was more herself when they reached her cell. After securing Anne's collar to the ceiling tether, Francesca snapped her fingers and pointed to the latrine. Anne meekly squatted over it.

Afterwards Francesca bent her over the sinktop and spread her cheeks. "No broken skin, that's good; I see they're enlarging you. We'll keep that up." She took off her suit jacket to pat Anne dry. Anne expressed regret that her elegantly dressed mistress had to perform such menial service.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to."

It took a moment for her words to sink in. Anne reddened.

"Do you know, when you blush your lips turn a deep pink down there," Francesca observed.

"No ma'am I didn't, thank you."

"Rather attractive, really. I'd like to see them in daylight. Now I have a little treat for you. Do you like white burgundy?"

"Yes, very much ma'am; it was my favorite before, before -"

"Dinner," Francesca said wryly. "Well I have a small amount of it for you. A very small amount, no chance of getting drunk on it, but enough for a taste. Now cleanse your palate and I'll pour it in with some water."

Anne drank from the water bowl, emptying it in the effort to purge the acrid taste Georges had left in her mouth. Emboldened by Francesca's gesture of friendship, she ventured to mention it.

"I can't for the life of me think what it could be; have you ever noticed, when a man is in your mouth, ..." but Francesca's wagging finger caused her to drop the question unfinished.

Francesca poured the wine into the bowl and added water. Anne leaned over and inhaled deeply, then lapped slowly at the mixture. A part of her noticed that the younger woman's hand was resting on one of her buttocks.

Lack of dinner and her exercise in the library had left her hungry; after she licked the water bowl dry, she approached her feed bowl and emptied it. Francesca replenished the water to keep her tongue moist as she ate. When she had finished her food and drink, Anne knelt at Francesca's feet and sighed.

"Oh, how that reminds me of the past. The last time I had white burgundy was on a date; for the first time ever, a man took me from behind. I'll never forget it. I guess it's why I'm here now."

"Tell me about it, Anne." Francesca pulled up a chair.