Elicitation (16 page)

“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.”

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?”