Master of Desire

by Multiple

  His fist was in her hair. Her eyes flew open and she tried to pull back, but he held her firmly, continuing to pound into her mouth as his other hand brought the baton down firmly on her head.

  “Like-” thrust, “this,” thrust. He tapped the same spot, making it sore, while pushing further and further into her throat. Avery gagged, she felt saliva spilling out of her mouth and down her chin, and her eyes began to burn and water. She wanted to close them and flinch every time the baton came down, yet she forced them to remain open, focused on her teacher.

  He picked up the tempo, a fast clip. His eyes bore into hers, his sweat dripping down and splashing in small drops on her face and tits. Finally, when breathing was becoming difficult, she felt the twinge and twitch of his orgasm.

  David yanked his dick from her mouth and gripped it, his fist sending him hard into his climax. Avery started to move away but he dropped the baton and grabbed her hair, holding her there as the first spurts of come erupted from him. He held her in place as he sprayed her face, his heavy loads of thick semen coating her cheeks, her eyelashes, her tongue, as her mouth, open in surprise, hadn’t shut.

  No man had ever come on her before. Avery felt a swirl of emotions. She knew it was degrading. The fierce burn of her cheeks, the tears of shame that escaped her eyes showed her reaction. Yet her pussy was dripping, her arousal slicking her thighs, and her clit sang its song of yearning.

  She moved a hand up to wipe away his seed, but he stopped her. Stooping down so he could be face to face, David’s unapologetic eyes met hers. He shook his head and her hand dropped.

  No. You’ll leave it for the rest of this lesson. This way you’ll not forget to pay attention when I am showing you the proper beat. You play to please me, do you understand?

  Avery nodded and tried to still her trembling lip. No, she wouldn’t forget after this.

  It wasn’t enough for David. I want to hear you say that you understand.

  I understand. Her hands might be shaking, but she signed her commitment.

  I said I want to hear you, Avery.

  She hated using her voice and he knew it. It was one more thing she used to be familiar with, to control, that she couldn’t trust anymore.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  He, of course, had no problem signing to her. Yes, Maestro.

  “Yes, Maestro.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, the obvious pleasure relaxing the stark features on his face. Her blood heated at knowing that her submission made him so sublime. His seed on her face was growing cold, still sliding down in places, leaving a chilled trail. It made her feel dirty, but it also didn’t stop her nipples from tightening in arousal.

  Avery waited, knowing her lesson was still happening.

  He signed to her his next command, a surprisingly tender touch. Ok, let’s try it again from the top. Stop relying so much on your sight. Look at me, but feel your instrument.

  She moved back into place, cello nestled between her legs. Before she could begin he moved behind her. Instinct made her straighten her back. David’s hands on her shoulders, countering it. She tried to let herself relax a bit under his touch.

  He combed her hair, pulling it out of the sticky mess that was beginning to dry and itch on her face. Deftly he braided it, keeping it back. Avery hummed a little in pleasure at the intimate gesture. His fingers traced the sides of her neck, her shoulders, eliciting a shiver as she thrived under his touch.

  He was always so harsh with her. She craved the harshness, but now with this gentle side… her body ebbed and flowed below his touch, her skin becoming a map he was tracing. She yearned more for the protective feeling of his touch than she had for anything in that moment, more even than for hearing. Kindness she had overflowing from family, friends, strangers.

  Warmth and safety she realized were lacking.

  With the lightest touches, he began to manipulate her position. He squatted next to her and nudged her knees further apart, scooting her instrument closer. He raised it a little so that the back rested more comfortably on her bare chest. Standing again, he tipped her chin, bringing her cheek to rest close to the scroll, close as a lover to her instrument.

  It was awkward. She wasn’t used to being this close to the instrument. Her finger hand was now raised, the wrist bent at a new and uncomfortable angle. Still, he had chosen this for her. While her classical training revolted in her, a deep breath made her submission easier.

  Ok. On my count.

  He set a slower pace to begin. His hand, holding the baton again, swayed. One, two, one-two-three-four.

  The first few notes were off, a second delayed due to her new body positioning. Inside she cringed, afraid for another punishment. Instead he waited, his gaze locked onto her eyes. Her eyes, though, were locked onto the baton.

  After a quick dart to the paper, she decided to follow him entirely, her gaze consuming her. As her bow pulled across the strings and her fingers slowly became accustomed to the new angle, something began to happen.

  The rich hum of her instrument, that deep-rooted rumble of the cello, was being passed through her skin. Her cheek, her breasts, her inner thighs soaked up the vibrations. She felt the note as she followed his lead. And then, as her confidence grew, she was able to relax enough that her mind filled in the blanks.

  The music was there. With each tug and pull the notes she remembered came back, rumbling through her.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, washing his lesson away. It was the most beautiful feeling.

  * * * * *

  He was late. David was never late. A conductor’s life was timing, and his was impeccable.

  Where was her Maestro?

  Their lessons had become the highlight of her life. Two to three times a week her doorbell would buzz her and she would let him in, preparing to strip and ready to play.

  He hadn’t let her touch him since the day he forced his cock down her throat. At night, when she was alone, she’d replay that scene over and over while touching herself, always stroking her clit to the rhythm his baton had tapped onto her head. He would scold her, she imagined, until she broke down in tears and he ejaculated on her, spraying her down and then praising her for finally learning to follow his lead.

  Still, as much as she yearned for him, Avery tried not to forget his promise: to make her concert-ready. The sexual tension between them was natural, she supposed, given the extreme and intimate nature of the lessons. He had promised to give her music again. He had never promised her more than that.

  Therefore she knew it was not safe to feel such anxiety over his tardiness. She knew her fretful thoughts, Did I do something wrong? and Did he find a better soloist? were her personal insecurities, not valid worries. Yet they were there, looping in her mind.

  Popping her knuckle joints, Avery waited, trying not to stare at the clock. She was used to silence now, but silence pared with anxiety was maddening.

  An hour and a half later, he buzzed.

  Avery tried to look calm when opening the door, but she yanked a little too hard and her cheeks were flushed with the rush of knowing David was there.

  Where have you been? She wished she appeared nonchalant. She knew she didn’t.

  He didn’t look that way, either. Standing in her yellow porchlight, she realized she hadn’t really looked at him in quite some time. Her focus had been on his hands, on his hair, on her fantasies of him. In this moment, though, she saw. He was thinner, if that was even possible. The cast of the light made him look gaunt, haunted. Dark circles under eyes that were no longer wild with passion, but instead restless, manic. David did not look pleased to see her.

  Is something wrong? Are you ok? She reached out to pull him in, but he pulled back, barely, just enough for her to jerk her arm back.

  He brushed past her. Stormed, really. He walked like he was possessed by a hurricane.

  As soon as she shut the door, Avery began to remove her clothing, per his instructions in the past. However, when she stood aft
er pulling off her panties, David was sitting on her couch, stiff, his legs crossed.

  She went over and kneeled at his feet, waiting. He glowered.

  Do you want me to bring you my instrument for tuning?

  He didn’t answer. His eyes pierced her, searching her face, the lines around his eyelids and forehead deeper than she could remember, scrunched in thought.

  When he didn’t reply, Avery struggled to remain calm. Her skin itched and her heart fluttered. Something was wrong and his silence was somehow becoming more heavy and potent than the silence of her everyday life.

  Not knowing what to do, she tried to rise to begin fetching her instrument, but he stopped her.

  Wait.

  She did.

  Why weren’t you naked when I arrived? Haven’t we been doing this enough for you to know what is expected of you?

  Yes, she knew she should be naked, but she never had been before he came through the door before. His rage was palpable.

  I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time. Her blood was pulsing in her ears. Every second she spent with him she worried more about saying or doing the wrong thing. All she wanted was to please him.

  Get up.

  Scrambling to obey, she almost tripped as she stood. The look of disgust on David’s face was almost more than she could bear. What was happening?

  This is what I’m talking about. His elegant hands gestured wildly at her, losing their usual grace and precision. You don’t take this seriously.

  Avery wasn’t sure how her stomach could feel like it was both plummeting to the ground and yet simultaneously in danger of spilling from her mouth.

  How can you say that to me? I’ve done everything to please you.

  Well you failed.

  David chewed his lip. It was such a young, vulnerable move. It sliced through her, cutting her to the core. For a moment she had hope. I should leave.

  Her stomach plunged. What are you saying? Is my playing that bad? I thought things were going well with it. With us.

  As soon as she signed “with us” she regretted it. His whole demeanor changed at that, stiffening and straightening, becoming the conductor, the controller. The only thing still missing was the fiery passion that usually accompanied it.

  Your playing is fine. In fact, you play beautifully. Maybe better than ever.

  Then what is the problem?

  You aren’t committed enough. You’re treating this like a game. Do you think I’m coming here just for fun? That what we’re doing makes us an ‘us’? I need a soloist, Avery, in two weeks. You want to prance around naked for me.

  Blindsided. Hit by a train. Sucker punched. Avery felt all of those things and more. Suddenly her nudity and kneeling position felt like a farce. You… you told me to do this! I’ve been doing it for you! She was enraged that she couldn’t sign and cover her breasts at the same time. Why was he saying this? I’ve done all of this for you, David.

  That, Avery, is the fucking problem.

  He stood, towering over her. Unable to control it, she had begun to tremble.

  I’m leaving now. If I plead with the next state over, they should have a soloist who can fill in at the last minute. He moved toward the door.

  Her face was soaking with tears and they fell readily on her breasts and at her feet. As he reached the door she stopped trying to understand what was happening. She only wanted to keep it from continuing.

  Avery flew across the room, crashing into his back. She pressed herself into the fabric of his t-shirt, inhaling the clean linen scent. Her arms wrapped around his narrow, muscular waist, gripping her to him tightly.

  “Please, Maestro.” He cringed at her words, her touch. “Please. I’ll do anything. You know that.”

  His hands covered hers for just a moment, but god, what a sweet moment it was. As close to returning her feelings as he had ever shown. He peeled her off and turned to face her.

  “Say it again.”

  She didn’t have difficulty reading his lips that time. “Please, Maestro. Teach me.”

  His hand reached out and he brushed her hair from her eyes, sweeping his fingertips lightly down until he cupped her chin. “I need you to take this seriously. I need you to take me seriously.”

  “I always have. How can I prove that to you?”

  His eyes shut for the briefest of moments. She had seen him do this before practice, ages ago, when he was creating a clever way to challenge his musicians.

  When he opened his eyes again, though, she realized she should have been careful what she wished for. The way he was looking at her now was positively deviant.

  No more words from him. Just his hands, those hands she adored more than anything, guiding her. He pushed her gently into the center of her living room. She had been embarrassed by her lack of furniture when he first came. Now she was simply curious what he meant to do to her in this empty space.

  He signaled that she should wait. He went into her bedroom. Her breath hitched at the thought of him being in there, in the place she dreamt of him. Her body ached to join him, to show him all night how much she was devoted to him.

  He came back with her top sheet in his hand, it’s mediterranean blue a lovely contrast with his pale skin. Before her eyes, he began to rip the sheet into long, thick strips. Avery sucked her tongue, fighting the urge to protest. She had promised him anything, after all.

  After her sheet was totally destroyed, he took one of the long strips and ran it through his fingers, toying with it, as he walked behind her. She felt him grasp her wrists, pulling each hand toward its opposite elbow behind her back. It was tight, uncomfortable. Her shoulders were not limber enough to ease into the pose. The cool crispness of her sheets began to circle around and through her arms, creating an intricate knot that bound her forearms together. She couldn’t move them, not even a centimeter, when he finished. He helped ease her onto her knees but would not permit her to sink comfortably onto the floor.

  Avery’s chest flushed as she became aware of how her breasts were now thrust out, on display. David stooped in front of her, maneuvering her knees until they were spread wide. It made her feel more supported, but it also exposed her moist pussy to the cool air of the room. She couldn’t hide from him the effect he had on her body.

  He went to her case and opened it. Curious, she was surprised when he grabbed just her bow out of it. She could see it still needed to be tightened, the horsehairs loose and shining in the light.

  Setting the bow in front of her, David sat near her, his jeans brushing her bare thighs, which were already beginning to ache from the strain.

  He signed for her because he knew she loved watching him, his fluency and gracefulness breathtaking.

  I need proof you are committed. Not just to the music--you’ve always had that, you just lost your way a little. But to me. As your conductor. As… a man. I am a confident man when I conduct and good at what I do. If you prove to me you are serious, you’ll be soloist this time and have a decent shot at first chair for the rest of the season. He paused, his hands shaking. I am not confident when it comes to you. You disarm me. So many times I thought I would push you too far. That you would retreat or shut me out. I would have shut me out by now. My need for control is consuming. I came here tonight to try and save you by walking away. So foolish, to think that I would have the strength.

  His face was soft, and Avery realized as she blinked away tears it was because she was crying.

  Do this for me, and I will be your slave, your Maestro, for as long as you will have me.

  She nodded, not daring to speak, knowing her voice would fail her. He smiled.

  “Open your mouth.” She did without a thought. He placed the bow in, forcing her to clamp down on it to hold it in place. The long ends stuck far out from either side of her mouth, tugging at the skin. “I want you to stay here, just like this, until I get back. Do not move. Do not put down the bow. Wait for me.”

  He stood and walked out of her front door, leaving her alone.<
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  Breathing wasn’t difficult, but it was wet. The stem of the bow was pushed so far into her mouth that saliva was soon flowing out of the sides of her mouth, oozing down her chin and neck. Her teeth clenched harder as she resolved to not drop it, despite the weight it seemed to be gaining.

  She watched the sun move across the sky through her window. He was still gone.

  Her world had been silent for a long time. That part of his test barely registered with her. What did register, and constantly, was the pain. Her thighs shook, burning. They held, but she knew if she moved even a fraction of an inch she would never be able to find the strength to hoist back up. Avery’s jaw was on fire from holding the bow, the ache spreading through her temples and down the cords of her neck. Her shoulders were numb from her bindings, her fingers feeling swollen and listless behind her.

  Waiting was torture and she knew she could just drop the bow, or sink to her side, and there would be relief.

  She waited.

  Tears streaked her face, mixing with her drool. Her mind tried to think of a hundred thousand different distractions, anything to keep from focusing on the pain. She tried to picture David, to re-run the fantasies of him that had brought her such pleasure those past few weeks. Eventually though, hunger, pain, and fatigue made it impossible to play out entire fantasies.

  It had long since shifted to night outside of her tiny apartment.

  She was weak and she knew it. Despite feeling like her teeth were as tight as they could be, Avery felt the bow begin to dip and sway a little. Sweat was making her knees slide on the hardwood, centimeter by centimeter, forcing her to squeeze her already quaking thighs in to hold still. It was too much. If he didn’t come for her, she didn’t think she could make it.

  Her mind wandered, uninhibited.

  “Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light?”

  The last song she had ever heard. Of thousands of symphonies, concertos, adagios in her lifetime and the final tune was America’s national anthem. Her mother’s voice, clear as a bell if not slightly off-tune, had been singing it.