Training Ch. 07

Eileen, powerless and vulnerable, could not have stopped herself if she had tried. The orgasm built with relentless power, and when it arrived, it roared over her with the fury of a tornado. She shook and cried.

Anthony's fingers tightened on the string, and without warning, he jerked the clamp off her clit.

Instantly, Eileen's orgasmic cry became a howl. She shook in the grip of the most intense, agonizing, fiery, excruciating pleasure she had ever known. Her body thrashed so hard the cage shifted on the dusty wood floor. "Aaaannngh!"

Anthony pressed his finger hard against her engorged, abused clit. White-hot fire shot through her. She screamed and shook. "Hnnnngh!"

He kept it there, moving his fingertip back and forth with small, rapid motions, until she was spent. Her thrashing slowly subsided until she leaned limply against the far end of the cage, sobbing. He withdrew the end of the rod and carefully unclipped all the small clamps holding her open. She uttered a tiny moan with each one.

After he was finished, he unlocked the cage door and swung it open. Eileen slowly crawled out backwards into his arms, making soft whimpering sounds.

"Have you been punished enough, little whore?"

She nodded. He kissed her cheek softly and held her in his arms until her quivering body finally relaxed. When she could move again, he helped her down the stairs, holding her close to his side.

He brought her into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, yielding and compliant, eyes down, still feeling small aftershocks ripple through her. She opened her legs submissively, waiting, when he picked up her training device.

Anthony knelt. Eileen let out a single "Oh!" as he pushed it into her, then remained still as he locked the belt in place. When it started to run, she gasped and shuddered, feeling utterly, entirely possessed by him.

The days passed. A rhythm developed. Each day began with Eileen offering her ass for Anthony's use, impaling herself on his erection and working her hips until he filled her with his come. She bathed him, working him up in the shower and then pleasuring him again. Every evening ended with her using her body to tease, seduce, and arouse him, and herself, before offering her mouth to him. The end of each day left her hungry, wanting more, so that at the beginning of the next she was eager to give herself to him, craving the orgiastic release that his cock in her ass would bring.

During the time between, she had the training device locked inside her, keeping her in a perpetual state of sexual arousal. As the weeks went by, she learned to function in spite of the constantly-changing, always-unpredictable stimulation. She learned to go to the store or wash the dishes, cool and collected on the outside, even when she was a roiling sea of frantic sexual need inwardly, always just a hair's breadth away from collapsing into an orgasm. Only her permanently erect nipples, which felt harder and more sensitive with every passing day, betrayed her perpetual sexual arousal.

She found, too, that her body grew accustomed to constant penetration. At night, when Anthony removed the training device and chained her to the bead for sleep, she felt achingly empty; the walls of her pussy would pulse again and again, closing around empty space, missing the feel of the hard vibrator within her.

Before long, the mechanics of sucking his cock became so ingrained by constant practice that she could pleasure him regardless of what she was feeling, or what he was doing to her. Her trips up to the attic to be bound on hands and knees in front of the mannequin, forced to endure the humiliation of sucking on the dildo while Anthony spanked, prodded, used, and tormented her, took hold. Time and repetition honed her skills until she could pleasure him with her mouth automatically, never missing a beat even if she was in the throes of ecstasy herself. Those visits to the attic became less and less frequent.

At least for that reason. Anthony made good on his threat of remedial training whenever her orgasm distracted her from servicing him with her ass. On those mornings where her own orgasm caused her focus to slip, he would press a large plug firmly into her ass before he locked the training device in place--a reminder, he said, of the punishment she was due.

At the end of his workday, he would bring her up to the attic. Once there, he would lead her over to the far corner of the attic, where a wooden post ran from floor to ceiling. He would select a thick dildo and attach it to the post so that it stuck out obscenely. He would order to her hands and knees and force her to impale herself on it, making her take herself anally--sometimes for an hour or more--while he spanked her, clamped her nipples, or shoved his erection down her throat.

On some days, when the mood struck him, Anthony would come home from work on his lunch break. Eileen quickly learned that wearing the training device did not at all impede his use of her; he would come up behind her, bending her forcibly over the coffee table or the kitchen counter to slide his cock into her ass. When he was finished, he would leave her gasping, his come dripping from her, while he made himself a sandwich.

On other days, he would walk in unexpectedly to grab her by the hair and force her to her knees. He would make quick, rough use of her mouth; or, if he was more in the mood to be leisurely, he would bind her beneath the table and force her to suck him slowly while he enjoyed his lunch.

After lunch, he would return to work, leaving her naked and used. Eileen grew to savor those days; she would lie on the bed after he left, his come still lingering in her, stroking her body languidly, feeling that warm glow. She became alert to the sound of his car in the driveway; when lunchtime approached, she would catch herself straining her ears for it, wondering if he would be there to take her before he headed back to the office.

In the evenings, when he came home, he would often remove her training device in order to use her quivering pussy--sometimes roughly against the wall, other times bound to the couch with her legs held wide, or from behind bent over the coffee table. When he was finished, he would push the vibrator back into her still-dripping sex and lock it into place again.

One day in particular stayed with her especially vividly. That morning, when Eileen gave her ass to him, she had come with fiery intensity, long before he did. The orgasm was so strong that she stopped moving entirely, her vision swimming. After she had finished bathing him, he shoved the plug into her ass and told her to expect a trip to the attic that night.

He came home for lunch that afternoon. Her ass was still filled, the plug held firmly inside her by the same metal belt that locked the vibrator in her pussy. Anthony made himself lunch, then ordered her to her knees on the kitchen floor while he ate. She serviced him with the only orifice that was still available, slowly and deeply, feeling the vibrator revving faster and faster inside her while she sucked.

When she came, she clamped down hard around the intrusive butt plug. Pain lashed at her, so sudden and so sharp that she screamed, releasing her mouth from around his cock just as he was about to reach orgasm. She realized her mistake instantly, and soon finished him off with her mouth, but not before he gave her a long, lingering look that sent shivers down her spine.

That evening, when he brought her up to the attic, he moved the mannequin over to the corner where the post stood. She knelt submissively at his command. He directed her to push backward onto the dildo attached to the post; when her ass was filled with it, he positioned the mannequin in front of her and ordered her to suck.

He forced her to drive herself back and forth, working the dildos in ass and mouth, while he held the Magic Wand firmly against her clit. She shook and spasmed and wept, tears flowing down her cheeks, struggling to ignore the orgasms shuddering through her and focus her attention on the dildos moving in her ass and down her throat.

The humiliation lingered for days, becoming a mainstay in her fantasies. She revisited that evening often in her mind, fondling her breasts on long afternoons while she remembered how it felt to push herself onto the dildos while Anthony forced orgasm after orgasm from her body.

On weekends, they often went out together, to exotic restaurants or to movies or plays. Anthony became skilled with the remote control to the vibrator, able to cause it to buzz madly at its highest setting the exact moment she stepped from the car or was distracted by something for the tiniest instant. He also became talented at knowing exactly what to do to force her to come, often just as she reached the front of the ticket line or the server came by to take her order.

He seemed to take a great delight in exposing her in ever more creative and unusual ways. He bought a slinky black dress for her, cut low in both the front and the back, which seemed carefully crafted to slip off her shoulders without provocation. She felt extremely self-conscious whenever he made her wear it; no matter how careful she was or how closely she attended to it, it would slide down off a shoulder at least once or twice a night, exposing her breasts to view.

He made a game of it, using a sudden jolt from the vibrator to catch her off-guard whenever it started to slip, forcing her to either ignore the vibrator and risk a quick and intense orgasm, or ignore the dress and risk having it slide off one shoulder, flashing her breast to the stares of anyone passing by.

The days grew shorter. A chill crept into the air. Eileen found that another prediction came true; no matter what she was doing, a part of her was always focused on sex. There was never a time when she was not aware of her pussy; she found herself always thinking at least in some corner of her mind about sex.

A day came, some three months after they had returned home from the honeymoon, when Anthony surprised her. They had just finished their regular morning ritual, and Eileen, still steaming from their shower, sat on the bed with her legs apart to let Anthony lock the device inside her.

He shook his head. "No vibrator for you, little whore! You have reached the next level in your training. I do not think you have anything more to learn from this device." He smiled at her crestfallen expression. "It was never going to be permanent. It was only intended to condition you to keep your mind on sex all the time, like any good sex slave should. I think you have reached that point. That means you no longer need it." His grin grew broader. "Though from your expression it looks like you're going to miss it. Get up! Help me find my tie. I have an important meeting with the client who's been driving me crazy for the last twelve weeks. It's a big day for both of us! They've signed off on the project, so now there's nothing left but the actual building of it. Where's my tie?"

Eileen looked up at him, barely hearing what he'd said. She felt that she should be happy he wasn't going to force her to wear the hateful, degrading, tormenting thing, and yet...

What is wrong with me? she thought.

He smoothed down the front of his shirt. "We're celebrating tonight. The client is hosting a huge banquet downtown. All the engineering teams will be there. The people from the office, too. Ah, there it is." He knotted the tie around his neck. "You're invited. It should be fun." He gave her a sudden, impish grin and winked. "In fact, I think I can guarantee you'll have fun. What am I forgetting? Oh, right, briefcase. It'd be a short meeting without that. Okay, time for me to go!" He bent over to kiss her cheek. "And my sweet, darling, precious little whore, one more thing. Don't think that just because you're not wearing the trainer, that means you can spend the day in masturbatory excess. You're still on restriction. If you make yourself come before I get home, I will punish you, oh yes. Goodbye!"

He gave her another quick kiss and scooted out the door.

All that morning and afternoon, Eileen felt achingly, agonizingly empty. She had grown so accustomed to being penetrated all the time that the absence of the vibrator inside her felt like a hollow void.

She would not have thought that not wearing the device could possibly be more distracting than wearing it, but she was constantly aware of its absence. Every so often, her pussy twitched, without warning, drawing her attention to the empty space within her. Several times during the day, she caught herself unconsciously slipping a hand between her legs, just to feel the touch of something there.

Anthony didn't come home for lunch that day. Eileen caught herself waiting for the sound of his car in the driveway. She desperately wanted him to walk through the door and use her roughly without a word. She visualized him pressing her to the wall, lifting her skirt, entering her...but as the afternoon slipped by, it became obvious that he wouldn't be there.

She fixed herself a late lunch of leftovers, alone. While she waited for it to heat up, her eyes caught sight of a wine bottle, mostly empty, sitting alone on the rack at the far end of the counter. A thought crept into her head, so filthy and debased that made her blush. She tried to push that vile image, the mental picture of her violating her own body with it in such a degrading way, from her mind, but it clung tenaciously. Her hand caressed the neck of the bottle, stroking it obscenely. When she realized what she was doing, her blush deepened, and she snatched her hand back as if she'd been burned.

The microwave dinged. Eileen jumped. On the way back through the kitchen with the warmed-up leftovers, she cast her eyes back on the bottle. Her hand reached out to touch it. I am not going to do that...that thing, she told to herself. I am just going to pour myself a glass.

There was not quite a full glass left in the bottle. Eileen sat at the small table in the kitchen, thinking of all the obscene things Anthony had done to her there. Her pussy burned, vacant and hungry. The secret thought crept back into her mind, shameful and erotic, as her eyes ran up and down along the wine bottle. She felt herself grow wet.

She picked it up and ran her fingers over it. The open end of the bottle felt smooth and hard. The image came again, even stronger, bringing with it a wave of arousal so intense she shuddered. Her nipples tightened. Her breath caught in her throat. She wondered what it would feel like to slide it into that empty space that longed to be filled.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she watched herself spread her knees apart wide. She tipped the wine bottle over, and watched a drop of wine hang shivering from its mouth. Still moving as if in a dream, she brought it to her lips. Her tongue spiraled around the lip of the bottle, lapping up the last droplet of wine.

With one hand, she slid her skirt up. The emptiness became a raging need. Eileen brought the bottle down between her legs. Cool glass touched her wet entrance.

It was far easier than she thought it would be. A quick push, a simple motion of her wrist, and the neck of the bottle penetrated her deeply. Eileen cried out. It felt so good, hard and smooth inside her. Her pussy closed hungrily around it, embracing it. The lip of the bottle, round and smooth, sent incredible shudders of pleasure through her. She moved it rapidly, shoving it in and out of her with abandon, head thrown back, fingers playing over her clit...

An orgasm began to build. Anthony's warning came to her, sudden and sharp. She stopped, panting, feeling herself squeeze around the smooth hard neck of the wine bottle. Her heart pounded.

The near-orgasm ebbed. The hunger rose. Eileen, what are you doing? she asked herself. This is obscene! Take it out! She slid it slowly away from her. Her pussy clenched at it, not wanting to let go. She paused just before she withdrew it completely. Do it! Take it out!

Arousal screamed through her. She shoved the bottle deeper. Her back arched with pleasure. She thrust it in and out, again and again, until she trembled, shuddering, on the brink of orgasm. Over and over she pushed herself to the edge, until her legs trembled and her heart pounded, caught between her body's yearning and the fear of being punished if she disobeyed Anthony.

A new thought crept into her head. She wondered, suddenly, if Anthony knew what he had done to her. She wondered if he realized, somehow, that the device was no longer necessary, that she had been so enslaved by her own base desires that she would do its job herself, masturbating into a frenzy like some sex-starved tramp.

The thought frightened her. Had she really been so thoroughly trained that she would now become a party to it herself? Had she really been reduced to a sex slave, so needy that she would even help enslave herself? She wanted to pull the bottle from her and fling it against the wall, watch it shatter into a thousand pieces...but oh, God, it felt so good! She impaled herself with it and moaned. It felt so wonderful to have it inside her, to use it to ride the wave, to balance carefully right at the peak without letting herself slide into orgasm. How could she stop, when every stroke brought such exquisite pleasure?

Eileen panted, sweat beading between her breasts. How could she even want to stop? Even if Anthony walked through the door right now and caught her here, would she want to stop? Or would she want to display herself to him, to show him what kinds of filthy things she did to her body in his absence to remind herself of him? Would she keep going, letting the orgasm crash through her, her eyes on Anthony the whole time, begging him silently to punish her?

Her hands moved faster. Could she keep this up all day? Could she hold herself here until he came home, waiting for that moment when he walked through the door before she let herself come, so that he would know she had to be punished? She moaned. She could imagine the look in his eye, the moment she showed him her disobedience, letting him see her body racked in ecstasy, so that there could be no mistake, no doubt about what would have to happen...

Her body convulsed. She screamed, battling with herself to keep control. Too close! she thought. Her legs trembled. Too close! For a long moment, she thought she might not be able to stop it, that she had taken herself too near the edge to prevent the orgasm.

Finally, she had it under control. When she had backed away from the cliff of ecstasy, she pulled the wine bottle out with a wet sucking sound. She was horrified by the amount of white creamy fluid that covered the neck in a thick layer. More wetness dripped from her and spread on the chair.

Now that the moment had passed, she sat there shuddering, feeling shame and disgust at what she'd just done. Her trembling subsided. The aching need ebbed with it, leaving her feeling cold. She picked up the bottle, her face wrinkled with distaste, and carried it to the recycling bin under the sink.

Darkness was already settling when Anthony finally came home from work that evening. By the time he arrived, the need was back again. Her body remembered how the bottle had felt, and several times she had had to stop herself from going to get it or finding another. When she finally heard the sound of his car in the driveway, her pulse quickened and her pussy clenched.

When he walked through the door, she was already breathless. He smiled when he saw her. "Did you have a good day, little whore? Get yourself into any trouble?"

Her guilty expression gave her away. He smiled. "Any trouble you need to be punished for?"