[A sequel to (1) The Summer Of Francesca, (2) Town And Country, and (3) At Work]
At the end of two weeks, Anne was familiar with her role at Teri's brothel. Each night after serving a stream of men upstairs she was taken down to her underground cell. Her steel collar was chained to a loop in the stone floor and her feed and water bowls filled. Her bracelets were fastened behind her and she lay down naked to rest until morning.
At dawn she would be led upstairs to sweep the parlor and cribs where she and the other whores entertained their clients; then taken outside and tied to a tree for a brief whipping, to remind her of her place and punish her for any demerits incurred the day before. She was allowed to hang by her wrists and rest for an hour, then washed off and returned to the parlor to wait for customers.
This night she lay awake long past midnight, sunk in melancholy. She had served over a dozen men - she lost count after seven - and all the openings of her body felt it.
Once she was proud when the madam called her "our little moneymaker", but now all she could think of was losing Francesca. Her current owner, who rescued Anne from being strangled when the previous one tired of her. Her idol, her goddess, the great love of her life married Thomas and went away with him on their honeymoon, leaving Anne with Teri till they could decide what to do with her.
Her future stretched out before her bleak and barren. She wished her owners would terminate her like most girls when they were no longer wanted, but she was too valuable for that. And they would not sell her in this country; she knew too many of her last owner's business secrets, Francesca had promised Mr. Schuyler she would not.
Most likely she would just remain here until she was no longer profitable, then put down. And really it had its compensations; being used by a dozen men in a night was something she once dreamed of, and now it was commonplace.
She looked forward to being greased up and led to the parlor each day by an attendant. On her knees in patient stillness with downcast eyes; or paraded in front of men and boys, her leash attached to the collar and her hands bound behind her, shoulders back to raise her breasts.
But there was another possibility; Teri's Mexican agent Lobo had contacts among the native tribes in the mountains. They were flush with gold from the mines and had a regular need for girls like her.
Just last month, Teri supplied him with a pair of blondes who shared this cell with Anne for a time. They were destined for sacrifice to the sun god at the tribe's harvest festival.
Anne tingled with excitement as Jeanne described their fate: to be stretched out on the stone altar in the plaza, held down by the women of the village, staring at the sky and waiting for the sunrise. The priest standing over them with his long knife until the first rays appeared above the sacred peak. She envied the two and wished she could share in the experience. With Francesca gone, it would be a blessing.
She heard a noise and opened her eyes. It was growing light; she must have slept some after all. The sound of footsteps, and the iron door of her cell opening.
It was Teri with a thin swarthy man; she recognized Lobo. He had slick black hair, a pencil moustache and a slightly cruel mouth. She knelt at their feet.
Two more people entered the cell, a pair of burly female guards in Security uniforms. One of them filled her water and feed bowls and pointed to them. Obediently Anne took her breakfast.
She looked up at Teri's knees; she was forbidden to look her in the face.
Teri understood and said "Yes, you may." She crawled over to the latrine pit in a corner and squatted as her four guests looked on. She was used to having no more privacy at such times than a pig in a barn stall.
When she was done Lobo attached a leash to her collar and shook it; she stood at the unspoken command and he led her outside, with a guard before and after her. The one in back patted her behind, and she wiggled it in response. Roxanne liked her, and used her sometimes at night in her cell. Her nipples stiffened a little at the thought.
In the parking lot was a black van. A guard released her bracelets and opened the rear door; inside were a pair of wire cages, one on either side. She crawled into the left one; the guard padlocked it and closed the door as Lobo swung into the driver's seat.
She lay on her back with her legs open as she was trained. Her eyes were adjusting to the semidarkness when she heard a voice from the other cage.
"I remember you. You're Anne, aren't you?" The voice had an authoritative tone.
"Yes, ma'am," she responded, not knowing who her interrogator was.
"I'm Rae; I interviewed you a year ago at the university."
"Oh, yes ma'am, I remember you now."
"You were lying on the lawn in front of the admin building. Marc was holding your leash and your legs were like that to attract men. They lined up."
It all came back to her. The college library did not allow pets, so Francesca arranged to leave Anne in the care of another student. Marc told her to lie on her back; soon she collected a crowd, more boys (and some women) than she could count used her. She was recovering from them when she heard Rae call her name and question her for the student newspaper.
Some of the questions were quite intimate; she was embarrassed to see her responses headlined the next day, with revealing photos of her on the inside pages. But what was Rae doing now, naked like her?
"Ma'am, how did you--"
"Never mind; I'll tell you later. Come here."
She felt a soft touch on one of her breasts and put her lips up to the side of her cage.
Rae did the same on her side; while they could not kiss with two cage walls between them, they could imitate kissing. Rae stroked her breasts; she pressed them close and they passed the time with these little endearments.
