Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Ballet Shoes

By david_b

Dear diary, I must confess to a little apprehension concerning the arrival of manservant, my eighteenth birthday present from mama.

I know little about him. Only that he is a savage. Born of a tribe native to the rain forests of Brazil, he once upset the tribal chief, who promptly tore out his tongue.

Although manservant understands English well, he is, of course, incapable of speech. Indeed, his silence should make an agreeable change from the dim-witted babble male creatures generally utter.

Upon his arrival at eight o’clock, manservant’s first act was to interrupt my fencing class, instantly putting me in sour mood.

For my part, I was loath to meet a man in my present state of undress. I hid my blushes behind my fencing mask, knowing well that my jodhpurs and tall boots were much too tight for male company to decently savor.

I took manservant upstairs to my bedroom and locked the door.

“So you can’t speak?” I asked. “I generally prefer my servant to plead for mercy as I torment his quivering hide. But you can’t make a sound. How will you entertain me?”

I was suddenly angry with the brute for denying me the pleasure of his craven whines. I drew back my boot and kicked him full in the face, splitting his lip under my heel.

Although the blow stung him badly, no cry came from his lips.

Could it be not only is he incapable of speech, he is also unable to make any sound whatever? In short, I may do with him as I please, and mama shall be not a hint the wiser. After all, how will he tell of his torments?

I ordered manservant to undress me. With a snap of my fingers, I indicated he should sit on my footstool, making a cradle of his hands, into which I may place my boot. I leant forward to undo the laces, and promptly slid my leg from its leather sheath.

Whilst raising the second boot for manservant to hold, I discovered the exertion of my fencing class had left me worse drained of strength than I had imagined.

I overbalanced, falling forward, coming to a halt as I stubbed my leather toe in the soft package between his legs.

Somewhat ashamed, I dusted myself down, and apologized presently. But the curious creature appeared devastated by the light blow. Surely the small tap I gave him could not have hurt him so? I eyed the pitiful figure and decided to investigate further.

With nimble fingers, I unbuckled manservant’s belt and pulled down his trousers. But when I attempted to pull down his underwear, the fool prevented me with his hand.

“Touch me again and I shall tell mama you have forced yourself upon me,” I yelled. “You will swing from the gallows before the day is out.”

I took a man’s razor and ran the blade along manservant’s genitals.

“Visualize my razor slashing your groin,” I cautioned. “Imagine your anguish as my blade slices open your flesh. This will be your reward if you cross me again.”

I angled the blade in the front of manservant’s shorts and cut a long rip. He was unquestionably terrified as sharp metal sliced cotton. I cut three more strokes in a square, and tore the cloth from his crotch, leaving his genitals hanging out for inspection.

Manservant’s nakedness upset me more than a little. I had never seen a naked man before, having enjoyed a wholesome upbringing. If this is all the male body promises, I shall be happy never to see another.

His body is disgusting. Where my own form is toned and supple, with fine porcelain-white flesh, his is a lumpy hide that would disgrace cattle. The ugliest feature is an additional appendage hanging between the creature’s legs.

Like a horse, manservant’s genitals comprise a thick brown and purple penis streaked with repulsive veins and flabby skin. Below is a thin saggy sac dangling helplessly outside his body.

Manservant glared at me, shamed to be naked in front of a fully-dressed lady. His sass whet my appetite to see him squirm.

I put on ivory silk gloves, and grasped his skinny sac, feeling the tender bag for his ovals. Could these misshapen cherries be the source of such suffering? I must find out.

I closed my hand, trapping his testicles. Manservant’s reaction was instant. Before I even began, his body froze, trembling with fright.

I squeezed his orbs a little, and although no scream came, I saw deep sorrow in his eyes. I tightened my fist and the color drained from his cheeks.

My scholarly study of male anatomy continued as I drilled my fingers into his groin. Manservant’s face was now ashen. But was he truly in pain? I hope so. His scornful look angered me. Here is my revenge.

It occurs to me there is better pleasure in torturing a manservant than from any silly act of copulation. I will prefer the hours of teasing and tormenting him to the mere minutes of carnal satisfaction. I wonder, if I increase his sorrow, will my pleasure multiply as well?

I removed my gloves so my long burgundy fingernails were exposed. Putting my hand under his horrible penis, I squeezed his sac, rubbing the little groins together with good effort. I trembled in ecstasy as I sank sharp fingernails into his delicate globes. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His eyes pleaded with mine for mercy. Serves him right.

For fun I decided to find out how hard a girl must pull before the sac is ripped free of a man’s body. I curled my fingers around his testes, hooked my nails into his scrotum then strode quickly around my room, dragging manservant behind me by the globes.

I climbed up on my bed, hoisting him up, then jumped down on the carpet, yanking him down. Still the stubborn sac would not detach. My game tired me so I aimed a swift kick between his legs, and watched him crumple to the floor. Such pleasure.

Whilst manservant recovered, I dressed for ballet class. Behind a screen, I removed my fencing gear of jodhpurs and bodice, then slipped my feet into the foot-holes of black ballet tights and drew the silk hosiery over my naked vagina. I chose a crimson leotard and slipped it over my tights.

Having checked the seams were straight, I tied back my hair, and was ready for manservant to fasten my shoes.

“Sit on the footstool and open your legs,” I commanded.

I placed a seamed toe on his tender groin. “You are lucky I allow you the honor of tying my beautiful ballet shoes. You may sniff them before you begin.”

Manservant put my slippers to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent obviously pleased him. I quickly called a halt to his pleasure.

“Now tie my ribbons, you foot-sniffing troll.”

I arched my foot in his crotch, waiting for him to tie me up. Manservant fingered the satin strips at my heel. From his stupid expression it was obvious the simple task of tying a slipper was too complicated for him.

“Twice around the ankle, you dumb ox,” I said, losing patience. At last, he fastened the ribbons with clumsy digits.

Manservant took so long tying my shoes that I decided punishment was in order. I screwed my big toes into his groin, bringing a gasp, then dug my pointes in, gouging his nuts to nausea. When he was in sufficient pain, I pressed down the flats of my slippers, rubbing his sore crotch with muscular feet.

But something was wrong. Through the thin soles of my ballet shoes I could feel manservant had an erection.

“Did you watch me as I changed into my ballet gear?” I demanded.

I had only to glance over my shoulder for an answer. Having neglected to turn my dressing mirror to the wall, naturally the toad watched me undress. For this crime I shall humiliate him in front of my entire ballet class.

I grasped manservant’s inflamed scrotum and pulled him naked from my bedroom into the hallway for the maid to see. He hid his blushes as the French au pair giggled and clapped, pointing at his exposed manhood. Oblivious to his shame, I led the dog downstairs to the courtyard, where my motorbike was ready to speed us to my ballet school.

I yanked manservant through the gym doors and pushed him on the floorboards. My friends Begonia, Chloe and Helen halted their dance practice to examine the naked wretch.

“What’s this you’ve brought, Camille?” asked Begonia, arching a finely plucked eyebrow.

“I caught it peeping at me as I dressed for class,” I replied.

My friends gasped in disbelief. Was it true? Does it want to be punished?

“Ballet costumes are much too pretty for such a tongue-tied biological mishap to see,” said Chloe. “We must hurt it with our muscular legs.”

“Lets start with pointe training,” suggested Begonia.

Presently, we went on tip-toe, holding hands in a ring around manservant.

Helen, on pointe directly in front of the mute, lashed out her leg, aiming at the ugly parts between his thighs. With perfect precision, her shapely foot struck his testicles, leaving him giddy with distress.

Helen gave an elegant smile then whipped her foot once more, allowing the toe of her pretty pink slipper to crush his aching scrotum.

Manservant turned from Helen and came face to face with Begonia, whose beautiful brown eyes sparkled with joy as she shattered his shin-bone under her foot.

Blood trickled down manservant’s leg. Pieces of broken bone stuck sharply out of his skin. “Good shot,” Begonia said, modest as ever.

By now manservant could see our game. No matter which way he turned, a foot or a knee was ready to crush his tender parts. Finally, he could take no more, and collapsed on the floorboards, upon which we set upon him with kicks and stamps to his body and face.

“I do believe the brute is enjoying our attentions,” I said, pointing to his stiff cock.

“Step on it,” said Chloe. “His manhood makes a fitting rest for our feet.”

I checked the underside of my ballet shoe to ensure it was good and filthy then pressed the blackened sole on his sticky erection, squashing it underfoot. Having flattened his stub, I rubbed my dirty silk slipper back and forth, coating the evil tentacle with crud and dust.

Begonia came close to manservant’s ear and whispered, “Would you like me to suck you off, you shitty little pig?”

She kissed manservant’s penis. Some of my friends looked away, unable to suffer the revolting sight of a lady demeaning herself by sucking a man’s cock. Others simply smiled, knowing well that the cruel Italian had a heart of pure stone and would play a trick on the fool.

Begonia’s slippery tongue worked manservant’s vile penis into a frenzy of pleasure. His stalk went in and out of her mouth, seemingly right down her throat, as she bobbed her head, lapping the loathsome member. Manservant was in heaven. His pain forgotten, he grunted and groaned, shaking and farting with delight.

He was completely off guard as Begonia released his penis and sank her teeth into his dangly sac. Tears of joy rolled down Begonia’s cheeks as she crunched his testicles between sharp molars. She locked her jaw, straining her throat, as she chewed his sac, trying to tear off his globes with sharp teeth.

After many minutes biting and chewing the tender meat of his testicles, Begonia spat out his genitals like foul pieces of gristle.

Manservant rolled about on the floor clutching himself. We laughed at his stupidity. Such stupidity deserves punishment.

I placed my foot on his throat and crushed down on his windpipe. Manservant choked and spluttered, suffocating under my strong foot.

“Get up!” I shouted. “On your feet. Now!”

Manservant attempted to rise. My foot crushed down on his esophagus all the more. His eyes bulged. His face went purple from asphyxiation.

“We have a stubborn ape here, Camille,” said Begonia. “See how he ignores your commands? We must permanently disfigure him.”

I tugged manservant upright and drew his hands outstretched before me, then unscrewed the cap of a can of kerosene and poured inflammable liquid over his trembling hands.

Savoring his terror, I struck a match and brought the flickering flame close.

“Shall I burn off your hands, you chicken-brained freak?”

Manservant could scarcely breathe for fear of the coming pain. A large ugly tear-drop fell and splashed on my foot, leaving a mark on my brand new ballet shoe.

“You’ve soiled my beautiful shoe, damn you!” I screamed. “I paid good money for them and now they’re ruined. I was only joking when I said I would light you. But now I shall make you suffer.”

With an evil smirk, I touched the fiery match to manservant’s fuel-soaked skin.

Instantly, his hands flared up in a sheet of flame. Fire scorched his burning fingers. Thick black smoke rose from his blazing palms. His flesh spit and crackled. Blood boiled in his veins. Manservant stared in horror as his hands were destroyed before his eyes.

He huffed and puffed, trying to blow out the flames. But it was too late. The muscle and bone of his hands had already been consumed in the raging white-hot torch.

At last the kerosene burnt itself out. Manservant fell in a heap, staring at the blackened stubs where his hands once were.

“Be thankful I didn’t choose to burn off your cock,” I laughed.

“Ungrateful dog,” said Begonia. “Let’s put on our high-heels and kick his testicles to a pulp.”

We tied strappy stilettos around our ankles and were ready to inflict misery on the brute.

We formed a queue ten paces from manservant. Chloe, first in line, tensed her leg muscles and strode up to the mute.

She drew back her thigh, took careful aim. Her pretty, painted toes, exposed under a strappy stiletto sandal, smashed manservant’s testicles with a firm, dizzying kick.

With a snigger of delight, Chloe lifted her knee into his damaged sex organs. Then with all the cruelty her cold heart could muster, she punched and pounded his testicles with her fists until her knuckles were numb and red.

“My turn,” said Chloe, smashing her foot in manservant’s face. Broken teeth and blood mingled with spit as her stiff leather toe crashed into his mouth.

Chloe withdrew her foot then kicked his lips with stockinged toes, spraying warm blood down his chin. She slammed her fist in his eye, snapping it shut, then gouged his cheeks with bloody fingernails.

Chloe was just getting started as manservant passed out. He lay helpless and vulnerable as I sat on his chest and cradled his testicles.

“Strong and heavy. Full of putrid semen, ready to spurt into unsuspecting females.

“Lady-kind should be protected from his disgusting urges,” said Begonia. “Let me stamp out the menace.”

“I have a better idea. May I borrow a razor-blade?”

It wasn’t too hard finding a razor as we ballerinas use them to cut card reinforcements to put inside our pretty silk slippers. The fine cutting edge of super-sharp steel glinted in the light. I tapped manservant’s scrotum with the blade.

“Slash his testicles,” said Chloe. “Then he won’t trouble us with his filthy desires.”

“Speak up,” I teased. “You only have to say “no” and I won’t.”

Manservant tried desperately to form words in his useless vocal chords. None came.

“Since you have nothing to say I must presume you would like me to cut you.”

I held the razor to manservant’s bag and pressed down the blade, reddening the skin. Applying pressure, I drew the blade along, slicing a fine gash. Droplets of watery blood wet his sac under the sting of my shiny razor.

Having made an incision, I returned the blade to the top of the wound and pulled it along the wet slit once more, this time cutting a little deeper.

Layer by layer, I peeled away his sac, until through the bloody mess, his bare balls were visible.

Delicate and exposed, his tender groins were small and crimson, crisscrossed with fine nerves and spidery blood vessels. A single pale string carrying sperm emerged from the orb. I hooked the blade under the strand and snipped it off.

Manservant’s face begged for mercy. I brought the razor close and allowed the fine edge to pierce his ball. Sharp steel sliced raw testicle. His spine arched. Muscles convulsed. Body sweat like a rabid dog. Good! This is my idea of foreplay.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I asked mischievously. “Well, I’ve hardly started. I’m going to teach you not to peep at beautiful women.”

Angling the blade, I slashed his testicles, cutting deep. Manservant’s face twisted in agony as the blade slit open the tender meat of his groin.

With a jerk of my hand, I stabbed his ball, puncturing it. I pushed the razor in and sliced his testicle in half. Gooey sperm oozed out of the split orb. Blood spread over my fingers. With a flick of my wrist, I chopped his scrotum, laughing at his misery.

“Don’t worry, manservant,” I teased. “I haven’t forgotten to give your penis some attention from my razor.”

To my astonishment, even now, with his testicles sliced and bloody, he still had not learned his lesson.

I grew red with anger and felt my temperature soar as I noted his eyes gazing uncomfortably over my slim-fitting leotard, perhaps hopeful of a glimpse of cleavage as I leant over to study his lacerations.

For his crime I shall truly teach him the meaning of pain.

I tapped the tip of manservant’s oily purple helmet with the shiny steel razor-blade “I warned you not to try my patience. Now you will suffer.”

I held the razor-blade to the base of manservant’s penis, just under his greasy black pubis, where the thick curly hair joined his pot belly. With a nudge, I let razor-blade pierce his fatty sheath. Warm blood trickled down over his hairy scrotum as I pushed the sharp steel deep into his member.

When I was satisfied the razor’s edge had pierced the thickness of his skin, I began to tug the blade through his flabby sheath. Manservant winced at the sting in his cock as the blade slowly sliced the length of his penis, cutting veins and capillaries as I drew the blade ever closer to his bulbous helmet.

A thick artery ran the length of manservant’s penis. I couldn’t resist altering the course of the blade to slice his bloodline. As I slashed open his artery, a steaming hot pink mixture of blood and sperm spilled from the ruptured vein.

At last the razor-blade reached the edge of manservant’s foreskin. As I cut to the rim, the fatty sheath fell either side of his raw red stalk, flapping uselessly like an empty banana skin. Peeled of its protection, Manservant’s penis muscle was rose red, wet with blood.

I nudged the blade into raw muscle. Tugging the razor along, the sharp steel sliced raw fibers of manservant’s penile tissue, bringing spasms of burning agony.

I tapped his heavy, purple glans with the razor-blade.

“You didn’t want to keep this, did you?” I asked.

With a smile, I slashed the blade through his shiny helmet, slicing it into two flaccid halves. I whipped the razor once more and Manservant’s mutilated helmet landed on the floor at his feet in a splash of bloody semen.

“How does it feel to lose your cock for a quick peep?”

“Bad,” said manservant. Instantly he realized his mistake.

“So, you can speak? You’ve been lying to me all this time?”

Manservant looked truly shamed. But it wasn’t enough to dispel my anger.

I slashed the razor-blade across the throat. Manservant held his neck, warm sticky blood spraying over his fingers as his carotid artery spilled its precious serum.

Manservant’s body lurched wildly. Desperate in its futile attempt to cling to his last few seconds of life. Finally his body fell limp.

“I think you’ve killed him,” Chloe said at last.

I felt manservant’s chest for heartbeat. It was silent. A tear formed in my eye.

“Now who will tie my pretty ballet shoes?” I asked sadly.

We dragged away manservant’s body and dumped it with the rubbish.

For a while I was worried there might be criminal charges, but my friends assure me there is no cause for alarm. We will simply devise a perfect alibi to confound the police.

At least I shall be spared the indignity of prison. Still I cannot evade the troubling notion that I have come out of this affair a loser. After all, I have lost a servant. I shall now have to tie my own ballet shoes. A task most unbefitting a lady. I wonder if I can persuade mama to buy me a tougher manservant for my birthday present next year?

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