At Wor

He led Anne downstairs to his basement while Francesca waited above. A pair of blankets lay on the floor (a quickly improvised mattress) next to feed and water bowls for her. He left and turned out the light.

Anne's nerves were on edge. Every breaking twig, every owl hoot caused her to sit upright in the darkness. She heard the basement door open and cowered in fear; but it was Thomas.

"Francesca has gone home; she wants you to stay with me for a few days. Is there anything you need?"

"N-no, sir."

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes, sir."

Thomas gave her a hug, his rough clothing against her skin, and brought back a year-old memory. On the evening of the day she met Francesca the sleeve of her owner's silk blouse brushed the tip of her breast and her nipple rose to meet it.

"Lie down and try to get some sleep. I'll stay with you till morning comes."

Anne remembered no more of the night; but when she woke in the filtered daylight of the basement, he was still sitting in a wooden chair keeping watch over her.

Her head was much clearer now. She thanked him for his protection and he hugged her again, closely for over a minute.

He ascended the stairs and waved at her before locking the basement door.

Anne stayed with Thomas for several days. Her hands remained bound behind her for discipline at Francesca's insistence, but she was not tethered. She knelt before him each morning as he came down to greet her and refill her bowls.

On the second day, he let her come upstairs. The blinds were drawn against prying eyes outside. He said Francesca would not be visiting until it was safe, but he was sure Anne was very much in her mind. She thanked him for his consideration.

They had breakfast together; Anne knelt at his side just as she did with her owner, comforted by his presence. After ensuring she was provided for he locked her in the basement.

He returned in the afternoon and let her out to the back yard. Picking up a tennis ball, he threw it across the yard for her to fetch. She ran after it, took it up in her mouth, and dropped it at his feet.

They did this several times. Once after Anne chased the ball and picked it up she paused and rolled on the lawn. How good it was to be outside in the sun with this man.

She lay on her back and closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing its rays and feeling the grass beneath her.

She looked up to find Thomas standing over her. Embarrassed, she quickly rose and knelt as he took the ball from her mouth. "What's the matter, Anne?"

"Oh. Oh." She stammered; "I shouldn't have done that sir, I was thinking of myself; my owner will be angry."

"Well, I'm not. You're quite appealing like that. Roll over again for me."

She did and lay waiting for her chastisement. "Fetch." He threw the ball and they resumed their play, but something had changed.

That evening she cooked dinner for him and sat at his feet afterwards. Absentmindedly she even laid her head on his knee as they talked. As he took her downstairs he said "Anne, I'd like to use you tonight. May I?"

No one had asked her permission for so long that she did not know what to say; they simply told her to lie on her back or kneel or bend over.

"Yes, sir; that's what I'm for."

Afterwards as they lay on the blanket she did something she had not done for years; she kissed him.

She had never kissed Francesca; that would be wrong, Francesca owned her. And most of her other partners were either inaccessible to her mouth or in it. Thomas kissed her in return and they lay pressed together. After a quarter hour, he got up. She knelt at his feet.

He smiled down at her, checked her bowls and went up the stairs.

Anne's head whirled with new emotions. Since her adolescence, she had only two kinds of relationships with men. In her former life she used them to advance her career. In this one, they were masters who used her for pleasure or profit.

Her feelings toward Thomas were different. She desired him, she obeyed him, but she felt something more. She was concerned for his safety, and even his happiness.

Was she just being a slut again? Trying to make sense of it all wore her out and she sank into sleep.

It rained the next day and they played fetch in the basement. Thomas rolled the ball across the stone floor and Anne ran carefully after it, took it in her mouth and dropped it at his feet. Sometimes it rolled under a chair and she had to crouch beneath; she lingered there with her hips exposed to attract him.

It must have worked; afterwards he took her on the blanket again and let her eat her evening meal upstairs. Buried in her bowl of feed pellets was an apple slice. She touched her head to the floor in gratitude and he stroked her hair for a minute before putting her downstairs.

An hour later Francesca came over. Anne could hear her talking with Thomas in the living room above her head, but she did not go downstairs. She was probably too busy with more important things.

Thomas came down to her after Francesca left; he said Francesca asked him to say hello. Anne thanked him, then boldly kissed him on the cheek. That night and each of the succeeding ones he stayed with her. Reflecting on them afterwards, she sometimes wondered if they really happened or if she had dreamed them.

One day just before sunrise someone knocked at the front door; she heard Thomas open it and speak briefly. The door at the top of the stairs opened and two large men in dark suits descended.

One attached a leash to her collar, the other a leash to the bracelets. The three returned up the steps to the front room. Thomas was nowhere to be seen as they led her outside. Had they surprised and overpowered her protector?

She was secured front and back, as the man holding the collar leash preceded her and the other walked closely behind. Whoever they were, she was their captive. The air was chill on her bare skin as they passed Francesca's house; Anne saw a truck in the yard but no signs of life.

The three walked briskly through the awakening town; only a few early risers were up at this hour. They viewed the group with concern or outright fear; some crossed the street rather than approach them.

An icy sense of terror grew in her stomach as the plant guard let them through the gate without a word; silently they went around the main building to a section of grounds in back that Anne had never seen before, to an old stone building in a thickly forested area.

She hesitated as she stood on the threshold; the second man placed his hands on her hips and shoved her rudely inside.

They took her to a narrow cell with stone walls and a slate floor, about halfway down a short hall. The first man fastened her neck leash to an iron bar set in a hollow of the floor. The second fastened the leash behind her to it as well, forcing her to kneel. She saw the heavy door close and heard a bolt secure it.

Anne lay down on the cold floor. After a while she drank a little water and ate some pellets from bowls in the corner. There was a generous quantity - more than she got at home - and it had a pleasant nutty flavor.

She made a brief effort to guess who had ordered her taken here. She did not know if she would live to see tomorrow but she knelt and resolved to accept her new master. She owed it to those who trained her.

Around midday - it was hard to tell - two men, different from the first, entered the cell. They took up the leashes and led her outside to squat, for which she was profoundly grateful. When they returned her to her cell, the man in front secured her leash to the floor but the other left the one on her wrists free.

It dangled over her buttocks and the back of her thighs like a leather tail that called attention to itself with every movement. She passed the time by swaying with it and catching it between her legs.

Some hours later, the men came for her again. Each holding a leash, they took her outside as before; but instead of returning her to her cell they brought her past it, past another like it, past a sparsely furnished bedroom with drawings on the wall of nude women, to an artist's studio.

Naked except for her collar and bracelets, Barbara greeted her. Anne knelt at the secretary's feet.

"Welcome to Mr. Kessel's cottage. He doesn't live here himself, though he stays overnight with me sometimes. He wants you here while he has your cell at Francesca's repaired; it's more secure than that man's place where you were."

"Thank you, ma'am." Anne dared not say more; she felt her life hung in the balance and remained on her knees.

"He says it should take another week; then you can return home. Till then you'll be his guest here. I hope your cell is comfortable? It's the same as mine."

"Yes ma'am, very comfortable, thank you."

"You'll stay here in the daytime too - your owner thinks it's too risky for you to come to her office yet - and after work I'm going to sketch you. I might even be able to do a painting of you for my owner. That's Mr. Kessel - Georges," she added in case Anne didn't know. "Get up. I'll start right now; step over this way."

Anne assumed the first of a variety of poses under Barbara's direction while she made rapid pencil drawings of her subject. After sunset as the natural light dimmed, one of the men came forward and leashed her; another did the same for Anne, and the two women were led to their cells for the night.

Barbara's was next to Anne's; some time in the darkness she heard its door opened. Several minutes later Anne thought she heard a woman's cries muffled by the heavy stone walls, but Barbara gave no sign of it the next morning when they were taken outside.

Anne had much to think about that day, lying alone on the floor. She remembered Georges from their first encounter in the library of Mr. Schuyler's estate after dinner. He favored the narrow passage of her rear, and assaulted it so suddenly that she panicked and closed up.

This angered her owner and she was on the brink of being sent away for termination when Francesca saved her. She calmed Anne down by stroking her buttocks and speaking words of encouragement until Anne was relaxed and ready for use.

And he was happy with her then, though she was worn out and limp when he was done. If she could please him again it might benefit Francesca's career.

She must be more ready this time and open herself to him; there would be no one to rescue her if she failed. She practiced receiving him, imagining his sudden thrusts for most of the afternoon, even looking forward to them.

Barbara returned after work and a guard brought Anne to her for more poses and sketches; she added detail to them with Anne taking various positions at her direction until the outside light began to fail and they were led back to their cells.

The third day was much the same as the previous one, until the afternoon. Georges and Barbara awaited her in the studio. The guard holding her leash pulled her forward onto a large table while the other spread her feet apart on the floor.

Georges penetrated her at once and Barbara laid out the sketches before him. They discussed the suitability of each to be made into a formal portrait.

Pinned and helpless, she moaned while he worked her over with the vigor she recalled. He told Barbara to elaborate on four favorites: hanging by her wrists, spread on the frame (front and back), and bent over a table as she was now. When Georges was done with her, the guard led her back to her cell for the night.

Barbara spent the next afternoon elaborating the four sketches with shading and color. To soften Anne's features she asked one of the guards to use the whip on her.

Emil was a large, heavy man with fingers like sausages but his touch was subtle. Anne opened emotionally to him at once. Barbara said she looked "like a saint approaching martyrdom" and asked Emil to prepare Anne for all her poses.

She showed him how to produce a delicate pattern of pink welts that complemented the network of pale lines from earlier whippings. Anne hoped to attract him, but he had a wife and children; her efforts went unrewarded.

Francesca said nothing as she worked, but just before they were led away to their cells she told Anne "Mr. Kessel likes you, you know." Anne did not have time to reply before they were separated.

On the next afternoon he was to return and select the pose he wanted. Two guards brought Anne early to the studio; one bent her over the table and sprayed her with scent while the other pulled her cheeks apart. The cold droplets stung her exposed flesh while he held her open to dry.

Georges must have complained about her; Anne, who had always been so fastidious about such matters in her previous life, was deeply chagrined. With her hands tied she was unable to attend to her hygiene when it would be most useful. Still, the scent was a pleasant one: floral but not sweet, one that might appeal to a man.

But their efforts were wasted; Mr. Kessel had Anne take him in her mouth. She struggled as he held each of the drawings at arm's length and discussed them with Barbara.

He was slow to harden and she feared she was failing to please him. But after he selected two poses from the lot he began to respond, sighing a minute later as he rewarded her efforts. He remained in her while he told Barbara to do the hanging and table poses as life size portraits, before dismissing Anne to her cell.

Barbara worked on them over the weekend with almost superhuman energy. Perhaps some reward, or punishment, awaited her.

Anne was suspended for hours until her hands went numb, or lay bent over the table and fought off sleep for most of the day, occasionally pinched awake when she failed to respond. Barbara even stayed home from work on Monday to finish them before final inspection, though Anne was no longer needed and stayed chained in her cell.

When the guards led her into the studio that afternoon, she was overcome with joy to see Francesca standing next to Georges and Barbara. She fell to her knees at Francesca's feet as her owner took up the leash and chatted with Georges. She thanked him for the portrait of Anne suspended; for his own house he had selected the one with Anne bent forward.

"I think she is most useful that way", he observed wryly.

"It does show her to advantage," Francesca agreed.

He also made Francesca a gift of two color drawings. Anne stood up as Francesca shook her leash, and after a final round of thanks and goodbyes her mistress led her out the door of the cottage.

She crossed the company grounds, out the main gate, and through town to her house. As on their first day, Francesca led her in the front door and through the living room to her cell. She pointed out the changes made to it in Anne's absence.

"They were thorough; this door is metal and the skylight is barred. Your wall is still wood on the inside, but they added a layer of masonry."

"It's very solid, ma'am."

"The lights in the ceiling burn all the time, for those things." Anne looked up to see two cameras focused on her. "If anything happens security will know at once. Georges has a display as well - he was very particular about that - and so do I in the other room. Now look at those chains."

Anne stared down at the heavy links. "I'm going to padlock your collar and your feet to these." She held up two massive locks. "It was Georges' idea to use two chains; it will take twice as long for anyone to cut you free."

"That was very good of you, ma'am; thank you. I should be safe here now."

"Now let's have dinner."

"Yes, ma'am; what would you like?"

"I have some spaghetti, left over from last night when Thomas was here. Just reheat it, that should be plenty."

Anne prepared her mistress's dinner and poured feed out for herself; they dined quietly. Francesca seemed pensive and Anne dared not ask the cause.

Afterwards, when she had done the dishes and put them away, she knelt at Francesca's feet.

"I have some news for you, little one. Thomas and I might decide to live together. It could be awkward having you around. I have to think about this."

A great fear came over Anne. The garrote would be her fate after all; Paul explained it to her, and everyone said so. She gave herself to him knowing what to expect.

"Very good then." She gave Anne a peck on the cheek. "Now to bed." Anne stood up and followed her owner to the enclosure. Francesca removed her leather leash and secured one chain to her collar, then did the same with the other chain and her ankle bracelets.

"Oh no, they're too short. You're stretched out like a pig at a barbecue." Francesca contemplated her for a minute. "A very attractive one, though. Maybe you could - no, not tonight, you'll have to stay there."