Evocation (28 page)

Anthony looked thoughtful. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for the future in case she misbehaves.” His little impish grin crept out. “For now I think we’ll stick to the plan.”

“Okay.” Jen lowered her shirt. “Just the one, then.”

Eileen felt the fear twist around her heart. Her breathing came fast. “One what? What are you going to do to me?”

Jen smiled. “I’m going to give you a vertical hood piercing. Like this.” She raised her skirt. Beneath it, she wore a pair of panties in the same electric purple as her bangs. She slid them down. The casual way she exposed herself, as if it were no big deal, made Eileen feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Here, see?” Eileen’s gaze moved down. The trunk of the tree extended to just above the woman’s mons, where it forked into two roots. The roots spiraled their way around her legs. On her left leg, a grotesque-looking monster, half serpent and half demon, tore at the root with sharp teeth.

Jen spread herself open with her fingers. The hood of her clit was pierced, the same way Thomas’ nipples were; a short metal bar, capped with two small silver balls, penetrated her skin. One of the balls sat just below the patch of pubic hair she had shaved into a neat stripe; the other rested a bit below her clitoris.

Eileen’s eyes widened. Fear squeezed her heart. She had never imagined such a depraved thing. Her mind flashed back to the hotel room in London, the first time Anthony had forced her to use a dildo. Just the idea of having something artificial inside of her had been difficult enough; the notion of something permanently touching her there, right at her sex, made her shudder. She felt herself struggling against the ropes holding her down. “Oh! I don’t…”

You can never say no again.
The thought came back, hard as steel.
He owns your body. He can do whatever he wants. You can never say no again.

“I think that got her attention,” Jen said. She dressed again, smiling. “You’ll like it, I promise. It’s fun. Makes sex a lot more interesting. The trick is to use a short barbell and pierce right at the very top of the hood, so it lands right where it needs to.” She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “When I got mine, I had to learn how to sit down all over again. It took a couple of weeks before I could sit without coming. I’ve had this piercing for three years now, and if I don’t pay attention it can still happen. My sister got married a couple of months ago in a park in Cambridge. I sat down a bit too hard on the bench, and, well…” She grinned wider. “It was an unexpected thrill, let’s say.”

“She is not allowed to have an orgasm without permission unless she’s being used,” Anthony said,

“Well, then, you might have to punish her quite a bit for the first couple weeks.” Jen sat on a short stool at Eileen’s feet. “Now, let’s see…” She pulled back Eileen’s hood, exposing her clit. “Wow! Her kitty is really purring. Is she always this revved up?”

“Being tied down helps. Being naked in front of strangers helps too. But mostly, yeah.”

Eileen blushed. Jen’s finger touched her clit. Pleasure shot through her. She stiffened, gasping.

“Oh, she’s fun,” Jen said. “I can see why you like her.” She picked up a long, narrow package from the tray and tore it open. Eileen shivered when she saw the needle inside.

Jen brought a thin plastic tube under her hood. She poised the tip of the needle above it. Eileen felt the sharp tip touch her skin. She trembled in fear, eyes glued to the shining metal.

“Breathe. Nice and slow,” Jen said. “Look at me.”

Eileen tore her gaze from the needle. She looked into the woman’s calm brown eyes. “Like that,” Jen said. “Relax. Breathe with me.”

The tension inside her uncoiled just a little bit. Eileen’s breath steadied. “Yes,” the woman said. “Take a nice deep breath now.”

Quivering, Eileen obeyed. She held it for a long moment. “Okay,” Jen said, “let it out, nice and slow.”

Midway through exhaling, Eileen felt a quick pinch, followed by a twisting, tugging sensation. Her heart pounded. She imagined the woman lining up the needle, preparing to shove it through her skin. She caught her breath, waiting for it to happen.

“All done!” Jen said. “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

Eileen looked down, surprised. Shiny metal gleamed between her legs. “Not as bad as you thought it would be, was it? You’ll have to take care of it until it heals. Should take about a month. Thomas will give you a list of instructions.” Her eyes glittered. “And don’t touch it!” She looked at Anthony. “That goes for you, too. Hands off. Keep it clean. No fluids on it for at least four weeks. No vaginal sex, no oral without a dam.” She wagged his finger at him. “I mean it!”

He spread his hands, grinning. “Okay! Okay! She has other holes I can use for a while.”

“Good. If you break your toys, you can’t play with them any more.”

Eileen flushed again. The sting from the needle had already faded. Her clit throbbed and trembled against the touch of hard metal. Thomas untied the ropes as efficiently as he had tied them. She stood, unsteady. Her fingers brushed the back of her neck, found cling wrap.

Anthony seized her roughly, pulling her close. His lips met hers, roughly, in a long, passionate kiss. She squirmed for a moment in his grip before she surrendered to it. Her lips parted for his tongue.

“Good,” he said. “You are my darling, precious sex slave, and now I own you utterly.” He smiled. “I have marked you and pierced you so that you will never forget this day. Let’s go home. How does that saying go? Today is the first day of the rest of your life. I think we should get started.”

Epilogue

The days turned into weeks. Weeks ran into months. Outside, the seasons changed. Inside, Eileen changed as well, adapting to her role with ease and grace. Anthony set many tasks before her, each designed to improve some aspect of her skill; she rose to all of them with enthusiasm, proud of her talents at sexual servitude.

The monthly visits to the doctor’s office became part of the routine. Each month, as the first Saturday approached, Eileen would feel a sense of excitement, mixed with more than a little fear. When the day came, she would find herself watching the clock, trembling as the hands counted down the hours until it was time to leave. Anthony would drive her out to the clinic, where he would leave her with a kiss. Her hands would tremble as she walked to the door. Dr. Moreland would be waiting for her inside, to probe and inspect her as she lay strapped helplessly to the table. On most days, when he was finished, he would give her to the nurse, who would play with her the way a cat plays with a mouse, entertaining herself with Eileen’s body.

From time to time, Eileen’s thoughts would be drawn to the locked door at the end of the hall on the second floor, and the stairs beyond it. She would feel the attic calling to her, awakening a hunger inside her. Her body would respond, tingling, to the intrusive images of what happened there.

Subtly, without conscious awareness, her mood would become more playful. When finally the siren song had become strong enough to make her commit some transgression too big to overlook, Anthony’s eyes would flash with fire. He would order her to get her key. Trembling, she would carry it to him. He would lead her up the wide stairs to the second floor. With her heart pounding, she would unlock it and slowly climb the rickety steps to the attic, fear hardening her nipples.

In the attic, she would give her body up to his chastisement, compliant, writhing in torment and ecstasy. As he punished her, a bulge would grow in his pants, sending shivers of delight down her back. When the punishment was over and she had stopped sobbing, he would lead her back downstairs to the bedroom, the bulge still prominent beneath his slacks. He would make use of her, no matter how sore she was, ignoring her cries while he pleasured himself with her body. The erotic humiliation from her punishments would linger, sometimes for weeks, a warm glow deep inside her that she would savor when he was at work and she passed the afternoon running her hands over her body.

The first anniversary of their wedding arrived so quickly it caught Eileen by surprise. That day, Anthony presented her with a gift: a plain white card, lacy around the edges, elaborately laser-cut with tiny, precise holes. The holes formed an intricate pointillistic image, a garden gazebo with a woman seated within, brushing her hair. It was exquisitely beautiful and extraordinarily fragile. Eileen blushed, remembering vividly the picture he had painted on her body, and how he had chained her outside on the front porch to display it.

When she handed it carefully back to him, he mounted it in a frame, its simple wood border accentuating its complexity. She kissed him, hard and deep, her body pressed naked against his. He responded with a sigh. She ran her hands over him, deliberately seeking out the places she knew would most arouse him. Her lips grazed his neck. “You want me,” she breathed. “Take me.”

She worked him up, slowly and deliberately, using hands and fingers and lips to stoke the fire inside him until his cock strained and his body trembled. Then she gave herself to him, right there on the living room floor, crying out as he ravished her.

That weekend, Anthony had more surprises for her. Saturday morning, after he had released her from her chains and she had offered her ass to him, he presented her with a large box topped with a bow.

“What’s in it?” she asked.

“Open it and see!”

Grinning, she pulled open the box. Inside was an elaborate, lacy ballroom gown, white and strapless.

“What’s this for?”

“For ballroom dancing, of course! You can’t go ballroom dancing without a ballroom gown.” He took an envelope out of the box. “I’ve got some lessons for us. Here, take a look.”

Eileen opened the box. “These are for four people!”

“True. I also flew your parents into town. They’ll be taking the lessons, too. Your mother was positively giddy at the idea.”

Eileen felt her heart skip a beat. Unconsciously, she reached back to touch the back of her neck. Anthony laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear your hair up. Your secret is most likely safe.”

Eileen blushed. “This is a beautiful gown. It’s not going to end up torn to shreds on the floor after I wear it, is it?”

Anthony laughed. “Probably not. But you never can tell with me. Now come along, little whore. It’s time for you to bathe me.”

Eileen’s parents arrived that afternoon. Anthony offered them use of one of the many rooms upstairs. That evening, Anthony helped her into the gown. Her mother glowed with delight when Eileen swept into the living room wearing it. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” she said. “And that man of yours is so handsome. I’m so proud of you!”

Eileen’s father seemed skeptical about the lessons, but went along with good-natured humor. For the first part of the evening, Eileen felt self-conscious, fretting constantly over whether or not her mother would be able to see the tattoo hidden under her hair. As the night progressed, she got caught up in the lessons, and by the end of the evening she’d all but forgotten her bashfulness.

When they returned home that night, Eileen was glowing. After her parents were safely tucked away upstairs, Anthony led her into the bedroom. “Strip,” he commanded.

She obeyed instantly. As soon as the gown was hanging safely in the closet, Anthony came up behind her. He pressed her against the wall, his hands clutching her shoulders tightly. He, too, had disrobed, and his skin was warm and smooth against hers. “I want you to understand something,” he growled into her ear. “Our routine will not be changed just because we have guests. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Good.” He grabbed her hair and half-led, half dragged her to the bed. “Lie down. Spread your legs.”

Eileen did as she was told. She could feel herself growing damp as he fastened the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. He chained her down tightly, spread eagle, her arms and legs reaching for the corners of the bed. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He took her fiercely, one hand held over her mouth to muffle her screams. She struggled in the chains, eyes closed, crying out against his hand each time he thrust into her. When the orgasm hit, she thrashed, powerless in its grip, back arching.

It passed quickly. When her orgasm ended, her struggles ceased; she lay unresisting beneath him, pliant, accepting his vigorous assault. He thickened inside her and cried out as he came, spewing a thick torrent of hot semen into her.

He withdrew, panting. Eileen lay still as he unlocked her cuffs. When she was free, he picked up a pillow from the bed and placed it on the floor. He pointed to it without a word. She knelt obediently. Gooey wetness spilled from her and dripped onto the pillow, stark white against the deep red pillowcase.

She fanned the embers of his arousal with lips and fingers, kissing and stroking his limp shaft for a long time. When finally he was erect again, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Slowly, with great care, she started to suck, her eyes locked on his. Soon his breathing became erratic. She moved faster, head bobbing up and down. Her eyes never lost that contact, even when his body stiffened and warm thick come flooded into her mouth.

He slipped carefully out from between her lips. She waited, holding the disgusting stuff in her mouth, while he turned down the sheets and prepared the chains. Her throat tightened involuntarily. Small wet gagging noises escaped from her as she struggled not to spill any of his come. By the time he was finished, a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

At last, when he was satisfied with the condition of the bed, he knelt behind her. With one hand, he yanked her hair, pulling her head back. His other hand closed tightly over her nose and mouth. “You may swallow, little whore,” he said.

She gulped. The wad of vile stuff slid down her throat. She flailed helplessly, struggling in his grip. He held her firmly, hand tight on her hair. Her pussy clenched, sending a glob of something wet sliding down her thigh.

“Good,” he said, releasing her. “It’s time for bed.” He chained her down, locks clicking into place on her cuffs. She cuddled up against him beneath the covers and was soon fast asleep.

Her parents stayed for another four days. True to his word, Anthony did not permit their presence to disturb the normal flow of the day. Each morning, when she knelt over the bed, she pressed her face deep into the pillow, struggling not to scream as he came deep in her ass. In the evenings, when she offered up her mouth for his pleasure, she could not erase the nagging fear that her mother would choose that exact moment to come downstairs and knock on the bedroom door in search of something.

The afternoons were filled with a constant stream of commentary from Eileen’s mother. She praised Anthony for his handsomeness and his gentlemanly demeanor, fretted over Eileen’s choice of clothing, and congratulated Eileen on her success at escaping the world of lesser women by landing such a high-quality husband. Eileen found herself biting her tongue many times to avoid saying anything imprudent. By the third day, she found herself wondering why her mother’s ideas had once sounded so natural and reasonable to her.

Things came to a head on the last day of the visit. After their morning ritual of sodomy and bathing, Anthony dressed for work. As he was leaving, Eileen followed him to the door to say goodbye. She kissed him deeply, hands running over his shoulders, hips grinding into him, delighting in the idea of making him breathless before work.

The door closed behind him. Eileen smiled to herself, lost in the lingering feel of his body against hers, until she heard her mother clear her throat. She spun around to see her mother standing at the base of her stairs, scowling with disapproval.

“Young lady,” she said, “you will never keep your man behaving like that. What man wants to see a woman acting so indecently?”

A habitual, reflexive shame rose up inside Eileen. “I didn’t see him complaining,” she mumbled.

“Of course not. He is a gentleman. Gentlemen don’t complain. But you mark my words, no gentleman wants a shameless tramp. If you want to keep him, you better start behaving like a lady!”

Eileen looked away. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark of anger, nearly hidden beneath years of guilt and repression, came to life in her. “What if he likes how I behave?”

“No man likes an indecent woman,” Eileen’s mother said with confidence.

“Anthony loves me. And he loves how I behave. He—”

“No man likes an indecent woman. Especially not a gentleman. You listen to me, child.”

The spark flared. “I am not a child! I think I know better than you do what my husband does and doesn’t like. He likes a woman who is sexy.”

“A trollop, you mean.” Contempt dripped from her mother’s voice. “A disgraceful woman who gives in to her shameful urges. Is that what you want to be? What do you think your husband would say about that? Do you really think he likes the thought of you running around all…” Her mouth pursed. “Indecent?”

“Shameful urges?” Eileen said. “Is that what they are? Maybe you should try giving in to them once in a while. You might learn a thing or two.”

A thundercloud of anger crossed her mother’s face. “How dare you?” she sputtered. “How dare you suggest that I become one of those—those harlots who go around cavorting like that. That’s disgusting! I don’t know what’s come over you, but I’ll tell you one thing. You’re never going to keep your man. When he gets disgusted with you, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

The hot anger burning inside Eileen froze. Icy stillness flowed through her veins. She glared at her mother, hands clenched. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her voice as chill as a glacier. “You think that men want women who don’t enjoy sex. That’s what it’s really about, isn’t it? You think that what men want is to have sex with women who don’t like it. Isn’t that fundamentally sick? Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? What kind of person—”

“You watch your language!”

“Mother, don’t you interrupt me. What kind of person enjoys having sex with someone who doesn’t like it? Is that what you want for me? You want to turn me into a person who hates sex, so that I can be miserable every night just for the sake of keeping my man? What kind of man would that be, who gets off on that? Why would I want a man who knows I don’t like sex and makes me have it anyway?”

Color rose in her mother’s face. “How dare you speak to me like that” You—”

“I’m not finished,” Eileen said. “I spent a lot of years listening to you, and now it’s your turn to listen to me. I believed the things you said, you know that? I really thought you knew what men wanted. I listened to you for so long I stopped thinking about what I want.”

“What you want? Listen to how selfish you are! Men aren’t going to be with you if you just think about what you want!”

“No, Mother. You don’t get it. I looked up to you, and I listened to you, and somehow I forgot that when two people love each other they should each care about what the other person wants. And then I found someone who was able to look inside me and see what I wanted, and patient enough to help me see it too, and—”