Chords that Bind Ch. 15

Emile watched the girl's reaction to the piece's start. He could see why James was enchanted. She really listened. He could see how invested in the piece she was and he could tell that she no longer had any attention to spare for anyone else. He pulled his flute apart and put the instrument away, giving her space to absorb the baroque music.

James was tantalizingly out of reach. Cecilia hadn't been this close to him while he played since offering herself to him in his studio. Sitting with the audience in Philadelphia for James's memorable performance at the Kimmel Center was special, but this music had such gravity for her. The Pathetique was her favorite, mostly because she couldn't associate it with her kidnapping. But she first heard the Variations when she was held against her will and tormented. Now though, the music was becoming dissociated from that first awful introduction. Certainly, her whole body ached with want as James's fingers spidered their way across the ivory keys. She hungered for his attention, knowing enough to know he'd be pleased with the building moisture between her thighs.

Something about the way James explained wanting her to wear his collar made her less embarrassed about the fact that right now all she wanted to do was kneel at his feet. Every note, every resolved cadence, made Cecilia more aware of her physical self. Her eyes closed and instead of remembering humiliation and discomfort she recalled James's tight grip on her as he took possession of her. The feel of his stubble on her sensitive skin, his tongue exploring her mouth, his voice demanding to hear the things she was desperate to admit. When she opened her eyes at a jarring change in tempo, she was thankful that James was helping her to rewrite her understanding of her responses.

Forty minutes of perfect piano playing later, James smiled as he finished the piece with the same strains he began with. He let his breath out in a rush, then smiled to stand and take his bow.

It did take superhuman concentration to perform like that for almost an hour, but the look on Cecilia's face as he walked in her direction offstage reinvigorated him.

Her hazel eyes locked on him. The way she wrapped her arms around herself lifted her breasts and emphasized her cleavage. It made James wonder if he could discretely leave the concert now that he'd played his part.

Cecilia felt her heart beat harder. All she wanted was for him to touch her, kiss her, any contact at all. She stood up from the tall stool and lost the advantage of height. James looked down on her and gave into their mutual desire.

James sensed an urgency in the way she deepened the kiss, offering more and more, silently begging for him. It took him back. She wasn't usually so assertive, not that he didn't enjoy her opening up more and more.

He breathed into her ear, "I take it you enjoyed the performance?"

"Oh yes, Sir. Very much."

She almost said more, but stopped herself. Emile appeared next to her, smiling knowingly at James. "Magnificent as usual, James. And not bad for an Englishman." James took the jibe in stride. "I'd say your performance was quite good for a Frenchman as well Emile."

There was a flurry of activity backstage as the piano was being moved during intermission. The last performance of the evening was solo violin. "Cecilia, do you play?" Emile asked.

"Music? No S—," she caught herself just before her habit of answering direct questions with 'sir' created an awkward moment. "No, I sang in church choir, but I'm not really a musician."

"I'm jealous James, I can never find a woman who listens as intensely as Cecilia does, unless she's also a musician and then the magic is gone." Emile lamented.

James only had eyes for Cecilia, noticing the attractive flush rise to her cheeks and the tendrils of her hair that escaped her bun. "Emile, what does Carine think about you fawning over non-musical women?" James stroked the back of Cecilia's neck, distracted and not really listening to Emile's answer: "I think she would agree that good listeners are hard to find."

"What would I agree to dear?" A tall woman seemed to appear out of nowhere and her deep voice shook Cecilia back to the present. She'd been floating off somewhere as James hands crawled over her neck and shoulders.

"That James has found a rare jewel, indeed, with Cecilia here: she listens as if the fate of the world rests on every note. But she doesn't play music herself. Valuable, no?"

Carine's accent was more pronounced than Emile's. "Cecilia—is it? Excuze my 'usband. I zink he 'as finally gotten sick of my playing." She leaned over to kiss both of James's cheeks in greeting. "When 'e asked me to marry him, 'e said 'e could listen to me forever... But it's nice to know someone is listening zat appreciates my playing."

Cecilia first thought Carine was angry with her for Emile's flirting. But when Carine saw the worried look on her face, she barked out a deep laugh. "Not to worry dear. It's an old joke we 'ave." She kissed Emile affectionately on the cheek.

"I zink it's time. I'm glad to see you're back to your senses though James. We will 'ave to talk after 'zis."

With that, Carine walked on stage, giving James no time to respond. That was when Cecilia realized she was carrying a violin. Intermission was over.

James felt it'd be rude to leave during Carine's performance. He sighed and stood behind Cecilia, wrapping her in his arms. The spotlight dramatically centered on Carine, who took up her bow and pulled it almost violently across the strings of her instrument.

Cecilia gasped. She knew this piece too. This was the piece she only knew by its emotion. It sounded angry and she felt her core twitch. This piece, too, held all the tragic memories that brought her to James. She nearly jumped as Carine pulled on her bow again, powerfully creating energy and rhythm that surpassed what should be physically possible on a single instrument.

James felt Cecilia's body tense up and heard her intake of breath. "Something wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes Sir," she said as softly as she could. "It's just—I know this piece. From before."

James felt like an idiot. Of course she did. He remembered laying eyes on her in a video, watching her climax to the music Carine was currently playing. "Do you need to go? We can leave."

He could feel her pulse beat faster. "No. We can stay. It's better this way."

James tugged her away from the stage. "What's better this way?"

James wore a look of deep concern in his eyes. Cecilia didn't know how to explain the odd healing she felt. "I like hearing the music and—separating it from what happened before."

"I didn't mean for you to—"

"No, James, I'm alright. I wouldn't want you to leave on account of me. They're your friends."

She was too considerate. James stood trapped in indecision.

"When I hear these things, and I'm safe, and you're with me... It helps me—to forget all of that. To move on a bit."

"Are you sure? They won't mind."

Cecilia considered that if they left, she could be alone with James, but she wanted to prove to him, and to herself, that she could cope with hearing the music. She honestly did like it and she felt like it would be some sort of defeat if she never listened to it again.

"Yes, Sir. Let's go back."

James almost overruled her. But she seemed determined and he didn't want to undermine her agency in this.

He followed her back to where they stood before. He held her closer though, as if waiting for the specters of her bad memories to appear before them.

Cecilia leaned against James's protective arms, wondering about her own resolve. Carine's playing was charged; it was such an emotional thing to listen to and to remember. Despite her misgivings and a few tears that welled up in her eyes, she felt the erotic desire resurface. James's kisses and affectionate touches during intermission made her want more, and this music pushed it further. She squeezed her legs together, hungry now that James was here, desperate because there was nothing they could do in this position, and she just insisted she'd be able to stay for this performance.

Cecilia nuzzled his arm and James couldn't help but press a kiss to her temple and then trail a few more down her neck. He traced the velvet collar with a finger. Cecilia encouraged him, turning her head and exposing more of her neck. She reached her hands over James's guiding his hands over her curves and simultaneously encouraging him to hold her tighter.

It was indecent, but with the instinct to protect Cecilia running strong, James felt a primal compulsion to remind her that he had her, he owned her, and no one would harm her again.

His left hand snuck under the soft grey sweater and his right fought with her tulle skirt until he squeezed her bottom possessively. "Mine." He growled.

Cecilia closed her eyes, hearing the music in the back of her mind, but zeroing in on James. "Please," she begged in a whisper, and then gasped as she realized she said it out loud.

James squeezed a breast and suppressed a growl. Then he regained control. They were backstage at Carnegie Hall, and he was acting like a randy schoolboy. He pulled his hands away, and Cecilia looked at him like she was being punished. "Be good, Cecilia. Not here."

She nodded her understanding, but he saw her eyes were glazed and dilated. Then he understood.

"The music drives you? Doesn't it?"

Part of her desire was triggered by the music. His own desire confronted him with unwavering rigidity.

"Yes Sir." She looked down. James wouldn't have that, and let his dominance assert itself. With a finger, he tilted her chin back up, and let her see the desire in his own eyes. His voice gave him away too, throaty and low:

"I intend to enjoy you as soon as we get out of here. Until then, I want you to focus on the music and think about how you're going to please me."

Cecilia was made for him. All the reasons he'd come up with over his months of self-imposed denial fluttered away. Her shyness compounded with her arousal at the sound of music made her delectable. He was sure her panties were wet and that she was obediently thinking of different ways to appease his appetites. Although, if he was going to get through Carine's performance and the obligatory after-concert small talk, he was going to have to think of England.

He never meant for Cecilia to have all this happen to her, but he would take responsibility for it. If he was the reason for it, then it was only right that he should be looking after her comfort and happiness. The excuses sounded flimsy, but after seeing Cecilia's bodily response to the music, to him, to being his, he found it impossible to continue denying them both. James endured the last ten minutes of the performance, thankful that Carine pushed the tempo on the piece.

Cecilia's mind followed James's instruction with no further prompting. She recalled her fantasies of James and flipped through different arrangements, wondering which would please him the most. A small bit of her balked at the idea though. She wasn't sure she was brave enough to admit these naughty things to him.

***

Emile probably noticed the less-than-subtle displays of affection during Carine's performance, but he said nothing as James made excuses, turning down a late supper with him and Carine. "Tomorrow," he promised.

Finally, James extricated himself from the knot of people backstage. He led Cecilia out of Carnegie and they hurriedly made their way to the hotel. He controlled himself just long enough to get into their suite.

"Were you a good girl, Cecilia?"

She didn't know how to answer that. She felt like she'd been a very naughty girl when it came down to it. But she could tell that he had all his dominant energy directed toward owning her submission. She kept silent.

"If you won't answer me, I'll have to assume you've been bad. Is that true?"

"N-n-no Sir."

"So you've been thinking about how you'd like to please me?" he prompted.

It was one thing to think these things, but another thing altogether to say them out loud. She prayed he wouldn't make her say what she'd been thinking. "I have," she hedged. Why wouldn't he just take her? She wanted him to.

"'Sir,'" he reminded her. "You're usually so good about that Cecilia. That's not like you." James couldn't help it. He wanted to trap her, and she seemed so willing.

"I have, Sir," Cecilia amended.

"And what, pray tell, did you come up with?"

"Umm, sir—I-I can't tell you."

"And why not? Are you lying about the easy task I gave you?"

"No Sir, it's just, I'm afraid... of what you'll think."

"Cecilia, that lovely modesty you wear like amour belongs to me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes Sir," Cecilia wondered how long she could continue to stall.

"If you won't tell me I'll have to assume you were a bad girl after all. Do you know how I deal with bad girls?"

She was afraid of answering wrong. "No Sir."

"Can you guess?"

"Maybe."

"That's the second time you've forgotten how to address me Cecilia. How do you think I handle bad girls?"

She felt more and more nervous about how this was going to unfold. She hugged her arms around her waist. James continued his interrogation as he divested himself of his jacket, vest, tie, and cufflinks. Then he started rolling up his shirtsleeves and Cecilia knew.

"Sir, are you g-going to spank me?" She shivered and couldn't tell if it was a good or bad one.

"Very good Cecilia. That's exactly what I do with bad girls." James cock thrilled at the prospect. He'd wanted the woman before him over his knee, but she'd never been less than perfectly behaved. How interesting it was that now she provided him with the opportunity. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here."

Cecilia stepped forward. He really would spank her if she didn't tell him her dark fantasies. "Are you sure that you can't tell me what you thought about for the rest of the concert?"

Me, on my knees for you, wearing nothing but your collar...

"Y-yes Sir." She couldn't. It was too humiliating. She'd rather him just tell her what to do. She could handle that.

James considered her. She really was so innocent. And her submissive streak ran strong. By refusing to tell him, she was putting him in full control. "Then I'm going to have to give your bottom a sound spanking." James pulled her closer and guided her over his lap. Her tulle skirt poofed up, inviting him to flip it all the way up and reveal her pale pink panties.

Cecilia forgot what a humiliating position this was. Why did she think this was the preferable outcome? She knew that James was safe. He'd proved that over and over, but it seemed like he'd tricked her into choosing this punishment.

His hand slid down her thighs as James admired her rear. Gorgeous. "Cecilia, do you know why you're getting a spanking on your cute little bum?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell me."

"Because, I've been bad."

SMACK!

"Oh!" she gasped. He caught her off guard.

"Because you aren't being forthcoming, Cecilia. And if you can't tell me how you'd like to please me, I'll have to conclude you lied and didn't listen to my instruction."

Cecilia felt James's erection. "You don't get to keep those dirty fantasies from me Cecilia."

Without further lecturing, James brought his hand down on her ass. It showed a pink, matching the color of her panties momentarily. He didn't spank her very hard. This wasn't a true punishment.

His hand came down a few more times, and then he peeled away her last covering. "Oh dear." He had all the evidence he needed that she responded well to his control. "It looks like you did enjoy the concert. Or are you enjoying your spanking? Hmm?"

Cecilia was glad James couldn't see her face, bent over as she was. She whimpered.

"That's not an answer Cecilia."

"Yes Sir."

"Yes what?"

"I enjoyed the concert."

"And what about your punishment?"

She couldn't say that. "No Sir."

She felt his finger probe her wetness.

"Interesting. We'll see."

Then his hand came down again.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

James alternated between her left and right cheeks, placing firm, even strokes and bringing more color to her pale skin.

"When I give you an assignment Cecilia, I expect you to carry it out. You wanted to know about my other rules earlier. That's one."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The warm up was over, and James added just a bit more force to the spanks, still holding back a considerable amount.

"When you're bad, you will be spanked or punished however is most fitting to the crime."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Cecilia bit her lips to keep from crying out.

"I expect you to give me total access to your body when I see fit."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir," she choked out. How was he maintaining his composure like this?

"You are not to play with your little pussy."

"Yes, Sir." Cecilia's cunt wept. She figured as much, but hearing him say it made her want to come so badly.

"I also expect you to continue asking permission to come."

"Yes Sir!"

SMACK! SMACK! "Good girl. I expect you to swallow my come when you service me with that pretty mouth."

"Yes Sir." She felt her bottom begin to blaze with heat. Did he know that she wanted to please him that way? She ached for him to be inside her, but was humiliated by the desire.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"I expect you to behave like a lady when we're out. When we're alone, I expect you to be a wanton slut for me."

Her ass stung and she didn't know how long she could keep from covering her bottom or kicking out at the pain. Cecilia felt his finger delve between her thighs. She felt like a wanton slut right now. The pain melted away at the contact. She wanted him to make her come.

"You're so wet Cecilia. I think you are enjoying your spanking."

"Mmmm... Yes Sir."

James was shocked she admitted it. "That's my girl. You like this don't you?" He rubbed her red cheeks.

"Yes Sir," she whimpered. How would she look him in the face again?

Then he took his hand away from her pussy.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Cecilia did kick out this time. "Owww! It hurts!"

James wrapped his leg over hers locking her in place. "You're not done yet."

Cecilia had trouble holding herself up. Her arms were getting tired.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"You have ten more left Cecilia. You're going to count them for me."

It was so like, and yet so unlike her time in captivity. She saw and felt all the similarities, but this wasn't going through the motions. This was real. Instead of terror and fright, Cecilia began to understand the depths to which James was capable of taking her.

Everything before now was a pale imitation. Bent over James's knee, overwhelmed with sensation and intuitive communication, Cecilia surrendered her pride.

SMACK!

"One Sir."

SMACK!

"Two Sir." Cecilia felt his blows land with more strength.

SMACK! James thought it would be wise to let her have a taste of his full strength. Her voice struggled to maintain some sense of calm as she gasped.

"Three Sir, four Sir, five Sir."

"Cecilia, when I finish with your spanking I expect you to tell me exactly what you were thinking about."

"Answer me, Cecilia." SMACK!

"Oh! Six! Yes Sir."

It was starting to push past her threshold for pain. Tears started welling up in her eyes.

Seven, eight, nine, and ten were hard for her. James soothed her red bottom for a moment, taking some of the bite of the sting. He let her collect herself, before saying: "It's time to tell me these secret thoughts Cecilia."

"Sir... I- I- I- want you to... tie me up. And I want you to have your way with me—"