The violinist

I sit quivering in the chair staring at myself in the mirror watching my tears leaving trails of mascara down my face. My long ponytail over one shoulder the curled ends flirting with my ribs, I lean my chin against the rest on my violin. “Again, play it again, you’ve not been practicing.” He taps the top of my head sharply and sighs behind me. I don’t need the sheet music anymore, the notes dance in my head even when I’m not playing. My eyes close and I breathe deeply in through the nose out of my mouth. “Look at me, watch me.” I open my eyes and move them upward to find his reflection in the mirror, his unkempt hair, aquiline nose supporting half glasses and those eyes. Those blue green eyes that stop a sassy retort instantly.  He holds his bow arm out, loose mocking me, and shakes his head in disgust. Without saying a word he has reprimanded me. Snapping straight up like a board, his arm is rigid and steady, I follow suit and he accepts my imitation with a nod. The bow touches string and notes float around us, slipping into hidden places drawing out emotions. “That’s it, prove me wrong, and show me how to play this song.” He holds my gaze in the mirror, watching me, judging me. The tricky notes approach, I know he sees my anxiety sees my need to please him. His fingers dance along mine in our reflection, his reflection holding a note longer than I did. He shakes his head and massages his temple. “Enough, that’s enough go home now. I will see you tomorrow at seven a.m.” I nod “Yes, Maestro.” and slowly pack up my things, sliding my instrument and bow into its case.
On the way home I stop at a friends house to pick up a dress she’s letting me borrow for a party I’m planning on attending that evening. She had been joining me at the monthly munches I would go to, but then stopped when she met her very vanilla boyfriend.  I opened her front door with the key she’d given me for her house and find the dress on the kitchen counter. With a note saying she had to run to the store but would call me tomorrow to get the scoop on the party. I gingerly pick up the dress and walk out of the front door locking it behind me, debating seriously whether or not I’d attend the party after that hellacious practice with this new Maestro. He had been bordering abusive for the past month and it was driving me crazy. I knew he was intense, I’d heard rumors. But I had to have the best; shaking my head I climbed back into my car.   Turning up the radio as loud as I could stand it, my mind ventured to the preparations needed for the night. The party was at a new location, though where we had been having it was perfectly equipped for the group. Our newest “member” you could call him had just moved to town, no one knew very much about him. I was singing at the top of my lungs when I remembered what I read in the email about our host searching for a new submissive. Did I want to be owned again? Was I ready?
Pulling up to my house I sat in the car for a little while staring dubiously at my violin case. “Well, Maestro you can wait. Tonight is about me. No practice” I blow through the house leaving a wake of clothes and disorder behind me, grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass heading upstairs to the bathroom. While enjoying a leisurely bath I fall asleep for a few minutes and dream of a man in a black mask, standing behind me both of us facing a mirror. His hands following the curves of my body, my dress becoming lax and slipping off as his fingers unzip it from behind.  I’m watching the flush on my face, the rise and fall of my chest when I look up and am startled awake by the blue green gaze of my dream lover.  The alarm that I’d set on my cell phone bleeps at me to hurry it up, drinking too much will do that too you I guess. I dry off and slip into the borrowed dress, enjoying the fabric against my skin. My hair and make up gets freshened and I slip on my heels, ready to go and see where the night takes me. Rushing to my car I realize I’ve forgotten my jacket and shrug, I’ll just be running from the car to the house anyway. The nervous butterflies in my stomach I always get are fluttering around. Making me smile and tremble at the same time, why after all this time I still get nervous baffles me.
I drift off into a daydream and drive following my GPS like a robot. Thirty minutes later after endless turn lefts and rights. “You have arrived at your destination.” Straight ahead is a beautiful old house, a remodeled plantation home from the late 1800’s. Landscaping is minimal due to the season, which makes it oddly more striking. Stark and bare against the setting sun sky.  I pull up and scold myself a little for not getting my jacket; a man in a uniform and mask approaches the car. “Miss, I’ll pull your car around back with the others. Is there anything else you need from inside?” I look up and smile shaking my head no, he helps me out and I approach the front door of the house. Another butler in the same mask offers his elbow and guides me inside. Uneasiness settles over me, something feels so familiar about this. I’m brought to a table with a framed sign that informs me I am also required to wear a mask. I glance up into the mirror above the table and slip the black satin over my head and hair. My eyes appear huge and drastically outlined, I glance over at my guide and he smiles reassuringly. With a big overdramatic wink he eases my nerves a little and I start giggling. “There’s the smile you need miss.”  He pats my arm warmly and steers us down the hall to a back room, as we pass the library a large piano catches my eye.
Hmm a musician, I wonder, and slow for a closer look. Instruments decorate every available surface and my heart warms to our host as I see a violin on the mantle above the fireplace. “Here we are, enjoy your time with us.” The scene before me, everyone’s identity concealed, grabs my attention, it is welcoming and infinitely more nerve wracking at the same time. I know everyone here, but in that moment know no one. Locating the fireplace I move deeper into the room to possibly warm a little. The hem of the skirt tickles my thighs as I walk; my heels are silent on the carpet. Smiling to these friendly strangers I pass quickly to avoid small talk, I’m still chilled to the bone and a little woozy from my wine before. Approaching the corner nearest the fire I stand, alone and wait, surveying the room getting a feel for the mood of the party. Collars glisten in the low lights like ice, the atmosphere seemed a little muted. Music is playing very low I listen closely feeling like I should know what note comes next. In my distraction I didn’t notice that I seem to be standing very closely to a concealed figure folded in the darkness. With a jump, I start to move away and a thin hand closes around my arm over my elbow. “Be still no one else knows I’m here yet. You could actually be beneficial in buying me some time” His voice is low almost a whisper and I smile, this must be our elusive host. Hiding here in the corner, I take two steps back and feel the thin heel of my shoe fit between the toes of his. He sighs and I feel some sort of relief from him, “This may seem strange to you, but I really like to get a feel for things before I jump in.”
I smile deeply and tilt my head to the side to conceal moving lips, “I’m sort of the same way, so I understand. Your house is stunning, you’ve done a fantastic job restoring it.” He still hasn’t released my arm but his hand moves slowly to my wrist. Fingers slip into my bracelet, holding me but not restraining. “Thank you, it’s a work of life I assure you. Tell me about you little one. You move confidently but with tension. What kind of day did you have?” I laugh a little as he tugs gently for me to turn and survey the bookshelf on side of the fireplace. “I’m a violinist and have started working with a new instructor. He is a stickler for perfection. I’m not perfect.  But, I need him, he is the best and to be the best you have to work with the best.” I continue my story telling my shadowed friend about Maestro’s rules and regulations and how much he has me practicing. Even confessing that I’d skipped practicing tonight to linger in the bath. “You should always listen to your Maestro, little one. He will be very disappointed I’m sure to hear of you not practicing.”
Our conversation flows smoothly as we spoke of other things, when recognition of another partygoer strikes I tell him what I know. Funny stories or behaviors I’d noticed along the way. He chuckles when I point out a Dom I’d not had luck with but chides me for any negative thing I would say. “I guess it’s time to make my appearance. Would you accompany me?” I nod in breathless agreement as he moves from the shadows. He is taller than I had anticipated as I look up into his masked face; I am met with the most incredible blue green eyes. My heart starts racing as realization sinks in. He smiles and gives a quick nod, “We will deal with you not practicing later. Right now I need you for a demonstration.” He moves swiftly and gracefully to the center of the room, his presence demanding the attention of his guests. I stand next to him feeling a frightened and excited. My face is flushed and my chest rises and falls quickly with short breaths. “Welcome friends to our party tonight, feel free to indulge at the bar. Or in our playroom located just beyond these doors. Thank you for humoring me with the masks, it may or may not be the last time I will ask this favor of you. If you would like to follow my lovely assistant and I into the adjoining room I will be giving a rope and electro demonstration.” His hand moves to the small of my back and pushes gently in the direction he was ready to move in. “Have you ever played with electricity?” I shake my head no and turn my head to look at him, “Im sorry for not practicing Maestro. I … well I….” Firmly and with no humor he says, “You wanted a bath. That infraction will be dealt with little one. Now in the mean time you may remove your dress I don’t want to mar the fabric.”

His hand left my back for just a moment as he slid a pocket door open to enter the playroom. People ooh and aahed appropriately as he nodded thanks and calmly pointed out pieces bought overseas. Describing tables and canes he had fashioned himself, all the while unzipping and removing my dress. Directing me like a mindless toy onto the raised platform, moving my arms behind my back. The smooth fibers of the rope caressing my skin before I could even comprehend what is going on.  His charm exuded across the room, catching people and drawing them in.  My chest offered out for his caress as his lips skittered across my tense shoulders. “I will show you pet, how exactly an instrument is to be played.” He whispered so closely to my ear I could feel the warm heat from his breath on my neck. The flow of words stopped as he focused on the rope capturing my body. My memory brought me back to practice earlier that day, his intense gaze holding me captive in the mirror.  The reflection of fingers in the mirror, so close to touching but never quite there. His frustration and my anxiety echoed in the mirror and I felt a need to apologize right there. As low as I could possibly say “I am sorry Maestro for not practicing.” He glanced up at me, on his knees near my feet, rigging them up for suspension. “Not nearly as sorry as you will be my little violinist.”
My heart skipped a few beats and endorphins took over when he stepped away and began lifting me from my feet. I was floating in ecstasy there in his house, in front of my friends. Sighing and moaning at the pinch and pull against my tender areas.  He backed further away, eyes never leaving my face as he offered me up for inspection, different people approached and changed my position bending and pulling. As scenes across the room became more intense so too did the hands on my body. The atmosphere was changing and my focus was only on him. He walked out of view for just a minute and then reappeared with the Dom I had mentioned earlier that evening.  Offering him any choice of cane or whip on the wall near us. My eyes were near slits of anger as Maestro smiled charmingly at me, “Your punishment begins now.” The skimpy material of my panties offered no protection from the first blow of the rattan cane.  A satisfied grunt emitted from the mouth of Dom Once Upon a Time, I flashed my eyes at Maestro wishing to scorch him with my frustration. The isolation and pain built in my chest steadily as the caning continued, why wasn’t he doing this himself?  Why had he allowed this man I didn’t care for to punish me?  Half an hour later my ass burned significantly as slow fat tear drops pattered against the hard wood floor. Maestro walked over and extended his hand for the cane, thanking the man for his excellent tutelage.
He brought me down slowly and gingerly unbinding my legs while supporting my wobbly frame as I leaned against him. My immediate plan was to retrieve the borrowed dress and head straight to my car. As soon as the rope lay coiled on the floor I began to walk away, head held high as my back, thighs and ass glowed red in the dim light. With shaky hands I slid the dress over my head and fit my arms through the arms, as I reached for the zipper cool thin hands found mine. “Please allow me the pleasure.” I spun away angry and indignant ready for this argument, only to find my rage cooling in the serene calm on his face. He had slid his mask up high on his forehead, “Please don’t leave yet music maker. We have many things to discuss.” He pulled me close to him, firm lips pressed against mine. “I’ve needed to posses you since the moment I saw you, don’t leave here angry tonight. Please.”

The violinist