An Exquisite Experiment

by Sappharia Mayer

  My breaths came so fast I felt the edge effects of hyperventilation take hold.

  “Breathe, Lexus. You are a dancer; I expect you to control your body.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said as I worked to control my breathing.

  “I look forward to the results of many of your explorations,” he said as he stepped behind me. “Like how your body will stiffen and relax under my touch.”

  He ran his hands along the sides of my body in the gentlest touch until he reached my waist. There his hold tightened, like many of my dance partners before him. Without thought, my body prepared for his hold as muscles tensed and relaxed.

  “Lovely,” he said against the skin of my shoulder. “I can imagine watching you dance naked for a crowd, then lifted by your dance partner only to be skewered by his cock or some other toy, then returned to continue the dance. The beautiful combination of sensual art and sexual perversion.”

  A dread and thrill raced through my body at the images his words invoked while one of his hands moved up my body and engulfed my left breast. His other hand traveled south in a languid path. Everywhere he touched me, my skin alit in a burst of sensation.

  “Or maybe you’ll be the art in the middle of a box. A doll bound and unable to move or react while those around you touch you. Does the thought excite you or repulse you?” he asked without cessation of movement.

  “It… it… excites me, Sir.” My answer came out in a forced breath.

  “Interesting. Maybe a ballerina on a music box. Sitting on top of a butt plug attached to a rod, forced to take various dance positions while you spin round.”

  “That’s… perverted.”

  “But beautiful, don’t you think?”

  I nodded, unable to find the words as his fingers moved across my clit. With a suddenness, his hand stopped and left my body. Confusion and frustration warred with relief until the snap of a glove echoed through the room. Seconds later, his drenched finger pressed against the pucker of my ass.

  “Let’s see what you learned,” he whispered against my ear.

  The insistent finger pressed against my ass, and I took a deep breath, bearing down on the muscles to let him inside. In seconds, his finger breached the opening, and my muscles clamped down. For a long moment, he didn’t move.

  “Lexus, without moving your feet, I want you to stretch out your arms and grasp the couch by bending at the waist.”

  His finger didn’t move as I released my hands and reached for the couch. Once my grasp was firm, his finger fucked my ass.

  “Stretch, Lexus. You’re a professional dancer, and this position would be unacceptable at your company, I am sure. Now find the position,” he demanded without ceasing his movements.

  Confusion cluttered my mind as two worlds collided. I stretched my body out to find the perfect posture. With each adjustment, his finger pressed deeper into my ass. When his finger scraped against the inside wall, my knees buckled, and I worked to find my position again.

  “Very good. Let’s stretch you out a bit,” he said as a second finger added to the first. “Move to fifth position.”

  I obeyed and moved my feet until they came together and pointed in opposite directions. The change clenched the muscles in my ass as he continued to move in and out.

  “Stretch, Lexus,” he said.

  Pain bloomed in my tendon, but I refused to give in to it. My hips moved to meet his thrusts.

  “I didn’t say to move. You aren’t in control here. I told you which posture to maintain; this is not new to you.” His stern voice sent ripples through me.

  “Yes, Sir,” I croaked as my body ached to hold the rigors of the position, and my ass clenched around his fingers in a mix of ecstasy and discomfort.

  “This would be even more beautiful if there were weights dangling from those nipples,” he said as his other hand pressed against my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned as the edge of orgasm formed at his ministrations.

  “Does this excite you, Lexus?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to cum while my ass is being fucked, Sir!” I exclaimed, caught in the throes of this torrid storm of sensations.

  The moment the words left my mouth, all movement stopped. He removed his fingers from my ass and my pussy. The heat of his body left mine as he stepped back. A wet cloth dragged over the sensitive areas until it satisfied him.

  Everything in me wanted to scream in pure frustration.

  “You were productive today,” he said as he walked back toward his chair. “Stand and assume your original position.”

  My breath came in pants as I slid my feet back to second position, and I placed my hands behind my neck. With an effort not to look at Dr. McNally, I dragged my gaze back to the green dot on the wall.

  “Exquisite,” he said. “You’ve done well today, Lexus. I look forward to your progress over the next few days. Lukas will continue your PT, and your room attendant will hand out any assignments, activities, or paths they deem necessary. From this point forward, your body belongs to us. Do you understand and agree?”

  I worked to process his words while visualizing all the paths which could form from them, but my mind refused to cooperate.

  “I understand and agree,” I said, my voice sounding like a stranger to me.

  “Should you change your mind, do you have an option to end this situation?”

  “Yes, Sir. There is a way to end my participation.”

  “Excellent. I am glad we’ve come to an understanding. As such, you may no longer touch yourself in any sexual manner without permission. Furthermore, you will accept all sexual commands unless you find they are a limit for you. Then you will respond with the word ‘red.’ Such a response will cease the current activity. You will be given a few hours to process the situation, then it will be openly discussed. Are these instructions clear?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “What is unclear about them?” he asked with a gentleness that soothed my frayed nerves.

  “The word red. Does it end my participation in the experiment?”

  “No, Lexus. Red gives you a way to stop a specific activity. ‘Big red button’ ends your participation in the experiment as a whole. Does this clarify your concerns?”

  “What if I don’t say red? What if I freeze? What if I hate the activity?”

  “Do you accept the responsibility for those possibilities by your participation in continuing with this experiment?”

  “Yes… I don’t know?”

  “This experiment is set up in such a way, at this stage, to neither induce harm nor hurt. However, the participation of each subject comes with its own backstory and set of experiences. No one can predict how you will react in any situation. Everyone here will work to keep you safe, but we can’t take away your responsibility for self. Does this help clarify your concerns?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Do you accept the responsibility of situations which may be out of our control and thus cause hurt or harm? Thus, ensuring you express this if such things occur?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. You’ve done an excellent job today, Lexus. I am very proud of you.”

  His words of praise washed through me. They happened so rarely in my profession that I’d always pushed harder to hear the hint of it. Yet here I was basking in large quantities of it.

  “It’s time for bed, Lexus. You may release your position and head over to find your rest. I’ll check in on you in a few days. Enjoy the process, and in the end, the monetary claim you seek will be readily in reach.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I said as I released the tense posture and turned toward my bed. My exhausted body barely touched the mattress before I fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Get up, two six eight. It’s time for you to rise,” an insistent voice commanded, but my body refused to move from its exhausted slumber. “It is time for your physical therapy. Now wake up!
”

  I’d lost track of the days since I last saw Dr. McNally. Each one poured into the next until time had no meaning. They pushed my entire being from menial activities to physically exhausting sessions. When sleep came, it always felt like my head barely hit the pillow before the room attendant demanded I was up once again.

  “I can’t,” I moaned even as I threw back the covers and pushed my body until I sat on the edge of the bed. “I need a break. Please, I need more sleep,” I said as my head hung forward.

  “Sleep is for the weak, two six eight. I didn’t take you for a weakling. Should I alert Dr. McNally to your refusal?”

  I shook my head.

  “No,” I whispered as I pushed off the bed and made my way to the closet with a hope that it was unlocked.

  “This morning you will find the appropriate dance wear and warm-up gear in your closet. Attire yourself for class.”

  “Class?” I repeated, trying to reconcile the familiar word with my odd surroundings.

  “Yes. You will take class this morning. I believe Lukas will run you through your paces at the barre, as normal, and some center work… en pointe.”

  “En pointe? No. I’m not ready,” I said as I stop dressing.

  “Lukas disagrees. Thus, you will do as he commands, or you can end your time with us.”

  “That’s getting old,” I huffed.

  “Yes. You questioning every command and request is getting quite old. However, for as long as you choose petulance, I will remind you of the multitude of choices you have at your disposal.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Thank you. I find you much the same.”

  Across the room, the main door opened.

  “Good morning, mon cherie. I am glad you are up and dressing appropriately. When you are ready, please proceed through the blue door.”

  “What blue…” I started as I turned around and saw a cobalt blue door where a wall stood hours ago.

  “It’s amazing the changes in the world which happen while we sleep,” Lukas said with a wink and proceeded through the new door.

  Curiosity gripped me as I pulled the leg warmers up my pink tight-clad legs. Slipping on my ballet slippers and grabbing a shrug out of the closet, I hurried to follow.

  With caution, I approached the door and grabbed the handle. Mustering up all my bravery, I turned it and pushed the door open. In front of me, a large dance studio complete with walls of mirrors and a barre mounted along one side, as well as a free standing one in the middle, met my gaze.

  “This isn’t possible.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, and Lukas turned toward me.

  “In some parts of the right worlds, fantasy and reality can intertwine,” he said cryptically.

  “No. I’m sleep deprived, and this is a dream or a nightmare.”

  Lukas chuckled. “A dance studio is a nightmare to you?”

  “Have you ever danced for some of these new choreographers? It’s brutal.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s like breathing. Everything I’ve known in life has centered on dance since I was three years old. My entire world is regulated by the schedule I receive at night for the next day. Then class, rehearsal, performance, until it blurs into an odd existence.”

  “Do you love to dance, two six eight?”

  His question halted my forward motion.

  “It’s a simple question. Do you love to dance?”

  “I don’t know, but I need it.”

  “Then we should get started and see how deep your need goes,” he said as he handed me two new pairs of pointe shoes.

  “These aren’t prepared,” I commented.

  “No, but they are from your preferred maker at Freed. The box is stiffer than you’re used to because of the time you’ve been out. You’ll need the extra support to get over en pointe. You’ll find all your normal supplies for customization over in the corner. I’ll give you an hour to prepare one pair and warm up,” he said as he walked out of the room.

  “Room attendant, please set a timer for one hour.”

  My request was met with a deafening silence, and for the first time since I started this insanity, I felt completely alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I stared at the shoes as I warmed up. The stretch of muscles felt better than it had in weeks, and I moved through a series of barre exercises until my muscles were warm and flexible. When I could no longer avoid the task at hand, I left the barre and sat on the floor. As I rotated my ankles, I pulled out the supplies to prepare the pointe shoes. Having gone through five to six pairs a week during complicated ballets, the routine was both mindless and important.

  Pointe shoes are beautiful when they are first opened. Satin pulled tight over the structured frame as it gleams in the light. Then, like the art itself, we rip them apart to make them fit perfectly to our ideal.

  These shoes met the same fate as the ones before them. With fishing line, I sat and sewed the edge along the toe box at the end of the shoe. Then with a steady hand, I applied a layer of jet glue to the inside to give it extra support until they were my version of an ideal. At least the last one I remembered before the injury. At the thought, I grabbed the completed pair and threw them across the room at the exact moment Lukas walked back through the door.

  “Did they offend you?” he asked, gathering the pair as he walked toward me.

  “Yes… no…” I said, and then shrugged.

  “They are the only thing between you and your ability to dance.”

  “No, they are not. There are a thousand forms of dance. Modern, tap, jazz, contemporary, Irish.”

  Lukas held up both hands and smiled.

  “I stand corrected in my statement about dance. Are those other types like breathing?”

  “They all destroy the instrument which creates the art.”

  “That wasn’t my question, Lexus,” he stated as he leaned against the barre.

  “It doesn’t matter. My injury took me out. The shoes failed me. Now my focus is survival,” I said as my shoulders slumped forward, and I hung my head.

  “Pathetic,” Lukas commented as he walked to the center of the floor.

  “Pardon me?” I asked as my head popped up until I stared at him.

  “I didn’t stutter,” he said and stepped into first position.

  Music filled the room, and Lukas worked through the positions until the music transitioned and he slid into the opening steps of Romeo and Juliet.

  “Put your shoes on and join me,” he said as he stepped and leapt into jeté. “I believe you know the steps.”

  I marveled at his graceful movements across the floor, and for a moment the world slid away. The studio was once again my home, and I relaxed into the familiar atmosphere. With a fearlessness I’d not felt in far too long, I placed my foot into the toe pad and pulled on the pointe shoes. With determination, I pushed off the floor and stood flat as I watched him glide toward me.

  “Take it slowly,” he advised and stretched out his hand.

  With an effort due to a lack of use, I pushed my foot through the roll until it pushed the box straight onto the floor.

  “That’s it. Now, push through the other foot. We’ve worked your Achilles enough to support you, but take it slow.”

  Without heeding his words, I pushed over until I stood on my toes and pulled into fifth position.

  “Beautiful. Now, down and tendu.”

  I rolled out of the position. Pain spiked as my heel pushed to the floor and I stumbled. Strong arms wrapped around my waist to steady my body. Memories flashed to the failure of my shoe during the performance which caused the injury. My partner’s timing had been off by two beats, and when I'd turned to fall into his arms, he wasn’t there. I’d stumbled as I rolled down from pointe, and my Achilles snapped.

  “I can’t do this,” I said with a sob.

  “We’re not him. Everyone here will catch you if you fall,” Lukas said against my ear. “As I di
d just now.”

  My body shook as tears ran down my cheeks.

  “I’ve lost everything. Dancers can’t be afraid.” I shook as the sobs wracked through me.

  “No. They must trust those around them.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered as he moved me to the floor.

  “You can and you will,” Lukas said as he ran a hand through my hair.

  “No. It’s obvious I’m done. I’ll never dance as a professional. It’s all I’ve ever known. Now what am I supposed to do?” I cried at the realized loss of the only career I’d ever wanted.

  “There are many options before you, two six eight. You can choose the road to recovery and face the trauma to get back to what brings you breath. If you are stupid, you’ll give up completely and walk out of here to a sad, uncertain life. Or you could retire to more lucrative prospects. It’s all in how you view the opportunities before you.”

  “I don’t know how to move forward,” I said, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.

  “That is not the tough as nails dancer they led me to believe I was working with in her recovery.”

  “No. I think she died on stage.”

  “I call bullshit,” Lukas said. “How’s the actual pain in your foot, on a scale from one to ten?”

  “What number will make you let me take these forsaken shoes off?”

  “The same number that will make me hit the big red button for you,” he warned.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Try me.”

  “Four.”

  “Okay then. Get your ass off this floor and get to the barre. It’s time to put in the work you’ve been avoiding because of fear.”

  “I can’t,” I said and shook my head.

  “We will note this tendency for petulance in your file,” he said as he shook his head. “Now get your ass up and tendu.”

  Lukas rose from the floor in a fluid motion. When I looked up, his expression demanded my obedience or there would be hell to pay. It was both comforting and frightening.