Popping Poppy

“Again!”

I watched as Poppy did another set of pirouettes, her small frame twirling again and again, legs, back and neck as straight as an arrow as she listened to her coach bark, “Again!” for the hundredth time in an hour.

I, Ash Darkwood was a judge for the regionals and had stopped in to see some of the performers practice before hand. Poppy was incredible, but not just in ballet. Her coach had her minimally dressed in order to not distract from the intricate moves she was pulling off, but I found this more distracting. She looked like a doll, perfect, miniaturized and fragile. Her long legs stretching into a think lithe torso, small perky breasts heaving with the exertion of the drills. A slim neck and angled jaw was in symmetry with her lush lips and wide eyes. A crown of white gold hair twisted into an elegant bun-braid.

Her body arched into various poses, and I felt my erection rise in my pants as she spread her legs as part of her finale. Small chest heaving after finishing her display. The coach’s voice cracked like a whip and she began again.

I got up and walked over to the coach who was eyeing her with laser focus.

“Got a real talent there.” I drawled, lighting a cigar as I stood next to him.

“Keep your smoke away from my dancer.” He said, his accent was clearly Russian, I put my hands up in surrender and stayed put.

“She’s got a real shot at regionals.”

“It’ll be close. Her talent is raw.”

“Persia was close too. But we worked something out.”

The coach turned to me. Understanding my meaning immediately.

I didn’t fuck all the contestants mind you, but if a spot was, lets say, less secure, I was willing to edge my score to a higher number for the right price. Persia, now an internationally-known dancer was the last girl I had favored. It had went well for her, in the end that is. It was a very well-known secret that judges have always made such accommodations, but it was clear I was the first time Poppy had been approached with such an offer.

“What would such favors require?” He answered shrewdly

“That depends on the score you require.” Competitions like this could come down to the decimal.

“An eight then.”

“Bold of you to assume that the rest of the judges will be so soft on such, ‘raw’ talent as you say. But for an eight I’ll simply need a little quality time and lip service. Pre-performance mind you.”

He reached out a hand and I met it with my own.

Later that evening a knock sounded at my hotel door. Upon opening it Poppy was there. She looked petrified, her plump lips set in a pout that told me she had been informed of her duties tonight. Up-close I could see her eyes were a light green color, like tea. Her coach stood by her, a boulder of a man who looked like he had no intention of leaving.

I gestured for them both to enter and closed the door.

Poppy stood next to the bed, crossing her arms and legs to shield her body. She was still in the light sheer material from earlier and up close I could see the outline of her hardened nipples. I offered the coach some whisky from my bar and he took it as well as a seat next to the window.

I sat on the bed and gestured for Poppy to come closer. As she did I pulled her onto my lap and began exploring her slim frame. She was smooth and warm, though she shivered under my touch. She didn’t say a word as I kissed her slender neck, she just tilted away to give me a better opening. I spread her legs into the splits over lap and leaned her back against my body. She could definitely feel my erection against her ass cheeks because she noticeably tensed.

Her coach’s eyes roamed over her from his corner of the room. Sipping the whiskey but drinking her body in, it was obvious he had wanted to do this several times himself but for whatever reason had chosen to fight his baser instincts.

I slowly brought her sleeves down past her shoulders to rest at her elbows and gazed upon her perky tits, pink little nipples poked out and I mauled and teased them mercilessly. She let out a gasp and rolled her head back, whimpering as I took a nipple into my mouth, suckling it, dragging the entire breast into my mouth as if sucking on a small apple. Tiny little bruises and teeth marks appeared as I released her breast to do the same to the next one. She had obviously been instructed not to fight or speak because as I growled

“You like that?” into her ear, she simply quivered and a tear slid down her cheek, which I then licked back up, choosing then to kiss her face and finally her mouth.