The Soprano Ch. 07

"Tonight? It is very late..."

"Well, it's just that, you know, he...he...he's going to punish me, and um...um...I'd like you to come punish me too, please."

"Ahhh, that is what this is about," he said, suddenly sounding more alert. "In that case, mais oui, I will come over no matter the hour."

"Okay, um, good. We are still in the car, but we'll be there soon."

"Very good. I shall see you soon," he said, his deep voice rumbling down her spine.

-----

In the room that used to be Sebastien's office, there was the whipping bench and a pile of ropes on the floor. The leather sofa had been pushed all the way against the far wall beneath the window, and the rest of the furniture had either been moved to other rooms or was clustered in the corner beneath a long dust cloth.

Claire looked around for the night's implements, but saw none. It would be a surprise. Sebastien closed the door behind him and stood silently with René, apparently expecting that she knew what to do and that she would get along with it. Obligingly, she started stripping off her clothes and thought about how much different it was than when Sebastien did it.

When he did it, a part of her could be convinced that he was really forcing her to his will, just like the first time they were together – well, sort of. It was dark and sexy and exciting, and he had done it most of the past year. But recently they had started appreciating the value of having Claire undress herself. When she did, it was with the crystalline awareness that she was willingly submitting herself to him, which aroused them both in apparently endless ways.

She folded her last piece of clothing and set it neatly in a pile, as was now her habit – even in her own home. Glancing at Sebastien, she saw him nod toward the bench. He watched her steadily until she climbed obediently onto it and knelt there. Only then did the men move, each grabbing lengths of rope and tying them methodically around her limbs and torso, securing her firmly. She was utterly immobilized from her neck to her wrists and ankles, her already heated sex pressed against the bench below her.

Behind her, there were soft sounds of movement. Then, she felt something smooth and hard running over her skin, up her back. It was a familiar sensation, but she couldn't quite place it. Without even a swish, its holder brought it down gently onto her left buttock, bringing an immediate throbbing sensation. It dissipated quickly enough, but Claire recognized with dread the implement even before Sebastien held it up for her to see.

The cane. Made of a light, creaky, varnished wood, it had been behind one of the most painful and amazing experiences of her life. Sebastien had believed that he had adequately tested the cane to know what it was capable of, but as is sometimes the case, he was to find its capacity to cause damage even greater than he knew.

He had been inordinately pleased with the cane's ability to actually mark Claire in red, raised lines. In his zeal, he had actually cracked it over her twice hard enough to draw blood – a fact neither of them had noticed until they'd both been exhausted by more than one seriously intense orgasm.

When the bleeding was discovered, Sebastien had been upset with himself and very contrite. He'd pampered her for a week straight, and promised not to bring the cane back out for at least two months. It had been three, but Claire was still wary at the sight of it. Yet she didn't outright object. Sebastien took it as acquiescence – it had been two hours since her last drink and she was thinking clearly again – so he tied a strip of fabric between her lips so objecting became essentially impossible.

"Mon ami, shall we warm her up a bit first?" asked René from behind her.

"Oui. Bon," Sebastien replied, and Claire's skin heated in anticipation of a light flogging. "Commencer avec ses pieds." Her feet? No...no. She shook her head, but her protestations were too muffled to hear.

She felt the tip of the cane rubbing against the upturned sole of her foot and whimpered as her foot tensed. It tickled. Evidently noticing this, René lightened his touch further, making her writhe slightly in her bonds. Then suddenly they were upon her, slim fingers angling to tickle her feet and along her ribs.

Claire squealed behind the gag, her entire body flexing as she tried to escape the onslaught. She felt totally helpless, confused at her arousal, with pleasurable pressure building in her center. Before she could even process what was happening, she tensed all over as she came, immobilized against the bench. The tickling stopped immediately, much to her relief.

"Did she just..." began René.

"Mon abeille, did you come?" asked Sebastien. Claire nodded slowly, struggling to breathe as her heartbeat slowed a bit.

"Again," said René in little more than a whisper. Claire shook her head vigorously.

"Ah, you do not want to come again?" Sebastien's voice was smooth, and Claire knew it was a trick question. If she answered no, he might not let her come again all night. He ran his hand down her buttocks, positioning his fingers tantalizingly at her entrance. "Do you want to come again? Answer me."

She hesitated for a long moment, and then nodded. Sebastien slid his fingers inside her as René resumed tickling her feet. The ropes bit into her skin tightly as they held her down. This time the orgasm was quick and a little painful in its intensity, and suddenly she didn't know how she was going to survive a caning as well. She was protesting as loudly as she could, and the tickling stopped again so that she could take a few moments to breathe.

After all too brief a respite, she felt a gentle tapping on the soles of her feet. It didn't hurt, but she wasn't fooled. That would come soon enough. René drew back and this time a soft swish warned her of the pain that sang out as the cane came sharply back down on the ball of her left foot. She was unable to writhe or cry out in pain properly and could only absorb it. Again and again, until ten short strokes in all had been given alternatively to both feet, which ached.

The cane travelled up her bound legs, biting in between the ropes until it reached her upturned buttocks. Each stroke brought a muffled cry from her as they were quite painful and she feared the damage being done to her. Of course it would be quite unlikely for anything to happen, especially with René at the cane, but it still heightened her anxiety. Then, too, the constant tense flexing was keeping her just on the brink of pleasure, which confused her overloaded brain.

It was all too much.

She wasn't sure whether to be more frustrated or relieved when the cane was set aside. What she did know was that her limbs were aching and she wondered how long she had been bound there. It seemed to have been a rather long time.

"Mon abeille, can you stay bound a short while longer?" Sebastien asked, gently caressing her back. "I would like to have my way with you now, but wish to be certain you are not in too much pain. Are you all right?"

Claire thought about it before answering. Truthfully it was getting a bit painful – and not in a good way – but she was eager to feel him inside her. She took as deep a breath as she could, and found the tension around her back sent a spike of pleasure through her. That decided it. She nodded.

René came around to the front of the bench and knelt down to remove her gag and kiss her lips softly. Then he stood and, with a soft sigh of relief, unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down slightly. His hard cock sprang out and he bumped it playfully against her lips, which she opened to accommodate him. It was difficult to do a good job with her movement restricted as it was, but René didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed quite content fucking her mouth gently, his hand curled behind one ear to hold her head still.

Behind her, Sebastien grabbed her buttocks and kneaded them firmly in his hands as he slid deep inside her. She whimpered softly around René's cock as the pleasure sparked with each thrust. It was strange and wonderful, the sensation of being totally at the mercy of two men. Claire relaxed into her bonds, feeling utterly at peace.

Then she noticed René moving, though he kept sliding his cock between her lips at his lazy pace. He was slowly unknotting the ropes tying down her arms, until they were free up to her shoulder. Running his fingers firmly along the muscles in each arm, one at a time, he massaged her until her head was floating even more. He picked up one arm and pressed the palm against his lips, while she softly ran the other hand over his hip and buttocks.

Sebastien had slowed behind her, giving her firm thrusts as he bent over her and kissed the skin that showed through the ropes. He, too, was deftly untying the ropes from her ankles up. Soon she was bound only from her chest to her hips and Sebastien was gently straightening her legs as he pushed inside her rhythmically. Then both men were working on the ropes remaining until she was finally, blissfully free. She moaned softly in pleasure as Sebastien withdrew from her and helped her to stand.

She was only upright for a moment, however, as Sebastien took her place on the bench. He beckoned to her and she knelt over him, taking him inside of her once more. René came and slid his cock between her buttocks, pressing it into her as well. Claire shivered, taking advantage of her newfound freedom to flex her hips against them, making René groan with the sensation. He grasped her hips, grinding her into Sebastien as she gasped from the delicious friction. Sebastien, too, moved against her and only a moment later she was crying out above him as she came.

René began pounding more powerfully into her, groaning sexily into her ear until his breath caught on a long sigh as he, too, came. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck as she rode Sebastien. She rocked back and forth on him, watching with pleasure as he threw his head back and gave in to the sensations, spilling into her. Although she'd already come, she couldn't resist sliding her fingers down over her wet skin and feeling the sharp tingles of pleasure crest in another orgasm.

"So, mon ami," René said, a bit breathlessly, "what were we punishing her for?"

"Who remembers?" Sebastien responded, running his hand up her spine and making her writhe above him. "What is important is that she has learned her lesson. Have you, mon abeille?"

But Claire couldn't answer; she'd already drifted off.

-----

"Are you almost ready for the party tonight?" Claire called from the bedroom, where she was braiding her hair tightly against her head. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

"Yes, but I do not see the point," came the dour reply.

"It's fun, that's why. You've never dressed up before, like for Halloween?"

"Halloween is for children," he sniffed.

"Well, you know us Americans. Perpetual children, isn't that what everyone thinks? But seriously, don't you have costume parties in France?" Sebastien only grunted in response, coming to the doorway in his usual monochrome suit, sans tie. "You're not in costume?"

"Certainly not. And what are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking critical at her outfit – just as monochrome and plain as his own.

"Who," she corrected. "And anyway, you'll find out at the party. We'd better go or we'll be late." She slipped beneath his arm and headed out.

The party was being held in the ballroom of the symphony hall, and almost everyone was already there by the time they arrived. René was waiting outside for them – also apparently not in costume, but in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Look, cherie, I am an American!" he said gleefully.

"At least someone is getting into the spirit of things," she said, giving Sebastien a significant look. He merely frowned down at her, and then at René.

"Mon frère, really?" He shook his head and preceded them into the symphony hall. Music and chattering could be heard all the way down the hall. When they rounded the corner, they were confronted with the very entertaining sight of their musician colleagues dressed up as pirates, superheroes, and zombies. Sure, Halloween had been several months ago, but someone had suggested a costume party for their annual spring party, and people seemed enthusiastic about it.

Some of the musicians were dancing, already a bit tipsy, to the music being piped through the speakers.

"Heyyy, you're not in costume," said Holly as she drifted by. Sebastien arched an eyebrow at Claire, who shrugged.

"That's what she thinks," she muttered, reaching into her bag and withdrawing Sebastien's baton.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked.

"You'll see." She scanned the room until she spotted the group of people she was looking for. She waved them over – two violinists, a cello, and a horn player – and smiled in greeting.

"Good evening, Maestro!" Michael said, but he wasn't talking to Sebastien. Claire grinned at Sebastien's sudden look of consternation, but then turned a serious look at Michael.

"Are you all ready?"

"Yeah – I'll go cut the music and Jeff can introduce you."

"Perfect." Michael walked away, and the other musicians drifted off toward the center of the room where a few chairs and a small podium had been set up. Claire started to follow, but Sebastien caught her elbow.

"What is going on?" he asked suspiciously.

"If you haven't figured it out for yourself, you'll find out in a minute," she replied impatiently. She caught René's eyes and winked before extracting herself from Sebastien's grip. The music faded away and Jeff was waving his hands for attention.

"Everyone, please welcome Maestro to the stage!" Claire drew herself up to her full height and assumed her best cool expression; she'd been practicing it in the mirror for weeks. She strode up to the podium and flipped open the binder on it, tapping Sebastien's baton on the music stand until the musicians had taken their places in front of her.

"We shall begin directly at movement four, please. Movement four," she said in her best French accent, raising peals of laughter around the room. She tapped out a beat and the musicians began to play, but it was quite obvious that they were playing badly on purpose. Claire did her best impression of Sebastien scolding them as she imitated his graceful, fluid conducting, snapping at them with every error they made.

"This is atrocious. Have you even practiced? Very well, that is enough," she said sharply, cutting them off with a vicious motion. "You are all dismissed!" The other musicians behind her tittered; Sebastien had never been so harsh with them, had never needed to be, but they could imagine what he would be like if they were truly so unprepared.

"Maestro, let us try again," Michael said, trying to conceal his amusement. Claire regarded him coolly, let out a short sigh, and raised the baton.

"Very well. This time, at the beginning, please." The game was over now as the musicians played each note clearly and beautifully. Claire worked hard to stay in character, murmuring words of encouragement as she swished the baton back and forth. Each time she used a phrase that was particular to Sebastien, she heard a swell of laughter behind her, but mostly everyone just listened to the concerto.

The cello throbbed enticingly under her direction, while the violins slipped serenely up and down the scales. They built to a crescendo and then faded away into nothing. Applause reached her ears after a moment and she breathed out in relief. Conducting had been a hell of a lot harder than she'd expected it to be. She had rehearsed once or twice with the quartet, but had done most of her practicing at home with a metronome to keep her beat steady.

Compared with that, hurling commands and insults in a faux French accent had been the easy part. Luckily, she didn't have to do any more of either tonight. She'd had her fun and gotten a laugh, and now she could just relax and enjoy the party.

She turned back to the crowd, her eyes finding Sebastien right away as he leaned up against the wall near the doorway. He was probably trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed by her imitation. René was whispering something to him and was clearly quite entertained by the whole thing. Claire allowed herself to be drawn into conversation with others before eventually making her way over to Sebastien.

"Well?" she asked, challenging him to rebuke her in public.

"Such a rude little girl you are," he murmured.

"You have to admit, mon ami, she imitates you quite well."

"I shall admit no such thing," Sebastien responded a little huffily, making Claire and René exchange amused glances. "And you should watch your step, mon abeille," he said, leaning down and whispering sharply in her ear, "because making a fool of your Master in public is a very dangerous thing to do." He ran a finger down her neck and she swallowed as her pulse jumped beneath his touch.

"I...I'm sorry, I didn't think it would bother you," she said, suddenly worried her joke had fallen flat.

"Oh, it is far too late for sorry now," he said airily as he walked away from her. She frowned, turning to René. He hadn't said he was bothered, but... René shrugged and then slid an arm around her comfortingly. Whispers exploded behind her as she rested her head casually against his upper arm.

"Wellll, don't you two look cozy!" said a voice behind them. Claire turned, unsurprised to see Holly again. She was still a bit wary of Holly after the disastrous conversation they'd had the previous year, but after all Holly was a very sweet girl and meant well.

"Oh, we're not–" Claire started to say before Holly interrupted her.

"Hey wait, aren't you the Maestro's friend?" she asked René.

"Yes," he answered, a bit uncertainly.

"Does he know you two are dating?" She giggled, taking a sip from her champagne flute, and Claire fought not to roll her eyes.

"We aren't dating."

"Uh-huh," Holly replied, clearly not convinced. She flounced away again and Claire watched after her, shaking her head. As she looked around the room, she saw Sebastien in conversation with some other musicians. He was shaking his head firmly and when he met her eyes, he glared daggers at her. Claire started to extricate herself from René's grasp, but he merely pulled her in tighter.

"There is nothing wrong with what we are doing."

"But people will think..."

"A moment ago, mon ami touched you rather intimately here in public. I should think he would be glad to have the attention on someone else."

"I don't know why people are so interested in who I'm dating anyway," Claire grumbled.

"They like you, that is all. They want to know about your life."

"I guess..." She tried to pull away again, to no avail. "You're going to get me into trouble," she hissed.

"Cherie, I do not think you could possibly get into any more trouble than you are already in."

Claire looked up again and across the room. Sebastien was alone again, leaning against the wall with a dark, thoughtful expression on his face. She shivered, feeling the warmth of René against her, and suddenly she wished she could cross the room and put her arms around the man she loved. She wished they could mingle with their colleagues without any secrets. Someday, maybe. She cuddled into the crook of René's arm. For now, this would have to do...but what price her momentary comfort?

-----

"Where are we going?" Claire protested as Sebastien pulled her out of the symphony hall roughly by the elbow.

"You embarrassed me tonight, Claire. I think it only fair that I punish you in the same manner."

"You're going to imitate me?" she asked lightly. "Because I don't think–"

"Shut up," he growled, pushing her up against the car. She looked around in surprise. This was far from a private place; in fact Sebastien had parked directly across the street from the musicians' entrance to the symphony hall. When the party broke up, as it no doubt would soon, their colleagues would be coming out that very door.