The Summer Of Francesca Ch 05

Each date involved a new lesson. At the second, after she stripped and was inspected for jewelry, Paul bound her hands behind her. She raised her chin to let him attach the leather leash to her collar and followed him into the living room. He let the strap fall down her front and took his seat for the walking and standing exercises. As she paraded before him he remarked that her posture was much straighter and her breasts were thrust forward attractively. She wanted to thank him for the compliment, but knew she should not speak.

He led her into the kitchen for her evening meal; as he filled her bowl with pellets she noticed several ants crossing the surface. When she finished eating the ants were gone and she was not disturbed by it; already she was becoming less fastidious in her habits.

Later, after he draped her over the couch and took her (she had lubricated herself lightly this time before leaving home) he let her stay overnight on the floor of his bedroom, her leash secured to a hook set low in a wall. She curled up for sleep on a thin rug. The next morning he unlocked the closet, let her dress, and sent her on her way.

This new routine appealed to her. She barely had time the next day to shed her clothes and be led into the living room where Iris awaited her when the doorbell rang and a heavy muscular man entered. He said something to Paul in an undertone, and Paul told Anne to kneel. In an instant the stranger was in her mouth. This ritual was becoming familiar; she had always been a quick learner. Remembering her earlier instructions, she concentrated on bringing the gentleman up, paying attention to his response, and satisfying him. Paul and Iris observed her closely until Maurice was done with her.

Afterwards Iris looked Anne over and suggested cutting her hair to expose more of her neck. Paul clutched a handful in his fist and pulled her head back. Anne gasped for breath as he explained the hair would have to remain long enough to grip, and Iris agreed.

He released her and led her to the kitchen, where they watched her for signs of hesitation in using the bowls. She studied their shoes while they discussed her. After a time they left; Paul hung her by her wrists like a hog in a butcher shop while he straightened the apartment. She would help him if he let her, work under his orders, but he seemed to prefer it like this and she remained silent and passive.

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

Paul visited Anne's apartment on three occasions. The first time she was sitting naked on the sofa reading a magazine when he entered carrying a parcel; the door was unlocked, another of his orders. She stood up at his arrival.

"I don't want you sitting on furniture any more. Use the floor. And from now on you will sleep beside the bed; let's take a look at your room."

He set his package down on the kitchen table and she led him to her bedroom. He pointed to a small round carpet at the foot of the bed. "That will do, you can sleep on it for now. It will improve your training."

"For now, sir?"

"Soon you'll be sleeping on the floor; but we'll take it in stages."

As she stood before him she wondered if he would like to use her, but she was disappointed.

"No lesson tonight, Eugene wants me to try out a Swiss girl. I have to go to his place."

Anne felt a pang as she remembered her own experience there. Paul was already on to another conquest. It was good to be reminded that she had no hold on him.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I have eight or ten friends - all men this time - who desire the enjoyment of your person. Come to my place an hour early; leave work if you need to.

"We probably won't be done with you till after midnight. If you're too weak to go home, I'll let you sleep on the floor in my study."

Anne blanched. "Whatever you think best, sir."

She followed him into her kitchen. He opened the package and removed a bag of feed pellets.

"Get out two bowls." She set them on the floor while he selected a small cup from a rack.

"You can have one of these in the morning, and another at night if you don't eat at my place." He measured her feed in the cup and poured it into the bowl. "Put water in this pitcher." She did as she was told and filled the other bowl with water from it. He fastened her bracelets behind her.

Being bound in her own apartment affected her more than she expected. Her last refuge was invaded and taken; she had no place to hide, even in her heart. She should have known it was coming.

Paul told her to kneel and eat. She reminded herself this was the way she ate now, it was all perfectly normal, she was just doing it in her own kitchen this time.

She remained on her knees until he said "Now get up".

"Should I leave the bowls on the floor between meals, sir?"

"Of course not; you're a valuable property, I don't want you tripping on them. Wash them. And put a water bowl on the floor in that back corner."

He looked at her closely. "You want to know if I'm going to leave you here with your hands tied."

"Yes sir; I was wondering," she said hesitantly. "If it's all right with you, I'd..."

He laughed and said "I might, you know. Be good for you. I'll talk to Marty about it." He released her bracelets and left to "try out" the Swiss girl; Anne hoped Eugene's new discovery would pass the test.

She began to wash the bowls when a strange feeling came over her. She opened a window and drank in the cold winter air, ignoring the people on the street who viewed her breasts. The enormity of what she was committing herself to struck her in a rush; she leaned on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath before going back to the sink.

That night Anne gave a wistful glance at her bed before lying down on the little rug. She tossed for an hour as she grew accustomed to it, then passed into a deep sleep until morning when she rose, had her bowl of feed on the floor, dressed and left for work.

In fact there were thirteen men that night; Anne could barely stand up when they were done with her. Paul gave her a bowl of water and she followed him to his study with little short steps. His advice to lubricate herself had never been more timely. After chaining her collar to the floor he left, turning out the light and closing the door behind him.

She reflected on the experience as she lay quiet and alone in the darkness. She had never served so many men in an evening before this. Long ago she lost count of her lovers, but there was only one on each date; even the night with Eugene when he offered her to Paul was a novelty, and that was only two. Paul was revealing a world of new possibilities to her. She felt she had satisfied them - some of them remarked on it while they had her or reviewed her afterwards - and was proud of her accomplishment though it left her limp as a rag. She wondered if she would have the opportunity again.

The second time Paul visited her he had a woman in tow. As she rose from the floor where she was sitting, Anne's eyes widened at the sight of Aurore, a secretary in her office. Aurore's hair was blonde like Francesca's - no, a little darker, Anne corrected herself. She glanced at her mistress, whose alert but expressionless gaze was directed at her.

"You know each other, I see," Paul said. "I'm leaving her with you while I make some arrangements. Take your clothes off, Aurore." The young woman did so - like Anne, she wore no bra or panties - and hung them in the front closet. Aurore had a slim waist and hips, and small pointed breasts. She evaluated Anne's nude form slowly from head to toe; Anne reddened and lowered her eyes to the floor. Unconsciously she moved her feet farther apart.

"Get out a couple more bowls for your guest." Anne led the two into her kitchen and hastened to do as she was bid; she trembled a little when she poured the water but managed to avoid spilling it. She put feed in the measuring cup and waited for his approval before emptying it into each bowl.

She and Aurore knelt to dinner. In the small kitchen they ate facing each other with lowered heads. The soft touch of Aurore's hair was comforting to her agitated mind. She began to follow Aurore's movements and was soon under the other woman's control.

She looked up to find Aurore's sea-green eyes looking at her, and Paul watching both of them. When they were done he told them to rinse their bowls. As they stood together at the sink, Anne felt Aurore press her warm hip against hers; she made no effort to move away.

Aurore took her hand and led her to the living room following Paul. They knelt there together until he left. As soon as he was past the door Aurore embraced Anne and kissed her long and deeply before drawing her down to the floor. Already Paul's training made her used to coupling with anyone at a moment's notice and she offered no resistance. Aurore's hands and tongue probed her everywhere with incredible rapidity; she soared into a delirium and remembered no more.

Afterwards, they talked. Aurore had entered her present life a few months earlier. Her lover sold her to Paul's syndicate last week, and Paul traded her for a pair of Czech girls. He had already delivered them to a wealthy client who liked twins.

Concerning her own fate, she knew only that she belonged to a business in eastern Europe. "They didn't care if I was trained or not; you're different. Paul told me he's going to send you to a fancy outfit to be 'beaten into shape' for high-class buyers. They'll probably whip you every day; you'll like that, won't you?"

Anne started to deny it, but Aurore cut her off. "Of course you will. You love being mistreated. It's written all over you, do you think no one noticed?"

Anne opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. Aurore was right; the worse Paul treated her, the more she craved it; she returned to him every time to be reduced to a mindless object for him and his friends to abuse. Now that she had experienced it, she could not get enough. Being beaten into shape and sold to a purchaser was the summit of her hopes.

Aurore took advantage of her open mouth to kiss her again. She rolled on top of Anne, who opened her legs.

The next morning they woke in each other's arms. Anne rose and set out breakfast for both of them. Shortly after, Paul arrived with two men of vaguely Slavic appearance. Anne stopped and knelt respectfully with her head down, but Aurore continued to eat until Paul pinched her rear; she squealed and looked up. "Put your clothes on; you're coming with us."

As Aurore dressed, one of the men jerked a thumb over toward Anne; Paul shook his head no. "We have bigger plans for that one. Come back in about four months and you can bid on it." Flanked by the two men Aurore left followed by Paul, whose parting words were "My apartment, tonight, same time."

After they left Anne rose and smiled quietly at the memory of her night on the floor. Later she learned that Aurore had been sold to a chain of working-class brothels in Warsaw where she was briefly quite popular.

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

Paul gave her a man's shirt and told her to wear it when she went anywhere in her building. It reached only to the top of her thighs. The next day she put it on to take her clothes to be washed and walked barefoot down to the laundry room. Several residents looked up at her when she entered but said nothing.

As she loaded her clothes in the washer, she forgot and out of habit bent over. A chorus of whistles erupted behind her and she stood up quickly to put coins in the slot. When the machine started, she sat on the floor; the cement was cold against her bare skin. A gentleman offered her his seat. She thanked him and said she was not allowed to sit on furniture. Half a dozen men eyed her with interest.

She clasped her knees and thought hard while the washer completed its cycle. This is what Paul wanted for her; it was right. He was introducing her to her neighbors, she must get over her shyness.

She bent carefully as she emptied the machine, leaning in to reach items at the bottom. Instead of whistles this time all conversation ceased and the room was silent. She felt everyone's eyes turned towards her. Paul would be pleased.

Suddenly she felt a woman's hands on her. They pulled up the hem of her shirt and stroked her buttocks. Gently they squeezed her flesh as if testing it, then spread her cheeks apart. She tried not to moan but could not help herself. After a minute or two of this the woman turned and left, her face unseen by her victim.

Anne stood up and put her clothes in the dryer. As she started to walk away, a tall man she did not know confronted her. His eyes were pale blue and his face without emotion. She stood very still as he unbuttoned her shirt from top to bottom. She remained beside the dryer while it ran and tried to quiet her emotions, unsure if she was allowed to move. A dark-skinned man asked her which apartment she lived in and she told him.

When her laundry was done she folded it and returned to her apartment with the shirt hanging open in front. It was now little more than a long-sleeved cape; the slightest motion caused it to expose her belly and breasts. She held her bundle close to her for the little concealment it offered.

That evening she was sitting on the living room floor wondering if she should wash her hair tonight when the dark-skinned man walked in. She rose, curtseyed, and offered to make him a drink. He followed her to the sideboard where she mixed a brandy and soda, then knelt and offered it to him. Anne remained at his feet while he sipped his drink. She apologized that she could offer him no solid food; since she was allowed only feed pellets, that was all she had in the house. He said he understood.

He questioned her about her training: who was her master, how long had she been under him. She told him about Paul and he asked her if she had signed the papers yet. She looked up at him with blank incomprehension; he smiled and changed the subject.

He wanted to see her apartment. They went first to the kitchen; she showed him her bowls, the measuring cup and the feed container. At his orders she poured herself a bowl of water, set it on the floor and drank from it.

When they reached the bedroom, he asked her if she was permitted to use the bed. She told him she was not. He ordered her to lie on the rug and took her, quite slowly. As he dressed afterwards he said she was to remain on the floor until he left.

A minute later she heard the door close and stood up. On the dining table next to his empty glass was a twenty for her services. Two more men used her that night; she never got around to washing her hair. They must have coordinated with one another because they waited until she was alone, and each of them left her the same modest sum.

She gave it all to Paul the next day and told him about her experiences, including her encounter with the blue-eyed man. Paul said he knew the man, and Werner was right; she must leave her shirt open from now on to visit the laundry room or pick up her mail in the front lobby.

Exposing herself like this was hard at first; she struggled to overcome her embarrassment and fought to keep her arms at her sides. But in time it became second nature, even when she passed neighbors and tradesmen in the hallway. Soon she was glad to let everyone see her as she was; she would have gone naked if Paul had given her his permission.