just a short, dark vignette…leaving a lot to your own sordid imaginings…

Nine years with the SoCal Ballet and this is what came of it.

Her hips rolled with the seductive music. It wasn’t her intent to seduce …that was unnecessary, given the hungry looks of the men lounging on the pillow covered floor. Some held their cocks, stroking slowly, all attempt at subtlety abandoned. The music was hypnotic,  her body cajoled.

The veils stirred slowly, offering peeks of ripe, virgin flesh. She, who had prided herself on being a virgin, always too afraid to give her body to anyone, lest the fire of her dance be subdued by the yearnings of her cunt. She, curvy despite the years and rigors of giving herself one hundred percent to her craft. She, dancing now as she had never danced before, her heart racing not with her exertions, but with fear. She, so proud when Kalib Barb Halil had asked to take her to dinner, the richest man in the world, so it was rumored. And she, waking groggily to the hum of an airplane, hands and feet bound, head cloaked, struggles useless.

It had been rumored, she remembered then, that Kalib took possession of whatever took his fancy. To her detriment, she realized that some rumors were not gossip, but fact.

Kalib’s words, growled into her ear before he had shoved her into this chamber, rang in her head.

“You will dance. As long as you dance, you are safe-no man would dare touch you then. But when you stop, when the fatigue burns in your muscles, your legs and arms shake with the effort of continuing, then you will stop…and you will be the virgin dancer no longer.”

She’d heard the hunger in his voice, seen it as his eyes traveled across her body as she moved ceaselessly around the center of the circle of pillows draped with men who wore looks as hungry as wolves.

She danced.



inspired by this blogpost

“Don’t move.”

His voice was soft, a threat-veiled whisper.  Her leg twitched as her nerves ratcheted up another notch.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Freezing in place, tiny quivers shot every hair on her body to erection. What was he doing? Hearing noises from the side of the bed, she fought a battle to keep her eyes on her tits as he had demanded earlier. How frigging tempting it was, to let her eyes shoot over to the right and see what he was taking out of his bag.

She lay, arms over her head, legs sprawled, her hips raised by the pillow he’d placed under her ass until she was laying just so. The next sound was unmistakable; a plug mating into a wall socket. The humm of the round-headed vibe confirmed her guess.

He leaned over her, brandishing his weapon of choice, the vibe. Eyes boring into hers, the intensity was lazer-sharp.

“Good girl.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, making her smile. He had not bound her with rope, chain or any exterior device, but with his words, and the promise of torment should she defy him. With precision he lay the vibe against her exposed cunt, the whine of the machine telling her that the tool set to its “high” setting. There was no warm up, just” jump in and go” mode for him. Annoying. Frazzling. Exciting.

“I have a new toy. I’m sure you’ll love it.” He held up the black leather quirt. It bore a thick leather heart on it.

“Cute, Sir, very cute.”

He traced her inner thighs with it, caressing the tender flesh there.

“I had it custom-made by a leather working friend. It’ll hold up much better than those silly sex store versions.”

A quick snap of his wrist drew a sharp *pop* sound. It took a moment for the shock to register and then her moan rose. A perfect pink heart rose on white flesh.

“aaah, lovely. What a tender way to show you my affection, pet.”

“yessir” she whispered through  gritted teeth. Already the vibe was sending shock waves through her clit, deep into her pussy.

“Sir…I think…”


“I..” gritting her teeth against the surging tremors, she sucked in a quick breath. “I need to cum, Sirplease”


She would have growled if she had breath enough.


“Hold onto it girl.”

She pushed down, tried to breathe through it.  Her feet shifted a bit. That was allowed. Two quick slaps on her thigh nearly sent her over the edge, the pain biting a huge chunk out of her control.


“You may cum, slut.”

It would be hell, she knew. She’d cum and her clit so frigging sensitive would be buzzed away by that fucking vibe and he’d give no surcease until he was good and ready to stop.

And she came, hard, despite knowing what would happen. Her clit quivered, ached with a shocking stab of pure pain. The pleasure almost drove her over the edge, to move her legs, squeeze them shut against the torture, but she knew better. He’d add orgasms to the already pre-determined number he’d chosen for her today…and she couldn’t bear thinking of that just now.

Once the first orgasm came, the next and those beyond would flow, fast and furious, from her stimulated body. The sharp bite of a clamp against her tightly drawn nipple sent her spinning again. He waited until the shudders slowed to affix the second clamp, once more sending her flying.

She barely felt the quirt as he lined her inner legs with hearts. She exploded as the excess of ecstasy took her up and over repeatedly.

“Too much..” she whimpered.

“Not yet,” he whispered in her ear. “Not nearly enough yet…cum for me, slut…you know you want to. You know you need to…” His voice was a silk string that tied her up and left her wanting. Craving. He was dark, dangerous. Lured to her undoing by a spider that was too sexy for words–

the darkness sucked her under.


She’d been beautiful when she came in, hair perfect. Her make up, once so fresh and pretty, was smeared. Eyes filled repeatedly with tears from the pleasures he’d played upon her body.

Now she lay, curled in sleep for now. Her makeup no longer pretty, her body was still quivering from time to time as she slept–“ahh,” he thought to himself,  “she was pretty before, but now? -she was intoxicating.”  Between her thighs, he could see her cunt–swollen and red. The scent of  her sexual release hung redolent in the air. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the sight and smells, he stroked his crotch, teasing the thick rod beneath the denim jeans. Moving to the side of the bed, he let his fingers walk up one ankle, tickling her calf. She moaned. Perfect.

It was time for round two.