The Piano Teacher

by Sophie Elliot

  Nor was Lucy’s excellence confined to her technical expertise, for her realisation that the musical and the erotic were one enabled her to make the piano beneath her sing. Nothing was hurried or slovenly, raucous or washed-out, clumsy or flashy - every note played its part in the dazzling display in equal measure. Lucy felt the harmonies well within her, bursting out into the atmosphere of the room like clear water poured from a jar. She let the piano do the work for her, merely guiding it with her expert hands, coaxing it along as Miss Martin had done with her over the recent weeks.

  Time rushed on, devouring the short span of pleasure. After what seemed like both an eternity and the merest moment, the music drew to a close, and Lucy reserved her most luminous playing until then, running through the delicate presto passages with an almost contemptuous ease. To even think that at one time she would have struggled merely to survive such passages seemed suddenly absurd. She devoured the notes eagerly, turning the black lines of semi-quavers into a filigree of sparkling harmony and balance.

  Soon she neared the closing passages, and felt her fingers free themselves for the final flourish. With an artful gesture of exuberance she arrived at the last line of music, and let herself go. Her mind was filled with the image of her mistress; yet, as she neared the end, she felt the mental picture begin to dissolve. As she worked her way up to the final triumphant F-major chords, she suddenly lost the ability to concentrate on her teacher. Instead, as she finished the music, a strange thing happened. As her fingers landed majestically on the last cadence, another face appeared in her mind; as she depressed the keys for the last cathartic time, she looked inside herself, only to find her own face staring back at her. But then all was lost as the music resonated into silence, her eyes closed, and a warm, velvety darkness enveloped her...

  For a few moments it was as though she was in another world. And then, as if surfacing from the depths of a deep dark pool, Lucy heard the enthusiastic clapping.

  She opened her eyes and turned her head. The dozen or so people in the audience were applauding vigorously, their appreciation evident. Lucy stole a nervous look at Miss Martin. The piano teacher had a look of vindication about her, and wore an expression of great pride. Lucy blushed with pleasure and stood up to take her bow, and as she did she heard Dr Tovey call out ‘Bravo!’, and fully realised that her performance had been a success. A tide of emotion swamped her, and she had to take her seat back on the piano stool. She smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the kindness and enthusiasm of the audience before her. It was quite a while before the clapping stopped, and the elegant figure of Miss Martin rose to speak once more.

  ‘Well,’ she began, ‘I think we should all agree that that was an absolutely wonderful performance.’

  There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the small audience. Miss Martin smiled at Lucy. ‘I don’t think I have ever heard you play like that before, Lucy,’ she said. ‘You really have improved tremendously, and I am very proud of you.’

  Lucy blushed again, and lowered her eyes. ‘Thank you, miss,’ she said, embarrassed.

  Miss Martin turned back to the room. ‘Once again we have proof that the best methods of tuition are the traditional ones, the ones that we guard and preserve in our private society. We all, as you will know, have a profound duty to guide the young ladies of today, to teach them through the tried and tested methods of discipline towards their ultimate fulfilment. As we have seen, Miss Cavendish is a shining example of one who has responded to the correct methods of music teaching, and she has become the most superb player as a result.’

  There were more nods of assent, especially from the male members of the audience, but the girls that Lucy did not know looked a little nervous at that point, as did her flatmates. Lucy wondered if the unfamiliar faces were other pupils of Miss Martin’s, but thought it wise not to speculate too much.

  Miss Martin then clasped her hands together decisively, and her tone changed somewhat. ‘That topic, chastisement,’ she said, in a much more severe voice, ‘brings us on to the rather less edifying spectacle provided by one of the other girls present this evening.’

  Miss Martin had lost her warm demeanour, and her voice now took on its familiar cool, superior manner. ‘I recall that, before Lucy entertained us so admirably on the piano, a wager was announced to settle a dispute arising over purported lateness. Now that the performance is over, we must settle the matter. If anyone here present finds fault with Lucy’s performance, please say “aye”.’

  There was a conspicuous silence, broken only by Hayley’s somewhat desperate interjection. ‘It’s not fair!’ she cried, leaping to her feet. ‘You’re all in this together. You knew Lucy would play well. I refuse to go along with this farce any more.’

  Miss Martin gave her a stern glance. ‘You, my girl, have no choice,’ she said coldly. ‘Mr Galsworthy, please secure the door. Dr Tovey and Dr Crawford, would you please assist this recalcitrant young madam to the front of the room?’

  Hayley looked about her wildly, realising she was trapped, and the two doctors soon had her held by the arms, and escorted her firmly to the piano.

  ‘Stop this!’ Hayley protested, but it was no good and she was quickly dragged in front of Miss Martin, her hands held tightly behind her back. The girl had a frightened expression on her face, all her bravado evaporated.

  Miss Martin stroked her cheek. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘You really should have thought before making such a fuss, shouldn’t you? I don’t tolerate rude girls in my house, and the penalty for bad behaviour is always the same: a sound thrashing.’

  Hayley struggled feebly against her captors, but to no avail. ‘You can’t!’ she cried, her voice giving away the fact that she knew Miss Martin was in total control.

  Miss Martin regarded her with not a little distaste, and turned away. ‘Your clothes are a disaster, young lady,’ she said imperiously. ‘I don’t think you need them, do you? Please do the honours, gentlemen.’

  At that, Dr Tovey took Hayley’s arms and held them firmly while Dr Crawford set about stripping her. Soon her dress lay on the floor, followed by her shoes, socks and knickers. Dr Crawford then removed her bra and, flushed and panting from the struggle, she was completely naked.

  Miss Martin coolly fetched her crop from a drawer and walked over to the stripped girl. ‘Very pretty,’ she said, sliding the tip of the crop down Hayley’s thigh.

  ‘You can’t get away with this,’ Hayley protested, looking near to tears, her humiliation complete.

  ‘Oh, but I can, young lady,’ Miss Martin countered, sounding slightly amused. ‘You accepted an invitation to come here knowing full well the rules of our society, and you have tried to implicate one of our members in a misdemeanour when it was not warranted. In short, you have forfeited your rights and are liable for a public whipping.’

  There were more murmurs of agreement from the audience. Clearly they wanted to see Hayley punished, and Lucy had to admit that the prospect was not unappealing. She expected Miss Martin to take the crop to her there and then, but instead the mistress lowered her hands.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ she said, addressing the two lecturers, ‘please would you position this naughty young lady over the piano. It is time for her chastisement.’

  Hayley struggled and whimpered pathetically, but she was no match for Dr Tovey and Dr Crawford. Soon she was pinioned across the polished instrument, her arms held tightly across the top, her breasts pressed firmly against the cool surface, her limp attempts to break free quite in vain, and Lucy couldn’t help admiring the smooth sheen of her thighs as she lay there, her golden skin fresh and delicate, primed for a thrashing.

  But then Miss Martin did a strange thing. She turned to Lucy, presented her with the crop, and smiled warmly. ‘To the victor, the spoils,’ she said. ‘You may commence when ready.’

  ‘I - I’m sorry, miss?’ she said.

  Miss
Martin shook her head slightly. ‘No more “miss”, please, Lucy,’ she said. ‘You have earned a release from your servitude through the splendour of your playing. I have heard that you are not averse to the correction of the fair sex yourself, and even seen as much. This, therefore, shall be your chance to show off your skills.’

  Lucy nibbled her lip uncertainly; surely she could not be serious? She felt ridiculous enough as it was beside her sultry teacher, let alone having to emulate her in front of onlookers. She looked at the crop being offered in Miss Martin’s gloved hand. Only a couple of weeks before she had felt the sting of it against her own flesh, but the invitation was certainly inviting. She cast her eyes over the thin black length latent cruelty. Lucy looked back at Hayley, her naked form trembling under the scrutiny of those gathered, and remembered how good it had been to thrash her over the horse under the instruction of Mr Galsworthy. It was as if she were being trained to master the art of administering corporal punishment. Her eyes followed the inviting curve of Hayley’s buttocks, but it was too much to ask and she felt her resolve waver.

  ‘No,’ Hayley wailed, ‘you can’t let her do it. I won’t have it...’

  Once again Hayley’s injudicious mouth had landed her in trouble. Lucy smiled sweetly, accepting the challenge with good grace.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to her mistress. ‘I would enjoy the opportunity to teach this rude young lady a lesson.’

  Miss Martin handed her the crop, squeezed her hand affectionately, and stood back as Lucy took a deep breath and moved closer to her adversary.

  ‘Now,’ she said crisply, ‘I’ve had just about enough of your constant rudeness and boorishness. I am going to whip you now, right here in front of everyone. Perhaps a good spell with the crop will teach you to mind your manners rather better in future.’

  And then, without waiting for any response, she drew the crop back and swatted the unfortunate Hayley tightly across her buttocks.

  ‘Ow!’ she squealed, and furiously wriggled against the unyielding clutches of her captors.

  ‘That’s just the start,’ Lucy warned, getting into her stride. ‘Now try and be a brave girl for everyone here and not make too much of a fuss.’

  Another swipe and Hayley bucked under the pain, crying out loudly. A red stripe appeared across her buttocks, which were already turning an attractive shade of pink. Before the student could react Lucy let fly with a cruel backhand that landed across her previous stroke.

  Lucy paused then, letting the heat from the crop sink in. Hayley’s thighs were trembling, and she was having trouble sniffing back tears. A deep sense of well-being began to flow through Lucy’s body, and she found herself thoroughly absorbed in the spectacle before her. She whipped Hayley again, almost out of sheer curiosity, and watched her reaction dispassionately. The girl was now thoroughly defeated, whimpering and shivering under the bite of the crop.

  Lucy paused. Her instincts were to thrash Hayley thoroughly into submission, to whip her until she sobbed for mercy, but then she reconsidered. She had begun to realise that this chastisement, just as much as her recital, was part of a wider test. How often had Miss Martin had cause to punish her most severely, but had held back? How many times had her punishment been sensual and intelligent instead of coarse and brutal? Lucy began to understand that submission was a gift, part of an exchange of power that had to be earned by the dominant. She ran the tip of the crop around Hayley’s buttocks, teasing her with a soft touch.

  ‘Hayley,’ she said, almost kindly, ‘it’s not right that you should be restrained. If Dr Tovey and Dr Crawford release you, will you promise to stay in position for me? Your ordeal will be over all the more quickly if you do.’

  Hayley nodded weakly without hesitation, her spirit broken. ‘Yes, Lucy,’ she mumbled into the piano, her panted breath clouding the polished surface.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Lucy, ‘would you please release this young lady. I am sure she will obey her instructions from now on.’

  The two lecturers stepped away, and Hayley did indeed stay bent over the piano as Lucy tapped the crop against her thigh.

  ‘You are a good girl, Hayley,’ she said, moving closer and stroking her damp fringe back from her forehead. ‘Now, I’m going to whip you just six more times for your impolite outburst earlier. I want you to call out each stroke as it comes. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, Lucy,’ said Hayley, trembling slightly as Lucy stroked her.

  ‘Good... then prepare yourself.’

  Pulling her arm up and back, Lucy whipped Hayley again.

  ‘Ow!’ cried the girl, her legs nearly buckling. ‘One...’

  Lucy tutted. ‘Do speak up, girl,’ she said. ‘It will be worse for you otherwise.’

  She whipped her again, the vicious crop bouncing off Hayley’s firm flesh. Hayley squealed loudly as she was struck, arching her back to try and evade the heat, but staying in the punishment position as she had been told to. ‘Two...’ she groaned, tears running down her face.

  Lucy then cropped her three more times, each stroke bringing another line of scarlet to Hayley’s burning bottom. And then with the final stroke imminent Lucy paused and ran a soothing fingertip across Hayley’s buttocks.

  ‘Very good,’ she said gently. ‘You’ve taken your punishment very well. One more to go, and then you can put your clothes on again.’

  Hayley nodded shakily, sniffing back the tears. ‘Yes, Lucy,’ she sobbed forlornly.

  Lucy then took a little step back, raised her arm, and swatted her buttocks with the crop a final time. Hayley bucked under the stroke, her knees jerking as she cried out from the force of it, but dutifully stayed in position over the piano. Then tears poured forth as the release took her. ‘S-six,’ she stammered, slumping limply and falling to her knees.

  ‘There, there,’ Lucy cooed, putting the crop down and taking Hayley in her arms, cradling her and pulling her gently onto the piano stool. ‘It’s finished now,’ she said, once more stroking her hair.

  Hayley, her anger and belligerence all gone, her control destroyed, sobbed into Lucy’s bosom, her naked breasts heaving as she did. Lucy kissed her on the forehead, whispering soothingly into her ear, and gradually Hayley calmed down.

  ‘Now,’ Lucy said brightly, ‘why don’t you get dressed and go and sit back down.’

  Wiping her face, Hayley stood up. ‘Yes, Lucy,’ she said again, and began to put her clothes on.

  ‘No, I don’t think that will do,’ Lucy frowned, remembering the way Miss Martin dealt with her. ‘From now on you will call me mistress, is that clear?’

  Hayley baulked, a little of her rebelliousness stirring in her eyes again. Lucy, however, merely flicked a glance towards the crop lying on the floor, and Hayley acquiesced. ‘Yes, mistress,’ she said meekly, and slipped into her underwear.

  It was only then that Lucy noticed Miss Martin seemed a little distracted.

  ‘Well,’ the lady said, turning to the audience, ‘we have indeed been privileged this evening: first, a beautiful performance of piano music, and then a fine example of the art of punishing the young female. Another show of your appreciation is warranted, I believe.’

  There was a polite and reserved ripple of applause, and Hayley, red-faced and mollified, carefully took her seat again, wincing as her bottom settled on the chair. Miss Martin clasped her hands together again, and the clapping stopped.

  ‘Now, as is the custom in our society,’ she said, a smile creeping to her lips, ‘we must review the performance of the various other young ladies involved in our educational program. It would not surprise me at all if Olivia had given much cause for concern, and I doubt that Emily or Stephanie have fared any better. I shall therefore leave it to Dr Tovey to announce their results, and to arrange any necessary punishment. Now, please excuse me.’ Miss Martin then left the room, elegantly indicating that Lu
cy should follow just as Dr Tovey stood up and started speaking. The door closed behind them, and Lucy was alone with her mistress in the hall.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘The gentlemen are about to have their fun for the evening, and I would hate to disturb their sport. Follow me.’

  Miss Martin then began to ascend the stairs, and Lucy obediently followed in her wake until they reached the door of the main bedroom.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Lucy. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Come inside,’ said Miss Martin, ‘and all will be revealed.’

  Finale

  The door swung wide, revealing the bedchamber swathed in shadows. Noises from downstairs were muffled, and when Miss Martin closed the door they disappeared completely. The music mistress went over to a drawer of her dresser and produced some candles. These were soon lit, and she walked about the room placing them strategically.

  ‘Do sit on the bed, Lucy dear,’ she said.

  Although her voice was as rich and precise as always, there was just the tiniest hint of something unfamiliar in it. Distaste? No, that wasn’t it. Fear? Possibly, although Lucy couldn’t imagine Miss Martin being afraid of anything.

  Gradually she created an ambience of warm, shifting light with her individual candles, and went over to the great window and drew the curtains. The depth of the shadows intensified, the rest of the room bathed in a flickering glow. The air seemed warm and lazy, the coverlet on the bed soft and infinitely inviting. Miss Martin herself moved like a shadow, her elegant gown trailing behind her as she progressed about the chamber, checking everything was to her satisfaction.