If On A Winters Night A Ballerina

[You are about to begin reading another non-consent erotica. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the news is always on in the next room. Find the most comfortable position. Lie on your favorite couch. Or lie flat on your floor. Adjust the light so you won't strain your eyes. Pour yourself something to drink, and have no expectations. After all, this is a smut, where wild things happen for all sorts of strange reasons, or no reason at all.]

Out there it was freezing, and the sky was grey and heavy. But young Sarah was feeling good after her ballet lesson, so she just pulled a sweater over her leotard and went out in her old green parka.

She was almost dancing her way to the train station, leaping at times to avoid the ice on the sidewalk. On the street everyone was hurrying home with long shadows, yawning and shivering, never quite awake in the white season. Except for Sarah. She loved winter! Especially when it snowed. She made the best snow angels in her family.

The girl must be down on her luck, for she was almost half way there when a blizzard hit. She pulled the hood on her parka over her head and tried to march on. Soon her eyelashes were laced with ice. The world was washed out in white, and she could hardly see a thing beyond a shop on her left. It had not closed yet, and she was cold and tired. So Sarah went in to wait the weather out.

An old man behind the counter watched her come in with a suspicious glint in his eyes. A bunch of boys about her age also sought refuge from the blizzard there, who dressed like gang members she saw in the news. To her relief, they were chatting among themselves and didn't pay attention to her.

Sarah went to the back of the shop where she could not be seen. For a while no one bothered her, and to kill time she began imagining rehearsing for the Christmas show at school. In her mind, she moved like a cat between the narrow shelves, leaping and turning about on tiptoe, always close but never knocking things off. Then the shop fade away and she was on her school's theater stage, the prima ballerina, doing her swan song...

Sarah was performing another perfect double pirouette with her eyes closed, when someone poked in her shoulder:

"This twat here is up in the dreamland isn't she!"

She opened her eyes in horror. It was one of the thuggish youths. He was calling on his mates. They were a head over her and left her no escape.

"You must be lonely. Let's play a game: it's called 'guess her undie'!"

"Leave me be!" Sarah said.

They ignored her. "I bet she wears white. She looks such a virgin!"

"I say it's something racy, barely covers a thing. It's always that way, the cleaner she looks, the dirtier she gets!"

They pinned her arms down and started unclothing her.

"Help!" She pleaded.

A hard slap landed on the girl's cheek and sent her head dizzy.

"Shut your gob!" One of them yelled at her. "We'll let you know when it's time to scream!"

They unbuttoned her parka and did away her sweater. She was left in her burgundy leotard. A boy felt the sleek pantyhose on her thighs and said only whores wore things like this.

"No - I study ballet. These are the clothes I train in." She whispered with her head dropped, wondering if they could still let her go.

The bullies' eyes flared up.

"A ballerina? Never seen one in the flesh before."

The thugs suddenly looked like some poor lads from council homes. She felt bad for them.

"I can show you then. It's the greatest art of dance." She answered timidly, and said in her head, "maybe I can be friends with them."

Sarah tied her hair in a bun. They watched curiously as she took off her flats and got her ballet slippers from her canvas bag.

"Give me some space." She cleared a strand of hair from her forehead. "This is called double pirouette, the most iconic move in ballet--"

She did a plié and went for the spin. It was perfect, her lithe body kept the balance while rotating; she was going to do another move for the boys, but something tripped her feet, and she suddenly fell backwards and right in a bully's lap. He held her up by her armpits.

"That's enough tricks, cunt! Time for some real fun."

He flipped her around and squeezed her butts.

"Give her a wedgie!"

Sarah felt a hand pull her leotard up behind her, and a harshness ran against her cleft. She shrieked, and they roared.

"Now give her a cameltoe!"

She was turned to face her tormentors. The one behind her reached in the front and grabbed the leotard's crotch into a narrow strip. The stretched up shape of her sex was unmistakable.

"And that's one lovely fat twat!"

With a flinch of a scissor the tightened strip was cut loose.

Now Sarah's leotard was like an untied apron. A few more cuts followed to expose the two hard red bee bites that were her nipples. Finally, the leotard was pulled up to her waist. They saw she wore no panty under the pantyhose.

"The slut's got no shame."

"You'll get what you deserve!"

They took turns grabbing her warm sex, teasing her against the sheer hosiery.

Sarah started to sob. She had never been treated like this.

"D-d-don't do this to me..." In a sorrow voice she begged.

The boys laughed. "Well, what are we gonna do to you?"

"A-are you going f-f-force me?"

"I'm afraid that's it, tart."

"No..."

"Yes."

"No-no-no..."

"Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes!"

"Help! Someone please help me!"

One of them sealed her lips with a pinch; later he would be the first to fuck her raw, virgin ass.

"Save your cries for another day. No one's coming your way."

They brought Sarah to the front of the shop. Outside the blizzard still raged in full force. The old man behind the counter saw the girl in tattered clothes and half-guessed what was happening.

"Out with you lot! Don't start trouble in my shop."

"There's no trouble, geezer, if you aren't looking for any!" One of the bullies gave him a cold stare that would make anyone's blood freeze.

"We got our eyes on your daughter, old boy. We know what hour she works at the clinic, and which road she walks home."

"It could get real dark at night. She could get in some real shit, and end up in a real bad situation. It won't be cinematic. Best smart up, grandpa, and no trouble's headin' your way."

The old man threw his hands in the air.

The lad picked up a cucumber from the little grocery section and handed it to Sarah.

"Clutch it between your legs!"

She did what they asked.

"No, higher!"

She moved it a little higher.

"No, you thick cunt! Up your twat!"

Sarah hesitated for a moment. Then slowly she pushed it up, until the prickly thing ran right along her sex against the sheer hosiery. The front stuck out upwards, and made her look like she had a cock.

"Now walk! And clutch it tight, don't let it slip!"

The ballerina began taking baby steps, like she had never known how to walk. In an attempt not to loose the hold of the cucumber in her thighs, she had to wiggle her behind like a bimbo, and that was exactly what the boys were waiting for. The old man had had enough of the nonsense and made himself scarce without anyone noticing.

They made her walk, and wouldn't let her stop until her cheeks started to flush and burn. The tight squeeze in the thighs had irritated and excited her in a way she had never experienced before; so was the gaze of a dozen eager young men. Her nipples were hard and itchy.

Sarah was struggling past the box of eggplants when the heat in her body finally reached a turning point. She felt an irresistible need to pee, and knew if she holds back it would only make the matter worse.

"Why are you standing there like a post? Are you trying to play plant?" They shouted at her.

"Emmm-emm, emmm...!"

She was shaking and holding onto the shelf, her back bolted into an arch, when suddenly she bursted out a desperate cry and collapsed unto the ground.

They found her flat on her back, lying amidst the knocked over box of eggplants; her thighs split wide open, yet her feet pressed together. From her stretched-out pantyhose crotch, a powerful squirt of pee penetrated the silky fabric and landed across her body.

The boys watched with their arms folded. Wave after wave came over her like tides. What a view - the ballerina peed like a little fountain. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably; her eyes were rolled back in her head.

"She fucked up." Someone said.

"You know what, lads? I think the slut's really had a bad day. How about let's all be gents for a time and save her virgin twat for a future lucky mate?"

The boys agreed. They flipped her onto her belly like a fish on a cutting board. The pantyhose was all drenched, and the sour stench of her urine made everyone harder than rocks. They ripped it open and cleared space for her tiny dark butthole. No one's going to care if a girl's screwed down here; she won't have a baby no matter how much they cum in her!

They were going bareback on her, but backed out last minute.

"Who knows if she's clean, you can never tell by looks these days."

"Yeah, she could be a filthy street meat, selling out to these toothless wankers in the poorhouse!"

"There's gotta be some rubber behind that counter. Someone go fetch it, while I oil her up..."

Sarah came to her senses in time for the proper beginning of her ravishment. She heard the soft, crinkling noise behind her, and a sweet buttery smell spread through. She remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since morning, and in another universe she would be at home having dinner with her parents. Now the food must be on the table, and they were waiting for her to come downstairs...

Then she felt something cold and greasy smearing on her anus, almost wanting to push in a little. They were marinating her like a thanksgiving turkey... She let out one last scream before her mouth was stuffed full with a green apple. From her deep bite the fruit's wound leaked out its bitter, acidic fluid.

The lads had found the condom. Now the one hovering over her was working hard on the little frustrating package. His peter hung down upon her thigh. These little devils were always so hard to open! Outside, the night had fallen, and the white noise of the blizzard wailed and howled.

The young ballerina was sweating like a pig. Her hair had nearly come loose. She listened to the boy tearing and cursing at the condom. She was 18 and a virgin, but that might soon change. It'd be opened any minute now; she could hardly breathe, but prostrate like a nun in prayer, pricking up her ears for an unmistakable sign...