The Maestro Ch. 04

"I have told you not to use my name."

"If you are not my Master, I can call you anything I like," she snipped.

"I have asked everyone in the orchestra to do the same, not just you, and if I am not your Master, why are you here, accosting me in my elevator?" he asked, irritated.

"Because I miss you, damn it, and I shouldn't, because you're such a... such an asshole!" she said furiously. Sebastien blinked. He looked puzzled, and said nothing. His silence stung, but Claire went on. "Honestly, I don't see any reason for you to be angry with me, because you had no right to tell me to break up with my boyfriend. I should be the one who's angry with you!"

"Seems very much like you are the one who's angry," he said mildly.

She opened her mouth to retort, and then closed it again. If he wasn't angry, then all this show of disinterest... was it not a show after all?

"I'm angry because you take it for granted that I will obey you in all things. That was part of our agreement, I know, but I should never have agreed to it. I needed you to see that I'm perfectly capable of disobeying and still making beautiful music," she said, with considerably less passion.

"You don't think I already knew that?" She shrugged, looked down at her feet. Sebastien threw his hands up in frustration. "Come, what is bothering you now?"

"It's just that, I'd almost rather you were angry than think you didn't care. I...I..." I love you, she thought. But she didn't, couldn't. She wasn't sure what she felt for him, didn't know what to say anymore. She hated the way her lips trembled.

A touch on her shoulder had her looking up, and then Sebastien's lips met hers, fiercely, his hands gripping her shoulders and bringing her close to him. He broke the kiss, but held her tightly to him, and he was murmuring in her ear. "Mon abeille, mon abeille... je t'adore."

-----

It was a long moment, during which Claire could neither move, nor really even think. She was pinned against Sebastien's slim frame, his heart beating strongly just near her temple. She breathed in his scent, and she felt some of the tension leaving her body in a rush. Was it really her Maestro, holding her close? It felt like an impossible dream, but when he pulled back, he was there, studying her face with implacable seriousness.

"Mon abeille, come, it is getting very late. The elevator door will not stand open forever." She followed Sebastien down the hall, and couldn't help wondering what would happen once they were beyond the privacy of his door. Every other time she had been here, kinky sex had been in the offing, and truthfully she was getting somewhat aroused just thinking about it. But she had not been invited this time.

He unlocked the door, ushering her into his living room. She assumed that he would set her up in the bedroom they'd been in previously, and was therefore very surprised when he tossed his overcoat onto the back of a sofa and headed up the spiral staircase in the far end of the room. She followed upstairs, to a hallway with several doors. The first door on the left was wide open, and was obviously his study. The quick glimpse she got showed her a fireplace, an ornately carved desk scattered with papers and a stack of books, two enormous bookcases stuffed nearly full, and a leather armchair.

At the end of the hall, a door was cracked; weak, warm light spilled into the hallway. Sebastien entered, but Claire paused, hesitating on the threshold. He turned, giving her a questioning look.

"Is this, um, your bedroom?" she asked in a low voice.

The corners of his lips curled in a little smile. He held his hand out to her. "Come, mon abeille, it is too late to be shy now."

It was strange. After all they had done together, there was really no reason to feel uncomfortable going into his bedroom. Wasn't that where normal people had sex, and slept, and did normal-people stuff together? Still, their relationship up to this point had been almost oddly impersonal. A person's bedroom, on the other hand, was completely personal. She had the distinct impression that not many people had seen Sebastien's inner sanctum. What was so special about her?

She put her hand in his, allowed him to draw her gently inside. The room wasn't very large, and most of its floor space was dominated by the bed, which was high and covered in soft-looking charcoal grey linens. On either side of the bed were small square tables in a dark wood to match. The antique lamp on one of them was on, casting its golden glow over the room. To the right was an overstuffed armchair and ottoman, with more bookshelves and a lamp, and farther along the wall, a doorway. To the left was a rather conspicuously open space, with a doorway on the same wall as the door to the hallway. She guessed one of the doors led to a closet, and the other to a bathroom.

Sebastien shut the door behind her, and the look he gave her made her shiver down to her toes.

"Mon abeille, I believe we do have one or two little matters to discuss before turning in, do we not?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said.

"Tell me how you got here."

"Um, well, in a cab," she said in a small voice.

His eyes narrowed. "You know that is not what I mean. How did you find me?"

Claire bit her lip. She didn't want to get René in trouble. She must have made some kind of unconscious motion toward his building, or perhaps Sebastien just guessed the truth, because his eyebrows lifted a little in surprise. "Mon frere?" he asked softly, almost to himself. "But when?"

"Ahh, at the, um, the party." Sebastien looked puzzled. Claire heaved a sigh. "When he took my hand." She produced the tiny slip of paper, very heavily creased now, and offered it to him.

"I see," he said, very quietly now. "I shall have to speak to him."

Claire grasped the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh, please, I hope you're not angry with him!"

Sebastien narrowed his eyes, looking at her until she removed her hand, sheepishly. "Do you presume to tell me how to feel? Especially when it is my privacy that has been invaded?"

"I... um... no, of course not."

"For that matter, Claire, what are you even doing here, when I had expressly forbidden it?"

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. "Well, you see, you never actually told me not to come. You told me not to call you, but, um, well..."

"I believe my meaning should have been clear to you."

She thought quickly. "Well, are you sorry I came? Because if you are, I can go right now." She meant to sound firm, but her words came out breathy and anxious.

"Do I look sorry?" he asked, in a low tone. He took a step toward her, and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest.

"I... don't know... no?"

"How do I look?"

"Um... scary?"

Sebastien let out a surprised laugh. "Oh really, mon abeille, do I scare you?"

Claire stuck out her lower lip, glaring at him, and refused to answer. He trailed a fingertip down her cheek, her neck, her chest, then slid his hand behind her back and pulled her close to him.

"Well. I think you know very well what I meant, and I don't think I should let this go without teaching you a little lesson. Do you?"

She looked up at him, her cheeks pinking a little.

"No, Maestro."

-----

"Well, since you agree, I think it would be appropriate if you decided upon the method of punishment, don't you?"

Claire's eyes widened. "I... um..."

"Come, come, surely you can think of something." She had, of course, and it brought the heat rising to her cheeks. Sebastien watched her with an amused expression on his face. When she remained silent for several moments, he finally spoke again. "Mon abeille, we must get you past this inability to speak, mustn't we? Very well, we shall have you sit and be silent until you can tell me how you think I ought to punish you."

So saying, he reached around behind her and undid the zipper on her dress and sliding it down her shoulders. It slipped off and pooled around her stockinged feet, revealing her matching pink bra and panties. The fabric was filmy, translucent, a pale color close to her skin tone. Black stockings pinned to a black garter belt framed her inner thighs nicely. Sebastien directed her to kneel on his bed, and she climbed gingerly upon it, noting that her knees wanted to slide on the fabric.

"Knees apart, please," he said, then turned away from her, walking back toward the door, but sliding open the wall to its right instead. Apparently a closet was hidden in the wall, but then what was behind the door in the corner? Curious. Piece by piece, he removed his tuxedo, meticulously hanging each element in an empty garment bag, until he had stripped down to a black undershirt and shorts. Over these he slipped a pair of black slacks and a button-down shirt, left open.

Without giving her more than a cursory glance, Sebastien settled comfortably in the armchair and picked up a book from the nearby shelf. He paged through it until about the middle, and then began to read. Was he just going to ignore her until she did as he asked? She frowned, tried to adjust her position, but Sebastien stopped her with a finger pointed in her direction.

"Stay just as you are."

Claire's mind was racing with all the different possibilities. She didn't know how she was going to force herself to verbalize it. She'd never been very vocal about asking for what she wanted. She continued to kneel. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable, the way that her body had to work to keep her in just the right position. Her inner thighs started to tremble with the effort.

"M-Maestro?"

"Mmmm?" he asked absently.

"I don't think I can..."

"You'll stay just as you are until you give me an answer," he interrupted. She grew warm with embarrassment at his cavalier way of handling her, and was even more embarrassed to note the way her nipples grew hard, the increasing dampness in her lower region. The crotch of her panties was easily visible to him; she definitely didn't want to give him the ammunition of seeing how turned on she was getting. Finally, the aching in her thighs and hips grew too sharp to bear.

"Maestro? I'm ready."

He looked up, setting his book aside. Lifting himself out of the chair effortlessly, he came to stand near her. "Well?"

"I... think you should, um, well," she trailed off, mumbling something under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear a word you're saying," he said. "You'll have to speak up." Claire tried again, but couldn't get the words out. Sebastien leaned down closer.

"I'd like the belt, Maestro," she whispered.

"Yes, I imagine you would. And there is the problem itself, mon abeille. How much of a punishment could it be?"

"Then, don't let me enjoy it," she said softly.

"Oh, and how do you propose I do that?"

"Don't let me, um, hmm."

"Let you what?" he asked. She flushed and, evidently enjoying himself, Sebastien prompted her, "Yes?" drawing the question out.

She looked down, dying a little inside. "Don't let me come," she finally said.

"I hardly think I could prevent you," he said dryly, remembering the first time he'd used a belt on her. "After all, you're already enjoying yourself far too much," he went on, running his fingertips over the already soaked fabric of her panties.

She sucked in a breath. "I'd try really hard."

"You had better, because if you don't, then I shall think of a punishment, and I guarantee you, it will be much less pleasant. Now, on your stomach, please."

Claire complied quickly, grateful for the chance to escape the position she was in, which had become rather painful. Sebastien ran his fingertips firmly over her inner thighs, massaging the strained muscles there. She sighed in appreciation, and was rewarded with a series of quick stinging slaps to the same region. She yelped, and his fingers returned to running from knee to crotch and back again.

She felt his palms come up to cup her buttocks, kneading them gently. It felt nice, but her body was still tense, anticipating the next sweet pain. It came, in a firm open-palm spank. She gasped, the feeling radiating out sharply. His hand was caressing her again, then another swat. Though he paused between each one, the pain and warmth intensified with each smack. Claire had silently counted twelve, when Sebastien gave one last, lingering caress, and then she felt him move away from her.

He returned with some kind of soft rope that he tied deftly around her wrists. The other end, she saw, was already tied to the headboard. He pulled her hips up until she knelt again on her knees, with her arms stretched out in front of her. He mounded pillows underneath her for support, and tested it with a mild slap to her left buttock.

Claire moaned as he slid her panties down her reddened skin, leaving the waistband poised just between buttocks and upper thighs.

A barely imperceptible displacement of air and infinitesimal swishing sound were her only clues to the belt that came out of nowhere, cracking over her skin. Tears sprung to her eyes as her hips jumped, crying out in surprise. God, how it burned! He repeated the swing, and sizzling bolts of pleasure shot straight to her pussy. This time he paused after every other smack, giving her a chance to catch her breath and rubbing his palms briefly over her buttocks.

This time, a total of twenty belts. The ceaseless dripping of moisture onto her inner thighs was driving her crazy, like an itch she couldn't scratch. Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass. Tears ran down onto the coverlet below, and her arms were getting sore from the struggling movements she couldn't help.

Sebastien trailed his fingertips over the burning flesh, and Claire let out a choked sobbing moan.

He leaned over. "Do you need more, mon abeille, or have you learned your lesson?" She sniffed and nodded in reply. "What did you learn?"

"I-I-I won't come over with-without permission," she said in a pained voice.

Sebastien's fingertips snaked underneath her and he pinched her nipples firmly, making her writhe, despite her being quite stuck. "I think you are lying. I think you'll come over whenever it suits you."

"No, no!" she insisted.

"I think you are lying to avoid further punishment," he said darkly in her ear. Her body stiffened. She wasn't lying, and he knew it, that bastard!

"No, Maestro, I promise," she whined.

He was back behind her, pushing her thighs apart as widely as they would go, throwing her body off balance. Grasping her hips and tilting them upward obscenely, he thrust his knee between her legs. She felt the smooth cloth against her pussy, and the firm pressure of one hand on her lower back ground her down on his leg. As her clit made contact, she moaned softly and before she had braced herself, Sebastien had begun slapping at her again.

In this position, he had far less leverage, but he had evidently doubled the belt over, because the pummeling smacks were still very effective. This time, though, the direct contact between her legs sent waves of pleasure through her with every blow. She tried to move her hips away from his knee, but it was useless.

A light sweat broke out as her body tensed with the effort of repressing the feelings coursing through her. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen smacks, and she felt as if she were teetering on the edge. A short pause wasn't enough, and the pleasure was building in her center at eighteen, nineteen... Twenty nearly sent her toppling over. She shuddered all over in relief as Sebastien finally pulled back.

He softly petted her tortured flesh, and she wasn't sure whether it made it better or worse. He went to the head of the bed and untied her hands, moved the pillows out from underneath her, and gently flipped her over. The coverlet felt cool and soothing on her skin and she looked up with glazed eyes at the man kneeling on the bed beside her. He removed her bra and, after some fiddling with garter straps, her panties as well, leaving her stockings in place.

While he was working, Claire noticed the firmness of his groin pressing against his pants. She lifted a hand and traced the length of his cock with her palm. Sebastien went still beside her, then looked at her with an inscrutable expression.

She tried to speak, and had to clear her throat twice before her voice came.

"Maestro, can I - can I touch it?"

He smiled then, a bare twitching of his lips. "Certainement. How could I say no?" he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the remaining moisture of her tears. He unsnapped his pants, pushing them down over his hips and revealing his cock. She took a moment to really look at it, pale, and firm, and... pretty was the wrong word, but it was certainly the best looking one she'd ever seen. Like many women, she'd never thought they were anything special to look at. She'd seen her share before, though never one uncircumcised like his.

"What are you staring at?" came a voice from above her. Sebastien was looking at her with narrowed eyes. His smile was gone.

"Oh! I was just looking at it. It's, um, it's pretty," she said. His eyebrows lifted, and his smile returned, with a little head shake. She'd managed to surprise him twice in one night.

She stuck her tongue out, running it around the very tip of his cock, just under the edge of his foreskin. He blew out a soft breath, shivering a little as she sucked his length into her mouth. She moved her lips up and down, enjoying the feel of his skin sliding back and forth against her tongue. She felt him flinch a little as she rested her hand against his bare hip to brace herself. Hesitantly, she flicked her eyes upward, saw him looking at her very intently.

He brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes with his fingertip. She blushed, averting her eyes as she took him in entirely, feeling his coarse hair tickling the tip of her nose. She breathed in and the scent of him, his woodsy violet cologne, but underneath that something that was just... him.

She let him slide out, gripping him with her hand and stroking him slickly. Her tongue ran down underneath to his balls, flickering over them and kissing them. His breath hitched out unevenly and he put his hand over hers to stop her. She looked up at him, saw the controlled look on his face, and for just a second, considered moving her hand under his to send him over the edge.

He must have seen the thought pass through her eyes, because he shook his head again. "I think we would both rather you did not," he said thickly. She waited a moment more, then released his cock from her grasp, letting her arm fall back lightly above her head.

Sebastien pulled his shorts and pants up with a little difficulty, leaving the latter unzipped. He deftly retied her hands to the headboard and slid off the bed, walking to the foot slowly.

Her bottom was still sore, but it no longer felt like it was on fire. Claire watched as Sebastien unhurriedly removed the slacks and button-down shirt he wore, carefully folding them and setting them aside. He knelt on the bed in only his black undershirt and shorts, parting her legs and looking at her until she flushed and closed her eyes. He ran his tongue up her inner thighs, over and over, collecting the moisture there, but always stopping a breath away from her pussy. She whimpered a little, feeling him slide his tongue in the crease of her thigh.

"I think we will try inflicting a different kind of pain," he said.

"Mmmm well this doesn't exactly hurt," she replied with a shiver.

"It will."

The very tip of his tongue was running up the edge of her pussy - one side, then the other. It almost tickled. He brought his head up, and she thought, finally, she would get some relief. Instead, he pressed soft kisses all over her neatly trimmed mound.

"Maestro, please," she began.

"Hush," was the unsympathetic answer.