Irina shouldn’t have taken the bet. She’d walked away from his sadistic cruelty years ago. Tonight he walked in to where she was drinking with her girlfriends. He bet her that she was too old, too stiff to pirouette like she use to. Her friends tried to stop her, but she’d had one too many vodkas. Once the queen of the ice rink, she could bend back until her head almost touched her calf.
She had to prove she was better than him. Rolf was an egotistical prig who couldn’t resist one last trick. Their partnership had been full of his cruel tricks. This was just one more of them, and she should have known better. She’d fallen over, and lost the bet. Now she was down on all fours, wearing high heels, a waist cincher and nothing else.
“You ready Irina?” Rolf asked as he knelt behind her. He smiled and waved at the spectators. Igor behind him began to play Ravel’s Bolero on his phone. As the familiar music began to play, Rolf roughly fingered Irena.
“Stop! You are too rough!”
“Oh, like that time in Insbruck? Or, Moscow?” He spat on his fingers and shoved them roughly into her pussy, keeping time with the music.
“Just once, could you act like a man instead of a Stasi prick?”
“Why? To please you? You prima donna? Grass not good enough? You need ice beneath your feet to feel warm?”
Irina reached between her thighs, trying to grab his balls and yank. It didn’t work. Instead, he moved up, spat on her ass and drove in deep. His thrusts were timed to the music, just as their ice dance routine had been. She was in tears by the time that he came, and the crowd called out their score.
Our challenge this week is:
Word Limit: 300
Word Bonus: +50 if you can name this position. +100 if you’ve tried it.
Required Word: Spectators
Forbidden Phrase: “And a 3.5 from the East German judge!”
Extra Credit: Pick out a face in the crowd and write it from his or her perspective.
Not really my favourite pic, but… a rather dark and dirty story. Check out Tom’s website and see what everyone else has written.