The Summer of Francesca

The next evening when she returned from work there was a note on the door of her apartment; she was to go straight to the manager's suite. Inside it Paul, Martinique, Werner and the dark-skinned man awaited her. She hung her clothes up and stood in the center of the room as her hands were bound.

Werner noticed the cartouche on her breast. "Chloe; one of my best pupils." Anne smiled at him and he patted her head.

"Anne is in love with her," said Paul; "look, she's blushing."

Werner laughed. "Easy to see when she's naked." Anne turned a deeper red; her secret was out.

"Not surprised," he went on. "Happens all the time. Must be a dozen of them kissing the ground she walks on."

Just then a figure entered from the kitchen. Anne shivered to see Edward approach her holding his garrote. He passed it to Paul, who was interested in its possibilities.

But first he wanted to see a demonstration. Edward fastened it around her neck above the collar and stood back as Paul tightened it slowly until he could hear the result. He pressed her shoulder and she knelt.

Anne told herself this was just a test, Paul would not kill her now in front of all these people, he was only trying it out. But the fear was too great; it weakened her mind and she began to shake. Her nipples stood out like sharp points.

Paul nodded approvingly. It would be popular as an instrument of control; Edward should market it. He told Anne to set up a meeting with Charles, a principal in her firm. He loosened the garrote but left it on her.

They sat in a half-circle of chairs around Anne and resumed a discussion interrupted by her arrival. Already she was worth something and men like Mr. Lum wanted her, but Paul felt more advanced lessons would pay off.

Dev (the dark-skinned man) was not sure; he favored selling her. Money now was better than the hope of money later, off-site training was expensive, and "accidents" happened at those places. Not all the girls they sent came back.

Werner and Marty thought the risk was worth it. St. Agnes, Thorntree, and other places could turn Anne into a trophy. Anne looked up in surprise when he estimated the potential return at her sale.

They considered the options. Delphine's; too expensive. Thorntree; she was too old for them. St. Rose, too lenient and besides they preferred owner/girl couples. Other places were good for scourging and branding - Anne shivered again - but best overall was St. Agnes, the place was perfect for her.

Dev came around; if Paul's group could afford the risk, she should go back to school.

Paul thanked them for their advice and they shook hands. Martinique collected Anne's clothes and led her upstairs.

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

Paul began to invite shareholders in the syndicate to his apartment. "First one or two," Anne said; "then more men and women came by to have drinks and me. It was good for me; I got over my inhibitions about, about performing in public. The first few days it was hard to take a man and let him do me while everyone watched, but I had to get used to it. I even came to like it, though I couldn't say so. And I had to learn how to please the guests when they weren't in me.

"I knelt on the floor in the center of the room; I couldn't use the furniture except when I was draped over it and I was afraid to sit because I would leave a mark.

"At the beginning I was awkward around them and didn't know what to say; but after a little while I saw it wasn't a problem. Most of them never spoke to me, and Paul said I should just smile while they talked.

"Sometimes they discussed a movie I had seen, but I knew I couldn't give my opinion so I just looked down, or else I laughed when one of them told a joke. There was one I talked with though, his name was Claude; he was very nice. He would hold my leash and I'd sit at his feet and put my head on his knee; I told him about the town where I grew up and he told me about his travels in other countries.

"Paul would put me through my paces for the guests. They used me mostly like he and Eugene did but sometimes new ways, especially the women. Claude liked to alternate, he never took me the same way two nights in a row; he had a good memory. One of them - he never told me his name - would grab my hair and pull my head back and forth till he was done; I tried to hang on and keep him happy. He seemed to enjoy it, he did that several times.

"They followed the latest auctions and helped Paul figure what I would go for. Sometimes they put me in another room while they talked.

"Now and then one of the guests would feed me. That was very sweet of them. I was only allowed to have those cookies as a I reward if I ... did something they specially liked, or learned a new lesson, but one of them would bring me a treat when Paul wasn't looking.

"Paul never whipped me; maybe the walls were too thin or he wanted to leave my first time to a pro. Those parties - I guess I was the party - helped me get ready for my next stage."

At her next to last visit she was let in by a stranger, a middle-aged man with an erect military bearing. He walked her into the bedroom where a small group awaited her and greeted the colonel, as they called him. At his order she undressed, watched by the strangers who talked to one another in low voices.

Anne grew nervous under their gaze; she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and had to remind herself to calm down. After she removed her clothes the colonel bound and leashed her, and she preceded him into the living room where Paul stood with another group. She saw the door open and three more people arrive.

Paul set her feed and water bowls in the center of the room. At a sign from him she knelt and began to take her dinner, closely observed by her audience.

When she was about halfway through, someone - she did not know who, probably a man from his rough skin - put his hand between her legs. The colonel told her to keep eating.

She struggled to maintain her composure as the hand moved upward. Her breathing became short and labored, but she continued to dine as if nothing were happening. She just finished the last pellet when she was vanquished; tears filled her eyes and she began to moan.

The hand retreated and a pair of them spread her cheeks. She thought he would penetrate her there too; if he did, she could not keep her balance and would land face down in her water bowl. But he only held her open for viewing.

Without a pause, the colonel told her to take him in her mouth. She was used to this by now, and after a few seconds to recover herself she was able to give a creditable performance. He rose quickly in her and discharged with brisk efficiency.

He was followed by three other men, more romantic or at least slower, whom she served to the best of her ability. She recognized Claude but not the other two. She was proud of her skills and brought each of them gradually to a powerful climax.

Paul bent her over the sofa where he - she could tell from his movements - took her from behind, then a number of others, she didn't know how many or who they were. Except the last one; her partner's member was large and rigid from the start as it entered her. Her arts were useless, she could only submit to it. It stretched her almost beyond endurance and she cried the whole time. But it never reached completion, and when it finally pulled out to raucous laughter and Iris slapped her buttocks she knew she had been tricked.

When they were done Paul hung her up by her wrists in the kitchen for the women to inspect. Some merely examined her breasts and belly for firmness; others were more assertive, probing between her legs until she was limp.

At a gesture from the colonel, Paul unhooked her. When she was able to stand unaided, he led her into his bedroom and secured her leash to the floor as she knelt. He went out and returned with a bowl of water and a cookie for her. She thanked him and he left, locking the door behind him.

She lapped up the water, eager to wash away the taste of the men. Most of it was in her stomach now but she was glad to rinse her tongue while the syndicate discussed her fate. She played with the curly hairs they left behind.

After about half an hour, Paul let her stand up and dress. As she left the apartment she noticed everyone had gone and it was empty. Paul told her to return tomorrow and to make no plans for her future.

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

As Paul instructed her, Anne told Charles about Edward's invention and set up a meeting in her office for them. She waited a little nervously behind her desk that morning.

Edward arrived first; Debbie showed him in. Anne rose and greeted him; they made small talk for a minute until Charles came and she introduced the two.

Edward spoke only to Charles from that point. He produced a sample of his garrote and showed it to the older man, then gestured at Anne to kneel. It felt odd to be on her knees fully clothed but her training took over and she obeyed at once.

Charles looked inquiringly at Edward who explained that sometimes a subject's knees buckled; and besides this emphasized her relationship to her master. Charles asked if Edward was her master; he laughed and said "For the moment." Anne was glad she had her clothes on; they hid her swelling breasts and other signs of growing excitement as he fitted the garrote around her neck.

Edward tightened it and she began to pant; she was in her office, this was business, she tried to control herself. Charles looked down on her and said "Very efficient"; he gave the garrote a slight twist before loosening it.

Reaching into his case, Edward displayed a variety of leather straps with hand-tooled designs; they could be sold as a set with a garrote for securing the subject to a post, say.

Charles thought he could assist Edward's fledgling business; Edward released the garrote and the two men left to discuss it. Anne remained on her knees. She looked up to see Debbie holding out a handful of feed pellets and ate them.

The garrote, straps, and other products of Edward's design turned out very profitable for him and Charles's firm. Anne might have been elevated to a partnership, but it was not to be.

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

Everything changed the next evening. Paul was alone; he admitted Anne solemnly and watched as she undressed for the last time in her life. After feeding and watering her he reclined on the sofa and let her sit naked at his feet while he held the end of her leash.

He told her she had to make a choice. She could return to advancing her career and regard her affair with him as a temporary interlude, or she could move forward along the path he had shown her.

He had taught her all he could; the next step was to send her away for more advanced training. For that there was no better place than St. Agnes Academy, where his partnership was prepared to enroll her at its expense.

She asked Paul for his opinion.

He spoke slowly. "I've studied you, Anne; you need rough handling. You need more than I could give you even if I had the time."

Anne nodded; it was true. He understood her.

"Have you ever been whipped?" he asked. She answered "No, sir" in a weak voice, and he continued. She would be at St. Agnes; every day, in addition to any punishments she incurred. She would receive instruction in pleasing men - mostly men, he corrected himself - beyond the basics she learned here.

When he decided she was ready he would sell her to a brothel or a wealthy private collector. She could expect to be cared for as long as she was worth keeping. Anne was afraid to ask what would happen to her then, but she guessed it would not be pleasant.

She told Paul she was in his hands and agreed to whatever he wanted of her. She signed a series of documents without reading them, still sitting on the floor.

He attached a property tag to her collar, then picked up the phone and ordered a driver around in half an hour. She heard his end of the conversation. He was her owner; he had pre-registered her at the academy. Yes, she was healthy, she had all her shots.

And she was ready for pickup; au naturel, hands bound with locking bracelets and a steel collar. He said she was a little nervous but not balky, in fact she was looking forward to it. He glanced at Anne who nodded her agreement.

He hung up and led her into his study where he bent her over his desk and took her. She was used to his moods by now, and noticed that his movements resembled the first time he possessed her in Eugene's apartment. Once again he seemed to be evaluating, perhaps comparing her to the untrained amateur of their first date.

It was almost spring, and a new phase of her life - a new life - was about to begin for her, full of promise and peril.

Afterwards they returned to the living room. Paul resumed his seat on the sofa; Anne knelt on the floor with her hands behind her, ready for transporting. While he read a newspaper she looked around at the apartment where she had spent so many hours under his instruction.

When the driver appeared Paul turned her over to him without a word. As she walked though the doorway Anne realized she was leaving her clothes behind in the closet.

Down the hall, the elevator door opened and a woman Anne knew walked out and looked at her.

"They're taking me away to be trained and sold," she explained.

The woman said "Goodbye then," and kissed her on the cheek. "Love your stripes. I see Chloe did you, very nice."

They went down to the garage where a van waited with a young man beside it. He played with Anne's breasts for a minute, then trussed her up and helped his father slide her in. They closed the door; she lay on her back in the darkness looking at the roof as the two delivered their tender load. Her feet touched the wall of the van, and elastic webbing held her down as it bounced along.

"May I tell you about the academy, ma'am, or do you know all about it?"

"We both need to rest, but all right. If it's a long story you can break it up and tell me one each evening."

"Like the Arabian Nights, ma'am?"

"Exactly; you can be my little Scheherazade."

"Oh, I'd like that."