Evocation (27 page)

“That’s what I thought.” He picked up the contract, grinning. “I’m going to put this in a safe place. Later on tonight, I have something very special planned for you. Call it a commemoration of a special day.” His grin grew wider at her expression. “No, I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

For the rest of the day, he refused to tell her anything more. Whenever she asked him what he had planned, he would smile without a word. As the evening approached, Eileen found herself feeling more and more self-conscious about her nudity. The thought of being made to be this way, forbidden to wear clothes unless she was going out, made her feel embarrassed and bashful. Each time he looked at her, she blushed and lowered her eyes, her skin hot and tingling.

Chapter 25

The setting sun caressed the sky with long fingers of red and gold light. Anthony glanced at his watch and smiled. “It’s time,” he said.

Eileen jumped. She felt a quick flash of fear, and an equally fast sense of relief at being allowed to put clothes on.

The relief turned out to be short-lived. Anthony went into the bedroom and returned with a pair of high, strappy shoes and a long, dark full-length suede jacket that Eileen hadn’t seen before. “Here. Wear this.”

Her stomach did flip-flops. “Don’t you want me to put my clothes on?”

“No. You won’t need anything else. Come on!”

Eileen slipped the jacket around her shoulders. When she buttoned it up, it covered her almost all the way to the floor, but did little to help her self-consciousness.

Anthony drove toward downtown, following a twisty route through neighborhoods Eileen was not familiar with. She found herself watching him: his hands on the steering wheel; his eyes, lit by the reflection of headlights behind in the rear-view mirror. He glanced at her and smiled warmly. “Are you excited?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

Eventually, Anthony parked on the side of the street. The sidewalks were thronged with people. He opened her door for her, offered her his hand. “Let’s see. I think it’s…this way.”

They slipped into the crowd of people. All around them, music blared from the open doors of bars and nightclubs. Half-dressed women braved the last lingering chill in the air to hand them brightly-colored flyers offering specials on drinks. Anthony’s hold on her hand was firm and warm.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He smiled. “This way.”

As they slipped through the press of people, Eileen felt the self-consciousness return. Did they know? Could all these people tell she was naked beneath the long coat? With each step, her nipples grazed against the inside of the jacket. Was Anthony taking her somewhere to make her expose herself? Would he ask her to flash the teeming mass of partygoers? She felt herself growing excited at the idea.

Occasionally, as they shouldered their way along, she would catch the eye of some passing person. Each time she did, her breath caught. She imagined one of these passing strangers walking right into her, forcing her back into some quiet doorway, pinning her there. She pictured him unbuttoning her jacket just enough, while Anthony watched…

“We’re here!” Anthony pulled open a door, painted dark green with bars over the window, and stepped through. Eileen followed him uncertainly.

The space inside was large and quiet. A glass counter ran along the far wall. The back was enclosed by long, heavy black drapes that hung from the ceiling. Against the near wall, a large number of rectangular metal frames jutted out, each hinged so it could be turned like the pages of a gigantic book. Each frame contained lots of small pieces of artwork, dragons and flames and hearts surrounded by barbed wire…

“Anthony!” she hissed. “This is a…a tattoo parlor!” Her body shivered.

“Hello! Are you Mr. Porto?”

A woman came out from behind the counter, hand outstretched. She was short, with full round breasts and curvy hips. Her hair, long and straight, was black as night, save for a brilliant shock of purple in the front. She wore a black sleeveless tank top and a black skirt; her arms, Eileen saw, were covered in elaborate, colorful tattoos.

“I am! You must be Ms. Moore?”

“Jennifer. Or Jen. Either one.”

“Jen.” They shook hands. Eileen felt nervous and uncertain, caught outside her element. She had never been in such a place before, but her mother had told her stories about the kinds of people who went to such establishments.

“You are Eileen?” the woman asked. “Hi! I’m Jen.” She offered her hand; Eileen took it automatically, chaotic thoughts swirling in her head. “You’re right on time. My partner’s in the back getting ready. Follow me!”

She passed through the heavy drape. Anthony followed her. Eileen pushed the drape aside hesitantly and moved through behind him.

On the other side was a row of large chairs with metal footrests, each in a small alcove delineated by more of the heavy curtains. The little alcoves were all decorated in different ways—one with paintings on canvas, showing street scenes in vibrant, surreal colors; another with Japanese fans and a tiny tree under a small fluorescent light. In one of the alcoves, decorated with figurines from some horror movie, a tall, thin man in a ripped T-shirt was sitting on a stool wrapping rubber bands around some kind of small electrical device Eileen didn’t recognize. He stood as they came through.

“This is my…um, partner, Thomas,” the woman said. He held out his hand, smiling under a crown of spiked black hair. Around his neck he wore a studded collar; his arms, like hers, were covered with tattoos, though his were done mostly in shades of gray.

“Anthony!” Eileen said. Her heart pounded. The coppery taste of fear filled her mouth. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re commemorating the occasion of you becoming a full-fledged sex slave!” he said. “Take off your jacket.”

Her heart froze. “Anthony! I don’t—” Samantha’s words came back to her.
You can never say no again.
She gulped.
You want this. You signed your name. You can never say no again.

Slowly, hands shaking, she unbuttoned the long coat.

It fell open, revealing her nudity. She slipped it off and stood uncertainly, not sure what to do with it. The man—Thomas, was it?—took it from her and disappeared through the curtain. He came back a moment later empty-handed. Eileen swallowed nervously.

“Don’t look so tense! It’s not so bad,” Jen said. “Sit down in the chair right here.” She placed a hand on Eileen’s shoulder. “Just relax. You’ll do fine!”

Eileen sat slowly. “What are you going to do to me?”

The woman turned to Anthony. “You said you’d like her to be tied down?”

“Yes. I think it will make the experience more memorable for her.”

Jen nodded. Thomas moved beside the chair, several small coils of rope in his hand. He took Eileen’s hand and placed it on the armrest. “Just relax,” he said. He wrapped several turns of rope around her wrist and tied it off expertly to the arm of the chair. Eileen’s heart pounded so hard she felt as if her whole body was shaking from it. Her breathing turned ragged. Her body vibrated like a live wire.

She watched helplessly as he secured her other wrist. When he was satisfied, he knelt at her feet. More rope went around each ankle, binding them to the footrests.

“Okay, if I can just get you to sign here…” Jen placed a pen in Eileen’s hand and held a form under it. “This is a waiver and consent form. I’ll need you to sign it before we can get started.”

Eileen started to ask her what the form meant, but a look from Anthony stopped her before the first word was out.
You can never say no again,
she thought.

She scrawled her name as best she could with her wrist bound to the chair. Jen smiled. “Okay! Would you like to see the artwork?”

“Artwork?” she asked.

“I’d love to!” Anthony said. “We talked about it on the phone, but I’d love to see the final version.”

Thomas handed a slip of paper to him. He looked at it thoughtfully. “I think that will do quite nicely,” he said.

“Artwork?” Eileen asked again. Her heart hammered furiously. She dared not think about what might be about to happen to her.

Anthony held up the paper for her to see. On it, the words “Sex Slave” were written in a graceful, flowing script, one word above the other, the first S twined with the second. Each letter was a deep blue, with a black outline.

Her heart pounded faster. “What are you going to do?”

“This is going to be tattooed on the back of your neck, as a reminder of what you are.”

“You can’t!” Her body quivered in fear. “What will happen if people see it?”

“Then they’ll know what you are.” Anthony flashed her a predatory grin. “If you keep you hair down, it probably won’t show, though you’ll still know it’s there. There will be times when I make you wear your hair up.”

“Anthony! N—” The thought flashed through her head once more.
You can never say no again.
She shuddered and looked away.

“Yes, my darling little whore?”

Eileen shook her head. Tears welled up in her eyes.
He’s really going to do this,
she thought.
I signed a contract. I told him that my body is his property.
She felt herself contract sharply. The butterflies fluttered. Her nipples hardened. “What if…what if my mother comes over?”

He grinned. “Then I imagine you’ll have to be extra special obedient, so that I don’t make you wear your hair up.”

“Oh!” Shame curled through her. She looked away.

Thomas moved behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pull on a pair of gloves. He touched her neck gently, tilting her head forward. “I’m going to tie your hair up out of the way,” he said.

Eileen nodded mutely. He bound her hair in a neat bun. She flinched when something damp touched her neck. He scrubbed her skin vigorously.
Oh, God, he’s really going to do this,
she thought, quivering

Something buzzed loudly behind her. She jumped, startled. “Hold still,” Thomas said. His hand touched the back of her neck gently. She shuddered, feeling goose bumps rise on her arms.

Another touch on her neck. The buzzing sound started again. She felt a tingling, scraping sensation across her skin that turned rapidly into a painful prickle. She whimpered.

“See?” Jen said. “I told you it wasn’t that bad.”

Eileen looked up helplessly at Anthony. He watched her proudly. Some of the fear slipped away under the warmth of his obvious approval.

Thomas tilted her head down. The prickling, scraping sensation grew stronger, until it felt like her whole head was vibrating. She felt herself slipping into that space she’d first felt up in the attic, the place where she gave herself completely over to what was happening. Her pussy twitched. She scarcely even noticed when Jen disappeared through the curtain.

The buzzing continued. Time became meaningless. Eileen’s whimpers quieted. Her recently-abused nipples swelled painfully, testifying to her need. The stinging, vibrating buzz of the needle seemed to spread across her skin, down her back, until it seemed like she could feel it inside her cunt. Before long, she was moaning openly.

Jen slipped back through the curtain carrying a small tray. She stood next to Anthony and watched. “I think she likes it!”

“She seems to,” he replied. “To be honest, it’s hard to find things she doesn’t like. It makes punishing her a bit tricky sometimes.”

“Mmm, I can imagine.”

They watched her writhe under the needle for a while, nipples hard, legs parted. The buzz grew more and more intense, until there was a desperate edge to her moans. “It’s too much!”

“Finished!” Thomas said. She felt him wiping the back of her neck. “Here, take a look!”

He handed her a mirror. She looked into it tentatively. He was holding another mirror behind her, reflecting the fresh ink on the back of her neck. She read the words “Sex Slave” permanently imprinted there and shivered. Seeing the words on her skin, still raw from the needle, made her feel helpless, vulnerable.
Now everybody will know what you are,
the voice said inside her head.
Now you can never deny it.
She stared at the marks, reading the words over and over, fascinated, unable to look away.

She reached back to touch the raised flesh, and was stopped by the rope around her wrist. He read her intention and shook his head. “Don’t. You don’t want it to get infected.” When he put down the mirror, Eileen felt relief. Her neck still tingled. He covered the raw skin with Saran wrap. He was saying something, something about how to take care of it, but Eileen couldn’t focus on his words; in her mind, she was still tracing the lines of the tattoo, thinking about what it meant.

“What lovely nipples!” Jen said. “Have you thought about piercing them, too?”

Eileen looked up, startled. The shiver of fear returned.

“Hmm. Maybe, but not right now,” Anthony said. “Her breasts are very sensitive. She can come just from having them stroked. Torturing her nipples is one of the ways I can punish her. I’d hate to not be able to do that to her because they were pierced.”

“Oh, you can still torture them. At least once they heal. Especially if you pierce them vertically. Show him, Thomas.”

He stepped around from behind the chair to stand in front of Jen. She lifted his shirt. His chest was tattooed, images of clockwork machinery spreading across his body. Both nipples were pierced, each with a short vertical shaft capped above and below with tiny metal balls.

Jen gripped his nipples tightly. “You can still do all sorts of things to vertical piercings. Clamps, pulling, whatever you want.” She twisted hard until he cried out. “See?”

“Hmm,” Anthony said. “And you can do the same thing with women’s nipples too?”

“Sure. I have rings instead of vertical piercings, which does limit things a bit, but there’s all sorts of stuff you can still do.” She lifted her own shirt.

Across the top of her breasts spread an image of a tree, branches covered in lush green leaves. The trunk, gnarled and ancient, ran down her stomach until it disappeared at the hem of her skirt. Her large, prominent nipples were both pierced. Metal rings, each a brilliant cobalt blue, passed through them. “You can still pull on them or clamp them, if you’re careful to do it behind the ring,” she said. “Or you can tie a string to the rings and lead her around that way, if you like. My nipples got more sensitive after I pierced them.”