Li worked the shaft back and forth, faster and faster. Sweat sprung from her forehead and ran down her face as she struggled to increase her tempo still. It was a wailing crescendo towards the final climax. She could feel a thousand eyes on her: a stark black-and-white figure under blindingly bright lights that afforded her no shadow in which to hide. In truth, she only truly cared for one pair of eyes among the audience. He was watching most intently, eyes boring into her soul.
She felt a bead of sweat dribble down and fall from her chin. She ignored it. She had to be perfect tonight. This was her work, her art. Her grip on the shaft was slippery, but it was impossible to stop now. The tip shuddered to and fro inches from her face.
At last the climax came. She gave one last glorious thrust before whipping the bow from the violin, and executing a graceful curtsey. The conservatorium erupted in applause. The stage lights finally dimmed and the rest of the orchestra glowed to life. Li felt herself blush with pride as the audience lavished her with a standing ovation. For a moment she saw him near the front, still seated. His face was still. He had noticed her mistake earlier. She curtsied again, towards him, and moved off the stage.
It was not long before the concert had ended, and she said her goodbyes to her colleagues. Half of them couldn't even pronounce her first name properly, and had taken to calling her "Li". She didn't mind. Most people had called her that since coming to the States, but it was a constant reminder that she was still an outsider to them. She didn't have friends amongst these people, not that that bothered her either. Not many people would understand the life she chose, and the fewer people who got close to her, the fewer awkward conversations there were likely to be.
She stepped out into the parking lot. It had rained during the concert and the air still had a crisp, fresh bite. His Lexus was parked under the nearest lamppost, his silhouette already at the wheel. She bowed her head and, walking as quickly as she could in her tight dress, made her way to the passenger door.
She was welcomed into the car with a waft of warmed air and the smell of his spicy cologne. His tuxedo cut a fine form: tight to his body and proudly displaying the tapering V of his torso. He gave a sideways glance and a half smile; just enough to tell her he was pleased at seeing her. For a while they said nothing as he guided the car through the streets. The engine purred under his commands, the gear stick compliant under his powerful hand. She loved the fact that this car had a manual transmission. He seemed so focused as he drove, managing the revs and the gears. Whenever he stressed the engine the entire chassis would thrum, sending a deep vibration up her spine and chills through her body. They stopped at a traffic light just as it turned red, and he finally broke his gaze from the road to appreciate her legs.
"That dress was a good choice for tonight. Exposes enough to make men want to see more, without divulging too much." He said, his voice deep and quiet. He had once said that if you need to raise your voice to get things done, you were saying the wrong words.
Li looked down. The dress was her favourite, simple though it was: tight, black, and strapless, ending halfway down her thigh. "Thank you Master. You chose it." He gave another half-smile in response, then slid his hand over her knee. It slowly crept down her silky smooth thigh. She bit her lip and took a wavering breath. It had been three days since she had earned her last orgasm. All she could think about was earning the next.
"You missed the C# in the second refrain."
"Yes Master. This whore is sorry, Master."
"You promised me a perfect performance this evening."
"Yes Master. This cum-stain knows she deserves to be punished, Master."
His hand started to drag the dress up her thigh, exposing more and more of her legs. In aching anticipation, she felt herself moisten at his touch. He still managed to do this to her after eight years. Her breath was ragged for a moment before she caught herself. She bit her lip and gripped the door handle until her knuckles turned white.
"Please Master." His hands pulled the dress higher, and she thrust her pelvis up to free the resisting material. She had lost underwear privileges last week. She was wet and exposed. "Please..." The light turned green.
"You haven't earned it yet." He released her thigh and slammed the car into gear before gunning the accelerator down the empty road. Li was crestfallen, but knew better than to complain. She moved to pull her dress back into place. "No." That was enough for her, and she sat like that for the rest of their journey, exposed to any passers-by lucky enough to be at an opportune angle.
The great, glistening towers of Manhattan eventually faded away to spires of tiny jewels on the horizon, and in time they reached a more luxurious, and far more private, area of New York. It was getting late, but there were still a few pedestrians out, some late-night romantics, some just walking the dog. They pulled to a stop at another traffic light. "Your breasts, expose them now." Without hesitation Li reached behind her back and undid the clasp, then pulled the top of her dress down, allowing her fulsome breasts to tumble out.
Despite the warmth of the car's heater, her small nipples were hard enough to cut glass. Tiny gold studs glimmered on either side of them. To most slaves, she was told, a collar was the symbol of their submission. To Li, it was her nipple piercings. Although the exact jewellery was changed according to the need or occasion, so long as something was there, she felt fully owned. It had been Master who ordered her to get the piercings in the first place, and when Li did so without even a second thought that she knew that she truly was his slave.
This was doubly reinforced when he sent her to have her breasts enlarged. She would not have complained even if the idea of resisting came to her. He had arranged for one of the top cosmetic surgeons in the country to attend to her, and being of Chinese birth, her suffering through adolescence had only rewarded her with a B cup size. Her body was the canvas where he did his work, and she now presented the passing world with perfectly formed, bulbous double-Ds.
Although there were times of extreme pain, discomfort, and displeasure, she had never stopped being anything less than happy with their relationship.
Li left her thoughts as they turned down the road towards their home, a large colonial-era house with a ring of thick shrubs and a legion of tall trees to ensure privacy. Shrinking in the side-view mirror, Li saw a middle-aged man, and judging by his gaping mouth he must have been just at the right place to see everything. A thrilling rush filled her chest and put a mischievous grin on her face. She tried to hide it. This was supposed to be part of her punishment, after all.
Hardly a minute later they had driven up the winding drive to the garage. Once they parked, he exited first. She remained, waiting for orders, still exposed to the cold night. A few moments later he opened her door.
"Fetch the mail. Then go to the kitchen, and wait for me in your corner." Li got out and headed to the mailbox down the drive, the early spring air happily stripping the warmth from her skin. She retrieved two letters before starting her way back to the house, easily a five minute walk in her heels. Without thinking she checked the recipients of the letters: one for Xiaolian Hsu, probably her pay check, and the other for Master, Richard Hargrove. It didn't actually matter, she would give both to him and he would decide if she needed to know what was in the letters.
It hadn't always been like this, of course. When she had submitted to him eight years ago he almost immediately began to push her limits, taking more control of her while stripping her decisions away. At first she had resisted, but never actually protested. The fact was that she was happy like this, without having to make decisions, without having the burden of responsibility on her, beyond following his orders. It had hardly stunted her career. She had gone from a middling violinist floundering through a BA degree to Magna Cum Laude that was head-hunted by the New York Symphony Orchestra.
By the time she entered the house, her body was covered in gooseflesh. She placed the letters on the entry-hall's table and, despite needing the toilet, went directly to her corner in the kitchen. She knelt down, bowed her head tightly into it, arched her back as she had been taught, and clasped her hands under her chin. While the kitchen boasted an array of only the best in domestic technologies, the floor was a simple white tile that was even colder than the air outside.
She remained there, stock-still. Some time ago she had remained in this pose for three hours, and had to relieve her bladder without moving a muscle. He had made her lick it up. Not a pleasant memory, but from then on she was far more diligent about her Kegel exercises. Fortunately, this time it was hardly a few minutes before his footsteps came up behind her. One of his large hands laid gently on an exposed butt-cheek and kneaded it lovingly.
"It is cold tonight. Let's warm you up. Stand up, remove your heels, and then sit down in the chair." For a moment Li was confused, but turned around and saw he had placed a heavy old wooden chair in front of the stove. The hot plates had been turned on to full power. He had a coil of rope in his other hand. She knew what was coming.
Without any ceremony, her arms and waist were tied securely to the chair. Her ankles were bound together, with a length of rope running around the stove's handle as a makeshift pulley. Li knew that Master was beastly strong for his deceptively lithe build. In his grip the rope might as well have been cemented into the wall. As he pulled on his end, her legs were lowered inexorably over the hot plates.
The pain felt far away at first, an itching burn at the base of her heels. He pulled a little more, and the hot plates got closer.
"I told you during practice that you miss that note." He said while slowly feeding the rope towards himself.
