I was hers from the moment she sang.
Something deep within her came through from the moment she shuffled up to the microphone, back from break, that said she was drunk, nervous and incredibly gifted. As soon as she sang the first note my head turned and I was transported from my sauce to another place. She started singing about love lost, the time being more of a window than a door. And I listened to it all, drink growing warm in my hand without me even noticing.
When she finished her set I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the event. It didn't seem so from the polite claps and small cheers, save for a pair of girls who screamed like the end of the world. When she went over to sit next to them it was clear they were friends. And yet, I was still jealous. I wanted to catch her eye and I hadn't even managed that.
I finished my second-rate drink and eavesdropped. I wanted to know anything about her I could find but the alcohol, the ambient noise and the three girls' heavy English accents were too much—I couldn't glean a thing. So I ordered another drink and decided to give up on the only interesting girl in a month.
Then there was the faint dinging of piano keys. She had moved back to the stage, her girlfriends and her cramming onto the bench. They played silly little songs like chopsticks. They sang like drunkards. Then her two friends left and she continued to bang the keys until the song became coherent. She sang, this time really singing, something original. She was sloshed enough that she she didn't hold back or try and hide it.
When she finished our eyes met. She turned red and looked away. I continued to look at her, hoping she'd return the glance, but she didn't. Not until her friends came back, swooped her up and they headed to the exit. It was only when she was out the door that she did.
I finished my drink and asked the waitress when the piano girl would sing again.
I tie the scarf around my hands until the middle is taut. When it is I ask her to close her eyes. She obeys, but mutters something silently that I've learned not to question. Unlike other women she simply cannot help herself, she has to fret and mutter when the situation is difficult. Her filter fails her and she makes noises as she complies. It never stops amazing me the difference between our sizes. I'm literally more than a head above her. I make her aware of it by pressing against her from behind, my frame eclipsing hers in every dimension.
That's when the tight fabric is drawn around her eyes, wrapped around and around until I'm certain she's actually blind. But with so much cloth over I laugh to myself as I have an idea. It makes her nervous and she shudders against me. I wrap the remaining scarf around her neck and give it a quick tug to make sure it'll stay in place. It does. She's blind and, any time I pull, choked just a little. Softly, almost sweetly. Then I sit on the edge of her bed.
“You told me that you wanted to proceed as slowly as possible between one act and the next,” I said. “Do you still feel that way?”
She mutters and turns to face me.
“Stop. With your back to me.” “Why? I can't see–” “Stop. Turn your back to me.”
She does, without the complaint. I'm very pleased. “Do you still feel that way?” “Yes.” She says it like the last bit of air was leaving her. “Would you like to try something new, or something you're experienced with?” She shuffles her feet. She shakes her head. “Something I know.” “And what do you know?” The skin on the back of her neck turns red. She shakes like she's smoldering. Then it comes out, all at once. “I've told you before that I'm not very experienced and I've never really done anything like this and as soon as we start you'll be bored of me and I don't even know why I'm doing this at all. Why are you here, either? None of this makes any sense and I'm just—I'm just—so mad at myself…”
It's the first time she's spoken that I didn't enjoy her heavy English accent. I rise and put my hands on her shoulders.
“Are you going to tell me to shh now? That it'll all be alright?” She says every word angry. “That it's not so bad?” “I wasn't planning on it.” “So then? What are you going to do about it?” “I'm doing it.”I said as I stroked her shoulders gently. “Just touching me?” “Yes.” “That's what you're going to do?” “Yes.” “How's it going to work?” “I don't know.” “Well look at who doesn't have all the answers.” “Never needed them all. Just enough.”
The world is silent save for the sound of my hands going over her skin. “I think it's sweet that you're inexperienced. You should pride yourself on it, hang out a disclaimer.” “Guys don't like sweet.” “It never stops surprising me. Women knowing what men want better than we do. I'd like you to sit in my lap.”
I step away from her and sit back down at the edge of the bed. “I can't see.” I tell her to take two steps backward and hold out her hand. When she does I grasp it, give it a squeeze and guide her. She sits in my lap like a whisper. Like she's not even there.
“It's alright to be frightened. But I want to go over one thing and make it perfectly clear before we continue.” I want to make sure she registers this. “Are you listening?” “Yes.” “The submissive has all the power. All of it. At any time they can say 'no' and that is it. Everything is over, the magic spell is broken. The moment you are uncomfortable, the moment you don't like something, you can say one word and take all the power back. Do you understand?” She is silent, pensive. “Yes.” “Good.”
I move my hands to the small of her back and rub it through the blouse. Then I slide my hands around to the front of her. I rub up her stomach, over her breasts and to her neck. Then I use one hand to squeeze her while the other pulls on the fabric. It's the gentlest I've ever choked a woman and I find myself smiling as I do, all the soft care I give her.
And for the first time she doesn't shift or complain. She simply moans. She moves her head under my directions. So I squeeze harder, constricting around her neck and forcing the scarf to bite deeper into her beautiful skin.
Again, she does not fight me in any way. She only moans and I find myself much more aroused than I thought I'd be.
I release her with both hands and then stroke the parts of her face that I can. “I think you're like me,” I say as I run my hands over her. “I think you can escape just about any conflict if you're allowed to talk. That you're quick on your feet and that you can get out of just about any trouble you put yourself in. So I want you to try something with me tonight. I want you to try and be silent. I want you to say nothing, at all. No yes, no no. Nothing unless you become distressed. Do you understand?”
A word half escapes her mouth before she pulls it back in and nods.
“I'm going to use you now. This is for my pleasure. Do you understand?” She nods as I slide her onto her back. I regret my decision to leave her clothed so that she'd be more comfortable for a moment as I so very badly want to see her naked. But that's not what this is. This is guiding. Teaching. I have to be more of a mentor than a monster, at least for now. “Open your mouth.”
She does, and not shyly. She opens her mouth all the way and then shifts her neck, extending it further away from the edge of the mattress. I take my flaccid cock in hand, dip my thighs down and move the head of it to her mouth.
Instantly she latches on, sucks my head into her and then more. She pumps and strokes with just her lips until I begin to grow, then she starts to use her tongue, her neck. This, it is very clear, she is not inexperienced at. When I moan, she moans into me which causes me to grow to full hardness in a near-instant. She continues to moan as she takes the first half of me into her deftly, even from this position. I let her go until I feel my need overpowering me.
I grab her breasts through the blouse and squeeze them, first gently, then harder and harder. My hips start pushing on their own to fill more of her mouth. She stops moving immediately, but the moans continue.
Her nipples become visible and tactile through the clothing and I tweak them while I continue to fuck her beautiful face. I pull them away from her body and she rises with me, elevating her head to give me access to her throat.
The first push all the way into her sends a tremble through my body. I laugh, I cry out, I push for more until she gags. Then I stop and stroke her hair until she recovers.
After a moment I feel her hand on my thigh. She's ready for more.
I flip her onto her stomach marveling at how light she is, like a little toy. I pick her up and move her to the edge of the bed where I toss a pillow at her feet. She feels around, almost comically, until she gets into position. When she has my cock in hand she resumes a kind of rehearse poise.
She licks and kisses the crown of my cock before sucking me into her mouth again. She is measured and polished. She takes me all the way into her mouth twice before focusing on the first two inches in rapid pulses. She knows exactly what she is doing and my orgasm begins to build.
I stroke her hair, give it a few quick tugs as I feel her giving it her all. I tug the scarf to choke her, just to see what she'll do. And on cue, even through the strain, she pushes to get me into her mouth, to continue giving me pleasure. It makes my balls quake.
Once released she continues to suck with enthuaism before delving down to lick and and love my balls, then right back to the tip. She works it faster and faster, only occasionally going deep. I growl and she matches it with a moan. My fingers sink into her shoulders so that I can hold her.
I cum and she drinks me down.
As I recover she waits on the pillow. She's practicing for a part in a play.
“Why are you still down there?” “You didn't tell me I could rise, sir.” “Don't call me sir. I already feel old around you. Hold out your hand.”
She does and I take it, help her up and pull her onto the bed so that I can envelop her.
“You did that very well. You've had practice.” “It's the only thing I've done a lot of. I had two boyfriends. One of them didn't…he just always wanted that.”
I can feel her shutting down. I want to tell her that she's wonderful and that they were jerks who just did the wrong thing, but she'd think I was only saying that to tell her what she wanted to hear. So instead I stroke up and down her
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2rspig/piano_girl_chapter_one_mf