The Violinist

He paused and took a long, steadying breath while appreciating the magnificent scene she had prepared for him. She clearly possessed artistic talent and applied it to every aspect of her life with care - and this simple yet profound glimpse into her personality was intoxicating to him.

He noticed she was perfectly motionless, waiting with exquisite patience for him to act. He bent down to retrieve the unstrung bow, running the polished wood through his fingertips and marveling at the craftsmanship. He loved anything that had been constructed with this level of detail and passion, celebrating the depth of meaning that could be found in even the simplest things. He thought of how her mere act of surprising him in this position was a meaningful gesture of trust and respect, something which he did not and would not take lightly, and he committed then to demonstrating this for her.

He suddenly flicked the bow through the empty air above her, causing a snapping 'whoosh' and a very slight quiver of anticipation from the woman. He was a master of sound, and he would use this to elevate the experience for both of them.

She waited, ready and willing and in no rush to move things forward. There was a sense of need filling her belly, though she was an artisan of delayed gratification. In an almost meditative fashion she opened her eyes and stared 'through' the bathroom tiles that were an inch from her face, breathing deep through her nose to fill her lungs with oxygen and her body with vital energy. She reinforced the arch of her back, the slight discomfort of holding the position granting her a masochistic sense of satisfaction from her own harsh self discipline.

The Violinist paced slowly around her, considering her from different angles and deliberately timing his footsteps to prevent any noticeable rhythm. He would stop and observe, swishing the bow before continuing to pace again, testing her patience and resolve.

He chose his moment, finally satisfied that she would not break her position, and thrashed the bow across her pale buttocks. The woman gasped and the stinging pain evoked a soft sound in her throat. Still, she retained her pose perfectly.

No, this was not the note he was seeking. He gently drew swirling patterns along her spine and bottom with the tip of the bow, teasing at her soft and goosefleshed skin while he considered his next strike. She shivered at the caresses, so stark in contrast to that initial lash.

Again he whipped her, this time the bow hitting lower down so that the imprint of his discipline was left across her thighs more than her buttocks. Again she gasped, and purred out a broken moan as she acclimatised to the pain. This was what he had sought, the perfect note for his symphony.

He knelt down and gently kissed her where the first strike had landed, letting her know of his approval and again drawing a contrast between force and softness.

Her skin felt like it was buzzing all over with electricity, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her eyes closed and she withdrew further within the moment, letting go of any excess consciousness and unnecessary thought and becoming more simply 'aware'. The two lines across her rear still stung with a burning heat but she reveled in it, aching for more. It was not enough, it had only just been the beginning and she was lusted for more.

Her body jolted involuntarily as the Violinist's bow suddenly found itself tracing up her inner thigh, the mild tickling causing her reaction. She quickly brought herself back to her mental centerpoint, breathing in deeply to become steady once more. The sensation of the bow was exquisite, and she purred again as it found her now-moist labia and drew a vertical line further north, touching briefly on every electrified center of pleasure she had.

He saw her quiver ever so slightly and smiled at the joy of it all. He repeated his earlier kiss to encourage more of her musical exclamation, and was delighted when she reciprocated. He felt that they were coming into sync, that they were developing a harmony and rhythm that would lead to something beautiful.

He raised his arm and whipped her, harder this time and almost with anger. The sudden rise in intensity caught her by surprise and caused an amplified moan to burst unbidden from deep within her chest. For the first time, she lost all sense of herself and her discipline, and tossed her head as the pain radiated waves of energy throughout her already excited body.

A firm hand worked it's way into her hair, which was still pulled back but had since become a little loose, and steadied her, granting a point of surety to help her to re-establish her mental state. She moaned as the hand rewarded her with massaging motions across her scalp.

He was pleased. The notes were coming and they were creating a beautiful melody together. He removed his tie, but chose to remain fully dressed despite his own arousal. These were still the opening measures.

He stepped around to her rear again, admiring the red welts that were now ever so slightly swollen. They were spreading a glorious pink tint across her, which served only to heighten the beauty of the scene. He traced the lines with his fingertips and felt the blazing heat of her skin with great satisfaction before suddenly snapping the palm of his hand against the already softened area. The powerful slap pushed her forward on her knees slightly and she made the most delicious sound as she pushed back towards him. He slapped again, with more force this time to push her further away. Again she returned eagerly to her position, her moans sending electric fireworks up his spine and into his brain. Once more he smacked his open hand across her rump, his own skin now burning lightly. His breathing quickened and he fought to regain control of his desire and lust, not wanting to move too quickly forward.

The woman's breathing was now audibly heavier, showing that she had fully given her mind over to her body and was simply living in the moment and bathing in the agony and ecstacy of it all.

He stood, taking a moment to clarify his thoughts. He knew what he would do next - it was time to add a different sound to the symphony.