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A Concerto for Violin d' Amour

A Concerto for Violin d' Amour    
   
     The blonde barista stumbles in her high heels as she begins crying like a pilgrim on the road to penance. She is wearing turquoise lingerie that slips like a ghost of her intimate moments above the waistband of her leotard pants with her matching bra straps strung over her shoulders. Her spandex is figure-hugging as she moves across the floor. She is a walking seduction.  
     Her tears and crying spell take me by surprise as a wonder what is the cause of her distress. As she waves her hands, she is startled by her redhead coworker grabbing her shoulders. The scarlet woman speaks over her colleague’s wails. “Sir, she left coffee grounds in your cup. She knows the consequences of such negligence which is why she is distraught.”
     “Really it was no problem. I can live with some coffee dust in my drink. I wouldn’t want her to get written up or reported to the manager over such a trifle.”
     “You can listen from outside for her screams or you can join as a moderator to restrain her  
punishment.”
     The blonde interjects, “Please sir, don’t leave me alone with her. She is a tigress.”  
     Then she ushers her into the coffee grinding room. I follow them with my curiosity peaked. There the boss lady strips the blonde of her tights and then her panties leaving her bottom bare as the moon on a midnight summer. The redhead reaches under the table and pulls out a violin and bow. She grips the bow and uses it to follow the blonde’s curves only to dip between her legs and separate the blonde’s flower with its string. The redhead says, “This is to give you an idea of her emotional response to the bow.” She hands the blonde the violin who grips it while trembling. “You see the violin is a comfort for her to hold much like a pillow.”
     The room is bright white with a table for the blonde to bend over while breathing like a runner at the start of a marathon. The redhead grasps the blonde by her braids and says, “I plaited them for her. Aren’t they pretty?” The redhead grasps her braids and pulls her head into position for a luscious kiss. This calms the blonde for just a while.    
     The boss lady says, “Isn’t she pretty? Now tell me wouldn’t you rather I use the violin bow on her to hear her wail like a banshee?”  
     I plead, “No need for such drastic discipline for such a minor infraction. Please, spare her.”
     The blonde tells me, “Sir, thank you for your chivalry, but this is a job perk I would be fain to decline. Don’t protest my greatest joy.”
     “I hate to think I was the cause of your penitence.”
     “Let the spring rose that blossoms in the shimmer of my moons rise into my tropic smile with all cheeks aglow from the fire of my Hestia with the scarlet tresses.”
     “But you have a worried look.”
      “Tis but the ache of a bud ready to flower.”  
     The redhead slaps the underside of her bottom and the blonde stands on her toes like a ballerina. The redhead digs her fingernails into the blonde’s derriere and lifts her back onto her toes in a ballet of polished nails and hand paddles. The blonde raises herself like a sprinter getting her second wind and fully engaged in the warm-up from her coach’s hand. I hear the redhead saying. “Step out of your panties. Good, Now, I will blindfold you in your own undies that bear your signature scent.”
     The redhead rips the blonde’s intimate apparel to shreds until she is lying naked across the altar of her debasement. She says, “After our soiree, you can put your clothes back on. But the shred of your under clothes will be a reminder of what happens to you if you get lax in your duties.”  
     The blonde says, “I am getting goosebumps from the cold in here.”  
     The boss lady reaches around the blonde and cups her breasts. “Oh, your hands are cold too.”
     “Would you like me to let go? If so apologize to this gentleman for making his coffee shop experience so awful.”
     “Sir, I am so sorry for all the problems I’ve caused you tonight. And I promise never to get distracted on the job anymore. What is worse you had to witness my humiliation. For that, I am doubly sorry.”
      She squirms as the redhead pins her by the buttocks in a tussle with the sharpened nails. Then she feels the fire of even more vigorous smacks under the hands of her headmistress. The heat winds around her hips and tush until they are slick with sweat. She slides as she flexes against the table.
     Finally, she succumbs to the pleasure of purgatorial flames as she feels fingers probing her. The attention to her sex, though invasive, turns her on. Her breathing grows rapid as she responds to the rub. It is the unmistakable touch of a woman she knows. That makes it all the more taboo. The erotic heat of womanly love bestowed on her flower is thrilling. She comes in the throes of submission so deep she never wants to be free again.  
     The woman whispers in her ear, “Our patron looks moon-eyed. Sir, has her behavioral modification been sufficient? She has responded well to the positive reinforcement of my stimulation. I am sorry you had to see this naughty vixen get her lashing. But I think she got even more excited than usual from your gaze. So shall we send her back to work?”  
     “Please do so. She is reformed I am sure of it.”
     “I love you,” the blonde says with her eyes glued on the redhead. Her boss-lady helps her into her jogging suit.
     I watch the blonde go about her duties with a renewed sparkle in her eyes. She seems buoyant as she serves customers with the bounce of a happy woman who has found her place in life. And knowing I was there for the nascence of her newfound joy makes me a very happy man. Sometimes the redhead ushers her into the coffee room for a private meeting. And often the blonde gives a violin recital on the patio. The strings wail from a passion that once lit up my world like no music ever could.
Written by goldenmyst
Published
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