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The Piano Lesson

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As Lorraine walked up the steps of the mansion for Andrew’s one o’clock lesson, she could hear him butchering Beethoven’s “Für Elise” in a way so awful it had to be intentional. Sure enough, the musical carnage soon ended in a burst of raucous laughter followed by the sound of several people slamming their hands down on the keyboard—all in all a forced, nasty sound.

“Good afternoon, Harris,” she said as the houseman opened the door. He seemed composed as usual, although a little gray with strain.

“Who’s here?” She handed him her valise as she took off her gloves and hat.

“The usual group of young snots,” he said with polite diffidence, helping her with her coat.

“When did it start?”

“Oh, only an hour or so ago, thank heavens. But they’ve been over continually since the Mr. and Mrs.left. He needs supervision. You know how he is.”

“Why aren’t I surprised?” she asked, taking off her long coat.

“I wish they would have taken him with.”

“Well, you know this was a special trip for them. Adults only, Harris.”

He rolled his eyes and took her coat, draping it over his arm. “You’re looking well today, Miss Vann.”

“Thank you, Harris. That’s sweet.”

What he said was true. Lorraine was a very attractive young woman and she always dressed well for Andrew’s lessons. Beneath her coat she wore a snug, charcoal-gray wool skirt and pearl-gray blouse over a black turtleneck. Her boots were snug and well polished and would have made her look severe if not for her angelic face, framed by a luxurious mane of insouciant blonde hair. Her face almost demanded these clothes to give her person a proper amount of gravitas, yet the severity of the clothes cut both ways, emphasizing those parts of her that were most womanly. On Lorraine, these parts were quite evident.

“Have you heard from them?” she asked. “Did they arrive safely?”

“Oh yes,” Harris said, hanging up her coat and putting it in the hall closet. “They called this morning. “The boat docked last night and they had a very nice trip, very relaxing, just what they wanted. They’ll stay in Cherbourg for two days visiting some friends of Mrs. Pitlow’s, then go on to Paris for the week. They’ll fly back next Sunday.”

“And they did make arrangements for Andrew, of course?”

“Yes, Miss Vann. His Aunt Celia is coming this evening and will stay the week. They did repeat their request and hoped you’d reconsider. Their offer still stands, in fact, Mr. Pitlow wished me to tell you that he’d offer you half again as much if you’d agree. They think the world of you and you seem to be one of the few people who can make Master Andrew behave.”

“Mmmm.” Lorraine looked at him with her hazel eyes. That was a lot of money they were talking about just to baby-sit an eighteen year-old, but there was the question of propriety. Lorraine was just out of her twenties herself, and Andrew was an attractive young man. How would it look, her staying with him for a week to look after him?

She smiled. “I’m a piano teacher, Harris, not a governess.”

“Of course, I understand. But should you change your mind, Aunt Celia is fully prepared to change her plans and I’m to give you her room. And between you and me, Miss Vann, I don’t think she’s looking forward to this. She can’t handle him either.”

There was a burst of laughter from the back of the house and Lorraine looked up.

The front hallway and foyer were done in marble—too much marble, gaudy and ostentatious—and the grand sweep of the staircase going up to the second floor, embracing the enormous chandelier of Venetian crystal, didn’t help. The Pitlows were new money, dotcom money, and their wealth was only skin deep. There was the feeling of something raw and unrefined beneath all the marble and expensive furniture.

“Thank you, Harris. I’d better see what the young Master is up to. May I have my umbrella please?”

Taking her valise and rolled up umbrella, she walked toward the conservatory, and as she did, the objects in the mansion seemed to light up and come alive as she passed, as if she held a lantern in her hand. She recognized the paintings like old friends—the Monet, the Sargent, the Burchfield, a Marcy—walking through room after room, each room impeccable, professionally designed. The sounds of laughter and horseplay from the conservatory got louder. Two hands playing a sloppy duet of “Heart and Soul” on bass and middle range of the magnificent Bösendorfer while someone else slapped the high treble keys.

Lorraine opened the large French door to the conservatory and stepped inside, looked about at the chaotic scene and just stood there.

The room was a scene of anarchy. Andy sat at the keyboard of the concert grand playing the bass part of Heart and Soul next to a pretty girl with long red hair who was picking out the melody with an uncertain forefinger. Standing next to the bench, a short, wiry boy was slapping the treble keys like a monkey to the obvious entertainment of another, dull-looking lout in shorts and teeshirt, while on the sofa, three more boys and two girls seemed involved in a tickling match, squirming around and laughing. There were pillows and shoes and jackets on the floor, and all this at one PM, the exact time of Andy’s lesson. He knew she liked to start things exactly on time.

Her eyes went back to Andy, tall, well built, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater that matched the sky-blue of his eyes, his blonde hair hanging over his forehead. He’d matured physically so much in the last two years, but inside man and boy still fought for control. He’d been a competent pianist, the one consistent trait in his wild, undisciplined personality, but that had changed when he’d started college last fall. Now even the discipline of piano was too much for him and he’d stopped practicing, preferring to hang out with these “friends”.

She stood there in the doorway, saying nothing, then she picked up her umbrella and rapped it on the floor. Slowly the wildness stopped. The kids wanted to ignore her, but Lorraine was not one to be ignored, and as they quieted down, Andy turned around and noticed her.

He looked at her and smiled, then his eyes swept her up and down in a most un-studentlike way. “Hey, Miss V. Is it that time already? I didn’t notice. These are my friends. This is Lisa and Jennifer, and that’s Jason and Scrunch and Simon and Ryan and Bulldog and Tyler. Guys, this is my piano teacher, Lorraine Vann.”

A mumbled chorus of nods and “Hi’s.”

“Pleased to meet you all,” she said. “But it’s one o’clock, and that’s time for our lesson. I only take one student at a time. Andrew, your friends are going to have to leave.”

From the smile on his face she thought there might be trouble, but Andy just nodded. “Sure. No problem. Guys, you’re going to have to clear out. I’ll see you later, okay? Got to have my piano lesson, you know?” He raised his eyebrows and some of his friends laughed. Lorraine wondered if he’d been talking about her. She was aware of the way some of the boys looked at her.

“Sure, Andy, sure.” “Yeah, later.” “Right, man.”

She turned to watch the kids and as she did she saw Andy turn and put his arm around the red-haired girl and lean over for a big, open-mouthed kiss. The girl burst out laughing and as she pushed him away, fell off the bench, which brought a peal of laughter from the two boys at the piano, but she noticed Andy’s face darkened with humiliation.

The kids put on their shoes, got their coats and backpacks, horsed around. The cell phones came out and they made their arrangements and attempted to tidy the place up, picking up pillows and straightening rugs.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “The maid will take care of cleaning up. I’m sure you’ll be seeing Andrew later. Now we just need an hour for his lesson.”

Scrunch tried to catch Andy’s eye, but Andy was still smarting from the redhead’s rejection and was sitting starting at the piano.

“An hour, right. Right, Andy? And what do you want me to do with that stuff?” Scrunch asked, hefting a large black gym bag.

“Just leave it by the chair. I’ll take care of it,” Andy said. He looked at Lorraine then dropped his eyes. “Personal stuff.”

She nodded. She couldn’t imagine what kind of personal stuff Andy would have to carry around in a black gym bag in his own house. Scrunch dropped it by the chair and it clanked.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you guys later,” Andy said, and the kids answered back, laughed, took one last look around and shrugged and shambled out.

Lorraine watched them leave, then sat down in the chair by the piano and leaned her hands on her umbrella. Andy turned toward the piano and dried his hands on his trousers, a sly look on his face, then combed the unruly lock of blond hair back out of his face.

“So,” she said brightly. “Do you miss your folks?”

He gave a little laugh. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You have something planned with your friends? Your Aunt Celia’s coming to stay with you, I understand.”

“Yeah. That should be fun. In bed by nine o’clock.”

“Now be nice to her, Andy.”

He laughed. “Oh, I will. I will.”

Lorraine smiled and opened her valise. “You know, your parents wanted me to stay with you.” She looked at him, ready to gauge his reaction.

He looked at her with surprise that turned into something like fear. “You? You’re kidding!”

She wasn’t disappointed. “I’m not. It’s true. If you give Aunt Celia a hard time, I just might take them up on it. I want you to behave while they’re gone, Andrew.”

She knew the thought of her staying with him, sleeping under the same roof, would unsettle him. She’d seen the way he looked at her. Unaccountably, she enjoyed playing with the idea.

“Harris has offered me the spare bedroom,” she said.

“Oh come on! What do you think I’m going to do? Burn the place down?”

“I don’t know, but I wonder about it. Those girls are coming back?”


“How well do you know them?”

“Oh hell. I’ve known them since high school.”

“That redhead—Lisa? She didn’t seem to appreciate you much, huh?”

“What are you talking about—? Oh. You saw?” He blushed. “Ah, I was just kidding around.”

“How come you don’t have a girl, Andy? They can’t all treat you like that?”

“What do you mean? I get what I need. Christ, Miss V. In fact, I take care of myself pretty well.”

“Is that right?” she asked.

Andy grinned. “God, Miss V. You’re as bad as my parents. You must think I don’t know anything. You’d flip if you knew some of the things I’ve done, the things I’m into.”

Lorraine stood up and leaned her umbrella against the chair, ignoring him. “Where’s your music, Andy?”

Suddenly he looked defensive. “Ah, I don’t know. I think I must have left it at school.”



“Okay. We’ll use mine.”

Lorraine reached in her valise and took out a sheaf of music, then spread it on the stand, leaning over Andy so that her breasts passed by his face. She saw his eyes flick to watch her and she smiled.

Her position in the Pitlow household was odd. Officially she was only the piano teacher, but in fact she was much, much more—part governess, part social secretary to Mrs. Pitlow, part confidante, she was a stabilizing influence on the entire family.

“So, did you practice this week, Andy?”

“Oh yes, Miss Vann. Assiduously.”

At the sound of the word she looked at him and he gave her a cocky smile.

“Assiduously, huh?” She walked over and closed the door to the rest of the house. “Then why don’t we start with the exercises in Hanon. I think we were on page twelve.”

Andy opened the big green book to the proper place, poised his hands over the keyboard and looked at the forest of black sixteenth notes in front of him. Lorraine came and stood behind him, crossing her arms under her breasts, waiting for him to begin. He stared for some time, and finally the little finger of his left hand and the thumb of his right came down on two notes and stopped there, the sound ringing out, then dying away as he gazed fixedly at the page of music, unable to continue. At last he switched fingers and played two more notes.

It was ridiculous. He was a much better pianist than that. He could sight read the piece better than that.

“Wonderful,” Lorraine said dryly. “Now you want to take it about a thousand times faster? Those are sixteenth notes, Andy. The tempo is presto.” She clapped her hands. “Like this. Now try it again.”

She stood up and waited and Andy started again, but again the same thing happened—two notes pure in the air, dying away to silence before he’d found the next two, and this time she couldn’t miss that Andy Pitlow self-satisfied smirk, even though he tried to hide it.

“All right,” she said with thinly veiled irritation. “I guess we didn’t practice our Hanon this week, did we, Andrew?”

“Hmmm. We thought we did, Miss V.”

She ignored the sarcasm. “The Bach. Did you practice this? You said you really liked this piece, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” Andy took the music out and spread it on the rack and Lorraine sat down in the armchair near the piano, the black gym bag near her feet. As he looked over the music and stretched, she casually nudged the bag with her shoe and heard the clank of metal against glass.

What the hell?

Andy got nowhere with the Bach. He played the parts he’d played last week and they were no better now than they’d been then, maybe even a little worse. It was obvious he hadn’t made any progress.

“When I just asked you if you practiced this you told me, yes. You told me, ‘Oh yeah.’ What’s up, Andy?”

“No. You misunderstood. I said, ‘Oh yeah, I really like this piece.’ I didn’t mean, ‘Oh yeah, I practiced it.'”

Lorraine stood up and folded her arms. She locked her legs so the skirt pulled tight against them

“What’s going on Andy? I thought you and I were through playing these BS games. Now, I asked you at the start whether you’d practiced or not and you told me yes, you had. And now I’m finding that no, you haven’t, and you’re wasting my time. You know I don’t like it when you waste my time. I could be doing something else right now a lot more productive than this.”

“But I did practice, Miss V. I wasn’t kidding.”

“What have you practiced, Andy? Why don’t we just cut to the chase and you can show me what you’ve practiced.”

He smiled at her and slid down a bit on the stool, then made a dramatic show of preparing to play, closing his hands into fists and flinging them open several times to loosen the muscles. When he had her full attention he bent over the keyboard in fierce concentration and launched into a deliberately clumsy version of the bass part for Heart and Soul, fingers stiff, elbows flying, playing as if he’d never been at a piano before.

Lorraine turned to him. “Very nice, Andy. Am I supposed to be amused?”

“You can be whatever you want.” He kept on playing.

“Okay wait. Wait! Andy? Andy! What’s going on here?”

She finally pulled out the keyboard cover and leaned on it to stop him from playing. Andy stood up from the piano.

“What’s going on here? I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” he said calmly. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of these fucking lessons. I don’t want to take them anymore and I’m done. The lessons are over.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think you can make that decision.”

“I certainly can. You heard me. I’m eighteen. I don’t have to do what they want anymore. I’m an adult. I’ll live my own life and make my own decisions and my first decision is not to take piano lessons anymore.”

Lorraine looked at him but she was calm. ” Alright. If that’s your decision, we can discuss it. But why the games? Why waste my time? If you want to be treated like an adult, why don’t you try acting like an adult.”

“Oh please,” he said. “Don’t talk down to me, Miss V. It’s simple, really. I’m telling you ‘no’. No more lessons. I’m old enough to decide what I want to do and I want to party with my friends.”

Lorraine folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t think that’s wise, Andrew.”

“I don’t care what you think. That’s what I want. I’m calling the shots here now!” He grinned at her. “But hey, you’re welcome to stay if you want, Miss V.”

There was a sudden knock at the door, quiet and tentative, and Lorraine looked at Andrew. It was an unwritten law that no one disturbed them during their lessons. Harris knew this very well, and so did Anna the maid, so this had to be friends of Andrew. The grin stayed on his face.

“And who might that be, Andrew?” she asked softly. “Guests?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Why don’t we find out?”

He strode to the French doors and unlocked them to reveal Scrunch and the two girls standing there with their coats on. They stopped when they saw Loraine and looked at her with suspicion.

“It’s cold out there,” Scrunch said. “We thought you might be done.”

“Come on in, guys,” Andy said a bit loudly. “It’s cool. Miss Vann was just leaving.”

Lorraine raised her eyebrows as if that were news to her. She didn’t move. The two girls hung back, but Scrunch stood up tall and attempted to saunter into the room. He didn’t quite pull it off. Lorraine’s presence made him nervous.

Andy turned to her. “You can go now, Miss V. The lesson’s over. This is my house and I don’t want you here anymore. I want to be with my friends.”

“And that’s all there is to it? ”

“That’s all there is to it. My house, my rules. Unless you decided to take me up on my invitation.” He leered at her for the benefit of his friends.

“I see. We’re going to have a party?” Lorraine looked at Andy and he fought to withstand her gaze. Scrunch wouldn’t meet her eyes and the two girls looked away.

Lorraine went to the gym bag and Andy moved to stop her, but before he could get there, she’d unzipped it.

“Don’t touch that!”

She already had it open and had pulled out two bottles of vodka and set them on the floor. She straightened up slowly and reached for her umbrella. None of the young people moved.

Using the point of the umbrella, Lorraine opened the bag and rummaged around inside and carefully fished out a black leather flogger, which hung on the tip of her umbrella like a harpooned octopus fished from the deep. She laid it on the carpet. A leather collar followed, attached to a set of cuffs.

Andy stood there, red-faced.

“Whoa!” Scrunch said, and laughed. “Is that what you had in there? You told me it was exercise equipment! You’re weird, dude!”

The two girls laughed nervously and covered their mouths and Andy only got redder. “Fuck you!” he said.

She rummaged around in the bag. She could see chains, vibrators, whips. For Andy?

She glanced again at the girls. They just didn’t look like the type. They were trying to act cool but it was obvious they found the sight of this bondage gear rather surprising.

“Okay.” Lorraine straightened up. “The party’s cancelled. I think it’s time you three left.”

“No. You’re leaving,” Andy said. “I told you. I don’t want you here.”

Lorraine ignored him.

“What about the vodka?” Scrunch asked. “I paid for that.”

“That stays here. It’s against the law for me to give liquor to a minor and you’re all minors. I’m not putting my ass on the line so you can get drunk. Now move it. You can party somewhere else.”

“Well, fuck!”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” Andy objected. “This is my house! I make the rules.”

“Out.” She lowered her voice and the three kids shrank back and stood there uncertainly. “The Pitlows left me in charge of this place. There’s not going to be any party tonight, or any other night. I guarantee you that. Now get out.”

Scrunch stared at her for a while and then laughed.

“Way to handle her, Andy. Great plan. Fuck! You owe me for the booze, man. Come on, ladies.”

Lorraine watched with satisfaction as Scrunch and the girls left the room, slamming the door as well as they could behind them, but the door fit too well and the hinges were hydraulically damped.

She and Andy stood there unmoving for several long, silent moments, then he turned on her.

“Damn it! Why did you?”


Her word was like a slap. It stopped him cold, shocking him, but he soon picked up the attack again.

“No! I want to know why!”

“Hush, now!” She turned on him and he clamped his mouth shut, startled.

“Did you tell them you were going to get rid of me? Was that your plan?”

He looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze as Lorraine’s eyes bored into him. He tried to face her, but it was as if he couldn’t lift his head. He stood there shamefaced.

She turned and went to the gym bag and reached inside, pulled out a random handful of stuff—cuffs and chains and a whip—and threw it on the carpet. It was all new. It scattered and clanked at his feet.

“And what’s this? Is this something new for you, Andy? Is this one of those things that you’re ‘into’ now?”

“It’s none of your business,” he said softly.

“Do you even know anything about this, Andy?”

“I said, it’s none of your business.”

“No, maybe not. But thinking you can get rid of me just by telling me to leave, making a mockery of me in front of your friends, that is my business, Andrew. I just wonder what gave you the idea you had that kind of authority? What side of the whip are you on when you play your little games, Andrew? Do you even know?”

He looked at her with sudden fear, then cast his eyes down quickly and clenched his teeth in resistance.

She was swept with a sudden wave of compassion for him, for his innocence and naiveté, and yet inside that compassion there was a rising excitement too, as when a predator scents a bleeding wound.

“Sit down,” she said, indicating the piano bench. “We’re not done with your lesson.”

“No. I told you, I quit.”

“I said, sit down, Andrew. You can’t quit without notifying me. You have to complete this last lesson. Now sit down.”

With a stubborn pout on his face, he sat at the bench.

“I haven’t practiced,” he said stubbornly.

“Oh, but you have. You told me you have. Play ‘Heart and Soul’. Play what you know.”

He looked like he was about to resist, but Lorraine stood up behind him and tapped her umbrella on the floor, and the old routine of teacher and student reasserted itself. Andy lifted his hands and began to play the bass part he’d been playing earlier, the childish, oompah left-right that all non-pianists learn, the part both of them had heard a million times. He was a capable pianist, but despite its dreary simplicity, he was nervous, and as Lorraine tapped out the beat with her umbrella, he stumbled and got lost and quickly gave up in embarrassment.

“That’s terrible,” she said. “You can’t even play this idiotic bass part? You’ve been playing piano for eight years and you can’t play this? You’re just incredibly awful.”

“Shut up. I was nervous.”

He started in again and she immediately stopped him.

“Wrong tempo,” she said. “Take it slower. It’ll be easier for you.”

“Leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.”

But he didn’t, and he screwed up again. He swore, and made as if to leave, but Lorraine glared at him. Turning back to the piano, he started again, only this time an octave too low, and now he was really flustered.

“God! What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re awful, Andrew. You’re completely incompetent. That’s what’s wrong. It’s not just your technique, it’s your basic musicianship. You haven’t any. I don’t know what I’ve been wasting my time for. You’re a hack, a mediocrity. No, worse than a mediocrity. You’re a total non-talent. An anti-talent. Worthless!”

“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up!”

He put his hands on the keyboard and played two notes and stopped. Played them again and stopped. He was completely disoriented now and he moved his hands on the keyboard, as if looking for a note that didn’t exist.

Lorraine sat down on the chair beside the piano and studied him. “You really are incompetent, aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re totally worthless, Andrew. You can’t even find low C on the piano. A child can do it and you can’t. How terrible for you. How humiliating.”

“You make me nervous. I got flustered.”

“Flustered? Like a little girl?” She reached out with a boot and snagged one of the whips on the floor—a riding crop—and she dragged it over to her chair. She bent over and picked it up.


“Why should you be flustered? Tell me.” She took the whip and struck him on the backside.

Andy flinched when he was hit but didn’t move. He took it as his due and his face reddened. He sat erect, staring at the keyboard.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me like that, Andrew? Just by telling me to leave? Do you really think you have that kind of power?”

He didn’t answer. He was sitting at the keyboard with his hands on the wooden strip before the keys, his eyes closed, his face red.

“You don’t, Andrew. I have the power here. I’m the one in control. Now try it again. I’ll give you the tempo. One…two…three…four…”

With each beat she slapped him on the ass with the crop, and Andy sat there, his face red, not daring to move as two, three bars went by, then he picked up his hands and tried to start the song, but he was totally off the beat and he soon stumbled, the notes collapsing into a cacophony of broken rhythms.

“Stop, Lorraine ordered, slapping him hard on the ass. “It’s obvious you’re worthless. You’re no good at all. You want to quit lessons just to save yourself from humiliation. I should have seen this before, Andrew. I should have seen this long before. Stand up.”

“No,” he said.

“Stand up, I said.”

“No! I won’t.”

“Up!” She hit him firmly on the bottom and Andy got to his feet.

He stood reluctantly, his knuckles on the keyboard, and Lorraine saw at once what the problem was. The bulge in his pants was obvious, straining against the denim of his jeans. There was no mistaking it or his furious embarrassment. His face was almost crimson, his jaw set. Tears stood in his eyes.

“So,” she said. “I should have known. I suspected as much. Stand up straight, Andrew. Shoulders back.”

Andy closed his eyes and did as she said, putting his shoulders back and standing up ramrod straight, his hands at his sides, knees locked. The knot of his hard-on was even more obvious now, and Lorraine could almost see it throbbing with each beat of his heart as he fought to maintain composure over his body’s humiliating betrayal.

She brought the crop up and traced the outline of his cock . When the end of the crop reached the head of his dick, Andy gave a small moan and his teeth dug into his lower lip, but he didn’t resist, made no move to escape. His hands balled into fists.

“So this is why you’ve been such a problem these last few months, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’ve discovered you enjoy being yelled at. You get off on being chastised and upbraided, and so you act like a naughty boy. You need discipline, Andrew. You need training and a firm hand, don’t you? Is that what you need?”

He stood there, breathing deeply. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I need. If you say so. I don’t know. Yes.”

She stared at him for a moment, weighing her options.

“Stay where you are.” Lorraine stood up and went to the door and locked it. She was conscious now of the roll of her hips under the snug skirt, the pressure of the turtleneck against her breasts. “Take your pants off, Andrew,” she said walking back. “Take them off now. Your shorts too.”

He looked at her with alarm.

“Don’t look at me like that. Take them off before you come in them, boy. You look like you’re about to shoot your load, and I’m warning you, if you do, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Take them off and sit down at the piano. You’re going to play for me, Andrew, without any pants on, and I’m going to whip your cock for every mistake you make.”

He stood staring at her until Lorraine reared back and slashed the crop across his ass, bringing it down in a broad arc that made a fearful whooshing sound as it cut the air and landed on his jeans with a loud crack, snapping Andy out of his lethargy.

“Miss V.¾”

“Do it! Pants off! Shorts off!”

She grabbed his belt and Andy gasped, then quickly fumbled with the button on his jeans, unzipping them and letting them fall. They pooled around his ankles and before he could react, Lorraine pulled his blue shorts down, exposing his cock which stood out bent up from his body in an urgent arc, looking pink and ruddy where it poked out from between the tails of his blue shirt.

“Now sit down and play.”

“Miss Vann, this is crazy! You can’t do this!”

“Since when do you tell me what I can and can’t do, Andy?”

She took the crop and tapped it slowly against his thigh, then ran it up the underside of his cock, as if she were wiping its chin.

“Sit down, Andy.”

Andy did as he was told, sitting down at the piano bench looking contrite and pitiful and tight with nervousness, his pants and shorts gathered around his ankles as if he were on the toilet.

“Play,” she commanded, and Andy lifted his hands and started ‘”Heart and Soul” again.

It was no good. He played three notes and collapsed into embarrassment, and no wonder, with his big dick staring right up at him.

Lorraine lost no time. “Not very good, Andrew. Do you think that was any better?”

He said nothing.

“Answer me, Andrew. Was that any better?”

“No, Miss Vann.”

She came over to the piano bench and leaned over. “You heard what I said. I said I was going to whip your cock for every mistake you made, didn’t I?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead but his face was scarlet. “Yes, Miss Vann.”

She reached out and smacked his cock with the tip of the crop and Andy jumped. He made a funny little sound, an eager little groan as if expecting more.

“Try it again.”

Lorraine watched him as he looked down at the big drop of pre-cum that was gathering at the head of his cock, then he closed his eyes in humiliation. He raised his hands and started to play again, and this time the first two figures of the absurdly bouncy part wafted out of the big Bösendorfer before he hit a wrong note. Immediately she reached out with the crop and rapped him on the shaft of his cock.

“Ow!” Andy tented his hands protectively over his dick. “What are you doing to me! I can’t play like this!”

His reaction caused a rush of excitement to flood through her body. He didn’t pull away. He trembled, caved in to her, savored the pain of being struck and punished. He liked it. And Lorraine liked doing it to him. She liked it a lot

She came around and straddled the piano bench and sat down, hiking up her skirt to show the tops of her boots and a long, lean expanse of naked thigh. The tight crotch of her black panties showed beneath the shadow of her skirt, a forbidden region of female mystery and power. Andy glanced down and saw this, then quickly looked away as if he’d seen too much. Lorraine’s eyes glittered.

“Listen, Andrew. I’ve been teaching you for two years now, and don’t think I haven’t seen how you look at me. These last few months, you’ve been fucking up on purpose, haven’t you? You’ve been trying to make me mad. ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re sick!”

“No. I don’t think so. You get a charge out of it when you make me angryI don’t think I’m the one who’s sick.” She smiled. “Lean back.”


“Lean back. On the bench. Put your hands back here and lean back.”

He moved his hands to the rear of the bench and sat back so his cock was pointing skyward and Lorraine used the tip of the crop to scoop up the drop of pre-cum off his dick. As she lifted the crop, strand of the fluid stretched out from the whip to the head of Andy’s prick in a long, thin, viscous gossamer bridge, the very sight of which made him groan in shameful arousal.

“I’m sick, Andy? Looks like someone enjoys being ordered around like a naughty little boy, doesn’t it? Someone really gets off on having their cock whipped and being put in their place. How sick is that, Andrew? ”

She brought the crop to his face.

“Open your mouth,” she said. “Lick it clean.”


She said nothing, just watched him. The authority of her years as his teacher was in her look, her authority as an older woman, as someone who was experienced at sex where he was not.

“No!” he said again. “No!”

Most of all, it was the authority of someone who’d held a whip before, of a woman who knew what he wanted better than he did.

He opened his mouth and Lorraine pushed the tip through his lips and pressed it against his tongue. He tried to move his head and shake her off but he couldn’t avoid it, and she watched as he sucked tentatively at first, then avidly, eyes closed, consciously succumbing to her will. The bitter taste of the leather and his own lewd secretions were enhanced by the knowledge that he’d exuded this obscene dew at her insistence. He tasted the bitterness of his own submission

“Take off your clothes, Andrew,” she said as she removed the whip from his mouth. She said it gently, almost solicitously, not wanting to break the sudden spell of tenderness that had settled there between them, caused by the connection of the whip in his mouth.

Andy managed to get his shoes off and dropped them to the carpet with a muffled thud. His socks followed, and then his pants and shorts, all in a tangle, the soft rustle of his clothes the only sound. He moved as if in a dream, standing by the piano bench and undressing as if for bed, dropping his clothes on the floor. He peeled off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt and stood there wearing only his two-strapper tee shirt, awkward and painfully erect.

“Is that how you leave your clothes, Andrew? There’s no maid to pick up after you here. Pick them up, you spoiled brat.”

Andy dropped his eyes, then picked up his jeans and straightened them out, folded them neatly and placed them on the sofa. He did the same with his shorts and his shirt and sweater, then set his shoes neatly together on the floor beneath the stack of clothes and stuffed his rolled socks inside one of them.

Lorraine studied him as he did. He had a swimmer’s body, lean and smoothly muscled, and in fact, swimming had been his sport. He had the broad shoulders and tight, lean waist, the high tight, masculine ass.

He stood nervously by the pile of clothes, his hands trying to cover his erection. The tee shirt fit him well and made him look even younger than his eighteen years. It was a nice contrast, the white cotton of the two-strapper above the black forest of pubic curls through which his cock emerged like a tower. He was a young animal, ripe and ready to be broken.

Lorraine got up from the bench and went to Andy’s gym bag and rummaged around till she found two sets of cuffs. She tossed them to him. “Put these on.”

“Miss V—”

“Shut up, Andrew. Just do as I say. Let’s get some things straight, here. Number one, I’m in charge. That goes without saying. You do exactly as I say when I say it. Number two, you don’t speak unless spoken to. Number three, you don’t touch me or look at me without my permission. Do you understand that, Andrew? You may answer me.”

“Yes, Miss Vann.”

“Good. Now put those cuffs on. Your lesson’s not over yet. We’ve still got twenty minutes, Andrew. ”

He started to open his mouth and then closed it.

He knelt down and buckled the thick leather cuffs around his ankles, his nervous fingers fumbling with the hardware, then he stood and fastened the cuffs to his wrists as well, pulling them cruelly tight, tighter than Lorraine would have made them.

God! she thought. If his cock gets any harder he’s going to split his skin.

She could feel the wetness between her legs, the fullness in her breasts. She was almost ready for him, but not just yet. “What else do you have in this bag of yours? Tell me about it. Where’d you get all these things?”

He stood stiffly, brushing his hair back. ” I don’t know. Through the mail. Some things I bought in a shop in town.”

“Empty it out. I want to see what you have. And what were you going to do with all this stuff?”

His cock started to deflate as he picked up the bag and dumped it out on the floor. Crops, whips, chains, vibrators spilled out, all brand new.

” I was going to use it, I guess. On Lisa, mostly.”

Lorraine looked at him. “You guess? Do you top her?”

He shrugged with uncertainty.

“A dom, huh? Is that what you think you are? You know what you are for me? Do you?”

He pressed his lips together and held his fingers of his left hand in his right so his hands shielded his dick, which was again rising like a marionette being tugged on a string. Lorraine slapped his hands away with the crop.

“Keep your hands down sides, big dom. Your dick has more brains than you do. At least it knows what it likes.”

She rummaged around in the pile of toys and found a couple of choke chains, about eight inches long, and some carabiner clips. “Pick them up, Andrew,” she said.

He bent and retrieved the hardware as she unfastened the long gold chain from around her neck. “Attach one of the choke chains to your ankles, then put your wrists behind you and don’t move.”

He did as she said, and Lorraine bent and picked up a nice, generous flogger from the pile and put it under her arm. When he had his hands behind his back, she took a carabiner from his hand and clipped the cuffs together.

“Stand up straight,” she said.

Andy put his shoulders back, and Lorraine quickly whipped her neck chain around her hand and brought it down over his cock. The momentum sent it whirling around his dick in a quick, spiraling orbit, instantly wrapping his sensitive flesh in multiple wrappings of glittering gold.

Andy gasped and tried to pull back, but Lorraine was ready for him and played him like a fish She gave him slack, then pulled him to her as the metal links dug in his cock, hurting him.

“Oh God! Stop! Stop, damn it!”

“Are you talking, Andy? Are you talking without permission?”

“No, Miss V! No!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No!”

She yanked the chain and led him to one of the wall fixtures with the artificial candles and unclipped his wrists, threaded a chain through the fixture and made his wrists fast through it. She left the chain hanging from his cock, then went to the wall switch and dimmed the lights in the room.

“No,” she said softly. “You don’t want me to stop. I wonder, though. Have you ever really been laid, Andy? I saw the way Lisa shrugged you off tonight. Is it just the rejection that turns you on?”

“I’ve been laid. Plenty of times.”

His words surprised her. Not what he said, but that he spoke at all.

“Oh? Is that right?”

“Yes. It is. You still think of me as your little student who doesn’t know anything. But I know plenty. I’ve been with plenty of girls.”

Lorraine smiled. “Yeah? Tell me about them. Did you fuck them all, Andrew? Did you make them your slaves?”

She could see the redness in Andy’s face, the tightness around his mouth. She’d found a sore spot here, something he was supremely afraid of having discovered.

“Turn around. Look at the wall and think about it, Andrew. Think about whether you could handle me, even as well as you handled that piano. Now turn around and spread your legs. Spread them.”

He turned so he was facing the wall and spread his legs as much as the ankle chain allowed, and Lorraine went up behind him and raised the flogger.

Andy was ready for it and didn’t cry out as she began to whip his ass, swinging the flogger back and forth with wide, generous strokes. It was a thick flogger with a heavy fall and it wasn’t until the ninth or tenth swipe that he started to really feel it and gasped, moaning through clenched teeth and pulling at the chains that held his wrists.

“You love this, don’t you?” she whispered in his ear as she reached around and grabbed his chain-covered cock, squeezing it so the links bit into his skin. “You love what I’m doing to you, so don’t lie to me, Andy. And don’t you dare come! Don’t you dare come!”

“Oh fuck!” he moaned, dropping his head to his chest.

She felt his cock jerk in her hand as he flexed the ejaculatory muscles, trying to occupy them to head off an orgasm. He was strong. His cock moved in her hand like a living thing, all meat and muscle, but she held him tight, crushing the links against his tool and making him moan..

She held his cock and whipped his ass and he felt helpless in her hands, reduced to a shuddering hulk, his wrists chained to the light fixture, those strong thighs and muscular ass useless now. Lorraine had an urge to kiss him, bite him, rub herself all over him as if he were her captive male pet, all that strength and male savagery hers to command. Andy was sweating and she wanted to lick it, she wanted to rub herself all over him. She was wet and dripping herself and she wanted to stuff herself full of his cock. She wanted to beat him till he bled, he was so beautiful in his suffering, like a dying god.

He leaned his head back on his shoulders and his legs trembled as the flogger began to cut into the skin it had already made tender.

She was covered in sweat and in danger of losing control. She could feel him giving himself to her, giving up control of his body to her, control of his person, and the feeling was too rich, too overwhelming for her. It was as if she had to make way for two souls in her body and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She hadn’t expected him to capitulate so completely, so thoroughly and the excitement was too much.

She wanted this boy. She was shocked at how much she wanted him.

Lorraine staggered back to a chair that was out of his field of view and put a hand on it to steady herself as she caught her breath. Andy stood leaning his head on his bound hands, not moving. Using the chair for balance, Lorraine unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Her slip followed, and then her turtleneck. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra and shrugged out of that so that all she was wearing was her boots and panties. She picked up her clothes and threw them on the chair. Her breasts felt heavy and full. Her nipples were painfully stiff. Andy still hadn’t moved.

What if Harris should walk in? What if he should come by to listen at the door for the sound of music.

It would be too damn bad if he heard what had just happened—the sound of a flogger swishing through the air and striking bare flesh, Andy’s choked-off groans of acceptance, Lorraine’s grunts of exertion.

It might be worse if he should hear what was going to happen next.

She picked up a vibrator from the pile, took it out of the box and tore open a package of batteries and loaded it. It was a simple torpedo vibrator, slim, about eight inches long. She picked up a tube of lubricant and a bandage scissors, a gag and a blindfold and a collar. She picked up her riding crop.

Andy stood where she’d left him, facing the wall. His ass was pinkish red and lumpy with welts. He started to turn when he heard her behind him but she reached out and swacked him on the ass, making him jump. Her tits jiggled when she hit him, and she was acutely aware of them. She was acutely aware of her state of undress, her toplessness and the nakedness of her tits. It removed the last barrier between them and excited her terribly. She couldn’t let him see, though.

“Eyes forward, Andy. I don’t want you even looking at your teacher, understand?”

He stared at the wall as Lorraine dropped the stuff on the sofa and proceeded to slip the blindfold over his eyes. The gag was next—a ball gag on a leather strap that went between his teeth and buckled behind his head, and when that was in place, she took the bandage scissors and cut his tee shirt off him, leaving him naked, blind and mute. She threw the tee shirt aside and stepped in front of him.

His face was gorgeous, a strip of black leather over his eyes and another strip across his mouth, the black ball between his teeth keeping his jaws apart as if in supplication. He was sightless and speechless, as helpless as a newborn. She waved her hand in front of his eyes to see if he would flinch, but he couldn’t see a thing. She relaxed, confident in her nakedness. She still had the collar in her hand.

“You’re mine now, Andrew,” she said as she buckled it around his neck. “This makes you mine.”

He bridled as she put the collar on him, tossing his head and twisting, apparently having some last minute reservations, a sudden streak of rebelliousness, but with his wrists fastened to the wall fixture there wasn’t much he could do. She noticed his cock was still hard, even harder than before. The chain dug into it cruelly. The head of his cock was purplish red and pre-cum was hanging from the tip and drizzling to the carpet. His balls looked enormous and engorged.

“You hot little bitch!” she hissed at him. “You want to come, don’t you? You’re dying to!”

She slapped his dick with the crop and watched the chain glitter as it swung.

“Well hold it, boy! Let’s see if you have at least enough control to do that. You’re less than useless to me if you come, so just hold it in. I’m going to make you my boy.”

He stood, breathing harshly around the gag. Lorraine caressed his balls with the crop.

“You think you can be my boy, Andrew? You know what a twink is? A good-looking young stud, a fuck-toy. Can you be my twink? I seriously doubt it. Not with that poor excuse for a dick. But you might be able to work as a cunt. You were a poor student, Andrew. Let’s see if you can do better as teacher’s cunt.”

She moved around behind him and squirted a good wad of lube on her finger. He jumped and cried out around the gag as she smeared it over his asshole, but she stayed with him and plunged her finger inside before he could escape. Not too much—just a little—watching the shock on his face as he cried out again, the sound muffled by the ball gag. She held her body back from his so he couldn’t tell she was naked, reached out and worked her finger up into him, greasing him as she penetrated, and Andrew raised up on his toes in an effort to escape the invading finger, but Lorraine reached around and hit his cock again with the crop, warning him to stay still.

He was all hot inside, hot and muscular and strangely soft as only a man can be, virginal and unsuspecting, and it thrilled her deeply to hold him so helpless, fucking his male ass for her pleasure. Andy groaned, growled, and cried as she pushed her finger into him, showing him what it was like to get fucked, the walls of his rectum spasming nervously around her finger. The pre-cum began to stream from his cock as she came inadvertently close to his prostate.

He drove her wild, his masculine helplessness, and she pulled her finger out and picked up the vibrator, got behind him and she couldn’t resist. She pressed her tits against his back and dragged them over his skin, one then the other, her stiff nipples raking over him. Andy felt her and knew what he was feeling, and he groaned deeply as Lorraine snaked her body down, dragging her breasts over him till she was on her knees. She whipped his ass with the crop.

“Spread your legs!” she demanded. “Spread them!”

Andy moved his legs as far apart as the chain would allow and Lorraine took the vibrator and, holding his cheeks apart, slid it into him, just a few inches, enough to position it over his prostate. Behind the gag, Andy yelled something. His eyebrows went up in alarm. She fucked it in and out slowly, twisting it in and around and Andy moaned. She turned it on and Andy sobbed, dropping his head against his bound hands.

“Fuck!” The very salaciousness of what she was doing going to her and she couldn’t contain herself.

She slapped his ass and got to her feet, holding the vibe around the middle as Andy’s hips and buttocks started to tremble against the lewd invasion of his rectum. She couldn’t resist. The obscene power she held over him thrilled and overwhelmed her, and the buzzing of the vibrator in her hand reminded her of too many nights of illicit, solo pleasure. She pushed her breasts against his back and pressed her pussy hard against the handle of the vibrator so she could feel it echoing in her cunt, then reached around with her other hand and gripped his cock and began to bite his back in a feverish paroxysm of lust, holding herself pressed against him.

“Mmmmph!!!” Andy howled around the gag. He roared. With one end of the vibrator jammed against her panties and the other end rammed up Andy’s ass, Lorraine could feel him shaking, trying to push his hips away from her and escape, but she kept her body pressed against him, shoving harder at the handle to follow him. He was like a speared fish with no way to escape and she clung to him, riding him, holding his cock and jagging him off, unwrapping the chain from his dick so she could feel the smooth, feverish skin of his naked cock in her hand.

She was soaking wet. Her panties were soaked. She couldn’t maintain this position, holding the stump of the greasy vibrator and pressing herself against him as these thrills coursed through her body. The vibrator slipped through her fingers and fell from Andy’s ass and landing on the carpet with a buzzing thump, infuriating her. She wanted conquest over this boy, victory, triumph. She wanted to own him, possess him, and yet he eluded her. Some part of him still eluded her.

Quickly she unclipped him from the wall sconce. The unbuckled the gag and removed the blindfold as Andy stood there stunned and confused, his eyes on Lorraine.

“Don’t stare at me,” she said. “Don’t even look at me, Andy!” She picked up her crop.

Andy dropped his eyes and Lorraine grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the piano.

The room was a mess, the contents of the toy bag spilled all over the floor, their clothes scattered around, the box from the vibrator and the package from the batteries lying on the floor. Lorraine led him hurriedly to the piano bench.

“Lie down on your back!” she commanded.

“I need to come,” he said weakly. “Please let me come!”

“Just do as I say!”

He lay down on the bench and Lorraine quickly pulled his arms back and chained them to the legs of the bench at one end, then chained his ankles to the legs at the other, so he lay on the short, narrow bench, his cock standing straight up, his balls full and swollen.

“Hurry!” he cried meekly.

Lorraine stopped what she was doing, climbing out of her panties, one hand on the piano. She stripped them off and tossed them aside, then picked up her crop and walked over. Andrew averted his eyes from her waxed pussy.

“What did you say?” she asked. “Did you say something, Andrew? Did you give me some kind of order?”

“No. I—”

She picked up a dog leash from the pile of gear and snapped it to his collar, threw her leg over his body so her naked pussy hovered within inches of the tip of his rampant, quivering cock, and she tugged hard on the leash.

“You don’t give me orders, darling,” she said. “I’m the teacher here. I give the orders. I give the instruction. Let’s not forget that.”

He turned his head, refusing to look at her as the collar cut into his neck.

“Did you hear what I said, Andrew? Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t care what you do to me, but I’m still a man. I’m the male. You can’t take that away from me.”

Lorraine looked at him and smiled. “Maybe you need to learn a lesson, then, Andrew. Maybe you need to learn to beg. Maybe you need to learn how a man begs.”

She lowered her body so the head of his cock made contact with the sizzling slit of her pussy, the wet and gelid flesh of her cunt, and Andy gasped when he felt her moist and sticky heat. He lurched up, managing to sink a faction of an inch into her, but Lorraine pulled savagely on his leash, yanking his head up and forcing his ass down against the bench.

“You want it, you’ll have to beg!” she said, ignoring the bolts of savage desire that rushed through her as his impossibly hard young cockhead opened her throbbing pussy.

She lowered herself another half inch and felt him pierce her, stretch her, begin to fill her with his solid heat. Her legs trembled. It had been so long since she’d been fucked! The head of his cock was in her now, inside her satiny cunt, and she felt herself spasm helplessly around him, fluttering like a flower when a bee’s invaded it, but she held herself back. With an incredible exercise of will, she held herself back.

“Give it to me, Andrew!” she hissed down at him. “Give yourself to me. Surrender, give it up! You know I’m going to have you. You know I’m going to take you. You’re not strong enough. You want it too bad, don’t you? You want to bury that dick inside me, all warm and tight, squeezing you, sucking the come out of you. Let it go, Andrew, let it go! Give it to me!”

Lying bent on the bench, his body arced in a bow, Andrew trembled, his dick twitching like a leaping trout, seeking to bury itself it Lorraine’s humid twat. He gasped, his eyelids fluttering, his chest heaving with his ragged breathing.

“Oh God!” he moaned. “Oh God! Do it! Please, please, Miss V! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

“Not till you give it to me!”

She leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders, gripping the knotted muscle. She could feel his strength shifting to her, his will, his very soul surrendering to her through his helpless, submissive desire. His ass was lifted off the bench as far as he could manage, his buttocks clenched tightly, trying to drive his cock into her but he was at the limit of his extension.

“Come on, Andrew, come on!” she growled. Her tits hung over him, her nipples grazing his smooth chest. She reached beneath her and grabbed his cock and squeezed, began to beat him off with the head of his dick in her pussy, gritting her teeth against the indescribable pleasure, and the feel of her hand on his burning, swollen shaft was finally just too much for him. He couldn’t resist anymore, couldn’t hold himself back. Whatever he had that still belonged to him, he gave to this older woman. He willed it to her. He surrendered, totally and completely, ceding himself to the mad pleasure of his teacher’s body.

“Oh God, yes! Yes! Take me, Miss V! Take me! Whatever you want! I’m yours, yours! I’m all yours!”

With a wild and feral snarl, Lorraine dug her nails into his shoulders and lowered herself onto his thick shaft, letting it pierce her, gore her, wrapping her cunt around him and absorbing him into her. She felt him go, felt him surrender to her and slide over that precipice of helplessness where all his power was gone and he was nothing but a body with a stiff, rampant cock attached, his mind dissolved into a pool of pellucid ecstasy and the withering shame of his surrender.

Andy no longer cared. He felt as though his ego was melting inside her just like his cock, melting like a stick of butter in a blast furnace, and she no sooner had him inside then she began to revolve on top of him, stirring his dick inside her like thick, massive swizzle stick, gripping him with strong, sure muscles that milked him and drew on him with peristaltic waves of pressure. Now that she had him, she wouldn’t let him go and she fucked him in a way that rewarded them both—that gave her the pleasure she so desperately needed but that would rapidly bring Andy to the point of total ejaculation as well.

“I want it, Andy! I want your fucking come! I want it inside me, bitch! Every drop of it, understand? Don’t hold out on me, Andrew! Don’t you fucking hold out!”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, tears of rage and frustration, of surrender and capitulation, tears of being bested and beaten. Andy pulled at the chains that held his arms pulled behind him, his ankles bound to the legs of the piano bench, but they weren’t moving, and meanwhile Lorraine squatted above him with the soles of her high boots on the floor, leaning forward, riding him like a jockey rides a horse down the home stretch, her shapely ass bouncing up and down on the hard, vertical cock that was sunk into her cunt, one hand on the leash that attached to the collar around his neck, the other holding the riding crop.

He was hers now and she owned him, and at last she could revel in her victory. His prick was like a trophy within her, and she felt it gliding against her insides, rubbing her in all the right places. Andy seemed almost unconscious, his head back, eyelids half closed, mouth slack, and it was only when she saw him shudder and jerk and heard his piteous moan that she realized he was coming inside her, spewing his hot semen into her as if on her demand. So much of it! He twitched and spasmed and she felt him lurching inside of her as he shot his wad, and soon his ejaculate was dripping out of her and running back down his balls to fall on the piano bench, and still he shot.

She felt herself go then too, a glorious orgasm, coming around his gushing cock as Andy gave her all he had, helpless to refuse. She raised her feet and hugged him with her knees as he gushed inside her, wearing her pleasure like a conqueror’s crown, leaning back, taking him deep and smothering him with her spasming cunt, her climax bringing a rich red flush to her breasts and throat.

“All of it! All of it!” she snarled, bringing the crop down across his chest as Andy writhed beneath her, his cock continuing to spurt inside her in a diminishing fountain. Lorraine rode him, milking him, taking everything he had until she felt his body shudder beneath her and relax, all his muscles going flaccid and limp. She inhaled deeply, passing her hands over his chest, feeling the deep surrender and acquiescence in his body, listening to his deep, labored breathing.

Eventually she got up, lifting her leg off him as if dismounting a horse. She felt a stream of his ejaculate seep from her pussy and slide down the inside of her leg. Her thighs were trembling but she wouldn’t let him see. She put on her panties and skirt, then slipped into her turtleneck. She put her bra and slip into her bag and fastened her chain back around her neck, then put on her blouse.

Finally she came over, tucking in her blouse, and unclipped Andy from the piano bench, releasing his ankles and wrists. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at her.

“I want this place spotless,” she said as she straightened up. “Do you understand, Andrew? Absolutely spotless.”

He said nothing, so she reached down and took his testicles in her hand.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Miss Vann! Spotless!”

She came over and put a hand on the side of his face.

“You’re a very good boy, Andrew, and I’m quite pleased with you, but you must practice! You need discipline, understand?”

“Yes, Miss Vann. I think I do.”

“And because of that, I’ve decided to take your father up on his offer. I’m going to stay with you for the rest of the week till your parents get back so we can work intensively together. I’m going to go tell Harris now to inform Aunt Celia not to come, then get my things, and then it will be work, work, work, Andrew. I hope you’re up for it.”

“God, Miss Van! So do I!”

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