At Wor

The next day Francesca modeled the dress again and Anne admired her in it.

"It's perfect on you. I've never seen you more beautiful. The color compliments your skin so well."

"And yours; I selected it for that. You're going to show more skin than I am."

"Am I going too, ma'am?"

"Yes; I want to show you off to Georges and the board. It could help my career."

That night in her cell Anne pondered Francesca. She had grown in the last three months as a manager and as a woman.

She considered Thomas as well; modest about his gifts but plainly Francesca's equal. Francesca liked him, that was obvious. She loved them both; but did they have any need of her?

Just then a blinding flash of light followed by an incredibly loud boom brought Anne out of her reverie. She was terrified of thunder and lightning. Her masters sometimes exposed her outside in storms to traumatize and soften her mind. She curled into a ball, reduced to a frightened animal till dawn.

On the afternoon of the party Francesca took Anne out to the frame and while a few neighbors watched, whipped her lightly with a short crop before washing her. She let her hang there for an hour's nap while she bathed and rested herself.

Afterwards she took Anne into the kitchen. She sprayed a light perfume on Anne's intimate places and bent her over the table to be lubricated, then brushed Anne's hair to a soft gloss.

She freed Anne's bracelets. "You can help me dress."

Anne followed her owner into the bedroom, wrapping her leash around her neck for convenience. Francesca removed her dressing gown and stood naked before her. After donning a bra and panties she told Anne to retrieve a slip from the bureau drawer and lowered it over her head.

"Now the dress. It's in the closet."

"Yes, ma'am." Anne fetched it and held it up for Francesca's inspection. Francesca eased into it and let Anne adjust the straps and folds while she watched in the mirror. Satisfied with the result, she put on lipstick as Anne uncoiled her leash and turned around with her hands behind her.

The two waited in the small living room - Francesca seated, Anne on the floor beside her - until they heard Georges' car arrive. Francesca gave a last look at her makeup and led Anne outside.

The car was large enough that even with her hands bound, Anne had no trouble entering and sitting on the back seat beside her mistress. She felt the leather against her skin on the short journey to Georges' home.

She was glad she did not have to pull her owner there in the chaise. It would have made a dramatic entrance but left her tired and sweaty. Francesca wanted Anne to look good tonight.

When they arrived Anne curtseyed to the driver as she stood on the gravel drive. She saw a bolt of lightning on the horizon. A line of storms was predicted for tonight.

Francesca led her to the door; her portrait was in the entry. Since her face did not appear in it - only her backside and legs - she wondered if anyone would recognize her as the model.

Georges answered that. He strode up to the pair, kissed Francesca's hand, and assured her he had told everyone that Anne was the original. "But she is much better in person," he said as he patted her rear.

He held two leashes. Attached to one was Barbara, wearing her scarf but nothing else; on the other was a young woman Anne did not know, also nude. Georges introduced her as Lily, a recent buy from St. Agnes. He waved his guests into the parlor where wine and canapes were offered on trays by servants.

Several guests had already arrived, some like Francesca with their charge on a leash. One of the girls wore a silver disk with her name and her owner's attached to her collar. Another's was of hammered gold; it dangled on a ring between her legs and made a musical sound when she walked.

Anne enjoyed her own: reminded of her status with every move she made, helpless to quiet it with her hands behind her.

She looked around. Other girls at the party had them as well; gold, platinum; even one of polished marble, that was especially beautiful but must be uncomfortable down there.

Her own modest iron disk befitted her station as the property of a middle manager.

In her previous life Anne would have moved among the crowd with confidence, sure of her charms and ready to use them for her advantage. Tonight naked, leashed and bound, she was abashed and nervous in the presence of her betters.

Declining a glass of wine, Francesca went over to a group of colleagues she knew from earlier conferences. She introduced Anne who was scrutinized carefully by the others.

"Georges says she is the figure in the painting; it does not do her justice," said one. Francesca accepted the compliment on her behalf.

Anne heard more thunder and her fear returned; she shook her head to clear it. This was her worst nightmare, losing her self-control just when she needed to make a good impression.

Soon the conversation turned to other topics. The state of business and next year's prospects were discussed. One woman had a large blonde on a leash ("This is Ursula; good in bed but not much else. Eats a lot. Might not keep her, hate to put her down, let me know if you're interested").

They debated the subject of maintaining their stock. Some asked how Francesca managed to keep Anne so slender. That was easy: small portions and lots of fiber. Others guessed at her market value and wanted to examine her.

The storm grew louder, and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Barbara appeared, her leash dangling, and drew Anne aside. But before she could speak, another girl approached them.

Two gold rings pierced her nipples, and a larger one hung between her legs. She bore a medley of pink stripes from a recent whipping, no doubt administered to her for display this evening. She carried herself confidently, pleased with the marks she bore.

Francesca was engaged in conversation but Barbara introduced Anne to Brandy, the property of a director on the board.

"He had the servants put these on me this afternoon; aren't they lovely? And he's going to keep me for another month." Brandy was ecstatic at her reprieve.

Barbara and Anne congratulated her on her good fortune. Neither asked about the alternative, or what would happen at the end of her month.

A servant approached Francesca. "If madame will permit, Mr. Kessel requests the pleasure of your company."

"I should be most happy; please take us to him."

He led the two through a crowd of elegantly dressed managers and their naked protegees to Georges in the dining room.

"Ah, you found them; very good. Thank you, Adrian. Madame, allow me to introduce you to the members of the board."

One by one, Francesca went down the line of dignitaries; she held Anne close at her side. Unclear on the protocols, Anne curtseyed to each and tried to appear as deferential as she could. Most of the board members ignored Anne, though some viewed her after she passed.

One asked Francesca the name of her companion and observed that she led her sex in beauty - except for Francesca. Both women were nonplussed at the compliment and Francesca was momentarily at a loss for words; she thanked Mr. Fenton for his kindness and moved to the next board member, a matronly woman who welcomed Francesca to the firm.

Soon it was time to be seated. Georges placed Francesca with the board members at the head table; taking her hand he conducted Francesca to her place while she led a somewhat timid Anne behind her. She coiled Anne's leash around her neck and motioned for her to kneel. The polished wood floor was hard against her knees.

Opposite her was a large plate-glass window; she saw the storm approaching. Not far away, lightning struck trees across a field. She doubted she could hold on much longer.

Not knowing what was expected of her and afraid of doing the wrong thing, Anne thanked the waiter for her feed and water but left it alone. She remembered the attention-getting blunder she made the first time she dined with Francesca and was determined not to repeat the mistake.

Mr. Fenton was seated near them. He complimented Francesca on her dress and made small talk during the meal. Had she been to the theater since she arrived in town? A pity, there was an excellent company which presented classic and modern drama. She could take Anne with her as well; Francesca could book an aisle seat and let Anne kneel beside her for a small charge.

Anne loved the theater; she acted in college and went to plays whenever she had the chance. Her mind drifted idly back to her performance as Beatrice in Much Ado opposite a boy she was hot for.

Just then a tremendous bolt of lightning turned the sky white and a boom shook the walls. Anne's eyes rolled back and her mouth dropped open. Her head began to rock from side to side. She was lost, it would -

She felt her breasts stroked and a hand on her head, comforting and reassuring her. Francesca put a cookie of pressed feed in her mouth and she ate it, grateful for food. Something in her stomach would be good, she had not eaten for hours, that always made her skittish.

Francesca gave her another cookie and held up a glass to her lips. She drank from it, spilling a little on her belly. The water helped too and she began to return to her senses.

"Sit up straight." Anne obeyed at once.

She raised her eyes and saw the entire table looking at her.

Mr. Fenton spoke first. He commended Georges on his new manager. Francesca responded well to her girl's crisis; she handled the situation with calm authority. Very professional.

The board members applauded her. Francesca thanked them and said she often had to deal with frightened pigs on the farm, or heifers when they were branded.

Anne had never been branded - they could see that for themselves - but she was jumpy as a calf sometimes. Francesca continued to stroke Anne's breasts for a minute, and wiped her belly with a cloth.

The worst was to come. Francesca looked down and frowned. To the board she explained that Anne had wet herself, she did this occasionally. Covered in shame Anne followed a waiter into the kitchen. In front of the company president and the entire board, just when her owner counted on her.

Disgraced and humiliated, her only consolation was that Francesca received credit for managing her so well.

In the kitchen he bent her over a butcher block and made her open her legs. She spread for him and left them apart to dry; and to be seen and enjoyed by the kitchen workers.

That pleased her a little, though no one took advantage of the situation. She wished Yvonne were here, and her secretary and rivals back at the firm; they would love to see her like this now.

After about half an hour, a servant appeared with Barbara on her leash. Stephanie led them to a room with bare floors and various forms of exercise equipment. Anne had little time to take it in before she was blindfolded.

The door opened and closed, and a moment later she heard Barbara cry out.

Stephanie instructed Anne to assume a familiar posture; a man entered her and she cried out louder than Barbara. Despite her condition, Anne had no trouble recognizing Georges. He was followed by a series beyond counting, both men and women, who took her in every possible way.

After a while she lost track of everything but Stephanie's commands. Dimly she heard the sound of thunder but paid no attention to it.

At some point she was allowed water, though not food, and led back to her place for the next group. Some of them were servants and she believed one was the chauffeur she curtseyed to.

Finally it ended. In a daze she noticed Barbara was gone and someone had replaced Stephanie at the other end of her leash. He led her outside in the gray predawn light across a driveway, into a small cinder-block structure where her collar was attached to a chain set in the floor.

She saw feed and water bowls in a corner and ate a little as he locked the door behind him. The floor was covered with a fine sand or grit - in the darkness it was impossible to tell which - and she was coated over most of her body with sweat and more. She soon became caked with it as she lay. Just before sleep overcame her she realized she would leave the cell cleaner than she found it.

Though the sun was obscured by clouds, she could tell it was daylight from a gap below the roof when she heard a sound outside. It was Stephanie. She released Anne's chain, trussed her up, loaded her in the back of a van and took her to Teri's brothel. A guard emerged and received Anne like a parcel.

He led Anne downstairs to a basement cell and left her. A few minutes later Teri opened the iron door and entered. Anne knelt at her feet.

She said normally she would conduct an interview of this nature in her office, but Anne was too filthy to be allowed upstairs.

She had news. Last night Thomas was waiting at Francesca's cottage; when she returned he proposed to her. They will be married tomorrow and leave at once on their honeymoon.

"If they love each other as much as my late husband and I did" - Teri paused a moment - "they will be very happy. I think they do."

Anne will stay at Teri's and be "made available" in the parlor at the usual rate; when they return, they will decide what to do with her.

Teri ticked off the possibilities on her fingers.

They would not put her up for auction, at least not in this country. Anne knew too many business secrets of her former owner; Francesca promised not to let her fall into the hands of a rival.

Keeping her would complicate their relationship.

Anne was crushed at this; a feeling of desolation came over her. But she understood.

She would be a temptation, an obstacle to the newlyweds; it was better for her to be sold or disposed of.

Teri continued. Terminating her was the simplest solution, but she was too valuable to throw away.

Her owners might leave her here. She earned enough to pay her keep and return a profit. She had talent as a whore.

And "Lobo knows a tribe that is looking for a dark-haired girl."

Anne kissed the floor at her feet.

- The End -