3 comments/ 30685 views/ 5 favorites Shackled and Confused By: Butterflies512 Pierre slowly blinked his eyes open. His head felt fuzzy, like he was still sleeping, dreaming even. There wasn't much light, in whatever space he was in and...and...what was this? He tried moving his wrists and found them restrained. With his legs he found the same. "What the hell?" He thought to himself, "where the hell am I?" He struggled to recall the last thing he could. Dinner, he'd gone out to dinner. He remembered getting dressed for dinner, a dinner with...with...Catharine. A vision of Catharine and her deep green eyes flashed before him, was it from last night? She wore an even deeper green dress that sparkled when the light hit it. Yes, they'd had dinner last night. Seafood. Not his favorite, but she was stunning and he'd do whatever it was she asked. Since he'd met her, he hadn't been able to get her out of his head, she was like an illness that he couldn't shake. And finally she'd agreed to go to dinner. "Comfortable?" purred a voice from the darkness. "I see you're awake now. I've been waiting." "What...Catharine, is that you?" Pierre asked, confusedly. "Where am I and why...why can't I move?" "Shhh..." was her only response. Pierre struggled to recall last night. At dinner he'd had only three glasses of wine, although he could remember feeling more buzzed than normal after the first two glasses. "Catharine, did you...did you drug me?" He asked. No response from the darkness. He pulled at his restraints a bit, there was no way out. He was fairly comfortable, all things considered, he seemed to be upright, on a wall perhaps? And covered with something soft, although how it stayed up was a mystery, like pretty much everything else since he'd opened his eyes. A small pool of light appeared in the darkness. It illuminated Catharine. There she was, no denying. Her raven hair, her curvy figure, her silken skin. She wasn't wearing any clothing. "Catharine, why have you done this? You know I would have gone with you willingly." Pierre stated, knowing an answer was not likely forthcoming. In the small light, a candle perhaps, he could see her, moving in the darkness, making circles with her hips, tracing her fingertips over her curves. He felt himself becoming aroused, though he tried to fight it, this really wasn't the time or the place. He couldn't look away, she was captivating, as her movements grew and it was clear she was dancing to a tune only she could hear. Slowly, she danced her way towards him. Twirling and bending, giving full view of not only her shapely ass, but all the other assets she possessed. She was a step away, he could feel her breath on his neck. With a swift whoosh, she removed whatever blanket that had been covering him, revealing him naked and aroused, mounted to the wall. "Mmm..." she mumbled, "about seven inches, I'd say" as she brought her dainty hands to his erect cock. In light circles she ran her fingers around the base, squeezing gently as she moved them upwards. Pierre was in shock, of course this felt fantastic but...why was he bound? Why was he drugged? What on earth was going on? He was confused, very, very confused. Catharine seemed oblivious to his confusion as she leaned in, hands now grasping his balls and exploring his lower half. She placed her lips at the tip of his member and glanced up at him. Their eyes met for just a moment, she made a half smile, then began taking him, inch by inch, into her warm, wet mouth. Pierre, though overwhelmed by his confusion, tried his hardest to let go, to just let it all go and just be. Just be given head. Catharine was not new to giving head, within moments she had his legs quivering as she stroked and sucked and swirled. He felt as though he could take no more, as though she'd given him as much pleasure as he could take and then, just as suddenly as she had begun she stopped. Catharine stepped back. "What..." was all Pierre could mutter, "was that?" "Oh, I'm not done," smirked Catharine, "only just begun, really." At this, she removed from a bag at her feet a large vibrator. For a moment he feared she may use it on him, not something he was comfortable with, but instead, she pressed it inside her own black hole. He watched, still feeling the build up but not the release his body now desired, as she pleasured herself, taking herself over the cliff of orgasm again and again and again. "Please..." Pierre mumbled, "please Catharine...I need...something...anything..." but she just smiled coyly and came again, her face frozen in serene pleasure. "Oh, Pierre, you'll get what you need. But first you need to wait. Waiting is a very important skill in life and it's about time you learned that lesson." With that, Catharine turned and left. Pierre remained, shackled, horny and confused, very, very confused. Shackled and Confused Ch. 02 Pierre had first met Catharine on a Tuesday. A Tuesday night in April, to be exact. He remembered this clearly because no day since had he been able to get her off his mind. She dominated his thoughts like a drug he had to have another hit of, and another, and another. The first time he'd seen her, she was arm candy of a movie director at a fancy party in LA. He heard her laugh first, or so the narrative he spun for himself began. Her laugh was so full of life and light, he quickly turned to see who could be making this beautiful, musical laughter and their eyes met. Fireworks, fireworks as their eyes met, or so Pierre liked to recall. He'd never seen eyes quite so green, almost a blue spruce green, with tiny flecks of amber. It was then he'd fallen under her spell. He made his way towards her, though he was not sure what he could say to this beautiful woman that would be worthy of listening to. Once in reach, she'd instantly grabbed his hand. "I'm Catharine." Her voice was rich, alto and smooth, dripping with sexuality, like Catharine herself. "Pierre," he replied, shaking her hand and trying not to become completely aroused by the touch of her supple skin on his. And that was it. As suddenly as she'd appeared in his life, she was called to another conversation by another interesting guest. What on earth could Pierre do that would hold the attention of Catharine? Probably nothing. But it was too late, she was a part of him now, one he could not shake. Days drifted into weeks, weeks into months and Catharine still filled Pierre's mind. He'd see her here or there, parties and premieres, but their interactions were limited and brief, far too brief, for Pierre. At night, alone in his head, she was his. He'd push her down on his bed, as she writhed, resistant beneath him, he'd press himself into her, listening to her sighs and squeals, deeper and deeper into her depths, kissing her neck, her breasts, tongue on her collarbone, licking lower, salty sweat, squirming pressure, he'd grab her wrists, call her a slut, and continue his assault. She liked it this way, he knew it, even if she didn't. She'd buck beneath him, he'd pin her hips with his body, pressing in, deeper and deeper and finally, finally he'd lose himself in her and to her. Lying alone once again, he'd drift to sleep, but even in his dreams, he could not escape the lovely Catharine. Life went on around Pierre, though he paid it very little attention. He was lost in a world where Catharine was queen. He'd think of her at the worst times, standing in line at the bank, sitting in the paper gown at the doctor's office, even during his first root canal. His visions of Catharine seemed to do more to numb the pain than the anesthesia. As months pressed past, he realized he had to cure himself and that the only cure would be Catharine herself. He started preparing what he would say when he saw her next, what witty lines could he use to get her to agree to dinner with him, that was all he wanted, a dinner. An invite to the biggest party of the year arrived and he knew that would be his chance. He spent days planning exactly how to invite her, the things he would say, the way he would look at her, the way she'd respond with delight. "Dinner, I'd love to!" He could hear her voice in his head already. The night arrived with little fanfare. She was there as he'd hoped. Tonight she was dressed in red, the color of love. He knew he had to just go for it, the more he thought about it the more of a chance he'd chicken out. He walked across the room with his heart pounding out of his chest. "Pierre!" She greeted him with a smile. He felt he may faint as she remembered his name. "Catharine," he stammered, "I...would you....we should...let's...I..." he stopped, this was not his plan. He took a deep breath, "Catharine, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?" A smile crept across her face, a smile that filled up his heart so full he felt it might burst. "I would like that, Pierre. I would like that." Pierre was walking on air that evening, he laughed his loudest, smiled his biggest and told the best jokes. He had a special secret, and soon, he would have that one thing he wanted most: a dinner with Catharine. Shackled and Confused Ch. 03 Pierre wasn't sure how long he'd been attached to this wall. There was no natural light in whatever space Catharine was keeping him in. Catharine seemed to come and go at random intervals, usually fellating him to near orgasm, then disappearing as suddenly as she had appeared. He imagined it had been at least a few days, four tops. He still had no idea why this woman, this woman he adored with all his being, was keeping him locked to this wall. His body ached, being in an upright position for so long left him uncomfortable. The least he wanted to do was move around a bit, stretch his muscles a bit. Pierre practiced yoga regularly and his body was begging for it, maybe more so than the release he wished Catharine would provide. He heard a door open. Catharine stepped in, bathed in the soft red glow of the candle she clutched in her hands. He figured it would be the same routine, she'd come over, suck his cock and leave just before he shot his load in her mouth, he had it down by now. But this time Catharine had something different in mind. "Pierre," she spoke softly, "Pierre, I..." he waited with bated breath for her to speak, for her to share with him anything, anything at all that might explain the situation he has found himself in. But her words were not forthcoming, instead of words, she began a slow strip tease. In other circumstances, Pierre might consider himself a lucky man. Catharine was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She started with her top, a coral colored soft cotton tee. She twisted and tugged the shirt upwards, his eyes begging for a look at her breasts. Carefully she removed the top, but just before he could lay eyes on her sumptuous lady lumps, she turned around. Catharine's back muscles were well defined, he thought for sure she must work out. She held her arms far above her head, twirling her arms, then lowering them, tracing the outline of her body as he watched from behind. "Catharine!" He declared, trying anything he could to catch her attention, "Catharine! Please! What is going on?" But she only continued her strip tease. Next was her stockings. A girl in stockings drove Pierre insane, maybe she knew that, maybe it was a lucky guess, but here she was...she propped her right leg on a chair, and teasingly began rolling the stocking down her milky thigh, over her knee and down her well-defined calf, then finally off her perfectly shaped toes. Pierre watched, hard as the rock he was named after, as she repeated the show on the second side. "Damn it, Catharine!" Pierre yelled, "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you and I want to know what the fuck is going on. And I want the fuck off this wall." Catharine laughed. Not a 'you're so silly' laugh or even a 'maniacal captor' laugh but a playful, 'isn't this fun' type laugh. Pierre was dumbstruck. Here was the woman he'd spent months pining for, his mind had thought of nothing else for longer than he could remember, here she was laughing at him strapped to her wall in some sort of basement. What the fuck was going on? "We all want something, Pierre." Her voice was rich, she sounded so...innocent? Ironic, he thought to himself. "We all want things we have to wait for. Some things are worth the wait, are they not?" Her brilliant green eyes met his, this only deepened his physical longing for her. "Are they not worth the wait, Pierre?" there was a pregnant pause as it became obvious she was waiting for a response. "Yes," Pierre agreed cautiously, "some things are worth waiting for. But usually people wait at a bus stop or maybe even in their own homes, why am I waiting while strapped to a wall?" Catharine laughed again. "Pierre, you are too much!" She giggled and apparently decided it was time to continue her strip show. Her tiny thong didn't cover much, but she slipped it slowly off her shapely ass, and down those legs, god how Pierre wanted to lick those legs. The next thing she did was unexpected (as though anything that had happened since they went out to dinner had been expected...) she took her small thong and placed it on Pierre's head. The smell of her wafted into his nose, her scent filled his body and soul. Nature's love potion, he thought to himself as the smell permeated his very existence. "Grrr!" He erupted. "Catharine, I need you, please...please...please give me release." But no release of any type was imminent. Catharine traced her finger up and down his body, licked it, then turned and headed for the door. Just before she left, leaving him aching for her once again, she glanced back at him and said "Play, Pierre. Play is how we learn, how we make mistakes, how we move forward. You must learn to play along." And with that, she was gone once again. Shackled and Confused Ch. 04 Pierre had lost all track of time. His best guess was that months had now passed since his dinner with Catharine. He was no longer attached to the wall, this he had to be thankful for, and once he'd been released from the wall, he'd started marking what he considered to be days. But in his dark room, with no sense of morning or evening, days, weeks, months all felt the same. Endless. After being unchained from the wall, Catharine no longer came to visit. She watched him though, he found the camera on a thorough inspection of his room. Two, actually, so there were no blind spots. She'd speak with him as well, her sensual voice floating out of the walls into his ears. He'd begged and pleaded for her to show herself, but it was to no avail, Catharine was as elusive as ever. Yet, through all this, he still craved her. His cravings, longings, musings were something he'd come to hate. He'd hear her voice and his insides would melt, butterflies would fill his stomach. "Catharine," he spoke into his empty cell, "I love you, I need you, please, please come to me!" Sometimes he thought he heard her laugh, light and sweet, other times he was certain he'd become delusional. She'd left him a note pad and a pen, on which he scribbled love notes, and occasionally sketches of Catharine. He'd tear them out and send them to her with his empty meal dishes. He had a small bookshelf, contents: A Farewell to Arms, A Tale of Two Cities, Moby Dick and, last but not least, The Count of Monte Cristo. He felt akin to Dantes, there in his own Chateau D'If, but lucky for Dantes security cameras did not exist back then, nor did sadistic beauty queens with unusual ways of winning men. His room contained a bed, comfortable enough, massive pile of pillows and a warm comforter. A desk, into which he carved the passing days after deciding pen and paper weren't dramatic enough. A plain wooden chair at the desk was the only place to recline other than the bed. The room was just big enough for Pierre to keep up with his yoga, Catharine had been thoughtful enough to leave him a mat. Lying in bridge pose, he heard her voice float in. "Pierre, how are you today?" "Great, just peachy." He said, dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, Pierre, how do you feel?" "How do I feel? I feel like I have no fucking clue what the hell is going on. I feel like I'm going insane. All I want, Catharine, is to be with you, with YOU, not held captive in some freaky dungeon. Can I say that any clearer?" "Oh Pierre, it's not time yet, you must continue to be patient, my love." Hearing her call him "her love" sent his heart all aflutter. (italics) Stupid, goddamn love.(end italics) Pierre thought to himself. "But, why can't I wait outside of this...this...cell? I had a life once, you know, a life and a job and friends and now all I do is sit in this room and wait. All I do is wait!" "Pierre, Pierre, Pierre...you silly man. We are going to have fantastical adventures together, my darling. We'll travel the world, manage impossible feats, conquer world hunger, make love like it's never been made before...but not yet." "Catharine, even after being your captive for I-have-no-concept-of-how-long, I still want these things. I still want you. I want your body, I want your crazy mind, I want world domination, but first, first I want release!" There was no answer, as often there wasn't. Catharine carefully structured all interactions, leaving Pierre gasping into his emptiness, his loneliness, once again. Pierre picked up his notebook and scribbled furiously. "Love is a prison, love is a trap, once you fall in there's no falling back." He stopped and looked down at what he wrote. Tonight, he hated himself. Why Catharine, why him, why were the two of them trapped in this insane charade. What could he do, what could he say, what if tomorrow she released him but he never saw her again, his heart pinched in his chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?!" He yelled at his heart before realizing Catharine might think he meant her. "Not you, Catharine, my heart, well, fuck, you too. What the fuck is wrong with you? I am here, a flesh and blood man pouring my heart and soul out to you, living for you and for what? For a soft bed and a battered copy of Moby Dick? What the fuck is wrong with you? And what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I still in love with you? What the fuck is wrong with love?" Pierre fell silent. There was no response, not that expected one, maybe Catharine hadn't even heard. He felt drained, he felt utterly used and alone and confused, just as confused as that first morning he'd woken attached to the wall. And here, probably months later, he still had no idea what was going on. And Catharine didn't even blow him anymore. With a pained sigh, Pierre lied down on his bed, stared at the ceiling and prayed for sleep.