He sat at the side of the road, near the beach, where he always did. Watching, listening, waiting for the right pitch – the right voice. He was looking for a soloist to perform the cadenza of his latest concerto – his best so far, in his humble opinion. He’d decided to call it “Concerto in E♭ Minor ‘The Corporeal.’”
His selection was not personal. It never was – just looking for that perfect voicing. He was a textbook introvert, had always kept to himself even as a boy, though his passion for making inspired works of music, unlike any other in the world – that had come later in life.
He felt the public needed his music. It needed to experience the same beauty he had. He always published his works anonymously, though he’d been known colloquially as “The Composer.” He quite liked their little name for him, so he’d started using it as a pseudonym for himself when publishing. He was for certain that nobody knew who he was. There were speculations, of course, but all wrong, some of them even laughably so.
He’d gotten breakfast at the nearby café and was munching on a scone, getting ready to take a sip of coffee, when he’d seen her. Or -- Heard her, rather. Perfect. She’d need tuning of course but he’d found his soloist and she was beautiful to boot.
He followed quietly behind her while she went about her daily business and then went home. It was absolutely perfect. She lived alone and worked from home. Nobody had called her all day, or even all night, as he watched from afar. It seemed that nobody would miss her while she made her performance. He liked to take his time getting the perfect sound, especially for an important part like the cadenza. After all – a cadenza is meant to display abilities of virtuosic caliber.
He continued observing her movements, her home for days, until he decided it was time. He readied his studio and prepared it for its next guest performer. He would snatch her the following night, after she was fast asleep in her cozy warm bed.
Night fell and soon the moon rose high in the sky. He grabbed his bag and drove to her place, parking in a clearing buried in the trees across the street. He went to his usual watching spot to see if she’d gone to bed. Just a few lights on in the house, he could still see her moving. A bulge grew in his jeans as he watched her in her silky nightie with matching panties. She appeared to embody grace without even trying. She was perfect for his purposes. She turned off the lights.
He waited a reasonable amount of time after all the lights were off to be sure that she was asleep, before creeping around to the back of the house. He tested the door and found it surprisingly unlocked. ‘Trusting soul.’ He thought to himself. He made his way through her home and finally to her bedroom where she lay fast asleep under the covers.
He reached into his pocket and grabbed the baggie with the cloth inside, already dosed with chloroform. She awoke and started thrashing about as he covered her mouth and nose with the drug-laced cloth. In moments, she went limp. He produced a large bag from his other pocket and carefully loaded her body into it, along with the flat sheet from the bed, making it look like he just had a bag of garbage. He carefully put the bag over his shoulder and carried her out, toward his car, tucked into the woods.
He knew he had plenty of time before she’d wake, so he didn’t bother binding her in the car, just laid her out neatly in the back seat, buckled her in and took off for his place, quiet and secluded – nestled neatly in the countryside.
He couldn't wait any longer to get her inside and into his studio. Getting out of his car, he opened the door to the back seat, unbuckled the seat belt and pulled her body out, carefully swinging her up onto his shoulder, before kicking the door shut and carrying her inside.
His workplace, the studio, was downstairs in the basement. You would almost wonder if you'd gone to a different place, going down to the basement from the ground floor. From the outside, and everywhere else inside, this was just a quiet, beautiful countryside home. Enter the access code at the door, though, and descend into a recording artist's dream - several totally sound proofed rooms, equipped with state-of-the-art technology, as well as some vintage stuff, all brought together to make getting the perfect sound possible.
There was a smaller, separate room, off of the main Studio, the "Performer's quarters." The wall facing the hallway was made entirely of sound proof, bullet proof glass. Inside, a bed and a small, more private bathroom in the corner with a toilet and sink, and a shower head, with a drain in the middle of the floor. The bathroom door did not lock, but the bedroom door did. From the outside only, of course -- key-code entry, with a fingerprint scanner as well. Nobody could get in or out without his knowledge.
He entered the code, opened the door and laid her body down on the bed. At the foot of the bed, there was a hidden door on the floor, just a small storage area with some ropes and things. He pulled out a few lengths of rope and a ball gag. The girl still fast asleep, he had no trouble binding her arms tightly behind her by the elbows and the wrists and binding her knees and ankles together as well. He popped the gag into her mouth and secured it around the back of her head. She wouldn't get out and nobody would hear her scream anyway, but he just didn't want to have to get her to sit still and shut up when she awoke from her chloroform-induced slumber.
He made sure the rest of the studio was prepped, and then adjourned upstairs, to relax and prepare himself. He ate, showered and got dressed - he liked wearing a suit while eliciting a performance from his guests - before checking the basement security cams to see if she was awake. She wasn't yet, so he sat in his study, watching the cameras and thinking about what he wanted his cadenza to sound like.
A slight movement on the screen as she stirred was enough to pull him from his thoughts. He went downstairs and stood in the doorway of her new home - at least for now - and waited while she finished waking up and realised that she was bound and gagged. He chortled as she struggled vehemently, but to no avail. He waited patiently, quietly until she was calm and then began explaining what was to happen over the next several days. He explained that she might be given pleasure or pain, or some combination thereof, and that the best way to make sure that she didn't have to stay longer, was to cooperate and do things right the first time. He also explained that he had no interest in money or anything else she might want to offer him. He wanted her for her voice and nothing else.
He walked out of the room and retrieved a small, locked black box. He produced a small key with which he opened the box, taking out a single, wrapped syringe and a small bottle of liquid. He set the box on the floor and went about preparing her arm, then unwrapping and filling the syringe, and flicking it to make sure all the air bubbles were out. He held her steady with one hand, lodged the needle where it was supposed to go and pressed down on the plunger. He explained that it was a sedative that would immobilize her body, but keep her totally aware for the time being. Her voice, thankfully, would be unaffected.
He retrieved a pair of scissors from the storage in the floor and started to cut away her clothing as he watched tears stream down her cheeks.
"Save that for the studio, dearie." He said, chuckling to himself.
She grunted and tried to squirm, but the sedative was already starting to take effect, so between that and the ropes, she barely budged, no matter how hard she tried. He grinned, pulling the tattered remains of her denim shorts and tank top from her body. He lifted her and carried her out to the main studio, a rope dangling from the ceiling in the center of the room, surrounded by various microphones. He tied the dangling rope to the ropes at her wrists and elbows, pulling them up behind her. She groaned into the gag as the strain of her body's weight was put on her shoulders. Hands disappearing behind her head, he loosened, and removed the gag. She started to scream, but he just stood patiently and waited until she was finished.
"Are you done? This area is totally sound-proofed and we are out in the middle of nowhere. You'll wear out your voice before anyone ever hears you, and then you'll just have to stay here longer, until your voice heals and you can make a proper recording for me. Save your screaming for when you'll really need it." He said, and shot her a sadistic grin.
He left her to think on that for a moment while he went and listened to what he already had for the piece. He wanted the cadenza to fit just right into the arrangement. He started to listen, before deciding that he wanted his soloist to hear it as well, so she'd know where she would... Fit in. He started the track over and played it over the speakers, letting her listen to the moans and screams and crying of several other women. Tears started to drip down her cheeks again as he made her listen to the whole of the recording. Watching her cry and listening to the track made him hard as steel. As soon as the track finished, he joined her in the studio again, now stroking himself.
She noticed him coming back and started sobbing even harder when she saw him rubbing himself out as he watched her cry. He started removing his clothes, tossing them to a chair nearby, not caring if they landed on it or not. Once naked, he swaggered over to her dangling form and positioned himself behind her, dragging his tip up and down in her dry slit. He started pushing himself inside her opening, eliciting a shrill shriek from between her lips.
"P-please n-" she stammered, before being interrupted "I told you I don't want your pleas, girl."
"N-no you don't understand... I... I'm a virgin, please"
"All the better, then."
He pushed some more. She whimpered as he pushed roughly against her hymen, pushing past it easily as she screamed and cried. She gasped at even the smallest of thrusts. He timed the thrusts perfectly so she'd gasp or moan exactly when he wanted her to. He'd gotten quite good at it, too, moving fluidly from one time signature to the next, without skipping a beat. Though, as he thrust into her body, he heard not screams and cries and gasping, but music. Each scream a note, an accent, a trill, longer groans of vibrato, creating phrases and ending them, beautiful melodies playing out for him to hear.
He decided he wanted to add in some accents, so he pulled a flogger out of his bag, and, with every brutal thrust, a stroke of the flogger landed, the leather tails smacking cruelly against her soft skin. She cried out on the off-beats, syncopated against the thuds of leather on skin. He thought to himself about how perfect his choice was - she was so responsive and a real pleasure to work with, unlike some of his past performers.
She surprised him when she came, hard, despite what he was doing to her. 'Kinky girl' he thought to himself with a chuckle. She began to sob heavily again - her body had betrayed her, she'd gotten off on her own rape and abuse and that was humiliating to her. No matter. She whimpered and groaned as he continued his assault. 'Not enough' he thought - he wanted a crescendo; she had to scream some more. He pulled out of her and positioned himself at her tight little rosebud. As soon as she realised what he was doing, she began to scream. Were the sedative not still in effect, he was sure she'd be flailing about, as well.
He started to push into her opening, gently at first, then more forcefully. She screamed and screamed, tears dripping down her cheeks as he sodomized her. She reached the peak of her screaming when the widest part of the head pushed through, allowing him to sink into place so the real fun could begin. He began thrusting harder, pushing a little more of himself in at a time until he was as deep inside of her as he could possibly get, before pulling almost all the way out again, and then slamming home. She screamed at the top of her lungs until her voice gave out. She continued to whimper and let out crackling groans until he tensed up and finished inside her ass with a loud groan.
He released her and carried her back to her quarters, laid her down on the bed and left her to rest while he worked on what he'd already gotten. He took himself out like always, but found that not much other editing was needed thus far. He listened to the recordings - both of what he already had, and of her - over and over again, piecing them together. He decided, however, that he wanted the rest to be even more improvisational, so he determined himself not to think about what he wanted to do next. This would be his best work yet.
He went upstairs and fixed her a tray of food, realising that he had worked her through the night and the morning too. He placed a plate onto the tray with bread with butter on it, some meat and cheese, fruit, a multivitamin and a tall glass of water with a flexible straw in it. As he was fixing it, he realised he was famished, himself, so he fixed a sandwich of his own and ate it, before carrying the tray down to her room. He set the tray down on her bedside table and woke her up. He tried to do so gently, but she awoke with a start anyway. He sat her up, though she was still groggy, so he gave her a chance to fully wake up. She started to sob again and he dried her tears, before picking up the vitamin and the water.
"Open your mouth" he said, holding up the pill for her to see.
"What is that?" she asked, her voice groggy but surprisingly not hoarse.
"It's a multivitamin. It'll help keep your strengths up and keep you healthy while you're here with me. So... open."
"Why should I trust you?"
"If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have done it by now?" he asked, a slight smirk crossing his lips. She thought for a moment and then her lips parted. He put the pill in her mouth and offered her the water to swallow it with. She sipped and swallowed.
"I imagine you're hungry. I brought you some food. I promise I haven't done anything to it."
"Why are you being so nice to me? Even after all you did yesterday..."
"I take care of my performers. They live comfortably as long as they do their jobs. Do them well enough and I sometimes afford them a bit of pleasure or some privileges." he said, offering her a bite of the bread. She took it, chewed and swallowed, then let him feed her the rest of the food on the tray and the full glass of water.
"Thank you. That was very good..." she said, with a soft smile - and she meant it.
"You're welcome. Now then... so much to do, so little time. Let's get back to work!" He set the tray aside and moved toward her.
"No... no please, you've been so nice... y-you don't have to hurt me anymore... Wh... What's your name? Mine is --" he interrupted her.
"No. No names. There is no need of it. If you feel you need to address me by something, you may call me either 'Maestro' or 'conductor' and I will call you 'Bella Voce.' Now as I said there is work to be done, and the sooner we are finished, the sooner you can go home." he explained as he prepared and administered another dose of the sedative.
He carried her back into the studio, glancing down at her body dangling loosely in his arms. He bound her again just as she was yesterday, with her arms pulled up from behind her. He played the track again for her, this time with the inclusion of what they had accomplished yesterday. She closed her eyes tight as if that could help her block out the sound, and forget what was happening. She started shouting to him that he wouldn’t get away with what he was doing, but he just laughed a knowing laugh and moved on.
He turned the recording equipment on and approached her. He looked her over, then pulled a small canister out of his bag. Tiger balm, of course. He opened the jar and used his fingers to smear a little of the gel inside onto her nipples, her pussy lips, and finally, her clit. He washed his hands while the balm started its work on the girl. She started whimpering softly at the sensations, though unable to squirm or struggle. Another benefit of the sedative is that it can make the recipient more sensitive.
From the bag, he then produced a Wartenberg Wheel and began to run it over her body, paying close attention to the areas affected by the Tiger Balm. She whimpered and cried out and groaned so beautifully for him.
Next, he pulled out an inflatable butt plug, lubed it slightly and started pushing it into her already-abused rosebud. She groaned deeply and nearly shook as it went in, whimpering like a frightened puppy. Once it was all the way in, he took the pump in hand and gave it a few squeezes, letting her see what it could do, before squeezing it again and again, making her groan and scream and yelp into the microphone. He pulled on her nipples, still pumping the plug, filling her ass little by little until her tiny belly was distended from the size of the plug inside her. She was whimpering so loudly by the time he finished, he wasn’t sure if she noticed he had or not. He leaned down and bit her nipple, eliciting the most delicious shriek from between her lips.
From the side of the room, he brought a small stand, quite like the microphone stands, except shorter, and with a Hitachi wand attached to the end. He positioned it so that it was buried deeply in her mound, pressed firmly to her clit and turned it on. She gasped at first and then started to softly moan. The balm was working quite nicely to further heighten the sensations she was feeling down there, he could tell. Before long, she was panting and moaning like a bitch in heat, her face red with embarrassment as she knew she was about to cum again.
“Just let go and get on with it, dearie.” He whispered in her ear. He was getting hard again watching her dangle like that, so aroused, yet so ashamed at being in such a state.
“Fucking whore” he growled, low, right next to her ear “you’re getting off on this. They never do… you must be some sort of freak.” He lied. He just wanted her to get more red and flustered. Tears dripped down her cheeks again as she started to loudly sob.
“P-please just let me g-go” she stuttered, trying desperately to be coherent over the pain and the pleasure all at once. He continued to pinch her nipples, until they were rock hard between his fingers, and produced a set of nipple clamps. The protective rubber nibs were removed, though, baring the sharp-looking crocodile teeth within. He pulled out a nipple, opened a clamp and released it on her now-incredibly-sensitive little nub. A scream pierced the air. Another nipple, another clamp, another shrill shriek. He tugged on the chain between them and saw that there were already tiny droplets of blood forming where the teeth bit viciously into her nipples.
He lit a few candles and let them burn for a few minutes while he tugged on the chain between her nipples, relishing in her tortured cries.
This was not the same man who fed her by hand and made sure she stayed healthy – no – this was someone else entirely. There was a fire ablaze in his eyes unlike anything one could imagine when he got into a composing streak like this.
The candles were hot and had built up a significant pool of wax around the wick. He picked one up, blew out the flame, and brought it to her, and started dribbling the molten liquid over her skin, at varying heights. Sometimes high, away from her skin, and sometimes low, making it burn more. Her voice shook as she cried and gasped. One after another, each candle gave its burning-hot wax to her tender skin, until he’d decided to inflict something else upon her.
That morning, he had cut a fresh switch from the willow tree out back. He picked it up and swished it through the air, testing it out. He smacked it against his boot and she flinched, a slight gasp coming from between her lips. He turned the Hitachi higher and she moaned deeply, though she seemed quite determined not to cum. He grinned. One stroke after the other landed on her fair, tender flesh, screams and moans and the thwack of wood on skin heard throughout the studio.
He continually intensified the pain and the pleasure, until finally he sat in a chair beneath her, her knees in his lap, with an extra vibrator thrust deep into her pussy and held there with several strips of duct tape, and the other administering swats of the switch to the soles of her bare feet. He used his free hand to push against the vibrator through the tape as he delivered another swat. She screamed and moaned and shook all at the same time, several powerful orgasms coursing through her abused body. He maniacally laughed as she came so hard and so long, finally stopping the torture as she passed out, slumping forward. He rose and released her bindings from the rope in the ceiling and carried her limp body back into her quarters – no – cell, he thought as he flopped her body onto the bed and untied her arms.
He secured her to the wall by a long chain, locked around her neck. He left her in a crumpled heap on the bed as he went to piece together the rest of his masterpiece.
Once finished, he published it, anonymously, of course, and waited for the public to hear his latest great work. ‘Maybe I will keep this one – my Bella Voce’ he thought to himself with a light-hearted chuckle. ‘For now, though, she will rest. Then, we will go to work on the solo portion of my next piece!’ he said, with a satisfied grin and a healthy evil laugh.