One morning in early spring Guy woke and fed Anne shortly before dawn. He had not taken her out in public yet and there was not much time left.
He led her outside in the chill air down the road, past town, to a large gray building surrounded by a barbed wire fence. A prison. Guy waved to a guard at the gate and pointed to Anne; he smiled and let them in.
The warden greeted the pair at the iron door of the entrance. He led them down a flight of stairs to a small windowless cell below ground. Guy remained in the hall while he took Anne inside and made her knee before covering her eyes with a black clothes.
She heard him leave and lock the cell door with a heavy key before the two men walked away. She took a deep breath to calm her fears.
How long would they leave her alone in the dark here; minutes, hours? And then afterwards, what would they do with her?
Her ears became attuned to the silence. Then distant footsteps, the scraping of metal against stone, and a woman’s scream cut off midway. She knelt in patient acceptance.
After some time the two men returned. She rose on command with her head submissively lowered while the warden inspected her.
He ran a finger around her lips and told her to suck on it. She caressed it with her tongue for him. He placed a hand between her legs and explored her; beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she began to moan.
Yes he said, too bad about Margaret but this one would do.
He removed her blindfold and led them upstairs into a larger cell. In front of her sat a large middle-aged woman on a metal chair. In the center of the cell was a wooden stool, the only other item of furniture.
Anne knelt at her feet as the warden explained. Thirty inmates had been selected for this month’s good-behavior reward; each could have two minutes with the girl.
It wasn’t much, but – he chuckled – they were already pretty excited, they knew how to “do their business” with her in theallotted time. Guy nodded, removed Anne’s leash, and the two men left the ladies.
A door in the back of the cell opened and a young man appeared. He told Anne to lie on her back and took her; with only two minutes, introductions and other niceties were dispensed with.
The next man made her bend over the stool and used her from behind. He was slower, or Anne was tense and tight; when the matron called out “half a minute” he rushed to completion leaving Anne a little sore.
Fortunately the next one wanted her mouth.
At the end of the hour Anne lay dazed staring up at the painted gray ceiling. Thirty men had run through her in quick succession; this was what she lived for now, the reason for her existence, but it left her weak and uncoordinated. Matron had to pinch her nipples and slap her a couple times to bring her around when Guy returned with her lean.
She rose slowly; he attached it to her collar and led her outside through the exercise yard.
In the center was a sturdy post, the kind used for punishing criminals in past years. Matron fastened Anne’s bracelets to a hook at its top; she expected to feel the strokes of a whip on her back and tights at any moment.
But she was merely left tied to it for half an hour, to recover her strength and for entertainment of the crowd of men who watched and whistled each time she wagged her tail for them.
Guy retrieved her, told the warden “Same time next month, new girl” and led her back to the center of town.
In the middle of the village was a grassy park centered on a low boulder with a bronze plaque. The two arrived mid-morning; taking a light park chair for himself, he told Anne to draw herself over the rock and spread her legs.
She obeyed on the instant and was in position before he sat down. The rough stone Graded on her breasts and the metal plaque was cold against the front of her thighs.
She remained in place most of the day. She thought she heard Guy leave and return around lunchtime but she dared not look up. Most of the townspeople who passed by the tableau ignored it, or made jokes; others, mostly women, called her a whore and some spat on her.
Someone else thrust his hand between her legs and lifted her hips. He asked her name and history which Guy was happy to recite while the hand penetrated her. Her body wriggled and her legs waved Helplessly.
Guy kept up his jaunty demeanor the whole time, and late in the afternoon he told Anne to rise. He led her to a fish pond in a corner of the park.
She lapped up the stagnant water, ignoring the moss and coins in the pond while the carp gathered around her in hope of food.
When she had her fill he led her to a grocery across the street and attached her lean to the front of a shopping cart; she pulled it down the aisles while he picked up a few things to buy. At the checkout counter she stared at the floor. Her shoulders slumped and he told her to stand at attentionion.
In front of the store he unhitched her from the cart and made her knee. A small crowd gathered as she ate feed pellets from his hand. Guy invited them to join him and a girl stepped forward.
Guy poured some pellets into her palm and she held them out to Anne, who picked them up with her tongue while the girl giggled. She petted Anne’s head and said “Nice doggy”; Anne smiled up at her as the crowd laughed and her mother led her away.
Overhead, Anne heard a young woman says she wanted to be like that; Guy gave her his card.
Leaving the store he led Anne down the road back to his house. About halfway there, an old friend invited him to stop and take a glass of wine. Etienne brewed it in his cellar and a new batch was ready.
Guy pulled sideways on the leash and drive Anne up the walk to the house.
He settled her on the porch between two chairs and took one for himself. From inside the house, Anne heard a radio playing “Donna e mobile”. Like a featherin the wind; how well that described her.
Etienne returned with glasses of his inky dark red and the two gentlemen toasted each other.
Anne knelt silently while they deplored the present state of the world. After a lull in the conversation Etienne jerked a thumb at Anne and said “Yours?”
Guy explained he was training Anne for a friend, but her time was up – he needed the space for another girl who was arrived next week – and he had not heard from her owner.
He had to decide whether to sell her, give her away, or just put her down.
Anne was struck as if by a physical blow. She hung her head in dejection. So, Francesca had forgotten her. It was inevitable she told herself, and really for the best.
“Be a shame to kill it. Could be worth something.”
“I don’t have time to find a buyer. Do you know anybody who wants it?”
“If you gave me a week…”
“That’s the problem. I have to decide now.”
Etienne asked if she might try to run away; Guy laughed. Looking up, he noticed a hornets’ nest on a tree branch; he released her lean, and letting it drop told Anne to stand next to the nest.
She jumped up at once and positioned herself beside it. An angry swarm of insects burst forth to confront the intruder, circled her and landing on her body.
Some crawled through her hair; others, trapped in the fleece beneath her belly, buzzed furiously between her thighs. She stood as still as her trembling heart would allow.
The two men sipped their wine and watched the spectacle for a minute; finally Guy put his glass down and told her to return to him. Taking up the leash, he thanked his host and the two resumed their journey.
She wondered if she would become sick from drinking so much water from the fish pond; but that was out of her control, it was part of her training and she had no choice but to accept it. She would probably not live much longer in any case.
Once home, he let her hang by her wrists in the attic until evening and the whip.
Anne got little sleep that night. The name she was called in the park struck a chord within her. They were right; despite Francesca’s general denial, she was a whore. And until now everybody but her know it.
She was grateful to Paul for discovering it and training her.
But it was in her soul, not her training. St. Agnes did not make me a whore, she decided; it just made me a better one.
Somehow this discovery brought her peace, and she nodded off.
The next day Guy took her outside to the sandbox after breakfast, then led her to the front yard and tied her lean to a stake.
Beside it was a short iron cylinder with a rounded point and a base embedded in the ground. An impaler; she recognized it from her stay at the academic.
She spread her legs and he lowered her onto it. It was hard and cold inside her at first. He hung a “For Sale” sign around her neck. It ended just above her breasts, which he left exposed for viewing.
The grass was still wet from last night’s rain; iridescent drops covered the lawn.
Alone now she waited for the heat of her body to warm the device and soon it rested comfortably within her belly, soothing and calming her jangled nerves.
She closed her eyes and gave in to the sensing; it even seemed to swell, but that was probably just her imagination. She heard birds in the trees calling to one another; mating season was here.
With her hands bound she could not rise, but she wriggled a little on it and made happy little animal sounds before falling into a reverie. She remembered her time on the impaler outside the academic’s main building entrance, a living tableau for visitors.
Was this one longer? Maybe; she worked it deeper inside. Ah, yes it was. Mellow and contented now, she felt life hold no greater reward.
How wise it was of those who owned her to keep her hands fastened in back; except when she was hung by them, of coursese.
It displayed her breasts and thrust them forward, that was good.
But more important it left her unable to perform the simplest actions of caring for herself. She relied entirely on the goodwill of others to feed and clean and house her.
And it exposed her every emotion; she could not cover her face or hide her blushes. When she was excited her rising nipples were visible to even a casual viewer, the wetness between her tights to a moment’s inspection.
It reduced her to the status of an animal. She embraced it; that was where she belonged, what she was.
Shortly before noon a middle-aged couple called on Guy to express interest in her. He lifted her to her feet and she opened her legs while they inspected her. When they offered a price (rather a low one, Anne thought) he motioned for them to follow him into the house. Apparently nothing came of it and they left a few minutes later.
A car full of college students drive up soon after. It paused at thesight of her on the lawn and five young men got out. About Marc’s age, Anne guessed. They circled and appraised her in cruel and vulgar terms. Anne could see that two of the boys were already aroused. One proposed taking her on the spot; she wondered if all five would do her.
They made her lie on her back just as Guy came out of the house. She looked up at the sky while they stood over her and bargained. The sun appeared from behind a cloud, warming her as she lay on the wet grass.
One of them, a kind of ringleader, said their fraternity wanted a woman for the weekend; Guy told him she was not for rent, only sale. Another asked if they could try her out but Guy refused. Disappointed, they returned to their car and drive off. Guy told her to get up and knee. Her sign had fallen off or been removed; he put it back.
No one else appeared that day to express interest in buying her; Anne would have to be “dealt with” to make room for the new girl.
That evening he used her and she knelt beside the bed waiting for his next command. He told her this was her last night here – Anne knew what that means – and she could speak without reserve.
She told him her heart was so full of gratitude she hardly knew where to begin, but she had to thank him for starving and kenneling her into submission; she was so used to beats by now, they had almost lost their power to mold her.
Guy responded that she needed to be mastered and controlled – after all, she had given up everything for it – but she never learned to embrace it. Her first owner did wrong in taking her out of St. Agnes after only two months; she was auditioned off before her training was complete.
She was like a partly played mare, always threatening to return to her wild state. She nodded and agreed.
He asked her if she had anything else to say.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering. She hoped she had repair his efforts in whatever ways she could. Shehad learned so much here that she could use to serve Francesca – she remembered his words at Etienne’s and wept.
All hope gone, Anne thanked him in advance for putting her down.
She asked him if a whore could love; surely it was possible? She looked up imploringly at him, her eyes glistening.
He did not reply, but helped her to stand before taking his whip and leading her upstairs.
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