Adagio For a Bratty Sub

Master Rob sits at the piano. His fingers find the keys. A slow, deliberate melody starts to fill the room. Blonde strands cling to her damp skin as she struggles against the ropes. Each knot pulls tighter with every move she makes. The discipline has already left marks. Red lines across pale flesh that throb with heat. He strikes another chord. Her whimper cuts through the music like a knife. The crop rests beside him on the bench. Waiting. Ready. He pauses. Turns to look at her. She glares back with that bratty defiance still burning in her eyes. The look that says she wants more. The look that promises trouble. His hand finds the crop. Smooth leather. Cool handle. One swift crack across her thighs and the room fills with her gasp. He returns to the keys. The melody continues. She bites her lip. Tries to stay quiet. Fails. Another wrong note from her mouth earns another strike. The pattern repeats. Music interrupted by sharp breaths and the leather's kiss. Her body strains against the bondage. Wrists bound. Ankles spread. Every muscle tight with need. He plays on. Unfazed. Unforgiving. Each chord a lesson. Each note a command. She learns slowly. The hard way. The only way she knows how.