She nodded.
“Spanked?”
Another nod.
“Having sex toys used on you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And maybe anal sex?”
“Oh, I’ve done that.”
“Good. Anything else? I mean, there are infinite variations. These are some of the commonest. Role play?”
“Yes.”
“You know, I think we will get on very well.”
Lydia smiled. The situation was so odd—being quizzed about her sexual fantasies by a man she had done no more than kiss—that it almost felt normal.
“Of course, we will have to work on your punctuality first,” he said. Instantly his brow had darkened, his eyes clouded, his lips straightened.
Lydia sat right up, suddenly on alert, as if she was in for a telling off at school.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry I was late for rehearsal. There were staff shortages on the…”
She trailed off in response to von Ritter, who had put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.
“The excuse is not necessary, Lydia, though I appreciate the apology.”
“I’ll set off earlier tomorrow,” she said, but she couldn’t prevent an embarrassed little smile crossing her face. This was where the game began. She knew she ought to be getting into a penitent role, but she was too excited and a little scared. If seeing von Ritter was a bad idea, how much worse was letting von Ritter dominate her? Her body, treacherously, seemed to think it was a very good idea, signalling its desire to squirm and tremble while her knickers dampened.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “You will. And we will make sure of that with a little…motivational exercise.”
“Motivational exercise?”
“Yes.” He helped Lydia to her feet, holding her by her wrist before taking his place in her chair.
She stood in front of him, head bowed, unable to meet his eyes for fear she might burst out into inappropriate laughter.
“Now, before we start this,” said von Ritter, “we need to decide on a safeword.”
“What’s a safeword?”
“It’s what you say when you think things have gone too far and you want to stop. You can say it at any time. I won’t argue with you and there’s no shame in it, okay? You are new to this and we take it at your pace.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, her heart beating a little slower again after a speeding up that had left her breathless.
“So what will your word be?”
“Paganini,” she said—the first thing that came into her head being the name of the person whose story had made her want to take up the violin.
Von Ritter smiled. “I like it. Paganini it is.”
Then he was straight back into stern mode, patting his thigh.
“I want you to put yourself over my lap, please,” he said.