Sunday School Piano Player
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The Kidnapped Piano Player free porn video
The Kidnapped Piano Player by Peggy Sue
I woke in a strange bed. I was gagged, my hands were tied in front of me.
I was starting to panic when a girl talked softly in my ear.
"No one is going to hurt you, but you're not allowed to speak. I'm going
to take the gag out but if you attempt a single word you'll be gagged
again. Do you understand?" I let it sink in for a minute but I didn't get
it. I looked a question at her. "No one here will explain to you where
you are or why you're here, you'll just have to accept that you won't be
hurt and go along. No one is going to tell you what you're doing here or
how long you'll be here. As far as you're concerned, this is your life
and that's all there is. There's no exit from this place. There's no
reason to talk. You'll be fed, clothed, and comfortable. If you need
something you'll be able to make it known by simple hand & head signals."
I started to panic again and she left me. The light went out. I pushed
aside the panic. So what if I was imprisoned here? Didn't my life on this
planet begin the same way? When I was a little child, I had no idea where
I was, no idea who my captors were, I had no way to ask anyone where I
was and how I got here - what's the difference now?
I let it be, conquered the panic, and drifted off to sleep.
When she came again I was ready for her. I agreed to keep quiet. The gag
was removed. I was helped to my feet. My hands and feet were released. I
was dressed in a long cotton shirt and led to a bathroom, then to a table
heaped with food. I was led back to the bed where clothes were laid out.
Then I was led to a room with a piano and left alone. I played the piano
for a long time, soft jazz tunes and blues, nothing complicated, very
comforting. Then I got tired and hungry. The room with the table had food
again and I ate. I undressed and went to sleep. This went on for many
days. The music was all the company I had. Somehow I was fed and clothed.
Gradually I got comfortable. My playing got deeper and more
introspective.
Then the girl appeared.
She appeared as I entered the piano room.
She was dark and petite, casually dressed and sparsely made up except for
her careful lipstick. Her black hair was shoulder length. Her breasts
were small but prominent. She motioned me to the piano. "I've Got a Crush
on You, A flat" I knew the tune - I had just played it in that key a day
ago. She sang easily with a slight lisp. At the end of the tune she
smiled brilliantly. "Prelude to a Kiss, C" Again it was a familiar tune -
Ellington. I loved the way she sang it. More smile. "I Didn't Know About
You, F" More Ellington. She was still picking from my repertoire. I moved
into her songs, changing my phrasing to fit hers. My mood was lightening.
At the end of this one I got a kiss. Her lipstick smeared on me. "Don't
wipe it off." She said and left the room. I didn't see how she opened the
door in the wall but it closed seamlessly behind her and I saw no sign of
a door. Should I examine the wall? I thought not. I loved the taste of
her lipstick and the echo of her song. I went back to playing. When
hungry I ate. When tired I slept.
A few days later she came again. She was more sharply dressed. Her
breasts pointed at me behind a tight blouse. Her nails were painted red.
Her lipstick gleamed. "I'm Confessing That I Love You, A flat" - Billie
Holiday this time - Another familiar tune. "I Got It Bad and That Ain't
Good, G" -more Ellington. I liked her choice of tunes, but so far she
was just following my choices. "Body and Soul, D flat" I hadn't played
that one but I knew it. She kissed me again. This time I got a little
tongue along with the lipstick. She smeared deliberately. "Don't wipe it
off"
That night I awoke with a woman in my bed. I tasted the lipstick and knew
it was her. "If you don't like something pull my hair and I'll respond.
You're still not allowed to make a sound and if you do I'll gag and bind
you and leave, do you understand?" I'm afraid I did, but I wasn't capable
of sex with this lovely singer without sound. I pointed at my mouth and
at my cock and shook my head. She understood. She left the room for a
minute and came back with another gag. This one I could bite and keep in
my mouth to prevent sound. I kept it in my hand and stuffed it in my
mouth at the right time. We shared orgasms and then I slept. Next morning
there was a lipstick in my bathroom next to my soap. I put it on before I
went to the piano. It was the same taste as the girl's. I wore it all day
as I played. No one came.
After a few days a girl came in to cut my hair. She was wearing a name
tag that said "Becky". Maybe that was a mistake, but I made sure to
remember it. We went into another room I hadn't seen before where there
was a hair cutting station. She washed my long brown hair and cut it in a
very feminine style. She plucked my eyebrows a little and put something
on my face that took away my beard. "Your face will be sore for a few
days. Your beard won't grow back at all, ever again. When the soreness
goes away someone will be back to give you makeup lessons. Until then you
can keep wearing the lipstick. There will be a few more shades so you can
have a choice." The girl in my mirror was pleased.
That day I didn't play the piano. My face was sore. I just slept and ate.
The girl in my mirror looked tired and happy. Next day there was an
exercise bike in the piano room. There was also a shelf of science
fiction books. Someone knew my tastes very well. I was alone for quite a
few days while the soreness went away. There were a few more lipsticks. A
nail file appeared and I began to file and shape my nails.
I had dressed in girl-clothes before, but always with fear of discovery.
Now I reveled in my appearance. I started walking with more grace,
practicing feminine movements. Unlike Robinson Crusoe, I didn't count the
days. I didn't even know what a day was. There were no windows, no day
and night. I just had sleep periods and waking periods. I had no clock or
watch. So a day was just a waking/sleep period. There was always food.
There was always a hot shower whenever I wanted it. There was a
comfortable bed. There was lipstick.
Every morning there were clothes laid out for me. I just wore what was
offered. Mostly they were comfortable cottons in somewhat brighter colors
than the usual men's clothes, but occasionally there was a slightly more
feminine style.
One day there was a bra. I stared at it for a while. I could have refused
it, left it lying there, with no punishment. The only punishment was for
speaking and I wasn't about to do that! The shirt left out was distinctly
feminine, a bright fuchsia cotton blouse that would have fit awkwardly
without the bra. I knew where there were other shirts, but I decided to
accept the suggestion. I'd worn bras before, what was the big deal? It
was slightly padded. The girl in my mirror looked well rested and happy.
Soon after that I got my first makeup lesson. I was shown how to
highlight the strong points of my face and deemphasize the weak points.
My lips were strong and full but my eyes needed help. My cheekbones were
fine but if I didn't accent them with a tiny bit of blush they wouldn't
be seen. I knew some of this and some was new. I was shown how to remove
eye makeup - that had always been a mystery to me. After the lesson she
wiped my face and had me do it myself. She corrected my work then wiped
my face and I did it again. This time it stood. There were many other
makeup lessons.
My clothes got increasingly feminine. I wished for a skirt but none had
appeared. From the waist down I was still a boy, though a rather frilly
and bright colored boy.
I got a manicure. I'd been tending my own nails for many days but now I
got a proper heat treatment and red polish. I was given some bottles of
polish of my own and instructed to take care of my own nails. There'd be
another manicure after a while.
In the mirror was a sophisticated young woman, carefully made up, with a
clever haircut, wearing slacks or shorts.
I was still playing the piano. I'd gone more to the blues as my
feminization deepened. Nothing was happening that I wouldn't have chosen
for myself, but the sadness and homelessness was beginning to bite. I
wished I could sing. The singer came back.
She wore a tight skirt and tan stockings, with 3 inch heels. Her lips and
nails were a bright pinkish red, just like mine. She sang the blues for
hours, in many different keys. She sang Billie Holiday's "Fine and
Mellow". She sang Dinah Washington's "Teach Me Tonight." She ended with
"The Nearness of You." I was deliciously refreshed. I suspected she'd be
in my bed soon and she didn't disappoint me. I didn't need to protect
myself with the gag. This time, her body felt more like home than
anything else had in this place. I was surprised, and I felt that she was
surprised too. When I woke she was still there and we stayed in bed for
hours, like new lovers.
That day I did little except sex and food. She shared my meal and my
shower, then we went to bed together again. I was completely silent - I
didn't want to spoil anything. After the second night together she was
gone. The clothes left for me were the most feminine ever, a flowing
cotton dress, a garter belt and stockings. I put the stockings on
carefully. The shoes were flats which was OK with me.
I was alone at the piano for many days. There were makeup lessons,
another manicure, and a haircut from Becky. I wore dresses and stockings.
The woman in my mirror was very pretty and very content.
After a very long time of this, I woke up in my own bed in my own home.
This was the greatest surprise of all. I walked around the house and
found all in order. Looking at a calendar I saw that I'd been gone two
years! In the mirror was a somewhat feminine looking boy with a beardless
face. I tied my hair back in a pony tail. I put on some casual boy
clothes. All the girl-clothes I'd worn for the past 2 years were there in
my drawers and closets, all my makeup was there, all the books I'd been
reading. But first I had to see if I had a life.
I soon found out that someone had been cleaning the house, someone had
kept the yard and garden tidy, someone had paid the utilities and taxes.
I was on unpaid leave from my job as a computer programmer. (I stayed on
leave from that.) My musician friends were glad to hear from me. I found
some local jam sessions, I found some blues. No one asked where I'd been
or commented negatively on my changed appearance.. A few people remarked
on the smoothness of my face and the femme haircut, but it was no big
deal. Musicians have an easier dress code than most people, and my
trannie leanings hadn't been as deep a secret from the other musicians as
I had thought.
I began to scour the city for a hairdresser named Becky. There were many
hairdressers named Becky, but none was the right one. It was months
later, and I really needed a haircut when I walked into a beauty parlor
and there she was. She gave me a big smile and came out and hugged me. I
made an appointment for her to cut my hair the next day and we had dinner
together.
Becky said they called the place The Chateau. I never asked where it was
or who set up my forced visit there - who cared? I hadn't been harmed or
even really inconvenienced, and I had learned all about my girl-self. I
just wanted to find the girl who sang with me. Becky promised to get her
the message that I was looking for her.
A week later my doorbell rang and there she was!
We made love twice before either of us said a word. Then her question:
Did I want to play keyboards in a blues band with her as one of the
singers?
Did I ever!
It would be arranged.
She'd also see that we had other nights together but I had nothing to say
about the schedule. I wasn't surprised that I had so few choices with her
- she'd already trained me well.
I shouldn't go back to my computer job - there was plenty of money.
I could dress as a girl whenever I wanted. If I wanted to live as a woman
for a while it could be arranged.
Somehow I had very little to say. She carefully painted my lips and we
went back to bed.
Anastasia
- 22.10.2020
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