He unstrapped her from the machine and led her to the bed. He took her slowly, gently. Her body moved with his, unresisting, until they both came together and lay beside each other panting. He did not do her second round of anal training that night.
By the time he was finished with her each afternoon, another dress would be delivered to the room. Each was lovely, custom-tailored, and highly formal; their evenings were spent among London’s upper crust, at plays and shows, or exploring the city’s nightlife. She never wore the same dress twice; as often as not, it would end up in shreds on the floor by nightfall, as he gave her lessons in different aspects of pleasure. He taught her how to give an erotic massage, how to pleasure his cock with her hands, how to use her lips and tongue as instruments to orchestrate sexual delight; when she protested or tried to object, the knife would come out and trace fine white lines over her skin. As the days went by, he methodically peeled her inhibitions away, layer by layer, and before the last week of the honeymoon was over, some secret inner part of her began to enjoy these lessons, too.
It took six days of patience and practice before the evening came when the second-largest of the metal probes finally slid into her ass. She was kneeling at the foot of the bed, bent over, legs wide and arms chained down, when it finally happened. He had spent the better part of two hours working her up gradually, beginning with the smallest probe, gently teasing her open while his fingers penetrated her dripping sex and she moaned and screamed into a pillow. She came over and over, bucking backward against his hand, as he opened her up; his fingers seemed to know just where to go inside her, and he pressed downward and wiggled them just so each time he brought a probe to her rear entrance. She had long ago lost track of what was happening to her; the sensation of fullness, the feel of fingertips working inside her, and her own helplessness all conspired to transport her to a place where there was nothing except the stretching and the muffled sounds of her own screams, and wave after wave of sexual ecstasy.
It happened so quickly it was almost anticlimactic. Her body was dripping with lubricant and her own juices; she felt the cold unyielding hardness of blunt metal pressed against her ass, a sensation of stretching wider than she ever had before, and a short, explosive orgasm, gone almost before she recognized it…and just like that, the probe was inside her. He removed his fingers and left her that way for a while, with the feeling of being filled and stretched more tightly than she thought she could ever handle; only when the arousal finally subsided and she began to whimper did he slip it back out and chain her to the bed for the night.
The largest of the probes, though, her body still resisted.
On the afternoon before they were due to return home from the honeymoon, the hotel clerk delivered a flat white package. Inside was a stunning, and severely formal, black evening gown of crushed velvet, paired with a black velvet choker. When they had dressed, Anthony escorted her to the tube station. She shivered as they boarded the train, hungry, with thoughts of strangers pressed against her; she was so distracted she scarcely noticed when they arrived at the Piccadilly Circus stop. He shooed her out and up the stairs onto the street.
From there, they hurried a short distance under glowing street lights to a huge, ornate stone building with an enormous columned façade, glittering with light. Eileen stopped short and gasped. “It’s beautiful!”
“Her Majesty’s Theatre,” he said. “Been here since the1700s. And tonight, we’re going to see Phantom of the Opera. What better way to spend our last night in London?”
As they made their way in, he leaned in close. “By the way,” he murmured, “you are without a doubt the most beautiful woman here.” His hand was warm on her thigh. “I bet you’re the best fuck, too.”
His hand stayed on her leg through the entire play, a steady reminder of his presence. As the end drew near, her heart began to beat faster—and not only because of the story’s dramatic conclusion. A part of her mind started dreaming of her husband’s strong hands tearing the dress from her body, his hard penis demanding entry… She shivered and felt herself grow moist.
On the train ride back, a flash of longing so intense it was almost painful struck her. She arched her back and pressed her hips against him, making him smile. “Slut.”
She blushed and hid her face in his chest. “No!”
They had walked nearly all the way back to the hotel from the tube stop when he stopped, so suddenly she was caught off-balance. “What?”
He paused, looking around the bustling nighttime street. “Here.” He took her hand powerfully and pulled her off the sidewalk, into a small niche behind a store that had long since closed for the day. She yelped as he dragged her forcefully behind a large dumpster. “Right here. I want you to feel what you do to me.” He placed her hand over his crotch, wrapped her fingers around the bulge there. “You did this to me. What do you intend to do about it?”
“I—” She stammered. “I don’t know…”
He held her wrist tightly in one hand while his other hand unfastened his pants and opened his fly. “You were grinding against me on the subway. You want it so bad you can taste it, don’t you?”
“No!” she wailed. “Not here! Wait until we get back to the room! I promise I’ll—ow!”
He grabbed her hair firmly and pushed her down to her knees. She looked up at him, pleading, as he held her by the hair and shoved his fingers in her mouth. “And speaking of so bad you can taste it…”
He held her there, on her knees on the ground, while he pried her mouth open and pushed his fingers to the back of her throat. She whimpered and fought, until butterflies fluttered and wetness dripped from between her legs. When her whimper turned into a moan, he fed his erection between her lips. He gripped the sides of her head tightly with both hands and pushed his cock deep.
Soon he was moaning. His shaft swelled and thickened in her mouth. She tried to pull away, knowing what was about to happen, but his hands held her head tightly. He pushed harder, until his erect shaft slid down her throat.
Everything happened simultaneously. Her pussy clenched and spasmed. He threw his head back and came, dumping a fast hot torrent of semen into her throat. She coughed and screamed, sending a wad of thick come spewing from her lips and onto her black velvet dress.
His cock slipped out of her mouth. She looked up at him with the sticky remnants of his pleasure splattered on her chin and dress. More come flowed from her mouth and ran down her neck. Her pussy twitched and dripped; the look in her eyes was unreasoning, a pure carnal desire. He zipped back up and looked down at her. “Come on.”
She moved to wipe the come from her chin. He stopped her hand.
“No.”
“But what if someone sees?”
He pulled her to her feet and his eyes swept over her. “Then they’ll know that you are a beautiful, elegant woman who gets down on her knees in the mud to suck cock,” he said. “And when they see how hard your nipples are, they’ll know you like it. Now come on.”
Her emotions churned during the walk back to the hotel. She tried to stay behind Anthony, but he took her hand and forced her to walk alongside him. She felt exposed and ashamed, as every passing eye registered the mud on her knees and the white goo shining wetly on her black dress. Yet at the same time, every step she took and every sway of her hips reminded her of the wetness dripping down her legs. So aroused was she that by the time the doors to the hotel came into view, the wetness had trickled past her knee.
Chapter 13
In the room, she said nothing as he stripped her, quickly and efficiently. He folded the dress carefully and put it away. “When we get home, I want you to bring that in to be dry cleaned.”
Her stomach flip-flopped and her heart skipped a beat at the thought. He didn’t give her much time to dwell on it, though. Instead, he approached her carrying a soft rubber ball connected to two leather straps. “We only have tonight to complete your anal training. We need to get busy.”
She backed away f
rom him. He followed her until she bumped up against the coffee table. “This gag will keep you from screaming. Open your mouth.”
“No! No, please! You’ve been doing that to me all week, and it won’t fit! Please!”
He waited patiently, holding the gag.
“No! Please! It’s too much!” Her knees trembled. “Don’t do this to me! Please!”
He watched her calmly, waiting.
“I—” She gulped. “I don’t want you to put things there. Not tonight. Please!”
Still he watched her silently. The butterflies grew stronger. She took a hesitant half-step toward him, quivering. The blood rushing through her body was a roaring in her ears. Another half step took her to him. She looked up into his eyes, then slowly opened her mouth.
He placed the ball in her mouth and buckled the strap behind her head. She accepted it meekly, tasting rubber. “Kneel,” he said, pointing to the heavy coffee table. “Bend over.”
Her will deserted her. She knelt obediently, the thick carpet coarse against her knees. She remained still while he bound her in place. When he was finished, she was draped naked over the heavy table, legs wide, arms bound to the far side. Her own juices dripped from her and flowed down her thighs.
A knock sounded at the door.
She fought suddenly against the ropes. She could not turn her head to see the door behind her, but she heard it open, and felt more naked than she had even in the rain, restrained with her ass facing the unseen guest.
“Ah, Heath, right on time! Did you find what I asked for?”
“I did, sir.”
A paper bag rustled. “Good, good, this will do well. You remember my wife Eileen, I’m sure. You’ll have to forgive her if she doesn’t say hello; she’s gagged right now.” She heard the snick of the knife unfolding behind her. “This is our last night here on our honeymoon, so I thought I’d make it special. You’re welcome to stay and watch, if you like.”
“Of course, sir!” the bellhop said.
Anthony circled into view. He held a very large ginger root in one hand, which he was busily whittling with the knife. Her eyes widened.
“We need to train your ass. Since we’ve run out of time, it’s time to bring out the big guns.” He showed her the root, which he had carved down to a cone, narrow at the tip, with a broad base. “This will be a little bit different than your first time, but the theory is still the same. We’ll get you opened up, you’ll see.”
She shook her head violently, struggling to free herself. Noises came from her throat, muffled and unintelligible.
“I suggest you relax. It will be easier.” He moved behind her. “Unless you don’t want it to be easy, of course.”
The wet, blunt end of the shaped ginger root touched her. She breathed hard and tried to relax. He pushed, hard, and it started sliding into her ass, stretching her wide around it.
The sensations were very different from the last time he had used ginger on her. Before, he had carved a plug from the root and placed it inside her; it burned if she tightened around it, but she could find relief from the burning by relaxing.
This time, there was no relief. He pushed the cone into her, forcing it tightly against her anus. The tingle built quickly, and soon became a raging fire. She could not escape the fire by relaxing; he pushed, and pushed, and she stretched around it. Every time she relaxed, however incrementally, he pushed harder, and the cone slid that much deeper, stretching her more.
Soon she was screaming through the gag. She struggled helplessly, but he had bound her so tightly that she could not move at all.
Deeper. She felt a ring of molten fire at her sphincter. Tears flowed from her eyes and her hands grasped the air. Deeper. Her nipples hardened against the smooth wood tabletop. She felt as if she was being split open, filled with liquid heat. Deeper.
Her clit hardened and her pussy twitched nonstop. The heat crawled inside her, wrapped around her, and her body answered with heat of its own. She felt that at any moment she might come so hard she would surely pass out, and still he pushed, harder and harder. Over and over she screamed, but the gag turned her frantic cries into dull, muffled whimpers.
“I think she likes this,” Anthony said. “See? She’s so wet she’s leaving a puddle on the coffee table. You don’t think the management will mind, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” Heath chuckled. “We pride ourselves on our service here. We do our best to accommodate our guests.”
Eileen flushed with acute embarrassment. Her clit throbbed, aching for the slightest touch. The ginger pried her ass open and slid in slightly deeper. “Mmmmmngh! Nnngh!”
Anthony was patient and thorough. Her tight ass yielded slowly, bit by bit. The burning consumed her, flowed through her, and soon she forgot everything except the fire within her and her intense need to come. The room, Heath, the ropes on her wrists and ankles, all of it faded away, to leave her in a still dark quiet place where every part of her body sang with electric fire. Her own white creamy juices flowed over her clit and dripped from the table.
Deeper still it went. Her ass stretched to its limits. She cried out in pain, and a tremor began deep inside her. It grew stronger as Anthony pushed, and spread through her legs, making them tremble uncontrollably. Then one light touch from Anthony’s fingertip, directly on her clit, and all the burning and stretching and pressure and shame twisted up inside her and exploded through her in a mind-wrenching, screaming orgasm that tore through her and left nothing but ecstasy behind.
She clamped down hard on the ginger. A jolt of pleasure shot through her. She relaxed and clamped down again, over and over, only barely aware that Anthony was working it deeper each time. The orgasm faded slowly, and she relaxed and went limp in the ropes, breathing heavily.
He tugged the cone of ginger from her. “I think you’re ready,” Something cold, hard, and slippery slid up her ass, quenching the fire instantly. She sighed in pleasure.
“See? Wasn’t that easy? You’ve just taken the largest probe. And you said it was too big.”
“Doesn’t seem too big to me,” the bellhop said.
The sound of his voice made Eileen aware of the fact that she was tied naked to a table, with a large metal object protruding from her ass and a pool of her own come spreading beneath her, in front of a man who was not her husband. Helpless shame swept through her. She pulled weakly at the ropes and moaned unintelligibly.
“I’m so proud of you!” Anthony said. “You’ve reached an important milestone. Your body is now properly conditioned to accept sex in any of your orifices.” He eased the probe gently out of her. “You’re ready to be sodomized!”
“You mean to say all that crazy stuff she does and she’s never been fucked in the arse before?” Heath said, incredulous.
“Not yet. This will be her first time. I think she’ll like it.”
Eileen heard a zipper coming down. The soft sound made her flinch with dread. Hands touched her hips. She shook her head frantically. “Ngh! Ngh! Ngh!” She strained to look behind her but could not see who it was. What if it wasn’t Anthony? What if he was about to let the bellhop take her? She writhed and struggled, but even in her panic, the ropes binding her did not move.
The head of a wet, erect cock touched the gaping entrance to her ass. Her heart pounded. Was it Anthony? Was he about to do this degrading thing to her in front of the bellhop? Or was he giving her to Heath, to defile this way? Would he really do such a thing? Would he allow another man to debase her like this?
“It’s time,” Anthony said.
The hands gripped her hips. The cock pushed slowly, smoothly up her ass. The gag in her mouth smothered her scream.
Eileen burst into tears. The one thing her mother had warned her of, in the most dire terms, had just been done to her. Her mother had told her of many perversions that she must be vigilant against, but of all the unnatural acts that filthy, depraved sluts might engage in, the one that was most unspeakable, the one most certain to earn her revuls
ion and contempt from all decent folk, was to let a man put his penis back there. She had been warned that men always wanted it, but they never respected the woman afterward; if she wished to remain married, her mother said, she must never, ever allow her husband to put himself there.
The rigid cock pushed its way effortlessly deep into her. It was not as large as the monster probe had been, and her body, trained on much larger objects, accepted it easily. She wept as it was buried to the hilt in the last part of her body that had not been defiled by a cock.
The hands slid up her back to massage her shoulders. Anthony’s voice came from somewhere behind her, soothing. “Shh. Just take it.” The cock remained unmoving, buried in her ass. “Concentrate on what it feels like. Doesn’t it feel good? You’ve never felt this before, have you? Think about how different it is from the probes.” His voice directed her attention inward, to the novel sensation.
It didn’t feel bad, exactly. It was nothing like the cold, hard steel; it felt warm, yielding, alive. Nor was it as smooth as the metal; the cock felt textured, firm but resilient, slippery with lube.
It began to move, thrusting in and out in slow strokes. The sensation was quite strange, not like sexual intercourse at all. She expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. She tightened involuntarily, and heard a gasp behind her. Was it Anthony? Was it Heath? She couldn’t tell.
He began sodomizing her in earnest then. The hands dug into her flesh and the thrusts became harder, faster. She felt dirty, defiled; as if on cue, the butterflies started in her stomach again. She wept helplessly under the assault, while he—Anthony? Heath?—did as he pleased to her.
The cock stiffened inside her ass. She heard a cry, then a wet slap deep within her. A sense of pressure, and of being filled, and then the feel of the thrusts changed, became warmer and more slippery. The penis softened and pulled out.
Elicitation (The Training of Eileen) Page 15