#496) Revisiting This Photo

I was happy with my story, “Piano Lessons,” that this photo inspired. But, I’m just not through with it. This photo haunts me, haunts my dreams and subconscious…

I want to enter the picture! I want to stand to the side of the pretty model on that polished bench as she plays. No matter how well she plays that piano, it wouldn’t be good enough, I have an agenda…

I slip the spread fingers of my left hand into her black silken tresses, then close my hand into a fist, pulled her head back to look up at me. Her dancing fingers stop playing, leave the keyboard. To be treated roughly touches-off something deep inside her submissive soul. Her fingers press into her crotch. She feels the heat and humidity there…

I pull the cover to the keyboard out and down. Its music is finished for now; I want to make music much more melodic. I pull her hair so that she stands up from the bench. I push the girl over the edge of the piano, so that she sprawls across the top of the baby grand, so that her cute bottom is curved across the music stand and the closed keyboard…

It has been a picture of blacks and whites. Her pale skin, her white blazer with black trim and knee socks framing the nudity of her pert behind, contrasted with the black piano and bench, her raven hair, the black and white keys. I need to add to this palette. There are two faint pink sit-spots on her bottom. I need to make them red. I need to spank her. A “spanking” does not describe what transpires next. Having pushed her over the edge for positioning, I now push her over the edge of her limits. I belabor her perfect bottom with my right hand until she is whimpering, then crying, and crying out in agony. I spank her until her flesh colors dusky rose, then red, and finally magenta. I punish until her legs tremble, until her sex drools, until we are both worn out…

With my fist guiding her, I sit her flaming fanny back on the cool polished bench. When her soft curves meet its hard surface, it practically sizzles and steams. I take out my handkerchief and wipe off the jism from the keyboard cover…

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for being such a spank whore?” I whisper in her ear, stuffing that moist handkerchief into her crotch, where she’s still leaking molten arousal like lava and still smoldering like a once-dormant volcano. She wants to hang her head, but my fist won’t let her. “Play! Again!” I command as I removed the cover. Her fingers start making music for a measure or two. “No! Not pianisimo enough, not sticcato enough, not nuanced enough!” My fist stands her up, my flat palm reprimands her bottom with ten more swats. I sit her down. “Play, again!” She starts again, it is better. But not good enough. I stand her, spank her, sit her, command for her to play. We dance like this for the next five minutes or so…

“Please!” she interrupts our pas de deux, “I can’t! I can’t think, I can’t play, I need you too much to do anything but…”

I push the bench back from the instrument. I remove my sodden white handkerchief and stuff it into her pretty mouth. I part her thighs and kneel between them, I apply my tongue to her clitoris, play her for a change, stuff my fingers into her sex, into her rosebud, and we make beautiful music together…

2 responses to “#496) Revisiting This Photo”

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