“You look lovely,” he smiled. He pulled the large knife out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Come here.”
“What?” Fear clenched her stomach, and she went wet between her legs. She backed up slowly away from him until she ran into the wall behind her.
He followed her until he was pressed in close. The tip of the knife traced the side of her neck and over her collarbone. “Stand still,” he said.
Her blood turned to ice. She froze, barely breathing. He ran the tip of the blade lightly down her dress until he reached her nipple, then with a single flick he sliced a hole in the dress. He slipped the blade under the satin; cold steel touched her breast. In only a few violent motions, he sliced a large, ragged hole in the dress, exposing her breast completely. Another series of quick motions and he had ripped a large circle of fabric away from the other side, exposing her other breast. Satisfied, he folded the knife and took a step back to survey his handiwork.
“It’s time for another lesson,” he said. “Come here.”
She stood frozen, unmoving.
“I said come here.” He reached out and grabbed her nipples tightly. Eileen cried out in pain as he dragged her by her nipples over to him. “Kiss me.”
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” she cried.
His fingers pinched tighter. “Kiss me.”
She kissed him quickly on the cheek. His fingers clamped down like vises. “Ow! Anthony, please, that hurts!”
“Kiss me like you mean it,” he said. “Use your tongue.”
She pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue passed between his lips for a moment before she pulled away.
“That’s a little better.” His fingers relaxed. “Tonight, I’m going to teach you how to kiss like a world-class fuck-slut. Now, let’s try this again. Kiss me.”
His lips moved toward hers. She moved to press her mouth against him, but he pulled away. “No. Kissing is like sex. First you need a little foreplay. Hold still.”
He moved in close. His lips lightly grazed hers, just a feather’s touch of sensation. She felt his warm breath on her lips. “See?” he murmured. “Go in slowly. Make it a seduction.” His lips parted a hair’s breath, and the tip of his tongue lightly stroked her, gently coaxing her lips apart.
She moved in toward him, but he pulled away again, smiling. “What’s your rush? Take your time. We have all night.” He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. “Now you try.”
She hesitated for a second. His fingers clamped down firmly on her nipples, making her yelp. “You’re hurting me again!”
“Focus. Pay attention. Kiss me.”
She tilted her head toward his and grazed his lips with hers. Her tongue flickered out and brushed him. His lips parted, offering her an invitation. She moved forward to kiss him more deeply, tongue sliding into his mouth.
“Better. But you’re still rushing. It’s not always just about getting your tongue in there. There’s so much more you can do. Put your heart into it. Seduce me!” He released her nipples. “Here, let me show you.”
She looked up at him and moved to kiss him. He laid a fingertip on her lips. “Shh. Be still.” He took her in his arms, hands sliding up her back. “Look into my eyes. Watch me.” Slowly, inch by inch, as she watched, he moved closer, until their lips almost touched. His tongue lightly flicked the corner of her mouth. She tried to move into the kiss, but he matched her motions, keeping that tiny distance between them. His hand rested lightly on the back of her neck, stroking her hair softly. Then, ever so gently, their lips touched. A feeling like electricity flowed between them. She sighed.
“Yes,” he said. His breath played across her cheek. He drew her into him, and his lips found the side of her neck. Teeth and tongue grazed warm skin. “See?” He pulled away. “Now it’s your turn. Put your arms around me. Kiss me.”
Eileen looked into his eyes and caressed his cheeks in her hands. He really was a handsome man, she realized with surprise; since the honeymoon had started, and he had begun his program of bondage and rape, she had almost forgotten how handsome he was.
Her hands slid around to the back of his head. Slowly, she leaned in close. He pulled back just a fraction, and she stopped, confused, until she saw the tiny smile quirk the corners of his mouth. She moved closer, and he pulled away a tiny fraction again. Quickly, without warning, she dove in and pressed her lips against that smirk. Her tongue licked at the corner of his mouth, and before he could respond, she moved away again, breaking the contact. He opened his mouth to speak, and she leaned in close, not quite touching him, and flicked her tongue against his lower lip.
“Good! That’s good. Playful. I like it.” He smiled. She drew her lips across his cheek, and buried her face against the side of his neck. With her body tight against his, she breathed in his scent. Her pussy clenched. Wetness flowed. Butterflies danced in her stomach.
“Mmm, wonderful,” he said. He pressed her backward with her body, until he had backed her against the wall again. He took her hands and pressed them to her sides. “Now, stay right there. Don’t move. Close your eyes.”
She did as he said. His fingertip moved against her bottom lip. “Open just a little.” She felt warm air, the feather light touch of his lips, the wet-slick of his tongue teasing her. Their bodies did not touch; that soft brush of lips was the only contact between them. He teased her for a very long time, urging her lips apart with tiny touches of his tongue, not kissing her deeply, until she was breathing hard, longing for more.
He undressed deftly, without once taking his lips from hers. She whimpered and sighed and met his tongue with hers; somewhere far away, she was aware of wetness dripping down her thigh. “Please,” she whispered.
He caressed her cheeks lightly. His hands stroked the sides of her neck, brushing the spill of hair off her shoulders. He slid his hands softly over her shoulders. “Kissing is a lot like sex in many ways,” he said. “There are so many ways you can kiss. Everything about sex, everything kind of sex you can imagine, can be embodied in a kiss.” His breath came warm on her cheek. “A kiss can be a tease. A kiss can be a seduction. A kiss can be an invitation. Or…”
His hands seized the front of her dress. He pulled with sudden ferocity, rending the fabric almost all the way down to the floor. She opened her eyes and let out a startled cry as he tore the dress from her body. He took her face tightly between his hands and held her head firmly.
“A kiss can be rape,” he finished. He shoved his mouth hard against hers. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth. She cried out again and struggled to pull away, but he held her tightly, preventing her from moving. She beat and clawed at his hands, but it was like trying to move a stone statue.
He pushed her tightly up against the wall and, with a single thrust, impaled her with his rigid cock. She tried to scream, but the sound was trapped, lost in his mouth. He took her very roughly, slamming his hips into her so hard that each stroke lifter her onto her toes. His tongue worked in rhythm with his cock; he forced it between her lips again and again, raping her mouth. Her cries and screams came out muffled, indistinct. “Mmmf! Mmmf! Mmmf!”
He pounded her that way while she fought against him madly, and her body flushed. When she felt the tightening between her legs and realized what was about to happen, her struggles grew more frantic. She battled against the rising heat within her, trying desperately not to show him by her own pleasure that she wanted what he was doing to her, but without avail. Bit by bit, while he hammered into her, her resolve slipped; then she came, a short sharp shock of ecstasy, and with that the struggle changed, became a willing cooperation.
She relaxed in his grip and opened her legs to accept his thrusts. Her cries became moans. Her lips wrapped around his invading tongue. Sensing her surrender, he slowed his tempo. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists, and he gently pinned them in place over her head while he took her in long, slow, steady strokes. The assault of his tongue softened, and soon she was riding the wave of another orgasm, this one gentle and protracte
“See?” He kissed her lips softly. “Like that.” An impish grin flashed across his face. He led her into the bedroom and bent her unresisting form over the bed. With the efficiency of practice, he chained her securely in place. “Now then, let’s see if we can get that probe up that tight little ass of yours.”
It did not fit that night. Even with great persistence and determination on his part, and much whimpering and thrashing on her part, the second-largest probe proved too big. Her stretched and sore ass would not accommodate it, and after a solid hour of pressing and prodding, he was forced to concede defeat again. He drew her into the bed and chained her loosely down for the night, and they slept in each other’s arms, her bound, him free.
Chapter 12
That day became the model for the rest of their stay in London. Each morning, he woke her by tightening the chains holding her to the bed until she was stretched out on the bed, legs wide. As she screamed and thrashed, he mounted her, pumping into her until he came.
When he was finished, he would chain her up in front of the window and shove the heavy steel ball deep into her still-dripping pussy. He would then kneel in front of her and lick her, while she looked out in horror at the people down on the street. That exquisitely skilled tongue would bring her to orgasm again and again until she succeeded in holding the ball inside her through her ecstasy. On days when she was able to hold it on her first orgasm, he simply added more weights to it the following morning.
After several days of this morning ritual, Eileen began to notice familiar faces in the street outside. Each day, the same three men would be waiting, standing casually beneath the overhanging marquee sign of the theater across the street, trying to be inconspicuous. When Anthony knelt in front of her and her body began to wrack against the chains, they would watch, enjoying her torment and her ecstasy.
Those men began to creep into her fantasies, and sometimes, as she shook and quivered against Anthony’s tongue, she would imagine them in the room with her, touching her, helping themselves to her. Her back would arch and most often the ball would fall to the floor, and she would imagine the men punishing her with stiff cocks while a hot rush of shame crawled over her body.
When she had succeeded in retaining the hard steel object within her, Anthony would call for breakfast. After room service arrived, he would unchain her from the window, force the ring into her mouth, and tie her beneath the table. During his breakfast, he would rape her mouth steadily, sometimes hard and fast and sometimes leisurely, until he was finished with his meal and he filled her mouth to overflowing with thick warm come.
Only then would he allow her to eat. He would bind her to the chair, arms behind her back, and feed her breakfast while his come dripped from her mouth and ran wetly down her body. She soon became accustomed to the salty taste of his semen, though it still disgusted her just as much as it had before.
As the days passed, the programming began to take hold. By the end of their first week in London she started to respond to this oral rape with arousal. The feel of his penis in her mouth created a tingling between her legs, as her body remembered the Sybian, and by the time breakfast was over and he sent her into the shower to prepare for the day, she was wet and throbbing, Often, she would masturbate while she showered, with the taste of his come still lingering on her lips.
After the shower would come the first anal training session of the day. For several days he would chain her down while he worked the probes up her ass, but before long she found herself enjoying the sessions, and she would come naked from the bathroom and kneel passively at the foot of the bed, offering herself to him. Despite his stretching and pushing, though, her ass still stubbornly refused to accept the second-largest probe.
During the late morning and early afternoon, when he had applied the soothing cream to calm her aching pussy and anus, they would take in the sights and sounds of London. They toured museums, explored the crowds and bustle of Piccadilly Circus, visited the Parliament House and Big Ben (which, he explained gravely, was not actually the name of the clock tower itself, but rather of one of the bells within the tower). They ate lunch in a different restaurant each day, though usually by the time lunch came Eileen was barely able to sit still, much less pay attention to anything except her overwhelming need to have something inside her.
After lunch, her need was so great that she wanted nothing but to go back to the hotel for the next part of the training. She discovered that she actively looked forward to this part of the day; so intense were the orgasms from the Sybian that even the humiliation of taking a dildo in her mouth did not stop her from wanting them. Anthony grinned at her eagerness, and seemed to enjoy prolonging her need. As the days passed, he would find other things for them to do after lunch, places to visit and shops to explore, prolonging her desire, sometimes for hours.
By the time they finally returned to the hotel, Eileen’s desperation would be so great that she would strip and mount the machine as soon as they reached the room. She would wait, quivering, while he strapped her in place and carefully extended the dildo another quarter of an inch. Then she would swallow nervously, pushing back the part of her mind that still rebelled at what she was about to do, and lean forward to take it in her mouth.
At first, it was easy. But five days after this part of the training began, she reached the point where she simply could not get to the button with her nose. The dildo protruded too far; she could not take it far enough down her throat. Time and again she just barely grazed the button with the very tip of her nose, then coughing and sputtering was forced to back off.
Over and over she forced it down her throat, and every time she came up short. She opened her mouth wide and pressed forward until she choked. Tears streamed down her face, and still she could not reach.
“It’s too much!” she cried. “I can’t do it!”
Anthony came and knelt behind her. “Sure you can.” His arms wrapped around her, hands caressing her breasts and her painfully erect nipples. “A good sex slave needs to be able to deep-throat a cock, and you’re going to stay here until you do.”
“I can’t!”
“You can.” He pulled her nipples, dragging her forward by her breasts. “Open your mouth.” The wet dildo pressed against her lips. “Take it deep.”
Reluctantly, her lips parted. The rubber phallus slid between them. “Good girl. Take the tip against the roof of your mouth. Let it slide back.” He pulled harder on her nipples, coaxing her forward, and she yelped. “Deeper.”
The head pressed into the back of her throat. She choked and tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened like clamps on her nipples and dragged her forward. “Relax your throat. Swallow!”
Her throat convulsed and she gagged. He let her pull away and gasp, then he dragged on her nipples again. “Deeper. When you feel like you’re about to choke, push your head forward and swallow.”
She strained against the cuffs binding her wrists and fought helplessly in the saddle. “No! Stop! I don’t want…nnngh!” The dildo slid down her throat, choking her again.
“Focus. Relax your throat and push.”
“Ggghk! Ghhhrnk!” She coughed around it. He relaxed the pressure on her nipples and allowed her to come back off it. She gasped raggedly, panting for breath.
“Again.” His grip tightened painfully and he pulled on her breasts to force her forward. The dildo slipped into her mouth. She struggled and tightened against the Sybian. Wetness trickled from her.
“Deeper, little whore. Open your mouth wide. Take it into your throat and push.” The fake penis slid down farther. She opened her mouth and gagged. Her nose hit the button. The Sybian came alive.
The gag became a scream. Anthony released her nipples, and she flung herself backward and leaned against him, gasping.
“See? I told you that you could do it. Tomorrow when it’s another quarter inch longer, you’ll be able to do it then, too. Now open. Take it.”
He worked her for most of the afternoon. She resisted him, she fought to keep her mouth closed, she struggled to free herself from the bonds; he was patient but not gentle, and he forced her down again and again. Each time her nose hit the button, she struggled not to gag and tried to keep herself still, and thought please, please let me come… Each time, her throat closed and she was forced away, sputtering.
Anthony stroked her breasts. “Do you want to come, little whore? Don’t fight it. Relax your throat and take it. Breathe deep, open nice and wide, and let it in.” He leaned in close, breath warm on her ear. “Every part of your body is just here to be fucked. Give yourself over to it.” His fingers pulled on her nipples. “Let it fuck your throat. Make yourself come.”
She opened her mouth for the rubber dong. He leaned into her, using the weight of his body to push her forward. She felt herself begin to choke and swallowed.
The dildo slid all the way down her throat, and she lurched forward. For a brief instant, just as her nose landed solidly on the button, she panicked at the strange sensation. Her throat felt filled, violated, but she didn’t gag; then the Sybian buzzed and the feelings hit her and the only thing in the world that was real to her was the massive orgasm that ripped through her body.
Afterward, she sat limply in the saddle. Her arms dangled from the cuffs, and she panted and moaned softly while Anthony’s hands caressed her body. “See, wasn’t that nice?” he said. “I knew you could do it. Just takes a little practice and a little motivation, that’s all.” His lips found her shoulder. He kissed her soft skin gently. “I think that was very sexy. You’ve got me all kinds of turned on now.”
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