Evocation (2 page)

“No.” He set her down near one of the massive white columns that lined the front porch. She felt warm concrete under her bare feet. Eileen shrunk away from him and moved toward the door, but Anthony held tightly to the length of rope that bound her wrists. “Stay here.”

“But I’m naked! People will see me!”

“They might, unless you behave and stay behind this column.” He half-led, half dragged her over to it. “Right here.”

Anthony pushed her forward against the column. With one hand, he lifted her wrists over her head. Eileen looked up, and saw that he had nailed a bright metal ring to the column, just above her reach. He stood on his tiptoes to loop the rope through it and tied it off, binding her against the pillar with her arms stretched above her. The morning sun shone warmly on her bare skin.

“Anthony!” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Hush. You might want to keep your voice down a bit. You’re out of view of the road, mostly, but if you make too much ruckus our neighbors might wonder what all the fuss is about. Now, the Faulkner family over that way”—he waved to his left—”usually keep to themselves and probably won’t care if you fuss. And Mr. Thompsons over that way”—his chin jutted to the right—”is a bit hard of hearing. But he has a son who’s in his thirties or so, who might want to come over and see what the noise is all about. Who knows what he might do if he finds you all tied up and naked! So you probably want to keep quiet.”

“Anthony—”

“Hush.” He knelt in his bathrobe next to the column. Eileen cried out in surprise when he grabbed her ankle and lashed it to another ring he had nailed to the base of the column. He repeated the same procedure on the other side. When he was finished, she was securely bound with her legs spread. The warm, roughly textured stucco surface pressed against her breasts.

“Anthony! What do you think you’re doing?”

His hands caressed her sides, followed the curve of her body. “Enjoying the beautiful morning. Getting some fresh air.” He reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and took out a tube of lubricating jelly. She felt something cool and wet roll down the cleft of her ass. His fingers worked the slippery stuff into her. “And raping you anally, of course,” he said. “Just because we’re home doesn’t mean your training program is over!”

He parted his robe. His hands gripped her hips firmly. With a long, slow thrust, he buried his erect shaft deep in her ass. She let out a long wail of helplessness as he started to thrust. She felt her ass stretch to accommodate him, and with each push, he pressed her body hard against the column. She struggled to move, but the ropes held her tightly in place.

He raped her slowly and methodically, without hurrying. Eileen screamed helplessly. He took his time, thrusting slowly but deeply, impaling her on his erection. His hands were tight on her hips, pressing her against the pillar. Her screams slowly subsided, and gradually became moans.

Finally, his cock thickened. Eileen shuddered, knowing what was about to happen. One more thrust, and with a groan he unloaded a torrent of hot wet come into her. She shuddered in distaste. He continued to thrust, spurting hot wetness deep inside her, for what seemed like a very long time. She cried out, repulsed by the feel of the gooey slickness being forced into her.

When he was finally done, Anthony withdrew from her and closed his robe. “Mmm, that felt nice.,” he said. “I think I really like that ass of yours.” With that, he turned and walked back into the house.

“Anthony!” she called. “Anthony, don’t leave me here like this!”

The front door closed behind him.

“Anthony!” She tugged at the rope binding her arms until her wrists were sore. “Anthony!” Something wet dripped down from between her widely spread legs and splattered on the concrete. She squirmed, not wanting to think about what it was.

The midmorning breeze played over her skin. Her hair felt stiff and crusty. Each car that drove past on the street caused her to shrink against the post, wishing it were wider. The warm sun and gentle breeze might have been pleasant, in any other circumstance, but stripped and bound like this, she scarcely noticed.

The breeze picked up, stirring eddies in the yard and blowing through Eileen’s hair. She trembled, and tightness curled through her body. She felt vulnerable, exposed; with every sound, she was desperately afraid someone would walk up the driveway and see her there. She closed her eyes and remembered the people watching from the street while she was tied up in the window in London. The tension curled tighter. More wetness dripped from between her legs, but this time, it was not just Anthony’s come leaking from her ass. Slowly, gradually, her struggles changed, became long undulations of her hips. Need and tension rose. In her mind, she could imagine those men seeing her here naked in front of the house, could picture them discreetly reaching down to touch themselves while they watched her…

“Now there’s a lovely sight!” Anthony’s voice came from behind her. “A tied-up sex slave humping a pillar.”

Eileen realized she’d been so lost in the fantasy that she hadn’t even heard the door open. The knowledge made her turn bright red in embarrassment. “I—I don’t…I didn’t…”

“Of course you did.” He walked up behind her and cupped her ass with one hand. “Slut.” His fingers probed her pussy, and the sensation took her breath away. She moaned, pressing back against his hand.

His fingers probed deeper, found wetness. She moaned again as they slid between her folds and stroked her clit. Her eyes closed, visions of strangers watching her growing more vivid behind her lids. The breeze caressed her bare skin, raising goose bumps. Her moans grew louder, more urgent; then, all at once, the tension released and she came hard against his fingers.

He took his hand away; her hips moved backward, following it. He laughed. “Later! I’ve made breakfast, and I don’t want it to get cold.” Nimble fingers untied her bonds. “Besides, tomorrow starts an important new phase in your training, and I won’t be able to feed you breakfast the way I did on our honeymoon any more. So I wanted to be able to have one last time lingering over breakfast with you, you know? For old time’s sake.” He chuckled. “If ‘old time’ can mean a few days ago.”

“What are you talking about? Anthony! Let me go!”

He bent to untie her ankles. She stepped away from the pillar, trailing rope, and felt suddenly, acutely self-conscious. The low rumble of a passing truck on the road startled her, making her hide behind the pillar again. Anthony laughed. “In the house, little whore!”

He took the rope still bound to her wrists and led her through the door. She followed sheepishly, feeling like a pet on a leash.

Like a pet on a leash…
The thought echoed in her head. Her heart thudded. He’s leading me around like I’m his pet! Her body quivered in sudden excitement. She felt her nipples harden. Between her legs, she twitched and grew wetter. Something stirred inside her, some deep inner part of her that seemed fascinated by the idea.

He led her through the living room and into the kitchen, flooded with warm coppery light reflecting from the pots and pans hanging over the stove. Sunbeams fell on the small wood table where he had laid out breakfast. He’d placed two chairs at the table, low-backed wood without arms. One of them had a familiar dildo jutting upward from the seat.

She shrank back away from him as far as the rope would let her. “Anthony, no!”

“Yes. After today, things will change, and I won’t have the opportunity to do this to you any more. A different part of your training will take precedence. I enjoy feeding you breakfast, though. Besides, it will be a nice way to bridge your honeymoon training with your at-home training, don’t you think?”

“No! I don’t want to!” She shrank back farther. That sense of objectification intensified, bringing with it a sudden, overpowering feeling of helplessness. She felt soiled, filthy, unfit to be seen or touched. She wanted to hide, to flee away from his sight.

He pulled the rope hand over hand, reeling her closer, bringing her to the chair step by reluctant step. “Sit down, little whore. It’s time for breakfast.”

“Anthony!” she begged. “I don’t want to!”

Without a word, he steered her over to the chair. His hand on her shoulder pressed her down. She flinched when the dildo touched her, hesitated for a moment, then slowly lowered herself onto it. When her ass touched the seat, it filled her completely, painfully deep. She quivered and moaned.

When she was fully seated, Anthony untied her wrists. She tried to rub the marks the rope had left behind, but he intercepted her hands and pulled them behind the chair. Moments later, her wrists were once again bound, this time behind her back. He tied the rope to the chair, to prevent her from moving.

“Anthony,” she whimpered weakly, “no…”

He brought a plate over to her, heaped with pancakes, eggs, and sausage. Ignoring her protestations, he sat next to her and fed her, one forkful at a time. Every tiny motion made her shockingly aware of the dildo impaling her, and before long her eyes were closed and she was moaning softly. He caressed her tangled hair, and kissed her defiled cheek softly. She felt degraded, but also cherished and cared for. The contradiction quickened her pulse. Every bite of pancake was a violation and a tender moment of intimacy at the same time, making her feel conflicted, uncertain.

When she had had enough, Anthony sat across from her and prepared a plate for himself. Amusement danced in his dark eyes. He watched her steadily, until the weight of his gaze made her blush. His eyes followed the curves of her breasts, rested for a moment on her hard nipples, continued down her body to the place where the edge of the table interrupted his view. He seemed pleased, as though admiring a cherished piece of art that brought him great joy.

Her heart beat faster. She moaned again. The covetousness in his look excited her. He watched as her moans came faster, louder, and her eyes closed. He could see with vivid clarity the rapid beat of the pulse in her neck, the lifting of her breasts with each breath.

But the orgasm he expected never came. She pursued it, felt it tighten inside her, but never quite caught it; the edge of ecstasy slipped away from her, left her panting and aching. Her eyes opened and she stared pleadingly at him, gasping. He smiled and returned his attention to his breakfast.

After he was finished, he untied her and helped her rise up off the dildo. She kept her eyes down, embarrassed by his look. He took her chin and turned her head up to meet his gaze. “Now you may get cleaned up. I’ll take care of the dishes.” He placed a small kiss on her lips that sent shivers of longing through her body.

She retreated to the bathroom in a daze. As the shower warmed, the feeling of dirtiness grew stronger, until by the time she stepped beneath the spray it threatened to overwhelm her. She began scrubbing herself. As she did, the feeling she’d first experienced in London, the sense of being dirty in a way that could never be cleaned, came back.

This time, it was coupled with a powerful arousal. She soaped and scrubbed her body, excited and repelled in equal measure by the semen that clung stubbornly to her skin. One hand traveled over her breast and descended between her legs. Her knees buckled.

No!
she told herself.
This is what he wants! He is trying to make me want his come all over me. I am not going to give in!
She took her hand away, heart beating fast, and tried to push the arousal aside.
He will not train me to enjoy this filth!
She turned the stream of water as cold as she could get it and forced herself to stand beneath the icy spray.
I am not a sex slave! I am not going to touch myself this way! Not after what he did to me!

She stayed under the cold water until it had blasted away the last tattered remnants of sexual arousal. Only then did she turn it off and reach for a towel. Her nipples stood hard, from cold rather than heat. She wiped fog off the mirror and stared at herself. Determination mounted in her, to stomp out and tell Anthony that she had had absolutely enough, she was going to let him know how little she cared for the things he was doing to her…

No
, she thought.
I am not going to let him see the way he is affecting me,
I am not going to give him the pleasure of knowing how he is getting to me.
She smoothed her expression into something pleasantly neutral, dressed, and walked out. Inwardly, locked in a secret room, her arousal simmered.

When she returned to the kitchen, Anthony had finished cleaning up the last traces of breakfast. “Oh, hi!” he said, and planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “All clean, little whore?” The phrase sent a small blaze of heat through her. She pushed it down and smiled blandly.

“The movers should have brought all your boxes over while we were away and put them in one of the bedrooms upstairs. If you want, you can start unpacking this afternoon before the party.”

“Okay,” she agreed, glad of the opportunity to distract herself with something else. Without another word, turned her back on him and left. She climbed the sweeping stairway to the second floor and moved down the hallway, opening doors as she went.

The movers had indeed done their job; Eileen found all her boxes stacked in a small, Spartan bedroom. The sight of all her worldly possessions, boxed up and neatly labeled, awaiting her in her new life, reminded her of how little she actually owned. She’d already sold or given away most of her furniture just before the wedding; the rest of her possessions occupied a surprisingly small space.

She spent the next several hours in the bedroom alone, opening boxes, sorting her things, trying to decide what to do with them. Anthony had told her that any of the bedrooms upstairs could be hers if she liked. Somehow, arranging her things around the room didn’t seem to make the space feel like it belonged to her. The house was already completely furnished with Anthony’s things, and standing in the room trying to figure out what to do with the odds and ends of her life reminded her of that. She felt like she had set out to capture a husband, and bring him into her life, and somehow the exact opposite had happened.