The Dance Of Surrender

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From the first strum of the guitar, the first flash of the dancers’ multi-layered, multi-coloured skirts I was hooked. I sat staring up at the screen and all reality faded away. No matter that the film was being shown on the white washed rear wall of Senor Sanchez’s house. No matter that the sound was poor, or that we were seated on makeshift benches. That warm summer evening in my mountain village my life was for ever changed.

From then on I lived for flamenco. It was my one over riding passion. I watched all the films I could, not easy when your family is poor. I copied the steps alone in my room. Until slowly, slowly, I dared to dream. Perhaps I too could make my body talk as beautifully as the dancers did. Sadly I knew that I would have to leave my home in the Canary Islands and head for the mainland; to the land of dance, passion and fire.

How funny life can be. When I was on my island, flamenco made me think of southern Spain. Now that I’m here on the mainland it makes me think of home. When the music starts I am instantly home again. In my mind I return to the village of my birth. I can see the stone cottages with their tiled roofs. I can see my grandmother sitting out in the morning sun. I can hear the goat bells tinkling as they forage for food. And I remember the feel of Pedro’s strong arms around me. How he begged me not to leave.

Pedro was my first love and the memory of his sweet kisses lingers even now. Briefly, a passion as strong as flamenco had entered my life. I lived for the evenings, when his work was done, and we could be together. We would stroll through the orange trees he had helped his father plant. And when he took me in his arms I almost forgot about dance. Working the land had given tone to his stocky frame. The sun had tanned his handsome face. He was a beautiful man, both in body and spirit. When he asked me to marry him I was tempted to say yes. But I knew I would never be happy without flamenco in my life. Pedro stood to inherit his father’s farm; he had no intention of ever leaving the island.

Leaving Pedro was the hardest thing I had ever done in my young life. Making a name for myself in the world of flamenco was the second hardest. No one was interested in an eighteen year old who had never had a formal lesson in her life. I pounded the streets until I could find a school that would accept me. It was housed in a dilapidated building and run by an alcoholic old crone. In her youth she had been one of the greats, but time and hardships had taken their toll. Surprisingly she was a good tutor and I absorbed what she had to teach as quickly as I could. With this foundation I was able to move on to a better school.

I began entering competitions, giving performances and generally making a name for myself. I worked all day and danced all night. Sometimes, as I eased myself into a hot bath late at night, I wondered if all the effort was worth it. It seemed I was getting nowhere fast. There was a time I was ready to pack my bags and head home to Pedro. Perhaps it was time to settle down, I told myself. But then fate smiled on me. I was recruited to join the most elite dance school in the city. It was run by the legendary Antonio, and he himself had sought me out. He had seen me dancing and told me that he could make me a star.

I jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t? Soon I had given up my day job. Money and contracts were pouring in. Antonio told me that with a little more polish I could make it into the big league. He said that film work and country wide tours awaited me if I could make the grade. I wanted success so badly I could almost taste it. I knew that success demanded sacrifices. I had expected artistic temperament from Antonio but I was shocked at just how black his moods could be. His good cheer of the first few days vanished as he pushed me to the limits. Day after day I suffered his arrogance and insults, just so I could be a better dancer.

Antonio was so different, in looks and temperament, to Pedro. Whereas Pedro was stocky and tanned, Antonio was pale and lean. In contrast to Pedro’s friendly face Antonio had finely chiselled features that made him look cold and hard. At odds with this though, he had surprisingly full, cherry red lips. He had the grace of a panther. He seemed to glide, rather than walk. He had the neat waist of an eighteen year old lad even though he was in his late thirties. Dancing çekmeköy escort had give him a tight and shapely bum which was shown off to perfection by the tight, black slacks he always wore.

He had been one of the best male dancers in the whole of Spain. Rumour had it that he had given up dancing when a love affair went bad. He had fallen in love with a young girl he had met through flamenco dancing. She was from a village deep in the countryside. She was a natural beauty, with skin as smooth as the skin of a ripe olive. He taught her all he knew. Not just how to be a great performer, but how to thrive in the city. He turned an ingenue into a dazzling star. But when she reached the top she no longer had use for him. When her career started to wane Antonio thought he would get a second chance. But she dashed his hopes by emigrating to Argentina. Later, when he found he couldn’t live without flamenco, he took up teaching it.

And so Antonio had tutored and moulded me. He had taken my raw talent and enthusiasm and given it finesse. He was preparing me now for my greatest challenge. A big budget flamenco movie was being cast and I was one of the hopefuls for the lead. Winning the role would bring me the money and fame I craved. But I was up against the very best dancers in the whole of Spain. Starring in the film would be the cherry on the cake for every female flamenco dancer in the country. Antonio assured me that the role was within my grasp if I would just follow all his directions. At last, we were just one day away from the audition.

It had been a blisteringly hot day. The air was close and still. It was humid and stuffy in the dance studio, made worse by the tin roof and no ceiling. I was feeling ratty. Despite myself I was falling for Antonio. And last night I had seen him out with a beautiful blonde woman. Everyone had warned me not to get too close to him.

‘He’s so intense,’ they said ‘that you feel he lives and breathes just for you. But he is a hopeless womaniser.’

It certainly was true. However, I had no reason to be angry with him. He was a free agent. He had never once suggested that there might be a relationship between us. Yet when he fixed those dark eyes on you, how could you feel anything but desire.

I could hear the distant rumble of thunder as I rehearsed . ‘Esmerellda! You’re not paying attention.’ Antonio shouted.

‘Look, like this.’

He raised his arms above his head and thrust out his hips. I was always amazed that a man could teach a woman to dance provocatively. There was nothing feminine about Antonio but with his slender waist and trim body you could easily see how to translate his moves. I tried again.

‘No, no, no Esme!’ he bellowed. ‘Where is your mind today?’

‘It’s so humid Antonio. I can’t concentrate.’ I replied.

‘You can’t blame the weather for a poor performance if you want to reach the top.’ he said. ‘You do want to reach the top, don’t you.’

‘Yes.’ I replied.

‘Then try again…, look, arms up like this, head down, eyes up.’ he instructed. ‘You need to look mysterious, sultry…, not as if you’re worried about your bank balance.’

I just could not do it. I kept seeing that pretty blonde. Her dazzling smile was trained on him. Ever the predator, his dark eyes scanned the room, before settling back on her. I saw him place his hand on hers. His smile softened his cold features. A numbness came to my throat as I turned to leave the room. Fortunately he had not seen me. My humiliation would have been complete if he had.

The sudden flash of anger in Antonio’s eyes frightened me. He had always treated me slightly better than the other girls, but today it seemed I had lost my status as his star.

‘Esme, tomorrow you give the most important performance of your life.’ he shouted. ‘I ask you for brilliance, for perfection, and what do you give me….shit!’

Tears came to my eyes as anger and frustration welled up inside me. Why was I paying this man to humiliate me so? I was shaking as I threw myself into the step. Surely this time he would be satisfied.

But no. ‘What do you call that?’ he demanded.

‘Fuck you Antonio!’ I screamed. I could take it no more.

Suddenly he was upon me, pulling my hair.

‘You dare to speak to Antonio like that?’ he spat.

My heart was pounding in fear. cevizli escort I had never seen him like this before. The viscous snarl on his face and the mad glint in his eye terrified me. I cowered. He pulled my hair tighter still, so that my whole scalp burned with pain.

‘Antonio! stop this madness.’ I cried out.

‘I’ll give you mad.’ he fumed as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly I could take no more. Drawing strength from I know not where I slapped him full in the face. He reeled as an angry red welt appeared against his fair skin. I knew I was treading a fine line now. If I did not gain the upper hand this maniac might do me terrible harm. I grabbed a ceremonial dagger that was hanging on the wall and held it against his throat.

‘Esme, that’s much better.’ he said. A smile came to his lips.

‘What are you talking about?’ I demanded.

I could not understand what he was going on about. I was holding a sharp steel blade against his throat and instead of begging for mercy he was talking nonsense.

‘I can see the fire in your eyes now. This is the fire you need for your performance.’ he said.

I looked down at the dagger in my hand. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next. His few words of praise had stolen my will to harm him.

‘Come, be a good girl and give me the dagger.’ he said.

‘I am not a girl, Antonio. The sooner you learn that the better.’ I made one last attempt at defiance.

‘Don’t think I have not noticed, my sweet.’ he said as he took the dagger out of my hand.

He returned the dagger to its place on the wall. His face was awash with emotions I could not even begin to understand. I simply stood and watched him. He reached out and took my hand. I thought he was going to show me another dance step. Instead he placed it on his chest as he pulled me in close. His other hand was pressed into the small of my back. My face was inches away from his. I could smell his strong, masculine scent. My mind was telling me to get away from him but I was like a rabbit, trapped in a car’s headlights. It was as though I had been turned to stone. I was mesmerised by the intense look in his dark eyes.

‘I want to fuck you.’ he said.

Hearing him say those words, like that, and in this crazy circumstance was both shocking and thrilling. Not knowing how to react I stood rooted to the spot. Soon those smooth red lips of his were up against mine. His tongue was in my mouth and I was lost in the moment.

Remembering where I was, and what had just occurred, I pushed him away.

‘Esme, don’t fight it.’ he said gently.

‘You think just because you snap your fingers I’ll come running.’ I said.

‘You know you will.’ he replied as he stroked my cheek.

I could not believe his arrogance. I hated him then. Hated him fiercely, and wanted him madly at the same time. I felt like a caged tiger in a circus ring. Either I would lash out or submit and roll over. He pulled me back into an embrace and my resistance crumbled. I could feel his urgency through the thin material of his slacks.

Once more he kissed me. There was a hunger and desperation in his kiss this time. It was as if he wanted to subdue me before I changed my mind. I was too far gone to resist now. I eagerly accepted his kiss as my arms clutched him tight. It had been months since I had last made love. All my yearning and hunger was being unleashed on Antonio. For too long I had been starved of physical contact. For weeks I had lived with Antonio’s criticism and disapproval. But now his swollen mansex was prodding my thigh, telling me that I had something that he wanted. I had power over him, equal in measure to the power he had over me. I threw my arms around him and responded greedily to his kisses.

Not only was he a good instructor but he was an excellent lover. I lapped up all the whispered words of encouragement. He praised my dancing, praised my beauty and made me feel like the most important person in the world. I had hardly even noticed that he had lowered my dress until he started sucking on my nipples. An electric shiver ran through me as each nerve in my body tingled. My nipples stiffened as if I’d just swum through iced water. He had a hand pressed against the flat of my stomach. I moved it south and pressed it into my mound.

Antonio traced a lazy finger across erenköy escort my clitoris. Over and over he teased as I bucked against him. I willed him to slide a finger into my moist love chute. Still he concentrated on my nipples and clitoris. I fumbled with his shirt but couldn’t get his button undone. In frustration I tore the shirt from his back. His eyes widened in surprise. I pushed him to the floor and mounted his face. As I rode his skilled tongue I undid his flies.

Out popped the largest sausage I’d ever seen. It was a creamy pale colour except for the large head, which was an angry pink. I closed my fist over it and enjoyed the weighty feel of it in my hand. His soft, silky foreskin slid over the head and then back again as I milked him. A small, wild tangle of jet black hair round the base of his penis was the only hair on his body. I ran my hands over his belly and thighs. I could feel the hard muscle underneath the smooth alabaster skin. Eagerly I took him into my mouth. I heard a faint groan coming from underneath me. I lost track of time as we concentrated on pleasuring each other.

A heavy peal of thunder startled me as I rose up from his cock. He used the opportunity to rise from underneath me. He pulled a cushion off the sofa and lay me down on it. His cock bounced heavily as he walked and a blob of precum glistened in its eye. With one fluid motion he was upon me and in me. He pushed himself all the way into me and I gasped at the invasion. He allowed me a few moments to adjust myself to his length and girth. All the while he was staring into my eyes. His emotive dark eyes reminded me of my first love. Instead of feeling guilt I felt that Pedro was with me, in me. I sighed. I was ready. Pedro was in my mind, Antonio in my heart and loins.

I pulled Antonio towards me. I wrapped my arms around him as he started to rock his slender hips. With each thrust I felt transported to some higher plane of pleasure. He was an excellent cocksman. I had seen him use his body as an instrument, to teach an art. Now he was using his cock as an instrument to play me. And I needed playing. All the tension in my body was easing out as he thrust into me. A flash of lightning lit up the darkening room. You could almost smell the rain in the air.

Suddenly he withdrew from me. He knelt in front of me with his penis just inches away from my wanting hole. He had a strange leer on his face. I could not understand what he was doing. My pussy was crying out to be filled again. It was as if my whole existence depended on having his warm, rigid cock fill me again. I squirmed, trying to show him my aching need.

‘Say it…’ he demanded.

‘Antonio, please.’ I begged.

‘Say it. If you want it, you have to say it.’ An evil grin had crossed his lips.

‘Please fuck me.’ I whispered.

‘Louder.’ he teased.

I felt ashamed that he had reduced me to this needy wretch but I had to have him. ‘Fuck me please Antonio!’ I screamed.

Those were the magic words. Once more he plunged into me and I welcomed him with my whole being.

I clutched his smooth, muscular backside in my hands, driving him deeper into me. He began a slow, steady rhythm and I savoured every inch of him. I was so wet that he was gliding into me as if on rails. I relaxed into him, giving myself completely. His delicate tongue roamed my face, kissing my eyebrows, eyelids, and the bridge of my nose. As enjoyable as that was I waited patiently for him to find my lips. His smooth soft lips were like no others I had experienced. At last he worked his way back to my mouth. It was debatable which was giving me more pleasure then, his cock or his tongue.

Suddenly he quickened his pace. He was now giving me a good rogering. His heavy balls slapped against me. The sensation was delicious. From somewhere deep within me orgasm was beginning to build. I felt its little tingles coursing through me. I dug my nails in Antonio’s back. His breathing changed. The sweat glistened on his forehead. For the first time his eyes left mine. There was a savagery in his thrusting. And it took me over the threshold. My eyeballs screwed up tight as the wave broke. My scream was drowned by the first fat rain drops on the tin roof.

When at last I was calmed I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me. He was still in me, moving gently.

‘Thank you.’ I sighed.

‘Now Esme, are you ready to give the performance I ‘m looking for?’ he asked.

‘Don’t you ever think about anything but flamenco?’ I asked.

‘Only flamenco and women.’ he said.

I knew it was true. I cursed him, but I knew that Antonio would take me to the very top. I would have to make sure that I enjoyed the ride….


Copyright Daniel Blue

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