Training Ch. 07

She shook her head mutely. Inside, her emotions churned. She reached out to him, ran her fingers through his hair. His arms slipped around her body, hands running up her back, under her shirt. The feel of his warm hands on her bare skin raised goosebumps.

"So what did you do while I was gone, that you don't need to be punished for?" His lips caressed her ear. "Tell me."

His hands slid up her back. She raised her arms compliantly. He lifted her shirt over her head and let it drop with a soft sigh. Color touched her face.

"I...I penetrated myself with a wine bottle." The words came in a rush. She pressed her body to him, urgent, hungry. "I sat at the kitchen table and put it inside me. I didn't come, but I needed it so badly." Hot shame crawled down her neck. "God, it felt so good! I needed it inside me. Please, I still need it!" She kissed his mouth, desperately, roughly. "I've been waiting for you to come home all day."

He kissed her cheek softly. "I would love to spend the next hour giving you what you need, pet, but duty calls. The project is finished, and we have a banquet to go to. The client's going to be there, everyone from the firm will be there, it's kind of a big deal. Black tie. We only just have time to get changed."

Eileen followed him into the bedroom, disappointed. He chose a flowing gown for her, cream colored and sleeveless, high in the front but swooping low to the middle of her back. She slipped off the skirt she'd been wearing, remembering lucidly how she had slid it up her leg to make way for the bottle. Her pussy twitched.

Anthony changed quickly. When he was finished, Eileen felt her breath catch in her throat. Familiarity made her forget, sometimes, how handsome he was; but seeing him dressed this way, in a severely formal coat and tie, brought it back to her. He grinned boyishly. "What?"

"I--" She shook her head. "Nothing."

A knock came at the door. Eileen jumped. Anthony grinned wider. "Probably the limo driver."

"Limo?"

"Oh, yeah. The client is very happy. Shall we go?"

The limo whisked them away in silence. Outside, the interstate slipped by. Inside, they were wrapped in luxury and comfort. A small door yielded a bottle of champagne and two tall, fluted glasses. Anthony poured for each of them. Eileen felt her arousal stirring again. She could almost feel him pressing her down into the expensive leather seat, feel his hands sliding up her thigh, the sharp urgency of his need as he entered her...

She sipped her champagne and looked away. The last few remnants of golden light touched the sky and were gone.

They made their way along the waterfront toward the outskirts of the downtown district. Eileen watched through the window as the driver pulled up in front of a large, low, sprawling hotel, incongruous in its Mediterranean styling. Yellow light glowed from windows along the hotel's pink and white façade. Limos vied with exotic sports cars for parking.

She finished the glass. Anthony offered her his arm, and escorted her into the soaring lobby, flanked by its tall round columns. She felt vaguely self-conscious, like an imposter who had taken the place of a fairy-tale princess and had somehow ended up out of her element, not quite sure what to do.

The elevator lifted them up. The whole way, he regarded her with a twisted little smirk, a look that hid some devilish thought. She shivered.

He escorted her through tall doors into a huge, windowless room filled with round tables. The sounds of talking and laughter washed over her. At the far end, a podium had been set up, guarded by tall speakers. Champagne flowed.

They sat at a table with several other people, all in dark suits or flowing evening gowns. Eileen's heart thudded; she recognized three of the men there, from the party Anthony had thrown when they arrived back home from London. Two of the men sat close to their wives; the third sat a little apart, a glass in his hand.

Anthony held her chair out for her. "I'm sure you remember my wife Eileen," he said to the others. Her heart beat faster. The people seated around the table greeted her warmly. Her mind swam. Are these the ones? Did these people have sex with me that night?

Anthony poured champagne for each of them. Eileen struggled to retain her composure. There, at the next table over, was someone else she recognized from that night. Had he been one of the ones? How many had there been, holding her down, doing things to her? She found herself staring at him, searching her memory for something, some small detail that might identify any of the people who had done those...things to her.

Time passed in a blur. Dinner was brought out; Eileen could barely taste it. She responded when spoken to, in an absent and distracted way. Anthony poured more champagne. Someone important came out to the podium and spoke about something important--a new skyscraper, going up somewhere downtown. People clapped. Eileen sipped her drink and thought furiously. How many men had taken her? Did that number include one of the people sitting nearby? Two of them? Three? Were they gloating at her, right now? Could they see her uncertainty? Did they relish their secret knowledge?

More applause broke out all around her. Anthony stood. Eileen looked around in a panic. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and winked. She rewound the last few seconds in her head and realized that the person at the podium had called him up to the front. The panic grew stronger as he walked away, leaving her at the table alone with her perhaps-rapists.

She tried to focus on what was happening at the podium. The man up there was talking about Anthony's work on the project, congratulating his success as lead architect. Her head felt full of champagne fumes. She kept stealing glances at the people around her, wondering if they had seen her naked, if they had taken her body and...

The man at the next table leaned over toward her. "Eileen, is it? We met a while back at your coming-home party. It's a pleasure to see you again." His voice sounded familiar. Her mind replayed that night, seeking out the things that she had heard. Was it him? Was he the first one who used me? He said something. 'Maybe this will get her to open up.' Was that the same voice? Her pussy twitched. Wetness flowed. Was he the one who held me down and offered me to the others?

The man leaned closer. "You look very lovely this evening." His voice... Was it you? she thought. Did you hold me down and force yourself into me? Did you feel me come when you were raping me? She felt her breathing quicken. Did you use me more than once? Did you put yourself in my mouth and make me taste my own pleasure all over you? Shame twisted around inside her. Did you think I wanted it? Did you like seeing me come from being raped?

"I bet I know exactly what you're thinking," he said.

She jumped. "Can you?"

"Oh, yes. I'm thinking the very same thing."

Her heart fluttered. Had it been that obvious? She struggled to compose herself. "What is that?"

"You're thinking these business things are dreadfully dull." He turned his glass between his fingers. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's good champagne and all, but on the whole I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be doing." With one gulp, he drained the glass. "It's an office building, not the Second Coming. The way these clients go on, you'd think that having their name on the side of some building is a bigger deal than curing cancer. It's a place where people will sit behind desks and push paper around." He made a face and moved away.

Eileen shivered. She looked around and caught the man seated across from her, the one she recognized who was here alone, staring openly at her. Fire colored her face. He winked and turned away.

Applause rippled through the hall. Eileen looked guiltily up at the stage. Someone was handing Anthony something, a plaque mounted on polished wood. He shook hands with the person at the podium, looking pleased. More applause followed.

She glanced around her. That same man, the one sitting by himself at their table, was ignoring the podium, instead staring at her again. When he realized she was looking at him, he ducked his head with a guilty expression and turned back toward the stage.

Anthony touched her shoulder. She jumped. "Hey!" he said. "Did you see that? They gave me a plaque! Made of wood and everything!" He grinned. "Should be good for business, I imagine. Might even get mentioned in the paper or something. You know, back in the financials section, on page 87, underneath an article about tire recycling or some such thing. What's that face for? Here." He set the award down and poured more champagne. "I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?"

"Anthony, there's something I need to ask you."

"Oh?" He handed her a glass. His eyes glittered. "What's that?"

"The people here. Some of them were at...you know, at the party. When we got back from London. Do--"

His grin turned feral. He leaned in close, so close she could feel his warm breath on her ear. "There are certain questions you are not allowed to ask. You see, I'm not going to give you the answer. It's not for you to know. And even the asking might get you into trouble. The kind that there's a special room for, back at home." He leaned back. "Now, what's your question?"

She felt her face grow hot. It seemed to her like everyone in the place could hear her thoughts, and knew exactly what she was feeling. "Nothing," she mumbled.

He beamed. "Well, then. Cheers!" His glass touched hers.

They finished the drinks in silence. Another person was at the podium, talking about the economic impact of this great new project on something or other. Anthony set down this glass. "I'm bored. I think I'd like some fresh air. You want to come with me?" The look in his eye suggested it wasn't really a question.

Eileen rose to follow him. Her head swam, and she realized she'd probably drunk more than she had intended. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. He grinned conspiratorially. "Come on!"

They went down a wide flight of stairs that descended in a graceful curve from the ballroom. Anthony led them past wide, arched windows looking out onto a broad balcony four stories above the ground. A handful of other people sat about, lounging in plush chairs looking out into the night.

He took her by the hand and led her through wide glass doors out onto the balcony. Eileen felt the chill of the night air on her arms. The balcony wrapped around the hotel on three sides, edged with a low, wide stone banister. The cold was enough to discourage most of the other guests from venturing outside; they saw only a few other people walking along the balcony.

Hand in hand, they walked along until they reached the end of the balcony. Here, where it was shrouded in shadow, the lights of the city glowed like diamonds all around them.

It was breathtaking, she had to admit. Anthony leaned casually over the banister. She drew up next to him. His hand slipped down her back, over the curve of her ass. She shivered again, this time from the feelings that his touch stirred inside her. His hand squeezed her ass, just a tiny bit. She let out a very soft whimper, lost in the cool wind.

They stayed out there for several minutes, Eileen leaning against Anthony's side, drinking in the beauty of the city lights sprawling out to the inky blackness of the water's edge. Far out from shore, tiny lights bobbed in the water.

He nuzzled her neck. His hand slid up and down along her back, tracing the curve of her spine. "Bend over," he said.

"Anthony?"

"Listen very carefully. I want you to bend over the railing."

"But--"

"Do it now." Something in his voice reached down deep inside her. Butterflies swirled in her stomach.

She did as he said, bending over the wide stone banister. It was rough and surprisingly cold as her nipples pressed into it. He stepped back.

"Reach behind you. Lift your dress. All the way. Let me see your sex. Do not look behind you."

"Anthony!" she hissed. Her face flushed. Heat crawled down her neck.

"Do as I say."

Slowly, heart thudding, she hiked up the dress. Cool air caressed her legs, her thighs, swirled against her sex. Finally, blushing, still bent uncomfortably over the railing, she lifted the hem over her waist, exposing her bare ass.

"Put your hands behind your back. Leave them there."

Eileen gulped. Her breath came in short, rapid pants. She placed her hands behind her, resting crossed wrists on the small of her back.

Anthony came back next to her and leaned against the railing, looking out over the city. He caressed her hair idly. "Do not move. You may scream if you like," he said. "Though if you do, you might attract some attention, and people might come to see. On second thought, perhaps you shouldn't scream."

"Anthony! What--"

A pair of hands grasped her wrists tightly, without warning. She quivered, startled. It took a moment for her mind to work out that they could not possibly belong to Anthony. He looked down at her, smiling. "Don't turn around. Don't look behind you or you will be punished."

"What--"

"Hush." His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her neck. She whimpered again, and felt butterflies churn in her stomach. "You know what is about to happen."

"Anthony! Anth--OH!" The man behind her lifted her arms in the air, pressing her body down against the top of the banister. A cock, hard and thick, touched her sex, very lightly. With great care, as though he had all the time in the world, the unseen man moved the head of his cock up and down between her labial lips, moistening it. The butterflies swirled faster. When she could feel the slickness against her, he moved forward and drove slowly into her. She gasped as the shaft slid into her.

Fire flared within her, fueled by need and shame. She clamped down strongly around the invasion. "Oh! Anthony! Oh!"

The hands tightened on her wrists. The man behind her began thrusting slowly, powerfully, pulling her back to meet each thrust. "Oh!" she cried. "No! I--oh!"

He looked down at her with a small possessive grin. "Tell me how it feels."

"It feels--oh!" The man pulled her back hard. "It--oh! He's so hard and...oh! Nnngh! He's very deep! Anthony! Oh, God!" Her head swam. "He's fucking me very hard! Ungh! Ungh!"

Anthony smiled. "I know what he's doing. How does it feel?"

"It feels..." She looked up and saw something in his eye, something in the way that he smiled down at her, that electrified her. Suddenly, the person behind her didn't matter. In that moment, this was about Anthony, about giving herself over to what was happening because it pleased him. She was his, to be used for his pleasure, even if what pleased him was seeing what was happening to her now.

"Nnngh!" she cried. "It feels so good! Oh, God, Anthony, it feels so good! He's fucking me even harder, and...oh! Oh! Anthony! Anthony, I'm going to come!"

The man behind her gripped her so tightly her wrists ached and slammed into her hard. She felt him swell, thickening inside her. "Yes! Yes! God, he's so hard, and it feels...oh! Oh, God, it feels good! Anthony! I'm coming! ANTHONY! Annnngh!"

Her orgasm hit her, hard, a massive explosion of pleasure. She arched her back and pushed backward onto him as hard as she could. The world went gray around her, leaving nothing but the force of her own pleasure that went on and on until she felt she would pass out from it.

Still he continued to drive into her, over and over, pounding her past the point where she was spent. Her cries became more urgent, but he did not let up. "Anthony!" she cried. "Nnnngh! Anthony! Oh, God, Anthony, he's raping me!"

His expression turned tender and he stroked her hair. "Yes," he said. "And you like it."

"I do!" she wailed. Inside her, the stranger's cock swelled. "I do like it! Anthony! I...uh! Uh! Oh! Anthony, I think he's going to come! He's in me too deep! How--Anthony!"

A huge torrent of hot wet come erupted inside her. She thrashed as she felt it pour into her, but his grip did not slacken. He continued to thrust, slamming deep into her on every stroke. She went limp in his grasp, panting, her body pressed to the cold stone railing. His thrusts did not stop until his cock started to soften, drained and spent.

Finally, he pulled slowly out of her and released her hands, leaving her slumped over the banister, panting. She laid still, her cheek resting on rough stonework.

Anthony moved in close beside her. His fingers ran lightly down her back. Her dress remained bunched up around her hips; she was aware, in a distant way, that anyone who walked by would plainly see her gaping, just-fucked pussy, still oozing with come, but she could not gather up the strength to move. She felt her breasts press against the cold balustrade with each gasping breath.

He drew closer still. Eileen could see a bulge straining against the front of his pants. She reached out slowly with one hand to stroke him through his clothes, her fingertips tracing the shape of the hard erection concealed inside. "Oh!"

"Yes. That's right." He nodded down at her. "The question that you wanted to ask me before. Did you want to know if any of the men here tonight have fucked you?"

She nodded, her fingers still moving over the shape of his cock.

"What kind of filthy come-filled fuck-toy walks into a room full of people and doesn't even know if she's fucked any of them or not?"

"Your filthy come-filled fuck-toy," she answered quietly.

"Earlier this evening, you didn't know if any of the people here had fucked you." He smiled. "Now, you know at least one of them has."

"Who--"

"No." He wagged his finger. "You don't get to know. Not now, not ever. Now get up. We better go back inside before people start to talk."

Eileen straightened. Immediately, she felt wetness spill from her and drip down her leg. She smoothed out her dress, thankful to be covered again. Her body still thrummed from the pounding she'd been given, and from the intensity of the orgasm it had given her.

She took her seat at the table in the banquet hall, demurely, eyes down, afraid to look at anyone directly lest they read what had just happened in her face. It occurred to her to wonder if the people around her could smell the sex on her. What will they think? Will they know I was taken against my will? Will they know it made me come?

The evening became a haze. Anthony held her hand under the table, his thumb stroking her skin. She poured herself more champagne and tried not to think about whether or not the men seated around her knew what had happened...or worse yet, knew from firsthand experience what it was like to do those things to her.

The evening finally ended. The crowd dissipated. The people around their table rose and exchanged goodbyes. Anthony stood and escorted her, arm in arm, back down to the waiting limo. She climbed gratefully into its safe space, insulated from the world. The hotel disappeared behind them. Cars flowed around them, each one an island, insulated and distant.

Eileen's head hummed with champagne and sex. She could still feel the sticky wet warmth dripping from her. Anthony watched her, smiling. Her hand ran down his shirt, caressed his lap, touched hardness. Her eyes widened.

"Kneel," he said.

She complied willingly, descending to her knees on the floor in the back of the limo.

"Take off your dress. Give it to me."

She stripped, pulling the dress over her head until she was bare save for her shoes. He took it from her outstretched hand. A touch on the control and the window slid down. Cold air whipped around them. He tossed the dress out the window, where the wind snatched it away. She had only a brief glimpse of it through the back window, sailing down the street, before it was gone. The window closed. "Touch me."