The Maestro

by Leo Barton

  For some reason, though, Delgado was not satisfied. He muttered some imprecation in Spanish that Linda didn't quite understand and she heard the cane topple to the floor. She turned her head around and watched Delgado retrieve a short riding crop from a space where an oil painting lay propped on a wall.

  She watched as he reared the whip above him and lashed her with it, the sting much more intense than the cane, it seared through her body, making the raw ends of her nerves tingle in her delicious pained delight.

  And again the lash came. The pain was intense on her flesh. The pain and the sound and Rebecca's nails all seemed to belong to the same sensation, each component of the experience merging into one feeling, the throbbing of her heart, the sweep of adrenaline through her body, the thud of pressure between her legs.

  Another lash, then another, her legs wilting under each blow, her eyes were closing. Delgado was winning. He must not win! She wanted more and more to go as close to the edge of her pain barrier. Harder, she wanted him to lash her harder. Delgado was conquering her. He must not! All she wanted to do now was to submit to him. It was a delicious temptation.

  He seemed to be able to control the exact level of pain; each lash was applied with a little more ferocity, pushing her closer to the edge. Delgado knew what he was doing, what the real battle between them was about. He was winning her over with each lash. She couldn't let him destroy her.

  The last three lashes were much heavier. It was almost reaching that ambivalent stage that she seemed to instinctively know, that she seemed to have known all her life. She wanted him to stop but she wanted him to go on. Another excruciating lash and she knew it was over. She could hear Delgado's heavy breath, and when she turned to look at him she could see his face covered in a sheen of perspiration after his hefty exertions.

  He hadn't won; she hadn't won. Both of them knew that. Linda had found a strength of will that she did not know she possessed; and she knew that with this will she could be anything. She was, and she thought that Delgado recognised it too, capable of being precisely what she wanted to be. She had the skill, but what was more, the strength and the determination. And this she had learnt under Delgado's lash. No, that was no longer a will to dominate, she saw in Delgado's eyes, that was mutual respect; he had met his match and he realised it.

  'Beat her with her cane,' he instructed Rebecca, his voice calmer now. He had re-established that majestic control. Linda realised that Delgado was indeed a maestro.

  He stood beside her and removed his mighty cock from his trousers. It was thick and already erect. Without being asked, and knowing now that Delgado could dominate Rebecca, but he could no longer dominate her, she removed the slicked purple dome from the loose flaccid sheath of his foreskin and pumped her mouth on him.

  Rebecca hit her firmly on the swollen cheeks of her bottom, but not as hard as Delgado had, but the pain was still exquisite. She felt the hard meat of his cock and the beating were both emanating from his power, the power that she now accepted as a gift.

  She held Delgado by his heavy balls and slid her mouth over his tool, down to the base until the top of his massive helmet pressed against the back of her throat.

  For all that Rebecca was still beating her, she knew now that it was she who was in control, she who was manipulating the maestro. Their eyes gazed at each other intently, even as she sucked on him; their eyes met and he knew what she wanted. He pulled out of her, and pulled the chair that she had been leaning against, next to hers, and with some gesture that Linda didn't see instructed Rebecca to desist from the caning.

  She knelt on the dirty wooden floor now, removed his trousers from him, but with a tenderness that he had not shown to her when he had torn her clothes from her back, and licked the coarse skin of his scrotum. He pulled her up with his strong hands and sat her on his lap, and finding the opening of her sex easily, he slid her onto him.

  Rebecca looked on bemused, aware that something had happened in the room, but unable to understand exactly what it was. Delgado rocked Linda's beautiful body onto his rock hard tool. They both knew that this was not what he had wanted, that through her strength she had thwarted his plans. He grasped her hard by the hips as if she was a doll, hard and fast. Her tender buttocks slapped against the top of his thighs, increasing her pleasure.

  He was so big inside her. He seemed to bury himself deeper inside than any other man had ever done. He was coming now; she was coming as she thudded down onto him. She felt his thighs lock tightly, a prelude to the gushing of his hot jism shooting up into the depth of her, the trigger for her own scintillating climax. He still pushed her hard onto him prolonging her orgasm beyond its natural course. She spasmed in the immensity of her pleasure, an ocean of magnificent delight, before her body sagged on him in its orgasmic release.

  And then he did the strangest thing. Gently, tenderly, he held her by the neck and levered her head up to his and kissed her passionately on the lips.

  All the time Rebecca looked on bewildered, understanding only that something dark and exciting had been unleashed in Linda's soul; she knew instinctively that it was Linda and not her who had both the passion and the will to be an artist.

  Chapter 7

  'What on earth happened to you?' Alfonso asked. They were sitting in the dusk light of Plaza Real. Linda had always loved the square, even though it had a bad reputation for thieves and muggers. She loved the French neo-classical style, and Gaudi's iron lamps in the centre, the beautiful stone work softening in the early evening light.

  She hadn't seen Alfonso since being ordered up to Delgado's room, and now it was Sunday.

  Delgado had sent her back to her hotel, suggesting that she gather a few things and stay for the rest of the week in his Sitges apartment. She needed time to think, to contemplate her work, and what she really hoped to achieve by staying in Barcelona.

  She had felt flattered and honoured and saw it as some sort of recognition that Delgado was prepared to take her work so seriously.

  'You do have promise. I have been hard on you and I will continue to be hard, but I saw from the moment I saw your work that you had more potential than anyone I have seen for a long time.'

  'Well, why were you so awful to me about my work?' Linda had asked.

  'I needed to learn about your will.'

  Linda had recalled the words repeatedly as she walked along the beachfront of Sitges, or later lying in the white room, under the bright moonlight; she knew that Delgado would not lie about art, others might, but Delgado wouldn't. He would probably lie about everything else but not art. It elated her, although she knew that this was only the start, that Delgado was right: she needed to think, she needed direction.

  She realised of course, as Delgado had told her, that the way to think was through the mediation of practice. She would work in the morning from dawn until midday, then take a stroll along the beach, then from around three until the light faded she would continue.

  She was not always happy with what she produced, but by the end of the week and her return to Barcelona she realised that she had the outline of a project: a series of non-figurative paintings that relied purely on shape and colour. What would fuel her inspiration were her sexual experiences, especially the experiences she had already had in her short week in Barcelona and the further experiences she wished to have. Her art would be, in short, an exploration of her own sexuality.

  She also knew that it would be at least a month before she had produced anything substantial, even one painting that she could confidently take to show a gallery.

  She had virtually forgotten about Alfonso, and Sebastian for that matter, her mind swept away by her artistic plans. But seeing him now something of her old attraction for him resurfaced. As if the Maestro had read her thoughts, his last piece of parting advice had been to refrain from self-arousal, and as Alfonso sat before her, she knew that before the night was out she was going to bed him.

  'Oh I was told to go away for a few days,' she said, answering his
question.

  'All Delgado said was that you were going to start the course properly next week, and that you needed some time to think before you began.'

  'Well that's true I suppose.'

  'Linda I was very worried. I mean, I felt a little responsible. After all, it was my suggestion that you come here.'

  'There is no need to feel responsible for me in any way. You're right, Delgado is a great teacher. He's given me a very interesting direction.'

  'What's that?'

  She didn't want to say anything at the moment. The only person that she wanted to discuss her ideas with was Delgado. She was confident but she was not certain. 'You'll see,' she said, breaking out into laughter.

  'I thought that was my line,' Alfonso said smiling, lifting a glass of ruby red wine to his lips.

  'How are the others?'

  'Well Damian has left. He stormed out last week in tears, saying what a horrible fraud Delgado was.'

  'I thought that would happen.'

  'But Rebecca. I don't know what happened to that girl, but she has completely changed.'

  'In what way?'

  'She's become a nymphomaniac. A different man every night. She tells us all about it. She's talking about separating from her boyfriend. I know she comforted Damian. I saw him the day after he left. He didn't look unhappy at all. I think he is going to join his father's business selling life insurance.'

  'And what night were you?'

  'Linda, I was last night.'

  Linda laughed.

  'What happened in there?'

  'It's confidential. I can't tell you.'

  'Oh please.'

  'The only thing that happened is that I sorted out some differences with Delgado and came to some kind of arrangement with him.' She didn't want to tell Alfonso more than he needed to know.

  'There is something I know I have to tell you about.'

  'What's that?'

  'Maria told me she said something to you about it. She said you were upset. I thought that might have been why you disappeared.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'Sebastian and me and what happened when you thought Sebastian was filming.'

  'Oh that!' She had more or less forgotten about it, having put Sebastian and all of his deceptions to the back of her mind. She knew she was going to have to deal with it at some stage but she was too occupied to concern herself with them now.

  'I want to take you somewhere.'

  'Oh good.'

  They finished their wine and Sebastian led her around the Barrio China. She thought he might be taking her to some seedy sex club. It was a prospect she found quite enticing.

  Instead, they entered a cheap looking, fairly desolate bar in a narrow side street. It was typical of the town, a long narrow room dominated by the bar, a fruit machine in the corner, a few tables to the back with gingham table clothes; nothing unusual, it was like a thousand bars she had been into before.

  There were a couple of workmen at one end of the bar staring at the football on the television set, and there was a tall thick-built waiter cleaning glasses behind the bar.

  'Why on earth have you brought me here?'

  'It's part of the story. I want to explain to you something about what happened with Sebastian and myself.'

  'Isn't it a little late for that? I'm not so sure that I'm so fascinated with my husband's infidelities.' In truth, Linda was much more interested in the possibility of sleeping with Alfonso.

  'It probably is too late,' Alfonso glanced around him sheepishly, but I wanted to explain that it wasn't really all Sebastian's fault.'

  'I suppose he would say it never is.'

  Alfonso ignored her comment. 'You know that I have always admired Sebastian, looked up to him. Perhaps it's a weakness, but I do find him rather glamorous.'

  'What are you trying to tell me, Alfonso?'

  'No, nothing like that, nothing sexual. I'm deviant but I'm not gay.'

  'Well, what then?' She thought she had made it clear enough that she wasn't interested. She didn't really understand why Alfonso was insisting on telling the story.

  'I suppose I was trying to impress him. He kept on saying that he should get back to you in the hotel. He knew what time you would be there. He thought it would be a nice surprise for you. But I kept on pestering him to have another drink and that was when I saw Suzanne.'

  'Who is Suzanne?'

  'Let me explain. I come here often, but not when he's here,' Alfonso said pointing at the paunched waiter still cleaning glasses.

  'Who, the barman?'

  'Yes, Paco,' Alfonso said in a whisper even though Paco was well out of earshot.

  'So what happened?'

  'We decided to come here for a last drink. It's not so far from where your hotel is...'

  A beautiful woman no more than Linda's age walked past the table. She stopped momentarily as she recognised Alfonso and then proceeded to ignore him.

  'That's Suzanne?'

  'Yes.'

  'She's beautiful.' She was beautiful, carrying a haughty proud disdain with graceful ease. She had large plump breasts and long slender legs, and a tiny narrow waist. However, it was her magnificent oval-shaped, green eyes that immediately claimed Linda's attention, the unnatural density of the colour seemed to exaggerate a certain coldness about her; although after first glance she could also appreciate her thick, shoulder-length, jet-black hair and the gorgeous mouth, the full scarlet lips. She reminded Linda of some of those Andalucian beauties she had seen in Sevilla decked out in their brightly coloured flamenco dresses.

  'She's beautiful but she lives with a boring pig. She told me.'

  'This story is getting a little more interesting. You'd better tell me all the gory details!' Linda said jokingly, but in earnest; Alfonso thought she was teasing him.

  'Well, that day Paco wasn't here. He was at the funeral of his uncle. They are both originally from some village just outside Granada and Paco had had to travel down the night before. She knew that Paco wouldn't be back until late on Sunday, and as you know it was Saturday afternoon. She was dressed more or less as she is dressed now, the white blouse, the black skirt.'

  'Mmm,' Linda said approvingly, as she watched Suzanne disappear back to the far end of the bar.

  'As we were both sitting at the bar we started talking to her. She doesn't speak English of course, but you know that Sebastian's Spanish is excellent. Anyway, we were laughing and joking and buying her drinks, and she told us all about her horrible husband and how she would have liked to have closed the bar, but Paco had insisted that it stay open. And she had only had two customers since one o'clock and that had been me and Sebastian.

  'Sebastian suggested jokingly that she close the bar down and go out for the day, as the weather was so pleasant. She had said that she would have loved to, but her husband would kill her if he found out. He was such a miser.

  'That was when I started to show off. I took a wad of notes out of my pocket and asked her how much they usually made on a Saturday afternoon. She said that it varied but she quoted me an average figure. I said that I would give her five times that amount if she closed up. My intention was plain.

  'Sebastian looked at me as if I was crazy, but I had noticed that he was very attracted to Suzanne. He had been flirting with her ever since we had arrived. You know how Sebastian flirts all the time.'

  'Only too well.'

  'Suzanne hesitated a moment over my offer. She knew what I had meant. She knew what we intended doing. Finally she agreed. She put the closed sign up, took a bottle of good Rioja and told us to follow her up to her apartment.

  'Her place wasn't so special, a living room crammed with sofas and ornaments, a glass fronted coffee table, a huge picture of El Papa placed above the television set. We all sat down and she placed the bottle on this enormous coffee table in front of her and poured out three glasses of wine and passed them over to us. "Well, you've paid for me, what do you want to do with me?" "Everything," Sebastian answe
red her jokingly.

  'You know my tastes, or at least I think you have suspected them, Linda.'

  'I saw that rather artless drawing you did of me last week.'

  'Mmm, just a joke really.'

  'You looked serious about it to me.'

  'Well you really do turn me on, Linda. I've told you often enough.' He reached his hand over to her, squeezed her palm in his own.'

  'Back to the story,' Linda said smiling.

  'Well, anyway, the atmosphere was quite tense and I was wondering if she would let me do to her what I wanted. I said in this strong, brutal voice, "We have paid for you so we are going to do anything we want to you."

  'I knew now that the afternoon could go two ways. She could either kick us out and tell us to never go back to the bar, or, and this is what I hoped, she would submit completely to our wills, to my will.

  '"You know I have only been with one man and I am not very experienced. My husband fucks me in two seconds and then he rolls off me. He thinks the clitoris is a country in Eastern Europe," she laughed jokingly.

  'It excited me to think of her as being so inexperienced. Sebastian too. We both went to sit next to her on the sofa. I could tell that she was excited, the way her chest heaved, and the slight gulp she took as we sat beside her.

  'I placed my hand inside her white blouse and felt her white cotton bra and squeezed her nipple through the fabric. She looked up at me but she didn't seem anxious. I did it again. Her dark skin flushed a little. The sharp nip had surprised her, but I got the impression that she had enjoyed the acute sensation of pain very much.

  'I could not wait to see her breasts. I undid each button of her blouse, until I could see the full swell of her beautiful mounds of satiny flesh. As I lifted one bra cup down, Sebastian lifted the other. She had big, rubbery nipples. I tweaked on them hard. Sebastian, following my lead, did the same with her other teat.