Friday, July 31, 2009

The Stone Tears of a Ballerina

“Get on your knees swine! I want you on your hands and knees now! I’m not going to tell you again!”
“Yes Mistress.”
“You like to roll around in your own filth and squeal like a little dirty piglet, don’t you?”
“Oooh yes Mistress, make me squeal! Make me squeal!”
“Quiet Swine!” I’ll tether that pink ass of yours till you bleed like a stuffed hog.”
“Yes Mistress!”
“What did the piggy say?”
“Oink, oink oink oink!”

Swine began to root at the ground as Mistress flexed and massaged her tone, sleek body. Her long black hair stayed in its perfect form as she stretched and posed in various mind bending positions. She seemly ignored the groveling being at her feet and began looking intently at her body.

“Don’t I have such lovely legs you shit rooting puss?” She hissed through a forced smile, never taking her eye off her leg.
“Oh yes Mistress, oink oink oink.” Sweat began to pool around Swine’s collar and his once white, pressed shirt began to murky in color around the arm pits.
“And isn’t my hair just perfect?”
“Hair…oink oink…hair…” He sniffed the floor around her shoe, making sure not to touch her in the faintness of ways. Teasing the tip of her shoe with his hot breath was enough for his penis to be at full attention.

“Oh you would just love to touch me wouldn’t you? You would relish the moment your nasty, sweaty palms touch and slide all over my wonderful curves.” Her slim, graceful hands slowly skimmed down fluid skin and followed skillfully down the valley of her breast to the soft, pudding like mounds of flesh between her thighs.

She wasn’t always like this, beating old pasty white men for 400 bucks per session. Mistress use to be a dancer. Her dainty feet never pushed her up to slide down a pole but only felt the thin cushion of silk and lace shoes that trained her toes to withstand the weight of her whole body. You would never understand the point of the word focus until you stood on your toes. She was beautiful. She still was, but something was cracked and hollow in her face now. Her ivory skin once draped in fabrics tailored to fit and caress in all the right places. Her eyes twinkled under the stars that were lured to her and the moon’s face was the only one that can match the sweet pleasantness of her soft features. Before, her ears housed peach fuzzed whispers of French delights and lovely things, instead of the haunty breathing of fat, middle age business men who only got off when their ass was the same color of a over ripe cherry.

Her body use to give birth to mind numbing art, dazzling silhouettes and fluid physical poetry. Now, she was a doll. Never touched, drool replaced the roses that were once laid at her feet, rippling fat the substitute of thundering applause and her smile a pin down frown that showed only anger, fury and unspeakable wraith that only a female body can produce and express.

The transformation was painful. She would sometimes awake in the middle of the night and feel it ripping through her soft flesh and shiny bones. Moans and howls would follow long into the night and little by little she began to molt her feathers away and step where she once leaped. There were tears, but they usually followed by confusion and self loathing thoughts. Words like ‘disgusting’ and ‘vile’ took the face of ‘okay’ and ‘maybe’. Actions that were once beneath her and out of the question became “temporary” and “new experience.” Her box pointed shoes were on ice and she was just on a break. How far away all that seemed now. Her only talent nowadays seemed to be ripping the animalistic nature from the mouths of these civilizes beasts. How she longed to be on stage and feel the smooth wood under her feet instead of the soft clicking of her heels as she leaves out the side door; to walk pass the family pictures of these rosy cheek men who carve to crawl more in their shadows than to walk tall in their lives light and she brought it all to life, didn’t she?

She remembered in days long passed that when she was upset or depressed her mother always told her to just practice. “Feel the muscles tightening in your body and focus hard on each formation.” She would use the negative for good and push her further to become a better dancer. When she lost her baby before it had a chance to form fingers she spent her time doing changment de pieds or Demi detourne until her thighs were swollen and her feet bloody and raw. Her elders would fawn over her and say things, “How did you become such a good dancer?” or “My! What form, she really has a delight for the art.” The true art was her shaping the misfortune into something beautiful and useable. That’s why there were always tears in the judges’ eyes and the audience hung off of each spin. They all saw the scars and the busted muscles and the aching and they loved her for what she made of it! Dancing solved it all. Except…one thing….

“Mistress...Mistress please…oink oink...” Swine’s face was red and bubbling up around the edges. He was hard as US steel by now. She slowly turned and looked in the mirror. Swine still had his business shirt on with the stain of coffee that Maria accidently slipped on him after his 9am conference call. His snout was moist and slightly brown from sticking it in places it had no reason to be. Tears swelled up in her eyes and her black hair hung around her face as if to cape it away from the rest of the world. Instead of crying she gently lifted her leg so that the black stiletto was gleaming from the bedroom light, high above her head. She used the pressure from the back of her throat that wanted to produce a sob to whisper the beautiful French words that once found warmth and comfort in her impassive ears. The words were too weak to block out the grunts and squealing of Swine who was rooting and stampeding across the marble floor.


  1. When i heard it today, i thought it compelling.The style suited it very well not to mention the story complemented the prompt. Great work!!

  2. Good story, you read it so well :D

  3. Such a sad tale, but it was good nonetheless. Sorry I wasn't able to make it. Hope everything went well.