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Little Dancer

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He taps his knuckles with a forefinger, and I remember the feel of them against my throat. “I’m good at reading people. I pride myself on knowing how to get the best out of those around me. I demand it at all times. The best.”

I don’t know what to say. Is he firing me or not?

“You were late today.”

He waits, glaring at me. Am I supposed to say something?

I take a shallow breath. “The train was delayed and—”

He cuts me off with an impatient gesture. “I don’t want your excuses. The director doesn’t know how to discipline his girls so I’ll have to do it myself.” He pushes back from his desk. “Come here.”

I stare at him, not understanding what he wants. The last thing I want is to get any closer to him.

He raises his voice. “I said come here.”

Look, you don’t want to get fired, I counsel myself. Just do what you’re told, take your lecture, beg for mercy and then never, ever make a mistake again. Slowly, I walk around his desk until I’m standing by his chair.

“Mr. Kingsolver, I—”

But before I get any further he grabs me by the forearm and pulls me face down over his lap. I struggle to get up, pressing against his thighs, but he’s strong and he holds me down. “What are you doing?” I gasp, grabbing at the desk to steady myself.

“I am teaching you that there are consequences when you break my rules.” His hands shove up my skirt.

“Consequences?” I squeak. “Are you firing me?”

He forces the denim up and my underwear is exposed. They’re white cotton with pink hearts, I remember, and even through my confusion this makes me embarrassed. They’re so childish. I’ve changed in front of the other dancers before but a man has never seen me naked, or even in my underwear.

“What would you learn if I just fired you?” His large hands rest on my behind and I go still because no one’s ever touched me like this before.

“You’ve disappointed me, Abby,” he continues, squeezing my flesh, “and I want you to understand the gravity of the situation. I gave you a chance to prove you were trustworthy and well-behaved, but you broke my most important rule. You were late. And because you broke a rule, you need to be punished.”

My eyes widen. He’s put me over his knee so he can spank me like a child. Have I really done something so bad that I deserve this? “Please, Mr. Kingsolver, I won’t be late again.”

I look around for a means of escape and my eyes land on the door. It isn’t locked. Someone might come in at any moment. Panic flares in my chest and I start to struggle.

“Abby!” he reprimands, easily holding me in place. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

“No—please—I do understand. I’ve disappointed you. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s too late for please now.” He yanks my underwear up so it’s tight between my cheeks and he hooks two fingers around the fabric. It pulls tightly against my parts and my mind goes somewhere that has nothing to do with punishment.

“I don’t like being disappointed.” He sounds like he did in the wings the previous day, and I realize that, like then, he’s not going to stop until he has what he wants from me. He lifts his hand, then brings it down with a sharp, stinging smack.

“Mr. Kingsolver!” But my exclamations and excuses aren’t enough, and the more I wriggle about the angrier it seems to make him.

“Keep still,” he snaps. “You’re not getting up until I say so. We can do this the long way or the short way, but either way it’s going to be my way, have you got it?”

He had such an effect on me in the wings, and after, I felt so centered as I danced. I want to tell him yes, that we can do it his way, but I don’t know if I can take the punishment he’s meting out. I’ll try, though, because I want him to be as pleased with me as he seemed then.

He shakes me slightly when I don’t answer. “Have you got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Kingsolver,” I whisper.

He lifts his hand away and I quiver, waiting for the next slap. I can’t see anything but the floor and I’ve got one hand braced against the carpet and the other wrapped tightly around one of his ankles. Is he going to hit me again, or was he just pretending he was going to? I wait, my face scrunched up, half terrified and half anticipating.

His hand comes down hard and firm in the same spot on my right cheek. He doesn’t let up this time, spanking me repeatedly in the same spot until I can feel my behind glowing with heat and stinging pain. It hurts now, properly hurts, and I’m jerking on his lap with every smack. Tears come into my eyes. Just when I think I can’t bear it any longer he stops.

“Good girl,” he says under his breath. The thought that my acquiescence is pleasing him gives me a warm, pulsing feeling between my legs. I realize that his fingers holding my underwear are perilously close to my bits, and he might notice I’m getting wet. What will he do if he discovers I’m becoming aroused while he’s disciplining me? I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s over now. Never break a rule again, and he’ll never know.



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