Chords that Bind Ch. 16

"No, Sir. I'd love to hear you."

At her formal response, Abe and Clara made eye contact, biting back knowing smiles. Clara's eyes had a look of triumph. She knew Cecilia and James would be perfect together. Abe was impressed at how naturally Cecilia seemed to have fallen into her submission to James. It was only a fleeting moment of recognition, but James saw his best friend and his wife absorb the complete nature of his relationship with Cecilia. He smiled despite himself and murmured, "Good girl," taking her hand and preparing to lead Cecilia upstairs to bed. He was exhausted from the flight and off-center from the jet lag.

"Wonderful dinner tonight, Clara. Thank you, but I think it's time Cecilia and I should try to get back onto Greenwich time. We'll catch up with you later."

Cecilia thanked Clara and Abe, and gratefully accepted James's hand. She was afraid she'd fall asleep at the table. She wondered if James would take her once they were alone, not sure if she had the stamina she'd need if that was the case.

She'd only been in James's room once, and upon entering, she recognized the space as uniquely suited to the man with whom she'd been traveling. Now that she had a proper look, she admired the rich fabrics and dark wood paneling. Navy blue and gold jacquard set off the warm, somewhat dark room. James flicked on the lights, letting her admire the artwork that hung on the walls. Surrealism and cubism, landscapes and detailed design schematics, hung together enjoying some ethereal synergy that somehow made the eclectic pieces at home with each other.

"Do you like my art?" James asked her as he started to undress for bed.

"Yes Sir," she was paying such close attention to the framed pictures that she didn't notice James standing nude behind her. When he leaned down to whisper in her ear she started.

"Sssshhh. Little one, I'll tell you about each piece, but I know you're tired. Come, get some rest." He voiced it like a suggestion, but started to lift her sweater over her head and unclasped her bra. She helped him by wriggling out of her jeans without conscious thought. By the time she was naked, she was leaning into his voice and seeking out the warmth of his embrace.

James stifled a yawn and led her to his king-sized bed. "Goodnight little one. It's time to rest."

"Yes Sir."

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Then James pulled her tiny form closer and held her tight as he drifted off to sleep as well.

***

Cecilia couldn't believe she was sitting in a box seat at the Royal Albert Hall with Abe and Clara. Yes, she'd heard this piece before, but nothing could stymie her enthusiasm at hearing James or her singular reaction to his playing. And after attending James's performances on her own in America, it was nice to have company.

Sometime in the second movement of the Pathetique, Abe glanced over at Cecilia and observed her focus on James. He nudged Clara, who looked over. The rapt attention Cecilia paid to James was singular. Being a dancer, Clara always noticed body language, and saw the way Cecilia held herself perfectly still, as if moving would disrupt the piece.

She looked back to Abe, who grinned. It seemed that after nearly a year of stubbornness and doubt on Cecilia and James's part, Clara was proven right; their feelings ran deep. With a slender finger, she tugged at the silver chain she wore, which had her and Abe's initials engraved on an intricate key-shaped pendant. She raised an eyebrow. No one had mentioned again the black ribbon Cecilia had yet to take off. Abe shrugged. James hadn't said anything to him either. He was sure that if the new couple were to make that commitment, he and Clara would be among the first to know.

Until then, Abe was happy to see that Cecilia seemed to like James just as he was, music, dominance, and all. Unlike, Josephine. Cecilia's submission clearly blossomed under James's control. He turned his attention back to the stage. Cecilia seemed to be recovering well, much better than before. James, too, played with vigor and was putting the ugliness of the past behind them. He squeezed his wife's hand and enjoyed the seeming tranquility settling on their little family.

That was when James came to the climax of the piece and, channeling Beethoven, he crashed through Abe's inner monologue. Passion and darkness, to differing degrees, bound them all together. Abe had to smile. He always appreciated and admired James's art, but this was the first time that one of the heady pieces spoke to him. It fit them all. Abe had to wonder, however, if the degrees to which they experienced the highs and lows together meant they couldn't ever glide through life with any sense of normalcy. He smiled to himself with some chagrin. They would find out one way or another.

***

James declined Abe and Clara's invitation for a nightcap after the performance. He loved knowing that Cecilia would be wet and needy him.

They'd spent a couple of days recovering from their trip, and then, once Cecilia's packages arrived, moving her belongings into the house. Cecilia had also been to see a doctor and had a birth control implant inserted. James also started filling out the paperwork that would enable Cecilia to legally stay in the UK. But now that they'd settled back into London, James felt his hunger for her return.

She was wearing that slinky lavender dress again, and James wanted nothing more than to trace the lines the straps made on her back and then replace them with rope.

"I'm taking you home." James said flatly as he opened the door to the car for her.

Cecilia shivered. She could sense his intentions.

When they arrived home—Cecilia could scarcely believe that she could call the townhouse 'home' now—James swept her up in a kiss on the steps to the front door. First it was soft and gentle, but it overwhelmed her as once again he reasserted his dominance. When he broke the kiss, he said, "That was the kiss I wanted to give you the night we saw Clara dance Alice."

The romance of his statement wrapped around Cecilia, who impetuously leaned in for another, even letting her foot pop up like in the vintage movies of old. "Mmmmm." Cecilia smiled. "Then can that be the kiss you owed me for tonight?"

James opened the front door returning her smile. "I think that's fair. Now, I expect you to be kneeling upstairs in the studio waiting for me when I get up there."

Cecilia hurried up the stairs. He climbed after her, taking a detour at his bedroom to collect a few items. When he climbed the last steps up to his attic studio, Cecilia was exactly as he told her to be. He loved the way the backless dress criss-crossed her back, but tonight he planned on accentuating her features another way.

"Good girl." He said quietly as he entered, dropping the braided lengths of rope on the loveseat.

"Remove you clothes. All of them." Cecilia heard his command and knew James wouldn't tolerate her usual hesitance. She stood and unbuckled her shoes and then slipped the dress over her head. As she removed her panties, James stood in front of her.

"Abe told me that while I was away, you'd sneak up here to listen to music."

Cecilia wondered if she'd be punished for entering his space. "Y-y-yes Sir. Am I in trouble?"

"Why would you be in trouble?" Her reaction puzzled him.

"Because I didn't have permission."

"Cecilia, you were a guest in my house. It's your home now. None of it is off-limits to you. Although, I'd probably give Abe and Clara their privacy."

"Oh. Well, don't I need more rules though? Now that we're home?" She asked him before looking at the floor. James had had about enough of that, he decided.

"It's not your place to determine that. Or have you forgotten the rules I already gave you?"

"No Sir. I haven't. I just thought . . ."

"As your dominant, I make rules that govern how you're to behave, and take into consideration your health, your safety, your improvement, and your pleasure. But that's my prerogative."

He made the familiar gesture of tilting her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry." She tried to bow her head, but he wouldn't let her.

"You're so well behaved. You don't need every little thing spelled out in a list of rules Cecilia. But I'll give you this one: Stop averting your eyes. I want to look at you and see all your beautiful little expressions. You do it to hide from me. From now on, I expect you to hold your head up proudly." His eyes smiled as he said this.

"Yes Sir."

James moved to the loveseat and came back with a wide strip of leather. "I think you'll benefit from a reminder. Come here and lift your hair."

James unclasped the black velvet chocker, pocketing it. Before Cecilia could register the loss, he wrapped the black leather posture collar around her throat and locked it in place. He turned her around to face him.

The look in James's eyes made Cecilia want to bow her head, but the stiff leather prevented her from moving her head more than a centimeter. His smile was predatory. "Yes. I think that'll do nicely."

Cecilia stood stock-still. She couldn't believe how helpless the collar made her feel. James enjoyed the sight of her naked body, pale and soft against the contrasting leather. He pushed a small ottoman over to where she stood. Then he retrieved the rope and started to unwind the intricate braid.

"Sit."

She obeyed, struggling against the collar that prevented her from bowing her head. The attic wasn't drafty or cold, but that didn't keep Cecilia's nipples from contracting into hard rose-colored nubs. James adored her helpless stare. Once he had several lengths of hemp rope free he started wrapping it around her torso and looping it around her shoulders. She couldn't tell what he was doing, and was too nervous to ask. The rope snaked its way to her front and James trapped her pert breasts in the coils. Then he pinched both nipples hard, eliciting an erotic little gasp that made his cock twitch.

Then he tightened the rope, accentuating the soft globes of flesh. Cecilia tried to turn her head, again in vain. James's fingers traced the rope as it wound around her. Already, Cecilia's breathing picked up, each heartbeat emphasized by the feel of the rope and her quickening pulse. "Over to the window seat, Cecilia."

Cecilia was surprised by the command, and then realized the rope wouldn't impede her movement at all. She walked over to the window seat, close to James's Steinway. James followed her. When she sat down, he pulled her hair out of its half ponytail and raked his fingers through her hair. She practically purred in delight as James bent down for another kiss. He pulled back, and smiled as Cecilia struggled to look up at him, the posture collar doing its work well. He kissed her forehead sweetly, the action at odds with her compromised position.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Sir?"

"What were you listening to, when you were up here all alone?"

"You Sir," she said without a skipping a beat.

She was going to inflate his ego terribly with answers like that.

"I want to play something just for you. What do you want to hear?"

"I-I—I don't know. I only know the things you've been playing."

"How about something new then?"

"Yes, Sir."

He gave her a last caress, excited to have her in his space at last, thrilled to acknowledge and succumb to their mutual desire. He pulled out some sheet music, and before beginning, took in the sight of her. Cecilia was really there, kneeling naked on the window seat, outlined by the night sky, the soft lights in the room making her seem to glow.

When James began to play, it seemed like the piano was humming the soft tune. The piano vibrated so softly, the rhythm steady and pulsing, the volume low enough that it seemed a whisper. She'd never been this close to him while he played. His fingers were so deliberate. This was a piece she couldn't place.

James smiled at the change in music. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, was part of his professional repertoire, but playing for his audience of one changed the piece. It seemed written for seduction.

After the bombast of the Pathetique this seemed more intimate. After the first movement, James paused and turned to her. "Have you heard this before?"

She failed to shake her head. "Maybe? I'm not sure."

God she was distracting. James warred with his desire to finish the piece for her and his desire to take her. He was willing to bet she was wet. He smiled, making a compromise with himself.

"It's the Moonlight Sonata, still Beethoven." He stood up. "The third movement will sound more like what you're used to hearing from him. But I think, yes..."

He was in front of her again. He tapped her knee, and Cecilia knew he wanted her to widen her kneel. Even though he'd tied her in a rope harness, it felt too vulnerable to comply. It'd be much easier if he'd properly tie her up. She had too much mobility in this position.

"Cecilia," James urged her quietly.

"Yes Sir," she murmured.

After her legs were appropriately splayed, James took her hands and laid them palms-up on her knees.

"Beautiful."

He could see the sheen on her thighs from her arousal. Before turning back to his instrument, he stroked her very core.

"I love how you respond, Cecilia."

He circled her clit twice, stoking the flames before returning to the sonata, leaving her wordless and wanton.

James started playing as if nothing had occurred between the first and second movement. He smiled, knowing that her heat would build. He would coax her slowly to the point of lustful abandon. The second movement was short, and when he turned back to Cecilia he could see the position and continued musical stimulation were working their magic on his submissive. She'd inched her legs back together and seemed anxious, flexing her fingers as she fought to maintain his desired pose.

He tutted and shook his head. "Dear, dear, I'm not sure I'll be able to trust you to control yourself through the last movement, Cecilia."

This embarrassed her to no end, and shameful though it was, she couldn't deny he was right. She wanted to touch herself. He opened the piano bench and something metallic caught the soft light of the room.

"Will you accept my assistance?" James dangled the handcuffs in front of Cecilia, who wanted desperately to look away. The thought of becoming even more helpless made her insides tighten.

"Yes Sir."

The handcuffs felt heavier than they looked as they encircled her wrists, trapping them behind her back. Cecilia nuzzled her face against James's torso, brushing his hard cock as he took away the use of her arms. She heard him let out a self-satisfied chuckle. How much longer would he make her wait? The cold metal clicked into place. It wasn't unduly tight, but there was nothing Cecilia could do to prevent James from pinching her nipples, defenseless as she was.

"Can't have you breaking any rules, can we?"

"No Sir," she whimpered. He released the tender buds with a quick twist and she gasped as her pulse throbbed in her chest again. She tested her movement as James snagged another two coils of rope. What did he plan for those?

He positioned her as one might a doll, bringing her legs in front of her to secure a loop around one ankle, with the long end of the rope dangling off. When both ankles had identical treatment he said, "Kneel as I had you before."

Still confused, Cecilia obeyed. After she settled in his desired position, he took the long end of the rope and tied it to her thigh, brushing her pussy, as with precision he made sure she wouldn't be able to break the position again. Her other ankle was fixed to her wide-splayed thigh. She shivered. This was properly vulnerable. Just feeling his power over her made her even hungrier.

"That's better. Very pretty." The way she blushed but looked straight into his eyes was incredibly sexy. He was hard as stone now. But he knew she'd be worth the wait. He rubbed her wet folds once more and set to playing the third movement, certain he heard her suppress a moan as he pulled his hand away.

The third movement, as promised, was the robust and charged sort of music Cecilia was used to hearing James play. It seemed to rock her very being. The soft and gentle parts were beautiful, but when James played these overbearing sections and made the whole room thrum with his artistry, that's when Cecilia could feel his power over her.

Her pussy was begging to be touched her breasts were deeply uncomfortable, longing for a gentle caress instead of the unyielding rope that made her so aware of them. The collar bit into her collarbone if she struggled too much.

Cecilia knew the piece was coming to an end as the sound built and built. She started to daydream as James finished the piece. Surely, now he would touch her and grant her similar relief. She felt her wetness, but her exposed position meant she couldn't even rub her thighs together, no doubt, something James intended.

The tension cut as the sonata came to its end. Cecilia's relief echoed in her deep exhale. James smiled as he heard her. That was when he started over, playing the iconic first movement, goading himself to play on even as he heard what he thought was a whimper from the beautiful woman tied up in his studio.

At least he didn't take long pauses between movements this time. It would have been sheer torment if he'd toyed with her that way again. The desire was overwhelming her auditory faculties to the point where she wasn't listening, but fantasizing.

This was a new test on James's ability to focus. A beautiful, thoughtful submissive was tied and awaiting his pleasure, listening to him. He didn't know what was the most exciting part of that, but he did know it was taking immense concentration not to butcher the piece or abandon it altogether. It didn't take much for him to muster up the passion needed for the final movement. She made him feel powerful enough to play with ease, if he could only read all the notes on the page. Why had he set himself such a distraction? Which was the distraction? The sonata or the submissive?

He finished with a flourish and realized he must be one of the few artists who had the luxury of contemplating what it was to have both. It was mindblowing. He had a creature who wouldn't make him choose. Instead, she chose him, art and all.

"Very good girl," he said as he turned on the bench. She was right where he wanted her. Her bondage and his playing brought out the fragile beauty of a woman who'd made her choice and wouldn't turn back.

"What do you want Cecilia?"

"Please touch me, Sir," her voice came out meek and breathy, but she didn't hesitate.

"I take it you liked the music?"

"Yes Sir."

He liked that they were making new memories. He liked that she hadn't heard the piece before. This neediness wasn't the same thing that had been programmed into her and it eased his perpetually guilty conscience to know that.

When the back of his fingers brushed her cheek and then played with her hair, Cecilia tried to lean into his touch. Somehow the way he'd tied her was so simple, and yet meant she could receive only what he gave her. She felt greedy.

"Please," she begged.

"Soon. Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes Sir."

He unbuckled his belt and freed his cock, presenting it to her without preamble. She leaned forward, awkward in her position as she flicked his engorged head with her tongue. James stepped forward and she opened her mouth wider to welcome him in. The collar made it nearly impossible for her to bob her head. With her wrists locked behind her back, she realized there was no way to easily complete her task. She wriggled her tongue along the underside of his shaft, small moans of frustration sending delicious pleasure through him.