As much as he wanted to, Riley wasn’t quite able to earn a new pair of panties that week. Paek Keunhee was easy to manipulate in many ways now, but she took her teaching very seriously.

As the lesson came to a close he mulled over changing that, but decided not to. He still wanted to come out of this as good a violinist as he had the capacity to be, and that wouldn’t happen if he started taking the easy way out with that; instead, he was going to take the easy way out with everything else.

The way Riley saw it, that should keep him engaged, excited, and energised.

Ms Paek had just finished giving her feedback on the piece he was currently working on, and usually this would be the point where they both started making polite moves toward the door so she could say her goodbyes and he would go on home.

However, he’d had other ideas from the start. Having finished shutting his violin back away in his case, he turned back to her, still standing at the table of metronomes, and waited for her to stand, which she always did at this point.

Before she could speak again he set the pendulum rod swinging. “Weh,” was as much as she managed before what he’d have thought was the second half of the syllable died in her throat, her mouth already open in an ungainly shape as her eyes clouded over and her shoulders slumped.

Riley smiled. “Come closer to the metronome,” he said. “Stand within my arm’s reach.”

There was a heartbeat or two before she began to respond. Staring slackjawed throughout, her eyes locked to the pendulum rod and therefore keeping her head almost perfectly stable, she lifted one foot and set it down before beginning to move the other, somehow a slower, heavier form of movement than her usual graceful progress.

She was usually so smooth and graceful in trance, Riley thought; then again, this was the first time she’d had to walk somewhere while her eyes were slaved to the metronome, so it was the first time that she hadn’t been able to watch where she was going. The delay was likely the result of a blank mind trying as best it could to process.

She was wearing her panties and her heels, but her panties were no use in protecting her modesty; they were so wet they were practically sheer, and they were wet enough that her scent permeated the room.

Of course, he was pretty sure she was less desperate to hide that from him now.

He reached out and took one nipple between the knuckles of his first and middle fingers, heard the hum of the Paek Keunhee instrument begin, strong and resonant. “Right now, Keunhee,” he said, “I’m playing the instrument that is you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she agreed, and he smiled.

“And what do instruments want?”

“Instruments want to be played,” she answered, eagerly.

“So you want to be played?”

“Yes.”

But you want to be played well.”

Indecision. The quality of the musician hadn’t been relevant until now. He tried again, looking to reinforce it. “You want to be played well.”

“Yes,” she said, after a moment.

“You want to be mastered,” he said, and now that her not-really-thoughts-in-trance were leading in the right direction, there was no hesitation.

“Yes.”

“An instrument should be played well,” he said. “Repeat.”

“An instrument should be played well.”

“You are going to spend the week remembering the way I tasted and the way I felt and how perfect it was to be on your knees with my cock in your mouth,” he told her. “And by our next lesson, you will be absolutely convinced that it’s your idea to train me to play you, with everything that means.”

She was silent, as she always was without enough of a prompting. This suited Riley, as he had more he wanted to say. “You’ll believe that I will need persuading. So next week, you won’t dress for business when I turn up. Your thinking will be that I need to see you at your hottest. If you can, you’ll buy something sexy especially for it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Money is no object. You have to make this work. You happen to have an hour free after our lesson; this would be a perfect time for me to learn to play Paek Keunhee, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. As far as you’re concerned, this is all your own idea, and you’ll need to sell me on it.” Another thought struck him. “You’re going to be convinced I might be kinky. You’ll think that’s why you’ve chosen the outfit that shows you off best. And in selling me on it, you’ll be keeping an eye out for any fetishes I might have, because you’ll want to play to them.”

He paused for a few moments, pondering on whether there was anything else. When he decided there wasn’t, he stopped the pendulum rod.

Her eyelids fluttered. They always did, but lately they seemed to be fluttering for longer as she woke, like she was enjoying being deep more and more, like it was harder for her to surface again.

“Well,” he said, as if he were interrupting her own use of the word that had been interrupted. “That was a really good lesson, Ms Paek. Thank you.”

She had glanced around the room, then up at him, and he saw in her eyes the moment where her mind dismissed the discontinuity between where she had been a subjective moment ago and where she was now. “Oh.” She blushed - actually blushed - and wouldn’t meet his eye. “Thank you, Riley.”

She brushed a stray drift of her hair back behind her ear, and Riley said “Before I go, can I show you my thanks?”

She looked up to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

But he was already unbuckling his belt, pulling his cock free, and she became suddenly almost still - he couldn’t say she was still, she was almost vibrating with excitement.

“What exactly are you asking me?” she said.

“I thought you might want to celebrate seeing sense about sucking my cock by sucking it again, Ms Paek,” he said, a smirk on his lips and in his eyes, and he watched her eyes shine with delight.

“Well,” she said, “since you asked so nicely…” and she settled to her knees, her mouth opening, and slid down his length into blissful trance.

*

Though he didn’t know it, the full week Riley had given Paek Keunhee to decide to offer herself for tuition wasn’t necessary. In fact she had made the decision by Monday afternoon, barely forty-eight hours after the suggestion had been slipped into her subconscious.

She decided to run an errand into town late that Monday afternoon and, having stopped by her favourite teashop to restock, she found herself walking down a road she rarely used, her feet slowing as she passed the door to a particular store.

Paek Keunhee hesitated just past the door of Desires Fulfilled, and looked back at it over her shoulder dithering and unsure.

And yet…

Riley was definitely enjoying how willing she was to suck his cock (willing? She felt like she’d always suck his cock if he offered it to suck, would always suck his fingers if that were all he presented, just so long as they had privacy) and might be willing to do more (oh, how her needy pussy ached for him to be willing to do more) but would he be willing to take her up as an instrument? To put in the time needed to master her performance?

She pushed open the door tentatively and stepped inside. She knew the shop, she’d browsed it a couple of times after settling in Denver, but she hadn’t bought anything at the time. It was rare that she got to really indulge and dress up; it wasn’t worth it without anyone around who enjoyed it, and it was a side of herself she often felt vulnerable around.

There was just no sense in feeling vulnerable about anything in particular around Riley; he always seemed to have the upper hand, she thought, and shivered a little as she did.

“Right,” she said to herself, and rather than looking at the racks she headed straight for the man at the counter.

“I have an odd request,” she told him. “But mostly, I think I want to see how well you rise to a challenge.”

He looked back at her, quietly thoughtful, for a few long moments. Looked her up and down, too, and she could feel him mentally gauging her measurements as he did, probably matching them roughly against the stock he had on hand. “Well,” he said at last, “I usually start by asking a customer what they like, but you’ve got my attention and my interest. Ah!” He held up a finger, smiling. “I saw the way you twitched when I talked about what you like. This is about what someone else likes, is it?”

She almost said Yes without thinking, but kept hold of herself. “Mostly,” she said instead, cautiously.

“Okay. Well, that gives us somewhere to start.” He gestured to a chair. “Before I go any further, getting my full attention like this can be expensive.”

“Will I get value for my money?” she asked as she sat down.

“Absolutely.”

“Then that’s no problem.”

*

Riley had decided not to show up with most of the first hour to go; depending on what she was wearing, he felt like it might be far too hard to hold off on pushing her if the time for her lesson wasn’t close at hand when he got there.

Accordingly he rang her doorbell with about ten minutes to go before his lesson, which was still a little early, but which he wouldn’t have felt bad about doing if they didn’t have the hypnotic relationship he’d developed with her.

His heart was racing already. He made a mental note that unless what happened when she opened her door didn’t excite him, he was going to prime her to use her imagination in pleasing him more often, as the anticipation alone had made this week truly special for him, and right now, the waiting was-

The door opened, and Riley found that the waiting didn’t compare at all to the reality.

Her outfit was latex, first of all; everything but the lacing and perhaps the heels of the pair of stilettos. The purple stiletto heels rose to just above her ankles, no more, and she had them close together, her feet pointed in different directions, legs slightly bent in a heel-enforced en pointe.

Her legs were encased in skintone latex which, of course, was not quite her skintone, but made it incredibly obvious that the whole thing was latex. Criss-crossing it was a widely spaced lattice of black lines, slightly raised from the material, which resembled a wide fishnet stocking.

And then there was the main event; a purple latex fetishised rendition of a ballet dancer’s costume, including a separate, flaring purple ruff of a skirt.

She wore striking crimson lipstick, had blushed her cheeks, and her eyes flared with purple eyeshadow.

Her hair was still drawn back into a bun, but tied differently, and she had allowed a single lock of hair to escape the bun and hang down in front of one eye; it was too strikingly artless not to have been deliberate.

He wanted to put his fingers to her lips, have her open her mouth to suck and drop, and walk her backward into the house. He wanted to throw away his plans and immediately have his way with her. He wanted to much to push her boundaries and discover only afterwards whether or not he’d ruined everything (especially as he doubted he would - he just feared the results of being wrong).

But the door was still open, and she was therefore not in a private place, and so she might not suck even so as it wasn’t in her rules to have to (although he suddenly loved the idea that she might in any case, so far gone did she seem to be) and so he didn’t act, he simply stared until he could get his own reactions under control, and then he said “Hello again, Ms Paek,” and she answered, almost keeping the excitement out of a coolly amused voice, with “Good afternoon, Riley,” and she stepped back and asked “Won’t you come in?” and he did, and by the time the door was closed he had determined that he would go on with the plan as it had originally been designed.

Of course, he thought, that didn’t mean there wasn’t room to adjust some details…

He paused at the threshold to the studio, waiting for her to catch up with him - something she may have been cagey about for some time, but now her need should overwhelm any caution, and the programming the previous weeks should have her see no impropriety in being just as close as he wanted.

Once she was almost in reach he held up his free hand, palm up, his thumb, little finger, and ring finger closed, his middle and index fingers extended as an offering. “Care for something to suck, Ms Paek?” he asked.

Her eyes were already crossing. “Of… of course, Rilmmmph…” He had taken advantage of her mouth opening to slide his fingers in and her lips had closed around them in programmed, obedient eagerness to suck.

Riley watched her shoulders sag. They did so in a slightly different way to usual - he reached around her, placed his hand on her back, and confirmed that the latex pseudoballerina outfit was corseted, so that not all of her spine could relax in the same way.

He walked backward into the studio and, sucking blissfully, she followed, drawn along by the tips of his fingers resting lightly behind her teeth, her tongue eagerly caressing them. And throughout it, she was humming, and the tone changed slightly as he crooked his fingers inside her.

He reached down under the ruff of the latex skirt and found her crotch, found too the zipper running along it, and smiled to himself; her way of presenting herself and persuading him included easy access.

“You’re doing very well,” he told her. “Now, when-“

He cut himself off, nearly swore. He’d been about to plant a suggestion as if she’d already persuaded him. But she might well not - probably didn’t, in fact - think as if she had yet.

He would have to leave that until after the persuasion.

But there was something he could do. She’d often danced while performing, while she toured; the photocollage wall he’d seen suggested she did still like to get out, every so often, and enjoy herself. It wasn’t exactly formal dancing, but still…

“Do you remember your ballet dancing, Keunhee?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Can you still dance that way?”

“Mm-hmm.”

There had been no hesitation. He wondered if, sometimes, a full length mirror came out, she put on her favourite music, and danced before the mirror to check on her form. It felt like something she’d do.

“Alright,” he said, making a decision. “We’re going to change one thing from your usual rules today, Keunhee. Instead of stripping when you hear or say anything to do with motivation, you will find that when I play, you stand, and you dance to the music, like my own personal music box. Do you understand?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Very good. We’ll make a decision on what you do next lesson before it happens.” And he withdrew his fingers from her mouth, watching her eyes uncross and clear in a flurry of blinks.

*

God, just having his fingers in her mouth was bliss. She was quivering inside her latex encasement, but she’d already seen his reaction; she knew it had been the right call.

She was deeper into the room now his fingers had left her mouth; she had clearly been so focused on sucking, licking, worshipping his fingers that she had lost track of their position.

Focus, she reminded herself firmly. She had to go to work now, before the lesson started and his potential distracted her.

She stepped in closer to him, looking up at him. “Before we begin the lesson, Riley, I have something I need to raise with you.”

She was very conscious that she was, now, pushing herself in everything from how she stood and carried herself to the expressions she allowed on her face to turn on the charm, not so much to seduce him as to allow him to seduce himself into her idea.

A complete change in her behaviour to the desperate masking of her own attractions and desires over the past - good grief, she realised, it had been almost three months - but one that presented a side of herself he’d never had the chance to see before.

“What I tell you next may be hard to believe,” she said, reaching out with both her hands to take his wrist. “I know this isn’t true for everyone, but I’m an instrument.”

He didn’t laugh, didn’t mock her, didn’t snatch his hand away. All of which she’d been prepared for. His lips did twitch in the faintest hint of a smile, and he said “I find that rather hard to believe.”

She lifted his hand and put it on her breast, and she began to play. Watched his eyes widen, and started to move his hand gently across her cleavage to her other breast, and as her notes changed she saw him smile in delight.

She let go of his hand and stepped in closer, almost against him, placed her own hand on his chest. She looked up earnestly into his eyes. “Not just anyone can play me, Riley. But I’ve seen how well you play violin, and I want you to learn me. I want to teach you.”

He put his other hand on her hip, which she took as a good sign. Keening slightly as he adjusted his grip for a better note, she lifted her foot from the floor, wrapping her thigh around his, stroking the back of his other leg with the latex-clad foot. “I want to be played, Riley. I want to be played fully, without restraint, without limit. I want you to coax symphonies out of me. To find my sweetest tones.”

Her scalp tingled with the intensity of the moment they were sharing. “I’ve messed with my schedule. I know you want to master the violin. I want you to master me, and I think you can understand, now, how good the music we can make together would be.

“What I propose is this. The hour after our lesson is free, every week. If you join me for that hour, you can learn to play Paek Keunhee as well as the violin.” She bit her lip as his hand wandered from her hip to her ass. “We’ll soon see where your truest passion lies. And I will offer, as incentive - your lessons, on both instruments, will be free.”

“Well,” he said, “since you asked so nicely…”

The hand that had been on her breast slid up and over her shoulder. He snaked his arm around her neck and pulled her head in for a kiss. Somewhere in that kiss, his tongue entered her mouth and she began to suck, and for a time she was lost, unaware, absent, floating on a tide of bliss.

When she was aware of her surroundings again, she was standing where the chair she normally sat in for lessons should go, and it had been moved aside. She was back in first position, the toes of each foot pointing in opposite directions, her heels together, her arms held loosely by her side. Riley was nowhere near either, but she knew that he’d agreed to at least a first lesson on the Paek Keunhee, just as soon as he’d finished with the violin for this week.

He raised the bow to his violin and began to play, and she found herself beginning to dance, staying on the spot, pirouetting, holding poses, lifting her leg out in a graceful arc in which at times her foot was as high as her head.

It was a very strange experience; it didn’t feel like it usually did when she danced, when she put her passion into it (having been able to abandon dances someone else had choreographed when she began to tour and needed dances that would fit the music she was playing, if she even danced).

Instead she seemed jerkier than usual, feeling almost mechanical, moving from point to point with brisk efficiency only to halt at that point for a moment. She seemed somehow to hear one of her metronomes ticking away, though the table was in front of her and she could see that none of them were moving.

She wasn’t sure at all why his music was taking her that way; it almost seemed like it wasn’t her doing the dancing, as if something else was moving her body through the stages of motion. But that, of course, made no sense whatsoever.

She was just a dancer, lost in the music of her musician, her favourite student, the man who would play her soon, a man she found herself thinking of alternately as her lover and as her player.

It was impossible for her to decide which of those words excited her more.

His playing was not at the level it usually was, but his eyes kept straying back to her; she liked to think she was the reason that he faltered occasionally, and it became a game to her, to see just how much she could distract him. Dud notes were a victory, because they showed his thoughts were more on her than on his music.

At last his playing slowed and she stopped dancing, pausing for a moment with her leg extended in an arabesque, the music having stopped without her realising she needed to dismount and return to standing. She waited, still in pose, until he took his bow from the violin and lowered the violin from his shoulder, confirming it was over; she gradually lowered her foot in answer.

His eyes never left hers, and she felt that strange excitement bubbling up in her belly. She could feel his desire, and she was incredibly aware of her own arousal; the two came together as a driving fuel.

She nodded her approval. “Very good, Riley,” she said.

He made a face in answer. “I felt like-“

“Yes, you missed some shifts, and there was the occasional note that shouldn’t have been sustained but was.” She smiled. “At least one of those coincided with my pirouetting, and I know my skirt rose up as I turned.

“I don’t think it was actually a coincidence, was it?”

He blushed, looked down. “I guess not.”

“Well. There’s a reason we always say performance and rehearsal are different. Perhaps I should dance again, next week, and we’ll see if you do better. What do you think?”

There was something oddly guarded about his expression. “I haven’t made my mind up on that one. Not yet.”

Paek Keunhee shrugged, and the part of her that paid attention to these things skipped a beat before it could wonder why he was talking like his would be the final decision. Instead she smiled, and started advancing on him.

“So,” she said. “I believe it’s time to start your next lesson. Oh - you don’t need to wait a week, do you? You’re free now?” It was clear from her tone what she thought of having to wait a week.

“Well, I am…” He stepped toward her. “I was thinking, though. And I hope you won’t mind, but I think perhaps, before we get down to serious learning - I’d like to play a jam session.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step closer. “To just see how good I am at playing you, as we stand. And then you’ll have a sense of what you can teach me.”

He was, she thought, trying to manipulate her, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. To get a chance to fuck her? But that was going to be one (several) of the lessons she had planned… Of course he didn’t know that, couldn’t know that.

She loved the idea of him manipulating her. But she couldn’t just give in, she told herself. “I don’t know about that…”

He offered her his fingers. “Something to suck, Ms Paek?”

There was suddenly nothing more important. “Thank you, Riley,” she said, and took him in her mouth, and thought no more.

*

“Keunhee,” Riley said, picking his words as carefully as he could under the circumstances, “you think us jamming together is a good idea. After all, you need to see what I already know, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And besides,” he said, suddenly aware he was grinning wildly, “you’ve wanted me to fuck you for a long time now.” He paused, letting that sink in as a suggestion. “Did you know that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Which made him harder still immediately. The other suggestions he’d already planted had his teacher hot for him before he even stirred the pot…

“You understand what I need to do if I’m to bring a beautiful melody out from you?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” was the answer once more.

“That’s good. That’s very good.” He considered cheating for a moment and then decided it was worthwhile. “You’re going to find out that my touch feels so much better than it has any right to. That my fingertips, my mouth, my cock, even my balls slapping against you trigger your pleasure centres whether they normally would or not. Do you understand?”

“Mm-hmm.” There was a breathy, needy quality to this one, somehow managing almost to squeal around his fingers. The hum persisted, and he wondered if, before she chose the violin as her instrument, she’d learned a woodwind or brass instrument, something which required that kind of sustained breathing technique.

He let his hand slide back out of her mouth, watched her eyes uncross and refocus. She raised one of her delicate hands and wiped the thin bead of saliva from her lower lip, looking him in the eye.

”You know, Riley,” she said, “I’ve reconsidered.” She bobbed, knees extending outward in a plie turned curtsey, then extended her arms outward in an offering. “Please play me?”

Riley smirked, slipping an arm around her waist and jerking her forward, directly into his kiss. Her body was surprisingly unresponsive; part of him had expected her to arch her back into him, press her chest against him, the way she had when putting on her seductive wiles. Her mouth kissed back with the eagerness of an enthralled woman, but the rest of her body waited, unresponsive.

He slipped the fingers of one hand into the hair behind her head and suddenly her arms were alive, stroking, caressing, exploring his body. The hum around their kiss became a powerful vibrato, and he broke from the kiss to catch some air - and Paek Keunhee began to sing.

It was operatic, majestic, it was trills and sustained notes and not a recognisable word at all, but it sent a thrill through him. He lifted her around the waist and, again, she seemed to come alive, her arms around his neck, her thighs around his hips, holding tight, gazing adoringly at his face. The right things, he observed, made her come alive.

She was still singing as he backed toward her chair, the one she taught from; her thighs unwrapped from him as he sat down into it, and she settled herself straddling him.

The hand that had been lifting her slid under her skirt to find the zipper; his other hand was stroking the back of her neck, and while he wasn’t sure why, it was making him very happy to do so - but visibly not as happy as it was making Paek Keunhee, who was shuddering, waves of pleasure thundering up and down her whole body from his touches at both ends.

He got the zipper open - a struggle to do without seeing it - and it was his little finger that, by chance, brushed against and slipped into the wet, waiting lips of her pussy.

Her singing rose in volume until he withdrew his hand; he’d been planning to reach for his belt buckle but she took that wrist in both hands and lifted his hand to her mouth, where she - there was no other word for it - lovingly licked his little finger clean.

“Maintenance of your instrument is essential,” she told him demurely.

Riley grinned. “So you’re my instrument now?”

A pinkness shone in her cheeks and for the first time since they began to play, she couldn’t meet his eyes. “If you can master me,” is what she said in the end, and Riley didn’t know if it was chance or if she intended a message by it. Her hands found his belt buckle instead, and that may have been answer enough.

She was able to do only so much, though, without the work of the musician playing her. She could make his cock ready, but she couldn’t slide down onto him. He had to thrust up into her, and when he did the note she produced, her eyes rolling up in her head, made him fear for her glass of water.

His hands dropped to her chest, where he cupped and squeezed and groped and toyed, and where every action he took drove her hips, bucking and bouncing in his lap, her thighs and buttocks now a percussion section keeping metronome-precise time in accompaniment to the song he was playing on her.

It ended only when he came and, to judge by the warbling cry of euphoria that the song briefly became, she did the same, and she collapsed against him for a long moment while they both recovered their breath.

The woman, not the instrument, climbed off him and knelt, cupping his balls in one hand and raising them so she could more easily lick his cock clean.

“More maintenance?” he asked, and she nodded, too busy to respond verbally.

Perhaps it was the afterglow, but an idea that had occurred to him found its way to his mouth, where he might well have set it aside and waited to build it as a rule next week otherwise.

“You know,” he said. “If I’m to master the Paek Keunhee, I’ll need to practice more often. It might help if I had a key.”

She lifted her lips from her juices on his cock and looked up at him. “Are you serious about your studies?” she asked.

It was his turn to blush, if only from the total sincerity in her eyes. “Of course,” he said.

“Then move in,” she told him, “so you can practice with diligence.”

He stared. That had been something he’d idly fantasised about programming into her toward the end of the year. He hadn’t dreamed he’d be able to get that result without so much more work.

“You’re a person as well as an instrument,” he reminded her tentatively.

“As a person,” she said levelly, “I think I’ve made it clear I want you around, haven’t I?”

He nearly told her how astounding she should find that, but he managed to stop himself before he could ruin it. “Then I accept.”