Note: I don't even know what to say at this point, I mean I'm such an unreliable fanfic writer that you guys have probably forgotten this here thing even exists but ANYWHORE the saga continues. As with every chapter so far, here's the song recommendation for the Beijing concert, the one with the jazz theme and Mei's vocals: Hooverphonic - 2 Wicky (Live at Koningin Elisabethzaal 2012) watch?v=ZJSQxbedplM as well as Hooverphonic - Mad About You (also the live version) watch?v=6EA-MIYY1bg .

I suggest you listen to the entire concert and all the songs, because the band is just great, though not all of their songs have that slow, seductive James-Bond-like sound I was imagining for that particular concert. Some of them are more happy-go-lucky pop songs, so Madara wouldn't have picked them for the concert. But just imagine that the entire programme would have consisted of songs like 2 Wicky and Mad About You. I chose the songs based on the singer mentioned in this chapter, because I think that's the type of music that would best fit an alluring and seductive woman like Mei Terumi.

Anyway, have fun reading and please let me know what you think! I'm dying to get some feedback, because things are finally kicking off in this chapter and it was so much fun to write and I'm really looking forward to your opinion.

Sakura Haruno stunned Tokyo with her first solo performance in Maestro Uchiha's ensemble with the grace and elegance of a musician far more experienced than what can usually be expected of a twenty-year old. Demonstrating her mastery of the cello with Camille Saint-Saëns' Cello Concerto number 1 in A minor, the young Ms Haruno proved once again that she was worthy of her nickname. Imperatrix Furiosa is what the press are calling her, though the talented cellist seems to be only channelling that alter ego on stage. At the afterparty, Ms Haruno was less a furious empress and more a down-to-earth, if not timid, girl-next-door type, prompting criticism by some that Maestro Uchiha signed her on at too young an age and that the shy cellist may have bitten off more than she can chew with her world-famous globetrotting new conductor (Madara Uchiha pictured here with Sakura Haruno during the afterparty at the Sky Lounge Stellar Garden Bar).

Sakura's eyes travelled from the article to the photo right next to it, depicting her maestro and herself. While Mr Uchiha was his usual suave self in a black-lined burgundy-coloured velvet suit jacket and his signature barely-there-but-still-somehow-visible smirk, Sakura stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only because of her hair colour and her height – she was sure Mr Uchiha would dwarf her even if she wore Ino's tallest high heels. It was this whole timid and immature little girl vibe she was giving off with her floral collar dress, her pastel pink ballet flats and her shy and unsure smile.

Having read the review of their Tokyo concert, Sakura was now worried whether or not the critics were right. Was she really too young to join such a prestigious orchestra? Was she too immature and inexperienced to have so much pressure and responsibility thrust upon her as a principal cellist? Despite feeling comfortable and self-assured during a concert, there were moments where she did feel somewhat out of place amidst her older and more experienced colleagues. Like during that afterparty two days ago, where everyone showed up all dressed up and fancy and confidently rubbing elbows with Tokyo's music high society, while Sakura felt like a farm girl who wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between a Virgin Mary and a Bloody Mary if it bit her in the ass.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, the young cellist let her gaze wander through the airplane interior. They were currently on a flight to Seoul for their first international concert. Her worried gaze landed on her conductor sitting two rows in front of her to her right, currently busy with adding notes to the sheet music on his tablet.

How she wished she could confide in him now.

Sakura recalled the feeling of euphoria when he had called her his protégé in the dressing room while fixing her bow tie. She never felt so incredibly confident while playing a concert on stage as she did during those 30 minutes following his compliment. Sakura almost couldn't believe that her maestro had said that to her in the first place, so she decided to ask him about it during the afterparty.

Sakura remembered how nervous she had been the entire evening. The pink-haired cellist thought about a hundred different ways how she could ask Mr Uchiha about his declaration without coming off as the attention-seeking and completely love-sick puppy that she really was. It took her more than an hour to build up the courage to approach him when he was alone at the bar.

"Um… I-I'm sorry, Mr Uchiha? Do you have a second?"

When her conductor turned around, he actually had to look down to meet her gaze. Her maestro really was ridiculously tall. He turned his body to face her, left hand casually in his pocket, right arm leaning on the bar with a drink in hand.

"Yes, Ms Haruno?"

"Um…," she ran both hands down her dress to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles, "I-I wanted to ask you… something."

When she dared to lift her gaze to look at him, she was met with a raised eyebrow and an expectant grin.

"Go on, Ms Haruno. I'm not going to bite," her maestro added with a widening smirk.

Hoping the blush colouring her cheeks at his remark would cool down soon, the pink-haired cellist gathered her courage, cleared her throat and spoke, "Sir, it's about what you said to me in the dressing room, when you- when you fixed my bow tie? Um, you see I was really nervous, and I wasn't really thinking straight, I mean I'm never really thinking straight around you," heat crept up her face again and her eyes widened as she realised what she had just said, "I mean- I didn't mean… it's just, you make me… a little nervous, is all. And anyway, I probably wasn't even hearing right, but for some reason my muddled brain seems to think that I heard you say… that…," at this point her courage started fading away. Sakura started playing with the hem of her dress while thinking of a way to continue without sounding desperate for his approval.

"Heard me say what, Ms Haruno?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his intense gaze staring at her expectantly.

"I think I heard you say that- that I was your…," she leaned a bit closer to him and whispered, "protégé."

And now that the word was finally out in the open, Sakura couldn't stop herself.

"And I just wanted to ask you if that really was what you said. Because even though every fibre of my being wants it to be true, there's still a part of me who just wouldn't believe that you- the Maestro Uchiha would have said that to me of all people. I mean you've never publicly acknowledged anyone as your protégé before, and I- I'm so young. You see, I just didn't want to get my hopes up in case it was just a misunderstanding and I didn't hear it right. So please just be honest with me. You can tell me if I was wrong, it'll crush me for a day or two, but I can take it."

She stared up at him with a look of what she hoped would even remotely resemble determination, though that look started to falter when she was met with her conductor's amused grin.

"I heard wrong, didn't I? Ok, well… Sorry for wasting your time, Sir."

Sakura was just about to turn around, when she felt his warm hands circle around her biceps, holding her in place. She saw his mouth open to say something just as they were interrupted by a photographer asking for a picture of the two of them. After posing for a few seconds and waiting for the photographer to leave, her maestro turned around and finally spoke, "Ms Haruno, that day you were in my office, what did I tell you about the difference between you and all my other musicians?"

"That I was the only one who didn't have to audition?"

"Correct. I didn't want the other musicians, I simply needed them to fill my ensemble. But you – you, I wanted. There were hundreds of suitable musicians for every other role in my orchestra, and they all had to audition, but there was only one suitable musician for your particular position. You, Ms Haruno, were the exception from the start."

"So… does that mean that you really did say what I think you said?"

"Would you like it to be true?"

"More than anything in the world."

"Good," Mr Uchiha said before taking a sip of his drink.

And then he said something that made Sakura's insides tingle with excitement even two days later.

In that case, you're mine now.

"We're done for today. You've all got the rest of the evening off. Do not overdo it, though, I expect all of you to be in top shape for our next rehearsal tomorrow at 10 a.m."

Madara watched his musicians hastily pack their things and stow away their instruments. He was aware that they were eager to get back to the hotel and relax for a few hours; after all, they landed in Seoul only this morning and already had to endure a four-hour rehearsal. They deserved a break.

Madara, however, wasn't done yet. And neither was his protégé.

"Ms Haruno."

He would never tire of the way she immediately sprung to attention whenever he called her name and how she would fix her huge doe-like eyes on him, like a puppy in training expectantly waiting for its master's orders and determined to use every opportunity to impress him.

"Yes, Maestro?"

"I hope you haven't got any plans for this evening."

Madara didn't want it to come out so suggestive but seeing that adorable blush spread across the young cellist's cheeks was worth it.

"Um… No, Sir, I- I don't, actually. W-Why are you asking?"

"I want you to go through your parts again, on your own."

"Why, Sir? Was I not good enough? I'll do better, I promise," she said with a pleading look on her face.

Her dedication to her craft was inspiring. And her constant need to please him was an incredible turn-on.

"Let's start with Bergersen's Sun," Madara ordered while watching the last of his ensemble leave the stage. When he heard a nervous sigh escape her lips, his gaze was immediately drawn back to her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Madara allowed himself to be transfixed by the sight for a few seconds, fully aware that this indulgence would just lead to more wet dreams. Like the one he had last night about her kneeling in front of him and nervously chewing on her bottom lip as he gives her a step-by-step instruction on how to suck his cock.

"Am I doing it right?" she asks after having released him from her mouth with a loud plop. She stares up at him with her big, innocent eyes, desperately needing his approval and his praise.

"Just like that, keep going little one," he orders while tugging a strand of hair behind her ear and watching her lips close around him again.

"That's a good girl."

Madara was torn from his short daydream when he realised the young cellist had stopped playing. His gaze focused on Sakura's face and he felt his cock immediately stiffen when he saw the expression she was wearing. It was the same as in his dream, right when she asked him if she was doing it right – all innocent and hopeful eyes, silently begging him to praise her.

"Am I doing it right, Maestro?"

Gods damn it, of course she had to go ahead and say the same words, too.

Despite the inappropriate nature of his current train of thought, the reminder of his last wet dream gave the conductor an idea. The Sakura in his dreams would always light up like a Christmas tree and her eyes would sparkle with adoration whenever Madara called her a good girl. And now it was time for the conductor to test how close real-life Sakura was to her dream persona.

He came to a halt directly in front of her and looked into her wide, expectant eyes.

"Good girl."

The megawatt smile she gave him as a response was enough to prove his theory. Madara would be damned if he didn't use every opportunity to praise her like that from now on. Much like she seemed to crave his approval and appreciation, Madara, too, found himself enjoying the looks of pure and unadulterated worship and reverence he was met with whenever he deemed her worthy of his attention.

"That was well done, Ms Haruno. Now why couldn't you deliver the same performance during rehearsal? I had the feeling you were distracted by something."

He watched her shoulders slump and her face fall as she leaned back into her seat. "I know, Sir. But it's nothing, really, just… just something silly. I won't happen again, I promise."

Madara would murder that something silly if the mere mention of it was enough to dim her smile.

"What's going on?"

"You don't need to worry about it, really. I'm sure you have much more important things to do than listen to me whine about my trivial issues." Sakura tried her best to give him a reassuring smile but judging by the way she was nervously playing with the strings of her cello, that particular issue seemed to really eat away at her.

"Ms Haruno, part of being your mentor also involves making sure you feel confident and good about yourself on a personal level as well, not just on a professional one. If something is bothering you and you don't deal with it properly, it might turn into a bigger issue someday, which could in turn affect your performance. Now, out with it."

Sakura looked at him hesitantly, before sighing and opening her mouth, "It's this review of our first concert that was published in The Japan Times. They said you made a mistake with me, that you signed me on too early and that I'm too young for you and too inexperienced and too shy and that I'm basically just not good enough for you."

Madara had read the article himself, and he had already thought that his protégé would be bothered by the criticism. He grabbed one of the many chairs on stage and took a seat right in front of his principal cellist. "Is that why you've been distracted today? You think you're not good enough?"

"It's not just that. Or actually it's not that at all, because I know I'm a damn good cellist, and I don't think I'm lacking anything in the talent department. What bothered me most is that they kept mentioning my age and how young and inexperienced I am. They made me look like some naïve little farm girl who doesn't know what she's doing with all those big shot musicians who are just going to eat her up and spit her out."

"Ms Haruno, I've been in this business for two decades now, and I was responsible for enough auditions to be able to tell which musician has got what it takes. Trust me when I tell you I would not have picked you if I didn't have absolute faith in your ability to keep up with the rest of my orchestra. In fact, part of the reason I chose you was precisely because you were so young, so don't ever let anybody make you feel like that is a disadvantage, because it's not."

Madara could see that his words had a calming effect on her. His reassurance resulted in a timid smile tugging at her lips as she tentatively asked, "Do you really mean that? That you picked me because I'm so young? Because you've never worked with anyone my age before. You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

"The last thing anybody would accuse me of is sugarcoating my opinion and buttering someone up. Trust me, I never lie to my musicians, least of all to my protégé."

"But why? Why was my age so decisive when you thought about signing me on?"

Well, I didn't know it back then, but as it turns out I have a thing for little girls with a Daddy complex and a desperate need to please.

Naturally, Madara couldn't give that particular explanation, so he went for the next best thing, "For the same reason an artist would never paint on an already used canvas. You're easier to mould now. You're my blank canvas."

And he was going to paint her in all of his colours. Especially in all sorts of red hues, like the ones adorning her cheeks at the moment.

"You want to mould me?"

Among many other, much much naughtier things.

"I am your mentor, after all, and that's what's expected of me. We mould our protégés into their best possible selves."

He gave her a tiny reassuring smile and stood up from his chair.

"Now let's continue. Richter's Infra 5. I want the mezzo-staccato more pronounced this time."

Her maestro's encouraging words should have been enough to dispel any worries she had about her age and the question of whether or not she was too young and inexperienced to be part of his orchestra. And yet, here she was, five days after their concert in Seoul, sitting on stage in the Beijing Concert Hall, feeling all kinds of inadequate and wishing she had half the cup size of their singer.

Mei Terumi. Half Chinese, half Japanese opera diva par excellence and a proud E cup. She had the voice of an angel, the curves of Aphrodite, and all the grace, elegance and finesse of a mature woman who – contrary to Sakura – can not only walk in high heels, but actually stand around in them and sing her heart out for four hours straight without breaking a sweat or ruining her perfect hairdo. She was Maestro Uchiha's special guest for their Beijing concert tomorrow; they were the musical accompaniment while Ms Terumi would beguile the audience with seductive jazz songs.

While Sakura loved the pieces her maestro chose for the concert, she was glad that particular programme wasn't planned for every performance and that the opera singer wouldn't accompany them for the entire tour. Because their conductor chose different pieces for every other city they would perform in, the jazz theme with Mei Terumi's vocals was only planned this once for Beijing.

And judging by that weird feeling of inadequateness Sakura got every time she even so much as looked at the singer, one performance with her is more than enough to dampen her spirits.

"Do you think the two of them are doing it?"

Her head whipped to her right where she was met with the sight of their principal percussionist twirling his drumsticks. They were currently on a short break during their rehearsal, so Naruto came to join them in the string section.

"What do you mean 'doing it'?" Sakura asked while trying to avoid getting the pointy end of his drumsticks stuck in her eye.

"You know, it." The blonde musician suggestively wiggled with his eyebrows, but his expectant look was met with only more confusion, and Sakura shrugged her shoulders.

"Give it up, Naruto. Forehead is way too innocent to even think about such things. Isn't that right," Ino asked with a teasing grin, leaning closer to Sakura before whispering, "little Miss virgin?"

Sakura didn't even have time to cover her blushing face when she heard Naruto snicker right next to her. "Oh my God, you are so adorable. You seriously didn't know that doing it means having sex? You are such a pure, innocent little flower, and I shall shield you from being corrupted by this evil, sex-obsessed witch."

"This evil, sex-obsessed witch will visit your hotel room tonight and shove her clarinet up your ass if you don't shut your cakehole soon. But seriously though, the two of them are totally doing it. I mean look at her, who wouldn't wanna do her? Plus, she's totally Mr Uchiha's type, you know mature, sophisticated, can probably tell the difference between Scotch and Bourbon. Hell, I'd do her, and she is so far out of my league she might as well live on Proxima Centauri."

Sakura followed Ino's gaze and let her eyes rest on the singer standing next to their conductor, currently busy with discussing a particularly complex piece. There was nothing overtly flirtatious about her behaviour, not now and not during the previous handful of rehearsals they had over the past two days. Both her and Mr Uchiha were always extremely professional, never getting too close or touching each other inappropriately. Though Sakura had to agree with Ino: Mei Terumi was so incredibly attractive that it probably wouldn't even take that much flirting to wrap any guy around her finger. But weirdly enough Sakura wasn't bothered so much by the idea of her conductor and the singer being intimate with each other. Sure, Maestro Uchiha was a god to her and she revered him as such, but never in her wildest dreams would she dare to think of herself as an object of his romantic or sexual desires. She was used to competing with others for his professional attention, but the thought of competing with women like Mei Terumi for his romantic attention had never crossed her mind, because Sakura believed him to be very much out of her league. And since intimacy wasn't something she aimed for or even associated with her relationship with Mr Uchiha, her feeling of unease didn't stem from romantic jealousy.

Mei Terumi was more of a reminder of Sakura's lack of experience. The singer was basically oozing confidence and maturity with her flirtatious smiles, the way she held herself around big shot conductors like Madara Uchiha, and the way she knew exactly what to wear to accentuate her killer curves. In comparison to her, the young cellist felt all kinds of inadequate with her frilly little dresses and the fact that she didn't even know that doing it meant having sex.

Mei Terumi and everything she embodied made Sakura feel too young, too inexperienced, as if she could never be up to par with the grown-ups if she kept sticking to her little girl persona. And she desperately wanted to prove to her maestro that there was more to her than floral dresses and Hello Kitty stuffed toys.

Having made up her mind, the young cellist turned to her blonde friend.

"Ino, do you think I could borrow one of your dresses tomorrow?"

Madara nearly spat out his drink when he saw the outfit his principal cellist chose for the afterparty.

He was always the last to arrive at such events, and as soon he entered the lounge his eyes automatically scanned the crowd for a mop of pink hair. Sure enough, he found her, but unlike most times when he set his eyes on her, he didn't like what he was seeing.

She was dressed in a little black neckholder dress that hugged her petite figure and exposed just the right amount of cleavage to be alluring without coming across as slutty. Madara watched her nervously run her fingers through her long silky hair which was pulled into a tight high ponytail, and when her lips closed around the straw in her drink he noticed they were painted a provocative burgundy. His eyes travelled down the shape of her slender legs and landed on the dark red stilettos she was very obviously wearing for the first time, judging by the way she kept awkwardly twirling her foot on the heel of her shoe.

There was absolutely nothing slutty or inappropriate about her outfit. In fact, this was the way most of his female musicians dressed for events like these, and usually he couldn't care less.

But little Ms Haruno once again proved to be the exception to each and every one of his rules.

Because even though he wouldn't bat an eye whenever he saw Yamanaka, Sabakuno or Hyuuga in such outfits, because they were all older, seeing his protégé pretend to be someone she's not dressed up in something so wildly unlike her made his hand tingle with the need to spank some sense into her.

As if she could sense his glare, the pink-haired cellist turned her head and let her eyes rest on him. For a second, Madara could have sworn she looked like a child who got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. He raised his hand and beckoned her to him. Like the good little girl that she was, she immediately left everything and everyone behind and made her way to him.

"Mr Uchiha, I'm glad you could – "

"What are you wearing?"

Madara watched as her hands immediately flew to the hem of her dress in an attempt to pull it down and cover a bit more skin she was suddenly and very obviously self-conscious about.

"You don't like it?" she asked nervously as she looked up at him with huge, doubtful eyes.

"I think you already knew that I wouldn't like it when you asked Ms Sabakuno to lend it to you. Or was it Ms Yamanaka?"

"But Sir, my outfit doesn't violate the dress code, I even asked Deidara. Plus, Ino said she wore that dress a hundred times and nobody ever said it was inappropriate."

"Do you feel comfortable in it, Ms Haruno?"

She lowered her gaze in defeat and instead absent-mindedly let it rest on his tie as she shook her head.

"Then why are you wearing it?"

Madara watched his young protégé shrug her shoulders and turn her head as a blush crept up her face. With a tiny, shy voice she added, "I just wanted to show everybody that I'm not just some young inexperienced rookie. That I can hang with the big kids, you know?"

"Wearing clothes you're clearly uncomfortable in isn't going to help with that. If you want to show them that you're someone worthy of respect, you need to do it with merit and not by pretending to be someone you're not. Now I'm going to take you back to your hotel room and you're going to change, is that clear?"

Madara's hand found the small of her back as he guided her to the lounge's exit.

"Sir, is that really necessary? I mean sure, the shoes hurt, but I was only going to stay for another hour or so anyway. I can make that without changing."

When they exited the building, the brisk night air made the young cellist shiver, so Madara wordlessly took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before hailing a taxi. As he opened the door for her and helped her get in, he fixed her with another glare and said, "The hotel is only a five minute ride away from here, so that should be enough time for you to think about why I'm disappointed in you. We'll talk about this when we're in your room, so I'll expect an answer from you, young lady."

He closed the door and got into the taxi on the other side. It was a tense five minutes, though probably more so for the pink-haired musician than for Madara. He could practically hear the wheels turning inside her head as he silently let her mull over his accusation. But he believed that giving her the time and opportunity to self-reflect was going to prove a valuable lesson for her. Not least because Madara knew she was always desperate to fix the mistakes he pointed out.

After arriving at their hotel, the conductor helped Sakura out of the car and told her to go ahead so he could pay the driver. Leaning closer to the man's front seat window, he heard him say, "You have a lovely daughter, Sir. With a firm daddy such as yourself, I'm sure she'll turn out just fine, so don't be too harsh on her. I'm a father too, you know, and I'm very proud of my little princess."

Great. The universe was clearly torturing him. Madara knew he had to keep his lewd fantasies regarding his pretty little protégé in check, and yet some greater force deemed it necessary to dangle them in front of him every chance it got.

But he couldn't give in.

He really shouldn't.

"What were you and the driver talking about?" Madara heard a shy voice next to him ask.

As they entered the hotel's lobby, the maestro steeled his resolve to not overstep any lines while they were alone in her room. He reminded himself this was purely for the image of the orchestra. He was just going to make sure that his protégé wouldn't embarrass herself and his ensemble by wearing clothes unfit for such a young woman. Right, there was nothing more to it.

Nothing inappropriate was going to happen.

Getting into the lift, he pressed the button that would lead them to her room as she asked again, "Sir, what did the driver have to say?"

"You're a nosey little one, aren't you? If you really must know, he didn't say anything that would concern you."

Madara turned his head to face her and was met with the same look of absolute reverence and adoration she always had reserved only for him. In that moment, he knew he just lost the most decisive battle of his life.

And he couldn't care less.

With a devilish grin tugging on the corner of his lips, he leaned a bit closer to her and whispered, "At least it doesn't concern you … yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

His grin widened at the sight of her adorably confused face before he exited the lift and headed for her room. The driver did say something that concerned Sakura, but Madara meant what he said – it didn't concern her yet. Because she sure as hell was his little princess and he sure as hell would be the firm daddy doling out spankings left right and centre – she just didn't know it yet. Now that he threw caution to the wind and decided to give into his desires, Madara couldn't wait to implement some changes in their relationship: The maestro would slowly and subtly introduce her to some of the things he had been craving to do to her since the day he met the little cellist, and if she responded to them willingly Madara would make her his for good. Though judging by the way she was already staring up at him with hearts in her eyes and a look that said please love me, daddy, Madara was sure she would jump at the chance of being nurtured and disciplined by him in more ways than a professional one.

Closing the door to her hotel room, Madara had to force down his devious grin and instead pretend to be angry. He turned around and fixed her with a glare. "Go into the bathroom, remove all of that make-up and change into something more comfortable."

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled with a pout before turning on her heel and disappearing into the bathroom.

When she got out, Madara had to stifle a groan at the sight of her new outfit: She was wearing pastel pink flannel pyjama bottoms with unicorns on them and a snug white shirt with a picture of her instrument and the words Cello: Everyone Else Is Accompaniment below it. She couldn't possibly be any cuter if she tried.

Madara motioned her to sit on the bed while he crossed his arms in front of his chest and positioned himself in front of her in his most authentic imitation of an angry dad posture.

"Now, Ms Haruno, can you tell me why I'm disappointed in you?"

Tucking her chin into her chest, Sakura mumbled something incoherent in that tiny unsure voice she always used whenever she thought she did something wrong.

"Speak up, little one, I can't hear you."

"Because I pretended to be someone I'm not?"

"And why do you think that upset me?"

She started chewing on her bottom lip which drove Madara absolutely mad for 5 hellishly long seconds before answering, "Because you told me once already that I shouldn't worry about my age or how experienced I seem to others, and that you picked me because I'm so young and that I should be proud of it and not try to hide it, but I did that anyway and now you're mad at me." The pinkette was now nervously tugging on the ends the blanket she was sitting on while looking up at him with a pleading look in her eyes, silently begging him to forgive her.

Madara knew he was being cold when he didn't answer immediately, instead fixing his glare on her for a few more seconds and allowing himself to enjoy her display of absolute submissiveness.

"Please, Sir, I can't stand the thought of you being disappointed in me. Please, just tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I'll follow all of your rules. I'll be good, Sir, I promise."

Gods have mercy on him, she was the perfect little girl. All submissive, obedient, and desperate to please him. And the best thing was, she wasn't even faking her little persona. She didn't just wear frilly dresses or unicorn pyjama bottoms to impress someone, she didn't just braid her hair into pigtails because she wanted to look younger, she didn't just pretend to constantly crave his guidance and approval because she thought that's what turned him on – she just really was genuinely little.

And also in desperate need of some punishment.

"It seems like you're no longer able to decide which clothes are appropriate for your age. In order to prevent you from embarrassing yourself and our entire orchestra, I will decide what you wear to formal events. We start right now, I'll find something more suitable for tonight's party. You're going to change and we're going to go back, so you can prove to whomever you want to prove that neither your age nor your clothes define how good and how experienced a musician you are."

Madara opened her closet where she had hung a couple of dresses, skirts, and blouses and started going through her clothes when he heard her protest behind him.

"But Sir, is that really necessary? It was a one-time thing, I promise it won't happen again."

He handed her a simple white blouse and a floral skirt he had often seen her wear and sternly added, "I'm giving you the opportunity to comply with my rules willingly. If you keep misbehaving and disobeying me, I can always just spank some sense into you."

Judging by her scared wide eyes and the deep blush spreading across her cheeks, that threat was enough to get her moving. With a nervous little Yes, Sir, Sakura disappeared into the bathroom to change into her new outfit. When she got out, he beckoned her to get closer to where he was leaning against a desk.

"Now isn't that more comfortable?"

Madara watched his pretty little protégé twirl in front of a mirror before she nodded her head in confirmation. "This is actually one of my favourite skirts. Though I rarely wear it to formal events."

"Why is that?"

"Well … it's silly, but … I rarely wear skirts and dresses without thigh high socks, because I just think it looks so cute."

Oh, he noticed.

"And even though I admittedly don't have the fanciest fashion sense, even I know you don't wear thigh high socks to an after party. So I usually just choose an outfit where I wouldn't have worn socks anyway. Even though I've got the prettiest and cutest socks ever that just go perfectly with this skirt."

Madara noticed the way her eyes started to sparkle as soon as she got out of the bathroom. She obviously felt much more comfortable now, and she even seemed to enjoy playing dress-up for him. So he decided he would indulge her.

"Well if you really think that outfit is incomplete without your socks, why don't you put them on and show me?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and she immediately dashed to her suitcase where she rummaged around in search of her socks. Taking a seat on the bed, she quickly rolled them over each leg, stepped in front of the mirror to Madara's left and twirled around all happy and cute. Then she turned towards him and extended her left leg to show him her socks. "See, they've got cute little kitty faces on the upper part here, and they've even got cat ears sticking out of the hem, and I use them to pull up the socks."

"That's adorable, little one."

She blushed and shyly bit her bottom lip before whispering a tiny Thank you, Sir.

"There's only one problem. You got changed so quickly that you look all dishevelled now. Your blouse isn't neatly tucked into your skirt and your socks aren't pulled up to the same height. I can't let you go to a fancy afterparty like this, now, can I? Come here, princess," he spread his legs and gently pulled her closer to him, so she was now standing between them, "let me fix this for you."

While Madara was busy fixing her outfit – smoothing out wrinkles, tucking in her blouse, neatly rolling up her sleeves, and taking his sweet time doing it – Sakura was busy trying to stand still and not sway back and forth from the constant pushing and pulling. "Little one, you'll need to stop fidgeting if you want me to fix your outfit. Hold on to me, so you can keep still."

Gingerly, his little protégé placed her tiny little hands on his shoulders and used them to push back against his pulling and prodding.

"Sir, is this an outfit you would deem appropriate for me to wear to formal events?"

"Absolutely. Why?"

"Good. Because in that case, I don't think I have a problem with you choosing my outfits from now on. I'm glad you seem to know what I like."

Madara was met with a shy sincere smile from the pink-haired girl standing between his legs, and he was once again reminded of the fact of how adorably innocent she was, because no other woman – or even girl for that matter – would say I'm glad you seem to know what I like without being aware of the sexual innuendo of such a statement. But Sakura was so incredibly pure and chaste that Madara would bet his left testicle that she could suck on a popsicle in a room full of men and still be surprised that every single one of them was sporting a giant hard-on.

He took in her appearance and noted that the only thing still in need of fixing were her socks, which he purposefully saved for last. Now was the time to see if she would stop him from really overstepping the mark. Though, granted, fixing one of his musician's outfit in such an intimate manner was already inappropriate, Madara still would have found a way to somehow talk his way out of it and make it seem like a halfway reasonable thing to do for an image-conscious conductor. But putting his hands underneath her skirt and pretending to pull up her socks under the thinly veiled guise of fixing her outfit – that was a completely different kettle of fish altogether.

"Are you going to do my socks, too, Sir?"

When Madara looked into her face, he immediately had an answer to his question of whether or not she would allow him to go this far. Because there was no insecurity or hesitance in her eyes, there wasn't even the tell-tale blush or the flirtatious smile of someone who understood the intimacy of a man about to put his hands on a woman's bare upper thigh. She looked at him expectantly as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a conductor to pull up the thigh high socks of his musician beneath her skirt.

And so that was exactly what he did.

"Of course, little one. We want your two little kitties to be at eye level with each other, don't we?"

That remark got him the cutest little giggle as Madara hooked his fingers into the hem of her left sock and slowly pulled it up her slender thigh.

"Sir, you can't forget to put the faces in the middle. It will look weird if the two kitties don't face the same direction."

"You're right, princess. We don't want somebody thinking your two kittens aren't getting along with each other, now, do we?"

He could hear another giggle as he enveloped her left thigh with both his hands and rotated the sock so that the kitten face was in the middle. He allowed his thumb to slowly brush the back of her thigh before he willed both his hands to let go of her. Madara gave the two cat ears another tug and turned his attention to her right leg.

Again, he hooked his fingers into the hem of her sock and very slowly pulled it up, until it was the same height as the left one. Then he put his hand on the back of her knee and let it wander upwards to smooth out any wrinkles until his hand almost touched her ass. Using both hands again, he enveloped her upper thigh and gave the sock a few twists until the kitten face was in the middle. While his right hand was busy fixing the cat ears, Madara's left hand was stroking up and down her inner thigh and came dangerously close to her panty line. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingers for a few more seconds before lowering his hands to the slightly more respectable area of her knee caps.

"All done now."

A shaky breath escaped her lips before she shot him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Sir. But I can't see anything. The skirt is too long, it's covering the kitties."

"Pull it up, then."

"Oh… right, of course." Sakura shot him a bashful look, bit her lip, and then grabbed the hem of her skirt to pull it up a bit.

"See how pretty your legs look?" Madara asked while stroking the back of her thighs beneath her skirt.

"Mhm. I love these socks, they make me feel so pretty. I'm glad you made me change, Sir, I feel so much more comfortable now."

"I'm glad you didn't make a fuss. See how easy everything can be when you're a good girl who listens and does as she's told."

"Um, Sir … about that." Madara watched the young cellist start nervously playing with the end of his tie. While she was lost in thought, he took the opportunity to slowly move his hands upwards until his fingers were barely brushing the underside of her cheeks.

"Were you, um … were you really going to – I mean, if I had put up a fight, would you really have … you know?"

When she raised her head to peek up at him, Madara was met with the usual combination of a bashful look, a tell-tale blush and her signature circuit-frying lip bite. But she wasn't the only one capable of rattling the other, he thought. After all, his hands were still very much beneath her skirt all but groping her ass.

"Would I have done … what, Sakura?" he prompted teasingly while giving the back of her thighs a firm squeeze.

She closed her eyes for a second and sighed quietly, before looking at him again.

"You know, Sir. Would you … Would you have," she leaned in closer and whispered, "sp-spanked me?"

"Of course, I would have."

Her blush turned an even deeper shade of red, and Madara could hear her breath quickening. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was intrigued by the thought of his hands leaving bright red imprints on her ass.

"Don't worry, little one, I'm not going to spank you now for what you did tonight, because we didn't set any rules for that and you didn't know that punishment was even involved. But you do know now, so I suggest you try your best to be a really good little girl from now on."

She eagerly nodded her head and added a nervous little Yes, Sir before she went back to playing with the end of his tie.

"But um, when you," Madara watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips, "spank me … what does that feel like? Does it hurt?"

"Now why would you want to know that? As long as you don't do anything wrong, you have nothing to worry about on that front."

"I just don't think that I can sleep tonight knowing that there's a possibility of me getting punished and I don't even know what that form of punishment looks or feels like."

Oh, she was intrigued alright. Madara couldn't shake the feeling that he just broke a dam. For both of them.

"Well, I wouldn't want my protégé to lose sleep over anything."

He grabbed the back side of her skirt, pulled it up above her ass and gave her right cheek a sound smack.

And Gods have mercy on him, in that exact moment he heard the most delicious moan he ever elicited from a woman. If Madara hadn't already thought that this innocent young cellist was the perfect little girl for him to nurture and to discipline, hearing her moan after being spanked for the first time would have given him the last proof he needed to know that she craved his dominance as much as he craved her submissiveness.

"This is what a spanking feels like. A very, very nice spanking, mind you. It's going to hurt a lot more when I'm angry with you."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." She nodded her head in understanding while rubbing soothing circles on her backside.

Madara was enjoying this way too much, so he had to bring this to an end soon before he completely lost control of his senses. If he were to see her bite her lip one more time, Madara swore his dick would explode.

"Now that we've cleared up a few things, I suggest you return to the party. There are a lot of people there eager to meet you. And remember," he grabbed her chin between his fingers and leaned closer, "be a good little girl for me."

Madara watched her blush deepen as she stared into his eyes with a dreamy look and moaned a tiny little Yes, Sir.

After she had gathered her things and grabbed her purse, they both left her hotel room. Sakura headed towards the lift when she noticed Madara wasn't following.

"Aren't you coming, too?"

"You go ahead, I'll join you in a bit. I just need to take care of something first."

My rock hard dick.

The conductor watched his protégé step into the lift and wave goodbye. "Ok then, see you in a bit, Mr Uchiha. And um … thanks." Sakura shot him a bashful smile before the doors closed.

Madara released a sigh of relief before focusing his gaze on his hard-on.

"You're going to both hate me and love me for what I did tonight."