Instantly, it switched off again. She howled with frustration.
“You have to hold down the button if you want it to keep running,” Anthony called from the other room.
She jerked and yanked on the cuffs that bound her. “It’s not fair!” she said petulantly. No answer came.
With great reluctance, she took the dildo in her mouth again. She paused for a moment, took several deep breaths, then closed her eyes tightly and moved her head forward. It slid down to the back of her throat as her nose touched the button. The Sybian buzzed to life again. She held it down and struggled not to gag as a wave of intense, toe-curling pleasure slammed through her. It mounted quickly until it was almost unbearable, so overpowering that her hands curled into fists and a cry of ecstasy was ripped from her throat. She coughed and choked and fought to hold still as her orgasm raced up on her, closer and closer. The choking sensation grew faster, though, and with her orgasm only seconds away, she could take no more and pulled her head away. The machine stopped, leaving echoes of pleasure throbbing through her. She sat gasping for long enough to take a few quick breaths, then took the dildo in her mouth and pressed the button again.
The machine buzzed. Sexual pleasure slammed through her. She clenched hard around the thrumming shaft and screamed. The scream turned to a choke, and she sat back again, coughing, frustrated. Her body dripped with sweat.
She forced herself down on it once more. Discomfort and pleasure churned inside her. This time, she made herself keep holding the button down until the orgasm screamed through her.
When it hit, it was not like the feelings she had had with Anthony inside her. Ecstasy hammered at her, wracked her, pounded through her body with the fury of a hurricane. Her vision dimmed and her body spasmed with the strength of it. It went on and on and on until she could not stand it any more, and she pulled her head away, gasping.
“You do seem to like that, little whore,” Anthony said. He stood in the doorway and smiled. “If you keep coming like that, it won’t be long at all before having a cock in your mouth will get you off.”
He stripped off his clothes as he walked into the room. She was barely aware that he was unfastening the cuffs from her wrists and the straps from her legs. She remained passive, chest heaving, while he lifted her off the Sybian and laid her down on the floor. He placed her arms above her head and spread her legs wide. She made no protest at all, even while he tied a length of rope to each wrist. He ran one rope to the foot of the bed and the other to the leg of the desk.
When her wrists were bound, he tied another rope to one ankle. He picked up the other end and carried it into the bathroom, where he wrapped it around the toilet and tied it off. He looked around for a place to anchor her other leg, but saw no heavy objects in the right places, so he finally settled for tying one end of a very long piece of rope to her ankle, and running the rope all the way into the living room, where he attached it to the leg of the couch.
When he was finished, she was bound spread-eagle on the floor by long ropes that tied her securely. He knelt over her and ran his hands up and down over her body. “You are so sexy,” he murmured. “I want to use you now.” His mouth closed over her breast, tongue circling lightly around her nipple. She sighed.
He moved over top of her and pressed his body down onto hers. She shook her head back and forth. “No,” she whispered, “no…”
He thrust and buried himself to the hilt inside her. She screamed and arched her back against him. He pumped steadily in and out of her tender, throbbing pussy. Her hips rose to meet every thrust, even while she moaned and begged him to stop. “Please, please,” she whimpered, “please stop, oh God, it feels so good…”
His cock twitched and thickened inside her. He drove deeper, crying out as he came. She felt the hot wet slap as he poured his semen into her, and she writhed and screamed under him. Her body responded in turn; she tightened around him in an orgasm of her own, but this one weak, a pale shadow of what she’d felt just a few minutes before.
He withdrew and rolled off her. “That was fun. Now stay there.” He rose and disappeared for a moment, to return with the leather case of probes and the bottle of lube. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get back to work on your ass, shall we?”
For the next two hours, Anthony ignored her pleas. He knelt on the floor between her legs and worked a series of the metal probes into her ass, beginning with the one he had used that morning, each larger than the one before. Her ass stretched to accommodate the intrusions. Patiently, methodically, he opened her up; each probe was placed against her ass and then slowly, slowly pushed inside her all the way up to the base. He held it there until her cries subsided into whimpers and moans, then pressed his thumb to her clit and moved it in small circles while he pushed the probe in and out, faster and faster. When her nipples hardened and she began to pant, he slid the probe out and repeated the process with the next.
In this way he worked her up to the third largest probe. The second largest, though, refused to fit. Her anus stretched around the smooth rounded end, but refused to let it in. He poured lube over her ass until it oozed from her onto the floor. He pressed the end of the probe against the tight pucker of her anus until she shrieked. Still it refused to go in.
Finally, after two hours of probing and pushing, he conceded defeat. “You took all the way up to the fifth biggest one,” he said, “only two more to go. Not bad!” He rose to reveal his erection. “All this work has got me horny again. And here you are, all tied down…”
“No!” Her eyes widened. “Please, no! I’m too sore!”
“Well, perhaps you’re right,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve used you very hard today, and you’re not used to it yet. Maybe I need to find a different way to satisfy myself.”
He knelt straddling her torso and laid his hard cock between her breasts. “This should do, I think.” He poured a large amount of lube generously over her breasts, letting it flow down around his shaft. “Yes, I think it will work very well.”
With that, he began to thrust between the curving mounds of her breasts. She turned her head away, not wanting to see. The wet sounds of his thrusts, his grunts as he used her this way, revolted her. She felt dirty, objectified, like a cheap whore; the way he used her felt impersonal, as though her own pleasure did not matter. The feeling grew stronger as his grunts became louder and louder. He was treating her like a sex toy, not even taking her the way a man should take a woman. She closed her eyes tightly and waited for it to be over.
She didn’t have long to wait. With a roar, he came, and warm sticky spunk gushed between her breasts. It splattered her neck and chin, flowed down her body, over her stomach. She made a sound of disgust and shame.
“Mmm, that felt good!” He stood over her. His softening cock dripped come and lube; a large drop splattered wetly on her cheek. He looked down at her and grinned. “You naughty girl. Look how messy you made me! I need another shower. I can’t go out like this.”
He left her bound on the floor when he moved into the bathroom. Eileen heard the door close and the sound of water running. The shower started up, and she heard him singing to himself on the other side of the door.
The come cooled on her breasts. It puddled in her collarbone and dripped down her sides. More of his come leaked from her aching pussy. She felt used and abandoned, lying there tied on the floor. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks.
The minutes ticked by. She thought of everything that had happened to her since they’d arrived in London. Her life before was becoming distant and unreal to her. Her new husband had told her he was going to turn her into a sex slave, and so far, he had kept his word. He had already done nearly every vile, unwholesome sex act she’d thought she’d never do, and a few she hadn’t even thought of; and all these things, all these filthy acts she had believed only the lowest and filthiest of tramps could ever enjoy, had made her come. Not once, or even twice, but over and over again.
Gradually, her thoughts s
hifted. The hard floor pressed against her body. The ropes felt coarse around her wrists and ankles. She thought about the pirates that lived in her fantasies, how they might tie her down to the deck of their ship like this, arms and legs spread wide. This is what it feels like, she said to herself. A powerful jolt passed through her. This is what it would be like to be tied to the deck of a pirate ship. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The fantasy rolled on in her mind, vivid images of leering eyes, hard penises thrusting into her.
When they had all finished raping her, she imagined the pirate crew untying her and dragging her to her feet. “We’ve got a special treat for you,” they cackled. “The captain has asked for you personally.” They prodded her down the stairs and along dim passageways to the back of the ship, where the captain had his cabin. They knocked on the door. “We have a treat for you, cap’n, and she’s all broken in, just like you asked!”
She writhed and arched her back, lost in the fantasy. In her mind, the door opened. The pirate captain, the man who had ordered her abduction and rape, looked out. Dark eyes, broad shoulders, strong arms, dark curly hair—Anthony. He took her, naked and used, into his quarters, and sat her gently on his bed. “Tell me,” he said kindly, his face wreathed in concern, “did they all have sex with you?”
She nodded, trembling, and threw her arms around him. He held her close and stroked her hair. “Good,” he said. Before she could react or cry out, he pushed her down flat and bound her with ropes. He undressed and took her himself, thrusting his erect penis into every part of her body, and there was nothing she could do about it, it wasn’t her fault…
The shower stopped. Anthony came out dripping, toweling his hair vigorously. He smiled at her. She realized that she was writhing in the ropes, thrusting her hips up into the air. Her face colored.
“You look hungry, little whore. You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” he said. When he finished drying, he stepped over her to the closet. He pulled on slacks, a dress shirt, then turned his back to her to look in the mirror as he fastened his tie. He dragged a comb through his hair.
“Anthony, let me go! Untie me!”
He paid her no heed at all, but instead finished dressing as though he hadn’t even heard her. Just as he finished putting on his cufflinks, the phone rang. He picked it up. “Yes. OK, good, I’m expecting it. Send it right up, please.”
He stepped over her again and moved into the living room. A short time later, Eileen heard a knock on the door. He opened it and spoke to someone in the other room; she realized suddenly that she was bound in a place clearly visible through the bedroom door, and one of the ropes tying her down extended into the living room. A flash of heat touched her face, and her pussy clenched and moistened. Please, she thought, please don’t let him look in here, don’t let him see me like this…
The voices stopped. The door opened and closed again. Anthony came back into the bedroom carrying a flat white box. “Your dress for this evening,” he said. He bent and untied her. “Get cleaned up. It’s almost time to go.”
She rubbed her wrists and stood. Cold sticky come dripped down her stomach. “How could you do this to me? You bastard!”
“Yep!” he beamed. “Now get moving, little whore!”
She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She tried to tell herself she was angry over all the things that Anthony had done, but in a tiny corner of her mind she knew the truth was that she was angry because he had recognized her arousal when he came out of the shower. On top of that, she was confused by her own responses. She didn’t want to be a sex slave; so why did she tolerate the things he did to her? By all rights, she should be on the phone to her mother, or to the police, or demanding an annulment…
She stood in the shower and scrubbed the filth away until her skin glowed and she felt clean once more. When she was finished and dry, she saw that he had opened the box and folded the dress within it over the bed. He held it up for her when she walked out of the bathroom.
It was formal evening dress, made of deep maroon satin, with a high neck and simple lines, far more understated than the one that had ended up on the elevator floor. It looked expensively tailored. “This is what I want you to wear tonight. Get dressed.”
She reached for the dress. He shook his head. “No. Straps first.”
Her heart pounded as she picked up the spiked straps and fastened them around her thighs. The simple act seemed to reinforce her position; by doing it, she felt like she was validating his claim to her, his ownership of her. She thought of him as the pirate captain, taking possession of her body after ordering her kidnapped, and her chest grew tight. For just a fraction of a second, she wanted to give herself to him completely. When the impulse passed, she blinked in confusion and accepted the dress from his fingers numbly.
It fit as though it had been designed for her alone. The moment she slipped it on, she was transformed. The color brought out just a hint of blue in her grey eyes; the shape accentuated her curves perfectly. She looked as if she had just stepped out of a Hollywood awards show. “How…?”
“Very nice.” He gave her an approving look and buttoned his jacket. “Had it made from the measurements for your wedding dress. I’ve been planning very carefully for months.” He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusted his tie. “I got you some things to go with it. There’s a pair of shoes, and this.” He held up a choker, the same maroon as the dress, with small silver points along it. “Hold still.” His hands were gentle as he fitted it around her throat. “Perfect!” His warm breath caressed her neck as he nuzzled her. “Finish getting dressed. I’ve ordered a limo for the evening. It’s almost time for dinner. Stretching your anus is hungry work.” She flushed and turned away from him.
Chapter 11
True to his word, there was a limousine waiting for them at the curb. He held the door open for her; a smile touched his lips as she struggled for a moment to climb in without closing her legs. He climbed in after her. The moment he had closed the door, the limo sped smoothly away. Inside, they were wrapped in silence and comfort. He took a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses from a compartment beneath the seat and offered her one.
They sipped champagne in the gathering dusk while the limo whisked them through the streets. He refilled her glass twice before they reached their destination, and Eileen felt lightheaded. For a time, he rode with his head resting on her shoulder, one hand in her lap. The show of affection felt strange and incongruous to her.
Finally, the limo glided up to a large pier and pulled smoothly to a stop. A number of other people, most of them dressed almost as formally as they were, crowded around a gangplank to a large yacht with high windows. Anthony opened the door for her, and, arm in arm, they joined the line waiting to board.
The yacht turned out to be a restaurant, with a large open dining floor and a small stage at the front. White-gloved servers ushered them to a table set beside a large window, through which they could see the Thames. They had already begun to move by the time the same servers arrived with menus, and glittering lights floated by on the river’s banks.
The ship picked up speed in the gathering darkness. London sparkled beyond the window, and an enormous bridge, high off the water and lit up like something from a fairy tale, appeared to their left. Eileen felt strangely out of place; the glamour was everything she had ever dreamed about, but it didn’t seem real. What would happen if she gave in, became what Anthony wanted? Would he realize that nobody could really want such a woman? Would he try to replace her?
A small band took to the stage. Light jazz filled the air. The bridge drifted by, impossibly huge. Tall towers flanked each end, as high and strong as a castle keep. “Tower Bridge,” Anthony said. “A lot of people mistake it for London Bridge, but London Bridge is quite plain by comparison.” He sipped from his wine glass. “There’s a legend that says Freemen in London have the right to drive livestock over this bridge whenever they choose.” He smiled. “Though I imagine there
are more efficient ways to move sheep around these days. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Eileen watched in wonder as the bridge passed by. “Yes,” she breathed. “It is.”
After dinner, they joined the other patrons on the upper deck. Musicians played, and couples whirled around them on a large dance floor. Anthony led Eileen out onto the floor, and she blushed, suddenly shy. Moonlight rippled in the water. The setting seemed so perfect, so completely romantic, that it didn’t seem possible that this same man had tied her to the floor and forced himself on her just hours ago.
They danced and talked. He was relaxed and happy, and laughed often; Eileen even caught herself smiling and laughing along with him. Underneath it all, the bands strapped to her thighs, with the row of points telling her to keep her legs parted, reminded her of the things he was doing to her. She danced in her satin dress, surrounded by elegance, and thought of pirates, and dark prison cells deep in the hold, and rape.
Night had wrapped the city in darkness by the time the yacht headed back to its launch. The limousine was waiting for them at the pier. She halfway expected him to take advantage of her the instant they were tucked in its enclosed privacy, but he seemed content to ride in silence with his hand on her knee.
It was nearly eleven when they arrived back at the hotel. The windows glowed white and blue and red. He escorted her through the lobby on his arm. Her heart pounded when they reached the elevators; as the doors slid shut, she had a sudden, visceral memory of the way he’d stripped her and left her standing naked. If he noticed her sudden quick intake of breath, he gave no sign.
Once upstairs, he held the room door open for her. She swallowed nervously as she went inside. He closed and locked the door behind him, and set the room lights to a dim, glowing red. While she stood nervously, he knelt in front of her and removed her shoes. Then he fished out the small key and slid his hands up her thighs, beneath the dress. “Let’s get these off of you,” he said, and unlocked the straps. When they were removed, he slipped down her stockings, leaving her in bare feet, before he rose.
Elicitation (The Training of Eileen) Page 13