In her dressingroom

[Sara_Quill]

In her dressingroom

With a make-up wipe I took the orange glaze, the white glitter and the sweat of my face. It was always such a satisfying moment. After the show was done, my muscles sore, I would take off the sweaty costume of the Sugarplum fairy, but before I jumped into the shower of my private dressing room I first took the make-up off my face.

Seeing the Sugarplum fairy disappear and my own face reappear. A moment of self care. A moment off calm, no sounds, no music, just the soft rumbling of the other dancers in the other dressing rooms, sloshing sounds in the walls from other dancers taking their showers.

There was a knock on my door, but I ignored it. I ran the wipe over my nose, when I heard the door opening.

‘Busy,’ I said hoping they would just go away. I heard the door close and I figured they were gone. I wiped the sparkles of my eyelids. It was some sort of waterproof glue they used to keep the glitter and the sparkle in place. I get it, it would be horrible if we were dancing and a drop of sweat and glitter would come into our eyes, yet it was almost impossible to clean off. I opened my eyes to check up on my progress and screamed. There was a face. Someone I didn’t know was standing behind me. A ghost! That was my first thought, but when I turned around he wasn’t just a reflection in my mirror. He was actually there.

A guy in an old fashioned pin striped suit.

‘Who are you?’ I asked. ‘How did you get backstage? What are you doing here? What do you want? Are you looking for someone?’

There was a calm but mischievous smile on his face. ‘I’m looking for you Colette.’

‘I don’t know you.’ I said.

‘But I know you. I’m your biggest fan.’ He briefly nodded to me.

I doubt that he was actually my biggest fan, last week some kids from a local ballet studio came backstage for a meet and greet, and they were way more excited than he seemed to be. They were screaming and crying and talking about the pictures they had of me and how they wanted to be like me. It was adorable.

‘I wasn’t aware there was any meet and greet today.’ I said. ‘I’m not ready. Just wait outside, have Taegan take you to the visitors lounge and I’ll be with you in a moment.’

He shook his head and reached for the door, but instead of going away he locked the door.

‘What are you doing?’ I got nervous and for a moment I hesitated if I should scream for Taegan or one of the other security guards.

‘Dude.’ I said kind of tired. ‘Don’t be that guy. Don’t be a creep. Just wait in the visitors lounge.’

‘Don’t call me dude, that doesn’t suit you, that doesn’t suit a graceful dainty ballerina like you.’ Then everything happened really quickly. He took a white cloth out of a zip-lock bag and pushed it in my face. He held me in some sort of headlock and no matter how much I struggled and fought him of the white cloth kept being pressed in my face. It smelled sweet, chemically sweet, like acetone or turpentine or super glue or something. Within moments I was feeling lightheaded and dizzy. I tried to scream but any sounds were muffled in the cloth, and screaming just made the fumes even stronger, or at least they itched my throat more. I started coughing. I tried to step on his toe, or to hook my elbow into his face, but his headlock kept both me and the white cloth in place.

The world around me turned hazy. My head was throbbing. I felt drowsy and numb. There must be something like chloroform on the rag, just like they used in soap operas and movies. It wasn’t that quick as in the movies though. I got groggier and sleepier, my muscles started to tingle and relax. The headlock disappeared and now he was holding me around my waist. Pulling me onto the couch in my dressing room. He lifted my body into the pink pillows and rearranged the cloth on my face.

He got a bottle with a little dropper out and carefully drizzled a little bit more onto the cloth, and then a moment later another few drops. Quite rhythmically he kept on dropping and drizzling more and more on the rag in my face. My head was spinning, it was hard to figure out what was going on. I felt drunk, on the brink of passing out, my eyelids fluttering, my head lulling from side to side. Involuntary moans came from my mouth.

‘Good girl.’ He said. ‘I always wanted to play with a limp ballerina. You know, somehow I imagined their limber and bendy physique would make them even more limp, don’t you think? I don’t know, we’ll see tonight, won’t we, at least you got me turned on already.’

He briefly picked up my hand, he played with my limp fingers and then dropped my hand on the couch, he took my hand again and rubbed my fingers against his crotch, a thick bulge hiding behind his pin striped suit and then he dropped my hand in my face, he used my own hand to press the cloth of chloroform even tighter into my face.

‘Yes,’ he said panting. ‘Yes girl. Chloroform yourself for me. You want to be my limp puppet don’t you?’

His voice sounded from far away, his voice sounded surreal, my ears were ringing and I guess I must have passed out at that point, because when I woke up I was tied down, I didn’t even know how he did it, my hands were tied above my head, the rope cutting and chafing into my skin. I was coughing and stirring. I wanted to rub my eyes, but I couldn’t. I wanted to roll over, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything.

‘What?’ I said groggy, when I realized the guy was still there. He wasn’t wearing his suit anymore. He was naked and just creepily yet somewhat tenderly rubbing his hand over my belly. ‘What do you want?’ I asked.

‘My dear Collete.’ He said shaking his head. ‘You don’t get it. I already got everything I want, right here.’ Now his hands moved up and briefly squeezed my boob, his thumb flicking my nipple back and forth. ‘And here.’ He said as his hand moved down towards my pussy, his fingers pressing into my lips, rubbing up and down, slipping one finger inside of me. It felt full and warm.

‘No.’ I said. ‘Stop that.’

‘Why?’ He said. ‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I...I...’ I was stuttering. I did like it, but that was not the point, was it? I didn’t know what to do, what to say. ‘I might scream.’ I threatened.

He chuckled. ‘You might scream?’ He said in a patronizing voice, while still rubbing my pussy, his finger moving back and forth inside of me. ‘And why might you or might you not scream? Why wouldn’t you scream?’ He asked teasingly.

For a moment I was confused about the question. Why wouldn’t I scream? There was still a lot of dizziness and grogginess lingering in my brain. I didn’t know the answer to that question. Why wouldn’t I scream? I should. The moment I gasped for air and opened my mouth to let out a cry for help he chuckled and folded the wet smelly cloth over my face again.

‘That took a while.’ He said.

It didn’t smell as bad as it did last time, maybe because he wasn’t continuously dropping fresh chloroform on the rag, or maybe because I’d gotten used to the smell by now. I was getting more drowsy and detached though.

In a haze I registered that he removed his finger from my pussy and crawled on top of me. His cock in his hand, softly rubbing his palm and fingers over his shaft, exposing the shiny purple tip each time he moved his hand down. He spit on his own cock and spread the white bubbles of saliva over his cock then he pressed the tip against my pussy. His hands leaning next to me, his face close to mine.

‘Let’s get rid of this.’ He said as he took the cloth away from my face. His voice was distorted and far away, my vision was blurring. My mind numb, but I wasn’t out yet. I was just severely intoxicated. ‘There you go.’ He said kindly. He slid his cock inside of me, inch for inch and instinctively my hips were tilting, allowing him to slide in even deeper.

Slowly he trust inside of me, and then again, and again. I was still tied down, the rope itching and chafing my skin. I pulled on my wrist even though that was in vain. His cock filled me up, it was a thick cock and I felt it slide past my pussy lips, in and out. I felt the tip bumping into the wall of my vagina, again and again and again.

Involuntarily I started to get aroused, my pussy was throbbing, the insides twitching. My head lulling from side to side and sometimes a little moan came out of my mouth. He pressed the palm of his hand over my face.

‘Ssshh,’ He said. ‘Stay quiet.’

His rhythm increasing. His thrusting more rough and wild. His face started to get red and slightly sweaty. His eyes closed. My pussy was getting more and more aroused. I was too groggy to object, so I just let it happen. It felt good. Why shouldn’t I feel good? I leaned into those feelings, too drowsily sedated to realize that I should fight it. Just enjoying the sensations, enjoying my pussy being pounded. It wasn’t something I controlled with my mind, it was my body reacting, my body getting more and more aroused, until a little orgasm started to bubble up. It was a soft tickle of an orgasm at first, but it slowly grew stronger and more intense until it was so big I went over the edge.

I let out a moan and he pressed his hand even tighter over my mouth to muffle all of the sounds.

‘Do you like that.’ He whispered. ‘Do you like my cock?’

My body was trembling and convulsing as the orgasm reached his highest peak, and then it subsided again. He didn’t stop fucking me though. He kept on going, panting, thrusting, sweating.

‘Did you just orgasm?’ He said. ‘How about that?’ His voice hoarse, his whispered words hidden amongst his panting and grunting. ‘I guess that means you like this don’t you? You like being my limp rag doll. You like being my.... sleepy... – grunt, pant – ... puppet.’

He tensed up. His face in a grimace, his muscles all tight and than with two last grunts he trusted his cum inside of me. He dropped himself on top of me, his sweaty torso heavy on mine. His panting in my ear, his hair tickling my cheek.

‘Well done.’ He said. ‘Good girl.’

There was a moment of silence, a moment of peace and tranquility in which nothing happened, it was as if time stood still, as if he had fallen asleep on top of my chest. Eventually he got up, he placed the rag over my face again and started dropping fresh chloroform on the rag. My mind was misting over quickly, I don’t even remember how long it took before I closed my eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

When I woke up he was gone, my dressing room was empty and I was laying on the couch still. I rubbed my eyes, no more rope keeping me down, yet there was a red impression on my skin where the ropes used to be, and when I got up from the couch I felt a drizzle of sperm seeping out of me.

My head still hazy and a little bit groggy. I stumbled towards the mirror and my table. There was a cart and box of chocolates in between my dirty make-up wipes.

‘Hi there my sleepy fairy.’ He’d written. ‘I had a great time this evening, the chocolates are laced with a different kind of sedative, eat them when you get home and you’ll be my sleepy puppet again. Love Sam.’

In an impulse I threw the card and the box of chocolates in the bin. That guy was crazy if he though I would voluntarily take those drugged chocolates and let him do whatever he want with me. I stumbled to the shower and enjoyed the warm water seeping over my face and my sore muscles.

The warm water was making me rosy, I felt a happy glow in my tummy. I shouldn’t have thrown those chocolates out, it was chocolate after all. Eating one wouldn’t hurt, would it? Or maybe just a couple. I shook my head and let the water was over my face. Why was I even considering it? What was happening to me? I mean, he wasn’t ugly but... my pussy was slightly throbbing already. He certainly wasn’t ugly, but I couldn’t allow just any other creep to come into my dressing room and drug me, fuck me, yet my fingers found their way in between my legs and I played with myself as I thought about the drugged haze and his cock. I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

I got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my shoulders, still dripping wet I took the box of chocolates out of the trash can and put it in my bag to to take home. Sam. His name was Sam. Taking the chocolates home didn’t mean I would actually eat them, would it? I could always throw them away at home too. Yeah, I would probably just throw them away.

***

I recently published a book called: "Brainwashed Ballerina" so if you like reading about helpless ballerina's you might like that novel too: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086H3QLMS

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[larrydude]

[Annabelle]