The Summer of Francesca Ch. 15

It was a changed Anne who visited Paul the next evening. Gone was all the vanity and self-assurance she displayed just two days ago. Well before the appointed time she waited at his door, smiled meekly when at last he let her in, and followed him into the bedroom to remove her clothes. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she was bound and leashed; she feared he would not take her back. And when he noted her improved attitude she knelt and kissed the floor at his feet.

He showed little interest in her experiences. Once it was clear she met her quota (five times over, she figured) and had no earnings to give him, he dropped the subject. But the state of her skin offered possibilities. If he was startled by it, he gave no sign. He examined her thoughtfully.

It was an attractive sight, he said; men would be turned on by it, her kind of men. Anne winced. It needed work though. One breast was bruised, the other scratched. That might be all right as a novelty, but only the front of her legs had scratches. That was true; she picked them up crawling over the briars.

"And there's almost nothing between your waist and your knees. You must have kept your skirt on; a pity, you could have saved us both some trouble. I think I'll take you to Chloe. You'll like her."

He did not elaborate and Anne dared not ask. Mutely she preceded him into the living room. But she gasped at the sight of two plump naked blonde girls sitting on the floor. These must be the Swedes. They both had milky white skin as yet unmarked by the lash, and turquoise blue eyes. She saw their steel collars were joined by a short chain. They looked up at her with placid curiosity.

Paul poured out a full dinner ration for Anne (she blessed him for that) and left them, closing the door of his study behind him. The two blondes moved closer, almost within arm's length as she took her evening meal; she smiled but did not speak to them. She knew better than to test the limits of what she was allowed. They watched her as she ate like a starving animal. When she was done, she stared down at the floor while they whispered to one another. It didn't matter, she was his again.

After about fifteen minutes he emerged with two cards. He attached them to the collars of the blondes and led Anne into the study. There he made notes on a yellow pad before calling for a taxi. (The Swedes or whoever they were, were gone the next evening. She saw them again at St. Agnes much altered.)

Anne's mind was in a whirl as the cab drove out of town; who was Chloe, how did Paul know Anne would like her? Her mouth grew dry and she began to be afraid. She reached out to hold Paul's hand for reassurance. He withdrew it and she knew she had erred. He could take her any way he liked, he could turn her over to others for the most brutal usage, but she must not presume to touch him without permission.

And that was how it should be; he was right to keep himself distant and superior. She had no business approaching him and deserved the reminder.

At least he would be with her and Chloe tonight. All she had to do was present herself to them and they would do the rest. She grew warm thinking of her helplessness in their power. She felt her nipples stiffening and her sex swelling in anticipation.

They reached the brothel; Mme. Byrne let them into her office. She said Chloe was waiting for them and looked forward to doing Anne for him.

Morgan told her to strip and she hurried to obey, handing her clothes over. He had never given her an order before or even spoken to her. He was maybe five years younger than Anne, she might have a chance with him.

In curt tones he directed her to put her hands on her head. His manner frightened her a little. But it was good, he knew how to handle her. Carmen watched the scene and told her brother to watch out for Anne, she looked like trouble. He said whores didn't interest him.

The madam laughed before reviewing Anne with a practiced eye. She agreed with Paul that her appearance was "fairly hot" but needed improvement. They went to a far corner of the room and conferred. Anne admired the graceful yet businesslike way Mme. Byrne conducted herself. She wore a blue dress of some soft material that showed her figure to advantage. At Morgan's command Anne put her hands in front of her and he fastened her bracelets. That was unusual; she guessed what it meant and grew nervous.

Paul led her down to the basement, past the hygiene room into a sort of pocket gymnasium presided over by Chloe. The brothel's trainer was a large athletic woman; her wife who worked in the kitchen upstairs weighed maybe half as much.

"Stand it over there," she told Paul, who led Anne to a space marked on the floor. She put a hook on Anne's bracelets and hung her by her wrists from the ceiling.

"I can do just about everything I need with the scourge." Anne turned white as Chloe held up a small rake with bright steel points. Pointing to Anne's legs she said "Those look like briar scratches; it must have crawled around the old factory district where they grow. Very easy to duplicate them." Chloe referred to Anne as though she were an animal. Her head swam and she struggled to breathe normally. "Where it needs some bruises, I'll use my fists."

"The first job is to deal with the blank area in the middle here." She pointed to Anne's belly. "Then the breasts, the back, thighs, fill in the smaller gaps and make it all look natural. Want me to do the arms?"

"Hmm, what do you think?"

Chloe stood back and pondered. "I'd say down to the elbows."

"Good choice; do that." Anne looked away and started to cry. Her whole body trembled; she did not know how she could bear it. She could not believe this was happening to her.

"Should take me about thirty minutes. Come back then and see if you like it. You can watch through that window in the hallway. Or entertain yourself upstairs; we have a new girl from Thailand who's really good." Chloe and Paul shook hands on it.

As if in slow motion Anne saw Chloe escort Paul to the door, lock it behind him, and return. She saw Paul look briefly in the window then walk away. Chloe stuffed a balled-up cloth in her mouth before securing it with a longer strip. "Soundproofing is only so-so around here and you're going to do a lot of screaming. Wouldn't do to frighten the customers. OK?"

Anne nodded yes. Chloe picked up the scourge and began.

Paul returned at the time specified. By then Chloe was nearly done. Using a single point of the scourge she incised her initials on the side of Anne's left breast where there was an empty space.

"I like to sign my work. Add yours too?" Paul shook his head, and Chloe engraved a decorative oval around her monogram.

She cleaned her tools and put them back. Paul thanked her for the tip about the new Thai girl. She was good, he said; very inventive.

"All done. Take a look at her," said Chloe, pointing to Anne.

Anne's body looked like an abstract canvas of swirling red lines and blue-black shapes artfully placed on a pink background. Sweat poured off her and her eyes nearly started out of her head. Muted sounds came from the gag.

"Give her a few minutes while she learns to accept it," said Chloe. "She'll come around soon."

They waited for Anne to calm down while they looked her over and agreed she was much more appealing now; almost irresistible, really. Chloe removed the strip which was soaked with Anne's tears and slowly extracted the gag. She presented her hands and Anne kissed them. She turned around and reached into her tool chest.

Anne was seized with panic until Chloe turned back with a brush in her hand. "Mustn't send you away with your hair like that." She stood close to Anne and slowly brushed the knots and tangles into presentability. As she did, Anne realized her momentary fear of more scourging just now was accompanied by another, quite different emotion. Paul was right that she would come to like Chloe.

"A job well done," said Paul. "We thank you."

"She was a good subject," acknowledged Chloe. "Squirmed a lot, they all do, but I can handle that. She knew she wasn't going to get away." Anne was happy to be promoted to feminine in her eyes. And she was proud that she meant enough to Paul, even as a whore, to be worth improving.

Chloe began to stroke Anne's breasts so tenderly that Anne almost purred. She found herself developing amorous feelings toward the trainer. Chloe placed a hand on her belly and she hoped she would be invited down here again.

"Want me to wipe the sweat off her?"

Paul shook his head. Au naturel was better, he said.

Chloe slackened the ceiling rope, gave Anne a slap on her behind and handed her over. "There you are, she's all yours."

She let them out into the hallway; a couple of girls headed for the hygienist stared at Anne as she passed. She smiled back at them cheerfully.

Walking was a little hard at first. She was conscious of her lacerated skin; it felt stiff like a tight leather garment, and reminded her of a time last summer when she lay out too long at a nude beach and got a sunburn. Danielle was wiser; she wore a big hat and a long sundress except when they made love in the sand. Afterwards Danielle put aloe cream on her hands and rubbed Anne's body before... Paul struck her with the end of the leash and told her to hurry up.

He drove her upstairs and into the parlor. There he made her stand to display her figure, and five men in quick succession took her to a room for their use. The hygienist gave her a dose of the drug to keep her going.

Around midnight Paul led her to Mme. Byrne's office. Morgan stroked her buttocks to calm her for a minute, then came around in front and ran his hands over her breasts. The drug heightened their sensitivity and her nipples rose and darkened. He looked down at them; he had noticed. She felt herself swelling below; if only he would touch her there. But he did not. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her self-control.

The madam observed "You know, that bruise on the face the boy made, that's good; if she has any clothes on it will remind everyone of what's under them."

Paul wanted photos of Anne for her book. Mme. Byrne retrieved a professional-looking camera from her desk and passed it to Morgan. Carmen led Anne to an alcove with a dark cloth drapery in back and suspended her by her wrists.

Morgan ordered her to adopt various poses. "Turn right a little. More; that's enough. Hold it there." Anne loved the abruptness of his manner with her and obeyed him in haste. He captured views from the front, back, her flanks and three-quarter profiles; also closeups of the breasts and thighs. Carmen released her wrists and she knelt for a second series.

Paul and Mme. Byrne went across the room to discuss their selections, giving Anne time to consider. Who would see these images? The madam would keep some to show her clients, and Paul a few for his. They might be passed around at her office, Mr. Bradford would enjoy them. And Mr. Grant; she wondered what he would think. Maybe she could have copies in her apartment to show visitors.

This led to a new fearful thought; what if her parents dropped in and saw her bound, scourged, kneeling on the rug or with a stranger in her? After a brief spasm she recovered herself; this was their daughter's life now, they would understand that.

Carmen released her hands and she dressed as the others returned. The madam figured Paul's earnings and named a sum. "Your girl did well for you tonight," she said before calling a cab for them.

On the way home Anne asked him if she might rest her head on his shoulder and he nodded. He even accompanied her to the door of her building. Before leaving, he said he planned to introduce her to his syndicate; they would consider her future.

The dark-skinned man was waiting in her apartment. She undressed and knelt before the stranger. The sight of her appealed to him too; he took her on the spot, just inside the door. Again he left a twenty which she put away for Paul.

Afterwards, as she passed a mirror she saw herself for the first time since her scourging. She lingered over the sight of her marks, turning to appreciate each one. Some were the result of nature, some of art, and she loved them all.

She treasured them: for themselves, for the way they beautified her in others' eyes, and because her master had caused them to be put there. They were badges of her devotion. And they proclaimed her condition to the world, which she spent her daylight hours concealing. Perhaps Paul would change his mind and let Chloe carve his name in her; how splendid that would be.

She drank a bowl of water and lay down on the carpet. Its fibers irritated her raw flesh so she curled up on the tile floor of the bathroom whose cool surface was a comfort to her. When she told this to Paul the next day he was pleased, and from then on he made her sleep there exclusively.

For the next two weeks Anne was the most popular girl at the brothel. Like Paul, Anne expected her vulnerability would attract a more brutish sort of customer, but instead it appealed to shy and retiring men who would otherwise have done no more than look at her from a distance. She was off her pedestal and within reach now, and soon she had as much business as she could handle.

Mr. Bradford and his sales VP came by often; he continued to use her mouth, though the other favored her rear and they debated the virtues of each.

Ernest and his father visited her too. The boy was shocked at her appearance the first time; Paul explained it away by saying he had to punish her for something. Ernest examined her closely for a minute and said "Good". Upstairs, Paul turned her over to the two and left the room.

Already Anne could see Ernest was excited at the prospect of having her again. His father told her to kneel and the boy opened his pants; yes, very excited. Her hands were still bound behind her - he liked that - as she received him and his father held the end of her leash.

For a few visits Ernest affected a callous bravado to conceal his disillusionment. His "angel" had proved to be a tramp and he was still angry; and maybe still a little in love. Twice he raised his hand as if to strike her, and laughed when she flinched; the scourging had left her timid and fearful. But in time he got over it and learned to treat Anne merely as an object for his use. His father explained what happened to girls like her in the end, and for a moment Ernest was almost sympathetic. She was glad to see his romantic dream of her fading, though he always chose her over the other girls in the parlor.

The older man showed him how to take her from behind, and he came to prefer that to "the usual way". He learned to split her open and enter the narrow passage up to the hilt in seconds. Anne admired his youthful dexterity.

To save time and extend her working hours Paul came to her office each afternoon in a taxi. He brought her still in her business suit to Mme. Byrne, feeding her dinner in a paper cup on the way. She was often the first girl in the parlor. When the madam saw Anne in her tailored outfit she said "My, my, what a fine lady," and laughed as Anne undressed herself. But every evening while Anne worked the parlor, Mme. Byrne had her suit pressed and ready for her by midnight.

Anne loved her madam for these acts of charity which she could never repay. She hoped the woman would come to desire her, but she was disappointed. The closest Anne got was to eat out of her hand from time to time. She cherished those moments as she lay on the tiles later.

Her new customers used her as gently as the homeless men under the bridge; and they smelled better and paid for their pleasure. They often left her generous tips which she turned over to Paul. They were careful not to add to her injuries, but in fact most of her scratches were superficial and ceased to sting after a few days. Anne was merchandise and not to be permanently damaged; only Chloe's initials remained.

Occasionally she teamed up with the Thai girl Ratri ("night jasmine," an appropriate name for this pliable creature) and learned several new tricks. It was a happy time for her.