Evocation (The Training of Eileen)

by William Vitelli

  Anthony slowly, lovingly untied the ropes from her wrists and ankles. She let out a muffled “hngh!” when the dildo slid from her ass. The second dildo slid out of her clenching pussy with a humiliating wet slurp. Finally, he untied the rope around her head and took the dildo from her mouth. He looked down at her lovingly, eyes glowing with pride. “Did you like that, little whore?”

  She nodded silently. He pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and held her until her shudders stopped.

  “You have my come all over you,” he murmured softly in her hear. She blushed and held him fiercely.

  The days progressed. Winter swept through the city, draping it in snow. Anthony’s workload increased, and his trips home for lunch became less frequent. On those days where Anthony did not have the time to come home in the afternoon for a quick, forceful use of her body over the coffee table, her need consumed her. Those evenings, she would greet him naked at the door, and beg him for the most filthy things she could imagine. It still surprised her to hear herself asking, in graphic language, for him to perform the most sordid acts on her.

  The snow receded. A chill lingered in the air, the last tattered remnants of winter holding out against the lengthening days. One evening, as a light rain misted against the windows, Anthony smiled at Eileen. “It’s time to get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Late? For what?”

  His smile grew. “Did you forget? Today is our other anniversary!”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “On this day, exactly one year ago, you were certified to be my sex slave. Don’t you think that deserves some celebration? I’ve made dinner reservations for us.”

  Eileen blushed. “Oh! I didn’t…I didn’t know you wanted to celebrate that.”

  “Of course I do!” he beamed. “It’s an important milestone in our lives together. Now let’s get ready, shall we?”

  Anthony dressed in formal attire—dress shirt, tie, slacks, jacket. For Eileen, he chose a simple black dress, low in the front, ending just above her knee. “For this evening, I want you to wear your hair up.”

  Her blush deepened, crawling over her ears. “But that means—”

  “Yes.”

  He watched as, flustered and biting her lip, Eileen tied her hair up, revealing the words written on the back of her neck. When she was finished, he offered her his arm and escorted her outside to the car. The chill touched her, raising goose bumps on her skin. “Isn’t it a bit cool for this?”

  “Don’t worry, we won’t be outside,” he said.

  They drove along streets already tinged with red and gold from the evening sun. When they had parked on the side of the road, Anthony opened an umbrella against the light rain and helped Eileen from the car.

  They walked for about a block. By the time they reached the place he was looking for, Eileen felt goose bumps standing on her skin once more. She shivered lightly against the cool air.

  “Ah, Mr. Porto, Mrs. Porto, so glad to have you. You’re right on time. This way, please.”

  Eileen blinked in the dim light. A smartly-dressed, white-gloved maître d’ stood behind a deeply-polished wood podium. As Anthony folded his umbrella, she looked around, and realized they were in a restaurant. Thick carpet lined the floor.

  “You have our reservation?”

  “Of course, Mr. Porto,” the man said. Another man, younger and wearing a vest with a bright red tie, materialized at his elbow. The maître d’ turned to him. “Please show Mr. And Mrs. Porto to their table.”

  They followed him to a table in the far corner of the restaurant, next to a picture window that offered a beautiful view of the setting sun. He pulled out the chair for each of them. As Eileen sat, a third man, wearing the same vest and deep red tie, appeared with a wine list. She looked around while Anthony read.

  “Anthony, how come we’re the only ones here?”

  He looked up. “Well, I’ve heard great things about this place, and…” He looked slightly guilty, like a schoolboy who’d just been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “I wanted to make sure we’d get a reservation, so I, err…” He coughed. “I bought the place out.”

  “You what?”

  “I reserved the entire restaurant just for us.”

  Eileen felt her face grow hot. A wave of self-consciousness passed over her. She felt acutely aware of the way her hair was tied up, of the words on the back of her neck. “What are you doing, Anthony? What are you up to?”

  “Up to?” he asked innocently.

  “Have you decided on a wine, sir?” the man asked. Eileen looked up at him, saw hazel eyes and short brown hair over a blandly handsome, boyish face.

  Anthony made his selection. He nodded and departed. Eileen leaned forward across the table. “Anthony! What are—”

  “My name is Anna. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

  The woman had appeared behind Eileen so quickly that it seemed she had come from nowhere. She was short, with wavy blond hair and eyes the color of a clear winter sky. Her voice was husky, and colored with a Russian accent. “You would like to see the menus?”

  Anthony flashed her his most charming smile. “I would, thank you!”

  Eileen accepted a menu automatically. “Anthony—”

  The man with the boyish face reappeared beside Anthony, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He went through the ritual of uncorking and pouring for each of them. Anthony thanked him, raised a glass to his lips.

  Eileen felt the self-consciousness grow. Anthony seemed relaxed and happy, but she felt exposed, vulnerable. Every time someone walked up behind her, she touched the back of her neck. With her hair up, the words “Sex Slave” were plainly visible. What would they think?

  Another man, tall and well-built with short sandy blond hair and an easy smile, materialized next to Eileen. “Good evening. We have one chef’s special today that is not on the menu. Grilled salmon with grilled asparagus over jasmine rice, seasoned with herbs and lemon butter. It’s quite delicious. I highly recommend it. Have you had an opportunity to look at the menus yet?”

  “I’ll take the special,” Anthony said.

  “Very good. And for the lady?”

  Eileen mumbled something incoherent and turned toward the menu.

  “Of course. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Eileen, flustered, tried to focus her attention on the menu. The man returned three more times before she finally made her decision.

  The level of service throughout the meal bordered on obsequious. Whenever a wine glass was empty, someone appeared to fill it. Anthony stopped after his first glass. Eileen, distracted and self-conscious, scarcely noticed how rapidly the bottle was emptying. The dinner was magnificent, and dessert even more so, but she felt barely aware of either.

  They lingered for a while over their drinks. Anthony stopped after one more glass, but Eileen’s seemed to fill itself whenever she put it down. She felt the wine rising to her head. Anthony smiled at her during one of the rare intervals when none of the staff were hovering nearby. “Are you glad you married me?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He nodded, pleased. “So am I.”

  The maître d’ came up behind Eileen. “On behalf of the entire restaurant staff, I would like to extend our warmest thanks for your generous patronage this evening.” He was followed by a group of people Eileen didn’t recognize, some of them wearing kitchen uniforms. They fanned out around the table in a semicircle. She touched the back of her neck self-consciously.

  A tall man in a chef’s hat stood at the head of the table. “The meal was to your satisfaction?”

  “It was!” Anthony said. “It was magnificent.”

  He bowed. The rest of the staff followed suit. Anthony smiled. “Thank you very much.”

  Anna came up beside Eileen, perching on the edge of the table facing her. “And you? Your meal was good, too?”

  She nodded. The feeling of vulnerability came back.
“Yes. It was, thank you.”

  The woman brushed a stray lock of hair away from Eileen’s face. “You are so beautiful.”

  Eileen’s heart skipped a beat. The unexpected intimacy caused her breath to quicken. She felt a nervous shiver pass through her.

  The maître d’ placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. The simple touch made Eileen’s heart pound. A sudden wave of trepidation washed through her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She glanced over to see Anthony watching her, a tiny smirk on his face. She looked back at the woman. A quick flash of bold defiance flared inside her. “I see.” Her gaze met the woman’s impossibly blue eyes. “Are you going to let me finish my wine before you all gang-rape me?”

  “You would like that?” Anna picked up her wine glass and raised it to Eileen’s lips. Quivering, Eileen drank. The butterflies churned faster.

  “You would like more?” The woman reached out to touch the wine bottle. Something about the way her hand casually rested on its neck reminded Eileen, vividly, of the way she had used a bottle as a sex toy, all those months ago. Her breath caught. Her eyes followed the shape of the bottle, unable to look away. She felt her nipples harden.

  “Oh, really?” Anna said. A small smile touched her lips. “You like that?” Her fingers stroked the bottle obscenely. Eileen trembled.

  “She does,” Anthony said. “I’ve known her to masturbate with a wine bottle before.”

  Fire blossomed on Eileen’s face and crawled down her neck. “Anthony!” she hissed.

  “You are a sex slave, no?” the woman said. Her smile grew. “I do not think sex slaves should have any secrets.” She poured the last of the wine into Eileen’s glass. One hand slid down her body, dipped beneath the waistband of her skirt. Her body tensed for a moment. “Oh!” She withdrew her hand. Eileen saw slick wetness glistening on her fingers before she swirled them through the wine,. She raised the glass to Eileen’s lips again.

  Fear, uncertainty, embarrassment, excitement, and arousal stormed inside Eileen. She felt her hands tremble. The maître d’ massaged her shoulders, his hands firm and strong.

  “What do you think?” Anna said. “You boys would like to have her now? Or maybe I should get her ready for you first?”

  Eileen shot a desperate look at Anthony. He spread his hands. “Don’t look at me! I think she’s calling the shots.”

  “If you would be so kind, please, Anna,” the maître d’ said.

  Eileen looked over at Anthony. The reckless fire grew. “Are you going to take me too, or are you just going to watch?”

  He smiled without replying. The maître d’s hands slipped beneath the front of her dress. She felt cotton gloves slide over her bare skin. Anna picked up the empty bottle and knelt on the floor between her legs. Eileen’s heart beat so fast she feared it might burst from her. Her body quivered.

  Anna’s hands slid up Eileen’s thighs, pushing her dress up as they went. “No panties. Very good,” she said. “Oh! She is pierced!” Eileen felt fingertips part the moistened folds of her labia. Shivering in lust and helpless fear, she opened her legs wider. The woman made an appreciative sound. “You are well-trained.” A wet tongue, warm and slick, slipped into her. Eileen made a soft “oh!” of surprise. The maître d’s hands tightened on her breasts.

  “I think we use you hard,” Anna said. Eileen shuddered. She felt the smooth, unyielding mouth of the bottle touch her wet entrance. “Like this.” With a shove, powerful and overwhelming, the woman rammed the neck of the bottle hard into her. Eileen screamed. The maître d’ held her down firmly in her seat, hands squeezing her breasts tightly.

  The woman pressed her thumb against Eileen’s clit, sending a wash of pleasure through her. She fucked her hard with the wine bottle, shoving it into her over and over, her thumb pressed tightly against the unyielding metal barbell. Eileen clawed at the maître d’s arms, crying out at each thrust.

  Her composure slipped away. The steady thrusting of the bottle, the feel of cotton-gloved fingers pinching her nipples, the crowd of people gathered around her, the approving look on Anthony’s face, all combined inside her to strip her of self-control. The orgasm built rapidly. “Oh! It feels—I’m going to—Ohnngh!” Her pussy closed tightly around smooth glass. Eileen threw her head back, convulsing, hands gripping the maître d’s arms. “Oh! Oh, God!”

  After the orgasm had spent itself, Eileen collapsed down into the chair, panting. The woman pulled the bottle from her with a slurp. The hands slid out of her dress. “Now, we get you undressed,” Anna said. “Raise your arms.”

  Eileen obeyed, submissive and compliant. She did not resist as the two of them slipped her dress up her body and pulled it off over her head. Anna patted the carpet next to her. “You come down here now. On your knees.”

  Eileen did as she was instructed, moving obediently to her knees on the thick carpet. She looked up at a ring of faces surrounding her. The maître d’ sat in the chair she had just relinquished.

  Anna unzipped his pants, drew out his thick erection. Her fingers caressed it. “I think this is for you.” One hand slid up Eileen’s back, curled in her hair. She pushed Eileen’s head down slowly, guiding her toward the man’s waiting shaft.

  Eileen felt herself slipping into that space where she would let these people do anything they wanted to her, even welcome it openly. Her will drained away, replaced by a quivering sexual need. As the woman forced her head closer and closer to the waiting cock, Eileen licked her lips. “I think I—ongh!“

  The head slid between her lips, silencing her. Anna kept pressing, forcing her head lower until his cock hit the back of her throat, deep enough to make her choke. Her lips sealed tightly around his shaft, tongue running along the underside the way she had been trained. Anna looked up. “You would like to come in her pretty mouth?”

  The maître d’ nodded. “Yes.”

  “Rough?”

  “Please.”

  The woman yanked Eileen’s hair, hard. Eileen just had time to gasp in surprise before Anna shoved her head back down again, burying her face between his thighs. The maître d’s cock plowed into the back of her throat. Her body responded with a sharp jolt of overwhelming arousal, intoxicating in its intensity. Her pussy quivered. Wetness leaked from it. “Gnnghk!” she cried.

  Anna shoved Eileen’s head down over and over, ramming the cock down her throat on each shove. Eileen struggled helplessly, overwhelmed. The quiver in her pussy became a powerful contraction. When she came, it was short but intense, a sharp bright explosion detonating inside her.

  The maître d’ came an instant later. Without warning, his cock erupted, sending a hot blast of goo gushing into Eileen’s mouth. Anna did not slow her rhythm at all. Eileen struggled to cope with the flood of semen, unable to swallow quickly enough. The erection, still spurting, plunged into the back of her mouth. A thick wad of semen slid down her throat. Her pussy contracted again, sending another wave of pleasure through her even as she gagged. “Nnnngh!”

  He stopped spurting. Anna released her head. Eileen rose, gasping and sputtering. White fluid dripped from the corners of her mouth, ran down her neck. She panted, echoes of her unexpected orgasm still ringing in her body.

  Anna picked up Eileen’s dress. Her muscles flexed. The dress tore down the middle.

  Eileen gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “I hear it is customary for you to be blindfolded for gang rape,” Anna said. She tore it again, ripping a long strip of fabric from the dress. “When you can’t see what is happening, it makes the feelings so much stronger, yes?” She wrapped the scraps of expensive cloth over Eileen’s eyes. The eager faces of the staff, bright with anticipation, disappeared from Eileen’s view. The woman knotted the blindfold in place. “There. Now she is ready for you. She likes it rough, I think.”

  Bodies crowded around her. Strong hands bent her over the chair, pressed her down. More hands held her in place. She felt someone kneel behind her, so eager that he didn’t even bother to take off his
clothes. A zipper lowered. Eileen heard a wet slurping noise beside her. Then, with a savage thrust, a hard cock plowed deep into her pussy. She cried out, hips pressing back to meet it.

  Someone—she couldn’t tell if it was the man behind her or not—grabbed her by the hair. She cried out again, surrendering herself entirely. Her unseen lover took her hard, hips slamming against hers at every thrust. Eileen tilted her hips to take him deeper, hands gripping the edges of the chair until her knuckles turned white. He came with a howl, unleashing a torrent of hot come into her. Her own pleasure answered his, and she felt herself go light-headed as the orgasm roared through her. Somewhere beside her, another man cried out in pleasure as well.

  The hands released her. The cock, already softening, slipped out. She felt herself lifted by the hair until she was kneeling upright. Soft lips touched hers. She accepted the kiss automatically, just as Anthony had trained her to, lips parted to invite more. Her arms slid up along the body in front of her, found soft curves and hard nipples. She realized with surprise that the lips, and the body in front of hers, belonged to Anna.

  Her breathing quickened. Anna’s lips pressed closer. A tongue flickered against Eileen’s lips, coaxing them open. A sudden wet flood of warm salty goo poured into her mouth. Eileen gasped, tried to move away. Instantly, Anna’s arms were around the back of her head, preventing her escape. The kiss deepened. More semen flowed between them. Eileen’s body responded with a hot flash of sexual need, even as she struggled not to gag. She swallowed reflexively, moaning.

  Anna pressed her back, still holding the kiss, until Eileen was lying on her back on the floor. Her arms slid up the woman’s back. She flicked her tongue against Anna’s lips and was rewarded with a soft moan. Anna pressed her body tightly to Eileen’s, pinning her down against the floor. Eileen felt the woman’s hard nipples pressing against her skin.

  “Mmm, you have a wonderful body,” Anna purred. Her lips moved to Eileen’s neck. Eileen felt her teeth, gentle on soft skin. “I like doing this to you—oh!”