Training Ch. 06

With one backward push, she impaled herself on him. Pleasure and pain twisted together in a dance of ecstasy. Her hands clawed the sheets of the bed. Anthony's answering cry only deepened her own frenzied need, provoking a desperate urgency that spread like wildfire inside her. She drove herself back on him over and over again, hard and fast, and felt rush after rush of ecstasy crash through her body. His body responded in kind; he swelled inside her with each of her wild thrusts until his hands gripped hard and he came with a howl.

She lost track of her own orgasms. Even as he throbbed and spurted into her, she still thrust herself backward onto him, writhing in the grip of an endless flood of rapid-fire orgasms, until he gasped and gripped her thighs. "Enough! I'm too sensitive!" he panted. She tried to grind her hips against his, but he pulled away shuddering. "Whew! What's gotten into you, little whore? I don't think I've ever seen you quite this needy before. I'm spent! Go back to sleep. There will be plenty of time later to have all the fuckings you need."

Her body calmed slowly. The butterflies still swirled in her belly. Slick warm wetness leaked from inside her. She clutched her pillow tightly, abashed at what she'd just done. Now that the edge had been taken off her need, she felt like she had just legitimized the humiliating things he had done to her. She had shown him that he could use her, expose her in public, allow a woman to rape her, and she would not only accept it, she would reward him for it. Hot tears of shame dripped into the pillow. Even now, as her abused pussy ached and the shame coursed through her, she could still feel the need. Anthony's soft cock pressed lightly against her thigh, stirring a longing to press herself backward again, feel it inside her...

It took a long time for sleep to come. When it did, it brought no more dreams.

As was customary, Anthony was awake the next morning before Eileen. She opened her eyes to find him bustling around the bed, stark naked. "Good morning!" he chirped. "Time to get up!"

She watched him pick up a pillow and place it on the floor at the foot of the bed. "The morning won't wait for us. Up! Up!" He lifted her to a sitting position by the arm.

"Ugh. What time is it?"

"Six thirty." He unlocked the manacles that held her wrists and ankles. "I have to go to work soon. I'm a slave to my corporate masters. Well..." He paused and thought for a moment. "I guess technically, I am a corporate master. A slave to my partners, maybe? A slave to my standard of living? I'm sure I'm a slave to something. Stand up!"

She left the warm comfort of the thick fluffy covers reluctantly. When he was satisfied she wasn't going to try to slip back into bed, Anthony picked up another pillow. He fluffed it, then set it carefully on the end of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Training you, of course." He pointed to the pillow on the floor. "Face the bed. Kneel."

Meekly, she did as she was told. Anthony took a silver bottle with a pump handle and handed it to her. She looked at it curiously. It was made of aluminum. When she saw the words "anal lube" printed neatly in block letters on its side, her heart started to pound. "Anthony!"

"From now on, this will stay on the night stand on your side of the bed."

"No! What if we have guests over? What if they see it?"

"Then I imagine they'll think you like taking it up the ass."

"But what if..." She blushed. "What if my family comes over?" The thought mortified her.

"If they don't want to know what goes on in our bedroom, they probably shouldn't poke around in our bedroom, I reckon." His eyes glittered. "Now use it. Get your butt all nice and slippery."

"No! I can't!"

"Okay." He shrugged. "I'll take you without it, then."

"No!"

"Your choice." He smirked. "I won't wait very long for you to decide, though."

Eileen shuddered. She turned the bottle back and forth in her hands. "I don't like...you know. Putting things there."

He shrugged again. "We've talked about this before. You don't have to like it. You just have to do it."

Blushing under his gaze, she squirted the slippery lube onto her fingers. Her blush turned deeper when she slid her hand between her legs to squish it against her tight entrance. She flinched at the coolness of it. He watched her steadily while she repeated the motions, lubricating herself generously for him.

"Are you finished?" he asked when she set the bottle on the floor. She nodded.

"Good. Bend over the bed. Put your face in the pillow."

Meekly, she did so. He paused for a moment to admire her, kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, face buried in the pillow, ass up in the air, ready for him. She felt him move into position behind her.

"You know what I'm going to do," he said. "As a sex slave, it is your role to be accommodating of whatever use you are put to. Whenever you feel something touch your ass, you will tilt your hips toward it and push yourself backward onto it. Do you understand?"

She nodded into the pillow.

"Good." His hands stroked the small of her back. "It's just like I taught you when something touches your mouth. You must always let it in." His hands slid up to her shoulders. He moved closer behind her. Heart hammering, she felt the head of his erect cock press lightly against her anus. "Now."

Her body shook. This is wrong! she thought to herself. Only sluts do this! She thought for a brief, wild instant about refusing him. A sharp twinge clenched her pussy, a vivid tactile reminder of what happened the last time she didn't obey him.

Her hands clenched the blankets. She pushed back sharply, feeling him drive up into her ass. She screamed into the pillow.

"Good." He pulled away from her, withdrawing. She panted. His hands caressed up and down her back, raising shivers along her spine. "Remember that there's more to sex than just shoving something hard into a hole, though. Use your body. Seduce me. Pleasure me."

His hands slid across her bare skin down to her waist. "Arch your back. Raise your hips. Press that lovely ass of yours against me."

She shuddered and flushed, suddenly grateful that he could not see her face. His fingers dug into her skin, coaxing her to raise her hips to him. She felt the head of his cock, slick with lube, press against her. He guided her with subtle pressure of his fingertips, coaxing her to shift her hips up and down in tiny motions against him. The sensation drew her breath away. Little tremors of pleasure rippled up from where his cock touched the sensitive entrance to her ass.

"Yes, like that." His fingers pressed deeper into her waist. "Move your hips more. It feels good, doesn't it?"

She sighed softly. He caressed her skin, his hands moving up and down along her back. She moved her hips in little circles against his rigid cock, lost in the strange new feelings. His hands traveled farther up her back, until he was massaging her shoulders. "That's right, just like that. Give that ass to me." His fingers squeezed her shoulders, drawing her back with that same subtle pressure. "You like it. Take pleasure in what you are, my beautiful anal slut."

Eileen pressed back harder against his shaft. She felt herself stretch open around him. Then, more easily than she would have expected, the head of his cock slipped into her. The pillow swallowed up her gasp.

"There, you see? It's not all about just shoving it in. Work it. Move your hips. Fuck yourself on me." His hands glided down her sides. "Show me how much you like it."

She whimpered in confusion. The gentle pressure, the slight penetration, felt good...far better than she could have imagined. Her mother had always told her that anal sex was painful and degrading, something that only desperate women would do if they couldn't get a decent man. All the things he had done to her before, all the men who had taken her there when she was blindfolded...some of it had felt good, somewhere underneath the discomfort and shame...but not like this. Every delicate little motion sent shuddering waves of pleasure through her body.

No! she thought. It's not supposed to feel like this! This is wrong! Butterflies fluttered. She felt helpless to stop herself from wriggling against him.

His hands gripped her hips. "Back. Deeper." She moved her hips up and down, drawing him slightly farther in with each wriggle. Slowly, bit by bit, she drove him deeper into her ass.

She felt him tremble. "Oh. Oh, God, yes. Just like that. This is what you will do whenever anything touches your anus." His hands tightened on her waist. "Slower. Press back. Push me deeper. Clamp down. Milk my cock with your ass."

She started moving in longer, slower motions, grinding back against him to take him deep, then squeezing tightly around his erection as he slid back out. Each long thrust sent an intense surge of pleasure up along her spine. She slowly increased her speed, forcing herself back onto him, faster and faster, barely even aware that he wasn't moving at all.

He moaned behind her. His fingers dug into her skin. "Oh! Oh, like that. Just like that."

She whimpered into the pillow. It's not supposed to feel like this! she thought frantically. I don't want it to! Her hips moved on their own accord. She felt him swell inside her. The butterflies swirled.

She came a split second before he did. The feel of warm liquid jetting into her intensified her orgasm. She bucked hard against him, screaming into the pillow.

He slipped slowly out of her, panting. "Oh, yes," he murmured. "That is how you take it in the ass. How did that feel, little whore?"

She lifted her face from the pillow. Her eyes were glassy, faraway. "That felt amazing," she said. "That felt so good, I..." Realization of what she was saying hit her. She blushed.

He caressed her cheek. "See? You like it. I told you." He smiled.

Eileen rose on shaky feet. Anthony took her hand. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To the shower. From now on, you will be required to bathe me. This is part of your normal duties as a sex slave from here on out."

In the shower, he stood under the hot spray and waited for her. She felt like he was expecting her to do something specific, but she wasn't quite sure what it was.

She picked up a bar of soap uncertainly and reached for him. He stopped her. "The key to being a sex slave is to understand that everything you do is about sex. Everything. Even if it's something as simple as cooking dinner. Make everything you do as sexual as you can. You should always be thinking about how you can make whatever you do involve sex." He smiled and stepped back. "From now on, your slave duties include washing me. Use your body. Get yourself soapy."

She felt herself turning red under his gaze. While he watched, she began soaping up. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly up her arm. "Remember what I said. Make everything you do about sex."

Eileen felt suddenly, acutely self-conscious. What if I end up looking silly? she fretted internally. What if he doesn't think it's sexy? He watched her patiently, waiting. She blushed.

Tentatively, bashfully, she raised her hands to her breasts. She soaped them slowly, letting her hands move in long circles. She cupped and fondled them for a while, cajoling her nipples into hardening. She watched his face for cues while she teased her nipples, reading his expressions to assure herself that she was being appropriately enticing. When she was sure she had his attention, she moved her hands up and down her body, over her belly, along her arms, soaping herself thoroughly.

Enraptured, he watched her put one leg up on the edge of the shower and run her hands along it. She moved without haste, as if she had a natural talent for seduction that only needed the slightest prodding to unlock. She lathered herself languidly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Oh, that's wonderful," he said. "You have a gift for sex. Now use your body to soap me."

She blushed a little at the compliment. Her arms slid around him as she pressed herself close against his body. She slid up and down along his form, running her body against his. Each time she rose, she placed a tiny kiss on his lips. Her nipples left small trails in the soap.

She knelt at his feet and carefully washed between his toes. When she was satisfied, she looked up at him, hands running up and down his legs.

"Mmm, that's lovely. Now do my back."

She rose. With the same languid, unhurried grace, she lathered herself up again. He watched her hands travel sensuously over her body. She walked around behind him. Her arms closed around his body in a sensual hug. She pressed tightly to his back and slid slowly down, washing him with her body. When she rose, she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders. He relaxed under her touch while she massaged him, her fingers digging into his muscles.

"Mmm." He closed his eyes. "That feels wonderful."

"I...you like that? I mean, I was feeling...I was worried about being silly."

"There is never anything silly about a beautiful woman putting her hands on her body," he said. "You forgot something, though." He placed his hands over hers and guided them down to his cock. "You need to wash here, too."

"Oh!" She shivered. "That's dirty!"

"Which is exactly why you need to clean it." His hands gripped her wrists. "Be thorough."

She stood behind him, arms reaching around his waist, and stroked his cock between her soapy hands. He sighed with pleasure. His shaft gradually hardened between her fingers. "That's right, just like that...ohh!" he said. She kept stroking in long, steady motions until she felt him throb and thicken in her hands. He pressed back against her. "Like that. Don't stop...oooh!" With a gasp, he came, jetting thick liquid across her hands.

He turned in her arms to face her. "That was very nice," he said. "You are adapting to your new duties well." He planted a long, lingering kiss on her lips before she could reply. "Now rinse us off."

When they were rinsed and dry, he led her back into the bedroom by the hand. He gestured for her to sit on the bed. She waited there, watching him, while he dressed for work. When he had finished, he picked up the training device. "Stand up."

She gulped. The look in his eye warned her against any hesitation. She stood quietly while he locked the belt around her waist. The vibrator made her gasp when it slid into her. He locked the band to the belt, trapping the vibrator inside her. With a touch on the small remote, it came to life. Her knees buckled.

"There. I'm hungry. Shall I make breakfast for us?"

"But what about..."

"You can get dressed later. I like admiring your body."

The vibrator pulsed and throbbed. Eileen felt her nipples tighten. She waited meekly while Anthony cooked breakfast. The thing inside her inexorably drove her to greater and greater arousal; by the time Anthony set out breakfast on the table, she was breathing hard.

He sat down across from her at the table. She could see a gleam of amusement in her eyes as he watched her struggle to deal with the vibrator inside her.

It picked up speed. Eileen moaned. She felt the rush of an oncoming orgasm, but she knew that it would not be allowed to happen. She closed her eyes, panting, trying to keep control.

"You're slouching," Anthony said. "Presentation is important to a sex slave. Sit up straight. Breasts out."

Eileen felt herself contract around the intrusive device. As she did, it shut off, leaving her gasping. She opened her eyes. "Wha--?"

"I said, presentation is important. You lean over when you're about to come. We can't have that. Sit up straight."

She straightened docilely. The vibrator gave her enough respite to finish her breakfast. Anthony cleaned up efficiently. "Okay, I'm off to work," he said. "Have a good day, my lovely little whore!" He leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Wait!" she cried in panic. "You can't leave me her with this...thing in me!"

"Oh?" His eyes twinkled. "Why not?"

"What if you don't come home?"

"And why would I not do that?" he asked.

"What if...what if you get into an accident? What if you get hit by a bus or something? I won't be able to take it out of me! I'll be trapped!"

"Your concern for my well-being is touching," he grinned. "Still, you do raise an interesting point. If I get run over by a bus, I guess you'll have to call Aaron. He has another key, I'm sure. You'll be fine. You'll just have to put yourself in Dr. Moreland's capable hands."

"No!" she gasped. The thought of turning herself over to him made Eileen's stomach tighten.

"Well, then, I guess we'll have to hope that no errant busses come crashing through my office." He winked at her, grinning broadly. "You may dress, if you like. Skirt and blouse only. I will see you when I get home!"

She listened to the car start in the driveway and pull away. As if on cue, the vibrator began purring within her. She gasped. It buzzed faster and faster, relentlessly, until it had driven her irresistibly to the edge of another orgasm, and stopped. She wailed her frustration, her body tied in a tight knot of sexual need.

She sat down hard on the couch, panting. When she had recovered enough to walk without stumbling, she moved to the bedroom to get dressed. As she was pulling on her skirt, the vibrator started again, a relentless rapid pulsing that took her breath away.

The day passed slowly for Eileen, in an endless haze of forced sexual anguish. The device within her became an unrelenting torment. It buzzed in an endless, ever-changing tapestry of patterns, constantly shifting, preventing her from becoming accustomed to it. She tried reading to distract herself from its ever-present prodding, without success; she found herself reading and re-reading the same sentence blankly, her mind focused on her throbbing need.

Distracting herself with television worked no better. She soon ended up moaning and writhing on the couch, eyes closed, hips grinding uselessly against cream-colored leather cushions. The vibrator worked with evil intent, bringing her to the brink of orgasm time after time, denying her whenever she was about to peak.

She alternated between excitement, frustration, and anger. She desperately wanted Anthony to come home, though she wasn't quite sure if it was to berate him or to beg for him to be inside her. Her swollen nipples were so sensitive that the fabric of her shirt felt coarse and painful against them. She unbuttoned her blouse to expose her breasts, desperate to stop the too-intense sensation.

Several times, when the vibrator whirred especially fast, she slipped her hand between her legs, only to come against unyielding metal. Tears of helpless frustration ran down her cheeks. She twisted and tugged at the belt, but its clever design held the vibrator fast, preventing relief.

After a while, she found that she could squeeze tight around it and it would turn off. The respite was always much too brief, though; as soon as she relaxed, it began its insidious buzzing again. She felt sore and aching. The constant, infuriating torture infuriated her, but she still could not stop herself from moaning, or prevent her hips from arching uselessly up into the air each time it brought her close. She wanted to scream her frustration at Anthony, pound her fists into his chest...and she also wanted him to punish her for it, to strip her and force himself into her.

The worst part of it all was knowing that her reactions didn't matter. The device did exactly what it was designed to do, and nothing she could do made any difference. It drove her body on, until sweat glistened on her skin and her juices dripped down her thigh, and she couldn't stop it. So many times, she almost came; and so many times, it stopped at the last instant, leaving her crying in defeat.