Elicitation (19 page)

“You are a sex slave. Your body is my property.” Fingers tightened on her breast. “Say it.”

“No! Anthony, stop!” Fingernails dug in to sensitive skin. “Ow! Please! Stop!”

“Say it.”

The pressure increased. She grimaced and cried out in pain. His fingers twisted her nipple roughly. Finally, her resistance broke. “I’m a sex slave! My body is your property! Please stop, you’re hurting me!”

He smiled and released her. “That was easy. You do like being a slave.” His hand slipped out and buttoned the shirt again; he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. “You like what I’ve done to you a great deal, little whore.”

She refused to acknowledge him. For the rest of the ride to the airport, she stared sullenly out the window, and watched the city dissolve in the mist.

Chapter 15

The airport was a jumbled chaos of crowds and noise that somehow managed to give the impression that it was all just on the verge of flying apart at the seams. A sullen-faced man pushing a dented cart loaded up their luggage and led them down an endless pink-tiled hallway to the ticketing counter, where an equally sullen woman checked the bags. Another long walk, hampered by the tight skirt that slowed Eileen to a crawl, brought them to the passport checkpoint.

They waited in line. As they got closer and closer, Eileen became nervous. “What if they decide to search me? What if they find the-you know, the—that thing that—”

“You mean the butt plug shoved up your ass that’s holding all my come in?” He grinned. “Well, in that case, I imagine they’d probably think you’re quite the filthy little slut, don’t you?”

She flushed red and looked away. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

The security guard, a bureaucrat of that peculiar variety that the nation of Great Britain had perfected in the decades following the second World War, managed to be simultaneously impersonal and vaguely insulting. He studied their passports, looked at their tickets, then regarded them with an expression that suggested something about them reminded him he’d forgotten to throw away a container of curdled milk at home. He looked back at the passports like he was expecting them to crawl away and do something distasteful, then finally turned his gaze back to them. “Yanks?”

Anthony grinned. “Don’t blame me, it was my grandparents’ fault.”

“Right.” His eyes had already gone numb with boredom. He handed the papers back to them and fixed a sour look on the next people in line. Anthony strode past, and Eileen hobbled behind.

The flight was half an hour late. The plug had become a steady ache, and Eileen squirmed on the narrow terminal seat. “Please, I need to take it out—”

“Hush.” He kissed her cheek. “You don’t want all that come dripping out of you, right? Isn’t that what you said? I was nice enough to keep that from happening, wasn’t I?” He raised his fingers to her lips to stop her response. “Hush.”

Finally, they boarded. The plane departed, bringing them away from London and toward…what, exactly? A life as Anthony’s sex slave, to have all kinds of indignities forced on her body? To be used for sex, whenever and however he wanted? In London, in the hotel, she’d been trapped, with nowhere to go to escape the things he’d done. That’s why she had accepted them, she told herself. That’s the only reason she had put up with them. But now? Once back home, she had places to go; she wouldn’t need to stay and let him continue to do these things to her, right?

Anthony reclined next to her. The two seats formed a kind of pod, each able to recline fully flat and convert into a narrow bed, separated from the other seats around them. He looked over at her and smiled. “You might want to get some sleep. You didn’t get much last night, and we’re hosting a coming-home party tomorrow.”

“We are?” The plug nagged at her, distracting her. “Anthony, I have to take it out—”

“Hush. Then, after that, the next phase of your training starts! I’m so proud of you; you’ve done far, far better than even I expected. Your body has been trained quite wonderfully. When we get home, we’ll start on the next part.”

“Anthony, it’s starting to hurt!”

“Hush.” He leaned toward her and reclined her seat all the way. “Get some rest.” He kissed her forehead. “You can take it out after they serve lunch. And don’t forget, the day after tomorrow you have another appointment with Dr. Moreland.” He drew a blanket up around her. “Try to sleep, little whore. Soon we will be back home. When we are, you will have a whole new life ahead of you. Isn’t that exciting? “

Chapter 16

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 meal service started, and 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 her 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 sodomize her? 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.”

“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, little whore. You’re my sex slave, remember?”

“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 you, 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. Dampness 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? It made you come right in front of him. You love showing off what a filthy tramp you are. You like when people watch. You like showing them how dirty you are.”

“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. 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. When it was her turn to answer the question, she mumbled something unintelligible, unable to look the attendant in the eye. The issue of chicken or beef seemed unreal to her, unable to pry 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 just a little bit 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 there 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. Something intended to go inside 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 was 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.

His voice came back to her. She thought about how it felt to be called a filthy, sex-starved whore. The words replayed in her head, over and over. She remembered his hand on her knee, his warm breath in her ear. Her fingers moved faster. “Yes,” she sighed to herself quietly. “I am a filthy cock-sucking ass-fucked tramp. I…I am.” Her other hand crept up to fondle her breast, felt the heat through thin fabric.

She stared fixedly at the door as she masturbated. Her mind was filled with visions of that door opening suddenly, disturbed people staring at her in shock while she touched herself. Fear sang through her, made her body alive; her skin felt electric. Her warm juices 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.