Town and Country Ch. 17

Francesca drove to a house surrounded by woods and led Anne on her leash to the door. A man - dark haired, good-looking thought Anne, about thirty - greeted them and she handed him the end of the leash. Somberly she turned and left without a word.

Guy led Anne inside and up to the attic. The only furnishings were a blanket, a rope and a short chain in the wall. She knelt at his command.

His welcoming speech was brief and to the point. Francesca had asked him to do for Anne what she could not do herself. She had explained Anne's need for uncompromising discipline. To that end, Anne should expect no lenience.

On days when she was to be fed - that sounded ominous - she could have a bowl of pellets in the morning. She would be whipped every evening before bedtime.

He said nothing about how long her training here would be, or if Francesca would return.

He threw the rope over a roof beam and tied the end into a noose. He told her to stand and approach, which she did with fear in her eyes. After suspending her by her wrists from the noose, he left.

Anne remained in that position until evening, when Guy took her down and led her to the kitchen. The odor of food tormented her empty stomach. She was only allowed to lap up a bowl of water on the floor.

He led her outside to relieve herself in a patch of sand before returning her to the attic and giving her first whipping. His arm was strong; in less than a minute Anne was crying, gasping, and begging him between sobs for relief.

It grew cold soon after dark, but she found she could cover herself in the blanket if she did not mind lying on the wood floor.

The next morning as promised she had a bowl of feed while he ate his breakfast; not a large amount, but she did not complain. Later she reflected that eating pellets when she was starving made them seem like manna from heaven. If she were ever given a choice for her Last Meal, it would be feed and water.

That evening he took her to his bedroom. Afterwards, as he lay in bed and she knelt beside it, he asked her story. She explained about Eugene and Paul; her auction to Mr. Schuyler, and when she ceased to be of use, his gift of her to Francesca who owned her now.

She held nothing back from him, feelings she had not shared with anyone before, that life held no meaning for her without Francesca. She spoke of her misdeeds, her punishments, and how Francesca's efforts at discipline had not corrected her failings.

The next morning he led her outside into the forest. His control of her leash was firm; he gave her no slack but kept it taut the whole way.

After an hour they came to the most secluded part of the woods, far away from the last house; they had seen no one on their walk. Seating himself on a fallen log, he told her to kneel. He pulled a water bottle from his pack and offered her a drink.

Anne was parched from the exercise, but afraid of what the bottle held. This would be a perfect place to dispose of her. She thanked him and declined.

Again he made the offer and she refused, alarmed by his insistence; then he drank it himself and led her home, desperately thirsty now and ashamed of herself.

He set a large bowl of water on the kitchen floor and told her to kneel at it. A minute later, she heard him start the car and drive away. She stared at the water in agony, cursing her lack of trust in her master.

An hour later he returned. The water level was higher by about a dozen tears before he give her permission to drink.

He withheld food from her for the smallest infraction. One advantage of feeding her in the morning was the extra time it allowed for repentance; if she committed a fault on say Wednesday noon, she would not eat again until Friday.

Every day she was blindfolded in the attic and drilled: told to walk forward, turn left, turn right, about face. Besides the sloping roof above her, the attic floor had a large opening to the stairway below. With her hands behind her, she was entirely dependent on Guy's orders to avoid striking her head on the ceiling beams or falling through the trapdoor.

More than once when he ordered her to halt, she felt her bare feet at the edge of the abyss. But the slightest hesitation in carrying out an order cost her a day's feeding.

Once she went four days without food for a series of pauses each shorter than a second. On the third day he took away her blanket, leaving her to sleep on the rough wood planks.

On the fourth day when she hesitated again, he stopped abruptly. He removed her blindfold and walked her downstairs and out to a garage. Inside was a wooden kennel resembling a large chest with a door at one end.

He pointed to it and she crawled in. It was too short for her to lie down; too narrow for her to turn around; and too low for her to rise off her knees.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light from a pair of small openings. She saw a bowl of water and drank from it to ease her hunger.

As the hours went by she grew increasingly frantic. She would go crazy if she stayed here, but the day passed without sight or sound of rescue. She tried to sleep leaning against a wall of her prison.

She heard a dog bark, and it reminded her of Sir Nigel's estate. How merciful it seemed now to be chased down and mauled by his pack of hounds, or tied to a stake and given to them. Such an end would come quickly.

It began to grow dark and she could not tell if the sun had set or she was going blind. She had failed: failed him, failed everyone who trained her, Francesca, herself. She deserved to be left here forever.

Some time later - it was night by now - Guy opened the door of the pen and she backed out to find him standing over her with a whip of knotted cords in his belt. Behind him on the wall was a rack of branding irons.

Madly she kissed the ground at his feet, weeping for she did not know how long, until he shook her leash and led her back to the attic.

Her joy when he fed her the next morning seemed beyond any happiness she had ever known.

After that she moved to carry out his orders almost before he finished speaking. Her will was so crushed that if he told her to walk with open eyes past the edge, she would have gone to her destruction without a moment's delay.

He did not return her blanket, nor did she expect him to. Shivering at night in the unheated attic was a consequence of her misbehavior.

They remained alone together for about four months. Sometimes Anne was allowed to do work around the house. Under his watchful eye she cleaned and oiled all the branding irons, or scrubbed the tile floor of the kitchen with a hand brush.

When he had no other use for her, she was hung up and left for hours until her nightly whipping.

Initially by her wrists in the attic, until the day he came upstairs and found her asleep. He slipped the noose over her head and pulled it snug, adjusting the tension above. After a moment's panic, she understood. As long as she remained at attention she would be all right but she could not relax for a moment.

She shifted and felt the rough surface of the rope tighten against her neck. Must not move any further, already her breath was a little labored.

Each day, these long intervals standing naked and powerless on the brink of nonexistence eradicated her sense of self a little more.

She wondered how many girls preceded her here; how many benefited from his instruction and were returned improved to their masters; and how many failed this test and had to be disposed of.

And if Guy would approve of her, and would Francesca take her back if he did not.

Or at all; perhaps the decision she came to was to give Anne away and free herself of the burden.

The thought distressed her more than she could say, but she had to accept it. Her fate was in the hands of others.

Forced to stay alert to survive, she became conscious of little sounds in the house she had not noticed before. She followed Guy's progress through the rooms of his house and put on an expression of modest welcome when she heard him climb the stairs.

Sometimes (for no apparent reason, just a whim of her master most likely) he took her out to the garage and hung her up there. That rope was thicker and the first time she saw it she stared in surprise.

Guy explained. He pointed to a row of narrow pens against a wall. Occasionally masters wanted a girl or several at a time fattened up. For their own use, or for sale if they were traders.

The herd was kept in these confining pens which restricted their motion and prevented exercise, and fed a rich diet. He took them out twice a day to relieve themselves in the sandbox, and weighed them each week until they reached the desired size.

The roof beams and rope in the garage were stronger to take the extra weight, especially when he needed to hang several of them at a time. Looking up, Anne saw half a dozen large pulleys with stout ropes and nooses.

He left and padlocked the garage door. Anne had a slight freedom to turn her head if she was careful, and looked around her.

She saw the kennel she was kept in and smiled at the memory of her confinement; how much she learned from it. Guy was a consummate instructor in those subjects where she most needed training.

Behind it were the branding irons arrayed by size on the wall; and next to them, yes, a scourge. She had not noticed it before when she cleaned the irons.

She wondered if it was new and if he would allow her to touch it, or at least kiss the handle.

Anne viewed the pens. Beside each was a large bag of feed and a pail of lard. Maybe Francesca would like her fattened up like Rose someday; no, probably not. She had a narrow waist herself and an athletic form.

Anne was pleased that despite her own meager diet, her hams were solid and her udders large. She did not even notice that she had begun to think of herself in those terms.

She hoped Guy would keep her shape attractive. But to whom? To Francesca of course if she ever came back. But to the world really, she existed now for the use of everyone, any way they liked. She let this sink in for a minute.

More immediately she wondered; he had hung her up in the attic and the garage now, what would be next? Outside in the front yard facing the road was an old tree with a sturdy limb that projected like an arm. If he suspended her there everyone who drove by could see her. That would be nice. She could not wave to them of course but she could smile, it would advertise Guy's services.

The new year came with no visit or word from Francesca. This grieved Anne more than she could say, but by then all her attention was devoted to her present master. Under his absolute rule she was fed or not fed, treated well or badly, conditions beyond her control that she lived under like the rising and setting of the sun.

Her severest tests were yet to come.