The Protégé

by Brianna Hale

  I go back to my room and change into a t-shirt and jeans, and then pace up and down, thumbnail between my teeth. Twenty minutes until half past twelve. Ten minutes. Five. I remember what Hayley said, about me not really knowing what Laszlo’s like, as a man.

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  I close my door behind me and walk quickly down the hallway. Despite my nerves, I want to laugh. Hayley knew exactly where Laszlo and I would end up.

  Laszlo’s in his shirtsleeves when he opens the door and he stands there for a moment, just taking me in. Like I’m something he’s waited a long, long time for. His face is unguarded for a change and I see his desire for me. All of it, and it takes my breath away.

  He takes my hand and pulls me into the room, and then his mouth descends on mine. It’s a fierce, hungry kiss and he presses me up against the closed door, desperate for the taste of me. My hands rove over his back as I open my mouth to invite him in, my body knowing what to do even though a man has never kissed me like this. More. Take me over. Overrun my senses until there’s nothing but you.

  Laszlo breaks the kiss, still holding me close, his hot breath against my mouth. “I want you over my lap.”

  I whimper in his arms. “Are you going to spank me like before?”

  He smooths his hands up beneath my t-shirt, large and warm and caressing, and squeezes my nipple through the lace of my bra. His soft touch belies the darkness in his eyes. “Better than before.”

  I’ll let you do whatever you want, daddy. Desire and trepidation flicker through me. But I don’t need to be afraid. This is Laszlo. He pulls my t-shirt up and over my head and for a moment he just looks at me, drinking in the sight of what he’s never allowed himself. With a forefinger he traces my collarbone, my throat, and then down to the cleft between my breasts.

  “Beautiful.”

  For a moment the darkness flickers and he just looks as if he can’t believe this is real. I don’t think I believe it either. I wait, breath held, for the moment to break like a bubble. But he goes on touching me with his large, warm hands, fingers tracing over the lace cup of my bra and circling my nipple. My flesh puckers under his touch and my breath comes back in a gasping rush. It’s real. This is my Laszlo, touching me, at last.

  I watch him unbutton my jeans and he slips a hand down to cup my sex with his fingers. A victorious smile curves his mouth as he feels my underwear. I’m soaking wet. I’ve been wet all night, since I got his email, my pulse pounding hard between my legs. I gripped my cello like a lover all through that performance, imagining it was him.

  “Do you know how much daddy loves your little cotton briefs?” He rubs his fingers back and forth, stroking my clit through the slick fabric. “Such a sweet little girl, aren’t you?”

  I bite my lip and nod, knowing my sweetness is coating his fingers, knowing how much he loves it, reveling in how good this feels. He’s standing so close that I can feel his thickening cock pressing against my thigh.

  He goes on, his voice rich and indulgent. “A good, obedient girl who would never disobey daddy.”

  Daddy. There’s something so arousing about hearing him call himself that. Oh, yes, I’m a good girl for him. I’ll do anything for him as long as he goes on touching me like that. I need the release of him so badly. His strokes become firmer, right where it feels best, but I need more. I need him to pull my underwear aside and touch my bare pussy. I whimper and nod. “I’ll always be good for you, daddy. Always.”

  Please, please let me come and show you how good I can be for you.

  “Always good for me. Like when you tell jokes in the street like an unprofessional, bratty little protégé?”

  My breath catches and I open my eyes. There’s a hard, unforgiving expression on his face and he pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger, not enough to hurt but just enough to make a very clear point. You’ve been a bad girl.

  I squirm in his embrace but he’s got me pinned against the door.

  When he speaks his voice is as cold as flint, and ice water floods my veins. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that, little girl. Don’t imagine that you can twist me round your finger with a few kisses and I’ll let you get away with behavior like that. Have you forgotten who I am?”

  In the excitement of having him at my mercy in the street I did forget. That he’s Laszlo Valmary, a man no one dares to disobey. “I’m sorry, daddy,” I manage in a whisper.

  Laszlo pulls his hand from my underwear and lets go of me. The shock leaves me cold and trembling. Is this how he will punish me, by bringing me here and then turning me away?

  “Please,” I whisper brokenly.

  “Please, what?” He folds his arms and his expression is black with reproach.

  I take a shuddering breath. “Please let me make it up to you, daddy. I want to show you how sorry I am. I’m sorry, daddy.” I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry, daddy. The words are a shattered mantra in my head. I want so badly to show him how sorry I am that it’s an ache worse than the one between my legs. “Make me sorry, please. Just don’t turn me away.”

  Laszlo traces the path of a tear that’s slipped down my cheek, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Don’t cry, baby.” But he’s smiling, a victorious curve to his lips. He goes to sit down on the sofa and gazes up at me with hard, implacable eyes. “Take your clothes off and get over my knee.”

  It’s not going to be like before, a spanking to relieve my stress. This is going to be a punishment. This is going to hurt.

  He watches me wiggle out of my jeans. I hesitate a moment, and then slip off my bra as well, wondering what he sees when he looks at me. Does he like my breasts? Does it turn him on seeing me like this? I feel my cheeks burn as I reach for my underwear because even though I’m not a virgin I’ve never really been properly naked and scrutinized by a man before.

  Laszlo stops me. “Leave those on and come here.”

  His voice and expression are still hard and menacing. I get over his knees wearing only my briefs and his large hands settle me down where he wants me, my stomach pressed against his thighs, my ass up in the air. All the other times he’s spanked me he’s been so careful about where he touches me, but now his fingers go straight to the slick, damp patch of underwear between my legs. He slips his fingers inside the fabric and rubs my pussy in circles with his fingers. His touch is confident, practiced, homing in right where it feels good, leaving me no opportunity to feel embarrassed because the blood is heating my skin for other reasons. I press my face into the sofa and moan as he rubs my clit in tight circles.

  “There,” he breathes. “Aren’t you being such a good girl for daddy already?”

  I moan into the cushion. I think I could come just from the caress of his voice. With his other hand he cups my breasts, squeezing and then gently twisting my nipples. A moment later his hands draw away and he fits the handkerchief between my teeth and ties it behind my head, and then reaches for a tie and binds my wrists together behind me. I feel that sensation I felt so powerfully in the street, that floaty headspace, steal over me again: of being at Laszlo’s tender mercy. Make me sorry, daddy. I deserve it.

  In one movement like the sweep of his arm as he conducts, Laszlo strips my underwear down to my knees and leaves them there. He spreads me open with his fingers and I feel him looking at my most intimate parts, his chest rising and falling against my hip. He leans forward and spits on me, and the warm liquid runs down between my ass cheeks and over my sensitized pussy. I groan against the gag. That’s such a weird thing to do. His fingers slide through my slick folds and I wriggle in his lap, desperate for him to touch my clit again. He raises his hand and spanks me hard, a warning to keep still and I half-moan some muffled words. I don’t even know what they are. Yes, daddy or please more or touch me I’m dying. But I hold still, trying my best to be patient. He circles closer to my clit, and I jump in his lap when he finally reaches it, rubbing the hard little nub with not quite enough pressure. With his other hand he slips a finger into
my pussy, but not deep enough to bring me satisfaction. He teases me slowly, the movements of his hands increasing in intensity and then easing off again. He plays me like a musical instrument, perfectly in control.

  One of his slick fingers traces higher, to the tight pucker of my ass and I feel my eyes go wide because no one’s ever touched me there.

  “Sweetheart. Daddy wants to put a finger in your ass.”

  I don’t know what it feels like to have anything in your ass but it’s supposed to feel good, doesn’t it? It feels good to be stroked there. Good but strange. I nod, my face sweaty against the sofa cushion, wondering what sort of punishment he has in mind. He presses firmly with his wet finger and I feel my flesh give against his, and he slides in just a little bit and I stretch around him. Oh, god that’s weird.

  He hooks a finger into my gag and pulls it down. “Tell me how that feels.”

  I pant for a moment, thinking. Bizarrely good. I don’t know if I want more or less. He presses deeper and I groan. More. Definitely more. “Strange, daddy.”

  “Strange how?”

  His voice is hard and demanding but I still feel too shy to speak how I feel out loud. “Good strange.”

  He spreads me open and pushes his finger deeper, spitting again to ease the way. Then he slides a second finger into my ass, the one slick from my pussy, and my head rears up with a gasp. He fucks me with his fingers, working them deeper by slow increments, his other hand rubbing my clit, more intense now, no longer teasing. “How about that?”

  I’m beyond words but manage something like oh, god yes, into the sofa cushion as I moan low and loud.

  “Does it feel like you couldn’t move if you tried, and you really don’t want to? Like the only thing that exists for you in this moment is my two fingers deep inside you and the sound of my voice? That you’re more vulnerable than you’ve ever been in your life?”

  How does he know so perfectly how I’m feeling? I swallow and manage to pant, “Yes. Yes, all that.”

  “Good. Because I fucking crave that feeling from you like air.” He take his hand from my clit and strokes my hair back from my face. “Just look at you. Stretched so tight around my fingers and unable to move. Say, thank you, daddy.”

  “Thank you, daddy.”

  “You’re welcome, you little slut.”

  My mouth drops open in surprise and I look round at him.

  He gazes back, unapologetic, rubbing firm and fast on my clit in a way I know is going to make me come if he keeps it up. “What? You are my little slut, aren’t you? Asking me to fuck you on stage in front of thousands of people. Some of them saw you, you know, asking for this. I wish they could see you now, ass up with your underwear around your knees while I finger-fuck you right in the ass.”

  I’ve never heard him talk like this before. I didn’t know he could talk like this, my kind, sweet, patient guardian.

  “Beg me not to stop.” When I take longer than a second to answer his hand comes down hard on my ass and pain explodes across my flesh. “Do it.”

  I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Please, please don’t stop. I’m so close, I’m so close.” I’m going to come any moment, hot and strong and tight around his fingers and I don’t even understand how.

  “You don’t deserve to come, do you?”

  “Please,” I half-whimper, half-sob.

  “But you still hope I’ll be merciful. You want me to give into my panting, slutty girl who’s barely even able to think right now. But listen to this. Really fucking listen.” As his words get harder his touch on my clit grows more luxurious, drawing out and heightening the sensation. “My benevolence is given when I choose. I control when you get to come and when you don’t. Even if I give you that satisfaction, this is never over. My control. My praise. My punishment. My comfort. I bestow them, and always on my terms, little girl.” He drives his fingers deeper into my ass to illustrate his point.

  This is how he wants me to feel. Completely vulnerable to him. At his mercy and on the precipice of something he can so easily withdraw.

  “Do you understand now?” he growls.

  I thought he was going to hurt me to show me he was in charge, but he doesn’t need to do anything so crude. I’ll be good for Laszlo out of fear, but I will walk to the ends of the earth over red hot coals and broken glass for his generosity.

  I understand everything now. “Yes, daddy.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes what?”

  But what else is there? Then I remember. “Yes, maestro.”

  “There,” he says with a purr. “Good girl, Isabeau. All three. Daddy. Sir. Maestro. I rule you in all three parts of your life and don’t you fucking forget it.”

  He turns his attention to his fingers and the sensation he’s rubbing into my clit turns golden. Each circle of his fingers is accompanied by another thrust into my ass and he works me closer to the brink with slow deliberation.

  “Your pussy is dripping for me you love this so much.” His voice has that melted chocolate quality again, as if he’s savoring every second of this.

  I’m high on sensation and gratitude and I come like a wave crashing into shore, feeling myself clench rhythmically round his fingers as he thrusts short and fast into my ass, firm and unrelenting. I didn’t even know I could clench there. He makes a sound deep in his chest as he feels it, a hard groan of satisfaction, as if he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

  I lay gasping like a fish in the aftermath, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, and I know that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

  “Well, aren’t you just fucking perfect? But I always knew you were, babygirl.” Laszlo withdraws his fingers and wipes them clean on a t-shirt, and then pulls me up so I’m sitting astride his lap. His eyes run over my flushed face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Did you like that, sweet girl?”

  But I can’t say anything. I can only stare at him and feel the after-effects of the things he’s said to me churning through my body. He unties me and I press my hands against his chest. Like it? I feel like he burned right through my soul and woke up parts of me that I never knew were slumbering.

  I swallow and manage in a whisper, “I understand now.” He’s everywhere, thrumming through my consciousness, but he doesn’t make me feel imprisoned or afraid. I feel alive and hopeful. Strong.

  Laszlo’s eyes run over my face. “I know you do, babygirl. Something in me matches something in you. When I hold you in my arms I feel everything that you are, and this is how I cherish you. You make me feel free.”

  “Free?”

  “Yes. Free.” He’s still clothed and I explore his body with my fingers, rubbing my hands up his chest, his strong shoulders. It’s heady, being allowed to touch Laszlo, and I want my fill of him.

  He looks at me with his clear hazel eyes. “Being a conductor is all about power and command and I have to rein myself in all the time from going on a massive power trip. I don’t like to rein myself in with you. I want to push you down onto your knees before me. I want to say the filthiest things to you. Tell you that you’re my little slut. Make you be my little slut. Make you feel more vulnerable than you’ve ever been in your life. Strip you bare until there’s nothing left for you but me and the power I have over you. But all that can be very overwhelming and you may not like it. I wanted to give you a taste so you know how it feels. I will rein myself in as much as you need me to because as much as I like this, I like you much, much more.”

  I squeeze my knees around him even tighter, rocking against him and clasping my arms around his neck. I’ve seen what Laszlo’s capable of when he’s working. He can make a hundred people produce the exact sound that he’s looking for and they enjoy doing it for him. He exerts total control but in such a way that makes people thankful.

  I want to be pushed down by him. Be overwhelmed by him. And I will say thank you every time. “Please don’t rein yourself in, daddy. I want you like this. I want all of you
.”

  But he shakes his head. “Don’t answer now. Later, when you’re not so defenseless. Just listen to me and remember what I’m saying. The way I want to talk to you is crass and unpleasant. My sweet fucking Isabeau. Daddy’s little slut.” He takes hold of both my nipples and begins to twist them, firmly but slowly, his voice a low, harsh growl. I whimper, my gaze locked on his. “I want to drive you deep into subspace and keep you there while I fuck you, hurt you, choke you, make you come again and again and then bring you back out again and see you smiling and happy, holding onto me so tightly like you can’t ever let go. It’s a difficult and challenging thing for me to do to you but that’s why I like it. I like difficult. I want that if you want it, too. If you trust me to do that to you, over and over, and keep you safe. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think I could keep you one hundred per cent safe because it can go very, very wrong. I didn’t mean to put you into that space in the street and I will be much more careful now that I know I can. I don’t want to make you feel vulnerable where you don’t feel safe. It’s something just for us, baby. Just you and me.”

  I might be defenseless right now, but even through my orgasm haze I know one thing for certain. “I want that, too, daddy. I’ve only ever wanted you and me.”

  Laszlo looks even more vulnerable than I feel all of a sudden. As if everything he’s ever tried to hide from me has been stripped away. “It’s always been you and me, babygirl, one way or another. Even when we were apart my heart has always been with you.”

  I close my eyes and press my forehead against his, tears shimmering in my eyes. I feel like my heart will burst from all this happiness. I want to go back in time to the girl crying her heart out in Hayley’s flat and tell her it will be all right in the end. That though the pain is terrible it will be worth it.