tagBDSMThe Piano Lesson

The Piano Lesson


[Author's note: Not the usual Mabeusian fare, this is a story of female domination. What's good for the goose... --dr.M.]

As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew's one o'clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven's "Für Elise" in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

"Good afternoon, Harris," she said as the houseman opened the door. He seemed composed as usual, although a little gray with strain.

"Who's here?" She handed him her valise as she took off her gloves and hat.

"The usual group of young snots," he said with polite diffidence, helping her with her coat.

"When did it start?"

"Oh, only an hour or so ago, thank heavens. But they've been over continually since the Mr. and Mrs.left. He needs supervision. You know how he is."

"Why aren't I surprised?" she asked, taking off her long coat.

"I wish they would have taken him with."

"Well, you know this was a special trip for them. Adults only, Harris."

He rolled his eyes and took her coat, draping it over his arm. "You're looking well today, Miss Vann."

"Thank you, Harris. That's sweet."

What he said was true. Lorraine was a very attractive young woman and she always dressed well for Andrew's lessons. Beneath her coat she wore a snug, charcoal-gray wool skirt and pearl-gray blouse over a black turtleneck. Her boots were snug and well polished and would have made her look severe if not for her angelic face, framed by a luxurious mane of insouciant blonde hair. Her face almost demanded these clothes to give her person a proper amount of gravitas, yet the severity of the clothes cut both ways, emphasizing those parts of her that were most womanly. On Lorraine, these parts were quite evident.

"Have you heard from them?" she asked. "Did they arrive safely?"

"Oh yes," Harris said, hanging up her coat and putting it in the hall closet. "They called this morning. "The boat docked last night and they had a very nice trip, very relaxing, just what they wanted. They'll stay in Cherbourg for two days visiting some friends of Mrs. Pitlow's, then go on to Paris for the week. They'll fly back next Sunday."

"And they did make arrangements for Andrew, of course?"

"Yes, Miss Vann. His Aunt Celia is coming this evening and will stay the week. They did repeat their request and hoped you'd reconsider. Their offer still stands, in fact, Mr. Pitlow wished me to tell you that he'd offer you half again as much if you'd agree. They think the world of you and you seem to be one of the few people who can make Master Andrew behave."

"Mmmm." Lorraine looked at him with her hazel eyes. That was a lot of money they were talking about just to baby-sit an eighteen year-old, but there was the question of propriety. Lorraine was just out of her twenties herself, and Andrew was an attractive young man. How would it look, her staying with him for a week to look after him?

She smiled. "I'm a piano teacher, Harris, not a governess."

"Of course, I understand. But should you change your mind, Aunt Celia is fully prepared to change her plans and I'm to give you her room. And between you and me, Miss Vann, I don't think she's looking forward to this. She can't handle him either."

There was a burst of laughter from the back of the house and Lorraine looked up.

The front hallway and foyer were done in marble—too much marble, gaudy and ostentatious—and the grand sweep of the staircase going up to the second floor, embracing the enormous chandelier of Venetian crystal, didn't help. The Pitlows were new money, dotcom money, and their wealth was only skin deep. There was the feeling of something raw and unrefined beneath all the marble and expensive furniture.

"Thank you, Harris. I'd better see what the young Master is up to. May I have my umbrella please?"

Taking her valise and rolled up umbrella, she walked toward the conservatory, and as she did, the objects in the mansion seemed to light up and come alive as she passed, as if she held a lantern in her hand. She recognized the paintings like old friends—the Monet, the Sargent, the Burchfield, a Marcy—walking through room after room, each room impeccable, professionally designed. The sounds of laughter and horseplay from the conservatory got louder. Two hands playing a sloppy duet of "Heart and Soul" on bass and middle range of the magnificent Bösendorfer while someone else slapped the high treble keys.

Lorraine opened the large French door to the conservatory and stepped inside, looked about at the chaotic scene and just stood there.

The room was a scene of anarchy. Andy sat at the keyboard of the concert grand playing the bass part of Heart and Soul next to a pretty girl with long red hair who was picking out the melody with an uncertain forefinger. Standing next to the bench, a short, wiry boy was slapping the treble keys like a monkey to the obvious entertainment of another, dull-looking lout in shorts and teeshirt, while on the sofa, three more boys and two girls seemed involved in a tickling match, squirming around and laughing. There were pillows and shoes and jackets on the floor, and all this at one PM, the exact time of Andy's lesson. He knew she liked to start things exactly on time.

Her eyes went back to Andy, tall, well built, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater that matched the sky-blue of his eyes, his blonde hair hanging over his forehead. He'd matured physically so much in the last two years, but inside man and boy still fought for control. He'd been a competent pianist, the one consistent trait in his wild, undisciplined personality, but that had changed when he'd started college last fall. Now even the discipline of piano was too much for him and he'd stopped practicing, preferring to hang out with these "friends".

She stood there in the doorway, saying nothing, then she picked up her umbrella and rapped it on the floor. Slowly the wildness stopped. The kids wanted to ignore her, but Lorraine was not one to be ignored, and as they quieted down, Andy turned around and noticed her.

He looked at her and smiled, then his eyes swept her up and down in a most un-studentlike way. "Hey, Miss V. Is it that time already? I didn't notice. These are my friends. This is Lisa and Jennifer, and that's Jason and Scrunch and Simon and Ryan and Bulldog and Tyler. Guys, this is my piano teacher, Lorraine Vann."

A mumbled chorus of nods and "Hi's."

"Pleased to meet you all," she said. "But it's one o'clock, and that's time for our lesson. I only take one student at a time. Andrew, your friends are going to have to leave."

From the smile on his face she thought there might be trouble, but Andy just nodded. "Sure. No problem. Guys, you're going to have to clear out. I'll see you later, okay? Got to have my piano lesson, you know?" He raised his eyebrows and some of his friends laughed. Lorraine wondered if he'd been talking about her. She was aware of the way some of the boys looked at her.

"Sure, Andy, sure." "Yeah, later." "Right, man."

She turned to watch the kids and as she did she saw Andy turn and put his arm around the red-haired girl and lean over for a big, open-mouthed kiss. The girl burst out laughing and as she pushed him away, fell off the bench, which brought a peal of laughter from the two boys at the piano, but she noticed Andy's face darkened with humiliation.

The kids put on their shoes, got their coats and backpacks, horsed around. The cell phones came out and they made their arrangements and attempted to tidy the place up, picking up pillows and straightening rugs.

"Don't worry about that," she said. "The maid will take care of cleaning up. I'm sure you'll be seeing Andrew later. Now we just need an hour for his lesson."

Scrunch tried to catch Andy's eye, but Andy was still smarting from the redhead's rejection and was sitting starting at the piano.

"An hour, right. Right, Andy? And what do you want me to do with that stuff?" Scrunch asked, hefting a large black gym bag.

"Just leave it by the chair. I'll take care of it," Andy said. He looked at Lorraine then dropped his eyes. "Personal stuff."

She nodded. She couldn't imagine what kind of personal stuff Andy would have to carry around in a black gym bag in his own house. Scrunch dropped it by the chair and it clanked.

"Okay, I'll talk to you guys later," Andy said, and the kids answered back, laughed, took one last look around and shrugged and shambled out.

Lorraine watched them leave, then sat down in the chair by the piano and leaned her hands on her umbrella. Andy turned toward the piano and dried his hands on his trousers, a sly look on his face, then combed the unruly lock of blond hair back out of his face.

"So," she said brightly. "Do you miss your folks?"

He gave a little laugh. "Yeah. Sure."

"You have something planned with your friends? Your Aunt Celia's coming to stay with you, I understand."

"Yeah. That should be fun. In bed by nine o'clock."

"Now be nice to her, Andy."

He laughed. "Oh, I will. I will."

Lorraine smiled and opened her valise. "You know, your parents wanted me to stay with you." She looked at him, ready to gauge his reaction.

He looked at her with surprise that turned into something like fear. "You? You're kidding!"

She wasn't disappointed. "I'm not. It's true. If you give Aunt Celia a hard time, I just might take them up on it. I want you to behave while they're gone, Andrew."

She knew the thought of her staying with him, sleeping under the same roof, would unsettle him. She'd seen the way he looked at her. Unaccountably, she enjoyed playing with the idea.

"Harris has offered me the spare bedroom," she said.

"Oh come on! What do you think I'm going to do? Burn the place down?"

"I don't know, but I wonder about it. Those girls are coming back?"


"How well do you know them?"

"Oh hell. I've known them since high school."

"That redhead—Lisa? She didn't seem to appreciate you much, huh?"

"What are you talking about—? Oh. You saw?" He blushed. "Ah, I was just kidding around."

"How come you don't have a girl, Andy? They can't all treat you like that?"

"What do you mean? I get what I need. Christ, Miss V. In fact, I take care of myself pretty well."

"Is that right?" she asked.

Andy grinned. "God, Miss V. You're as bad as my parents. You must think I don't know anything. You'd flip if you knew some of the things I've done, the things I'm into."

Lorraine stood up and leaned her umbrella against the chair, ignoring him. "Where's your music, Andy?"

Suddenly he looked defensive. "Ah, I don't know. I think I must have left it at school."



"Okay. We'll use mine."

Lorraine reached in her valise and took out a sheaf of music, then spread it on the stand, leaning over Andy so that her breasts passed by his face. She saw his eyes flick to watch her and she smiled.

Her position in the Pitlow household was odd. Officially she was only the piano teacher, but in fact she was much, much more—part governess, part social secretary to Mrs. Pitlow, part confidante, she was a stabilizing influence on the entire family.

"So, did you practice this week, Andy?"

"Oh yes, Miss Vann. Assiduously."

At the sound of the word she looked at him and he gave her a cocky smile.

"Assiduously, huh?" She walked over and closed the door to the rest of the house. "Then why don't we start with the exercises in Hanon. I think we were on page twelve."

Andy opened the big green book to the proper place, poised his hands over the keyboard and looked at the forest of black sixteenth notes in front of him. Lorraine came and stood behind him, crossing her arms under her breasts, waiting for him to begin. He stared for some time, and finally the little finger of his left hand and the thumb of his right came down on two notes and stopped there, the sound ringing out, then dying away as he gazed fixedly at the page of music, unable to continue. At last he switched fingers and played two more notes.

It was ridiculous. He was a much better pianist than that. He could sight read the piece better than that.

"Wonderful," Lorraine said dryly. "Now you want to take it about a thousand times faster? Those are sixteenth notes, Andy. The tempo is presto." She clapped her hands. "Like this. Now try it again."

She stood up and waited and Andy started again, but again the same thing happened—two notes pure in the air, dying away to silence before he'd found the next two, and this time she couldn't miss that Andy Pitlow self-satisfied smirk, even though he tried to hide it.

"All right," she said with thinly veiled irritation. "I guess we didn't practice our Hanon this week, did we, Andrew?"

"Hmmm. We thought we did, Miss V."

She ignored the sarcasm. "The Bach. Did you practice this? You said you really liked this piece, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah." Andy took the music out and spread it on the rack and Lorraine sat down in the armchair near the piano, the black gym bag near her feet. As he looked over the music and stretched, she casually nudged the bag with her shoe and heard the clank of metal against glass.

What the hell?

Andy got nowhere with the Bach. He played the parts he'd played last week and they were no better now than they'd been then, maybe even a little worse. It was obvious he hadn't made any progress.

"When I just asked you if you practiced this you told me, yes. You told me, 'Oh yeah.' What's up, Andy?"

"No. You misunderstood. I said, 'Oh yeah, I really like this piece.' I didn't mean, 'Oh yeah, I practiced it.'"

Lorraine stood up and folded her arms. She locked her legs so the skirt pulled tight against them

"What's going on Andy? I thought you and I were through playing these BS games. Now, I asked you at the start whether you'd practiced or not and you told me yes, you had. And now I'm finding that no, you haven't, and you're wasting my time. You know I don't like it when you waste my time. I could be doing something else right now a lot more productive than this."

"But I did practice, Miss V. I wasn't kidding."

"What have you practiced, Andy? Why don't we just cut to the chase and you can show me what you've practiced."

He smiled at her and slid down a bit on the stool, then made a dramatic show of preparing to play, closing his hands into fists and flinging them open several times to loosen the muscles. When he had her full attention he bent over the keyboard in fierce concentration and launched into a deliberately clumsy version of the bass part for Heart and Soul, fingers stiff, elbows flying, playing as if he'd never been at a piano before.

Lorraine turned to him. "Very nice, Andy. Am I supposed to be amused?"

"You can be whatever you want." He kept on playing.

"Okay wait. Wait! Andy? Andy! What's going on here?"

She finally pulled out the keyboard cover and leaned on it to stop him from playing. Andy stood up from the piano.

"What's going on here? I'll tell you what's going on here," he said calmly. "I'm sick of it. I'm sick of these fucking lessons. I don't want to take them anymore and I'm done. The lessons are over."

She raised her eyebrows. "I don't think you can make that decision."

"I certainly can. You heard me. I'm eighteen. I don't have to do what they want anymore. I'm an adult. I'll live my own life and make my own decisions and my first decision is not to take piano lessons anymore."

Lorraine looked at him but she was calm. " Alright. If that's your decision, we can discuss it. But why the games? Why waste my time? If you want to be treated like an adult, why don't you try acting like an adult."

"Oh please," he said. "Don't talk down to me, Miss V. It's simple, really. I'm telling you 'no'. No more lessons. I'm old enough to decide what I want to do and I want to party with my friends."

Lorraine folded her arms over her chest. "I don't think that's wise, Andrew."

"I don't care what you think. That's what I want. I'm calling the shots here now!" He grinned at her. "But hey, you're welcome to stay if you want, Miss V."

There was a sudden knock at the door, quiet and tentative, and Lorraine looked at Andrew. It was an unwritten law that no one disturbed them during their lessons. Harris knew this very well, and so did Anna the maid, so this had to be friends of Andrew. The grin stayed on his face.

"And who might that be, Andrew?" she asked softly. "Guests?"

"Maybe," he said. "Why don't we find out?"

He strode to the French doors and unlocked them to reveal Scrunch and the two girls standing there with their coats on. They stopped when they saw Loraine and looked at her with suspicion.

"It's cold out there," Scrunch said. "We thought you might be done."

"Come on in, guys," Andy said a bit loudly. "It's cool. Miss Vann was just leaving."

Lorraine raised her eyebrows as if that were news to her. She didn't move. The two girls hung back, but Scrunch stood up tall and attempted to saunter into the room. He didn't quite pull it off. Lorraine's presence made him nervous.

Andy turned to her. "You can go now, Miss V. The lesson's over. This is my house and I don't want you here anymore. I want to be with my friends."

"And that's all there is to it? "

"That's all there is to it. My house, my rules. Unless you decided to take me up on my invitation." He leered at her for the benefit of his friends.

"I see. We're going to have a party?" Lorraine looked at Andy and he fought to withstand her gaze. Scrunch wouldn't meet her eyes and the two girls looked away.

Lorraine went to the gym bag and Andy moved to stop her, but before he could get there, she'd unzipped it.

"Don't touch that!"

She already had it open and had pulled out two bottles of vodka and set them on the floor. She straightened up slowly and reached for her umbrella. None of the young people moved.

Using the point of the umbrella, Lorraine opened the bag and rummaged around inside and carefully fished out a black leather flogger, which hung on the tip of her umbrella like a harpooned octopus fished from the deep. She laid it on the carpet. A leather collar followed, attached to a set of cuffs.

Andy stood there, red-faced.

"Whoa!" Scrunch said, and laughed. "Is that what you had in there? You told me it was exercise equipment! You're weird, dude!"

The two girls laughed nervously and covered their mouths and Andy only got redder. "Fuck you!" he said.

She rummaged around in the bag. She could see chains, vibrators, whips. For Andy?

She glanced again at the girls. They just didn't look like the type. They were trying to act cool but it was obvious they found the sight of this bondage gear rather surprising.

"Okay." Lorraine straightened up. "The party's cancelled. I think it's time you three left."

"No. You're leaving," Andy said. "I told you. I don't want you here."

Lorraine ignored him.

"What about the vodka?" Scrunch asked. "I paid for that."

"That stays here. It's against the law for me to give liquor to a minor and you're all minors. I'm not putting my ass on the line so you can get drunk. Now move it. You can party somewhere else."

"Well, fuck!"

"You don't have to listen to her," Andy objected. "This is my house! I make the rules."

"Out." She lowered her voice and the three kids shrank back and stood there uncertainly. "The Pitlows left me in charge of this place. There's not going to be any party tonight, or any other night. I guarantee you that. Now get out."

Scrunch stared at her for a while and then laughed.

"Way to handle her, Andy. Great plan. Fuck! You owe me for the booze, man. Come on, ladies."

Report Story

bydr_mabeuse© 7 comments/ 52803 views/ 11 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

3 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: