At Wor

Anne was lapping water from her bowl in Francesca's office one morning, her collar chained to the desk, when Barbara entered with an ivory-colored envelope. "Your invitation to the party, boss," she explained simply.

"Thank you, Barbara; I'm looking forward to it. I expect I'll see you there too?"

"I think so; that's up to Mr. Kessel, of course."

"Yes, I understand."

That evening Francesca explained; Mr. Kessel held a dinner party for the board and executives of his company once a year. It was considered a very grand affair. She did not have anything suitable and would have to buy a dress for the event.

The next day she took Anne with her to a popular ladies' shop in town. A clerk in a smart tailored outfit greeted them and led the pair to the section of party dresses. She selected two and went to try them on while the clerk held Anne's leash.

Anne remembered when she used to shop at stylish places like this; her fashion needs were history now.

The week she spent impaled in the display window at Casey's had made her notorious; women crowded around her as she waited for Francesca to change. They examined the pink lash marks and the thin line down the center of her belly, talking to each other. Some wanted to own a girl like her; others - Anne suspected - wanted to be like her but did not say so.

One of them put a hand between Anne's legs. She stroked the inside of her thighs and moved upwards; the hand began to probe her and she closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face and she was moaning softly before a dozen spectators when Francesca returned.

Francesca greeted the woman, a supervisor at the plant, and returned the garments to the clerk. On the way home she told Anne that nothing in the shop was suitable.

Over the next few days the two pored over magazines and catalogs, but nothing was right. Anne suggested that her owner call her old dressmaker.

"He lives in the next town over; he did several dresses for me, back before this -" she looked down at her bracelets. "I can give you his name."

"Thank you, Anne, I'll try him. Does he know what you are now?"

"Yes, ma'am; when I was being trained at St. Agnes he came for dinner with some friends and had me."

"For dinner?"

"No ma'am, I was more of an appetizer." They laughed.

The thought of Jeanne and Gigi passed through her mind.

Anne was in her cell when Gerard arrived that weekend to take Francesca's measurements and fit her for a muslin form. Francesca led her out, her hands bound behind her, to the front room where her former tailor waited.

He looked her over insolently as she curtseyed to him; she had been a difficult and demanding client, and he savored the reversal of roles. Francesca handed him her leash and went into her room to change.

He sat down in a chair facing her nude portrait. "Kneel."

She knelt silently by his side.

"Is this you?" he asked, pointing to the portrait.

"Yes, sir."

"Does she hang you up like this often?"

"Yes sir, she does, almost every day."

"And whip you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. How long have you been like this?"

"A little under two years, sir. Francesca has owned me for about a year. I just started my training when you - saw me at the academy. I hope I pleased you, sir."

"You were satisfactory."

Like Mr. Huld, Gerard preferred boys; Anne did her best when he took her like one but she was still learning then.

"Thank you, sir." There was an awkward pause until Francesca emerged from her bedroom. She was wearing only a brassiere and panties for her fitting.

Anne was overcome with desire and felt herself becoming wet below. She hoped she would not overflow and be noticed. She envied his hands as they ran the measuring tape over Francesca's bare skin and her undergarments, wishing they were her hands.

"Stand." She stood up. Gerard released her bracelets. "Squat. Take this box of pins and hand them to me one at a time as I require them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

He fitted the thin fabric to the curves of Francesca's body and secured them with the pins. Never had she been more conscious of her servitude than at this moment; her sex began to throb. This was going to be difficult.

Gerard rapped her head with his knuckles. "I said give me a pin. And stop staring."

"Yes, sir; I'm sorry, sir." Another pin, and another, and soon he was done. He marked the seams and removed the fabric panels. Francesca nonchalantly relaxed in her underwear, sprawled across an easy chair.

"Make us a pot of tea, Anne; the Assam."

Anne went into the kitchen, her leash dangling in front. As she prepared the tea, she saw Gerard point in her direction and Francesca nod, but their words were inaudible.

She set the pot and two cups on a tray, then carried it out to the living room. At Francesca's direction she put the tray down on a low table and knelt beside it to pour. As she handed Gerard his cup, their eyes met; he smiled wickedly and she looked down in confusion.

A catalog of patterns and a book of swatches lay open on the table; Francesca had selected a design and a fabric for her dress. Gerard believed he could have it ready within a week. After a few minutes of conversation he packed up his materials and prepared to take his leave.

Francesca attended him to the door; Anne saw her body outlined in the sun as she stood in the open doorway, and it was too much. When her owner turned around, she was blushing deeply. Francesca took one look at her and marched her straight to her cell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

A week later, Francesca and Anne were in the kitchen discussing dinner plans when they heard a knock at the front door. Francesca bound Anne and leashed her to a table leg before answering it. Gerard entered carrying a large box; Francesca motioned him to the kitchen.

He ignored Anne's curtsey and set the box on the table while she knelt out of his way. Opening the box, he drew out the garment, carried it back to the living room and helped Francesca out of her skirt and blouse.

Anne watched through the open door as he held the dress up for inspection by her half-naked owner. Francesca smiled her approval and put it on; he adjusted a strap here, straightened a fold there, and expertly trimmed off a few loose threads.

She pirouetted before a mirror and examined herself from all sides before removing it to hang on a wall peg. Still undressed, she spoke in low tones with Gerard and they came to some sort of agreement.

Gerard entered the kitchen; without a word he took Anne's leash and she followed him into the other room.

"We'd like tea, the Keemun this time, and a plate of those biscuits in the red tin."

"Yes, ma'am, right away."

"Turn around."

"Sir?"

"I said turn around, so I can release your hands."

"Oh; yes sir, my mistake sir."

"That's better."

Anne prepared the items as requested. She was careful not to look up this time as she served Gerard his tea, holding the cup at arm's length for him - it shook a little in her hands - while she stared at the floor.

Her mistress was in a good mood, plainly delighted with her new dress. For a quarter hour she told Gerard about her office and keeping Anne there chained to her desk, while Gerard entertained her with stories of fashionable clients. Neither of them paid any attention to the creature kneeling at their feet.

"Another biscuit, madame?"

"Thank you, no; I don't want to eat too much for the job ahead. And now to business?"

"At your convenience."

"No time like the present. Anne, take these things away and go stand outside by the frame."

Francesca, still lightly clad, took her checkbook from a bureau. She wrote out a check and handed it to Gerard.

"Take her outside. I'll get dressed and join you in back."

Anne rinsed the utensils in the sink while Gerard held the end of her leash and and watched her silently. He followed her out of the house to the frame.

As she stood beneath it, her legs apart, she realized her hands were bound behind her; he must have fastened them so smoothly she didn't notice. Her respect for him grew and she looked forward to their encounter.

He selected a chair facing her a short distance away. Anne turned to present her rear to his view and bent forward a little. Use me, I'm yours it said.

A few minutes later, Francesca emerged from the house in a black exercise outfit and carrying a whip and a crop. Anne was glad to see they were not the ones used for punishment.

Gerard gripped the base of Anne's leash at her collar with one hand while Francesca attached her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the frame. His other hand toyed with her breasts. When Anne was properly suspended he removed the leash with a snap and returned to his seat to watch the performance.

Francesca worked Anne's behind over with the crop until it was quite pink before going in front and doing her belly.

Anne cried out at all the right times as her most sensitive places were explored, and by the end hung panting and limp in her bonds. Francesca had cleverly left her receptive, even eager for Gerard's embraces.

"If you would hold her by the collar while I let her down...?"

"Certainly, madame; and may I compliment you on your skill, and your taste. Your performance was a delight to observe."

"Thank you, Gerard." Francesca released Anne from the frame; Gerard reattached the leash and held Anne in place before passing the end of it to her owner.

Francesca led Anne to the large outdoor table and told her to bend over it. As she did, Anne realized she had not been lubricated; open herself as she would, Gerard might have to force his way in. She braced herself for the ordeal and bit her tongue to avoid crying out.

"Wait a second." It was her owner speaking. "You'll both be happier." She greased Anne with brisk efficiency; Anne never loved her owner more than at this moment.

Francesca left Anne to him. Anne was now at liberty to entertain her former tradesman without painful distraction as he assaulted her.

Not knowing how long it would be until a man was in her again, she prolonged his pleasure until Gerard tired of the game and finished her off.

"She has improved greatly since the last time I used her; I believe she has progressed under your care."

"Thank you, Gerard, but I can't claim all the credit; she had excellent trainers at St. Agnes, and she is an apt pupil."

"As you wish. I have enjoyed doing business with you madame, and if you should require my services again under similar terms," - he waved a hand at Anne, still bent over the table - I would be happy to assist you."

"I will certainly consider it."

Anne wanted to say goodbye to him, but all she could do in her position was to wag her behind in farewell and hope he noticed.

Afterwards as she washed the teapot and cups at the sink, she felt his warm seed inside her. It gentled her and left her docile and contented.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Francesca was not the only one to be adorned for the occasion. In gratitude to Francesca for the loan of her girl, Mr. Kessel arranged to buy a disk for Anne.

The next day after work, she led Anne straight from her office to Casey's. The proprietor stood her on a platform before going behind the counter and taking out a small chest. Inside was a variety of metal objects: flat round ones, and individual chain links in gold and silver.

While Francesca examined them, Casey approached Anne. Placing both hands between her open legs, the woman perused the folds of tender skin on either side of her womb.

"The left one" she said simply as she returned.

Francesca had already made her choice. She held up a shiny steel disk. Casey took it and held it against Anne's left thigh. She nodded approval.

Steel was good for her; it was more modest than gold or silver and it symbolized her need of iron discipline. Anne was not for show but for use.

Did madame want an inscription, Casey asked.

She did not. The girl's name was whatever anyone chose to call her.

Nor would her owners be mentioned. The blank gray surface emphasized her insignificance to them.

Francesca pointed to Anne's breasts, where the two women who scourged her (Casey was one) had carved their monograms. The only names she bore were signatures of the artists who used her as a canvas.

Without an engraving, the unit could be ready the next day. Francesca was to bring Anne around at three; she might be allowed water but not fed for six hours before that.

At the appointed time Francesca walked Anne into town. Casey led them into the back room, to a large wooden post Anne had not noticed before. A small audience had already gathered; someone must have told them. Anne recognized Teri, Maria, and Georges among them.

Casey backed her against the stake and fastened her hands behind it while Florence secured her head, chest and hips with strong bands. She pulled Anne's feet back around the post, spreading her thighs apart, and clicked the ankle bracelets together before putting a ball gag in her mouth. This frightened her and she began to perspire as the group watched.

Casey held up the link and disk for them. It was larger than she remembered; and it would be a part of her for the rest of her life. She trembled as Florence and Francesca held her fast for the operation.

Anne saw Casey bend down, take a long needle and pierce her. She felt herself writhe and scream into the gag as the woman stretched the elastic flesh taut and inserted the link.

Casey closed the link with a large iron pincer; she stood up and declared herself satisfied. The audience came forward to inspect her work, taking the disk up and dropping it. Georges toyed with it and talked to himself; perhaps one of these for Barbara...?

Florence reattached the leash to her collar. Casey told Francesca in a week she could attach it to the link when she took Anne out for a walk; it was exquisitely sensitive and offered the owner a nice degree of control.

The women released her from the stake and she stood unsteadily on her feet. It was much heavier than she expected; she would have to get used to it. She whimpered a little, until a hard look from her owner made her stop.

The metal pieces made a pleasant chime-like noise between her legs as they returned to Francesca's cottage, attracting attention from passersby who wished them a good evening.

Anne tried to show herself to best advantage, standing erect and walking with pride in her new accessory. It required her to keep her legs apart. Perhaps that was one of its purposes.

Back home, Francesca poured out a bowl of feed for Anne in the kitchen. Her chain tinkled as she ate and she tried to keep it quiet, but without success. So much to learn...

Francesca took up her leash and led her to her cell, leaving her alone in the dirt.

That night she practiced shaking it and making gentle sounds like a child with a new toy.

She smiled to think she could never wear panties again; well, that was not going to be a problem.