Finally they reached home. Renee squeezed Anne's behind like a buyer assessing the merchandise and handed over her leash. As they entered the front door, Francesca dropped onto the couch. Anne knelt beside her as she stroked Anne's hair for a minute before standing up.
"It's time for our ride." She led Anne into the kitchen to a water bowl, and Anne lapped up a quantity; the walk home had been warm. Francesca ran a glass of water from the tap for herself and put an ice cube in it.
Anne tried to remember when she last drank from a glass, but she could not. From the first night of her training - less than two years ago, but it seemed much longer - her master made her drink from bowls on the floor.
She ate that way too except sometimes out of Francesca's hand. That was a sign she was pleased with Anne who was learning to read her owner's moods.
Yesterday she noticed the ice trays were empty and put water in them. Francesca said nothing, she probably did not know, but she smiled down at Anne and that was enough.
Francesca walked her to the shed and opened the large door. She released Anne's bracelets. "Pull it out while I get your harness." Anne looked forward to being shown off to the neighbors.
She took up the shafts. Without passengers the chaise was light; Anne had no trouble drawing it onto the lawn. Francesca emerged with the harness and she bent down to be fitted.
The bridle went over her head. Two rings at the side attached to the reins for the driver to control her, and the large padded bit in her mouth pushed her tongue back. She could breathe, she could probably even make sounds, but she would not talk.
A pair of leather straps crossed below her breasts and (Anne thought) caused them to protrude attractively. And the breeching strap just below her buttocks emphasized their curves.
Francesca secured Anne to the shafts before climbing into the driver's seat. She set a short whip in a socket by it and took up the reins. At a shake just like the familiar shake of her leash, Anne pulled the chaise across the lawn and onto the road.
A tug on the right rein: they would not go into town but away from it. That was wise, Anne needed to learn her duties before she appeared in crowds. She was not nervous or skittish today, but she needed practice; Francesca knew her.
She padded at a comfortable pace up the road. Francesca tested speeding up a little, then down, then up again until she was satisfied with Anne's responsiveness to commands.
Anne was in bliss. Out under the blue sky pulling her owner's carriage, learning a new way to serve her, perfect happiness. Mindful of how her mind wandered, she paid attention to each signal on the reins and spoken command. All her being focused on pleasing the young woman in the driver's seat behind her.
They passed through a neighborhood of attractive suburban homes with wide, well-kept lawns. Children and their parents looked up as they passed; Anne held her head high and stood erect to thrust her breasts forward.
Their world might have been hers. A sensible middle-class matron keeping house, raising children, seeing her husband off to work in the morning and the kids to school, discussing their performance with the teacher. What did they think of the naked figure pulling her owner up the road? She...
A snap of the whip on her rear brought her back. How did her owner know? Anne could not guess; she returned to her work with renewed vigor, grateful for the chastisement.
Francesca used the whip lightly. Her drivers back at the academy delighted in striking her with it for their pleasure. Though that was good too; Vincent left her covered with welts, but they excited young Morgan who disdained her until then and that evening allowed her to take him in her mouth.
At a fork in the road, Francesca pulled again on the right and Anne responded. They entered an area of hills and winding curves; Anne slowed at the ascent. Francesca called out some words of encouragement and she picked up her pace, a little tired but determined not to disappoint her owner.
The route leveled and at a shake of her reins she began a gentle trot. "Good girl" she heard from behind her, and she beamed. At this pace she had to watch for stones beneath her feet.
Soon she was dusty and disheveled from the effort. Her body glistened with sweat; she hoped the sight appealed to her owner who applied the whip to her now and then to keep her attention on the road.
They reached the crest of the hill and Francesca let her pause to rest. She removed the bit from Anne's mouth, stroked her hair and led her to a water trough beside an ornamented column. Anne was puffing a little from the exertion, but she drank all she was allowed and ate a handful of feed pellets her owner held out to her. Afterwards Francesca took her over to a graveled area to squat and relieve herself.
Francesca led her back to the column. It was topped by the figure of a girl, nude except for a harness, and a bronze plaque at the base showed six of them pulling a large old-fashioned coach. Beside it was another plaque partially filled with a list of names and dates.
She told Anne that if a girl had been good her owner might have her name placed on the column after her termination. Anne saw the last two names were recently engraved.
She shivered despite the warmth of the day. This might be her fate when Francesca tired of her; everyone said the careers of girls like her were short. Some ended badly in a brothel or a ditch; these girls were the lucky ones dispatched humanely by their masters. At least she hoped so.
While she recovered her strength she had time to look around her. On the summit of another hill, isolated but not far away, a long driveway wound up to a mansion with landscaped grounds. This was the residence of Francesca's boss Georges. In back were some gray cubes, probably cells for his girls.
After another minute Francesca put her bridle back on and harnessed her for the trip back. The sun was bright and Anne grew hot on the country road. The way was steeply downhill in places and the breeching strap rubbed against her haunches. Her owner noticed and pulled her off to the side for inspection.
Francesca's cool hands spread her cheeks and raised the strap; that should ease the rash until they got to town for salve. She drove Anne at a slow pace past their cottage to Casey's; the owner came out and helped Francesca unhitch her and take her inside.
There she bent Anne over a counter and examined the disturbed skin while half a dozen customers looked on. She produced a jar of ointment and rubbed it in; it stung a little and she wiggled her behind which made everyone laugh.
"That should do it. Put some more on tonight and again first thing tomorrow morning and drive her anywhere. But you need a better strap. Come with me."
She led the two into the back room, a large space with racks of equipage. Against the far wall a young blonde girl was spread-eagled to iron rings set in the bricks. Casey explained she bought Florence last month and was training her.
She slapped Flo's face and held her hands up to be kissed, then turned and led her customers over to the racks. Francesca chose a tanned strap with rounded edges.
"And a garrote."
Anne's blood ran cold as Casey measured her neck and looked through a drawer before returning with one of braided leather with a wire core.
Her owner fitted it on her and she tried to speak, but the padded bit of the bridle filled her mouth.
"Quiet," said Francesca as she tightened the garrote against Anne's throat. Anne felt her nipples, perhaps her whole breasts rising and her sex growing wet.
Casey was impressed. "Hot already and you haven't even cut her off yet."
"She's like that; falls in love with anybody who controls her. Too smart, though. Took months to cure it."
They saw Florence watching them with alarm. "Know what you mean; I start the garrote on that one tomorrow," said Casey; "One lesson at a time for them. She's very bright like your girl, they're the worst."
She gave Flo another slap. "If yours needs a lesson, bring her over; I'll deal with her."
"That's good of you; she needs to be driven out of her brilliant mind now and then."
Casey chuckled and ran her fingers through Anne's hair. "I can do that, all right."
Francesca paid for her new gear and they left the store. She harnessed Anne and the two returned home. After Anne stowed the chaise away, her owner stroked her breasts and congratulated her.
"Not bad for a first time, little one." Anne glowed at those words of praise.
She led Anne into her cell and poured a bowl of water for her before locking her in. Anne drank from it, stretched out on the dirt and was asleep in seconds. It had been a long day.
Her owner woke her an hour later and took her inside. Her feed and water bowls awaited her in the kitchen; she touched her forehead to the floor in thanks, and Francesca stood over her as she ate.
After dinner, Anne knelt at her feet as usual. Finally she roused herself. "What am I thinking of? I have to review my materials or I'll look like a fool Monday morning; I'm not even sure where my office is. Where is that notebook, the blue one?"
