Chapter Text
“Don't worry, sweetie, we just need to give Mrs. Rose some time to get used to dealing with children.” Marie's mother smiled at her daughter as she tied her hair back. “She was a great dancer when she was young. Your father and I always went to see her performances.”
Dance has always been Marie’s life; her mother enrolled her in the Schon Madchen dance academy when she was two years old. She loved going to Mrs. Agda’s classes; she always cherished and praised her for being a talented dancer. But after her first pregnancy, she stopped teaching her beloved students and gave her academy to Mrs. Rose.
“I miss Mrs. Agda,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears. “She never shouted at me.”
“You have to understand Mrs. Rose; she just wants you to be the best dancer in the country,” she patted her on the head and kissed the tip of her nose. “You just have to be a good girl.”
Every step towards the dance studio felt heavy; she wanted to please Mrs. Rose and prove to her that she deserved to be her student. At the very least, she hoped she would call her by her name and not tell her she was bad, slow, or greedy. Or worse yet, that she would touch her again in the bathroom while insulting her, calling her a faggot and other insults she still didn’t understand.
“You're late, snake. We've already started practicing.” The woman didn't even bother to look at her. “Don't get distracted!”
“Ma'am...”
“Don't say a word. Do a hundred push-ups and then go to the locker room.” Rose looked furious. “Dancers like you shouldn't be in my class."
The girl could only look down, trying to hold back her tears, but she did as she was told. Every push-up sent waves of pain through her tired arms. Sweat dripped onto the floor and mixed with her tears, making them indistinguishable. The snot running down her nose made it hard for her to continue the exercise; she licked it back in an attempt not to dirty the studio floor any further.
At first, she used dance to forget her problems at home; the jumps and pirouettes gave her a sense of freedom and security she could never have while living with her parents. In those moments, she didn’t care that her father came into her room at night, that her mother never listened to what she had to say, or that her pets always abandoned her. She couldn’t accept that her passion had turned into one more way to torture her.
“You have to provide quality service.”
“Don’t tell me how to run my studio.”
“Get up, Marie!” Ingrid’s mother took her by the arm, helping her to stand up. “We’re leaving.”
“You can take your daughter, but you can't leave with that slut.” Marie covered her ears, trying not to hear the insults. Rose crossed her arms. “Unless you want to upset all the alliances.”
“How can you say that?” she approached the teacher. “She’s just a little girl…”
“Marie needs to learn how the adult world works,” Marie’s mother walked in, smiling. “A little rough treatment is good for disobedient girls, isn’t it?”
“You heard her—if her mother agrees, you can’t take her anywhere.” Rose squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “I don’t think you want to start a war over kidnapping a carpet chewer.”
“Are you really going to let her call Marie that?”
“I don’t see anything wrong with Rose telling the truth. That girl won’t learn unless she’s treated tough."
“Liv, you…” The disappointment was clear in her eyes. “I need some air.”
“Keep dancing!” They obeyed immediately, acting as if nothing had happened. Rose tightened her grip. “And you’re coming with me.”
Her friends looked at her with sympathy, unable to do anything to help her. Although Rose was mean to everyone, she didn’t despise them the way she did with Marie. At least she called them by name when she scolded them.
“M-ma’am…” She was dragged toward the dressing rooms; on the way, she slipped on the fluids she’d spilled while doing push-ups. If Rose hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would have ended up falling to the floor.
“You’re repulsive. You should be grateful to me.” Her heart raced as she heard the door close. Being alone with the instructor always meant bad news. “No other woman would be willing to teach you the way I do. Out of the kindness of my heart, I accepted you even though I have better girls like Berit.”
Rose caressed her flat stomach; her hand moved up until it met the fabric of her little red top. She caressed her small breasts covered by that thin layer of clothing. Her small nipples hardened, becoming slightly visible. The woman’s hand moved toward her mouth, and without waiting for instructions, she licked the woman’s thumb, imagining it was a lollipop.
“You’re not supposed to enjoy it, you little whore.” She roughly pulled her finger out of the girl’s mouth. With a violent tug, she ripped off her top and held both her arms down. “Don’t you dare cover yourself. If you do, I’ll break your fingers.
" “P-please…” Marie could barely whisper; she could feel the air caressing her exposed skin. A blush spread across her little face, and the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking without starting to cry. She didn’t understand why her teacher enjoyed making her feel embarrassed.
“You already want me to see how wet you are?” She picked up a wooden rod from the prop shelf. She’d never used one before, but she’d never hated any girl as much as she hated Marie. She ran the stick over her vagina—covered only by a pair of white cotton panties—pressing against her most intimate area until her wetness soaked through the fabric. As she brought the rod to her nose, the scent of wet pussy hit her immediately. However, a scream from the other side of the door echoed throughout the academy. “I must go see what happened. While I’m gone, get naked and lie down on the bench. I want your legs wide open when I get back.”
Her hands were shaking as she pulled down her underwear. The girl shuddered when she saw the thin trickle of cum connecting her pussy to her underwear. She hated herself for her body’s reactions; she shouldn’t get turned on every time an older woman humiliated her. Maybe they’d stop calling her a dykie if she didn’t, and if only Agda were her teacher, she wouldn’t have to bear being mocked at the academy as well.
Once she was naked, she decided to throw her clothes in the trash; she didn’t want her mother to see that she’d gotten wet. Her mom would lecture her about the importance of getting rid of those kinds of tendencies, and all her friends would hear it—Berit would make fun of her, and Kaira would look at her with disdain. It was bad enough that Ingrid knew she was the teacher’s whore after finding her naked with three fingers in her pussy while kissing Rose.
She let her hair down, letting it flow down to her ass. Personally, she’d prefer it shorter, but at least she could cover her face while she was being raped. In the mirror she saw her reflection; she used to enjoy wearing her dance outfit and admiring how pretty her clothes were, imagining she’d soon be a dance star. Now she only saw a used-up whore, her erect nipples and the juices running down her legs confirming it.
“I told you to wait for me with your legs spread.” Marie jumped at the sound of her voice so close. “And you dare to throw your clothes in the trash. You get worse every day, though I shouldn’t be surprised—you’re beyond help.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want my mom to see that I ruined my underwear.”
“Why don’t you want her to see?” the older woman laughed. “She already knows you love fucking women.”
Rose pulled the girl’s underwear out of the trash can; it would work well as a gag. She didn’t want the other girls to hear her screams; it was bad enough that they were still friends with that sissy. They wouldn’t blame Marie if they found out; they’d tell their mothers, and there would be trouble for the academy.
“Mistress…”
“Don’t even think about saying a word. I’ve had enough of your annoying voice. Now get on your knees.”