Evocation (The Training of Eileen)

by William Vitelli

  Applause rippled through the hall. Someone was handing Anthony something, a plaque mounted on polished wood. He shook hands with the person at the podium, looking pleased. More applause followed.

  She glanced around her. That same man, the one sitting by himself at their table, was ignoring the podium, instead staring at her again. When he realized she was looking at him, he ducked his head with a guilty expression and turned away from her.

  Anthony touched her shoulder. She jumped. “Hey!” he said. “Did you see that? They gave me a plaque! Made of wood and everything!” He grinned. “Should be good for business, I imagine. Might even get mentioned in the paper or something. You know, back in the financials section, on page 87, underneath an article about tire recycling or some such thing. What’s that face for? Here.” He set the award down and poured more champagne. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

  “Anthony, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  “Oh?” He handed her a glass. His eyes glittered. “What’s that?”

  “The people here. Some of them were at…you know, at the party. When we got back from London. Do—”

  His grin turned feral. He leaned in close, so close she could feel his warm breath on her ear. “There are certain questions you are not allowed to ask. It’s not for you to know. And even the asking might get you into trouble. The kind that there’s a special room for, back at home.” He leaned back. “Now, what’s your question?”

  She felt her face grow hot. It seemed to her like everyone in the place could hear her thoughts, and knew exactly what she was feeling. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  He beamed. “Well, then. Cheers!” His glass touched hers.

  They finished the drinks in silence. Another person was at the podium, talking about the economic impact of this great new project on something or other. Anthony set down this glass. “I’m bored. I think I’d like some fresh air. You want to come with me?” The look in his eye suggested it wasn’t really a question.

  Eileen rose to follow him. Her head swam, and she realized she’d probably drunk more than she had intended. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. He grinned conspiratorially. “Come on!”

  They went down a wide flight of stairs that descended in a graceful curve from the ballroom. Anthony led them past wide, arched windows looking out onto a broad balcony four stories above the ground. A handful of other people sat about, lounging in plush chairs looking out into the night.

  He took her by the hand and led her through tall glass doors out onto the balcony. Eileen felt the chill of the night air on her arms. The balcony wrapped around the hotel on three sides, edged with a low, wide stone banister. The cold was enough to discourage most of the other guests from venturing outside; they saw only a few other people walking along the balcony.

  They walked hand in hand until they reached the end of the balcony. Here, where it was shrouded in shadow, the lights of the city glowed like diamonds all around them.

  The view was breathtaking. Anthony leaned casually over the banister. She drew up next to him. His hand slipped down her back, over the curve of her ass. She shivered again, this time from the feelings that his touch stirred inside her. His hand squeezed her ass, just a tiny bit. She let out a very soft whimper, lost in the cool wind.

  They stayed out there for several minutes, Eileen leaning against Anthony’s side, drinking in the beauty of the city lights sprawling out to the inky blackness of the water’s edge. Far out from shore, tiny lights bobbed in the water.

  He nuzzled her neck. His hand slid up and down along her back, tracing the curve of her spine. “Bend over,” he said.

  “Anthony?”

  “Listen very carefully. I want you to bend over the railing.”

  “But—”

  “Do it now.” Something in his voice reached down deep inside her. Her pulse quickened.

  She did as he said, bending over the wide stone banister. It was rough and surprisingly cold as her nipples pressed into it. He stepped back.

  “Reach behind you. Lift your dress. All the way. Let me see your sex. Do not look behind you.”

  “Anthony!” she hissed. Her face flushed. Heat crawled down her neck.

  “Do as I say.”

  Slowly, heart thudding, she hiked up the dress. Cool air caressed her legs, her thighs, swirled against her sex. Finally, blushing, still bent uncomfortably over the railing, she lifted the hem over her waist, exposing her bare ass.

  “Put your hands behind your back. Leave them there.”

  Eileen gulped. Her breath came in short, rapid pants. She placed her hands behind her, resting crossed wrists on the small of her back.

  Anthony came back next to her and leaned against the railing, looking out over the city. He caressed her hair idly. “Do not move. You may scream if you like,” he said. “Though if you do, you might attract some attention, and people might come to see. On second thought, perhaps you shouldn’t scream.”

  “Anthony! What—”

  A pair of hands grasped her wrists tightly, without warning. She quivered, startled. It took a moment for her mind to work out that they could not possibly belong to Anthony. He looked down at her, smiling. “Don’t turn around. Don’t look behind you or you will be punished.”

  “What—”

  “Hush.” His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her neck. She whimpered again, and felt butterflies churn in her stomach. “You know what is about to happen.”

  “Anthony! Anth—OH!” The man behind her lifted her arms in the air, pressing her body down against the top of the banister. A cock, hard and thick, touched her sex, very lightly. With great care, as though he had all the time in the world, the unseen man moved the head of his cock up and down between her labial lips, moistening it. Her pulse beat faster. When she could feel the slickness against her, he moved forward and drove slowly into her. She gasped as the shaft slid in.

  Fire flared within her, fueled by need and shame. She clamped down strongly around the invasion. “Oh! Anthony! Oh!”

  The hands tightened on her wrists. The man behind her began thrusting slowly, powerfully, pulling her back to meet each thrust. “Oh!” she cried. “No! I—oh!”

  Anthony looked down at her with a small possessive grin. “Tell me how it feels.”

  “It feels—oh!” The man pulled her back hard. “It—oh! He’s so hard and…oh! Nnngh! He’s very deep! Anthony! Oh, God!” Her head swam. “He’s fucking me very hard! Ungh! Ungh!”

  Anthony smiled. “I know what he’s doing. Tell me how it feels.”

  “It feels…” She looked up and saw something in his eye, something in the way that he smiled down at her, that electrified her. Suddenly, the person behind her didn’t matter. In that moment, this was about Anthony, about giving herself over to what was happening because it pleased him. She was his, to be used for his pleasure, even if what pleased him was seeing what was happening to her now.

  “Nnngh!” she cried. “It feels so good! Oh, God, Anthony, it feels so good! He’s fucking me even harder, and…oh! He’s so deep! Oh! Anthony! Anthony, I’m going to come!”

  The man behind her gripped her so tightly her wrists ached and slammed into her hard. She felt him swell, thickening inside her. “Yes! Yes! God, he’s so hard, and it feels…oh! Oh, God, it feels good! Anthony! I’m coming! ANTHONY! Annnngh!”

  Her orgasm hit her, an explosion of pleasure. She arched her back and pushed backward onto the stranger behind her. The world went gray, leaving nothing but the force of her own pleasure that went on and on until she felt she would pass out from it.

  Still he continued to drive into her, over and over, pounding her past the point where she was spent. Her cries became more urgent, but he did not let up. “Anthony!” she cried. “He’s raping me! Oh, God, Anthony, he’s raping me!”

  His expression turned tender and he stroked her hair. “Yes,” he said. “And you like it.”

  “I do!” she wailed. Ins
ide her, the stranger’s cock swelled. “I do like it! Anthony! I…uh! Uh! Oh! Anthony, I think he’s going to come! He’s in me too deep! It hurts! How—Anthony!”

  A huge torrent of hot wet come erupted inside her. She thrashed as she felt it pour into her, trapped by his tight grip. He continued to thrust, slamming deep into her on every stroke. She went limp in his grasp, panting, her body pressed to the cold stone railing. His thrusts did not stop until his cock started to soften, drained and spent.

  Finally, he pulled slowly out of her and released her hands, leaving her slumped over the banister, panting. She laid still, her cheek resting on rough stonework.

  Anthony moved in close beside her. His fingers ran lightly down her back. Her dress remained bunched up around her hips; she was aware, in a distant way, that anyone who walked by would plainly see her gaping, just-fucked pussy, still oozing with come, but she could not gather up the strength to move. She felt her breasts press against the cold balustrade with each gasping breath.

  He drew closer still. Eileen could see a bulge straining against the front of his pants. She reached out slowly with one hand to stroke him through his clothes, her fingertips tracing the shape of the hard erection concealed inside. “Oh!”

  “Yes. That’s right.” He nodded down at her. “The question that you wanted to ask me before. Did you want to know if any of the men here tonight have fucked you?”

  She nodded, her fingers still moving over the shape of his cock.

  “What kind of filthy come-filled fuck-toy walks into a room full of people and doesn’t even know if she’s fucked any of them or not?”

  She flushed, fingers still tracing the bulge beneath his slacks.

  “Earlier this evening, you didn’t know if any of the people here had fucked you.” He smiled. “Now, you know at least one of them has.”

  “Who—”

  “No.” He wagged his finger. “You don’t get to know. Not now, not ever. Now get up. We better go back inside before people start to talk.”

  Chapter 20

  Eileen straightened. Immediately, she felt wetness spill from her and drip down her leg. She smoothed out her dress, thankful to be covered again. Her body still thrummed from the pounding, and from the intensity of the orgasm it had given her.

  She took her seat at the table in the banquet hall, demurely, eyes down, afraid to look at anyone directly lest they read what had just happened in her face. It occurred to her to wonder if the people around her could smell the sex on her. What will they think? Will they know I was taken against my will? Will they know it made me come?

  The evening became a haze. Anthony held her hand under the table, his thumb stroking her skin. She poured herself more champagne and tried not to think about whether or not the men seated around her knew what had happened…or worse yet, knew from experience what it was like to rape her.

  The evening finally ended. The crowd dissipated. The people around their table rose and exchanged goodbyes. Anthony stood and escorted her, arm in arm, back down to the waiting limo. She climbed gratefully into its safe cocoon, protected from the world. The hotel disappeared behind them. Cars flowed around them, each one an island, insulated and distant.

  Eileen’s head hummed with champagne and sex. She could still feel the sticky wet warmth dripping from her. Anthony watched her, smiling. Her hand ran down his shirt, caressed his lap, touched hardness. Her eyes widened.

  “Kneel,” he said.

  She complied willingly, descending to her knees on the floor in the back of the limo.

  “Take off your dress. Give it to me.”

  She stripped, pulling the dress over her head. He took it from her outstretched hand. A touch on the control and the window slid down. Cold air whipped around them. He tossed the dress out the window, where the wind snatched it away. She had only a brief glimpse of it sailing down the street before it was gone. The window closed. “Touch me.”

  She stroked him through his pants, obedient, compliant, following the shape of his cock through expensive fabric. He sighed. The butterflies swirled in her stomach. She unfastened his pants, slowly, lovingly, to draw out his erection. Her hands caressed it, feeling its warmth. She longed to worship it, stroke it, bring it into her mouth…

  “No,” he said. “Not your mouth. Your cunt. Come here. Sit on top of me. I own that cunt. Give it to me.”

  She rose from her position on the floor to impale herself on him as she straddled him. “Ungh!”

  “Yes. Just like that.”

  Anthony moved under her, slowly at first. His hands curled around her breasts. He squeezed, hard, his shaft rigid inside her. She gave herself to him, pliant in his hands, moving his hips to work his shaft deeper into her.

  He responded to her gentle compliance with greater ferocity. He was rough, demanding, taking sex from her body; she gave it to him willingly, with gentle submission. The harsher he was, the more pliant she became. He moved his hips hard, slamming up into her until her head bumped against the ceiling with each thrust. She braced her hands against the roof and leaned forward, offering her breasts to him.

  He took her nipple between his lips. As he thickened within her, he bit down hard. She cried out softly, pressing against him, making no move to escape. His teeth sunk into soft skin. They both came together, fiercely, abandoning themselves entirely to it.

  When it was over and her body had stopped shaking, she lifted herself from him and returned to the floor. She knelt there, her head on his leg, quivering while the city streamed by. A bruise had already started forming on her breast where he had bitten her.

  He stroked her hair softly. Neither of them spoke until the limo arrived at their home. As it pulled up in front of the house, Anthony zipped his pants. He pulled some folded bills from his wallet and handed them to her. “Here. Go tip the driver. Be polite. I’ll be inside.”

  He left the car. Eileen stepped naked out into the night air. Goose bumps rose on bare flesh. The driver’s window slid down. She saw surprise on the driver’s face and flushed, embarrassed. An impulse came, to fold her hands protectively over her body, cover herself from his sight. No, she told herself. This is for Anthony, too. He wanted to expose me this way. White goo slid from between her legs.

  “Here you go,” she said, passing him the folded bills. Warm light spilled out from the car, bathing her face and breasts in its yellow glow. The driver’s eyes slid over her body. Hot shame crawled down her neck.

  “The service was acceptable, miss? You had a nice trip?”

  “Yes. Very—” She caught herself. Her face reddened. “Very nice. Thank you.”

  “You are sure? You enjoyed the ride?”

  “Yes. I did. Thank you.” She turned toward the house.

  “Miss? Here. Take my card. If you ever need anything, you call, okay?” He pressed the paper rectangle between her unresisting fingers. His eyes lingered on the bite mark visible on her breast. He grinned lewdly. “Anything at all.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You like it rough?” His eyes, glittering with avarice, lingered on the fresh bruise on her breast. “Anything you need. You call.”

  “I will. Thank you.” She turned and walked away, hips swaying as she had been taught. The limo did not move until after she closed the door behind her.

  Anthony was already in the bedroom. A pillow lay on the floor. Eileen approached him seductively, without haste, one hand caressing her own breast as she came near. She moved in to kiss him, and at the last minute turned aside to whisper in his ear. “I feel your come in me,” she said softly, one hand lightly touching his shoulder.

  She spent a long time working him up again. She undressed him slowly, bit by bit, running fingers and lips over each tiny part of exposed skin as though she were mapping out a strange and delightful new country. By the time her exploring fingers reached his pants, he was already excited again, his arousal apparent by the stiffening bulge growing there.

  The visible signs of his arousal excited her. Sh
e tried not to think about how it would end, with the unpleasant taste of his ejaculate filling her mouth, her own need unsatisfied, and instead concentrated on his responses. She had learned how to read the subtlest of his cues, how to interpret each tiny little shudder as she used her hands and body to arouse him, to get him ready to accept the offer of her mouth.

  Watching him respond gave her a sense of power in her own sexiness and desirability. Her body responded, too, matching his growing arousal, waking her own desire. When she had finally slid off the last of his clothing, and her fingertips ran lightly over the surface of his erect penis, she felt like she was on fire.

  She knelt on the pillow and opened her mouth. As his erection slid in, she nearly came. She remained there, right on the edge of orgasm, while she sucked him, slowly, lingering over him.

  He shuddered when he came. Thick salty semen sprayed into her mouth. She coughed on the mouthful of goo, shivering on the edge of her own orgasm, but it faded away and left her frustrated. White fluid dripped down her chin.

  A moment later, she was stretched out passively on the bed, looking up at him as he went about fastening the chains to her wrists and ankles. “I’m so proud of you, my darling little whore. You are almost ready!”

  “Ready?” she asked. “For what?”

  “Your training is nearly over. There are a few minor little bits that still need a bit of smoothing out, like your distaste for come, but you are almost ready to become a full-fledged sex slave.” He smiled down at her. “I will need to make an appointment for you to be evaluated by Dr. Moreland, but I think you are ready.”

  Eileen quivered. “What does that mean?”

  “Once your training is officially declared to be over, you will truly be my slave. Of course, that means holding you to a much stricter standard of behavior, and you will be punished for even minor infractions, but I think you’ll do fine. And there’s the…” He cleared his throat. “But we’ll have time to discuss that later. Go to sleep, little whore. Your training is nearly finished!”