The Summer of Francesca

"The desire to immolate oneself, to suffer, to prostrate oneself before authority or superior power, is at least as strong as the desire for liberty, happiness, or equality." - Joseph de Maistre

Extreme Love I: The Summer of Francesca

Anne lay naked on a chaise under a bright June sky at Mr. Schuyler's estate. Hearing footsteps, she turned her head to see a stranger arriving and stood up politely with her hands behind her.

Francesca was tall and twenty-two, three years younger than Anne. While Anne was slender, Francesca had an athletic build from having grown up on a farm. Her blonde hair came to the base of her neck; Anne's was brown and descended only halfway down hers.

"So you're Anne; Carol told me about you."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're Mr. Schuyler's, and Paul sold you to him."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And this is where you stay now, after your training at the academy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Will you please stop answering 'Yes, ma'am' to everything I say?"

Anne began to reply, then stopped in confusion. Tears started to her eyes and she lowered her head.

"What's the matter, Anne?"

"Oh ma'am, you're so beautiful and I wanted you to like me and I was trying so hard, and now" - her breath caught - "I messed everything up."

"No you didn't; here, lift your head." Francesca put her hand under Anne's chin; she produced a tissue and dried Anne's eyes. "Saying 'Yes, ma'am' over and over sounds like you aren't listening; if you'll just vary it a little I'll know you're paying attention. And I think I like you already. Is that better?"

"Yes ma'am it is; thank you. I'm sorry I cried. Is that how I should answer?" A smile came to her face as she looked up at Francesca. Her heart beat a touch faster.

"It'll do. Give me your leash."

Anne bent over giving Francesca a view of her thighs and hips, opening her legs to improve it. She retrieved her leash and held it up with both hands like an offering to the young woman who stood over her.

"Why aren't you tied up?"

"They were cleaning my cell and Frieda put me here; they know I won't run away. Ma'am," she added quickly so as not to be disrespectful.

"Turn around and put your hands behind you."

Anne did as she was told. Francesca fastened her steel bracelets together and attached the leash to her metal collar.

"Where does he exercise you?"

"Over there, ma'am," inclining her head toward a grassy area surrounded by cypresses beyond the patio.

"Lead the way."

With Anne (whose heart was definitely beating faster now) in her control, she proceeded to a tall rectangular framework on the lawn. A young man sat in a chair reading a newspaper. He rose and bowed.

"Madame."

"Paul, would you ask Mr. Schuyler to come out here, please; Frieda too. And ask her with his permission to bring..." Turning to Anne, "The whip or the riding crop?"

"Both please ma'am, if you would like that."

"All right, both." Paul left on his errand.

"Good idea. What's the difference on you?"

"It depends if they're used hard or not, ma'am; with a light touch the whip stings me while the riding crop is more like a slap. Really hard, the whip puts lines on me and the crop makes wide dark welts with sometimes lines on both sides. And of course everything in between."

"Do they mark you hard very often?" Francesca looked her over. "You have some healed marks on you, but I don't see any cuts or bruises."

"Not often, ma'am; only if I'm to be punished, or one of Mr. Schuyler's customers wants to see me marked."

"Customers?"

"Oh no, I shouldn't have - I meant friends ma'am, friends." She blushed from head to toe as Paul returned.

"Very impressive; what did you say to her?"

"Just girl talk."

"Hm. Mr. Schuyler and Frieda are getting the things together; they should be out shortly." He went back to his chair but did not pick up the newspaper.

"All right, friends." She winked at Anne, who smiled back.

Mr. Schuyler arrived with his servant Frieda carrying the requested equipment. She took Anne's leash; Mr. Schuyler drew Francesca aside to outline the rules in using his property.

Frieda examined Anne's neck, measuring it with large hands. Her nipples began to rise; Paul watched the scene with amusement until the two returned.

"I think the best approach would be to have Frieda demonstrate the rigging and you follow," he said to Francesca. "Paul, would you hold the girl for a moment?"

Paul took the end of the leash from Frieda. Anne glanced at him, but lowered her eyes quickly; she could not bring herself to look at the man who trained and sold her. Imitating Freida, he stroked her neck and viewed the swelling breasts in profile. He knew her well; this trick was popular when he showed her to buyers.

Frieda separated Anne's bracelets. She attached one to a rope on a pulley at a top corner of the frame, then drew the line taut. Francesca did the same to the other, but failed to draw it up fully. Frieda attached a line from the base of the frame to an ankle bracelet while Francesca imitated her actions with the other; they pulled Anne's feet apart, causing her legs to form a wide triangle barely touching the ground. Paul detached the leash from Anne's collar and returned to his seat.

Frieda walked away to join Mr. Schuyler. While they were distracted Anne whispered to Francesca "My left hand is a little loose, ma'am." Francesca nodded and pulled the rope tight.

Frieda had set the whips on a small table near the frame; Francesca stood beside it and hefted each in turn. Anne's breath came faster.

Mr. Schuyler spoke. "As we discussed mademoiselle, whenever you are ready." Paul looked up expectantly, with his lover Carol who had just arrived and sat beside him.

At the first stroke Anne cried out and Carol laughed.

Her self-control crumbled and she surrendered to the moment. The whip was a tongue exploring her, probing everywhere, driving her wild.

She began to weep in submission and her cries changed to moans. Francesca increased the pace until Anne reached a climax and became limp. The onlookers applauded. Francesca held a water bottle up to Anne's mouth and she drank from it.

"With your permission, Mr. Schuyler, I will continue." He assented. She had analyzed her quarry; the main event was about to begin.

Still recovering from the first series, Anne gasped as she saw what lay ahead. Carol laughed again. Francesca continued as before, but harder, faster, and with a better knowledge of her target. Anne gave herself to Francesca. Her moaning became continuous as the pace quickened. She bleated like a sheep and longed for a repeat of the climax that ended the earlier round.

It did not come. After bringing Anne almost to the point, Francesca slackened the pace, then gradually took her back up to the edge repeatedly. Anne begged for an end, but saw all her requests ignored. She surrendered to her lovely tormentor's will. When at last, exhausted and strengthless she stopped begging and lay totally within the woman's power, Francesca finished her with a final surge.

Anne's body shook in great spasms that radiated out from her hips. She felt her consciousness ebbing and struggled against blackness. Her head slumped forward on her chest. Again the audience applauded Francesca, who ran behind Anne and pulled her head up by her hair.

Mr. Schuyler extended his hand, which Francesca shook with her free one.

"That was a remarkable exhibition, mademoiselle."

"Thank you, sir."

"Carol tells me you're taking the summer off from your studies."

"Yes sir, my thesis is nearly finished but I need a break before completing it."

"I wonder; Frieda has a number of responsibilities and tells me she can't devote as much time as she ought to this girl's management. If you will undertake to train it, I can offer you room and board here plus a stipend."

"That's very handsome of you, sir; I'd be happy to accept."

"Let's consider the matter settled then. We'll discuss terms at your convenience. Carry on."

Mr. Schuyler turned away; Frieda retrieved the whips from the table and followed him into the house. So did Paul, and after a long look back, Carol.

"Can you hold your head up, Anne? I want to get your water bottle."

"Yes ma'am, I can," she replied hoarsely.

Slowly releasing her grip on Anne's hair, Francesca retrieved the bottle from the table and put the nipple in her mouth. She squeezed the bottle at a measured pace to give Anne time to swallow each gulp; Anne learned to accommodate herself to her new mistress while Francesca's fingertips caressed her cheek.

"There; feeling better, little one?" she asked a minute later as she stroked Anne's buttocks to soothe her.

Anne was unable to describe her confused emotions; eventually she mustered "Oh ma'am, that was wonderful; it felt like it would go on forever and I didn't think you would ever stop."

"Well, you asked me to often enough." They both laughed. "You're quite responsive, you know; you helped me look good today."

Anne modestly lowered her eyes at the compliment. "Thank you, ma'am. You were so - I don't know the right words - sensitive? Oh, I can't express it." She wondered if she might be falling in love. "You bring out the best in me." She worried that she was being too forward.

"Thank you, Anne. Yes, I do think I like you. Now it's time to take you back to your room. Look at you, you're wet all over." Francesca's laughter was warm and bell-like, and Anne heard it with delight as she joined her own to it.

"You need to get cleaned up and have some rest; your day isn't over."

Anne guessed what that meant. Men in her, maybe several. She would have to please them; that was her life now.

Francesca reattached Anne's leash and let it fall between her breasts. Then she slackened the ropes and released her wrists and ankles while Anne's eyes followed her every move. After binding her hands and taking up the leash, she led Anne back to her cell. Frieda had filled her water bowl and her feed bowl of nutritional pellets, and the afternoon sun slanted in through a set of windows.

Francesca led Anne over to the corner of the cell where the latrine was. Anne squatted above the opening in the floor while Francesca stood over her holding the leash. Accepting the loss of all privacy at such moments had been a hard part of her education but she was over it now.

When she was done, she rose and bent over the sinktop next to her water bowl, opening her legs. Francesca patted her dry and cleaned her, frowning a little and looking thoughtful as she did so. Next she lubricated Anne who reveled in the attention and felt herself growing wet.

"Now for your shower; you can't appear at dinner looking like this. The insides of your thighs are all sticky."

"That's true, ma'am; I noticed it too." She glanced shyly over at Francesca who surveyed her impassively.

Francesca led Anne to an alcove and began to spray water on her. "If I had a bathing suit with me I'd get in there and scrub you properly. In fact even without one I might." Anne hoped she should be so lucky.

She was not, this time. Francesca rinsed her and took a towel from a large cabinet above Anne's head.

As she dried Anne off she laughed and said the towel was the closest Anne would ever get to wearing clothes again.

Anne knew it was good for her to be reminded now and then. Also that she would live on feed pellets for the rest of her life. With a sigh she recalled her carefully selected wardrobe and the little bistro around the corner from her apartment.

Leading Anne to the center of the room, Francesca attached her collar to a long tether suspended from a ceiling pulley and anchored to a cleat in the wall. She slackened the line and helped Anne lie down on the stone floor.

"I'll be back in a few hours; try to get some sleep." She left, and Anne dropped off quickly despite her lingering discomfort.

She began to dream. A heretic, she was tied to a stake. All smiles, Francesca approached her with a torch to send her to heaven and ran it over her body; wherever it touched her little flames started up and they sang a hymn together as she blazed.

A gardener for the estate entered the room silently. Anne was slow to wake; he was almost inside her before she fully returned to consciousness. She spread her legs wide to accommodate him.

Just then the door opened and both Frieda and Francesca appeared. Frieda told him to stand up; as he fastened his trousers she marched him out the door while Francesca stayed behind. If Anne was disappointed in his leaving so quickly, she was ten times happier to have Francesca back.

"What will happen to him?" asked Anne.

"I expect he'll be paid off and told not to return; after all he's a free man, and you're what you are. I think I'd better stay with you in case there are any more visitors."

She drew Anne over to an alcove beneath a window. "Now rest and I'll keep watch." She sat down at one end; Anne lay on her back with her head pillowed on her mistress's lap. Francesca toyed with her hair, twirling it into ringlets, and Anne felt a sense of perfect contentment come over her.