▼ Night ▼ [Femdom Oneshots]

Butterfly Waltz

(Pain kink, Spanking, hair pulling, humiliation)

Jack was corrupted by this infallible sense of perfectionism, but it was instilled in him by every iteration of the same opening track from Swan Lake, the same fifty seconds replaying every time a dancer messed up. Sour thoughts echoed in his mind as he semi-consciously ran through the same steps. He got lost in it, replaying every motion until he didn't have to think about it. It made him feel empty as if everything that made him alive was hollowed out, leaving him to repeat the same actions like a preprogrammed robot.

Sweat ran from his brow into his eye forcing them shut, but he didn't need to see. His body just ran through the same motion again without being prompted by his mind. He felt like pieces of his consciousness floated in the tide of a sea, it rippling back and forth repeatedly without deviation.

Then he slipped, the palm of his hand sliding against his own sweat on the ballet barre. He lost balance in his pointe shoes and staggered back effectively saving his ankle from breaking in half.

"Kleinhaus, is there a problem?" Giordano questioned.

There was a grinding antipathy behind how sweetly she said her words. But that's not what jack fixated on. It was how she said his last name, using it as if he was just another rusty gear in her perfect machine and nothing more.

"No."
Jack sighed.

Something in her eyes flickered like a moment's rage before her expression turned into something more pleasant.

"Well, Kleinhaus, we got past the first fifty seconds for the first time since our third dry run this session, but it seems as if it's gotten all messed up by your imprudent lack of attention. Why don't you give yourself a round of applause."

Before he could say anything, she turned on her heel and signaled the music tech to start over once again.

A sordid wave of poorly placed jealousy meandered through his veins like a slow kind of poison.

The song began again and his body reflexively threw itself into the same routine, but he stopped himself. There was a rebellious part of his mind that wanted her to pay attention to him for all the wrong reasons. He knew it was maybe childish, but he missed the feeling of her eyes possessively roaming him and the feeling of her touch. He just needed her to draw it out of him, that touch starved part of his mind. He wanted her to remove it like a thorn and leave him bleeding.
All this repetition has made him feel numb and he needed to feel something, anything, even if it hurt.

Jack messed up on purpose again and again and the song replayed once more, but she wouldn't pay him the attention. She would just purse her lips and repeat "again" so many times it didn't sound like a word anymore. There came a point where it would no longer be humane for her to keep the company any longer, so she dismissed, the lines of defeat present on her face.

"You stay after." Giordano said, gesturing to Jack.

The company erupted into hushed laughter and crass jokes before filing out of the dance hall one by one.

Then the sound of the wooden door shutting behind the last dancer resounded through the dance hall.

"Sabrina I—"
"You learn a lot when you're quiet, Jack." Giordano chided. "Also, all the other dancers call me Giordano. You're not exempt."

Jack felt the shame creep up his cheeks and he tried to hide it but all four walls are covered with mirrors, so he looked at the floor but he could still feel her eyes on him.

He finally looked up at her and they stood still staring at one another as if they were at a stalemate. Then Giordano shoved him against the mirror, pushing her forearm into his windpipe. He gasped a stained breath of air, but didn't try and fight back.