Valiantly she swallowed his essence as it flowed, drinking his offering as it filled her mouth, and then slowly subsided.
Dr Tovey withdrew from Lucy’s mouth, his breathing returning to normal. ‘What an appreciative student you are,’ he said affectionately, doing up his trousers and straightening his clothing. ‘You have learnt so much so quickly. We’re all really rather fond of you, you know.’
‘Who is?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh, you must know. Dr Crawford, Mr McLellan, Mr Galsworthy. And there are others; likeminded people determined to keep alive the doctrine of discipline, achievement, and excellence. We are all very close.’
Lucy frowned. ‘You make it sound like some sort of conspiracy,’ she said.
‘Oh, it’s nothing that grand,’ he laughed. ‘But we do have to plan ahead, you know; keep things ticking over for the future. And I very much hope you will be a part of that future, my dear.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Lucy, beginning to feel the cold again.
Dr Tovey checked his watch. ‘Oh, I really must be going now,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure you’ll find out everything on Friday.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘I’ll see you then.’ And he was gone, the door closing behind him.
Suddenly remembering where she was Lucy hurriedly dressed, then sat back down at the piano and looked at her music. It was almost as if the last barrier had been crossed, and the notes no longer filled her with fear. If only she could work out what all the mysterious comments were about. The fact that she would find out on Friday hardly filled her with optimism.
But at least, she thought, she now knew how to get her playing sounding the way it should. There was no divide between the erotic and the musical - they were the same thing, and her love of discipline in both fields was what gave them their added piquancy.
She collected her music books together and rose to leave. There was no point doing any further practise that morning; she was as ready as she would ever be, so she left the music department and headed back to her flat.
The sun was warm and high, and she felt her spirits rise as the weight of worry dissipated from her mind. Once in her room she threw the music on the bed and lay on her back, thinking about what Dr Tovey had said.
The next couple of days passed very quickly indeed. Lucy went back to the practise rooms a couple of times to run over her material, but in truth there was little need to. Dr Tovey’s unorthodox help and advice had been perfect, and now she played the Mozart better than she had ever done. Between them, Miss Martin and Dr Tovey had instilled in her the proper respect for technique and discipline, while also giving her the key to understanding the expression of the music. For Lucy the very thought of her mistress was enough to release her most potent creative energies, turning the music from dots on a page into a paean to her beautiful, cruel, sensuous teacher.
She thought she understood a little of Miss Martin’s attraction to music teaching then: the power to set free dormant powers through the medium of erotic discipline. Certainly it had worked with her, Lucy mused. From being a frightened and confused neophyte in the bustling world of the university, she moved with a new confidence, assured of her place in the scheme of things.
And still, even as all this became clear to her, she knew somehow that things would not stay still for long. In the midst of resolution there would be change, and the cryptic comments of some of the circle of dominants she had been introduced to made her suspect that they had some plan for her. Not that such suspicions made her uncomfortable or afraid, for she had come to realise that under the veneer of cruelty and dominance each of the people who’d had reason to punish or humiliate her had done so not out of spite, but out of the desire to explore and celebrate her potential. No doubt Mr McLellan had derived a wicked pleasure from caning her bare bottom, just as Dr Crawford had surely taken great amusement from spanking her before receiving his reward.
But out of all this, Lucy knew she had grown. She had found herself, and that above all seemed to be the key to creating her music.
On the day of the recital Lucy barely looked at her piece, although a few minutes before leaving she did run over it just to reassure herself. It went extremely well, just as she had come to expect, and she left for Miss Martin’s with an air of excited confidence.
Her only thought was to make her mistress proud, to justify all the hard work that had been expended on her development. She knew that the performance would be a test of her abilities to learn from previous mistakes.
She dressed carefully for the recital, choosing a simple evening dress, her hair up. She wore a little make-up, a silver necklace and neat black court shoes, trying to create a classic, elegant look. In fact, she had begun to resemble Miss Martin in a number of ways, from her posture, which had become more graceful and assured, to her speech, which had developed from her erstwhile teenage timbre into a richer, more melodious contralto. She still retained, though, her fresh prettiness of face, with her appealing smile and soft features. Not yet had she matured into the cool crisp beauty that marked out her music mistress from other women. Nonetheless, as she walked towards her destination, Lucy fancied she spied heads turning as she passed, and felt a glow of satisfaction within. Oh, how she had developed.
As she approached the house the afternoon waxed into evening, the last flush of sun sinking away to be replaced by a warm dusk. The road was quiet, the sweet song of a few birds the only sound in the lengthening shadows, and Lucy felt the first knots of trepidation stir in her stomach, and briefly entertained the possibility of walking on by and forgetting about the whole thing. But her newfound resolve held, and soon she was standing in front of the familiar front door, her music clasped beneath one arm, her heart beating fast.
There was some noise coming from within, but too vague to make out. Thick curtains had been drawn across the great bay window of the drawing room, which was something of a relief. Lucy raised her hand to the buzzer, and noticed with some pride that it was not shaking too badly. She pressed, stood back, and in a few moments the door opened, and the poised figure of Miss Martin stood before her.
‘Good evening, Lucy,’ she said, and beckoned for her to enter.
The music mistress looked stunning. She wore black, her alabaster skin glowing healthily against the deep velvet of her dress. A line of pearls hung at her neck, her slender arms adorned with elbow length gloves. Her raven hair shone in the peaceful light of the hallway, a brooch pinned on her right breast sparkling like a star against the sable sky. Her face was cool and perfectly made-up, her posture commanding. Lucy could not reply for a moment, caught like a rabbit in the glare of her mistress’s perfection.
Miss Martin frowned. ‘Don’t stand there gawping, girl,’ she admonished lightly. ‘Come inside at once.’
Lucy recovered herself slightly, and stepped into the house. ‘Yes, miss,’ she mumbled, her self-assurance seeping away before the magnificence of her teacher. Her fragrance hung in the air, rich and heavy, and Lucy breathed it in, relishing the intoxication it brought. ‘Is Jenny not at the door tonight, miss?’ she inquired, trying to steady her increasing nerves.
Miss Martin smiled indulgently. ‘Come inside and you shall see,’ she said, and opened the door to the drawing room.
The room had been rearranged somewhat, the desk removed in order to make room for three rows of chairs. Several figures were seated, some of whom Lucy knew, others she did not. Mr McLellan was there, as were Dr Tovey and Dr Crawford, and there were a couple of other gentlemen standing at the rear talking to Mr Galsworthy.
There were also three young women sitting near the front whom Lucy had never seen before, but to her considerable surprise and consternation her three flatmates were lurking together in one corner, uncomfortably sipping glasses of white wine. She wondered who had invited them to the performance, and guessed it must have been Mr Galsworthy, presumably so he could indulge
himself afterwards and carry on from where he’d left off at the gym. Lucy hated the idea of them being allowed in to glimpse her secret world, to tarnish it with their presence, but there was nothing she could do about it.
And the reason for Jenny’s failure to open the front door was suddenly blatantly clear; she was over Dr Tovey’s lap, her knickers around her ankles, her bottom being spanked extremely vigorously. Her buttocks were a pretty shade of pink, her creamy thighs rubbing against each other as she kicked her feet in futile protest, and her discomfort seemed to be a source of much interest amongst the assembled onlookers, who clearly had little pity for her plight.
A disturbed vase of flowers near the window was the likely cause of Jenny’s public humiliation, and Lucy would have felt slightly sorry for the servant if she didn’t know quite how much she enjoyed having her knickers pulled down for a good spanking.
Dr Tovey looked up at Lucy, stopped the punishment and let the snivelling Jenny stand up. Shakily she pulled up her panties and straightened her lovely maid’s outfit with as much dignity as she could muster, and then Miss Martin closed the door behind her as she scurried out.
‘Guests,’ Miss Martin said authoritatively, ‘please take your seats.’
The suppressed hum of conversation abruptly stopped, and each member of the gathering made their way to an empty chair. Miss Martin picked her way gracefully to the front, leading Lucy by the hand. A stiffness induced by fear crept into Lucy’s limbs as she followed, and faced with three rows of expectant faces she didn’t know if she would be able to perform at all, and she felt the blood draining from her face when she caught sight of a malicious expression on Hayley’s face. The ringleader of her flatmates sat between Nicola and Emma with a surly look, as belligerent as Lucy had ever seen her, and she suddenly wondered if she had been too quick to write off the girl’s potential to cause her trouble. She looked away, trying to work out who the strangers were.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ began Miss Martin, ‘thank you for coming this evening. I do hope you will enjoy yourselves, and it gratifies me that so many of our select throng have made it, together with some newcomers.’ With that she inclined her head towards Lucy’s flatmates, and Emma and Nicola looked uncomfortable.
‘The reason we are here this evening,’ continued Miss Martin, ‘is to celebrate the achievements of Miss Lucy Cavendish. For the past few weeks she has been a pupil of mine, and it has been my distinct pleasure to be her teacher.’
A few knowing smiles flickered across the lips of the audience, especially Dr Tovey’s.
‘Lucy has been studying Mozart under my auspices, and I have decided that she is ready to perform for us this evening. This recital is dedicated to her, and I do hope you will enjoy the music. Thank you.’
At that the piano teacher made to sit down, but she was interrupted by an interjection from the small audience. Lucy looked around, only to feel her heart sink as Hayley stood up.
‘Miss Martin,’ she said haughtily, ‘or whatever you’re called. I have a point of order.’
Miss Martin paused slightly, regarding Hayley with a cold, disapproving stare. The girl visibly faltered as the glare of the music mistress challenged her, but somehow remained standing. ‘Yes, young lady?’ said Miss Martin.
Hayley hesitated, clearly doubting the wisdom of her action, but then took the plunge. ‘I was informed that this recital was due to start at seven-thirty this evening,’ she began. ‘I’ve been talking to some of you here tonight, and I’ve found out that lateness always gets punished by the rather bizarre rules you all live under.’ She smirked with little conviction and looked to her friends for support, but got none. ‘Um, so, by my watch Lucy arrived here at seven thirty-six exactly, and in the interests of fairness I think she should be punished, here, in front of all of us.’
Lucy groaned inwardly. Clearly Hayley had not forgotten her humiliation at the gym, and was determined to exact her revenge. She looked anxiously at Miss Martin. The piano teacher wore a calm expression, but her eyes glinted like steel.
‘Young lady,’ she said in her familiar clipped tones, ‘in my house it is I who decides who is, and who is not, punished. I suggest that you sit down and be quiet.’
Lucy knew from experience how hard it was to defy Miss Martin when she spoke like that, and she marvelled that Hayley, despite looking a little pale, stood her ground.
‘With the greatest respect,’ she said shakily, ‘that isn’t fair. Lucy should be punished. In fact, I insist that the rules of your little group be adhered to.’
Lucy looked back at Miss Martin, who bristled dangerously and looked capable of flooring Hayley with her eyes alone. ‘Insist?’ she hissed.
The evening was in danger of being ruined, all because of Hayley’s intransigence. Lucy thought quickly, trying to come up with a way of defusing the situation, and then she opened her mouth and the words poured out:
‘Please, miss, may I offer a solution...?’
Slowly, Miss Martin turned to her, her vicious stare only leaving Hayley at the last second. She raised and eyebrow. ‘Very well, Lucy,’ she said. ‘What is your suggestion?’
For a moment Lucy wished she’d said nothing, but her nerve held. ‘Hayley is right to insist upon the rules being adhered to,’ she said carefully, ‘but remiss to interrupt the recital. So, depending on which way one looks at it, we are both liable to be punished. I therefore suggest a compromise: I shall play my piece, and if there is any flaw in it, I shall submit to my punishment here in front of everyone. If, however, I play to the satisfaction of all present, Hayley must undergo the same punishment in my place. In this way, I suggest, both demands are satisfied.’
Miss Martin looked at Lucy with an expression of fond approval, and she felt herself melt under her mistress’s commendation, and looked down humbly. ‘But it’s only an idea,’ she mumbled in conclusion.
Miss Martin considered her words for a long tense minute, and then said, ‘I think it is an excellent idea. Does that satisfy you, Hayley?’
Hayley looked doubtful. ‘Has she ever played it perfectly before?’
Miss Martin smiled enigmatically. ‘I can assure you that Miss Cavendish has never given a perfect performance in front of me. I doubt whether she can play her piece without any mistakes - that would be a tall order indeed.’
Hayley thought for a while, clearly wondering if she was wise to accept the challenge. A murmur rose from those around her, showing that the audience was clearly impatient for the recital to get underway.
‘Very well, then,’ Hayley agreed snootily. ‘As long as there’s no cheating.’ Then she sat down heavily, her expression uncertain. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as her adversary took her seat, before remembering that she was now faced with a daunting task.
‘Now that we have settled that,’ said the piano teacher, ‘I think we may begin. Lucy, are you ready?’
‘Yes, miss,’ said Lucy, and took her place at the piano.
Miss Martin sat next to Dr Tovey on the front row, and a hush fell over the room. Only the distant ticking of the clock broke the still calm, and Lucy suddenly found herself with the strange feeling of isolation.
Her first thought was one of defiance: that she would jolly well play her music perfectly just to see Hayley punished in front of everyone. It would indeed be gratifying to witness a repeat performance of her thrashing at the gym, and Lucy found herself relishing the prospect of seeing those thighs once more stretched tight as Hayley was made to bend over. But, as the curious calm settled over the drawing room, Lucy knew that such an attitude would condemn her. Dr Tovey had shown her that the only way to bring the music fully to life was to think on how it expressed and defined her feelings for Miss Martin. She had come to realise that she should use her musical gifts to embody the many sexual feelings that she could articulate in no other way. As she raised her fingers to play, she
breathed in the faint aroma of her mistress’s perfume, and knew that she should concentrate on her, not on Hayley. She put thought of her flatmate out of her mind, and instead summoned the image of her piano teacher; tall, commanding, untouchable.
Without the slightest hint of fear she placed her fingertips lightly on the cool ivory before her. She gently stroked one, closing her eyes to focus on what she was about to do. Not a breath stirred in the room. Once calm and collected, Lucy opened her eyes again. She raised her hands above the keyboard in the way Miss Martin had taught her and then, with a lift of her shoulders, a straightening of her posture and a flick of her wrists, she began.
From the start Lucy played in a way that she had never done before. Her hands danced across the piano, skipping effortlessly over the ivory. Soon she began to conjure the most sublime sounds from the music. She soared along the passages of semi-quavers, pounded the heavy chords with vigour, rocked to the sound of the syncopated triplets, and teased the soft melodies out of the slow movement. It was as if she had been possessed by a different player; an old master suffused with the freshness of youth. Any lingering nervousness she might have had was banished with the sheer pleasure she found in her playing. Inwardly, she dedicated each pearl-like note, each glissando, each cadence, to her strict and loving mistress. She knew how much she had been altered by Miss Martin, from a meek petulant girl into a secure sensual young woman. She felt each fall of her fingers onto the keyboard as if it were a caress of the whip, summoning up from within her the most exquisite, painful pleasure. Had she not been so absorbed in the music she would have seen the smiles on the faces of the audience; Dr Tovey rapt with admiration, Dr Crawford lost in contemplation, Miss Martin calm, with a look of intense, almost maternal, pride. Only Hayley looked uncomfortable, straining her ears to hear evidence of the slightest error. But there was not one in the entire length of the performance.
The Piano Teacher Page 20