The student was a young, petite, pretty Japanese girl who had come to New York from her home in Japan to sing jazz. She often felt alone in New York city. So many faces, and music pouring out of the clubs downtown. She gravitated towards the small community of Japanese students, often spending her nights with them.

Her teacher was a bassist, and came highly recommended by the staff at the school. She had no idea that the lessons were to cover far more territory than music.

She had heard rumors that he was strict, but also supportive in his role. The first lesson was rather un-eventful. He was polite, and offered her some suggestions about phrasing melodies and creating solo riffs.

It was only at the end of the second lesson that he came to her side and told her to sing from her diaphragm, not her head. She did not understand; “What is dia-fram?”
He put his left hand on her belly, and told her to close her eyes.
“Breathe into my hand” he said, and suddenly she had butterflies. With effort she was able to control her breath, but his hand felt warm on her body. His other hand he placed on her forehead. “Not head, but here.” he applied a slight pressure to her belly. “Sing” he said. She sang while his hands touched her.

“Music comes from the heart, and the guts” he told her. “Not the head.” As he spoke the word “heart” he moved his hand from her head to her chest. She opened her eyes; He told her to close them, and breath. 10 more breaths.

Then suddenly he let go. When she opened her eyes he was opening the door to leave. “See you next week. Please prepare ‘My Foolish Heart’ for our lesson. Bring me a chart, in your own hand writing, and in your key.”

Then he was gone, and she was left with that tingling feeling in her belly. She wished she could have been more forward, like some of the American or European students. She had heard rumors about students hooking up casually. But she did not feel comfortable about that. Her upbringing had been strict; obedience was expected. It had been a huge leap of faith for her family to allow her to go to New York. “We are counting on you to act responsibly, and to keep the honor of your name” her mother had told her. These words stayed with her and even when some of the other Japanese students began to loosen up she maintained control.

When the next lesson approached she found herself looking through her closet for something a bit more provocative to wear. He had thrown her off guard; now she wanted to do the same to him. She did not find what she was looking for, so went to Columbus Avenue to find a short skirt to go with the top which exposed one of her shoulders. After some time she found just the thing she was looking for, and hurried home to change.

She arrived to the lesson looking very cute, her left shoulder exposed and her skirt showing her legs. As she walked past him he checked her behind. It was more round than typical for a Japanese woman. She was small, but had a nice curve there. He liked it. It took him a moment to adjust to her new, sexy attire. He complimented her outfit, and she struck a saucy pose. They laughed it off and for a moment the tension was resolved.

They warmed up with some ear training, then he showed her a rhythmic tapping exercise. The triplet feel was difficult for her, so he tapped quarter notes on her back as she tried to tap correctly. He was standing behind her, tapping between her shoulder blades as she tapped on her knees. She asked if he always tapped on his students, and he joked “No, this is a special curriculum, just for you. Sometimes I have to drum the rhythm in!”

He leaned to her ear, of course on the side where her shoulder was exposed, and sang the rhythm to her while she tapped. Then he sang some bass tones, like a walking bass line. Next he began to make sound…she was not sure what kind of sound but it was rather animalistic. She turned to look at him, and saw that he was gazing at her bare shoulder, even inhaling her scent. They stopped the exercise, and there was more nervous laughter.

He asked for her chart, the assignment that she had supposed to prepare. When she handed him a photocopy of the real book chart, she noticed his manner become hard.”This is not your handwriting, unless you wrote the Real Book.” He said. She said, “No, but it is in my key. I thought….”

” I thought I gave you an assignment, which was designed to make sure you will not be one of those typical singers who cannot even tell you what key they want to sing much less write a part.”

His words stung; of course she knew that she had taken a short cut; She did not expect him to be so disappointed.

“This chord…wrong. The melody here…wrong notes…the rhythmic notation..also wrong.”

Silence. She looked at her hands. “Did you think if you came dressed sexy that I would be easy on you? It makes me want to be harder on you. In fact, I think you need to learn that there are consequences for not doing your work. One option is that we stop these lessons now; I’ll go tell the director that it’s not working out, and you can choose another teacher. The other option is that we work out a system of rewards and corrections. You are free to choose.”

He sat in silence, and she was confused. Rewards? Corrections? What did this mean? What about the way he looked at her, they way it felt in that room? It always seemed like the temperature was higher in there. The feeling in her belly, the butterflies, had moved lower. She felt her body responding, and she shifted in her seat. As she moved, she became aware that she was getting aroused. She shifted a few more times.

“What…kind of rewards, and what kind of…correction?” she asked.

He said, “Stay and find out, or go and wonder.”

She was very conflicted; what should she do? She found him attractive, but he was playing a game that was new to her. Finally she stood, went to the door, and locked it.

She stood facing the door, still unsure if she had made the right move. When she turned around he was right there. He kissed her, hard, pushing her against the wall. “Now that, is a reward” he said.

“What about the…correction?” she asked.

“Come” he said, and motioned for her to stand before him. He took her hands in his. “You need to be reminded not to cheat, because it puts you behind, not ahead. To help you remember I am going to put you over my knee and spank you on the bottom. Since you were good enough to remind me, I will go easy. If you want me to stop, just say ‘Casablanca’ and I will stop immediately. Ok?”

“OK” she replied.

“Did you wish you had worn your jeans today?” he asked. She nodded. “Well no matter. I would have taken them down to correct you. Otherwise you would not get the message.”

She was in turmoil; on the one hand she was very scared; on the other she was feeling very turned on. She could still taste his kiss. And, she had been bad. She was going to be ‘corrected’. She had chosen this course. Would there be a reward?

She lay down across his lap. He lifted her skirt, exposing her white cotton underwear. She inhaled sharply as his hand began caressing her bottom, tracing it’s contours from the lower back all the way down between her legs. He caressed both sides of her ass, sometimes softly and then squeezing quite hard. His fingers gently brushed her sex, and she pushed back against him in spite of herself. Was this the ‘correction’ he spoke of? It felt so good, so naughty, to be treated like this. He rubbed little circles and could feel her heat. He pulled the panties into the cleft of her ass, and began spanking her slowly on the bare bottom. After each smack he would wait, to hear and see her response. He began to pick up speed and force. She was in another world, the sting of the slaps mixing with the pleasure in her pussy. Soon he could smell her arousal and it took every ounce of self restraint for him to keep to his task.

He stopped all of the sudden and began rubbing her again. This time she was breathing in short gasps and the pleasure of his hands rubbing her sore bottom was indescribable.

“Stand”, he said. With difficulty she stood in front of him. Her knees were weak. He took her hands and she looked down into his eyes. “You have accepted your correction very well. Now, you will have a reward. Remove your panties. Look at me while you do so.”

She watched him as she lowered her panties to the floor, watched his eyes admire her sex. His eyes were devouring her. It made her weak.

He was pleased that she had pubic hair; it was trim and neat. “Someday, I’ll have her shave it for me” he thought with a chuckle. But now he stood, in one quick movement lifting her on top of the piano. He pushed her knees apart, exposing her beautiful flower. She lay back, afraid to look. “Watch” he said.

He inhaled her scent, and started to lick her gently, finding her most sensitive spot with his tongue. She was already very wet. She was ready and wanted more, harder. She put her hands on his head and pulled his face into her, while thinking ‘who am I? what am I doing?’

With one finger he entered her, making that ‘come hither’ gesture that rubbed her G-spot and making her gasp in pleasure. He was pulling her pussy towards his mouth, alternately sucking her clit and licking her deeply, adding another finger. Two fingers now, rubbing the spot inside her vagina that lay beneath her clitoris.

She came like a freight train, unable to hold in her cries of pleasure. Her whole body shook as he licked, gently slowing, then kissing her belly, her breast, and her mouth. He kissed her deeply, and she tasted herself on his lips, his tongue. It was pleasant, not at all what she imagined. Little ripples of orgasms pulsed through her, and her ass still felt warm from the spanking. It was a delicious sensation.

He stood and she noticed he was still fully clothed, but there was a large bulge in the front of his trousers. She impulsively grabbed it with her hand, and tried to kiss him again.

“No, that’s a reward you’ll have to earn” he said. He began packing his instrument and said, as she sat dazed on the piano, “same time next week?”

“Bring that chart for ‘My Foolish Heart’, won’t you? And, also learn ‘ A Fine Romance’.”

Then he was gone. She wondered how he would walk through the hallways with his hard cock straining to get out of his pants.