An Angel's Song

An Angel's Song:

It is Wednesday afternoon and I am practicing the cello for our evening rehearsal (for anyone unfamiliar, the cello is the string instrument you play sitting down with the instrument between your legs and is played with a bow). I am wearing a pink J. Crew top and black leggings, and can feel the hard strong curves of the wooden instrument between my thighs as I close my eyes, and start to play.

I am practicing for the solo for our Game of Throne's song: The Rains of Castamere, it is a long and slow song about the downfall of kings and is one of my favorites. The practice rooms are in the Music Dept's basement and are each small sound proof rooms (for obvious reasons), with shades on the windows and door. There are small windows at the top of the room looking outside, and without a context the room resembles a prison cell. I have adjusted the upright blinds on the short windows, and in the mid-afternoon the sunlight sneaks in through the gaps creating a "bar-like" effect on the opposite wall and door.

I slide my fingers up the neck of the cello and imagine being under your control Sir, and submitting to your whim and desires.

I am alone in my...cell.

I am performing for you Sir.

I pull the bow smoothly across the strings, making my instrument sing, and feeling every single vibration traveling up and down my thighs, as I start to grip the cello harder between my thighs, subconsciously arching my back, and licking my lips.

I let my eyes glaze over and see the bars swim in and out of focus as I reach a crescendo, I can see myself sitting naked on a chair with my cello between my dripping thighs. I am in a metal cage with bars on all sides, sitting in your basement. You are sitting comfortably in a wooden chair only few feet outside of my cage, and order me to play.

I trill my fingers fast on the neck of my cello as I linger on a note, imagining myself playing and performing for your Sir.

As the song ends I set my bow on the stand and slip my hand down the front of my leggings. I imagine being chained to my chair, a vibrating butt plug in my ass, and a collar around my throat. Playing and performing for you alone Sir.

I take my hand away from my dripping sex, and start the song again. I stare at the "bars" of light on the wall and then close my eyes and rest my cheek against the neck of the cello, imagining it to be your cock. I let my fingers dance up and down the strings, and saw hard with my bow against the metal strings, the intense vibrations electrifying my pussy. I tighten my thighs as I near the end of the song, forcing myself to finish it. I end with a final lonely note.

*Kneels before you, Please let me perform for you Sir and I will not disappoint you.