Town and Country Ch. 16

Some days later Francesca returned home for the university's winter vacation. Anne was delighted to see her owner for more than just a weekend but it was exam time, so she had to content herself with occasional glimpses.

Even at dinner, Francesca took her place at the table and Anne knelt on the kitchen floor for her feed and water. She reminded herself it was part of her discipline and waited humbly in silence for Francesca, but her owner seemed to avoid her.

On the afternoon of the third day, Amelie came into the barn. This was unusual; Amelie rarely came here. Anne wondered what it meant.

She soon found out. Francesca and Helene with Lise approached her stall and led her to the center of the barn beneath the large pulley. Helene made her lie down on the wet earth while Francesca fastened her ankle bracelets together and lowered the hook to the ground. Working together, the two sisters hauled Anne up by her heels until her head hung down at the level of their waists. She turned slowly on the rope and Francesca held her hips.

Looking up, she saw Helene extract a carving knife and a sharpening stone from a leather case while her owner dragged a large metal tub under her; the tub they put below a pig.

Francesca retrieved a leather apron from a peg on the barn wall. It was covered with dark stains.

Hector arrived and stood a little farther away along with the two hired men. Some neighbors joined them and the gathering took on a holiday air. The hired men shared a bottle of beer. There would be a potluck supper in the house afterwards.

A young woman, the daughter of a neighbor, played with Anne's fleece. "It's so curly and thick." She twirled it around her fingers. Anne bit her lip and tried not to moan, but a sigh escaped her.

"Don't get your hand wet," said her mother. "You'll have to wash it."

Upside down, Anne's breasts stood away from her body with an uplift she never managed to achieve before. A farmer squeezed and slapped them back and forth. Hector asked in jest if he would like to have one of them afterwards.

He shook his head and looked her over. "A couple nice hams here, though" he laughed as he caressed her buttocks.

Anne began to shake. Lise held the whetstone and Helene sharpened the knife for a minute or two until she was satisfied and passed it to her sister. Francesca approached Anne and held it to her lips; she kissed the instrument and her owner's hands.

With the point Francesca drew a shallow line on the surface of her belly from her mound to her ribs just between her breasts. Someone whistled and there was a smattering of applause.

Francesca pulled Anne's metal collar up and drew with a finger under her jaw, feeling for the arteries. Any moment now.

It was too much for Anne; she lost control of her body and began to writhe. Francesca grasped her head with both hands and planted a kiss on it.

At this point there was a pause. Helene said something to her sister; stepping behind Anne she put a hand between Anne's legs and entered her. A sound came from Anne's mouth she never heard before: a combination of a moan, a scream and a rattle. Her mind gave way.

Francesca had put the knife aside while examining her neck. She retrieved it and held Anne's chin out to expose her throat.

Helene continued to work Anne, who was mad now with fear and hot with desire; she would come just as her life drained away in the tub. A fitting end.

That was her last thought; a red mist came over her eyes and she fainted.

When she awoke she was lying face down on the floor of the barn. Her thighs were wet. She heard her owner and Helene laughing and chatting, but she could make no sense of the words.

They fell silent when she lifted her head. She saw Lise's bare feet at a distance in front of her; Francesca and Helene were off to her right somewhere.

Francesca ordered her to kiss the ground before Lise. With her hands and feet bound she could only crawl like a worm over to the young woman, but she managed and began to kiss the dirt.

She continued with passion, not stopping for a second; her tired lips were soon caked with the mud of the barn floor. She licked them and went on with pieces of straw in her mouth until Francesca told her to stop.

Helene released her ankle bracelets and she rose unsteadily to her feet. She tried to adopt the posture Paul taught her; shoulders back, breasts out attractively. That stretched her belly and she felt the line open a bit.

Francesca led Anne to her stall and attached her collar to the wall chain. She filled Anne's feed bowl with a variety of kitchen refuse: potato peelings, carrot stubs and tops, and some things she could not identify.

The sisters turned and walked away with the others, leaving Anne to her dinner. The carrot stubs were a special treat, she loved carrots. Dirt clung to the potato peelings, but not a lot and it was no worse than the barn floor. She should have cleaned them better this morning, shame on her. She rinsed her mouth at the water trough and continued.

At the bottom was a layer of coffee grounds. Still hungry, she ate them too; the taste brought back memories of her former life and dining in fashionable cafes with men who would take her to their place afterwards.

Now she ate garbage scraps and lived in a cattle pen, hiding from a man who would feed her to his dogs. This was her new life. She was happy just to wake from her faint and find her throat was not cut.

She tried to recall images of the men she had gone out with but her head was too scrambled, she could not focus.

Someone entered the barn and came up behind her. She turned on her knees toward the visitor. It was Francesca; she trembled.

"Lie down on your back." She obeyed at once and stretched out in the hay.

Francesca held a white cloth and a bottle of rubbing alcohol; she applied it to the line on Anne's belly. It stung but that didn't matter. Her owner was healing her, caring for her, she could think of nothing else.

She was still shaking a little. Francesca set the bottle on a shelf and took up a trowel, putting the wooden handle deep into Anne as a pacifier. Anne sighed and made love to it beneath her owner. After a final twist that brought tears to her eyes Francesca withdrew it, retrieved the bottle and left.

Soon it became dark in the barn; she lay down under a layer of hay and sank into sleep.

She woke from a nightmare, shuddered and sat up. She tried to get a grip on herself and calm down. The events of the day were too recent, too strong.

Her mind was still frail and confused; each time she was "traumatized" this lasted longer. These assaults on her brain were softening it. The condition would soon become permanent and she would be properly broken, cured of her unwanted tendencies at last.

Thoughts floated crazily through her head. The neighbors seemed to enjoy the show, that made her happy. Did Francesca change her mind at the last minute, or was today an elaborate charade? Was this part of her training, or did the woman just postpone her end? Was there any hope for her?

She could not make it out. And it didn't matter, it was none of her business. A lifetime of perfect devotion could not repay her debt of gratitude to Francesca. She was nothing, less than the dirt beneath her owner's fingernails.

Making her kiss the ground before Lise was good; the girl was growing in confidence. And having Lise whip her as she pulled the harrow benefited both of them.

Her mind wandered again. If Francesca wanted her to live it must be right.

Or did she mean to let someone else have the pleasure? If Francesca turned her over to an enemy (she had made so many), that would be right too.

She would be still and accept her fate; wriggling like bait on the hook yesterday was wrong. Could not help herself, must try harder next time. But Francesca still managed to draw a perfect straight line up her belly.

Anne knelt toward the farmhouse and blessed her owner.

She wondered who else with knife in hand, facing Anne hung up by the heels, would have spared her.

Not anyone she worked with; she antagonized everybody with her attitude, they would love the opportunity.

Her first two owners perhaps, if they thought she was worth money; else they would hand the knife to an assistant.

Not Marc; he was tired of her, this would be an amusing novelty for him.

Naomi would find it a change from the garrote.

Hector and Amelie would dispatch her just to free up the barn stall.

Paul's girl friend Carol was jealous; she would take it slowly and enjoy it the most, pausing to savor each moment.

Anne shuddered and tried to avert her mind from the image but she could not banish it.

It even excited her, and she shifted to a dryer location.

No, no one but Francesca would hold back if they had the chance; they would cut her open like a sack.

And she deserved it. She was a useless, worthless creature.

But maybe with Francesca's help, if she was allowed to live...

She drifted off again.

The next morning Helene woke Anne; at her side Lise carried a bucket and sponge, and led her to the middle of the barn. As Helene watched she ran the sponge over Anne's face, then her breasts (twice around the nipples and carefully beneath), her belly and her thighs. Anne shivered as Lise doused her with cold water.

Cleaned of mud, the line down her belly showed plain; Lise stared at it for a minute.

Anne looked down too. She was proud of her new mark, she hoped it would last; so many had faded away leaving only memories. Even the traces of Lise's bullwhip were becoming fainter. She thought once more of all those who would love to plunge the knife into her as Lise led her back to her stall.

Francesca arrived with a bowl of scraps and set it on the ground. Anne looked up for permission and at her owner's nod dug in. Eggshells and coffee grounds, the remnants of the family's breakfast no doubt. And a crust of bread torn into pieces for her. She remembered the smell of it baking in the kitchen yesterday as she scrubbed the floor of the hallway, but never expected to have any.

It was good, coarse country style. Francesca had put water in the bowl to soften the hard crust. Anne felt a pang at her inadequacy to respond until hunger overcame her. Lise stroked her haunches slowly while she devoured it, delighting in their attentions.

The eggshells and the grounds were at the bottom. Anne enjoyed their crunchy texture; bits of both stuck in her teeth. She drank water from the trough until her mouth was clean again. These simple pleasures meant so much to her now.

She looked up to see her owner take a tin cup from a hook on the wall and carry it to the next stall. A minute later she returned. "Stand up." Anne rose on command and Francesca held the cup of fresh milk to her lips.

This was an unexpected treat. Slowly she drank the warm rich liquor, careful not to spill any. Her own breasts - her udders - swelled in response to the intimacy of her owner feeding her like this. She felt a moment of perfect love for the young woman so close before her. Helene and Lise watched in silence.

When she had emptied the cup Francesca wiped her mouth with a cloth and took up her leash. Silently she led Anne from the barn and put her in the pickup truck. Someone had removed the cardboard and Anne was forced to kneel on the iron rods of the cage floor but she didn't notice. Life was good.