Chords that Bind Ch. 04

At a crescendo, Cecilia was startled back to the present. The music wasn't comforting, it was a constant reminder, it was only angry; emphasizing the seriousness of the punishment she had brought on herself. She felt something prod at her bottom, but couldn't turn to see what was happening. There was a cold sensation as Gerry lubed her up, and started easing a well-greased, tapered plug into her ass. There was no give in her restraints, and the splay of her legs allowed her Master all the access he required. He pinched her left cheek. "Relax." Cecilia whimpered. How could she relax? There was no physical way for her to relax! "Stop clenching your bum! Breathe. Push against it instead."

Cecilia's obedience was derived only from distress now, but habit would take over soon. As testament to the fact, she complied, hoping it would alleviate some of the unpleasantness.

It was easy to see when the strain left her thighs, and Gerry pushed the plug the rest of the way, seating it firmly in her ass. "Can yeh guess wha' that's for?" Cecilia didn't want to guess. It was hard and somehow made her pussy that much wetter. All the attention on her sex was unexpected. Nothing could distract her from the feelings those nerve endings were forcing her to assimilate. "That, is a butt plug, and it's going to train your ass for me. That's only a small one. Don't worry though, we'll have you taking a nice big one soon enough." He was smirking at her. The flush on her skin travelled down to her clamped nipples. Every erogenous zone of import was being trained, and rewiring Cecilia. Perfect.

Gerry pressed the vibrator against Cecilia's soaking cunt. She moaned, "Please!" But Gerry had already eased the pressure off, ignoring her pleas. They were getting to be compelling now. There was no way to fake actual sexual desperation, but he was showing her exactly who was in charge.

The Bach Chaconne was a little under twenty minutes long. Gerry decided she should listen to it twice. After all, Hilary Hahn's performance was always worth a re-listen, according to Mr. Ashton's comments on the subject.

Cecilia thought the violinist must be angry with her instrument, it was a punishingly complex piece and it was being executed with fury. Until the tension broke; suddenly the piece was filled with longing, tenderness and some sort of revelation. It was suddenly cradling Cecilia as if there was a kindred spirit linking the musician and the poor scared girl together. When the intensity renewed it was colored with compassion. At least, that's what Cecilia chose to hear. She needed it.

The vibrations torturing her libido were related to the music. They had to be. In her feverish desire, Cecilia made them so. That made her a participant in the music, instead of a victim of the tight rope and unyielding bar that forced her upright and proud. The faint humming wasn't enough to even numb her out. It was just present and irritating. But her knees needed the most attention. They were being tortured. The tiny grains of rice fixated pain in random spots on her knees, pressing into the skin and hard joint.

The piece of music looped and became angry once more, Cecilia was torn between the agony of her knees and the promise of ecstasy hovering just above her very alert clit. The pulse in her pussy had traveled and was taking root in her clamped nipples. The resonance of the violin seemed in time to the throb measuring out Cecilia's arousal.

How much longer would she stay here? She couldn't take any more of this. It was beyond what her body could handle, she was sure of it. But she didn't faint like she prayed she would. Gerry had calibrated the punishment to her level of tolerance. He actually hadn't even left the room. He stood outside her range of vision and observed. There was more give in her body as she allowed herself to be held by her bonds. She was trying to ignore the butterfly vibrator, but her hips flexed rhythmically, almost as if she were syncing her body with the violin track that he played for her. There was more resignation in her body as the track restarted. Her eyes periodically closed and she seemed to float. Good signs. She wanted pleasure and he was training her mind and body to respond to music. The red lights from the hidden cameras were recording every minute of the girl's punishment. His next project would be to compile the footage, edit it down, and send to James Ashton.

The music would be winding down soon. But he had one last facet to the punishment. Silently, as the music eased, Gerry retrieved a cane. An impression was certainly going to be made. He came behind her and took a swing, directing the cane across her ass, right over her plug. The blow came as a complete surprise, and Cecilia's scream was startled and genuine. She pulled hard, willing the bar bracing her arms behind her to give way. The pain lingered, stinging and throbbing. More throbbing! As if the pulse in her sex weren't enough to focus on!

"Now that I have your attention, I'd like you to count. Go on."

"One, Master," Cecilia counted miserably. When would it be over?

The air whistled and the pain hit just below the previous, fiery, line.

"Two, Master." The pain was just adding more tinder to the conflagration. She was ready to combust. The weak vibrations weren't enough and somehow the strength of the blows intensified everything.

Again and again the cane stripped her ass. Three and four were making her moan in such a way that Gerry found encouraging. He came to stand in front of her. Her eyes were glassy with tears and arousal. "Before your last one, I need you to answer some questions. What did you learn today?"

Open ended questions: he was playing dirty. He couldn't just give her an easy way out. Cecilia wanted to curse and yell at him, but he held the cane ominously, and she still had one more left. 'Obey. Obey the first time', the voice of self-preservation whispered to her. She already had something plugging her ass. She already had clamps digging into her nipples. Her shoulders objected to the strain being put on them. Her knees were numb, her ass blooming in welts, and her pussy was shorting out most other coherent thoughts. 'Just say something. You know what he wants to hear' the voice persisted. And she did know. She knew what he wanted to hear because now it was true.

"You own my pussy Master." The dirtiness of the fact made her shudder.

"Tha's right. What else?" he prodded.

"You own my pleasure." He nodded, expecting her to continue. "If I come without permission I'll be punished." Cecilia was restating the rules from earlier. The repetition was doing nothing to cure her provocation; it only made her long for relief as the vibrator thrummed away at her clit.

"Very good. And did you have permission to play with that tight little pussy?"

"No Master."

"So I had to punish you. You knew you weren't allowed." His placating tone was making her angry. She sighed internally. "Yes Master." He had paced behind her and laid down the last stroke, catching her off guard once more. She cried out. "Finish the count and thank me!"

"Five. Thank you Master." She struggled to get the words out as the stroke reanimated all the previous ones. Somewhere in this exchange the music had stopped. Gerry was untying the knots binding Cecilia's arms to the metal bar. The brace was warm from her heated struggle, where her elbows were hooked around it. Carefully he flexed her arms straight, and allowed them to release.

Pulling against the bar had strained her shoulders and as they were eased back into a normal condition, Cecilia felt them twitch and shudder from the exertion. Gerry tugged Cecilia forward by her clamped nipples, guiding her to rest her forehead on the ground. It hurt her tits, but eased some pressure off her knees. The butterfly vibrator was removed, but not before Cecilia's hips shook violently, finally getting the pressure they were seeking. She keened as the pleasure was, again, pulled out of reach. She was sure the invasive plug would be removed next. She wanted that gone, but was too spent to move without permission. It seemed she was done being punished for the time being, and didn't want to incur Master's wrath again.

With the music off, Cecilia could hear Master's movements around the stark room. He unbuckled her legs, and straightened them behind her. She was sure her knees would be bruised as they objected to any movement. She was panting now, as if she had run a marathon, the physical exertion was more than she would have guessed, since she had been operating on a touch of adrenaline when she entered 'the punishment room'.

Gerry rolled her to her side, letting her legs curl up in the fetal position. Cecilia cradled her head with her arms, pliant and submissive. Blood suddenly flowed painfully back into her nipples as Master released the pincers. Cecilia gasped and whimpered. "Almost done," Master spoke to her. The gruffness in his voice was softer now. He pulled her hair away from her neck, and undid the collar.

This was fooling with Cecilia's emotions. His big hands rubbed her shoulders a bit, fending off the tightness that was setting in. Easily, he scooped her up, and walked her back to her room. This was almost like taking care of her... after he had tormented her and violated her. He set her on the bed, and cuffed her arms loosely over her head. The softness was wonderful underneath her. Master covered Cecilia with a blanket and left the room.

Even after the ordeal was over, Cecilia felt a distant ache settling on her sex. She still felt her pulse there. When she tried her arms she found she wouldn't be able to touch herself. NO!! She wasn't even trusted with her hands, and the plug was still wedged in her ass, making its presence known at the slightest movement.

Gerry was editing the video footage. Cecilia kneeling, Cecilia counting her punishment out, Cecilia writhing, Cecilia begging... all of it was pieced together carefully. Gerry was making sure he turned the music up in the mix, highlighting the girl's reaction to the Bach Chaconne especially. It appeared as if she were submitting to the music itself. Her training wasn't done yet, but he thought that it might be time to approach Ashton.

Sir James M. Ashton (Q.C.) was reclining in arrogant repose. He listened to Maestro Von Karajan conduct the New World Symphony and sipped at his Laphroig. His smartphone invaded the symphony with its irritating chime. Resigned to the interruption, Ashton paused his music, and pulled up the email on his laptop. He was surprised at the letter he found in his inbox.

Dear Sir Ashton,

Allow me to remake your acquaintance. You sent a request to me almost two years ago; outlining the type of girl you were interested in acquiring. Regretfully, I did not know of any girl in my custody that met your exacting requirements. However, I have recently come into contact with someone who may very well be what you are looking for. I have taken the liberty of sending you some footage of her training. Please find it attached. I think you will be most impressed. If you have any further inquiries, I am, of course, your servant,

Gerry Lace

James found this most unusual. He wasn't even aware that his request had been received. He had written it in a moment of weakness, years ago. When weeks had passed by without a word, he figured it was all for the better, and let the matter fall from his mind. But now it seemed the man had paid it some attention. He wearily reread the letter, trying to not to get his hopes up. When James opened the video he felt himself instantly get hard.

The girl in the video was exactly his type. Her hair curled down her back in thick tresses. She was tiny, and yet had a certain voluptuousness about her in a perfectly portioned package. She pulled so enticingly against her restraints, and her eyes were open and expressive. Even her tears were attractive, pigmenting the green in her eyes, in jewel tones. But the way she was reacting to the music that was playing was going to undo him. His gaze raked over her form as she bucked her hips and let a Bach Chaconne envelop her. She begged so prettily for an orgasm, and pleaded in such a way that James was sure it would go to his head.

He did want to inquire further. He wrote back a short reply, worried about expressing too much interest.

Gerry,

Is it possible to see her in person? Not quite sure about a few things. Let me know.

Sir Ashton Q.C.M.P