Saxophone Lesson

By Cutieboy90

Cutieboy90Jason strode up the rhododendron-lined walkway to the front door, his alto case in one hand.

“OK Jason,” he swallowed. “You’re only meeting the greatest sax player to ever breathe. There’s nothing to be nervous about…” After a pause, he rang the bell.

Footsteps. The lock turned. The door creaked open.

“Ah, you must be Jason!”

“Y-yes Sir!” Jason stammered, star-struck.

“Please, call me Dave. Come on in!”

Jason followed Dave into the house and into the studio. He set his backpack and saxophone case next to a chair and sat down.

Dave adjusted the window shades and sat down in a chair across from Jason.

“Alright, Jason,” Dave said. “I see you brought your alto. I’m sure you’ve been working very hard to work up some impressive etudes for me as well. And we’ll get to all that. First though, I must impress upon you that I am very demanding of my students and my methods aren’t for everyone. Do you understand?”

Jason nodded automatically. Dave sighed.

“First lesson. Confidence is key. Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?” Jason blinked stupidly.

“Take. Your. Clothes… Off.”

Jason, still star-struck about meeting his idol, stood and pulled his shirt off. He fumbled with his belt buckle while Dave watched from across the room. Jason awkwardly kicked his shoes off, stumbling like an oaf.

“Boxers?” Dave rose an eyebrow as Jason finally got his jeans down. “Interesting. I figured you for a briefs guy.”

“Uhhh yeah,” Jason stammered, peeling his socks off. “But why am I taking my clothes off?” His brain was starting to catch up with his initial daze.

Dave dismissed the question. “Boxers too, my friend. Stripes belong on prison uniforms only.”

Now standing naked, Jason shifted awkwardly on his feet. He stood behind his chair, the solid back shielding his genitals from Dave’s sight. Dave sat back in his own chair, silently watching with a calculating look and nodding every few moments.

Jason squirmed. He wasn’t sure about this anymore. Perhaps he should think about getting the hell out of here. But naked? He could grab his clothes and make a run for it. No, idiot, your saxophone! Grab that, it’s worth more. OK, no, I grab the sax, use it as a club, grab my clothes, and run. That’ll work.

Dave stood up, carefully circling Jason from a respectful distance.

“Confidence comes from within,” Dave finally said. “We’re artists, performers. We lay our hearts and bared souls down with every note we play. The critics will tear you apart without a second thought. So get used to feeling vulnerable.”

Jason gulped.

Dave smirked.

“I don’t see you taking notes.”

Jason’s eyes felt as if they would pop out of his head as he stared at Dave.

“I’m just kidding,” Dave chortled after a long moment. “But seriously, relax, you’re starting to make ME nervous.” Thankfully, Dave turned and sat back in his chair. He calmly pulled out a pair of reading glasses and made some notes on a note pad. The clicking of the pen and the lack of attention brought Jason some relief. Coyly, Jason stepped from behind his chair and sat down, still covering himself with his hands.

“So uh… Confidence. Yeah. Being open and vulnerable. Like on stage. Only… Sort of, uhh… Metaphorical?”

“Sure.” Dave glanced up in acknowledgment, still writing whatever he was writing. “Do sit up straight. Good posture is a lifestyle, not a fleeting moment.”

Jason immediately sat straighter. His shoulders rolled back, putting his chest on display. Not normally something he thought about much when he was at the gym, but here in this room… His nips standing out in the cool air-conditioned room, the chair still cold under his butt. Sending a shiver up his spine. His teeth wanted to chatter, though more from nerves than from cold.

Dave peered over his glasses for a moment. He nodded and scribbled a few more words.

“OK Jason,” Dave said at last. “I think I have an idea as to where to start with you.” He stood up and walked over to where Jason sat. He brought the back of the chair up to a point at the base of Jason’s skull. It clicked in place. Several straps of nylon webbing, like the seatbelts in a car, pulled out of the frame of the chair. They self-tightened as they were buckled.

“Hey what-!?” Jason pulled against the straps, finding they had no give. “What is this!?” He demanded as his arms were strapped down the sides of the chair, his thighs strapped to the seat, and now his legs forced apart to each chair leg.

Dave pulled another strap across Jason’s chest. “This is how I correct a student’s posture.” He procured a tall, wide contoured strap of leather. It was buckled firmly around Jason’s neck and secured to the back of the chair!

Jason couldn’t move at all. The collar kept his head up and looking forward. He was sitting straight alright, not that he had a choice now.

“P-please… Dave, sir. I’m really uncomfortable being-”

“Lesson two, good posture is essential. It affects our breathing and lung capacity. Facilitates diaphragm support, as well as having a positive effect on our self-esteem aka confidence. And confidence is…?”

“Key.” Jason answered. “But do I really need to be tied up? It’s just…”

“Ensuring your success, Jason.” Dave replied calmly. “These are… Tools to help you achieve your goals. But they can only help you if you use them, right?”

“Right.” As uncomfortable as it felt, Jason couldn’t argue with the logic. Except… “How am I supposed to practice my saxophone like this?”

Dave stared for a moment. “Saxophone?”

“Uhh yeah. If I’m tied up, how can I play?”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Play?”

“Saxophone?”

“Right, saxophone of course!” Dave burst out laughing. “Duh!”

Jason laughed along nervously. Hoping Dave wasn’t having a stroke or early Alzheimers. Or a psychotic break. Aren’t most geniuses at least a little eccentric?

Dave, still laughing, opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a strange tube.

“We need to isolate and exercise each aspect of your technique. Posture, breathing, core support, and embouchure. This handy little device will help with that last point.”

Dave pushed the tubular device between Jason’s lips.

“Acckk!!” Jason gargled in surprise. The tube was thick, somewhat cigar-shaped, and long enough to tickle the back of his throat. It filled his mouth, but its hollow interior allowed his tongue to move freely. The end sticking out of his mouth was sharply tapered to the size of a popsicle stick.

“Good. Form your embouchure around that. Perfect, just like that.” Dave pulled another device out of his desk. It looked to Jason like a face mask. Only it was made of a shiny black material. It was pulled over his face, the end of the embouchure device clicked into a valve integrated at the mask’s front. The rest of the mask hugged his mouth, chin, jaw and nose.

“…!” Jason couldn’t breathe! He struggled against the straps, looking up at Dave in terror.

“Easy boy. Concentrate on your embouchure. Squeeze it with your lips.”

Jason puckered his lips as hard as he could. Air rushed to his lungs! He wasn’t going to suffocate! He relaxed. The air disappeared. His eyes darted to Dave, who nodded solemnly. Jason puckered again around the little tube. Air in. Now he understood. The mask was controlling his breathing, but only worked if he was using his embouchure.

“This is how I don’t get headaches from listening to my students play,” Dave explained. “When you can get through three lessons with the dial at 5, we can start playing the saxophone.” For emphasis, Dave turned the control knob at the front of the mask. Jason felt like he was breathing through a thick liquid.

“Uckk-!” He squeaked.

“That’s 5.” Dave smiled and turned the knob back to where it was. “This is 0. If you practice every day, we should be able to go up one level every other week. Now I have another tool that will help you progress faster…” He knelt by the chair and opened a hatch in the seat. He pulled on a pair of gloves.

Jason’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t move his head to see what was going on, but he could feel the cool air against his suddenly exposed butt, and he heard the sound of Dave snapping on some rubber gloves. He knew exactly what was happening.

Sure enough, Jason felt a cold, slippery gloved finger probe his hole. Then two fingers. But Jason couldn’t mind that; he had to focus on breathing with the damn mask if he didn’t want to suffocate. The minutes dragged by slowly, but in a blur. Before he knew it, Jason felt Dave’s fingers withdraw completely. Finally!

Jason’s relief was short-lived, as Dave returned with a bulbous probe the size of his fist! He held it up so Jason could see. Then it was out of his sight and being pushed up his ass. Fuck it was huge! Jason felt the hatch close under him, keeping the big toy in place.

Dave removed his gloves, rubbed his hands with sanitizer, and returned to his desk to write some more notes.

Jason was too busy keeping both his ends clenched as hard as he could. Oddly enough, he did notice how much easier it was to breathe now… That must have been what Dave meant by helping his progress.

The initial shock of the entire situation was wearing off, and Jason began to relax a little. He had found a certain rhythm to his breathing now, and his mind was able to wander somewhat. Would all his lessons be like this? Would he have to get used to the toy up his ass too?

A small beeping from Dave’s desk caught both their attention.

“Ah,” Dave looked up from his notes. “Exactly on time.” He switched off the alarm and stepped over to Jason holding yet another bag.

“How are we feeling? Less painful?”

Jason tried to nod, but barely was able to move his head with the thick collar on.

“Good,” Dave continued. “Well, there’s one more tool I have for you. I find it’s easier to do this one last…” He knelt in front of Jason, and fondled Jason’s manhood.

Jason quickly responded to the touch. His cock started to grow, having gotten used to the plug stuffed in his ass and now a gentle stroking. Jason felt his nuts being handled as well. He realized he hadn’t jerked off in almost a week. He was certainly pent-up, even if this situation wasn’t exactly arousing… A metallic ring was placed around his junk. His cock was now stiffening, encouraged by the attention. Until it suddenly stopped, or more accurately, was stopped. A cold metal cage enveloped Jason’s fledgling boner, stifling its progress. The unmistakable click of a lock reached Jason’s ears. Dave stood up, placing the keys in a small lockbox.

“Easier to do that before you get too hard, you see…” Dave mused. “Now, for the remaining 30 minutes, I want you to continue your exercises. Don’t mind me, I just want to take a look at what equipment you’re working with.”

Jason followed Dave with his eyes as he picked up Jason’s sax case.

“Ah. A Yamaha 61. Nice, old school horn. Rubber Meyer mouthpiece. Blue-box Vandoren reeds, strength 3. Classic.” Dave carefully pulled the instrument out and assembled it on his lap. He placed a reed in his mouth and rooted through the case pocket containing Jason’s music.

“Well…” Dave said out of the corner of his mouth. “My scale packet. Decently used I see,” he commented on the numerous pencil markings on each page. Setting the scale packet aside, he kept rummaging. “Ferling, Bozza, LaCour… Are these all technical etudes? Oh Jason…”

Dave placed the reed on the mouthpiece. He fingered the instrument for a moment, the keys clacking gently. Dave shrugged his approval and played a quick jazzy lick, thoroughly covering the entire range of the instrument’s response.

Jason could only sit and watch as his long-time idol went through his case, music, and played his instrument. It was like being in a dream. Dave’s unique, beautiful tone flowing so smoothly out of his, Jason’s, horn. Each note seemingly effortless, with depth and focus only the best of the best could ever achieve. Jason was going to keep that reed in a glass display case after today.

Dave’s diagnostical noodling suddenly gave way to music. Real music. The exposition of the Debussy Rapsodie. Such nuance. Such power. So much expression in every tiny detail… Jason forgot to breathe. He’d forgotten he needed to…

Dave peeked at him from the corner of his eye.

“That’ll be your debut piece. You’ll perform it at my studio recital. Which brings me to today’s final lesson. There’s a lot more to music than drilling scales and technical etudes. Some play with joy, some with sorrow… But far more satisfying is playing with longing. And believe me, after a month or two in that cage? You’ll feel plenty of that.”

Dave disassembled Jason’s sax, swabbed it, and carefully placed it back in the case along with the sheet music. He casually reached over and turned the control knob on Jason’s mask up to 1.

Jason immediately felt the resistance.

“Deep breaths, Jason.” Dave called over his shoulder, having walked out of Jason’s line of sight again.

Jason clenched on the plug, engaging his abdominal muscles and core to help support his breathing. Damn, he thought to himself. This is what they mean by using your diaphragm, like for real? He struggled to suck in another lungful of air.

Meanwhile, Dave had retrieved his own saxophone from its case. He sat down again across from his wide-eyed student.

“Since I have a captive audience…” Dave winked as he adjusted the angle of the mouthpiece on the neck. “You clearly like the vintage style set-up. You’d be interested to know that I do too.” He turned, revealing his instrument.

Jason swooned. There it was, just feet away in person! Dave’s legendary show sax…

“…Inspired by the vintage horns they made after the Great War, when quality brass was still scarce. It’s a custom nickel alloy, with satin fine silver plating. The manufacturer even rolled the toneholes for me.”

Dave adjusted his neck strap, and began to play some jazz riffs. His unique tone filled the room, sending shivers down Jason’s spine. Famously nicknamed “The Ice King” for his unusual tone quality, Dave had an almost cult-like following and for good reason. His hauntingly beautiful sound left most listeners with goosebumps and tingles, even from his recordings.

For Jason, still struggling to breathe through the tube, the chill-inducing serenade was having an unexpected effect… His caged cock throbbed in its tight metal prison. Was it the lack of air? Or was it the music? Dave may have been a legendary player, but even he couldn’t control his overtones to cause boners… Could he?

A beeping sound from Dave’s desk interrupted his magical jive.

“Ah, that’s time…” Dave switched the alarm off. He then unbuckled the straps holding Jason to the chair.

“I expect you to use this equipment when you practice at home,” Dave explained as Jason gathered his clothes and got dressed. “You can attach your neck strap to the ring on the front of the collar… The plug, mouthpiece, collar and cage are yours. All your lessons will be like this, so I suggest you get used to being naked, caged and plugged. Generally, as well as when practicing.”

Jason rubbed his wrists instinctively. “Yes Sir.” He really wanted to get home and take the plug out of his ass. “Thank you, it’s an honor to work with you. Same time next week?”

“Yes,” Dave patted Jason’s shoulder. “It’ll be a tough ride. Though I assure you, you WILL get results.”

Jason had no doubt.

The End

Metal would like to thank Cutieboy90 for this story!

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6 thoughts on “Saxophone Lesson”

  1. Oh my goodness!!
    What a crazy, fast, horny, unexpected story!!

    If only my clarinet lessons had been like this!

  2. Cutieboy, this is terrific! I’m a clarinetist and there’s a lot of overlap with saxophone. Seeing terms like “Vandoren reeds” (yep, I use ’em) and “embouchure” used in this totally unexpected way was a real mind trip. I remember doing all of those exact same (but non-kinky) things when I was learning: sit up straight all the time, put a tube in my mouth to learn how to breathe right, build up strength in my diaphragm. It never occurred to me to put all that into a kink context. But it clearly occurred to you, and you got all the tiny details right. Bravo, very well done, and thanks for sharing this!

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