The names were unfamiliar, but in passing, I’d heard them whispered, always with furtive looks behind raised hands.
And at that, Miss Lane threw her head back and cackled, drawing a couple startled glances.
“What do you think?” she cried out. “They were fired of course! The ladies did their year-long stint here, and then bye-bye! Your pussy’s used and abused, it’s no good anymore. There’s a fresh crop of girls coming, so sayonara!” she sang, turning away.
And with that, Miss Lane stalked off, narrow back twitching, bending low to talk with a group of dancers before bursting out into painful rat-a-tat laughter again. I stood in place, unable to move for a moment. Because what if it was true? Was I really just the latest in a long line of ingénues? Was I really that dumb girl who’d fallen head over heels with her powerful, charismatic boss?
And walking blindly to the changing room, my head whirled. Oh my god, oh my god. Dorothy had left Kansas, but there was no Tin Man or Scarecrow to show her the way. She’d gone solo and look what had happened. I’d been taken, I’d been used as the latest in a long line of nubile ballerinas, ready to fall at Thorn Channing’s feet.
Alone now, my shoulders slumped. I dropped onto the bench, my bag landing on the floor with a thunk. Because it was true. Miss Lane had guessed the scene of my seduction like she’d seen it herself, like she’d been a witness to the whole thing. And suddenly, I realized that my ballet career was over. Lucy Jane and Natalie had been run off. They’d danced their solos, they’d done their arabesques, kicked their feet high in the air, and now it was all over. Thorn was no longer interested, the girls were just dead weight to the troupe. Why let them stay when there was a newer, younger girl dying to join the Academy?
A short, painful sob burst from my chest, body doubling over in agony. Oh god, I’d been so dumb. I’d been so stupid and naïve, and my limbs twisted in a frenzy, ripping the dirty leotard from my body. The pink material drooped in my fingers, nylon still wet. Oh god, oh god, this was his spunk. This was his dirty cum that was leaking from me still, the river seemingly endless.
And I did something then that made me ashamed. Because despite knowing that I’d been used, I was still in love with Thorn Channing. I still craved that big body, hungered to feel his cock inside, owning me, possessing me. And like a woman in a trance, I lifted the dirty fabric to my nose and inhaled deeply. Oh god, it smelled good. The man juice was musky and aromatic, filling my senses, making me heady.
What the fuck is wrong with you? screamed the voice in my head. You were USED! He USED you, don’t you get it? Don’t do this, you’re insane!
But being with Thorn has changed me, and I really am a whore now. Because my heart ached, mind spinning, but deep inside, I still longed for him. I longed to hear that deep laughter once more, to feel his chest rumble as I laid my ear against broad curve. I longed for those clever fingers trailing over my hills and valleys, the knowing look in those blue eyes when I cried out.
And realizing that I’d probably never feel that thick cock in me again made me sob incoherently, desperate, soul ripped into two. Was it true? Would I never dance for Mr. Channing again, wriggling on that hard thickness? Would I never feel his mouth on my breasts, sucking deep?
Like a woman in a trance, I did the only thing that would make me feel better. Lifting the dirty leotard to my lips, I licked the crotch, sampling his wet cum, the white globs jelly-like and tantalizing. Inhaling, my eyes closed, savoring the taste on my tongue. Because this is my ambrosia, this is what gets me up in the morning, and I’d never have it again.
Stop! screamed the voice in my head. Stop Laney! You’ve gone insane!
But out of the frying pan and into the fire. Because if I was never going to see Thorn again, then I wanted to make the most out of this secret opportunity. Scrunching up that dirty material into a fist-sized ball, my leg lifted in a graceful split, the extension beautiful, and I rubbed that wet fabric against my cunt. Oh yeah, my hole pulsed hungrily, this was absolutely the right thing to do.
And with slow, trembling fingers, I inserted that semen-stained material into my pussy, stuffing my hole tight. His hot jism electrified my frame, making me shudder, and delirious with pleasure, I gasped aloud.
Thorn, Thorn, the name rang in my mind. Take me Thorn.