It was a changed Anne who visited Paul the next evening. Gone was all the vanity and self-assurance she displayed just two days ago. Well before the appointed time she waited at his door, smiled meekly when at last he let her in, and followed him into the bedroom to remove her clothes. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she was bound and leashed; she feared he would not take her back. And when he noted her improved attitude she knelt and kissed the floor at his feet.
He showed little interest in her experiences. Once it was clear she met her quota (five times over, she figured) and had no earnings to give him, he dropped the subject. But the state of her skin offered possibilities. If he was startled by it, he gave no sign. He examined her thoughtfully.
It was an attractive sight, he said; men would be turned on by it, her kind of men. Anne winced. It needed work though. One breast was bruised, the other scratched. That might be all right as a novelty, but only the front of her legs had scratches. That was true; she picked them up crawling over the briars.
"And there's almost nothing between your waist and your knees. You must have kept your skirt on; a pity, you could have saved us both some trouble. I think I'll take you to Chloe. You'll like her."
He did not elaborate and Anne dared not ask. Mutely she preceded him into the living room. But she gasped at the sight of two plump naked blonde girls sitting on the floor. These must be the Swedes. They both had milky white skin as yet unmarked by the lash, and turquoise blue eyes. She saw their steel collars were joined by a short chain. They looked up at her with placid curiosity.
Paul poured out a full dinner ration for Anne (she blessed him for that) and left them, closing the door of his study behind him. The two blondes moved closer, almost within arm's length as she took her evening meal; she smiled but did not speak to them. She knew better than to test the limits of what she was allowed. They watched her as she ate like a starving animal. When she was done, she stared down at the floor while they whispered to one another. It didn't matter, she was his again.
After about fifteen minutes he emerged with two cards. He attached them to the collars of the blondes and led Anne into the study. There he made notes on a yellow pad before calling for a taxi. (The Swedes or whoever they were, were gone the next evening. She saw them again at St. Agnes much altered.)
Anne's mind was in a whirl as the cab drove out of town; who was Chloe, how did Paul know Anne would like her? Her mouth grew dry and she began to be afraid. She reached out to hold Paul's hand for reassurance. He withdrew it and she knew she had erred. He could take her any way he liked, he could turn her over to others for the most brutal usage, but she must not presume to touch him without permission.
And that was how it should be; he was right to keep himself distant and superior. She had no business approaching him and deserved the reminder.
At least he would be with her and Chloe tonight. All she had to do was present herself to them and they would do the rest. She grew warm thinking of her helplessness in their power. She felt her nipples stiffening and her sex swelling in anticipation.
They reached the brothel; Mme. Byrne let them into her office. She said Chloe was waiting for them and looked forward to doing Anne for him.
Morgan told her to strip and she hurried to obey, handing her clothes over. He had never given her an order before or even spoken to her. He was maybe five years younger than Anne, she might have a chance with him.
In curt tones he directed her to put her hands on her head. His manner frightened her a little. But it was good, he knew how to handle her. Carmen watched the scene and told her brother to watch out for Anne, she looked like trouble. He said whores didn't interest him.
The madam laughed before reviewing Anne with a practiced eye. She agreed with Paul that her appearance was "fairly hot" but needed improvement. They went to a far corner of the room and conferred. Anne admired the graceful yet businesslike way Mme. Byrne conducted herself. She wore a blue dress of some soft material that showed her figure to advantage. At Morgan's command Anne put her hands in front of her and he fastened her bracelets. That was unusual; she guessed what it meant and grew nervous.
Paul led her down to the basement, past the hygiene room into a sort of pocket gymnasium presided over by Chloe. The brothel's trainer was a large athletic woman; her wife who worked in the kitchen upstairs weighed maybe half as much.
"Stand it over there," she told Paul, who led Anne to a space marked on the floor. She put a hook on Anne's bracelets and hung her by her wrists from the ceiling.
"I can do just about everything I need with the scourge." Anne turned white as Chloe held up a small rake with bright steel points. Pointing to Anne's legs she said "Those look like briar scratches; it must have crawled around the old factory district where they grow. Very easy to duplicate them." Chloe referred to Anne as though she were an animal. Her head swam and she struggled to breathe normally. "Where it needs some bruises, I'll use my fists."
"The first job is to deal with the blank area in the middle here." She pointed to Anne's belly. "Then the breasts, the back, thighs, fill in the smaller gaps and make it all look natural. Want me to do the arms?"
"Hmm, what do you think?"
Chloe stood back and pondered. "I'd say down to the elbows."
"Good choice; do that." Anne looked away and started to cry. Her whole body trembled; she did not know how she could bear it. She could not believe this was happening to her.
