The Singing Lesson


© 1974, 2008 by Argentum Witchlover

(All rights reserved.)

A buxom beauty learns that a haughty spirit really does precede destruction as she falls prey to a vicious captor and finds her voice.


Kathy had always been a proud beauty. Her mother had once warned her that her proud, haughty nature would one day be her downfall. It was not that she disliked the attention she attracted, but Kathy did not feel any obligation to the men whose eyes she caught. She was, after all, above the fray in the whole man and woman thing.

How, then, did she find herself in this situation? Tied nude to a chair in an unfamiliar room. Her body bound rather simply, really, but quite securely. Kathy’s ankles were fastened to the legs of the chair by ropes, and her hands were bound together behind her back by something that felt like a wide leather belt. The belt, if that is what it was, fastened to something below the chair so that her arms were pulled downward, and her shoulders forced hard against the back of the chair. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Kathy remembered with her usual pride how she had taken great pains to dress well that day. Now her carefully chosen outfit, which had been ripped away from her body, was little more than a pile of Maltepe Sınırsız Escort rags. This had been placed deliberately so that she could glimpse it if she turned her head as far as she could to one side.

Her captor had said little other than she would be free to go if she would only ask to be released. When Kathy refused, he did not seem surprised, saying only that he would hear her sing an aria of screams for her insolence. It was then that Kathy’s world went suddenly dark.

How long Kathy had been unconscious, she could not tell; but she had come to in this gray, dimly lit room, stripped bare and tied to a chair. Waiting for … waiting for what she could only guess.

Kathy heard a door open behind her. Someone entered, and the door closed. She was no longer alone, and the feeling that came upon her was worse than any fear she had ever known. This wasn’t the anticipation of the unknown, for Kathy knew that she was in great danger. This was the fear of … helplessness … of having no control. Kathy was not in control!

Her captor didn’t speak as he approached her from behind, and Kathy was not about to give him the satisfaction of having her speak first. Having her beg. Having her panic. Having Kathy lose her Maltepe Suriyeli Escort self control. The footsteps in the dark stopped, and Kathy heard a grating metal-on-metal sound followed by the snap of an electrical circuit being closed.

The room was flooded with a glaring white light, and Kathy reflexively closed her eyes, opening them only when she heard the footsteps move away from her and then stop once again before moving in her direction a second time. These brief seconds gave her time to take in the cell in which she was being held. Except for herself and the pile of rags that once had been her clothing, Kathy saw only mirrors. Mirrors situated so that she could see her ample, naked form from every conceivable angle. At once she realized that her bindings had a purpose beyond simply holding her fast to the chair. Kathy saw that her breasts were pointing straight ahead, her back forced into an arch so that she could not relax and slump forward. In fact, she could do little more than squirm.

Kathy did not contemplate her predicament long before her captor stepped into her view carrying something in his right hand. A whip! He intended to beat her. Kathy felt her anger boil at the mere thought of such an insult. But Maltepe İranlı Escort another realization came to her just as suddenly: Why, she wondered, had he not suspended her from the ceiling or bound her to a wall, or to a post? The way she was bound to the chair, the only place his blows would land was … . No!

Worst of all, her captor knew that Kathy understood his plan, and he laughed at her reaction to this understanding as he tested the whip in the air mere inches away from her soft, round body.

“Scream and I will release you.” … Kathy sat silently, defiantly. Proudly, unwilling to comply, even at the cost of her own destruction. Kathy would not scream!

“As you wish, then,” her tormentor said as he began to whip her with expert strokes which caused Kathy pain she had never imagined possible. Still, she was quiet. I will not scream! I will not scream! Kathy repeated silently to herself.

The cruel leather began to bite into the tender flesh of her innocent breasts: deforming them, tearing precious skin, and bruising the delicate tissues underneath. Still, Kathy did not scream.

“All you need do is scream and I will stop,” her captor reminded her, but Kathy didn’t really hear him. In her mind she thought she heard a strange voice trying desperately to be heard over the sound of her torture. Then, a new understanding came to Kathy’s mind. It was her voice she had heard, and it’s message to her was clear.

There was no doubt: Kathy understood.

Kathy closed her eyes and threw back her head.

Then, she screamed.

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