Bound and Initiated (9 page)

Above her loomed Dr. Adams, the twinkling smile still on his face as he thrust the dildo savagely into Sarah’s mouth as if to say,
That’s alright, Sarah. All girls have trouble with their first penis-training.
Sarah’s eyes watered, and she tried desperately to relax her throat. Wet, struggling sounds came from her mouth along with her gasps.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, “dominant men like the members of Ostia like to make a girl gag a little.” More thrusts. More gagging. Sarah labored to keep herself breathing through her nose. “Just relax and try to take it, Sarah. Think of yourself as a receptacle for a man’s penis. That will make it easier.”

Suddenly Sarah seemed to find a place in her mind that actually would let her take a control over the muscles of her throat she had never known she could exercise, and she
did
relax those muscles, and felt the dildo go in deeper than it had before. A new sound, somehow wetter accompanied this opening, as the artificial phallus came and went.

“Good!” Dr. Adams said, with a little surprise in his voice. “Very good, Sarah. Most new girls don’t learn how to do that so early. I think you’ll be in high demand, once your pater tells his brothers that you can give the penis its way so nicely.”

His brothers.
Not real, familial brothers, surely. Brothers in the cult: red-robed brothers.

The dildo left her mouth.

“Alright, Sarah.” Dr. Adams sat down again on the stool and Sarah heard him returning the dildo to the drawer and removing something else. “You did well with the girl-trainer. We’ll verify the presence of your hymen now. You’ve had a gynecological exam before, of course.”

“Yes, doctor,” Sarah mumbled.

“No need to answer,” Dr. Adams said. “We have your chart.”

The speculum. There in her pussy, opening. A little flash from the doctor’s penlight. Sarah bit her lip.

“Yes, very nice,” the doctor said. “When I use the girl-trainer here, it will stretch you out a little, and that may make it a little less uncomfortable when your pater has first coitus with you tonight.”

There. The confirmation of what would befall her, beginning at sundown. So casual:
first coitus for Sarah. First fucking.
Because that was how her new life worked.

I’m doing this for my country.
Why did her mental voice hesitate over the first syllable of
country
? Or had it? What did Sarah imagine about herself, about sex, about her
cunt-ry?
What was real? It was all real, and what did that say about Sarah James, whose cunt got wet when a doctor told her that a man—an incredibly hot man—she had just met in the past hour would deflower her tonight?

“There,” the doctor continued conversationally. “You’re getting aroused. Good. I’m just going to take a peek inside your bottom now, and then I’ll use the girl-trainer, which will feel much nicer than the speculum. As I said, your body is made for the male penis, but—” he chuckled, “—it’s certainly not made for the speculum of course.”

Sarah’s breathing came harder and faster as the thing closed and left her pussy, then almost immediately began to push inside her anus.

“Just relax, Sarah. It’s a little like relaxing your throat; these are muscles that we don’t usually think about. With practice, though, we can control them.”

“Oh, God,” Sarah whispered. In her mind the video of the cardinal fucking the bottom of the blond girl atop the mosaic played in a horribly arousing endless loop. She tried to find the control over the muscles in her mind, but something seemed to be keeping her from relaxing them.

“Hush, Sarah,” the doctor said. “The difficulty is that you associate these muscles with something else, something shameful. You know you can open here when you have to.”

She understood, and it sent the blood rushing to her face. She pushed, and she felt herself opening as the speculum pushed in and Dr. Adams squeezed it open.

“Very good,” he murmured. “Thank you, Sarah. You look just fine in here. Remember what you just did when the time comes in a moment to introduce the girl-trainer.”

The speculum closed, departed. Sarah heard Dr. Adams drop it into an unseen waste receptacle.

Receptacle.
How could it possibly turn her on to think of herself as a receptacle for men’s cocks? And yet… and yet it did. Sarah simply had too much intelligence, and had grown too used to using her reason upon the evidence of her senses as corroborated with the evidence of the data. Fine, she had known of the existence of women like the sort of woman who wrote
Forever Girl.
It even seemed like Claudia, and Robert, and Dr. Adams wanted Sarah to think that all women harbored these strange submissive desires.

Fine: when Dr. Adams said she must think of her mouth, her pussy, and her anus as places where a penis should enter, to provide its owner with the pleasure he had a right to expect from a pretty girl he wanted to fuck, Sarah’s nipples tingled, and her pussy clenched in erotic excitement. She didn’t have to like it, though, and she didn’t have to yield to it.

“Tell me about your masturbatory habits, Sarah,” the doctor said conversationally.

“What?” He had been so entirely uninterested in any contribution Sarah might make to the strange, progressively more degrading ‘examination’ that the question took her aback, not only because of the embarrassment it evoked but also because it took her a moment to return from the place in her mind where she had buried herself so deeply in her struggle to resist the strange attraction the proceedings held for her. As always, it appeared, here at Ostia, her failure to comply immediately received immediate remediation, this time in the form of an extreme increase in the level of humiliation visited upon her by Dr. Adams.

“You know what masturbation is, Sarah,” he said. “Pretending you don’t isn’t the sort of thing I’ll tolerate.” To her surprise, he reached to her right side and unfastened the cuff that bound her wrist. “Show me how you masturbate, Sarah.”

“B-but…” she stammered.

“Or do you do it some other way? In that case, I want you to rub your clitoris with your two middle fingers now, while you tell me about that. I’ll put the girl-trainer in the entrance to your vagina at the same time, to start getting you used to the idea that a man’s penis is the most important thing where your pleasure is concerned now.”

Sarah’s hand, bound for so long helplessly by her waist, came up, and she watched her middle fingers press together, the little round tips of her fingers forming a single plane, as they had always seemed to know how to do because that felt best. She closed her eyes. “I lie on my side,” she said softly, hoping desperately that maybe he wouldn’t make her show him how her fingers touched her clit. “I pull my one knee up.” She felt her face once again blaze like the sun.

Dr. Adams said, from the darkness that she had made by shutting her eyes, “I imagine you touch your anus then, too, Sarah. The side-lying position makes that very easy, and we find that many girls who employ it practice frequent anal masturbation in addition to their clitoral habit. Go ahead and show me the clitoral component, please. You do it every day? Every morning perhaps, upon waking?”

“How…?” Her eyes flew open to see him looking back at her with what seemed an understanding expression.

“How do I know? Again, side-lying masturbators tend to practice their self-pleasure frequently, and with a strong tendency to do it on waking up. The research suggests that it’s a healthy way for a young woman to regulate her arousal cycle. Go ahead and stimulate your clitoris. I want to see how you behave when you do.”

Sarah felt her nostrils flare as she closed her eyes again, her face terribly hot. She moved her right hand and felt for her clit, the way she did every morning when she didn’t have to rush. In fact, she set her alarm fifteen minutes early so that she could have the lovely period in the warmth of her bed, with her full bladder always adding its own naughty urgency as she raised her left knee, and reached down with one hand and back with the other…

She gave a little whimper when her fingertips found their place, in this strange manner she didn’t think she had ever used even when she first began to play with herself, before she became set in what the doctor called the ‘side-lying practice.’ And he had known about her bottom—the way she touched herself there so very shamefully, in search of an illicit pleasure that was the greater because she knew that if anyone should find out that Sarah James, brilliant linguist, touched her anus every morning, they would cry out in horror.

“There we go,” Dr. Adams said. “Now the girl-trainer, to stretch you out and get you ready.”

She felt the head of the dildo press against the lips, and she cried out as the doctor thrust it gently in an inch, then two. She rubbed frantically, suddenly close to orgasm.
Stretch me out. Get me ready. For a cock. A big cock that will tear through my maidenhead. Oh, God.

“Do not orgasm, Sarah,” the doctor said, “or you will be severely punished.” Sarah’s fingers froze on her clit. The threat of punishment had almost sent her over the edge, but ceasing the stimulation had kept her just on this side of climax. The dildo went gently in and out, and then Dr. Adams pushed a little further, and Sarah cried out because it hurt. Instinctively, she rubbed again with her fingers, and the pleasure in her clit seemed to assuage the pain in her pussy a little. It would keep her from orgasm, though it felt also almost as if now an enormous climax loomed in front of her, of a sort she had never felt before: made of pleasure and pain together, blended to loosen the very fiber of her sinews.

“Tell me about your sexual fantasies, Sarah,” the doctor said then. “How specific are they? Are they bisexual? How old are your sexual partners, in your fantasies?” In and out, less gently now, went the dildo, training her pussy.

Oh, no.
How could she answer? Sarah gave a little sob at the question and the way the artificial cock claimed her, prepared her. She rubbed her clit; that had almost begun to seem normal, even therapeutic. The doctor told you to masturbate in front of him, and you did, because he was a doctor. The doctor put a dildo in your pussy to stretch it, because that night you would have sex whether you liked it or not, and the man who would fuck you for the first time had a right to expect your pussy to be ready for him—tight, but not so tight that he had a hard time enjoying himself with his penis inside you.

“Experienced men and women,” Sarah whispered. “Not very explicit.”

“What do they do, in your imagination? I’m almost done with your vagina, and I’ll move the girl-trainer to your anus in a moment. When you fantasize about anal sex, does your partner force you?”

Sarah rubbed her clit, feeling like if she just kept rubbing it she would find, somewhere inside herself, the ability to answer the terrible questions. The dildo pushed one last painful time, and left her pussy. For a moment, all that coursed through her nervous system was the pure pleasure of her clit, and in that moment her tried and true, ‘go-to for a quick orgasm when she was running late’ fantasy came into her mind.

“He gets on top of me,” she said. “He tells me I have to lie still while he does it. Then, after…” The rounded tip of the dildo, now covered in something cool and very slippery—lube, of course; the kind men use to have anal sex with girls—pressed against the little hole. “He… he makes me turn over, and… and he makes me raise my bottom, and then he… does it… to me.”

She remembered how to push down, and she opened to the doctor’s training with a moan. There was a big dildo, long and thick, in her little bottom, and it pushed further and further in, until Sarah gasped and then cried out at the impalement. Suddenly she felt desperate to know whether she would be allowed to orgasm when Pater Robert fucked her; something about having the rubber symbol of his authority inside her most private place made her feel that she must learn to be a good girl for the man who would possess her backside, and didn’t good girls get rewarded?

“Very good, Sarah,” murmured Dr. Adams. “Excellent. And who is he? Several different men, I imagine? Who was he this morning?”

Another little sob, as the training of her anus continued.
Lie.
She had to lie. But her mind had gone completely blank. “Teacher,” she whimpered, desperately fabricating. “English teacher, from high school.”

David Chilton, red-robed Mithraist
. She hadn’t been able to resist the fantasy that had washed over her upon waking that morning. The director of the CIA had come to her bed and had his way with her, in her imagination, treating her bottom in particular with the utmost severity.

Dr. Adams withdrew the dildo. “Ah, very normal, Sarah. Many girls fantasize about authority figures that way.” He stood and walked to the sink. Sarah could see that he held the dildo, but she looked away in shame before she could notice whether her anus had soiled it.
Your bottom was made to open
. A paradox of the natural and the unnatural: an almost mystical way of looking at sex. She closed her eyes as she heard him turn on the faucet, doubtless to wash the thing and his hands.

She’d had years of the shameful play with her own bottom, and the feeling that something about doing it made her strange, or even perhaps strangely special, but no inkling of how powerful it would prove. She recalled the moment when she watched the video in the briefing room, of the cardinal fucking the blond girl’s backside. Should she have told Seth Goldberg and Joe Harkins that she probably shouldn’t be the one to infiltrate the League of Mithras because she played with her anus every morning? Even if she could have found the courage, she had no inkling then that these people would somehow be able to make her body betray her using her special relationship with her bottom—the very thought still seemed to Sarah ridiculous, even after Dr. Adams had just demonstrated the fact to her.

And she could resist. They didn’t control
her
. They merely controlled the arousal of her body.

“We’re done, Sarah,” the doctor said, as he re-secured her right wrist in the cuff, his avuncular manner returning in full force. “Your domina will be here in a little while to collect you.” Sarah felt the slipperiness of her fingers with her private wetness and another wave of shame broke over her head at the thought of what she had just done in front of this kindly older man—for it seemed impossible not to think of him that way.