The Maestro Ch. 03

With a lazy smile, he kissed Claire's cheek, and pulled out of her, cock coated in his come and hers. He shuddered as Sebastien withdrew from him. Sebastien peeled off the condom, tossing it into a waste bin, and then came over to the head of the bed again.

"I think we can untie you now. You are not going to run, are you, mon abeille?"

"No, Maestro."

"Good girl." He untied her wrists and helped her to sit up. "Shall we try something a little different?" He slid around behind her, and grasped her hips gently, settling her down on his still-hard cock. Enjoying the opportunity to control the action for a change, Claire rose to the occasion, swiveling her hips on him and gliding up and down very slowly, to tease him. René watched them for a moment, and then his face brightened. He crawled between Claire's open legs and began licking her pussy as it rose and fell on Sebastien's cock. The reaction was immediate. She exploded in orgasm, feeling her pussy clamp down on Sebastien's cock and hearing his sharp intake of breath behind her.

She ground her hips down on him, and when she became too sensitive and pushed René's head away, Sebastien patted her behind to encourage her to turn around. She did, and saw that Sebastien had removed his shirt, and was resting with his back against the headboard. He made some kind of gesture to René, which Claire ignored, as he began fucking her from below. Gentle pressure on her upper back pushed her forward against Sebastien's chest, and she felt René's cock pressing into her ass, slowly, so slowly.

Claire shivered between the two men as René steadily pushed his cock all the way into her, then stopped, letting her adjust to the feel of being fucked by two men at once. Sebastien slid his arm around her, cradling her firmly against his chest. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she melted a little inside, being held so close to him.

Both men began sliding their cocks in and out of her, slowly, but with increasing speed. The friction was driving Claire crazy, so many sensations running through her. She felt almost feverish and was moaning into Sebastien's chest constantly. René squeezed his hand in the small space between she and Sebastien, fondling her clit, and she was undone. With a cry of pleasure, she felt her abdomen clenching painfully as a powerful orgasm racked her body.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the exquisite intensity of feeling, and from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Sebastien and René sharing a kiss, even as each spurted his come inside of her. A sharp stab of pain to her chest made her avert her eyes, but the damage had been done. The tears trickled from her eyes, dripping into Sebastien's chest hair. He loosened his hold on her, pulling her back to look at her face.

"Mon abeille, are you hurt?" he asked, studying her.

She shook her head. She wasn't hurt. At least, not the way he meant.

Sebastien spoke in rapid French, too fast for Claire to follow. René pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and left the two alone. She heard running water for a moment, then footsteps, and finally a door closing. It seemed they were truly alone. Suddenly she felt tired, so tired. She dropped her head back on Sebastien's shoulder, relearning how to breathe. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and stood, lifting her with him.

He carried her into the bathroom, and deposited her into the bathtub, already filled with warm water. He got in, too, and had her lean back against him.

-----

It had been, in some ways, seriously weird to have Sebastien bathing her. He had washed her hair, and she had trembled, always having had a sensitive scalp. He had encouraged her to relax, but though she made a concerted effort to be calm and release her muscles of their tension, it was still just that: an effort. With him she was, and perhaps would be - given their proclivities - ever on edge. At last he seemed to realize that his exhortations would have no effect, and he bundled her into a couple of towels and wrapped her in a blanket, setting her down gently on a sofa in his parlor while he went to dress.

When at last he had returned, dry and dressed casually - as casually as he got, anyway - she had unbound her hair and was finger-combing its damp waves. Sebastien sat in the corner of the sofa, and Claire leaned into him, noticing that he didn't flinch when her chilled hair touched his exposed skin.

"Mon abeille," he said, his chest vibrating with every word, "I feel I must apologize. Having René join us may have been a pleasant surprise, but it was still a surprise for you nonetheless, especially given the relationship between he and I. In truth, he and I are both thankful to you for not, as you might say, running and screaming, but I admit it was probably a nasty shock to realize that I knew the man you thought had discovered you quite by accident in my window."

Claire's body tensed. She had thought of that, briefly. It almost seemed like a betrayal of her trust, this whole incident, but it was a relief that Sebastien seemed to recognize this, perhaps even more fully than she. Sebastien sighed softly.

"If I am to be completely honest with you, Claire, I will say that I am still figuring out what I am doing here. I have never been in... this position with anyone before."

This was a surprise!

"I am only beginning to understand how I may divine your desires without giving up my control. It occurs to me that today could have gone very poorly. Yet no matter how much I listen to you, I feel that I do not really know you at all."

He fell silent, and Claire did not fill the silence with her words. She wasn't really sure what to say. After a few minutes, Sebastien spoke again.

"Still, I wonder if there is something else bothering you, mon abeille. You have been most subdued today."

Her mind flashed hotly on her dream. She didn't want to mention it.

"Could it have been a certain... kiss... that has occupied your mind?" he prompted. Ah, yes. That. She didn't answer, but knew her sudden stillness gave him an answer. "Could it be you are feeling jealous?" he asked. She wasn't sure if he was teasing her. It was ridiculous, because she didn't have any reason to be. She and Sebastien certainly had nothing more than a sexual relationship... right? Somehow it seemed wrapped up in the fact that Sebastien and René certainly did have a relationship and had planned on... using her. That was it, she sort of felt used. Awkward.

"I imagine you are feeling a little bit like an anonymous plaything, and that is what I was apologizing for initially. It was not my intention for you to feel like the center of a plot that does not concern you. It was rude. But you have nothing to fear from the two of us together. Though René appreciates men for the, ah, physical ability to help with his little problem, he is a great lover of women. Even if he was gay, it would not matter. We love each other as brothers, no, both more and less than brothers. Anyway, he is a childhood friend I cherish dearly, but nothing more."

"Do you have a pet name for René?" she asked quietly.

"Mais oui. I call him mon frère, my brother."

-----

Claire spent a lot of time wrestling with her innermost thoughts in the days that followed. The dark dream had not come again, but she carried the shadow of it within her like a ball of lead in her heart. She still felt it so deeply disturbing, and despaired that she couldn't share it with anyone. She even considered therapy. But, who could tell a therapist something like that at the first appointment? Really, how did one even work up to a revelation like that?

Equally distressing was how painfully aroused she was whenever Sebastien was in the room, despite the fact that he treated her with the same cool indifference as he always had in rehearsals. On top of that, she was confused by his constant shifting from someone who could abuse her body to a man who was tender, almost gentle with her. It was almost as if she could simply not reconcile these different traits within the same person: cruelty, kindness, disregard. They did not go together, but she was finding the combination increasingly irresistible each day.

Sebastien must have been able to tell, she thought, since he had not summoned her presence to his apartment, nor really spoken more than a few words to her at a time in the week that had passed. She was beginning to miss him, even to be lonely. So she called Todd. Sure, he would love to take her to dinner, and then bring her to rehearsal afterward. They hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, and her bruises had finally faded away.

Claire felt terrible for thinking it, but honestly she was bored to death at dinner. She and Todd had little in common, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to admit that there was another man in her life, one whose presence was beginning to preclude any other romantic entanglements. It was disconcerting. Still, she let him walk her to the symphony hall. She would have to find a way to let him down easy, but she'd never done that before. Breakups had always been sort of stormy and dramatic.

At the symphony hall, Todd drew her close to him, nuzzling her cheek and the often sensitive spot at the nape of her neck. She felt nothing but an ominous chill down her spine, and her heart sank when she saw Sebastien step around the corner at the end of the hall. At first he did not notice them, half-hidden in a shadowy corner. Then Claire saw his entire spine stiffen as he turned his head minutely to give her a cold look.

"Your heart is beating so fast, baby," murmured Todd. Clare hoped fervently that Sebastien had not heard the comment, but the tension around his eyes told her he had. She locked her wrists awkwardly behind Todd's neck and rested her cheek on the top of his head. She let her eyelids flutter shut in a parody of contentment, and when she opened them again, she was treated to Sebastien's furious visage before he stalked off down the hall. Had the crisis been averted, or had she made things worse? She suspected - even secretly hoped - that the latter was true.

She extricated herself from Todd's uncomfortable embrace, promising to call him, and immediately felt a weight on her chest lift. She was back in her element, in the symphony, without this strange person clinging to her. She stepped down the hall on light feet and was opening the door to her dressing room when a hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her into the room. Immediately, a hand clapped over her mouth even as she was thrust roughly against the wall.

"Fermez la bouche," he commanded, then removed his hand from her mouth.

"Maestro, I..." she began.

He smacked her across the mouth, gently, hissing "Ta gueule!" at her. It stung, but it was the ferocity of his command that really shut her up. She didn't know what it meant, but she could guess well enough. He pulled her shirt open, leaving her bare breasted before him and one or two of her shirt buttons scattered on the floor. He turned her to the wall, pushing her up against it and jerking her pants down. He hadn't unbuttoned them, so what should have taken a few seconds took more like a minute - longer, because she struggled a little bit against him.

"Maestro, rehearsal starts in fifteen minutes; the orchestra will be arriving soon!" A sharp slap to her bare buttock silenced her again.

"Then you had better shut your fucking mouth like I told you to," came the reply behind her. Sebastien had finally succeeded in getting her pants down about to her knees, and pulled her ass to him, spreading her thighs as much as her restrictive pants would allow. All at once, she felt his cock enter her, long before she was ready for it. For the first time it truly did hurt, though even this was not without its pleasure. Both body and mind confused, she could not heed Sebastien's order.

"Ah! It hurts, Maestro!" she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks.

At once, his hand was gripping her throat. "I will silence you, one way or another, mon abeille," he said acidly. Very like her dream, he did not harm her, but the threat was there. Like her dream, she was both terrified and powerfully aroused by this, and her pussy flooded with wetness. Sebastien pounded into her as if it would save his life. Somewhere, a door slammed, and he hissed into her ear, "They come."

She heard them then. Trickles of musicians carrying instrument cases and chattering merrily with one another. She tensed up, fearful that they would be heard. At once, Sebastien set off on a torrent of murmurings in her ear, mostly in French. It was not soft, or tender. It was, as far as she could understand, a series of demands that she obey him, that she would not whore around with other men. She heard him call her at least one very nasty name. Perhaps he was trying to provoke her into speaking?

Almost as frightening as being caught were the deep waves of pleasure rising up within her, one on top of the other. A fine trembling started in her limbs from the tension she held in them trying to resist the pleasure. She would not give him the satisfaction, could not. But the feeling of his cock slamming into her pussy over and over made her body betray her. Her pussy contracted once... then once more, but she did not topple over the edge. She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to take deep breaths.

Then a fluttering sensation between her legs filled her with the dark knowledge that she would not win this game. Sebastien had starting teasing her clit with his fingertips and it ratcheted everything up.

"Oh God, no," she gasped out in a whisper, and his fingers trembled threateningly on her throat.

"You will come for me, little bitch. You belong to me, and you will do as I say," he said in her ear. Then, he dug his short nails into the tender flesh around her clit, vibrating the pads of his fingers rapidly against her. Her breaths came out in pants, and when the first hint of sound escaped from her lips, his hand clamped firmly over it. She struggled to breathe, and streamers of light burst behind her closed eyelids as her world exploded.

She was very sure that she had never felt such exquisite pain, nor such a massive burst of pleasure all at once. It was a very good thing that Sebastien was holding her quiet, because the sound she would have made probably would have brought the orchestra running in fright. She was very aware that some of the later comers were strolling obliviously down the hallway outside, and she shuddered all over.

Sebastien pulled out of her only to turn her around. Once sure she would not make a peep, he replaced his hand on her throat and forced his cock back into her, drawing another orgasm from her ravaged body. He seemed to be very close to his own finish.

"Mine. You are mine," he growled, inches from her face.

"I don't belong to anyone," she spat out under her breath.

"Bullshit," he managed as he began to come. He pulled his cock out of her and she looked down, watching openmouthed as he stroked it toward her, spraying his hot come up her body, landing on breasts and belly even as the first spurt was already trickling out of her pussy. He let go of her abruptly and she slid to the ground, glaring up at him.

"I won't break up with Todd, even for you, Sebastien."

Sebastien had zipped up his pants and already composed his face into an irritatingly nonchalant expression.

"Casse-toi, mon abeille, or as you say, fuck you," and left the room.