The Summer of Francesca Ch. 26

All was not well, though. A valuable client complained of Anne as "stale" and Mr. Schuyler wondered if it was time to replace her. He mentioned this to his neighbor Sir Nigel, who proposed a trial. They made a plan and told Francesca to carry it out. She returned from the conference that evening bearing news: Anne would be put to a test the next day, after which he would decide whether or not to "extend her residency".

Anne sensed that despite her upbeat manner Francesca was not sure of success. She didn't know what the examination would consist of - Francesca would not say - but she understood that failure would be fatal. The signs of Francesca's unease were invisible to an outsider, but Anne saw she was worried and anxious. Each of them spent the evening trying to cheer the other up with an unconvincing show of confidence. Francesca stayed longer with Anne that evening; Anne wondered if this might be their last time together and treasured Francesca's goodnight kiss more than ever.

She did not sleep much that night. She remembered Paul saying on the evening she gave herself to him that her owner would care for her "as long as she was worth maintaining". That had to end sometime.

The next morning Francesca arrived early at Anne's cell accompanied by Mr. Schuyler. Both of them wore solemn expressions. Francesca told Anne she had to prove her usefulness and justify her continuation here. She knelt and listened with lowered head, her collar still attached to the ceiling tether. Her breakfast was lighter than usual, and in any case she could not eat more than a bite of it. The spare furnishings of her cell which she never paid much attention to before seemed inexpressibly dear to her.

After about an hour Francesca returned with a male servant who served as a security guard on the estate when a girl might give trouble. He stood in the doorway while she removed Anne's tether and leashed her, and followed them as she marched Anne to the frame on the lawn.

Anne saw it all with unnatural clarity. How Mr. Schuyler, Frieda, Paul, Carol, and a tall, athletic gentleman sat facing them and looked up at their arrival. How the stranger toyed with a garrote in his left hand.

Frieda rose and took Anne's leash, grasping the end at her collar to hold her firmly in place. Francesca methodically spread Anne's arms and legs into an X facing her audience and pulled the ropes so taut that Anne was suspended a short distance off the ground. The man with the garrote held it out as if measuring it. The guard fondled her breasts and she smiled at him before he turned and walked away.

Francesca picked up a large steel-shanked crop that Anne had never seen before and looked over at the stranger. He nodded; grim-faced, she turned toward Anne and struck.

The ferocity of her attack was like nothing Anne had ever experienced. For a moment she thought Mr. Schuyler had chosen this way to execute her. Then she went out of her mind and her screams rent the air.

The session lasted about twenty minutes. Sir Nigel gestured to Mr. Schuyler, who told Francesca she could stop. Anne continued to scream, though weakly. Francesca stepped forward and slapped her twice and she was quiet.

The reactions of the audience varied. The sight of the broken figure before him appealed to Sir Nigel and he was eager to try it out. Mr. Schuyler was impressed with Francesca's power and economy of motion. Carol watched the exercise with eagerness, her teeth bared, savoring Anne's degradation and eyeing the garrote hopefully. She wondered if Anne would struggle much when he applied it. Paul noted that Anne's stripes would enhance her value to a certain class of buyer and wondered if Mr. Schuyler could be persuaded to sell her back, maybe at a discount as damaged goods, hmm. Frieda gave no hint of her feelings.

Paul helped Francesca lower Anne from the frame while Frieda wiped down the crop and put it away. Francesca led Anne to a large round boulder nearby. Casually, unheard by the others, she whispered in Anne's ear "Do your best; this is it." She draped Anne over the rock whose rough surface scraped her wounded belly, and held the end of the leash as Sir Nigel mounted her from behind.

Anne had just enough presence of mind now that the beating had stopped to take the hint and understand the importance of making a good show. She opened herself to him and responded as well as her flickering consciousness allowed while he rode her, moaning seductively each time he drove deeper.

Eventually Sir Nigel emptied himself into her and withdrew. She wiggled her behind a little for him and heard him laugh before he turned away with Mr. Schuyler and Paul to confer in the library.

Some time later - she could not guess how long - footsteps approached them on the gravel path. Anne lay quietly on the rock, expecting to feel the garrote on her neck at any moment.

She heard Mr. Schuyler speak. Francesca grasped her collar and pulled her back on her feet.

Three times on the path to her cell Anne stumbled, and each time Francesca put her strong arms beneath Anne's to support her. Once inside, she hung Anne by her wrists from the ceiling; she could not possibly lie on the floor in her condition. Grave but joyful, Francesca bathed her wounds with sweet oil, waiting for her to come around.

"You passed," she said. "I'm very proud of you." Anne smiled but no words came. The image of a hog carcass passed through her mind again and she pictured herself hung up by her heels.

"You'll have to stay like this till you're better. I'll come by as often as I can." Anne drank slowly from the bottle of mineral water that Francesca held between her lips; she would not be given solid food for the next few days. Francesca went over and sat in the window alcove, reading a book and looking at her charge from time to time, providing water and shooing away the flies and insects attracted to her. Anne shivered with pleasure whenever Francesca touched her.

The morning became the afternoon and the afternoon lengthened to evening. Frieda brought a request from Mr. Schuyler to have dinner with him. Francesca assisted Anne to the latrine, hung her up again, and left. The flies returned and she learned to accept them.

With Francesca away and the initial shock wearing off, Anne had time to think. Her mistress had taken her to the very edge of the abyss. Now it was over, she silently thanked Sir Nigel for proposing the test. That her owner would let her live for a few more weeks was another blessing. It began to dawn on her that Francesca had just saved her life.

She was proud of the stripes she gained today; no one who saw them could have any doubt what she was from now on. She wondered if Mr. Schuyler would let Francesca use the steel crop on her again.

Francesca returned brimming with eagerness to talk to Anne, who had measurably improved during the interval.

"We discussed your situation. Mr. Schuyler agrees with me that your training should continue." Anne sank at the news. "Consider the alternative," she responded and Anne snapped to attention as best she could.

"He felt it was a good lesson for you, and Paul says you need this sort of thing now and then to scramble your little head. In any case I think you're over the worst of it and the rest will be nothing new; mostly practice, practice, practice, just like Carnegie Hall though I suppose they use different instruments." Anne smiled despite herself; the world was becoming a better place already.

"Sir Nigel was pleased with you and recommended keeping you on for the rest of the season. I think he likes you. Your owner doesn't want you widened any more, though we'll keep putting the thing in so you don't close up again. The number of men you service will likely stay the same once you're better, and Paul reminded us of your need for strict discipline every day. There were some other matters, but that's all you need to know."

Francesca had a cot placed in Anne's room and stayed with her the first night. The massive insult to her skin caused her to have nightmares that she was on fire; each time she cried out Francesca was at her side, whispering comfort in her ear, pressing a wet cloth to her forehead and assuring her that all was well.

The next morning she left for a few minutes and returned with a bowl of cream, feeding Anne with a spoon. Anne's appetite had returned and she took it eagerly. Francesca wiped her chin when she spilled any, let her have some mineral water and applied salve to her cuts.

Then she had to leave for the day. Mr. Schuyler wanted her to review some girls at St. Agnes who were coming up for sale. Anne felt a pang at the news; no, of course he should ask Francesca for her opinion and she would be a good judge.

An hour later a servant entered. Luis was a young man on the household staff; Anne had taken him in her mouth several times when she was offered to them. He displayed no surprise at the sight of her wounds, but inspected her in silence before putting the bowl and other items on a tray and carrying them away.

He returned with his girlfriend Rosa, a maid in the big house. She viewed Anne and looked at Luis. With his permission she touched Anne in several places then began to kiss him, hesitantly at first and then with more passion. Anne closed her eyes and kept them shut until they left. But she glowed with a quiet happiness; it was good to be of use to someone.

She passed the day hung up as before. Servants and strangers came by her cell; in the afternoon Frieda gave her some water from a bottle but did not speak to her.

Francesca returned from her visit to St. Agnes in a gray business suit of light wool. Anne loved to see her all dressed up like that; it reminded her of her former life. She brushed Anne's hair, a sign she was in a good mood, and talked of her day. The next auction featured several promising girls, and she recommended to Mr. Schuyler that he bid on two of them; she did not say if they were Anne's replacement or just household servants.

She went out for a minute and returned with Rosa carrying a bowl of cream, and Denise clad in her fetching tight little outfit. Rosa held the bowl while Denise spoon-fed Anne with Francesca supervising them. Sometimes Denise let the spoon linger in her mouth and looked at her, and she felt herself growing warm.

Denise stayed behind when the other two left; she was to watch Anne until morning. She lay down on the cot and stared at Anne, who averted her eyes. Anne suspected she would not get much sleep tonight.

After a few minutes Denise got up and ran her hands over Anne's body with a feather-light touch. The wounds were still sensitive but Denise was so gentle with her that she felt no pain, only a mounting desire to have the young woman use her.

Her wish was soon granted; Denise took her so tenderly she felt possessed by a butterfly, or an angel. Afterwards the cool evening kept most of the flies away; she had no nightmares and slept well. She suspected that was Francesca's plan, but her mistress never spoke of it.

She spent the next two weeks in her cell, grateful to Paul and Athene for training her to hang for long periods by her wrists. Mr. Schuyler did not visit her. This was a routine matter for him, and he took no interest in her beside her commercial value.

Other members of the household viewed her from outside now and then; they talked animatedly to each other but Anne never learned what they were saying.

Once she woke from sleep and opened her eyes to find Sir Nigel staring at her through the window. He remained for over a minute before walking away.

Carol came to her, quite often at first when her injuries were fresh, but only in Francesca's absence. Silently she circled Anne, sometimes prodding her sharply. She liked to make her cry out and Anne did so to please her. Encouraged by the response, Carol took every opportunity to probe her most sensitive places. Whenever Francesca appeared, she withdrew; Francesca said she needed shooing away more than the flies, and they shared a moment of laughter at her expense.

Paul visited the cell frequently. He ran his fingers over the surface of Anne's bruised and broken skin while she lowered her head and averted her eyes. If Francesca was present, in clinical terms he inquired how she inflicted a certain cut, or differences between the soft breasts and the firmer tissues of the buttocks and thighs.

And he talked business; his clients occasionally needed to have a girl "thrashed" like this for punishment or display, they paid well, would Francesca be interested...? To Anne's joy she declined the offer with a shake of her head.

Anne also had many hours of solitude during her convalescence as she hung day and night. Her thoughts always came back to her mistress. Anne knew so little about her. Did she have a partner, someone special she would return to in the fall after Anne had been "seen to"? Would she miss Anne, even a little?

In the end Anne was sure of only this. Francesca was very good at large-animal training and use of the crop. She was very beautiful. And Anne was hopelessly, tragically in love with her. She wept at this nearly every night; silently out of fear someone would hear her, but she could not prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Fortunately they had dried by morning and Francesca either failed to notice the traces or did not mention them.

That was good; she had not developed an attachment to Anne. The loss of one foolish girl from the harem would mean little to her.

They occasionally viewed a silent recording of the event; Anne looked on fascinated as the blows struck her yet again, sometimes in slow motion for better analysis, soundless cries emerging from her wide-open mouth. Now and then Frieda or a trainer from St. Agnes or another nearby estate joined them; they demonstrated their own techniques with alarming chops to Anne's body that stopped just short of their target.

One evening after Francesca had fed her but before stretching her out for the night on the floor, the two of them watched together. Francesca made a mug of tea for herself and mixed a little white burgundy in Anne's water bowl. She sat in a chair while Anne knelt at her side, her head in her mistress's lap, leaning forward from time to time to drink from her bowl and feeling warm and contented despite the scenes playing out before them. Sometimes one or the other would comment on a particular blow.

"You got me a good one there, ma'am; I'm twisting around and throwing my head back."

"I remember. I think Carol even applauded. See, you're still screaming." She cradled Anne's head with one hand as she sipped her tea. "More pellets?"

"Yes please, ma'am." Francesca took a small handful and held them out. Anne loved to eat out of her hand.

"Now watch this part, where I run a set down from your shoulders." Anne looked on, wide-eyed but happy in Francesca's presence, at the sight of her flesh being raked and torn.

"Will you start exercising me soon, ma'am?"

"In a few days. It's about time you got back to work."

Eventually she was able to sleep on the floor again. Her stripes healed to a network of pale lines like the surface of white-veined pink marble, and Francesca would amuse her as she hung by treating her skin as a map. The coastline of Italy on her thigh, for example; or the border of France and Germany on her belly, with the Black Forest to the south between her legs.

She came to prize the nightly pecks on her forehead, having her hair brushed, and her mistress's occasional bursts of whimsy. Once Francesca arranged her food pellets in the form of a heart surrounding a capital A; that meant - what? Anne gave up trying to parse the symbolism.

Francesca's poise never failed her, and her wardrobe though not large seemed to include the right garment for every occasion, perfectly pressed (if appropriate) and in tasteful colors and patterns.

In time Anne was ready to be taken outside and tied to the frame. One morning Francesca entered her cell with Frieda, who inspected her closely and nodded to her mistress. Francesca removed Anne's tether and fastened her bracelets in back while the older woman held her leash; together they drove her ahead of them to the exercise ground. Anne took in the fresh air and sunshine, glad to be alive still and outside again, ready for anything.

Mr. Schuyler sat and watched them suspend her. He rose and examined the changes in his girl; he congratulated Francesca on her work and noted that Anne's new markings left her "much improved; I should have had this done earlier". Her enforced diet since the ordeal narrowed her waist, emphasizing the breasts and buttocks which were kept large by a hormone in her feed.

He summoned the two women to a conference at the far end of the field. Returning, Francesca selected a soft leather crop and began. Anne sighed with pleasure at the first stroke to her belly and became wet almost at once; by the time Francesca finished the short lesson, Anne was panting and hungry for more.

Anne's admiration for her was unbounded. Francesca saw into her at once when she was tense and anxious at her morning feed; if stroking her haunches did not bring relief, her mistress applied a stronger remedy. She walked Anne outside, strung her up and applied the bamboo crop to her until she melted from debasement and desire and the boundaries of her world shrank to the four corners of the frame she hung on.