Dance For Me
- 8 months ago
- 6 min read
- 1,000 views
Even though her choreography work was mostly modern dance, Tia’s first love was ballet. As such, she ended every dance session with the basic ballet moves…
When the door to her private studio opened, all her cells came to attention. Only one person dared to enter while she practiced alone. And his presence signaled the end of her time — she stayed longer than planned today, but inspiration struck.
Tia paused and met Rafe’s carnal gaze. He raised his chin, so she lifted her hands over her head and spun in circles until she was in his reach. He put his hands on her waist. “I came to watch you dance,” he murmured against her lips in a deep accented voice. His kiss cut off her reply for several beats.
“Modern, jazz, or ballet?” She was breathless from his touch. Only two things took her breath away, the only things that made her world.
Rafe spun her twice. “Lady’s choice. You have your slippers on already. One caveat, you’ll dance nude.” He tapped his finger on her lips, then went to the stereo.
Tia stripped her leotard away, excited for the two parts of her world to meet, her two loves in one room. He put on their wedding song, the one they danced for their first dance, before their friends and family, and later in private, when they danced the oldest dance in the universe, creating love, pleasure.
He crooked his finger to her and for the first time, she noticed the collar in his hand. “Come kneel for me Precious,” he commanded in his soft accented voice. When she knelt before him, hands laced behind her back, breasts high, her gaze lowered and his accent thickened. “So beautiful. I cannot help myself.” He released her hair from the bun with one hand, and unbuckled his belt, dropping his trousers, baring his cock.
Her legs longed to stretch and finish her dance, but she put that energy into swallowing his cock, lavishing attention on him until saliva dripped on her chest.
He pulled from her mouth. “Such a messy slut. If only your patrons knew how hungry you are for cock. What would they say?”
“Only your cock Sir.” She met his gaze.
He fastened his pants again. “Show me your beautiful body before your muscles seize. Then I’ll help you stretch.”
She stood in the middle of the room as he restarted the song. When the fourth beat came, she woke and danced the dance only Rafe had witnessed — the story of their love and her submission to him.
It ended with her kneeling in the middle of the floor, body on display for him, ready for his command.
“I love how your body moves.” He circled her.
“All for you, my love.”
“To the barre, I’ll help you stretch.” At the barre against the wall of mirrors, she lifted her leg, watching him watch her. His eyes were hot, but his hands were hotter, skimming the flare of her hips and belly, up her rib cage, covering her breasts.
Tia bent her head to her knee as he teased her nipples, he kissed down her spine until she lifted to switch legs. One hand slid down between her thighs, brushing the curls and then her clit in gentle circles.
When she finished that leg, he said, “Leave it up and watch.” Rafe twisted her body, so she was open before the mirror. Her breath caught as he put her on display, touched her. If she moved, she risked falling but years of training to hold a position under pressure made it easy to stay still while he teased her.
Dance training made her a perfect masochist, no one inflicted more pain than a dancer spending countless hours perfecting a single move, straining their muscles until they were exhausted. Not to mention dancing in ballet slipper en pointe. So when Rafe kept her stretched until her legs shook, Tia focused on the arousal building.
“Change legs,” he instructed, offering a reprieve.
She stretched her arms over her head as she moved, but when his eyes glinted her heart stuttered.
“Keep your arms in fourth position.”
“You mean fifth, over my head,” she corrected.
“Yes. I like the curve of your breasts like this.” He traced it with the back of his fingers.
“Ever the photographer’s eyes, my love.” She lifted her leg to the barre, his hand her guide to open her like a flower.
“And you are my favorite subject. I always fear the camera won’t capture your beauty.”
“You can always write poetry if photography fails.”
“With you as my muse, I might do well.” He bit her shoulder as he teased her clit. “Let’s see you come Precious.”
Tia never tired of his sexy accent, especially as he pleasured her. She met his eyes in the mirror as his teeth sank into her skin again. The combination proved overwhelming, shivers chased up and down her spine, popping in her nerves.
She groaned arching her back, letting him flood her senses.
Rafe growled, “I want to fuck you” with the same reverence as saying “I love you.”
Tia opened her mouth to ask where, when he pushed her foot on the floor and spun her. His hands ran up her arms as he kissed her, she stretched on tiptoe to meet his lips, and tongue while never dropping her arms.
Rafe paused nibbling her lips. “Against the centre barre. How are your arms?”
She spun, holding them straight with a girlish giggle. “Madame D, my ballet teacher as a teen could rival you in masochism. I think she had my arms in fifth position for hours.” Tia giggled at his smirk. “It wasn’t a challenge.”
“Maybe thirty minutes while I shoot a new series of your body. Grab the barre, I must change the music.”
The chorus of their song cut out and switched to classical. He came back with no pants and she admired his beauty, the grace of his movements. As he caressed her hips, she gripped the barre. They fucked here too often lately because she worked on a new project but she vowed to make time to seek him out.
As he sank into her with an appreciative groan, she realized she didn’t mind the intimacy in the studio. His fingers clawed her skin from hips to her breasts, then he grabbed her using his grip to pull her onto his cock.
Rafe bruised her, punishment for her beauty, for arousing him, and she pressed into it, enjoying, wanting more. “Pain slut,” he groaned.
His words made her clench around him, pulling a sweet moan from them both. They came together at warp speed, approaching heaven together. The pain shredded her, bliss strangled her cries.
Rafe grabbed tighter, her name hissing through his teeth, then he became slack.
Tia sagged on the barre, as he stumbled back. “I’ll need a hot soak. I’ll have bruises for weeks.” Her fingers probed where his fingers marked her.
“I didn’t leave them anywhere visible.”
“You are good at that. Join me, Sir?”
“Of course, Precious.”