Hope’s Lesson in Humility

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(Hope Branch is a twenty-four year old concert violinist. Out of shyness, she has hid until now her Miss America figure in baggy clothes. The circumstances of her coming out are told in chapters of this story not yet posted.)

Carrying her instrument and bow, Hope maneuvered among the chairs. She heard the orchestra grow quiet as she moved through its ranks. She kept her head down until she reached her seat and then she nodded to the players at either side of her and looked toward the podium where she met the steel gray gaze of Herr Wolfgang Von Haurs-Schmidt. How she wished she hadn’t been late.

“Are we all here? Is it possible we have an orchestra that is here?,” said the conductor and there was a stillness on the stage and then he nodded and Hope took a deep breath and after a pause she began to tune in the rising din. Hope looked up now and then at Herr Haurs-Schmidt who had a pencil out and seemed to be notating the score in front of him and he did not trouble her any further with his dictatorial eyes.

Two hours later, Hope again wended her way through the chairs when she heard her named called.

“Yes?,” she smiled.

“I would see you in the office, please,” said Herr Haurs-Schmidt. Hope glanced around. The other musicians were scurrying off.

“All right.”

“It was fine today,” said the conductor. He was pacing, not looking at the nervous young woman seated before his desk. The door to the office was closed and it was likely by now that the two of them were alone in the building.

“The orchestra was distracted when they saw you, I could see that was so. But the playing afterward was good until the Mahler.”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with me.” Hope, too, had felt the intensity of the rehearsal. She had played rather well herself, she thought.

“It had everything to do with you, Mrs. Branch. Perhaps you don’t understand the complexities of an orchestra, but I understand them. This is why I am here. Today had everything to do with you. Now, I would want to know why you have dressed like this and if you have a mind to dress such as this in the future.”

Hope blushed. “Do you think that I should?”

“It depends, Mrs. Branch. What happened in the third movement of the Mahler?”

“You mean when I dropped my bow?”

“That is what I mean, yes.”

Hope looked at the conductor. “I just dropped it. I’m sorry.”

“Did someone strike you to make you drop it?”

“No, I just dropped it,” Hope lied, not wanting to blame anyone when she knew the conductor was only fishing. He had been looking elsewhere at the time and hadn’t seen the small collision that sent her bow flying.

“Do you want me to think this was an innocent accident, not having of the unconscious motivation to draw attention to yourself?”

“Certainly it was not that.”

“Ah ha! You admit it was not innocent.”

“No! It was completely innocent. I’m saying there was no unconscious motivation as you say to draw attention to myself. Do you think I would do such a thing while the orchestra is playing? I can’t believe you would think that. I wouldn’t do it even if the orchestra wasn’t playing.”

The conductor stopped pacing and faced his young violinist, boring into her with his eyes.

“Do you say that the clothes you are wearing are not intended of a desire to call attention to yourself?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I said…”

“Enough! I know what you said. Until the third movement of the Mahler we had a fine rehearsal but then you dropped your bow and the rehearsal was nothing after that. It was ruined, you see.” The conductor picked up his baton from the desk and smacked it against his palm for emphasis. Hope cringed at the sound.

“I can’t believe you are saying this, Herr Haurs-Schmidt. Just because I dropped my bow…and I didn’t think the rehearsal was ruined. I thought…”

“Silence! And were you not also late for the rehearsal, Mrs. Branch?”

“Well, yes, you see…”

“Don’t tell me what I see, if you please. You were late and you walked alone to your chair with the entire orchestra watching you in your new clothes, yes? And was not this another drawing of attention to yourself?”

“It was not meant that way, I assure you.”

“But it drew the attention. And yet we had a very fine practice. The orchestra was invigorated, I think, at seeing so attractive a member and this showed in the playing until the Mahler. I feel, Mrs. Branch, that it must not happen again this overdoing of the attention getting. I have nothing against the new clothes. They are fine. But you must curb the insolence in the behavior.”

“Herr Haurs-Schmidt, I am appalled you would think I purposely dropped my bow just to attract attention. Or that I came late so the orchestra would look at me. I’m not bursa escort a child.”

“True, you are not a child, Mrs. Branch. You are anything but a child. And I suspect you have not acted deliberately but have acted unconsciously. The question is what shall be done to discipline your subconscious person so we do not have a repeat of this bad behavior. I think perhaps it must be that we shock your subconscious person such there is recognition there.”

Hope reddened. Could the conductor be right? Was it possible the bump had been just an excuse for her to drop her bow?

“Well, how would you do that?”

The conductor sighed and looked at the ceiling, pointing with his baton at the air.

“Now you are asking a sensible question I find. You say in truth you are not a child but you have acted like a child acts at foolish times and it is this foolish childness that is the problem for us. This subconscious person is, in fact, a foolish child, you see. The way we deal with such children in Heidelberg is we spank them, Mrs. Branch. I have in mind, therefore, to spank you with my baton, you see.”

“You must be joking, Herr Haurs-Schmidt.” The nipples came perkily to life in Hope’s white blouse.

The conductor raised his right hand, pointing the baton at the ceiling and then he whipped his arm straight down and the baton lashed against side of the desk with a fearsome whop and Hope realized the baton was not wood as she had assumed but was made of leather!

“I do not joke of such things, Mrs. Branch.”

“I guess not.” The blue eyes were wide.


Hope rose without speaking.

“Assume the position, Mrs. Branch.” The conductor’s voice was almost gentle.

“I don’t know what you mean.”


Hope looked at the polished desk top. She could see her reflection and that of the conductor behind her. She felt weak except that her nipples weren’t weak and her cunt wasn’t weak. Where was her resistance to this outrage? Perhaps she did deserve a spanking. Mmmmm.

“Oh gosh,” she breathed, going down on the desk. “I’m not doing this because I want to. Please don’t hit me hard.”

Hope felt her skirt being raised. Then the conductor’s hand was on her bottom. She felt the tug of her panties coming down and then the cool air was on her ass and even cooler was the air on her honeyhole. Hope squeezed her eyes shut and waited, her apprehension rising as she remembered the sound when the baton had struck the desk.


“Oh!!” A red welt appeared on one of the perfect white cheeks. Hope opened her eyes in surprise at how wonderfully it hurt and found herself in the dark. Her skirt was over her head.



“Such pretty marks on you,” said the conductor in a pleased voice, and he leaned down and put his lips on the hot lashes while Hope moaned and tried not to squirm. After a moment she felt something near her asshole. She knew what it was. It was of course the tip of that wicked baton!

“Ohhhhhh,” she groaned. The leather tip was inside her now and moving deeper. The conductor was going to fuck her in the asshole with his baton! He was not only going to, he was! How could he?!! She was glad she couldn’t see. She was glad there was nothing she could do but lie against the desk in the dark of her skirt and let the conductor do it to her with his baton. In her asshole; giving her subconscious something to think about the next time she wanted to call attention to herself. She was squirming now, but she couldn’t help it. And she didn’t care. How could she with that thing going in and out of her like a man would, only it wasn’t big enough to be a man and she wished it were just a little bigger. How could she be so immoral? Good God, she was a married woman!

“Mmmmmm, ohhh,” she protested.

“So you like it this way, Mrs. Branch. This is good. Does your husband satisfy you in the asshole?”

“Mmmmm. Nooooo.” She was moving her hips now.

“Ah, then I shall not be trespassing.”

“What?” She heard the zipper and then the baton left her and a much larger presence asserted itself at the entrance to where the baton had been.

“Ohhhh, you can’t fuck me. Oh, you just can’t do that. It’s not right. Ohhh, mmmmm.” Hope lifted her bottom a bit higher. Then she gasped. A man entered her now, just an inch or so, but the man was in her and going farther in, trying to split her, and her cunt was just dying for him to do it, and her nipples were dying for him to do it and her poor little asshole was just going to have to pay the price. And it was all Jack’s fault for never fucking her there!

“Mmmmmmm.” Hope squirmed her bottom, trying to ease the way as best she could, and slowly the cock filled her up, each surge capturing a bit of new territory, until finally the conductor bursa escort bayan was in her to the hilt and his balls slapped against the wifely cunt and bathed there in the heat of it.

“Oh stop, Ohhhhhh,” Hope moaned after the conductor started to hammer her. She wondered if she could have an orgasm without anything being in her cunt and she tried to remember the other times she had been fucked this way except her mind wasn’t working, but other parts were working, they were working perfectly and they told her, yes, an orgasm was on the way. Oh, it was very most definitely on the way!

“Ohhhhh, mmmmmmmm.” Hope pushed the skirt off her head and tried to turn so she could see Herr Haurs-Schmidt fucking her, but the effort was too great, and then she moaned and saw her breath make a cloud on the polished desktop that was hard against her cheek and then she saw the reflection outside the circle of her breath and, moving her head, she saw it was the blurred image of the conductor humping her from above. Then her eyes rolled and she came.

Hope resisted the urge to shift her bottom on the hard chair. In her musical mind, the stinging was counterpoint to the intense tingling which was the central theme. Finally, she took a breath and looked up to meet the gaze that was on her.

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Yah. Next week, same time, same place, I do it again.

It is healthy for the mind.”

“Herr Haurs-Schmidt, I’m a married woman!”

“Therefore I only service you in your asshole where it is needed, yes?”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that word. ‘Anus’ is better. And you hit me much too hard. It still hurts.” Hope blushed and gave the conductor a small smile to show she wasn’t too awfully angry with him.

“Next time I hit harder, Mrs. Branch. You will get used to it, you see. You will enjoy harder.”

Hope shivered at the thought. “I’m sure you left marks on me.”

“Which will be gone in a day or so. It is superficial only. It is nothing.”

Hope smiled and looked at the floor.

“Well the other thing you did wasn’t superficial,” she reminded him.

“Yah. You still feel that also, I think.”

“I certainly do.”

“Good. That helps with the subconscious. You have a need to be, as one says, taken in that part of your person, Mrs. Branch, and all of the attention calling to yourself is your subconscious acting out with the frustration you have because of not being serviced there. So, you see, I shall assist you in this need that you have for the good of the orchestra and they are two needs which you have, a need for the spanking and a need for the taking. Do not doubt this, Mrs. Branch.”

Hope looked at the conductor, feeling as before the stinging and the tingling and her nipples had hardened again and preened themselves against her stretched bra and her cunt was getting into the act again as well, and Hope sighed an undoubting sigh.

“But I’m married!” she pleaded.

“Therefore, I shall confine myself to the place your husband neglects to visit.”

“You must promise, Herr Haurs-Schmidt.”

“Are you doubting my words to you, Mrs. Branch?”

Hope trembled at the tone of the conductor’s voice.

“Oh, no. I would never doubt you, sir. I was just….oh, I don’t know. I feel so confused.”

“Yah, the clearness of mind comes in a time, and requires work and patience for the achievement. I shall permit an amount of confusion for now and I think we shall progress make in future sessions. I believe there must be many sessions for this.”

Hope nodded and lifted her sensitized bottom from the chair and her blue eyes managed without faltering to meet the conductor’s gaze. If she was going to be a porn queen, she guessed she could endure a little therapy from her conductor.

“I hope not too many,” she smiled and then she blushed and turned to go.

“Have I yet excused you, Mrs. Branch?”

Hope reddened. “Do I need to be excused?”

“Certainly. I am the conductor.” Herr Haurs-Schmidt spoke calmly but Hope could not help noticing the front of the leader’s trousers in which loomed once more the opposite of calm. How could this be possible?

“It desires to see you another time, Mrs. Branch. Please lean yourself against the desk.”

“Oh dear,” said Hope. The tingling was worse than ever. Swallowing, she put her hands on the polished walnut and dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes.

“You want to see me there, Herr Haurs-Schmidt?”

“Yah. Bend over, please. It will take only a moment.”

Hope groaned but obeyed and then she felt the conductor arrange her skirt on her back and the air was cool on her thighs and then the conductor’s hands were on her and her panties came down and the air was cool where the panties had been.

“You’re escort bursa just going to look, right?” She didn’t think she could endure anything more.

“This bottom on you is as lovely as your fine playing, Mrs. Branch.”

“Thank you. I wonder which of them you like better,” she said, naughtily and then she heard the sounds of the conductor’s pants coming undone.

Herr Haurs-Schmidt favored her with a rare laugh.

“A man prefers what he can fuck, Mrs. Branch. I imagine it is tender there inside you now.”

“Yes. Oh, please don’t.” The conductor’s hands were on her hips. Then a hand brushed over her and a finger descended into the crack of her ass and glided to her cunt and dipped inside.

“Oh! You said you wouldn’t do that!!”

“Shhhh, Mrs. Branch. You are too hot here. It is unbelievable how hot it is for you in here.”

“Oh, no. Please. I can’t help it if I’m hot there.”

“True.” The conductor gripped Hope’s hips again and his cock found the pouting cuntlips and dove inside.

“OH!!” Hope’s arms gave way dropping her to the desk and she lay against it from the waist up, her warm cheek pressed to the wood and her feet planted on the floor, keeping her ass in the air while Herr Haurs-Schmidt orchestrated from behind.

“Ohhh, mmmmmmm,” said Hope. Without thinking, she began to respond with her hips. Suddenly, the young wife felt grateful to the musician for having understood better than she had her need to be played in her first and still favorite fuckhole. Hope would sort through the implications of this later. Right now she didn’t want to think about them. Her conductor was taking the time to fuck her and she shouldn’t be thinking distracting thoughts even though Herr Haurs-Schmidt was fucking her off limits which he had promised not to do, which she would have to speak to him about of course, but not now, not while the man was in the middle of fucking her. It wasn’t polite, for one thing. She didn’t know what Herr Haurs-Schmidt would do if he knew she was trying to think about things while he fucked her. Hope moaned and bit her lip, feeling the hardness of the desk against her cheek and against her tingling tits and feeling that other hardness. Mmmmm, she definitely felt that other hardness and she could tell that pretty soon the other hardness was going to make her cum. Hope turned her head and looked up to reward the conductor with a smile and she did smile and then she blinked and her mouth fell open and her tongue appeared and curled above her upper hip and her eyes closed and opened and closed again and her mouth slackened and she panted through it and all the time her face remained uplifted toward the man fucking her and then she felt the craning in her neck and she dropped her head and then she wiggled and squirmed under the relentless humping, partly to assist her conductor and partly because she couldn’t help it.

To Hope’s dismay, the conductor came before she did and for a moment the sweet wife was afraid her orgasm wouldn’t arrive in time. Luckily, Herr Haurs-Schmidt was his masterful self and the spurting ignited Hope’s fuckhole and she shuddered all over and her orgasm was even better than before and as the last of it passed through her and she heard her own moaning, Hope realized that future sessions with Herr Haurs-Schmidt would not be encumbered by vain restrictions any more than this one finally had been. No, Herr Haurs-Schmidt would fuck her as he pleased and no doubt he would spank her as well for her various misbehaviors which would be very small misbehaviors of course, but would deserve many hard spankings nevertheless. In fairness, Hope’s thinking at this moment was influenced by the fact that the big baton still ruled her, softening in her cream filled hole yet retaining a requisite rigidity and Hope squirmed brazenly, resigned to be fucked again if the conductor had it in him. Herr Haurs-Schmidt was given instead to a long ending, which Hope might have guessed given the man’s penchant for late Romantics, she thought, realizing he had finished with her.

“Well, can I go now?” Hope stood in her rumpled skirt, smiling self consciously as she met Herr Haurs-Schmidt’s gaze. Her lipstick was gone. What she hadn’t smudged on the desk, her tongue had removed. She was feeling some small relief they hadn’t fucked a third time.


“Why did you…fuck me…there after you said you wouldn’t?”

“Is this a problem for you, Mrs. Branch?”

“I didn’t say it was, necessarily. I just asked you why you did it. You weren’t supposed to.”

“Who knows the why of things, Mrs. Branch. How is it explained why one note is right and all others are wrong, why a singular change in the tempo is right and only that. When Bach or Mozart shows us this, do we ask why it is so. No, we experience the rightness of what we see, of what we hear and we delight in that rightness. Don’t ask this foolishness, Mrs. Branch. You have experienced the rightness, have you not? Let it go at this.”

Hope nodded and sighed.

“Yes sir,” she said.

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