Chords That Bind Ch 03

Hello there! A quick PSA: The first three chapters of this story were categorized (erroneously) under BDSM (That mis-categorization is my fault, so I'm moving the story here to non/con). If you'd like to find out what's been happening up to now, please read the previous installments. Hope you enjoy! Also, thank you kindly to everyone's comments. I was happy to have the feedback. All of it was constructive. Without further ado, Chapter 3 of Chords that Bind.

*****

As the languid trance slowly dispersed from her body, Cecilia breathed deeper, and felt her joints cracking, giving up the fight temporarily. She waited. There was no clock in the room. She finally paused to take stock of her prison. White padded walls on all sides, like some sort of sanitarium, housed a tiny water closet on the farthest corner from the metal twin bed to which she was tied. A small table was next to the bed, and the chair in which the man had been sitting, at was by the door. There was not even a window.

Everything was white, except the books stacked on the table that the man seemed to want her to read. The title perched on top was "The claiming of Sleeping Beauty". Underneath were "Lady Chatterley's Lover", "Beauty's Punishment", a set of novellas written by Kitty Thomas, "Alice in Wonderland", and "A collection of Erotic English Poetry". With no clock to alert her to the passing of time, Cecilia sat. She wasn't an idiot. She knew why she had been left to her own devices with these literary selections. The master probably already knew that she knew. Although she was impressed with his inclusion of "Lady Chatterley" she was NOT going to let him brainwash her with books. He had already made his intent clear. She wasn't going to make it easier. She turned herself over and fell asleep, all energy wrung out of her body.

Gerry didn't care if she didn't read the books right away. Or at all, although he doubted she could stand the boredom without some way to alleviate the monotony. The books were just supporting roles. He would continue to bring her to pleasure, offering her release until she craved it, needed it. By the time her mind caught on to her body's betrayal, she would be firmly under his control.

Cecilia slept, exhausted emotionally and physically. Gerry observed her from time to time. God, she was gorgeous. She must have near-perfect hourglass proportions. Her hair was somewhat mussed and matted, but it was a flattering chestnut that fell in curls. Her long eyelashes were the same colour, veiling hazel eyes that communicated her every thought. And she was tiny. Petite was the flattering way to put it, but her ankles and wrists were almost too small for his restraints. Her cuffs had been fitted to the very tightest setting to remain functional, and there was still more give in them than he would like. Gerry knew she hadn't slept well, so he waited, arranging for the transport and sale of other submissives who had been trained and were ready for auction.

It was well past luncheon by the time Cecilia stirred, although she had been awake for some time. There was nothing for her to do. She tried to go back to sleep, but there was nothing for it, and she certainly was not about to read that ridiculous library of sexually charged garbage... Anger boiled over again. She reached out with her bound wrists and with as much force as she could leverage with her hands cuffed and her legs bound, and pushed them angrily off the table. The thud, and spread of the books, unceremoniously scattered on the floor, was not as satisfying as she had imagined.

Gerry had to chuckle. Her efforts were valiant, if completely moot. The monitor he had keeping an eye on the girl alerted him to the books she had pushed to the ground. "I could leave her there all day," Gerry thought to himself. After all, the books, her only avenue for distraction, were now well out of reach. "She'd be eager for interaction if I left her there." So he did.

Cecilia was rubbing her wrists raw. She was trying so hard to try to escape. It was the only way to keep her mind occupied. Some hours ago she realized that knocking the books out of reach had been dumb. "Alice in Wonderland" wouldn't have been so terrible. She tried to replay her favorite movies in her mind, attempting to evade the present, but her attention wandered, and she was back to hearing her parents yelling at her again. Her mind was playing cruel games, not even allowing her respite in the quiet.

So she tried to escape. There were unyielding, tiny, padlocks around the buckles cuffing her ankles to the bed, and while she was flexible, no amount of twisting, pulling or contorting was going to get them off. The handcuffs were even worse. She cried. It seemed like it should be so simple to walk through the door, which she wasn't even sure was locked. She examined the bolts where her chains were fixed to the bed, but the recessed screws were never going to give. Cecilia broke all of her nails trying to make it budge anyway. It was hopeless.

It was not lost on Gerry that Cecilia was examining avenues of escape. He considered catching her in the act, but figured the boredom and chaffed wrists and ankles were punishment enough. He let her continue as he took his tea, she wouldn't be going anywhere.

He let her continue crying as he had his dinner. Seven and a half hours since he'd brought her to her first orgasm, he decided to give her dinner as well.

The doorknob turned, alerting Cecilia to the arrival of the 'master'. He had a tray again; fish and chips for dinner, accompanied by another bottle of water. Gerry shook his head mockingly, "Tsk tsk. Knocking over books?" Cecilia looked at him with reproachful eyes. "Well, it seems you still can't be trusted with your hands." He didn't really expect her to answer, and moved to cuff her arms behind her, and fix the hated posture collar back around Cecilia's neck. "I'll feed you dinner, since you seem to be

unable

."

"Thank you... master," Cecilia said dully. This was certainly improvement from Gerry's point of view. Cecilia was so hungry at this point, she would agree, as there was no further disruption to the meal that the master had brought her. Gerry was very pleased. He was creating a sort of dependence this way, and was hoping to lean on that dependence as he trained her to be Ashton's ideal slave.

After feeding her, he allowed her a few moments to use the bathroom and to shower. She still had no clothes to cover herself, but she was at least clean. Gerry again tied her to the bed, using the silk ties from before.

The music that played earlier began again. Cello and piano harmonized beautifully, as Cecilia felt the blindfold cover her eyes. Mercifully the gag was left out. A chill settled over her still-damp skin, and her nipples hardened. Gerry observed her for a moment. She was so much more pliant that she had been. He again, invaded her pussy. Wetness was starting to gather, although she tried to pull away from his touch. He retrieved the soft rabbit pelt and began his ministrations. Cecilia calmed, somewhat mollified by the familiar and gentling touch. Her breathing was erratic again. She started whispering to herself... "No. no. no. no. no. no..." Gerry ignored the protests and continued his activities, stimulating all the nerve endings on her body. When his hand arrived at her sex, Cecilia was found to be wet. Her voice was muttering 'no', but her body was saying something different. Gerry circled her clit again, this time spending longer spans of attention as he heard her protests become heated whimpers. Before she was ready, Gerry moved on, resuming the pattern that Cecilia was starting to become all too intimate with.

His hand crawled up her leg again, and she flexed her hips, urging him to return to her heated center. It was too much on her, and she began shaking her head back and forth, unable to stand how much sensation just one part of her body was magnifying. The feeling was close. The moment of internal collapse just a brush of his fingers away. But he took his hand away and resumed the pseudo-massage of her body. She tried to hold back a gasp of frustration, but responded to his touch as his fingers traced her form once again. Before he finished with her legs, her hips flexed, inviting, almost begging for the next round of friction, circles and brushes. She was feeling as desperate as the music sounded. The piece was reaching it's climax as Cecilia became frantic for her own.

Relief had to be close. Her pussy was feverish, becoming the center of her entire awareness. His index finger found her engorged clit and began to maddeningly roll it between his thumb and fingers. Cecilia let out a moan in earnest, so ready to fall over the edge. But he quickly moved on, now taking his time working her body over with the soft pelt. The music was slowing, having completed the motions and tensions, but Cecilia's body was showing all the signs of sexual frustration. Gerry was spending extra time on her breasts and nipples, thoroughly palming and tweaking her chest, as wetness continued to gather at her sex. She was arching her back and trying to pull her spread legs together. The music was on repeat. By now Cecilia's pulse

had

to be centered in her pussy as well. The man was torturing her, and she was being a sinful girl, encouraging this violation because she wanted the pleasure he had shown her was possible.

Gerry gently pressed a finger inside her. This was what he needed. She was primed and fit to burst, but he decided to drag it out. He gave the quickest of tweaks to her clit, and moved on. Cecilia rewarded him with a sob of frustration. "Good girl" he whispered, in an almost kind way. "That's a girl, yes." He encouraged her like a frightened filly. "I know what you want. You want to cum for me. Right?" Cecilia could only moan, so caught up in her physical predicament that she didn't think about what the master had been saying. Another pass along her body, the slowest and most excruciating attention spiking her arousal, tiny tremors took hold of her muscles. How long could he drag this out?

Just when Cecilia was certain he would make her come, he backtracked, and continued the glorious and maddening petting that was driving her wild with need. After this last tease, Lace moved to reward her patience.

Gloriously, Cecilia felt his fingers on her sex again, and he didn't just toy with her. He continued his assault, and after being delayed, her second orgasm devastated Cecilia with its intensity. Her breath caught in her dry throat as she called out a nonsensical release. It was good. It was the only good thing here, in this padded room and his fingers were at it again. She felt another building, and quickly fell under the second spell. Reveling in her body's ability to produce such pleasure, Cecilia let it continue. Gerry removed his fingers when the music completed its second encore, and shut out the lights. Cecilia was already asleep.

"Oh God... the shame. Mom was right. I'm a slut." Cecilia thought to herself as she woke. How else could she explain her lack of strength? She had wanted the man who had abducted her to incite that pleasure. She didn't resist or fight him. She was in dangerous territory. "I have to fight him. I can't just

let

him do these things to me."

"Well, it's not like you had a choice!" an unhelpful voice in her head chimed in. "You

were

tied up, after all."

"But I shouldn't have enjoyed it, or wanted it!" This voice sounded a lot like Cecilia's mother. But it was sensible. Cecilia settled on the only plan she had... pretend to obey and comply, and once enough trust had been built, to make a break for it. Yes, it was fairly sophomoric, but there was nothing else to exploit.

The man came in with breakfast. Toast and jam, this time. Cecilia sat quietly. "Breakfast. Want some coffee?" the master offered.

"Yes Master." Cecilia replied, truthfully. He cuffed her hands behind her back and fed her.

Upon finishing her meal, Cecilia waited for the man called master to move the dishes away. Cecilia noticed the books were stacked neatly again. But her hands were uselessly cuffed. She heard something. Softly at first, and then with building volume, Cecilia recognized the cello and piano. She closed her eyes, and felt warmth. It was simply one of the most beautiful things she'd ever heard. She felt bereft when the music slowed and quieted to almost a whisper, but it built to a crescendo and she felt: arousal.

The Rachmaninoff Sonata was playing again, and Cecilia recognized the neediness that spurred her on the night before, tingling through her limbs, centered in her pussy. This was an unfamiliar situation to her. She had only rarely felt this way, and the source of it was just music?

The master entered the room again, snapping Cecilia out of her reverie and puzzlement. He loosed the ties around her feet, held her firmly around her upper arm, and pulled her up and off the bed. He led her to a far corner in the room. She hadn't known there were hooks and rings hidden in the padded walls, but her ankles were being secured so that her back was to the corner, with her feet forcefully spread, planted to the adjacent walls. Her hands were released, but quickly raised above her head.

All the while he worked, Gerry didn't speak or turn off the music. He had seen some sincere progress already. The music was starting to become a source of heat to the little slave, and he was planning on reinforcing the link between her arousal and the music she heard.

The man had a pure white scrap of fur in his hands. Cecilia could finally see. It had been rabbit fur, and now it was tracing her limbs in that soothingly familiar way. She had been frightened to be moved and immobilized like this, but the man was doing the same things he had yesterday. She began to relax into this somewhat familiar routine, floating on the music.

Gerry had to either crouch or kneel to reach her legs, putting him at eyelevel with Cecilia's wet pussy. He had been building her pleasure more quickly today, and her somewhat compliant attitude made him eager to continue this process. It also made him achingly hard. Wet, bound, mildly compliant... she was there for the taking... but he wanted to see what he could get for her. True, her virginity was not what he had captured her for: Her mental landscape was just as difficult to find as an of-age virgin, but the asking price for something this unique would make auctioneers at Christie's jealous, if they had the stomach to deal in more than just paintings and rare wines. But he couldn't resist just tasting her. That wouldn't cause any damage to his asking price, and it could probably encourage her training somewhat.

So this time as he trailed the soft pelt back up the slave's legs instead of using his digits, Gerry began slowly tonguing at Cecilia's slit. She jumped at the different sensation. Panic began to creep from her brain. "What is he doing?" She had never felt a mouth on her pussy before. She tried to shy away from the attention the master was paying her dampening sex, but was hindered. She looked up, tilting her head back so she didn't have to see the man's head nodding between her legs. It was so wrong. Then she released a huge breath as the tongue and his lips went to work. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the pleasure. The music was swirling all around her, starting to scramble her emotions and distracting her from her Catholic upbringing.

If possible, this felt even better than last night. When he sucked on her tight little nub, she gasped, not believing something could feel that good. He trailed the backs of his fingernails up her thighs, eliciting a shiver that ended as she curled her toes, awash in sensation. His mouth left her pussy, but latched onto her right breast, sucking and pulling at the bud, which had just the faintest recollection of the cropping he had given her two days ago. The tenderness she felt under her heated flesh was exquisite. She moaned as he bit down in the gentlest way possible, before capturing her left nipple and giving it similar treatment. His hands came behind her, able to span her upper back, and knead tension from her outstretched shoulders. She was so slight, he felt her shoulder blades flex and loosen.

Cecilia arched her back, pulling against her wrists, seeking more. She hadn't felt this way before. As he stood before her, she leaned towards him, praying he would kiss her, but instead, he took a step backwards. "No." he almost whispered it, half making it a command, half sounding regretful. Cecilia saw he was still fully clothed, and felt like a wanton whore. She caught a gasp as she felt hurt mingle with arousal. She was so dirty, she didn't actually want to kiss him, but it felt like that was right, like that was where he was going. Instead, the fur pelt made another appearance.

Gerry had almost been carried away in the moment. She was responding beautifully. But more physical intimacies like that could lead to serious problems. When he told her no, she looked like he'd slapped her. He quickly resumed his ministrations, petting her all over, quieting her tensing muscles. Not stopping until he had his mouth on her again, he continued to pleasure her. When she moaned, he murmured "Good girl."

She didn't know why, but after Master had rejected her kiss, those two words felt significant. She had pleased him. He continued to lap at her sex, causing the flutters and tremors in her body to ratchet up to spasms. She literally couldn't stand any longer. Her legs were giving out, forcing all her weight into her arms, but she couldn't care. Master sucked on her clit again, and this time he pulled her over the edge, and kept her there, continuing to create mini-aftershocks. Cecilia was breathing hard. She pulled herself up by her wrists and straightened her legs. Master was smiling at her.

"What do you say Cecilia?"

She was still catching her breath but took in his scarred countenance, seeing if there was an answer there. She didn't know. Her voice caught in her throat, but before she could croak out a guess he answered.

"Say 'thank you' Cecilia."

"Master, Thank you."

"Good girl."

Gerry took her down from the wall. The music had been playing the entire time, but he turned it off. She had behaved well enough to see if she could handle the freedom of her arms and legs. After depositing her on the bed, Gerry decided to leave her for a few hours, to judge how well she was taking her training.

In his office he noted the past few days' worth of observations, compiling a thorough profile, which he intended to give to Ashton. He then went to check on another slave who was just about ready for auction. It was a convenient way for him to blow off steam. This slave had become quite the apt little cocksucker, and he was in need of an orgasm in a big way. Presenting Cecilia as a mostly-trained virgin ought to have been easier in some regards, but it was trying his control. This little slut on his cock however, was alleviating that particular need.

Cecilia wandered the room. She was pacing, stretching out her tight legs and arms that had been immobilized for so long. Freedom to move of her own accord felt like an untold luxury. She relished the ability to crack her elbows and ankles, feeling tension fade with each sharp movement. She rolled her neck in circles, breathing deeply. Her attention went to the door, which was locked tight. She tried to use her whole body weight to make it budge, but it held fast. She examined the floor, which was white concrete, and tried to find a crack. The effort was clever but pointless. There was only one way in or out of the room and that door was locked. No hinges were exposed, no locks to pick, just a doorknob that refused to give.