Training Ch. 08

The night passed restlessly.

Eileen lay awake for a long time, chained to the bed, with scattered images lingering in her mind and her body. She could still feel the cold stone balustrade pressing against her breasts, the unseen man's cock thrusting into her. She fidgeted and squirmed, too horny to sleep. Several times, she slid her hands down her body toward her dripping pussy, only to be stopped short by the chains.

She rolled over onto her back. Beside her, Anthony slept deeply, curled up on his side. Eileen's hands glided over her breasts, squeezing and caressing, while the way she had been taken on the balcony replayed again and again in her mind. Her fingers pressed into the bruise where Anthony had bitten her, hard, until she shuddered.

When sleep finally did come, it was filled with vivid dreams, crackling with sexual energy. A hooded man, strong and powerfully built, held her down in the middle of a banquet table. All around, men and women in fancy clothes and strange, ornate masks watched while he raped her. She fought uselessly against him. He overpowered her easily. His rigid cock thrust hard into her, so fast it made her scream. It hurt at first, but as he continued, it began to feel better and better. Soon, pleasure overwhelmed her resistance. What had started as rape became something else; her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, and she kissed him as she came. When he was finished, he spread her open to display her to the masked people seated around the table. She slid her fingers between her legs and masturbated openly for them, relishing the wet of his come dripping from her, savoring the eyes on her.

When Anthony woke her that morning, she was dripping wet. As soon as he had uncuffed her, she placed the pillows in their appointed positions and offered herself to him, back arched, arms stretched languidly along the bed. He slid slowly into her ass. She moved at a leisurely pace, working her hips unhurriedly to that place where they both cried out and his come flooded into her.

After she had bathed him, she dried him with a soft fluffy towel and helped him dress. The soft lazy smile never left her face. She felt warm and vibrant, her body awash in erotic energy. Her fingers brushed playfully across his skin every time he came near.

"My goodness, you are in quite the mood this morning, my darling little whore," Anthony said. He grinned his boyish grin. His fingers caressed her bare breast. "What has you in such a good mood?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Perhaps. Whatever it is, I like it. Did being raped in a public place put you in this wonderful mood? Was that what did it?"

She blushed and ducked her head. Her cheeks colored. "Maybe," she said. She pressed her body against his. One hand ran down his body to follow the contours of his cock through his pants. The other slid up the back of his neck to draw him in close for a long kiss. "Or maybe you just turn me on."

He grinned. "Or maybe knowing that you're almost done with your training and you'll soon be a full-fledged sex slave turns you on."

Wild, reckless excitement filled her. "Did it excite you to watch me being raped last night?" Her voice was challenging. Her fingers traced the outline of his cock, over and over. "Did you like seeing another man hold your wife down and shove his cock into her? Did it turn you on when I told you how it felt?" Some part of her deep inside was astonished at her boldness.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, it did." He put his hand between her breasts and shoved her back against the wall, so hard she let out a squeak of surprise. His other hand slipped between her legs. When he touched wetness, he pushed his fingers inside her. "Almost as much as it excited you. You know what else excites me?"

"Oh!" She quivered at the touch, eyes closed.

"It excites me to see how much you love being a sex slave." He released her suddenly "And I have plans for you this weekend, yes I do. But before those, breakfast!"

She let out a little mewling sound of disappointment when he turned away toward the kitchen.

After breakfast, moved to get dressed. He grabbed her by the arm. "Stay just as you are. Wait here. There's something I want to do."

She watched him disappear up the stairs. Now that the heat of sexual excitement was wearing off, she found herself filled with doubts. Talking so openly about what had happened last night, being so bold about how she felt...these were things that men didn't like, weren't they? What if Anthony thought she was too slutty? What if she seemed too easy? Would he find her repulsive? Would he want to be rid of her?

The doubt resonated in her mind. Is Anthony right about what kind of person I am? she asked herself. Do I like being raped in public? The thought horrified her. It seemed unlikely, even laughable, that any man might enjoy watching another man have sex with his wife. Yet Anthony kept arranging situations where other people used her for sex. What happened when he grew tired of that? Surely he would realize how defiled she was, and want to be rid of her.

Lying in the dark, chained to the bed, secretly touching herself, the things that had happened seemed alluring and sexy. But now, in the light of day, the way she had asked him so directly if he liked watching what had happened to her, the way she had been so openly, wantonly sexual in the limo on the ride home...those things suddenly felt dirty and wrong. Her arousal drained away like water, leaving her feeling cold and a little unsure.

From upstairs, she heard a muffled thump, followed by the sound of something metal crashing to the floor. There was a pause, then a scraping sound. Another thud sounded. Her heart raced.

A few moments later, Anthony came down the stairs carrying the device he'd called a Sybian, the power cord dragging along behind him. He had removed the T-shaped metal bar that he had cuffed her wrists to. The sight of it brought back those memories, as sharp as if he had bound her to the machine just yesterday. A rush of arousal, strong and intoxicating, surged through her. She shuddered and looked away.

"Anthony, when I said those things about you being excited by...you know, by last night, I didn't mean..." Her voice trailed off.

"Yes?" He raised one eyebrow.

"It's wrong! I'm not the kind of person who...you know, when that man was holding me down, I couldn't...I didn't really, you know, like it, but..." Her face grew hot. She stopped, flustered. "It would be unfaithful! And saying those things is..."She stopped again. He watched her placidly. All the confidence she'd felt earlier seemed to evaporate. "What I mean is, that isn't it. It's not the things that man did! That doesn't put me in a good mood."

"Oh?" Anthony said. "Well, I think I can help put your mind at rest."

"Really?"

"Yes. There's something very important you might have forgotten about." He smiled. "Your body is my property. I can do whatever I like to it, and that includes loaning it out to others if I choose. You have no choice whatsoever in this. So you see, you don't need to worry about it; you can't control it anyway. Though in all honesty..." His grin grew wider. "I know you like it."

She opened her mouth to reply. He lifted a finger. "Don't even try to deny it. I saw how hard you came last night, and I saw how you were after."

"But--"

"Hush." He set the Sybian down next to the couch. She watched him plug it in. A strange mix of emotions roiled in her.

"Anthony--"

"Hush. Not a word. Today we are going to start working on changing your attitude about some things." He grinned wolfishly. "Come here," he said, pointing to the Sybian. "Sit."

She approached it warily. Her body remembered it well. Wetness began forming between her legs.

Self-conscious under Anthony's watchful eyes, Eileen lowered herself gingerly onto the machine. The dildo projecting up was stubby but quite thick, and she felt awkward as she worked herself down onto it.

"Buckle the straps. Strap your legs down."

She complied, feeling even more self-conscious. The act of strapping herself to the Sybian made her feel vulnerable and submissive. Her body responded strongly to the restraint, twitching around the dildo pressed up inside her. Her breath quickened.

Anthony sat on the couch, one leg on each side of her. "Unzip my pants," he said. Eileen quivered, partly in anticipation, partly in fear. He picked up a newspaper. "Put my cock in your mouth."

Her hands moved to caress his pants. He paid no notice, instead opening the paper. She unzipped him and drew out his penis. He was quite soft, apparently unaroused.

Her tongue swirled around the head. She sucked his soft cock into her mouth. Her lips closed around his shaft. Her head began to bob.

"No," Anthony said. His hand held the back of her head, keeping her from moving. "Stay still. Concentrate on the way it feels in your mouth. I want you to focus all of your attention on it. Just stay right there."

Eileen expected him to turn on the machine. Instead, he started to read his paper. Eileen sat there, the dildo quiet inside her, and tried to focus. His soft penis, clean and warm, filled her mouth. She could feel its texture on her tongue, the small ridge along its underside, the bulbous head pressing lightly against the roof of her mouth. Having it there made her mouth water uncontrollably, and before long a small thin line of drool leaked from the corner of her lips and started to run down toward her chin...

"Focus," Anthony said. His fingers pressed against the back of her head. "Your concentration is slipping. Focus on how it feels to have my cock in your mouth."

Her attention shifted back. She concentrated on the way his shaft curled slightly to nestle against his tongue. The small motions of her breathing caused it to shift, ever so slightly, in her mouth. Even in stillness, it felt alive, in a way that a dildo couldn't.

She thought about the way it felt when the blunt round head pressed against the back of her throat. Her body responded to the thought; Eileen felt herself tighten around the hard shaft impaling her cunt. Her clit throbbed against the ridge that ran along the front of the Sybian. She heard the rustle of the pages turning as Anthony read, felt the leather straps buckled tightly around her thighs to hold her down.

Anthony's fingers curled in her hair. "Focus! When you have a cock in you, that is the only thing you should be paying attention to."

Eileen flushed. She felt a tinge of humiliation at being forced to pay such close attention to Anthony when he was clearly not paying attention to her. She felt like an object, here only to service him. The feeling sent butterflies swirling in her stomach.

She wrestled her attention back to his cock. Very slowly, so subtly that she didn't notice it at first, it started to harden in her mouth. She felt it become slightly thicker against her tongue. The head crept deeper, toward her throat. She did nothing to encourage it, but merely remained still and allowed it to grow.

Finally, after more than half an hour had passed, Anthony put down the paper. His penis was by this time semi-erect in her mouth, still somewhat soft and pliable. He looked down at her. "Now," he said, "you may suck me off. When I come, you will hold it in your mouth. Do you understand?"

Her stomach did flip-flops. The thought of keeping his semen in her mouth sickened her. Even after all the times he had made her suck him, the taste and feel of his semen still filled her with disgust, and her first impulse was always to spit it out or choke it down as quickly as she could.

Reluctantly, she began to suck. Habit and experience quickly took over, and soon she was bobbing her head up and down expertly over his shaft. It grew to full hardness in her mouth. Her feelings quickened; her body, conditioned by months of practice, flushed with the hot tingle of arousal.

Anthony moaned. The sound made Eileen's heart beat faster. His cock swelled. She sucked faster, encouraging him. He threw back his head and roared with pleasure as he came. Thick fluid gushed into her mouth, filling it with the salty taste of semen.

When he had finished spurting, he pressed her back. "Tilt your head back. Hold it. Focus on what's in your mouth. Think about how it tastes. Feel how warm and thick it is. Concentrate on the texture."

Eileen gagged. Deliberately turning her awareness to the mouthful of semen caused her throat to close. She struggled to hold it in. She coughed wetly. A droplet ran from the corner of her mouth. Her stomach churned.

Anthony knelt behind her. "The thing about a Sybian," he said conversationally, "is that it's about as subtle as a truck. It doesn't care what mood you're in. It will make you come whether you're horny or not. Even if you're totally turned off." He twisted a knob. Eileen felt the dildo start to squirm inside her. The ridge buzzed with a loud, raspy noise against her clit.

"We are going to train you to respond to having your mouth filled with come," he said. "From now until you're properly trained, you will be permitted to have an orgasm only when your mouth is filled with semen. You will be required to swallow at the exact instant you come."

She whimpered. Her stomach lurched at his words. He slid his hands over her breasts. "Shh. Don't fight it," he said. "It won't do any good."

Eileen thrashed in sudden dread. She knew, from past experience, that he could do it. Her body could be programmed to respond with sexual arousal to the feel and taste of his come, just as it responded to having his erect cock pushed down her throat. She could see herself being conditioned to the point where she craved his come in her mouth, where the anticipation of it would light her up, where she would yearn for that first gush of hot salty goo spurting across her tongue...

...and at the same time she would still hate it, still loathe the taste and feel of the disgusting stuff. The machine could tear an orgasm from her whether she wanted it or not. It could force her body to associate sexual pleasure with whatever he wanted it to. But another part of her, something not in her body, would still hate it. She would crave it and be repulsed by it at the same time, and being forced to take it would make her come...

He can make me do anything, she thought. It doesn't matter what I like. It only matters what he wants me to like. He can program my body to want anything. The realization electrified her. The fact that he could not only use her in any way he wanted, but that he could make her want it, no matter how much it repelled her, sent powerful shockwaves of arousal right down into her core. Oh, my God!

Anthony wrapped one arm around her body from behind, pinning her against his chest. His hand squeezed her breast until she could feel his fingers digging in. The flash of pain snapped her back to her senses, to the feel of the Sybian and the taste still filling her mouth. Her eyes grew glassy, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. "Guk!" she said.

"Focus." He twisted a knob, and the machine leaped into full gear. Intense, unstoppable pleasure blasted through her. She tried to shriek, but it came out as a wet gurgle. More white fluid ran from the corner of her mouth.

The orgasm hit, hard. The world went gray. Fierce, toe-curling ecstasy devoured her, the pleasure so intense it almost bordered on pain. Anthony clamped his free hand tightly over her mouth. "Swallow!" he commanded. His fingers twisted her nipple savagely. "Now!"

She obeyed instantly. Warm goo slid down her throat. Her body convulsed in rapture. The orgasm went on and on, waves of raw, overpowering physical pleasure coursing through her without stopping. The entire time, Anthony's voice murmured in her ear. "That's right. You want it. You need my come in your mouth. It tastes so good, doesn't it? You love being a filthy come-slut." She barely even recognized the words, so lost in the ecstasy she could hardly think.

It was over all at once. In an instant, the machine's stimulation went from blissful to excruciating, as if someone had flipped a switch inside her. The squirming, the vibration on her clit, suddenly became too much. Eileen shrieked.

Anthony released her and turned it off. She sat there trembling for a long time, the powerful sensations still ringing through her body. Occasionally, an especially strong aftershock caused her to shudder. Her mind raced.

This is wrong! she thought. He can train me any way he wants to, and he doesn't even care if I like it or not!

From somewhere in some deep recess of her mind rose a challenging thought. You like how he treats you. Look how hard it makes you come.

That's not true! she protested to herself. I only come because he forces me to!

Isn't that the point? came that arguing thought. You like to be forced. It's the only thing that excites you. You must have wanted him to know that about you. Why else would you tell him about your secret thoughts of pirates and rape?

Eileen flushed. She remembered that night when, giddy from too much wine, she had made her confession. They were in her apartment, just the two of them, curled up beneath a blanket on the floor, drinking wine and talking while a gentle rain pattered on the windows. He had asked about the things that turned her on. She remembered how she had giggled and blushed, how she had stammered as she told him her fantasy about being kidnapped by pirates. She thought about the wild impulse had caused her to reveal her deepest secret to him, to tell him how she had never had an orgasm without thinking about being raped.

That doesn't give him the right to do these things to me! she thought. He is just doing this for himself! He thinks he can just put himself in my mouth and in... Her body shuddered. In my ass, like I'm some dirty slut, and he can get away with it!

That annoying inner voice responded. And it excites you when he does those things. You like being forced. It's what you've always fantasized about.

He makes me do things I don't want to do! she protested to herself.

Of course he does, came that deep inner voice. That's what makes it exciting. Do you remember what that nurse told you? He does a lot of work to make a life that you find sexually satisfying. Being forced is what you find sexually satisfying.

It's indecent! she told that calm inner voice.

And you like it, that inner voice replied.

He says I'm a sex slave! He calls me filthy names! Eileen said to herself.

You like it. You like hearing that you have a talented ass. When he says that you're the best cocksucker in the city, you are proud of it. When he says he will turn you into the best lay on the Eastern seaboard, it thrills you. You like all of it.

"I don't!" Eileen protested.

"You don't what?" Anthony asked.

Eileen looked at him, startled. She was suddenly aware that she had been sitting motionless on the Sybian, blushing, for several minutes. Without intending to, she had said the last part out loud. "Nothing," she mumbled.

"Oh. Well, in that case, never mind." Anthony grinned. He scooped up the semen that had dripped from the corner of her mouth and pushed his fingers between her lips. She wrapped her lips around them automatically. Her tongue found the large glob of come. He flicked on the Sybian, just for a quick second, turning her gagging noise into a moan.

"That's right," he said. "Soon your body will associate that taste with pleasure. Won't that be fun?" She did not reply.

The routine changed. Each morning, when Anthony woke her and removed her chains, Eileen positioned herself at the foot of the bed and presented her ass for his use, just as she had before. But now he carefully regulated her, telling her to slow down if she became too aroused. His fingertips on her hips guided her, showing her how to move to bring him to orgasm, without letting her come as well. 

Training Ch. 07

That Friday started just the same as the day before, with no hint to what lay in store. Anthony woke Eileen, who rubbed the sleep from her eyes as soon as the cuffs came off her wrists. He stood beside the bed waiting expectantly. She looked at him in confusion, not quite sure what to do. When she realized what he wanted, she blushed and lowered her eyes. Hesitantly, feeling self-conscious, she picked up a pillow and put it on the floor at the end of the bed. He watched her set a second pillow on the end of the bed. When both were in place, she took the pump bottle from the nightstand.

Her cheeks burned red as she knelt on the pillow on the floor. Slowly, hands shaking, she pushed slippery lube into her ass, working it in with her fingers. Then, just as slowly, she lowered her face into the other pillow and offered her ass to her husband.

He accepted her offer. She felt him position himself behind her, felt the head of his cock press against her. She moved her hips, grinding against him until she felt him harden. When he was fully erect, she pressed herself onto him, taking him deep. She worked her hips, stroking his cock with her ass, until they came together, the pillow absorbing her screams as hot come spurted into her.

When he had removed himself from her, she followed him silently into the bathroom for the second part of the morning's ritual. In the shower, she soaped herself thoroughly under his gaze. Once she had lathered up, she ran her hands across his body, paying close attention to his reactions. The self-consciousness she'd felt the first time she had bathed him this way was not as strong this time; instead, his sighs of pleasure when she pressed her body against his, the tiny trembles that shuddered through him as she slid up and down against him, made her feel just a bit more confident.

When she had soaped him thoroughly, she knelt on the floor of the shower to take his cock between her breasts. She squeezed them around it and slid up and down, her eyes never leaving his face, until he hardened again. She moved faster, her wet and soapy skin slippery against his, until his expression changed. A moment later, he cried out. Thick, ropy come spurted across her breasts. Eileen felt contradictory emotions battle inside her--satisfaction at giving him pleasure, disgust at the feel of his semen clinging to her body. She rose and kissed him gently before she rinsed them both clean.

When they had dried off, he returned to the bedroom to get her training device. She stood quietly, legs apart, and allowed him to lock it into place. He dressed quickly for work, but told her to remain naked, just as he had done the day before. They ate breakfast, him clothed and her nude, while the vibrator inside her began its job of pushing and prodding her to sexual arousal.

After breakfast, he kissed her on his way to the door. "You can get dressed now if you like. Don't forget that you need to go shopping! I've left a list for you on the refrigerator door."

She had no idea, at that moment, how dramatically the rest of the day would go wrong.

His car pulled out of the driveway. Eileen ran her hand absently over her breast, remembering the feel of his come spurting on it. The vibrator locked inside her whirred softly. Her nipple hardened against her palm.

When the buzzing stopped, she shook herself and blinked. Feeling half in a dream, she went into the bedroom to dress. She stood for a long time in front of the dresser, feeling acutely self-conscious again, before she finally chose a simple chemise in deep blue with a plain skirt and shoes. Anthony's prohibition on wearing any sort of underwear heightened her self-consciousness. The thin chemise draped over her breasts, revealing ample cleavage and making her hard nipples stand out.

She felt strangely disconnected from the image she saw in the mirror. Two months ago, she would never dream of venturing out in public dressed so provocatively, for fear of being branded as a slut, or worse. Now, the woman in the mirror startled her. Her reflection seemed to possess an easy, confident sexiness that Eileen did not feel. Something in the way her reflection stood, and in the way she moved, radiated sultriness. Is that how other people see me? Eileen wondered.

The vibrator suddenly started buzzing fast. Eileen gasped and bent over clumsily. In the mirror, her alter ego leaned forward seductively, cheeks flush, eyes bright with appetite. Her top fell away, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. Embarrassment rose. In the mirror, her reflection looked back at her with obvious lust. Eileen shivered and turned away.

Leaving the house that afternoon was one of the hardest things Eileen could ever remember doing. It took her quite a while to work up the courage to step outside. Before, when Anthony had made her appear in public in such a state, and dressed so indecently, he had been with her, but this was different. Going out into the world like this, on her own, the vibrator buzzing inside her, made her feel vulnerable and exposed in a completely different way than she felt when he was there. Even when he had cut all the buttons off her shirt and paraded her around nearly topless on a leash, she had not felt so vulnerable.

She did her best to ignore the vibrator's slow, steady hum during the short drive to the store. The feelings of vulnerability and self-consciousness rose sharply as she walked through the parking lot. By the time she passed through the doors into the store, it seemed that everyone must surely know how aroused she was, and how she had this vibrating thing shoved up inside her sex. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the store while she pushed her shopping cart around.

Several times, she found herself stopping in the middle of an aisle, hands gripping the cart until her knuckles turned white, as the vibrator raced inside her. She closed her eyes tightly, praying she would be able to keep from making a sound while her body was driven into a sexual frenzy. When the buzzing stopped, she stood very still, breathing heavily, until the arousal ebbed enough for her to move again.

Shopping was inefficient. Eileen wandered the aisles randomly, too lost in her own arousal, too self-consciousness to pay more than a minimum of attention to what she was doing. She found herself retracing her steps repeatedly to find everything on Anthony's list. Each time someone walked past her, she put one arm protectively over her breasts, trying to conceal her erect nipples that pressed so prominently against the thin fabric.

Finally, she had gathered the last of the things on the list. As if with evil intent, the vibrator started running the moment she got into the checkout line, slowly at first. Little by little, while she waited in line, it sped up. She felt a rush between her legs, and the tension and heat started to take hold in her thighs. Butterflies swirled. She closed her eyes tightly and concentrated with all her strength on pushing the feelings away. Please, please, she thought, let me keep it together for just a few more minutes...

"Ma'am?"

She jumped. "Yes?"

The man behind the register gestured to the belt. She realized suddenly that the person in front of her had paid and left, and now the line was waiting for her. "Sorry," she mumbled. Her cheeks grew red and hot. She unloaded her cart awkwardly.

The vibrator started with a rapid, jarringly intense on-off pulsing. A flash of heat spread through her. The cashier began ringing her up, oblivious to her aching need. She leaned on the counter with both hands. Oh, God, don't let me moan, please don't let me moan! she thought.

"Ma'am?"

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Ma'am? That's sixty-four dollars and twenty-three cents."

She looked up at him. The vibrator switched to its highest speed. Time froze.

Her eyes traveled down his body. He was good-looking, this grocery store cashier; young, no more than twenty-three, with the powerful, athletic body of someone who enjoyed exercise. His light hair was close-cropped, his eyes hazel. Her gaze traveled down his arms to rest on his hands, large and strong.

Her nipples tightened. She felt herself squeeze down involuntarily around the vibrator. An image appeared in her mind, rich and vivid, of the cashier stepping from behind the register, grabbing her arm tightly, dragging her toward the door...

The vibration stopped. She shuddered. The world resumed its normal pace around her.

"Ma'am?"

"Sorry. I'm just...a little distracted today." She shook her head to clear it. He waited for her to pull the debit card from her purse. A few short moments later, her bags were back in the shopping cart, and she fled for her car.

She sat there for several minutes, breathing heavily. No matter how much she tried to shake the image from her head, it kept creeping back. His powerful hand wrapping around her upper arm, dragging her outside, ignoring her protests...

She shook her head again. The vibrator remained still. Her heart slowed, the arousal slipping away to a point where she felt like she could think rationally.

She made it all the way home and had opened the trunk to unload the groceries before it started up again. This time it ran with a rough, inconstant pattern that alternated between a gentle hum and a hard buzz that rattled all the way through the steel belt. She gasped and nearly sent a bag of groceries tumbling across the garage.

It stopped by the time she reached the kitchen. She started putting the groceries away, and was almost finished when it started up once more, fast and intense. "Unnh!" she cried. Her nipples hardened. The belt carried the vibration straight to her clit. She put one hand on the refrigerator to steady herself. Her other hand crept up to fold around her nipple. The sensation sent a thrill through her body.

The device slowed to a stop, then suddenly switched on at high speed again before she could recover. "Hungh!" she exclaimed. Her hand tightened on her breast. The sensation sucked her breath away.

It gradually slowed until it stopped, then started at full force again. Her vision faded. She stumbled into the living room and sat heavily on the couch. The hard metal belt pressed tightly against her clit. She cried out, eyes closed. Both hands slid up under her chemise to squeeze her breasts. Her nipples sang with energy.

The image of the grocery store clerk returned to her mind's eye. She imagined him pulling her from the store, past the startled looks of the customers waiting in line. She fought uselessly against his grip while he dragged her back behind the store. A bank of air conditioners hummed beside the concrete ramps of the loading docks, their great steel doors closed and locked.

"Let go of me!" she cried. He paid no attention. Instead, he pushed her roughly into the corner formed where the ramps jutted out from the wall. The coarse stucco felt warm against her back. With both hands he gripped her chemise. In a single violent motion, he tore it open, exposing her breasts.

Eileen moaned on the couch. Her hands squeezed her breasts tightly. Her fingers stroked her nipples. They seemed to be wired directly to her clitoris; every touch, every pinch made her clit throb and tremble. The images unreeled inexorably in her mind, like a movie she could not turn away from.

A throng of people, customers from inside the store, gathered behind him. Eileen could see them over the cashier's shoulder. His strong hands gripped her breasts roughly. She cried out in pain. He pushed her firmly against the wall. "You know you want this," he hissed. Behind him, the people watched curiously.

The vibrator slowed and sped up, over and over. Her fingers flicked her nipples rapidly. Eileen put her feet up on the coffee table, legs spread wide, and moaned steadily. Waves of pleasure spread through her body. Each touch on her nipples was so intense it was almost unbearable.

The scene kept unfolding behind her eyes. The cashier's hands ran down her body to her skirt. With a powerful yank, he pulled it down to her knees, exposing her in front of the people who had gathered to see what was happening. She tried to force her way past him, to flee for safety, but he moved like lightning. His hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall again. "No," he said. He leaned in close to her and mashed his lips against hers. She responded without thinking. Her lips parted for him, welcoming his invading tongue.

He grabbed her tightly and whirled her around to face the throng of onlookers. She looked with horror at the strangers all staring at her, eyes glittering with lust. He tore the skirt away from her and threw it to the side, leaving her wearing nothing but the ripped scraps of her chemise. "Do you see?" he said to the gathered throng. "Do you see how much she wants it?" He pinned her wrists behind her back and held her there, exposed openly to their stares. He stood behind her, his grip like iron, preventing her from escaping, showing her to the onlookers.

Eileen's hands gripped her breasts more tightly. The vibrator ran steadily. She gyrated her hips in the air, panting. The visuals spun on in her mind, so vivid she could almost feel the grip on her wrists.

He pushed her back against the wall, shoving her so hard that she nearly stumbled. His hands pinned her wrists to the wall over her head. "I know you're wet," he whispered. One hand held her in place while the other ran down her body, over her breasts, across her mound. Blunt fingers shoved into her. She moaned. He pulled them out of her and held them up. "Do you see how wet she is?" he called.

She tried to protest. He brought his dripping fingers to her lips to silence her. Automatically, without thought, Eileen did as she had been trained to do. She drew them into her mouth, blanching at the taste, and ran her tongue around them. The people behind her gasped.

The fingers left her mouth. She felt him adjust his position, heard the sound of his zipper lowering. His powerful hands gripped her shoulders. "Don't move," he told her. "You want this. We both know it." In one unstoppable thrust, he entered her hard. She threw her head back and screamed in pleasure and pain. He kept her body pinned to the wall while he raped her in front of the store's customers. She cried out, her hands still against the wall above her head, and responded to his thrusts, driving his thick erection deeper. Tears streamed down her face as she came, over and over, her cries of pleasure making it plain to the onlookers how much her body loved what was happening to her. She stared past his shoulder at the audience, gathered around to watch her be raped, and knew in a secret place inside that their stares only made her body respond that much more.

The vibrator stopped. Eileen let out a long helpless wail. Her fingers pulled hard at her nipples. A strange electric current seemed to flow through her, from her nipples directly to her clit. She felt herself leaking around the belt. The movie played on in her head, despite the vibrator's sudden stillness.

In her mind, she felt his cock harden and thicken. Another orgasm shuddered through her. She longed for the sudden wet spray of his release inside her. Instead, just as he seemed ready to burst, he pulled out of her. His big, strong hands shoved her irresistibly down onto her hands and knees in front of him. Shame rose inside her; she could feel the eyes of all the watchers on her body like a physical touch.

The head of his cock touched her lips. She reached for it automatically, mouth open. He drew away. "Look!" he called. "See how slutty she is, how she wants more!"

She tried to explain to him that it wasn't true; it was only the training, not her desire, that made her reach for his cock. She tried to explain how her body had been trained to do things that disgusted her, how the training was so thorough she couldn't help herself. Before she could finish, he grabbed her head and shoved his cock into her mouth. It felt hard and thick, about to explode...

Eileen's hands clenched on her breasts as tightly as they could. She grabbed her nipples and twisted desperately. It was too much; she screamed, a long squeal of torment and need. Her clit trembled and throbbed.

And then, unexpectedly, she came. The orgasm was ferocious and uncontrollable. She tightened painfully around the motionless object inside her and cried out in ecstasy.

It ended as fast as it had started. She panted for breath on the couch, skin slick with sweat. A long, shrill electronic beep came from the vibrator locked inside her, startling her. She looked around frantically. The beeping sounds continued, plainly audible. She tried to cover the belt with her hands, but it made no difference. She pulled and tugged frantically at the lock that held it in place, without effect.

Finally, after several, the sound stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling was short-lived, though; every few minutes, it chirped, like the sound of a smoke detector whose battery has run down. It seemed plain to her that when Anthony arrived home, there would be no way to prevent him from knowing about her unauthorized orgasm.

She pulled her clothes back into place. Her mind raced with the possible consequences. Anthony had punished her simply for taking too long to do what he'd told her to do; it seemed certain that he would punish her even more for this transgression. She thought about his stern voice telling her to get the key to the door. She imagined the long walk naked up the stairs to the attic. Butterflies flitted around inside her. Her pussy tingled and clenched.

This is crazy! she thought. How can the idea of being punished turn me on? She felt horrified at the idea. Anthony told her that being treated as a sex slave was what she really wanted, and was the only thing that excited her; her body seemed to agree. The notion that she might actually be looking forward to being punished scared her even more than the thought of punishment itself did.

She didn't have long to wait. His car pulled up into the driveway not long after her unintended orgasm. The butterflies fluttered faster. She felt her heart race at the sound of his key in the door.

Between her legs, the device let out a chirp. She rushed to the door to greet him. He had barely passed through before she wrapped her arms tightly around him and kissed him deeply. "I didn't mean to, it just happened, I didn't expect it or anything, it was all just so fast and I didn't even know I could do that!" The words tumbled out of her in a pile. "Are you going to make me get the key?" She bit her lip and looked at him breathlessly.

He blinked. "What?"

The device chirped.

Time froze again. In slow motion, like the clearing of the sky after a long summer rain, comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh," he said. "Well, then."

He led her by the hand into the living room. "So you managed to have an orgasm, did you? How did it happen?" He gestured for her to sit on the couch. "Did your training device not stop soon enough?"

She sat, abashed, feeling like a schoolkid who'd just been sent to the principal's office. He sat down on the edge of the coffee table facing her. She squirmed uncomfortably and shook her head. The vibrator chirped again.

"Hmm." Anthony took the small, flat remote from his pocket and pressed a button. "There. That should sort out the alarm. Now, tell me about this orgasm of yours."

Eileen took a deep breath. "I was at the store and it was running while I was in line at the checkout counter and there was this guy there, and I was thinking about him and then--"

"Whoa, wait, a minute, slow down!" Anthony grinned. "Are you saying you had this orgasm while you were at the store?"

Training Ch. 06

Anthony took her by the arm and led her to the car. The vibrator pulsed rhythmically. Eileen felt her nipples harden in response. She was sore, aching, and over-used. The fact that her body was still capable of responding this way, even after what it had been through, surprised her. In the car, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. The throbbing buzz grew and ebbed slowly. Thoughts of the nurse's hands touching her flowed through her mind. She shuddered slightly and pushed them away. Somewhere far away came the sounds of the engine starting. They glided onto the road.

"Well?" Anthony's voice intruded into her reverie.

She jumped. "What?"

"I said, you look like you haven't been fucked nearly enough today. From the looks of it, you still need more."

"No!" Her voice sounded frantic in her ears.

He chuckled. "Well, now. That's unfortunate, since I'm nowhere near done with you yet. You poor thing." He navigated the car off the road into a parking lot. "You're still missing something, I think. We can take care of that here."

She sat up to look around. He'd taken them to a small, nondescript strip mall. A Vietnamese restaurant, a haircutting salon, a pet store, a garden center, and a couple of empty spaces with "For lease" signs taped to the glass all clung together under cheerful red eaves. "Why are we here?"

"I told you. You're still missing something." He stepped out onto the pavement. "Come along, little whore! We don't have all day. We have places to go!"

Eileen climbed up out of the car. The vibrator pulsed once. She gasped and clung to the edge of the door.

"Come on," he said when she straightened again. "We have things to do."

He led her by the hand into the pet store. A bell over the door jangled. "Why are we here?" she asked.

"Hush." He drew her through narrow aisles piled high with dog food and pet treats. Finally, he stopped in front of a display of collars. "Pick one."

"What?" she said.

"Pick one. For you to wear."

"Anthony! You can't be serious!"

"Oh, no?" He chose a wide collar, black with red stripes, from the shelf and held it out to her. "Try it on."

"No! Absolutely not! Anthony, that's degrading!"

"Hm. Well, then." From inside his pocket he pulled out a small pair of fingernail scissors. "Hold still." He made a quick snip. The top button of her blouse bounced off the edge of the metal shelf and rolled down the floor.

"Anthony! What are you doing?"

He grinned. "I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to tell you how this works." He winked. "Totally slipped my mind. We're going to play a game. Every time you are disobedient, you lose a button. I'd be careful, if I were you. You don't have very many to lose. And if I recall correctly, you're not wearing anything under that blouse." He offered her the collar again. "Try it on."

"No! That's disgusting!"

"And that's two." Another snip, and a second button went skittering down the floor. The top of her blouse parted.

"Anthony! Stop it!"

He gazed at her. "I will strip you naked right here in this store if you do not do as I say. Put the collar on."

"Anthony!" Tears of shame welled up in her eyes. "I don't want to do this!"

"If you don't like that collar, that's okay. Pick another one. One that suits your tastes better." He waved at the shelf. "One way or another, you are definitely walking out of here wearing a collar. Whether or not you're wearing anything else, well..." He grinned. "That's up to you."

"Anthony!"

"Do you want to make it three?" He held up the scissors.

"No!"

"Okay. But I won't wait very long."

"I..." She raised the collar to her neck. Her shaking hands fumbled with the buckle. "I can't do it, Anthony, I just can't!"

"Well, tell you what. We can stay here until you run out of buttons, and then I'll put it on for you. How does that sound?"

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?"

He grinned wider. "Oh, I might have an inkling. Bet it'll be even more embarrassing when you lose that next button!"

"No!"

"What a dilemma. Stay dressed and put the collar on yourself, or let me put it on for you and go topless. Whatever will you do?" He smirked at her. "I can't wait to see which ne you choose!"

She brought the dog collar to her neck. Her hands shook hard enough to make her fumble with the buckle. Shame and humiliation rose. Her nipples tightened.

Anthony stepped back and looked at her critically. "Hmm. No, I don't think so," he said. "The red doesn't go with your skirt. Try another one."

She shuddered. "Anthony, please..." she whispered.

"Now."

She chose another collar at random and brought it to her neck. While she stood in the aisle buckling it on, the vibrator inside her started up again, slowly at first, gradually building to a higher and higher speed. She moaned once, very softly.

"Nope, definitely not. Those rhinestones just aren't doing it for me. Try another."

She took down a wide green collar with a black plastic buckle. The smooth webbed nylon felt strange against her throat. He looked her up and down critically. "Hmm, I don't know. That one really clashes, don't you think?" He pursed his lips. "I think you should try a different one."

While she searched for just the right collar, a handful of customers came through the store. Some of them paid no attention to her, but some of them stopped to watch. Her face turned red and her nipples hardened.

It took almost twenty minutes and over a dozen collars before she found one that met with his approval-a deep navy, nearly black, with a thin white stripe along its length. The vibrator buzzed rapidly enough to make her whimper. Wetness trickled down her leg.

Anthony picked up a matching leash. "We'll need this too." He handed it to her. "Go pay for these things and we can go."

She reached to remove the collar. He slapped her hand. "No. Leave it on."

"Anthony, no!" Her voice cracked with shame. "You can't make me do this!"

"I can and I am." He reached for her button.

"Okay!" she cried, defeated. He watched her head for the front of the store, grinning.

The cashier turned out to be a man who looked to be in his late twenties, with spiked hair and a Soul Asylum T-shirt. His eyes swept her as she approached. "Wow, you are smoking!" he said.

Anthony came up behind her. "Say 'thank you' to the nice man."

The cashier grinned. "She's hot! Is she your girlfriend?" His eyes didn't leave her breasts.

"My wife, actually. If you think she's hot now, you should see her tits. Which..." He held up the scissors. "...you may get to do, if she doesn't do as she's told."

Her face flushed again. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"Just the leash for you today?"

Anthony cleared his throat, arms folded. Eileen turned even redder. "No," she stammered, "the collar too. The-the one I'm wearing...oh!" Deep within her, the vibration paused for a second, then started again, stronger than before. She stumbled and grabbed the counter tightly. She moaned, eyes closed, helpless to stop the pleasure surging through her...

The vibration stopped.

She hung there, feeling like a fly dangling from a spider's web. Her body shuddered. A slick glaze of sweat clung to her skin. For a second, she felt that she might come anyway, even without the vibration. Slowly, the feeling slipped away from her. When her vision cleared, she found herself just inches from the cashier's startled blue eyes. "Oh. I...I'm..."

"That's...umm, nine dollars and fifty-four cents," he said.

The vibrator pulsed once. Her breath caught. She fought down a sudden urge to kiss him, deeply, recklessly.

"I...oh." The moment passed. She fumbled in her purse, drew out some folded bills, and passed them to him. Some faraway corner of her mind noticed that he was staring down her shirt, where the missing buttons revealed the soft curves of her breasts. She watched with helpless embarrassment, wishing she were wearing a bra, wondering if he could see her nipples. The rest of her brain was still struggling with the task of counting out bills.

When the exchange was complete, Eileen fled the store. She wished, desperately, for a way to make her exit more graceful, but the spikes at her thighs forced her to walk with hips swaying. The cashier's eyes stayed glued to her ass the entire way.

Once they were out in the parking lot, hot anger shouldered her arousal aside. "Anthony! You bastard! How dare you do that to me! You have no right, you son of-"

He grabbed her and kissed her roughly. The anger raged. She pushed him away. "No! Not this time! Enough! I will not let you do these things to me any more! You can't treat me like this and just expect me to play along with you. You've had your fun, humiliating me in front of other people, letting that..." Her body shuddered. "That nurse do things to me, forcing yourself on me. I won't put up with...oh! Oh!"

The vibrator kicked to life with a staccato of short fast bursts, strong and intense. She leaned against the side of the car, legs spread, panting.

"Yes?" Anthony said. He kissed along the side of her neck. One hand slid inside her shirt to caress her breast. Eileen moaned.

The anger melted under a fresh wave of sexual need. Her hips pressed against Anthony's. Over her shoulder, she could see the cashier in the pet store, pressed up against the window watching them. Her pussy clenched. Her arms slid around Anthony's back. "Oh, God, that feels good," she whispered.

"Yes, it does, doesn't it? You really can't help it. This is the way your body wants to be treated." Fingers tightened on her nipple. "This is what you are. Being a slave is the only thing that gets you off."

"Oh! Oh God, I'm going to-"

"No, you're not. Not yet."

The vibrator stopped. Eileen whimpered in frustration. "Anthony! You can't-"

"I can."

"Anthony, please!"

"No." He grinned. "Get in the car."

Sullen, she did as she was told. The cashier watched them pull away.

They didn't speak for a long time. The vibrator inside her didn't move; Eileen could feel it lifeless within her, and found herself tightening around it over and over again, trying to coax it back into motion. Nothing. Anthony seemed to pay no attention to her at all.

They wound their way through Boston's downtown streets. Eileen found her hunger subsiding. As it did, the little hot spark of anger flared again. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and stared out the window. The anger felt like the only thing she could control, the one part of her she still owned. Anthony could take possession of her body, even make it respond in ways she didn't want it to, but he couldn't dictate how she would feel...

Very gently, so subtly she wasn't aware of it at first, the vibrator started up again. She became aware of a tightening inside her. A faint warm flush passed through her. It sped up, very gradually. She closed her eyes and sighed. Visions of strange men holding her down, forcing her to do the most obscene things imaginable, swirled uninvited in her mind.

The anger faded. In its place, she felt that familiar flare of need. Her hips rocked. The sighs became moans.

She barely noticed when Anthony pulled off the main road and drove up the steep ramp into a parking garage. She was beyond caring about anything except the device buzzing powerfully inside her. She clenched the edges of the seat. "Oh! Oh!"

Anthony parked the car. She heard, distantly, the sound of his door opening. The vibrator sped up. Her back arched. "Oh!"

Then, right on cue, it stopped. The orgasm that had felt so close fled. A painful wave of agonizing desperation washed over her, her need so powerful that tears welled in her eyes. She slid her fingers between her legs, and encountered hard metal. Her fingers curled into the edge of the seat. "Oh, God. Please, please! Anthony!"

Anthony opened her door. A little smirk played across his face, instantly fanning the tiny ember of anger inside her into a roaring flame. She glared up at him in fury. "I've had enough! Take me home this instant. Your sick little games have gone way too far. I'm done. No more! You can't keep doing this too me!"

"Hmm. You know, you keep saying that. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think you believed it." He smiled. "I like these games. You do too. Shall we go?"

"No! I'm not leaving this car until you bring me back home!"

"Oh, I bet that's not true. It's just a matter of motivating you properly, I think." He pulled out the scissors. Before she could stop him, he snipped off the next button. Her shirt parted.

"Anthony!" She folded her arms over her shirt. "Stop it!"

The vibrator kicked back into action, strong. She shuddered. Her nipples hardened. Fresh arousal coursed through her body, stealing her breath away. The anger retreated in front of its advance.

He stroked her cheek gently. "Oh, my darling little whore," he said softly. "You really can't help it. You enjoy this so much." He lifted her hand to his lips. "Don't fight it. Let it happen."

Her breathing quickened. The vibration peaked and started to slow. She let out a low sigh. Every part of her body tingled; the arousal hummed inside her, making her want to surrender to him. She rose and stood meekly next to him. It surprised her how quickly the anger had drained away in the face of sexual arousal. Her determination that had seemed cast in iron just a minute ago had melted into compliance with frightening speed. The insistent need, painful and humiliating, hummed through her.

He led her by the hand out of the garage. They emerged into the fading sun. She looked around and saw they were right on the edge of the commons. "What are we doing?"

"Enjoying the day." He led her across the street. "I have to go back to work tomorrow, so I wanted to spend some time with you." The park opened up before them, inviting them in. He drew her close. "And I want some ice cream."

"What? We haven't had dinner yet!"

"Life's uncertain. Eat dessert first." He nuzzled her neck. "There's more to living than getting from cradle to grave by the most clearly marked path, you know. Come on!"

Her outrage wavered and finally drained away. The late afternoon air quivered all around her, beautiful, filled with the promise of joy, the end of one of those Boston late spring days that seemed too beautiful to be true. They took a meandering path through the park, along the trails that wound in no particular hurry through its center.

The vibrator came alive with a steady low-speed hum. Eileen found that she was enjoying the walk, even in spite of the spikes strapped around her thighs and the device locked inside her throbbing, aching sex. The anger she had tried so hard to hold on to, that had felt so fierce and consuming only a few minutes ago, had gone without a trace. She wondered how that was possible. The air was cool and pleasant. Squirrels darted across the path in front of them. Anthony seemed happy to let her set the pace. They walked hand in hand, her hips swaying.

The ease of all of it still surprised her. She seemed to be willing to allow him to possess her this way, and she still didn't understand why. Her hips touched his occasionally while they walked, and every time they did, shivers went through her spine.

Hours earlier, she had been strapped to a table, over-used beyond anything she ever thought her body could take, and then raped by another woman. Now, she was walking through a park with the top of her shirt open in a way that would horrify any person of moral decency, with an obscene vibrating thing buried inside her...and somehow she was happy. How could that be? Why she still not left him?

"Penny for your thoughts," Anothony said. "Fifty cents to act them out." He grinned. She squeezed his hand but didn't reply.

Presently, they came to the edge of the commons. Anthony led her across the street into a small ice cream shop with an odd name. The place was quite crowded, forcing them to thread their way to a small table in the rear. He motioned for her to sit. "I'll be right back."

As soon as he left her side, she felt suddenly vulnerable. Her shirt was parted enough to expose a lot more cleavage than she was comfortable with, and she was shockingly aware of how far the spikes made her part her legs. The vibrator, as if it could read her thoughts, ratcheted up its speed. She gasped.

Anthony appeared next to her a short while later, holding an enormous banana split in a plastic boat. He grinned devilishly as he sat. "You look positively delicious, my dear little whore." He scooted his stool next to hers. "I only brought one spoon. I'm afraid we'll have to share."

He moved in closer to nuzzle her neck. "I know how you like sharing," he murmured softly in her ear. She blushed.

Slowly, bit by bit, the ice cream disappeared. After he fed her each spoonful, he planted a small, gentle kiss on her lips. Eileen could not prevent herself from sighing in pleasure.

The bananas, hidden beneath the layers of the dessert, appeared. Eileen noticed that the sundae had been made with whole bananas. His intentions became clear to her a split second before he reached for one of them. Her eyes widened. "No! You aren't-"

"Yes," he said, and winked.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Anthony! That's obscene! No, I won't! You can't-"

The end of the banana touched her lips. "You need practice."

She turned her face away, flushing crimson. "Anthony! We're in a public place! No!"

"Yes." His voice was steel. He made a quick motion. She caught a glint of metal, and then another of her buttons was snipped away. Her shirt, held together only by a single button, parted wider.

"Anthony!" Her face turned redder. "No! Not here!" The anger bubbled up again from some hidden spring. Humiliation wound around her. "You can't!"

The vibrator sped up. She yelped and clenched her legs tightly together. Spikes bit into her thighs. She screamed and flung her legs apart. Anthony slipped the end of the banana between her lips, and to her horror they wrapped around it automatically. Her stomach lurched. Waves of fierce, overpowering sexual need crashed through her. The scream turned to a moan. Her eyes closed. He was playing her body precisely, forcing her to respond. She felt defenseless against the raging, churning arousal that swept over her. His hand slid up the back of her neck, and his fingers twisted through her hair. He held her steady and pushed the banana deeper.

"Do you need anythi-err, I'm sorry!"

Her eyes flew open at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. The server stood in front of them holding a tray in his hand, staring down Eileen's shirt. Time slowed. She realized with creeping horror that her breasts were almost completely exposed; from where he stood, he could clearly see her hard nipples. She felt the banana sliding between her lips and became aware that she was moving her head up and down obscenely over it, of her own volition, without Anthony forcing her to. Heat crawled up her neck, into her ears. Anthony grinned.

"Not a problem at all," Anthony said. "We're fine. Thank you."

He cleared his throat. "Well, then, um, if you, uh, need anything, you know, anything at all, err...just say so."

"Thank you! We will."

He backed up away from their table so suddenly that he collided with the chair behind him. "Sorry. Sorry. Err, let me know if you...you know."

When he had gone, Anthony took the banana from her lips. "Very good. You're getting the hang of it!" His eyes sparkled with mirth as he bit off the end.

"Anthony! You...oh!" The vibrator began a deep, powerful throbbing inside her. Surges of pleasure sucked her breath away. Her entire body shook. It held her there, on the edge of ecstasy, for a long moment before it slowed. "Oh!" The feelings subsided, became a hurting need. She panted for breath, her mind in a turmoil.

Training Ch. 05

Eileen showered and dressed automatically: short checkered skirt, button-up blouse, no underwear at Anthony's insistence. Her mind was in a turmoil. She still had not finished processing the events of last night, and Anthony's words churned up a mix of conflicting emotions inside her. The part of her mind that wanted a normal, decent life still couldn't understand why she was still here, why she hadn't left immediately when they returned from their honeymoon.

And yet...the vile, indecent things he did to her stirred something up, something she didn't seem to be able to let go of. Even the way he made her dress sparked something inside her; a few weeks ago she would never have ventured in public so indecently, but the fact that Anthony wanted her to made part of her want it as well.

Something else tickled at the back of her mind, too. Something about the doctor's appointment. She had a vague memory of going in for some kind of checkup before the wedding, but it seemed lost in the whirlwind of the wedding. She felt a mental itch, like there was something important she needed to remember, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

The feeling got stronger in the car. Anthony drove while Eileen looked out the window and pushed at the fog in her head. There was something she was forgetting, she was sure of it... Finally she said, "What is this appointment for?"

"You'll see." He flashed her a grin. "You'll like it." He put a hand on her thigh and squeezed reassuringly. The rest of the trip passed in silence.

Anthony pulled the car into a vaguely familiar medical park. A sudden, irrational panic set upon Eileen. A powerful sense of dread rose out of nowhere. She turned clutched at his hand. "Anthony, I don't want to go!"

"Nonsense. This exam is crucial to the next part of your training." He turned off the car. "Now listen to me. This is important." His tone demanded attention. "I want you to go in there and do exactly as you are told. Anything you are instructed to do, you must do. Do you understand?" His hand slid up her leg to her thigh.

A churning sea of emotions, vague and undefined, roiled just beneath the surface of her thoughts. The panic grew worse, and along with it came something else...something that reminded her of last night. Her breathing quickened. What did Anthony mean when he talked about it being the doctor's job to make sure she wanted sex all the time?

And why was she accepting this all so passively? She felt that she should be putting her foot down and demanding to be treated like a decent lady. What had he done to her?

"If you do not do as you're told," Anthony continued, "I will hear about it. And that means I will punish you. You've seen your special room." His hand moved under her skirt. Gently, feather-light, his fingers brushed her clit. She gasped from the sensation. "Go."

The panic faded as quickly as it had come. Meekly, she climbed from the car. He watched her walk through the office doors and smiled to himself. When the doors had closed behind her, he pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and drove away.

A half-familiar man with an open smile was waiting for Eileen. She didn't even have time to sit down before he approached her, hand outstretched. "Ah, Miss Miller...or rather, Mrs. Porto. Forgive me, please. You're right on time."

She took his hand with a puzzled frown.

"Of course, of course," he said. "Where are my manners? I'm Dr. Moreland. You can call me Aaron. You were so busy with the wedding, you probably don't remember me. It's okay, you were focusing on more important things, I'm sure." He gestured. "This way, please."

They walked down a short hallway. The doctor grinned genially at her. "How was your honeymoon?"

Eileen blushed and stammered. She had no idea how to answer the question. It was great, except that my husband decided to turn me into a slave and rape me several times a day? He forced me to masturbate in front of the bellhop? she thought. What would he think of me then? He watched her from beneath an arched eyebrow until she finally said "It was okay, I guess," and looked away.

He led her into a simple exam room with a large, heavy door. A strong sense of déjà vu came over Eileen. A tall woman with long sandy hair waited in the room, holding a clipboard; Eileen felt as if she should know her, but couldn't quite remember how or why. The woman was dressed in simple scrubs decorated with a pattern of tiny teddy bears chasing one another around rainbows, printed in bright colors on sky-blue cotton.

The doctor nodded to the woman. "This is my nurse Samantha, who you met last time you were here. She will be assisting me in today's examination. Now, if you could remove your clothes, please?"

Eileen blushed. "I'm not even sure why I'm here. I don't really remember making another appointment."

The doctor nodded. "We will discuss the purpose of this appointment in a moment. If you will kindly get undressed, we can get started."

"Aren't you going to give me a gown or something?"

"That won't be necessary. Disrobe and have a seat on the table, please."

Still blushing, Eileen fumbled at her clothes. When she had finished stripping, she sat gingerly on the edge of the exam table. Paper crinkled under her.

The doctor looked at her with an appraising eye. "The subject's demeanor has changed significantly since her first examination. The subject presents in a hypersexualized way, both in her manner of walking and in her manner of sitting. The subject now habitually sits with her legs spread even when disrobed."

Eileen flushed red and tried to cover herself with her hands. The nurse wrote on the clipboard while he continued, "The subject still shows a powerful shame response to her own sexuality. Consultation with her husband indicates that he wishes to preserve this aspect of the subject's behavior."

Eileen shrunk into herself. The casual, offhand way he referred to her, as if she were an inanimate object, made her feel very small in his presence. Anthony's firm instruction to do as he told her to do made her feel helpless. The fact that he wasn't here didn't seem to matter; she could still feel him, almost tangibly, as though he were watching over her shoulder. The threat of punishment loomed.

His hands touched her knees, surprisingly gently. He opened her legs again, spreading them wide. Eileen felt Anthony's presence as an almost physical weight, preventing her from resisting or closing her legs. The doctor took her wrists and slowly drew her hands away from her breasts.

"Lie on your back, please," he said. She shivered slightly, but could not make herself comply. She felt strangely vulnerable, and something she couldn't quite identify tugged at her memory.

Gently, softly, the doctor placed his hands on Eileen's shoulders. "Lie down, please." He pressed her back, lightly but firmly, until she was lying flat on the table. "The nurse is going to strap you down now. Are you ready for that?"

The sense of déjà vu came back, even stronger than before. She said nothing. The doctor's hands remained on her shoulders, holding her down. He smiled reassuringly.

She nodded uncertainly. "Okay, I guess."

The nurse took a pair of wide canvas straps from under the table and used them to strap her arms at her sides. Eileen shuddered and tried to rise, but the doctor's hands remained on her shoulders, holding her in place. The nurse pulled more straps tightly around her hips, and another set across her shoulders.

"I am going to place your feet in the stirrups now. Is that okay?"

Eileen gulped and nodded hesitantly. Her heart pounded furiously. The doctor's hands slid down her body, over her breasts, along her sides, and down her thigh. He gently lifted her ankle into the hard metal stirrup. The top swung down and latched. She let out a small squeak.

He crossed over to the other side of the table. His fingers stroked her inner thigh. His hands glided down her leg, sensuously, stirring up a strange mixture of feelings deep in her belly. He lifted her other ankle into the metal bracket. The latch clicked.

Dr. Moreland pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "According to the report provided by her husband, the subject received very heavy unwanted sexual use by a group of men last night. I will now begin a detailed physical examination of the subject." He donned a pair of magnifying eyeglasses. From a large round bin on the counter, he took a tongue depressor. "Open your mouth, please."

Eileen obeyed him reluctantly, heart pounding furiously. Anthony told him about what happened? she thought. Why? Why would he do that? He pressed her tongue down and peered inside.

"The back of the subject's throat appears mildly raw. There is some evidence of friction." He withdrew the depressor. "While you were engaged in unwanted forcible sexual intercourse last night, did any of the men thrust their penises down your throat?"

Her heart beat faster. She looked away, unable to answer.

"I am your doctor. It is important that you answer all of my questions truthfully and completely." He took her chin in his hands and turned her to meet his gaze. "Did the men who used you last night force their penises down your throat?"

Anthony's voice echoed in her mind, instructing her to do as she was told. In the jumble of thoughts and emotions within her mind, his words made her feel even more helpless than the straps holding her to the table. Her face colored. "Yes."

"Did these men also ejaculate in your mouth?"

She hesitated. The doctor looked down at her calmly. "Yes."

"Did you swallow any of the ejaculate?"

She shuddered. "Yes."

"At any point while these men were ejaculating in your mouth, did you experience sexual gratification?"

Intense shame crawled through her body like a living thing. She could not hold his gaze when she answered. "Yes." Her voice sounded small and far away.

"I see." He turned her head sideways. His fingers combed through her hair. He bent over to inspect her, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. "There appear to be tiny traces of dried semen in the subject's hair. Did these men also ejaculate on your face or body?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And did you experience sexual gratification at any point during the time when you had their semen on your face or body?"

Hot tears of shame leaked silently from her eyes. "Yes."

His hands moved down the sides of her neck and over her collarbone. He peered closely at her as though searching for something. His fingers moved over her breasts, probing, fondling. Her nipples hardened. The involuntary response horrified and embarrassed her.

"There are small bruises on the subject's breasts, consistent with the marks made by fingers. Did the men squeeze or fondle your breasts forcefully?"

Eileen opened her mouth, but no words would come. She nodded.

"And were you sexually aroused at any point during which your breasts were being forcibly fondled?"

"I—" Eileen whimpered in humiliation. "I was."

The doctor examined each of her arms closely, from her shoulders all the way down to her hands. Eileen felt dehumanized under his gaze, like an object being poked and prodded to reveal its secrets. The inspection felt clinical, detached, objectifying; but at the same time, being looked at this closely, this meticulously, also seemed very intimate. She struggled to move away from his gaze, but the straps held her immobile.

"I am seeing minor abrasion on the subject's wrists, together with a tiny bruise on the inside of the subject's right wrist that is consistent with what might be left by a thumb. While the men were using you sexually last night, did they hold you down?"

The shame coiled up in Eileen's stomach where the butterflies lived. "Yes."

"Were you held down throughout the entire time you were being used?"

She turned her face away again. "No," she said hoarsely. His questions brought back memories of the evening so vividly that she felt she was reliving the entire experience again. Tightness spread through her chest. Her nipples hardened again. The butterflies fluttered.

"I see." He continued his slow, methodical examination, moving across her belly and carefully down each leg. "Both of the subject's knees are showing redness and slight abrasion. Did the men hold you on your hands and knees as they used you?"

Eileen's body trembled. "Yes."

"Did you find this to be a sexually satisfying position in which to be used?"

"Yes."

"Were you penetrated vaginally while you were being used?"

"Yes."

"Were you penetrated anally?"

"Y-- Yes."

"Did the men who used you ejaculate in your vagina or anus?"

She gulped. "Yes. They...they did. Both."

"Did you experience sexual gratification at any point when you were penetrated vaginally or anally?"

"Yes." Her voice was hoarse.

"At which point did you experience sexual gratification, during vaginal penetration or anal penetration?"

A tiny sob escaped her. "Both."

"I see." He sat down on a small, wheeled chair. "I am now ready to begin the subject's internal examination. Nurse, the examination kit, please?"

Samantha offered him a tray. He accepted it and turned his attention back to Eileen. His fingers spread her open. "The subject is now lubricating very heavily and appears to be in a heightened state of sexual arousal."

Eileen felt the cold touch of metal penetrating her. She closed her eyes and whimpered softly as it opened her wide.

"The subject shows signs of significant recent sexual activity." His fingers probed her, found a tender spot. She gasped. "There is very minor vaginal bruising consistent with rough sexual intercourse." His fingers stroked the tender place inside her. Shockwaves of pleasure rippled out from that spot. Unconsciously, she tried to tilt her hips against his fingers, her body seeking more, but the straps held her firmly in place.

"Were you penetrated both vaginally and anally at the same time during this unwanted forcible sexual encounter?"

"Yes."

"Were you penetrated orally, vaginally, and anally at the same time?"

"Yes." A quick hot flash of desire flared inside her at the memory.

"During these instances of multiple penetration, did you experience sexual gratification?"

"Yes." The word came out as a sob.

"At any point during the time you were being used for sex, did you participate willingly in the things that were being done to you?"

"I—" Fresh tears flowed. She felt herself pulse against his finger. "Yes, I did."

"Did you at any point position your body in order to make it more convenient for the men to use you?"

"Oh, God. Yes. Yes. I did."

"How many times would you say you experienced sexual gratification during the time the men were using you?"

"I...I don't know."

"More than once?"

"Yes."

"More than five times?"

"I...yes."

"More than ten times?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I think-- Yes."

"More than fifteen times?"

"I...I don't..." Eileen sobbed quietly. She felt dirty, defiled beyond redemption. The matter-of-fact way that Dr. Moreland asked her about the number of times she had come from being gang-raped seemed to reinforce the things Anthony said about her. What had he called her? A filthy, cock-hungry tramp, that's what he said. If she could come so many times from being forced into such depraved acts, didn't that mean he was right?

"On a scale from one to ten, with one meaning not very satisfying and ten meaning extremely satisfying, how intense was the sexual gratification you experienced from this unwanted forcible sexual activity?"

Her face distorted with shame and disgust. "Ten," she sobbed. "Oh, God."

"I see." Dr. Moreland withdrew the speculum and rose.

"This subject's progress has exceeded the most optimistic of expectations. This subject appears to be taking significant pleasure from her training, and enjoys sexual slavery to a remarkable degree. The subject presents herself sexually, is compliant, and shows significant, strong arousal from forcible sex acts. I anticipate ready acceptance of the physical and psychological conditioning program."

Eileen looked up at him, tears still leaking from the corners of her eyes. She wanted to protest, explain to him how being forced to perform these disgusting sex acts sickened her, but she could not turn away from the knowledge of how good it had felt. The memory of her own eagerness, even when they had spewed their come directly into her mouth, made her cringe.

Anthony told her that she was fit for sexual slavery, and now the doctor agreed! More tears flowed down her cheeks. Maybe it was true! Maybe that is what she wanted, to be used in perverse ways for the sexual pleasure of other men, with or without her consent!

She felt herself tighten between her legs. The butterflies fluttered.

"The subject has reportedly been conditioned to respond sexually to deep oral penetration. I will now evaluate that conditioning. Nurse, if you please?"

Samantha pulled on a pair of gloves. Once gloved, she opened a drawer and took out a very long, narrow dildo with a flared head on each end. Eileen's eyes widened and she watched in horror while the nurse stroked it obscenely in her hand.

"No!" Eileen said. "No, you can't! No!" She struggled against the straps. Panic grew as the nurse came closer. "No! No!"

"I would save my strength if I were you," Samantha said. She pinched Eileen's cheeks to pry her mouth open. "You'll need it." While Eileen thrashed helplessly, she pushed the dildo into her mouth. Eileen had a brief sensation of something slick against her tongue, a sense of pressure at the back of her throat, and then the dildo slid easily down.

Her scream was cut off by the intrusion. "No! Nnnnnnnghk!!"

Eileen's body remembered its training. Without wanting to, she responded to the taste and feel of the dildo in her mouth, to the sensation of being penetrated. Her skin felt hot and vibrant. A white-hot flash of arousal, combined with anger and humiliation, blazed through her like a lightning bolt.

Her body also remembered the sessions on the Sybian, the strong pairing between the fullness in her throat and the powerful ecstasy the machine gave her. The conditioning was too thorough to will away; she felt herself respond exactly as she had been trained. Butterflies fluttered. Wetness flowed.

She closed around the doctor's fingers. He thrust them deeper and wriggled his fingertips against the inside wall of her pussy. "The subject does exhibit an exceptionally powerful sexual response to forcible oral penetration, in marked contrast to her behavior on her last visit. Additionally, the subject shows considerable improvement in her overall vaginal muscle tone."

Eileen looked desperately up at the nurse, who returned the look with sympathy. "You poor thing!" she said. "This must be very humiliating for you." She pushed, and Eileen felt the dildo slide farther down her throat.

She felt herself clench tighter. The prospect of having an orgasm in front of these people while they abused her this way was absolutely unbearable. She struggled with all her will against the rising pleasure. Please, she thought, please, no, don't let me come! Every thrust of the dildo, every slight little movement of the fingers inside her, threatened to overwhelm her resistance. She felt her will crumbling in front of the relentless tide of her own growing ecstasy.

At the exact moment she thought that she could no longer hold it back, the doctor slipped his fingers out. She shuddered with relief, and gave silent thanks for the reprive.

The relief was short-lived. A moment later, she felt the cold wet slick of lubricant, then a sudden violation in her ass. "Nnnnnnngh!" she cried.

"The subject shows virtually no resistance to anal penetration even with three fingers," the doctor said. "This is a tremendous improvement in so short a time and shows remarkable progress on the subject's part."

Training Ch. 04

Eileen fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. Far below, the city gave way to rolling countryside, then to open ocean, sparkling blue dusted with small white clouds. Anthony steadfastly refused answer her questions with anything more than a smile and a "hush." Her body throbbed around the plug in her ass; every beat of her heart was answered by a tremor between her legs. The intrusion was a constant dull ache, preventing her from relaxing.

Before long, Anthony's steady breathing in the seat beside her told her that he was already napping. She writhed next to him, and as time passed, the ache grew inexorably stronger, until it filled her consciousness and she could think of nothing else. She shifted around, trying to find a position that would ease her discomfort, and could not prevent a small moan from escaping her lips. Fire touched her cheeks. Her pussy clenched in time with the throbbing.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. It's only for a little while, she thought, only until they start serving lunch...

She caught that thought and examined it. When had that happened? At some point during the honeymoon, obeying Anthony had become natural to her. He had told her to keep the plug inside herself until the flight crew started their meal service, and so she had accepted that that is what she would do. When was the moment that she had given her will over to him? Was she really turning into a sex slave?

Her mind floated back through a catalog of the previous days. She remembered the violation from the night before, the hard erection in her ass as she lay bent over the table. That had felt so different from the plug inside her now; warmer, not as tight. She was surprised that it hadn't hurt. Having Anthony's cock inside her ass had felt almost...

Her heart thudded. Did she actually know that it had been Anthony who had taken her? She hadn't been able to see behind her. Could it have been the bellhop? She had never felt a penis inside here that way before, so she had nothing to compare it to. It might not have been her husband! What if he had let the bellhop defile her that way? What if she had married the man of her dreams, only to have him give her to a stranger, to do such a filthy thing to her? Her breathing came harder. That thought should disgust her, right?

Unconsciously, she started rocking her hips in tiny, subtle motions. She thought about the way she had kissed the bellhop, back in front of the hotel. She could barely remember his name, but she could still almost feel his lips on hers, the way he had sighed when her hands moved around him...why had she done that? Because Anthony had told her to. Why did it feel natural to obey him, even when he told her to do such foul and unnatural things?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready to begin our in-flight meal service. The flight attendants will shortly be coming through the cabin. Please turn to page 70 of our in-flight magazine to see today's meal choices, and remember that cocktails are available for an additional three pounds."

The announcement startled Eileen out of her reverie. She became aware of the way she was moving her hips. Anthony had awakened and was looking at her with an unreadable expression. She flushed and turned away. "I was..."

"Fucking yourself against the plug in your ass. I saw." He grinned. "And here I thought you wanted to take it out!"

Her face burned. "I do! Anthony, it hurts!"

"Soon. They're starting with lunch. As soon as they come by with our food, you can go."

"But it hurts now!"

"Hush. This will help you learn how to take it. When your training is finished, you'll be able to wear that plug all day long."

"Anthony!" She felt herself turn bright crimson. "I don't want to—"

"It doesn't matter what you want. Now hush! Not another word out of you or you'll be wearing it for another hour!"

Eileen sat in fidgety silence while the flight attendant made her excruciatingly slow way down the aisle, asking the passengers whether they preferred chicken or beef. By the time she arrived at their row, Eileen could barely sit still. She mumbled something unintelligible when the flight attendant asked her a question; the issue of chicken or beef seemed so remote to her that it scarcely pried her attention away from the steady throbbing ache. She took the wrapped package automatically and turned to Anthony, eyes pleading.

"Okay! Okay!" he laughed. His tone changed, became more commanding. "Get up. Go into the bathroom and remove the plug. Wash it before you come back."

She stood and worked her way past his seat. The form-hugging skirt made maneuvering down the aisle surprisingly difficult. With each tiny step, the plug moved fractionally inside her. Every little motion the plane made threatened to spill her into someone's lap, and she felt constrained and unsteady on her feet. Faces looked up at her as she passed. Eyes swept her body, some of them focusing on her nipples, clearly visible against the thin, scanty top. She blushed, feeling exposed and alone.

When she finally reached the bathroom, it was empty. She sighed with relief for small blessings and shut herself in the cramped space. Dim greenish fluorescent lights flickered on.

Then she discovered her first problem.

The long, tight skirt prevented her from being able to remove the plug. She couldn't reach under it, and the rubber-like material resisted being rolled up. She struggled with it for a few moments before she realized that she would have to pull it down to reach the thing in her ass.

That presented her with her second challenge, because even after she had unzipped the short zipper and tugged it down over her waist, the skirt still held her legs together. She tried to bend over and reach around behind herself, but the tiny space thwarted her; no matter how far she leaned or how she contorted herself, she couldn't seem to get a good grip on it.

Finally, after struggling for what felt like many minutes, she realized that she had no choice but to take off her skirt entirely. The thought made her heart skip a beat; there was something deeply, profoundly dirty about stripping down, right here on the airplane, with nothing but a thin wall separating her from the passengers outside. She breathed a little more quickly, and strange eddies of emotion flowed through her.

Eileen sat down on the edge of the toilet seat and slowly, reluctantly pulled off the skirt. Her nakedness made her feel intensely, shockingly vulnerable; no matter how many times she checked the latch, she felt certain that she had not locked the door correctly. At any moment, it seemed that someone would push it open and stand staring at her stripped half-naked right there on the plane.

Still flush with embarrassment, she lifted her knees and spread her legs as wide as she could. Her fingers slipped down between her legs and touched the warm and slightly rubbery base of the plug. Her breath caught in her throat. Why had she let Anthony make her wear this...this vulgar, obscene thing? The mere idea of using any kind of sex toy was repulsive enough to begin with. Her mother had explained patiently to her that such a thing was the mark of a lower grade of woman, the kind of dirty, perverted woman who was a slave to her own base desires. And a toy intended to touch her ass? That was disgusting beyond anything she should ever imagine!

And yet, she had allowed him to put this thing into her after he had... She gulped. After he had forced his cock into her ass. And then, she had allowed him to take her out in public, and instead of calling for help, telling someone about the indecent things he had done to her, having him arrested for his perversion, she had obediently accepted it.

Her breathing came faster still. Tightness wound around inside her stomach.

Her fingers touched the plug again. It felt like a tangible symbol of his control over her, of the way he could exert his will even when he wasn't there. Did that make her his slave?? Was he right about her? Is that why she was sitting half-naked in the bathroom?

The tension grew. Butterflies fluttered inside her. She slid her fingers over her clit and was surprised to find wetness there. A quick hot spike of arousal shot through her. Her fingers pressed harder, swirling in tiny circles around her clit.

She stared fixedly at the door as she masturbated. Her mind was filled with visions of that door opening suddenly and angry, disturbed people staring at her in shock while she touched herself. Fear sang through her, made her body alive; her skin felt electric. Her other hand fondled her breast, felt the heat through thin fabric. Wetness flowed around her fingers.

It took less than a minute for the orgasm to find her. It started small, little waves of pleasure rippling outward from her clit, and rose quickly until she was barely able to hold in the scream. Her body convulsed and she clamped tightly around the plug, but the pain only intensified the ecstasy crashing through her.

It ended quickly. She trembled, sickened; her heart pounded, every beat echoed by a throbbing from the toy buried in her ass. She gasped and sobbed, wanting to be rid of it.

That was when the third problem presented itself. No matter how firmly she pulled on the base, the plug did not seem to want to budge. It was buried deep, and with every tug she felt herself stretch and then tighten around it involuntarily.

She pulled harder. The plug slipped out only a hair's breath. An incongruous thought entered her mind: what if the plane crashed right now? Would the rescue workers find her like this, half-naked and holding onto a gigantic butt plug? What would they think of her? Would they brand her a slut, a whore, a filthy tramp, fucking her own ass right there in an airplane bathroom?

She pushed the thought aside and pulled even harder. Her ass stretched. She gasped and pulled still more. In a sudden, explosive flash of pain, the plug slid free. She cried out and sat panting on the toilet, struggling for breath. Something wet slid down between her thighs. She touched herself, and her fingers came back covered with a mass of thick white goo.

For the next several minutes, she scrubbed at herself in the tiny bathroom. The quantity of white fluid dripping out of her ass astonished her. The more she worked, the dirtier she felt. A very dirty slut—that's what Anthony called her; and now, half-naked in an airplane bathroom with a never-ending stream of come and lube dripping from her ass, she felt like it was true.

She was so distracted by the feelings that she completely forgot about the plug, until it rolled off the miniature sink and fell with a thud on the floor. When she picked it up, her stomach did flip-flops at the cool wet sliminess of it. It was thickly smeared with the same mix of come and lube that had oozed out of her. She wanted nothing more than to throw the disgusting thing away and be rid of it forever.

Reluctantly, she turned her attention to scrubbing the vile thing in the sink. She had nothing she could use on it but her hands, and touching it made her stomach lurch. She washed it over and over again, even after it seemed that she could get it no cleaner.

After she struggled back into the too-tight, form-hugging skirt, she faced her next problem: she had no place to carry the plug. The skirt clung smoothly to the curves of her hips without pockets; her shirt, such as it was, also lacked pockets; and in her rush to be relieved of the plug, she hadn't brought her purse.

The walk back to the seat, with the plug wrapped in both hands to conceal it, seemed to take forever. At each shuffling step, she was terrified that sudden turbulence would send her tumbling to the ground, and the plug would go bouncing down the aisle. The faces that looked up at her as she passed caused her to burn with shame. By the time she found her row, her heart was hammering in her throat.

Anthony had finished his lunch and was once again sound asleep. She crawled gratefully into the sanctuary of her seat and tried to sleep herself. Jagged images filled her brain like crackling lightning, but her body was exhausted, and sleep came soon.

About an hour before landing, Eileen woke groggily to find Anthony reading a magazine next to her. He turned toward her and smiled. "Did you sleep well, little whore? You were moaning in your sleep. Dreaming about pirates?"

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," she said sullenly.

"Call you what?"

"Little...you know, that thing you call me."

"Hmm? What's that?" His face was open and innocent.

"You know what I'm talking about! Little...little whore." She stumbled over the last word. Redness touched her cheeks. Her pussy twitched and squeezed.

"Why would I stop calling you that? You like being called a whore. It excites you." He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. "You are a filthy, cock-hungry little tramp. You love having a cock shoved into your body, and you don't even care where." His hand touched her knee. "Your nipples are getting hard just thinking about it. You love being stripped bare and fucked like a two-dollar whore. There's nothing you won't take, is there? I can push you down and spread your legs and you'll come no matter what I give you."

Eileen closed her eyes, breathing hard. His words vibrated through her. She squeezed her legs tightly together as if to deny what he was saying. Wetness leaked down her thighs. Butterflies swirled in her stomach. "Anthony!" she hissed through her teeth. "Stop! Don't say those things!"

"Look at you!" he said. His hand squeezed her knee tightly. "Look how horny you are. You want it so badly, don't you, little whore? You're a desperate, sex-crazed slut who will do anything she's told. You'll fuck yourself silly in front of a stranger, won't you? Didn't that feel good? You liked that, didn't you?"

The words electrified her, transported her. She remembered vividly that night, sitting on the hotel room floor, mouth held open, a hard metal probe in her ass while she shoved that vile rubber dildo in and out of herself. She remembered the hungry look on the bellhop's face, the way his eyes tracked every thrust. Most of all, she remembered the humiliation of it, how it made her want to curl up and disappear, and how her body had responded. She remembered how hard she had come...

Her pussy clenched tightly. She imagined herself the captive of pirates, subject to their filthy and degrading use, while the pirate captain told her how much she loved it, what a slut she was...

"You're a filthy little cock-sucking, ass-fucked tramp." Anthony's voice insinuated itself into her fantasy, curled around a place of secret longing deep inside of her. "You like that, don't you? You liked shoving that big dildo into your dripping cunt while he watched, didn't you? You came so hard! You love showing off what a filthy tramp you are. You like when people watch."

"Uuuuuunh!" She let out a low sigh. A wave of pleasure rolled slowly over her, not quite an orgasm, but something very close to it. Her nipples strained against the thin shirt. Her eyes opened, staring at nothing. Her fingers curled into the armrests.

"That's what I thought." A cheerful smile crossed his face. "I call you a little whore because that's what you are." Anthony squeezed her hand fondly and returned to his magazine. For the rest of the flight, he refused to be drawn into conversation.

After the madhouse of Heathrow, Logan airport was tranquil as a Zen garden. The passengers filed off the plane. Eileen hobbled slowly down the jetway, shamefaced, while a river of people flowed around her. Anthony held her hand to steady her against the surging mass of humanity while she moved slowly along. A part of her marveled at how so simple a thing as the skirt could make her feel bound to him and dependent on him. It restricted her movements as surely as a prisoner's ball and chain; every step was a reminder of his control over her. The thought excited her, down in some place deep within that she didn't want to think about.

They were the last to arrive at the baggage claim. Once they had collected their luggage and the steamer trunk, Anthony motioned to a skycap. Eileen watched the man load their things onto a battered metal cart. Her breath caught when he slung the leather case onto the pile.

Outside, warm sun streamed around them. Anthony planted a kiss on her cheek. "Are you happy to be back, little whore? Just think of all the new adventures ahead of you!"

"Anthony, no—"

He leaned forward and murmured into her ear. "No, you're not happy to be back? You'd rather still be in London, pressed up against the hotel window while I shove metal weights into your cunt and lick you? My, my, my. You are a dirty girl!"

"NO!" Eileen blushed furiously. "No, you can't keep doing these things to me! Anthony, I'm serious! You can't just keep treating me like I'm some kind of...you know, some kind of...you can't keep doing those things to me!"

He grinned. "You can't even talk about sex, can you? That's very charming, you know." A cab pulled up next to the curb, and the trunk popped open. His expression brightened. "But actually, I can do those things to you. You've come so far in so short a time! It would be a shame to waste all that effort, right? Might as well finish with your training, the way I see it. In for a penny, in for a pound, isn't that what they say over there? Be a good girl and get in the cab, if you would please." He held the door open for her. "And when I say be a good girl, I mean no jilling yourself off to a screaming orgasm while I'm loading up the luggage, you insatiable slut! I know how you are."

She gasped and looked around wildly to see if anyone had overheard him. The skycap, paused from stacking suitcases into the trunk and looked at her with a strange expression. "Anthony!" she said. Her tone was shocked.

He grinned at her playfully. "Scoot! Get in the car!"

She struggled gracelessly into the back seat of the cab. The tight skirt made her clumsy and awkward. Anthony whistled in appreciation and gave her an exaggerated leer. She turned red and turned her face away.

The cab driver turned out to be a husky, hyperkinetic Ukrainian man with wavy brown hair and a three-day growth of stubble, who drove as if pursued by banshees. They weaved around other cars and pulled out onto the interstate.

Traffic at the entrance to the tunnel leading across the channel was at a standstill. The cabbie swore colorfully in a mishmash of half a dozen languages at the slowdown. He shook his fist at the indignity of all things related to gridlock. When the gods of automotive transportation declined to smite the traffic ahead of him, he turned around in his seat to assert with confident cheer that Indian women were the most beautiful and most passionate in the world, and undoubtedly made the best wives. He knew this, he said, because he had watched many Bollywood films, and was quite convinced of the truth of it. Anthony laughed and countered that it could not possibly be true, for he had already found the most beautiful and passionate woman in the world. "And," he added, wrapping his arm around Eileen, "I married her!"

The cabbie grinned back at the two of them and went on to a new topic, holding forth with great energy about how the Russians and the Americans had both landed on the moon in the 1960s, where they both built secret bases from which they fought a private lunar war. His source for this little-known history, he said, was above impeachment; his friend, who was a long-haul trucker, had once delivered a shipment of parts to NASA, and heard it directly from a worker there. "Soviets, good at war on Earth, not so good at war in space!" He thumped his chest. "Soviets lost, denied everything!"

They started moving again. He seemed to take this as a sign that his theory was correct. "You see? That is real reason Soviet Union collapsed!"