Evocation (The Training of Eileen)

by William Vitelli

  Samantha pressed closer. Her fingertip slid directly over Eileen’s clit, making her shudder. She felt herself surrendering, giving herself over to that surprisingly gentle caress, the breathtaking tenderness of the kiss. Somewhere inside her, the last traces of resistance were melting away. She yielded to the gentle seduction, letting herself be lost in it.

  Samantha kissed deeper. Her finger moved more quickly. The nurse lifted her toward ecstasy with great skill, her fingers playing just the right chords on Eileen’s clit. Her pleasure mounted gradually, as slow and inevitable as the incoming tide.

  Eileen wasn’t even exactly sure when the orgasm started. It flooded through her until she was lost in it, and still it kept building and building. The nurse’s fingers kept moving, soft but relentless, until Eileen’s body shuddered uncontrollably.

  Samantha held the kiss through her entire orgasm. It went on and on, an intense outpouring that felt as if it would never end, releasing the tension coiled up in her. The nurse’s lips swallowed up her moans.

  It faded as slowly as it had come. The tide receded, leaving Eileen shaking. Her arms slid around Samantha’s body. She held her close, kissing her feverishly, tongue slipping between soft lips. Samantha made a small sound of surprise. With that little noise, longing flared inside Eileen; she drew the woman closer against her, desperately, pouring all her desire into the kiss. A storm of emotions overwhelmed her. For just a moment, she felt like she would let this woman do anything to her, take anything from her at all.

  “Ah, there it is,” Samantha said, stepping back. She caressed Eileen’s cheek softly. “You are so beautiful when you surrender. It’s time to get dressed now.”

  Eileen moved as though she were sleepwalking, gathering her clothes and dressing in a haze of submission and need. She followed the nurse out through the door and back down the hallway into the waiting room. Anthony was already waiting. His face lit up in a broad smile when he saw her.

  “Hello, little whore!” he beamed. “Aaron was just telling me you passed your evaluation. I’m so proud of you!” He swept her up in his arms. “Now you are a certified sex slave. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Eileen melted into his arms. The doctor watched, his face wreathed in smiles. “She’s a natural,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone take to it so easily.”

  “I’d like you to continue to evaluate her.” Anthony said. “You know, just to help keep her on track. Let’s set up a regular examination for her every month, so we can make sure she’s still progressing as she should.”

  Eileen felt a quick shiver of fear. The thought of coming in here, over and over again, to let the doctor scrutinize her, probe her, rape her, perhaps even give her to the nurse, raised goose bumps on her arms. She felt suddenly aware of his come still wet inside her.

  The doctor stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You’ll have to check with Meredith. She keeps my appointment book.”

  Anthony nodded. “Go set up an appointment for yourself, my darling. See if she has any regular openings. Saturday afternoon works best for me.”

  Eileen felt herself turn red. The nurse gave her a small, sly smile. A part of her wanted to protest. How can you do this? How can you make me set up my own appointment to be brought in here and raped? Another part of her wanted to please Anthony, impress him with her obedience. She hesitated, trapped between conflicting impulses. They watched her. The nurse’s smile grew.

  Trembling, Eileen approached the receptionist’s window. The woman behind it looked up at her through silver horn-rimmed glasses. “Hello, dearie. How was your examination?”

  Eileen mumbled something indistinct.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” the receptionist said. “You’ll have to speak up.”

  “I…” Butterflies fluttered. “I’m here to make another appointment.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m glad you like our services.” She flipped open a large appointment book. “When would you like to come back? We have an opening available on Tuesday, and another on Friday morning.”

  “No. I need…” She remembered the manacles holding her to the chair, the way it had felt when the doctor entered her. Her nipples ached. “I need to schedule a time to come in every month.”

  “Every month? Well, I think we can do that for you. What day would you prefer?”

  “Saturday.” Eileen looked down.

  “Let me see here. I can…yes. The first Saturday of the month. One o’clock in the afternoon, shall we say?” The woman scribbled in the book with a pen. “I’ll block off three hours for your monthly exam. Will that be enough?”

  Eileen flushed and nodded. The nurse scribbled out a reminder card. She took it blankly and fled back to the comfort of Anthony’s side.

  On the drive home, Eileen’s thoughts swirled. Samantha’s words kept repeating themselves in her head. “You can never say no again.” Her clit throbbed. She thought about how it had felt to be forced to take the stranger in her mouth while the doctor tormented her. “You can never say no again.” She remembered the unexpected gentleness of the nurse’s hands on her, the way she had given herself over to her. Is that what her life would be from now on? Always accepting anything that was done to her, never saying no to anything? Her bruised nipples throbbed painfully.

  When they arrived back home, he took her by the hand to escort her into the house. The moment they crossed the threshold, he turned to her and began unbuttoning her shirt. Once it was open, he slid it gently off her shoulders. It fell with a soft whisper.

  He turned his attention to her skirt. “Since you’re a full-fledged sex slave now, you are no longer permitted to wear clothing in the house when you’re home alone or it’s just you and me. You may dress to leave, or when there are other people here, but at all other times you are to remain naked.” His fingers unfastened her skirt. It slipped to the floor. “I’m sure I probably don’t need to tell you, but you will be punished for failure to comply. Do you understand?”

  Eileen nodded. Her pussy clenched. She felt a quick shiver of excitement.

  “Good.” He led her into the kitchen, where he pulled up a chair for her. “Just a little paperwork for you to do now. It’s just a formality, you understand, to make things official.”

  “What?”

  “Here.” He set a stack of papers in front of her. “Read this. There is a space next to each paragraph for you to initial, to indicate you’ve read it all. When you’re done, sign on the bottom.”

  ‘What is it?” she asked.

  “Read it and see!” Anthony grinned and sat down beside her.

  Eileen looked at the stack of papers. It was a contract, each section neatly labeled. The first part, titled “Duties and Responsibilities,” described the functions she was expected to perform as a sex slave. In graphic language so explicit it made her blush, it detailed all of the ways she would make herself available to Anthony for his sexual use.

  Eileen felt a tingle of fear. Anthony watched her initial each paragraph as she read. The contract stipulated that Eileen’s body was Anthony’s sole property, in recognition of which Eileen would forever relinquish all say in how it was to be put to use. Her manner of dress was laid out in detail, with prohibitions on wearing any clothing that hampered easy access to her cunt or ass. A paragraph set out boundaries on her right to have an orgasm, permitting orgasm when she was being used but forbidding orgasm at any other time without permission.

  With each paragraph, Eileen’s breathing came more quickly. She wrote her initials next to each one, as the feeling of tension coiled stronger inside her.

  The next section was labeled “Transferability.” In the same graphic language, it described many ways that Anthony could make her available to other people of his choosing, singly or in groups. For the duration of such transfer, it said, Eileen’s body would be the property of any and all such individuals, and she would comply with whatever sexual demands they made of her.

  Her pussy twitched as she initialed each pa
ragraph. She remembered how it had felt to be used by many men at the same time, hard unseen cocks thrusting into her. A mixture of her own juices and the doctor’s semen leaked from her.

  The third part of the contract was titled “Non-Compliance.” As her eyes scanned the page, Eileen felt the butterflies flutter. The contract spelled out a list of ways in which she could be punished for disobedience of any kind, in detail that left no room for the imagination. Paragraph after paragraph described punishments she could be subjected to. Some of them, such as being bound and forced to take the Hitachi directly on her clit, she was familiar with already; others, meticulously explained in vulgar detail, he had only hinted at before. The contract also left open the prospect of additional forms of punishment not specifically listed, at Anthony’s sole discretion. As she read, she felt herself beginning to squirm in her seat.

  The section following the list of punishments was titled “Medical Care and Evaluation.” The contract required Eileen’s compliance with any medical test, procedure, or examination Anthony or her attending physician deemed appropriate, including evaluation of her suitability and fitness for her purpose.

  It took nearly an hour to read the entire contract. By the time she was finished, Eileen was unable to sit still. Her body felt flush with arousal; her nipples were tight, her skin hot and tingling. She breathed raggedly.

  “Now sign it,” Anthony said.

  On the last page, just above the space for her signature, the contract read “I, Eileen Porto, hereby certify that I agree to all the terms set forth in the preceding pages. I certify that being a sex slave gets me wet and makes me come. I pledge to keep myself available for sex in any way at any time, and to submit to whatever sexual demands are made of me. I hereby acknowledge that my body is the property of Anthony Porto in perpetuity. From this day forward, I release all control over my sexuality to him or to any person or persons he may designate.”

  She shuddered and looked up at him. “Anthony!”

  “Yes?”

  Her heart raced. She felt herself clench. His hands caressed her bare shoulders, slid down to cup her breasts. She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of surrender she had had when Samantha had touched her. It came back, stronger than ever. Her body trembled beneath his touch. “I…yes. Yes.”

  She reached out to sign her name with a flourish. As she did, a complicated tangle of emotions churned inside her. You just agreed to everything he does to you. In writing! she thought. Another part of her mind answered instantly, You can never say no again. He told you to sign it. And you like it.

  Anthony’s hands slid down her body. A finger slipped between her legs and found wetness. “You like it,” he said, as if her thoughts were loud enough for him to hear. “I can do anything I want to you, and you like it.”

  Her legs parted. She sighed. “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He picked up the contract, grinning. “I’m going to put this in a safe place. Later on tonight, I have something very special planned for you. Call it a commemoration of a special day.” His grin grew wider at her expression. “No, I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

  For the rest of the day, he refused to tell her anything more. Whenever she asked him what he had planned, he would smile without a word. As the evening approached, Eileen found herself feeling more and more self-conscious about her nudity. The thought of being made to be this way, forbidden to wear clothes unless she was going out, made her feel embarrassed and bashful. Each time he looked at her, she blushed and lowered her eyes, her skin hot and tingling.

  Chapter 25

  The setting sun caressed the sky with long fingers of red and gold light. Anthony glanced at his watch and smiled. “It’s time,” he said.

  Eileen jumped. She felt a quick flash of fear, and an equally fast sense of relief at being allowed to put clothes on.

  The relief turned out to be short-lived. Anthony went into the bedroom and returned with a pair of high, strappy shoes and a long, dark full-length suede jacket that Eileen hadn’t seen before. “Here. Wear this.”

  Her stomach did flip-flops. “Don’t you want me to put my clothes on?”

  “No. You won’t need anything else. Come on!”

  Eileen slipped the jacket around her shoulders. When she buttoned it up, it covered her almost all the way to the floor, but did little to help her self-consciousness.

  Anthony drove toward downtown, following a twisty route through neighborhoods Eileen was not familiar with. She found herself watching him: his hands on the steering wheel; his eyes, lit by the reflection of headlights behind in the rear-view mirror. He glanced at her and smiled warmly. “Are you excited?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

  Eventually, Anthony parked on the side of the street. The sidewalks were thronged with people. He opened her door for her, offered her his hand. “Let’s see. I think it’s…this way.”

  They slipped into the crowd of people. All around them, music blared from the open doors of bars and nightclubs. Half-dressed women braved the last lingering chill in the air to hand them brightly-colored flyers offering specials on drinks. Anthony’s hold on her hand was firm and warm.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He smiled. “This way.”

  As they slipped through the press of people, Eileen felt the self-consciousness return. Did they know? Could all these people tell she was naked beneath the long coat? With each step, her nipples grazed against the inside of the jacket. Was Anthony taking her somewhere to make her expose herself? Would he ask her to flash the teeming mass of partygoers? She felt herself growing excited at the idea.

  Occasionally, as they shouldered their way along, she would catch the eye of some passing person. Each time she did, her breath caught. She imagined one of these passing strangers walking right into her, forcing her back into some quiet doorway, pinning her there. She pictured him unbuttoning her jacket just enough, while Anthony watched…

  “We’re here!” Anthony pulled open a door, painted dark green with bars over the window, and stepped through. Eileen followed him uncertainly.

  The space inside was large and quiet. A glass counter ran along the far wall. The back was enclosed by long, heavy black drapes that hung from the ceiling. Against the near wall, a large number of rectangular metal frames jutted out, each hinged so it could be turned like the pages of a gigantic book. Each frame contained lots of small pieces of artwork, dragons and flames and hearts surrounded by barbed wire…

  “Anthony!” she hissed. “This is a…a tattoo parlor!” Her body shivered.

  “Hello! Are you Mr. Porto?”

  A woman came out from behind the counter, hand outstretched. She was short, with full round breasts and curvy hips. Her hair, long and straight, was black as night, save for a brilliant shock of purple in the front. She wore a black sleeveless tank top and a black skirt; her arms, Eileen saw, were covered in elaborate, colorful tattoos.

  “I am! You must be Ms. Moore?”

  “Jennifer. Or Jen. Either one.”

  “Jen.” They shook hands. Eileen felt nervous and uncertain, caught outside her element. She had never been in such a place before, but her mother had told her stories about the kinds of people who went to such establishments.

  “You are Eileen?” the woman asked. “Hi! I’m Jen.” She offered her hand; Eileen took it automatically, chaotic thoughts swirling in her head. “You’re right on time. My partner’s in the back getting ready. Follow me!”

  She passed through the heavy drape. Anthony followed her. Eileen pushed the drape aside hesitantly and moved through behind him.

  On the other side was a row of large chairs with metal footrests, each in a small alcove delineated by more of the heavy curtains. The little alcoves were all decorated in different ways—one with paintings on canvas, showing street scenes in vibrant, surreal colors; another with Japanese fans and a tiny tree under a small fluorescent light. In one of the alcoves, decorat
ed with figurines from some horror movie, a tall, thin man in a ripped T-shirt was sitting on a stool wrapping rubber bands around some kind of small electrical device Eileen didn’t recognize. He stood as they came through.

  “This is my…um, partner, Thomas,” the woman said. He held out his hand, smiling under a crown of spiked black hair. Around his neck he wore a studded collar; his arms, like hers, were covered with tattoos, though his were done mostly in shades of gray.

  “Anthony!” Eileen said. Her heart pounded. The coppery taste of fear filled her mouth. “What are we doing here?”

  “We’re commemorating the occasion of you becoming a full-fledged sex slave!” he said. “Take off your jacket.”

  Her heart froze. “Anthony! I don’t—” Samantha’s words came back to her. You can never say no again. She gulped. You want this. You signed your name. You can never say no again.

  Slowly, hands shaking, she unbuttoned the long coat.

  It fell open, revealing her nudity. She slipped it off and stood uncertainly, not sure what to do with it. The man—Thomas, was it?—took it from her and disappeared through the curtain. He came back a moment later empty-handed. Eileen swallowed nervously.

  “Don’t look so tense! It’s not so bad,” Jen said. “Sit down in the chair right here.” She placed a hand on Eileen’s shoulder. “Just relax. You’ll do fine!”

  Eileen sat slowly. “What are you going to do to me?”

  The woman turned to Anthony. “You said you’d like her to be tied down?”

  “Yes. I think it will make the experience more memorable for her.”

  Jen nodded. Thomas moved beside the chair, several small coils of rope in his hand. He took Eileen’s hand and placed it on the armrest. “Just relax,” he said. He wrapped several turns of rope around her wrist and tied it off expertly to the arm of the chair. Eileen’s heart pounded so hard she felt as if her whole body was shaking from it. Her breathing turned ragged. Her body vibrated like a live wire.