Free Elicitation by William Vitelli

squeeze an explosion of exquisite pain. Her orgasm went on and on and on, unstoppable, for several minutes.
    When it finally tapered off, she hung limply from the chains, twitching and moaning. He lowered the rod supporting the dildo. It slid from her abused and aching pussy, smeared thickly with creamy juices. She scarcely stirred.
    He reached around her and unclamped her nipples. Fire bloomed as blood rushed into them. She whimpered at this new pain. He released the metal rod from its base and picked it up, the hard black rubber dildo still attached to its end. Its head touched her lips.
    Without protest, her mouth opened. She did not struggle as he shoved it deep, against the back of her throat. Aftershocks from the orgasm rippled through her body in time with his thrusts. She accepted the way he violated her mouth with the dripping, come-covered dildo, her mind far away. He pressed harder, and it slid without resistance down her throat until the base reached her lips. She remained still, eyes closed, heedless of the gathering crowd on the sidewalk below staring up at her.
    Eileen returned slowly to her body, as if traveling back into it from a great distance. Then, in a rush, she was aware of her own physical self, of the steady ache between her legs, the burning pain in her nipples, the thickly textured rubber penis down her throat, the heavy, musky taste in her mouth. She tried to scream and gagged instead. Her throat closed around the intrusion. She choked and struggled in her bonds. He pulled it from her mouth. She coughed as it slid free.
    “Mmm, good,” he said. “Your body is getting used to this already.” Working quickly, he unfastened the chains from the bindings around her ankles, then did the same for the manacles around her wrists. She sagged into his arms, incapable of mustering the strength to stand. Anthony carried her to the bed. She he sat heavily, and let out a small yelp as the spikes around her thighs, forgotten, dug into soft skin. She blinked and opened her legs.
    “There you go, that’s better,” he said. “It won’t be long before keeping your legs spread will be second nature to you.” Gently, almost tenderly, he laid her down on her back, with her arms above her head. She remained still while he attached a second set of chains to the shiny steel cuffs, binding her wrists to the headboard. She made no outward reaction save for a subtle quickening of breath as he attached more chains to the restraints on her ankles and affixed them to the head of the bed, drawing her legs up and apart.
    “Now let’s see,” he said when she’d been securely chained down. “Where did I put that package?” His dark eyes cast around. “Aha!” He retrieved the small bag he’d bought from where it lay on the floor, grinning. “If we’re going to get you properly trained in just two weeks, we’ll need to use some special tricks, hmm?” He arched his eyebrows and pulled a gnarled root from the bag. “I think you’ll like this. It’s a ginger root.”
    Whistling cheerfully, he drew a large folding knife from his pocket and set about carving the root. In short order, he’d whittled out a thick, roughly cylindrical plug from its heart. She watched silently, eyes wide with apprehension.
    When he’d finished, he sat on the bed next to her. “This will encourage you to relax. You’ll see.” He caressed the smooth, soft skin of her inner thigh. She whimpered, heart beating fiercely, as he brought the carved ginger root against the puckered entrance to her anus. “Try not to clamp down on it.”
    He pressed, gently at first. The root was slightly damp, and she felt a tingling where it touched her. He pressed harder; as the tip penetrated her, the tingle grew, became a mild itch. She shifted uncomfortably.
    The root slipped fractionally deeper. The itching sensation intensified. She whimpered softly, clenched tight against the intrusion. The itch became a burning. “Don’t fight it,” he said.