Elicitation (15 page)

He left her bound on the floor when he moved into the bathroom. Eileen heard the door close and the sound of water running. The shower started up, and she heard him singing to himself on the other side of the door.

The come cooled on her breasts. It puddled in her collarbone and dripped down her sides. More of his come leaked from her aching pussy. She felt used and abandoned, lying there tied on the floor. Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks.

The minutes ticked by. She thought of everything that had happened to her since they’d arrived in London. Her life before was becoming distant and unreal to her. Her new husband had told her he was going to turn her into a sex slave, and so far, he had kept his word. He had already done nearly every vile, unwholesome sex act she’d thought she’d never do, and a few she hadn’t even thought of; and all these things, all these filthy acts she had believed only the lowest and filthiest of tramps could ever enjoy, had made her come. Not once, or even twice, but over and over again.

Gradually, her thoughts shifted. The hard floor pressed against her body. The ropes felt coarse around her wrists and ankles. She thought about the pirates that lived in her fantasies, how they might tie her down to the deck of their ship like this, arms and legs spread wide.
This is what it feels like,
she said to herself. A powerful jolt passed through her.
This is what it would be like to be tied to the deck of a pirate ship.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The fantasy rolled on in her mind, vivid images of leering eyes, hard penises thrusting into her.

When they had all finished raping her, she imagined the pirate crew untying her and dragging her to her feet. “We’ve got a special treat for you,” they cackled. “The captain has asked for you personally.” They prodded her down the stairs and along dim passageways to the back of the ship, where the captain had his cabin. They knocked on the door. “We have a treat for you, cap’n, and she’s all broken in, just like you asked!”

She writhed and arched her back, lost in the fantasy. In her mind, the door opened. The pirate captain, the man who had ordered her abduction and rape, looked out. Dark eyes, broad shoulders, strong arms, dark curly hair—Anthony. He took her, naked and used, into his quarters, and sat her gently on his bed. “Tell me,” he said kindly, his face wreathed in concern, “did they all have sex with you?”

She nodded, trembling, and threw her arms around him. He held her close and stroked her hair. “Good,” he said. Before she could react or cry out, he pushed her down flat and bound her with ropes. He undressed and took her himself, thrusting his erect penis into every part of her body, and there was nothing she could do about it, it wasn’t her fault…

The shower stopped. Anthony came out dripping, toweling his hair vigorously. He smiled at her. She realized that she was writhing in the ropes, thrusting her hips up into the air. Her face colored.

“You look hungry, little whore. You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” he said. When he finished drying, he stepped over her to the closet. He pulled on slacks, a dress shirt, then turned his back to her to look in the mirror as he fastened his tie. He dragged a comb through his hair.

“Anthony, let me go! Untie me!”

He paid her no heed at all, but instead finished dressing as though he hadn’t even heard her. Just as he finished putting on his cufflinks, the phone rang. He picked it up. “Yes. OK, good, I’m expecting it. Send it right up, please.”

He stepped over her again and moved into the living room. A short time later, Eileen heard a knock on the door. He opened it and spoke to someone in the other room; she realized suddenly that she was bound in a place clearly visible through the bedroom door, and one of the ropes tying her down extended into the living room. A flash of heat touched her face, and her pussy clenched and moistened.
Please,
she thought,
please don’t let him look in here, don’t let him see me like this…

The voices stopped. The door opened and closed again. Anthony came back into the bedroom carrying a flat white box. “Your dress for this evening,” he said. He bent and untied her. “Get cleaned up. It’s almost time to go.”

She rubbed her wrists and stood. Cold sticky come dripped down her stomach. “How could you do this to me? You bastard!”

“Yep!” he beamed. “Now get moving, little whore!”

She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She tried to tell herself she was angry over all the things that Anthony had done, but in a tiny corner of her mind she knew the truth was that she was angry because he had recognized her arousal when he came out of the shower. On top of that, she was confused by her own responses. She didn’t want to be a sex slave; so why did she tolerate the things he did to her? By all rights, she should be on the phone to her mother, or to the police, or demanding an annulment…

She stood in the shower and scrubbed the filth away until her skin glowed and she felt clean once more. When she was finished and dry, she saw that he had opened the box and folded the dress within it over the bed. He held it up for her when she walked out of the bathroom.

It was formal evening dress, made of deep maroon satin, with a high neck and simple lines, far more understated than the one that had ended up on the elevator floor. It looked expensively tailored. “This is what I want you to wear tonight. Get dressed.”

She reached for the dress. He shook his head. “No. Straps first.”

Her heart pounded as she picked up the spiked straps and fastened them around her thighs. The simple act seemed to reinforce her position; by doing it, she felt like she was validating his claim to her, his ownership of her. She thought of him as the pirate captain, taking possession of her body after ordering her kidnapped, and her chest grew tight. For just a fraction of a second, she wanted to give herself to him completely. When the impulse passed, she blinked in confusion and accepted the dress from his fingers numbly.

It fit as though it had been designed for her alone. The moment she slipped it on, she was transformed. The color brought out just a hint of blue in her grey eyes; the shape accentuated her curves perfectly. She looked as if she had just stepped out of a Hollywood awards show. “How…?”

“Very nice.” He gave her an approving look and buttoned his jacket. “Had it made from the measurements for your wedding dress. I’ve been planning very carefully for months.” He looked himself over in the mirror, adjusted his tie. “I got you some things to go with it. There’s a pair of shoes, and this.” He held up a choker, the same maroon as the dress, with small silver points along it. “Hold still.” His hands were gentle as he fitted it around her throat. “Perfect!” His warm breath caressed her neck as he nuzzled her. “Finish getting dressed. I’ve ordered a limo for the evening. It’s almost time for dinner. Stretching your anus is hungry work.” She flushed and turned away from him.

Chapter 11

True to his word, there was a limousine waiting for them at the curb. He held the door open for her; a smile touched his lips as she struggled for a moment to climb in without closing her legs. He climbed in after her. The moment he had closed the door, the limo sped smoothly away. Inside, they were wrapped in silence and comfort. He took a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses from a compartment beneath the seat and offered her one.

They sipped champagne in the gathering dusk while the limo whisked them through the streets. He refilled her glass twice before they reached their destination, and Eileen felt lightheaded. For a time, he rode with his head resting on her shoulder, one hand in her lap. The show of affection felt strange and incongruous to her.

Finally, the limo glided up to a large pier and pulled smoothly to a stop. A number of other people, most of them dressed almost as formally as they were, crowded around a gangplank to a large yacht with high windows. Anthony opened the door for her, and, arm in arm, they joined the line waiting to board.

The yacht turned out to be a restaurant, with a large open dining floor and a small stage at the front. White-gloved servers ushered them to a table set beside a large window, through which they could see the Thames. They had already begun to move by the time the same servers arrived with menus, and glittering lights floated by on the river’s banks.

The ship picked up speed in the gathering darkness. London sparkled beyond the window, and an enormous bridge, high off the water and lit up like something from a fairy tale, appeared to their left. Eileen felt strangely out of place; the glamour was everything she had ever dreamed about, but it didn’t seem real. What would happen if she gave in, became what Anthony wanted? Would he realize that nobody could really want such a woman? Would he try to replace her?

A small band took to the stage. Light jazz filled the air. The bridge drifted by, impossibly huge. Tall towers flanked each end, as high and strong as a castle keep. “Tower Bridge,” Anthony said. “A lot of people mistake it for London Bridge, but London Bridge is quite plain by comparison.” He sipped from his wine glass. “There’s a legend that says Freemen in London have the right to drive livestock over this bridge whenever they choose.” He smiled. “Though I imagine there are more efficient ways to move sheep around these days. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Eileen watched in wonder as the bridge passed by. “Yes,” she breathed. “It is.”

After dinner, they joined the other patrons on the upper deck. Musicians played, and couples whirled around them on a large dance floor. Anthony led Eileen out onto the floor, and she blushed, suddenly shy. Moonlight rippled in the water. The setting seemed so perfect, so completely romantic, that it didn’t seem possible that this same man had tied her to the floor and forced himself on her just hours ago.

They danced and talked. He was relaxed and happy, and laughed often; Eileen even caught herself smiling and laughing along with him. Underneath it all, the bands strapped to her thighs, with the row of points telling her to keep her legs parted, reminded her of the things he was doing to her. She danced in her satin dress, surrounded by elegance, and thought of pirates, and dark prison cells deep in the hold, and rape.

Night had wrapped the city in darkness by the time the yacht headed back to its launch. The limousine was waiting for them at the pier. She halfway expected him to take advantage of her the instant they were tucked in its enclosed privacy, but he seemed content to ride in silence with his hand on her knee.

It was nearly eleven when they arrived back at the hotel. The windows glowed white and blue and red. He escorted her through the lobby on his arm. Her heart pounded when they reached the elevators; as the doors slid shut, she had a sudden, visceral memory of the way he’d stripped her and left her standing naked. If he noticed her sudden quick intake of breath, he gave no sign.

Once upstairs, he held the room door open for her. She swallowed nervously as she went inside. He closed and locked the door behind him, and set the room lights to a dim, glowing red. While she stood nervously, he knelt in front of her and removed her shoes. Then he fished out the small key and slid his hands up her thighs, beneath the dress. “Let’s get these off of you,” he said, and unlocked the straps. When they were removed, he slipped down her stockings, leaving her in bare feet, before he rose.

“You look lovely,” he smiled. He pulled the large knife out of his pocket and unfolded it. “Come here.”

“What?” Fear clenched her stomach, and she went wet between her legs. She backed up slowly away from him until she ran into the wall behind her.

He followed her until he was pressed in close. The tip of the knife traced the side of her neck and over her collarbone. “Stand still,” he said.

Her blood turned to ice. She froze, barely breathing. He ran the tip of the blade lightly down her dress until he reached her nipple, then with a single flick he sliced a hole in the dress. He slipped the blade under the satin; cold steel touched her breast. In only a few violent motions, he sliced a large, ragged hole in the dress, exposing her breast completely. Another series of quick motions and he had ripped a large circle of fabric away from the other side, exposing her other breast. Satisfied, he folded the knife and took a step back to survey his handiwork.

“It’s time for another lesson,” he said. “Come here.”

She stood frozen, unmoving.

“I said come here.” He reached out and grabbed her nipples tightly. Eileen cried out in pain as he dragged her by her nipples over to him. “Kiss me.”

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” she cried.

His fingers pinched tighter. “Kiss me.”

She kissed him quickly on the cheek. His fingers clamped down like vises. “Ow! Anthony, please, that hurts!”

“Kiss me like you mean it,” he said. “Use your tongue.”

She pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue passed between his lips for a moment before she pulled away.

“That’s a little better.” His fingers relaxed. “Tonight, I’m going to teach you how to kiss like a world-class fuck-slut. Now, let’s try this again. Kiss me.”

His lips moved toward hers. She moved to press her mouth against him, but he pulled away. “No. Kissing is like sex. First you need a little foreplay. Hold still.”

He moved in close. His lips lightly grazed hers, just a feather’s touch of sensation. She felt his warm breath on her lips. “See?” he murmured. “Go in slowly. Make it a seduction.” His lips parted a hair’s breath, and the tip of his tongue lightly stroked her, gently coaxing her lips apart.

She moved in toward him, but he pulled away again, smiling. “What’s your rush? Take your time. We have all night.” He leaned in and nuzzled her cheek. “Now you try.”

She hesitated for a second. His fingers clamped down firmly on her nipples, making her yelp. “You’re hurting me again!”

“Focus. Pay attention. Kiss me.”

She tilted her head toward his and grazed his lips with hers. Her tongue flickered out and brushed him. His lips parted, offering her an invitation. She moved forward to kiss him more deeply, tongue sliding into his mouth.

“Better. But you’re still rushing. It’s not always just about getting your tongue in there. There’s so much more you can do. Put your heart into it.
Seduce
me!” He released her nipples. “Here, let me show you.”

She looked up at him and moved to kiss him. He laid a fingertip on her lips. “Shh. Be still.” He took her in his arms, hands sliding up her back. “Look into my eyes. Watch me.” Slowly, inch by inch, as she watched, he moved closer, until their lips almost touched. His tongue lightly flicked the corner of her mouth. She tried to move into the kiss, but he matched her motions, keeping that tiny distance between them. His hand rested lightly on the back of her neck, stroking her hair softly. Then, ever so gently, their lips touched. A feeling like electricity flowed between them. She sighed.

“Yes,” he said. His breath played across her cheek. He drew her into him, and his lips found the side of her neck. Teeth and tongue grazed warm skin. “See?” He pulled away. “Now it’s your turn. Put your arms around me. Kiss me.”

Eileen looked into his eyes and caressed his cheeks in her hands. He really was a handsome man, she realized with surprise; since the honeymoon had started, and he had begun his program of bondage and rape, she had almost forgotten how handsome he was.

Her hands slid around to the back of his head. Slowly, she leaned in close. He pulled back just a fraction, and she stopped, confused, until she saw the tiny smile quirk the corners of his mouth. She moved closer, and he pulled away a tiny fraction again. Quickly, without warning, she dove in and pressed her lips against that smirk. Her tongue licked at the corner of his mouth, and before he could respond, she moved away again, breaking the contact. He opened his mouth to speak, and she leaned in close, not quite touching him, and flicked her tongue against his lower lip.

“Good! That’s good. Playful. I like it.” He smiled. She drew her lips across his cheek, and buried her face against the side of his neck. With her body tight against his, she breathed in his scent. Her pussy clenched. Wetness flowed. Butterflies danced in her stomach.

“Mmm, wonderful,” he said. He pressed her backward with her body, until he had backed her against the wall again. He took her hands and pressed them to her sides. “Now, stay right there. Don’t move. Close your eyes.”

She did as he said. His fingertip moved against her bottom lip. “Open just a little.” She felt warm air, the feather light touch of his lips, the wet-slick of his tongue teasing her. Their bodies did not touch; that soft brush of lips was the only contact between them. He teased her for a very long time, urging her lips apart with tiny touches of his tongue, not kissing her deeply, until she was breathing hard, longing for more.

He undressed deftly, without once taking his lips from hers. She whimpered and sighed and met his tongue with hers; somewhere far away, she was aware of wetness dripping down her thigh. “Please,” she whispered.

He caressed her cheeks lightly. His hands stroked the sides of her neck, brushing the spill of hair off her shoulders. He slid his hands softly over her shoulders. “Kissing is a lot like sex in many ways,” he said. “There are so many ways you can kiss. Everything about sex, everything kind of sex you can imagine, can be embodied in a kiss.” His breath came warm on her cheek. “A kiss can be a tease. A kiss can be a seduction. A kiss can be an invitation. Or…”

His hands seized the front of her dress. He pulled with sudden ferocity, rending the fabric almost all the way down to the floor. She opened her eyes and let out a startled cry as he tore the dress from her body. He took her face tightly between his hands and held her head firmly.

“A kiss can be rape,” he finished. He shoved his mouth hard against hers. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth. She cried out again and struggled to pull away, but he held her tightly, preventing her from moving. She beat and clawed at his hands, but it was like trying to move a stone statue.

He pushed her tightly up against the wall and, with a single thrust, impaled her with his rigid cock. She tried to scream, but the sound was trapped, lost in his mouth. He took her very roughly, slamming his hips into her so hard that each stroke lifter her onto her toes. His tongue worked in rhythm with his cock; he forced it between her lips again and again, raping her mouth. Her cries and screams came out muffled, indistinct. “Mmmf! Mmmf! Mmmf!”

He pounded her that way while she fought against him madly, and her body flushed. When she felt the tightening between her legs and realized what was about to happen, her struggles grew more frantic. She battled against the rising heat within her, trying desperately not to show him by her own pleasure that she wanted what he was doing to her, but without avail. Bit by bit, while he hammered into her, her resolve slipped; then she came, a short sharp shock of ecstasy, and with that the struggle changed, became a willing cooperation.

She relaxed in his grip and opened her legs to accept his thrusts. Her cries became moans. Her lips wrapped around his invading tongue. Sensing her surrender, he slowed his tempo. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists, and he gently pinned them in place over her head while he took her in long, slow, steady strokes. The assault of his tongue softened, and soon she was riding the wave of another orgasm, this one gentle and protracted. She clenched tightly around him, sighing, and felt the answering pulse of his orgasm deep inside her. Wetness poured from between her legs and ran down her thighs.