Mary's Submission Read online

  Chapter three

  Liam

  I look down the hall to see the blonde walking fast away from me. She is probably a new student, so it's not surprising that she was checking out her new class room. It's easy to spot a new student here. Not only because of the date, but by the way they handle themselves. There are two different kinds of new students. The cocky, confident ones who try to look like they know what they are doing. They have all the fliers; they know where every classroom is. They hold themselves up very high and it isn't until they end up in the classroom where they realize that they actually know nothing and that knowing where the principal's office is doesn't help you because you can be prepared like no other. Of course all these students have talent, that is why they are here. But then they get into a classroom and the teacher starts to teach you that you realize that you know nothing of what it's like to be here.

  The other kind is pretty much the opposite. They don't have any idea how they got here or what to do. Again, they know how to play but this school is a lot more than just playing a note. My father's school got its reputation in the seventies after becoming one of the few schools with the lowest number of students but the more successful students. Yes, my father created this school and now I am a part of it. I became a teacher here.

  My name is Professor Liam Johnson and I am the cello teacher.

  I turn away from the girl and head back into the classroom where I am setting up for tomorrow's class. Class starts the day after all the students get here. We believe in starting as quickly as possible. As to not make the students believe that we are like other schools. From the price to the quality we are nothing like other schools and it is designed that way. In fact, I think most of the popularity of the school is our uniqueness. I have nothing against that of course. After all, I work here and it's my dad's school.

  I prop up all the music stands and when I am content with the placement of everything I walk out and head to my office. I walk into my office and sit on my chair. I think back to the girl looking in from the little window in the door. She looked… cute. With blonde curls and blue eyes. She looked relatively tall but not as tall as me. She wore a plaid long skirt and a white t-shirt with a blue bird on it. Along with small heels and some orange glasses on her head. She has to be maybe eighteen or nineteen. I look on my list of new students seeing which one she might have been.

  Louise Williams

  Karl Drake

  Missy Deveraux

  Mary Bennett

  Collins Michaels

  Sara Kern

  Peter Dallas

  Hmm.

  Mary Bennett could be her. She looks like Mary. Sweet and innocent. But then again. I don't know what a "Mary" looks like. I know nothing about women's names. I know about students who know how to play instruments.

  My dad has been trying to get me to marry someone for years. I don't date. Ever. I like my quiet house. My quiet life. I don't need a woman. I am a grumpy old man and I have no problem with that. My dad thinks I am lonely but what he doesn't know is that once a week I will partake in a fun activity at a sex club in the city. Of course I am never going to tell my dad that so he thinks that I do nothing ever and the only people I ever see are my students.

  He says that people in their forties should at least have a long-term girlfriend. I just shrug my shoulders and talk about the news.

  I do meet people at the club. I just don't take them home with me. I tie them up and whip them and have a grand old time. So it's not only that I like a quiet lifestyle, it's that it's hard to find someone who is all right with my… ways. I have particular tastes. In bed anyway. In real life I have no preferences. Their age. Their hair colour. I'm not picky, probably because I don't care.

  But in bed I like a submissive. I like a woman who loves to be on her knees with her hands tied behind her back with my cock down her throat. I am a little rough and like to punish, but I will end everything with an orgasm. That I promise you. No matter how bad you've been. I could date someone from the club, but I have such a professional relationship with a lot of them that dating them would be weird. And the women who usually are my submissive are too young for me. Legal, yes, of course. I'm not a creep. But they are in their twenties and I am in my forties. They have so much more to live. So they are not for me. But thankfully I am content with the life that I have and have no interest in changing it.

  I put away the list, get my coat and head home. I have nothing else to do here today. It's four in the afternoon so I head to my house and read a bit before having dinner and going to bed. Waking up fresh the next morning to get ready for class.

  I put on my black suit with a white shirt and a black tie. My usual. It’s simple but commands a lot of attention. Probably because no student is going to dress like this. Most students will come to class in casual wear.

  Though if I talk to other teachers, they say that I could wear jeans and a t-shirt and they would still be intimidated. My friend Anthony always says that I am that guy who you pay attention to and listen to for no reason other than I look important. Though he says that’s not always a compliment since it’s because I look… mean and serious. I just seem to wear my “I don’t give a fuck” attitude on my face. It isn’t that I don’t care about anything. I care about my students and them succeeding. I want them to follow their dreams and be the best cellist they can be. But that is about the extent of my care.

  I get into my car and drive to the school. Once there, I go into my office, get a few things, then head to class. I look at my watch and it’s about ten minutes before my seven students arrive. It’s not unusual to have such a low number of students. It’s usually around seven to ten.

  The bell rings and the door to the classroom opens and a bunch of students walk in. First is a lanky man, over six feet carrying his cello. That is the same with all the students. They walk in with their cello’s all with wheels on the bottom. Except for the tall blonde. The one that I saw yesterday. Her case doesn’t seem to have wheels on the end and looks like it’s been through some shit.

  She drags it in, the other students snickering, but she doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. She just takes her seat and looks up at me. Her eyes widened in shock. I guess she wasn’t expecting the man she was snooping on to be her teacher. I smile, and she gulps before sitting down on her chair.

  I take a look at all the students. The tall blonde, the lanky brown haired man. There is also a black-haired woman and another woman with brown curls. Then there are a few guys all looking like they came out of a fashion magazine. Skinny jeans and t-shirts with designs on them. Probably something of the times. I’m nowhere near these students’ ages so I have no idea what is modern for them.

  “All right, my name is Professor Liam Johnson,” I say, “Before we start I am going to just get all of your names. We will start with you.” I point to the tall blonde and she sits up straight and I can see a little blush coating her cheeks. She shakes her head and squares her shoulders before answering the question.

  “My name is Mary Bennett,” she says, her voice smooth and confident. And I was also right apparently.

  I go across the room. Each student saying their name.

  “My name is Missy Deveraux.” The girl with the black hair says with a smile.

  “My name is Collins Michaels.” He throws a peace sign to everyone, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

  After all the introductions are done, we get to the lesson. We start with an overview of what they have learned so far. They are all generally in the same boat. They know almost the same kind of stuff. Some students couldn’t help but tell everyone about their extra training. Summer camps and tutors. Except for Mary.

  I looked at her file and she only seemed to have learned it from school. And since it is required to tell any additional training, it’s safe to say she didn’t have any of that. According to her file, she got in through a scholarship. For a student to get a scholarship but not do any other activities other than school is r
are. She must be really good.

  When we get near the end of the lesson, I ask everyone to play me a piece. Anything as long as it was short. We had about an hour and we didn’t have time for each student to play a twenty-minute piece.

  Missy played the beginning of Bach - Cello Suite No. 1. Sara Kern played the ending part of Beethoven - Cello Sonata No. 3 and the rest of the students played the cello version of popular songs. Or at least I think so because I don’t really know them. All I know is that I never heard of it before, it’s all pretty good and you can tell that there are lyrics that they are playing.

  Then it was Mary’s turn. She played the Moderato of Haydn - Cello Concerto No. 1. Which is a song that I really like. I think its dainty movements and the way you seem to play the song with your entire body. By the end, she looks up at me and smiles. I don’t smile back this time. Which turns her smile to a pout.

  I turn around when the bell rings and say to the class. Wanting to quiet the reaction in my pants to that subtle movement.

  “That is all for now. You won’t be getting any homework for today but rest up. Tomorrow is when we start the real work.” All the students leave and once again Mary drags her cello case out the door.

  “Mary,” I say, and she stops mid stride. “Don’t you have one of those cases with the wheels?”

  “Um, no sir.” she says. And once again my cocks begs for an appearance.

  “Well, I must suggest you get one, if you can.” She nods but doesn’t move. As if she is waiting for my permission to leave.

  “You may go.” I say and Mary turns around and pulls her cello down the almost empty hall.

  With a finger on my lip, I watch her walk down the hall again. Her knee-length skirt and tucked in and tight fitting polo shirt giving me all sorts of inappropriate ideas. She is my student, for heaven sakes. I shouldn’t be thinking about these things. But my mind can’t seem to help it. Mary has my mind going in all sorts of naughty places, but for her sake and mine I command myself to drop them. Because if I don’t I can’t guarantee that one of these days Mary won’t walk away from me without my handprint on her ass.

  Chapter four

  Mary

  Walking down the hall I can feel Mr. Johnson’s eyes on my back again. It’s hot and commanding and it turns me on.

  Fuck Mary, you are going to get yourself into so much trouble. Or maybe not because of the way Mr. Johnson looked at me. With a stone face suggesting that I am really just a student to him. Which was really different from the start of the class when I realized that the guy I was staring at was my new teacher. The way he smirked at me as if to tell me he knows that he is the one that I saw. It’s the kind of smirk that I imagine those heroes in the books that I read have. The ones that make your panties drop and your pussy cream and ache.

  I wonder if Mr. Johnson would mind me masterbating to his smile.

  Damn it Mary! Stop it. He is your teacher. You can’t be thinking of those things about your teacher.

  The strange thing about it is that I’ve never really had these thoughts about anyone before. It’s always been some fictional hero that I had in my mind when I was running my finger along my slick folds. They wouldn’t even really have a face, just a persona. A personality. It would be the kind of man who commands respect. He would walk into a room and everyone would notice how tall he stands and the way he walks. He would wear expensive suits, and carry around a short riding crop and leather gloves. He would just have to crook his finger to me, and I would walk over kneeling before him. I would feel his crop sliding up my back and to my face where he would use it to tilt my head up so he could look into my eyes.

  He would then stick the crop into my mouth to wet it before sliding it between my legs and tap a few times. It would make me want to close my legs together and ride against it. But he would tsk and smack the inside of my thighs to keep them open. He would smack me a few more times before telling me to lean over the bed. He would smack my ass and tell me that I was such a bad girl and that bad girls get punished. He would spank me a few more times, then undo his pants and take out his long cock and fuck me ruthlessly. He wouldn’t even take off his clothes, he would keep them on and bring me to climax. That is what I imagine in my bed, anyway. Nothing like that has ever happened in real life, but I look forward to the day that it does. The day that I won't always have to use my own fingers to come.

  I drag my cello into my room and lie down on my bed. All the thoughts of Mr. Johnson and my imagination have my pussy aching, and I don’t know what to do about it. Jasmine and the others won’t be here for a while, since they are probably still in class. And my next class doesn’t start for another hour.

  So I pull back the covers and take off my clothes and slip inside. The sheets are cool against my hot body and I take out my little bullet vibrator from my nightstand and turn it on. The small vibrating noise already has me more excited and it sends tingles down my body towards my pussy.

  Placing it against the wetness, I convulse and moan. I use my other hand to squeeze my breast kneading it. My thoughts go to my usual story but instead of a man with no face holding my breast and putting a vibrator to my pussy it’s Mr. Johnson.

  He is looking down at me with that delicious smirk while he twirls the vibrator against my clit massages my breast. I wonder for a moment if I should open my eyes and try to get my teacher’s face out of my head, but I am so fucking turned that I can’t stop.

  I-he slips the vibrator inside of me and I moan again.

  “You like that, baby,” he says and I writhe against his hand.

  “Fuck!” I say out loud.

  “Ah, what a naughty mouth you have.” he says and I moan again.

  “Maybe I should put something in it.” he says.

  I don’t even get to finish the fantasy. My vibrator hits against my special spot and I go flying. I put my pillow on my face to stop the screams from going anywhere else. Of course it’s only after that I realize that my bedroom is soundproof. But you do what you are used to.

  I lay there in silence for a while. Listening to my beating heart before getting up and cleaning up and getting ready for the next class. I put on different clothes and shoes and bring my cello to the next class. While walking down the hall, I turn the corner and walk straight into Mr. Johnson.

  “Hello there, Mary,” he says in his deep, rich voice.

  “Hi there, Mr. Johnson,” He looks up and down my outfit and I swear I see a small pull of his lips. The skirt I am wearing is a little shorter, and the shirt is a little tighter, which wasn’t intentional, but I kind of like it. Especially when he looks at my chest for perhaps a second more than he should.

  I smile internally, then walk past him. Walking away wasn’t exactly sexy since I still have to drag my cello around. The thing is cases are kind of expensive and when you have to choose between some things sometimes little things like a case get left behind.

  Maybe I can find a case at a secondhand store. I really did hate the way those other students laughed at my case. This is a really prestigious school which ends up having a lot of prestigious students. I didn’t let it bother me, though. I got into this school. My talent got me into this school. And I sure as hell won’t think that I am lesser to any student just because I have a stupid case for my cello.

  But for real, I really do need to get another case.

  “Mary?” I hear Mr. Johnson’s voice behind me.

  “Yes,” I turn around and he walks to me until he is so close I can smell his cologne.

  “I have a case that you can have, if that’s okay. It seems like a lot of trouble to drag that around and I know it might be a while before you find one.”

  “Um, thank you Mr. Johnson.”

  “Please, when not in class, you can call me Liam,” he says and smiles.

  I am in so much trouble.

  He walks me to his office which was just a couple of rooms down and he reaches into a closet and pulls out a cello case.

  “Here.”
He hands it to me and I take my cello out and place it in the case.

  The case looks super expensive. It’s clean, black with zippers and plastic wheels that don’t even look like they have touched the ground.

  “There, that’s better,” He looks at my cello and I zip it up.

  We walk out of his office together, and I walk to class. Leaving again with Mr.-Liam’s eyes on me.

  My next class goes really well, and I walk out with a smile on my face. I hear the clip and clap of shoes then one of the girls in class, Sarah appears beside me.

  “Hey, Mary. There is a party going on tonight. You wanna come?” she says. Practically bouncing in her ankle boots.

  “When and where?” I ask.

  “Johns house and it starts at seven, so be there around ten or eleven.”

  “Sure, I’ll be there.” The last party I went to was pretty good. Met a few people and had a good time. I get an address then she leaves.

  I can usually balance party time and school time and I am someone who has a lot of energy all the time. Instead of taking a nap or something when I get time I want to hang out with people. So I take my cello and head to my next class. Then when the night comes I put on some nice clothes and head to the party.

  Chapter five

  Mary

  The party is loud, and when I walk in I look around the room. It's lit with low lighting in multiple colours, probably using strobe lights. I walk over to the makeshift bar and get a cup of something probably containing alcohol. I'm not too into drinking alcohol, but I put some of the punch in a cup and take a sip. Then spit it back into my cup.

  Yuck!

  It tastes weird and I see a hidden bottle of vodka just sitting behind it. I guess I'm not a vodka person. I throw my cup into the trash can and walk around. There are a lot of people from school here. And a lot of people I don't recognize. There is another college around here, so maybe they are from there. The August Johnson School of Music doesn't have a lot of students in it, which makes it easier to memorize every student. It's very prestigious and costly. The only way I got in was through scholarships. That's how all my friends got in.