Training Ch. 04

Anthony and the cabbie chatted at each other for the rest of the trip, talking with zeal about the Kennedy assassination, secret societies, and the many merits of potato vodka. Eileen curled up in the corner of the seat and looked out the window. Her emotions roiled. The cab turned off the interstate and purred through familiar tree-lined roads. After her experiences in London, being back in this town she knew so well felt surreal, as if the buildings were all the same but everything else had changed.

The old Catholic university campus, long closed, passed by. She looked out at the clusters of trees surrounding the buildings and remembered how the place had always seemed magical and haunted to her as a child. The memory made her feel disconnected from her past; she felt that she was changing, but didn't know quite how.

The roads grew more twisty. Anthony nuzzled her neck. Lost in her own thoughts, Eileen did not respond, even when they pulled up in front of Anthony's house, with its imposing row of wide columns across a red brick face. Rows of white-trimmed windows with faux white shutters stared blindly down at them.

Our house, she reminded herself. Not Anthony's house. I live here too now. That thought seemed surreal.

Unloading the cab went surprisingly quickly, even with the big steamer trunk. Eileen looked at it and images of being strapped to the Sybian machine while she struggled to take a rubber dildo down her throat flashed in her mind. Her nipples hardened and her pussy tightened. She colored and turned toward the house before Anthony could see.

Anthony tipped the cabbie generously and bid him farewell. The cab disappeared down the road. Anthony dragged the luggage to the doorstep and unlocked the door. His hand on her arm stopped her from walking through. "Here, allow me." Before she could protest, he scooped her in his arms and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, little whore! It is good to have you here."

He set her down in the foyer and kissed her neck. "Mmm, I'm glad to be home. How about you?" His lips moved softly over her skin, and his teeth raked lightly along her shoulder.

She moved away. "I'm tired. Right now I just want to get unpacked and go to bed."

Anthony's arms slid around her and he nuzzled into her neck again. One hand cupped her breast. "Later. Right now, I want to enjoy you."

"Anthony!" She pushed him away. "We have things to do."

In an instant, he grabbed her shoulders tightly. "Naughty, naughty!" he grinned. "You don't get to say no, remember?" He backed her against the wall, next to the door that still hung open. Before she could move, he kissed her roughly. She squirmed and felt his tongue invade her mouth.

"Mmmmmf! Unnnnnnnf!" She shoved him away. "Anthony, I'm serious! We need to unpack and go to bed!"

"We slept on the plane." His hands shot out and ripped open her shirt. A button flew across the foyer and skittered onto the floor. "And you don't have any say in this." His strong hands squeezed her breasts, much too hard. As soon as she started to cry out, his mouth was on hers again, muffling her protests. His tongue forced its way between her lips.

Heat rose in her, part anger and part arousal. She thrashed and shoved at him. Muscles rippled in his chest. He leaned into her, resisting her struggles. She turned her head aside to break the unwanted kiss. "Anthony, let go of me!" His hands tightened. "Ow! You're hurting me!"

He ignored her pleas, and his strong hands continued to squeeze and grope her breasts roughly. She grabbed his arms and shoved him away. "Anthony! Stop it!"

"No." He placed one hand between her breasts and pinned her to the wall. She pushed and shoved and fought to escape. With his other hand, he unbuckled his belt. "I'm not going to stop it." In a fluid motion, he drew off the belt and wrapped it around one of her wrists. She fought back even more fiercely, but he overpowered her easily and spun her around toward the wall. Eileen felt handicapped by the long, form-hugging skirt, which prevented her from moving quickly or from kicking out at him with her feet. He snatched her other wrist and pulled her hands back behind her back. The belt made for a crude but effective restraint, and soon both of her wrists were bound tightly behind her.

When he was satisfied that her arms were restrained, he let go of her and closed the front door. She moved away from him, as quickly as the tight skirt would let her, into the wide open space of the huge living room.

He followed her unhurriedly. "Where exactly do you think you're going, little whore? You can't run outside with your tits hanging out like that, and you're not going to get very far trying to hide from me in the house."

She scurried as fast as she was able away from him, trying to put the couch between them. He walked caught up with her easily. "I don't think you've really thought this through, little whore. You can't get away from me."

"Anthony, leave me alone! I don't want to have sex right now!"

"I know." He grinned widely at her. "That's okay." He caught her by the elbow and twisted her around to face him. "I do want to have sex right now, and that's what matters." Strong arms crushed her against him. His lips found hers, and he kissed her again. His hands slid down her back and found the zipper on her skirt.

"Nnnnngh!" She twisted and struggled in his arms. "Let me go!"

He pulled the skirt down to her knees. His arms wrapped around her and gripped her butt tightly. "God, I love it when you struggle! No, I'm not going to let you go. Now kiss me."

"No!"

"Suit yourself." One hand slid up to her breast and squeezed tightly.

"Ow! That hurts!"

He squeezed tighter. "I know it does. Kiss me."

"No! Stop it!"

His fingers dug in and twisted. She gasped and grimaced in pain.

"Kiss me," he commanded. "Now."

Reluctantly, she pressed her lips against his. Instantly he released the pressure. His tongue touched her lips. Her body acted automatically; the lessons he'd given her in the hotel in London took over. Without conscious thought or intention, she pressed herself against him, until she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of his shirt. His hands caressed her back, and the tip of his tongue probed gently. She relaxed slightly and parted her lips, inviting it in. The kiss grew deeper, more sensual. Wetness leaked from between her legs. She moaned.

"There now, that's more like what I expect from a sex slave." He finished stripping her out of her skirt, leaving her standing in nothing but the torn shirt hanging open from her shoulders. When the skirt was gone, he kissed her again, a little bit more roughly. She responded without thinking, her tongue coaxing his lips apart.

When she moaned again, Anthony broke the kiss. His hands moved up to her shoulders. With a powerful shove, he forced her down until she was lying face-down on the cool, smooth wood floor. She struggled to rise, but he knelt across the back of her legs, holding her in place with his weight. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly over the white leather sofa, and unzipped his pants.

Eileen fought to free herself from under his knee. "Anthony! Stop it!"

"Oh, yes. I do love it when you struggle." He held her pinned. "I really do." One hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. She whimpered and arched her back. He crawled on top of her, and laid his body heavily on her. His other hand reached down and unzipped his pants. "Hold still!" He pressed flat on top of her and forced her legs apart with his knee.

She struggled against his weight, trapped beneath him on the floor. With one thrust, he entered her from behind. She screamed as his cock impaled her. "Anthony! You're hurting me!"

He began moving powerfully, and with each stroke, she clenched and tightened around him. Soon ripples of pleasure started radiating through her, every one followed by a wave of shame. His fingers curled through her hair and pulled steadily. "Stop!" she cried. "This is wrong! You can't do this to me!"

He moved faster. Butterflies churned in her stomach. She moaned, and instantly hated the sound. "Anthony! No! Stop!" She writhed on the floor, hands trapped behind her back against Anthony's chest.

Her cries seemed to arouse him. He swelled within her, and his hand pulled painfully at her hair. She moaned again, helpless beneath him, lying on the floor with Anthony on top of her, and arched involuntarily to meet his thrusts.

The orgasm hit her suddenly, without warning. The world went grey and pleasure, beautiful agonizing delicious pleasure, exploded through her body. She screamed again, but this was a different sound, filled with ecstasy and raw carnal need.

"That's what I thought." Anthony slowed his motions, gradually coming to a stop with his cock buried inside her. "You really do need regular hard fucking."

She squirmed and writhed beneath him. Her hips ground upward and backward against his. He held still and let her push herself against him over and over again. She writhed and bucked like she was in heat, unable to stop herself. Her breathing came fast and ragged, and she screamed in the grip of another agonizingly intense orgasm.

Smiling, he withdrew. Eileen rolled onto her side on the hard floor, still twitching and making small gasping sounds.

"There, didn't that feel nice?" He sat on the floor beside her and pulled off his pants. Once he was entirely naked, he leaned over to unfasten the belt binding her wrists. He took one of her hands in his and kissed it gently. "You come so hard when I use you like that." He tucked her hand down between her legs. "I know you still want more. Touch yourself."

"No!" she said. "That's dirty!"

He grabbed both of her wrists savagely and pinned them together. Before she could pull away, he pushed her hands between her legs, so roughly that she gasped. Swiftly, he bound her wrists together again with the belt, this time in front of her. "That wasn't a request. Touch yourself."

She pressed her fingers against her throbbing clit and shuddered. Anthony stroked her hair while she masturbated and whimpered in shame. The feel of her own wetness dripping out of her, proof of how his unwanted assault excited her, made her feel even more ashamed. Tension built between her legs.

Anthony lifted her head onto his lap. She felt the tip of his cock, thickly smeared with her own juices, touch her lips.

"No, please!" she wailed. "Not that. Not in my mouth. Please, not in my mouth!"

"You don't get a say in this. Suck my cock, slut." His voice was edged with something sharp and dangerous. Eileen looked up at him, startled. His eyes glittered down at her, hard and bright as ice. A thrill of fear flashed through her, mixed with something else, something she couldn't quite identify...longing?

He gripped her hair tightly and pushed her forward. His cock slid between her lips and into her mouth. She choked and recoiled in disgust at the taste of her come all over it. His hands held her head tightly, forced her to take it deeper.

Eileen started to struggle desperately. He held her firmly in place, overpowering her with ease. "No! I've been tolerant so far only because this is new to you and you're still being trained. But we are going to have to start working on your obedience, which means that I am going to have to start punishing you if you don't do as you're told. Now touch yourself!" He pressed her head down hard, and the blunt head of his cock slid to the back of her throat.

She gagged. Her pussy spasmed. A bright electric flash of arousal crackled through her. She pressed her fingers against her clit and moaned. Her fingers worked faster, moving in quick little circles, as Anthony held her hair and rocked in and out of her mouth.

She gagged again involuntarily. The taste of her own juices filled her mouth, and waves of disgust and shame washed through her. The tension coiled like a spring inside her, growing, moving like something alive. Her fingers moved faster and faster. Electricity flowed through her body, powerful and intense, and her breath came in moans around his cock.

They both came together. Her world split; in one corner of her mind, a part of her savored the pleasure rolling through her, radiating from her dripping sex into every corner of her body. In another corner, part of her blanched in horror and disgust at the torrent of warm, thick spunk gushing into her mouth. She choked and sputtered, while her body shuddered in a strange mix of ecstasy and revulsion.

Her fingers slowed and then stopped. Aftershocks reverberated through her body. He slipped his softening cock from her mouth and stood. She lay panting on her side on the cool, hard floor. A thin stream of come flowed from the corner of her lips and pooled on the polished hardwood.

"We are going to have a house full of guests tomorrow, so we need to get the place cleaned up," Anthony said. He took Eileen by her arm and rolled her over face down. His hand held the back of her head. He pressed steadily until her nose touched the puddle of come spreading on the floor. "You can start with the mess you just made. Use your tongue."

She whimpered and made a small noise of disgust in the back of her throat. The belt binding her wrists prevented her from getting her arms under herself, keeping her powerless to stop him from pushing her face into the pool of come.

"I am not going to let you up until you obey. We can stay right here for as long as it takes."

Eileen's will to resist seemed entirely gone. Hesitantly, slowly, she extended her tongue and touched the tip to the still-warm goo.

"Good. Just like that." Anthony's other hand caressed her ass. His fingers slipped between her legs.

Choking and coughing, Eileen lapped up the thick puddle of come. Her abhorrence for what she was doing did not prevent her from arching her back and grinding against Anthony's fingers. She moaned and gagged and did the repulsive task, and the warm glow of another orgasm started to build inside her. By the time she had finished licking the vile stuff up, she was grinding her hips against his fingers over and over, moaning.

She was just about to come again when he slipped his hand away. She cried out in frustration, the pleasure denied. He unbound her wrists and stood. "Good. Get dressed. I'll bring in the luggage and you can help me put everything away."

He left her there feeling simultaneously aroused and disgusted while he picked up his scattered clothes and dressed. She heard the front door open, then close. She climbed awkwardly to her feet and looked at her own clothing. The thought of putting the tight skirt and the skimpy, slutty little shirt back on appalled her, and she could not even bring herself to touch them. She shuddered at the thing she had just done, and at how close she had come to another orgasm doing it, and in that moment felt filthy beyond redemption.

Anthony returned to find her clothes still on the living room floor. The sounds of running water told him that Eileen was in the spacious master bathroom showering. He dragged the suitcases into the bedroom and set about unpacking from the trip. It wasn't until he was nearly finished putting things away that she finally came out, wrapped in a towel. She turned without a word toward the bedroom door.

He sat on the bed and watched, eyes glinting with a boyish delight. As she moved past him, he caught her by the hand. "It won't work, you know. You're dirty on the inside, where no soap can reach."

"You dirty, filthy, disgusting bastard! Let me go! You're a pig!"

He grinned. "Oh, yes, I am. All of those things." Gently, almost reverently, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "And I'm exactly your kind of dirty, disgusting bastard."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm the kind of dirty, disgusting bastard who makes you come. Over and over again."

She blanched. "You're still a filthy pig!"

"Guilty as charged!" He smiled and guided her to sit on the bed next to him. His hands massaged her shoulders, and soft lips kissed the back of her neck. She felt her anger melting under the touch. Somewhere deep inside, some part of her was angry at herself for not being more angry at him. He had just violated her, used her, and then forced her to do something more disgusting than she could even imagine! She should be furious! She should just get up and march right out!

"What are you thinking about so loudly?"

She turned to face him with sudden heat. "I should leave you." He tried to put his hands on her shoulders again, but she swatted them away. "You can't keep treating me like some kind of slave! I should just get up and—"

He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her forcefully. She melted instantly. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue flicked against him. Her body pressed to him, and she felt her nipples harden into the soft terrycloth towel. A tiny moan wriggled its way out from between her lips.

The kiss went on for what felt like hours, until she was utterly lost in it. Every particle of his attention was focused on that kiss, and she could not help but respond. Liquid fire rose inside her and flowed through her body. The gentle but persistent touch of his tongue captivated her, seduced her; she surrendered to it and returned her passion for his. Her hands slid around his back. The towel, forgotten, slipped down to her waist, and her breasts pressed against the warm smooth fabric of his shirt.

Still it went on. His tongue probed deeper. She tilted her head back to accept it, while her hands caressed his back. The fire burned hotter, and somewhere far away she felt wetness between her legs.

His hands caressed her shoulders and pressed her back on the bed. He untangled the towel from her hips and dropped it to the floor.

She expected him to take her then and there, but instead he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, little whore. I'll finish unpacking and cleaning up."

He left and closed the door behind him. She lay on the bed breathing hard for a long time. Sounds came through the door—suitcases being put away, the floor being swept. It felt strange, after the weeks spent in London, to be lying on the bed without being chained to it. In some small part of her mind, she missed those chains. She burrowed under warm, soft, clean-smelling covers, savoring their feel on her skin, and let the stress of travel catch up to her.

That night, vivid images conjured up from the recesses of her subconscious swirled in Eileen's mind. She dreamed that she was at an elaborate art auction, sitting in the audience surrounded by wealthy men in formal suits. On the stage, the auctioneer presided over the sale of many beautiful things—paintings, statues, enormous vases with intricate designs on them. Anthony sat beside her in the audience, watching with rapt attention.

The crowd grew more eager. White-gloved waiters in tuxedos moved through the throng bearing champagne glasses on silver trays. The auctioneer spoke faster and faster. Eileen felt confused and slightly out of place; something seemed wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. He announced the artwork by lots, describing the paintings and sculptures in flowery language. The bidders seemed to pick up energy, too; the bids came in more and more quickly. The air buzzed with excitement.

"And now for the final piece of the day!" the auctioneer called. "The one you've all been waiting for!" Tension crackled in the air. Two large men walked down the steps from the stage and headed directly toward her. A lump rose in her throat. She tried to stand and run away, but some strange force kept her in her seat.

They drew closer. The men loomed over her, muscles bulging. Simultaneously, they reached down and seized her by the arms. She turned toward Anthony, looking for help, but he only smiled at her.