by Multiple
“What so proudly we hailed…”
Her father, laughing, encouraging her. They had made a huge stack of fireworks, hoping for an enormous display. Her father had always been a bit of a risk taker, a pyro, always upping the ante. He didn’t know there was a dud in the mix.
“...at the twilight’s last gleaming.”
Avery tended to remember that moment with bitterness. The subsequent explosion had ruined her. Yet as she struggled to stay as David had commanded, her mother’s voice pierced through the pain. The soprano, singing as she did every Independence Day, overcome by pride and the moments her father worked so hard to create.
It was a good last song, Avery realized. She bore the pain a little longer, her memory letting her listen to the song without rehashing the trauma of the night.
* * * * *
Her eyes could barely stay open any longer. Avery could feel the crusting bits of sleep accumulating in her lashes. Her shoulders and arms no longer ached; they had been numb for hours. The bow trembled ferociously back and forth, barely held in by her now slack jaw and determined teeth. Her thighs had locked into place, too exhausted to know they should have given up hours before.
Avery’s mind was almost blank. It was filled only with yearning now. Yearning for rest, yes, but mostly just to see her Maestro.
The knob on her door turned, and he was there. In one hand he held a tray with coffee and pastries. Draped across the other arm was a large plastic bag, its contents hidden. She didn’t care what was in the bag. She didn’t care about the food or caffeine, despite her stomach growling at her all night. All Avery cared about was him.
Her cry of relief at seeing him tore through her. She felt it in her throat, raw and potent. Her tears almost exploded out of her, rushing down weary cheeks. Yet she didn’t drop the bow or collapse onto the floor.
David sprung into action. He set down his items and rushed the her side. With the utmost care he removed the bow from her mouth. She could see the deep indents in the wood where her teeth had sunk in, grinding to hold it in place.
He went behind her and untied her arms, his touch feather-light but confident. Then those hands, those glorious hands, were on her hands, her forearms, and her shoulders, rubbing the life back into them. She gasped at the burning and electric tingles that accompanied the return of blood to her arms. It was as if he had poured life back into them.
David scooped her up, knowing her legs were too far gone to support her. She felt her body mold itself to his, her curves collapsing against his muscled chest and hips. Dimly, for she was so fatigued, she felt his erection pressing into her. It made her smile.
He carried her to her bed. He cleaned her face with a soft, wet cloth, wiping away the tears. Sitting beside her body which was now stretched out (an almost transcendent sensation) his eyes, no longer manic but instead filled with heat and concern, stared down at her.
Avery, I’m so sorry. I’ve asked too much of you.
No… I’m fine. You’re worth it. Her signs were sluggish, barely comprehensible as her fingers and arms were still regaining strength.
You did it for me, darling, and I will never doubt you again. I plan on showering you with anything and everything, if you’ll let me.
She closed her eyes for a moment, her head swimming with his proclamation. She hadn’t known how lonely she had been until he had tested her. Having passed that, she was just awakening to the desires she might have, the life she could live. The role her Maestro would play in it.
Spankings?
His laughter shook the bed. She loved how he opened his whole mouth to laugh, committing fully to the act the way he committed so intensely to everything he did.
Yes, we can still have spankings. Sleep, first.
And she did.
When she woke later that afternoon, she was elated to find he was waiting for her. He had been playing her cello. It made her smile to see her bow, marked by her devotion to him, in his hands.
He stopped when he saw her, and she felt the grin stretch on her face as he stood and came to her. He kissed her then, soft and sweet, but controlling none the less. She offered no resistance, letting him tuck her into the length of his body, his tongue moving past her lips to explore and dominate the kiss. Her body heated in response, her pussy growing wet and ready.
David fed her first. They ate the pastries and sipped coffee, giggling as they signed to each other, the powdered sugar flinging from their fingertips. After, he licked any remaining sweetness and crumbs from her hands, and then he licked her all over.
The cock that she had known so intimately with her mouth plundered her then, possessing her. She could feel his moans and cries through the rumbling in his chest, relishing it as he pressed, sweaty, into her skin. Her own orgasm was long and hard and completely his, coming only when he allowed it.
In the afterglow, he showed her the contents of the bag. It was a concert dress, elegant in its simplicity. Emerald green silk, it clung to her top half perfectly with a single shoulder strap. And while the bottom swirled with voluminous fabric, there was a high slit. She could easily seat her instrument between her legs as he had taught her, but exposed a lot of thigh in doing so. She didn’t care, the dress was perfection. The silk would allow her to feel her instrument. What’s more, her Maestro had picked it out for her.
For the first time in a long while, Avery felt her excitement to play onstage returning.
* * * * *
I’m so nervous, David. She didn’t need to tell him, but she did anyway. The way she was wringing her hands, pacing the floor, and checking her sheet music repeatedly had signaled her emotional state long before.
You’re going to be great. We’ve practiced this. You know the music and you’ll have me to keep you on point.
This was a foolish idea. A deaf girl playing a concert solo? My only absolution will be that I can’t hear the audience laughing at me!
David grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at his eyes.
“Hey, cut it out.”
“I can’t. I’m not sure I can do this. It was easy in my apartment. There are thousands of people out there.” Avery had stopped feeling insecure about using her voice with him, at least. He had heard her scream his name, over and over. That left little room for worry over how she might sound in conversation.
“I have a gift for you.”
“Gifts are usually for the end of the show.”
He smirked and she felt a corresponding jerk in her pussy, heat beginning to spread. “I think you will want it before.”
They were in his dressing room. It was tiny, conductors meriting a little privacy but most theaters not having money to provide ample space. David grabbed a small, black box off of a table and handed it to her.
Unsure, her hands shook a little as she opened the top. Inside was a small metal object and a strange jumble of straps. Cocking an eyebrow, she looked at him. “Thanks, I guess?”
His smirk became pure deviousness. “It is for you to wear tonight.”
“It doesn’t look like the kind of jewelry one wears at the symphony.”
“That is because no one will see it. Spread your legs and stand still.”
Her heart began pounding as she did as she was told. He slid her panties down, achingly slow, letting her step out.
Hold open the slit on your dress. She did, her hands pulling the slinky fabric back. The slit was so high that without her panties she felt exposed. Her body thrilled at the knowledge. David didn’t wait, undoing the jumble of straps and fitting them around her hips. They formed a sort of halter-like underwear… without any fabric. The straps crisscrossed around her clit, creating a delightful sensation as she moved.
He wasn’t done, though. The small metal piece fit snuggly into the harness, pressed directly onto her swelling bundle of nerves. The coolness of it made her gasp.
Then it buzzed to life.
The vibrator was held tight to her and Avery saw that David held the controller in his han
ds. As it hummed next to her clit, Avery almost swooned, rocked deep by its intensity. Just as she felt her knees weaken, it stopped.
Wear it for me? His face was alight not only with mischievousness, but a genuine and earnest smile-- he was afraid she would say no. Avery’s weak knees lost even more stability as she realized that she too held control in their relationship. Her heart was warm and her pussy aching and wet.
Yes. As if she even had a choice. His wish would always be hers to grant.
Good. Let’s play.
They walked through the halls together, hand in hand. Avery observed a variety of expressions on her fellow performers. Kindness, welcome; these came from those she knew from before, who were glad she was back. Of course there was also confusion, wariness, and even jealousy. It was obvious she was sleeping with the conductor, and there were those who assumed that was the only way a deaf girl could land a solo.
I’ll show them, she thought. Keeping up with David’s clipped pace meant she was forced to walk a little more erect, her chest thrown out. His confidence was rubbing off on her. His gift was rubbing her intimately, a constant reminder. Every step she took allowed her to shake off a little more of her anxiety.
In the wings, the hot lights were already making her sweat. David gave her a quick but heated kiss, yanking her hard against him. Her body smoldered next to his heat, her insides liquefying. His tongue swept across her lip and as she opened to give him greater access, the vibrator buzzed to life. Avery gave a startled moan.
David ended the kiss and the vibrations. Careful, darling, or you’ll give us away.
With that he waltzed onto the stage and to his podium. Avery shut her eyes tightly, just for a moment, and imagined the thunderous applause she knew he was receiving. Her deep breaths stretched her lungs and helped cool her off, but her heart refused to cease its deep, hard pounding.
A gentle nudge from a stagehand and she knew he had introduce her. The stagehand pressed her cello into her hand. Allowing herself one, quick lip bite, Avery walked out, trying her hardest to exude confidence.
The lights were blazing and almost blinding. Instead of looking at the audience, she kept her gaze firmly on the soloist’s chair, set out in front for her. The cool silk of her dress swished around her feet and she felt more powerful than she had in a long time.
Not hearing the audience made it easy to center herself. Once seated, she put her eyes on David. She wouldn’t drop her gaze until it was over. He was more than her metronome. He was her anchor, the person who made this surreal dream a reality.
However, she almost choked when she realized he held his baton in one hand and the other was fisted. She knew it contained the control to the vibrator. What in the hell was he thinking? This was the biggest night of her career! She had thought she was wearing it as a promise for what he’d do to her after the concert.
There was no more time for reaction, though. He tapped his baton on his music stand. Instinct grasped her as instantly as everyone else, who moved their instruments to the ready. He glanced at her and she quickly made a pull across each string; he nodded, letting her know her instrument was in tune.
Then he began. He was incredible to watch. She had almost forgotten how, when in control of an entire orchestra, he played them with a mastery a musician could only envy. Her foot tapped, counting with him the beats until she was to begin.
Avery knew her sweat was glistening in the auditorium lights, slick against her collarbones. Yet she never dropped her focus or lost her count. Her nostrils flared as she forced herself to breathe.
It was time. She prepped her bow. He gave her the quickest glance, his eyes filled with the dancing, manic passion leading filled him with.
She began. As she played, her eyes locked onto the baton, following his pace through the frantic Shostakovich solo. As her part slowed, she waited, counting. And then…
The vibrations on her clit made her squirm, pressing closer to the cello. Its hum and the hum between her legs built as she began again, the piece demanding a back and forth between her and the orchestra. A call and response. But instead of responding to the brass section, her bow and her body responded to him.
His pace increased, ever so slightly, and she immediately shifted with him. The low ache of pleasure that had started in her clit grew, her whole pussy clenching and burning with the insistent buzzing of the vibrator.
Her body was hot, her fingers flying as she played into the song, into him. She stopped tapping her feet because her toes were curling in her shoes, but she never stopped watching David.
Quicker and quicker, the piece reaching for its apex…
David turned his body to her, his knowing smirk reducing her to a bag of nerves, all stimulated, all desperate for release.
Please, Maestro, she thought, struggling to not close her eyes and ride the onslaught of pleasure. Please, please, please. Her begging mantra followed the swish of his baton.
This was it, the peak of the solo. Her bow was flying, her hand moving up and down the baseboard, her mouth open as she panted. She was so close.
That is when she learned he had a final trick up his sleeve: the vibrator had two speeds. As she hit the crescendo, David switched to the higher speed. Choking back her moan, her body exploded in time with the music. The muscles of her legs tightened and squeezed her cello to her, tight as a lover. Her climax crested, consuming her and she couldn’t help it--she closed her eyes on the final note.
Immediately she jerked them open, her orgasm ebbing. David looked deliciously malevolent, his posture relaxed but his face promising punishment for the infraction.
Avery shivered in anticipation and stood to make her curtsey.
About the Author
Penelope L’Amoreaux grew up in North Carolina but never fully mastered the accent. She skipped a lot of high school and went to more colleges than Sarah Palin. It took a long time to figure out something she loved doing enough to stick with it. A love of erotica combined with a love of story telling has given her focus and the desire to tell as many naughty stories as she can. When she isn’t writing, she helps build airplanes and rocket ships, attempts to do yoga, and drinks a lot of red wine.
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Also by Penelope
Libations
Hus: The Naughty Librarian
Breaking Me In: The Complete Series
Lost in His Woods: The Complete Works
Anything He Requires
Fifty Shades of Erotica
Michelle Fox
Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.
Blurb
Animal trainer, Jessica Kingston, is a pro at handling alpha males...of the four legged variety. When it comes to dealing with real men, however? She’s all thumbs.
She thinks it’s just another job when wealthy businessman Jacob Daniels hires her to train his willful puppy, but the way he crushes her lips when they kiss says otherwise. Daniels has set his sights on dominating her, undertaking an irresistible seduction that leaves Jessica willing to do anything he requires.
A short erotic romance of 13,000 words.
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction intended for adults age 18 and over. Minors should stop here and close the book.
All events depicted are fictional. Characters are over the age of 18. Any resemblance to places and persons, living or dead, is unintentional coincidence.
While the author has tried to accurately portray the BDSM lifestyle, please note this story is a fantastical imagining of BDSM. Reality may differ. Don’t try this at home unless you know what you are doing.
Every effort has been made to provide a quality reading experience, but editors and technology are fallible. Please report typos or formatting issues to [email protected].
Anything He Requires
Sticking out for all the wrong reasons was not h
ow I wanted to spend my day, but there I was in the lobby of LTD Enterprises, looking like security should escort me out. I fidgeted in my chair and tried to look like I belonged in the waiting room that was the epitome of understated elegance. My work dress code was definitely not business fancy or even business casual. No, I wore t-shirts and good walking shoes and called it good. I’d never worried about what prospective clients might think of my appearance... until I set foot inside LTD Enterprises.
From the dark wood paneled walls to the art nouveau details on the elevators and the marble floor in the lobby, everything gleamed with class and money. This was definitely a step up from my usual clientele.
The receptionist alone looked like a supermodel. She wore a beautifully tailored suit, her hair in an elegant French Twist and her manicure a perfect red. When I’d given her my name and told her I was there to see Jacob Daniels, she had looked me up and down with a tiny smirk and asked me to sit while she let him know I was there.
I’d slunk over to a chair and waited, second-guessing my wardrobe choices. Jeans and a button down blouse (wrinkle free because I do not iron, ever) were a step up from my normal yoga pants and t-shirt. I had attempted my version of ‘dress to impress’, but now felt maybe I had failed in that aspiration.
The door behind the receptionist’s desk opened and a man stepped into the room, dressed to the nines in a power suit. He came over to where I sat. “Miss Kingston?”
I looked up at the tall man towering over me and my mouth went dry. He was the definition of handsome. His chiseled face had a slightly hooked nose that made me think of a Greek God. His eyes were a piercing hazel with flecks of green and his lips were a sensuous line.
“Miss Kingston?” The man said again.
I snapped back to reality and managed a nod. Swallowing to wet my throat, I squeezed out a raspy, “Yes.”