Lessons from My Piano Teacher

"What were you going to do to me?"

"Bend you over the kitchen table, bare your bottom, spread you wide, and spank you with the ruler for each error. Forty-one. So far."

"Oh God," I moaned, tilting my head back. Not only at his sexy promise, but because he'd just gone back to fondling my breasts, his fingertips now down the front of my bra and running over my hard nipples. "I want that. I want you."

My insistence for his cock made him groan, and he pulled me up, carrying me right to my own kitchen. He stood me back on my feet and began to pull off my clothes. My skirt was off first, and then my bra was unhooked, baring my breasts to him. He took a moment to bend down and kiss them, exploring them with his tongue. Here he lowered my panties, grabbing the fleshy base of my cheeks in his palms.

I couldn't help but feel him too, ragingly hard, twitching under my hand. I stroked him over his pants, and then under, watching him go a little weak in the knees. Steven groaned and sighed, and in that moment he seemed like he was the powerless one, squirming under my touch. I don't think he liked it, as he was keen to turn the tables back on me.

So he ordered me, throaty and quiet, "Bend over."

All I wanted to do was please him, pleasure him, serve his needs. Naturally, I turned, grabbed the back of the table, and bent at the waist.

"Spread your legs," was his next command. He didn't bark at me like a drill sergeant, but he just calmly told me what he wanted and expected my obedience. I didn't disappoint, and pulled my feet about as far apart as they could comfortably go.

"Please, sir," I begged. He groped at me a little with his hand, making me go up a bit on my toes as I moaned. I bit my lip, squirming from my desperate desire.

He retrieved the ruler, the one I'd bought just for him to use on me, and pressed it against my bare cheeks. In the heat of the moment he'd begun scolding me like a naughty schoolgirl. "I expect better from you, young lady. You're going to be spanked soundly until you learn."

"Yes, sir!" I cried out, ready to feel the sting of his correction.

He rose the ruler up and I actually heard it whoosh through the air right before it stung me. "Aah!" I squealed.

Again and again he cracked the wooden ruler on my bare bottom as I yelped. The excitement, the deep and pulsing arousal between my legs, it all dampened the pain. I was being soundly spanked over this table, and anyone less horny than myself might have burst into tears at the sharp, smarting burn. But I wanted more and more, and my cries of pain were mingling with telltale moans of desire.

Once my whole backside was alight with a hot burn, Steven dropped the ruler on the table beside me. Those gorgeous fingers reached between my legs, one sliding deep into me. I pushed back on him a little and begged pathetically. "Please, please, please..."

"Please what?"

"Please, sir," I tried, hoping he was asking for more submission. That wasn't quite it. He kept fucking me with just his finger. So I had to say it. "Take me. Fuck me."

I heard him respond by sliding his pants down and unwrapping a condom. Of course he'd be prepared that way. My dependable Steven. His hands spread me apart before he slipped himself inside. I could feel my vagina widening to accommodate his girth, a sensation that made me gasp in pleasure.

He slid in and out a few times before bending forward over me to reach for my arms. He pulled them back, wrist crossed over wrist, and pinioned them against the small of my back. So now I was bent over my own kitchen table, my naked tits pressed into the cool wood, my legs spread wide, my spanked bottom red and hot, and my wrists submissively bound under his hands. All that was incredible on its own, but he also kept sinking his full length into me, increasing his speed as he heard my panting moans.

Soon he was fucking me hard enough to repeatedly lift my feet off the floor. He moved one hand off my pinned wrists, but kept them both clutched in his other. Now his free hand traveled down, burying itself between my legs. Two of his fingers found my clit and he rubbed me in tight, hard circles. Every deep thrust into me made me cry out now.

He was manipulating me to orgasm, dominating even my pleasure, making me come for him. My moans were all short and quick as I edged closer. "Aah, aah, you're gonna make me- aah, AHH!"

Steven rocked his hips harder, pounding me, his own groans growing in intensity to match mine. His fingers worked me, rubbing me faster, forcing me to start squeezing him inside myself. I was over the edge, tensed up hard, crying out a scream of pure ecstasy. My pussy spasmed hard around him, against his fingers and his pumping cock. I yelled his name, I think, I yelled a lot of things - mostly just incoherent cries of the pleasure of that long awaited release.

He was a lot more composed, but I heard him breathing sharp and hard. All my intense, tight squeezing of his cock, all my moans and screams, it drove him over the edge right after me. He finished with a long, deep groan, pushed deep into me, filling me to the hilt.

Then we were over the table just panting and a little hot and wet. He dropped my arms, and I just moved them back to clutch the table, holding on. My legs were shaking. I didn't know how to put my feelings and gratitude into words here, so I fell back on what I knew best. "Thank you, sir."

He leaned over to kiss my hair and fell back to his usual patterns with me too. "Good girl," he whispered.

Once we were dressed again, and my legs could properly hold me up, I saw him sort of collecting his stuff like usual. He was heading to the door, but this time hesitated, turning back to look at me.

"Don't go this time," I said. Then I realized I sounded like I was the one in charge, so I looked up at him sweetly and submissively. "Please. Stay for dinner, please? Maybe the night?"

For a second he tried to put up an act, looking at me indifferently, but he broke into a warm smile in seconds. "I'd love to," he said.

Author's note: One strange part of this story is true. When I was in university studying piano, my professor really did smack my wrists with a ruler or her hands. And it was decades after it would have happened to fictional Steven! Apparently she did it to every student in her class, as others complained of the unusual treatment. Admittedly, I had no complaints myself.