Back-Up Dancer

Selma stood at the front of the stage as the crowd roared below. Her last song had been climbing the charts over the past few weeks and her flawless performance sent the crowd into a frenzy. She could barely see past the first few rows as the bright lights shone down. She blinked. She blinked again and remembered the screaming fans reaching up to her, cheering for an encore. A few more blinks. She wasn’t at the front of the stage wearing a bodysuit and fishnets, she was at the back in a bikini and thong holding a pose. She watched Selma take all the praise as she remained frozen in position with her legs spread apart and her hands on her hips. She had always been a back-up dancer. She would never be good enough to headline her own concert, just good enough to be a part of the background.

Her eyes blinked open as the dim light bulb came into view. Was she dreaming or did that happen? Selma sat up and wiped her eyes. She looked around the small room which contained a single bed, dresser and small closet. Selma’s shower was bigger than her room. Old shower, she thought. Then she remembered the past few days in horrifying detail. She remembered seeing the spiral on her phone and having the overwhelming urge to become a back-up dancer. Nothing would stop her from fulfilling that dream. And she did it. She became a back-up dancer and signed over her empire to Roland Hills. It felt like a gut punch realizing what she had done. And now that she was consciously aware, she was also aware that she now belonged to Roland. She was placed in her small room like a toy in a box waiting to be taken out by its owner. Selma tried to work out a way to get out of this, but she realized that the damage was done. Everything she worked for now belonged to him. The sad reality, as she remembered her new name and tattoos, was that now she did too.

The morning routine had started to settle in. Selma got dressed in the only clothes available. Black yoga pants and a sports bra. She put her long black hair in a pony tail and coated her luscious lips with a red lip gloss. She didn’t know why she dressed this way particularly, but she knew she had to. After she was dressed, she picked up her phone. The little device that everyone takes for granted could have been her key to escape, but instead it was used to instill further programming. She clicked one of the few apps installed called “Roland’s Program” and a spiral filled her screen. She smiled as the soothing sound and words sent a wave of pleasure over her. Words flashed on the screen:

“Doll”

“Toy”

“Back-up Dancer”

“Diamond”

“Bimbo”

“Obey”

“Compliant”

“Property of Roland Hills.”

The words repeated in a loop as she felt them alter her subconscious. She knew if she did this every day it was only a matter of time before the programming would be complete. Her body was under his control, but her mind was still free to think. She knew the programming was designed to chip away and she could do nothing to stop it as she carried out physical commands.

After the program was done, Selma stared in the mirror and repeated the same thing she repeated after every session.

“My name is Diamond Bimbo. I am a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. I am property of Roland Hills. My body belongs to Roland Hills.”

Selma repeated her mantra four more times. At the end she smiled. Behind the smile was worry and fear, but on the surface she looked like an airhead. If this kept up, she knew the same would happen on the inside.

***

“Look at me when I speak” yelled the flamboyant dance instructor, Jean Pole. “I want to see your ass sing to me. Sing to me with the beat.”

He paced behind the twerking dancers. Selma looked over at Myla, the beautifully toned blond twerking each cheek with distinct control. Myla caught her looking and shot her a glance. Selma concentrated on her own ass and tried to twerk like she knew she could. But it was harder now. It’s as if something in her mind was blocking her usual dancing skill.

“Stop.” Jean shouted.

The girls stopped, turned around and stood at attention.

“Monsieur Hills asked me to find him best dancers for upcoming concert. After careful consideration, I decided it shall be determined in a dance-off. The first song is Look At Me Now by Selma Lopez. The dancers will be Myla Simmons versus” Jean paused for dramatic effect. “Diamond Bimbo.”

Selma smiled delighted that he picked one of her songs. She had created the dance from scratch and worked on the choreography for months not to mention all her flawless concert performances. This was a guaranteed win, she thought.

Both dancers moved to the front and stood side by side. Selma looked at Myla who made an L-shape with her fingers and put it on her forehead. Selma brushed off the taunt and focused. Just another performance, she thought.

The music started and Selma started moving to the beat. But something was off. It’s as if there was a delay of when she heard the sound and when her body reacted as she danced out of sync. She glanced at Myla and saw the familiar dance being executed to perfection. Myla was even singing along as she moved her body rhythmically to the music. Selma tried to focus her mind, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t do the dance to her own song. As the song finished up, Jean stepped between them.

“Congratulations madame Myla, tres bien.” Jean looked at Selma. “Madame Bimbo. I have never seen such massacre of simple dance. You need to train harder.”

All the dancers stared at Selma trying to hide their contempt and laughter. She hung her head in embarrassment and took her place back in line.

***

Selma sat in her room still in shock she couldn’t remember the moves to the dance that took her over a year to create. It’s as if her old life was slowly becoming a distant fantasy she used to have. She stared at herself in the mirror, no longer seeing Pop Idol Superstar Selma Lopez, but instead seeing Diamond Bimbo, an amateur back-up dancer for Roland Hills.

Selma’s phone snapped her out of her mirror trance. It was a message from Roland requesting her presence in his office.

Selma paused before opening the large oak doors. She walked in and stood in awe at Roland’s office. His desk was in front of a massive window that overlooked the ocean behind him. To the right, the wall was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves full of books and collective memorabilia. In the left corner was a television and couches, and along the wall were pictures of Roland’s performances and meetings with famous people. The floor was wood that matched the doors and the rest of the shelving. In the middle of the room was a large white rug. On each corner of the rug was a square glass booth. In three of the four booths, there was a girl dancing. Despite not looking at each other, all girls were dancing in sync. Beside Roland stood Selma’s old personal assistant Tara, dressed in a skimpy maid’s uniform holding a tray of drinks with a smile on her face.

Roland motioned Selma over to his desk.

“That’s enough Lauren.” Roland said.

Blond hair emerged from below the desk as Lauren, one of Roland’s main back-up dancers, stood up and wiped her mouth. She smiled at Selma as she walked out.

“That’s a daily reward you can look forward to once you become a back-up dancer. Or should I say if you become a back-up dancer.”

He stood up and poured himself a drink from the tray Tara was holding.

“By the way thanks for the new personal assistant. Since she was on your payroll, her contract transferred over and we modified it a bit to add more duties. Isn’t that right, maid?”

“Yes Roland.” Tara maintained her smile.

Selma couldn’t tell if she was actually happy or if she was also reprogrammed to be compliant.

Roland walked over and sat down on the couch. He motioned Selma over and then had her lower to her knees.

“You are to always be on your knees when I summon you. If I am busy, you will walk over to the corner and kneel until I call you. Is that understood?” Roland said.

“Yes sir.”

Internally she couldn’t believe she was letting him treat her like this. She was a superstar, yet she was on her knees in front of someone that didn’t even have a number one album.

“Since I’ve taken over your brand, let me give you some insight on what I plan to do. And while your listening, I want you to blow me.” Roland unzipped his pants. “So you can get a taste of what success feels like.”

Selma screamed internally unable to control her body. She moved forward and grabbed his cock. Her luscious lips wrapped around it and she bobbed her head slowly.

“Good girl.”

Selma sucked away as Roland explained his plans. Her brand Selma Lopez was going to be a limited time fashion line that sold all of Selma’s current outfits and accessories. Her home was going to transformed into the future back-up dancer home once the renovations were done. All her staff were to be given new jobs in Roland’s company as it expanded. This also included her family, but Roland didn’t go into any details regarding their new roles.

As Selma bobbed her head up and down pleasuring Roland, she listened as everything she built and gave away to Roland would be torn down and changed. She realized what a mistake she made but couldn’t take it back now. All things she lost came to mind and were forgotten as she bobbed her head.

Expensive bags and shoes. Gone.

Up and down.

Concert tours. Gone.

Up and down.

Screaming fans. Gone.

Up and done.

Its as if Roland was face fucking the memories right out of her. As she felt him slow down, he loosened his grip and pulled out his cock.

“Smile.” Roland aimed at her face and covered it with cum.

Selma’s left eye took the first shot closing it as the rest landed all over her face. She didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it. Through the right eye she could see the flashing of a cell phone camera as Roland documented the former Superstar now kneeling and smiling with his load on her face.

“Oh and all proceeds from the Selma line will go into enhancing my dancer’s bodies starting with you. I always thought your tits and ass could use a little improvement. Maybe a bigger ass might help you with that god-awful twerk”

Roland walked over to the empty booth and opened the door.

“As you probably noticed my girls here are dancing in sync. Diamond come over here and stand in the booth.”

Selma stood up and followed the command. The cum dripped from her face as she stood blank and silent.

“I heard you lost the dance competition today. That is unacceptable. You were supposed to be my top dancer and you have shown absolutely no promise.” Roland shut the door. “This should teach you to move properly.

The booth lit up and Selma saw a female dancer appear on the screen in front of her. Suddenly her limbs were moving along and in sync with the girl on the video. She danced in sync with the other girls in the room. Roland returned to his desk as Selma learned how to dance.

***

The next week went by much the same. Selma went to dance practice and then straight to Roland’s office to dance in her booth. The Dance Booth, she learned it was called, was for dancers Roland felt needed improvement. Selma watched the other dancers from the booths in class and thought they were much worse than she was yet she was grouped with them. Was she really that bad, she thought. At the end of the week, a rehearsal dance was held with the main dancers going through a concert routine and the secondary dancers standing still in the backgrounds. If a dancer wasn’t considered a back-up dancer she was designated as a prop. Back-up dancers wore sexy leggings and sports bra while the props wore bikini and thongs.

Selma was designated as a prop and placed in the very back. She had never felt so underutilized in her career. Her ego started to take offense that Roland would reduce her role this much, but she knew she had to work hard to become one of the main back-up dancers. So far the main competition were Lauren and Myla, two blonds who stole the show every week. Selma started to become in awe of them and how skilled they were at dancing, she hoped one day she could be as good as them.

After one practice, Selma walked up to the two dancers to get their advice.

“Hello girls. Great job today, you were really awesome.” Selma smiled.

Both girls looked at each other and laughed.

“Thanks. What’s your name again, Bimbo?” Lauren asked.

“Diamond. Diamond Bimbo.”

“Right. Formerly known as Selma Lopez. You know I used to have your posters on my wall.” Myla chimed in.

“You did?”

“Ya and what a waste. Don’t know why I aspired to be someone who would just throw everything away.” Myla insulted her. “Like you had the perfect career, why would you give Roland everything?”

Selma thought about it. She never really did get to an answer despite being asked by many people. Some people suspected she was in love, some thought she was being blackmailed, but there was only one real answer that always popped in her mind.

“I wanted to be a back-up dancer for Roland Hills.”

The girls scoffed at her as they got up.

“No one wants to be a back-up dancer. Everyone wants to be the star. I guess the name fits.” Lauren said. The girls walked away.

Selma’s pride took a blow. She had everything any girl would ever want: millions of fans, money, wealth, and the list went on. And she gave it all away. That first video she watched must have temporarily disrupted her mind and took over her body. She had the urge to become a back-up dancer and she tunnel visioned on that goal. There was no other explanation for the lapse in judgment and Selma accepted the harsh new reality.

In the following weeks, Selma worked hard to be a better dancer. She was still designated as a prop, but Jean Pole was starting to give her extra one on one attention while dancing. Selma was improving and it was a small victory given the circumstances. As she was changing into her leisure clothes for free time, there was a knock at her door. Selma opened the door and Roland was standing in his usual white suit with a gift wrapped bag.

He didn’t wait for the invitation as he walked into her room and closed the door behind him. The room was cramped with both of them standing in the minimal floor space available.

“Go stand in the closet, Bimbo.” Roland commanded.

“Yes sir.”

Selma pushed a few outfits aside and stepped inside the closet. Even in her own room she was relegated as an object. She stood silently and waited for Roland’s instructions. From his point of view she must have looked like a Barbie doll in a package with her outfits around her. Whatever he saw, the site amused him as he stared at her.

“I still can’t believe I have Selma fucking Lopez trained like a toy.” Roland said.

Selma could see the lust in his eyes. He wanted her, but something was stopping him from acting on his impulses.

“Listen Diamond, I came by to say I’ve been content with your improvement. You’re working hard and it’s paying off. As a reward.” Roland unwrapped the gift revealing a bikini and thong made out of money. “You will be wearing this in a solo performance with me at my upcoming concert.”

Selma was overjoyed with the news, but remained still. She was finally getting a chance to prove herself. Roland held the bikini and thong up to her like a doll.

“Looks like a perfect fit.” Roland said.

He hung up the outfit beside Selma.

“Instead of dancing in my office, those hours will now be dedicated to learning the routine with Jean Pole. However I still need to instill some discipline in you. So from now on, there is no more free time for you. After dinner you are to come to your room and stand in your closet until it is time for bed.”

Roland look at his watch.

“In fact that will start tonight. I want my dolls nice and focused for their performance. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.”

Roland nodded his head and walked out of the room shutting the door behind him. Selma remained in her closet. There were things she was planning on doing that were now no longer a concern. She was confined to her closet like a doll to a box. She stood in silence as a blank doll would do. No thoughts until she needed to think. Just a blank doll stored in her case.

This routine would continue for Selma. First dance practice, then a personal dance session with Jean Pole and finally returning to her box. The only breaks she did have were for food. Everything else was controlled and routine.

***

The show finally came and Selma was excited to debut as a member of Roland’s dance crew. To keep order back stage, Roland and his team had it set up so that models that weren’t actively involved in the current song had to stand quietly on pedestals marked with their name. This allowed the director and manager to quickly change models and make sure everyone was present with such short breaks between songs. All models were to stand at attention, stare blankly ahead and remain silent until they were called upon. Selma was near the end of the row of pedestals wearing the bikini and thong made of money. The coarse feeling of the bills against her skin were annoying, but her nerves became a bigger distraction. She knew her cue to get ready was the 6th song as she would be entering on the 7th.

Once the 6th song was finished she heard the manager shout her name and point to the stage. Selma, despite having done endless amounts of concerts over the last five years, was extremely nervous. This was her fist shot to make a good impression on Roland and she couldn’t screw it up.

Selma hurried out to the stage and stood front and center while the lights were down. The music started playing and the lights came up prompting her to start twerking with her back to the crowd. Roland rapped his song and interacted with the other dances for the first part of the song. Near the end he went in front of Selma and started singing to her smiling and enjoying himself as Selma twerked. Roland made a motion with his hand and Selma obliged, turning around and twerking on him. She moved up and down his body until the song finally finished.

Selma was tired from the three minute twerk and Roland said nothing to her as he made his way to his next spot. Selma was directed to the back of the set where she was placed in a display case that was barely visible unless you were sitting to the right of the stage. She was told by the stagehand to pose as a Barbie doll as the next few songs were a collaboration with Roland and hit pop star Nacki.

Selma did as she was told and remained posed for the next four songs. As the collaboration ended and the set was changed for the last two songs, a different stagehand, who must have assumed Selma was a mannequin, grabbed her and hauled her off the set. Instead of being placed back with the models, Selma was placed with the set pieces. She knew that there was a misunderstanding, but the first stagehand told her to remain still, as per Roland’s orders. As she had learned, Roland’s orders were to be obeyed at all times. Selma remained in the closed off set piece area and faintly heard the end of the show. At the end all models were supposed to go out for one last appearance, and Selma was jealous that she was missing it.

After the show, the director and his stagehand made their way backstage.

“I can’t find the basket. It’s lost somewhere in the set pieces.” The stagehand said.

The director stopped and looked at Selma.

“What is she doing back here?” he asked.

“That’s a mannequin.”

The director looked at Selma with a mischievous smile.

“Bring her in their dressing room and have the models hang their sweaty clothes on her.” The director said.

The stagehand grabbed Selma and brought her into the model’s dressing room. They all stopped what they were doing and wondered why Selma was being carried.