I come for my weekly piano lesson, doing some warm ups and then starting the piece I'm working on. You seem somewhat distracted, not giving feedback as usual. I make some intentional mistakes. You say nothing. I skip several stanzas. No comments. Your eyes have a faraway look.

I stop playing and turn to face you. "What's up, Anne? You seem distracted."

You startle and blush. "Sorry, I was thinking of something else."

"I pay you well for your time. I expect you to be fully present and attentive."

You drop your gaze. "Yes, I know. It's just..."

I wait for the remaining words. They don't come.

I take your hand. "I think it's time for your lesson. It's been awhile. Go get the leather paddle and wrist cuffs."

You look at me with an enchanting mixture of reluctance and relief. "Yes, sir."

You return, standing in front of me, offering the requested items. I place them on the bench.

I slowly unbutton your blouse and remove it and your bra as your eyes closely follow every move. I attach each wrist cuff, although they are really not needed. You won't resist. They are more of a comforting support, a reminder of your submission. They make it easier.

"Hands behind your head." You comply, bringing your chest forward toward me. I touch your eyes, nose, mouth and trace a finger down your chin, neck and chest.

"Focus, Anne."

You whisper, "Yes, sir."

My hands circle your breasts, massaging and rubbing, bringing a sigh of relief. I feel your body drop one level deeper. I focus my attention on your lovely nipples. They are so responsive and expressive, first to gentle pressure then with more intensity. I hold your gaze with my eyes; you dare not look away as the pressure turns to pain and your nipples harden. As the pain mounts, you suck in your breath and gently bite your lower lip. Do you know how much that drives me crazy?

I release your nipples and briskly rub, sending shooting sensations throughout your chest. Leaning forward, I kiss one nipple and let my tongue soothe the pain, gently sucking and nibbling. You moan and arch backward. I move to the other nipple and soothe it as well. The contrasting sensations of pain and pleasure flow from your nipple being sucked throughout your body. I lean back and smile, taking in your beautiful, heaving chest and relaxed, flushed face.

Shyly, you meet my gaze. "Thank you, sir."

I remove your dress and panties, and you stand fully naked before me, radiating a beauty that I can't put into words, but feel to my core. I run a finger between your breasts, down your belly and around your navel.

"Focus, Anne." You nod.

I kiss your navel, letting my tongue explore and follow every part as you roll your pelvis toward the contact. I smell the sweetness of your earthy arousal fill the air that calls forth a pulsing desire from deep within me. Sliding one hand lower, I massage your mound, lightly at first and then with more pressure. You moan, grinding against my hand. I let one finger gently trace your lips, feeling the first creamy nectar emerge. I bring that finger to my lips to savor you, your essence. I stand and rub my finger across your lips as the tip of your tongue follows.

I guide you to kneel on the piano bench.

"Head down. Turn towards me. I want to see your lovely face." You do as I brush your hair back.

"Arch you back." I place my hand there and firmly press down. "Spread your legs wider." You comply as I pat your inner thighs, blushing slightly at such intimate exposure. "Your presentation is exquisite, as usual." You smile.

My hands roam your body, seeking, searching every subtle point, every sensitive place. Your breathing quickens and your body eagerly meets my touch. I pick up the paddle and continue rubbing across your cheeks, back, legs, trailing it upward over your pussy and back again several times. The sensations of leather against skin awakens some primal depth as your lips swell and your nectar begins to flow.

I bring the paddle to your face and the leather smell triggers a stronger response. As I trace your lips, I hold it still and you kiss it and look up at me with a smile. The paddle follows your spine to your ass and I begin a light, constant tapping, warming your skin, preparing for more. You welcome the change and your hips reach for the sensations.

"Focus."

I lift the paddle up and pause as you hold your breath in anticipation. I bring it down sharply, once to each cheek. Just that much breaks through a layer and you relax into the bench. I give each cheek a series of five and then pause to briskly rub the warm skin, amplifying the sensations. Another five strikes to each cheek and your skin becomes hot and shifts from pink to red. I spend more time massaging, pressing, raking my fingernails across your sensitive ass. I spread your cheeks and let my fingers explore every inch of you. You thrust your pussy back as I tease your lips and squeal deliciously when I circle and press against your anus.

Another five spanks, this time with more force and speed. You begin to whimper soft cries with each stroke and rotate your hips in rhythm. As I rub harder and push deeper, your sobs and whimpers get louder. I let one finger enter your wet pussy and explore while the other slaps your red cheeks. The contrasting sensations from ass to pussy push you deeper and I feel your arousal starting to peak.

I withdraw my hands and you sigh, shaking your hips, wanting more. "20 more, 10 to each cheek, Anne. Soft, medium, or hard?"

"Hard, sir," you softly whisper. I'm proud of you.

I increase the force with each spank. By 10, you are writhing and the pain approaches your limit. Sobs turn to gasping and holding your breath, clenching your hands and cheeks tightly. I pause halfway, but just for a moment to catch your breath, then continue. By 18, you are almost there, and at 20, the tears are flowing freely.

I drop the paddle and let my hands wander wherever they wish across your body. When your tears change to small sobs, I ease you up, sitting down with you in my lap. This is my favorite part. You cuddle into my chest and sigh between sobs. I lovingly stroke your hair and face, leaning down to kiss the tears on your cheeks and then your slightly parted lips. When you are in this state, kissing you is just like the first kiss: tender, fresh, clean, deep, like kissing your soul. We stay like this for a while, or forever. It feels the same.

Softly, I ask, "Can you finish the sentence now? It's just ...what?"

You look up at me, a radiant glow on your face, and smile. It's a smile that melts my heart every time.

"It's just...I needed that."

You begin to unbutton my shirt and I stop your hand, pulling you up to stand. "Before that, this." I sit you on the bench as you flinch with the pressure against your sensitive bottom. I stand behind you, massaging your shoulders, neck, head and face.

"Now, play."

As your hands float up and rest on the keyboard, you lean back into me. I feel you yielding, soften, melt to the point where I can't distinguish you or me.

And then, you start to play.