Town and Country Ch. 10

Shortly after their campus visit, Mr. Schuyler offered to do Francesca a small favor which had enormous unforeseen consequences. To assist her financially he engaged her for a recital to friends and clients at his townhouse.

Anne was chained in the basement one afternoon, sitting on her mattress watching a row of ants cross the floor beside it. They found a feed pellet on the floor and swarmed on it at once. She was enjoying the sight of the creatures at their banquet and wondering if they would like seconds when she heard someone descend the stairs and open the door behind her.

The steps did not sound like Francesca's; they were hurried and heavy. She knelt with her head down and waited for the intruder to appear. But it was her owner, excited with the news. She poured out a half measure of pellets; Anne was not to be exercised on a full stomach.

She kissed Anne's cheek and went upstairs to change; their host was a gentleman of the old school and she wanted to put on something appropriate for their visit. She returned a few minutes later in a suit of dark gray wool, carrying a gym bag and with a raincoat over her arm.

"It's windy outside with a trace of rain. We'll walk quickly; it's just a few blocks."

She released Anne from the wall chain and led her to the entrance hall, where other residents stared out at the weather, then at her. One held Anne's leash while Francesca put her raincoat on before driving Anne out the door. In her haste, Anne tugged on her leash; Francesca had to pull her back and remind her that her owner set the pace.

Anne shivered on the journey in the autumn air and her teeth began to chatter. The wind picked up wet leaves and blew them against her legs. In front of Mr. Schuyler's, Francesca laughed at the sight and removed them before ringing the door bell. A servant appeared immediately (one had been told to watch for their approach) and admitted them. Francesca handed him her coat while a second held Anne's leash. A white-gloved hand peeled a leaf from Anne's breasts. She curtseyed to him, happy to be inside again.

Francesca led Anne down to the locker room beside the gymnasium. Following her in the corridor, Anne admired her owner's confident, erect bearing. She looked like a lady ambassador or the head of a corporation.

Was this the suit she wore the first day when she took Anne out to dinner? Yes, the formal one with the pinstripes. The ivory silk blouse was the same too; Anne used to have one like that. Naked ever since she gave herself to Paul, Anne paid attention to the dress of others and especially Francesca.

In the locker room Francesca told Anne to kneel and chained her to a floor grating. Anne watched with mounting excitement as Francesca removed her jacket, skirt, blouse and lingerie, tensing at the sight of her owner's young body so close but so unattainable. Firm, full breasts; a flat hard belly above a pair of solid thighs, with a nest of dark reddish-brown fleece between them at the top where they met to conceal unimaginable joys within.

Anne could not bear it. She was in heat, she became wet, she started to pant; she struggled to control herself. At some point she even mewed like a cat.

Francesca paid no attention to the scene but put on her tights and leotard. When she was ready, she took up Anne's leash and led her into the gym where Mr. Schuyler and members of his household staff sat in chairs. They exchanged knowing glances at Anne's signs of girl-fever, and she reddened to see her condition was so obvious.

A young man held the end of her leash while Francesca bound her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the frame. Anne thrilled every time her owner's hand touched her, or paused to stroke her neck as she detached the leash.

Francesca began to wield her instruments and Anne welcomed the distraction they provided. Reducing her to an animal frenzy was easy today; her frustrated desire left her sensitive to the slightest touch of the whip.

Mr. Schuyler's gray-haired servant Frieda attended the practice as well and Francesca invited her to have a turn with Anne. She paused a moment to size up her victim. Francesca had taken advantage of Anne's inflamed condition; she might see what she could do without it. Clad in a shapeless pale garment, she stepped forward with a riding crop in each hand.

Sharply she struck random locations at irregular times with one or the other; Anne never knew what was coming next, or where or when.

The unpredictability of the blows unnerved Anne. She pleaded with the remorseless old woman to stop, to pause, please just for a moment, I'll do anything; but the pace only quickened, then quickened more.

When she came to and opened her eyes again, the gymnasium was empty. Later Francesca told her she continued to grovel even after Frieda wiped down her instruments and put them away. Frieda appeared in the doorway to the locker room; Anne began to tremble, but she was carrying only a towel. Wordlessly she dried Anne's face and body, then lowered her from the frame and bound her. She led the weak bedraggled creature upstairs through a part of the house Anne had never seen.

She paused at a leather-covered door and Anne's fears returned. Unseen hands opened it; she prodded her naked captive into a penthouse suite where Francesca, dressed once again in her wool suit, and Mr. Schuyler sat drinking tea from thin porcelain cups. The clouds had passed and late afternoon sun streamed in through tall windows.

Mr. Schuyler gestured and Anne knelt at his feet. She gazed longingly at the pewter bowl filled with water set before her. Francesca watched Anne struggle with temptation for a minute before telling Mr. Schuyler that away from home she was forbidden to eat or drink until allowed to.

He complimented Francesca and after another minute gave his permission. She noisily lapped up the water (her exercise had left her very thirsty) until Francesca said "That's enough, Anne" and the conversation resumed.

He had developed a fondness for Anne after giving her away, and picked up from Francesca the habit of feeding her from his hand. She nibbled at the pellets he held out, as quietly as possible, taking them up with her lips. She knew from experience that he did not like the touch of her wet tongue; not there, anyway.

Francesca and her host reminisced about the summer at his country estate when she met Anne and became her trainer and at the end of the season her third owner.

Francesca congratulated Frieda on her technique ("Is Russian - czars used it on prisoners", said Frieda); might they with Mr. Schuyler's approval schedule a repeat so she could learn it? The three of them settled on a series of lessons while Anne knelt motionless crouched over the water bowl, hardly daring even to breathe. Anne's present and former owners continued to discuss a variety of things, and Frieda lapsed into her usual silence.

After about a quarter hour, Mr. Schuyler coughed and said "As we agreed...?" Francesca nodded. He told Anne to stand and led her to his office where he bent her over a large mahogany desk between the letter opener and the tape dispenser, and took her. Anne wryly noted to herself that her enlarging at the farm was wasted on Mr. Schuyler, who was as she remembered rather small and had no trouble penetrating her from the rear. Still, it was good to have a man in her. When he pressed his hand on her back and she groaned he took it as a tribute to his powers and wondered idly if he had hurt her.

Soon she was moaning in earnest; Mr. Schuyler knew his former possession well and took his time while her passion grew, not ending the encounter until she was limp and spent.

He withdrew, adjusted his clothing and told her to get off his desk. Frieda looked up but said nothing as he followed Anne back into the parlor.

He pointed to the marks on her thighs and looked questioningly at Francesca.

"I had to punish her a few times since you gave her to me. She gets so independent and I can't cure her of it. I never had a girl of my own before, I'm still learning how to train them. She was more docile when she was yours; I need to be harder on her, but I don't seem to have the knack for it."

"Or the will?" he asked gently. Francesca did not reply.

Anne's mind cried out that she was to blame for her stubbornness, not her owner.

At Mr. Schuyler's orders, she knelt over a footstool before his chair to give him a better view of her stripes while Frieda held her leash and conferred with Francesca.

Anne considered the irony of her situation: raised in society, intended for a professional career, now covered with lash marks and bent naked over the furniture while two country women - peasants, almost - discussed her like a farm animal.

After an interval of contemplating Anne, Mr. Schuyler spoke thoughtfully.

"I believe it is not the fault of your inexperience. Offering her to laborers and mechanics as you have done is good - very good. And to the other students. Withholding food, or rewarding good behavior with a treat; those are both helpful. But she needs stronger medicine.

"Paul told me that she did not complete a full term at the academy. Of course he only told me after he had sold her" - a smile flickered over his face - "but I already knew that from her records. It did not matter when she was on my estate, we have ways to control them as you know, but in your possession it could lead to problems. I shall ask Frieda to do what she can, but it may be of limited value by itself. Do you know someone to whom you could send her for an extended period to be broken?"

Francesca looked pensive for a minute before nodding hesitantly. "Guy is available at the end of the year," she said.

"Guy would do very well; I could not think of a better. He is expensive..."

"He owes me a favor."

"You refer to that business of the Danish girls and the Algerian cartel. You handled it very skillfully, I congratulate you; he is in your debt." Francesca smiled and thanked him.

"Until then my advice is to stress her, even traumatize her. She needs to be put into a mentally unbalanced state at times, her mind seared to the point of derangement. Each application will weaken her resistance to the treatment she needs when you are able to provide it. Afterwards I shall request Frieda to finish her for you. She is a difficult one - a hard nut to crack, as it were - but I believe that with perseverance it can be done."

Francesca agreed. Anne cringed and began to shake but no one noticed.

"You spoke of taking her to your parents' farm once as I recall." Francesca nodded. "That is suggestive; let us go into my office."

They left Anne alone with Frieda standing over her. She felt the woman's hands encircle her neck, examining the sinews and blood vessels. Strong fingers located the point where it narrowed just below her chin.

Anne grew wet under the probing; it excited her, she could not help it.

Frieda released Anne and stood up on Mr. Schuyler's return; "Yes, very easy" was all she said. He called for his chauffeur, who drove the guests home. In the gathering darkness of late afternoon Francesca chained Anne to her basement cell.

That evening as Anne lay on her mattress listening to the sounds of the building above her, she realized she was looking forward to her encounters with Frieda. She had underestimated the old servant and she anticipated seeing what the woman would show Francesca.

And who were the Danish girls that her young owner handled so skillfully? Were they chained together in the cellar down here like she was? Did the cartel buy them for resale into the harem of a wealthy pasha?

Harem life might be interesting; Anne remembered stories about eunuchs who were really not, and how they visited the seraglio at night. That little frisson of fear, knowing the punishment if they were caught, adding zest to their lovemaking while the other girls looked on. Maybe some day Francesca would tell her the story, though she dared not ask.

That night she dreamed of being pursued by pirates, captured and ravished. She woke just as they were about to throw her into the sea.

Unable to return to sleep now, she wondered how Francesca planned to "break" her. How long would the process take; would she find herself resisting it? What would she be like once she was broken? Would her owner sell her if it was successful - she might be worth more that way - or put her down if it was not? She lay awake with these questions for much of the night.

Shortly after noon on Monday Marc visited Anne in her cell. Without a word he indicated what he wanted and she lay on her back. She was glad he let her use the mattress; with her hands behind her lying under him on the hard floor would be painful. When he was finished with her he left without a word.

The next day he took her from behind, bending her over the leather chair. His energetic battering left Anne too weak to move; Francesca discovered her there a half hour later. After considering the scene for a minute, she told Anne to get up and returned her to the coal bin. Anne was mortified with fear that her owner would demand an explanation, but Francesca left her in silence.

He appeared a third day. Chained to the wall with her hands bound, Anne was unable to offer Marc any form of traditional hospitality, only the openings of her body; he chose her mouth this time. After she regained the use of it she tried to engage him in conversation. With a forced cheerfulness she invited the youth to sit beside her on the mattress, but he stood over her. To her questions about his childhood, what courses he was taking, his favorite foods he responded with no more than grunts.

She grew increasingly desperate and the interview ended with Anne on the floor tearfully begging him to stay a little longer or at least promise to return. But he had explored her all he wished and took no further interest in her.

He looked down at her for a moment - she glanced up but could not read his expression - before turning and walking out of her life. Anne wept for an hour out of disgust with herself. She saw him once more, months later, under very different circumstances.

As she lay alone that night she was filled with shame and self-contempt. These feelings came more often lately. She hated her "independent" ways, and throwing herself at men like Marc. And even lusting for Sir Nigel whose desires would be her end if she fell into his hands. She despised herself for these feelings but she could not stifle them.

She wondered why she was drawn to men who were bad for her; maybe good women had taken all the good men, and sluts like her got what was left. She had no hope that she would ever matter to Francesca, who lived like a nun with no lovers.

Really the world would be better off without her. She deserved to be put down like an animal; and in the most degrading way, before a crowd happy to watch the process of her undoing. It was just, it was right, her owner would be doing her a kindness.