The Performance

La Maison de le Joyeux was an unconventional type of theatre. Not only in what was shown but how and who it was shown to. The features varied from simple orgies to the darkest display of degradation for unspeakable prices. Naturally, the spectators were shamelessly rich and all lavished in different fashions. Each performance took place on beautifully decorated stages and intricate sets, while each audiences' section was divided carefully. The front and middle aisles were reserved for frequent attendees and participants while the back and flanked rows were for the new and curious. Tonight was their debut in the Letting Room. Liana and Spencer, husband and wife, had been attendees of the theatre for years. It's how they met, and together they had known a life of pleasure most only dream of. Spencer had been practicing endlessly to perfect his piano so that he could play the songs he loved flawlessly. This started to cut into their sex life because they were constantly screwing. Six years and not a night had passed that they both weren't breathless and battered by sunrise. During his piano perfectionist period, Liana had to get more creative. He was driven when it came to his music and not even the temptress of his very soul could turn his head, she knew this of him. Instead, she challenged him to withstand her tearing at his flesh, which he was particularly fond of, while he continued to play. He fucked her madly on top of the piano at the suggestion alone. This is why he loved her, married her, made her his. She knew him so well.

It was tricky at first, for she knew how to touch him. Many nights he is would grab and attempt to ravage her due to the blood on her hands and lips, his blood slipping down from his wounds, but she denied him for the mistakes of his performance. Four songs, "Moonlight Sonata," "Clare de Lune", "Rondo Alla Turca," and "Pachebells Cannon in D" were expected without a single mistake. At first, she would just withhold the last few of his orgasms, but as they drew closer to the audition for the theatre, she would deny him all but kisses. He was insane with need for her the night before his tryout. He played as if his life depended on it, and when the spot was won, she rode him backstage, gouging his back and screaming his name.

The next few weeks were torture for them both. He couldn't keep his head straight with all the damage she was doing to his body. He wanted to fuck her constantly. Due to the fact that the performance must be legitimate, she had to let him heal for a full week before the fated night. They slept in separate rooms, arrived in separate cars and even had private dressing rooms. When he stepped onto the stage, he was focused. He stripped to naught but his skin and settled on the piano bench, drawing a deep breath! She approached from behind, wearing a silver glitter dress that plunged at her neckline and showed her shapely legs. As he grew deeper into "Moonlight Sonata," she moved her hands from his shoulders, to slide down his chest. Before the song ended, she raked her nails across his body to leave bright ruby red trails in their wake. The crowd gasped as the blood trickled down him, the artist was unphased. As he continued into Mozart, she tore at his back and no restraint and pressed herself against the open wounds. When his finale went without a hitch, she bared her breasts, sliced them with her own nails and pressed the fresh flow against his skin. He moaned as he hit the last note. The audience erupted into a standing ovation and they both took their bows. A smoldering look passed between them. He went his way, she went hers. At their home, he found her. Waiting in their master bathroom with a claw foot tub, she had drawn him a healing bath. The room swirled with the scent of jasmine and mint, a mixture of hers to heal wounds. He walked in to see her standing there naked and smiling. Beckoning, she helped him into the tub, washing every inch of him. He let out a sigh of pleasure as she scrubbed his wounds clean. She led him out of the bath and dried him carefully, licking each mark she left on him. Then, she directed him to the bed and kissed every inch of his flesh, paying particular attention to the spots she loved. Once he reacted, she mounted and rode him furiously until he buried his seed into her. She collapsed on top of him, breathless and worn.

"Very good, my love," she cooed. "I'm so proud of you."

His heart swelled with pride and pleasure as he rolled over onto her and made her his once again.