Francesca drove to a house surrounded by woods and led Anne on her leash to the door. A man - dark haired, good-looking thought Anne, about thirty - greeted them and she handed him the end of the leash. Somberly she turned and left without a word.
Guy led Anne inside and up to the attic. The only furnishings were a blanket, a rope and a short chain in the wall. She knelt at his command.
His welcoming speech was brief and to the point. Francesca had asked him to do for Anne what she could not do herself. She had explained Anne's need for uncompromising discipline. To that end, Anne should expect no lenience.
On days when she was to be fed - that sounded ominous - she could have a bowl of pellets in the morning. She would be whipped every evening before bedtime.
He said nothing about how long her training here would be, or if Francesca would return.
He threw the rope over a roof beam and tied the end into a noose. He told her to stand and approach, which she did with fear in her eyes. After suspending her by her wrists from the noose, he left.
Anne remained in that position until evening, when Guy took her down and led her to the kitchen. The odor of food tormented her empty stomach. She was only allowed to lap up a bowl of water on the floor.
He led her outside to relieve herself in a patch of sand before returning her to the attic and giving her first whipping. His arm was strong; in less than a minute Anne was crying, gasping, and begging him between sobs for relief.
It grew cold soon after dark, but she found she could cover herself in the blanket if she did not mind lying on the wood floor.
The next morning as promised she had a bowl of feed while he ate his breakfast; not a large amount, but she did not complain. Later she reflected that eating pellets when she was starving made them seem like manna from heaven. If she were ever given a choice for her Last Meal, it would be feed and water.
That evening he took her to his bedroom. Afterwards, as he lay in bed and she knelt beside it, he asked her story. She explained about Eugene and Paul; her auction to Mr. Schuyler, and when she ceased to be of use, his gift of her to Francesca who owned her now.
She held nothing back from him, feelings she had not shared with anyone before, that life held no meaning for her without Francesca. She spoke of her misdeeds, her punishments, and how Francesca's efforts at discipline had not corrected her failings.
The next morning he led her outside into the forest. His control of her leash was firm; he gave her no slack but kept it taut the whole way.
After an hour they came to the most secluded part of the woods, far away from the last house; they had seen no one on their walk. Seating himself on a fallen log, he told her to kneel. He pulled a water bottle from his pack and offered her a drink.
Anne was parched from the exercise, but afraid of what the bottle held. This would be a perfect place to dispose of her. She thanked him and declined.
Again he made the offer and she refused, alarmed by his insistence; then he drank it himself and led her home, desperately thirsty now and ashamed of herself.
He set a large bowl of water on the kitchen floor and told her to kneel at it. A minute later, she heard him start the car and drive away. She stared at the water in agony, cursing her lack of trust in her master.
An hour later he returned. The water level was higher by about a dozen tears before he give her permission to drink.
He withheld food from her for the smallest infraction. One advantage of feeding her in the morning was the extra time it allowed for repentance; if she committed a fault on say Wednesday noon, she would not eat again until Friday.
Every day she was blindfolded in the attic and drilled: told to walk forward, turn left, turn right, about face. Besides the sloping roof above her, the attic floor had a large opening to the stairway below. With her hands behind her, she was entirely dependent on Guy's orders to avoid striking her head on the ceiling beams or falling through the trapdoor.
More than once when he ordered her to halt, she felt her bare feet at the edge of the abyss. But the slightest hesitation in carrying out an order cost her a day's feeding.
Once she went four days without food for a series of pauses each shorter than a second. On the third day he took away her blanket, leaving her to sleep on the rough wood planks.
On the fourth day when she hesitated again, he stopped abruptly. He removed her blindfold and walked her downstairs and out to a garage. Inside was a wooden kennel resembling a large chest with a door at one end.
He pointed to it and she crawled in. It was too short for her to lie down; too narrow for her to turn around; and too low for her to rise off her knees.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light from a pair of small openings. She saw a bowl of water and drank from it to ease her hunger.
As the hours went by she grew increasingly frantic. She would go crazy if she stayed here, but the day passed without sight or sound of rescue. She tried to sleep leaning against a wall of her prison.
She heard a dog bark, and it reminded her of Sir Nigel's estate. How merciful it seemed now to be chased down and mauled by his pack of hounds, or tied to a stake and given to them. Such an end would come quickly.
It began to grow dark and she could not tell if the sun had set or she was going blind. She had failed: failed him, failed everyone who trained her, Francesca, herself. She deserved to be left here forever.
