This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
The Virtuoso
By
Alex Birch <alexbirch@blueyonder.co.uk>
She stood in the spotlight as the crowd cheered and clapped, a diminutive and beautiful figure in a pale blue gown which emphasised the soft brown tones of her skin. She bowed , milking the applause as the crowd stood as one, breathless with anticipation. The virtuoso, the finest young pianist of her generation and darling of the media, was about to play the concerto. For such a celebrity and one so young her private life was a mystery, her only companion the beautiful young secretary who accompanied her everywhere. There was rumour of course but...
Suddenly the hall was hushed as she moved her hands in a gesture of silence and moved to the piano stool. Within seconds the hall was filled with wonderful music as her gentle hands seemd to glide across the ivory keys, the audience totally spellbound. The virtuoso closed her eyes and smiled as her hands caressed the keyboard, her mind's eye seeing not the piano but the soft white buttocks she had caressed only an hour before . Sensuality, touch and the beauty of the music were an interwoven tapestry in her mind, vital ingredients in her precocious talent.
She had played this piece so often and loved it so much that she could have played in her sleep. The concerto changed rhythm and the audience gasped as she introduced a daring cadenza with alternating light and shade. On the stage, the virtuoso, her eyes still closed, began to tremble as she played, for now she was watching the soft pale buttocks writhing, turning a delicate pink as her hand slapped down, varying the pace as the delicate bottom cheeks opened and closed, little whimpers audible now as the pattern varied and the bottom became warm.
The virtuoso began to smile with pleasure as the piece entered its climax, just as she was entering her own, her fluent fingers making the piano sound like a beautiful unworldly thing, something that was hers alone that no one could take away. As her gentle hands became weapons, the heavy bass dramatic movement played with total mastery and control, she saw the soft buttocks across her lap, the bottom bright red now, hard fierce slaps bringing her young lover to a weeping, writhing climax as her hand came down again and again in time with the music.
Almost too soon the final notes of the rousing final movement filled the auditorium , the audience stunned to see the young pianist's hands suddenly leave the piano as she seemed to slump in her chair, her face perspiring and flushed, her body trembling. The orchestra picked up the final section of the concerto as the virtuoso got to her feet and bowed. As the music concluded the crowd was on its feet once more hailing a performance of fire and passion that had utterly consumed them. The diva took the bows and the garlands of flowers as her fans cheered and clapped but they were almost incidental. Her thoughts were two miles away , in a hotel where a beautiful blonde girl who loved her lay naked and waiting. That would be her true reward!!
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
Reviews
Frank <sswitcher(at)yahoo(dot)com>
As a lover of piano music myself (although sadly untalented as a player), I have often thought about the many parallels between the sensuousness, manual dexterity, and rhythmic percussive energy required of the pianist and of the spanker. So this imaginative and well-written piece certainly struck a pleasant chord with me. Given the word-length constraint, the sheer volume of detailed imagery was very impressive.