Evocation (The Training of Eileen)

by William Vitelli

  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 r
ose 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—”

  “And what was that? To be some kind of tramp?”

  The icy calm flowed through her. Eileen looked directly into her mother’s eyes, unflinching. “Yes!” she said. “To be some kind of tramp. As a matter of fact, there are men out there who like women who like sex. That perfect gentleman I married is one of them. And a good thing, too, because it turns out that I like being a tramp.”

  Horror crossed her mother’s face. “You! You are…” she sputtered. “You’re just saying these horrible things to upset me.”

  “No, Mother, I’m really not.” Eileen felt a surge of adrenaline. She spun around. “See?” She lifted her hair, exposing the back of her neck. “Do you see what it says there? I like sex. Anthony likes that I like sex. I don’t know what kind of men you’ve met, and I’m sorry if they taught you some bad lessons. You don’t know Anthony, and you don’t know me.” A part of her, somewhere deep inside, stood aghast at her words.

  “Oh! Oh!” her mother said. “What have you done to yourself, child? Defiling your own flesh! And with those…words! Oh!”

  “I told you,” Eileen said calmly, “I am not a child.”

  “Oh! You are a pervert, that’s what you are! You will never—”

  “Never what? Never find a man? I think I’ve already done that, haven’t I, Mother? Not only have I found a man, I’ve found a man who recognizes me for who I am. I found a man who has helped me be happy. Isn’t that what you want for me, Mother? A relationship that lets me be strong and confident and sexy? I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to tell me how to conduct my relationship with my husband.”

  “You—how dare you! I will not talk about this with you any more.” She stormed off, up the broad flight of stairs. Somewhere up above, a door slammed.

  The adrenaline faded. Eileen went back into the bedroom, shivering. She sat for a long time on the bed, not moving, emotions roiling inside herself. Deep inside, some part of her felt relieved that she had finally confronted her mother, that she didn’t have to tiptoe around any more. Another part of her felt guilt at the sense of relief. In still another place, she felt angry with herself for feeling guilty.

  Somewhere up above, she heard muffled shouting through the ceiling. The chill calm returned. It seemed that, for the first time she could ever remember, her mother was no longer hovering invisibly over her shoulder, judging everything she did. The sense of relief grew stronger. It occurred to her, for the first time in her life, that perhaps her mother’s approval wasn’t as necessary as she had always thought it was.

  Her mother spent the rest of the day refusing to come out of the guest bedroom on the second floor. When Eileen made lunch, her father came down the stairs, looking sheepish. “Your mother is a bit upset. What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing she wanted to hear, I guess,” Eileen replied. “I told her that the relationship between Anthony and I really isn’t her business.”

  “Well, good for you,” he said. “It isn’t.”

  Eileen fixed a tray for him, sandwiches and juice with a cup of fresh fruit. He accepted it contritely, carrying it back up the stairs with him.

  When Anthony came home that evening, Eileen explained the confrontation. He nodded gravely. “We will take them to the airport in a few hours. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I feel like it should bother me more than it does.”

  He drew her close, hands stroking her hair. “You have lived under her shadow for a long time. In the last year you’ve stepped out from under it and found a world that’s different from what you’ve expected. I think you’re a lot more confident than you used to be.” He kissed her cheek. “And that’s a good thing.”

  Eventually, Eileen’s parents came down the stairs carrying their suitcases. Her mother scowled at Anthony. “You keep an eye on my daughter. There’s something wrong with her.”

  “Mrs. Miller, I assure you, I keep a very close eye on your daughter,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with her at all. She is a strong and lovely lady who I love very much.”

  Her mother’s scowl deepened, but she said nothing. They rode to the airport in silence.

  When they returned, Anthony squeezed Eileen’s hand. “How are you doing?”

  “Did you mean what you said? About me being strong?”

  “I did.” He grinned. “And about how much I love you. What do you need?”

  “I need…” She paused. “I need you to fuck me like a sex slave.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “No. But it is what I need.”

  “I see,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Well, nothing for it but to fuck you like a sex slave, then, I reckon. Strip.”

  When she was nude, Anthony bound her spread out on the kitchen table, ropes tight on her wrists and ankles, and lingered over her for the entire evening. He drove thick dildos uncomfortably deep into her pussy, ass, and mouth, each held in place by a twist of rope. He left them there while he focused his attention on her breasts. These he alternately pinched, slapped, and caressed, working her into a state of arousal until she was right at the edge of orgasm before twisting her nipples savagely, denying her release.

  Eileen squirmed and moaned. She felt stuffed, the rubber phalluses all just a little too big to take easily. He seemed to know exactly how to stroke her breasts until she was certain that nothing could stop her from coming, then exactly how hard to slap or pinch to steal the orgasm away.

  It continued until time had no meaning for her. She writhed on the hard wood table, helpless and filled, until the pain and pleasure burned away the last remaining bitterness from the confrontation.

  Eventually, Anthony removed his hands from her. He unfastened his slacks, revealing his thick erection. Eileen’s eyes widened as he positioned himself over her. He stroked himself rapidly, in short sharp jerks, until his cock twitched. Thick spurts of white come jetted over Eileen, splattering on her breasts, neck, and face. She tried to turn away. “Nnnngh! Nnnngh!” she cried. More come sprayed onto her cheek, dripping down into her hair.

  Without a word, he turned his back, leaving her bound on the table. She heard him moving around, pots clanging as he prepared dinner. Without his attention, the dildos shoved inside her soon became a cruel torment. Her jaw ached. With every beat of her heart, her ass tightened around the intrusion within it. Her pussy, wet from all the near orgasms, throbbed around the hard rubber phallus bottomed out inside it. The come cooled and dried on her face and body. She whimpered continually, small helpless noises muffled by the dildo in her mouth.

  When he came back, Eileen expected him to untie her. Instead, he gently set a plate down on her stomach. “Don’t move,” he said. “If you spill my dinner, I’ll punish you.” He pulled up a chair, a glass of wine in one hand.

  Eileen whimpered. Remaining still was a difficult struggle. Her need, the throbbing ache from the too-large dildos, and the exhaustion from all her interrupted near-orgasms conspired to send little shivers through her body. She closed her eyes, moaning. Anthony ate his dinner leisurely, ignoring her discomfort.

  Somehow, Eileen managed to hold herself stationary enough that she did not send the plate crashing to the floor. Anthony finished his dinner and drained his wineglass
. Only then did he turn to her with a smile. “You must be terribly uncomfortable, my darling little whore. What should we do about that?”

  Eileen looked up at him impotently. “Hnnnnugh!”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?” Amusement sparkled in his eyes. He leaned over her. “I bet I can think of something appropriate.” She felt his warm breath on her thigh. His tongue flicked against the piercing pressing against on her swollen clit. A bright, sharp jolt of pleasure flashed through her.

  He stayed there, tongue moving rapidly over her clit. Eileen felt her arousal soar. As she neared the peak, he licked more and more slowly, his tongue stroking lazily around her clit, pressing the hard metal barbell against it.

  She realized what was going to happen just an instant before the orgasm hit. When it took her, he slowed still more, his tongue swirling slowly, prolonging the orgasm. She felt herself contract painfully around the too-large dildos. She arched her back, thrashing and sobbing, her screams choked and muffled.

  His tongue kept working, sending powerful surges of pleasure through her. Every one was followed by another hard contraction and a strong wave of pain. She fought against the ropes, desperate to escape.

  He gave her no relief. When the orgasm was over, Eileen lay limply in the ropes, bathed in sweat. Aftershocks trembled through her body. Anthony continued the torment, his tongue not leaving her oversensitive clit. She panted, helpless. Her own juices leaked around the dildo buried in her aching pussy.

  His tongue moved faster. Her eyes flew open. She shook her head frantically. “Nnngh! Nggh!”

  He kept her there through two more orgasms, each more violent than the one before it. By the end, Eileen was moaning and weeping in anguish, longing for more and desperate for it to stop at the same time. When at last his tongue finally stopped moving, she lay twitching in the ropes for a long time, unable to think.