Marked by the Music Master

Become the flute. I need to become the flute.

A rare opportunity—private music lessons with my professor.

His teaching methods are unconventional. He stands behind me, arms wrapped around my frail body while he guides my trembling fingers. The tight chastity cage in my underwear is a constant reminder of what we’ve done…

To become skilled, he says I need to become one with the instrument. I need to let his music flow into my brain.

Becoming the instrument…becoming an object.

Flutes don’t think. They just sit with an open hole, waiting for a man to breathe inside.