Chords That Bind Ch 01

Cecilia woke up with her head spinning. She'd never really had a hangover, but she imagined it would be something like this. Disoriented, and rather cold, she went to roll over and go back to sleep when her wrists tugged and were caught short of the movement by the leather cuffs locked in place. Not fully grasping the situation, she pulled hard on the restraints. The cold links of the chains brushed against Cecilia's bare chest, causing goose bumps to rise, and Cecilia to realize she was missing her clothes. The room began spinning again as Cecilia tried to assimilate her surroundings and situation into something sensible. The padded walls made her think of a mental hospital. Had she been ill? Then why were her clothes missing? Shouldn't there be someone attending to her? She couldn't remember how she'd gotten in this room tied to a strange bed. The last thing she remembered... was darkness. The lack of information and feeling of being asleep for so long made her nauseous. How long had she been out? Who had done this? Legitimate panic was setting in as the doorknob turned.

Gerald entered the room after the hidden camera alerted him that Cecilia had awoken and was less than enthused at the chains linked to her wrists. He walked in and decided that it was time to disabuse the girl of any misconceptions. "Hello Cecilia."

Cecilia's voice caught in her throat. He knew her name, and obviously intended to keep the chains cuffed to her wrists. Unsure of what the endgame was, she decided to keep silent. The man seemed to wait a moment, to see if she would say anything. His brown eyes seemed guarded, as if he was expecting her to lash out.

Fear was coloring Cecilia's hazel eyes, and they became darker as the brown-eyed, brown-haired man with an English-sounding accent walked towards her. He spoke again. "Do I have to explain to you why you're here? Or do you already know?" Cecilia knew she wasn't dead yet. So there had to be a reason... Connecting the dots herself would be too much. She remained silent. The man spoke again. "You belong to me. Until such time as I turn you over to someone else, you are mine. I have some plans for you, and if you are as smart as I'm hoping you are, you'll cooperate with them." Cecilia detected a lilt in his accent. He was Welsh. He kept walking towards her, very slowly, clearly waiting for her to say something. Cecilia pulled at the restraints, willing herself to wake up from this bad dream. Tears were starting to gloss over her eyes, so dilated with fear that they were nearly black. The strange man reached out a hand, threaded his fingers firmly through her hair, and turned her head to look him in the eye. "Do you understand me?" Cecilia momentarily tried to think of something else, even if it was just the strangeness of the man's accent. She couldn't answer. His hand was in her hair so she couldn't even move her head. He was too close. Fully clothed and in control while tears silently ran down her cheeks. Color drained from her face. The man had waited for a reply. She finally gathered the dispersed marbles of her sense and shook her head violently, letting her brown curls get caught and pulled. "NO!"

As her fight and flight reaction finally kicked in, Gerald breathed slightly easier. Her silence had been unnerving. This was something he could deal with. He had been waiting for this since he walked into the room. Screams of 'no!' fell on deaf ears and soundproofed walls. Cecilia pulled harder at her wrists, causing the chains to add a ringing to her litany of 'no' now being peppered with "Let me go!" Gerald stood for a minute to see if he could wait out the tantrum. He finally had enough and backhanded her across her pale cheeks. It snapped her out of that state, but immediately started the begging. "Please! Please, let me go. I'm not what you want. Please, I won't tell anyone. Just let me out. Please!"

Gerald had always been told actions speak louder than words. He ran his hand across her heaving chest, which was working overtime as Cecilia let her panic completely overwhelm her. Hyperventilating and sobbing as her skin broke out in goose bumps, Gerald pinched her left and then right nipple, causing extra wails to leave her shaking frame. He palmed her breasts. They were generous for such a tiny girl. His hand traveled down. That's when her foot made violent contact with his stomach, successfully knocking the wind out of him.

"Bollox!" Gerald stumbled back a few steps, clutching his midsection, and mentally kicking himself (a second time). He should have cuffed her ankles as well. No matter. Cecilia's cries had become unintelligible. With renewed purpose, Gerald grabbed the chains bolted to the foot of the bed, and careful to get outside the range of another kick, seized her tiny ankle, chaining her to the bed, and removing any slack. The other foot was much easier after that. He returned to the top of the bed, Cecilia now fully immobilized by the tension in the chains, and spread open in the most compromising of positions.

The man seemed to renew his intended course of palming her whole body. She shook her head and pleaded "no". The lack of slack in her bonds made her appear to be vibrating like a bowstring as she continued her fruitless struggling. The man's fingers were again trailing down her stomach and she could do nothing as he dipped into her most intimate folds, squirming as discomfort and tightness made itself known to her.

Gerald was surprised how tight she was. Just his one finger was feeling snug. When he started inserting another she yelped again. This was going to have to wait. If he wasn't much mistaken, he had stumbled upon quite a find indeed. Rather than force this exploration he decided it was time to correct her behavior.

Cecilia was breathing hard when the strange man turned back to her, holding a riding crop in his hand. "I know you don't know the rules yet sweetling, but did you

really

think that kicking me was a good idea? Hmmm?" Cecilia didn't answer, but kept sobbing. "For that little outburst I'm giving you twelve with the crop." Cecilia had no time to gather herself. The leather tip of the crop smacked painfully against her right breast. She howled and renewed her struggles. "One," the man said. "Are you going to be good and count them?"

"No! Stop."

Gerald didn't seem surprised. He gave a sigh, "In that case, an extra two for being willfully disobedient."

"No!"

"Too late to cooperate now. You will obey the first time, because there are no second chances." Smack! "Two."

"Three." Gerry was alternating strokes on each breast, creating read patches on Cecilia's chest that throbbed and ached. Her sobbing only lifted her chest higher for each of the strikes, and she tried to stifle them. Smack!

"Four."

Smack!

"Five."

Smack!

"Six. You would've been halfway through." Gerry scolded her.

Smack!

Smack!

"Seven and eight." The next two came in quick succession again, on the soft underside of her breasts.

"Nine and ten." The quickness of the strikes was causing Cecilia to screech and arch her back in pain.

SMACK! SMACK! The eleventh and twelfth landed directly on her nipples, and Cecilia began crying again. SMACK! SMACK! Gerry intoned the last two, again directly on her ruddy tips and dropped the crop, letting it clatter to the floor, leaving it there, and leaving Cecilia to exhaust her tears.

As much as she wanted to be away from the man who had obviously abducted her, and had abused her immediately, Cecilia panicked more when left the room, leaving her chained down to the bed. He wasn't done with her, not by a long shot. She had no idea where she was; let alone how to get out of the room. Her breasts were tender and tingling with heat from the crop. He had touched her in ways that made her shudder and blush with humiliation. Her mother's voice came to her: the only thing that could make her more upset. "Keep dressing like that! You're just asking men to take advantage of you! Those are slutty clothes... you're just asking for it!" Cecilia didn't know how much longer she could keep crying. She hadn't asked for this. She didn't dress like a slut, but every time she wore anything even vaguely flattering her mother alluded to her ending up like this. And now here she was, years since she had spoken to her mother, in the most compromising situation imaginable and for the first time in her life, her mom had been right about something. The irony intensified the misery she was feeling. She didn't know how long she lay there with the worst of memory reels playing in her head when the door opened again.

Gerry brought a harness gag and posture collar with him this time. He had barely been gone a quarter of an hour, just wanting to let the situation sink in. Cecilia had more fire in her than he would have suspected. The unrelenting nature of these new aids should help hammer home the message. There was another practical reason; the room was soundproofed, but he needed to give her the rules without interruption or having to shout over her.

When he walked in the begging started again. "Please let me go! Leave me alone! Please!" Gerald shook his head. He gruffly said, "No. And I've had enough outbursts. You're going to listen to

me

." Cecilia resumed her yelling and pleading. Gerald unfastened the cuffs that fastened her to the bed. She tried to take punch at him, but even she knew it was a pathetic attempt. Her aim went wide and he caught her wrist as it just brushed his cheek barely making an impact at all. Pulling her arm behind her, he unlatched the other hand and neatly had her hands bound and crossed at the small of her back. She was sitting upright, with her still red chest thrust forward. He came behind her with the stiff leather collar. She opened her mouth to bite him, and was rewarded with another slap to the face. The unyielding collar forced her head up, and dug uncomfortably into her shoulders and chin if she attempted to look anywhere but straight ahead. "For trying to bite me, and for your shouting, I'm also using this." The various connected straps of leather dangling from his hand confused Cecilia. She had no experience with anything like this before. Gerry chuckled. "Open that mouth o' yours."

Cecilia tightened her jaw shut. She tried and failed to shake her head. Gerry closed his fingers shut around her nose, effectively cutting off her air. She tried to pry loose, throwing her body weight left and right, but lost the battle, taking a gasp of air as Gerry forced a leather phallus into her mouth, buckling the straps in place, and tightening the harness around her head. He left her feet shackled to the bedframe, deciding he could speak to her like this.

She made quite a picture with her punished tits, upright carriage, and widely splayed legs, offering him a peak of something he was pretty certain no one had yet tasted. Anger was radiating off of Cecilia, who seemed to at least register the fact that he was not letting her go, and that she was not escaping.

"These are your rules. Follow 'em and you'll find things will go much better for you. Don't try my patience. What I gave you earlier was light 'cause you didn't know the rules. Yeh aren't going to have that 'scuse anymore." Anger was coloring his speech, revealing more of the Welsh in his accent that he usually tried to cover.

Gerald was sitting directly in front of her, and she couldn't turn her head away. She didn't want to look at him. She would look anywhere that wasn't at her captor. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard around the phallic gag that had been rudely forced between her teeth. "Open your eyes!" the man demanded. She opened them, but looked down at her poor punished breasts. "Look. At. Me!" The man hissed at her, seeming to punctuate his own anger with each word. She didn't dare avoid his eyes again. They were deep-set and demanding. She could see where he'd had stitches over one eye. His jaw was not perfectly angled, but his mouth was a thin, serious line, about to tell her his demands.

"You do not speak unless spoken to. Keep that blathering nonsense up, and you'll get very intimate with that gag indeed. When you do speak you call me 'Master'. You do what I say, when I say it, and none of this cute rebelliousness. I don't have time for it. When I ask you anything, you answer HONESTLY. You do not try to escape. You do not deny me anything."

It was a short list. It only demanded her abject humiliation, body, thoughts and voice. Cecilia's eyes widened, and then her brows furrowed, trying to stare him down. If looks could kill Gerry knew he'd be dead. He didn't much care. He had a list of questions that needed answers. He pulled a copy of James' letter out of his pocket and asked her, "Do you like music?" Gerry watched her struggle to answer, smirked and tapped her in a patronizing way on the nose. "Nod or shake that pretty little head of yours." Cecilia nodded, almost imperceptibly, fighting the constraints of the leather collar.

"Do you like classical music?" Another strained nod. "Good." Gerry placed a check mark on the letter. He'd researched Asthon's tastes; they ran deep and wide, but classical was the thrust of the man's musical interests.

"Do you like art?" Affirmation came in a muffled word and a nod. Another check mark was added to the list. James' requests seemed to be met already.

"Did you like school?" Cecilia again tried to kill him with a stare, furrowed her brow and made to shake her head.

"Hmmm... did you do well in school?" A nod of sorts answered him. Gerry was forced to put a question mark on the item about liking to learn.

"Have you had any lovers?" Cecilia blushed furiously, turning almost as red as her chest. She didn't answer and tried to turn away again. Gerry stood up, hooked his finger through the ring at the front of her collar, and forced her to look in his eyes. This was important. "Answer me." More tears. She squeezed her eyes shut again and shook her head, moaning against her gag as the collar bit into her collarbone. Gerald roughly released her.

Cecilia wanted to curl up in a ball and die. For all that her mother had called her a slut, and said she flaunted her curves inappropriately, she had never had a lover. Far from being proud that she remained a virgin as her mother had insisted, Cecilia was distraught. It seemed the opportunity to ever take a lover was now being taken away from her. She had been too scared to have a relationship, haunted by her conservative upbringing, and now it would be too late. The man she was now supposed to think of as 'master' left the room abruptly. With nothing else to do, Cecilia dissolved into more tears.

Gerry had barely been able to contain his excitement. A

virgin.

It was better than he thought. Her value increased almost exponentially with her maidenhood intact. Mr. Ashton would

have

to be pleased with this. But it complicated things in some ways. He was going to have to adjust his training regimen drastically if he wanted to keep her innocence. The effect would probably be more compelling though. Bloody hell, if she had just shown

some

kind of submissive tendencies he could phone Ashton right now. But as it was she was a wild, frightened thing plotting his death as she fought her restraints and showed zero sign of being aroused by bondage or punishment. He gathered a light lunch for Cecilia and decided to observe her before he determined the next steps.

Cecilia didn't know when she last ate, or even how long she had been out. But her throat was dry and raw from her yells, crying, and the four-inch phallus that had been invading her mouth for what seemed like hours. She knew she had to be dehydrated, just from the crying alone. Her stomach rumbled and somehow the seriousness of her predicament was settling in. The 'master' didn't have to feed her, or take care of her. He hadn't said he would. She was already weak and disoriented. Cecilia now understood how in control he was. Crying wasn't going to help her. The abductor had proven immune to her tears. She needed to look for an opportunity and escape while she had strength and wits left. She resolved to observe closely and see what she could exploit. Her neck felt almost bruised by the cruel posture collar, and she wanted the humiliating gag removed.

Gerald noticed a somewhat calmer Cecilia. She had to be exhausted from fighting him so hard. He carried in a tray of chicken noodle soup, a reheated roll, and bottle of water. He saw her attention pique at the smell of food. He set down the tray and sat in front of Cecilia. His gruff voice made her jump. "If I remove that gag to feed you, will you behave?"

Behave? He wasn't even going to let her feed herself. He was going to spoon-feed her soup like a child! Behave? She would dig his eyes out with the spoon...! Which, she reasoned, was probably why she was being denied the use of her hands. Hunger gnawed at her outrage. She was not able to deny wanting food. It was going to require her to cooperate. She hated it. She had no choice. She bowed her body from the waist in affirmation, trying to ease the pressure the posture collar exerted every time she was forced to answer the man's questions.

Cecilia was rewarded with a "Good girl" from Gerry. He took his own painfully slow time removing the head harness. He eyed her, daring her to throw another tantrum. Cecilia licked her lips and said nothing. Gerry nodded approval. "What do you say?" She pretended to look confused, but Cecilia knew what he wanted to hear. She wouldn't say it. Exasperated, Gerry gave her the answer, "Say 'Thank you Master.'" Cecilia rolled her eyes and mumbled "thank you".

"Master" Gerry urged, annoyed by the unspoken sass. "Master" Cecilia repeated. Mary Mother of God! She was going to be work. Gerry was having seconds thoughts about the initial confidence he had had in being able to sell her to Ashton. Even as a virgin, that level of attitude was a turn-off. "Put it all together!" His irritation was visible on his face, and Cecilia had thought that she was setting herself up for more trouble. The man called 'master' got a look in his eye that seemed to usher unpleasantness for her. She choked on the words, but bit out a "Thank you, Master".

Gerry set to spooning chicken soup and feeding Cecilia, who was momentarily distracted by food. He pulled out a clipboard and started asking her questions. Favourite music? Favourite food? Favourite wine?

Cecilia answered between swallows. Pop and acoustic were her first answers. Gerald furrowed his brows at that. Tacos seemed to be what she was currently craving and the man seemed mollified by the answers. Wine? She didn't know! She barely drank wine. The first answer that came to mind was 'red'. So that's what she said. The man called master sighed at that answer and tore off chunks of bread, dipped them in broth and fed her pieces. More questions: Favorite school subject, what had she studied at university? What were her favourite books, artists, movies? He fired the questions so quickly she didn't have time to fabricate answers. He did however; frequently remind her to complete each answer with 'master', which she left out as often as possible.

The man called master gave her sips of water and made her answer more questions, this time of an invasive nature. "Have you ever been touched by a man?" No. "Have you ever been in any way involved with a woman?" No. "Have you ever taken a cock in your mouth?" Cecilia quailed at the words, and shook her head. Once she had finished the meal the inquisition seemed to end. The man called Master unbuckled her collar, released her wrists from behind her back and secured her to the bedframe once more. He turned out the lights and left without another word.

Gerry was floored. At her age, Cecilia was a virgin in every imaginable way. He didn't think that was possible, and yet her blushes confirmed her shyness. Cecilia had allowed herself to be fed, but he didn't think it went beyond needing to eat. He had more thinking to do. He was almost disappointed. If he wanted to sell her for what she was worth, he couldn't sample her at all. And she was beautiful, especially when she was being good and not fighting. Once she had calmed the green in her hazel eyes shone brightly, and if he could persuade her to ditch the toneless voice she adopted to answer his questions, he was sure even her American accent could be charming. He went to sleep wondering how he was supposed to train her, and how he was supposed to maintain control when she made him so hard.