FANTASY: The Pianist Mistress and the Entranced Submissive by Zola Childs

She paused before picking up her phone to text back…

Ketu’s Lair, 7pm.

Yes ma’am.

She sniggered before pressing send, this ought to put him in his place “Don’t wear underwear.”

As you wish.

She placed her phone down and sat at her vanity mirror doing her final checks before jumping in her Uber; her tight curls decorate the small shape of her face and compliment the soft glamorous look she was a professional at pulling off. Just a touch of lipgloss. Ankle length strappy red satin slip, leather jacket and simple high heels. Good, cliche almost, but not too much. Just enough.

Your Uber has arrived.

Ketu’s Lair; a decent restaurant in a decent enough suburban neighbourhood where she played 3 nights a week for 5 minutes. It was not for the money, but the clientele. Every one is a potential customer, you just have to know how to talk to them right.

Her phone pinged.

I am here, Mistress. Where shall I sit, the very front, or blend in the shadows.
S
he rolled her eyes.

It matters not, I will find you.

She shrugged as she entered the venue.

She spotted him right away. Already drooling over how good she looks, and his nerves started to intensify. Skin hot, heart pounding out of his chest and was almost certain everyone could tell he was all a tremble. She sat in front of the piano and touched the keys delicately but intentionally. Her eyes closed, this was her sanctuary. The room quietened…

She knew if she opened her eyes to see the look on his face, the words written across it would’ve been, Goddess, your talents are endless.

She slowly lifted her eyelids up, and right on to him. He was right in front, black jeans paired with a light green dress shirt. He wouldn’t be awkward or obnoxious. The hair on the back of his neck stood followed by a hot flush rushing down to his groin and further to his toes causing them to stretch and wriggle out. He coughed wanting just a piece of her attention, she ignored him. A waiter rushed past his table, where luckily he was seated alone. The warm air blew his shirt closer to his chest, grazing his now hardened nipples. He didn’t have to wonder about hers; the sheer fabric of her dress did nothing to hide their glory. She began to play.

🎶 You’re my violet in the sun
You’re the chosen one
You’re my violet in the sun
You’re the chosen one
You’re my violet in the sun 🎶

He was mouthing words that didn’t belong to the music as her fingers danced on the keys, her eyes were closed again, but her body. Her body. It rocked and swayed. The red dress clinging to all of her delicious curves. The way it scooped underneath her bottom, he could see that below she too was pantyless. He stroked himself in unison with the music. It was so soft, gentle just like her and as it began to build to a crescendo he also felt the blood inside him doing the same thing. He was wrapped in her talents, wrapped in her beauty, wrapped in her song. He was wrapped in her completely.

But before he knew it, it was all over. She bowed her head and brought her hands together thanking the audience for their modest applause. He hadn’t clapped, still trying to steady his breathing, unable to fathom that this was the end before he had his own ending. She smiled slyly to herself, stood up, picked up her phone and walked off stage. Her beautiful dress danced so delicately around her with the natural breeze she had created with her own graceful movements along with a new post performance natural glow she emanated.

You’ve got money

She pulled the notification down on her phone. $250 now in her account. She clicked into it and noticed a note;

“Thank you Goddess. That was the best, you are the best. 💐 When can we do it again? Please play longer next time, I want to give you more.”

After playing her energy levels are depleted. She too is lost in the music, the performance taking over her mind, body and soul but even so she managed to find the means up a reply to this helpless little boy.

Same time next week and if you’re lucky, maybe one day you’ll get a performance without the audience…”

Written exclusively for Female Fetish Federation

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