Cecilia Gets Her Wish

Cecilia had reached a turning point in her new relationship. She had been dating her most recent boyfriend for slightly over four months and, all things considered, things were going pretty well. He was young, handsome, in excellent physical shape, and apparently either rich or at least very well off. He drove a new expensive Italian sports car-very stylish. He was always impeccably dressed when he picked her up at her apartment to go out to dinner or to a show. Unlike many of her previous boyfriends he never appeared distracted while they talked over a candlelight dinner or as they quietly strolled through downtown or her neighborhood as he escorted her home. Anthony seemed very interested in Cecilia's opinions and experiences, listening much more than speaking. He was always opening doors or lifting chairs for her; in short, he was a perfect gentleman. No, Anthony was perfect period.

Cecilia was pretty close to perfect herself. At 26 she was uncommonly good-looking, a bit on the tall side, 5'9" or so, exquisitely proportioned, and a natural blonde whose long tresses reached halfway down her back. Cecilia had an excellent position as an executive secretary for McCowan, O'Donnell and Stevens, a major in-town law firm specializing in real estate law. She pulled down an annual salary just shy of six figures but to earn that salary she had to work long hours which left her precious little time to cultivate relationships. Sometimes she went for as much as two weeks without spending any time together with Anthony. She had ended previous relationships because her boyfriends wanted more of her time than she had available to give and, when push came to shove, she could not give up the security that her hefty salary provided to her. As the only child of deceased parents, she knew that she was on her own. In the current economy the chances of her finding another job like the one she currently held were slim and none and, as her father used to say, "Slim was out of town." Her job came first and any man in her life, at least for the time being, had to both understand and be willing to carry on a relationship within those constraints.

This was not a problem for Anthony who seemed content to see her when she was available. Cecilia, who had gone by the nickname "CC" since she could remember, was grateful for Anthony's patience and understanding. Nevertheless, she felt a certain internal dissonance over this. On one hand she was relieved that he understood the demands of her career and how important it was to her. On the other hand, maybe just a little bit, she secretly wanted him to be a little more jealous of her commitment to work, but he never showed any signs of it. They never even discussed the issue. Somehow it was just understood that they would see each other when they could and enjoy each other's company.

Although their dates were infrequent, CC and Anthony's relationship was definitely not platonic. After the first few nights out together CC and Anthony had developed a healthy, if sparse, sex life and virtually every date ended with sex at her apartment. As they discovered each other's bodies and needs CC and Anthony grew more comfortable, more intimate, but by the fifth or sixth time making love together each had introduced one or two little "twists" in order to keep their love life fresh and interesting. Anthony had a thing for white blouses and encouraged CC to wear white whenever she was willing. He even bought her two or three expensive satin and silk tops which she wore to please him. He said that he liked the way that it clung to her skin and accentuated her figure. Moreover, he said, he liked the way that it felt to the touch, soft, silky smooth, and yet substantial. When they talked about it he confided to her that he liked her to go braless under the blouses so that he could gauge the extent of her arousal by the way her nipples protruded from the inside.

For her part, Cecelia was into role-playing. One night she would want to pretend that she was a famous actress and he was her chauffeur. He would call her "Madame" and purposefully tone down his manner, speaking only when spoken to and letting her take the lead. Another night she would be a farm girl and he would take on the persona of a cowboy drifter who'd been hired by her father to "work the ranch" during the harvest. He would arrive at her place, they always met at her place, in boots, denim, a cowboy hat, and three or four day's growth on his chin and face. He would become just a little more aggressive and she would play the innocent country girl. They both enjoyed the role-playing and the sex was out of this world.

One evening, while sipping wine over dinner at Figarello's, an expensive restaurant in the financial district near CC's law firm's offices Cecelia asked Anthony whether or not he had ever done a role-play involving bondage. He said "no," and that he had never "fancied being tied up."

She laughed out loud and then leaned across the dinner table, taking Anthony's hand in her own. "I don't want to tie you up, silly," she whispered with head bowed as if everyone in the room were listening to their conversation, "but ... I wouldn't mind it if maybe you wanted to tie me up. Helplessness is kind of a turn-on or at least I think that it might be. To tell you the truth, I've never been tied up, but when I see it in the movies it... I don't know... it kind of rivets my attention." Cecelia lifted her head and looked at her handsome date. "Before you ask, no, Anthony, I do not watch, nor do I have a secret stash of bondage-filled smut movies tucked away in my closet. I'm not talking about those kinds of movies; I'm talking about, I mean, you know, movies in which bad guys break in and tie up a housewife, or the heroine gets captured and ends up gagged with her arms tied in the air over her head, or in a chair or in a bed until the hero comes along and saves her- damsel in distress stuff. She lowered her head to whisper again. "The women always look so helpless and scared. It's definitely arousing." Finally, Cecelia slowly lifted her eyes to meet Anthony's whose own eyes were staring directly at the blonde beauty on the other side of the table-for-two. "Wanna try it?"

Anthony's face grew pensive as his mind pulled back from the conversation for a while. He took another long sip from his wine glass and leaned across the table taking her delicate hands in his. He spoke to her in a voice slightly above a whisper. "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. I can't say that I saw it coming, but I suppose if you want we could give it a try. Why don't we take a little time so I can do a little 'research' and then agree to make a night of it. Sounds like it might be fun, for me at least." He chuckled in a sinister kind of way as he smiled across at Cecelia who began to blush, betraying herself. She was turned-on by the thought and he could see that she was. That night the sex, though straight, was especially satisfying for both of them.

A week later, Cecelia's cell phone rang during her lunch break. After excusing herself to take the call, CC answered and Anthony spoke. "I have a place up state, a kind of cabin in the woods that I use when I want to be alone," Anthony said. "I don't go there often, and I have never brought a woman there- it's kind of a 'man-cave,' but if you can get a weekend off, we could spirit ourselves away and not worry about being interrupted while we played a few games. The mountains are just beginning to show their fall colors. Let's do it."

A shiver of anticipation and a blast of goose-bumps nearly overcame Cecelia. It was a good thing that she had excused herself because her lunch-mates would have noticed and a barrage of intimate questions would certainly have followed. Cecelia worked hard to keep her work life and her private life separate. Nobody at work knew anything about her activities once she left the law office. Several of the young lawyers at the firm had approached her to see if she was available socially but each request for drinks or dinner had been politely refused. She had met Anthony while jewelry shopping. She was looking at necklaces and he was waiting for a watch repair. The attraction was mutual and instantaneous. A few drinks at a local piano bar later she had given him her number and he had promised to call. A week later, he did.

Now, she was at a crossroads. She toyed with the idea of telling Anthony that she had changed her mind or at least that she had to work for the next several weekends. Weekend work was part of the territory and Anthony knew that. Quarterly reports were due at the beginning of next month so in another week her excuse would be true, but this weekend, Cecelia was free. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and said "I'm free this weekend."

Anthony had told the truth. As the sports car pulled into the driveway, Cecelia surveyed the scene. The "cabin" was a modern contemporary home, complete with a substantial outbuilding, probably a workshop, and a small garage. The mini-compound was isolated in the deep woods on the edge of a smallish lake. All around the trees were in full-foliage display. The hills across the lake looked like an impressionist painting in reds, yellows, and orange hues. In a few minutes they were inside the front door, and Anthony was at a small, but well-stocked bar mixing them both a drink. A small, candlelight dinner and a bottle of wine set the stage for what promised to be an interesting weekend. They talked, well, Cecelia talked about work and Anthony listened intently. CC explained that nobody at work knew anything about her weekend plans. She confided that when he had called, she had considered rescinding her original request and that she did have some misgivings, but that now that they were alone and she had had the chance to think about it, she was feeling more secure.

Anthony rose quietly from his seat and said, "an odd choice of words... 'secure.' Why don't you stand up and let me look at you? Cecelia rose from her chair and stepped back from the table. Anthony's eyes surveyed the beautiful woman who stood in front of him. Her skin glowed with a perfect light tone Her summer tan was gone. She wore an understated lipstick and light eye shadow. With her, less makeup was more. Her natural beauty needed no assistance, but she tried to improve her looks anyway. She was wearing white satin. He recognized the blouse as one he had given her a few weeks ago. She had bought a matching pleated skirt and an aqua colored scarf which she used to cover the waistline. Her straight, naturally blonde hair was tied back with a smaller, matching aqua "scrunchie." Cecelia stood with her long, shapely legs and modest heels pushed together, as if she were standing at attention, straight and ready for inspection.

"Are you ready to begin Cecelia?" he asked. She inhaled sharply and answered with a simple nod of her head. Anthony rose from his seat and produced a long white strand of silken rope. He doubled the rope and then knelt in front of the beautiful legal secretary and quickly roped her ankles together. If she wanted to escape now she would have to hop her way to safety. Anthony rose and silently circled Cecelia, who appeared a little "unsteady on her pegs," swaying ever so slightly. Her captor stood in front of her and surveyed his prize. He avoided her eyes but focused about eighteen inches below at her chest which was hidden behind the shear white of her blouse, which was discreetly buttoned all the way to the top button. She shrugged, bringing her shoulders forward and withdrawing her bosom.

"Come now, Cecelia, this poor posture will never do," said Anthony as he strolled over to the closet, opened the door, and withdrew several similar ropes of the same material, but different lengths. Calmly, he took her hands and, secured them at the wrists behind her back. The knots were tight but the soft material did not cut into her wrists. So long as she did not try to escape, they didn't hurt. As her shoulders were swept backward, her bosom thrust forward until it met the soft confining satin of her blouse. She was braless, of course; she knew how much Anthony liked to watch her nipples, erect and protruding through the clingy covering. She could feel the soft caress of the sheer material against her sensitive rosettes which became more and more engorged as she savored the delectable sensation of excited skin on satin. Cecelia slipped into role play.

"Don't hurt me, she half-pleaded. I...I have money over there in my pocketbook, a couple of hundred dollars at least. Just take it and untie me. I won't tell anyone; I promise." Anthony said nothing but went directly to the scarf around her waist, carefully untying it. Without speaking he stood in front of his lover tying a new knot, roughly in the middle of the long blue-green silk scarf. Slowly and purposefully stepping behind the gorgeous, bound vision in white he raised the scarf over her head and brought it down to rest just below her chin.

"Open wide, lady," he said. "I think I've heard just about enough out of you." She shook her head in refusal. Anthony responded by grabbing her hair and pulling it with just enough force to bend her head backwards. "Open," was all he said. Again she shook her head in refusal. He tugged her hair with a little more force. Eventually she complied and her mouth opened to receive the knotted gag. He tied it securely from behind and released her. She tried to speak but her renewed pleadings were unintelligible. She stopped trying. Another rope was used to further restrain her arms above the elbow, causing her chest to strain even more against her blouse. Her nipples were fully extended, large, pointed betrayers of her arousal. Anthony circled back around to the front and slowly reached out to feel the rigid points. Cecelia swooned as if she would lose her footing. She was electrified. Standing there completely at his mercy she imagined she could feel every cell in her body from head to toe. Her pussy began to throb and itch as she lubricated in anticipation of further stimulation and eventual sex.

Anthony eased Cecelia down onto a white shag rug and slowly, tantalizingly raised her matching white pleated skirt, first to mid-thigh and then to her waist revealing a crotch-less white silk thong. He reached between her legs and used his index finger to test her for readiness. She was more than ready. She moaned into her gag. "Please," she mock pleaded, "Please don't do this. I'm not that kind of woman. Let me go, please." All Anthony could hear was "Pllegh, pllegh.

Anthony spoke quietly to the bound woman. "I told you, CC, that I was going to do some research and I did. So far as I can tell, the whole point of this kind of thing is to play close to the edge. The way I look at it, the thrill comes from the seeming possibility of genuine danger. The victim, that would be you, Cecelia, has to believe on some level that she is really in danger. This can be accomplished by a little uncharacteristically excessive force, or by some kind of surprise that upsets her view of the way things are 'supposed' to proceed. Introduce the doubt, the uncertainty, and the juices start to flow, just as your juices are flowing right now.

He continued to massage her sopping wet sex. "We've been together for ... what, four months?" In all that time you only asked me what I did for a living once. I told you that I was an art dealer, a 'modern art dealer' was what I said, I think. Would you like to see some of my art?" Let me show you. Anthony rose and went to a cabinet near the wall where a large flat screen TV was mounted. He opened the door and selected a single DVD from a stack of several dozen, slid the silver disc into the player and pushed "Play.". "I'm a film maker, Cecilia. I cater to a very special market, working only on commission. In fact, you are being filmed right now. The cameras have been rolling since we started dinner. They're hidden, of course." As she listened to Anthony's calm, deliberate description of his alleged betrayal, Cecilia's beautiful dark eyes opened wide with a combination of fright and anger. She yelled into her gag, trying to communicate with her captor, but her muffled words made no sense and besides, Anthony was no longer listening to her. Cameras, filming! What the hell was he saying? They were definitely not in the plan for the weekend, at least they were not in her plan. It was time for a time-out and CC thrashed about on the floor to signal her desire to halt the proceedings. Little did she know that at this stage in the game she was out of time-outs. She became exhausted from her efforts which, given her degree of restriction, had had a net result of exactly zero. Finally, she went limp and then drew her legs up to her chest as she assumed the fetal position, scrunching herself up like a giant blonde inchworm.

The video began to run and Cecilia recognized the scene as the very same home in which she currently lay, skirt up over her waist, bound hand and foot, gagged, exposed and helpless. If this was a joke, it was way, way over the edge. She was as angry as she was scared, but not for long. As she lay there, eyes glued to the set, the odds on "bad joke" plummeted to absolute zero and her waking nightmare intensified. On screen she saw a young woman about her age wearing a white blouse identical to the one she was currently wearing half tip-toeing, half skipping from the main house to the outbuilding Cecilia had noticed as they drove up to the house not four hours ago. The woman's ample breasts were exposed and flopped and jiggled as she moved down the grassy path between the two structures. Her hands were bound but she was laughing, obviously under the influence of some drug or other agent. She turned and spoke to the camera flipping her long auburn locks coquettishly. "What is this, Stevie, a woodshed? It's been years since I was 'taken to the woodshed,' but you're right, Steve; I have been a naughty girl, very naughty." As she mocked and taunted her pursuer, she suddenly stopped directly outside the entrance to the "woodshed" and, in an exaggerated motion bent over at the waist and stuck her magnificent ass out behind her. "Oh, I sooo need a spanking!" Unannounced, a hand suddenly reached into the frame of view and slapped her firm, white twenty-something ass hard enough for her to semi-regret having offered it up in the first place. The big-titted captive stood up straight and pouted, pursing her lips while the disembodied hand opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. "Hey, that hurt!" she protested in mock indignation. Just as suddenly her affect did another 180 degree turn and she went back to being playful and naughty again. "Come on, Stevie, will you kiss it and make it all better?" "Maybe later, babe. Right now you have an appointment with the disciplinarian. Don't say I didn't warn you to start being a good girl, but no, you had to misbehave and now you have to pay the price. Let's go," he said as he twisted the knob to open the heavy door to the "woodshed." The beautiful young woman turned to look into the camera, lowered her brow as if to admonish her captor with a petulant look and then just turned and skipped through the darkened doorway. "Stevie" did not follow her. The same hand that had opened and held the door now closed it behind her. A quick turn of the key, a lingering shot on the closed door, a slow fade to black and the scene shifted to the interior of the building. The floor was dirt and the space was open except for a single oversized stall section with two large doors at the far end of the room.

The "bad little girl" called out for "Stevie" to join her. He didn't. After several attempts at "teenage temptress," she dropped the act and played it straight. "C'mon, Steve, it's dark in here," she coaxed, "where are you?" No answer, silence. Suddenly the lights came on and a mechanical sound broke the awkward silence. Another camera angle shift and the enormous front gate to the stall began to rise. "It's about fuckin' time, Steve," she said as she walked over to the rising gate to investigate. Before she could get close enough to peer into the opened box an enormous snake slithered out from behind the rising shutter. A blood-curdling scream shattered the muted silence of the scene and the camera cut once again to the young woman. No play-acting this time she was screaming; "Steve! Steve!" she screamed, "Let me out please. Help! Let me out!"