Elicitation (20 page)

That was when the third problem presented itself. No matter how firmly she pulled on the base, the plug did not seem to want to budge. Her ass clutched it firmly, unwilling to let go. With every tug she felt herself start to stretch and then tighten around it involuntarily.

She pulled harder. The plug slipped out only a hair’s breath. An incongruous thought entered her mind: what if the plane crashed right now? Would the rescue workers find her like this, half-naked and holding onto a gigantic butt plug? What would they think of her? Would they brand her a slut, a whore, a filthy tramp, fucking her own ass right there in an airplane bathroom?

She pushed the thought aside and pulled even harder. Her ass stretched. She gasped and pulled still more. In a sudden, explosive flash of pain, the plug slid free. She cried out and sat panting on the toilet, struggling for breath. Something wet slid down between her thighs. She touched herself, and her fingers came back covered with a mass of thick white goo.

For the next several minutes, she scrubbed at herself in the tiny bathroom. The quantity of white fluid dripping from her ass astonished her. The more she worked, the dirtier she felt. A very dirty slut—that’s what Anthony called her; and now, half-naked in an airplane bathroom with a never-ending stream of come and lube dripping from her ass, she felt like it was true.

She was so distracted by the feelings that she completely forgot about the plug, until it rolled off the miniature sink and fell with a thud on the floor. When she picked it up, her stomach did flip-flops at the cool wet sliminess of it. It was thickly smeared with the same mix of come and lube that had oozed out of her. She wanted nothing more than to throw the disgusting thing away and be rid of it forever.

Reluctantly, she turned her attention to washing the vile thing in the sink. She had nothing she could use on it but her hands, and touching it made her stomach lurch. She washed it over and over again, even after it seemed that she could get it no cleaner.

After she struggled back into the too-tight, form-hugging skirt, she faced her next problem: she had no place to carry the plug. The skirt clung smoothly to the curves of her hips without pockets. Her shirt, such as it was, also lacked pockets. In her rush to be relieved of the plug, she hadn’t brought her purse.

The walk back to the seat, with the plug wrapped in both hands to conceal it, seemed to take forever. At each shuffling step, she was terrified that sudden turbulence would send her tumbling to the ground, and the plug would go bouncing down the aisle. The faces that looked up at her as she passed caused her to burn with shame. By the time she found her row, her heart was hammering in her throat.

Anthony had finished his lunch and was once again sound asleep. She crawled gratefully into the sanctuary of her seat and tried to sleep herself. Jagged images filled her brain like crackling lightning, but her body was exhausted, and sleep came soon.

Chapter 17

About an hour before landing, Eileen woke groggily to find Anthony reading a magazine next to her. He turned toward her and smiled. “Did you sleep well, little whore? You were moaning in your sleep. Dreaming about pirates?”

Eileen felt herself turn red. She lowered her eyes. Anthony smiled. “Ah, you were, weren’t you?” He squeezed her hand fondly and returned to his magazine. For the rest of the flight, he refused to be drawn into conversation.

After the madhouse of Heathrow, Logan airport was tranquil as a Zen garden. The passengers filed off the plane. Eileen hobbled slowly down the jetway, shamefaced, while a river of people flowed around her. Anthony held her hand to steady her against the surging mass of humanity while she moved slowly along. A part of her marveled at how so simple a thing as the skirt could make her feel bound to him and dependent on him. It restricted her movements as surely as a prisoner’s ball and chain; every step was a reminder of his control over her. The thought excited her, down in some place deep inside that she didn’t want to think about.

They were the last to arrive at the baggage claim. Once they had collected their luggage and the steamer trunk, Anthony motioned to a skycap. Eileen watched the man load their things onto a battered metal cart. Her breath caught when he slung the leather case onto the pile.

Outside, warm sun streamed around them. Anthony planted a kiss on her cheek. “Are you happy to be back, little whore? Just think of all the new adventures ahead of you!”

“Anthony, no—”

He leaned forward and murmured into her ear. “No, you’re not happy to be back? You’d rather still be in London, pressed up against the hotel window while I shove metal weights into your cunt and lick you? My, my, my. You are a dirty girl!”

“NO!” Eileen blushed furiously. “No, you can’t keep doing these things to me! Anthony, I’m serious! You can’t just keep treating me like I’m some kind of…you know, some kind of…you can’t keep doing those things to me!”

He grinned. “You can’t even talk about sex, can you? That’s very charming, you know.” A cab pulled up next to the curb. His expression brightened. “But actually, I can do those things to you. You’ve come so far in so short a time! It would be a shame to waste all that effort, right? Might as well finish with your training, the way I see it. In for a penny, in for a pound, isn’t that what they say over there? Be a good girl and get in the cab, if you would, please.” He held the door open for her. “And when I say be a good girl, I mean no jilling yourself off to a screaming orgasm while I’m loading up the luggage, you insatiable slut! I know how you are.”

She gasped and looked around wildly to see if anyone had overheard him. The skycap paused from stacking suitcases into the trunk and looked at her with a strange expression. “Anthony!” she said. Her tone was shocked.

He grinned at her playfully. “Scoot! Get in the car!”

She struggled gracelessly into the back seat of the cab. The tight skirt made her clumsy and awkward. Anthony whistled in appreciation and gave her an exaggerated leer. She turned red and turned her face away.

The cab driver turned out to be a husky, hyperkinetic Ukrainian man with wavy brown hair and a three-day growth of stubble, who drove as if pursued by banshees. They weaved around other cars and pulled out onto the interstate.

Traffic at the entrance to the tunnel was at a standstill. The cabbie swore colorfully in a mishmash of half a dozen languages at the slowdown. He shook his fist at the indignity of all things related to gridlock. When the gods of automotive transportation declined to smite the traffic ahead of him, he turned around in his seat to assert with confident cheer that Indian women were the most beautiful and most passionate in the world, and undoubtedly made the best wives. He knew this, he said, because he had watched many Bollywood films, and was quite convinced of the truth of it. Anthony laughed and countered that it could not possibly be true, for he had already found the most beautiful and passionate woman in the world. “And,” he added, wrapping his arm around Eileen, “I married her!”

The cabbie grinned back at the two of them and went on to a new topic, holding forth with great energy about how the Russians and the Americans had both landed on the moon in the 1960s, where they both built secret bases from which they fought a private lunar war. His source for this little-known history, he said, was above impeachment; his friend, who was a long-haul trucker, had once delivered a shipment of parts to NASA, and heard it directly from a worker there. “Soviets, good at war on Earth, not so good at war in space!” He thumped his chest. “Soviets lost, denied everything!”

They started moving again. He seemed to take this as a sign that his theory was correct. “You see? That is real reason Soviet Union collapsed!”

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 strange.

Unloading the cab went surprisingly quickly, even with the big steamer trunk. Eileen looked at it. Images flashed through her mind, of being strapped to the Sybian machine while she struggled to take a rubber dildo down her throat. 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 a flash, he grabbed her shoulders tightly. “Naughty, naughty!” he grinned. “You don’t have any say in this, 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 when she 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 still 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 paid no attention to her pleas. 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 away from him as fast as she was able, 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. Dampness 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, hand pulling her hair painfully. 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.”