The Dance
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Scarf Dance free porn video
(This is part of the series of ‘Silverbridge’ stories but can be read on its own.)
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Copyright Oggbashan 22 June 2002
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary, the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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I got my revenge on John when the Twinning Committee arranged some football matches with our Twin Town in Hungary. At least I think it was Hungary. I wasn’t that interested. It was just another football match for our Ladies’ team. A friendly that didn’t count towards any of the competitions that mattered. John and the Men’s team were also playing their men’s team.
I was still mad with John. He’d got drunk and made a pass at my best friend Jane. Jane just shrugged it off. She said:
‘Sheila, it doesn’t really matter. He was drunk. In that state he’d chase anything in a skirt.’
It was true. That made me madder.
‘I know, Jane, but it’s an insult to me. Aren’t I enough for him?’
‘It’s just the way most men are.’
She was right but most of the men I knew weren’t like that. We’d trained them better. John had let me down in front of my friends.
Anyway, I was annoyed with him. I wanted to humiliate him in public. The week of Twin Town events gave me the chance.
By the way, you mustn’t think that because we play football that we’re unfeminine. We are fit and shapely because of our training but when we dress up we look like the ladies we are. On the pitch – well, that’s different! We play hard and we like to win. And I’m going to win this disagreement with John – even if I have to play dirty to do it.
OK. One of the events that week was an exhibition of Folk Dancing by some of their footballers. You know – the sort of thing that makes you yawn when on holiday abroad. Anything billed as ‘Folklorique’ makes me run the other way. The organisers wanted some participation from Silverbridge. Without asking us, our club volunteered eight men and eight women to join the dancing on stage for one item. Then they had to persuade us. In the end we drew straws for it. John and I lost so we were ‘volunteered’.
There was a rehearsal the night before. All our men (including John) refused to go. They said that one evening was enough to lose. We girls had a more responsible attitude. Besides, if we were going to dance on a stage we didn’t want to look stupid, did we? We had standards to maintain. If nothing else, we wanted to be sure our costumes would fit. It wouldn’t do for a tit to fall out, would it? We shouldn’t have worried. Lisa was doing our costumes. She knows our sizes by heart. The men would just wear trousers and shirts with a sash tied around their waist.
Our costumes were not too awful. We wore half-boots, tiered bright orange calf length skirts over a couple of flounced white petticoats, a black waist apron, white gypsy tops, a headscarf and two other headscarves tucked into our waistbands. All three headscarves were at least one metre square – they might have been even larger – and dark blue.
When we turned up at the club for the dance the Hungarians (or whatever they were – I still don’t know) had already changed in the Visitors’ rooms. We rushed into our familiar changing room and were out fully dressed in less than five minutes. Whatever else you can say about Lisa she is a born organiser and how she can shout!
There was some argument and much waving of hands about the absence of the men but they made the best of it. They did their dance. It wasn’t too difficult to work out – a sort of square dance with two sets of four couples then the sets form into one circle. The men circle the girls who circle the other way, the girls pass through and circle the men. Oh – I forgot the scarves.
That’s the most important bit. The girls hold a scarf in each hand. In part of the sets the men hold the other end of the girl’s right hand scarf. Then the girls twirl round waving both scarves while the men stamp and clap. In the circles the girls hold the other end of the next girl’s scarf so each hand has two ends in it.
The bit that gave me the idea for my revenge on John was the finale. Apparently this scarf dance is a courtship ritual – a sort of ‘Ladies Choice’. A loaded choice if you ask me. The partner you start with is the partner you end with. At least the version we saw is rigged. Maybe it wasn’t when the peasant girls danced it.
At the end of the circling the girls throw their two scarves over the shoulders of the men facing them, catch hold of the loose ends and pull the men to their knees facing the girls. They knot one scarf round the man’s neck, loop the other through the knotted scarf and ‘drag’ the man offstage. As the ‘Hungarians’ danced it the men left still dancing squatted like Russians or Cossacks or whatever. They made it look quite easy. I could see that John and the others would find it difficult if not impossible. Without a rehearsal they had no chance of doing it.
Then we joined in the rehearsal. They coupled us so that each set was half us and half ‘Hungarian’ but half of us had to be ‘men’. Then we swapped so that the ‘men’ became ‘ladies’ and the ‘ladies’ became ‘men’. Followed that? I thought not! It doesn’t really matter anyway. What mattered was that the ‘men’ couldn’t do the finale properly even though the ‘men’ were really intelligent women.
We went into a huddle with Lisa. Did I say that Lisa was co-ordinating us? No? Oh well. She was.
‘Lisa!’ I said (or rather shouted as you have to if you want to get a word in when Lisa’s co-ordinating) ‘We haven’t a hope of getting the men to do the last bit right. Even we can’t!’
The others agreed with me. The men hadn’t a hope of doing it, let alone with any style.
‘So why don’t we play it for laughs?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Lisa. I could see she was not too pleased with our performance in the finale.
‘The idea is that they do the dance first, then we come on and do a repeat. Isn’t that it?’
‘Yes.’ Lisa snorted ‘And without a rehearsal our men are going to look like stupid clodhoppers.’
‘Then why don’t we treat them like clodhoppers? Even if the men had come we have no chance of performing as well as the others, have we?’
‘No Sheila, we haven’t’ Lisa looked puzzled.
‘So if we do a parody of their dance – our flaws won’t matter especially if we make our men look like idiots.’
There was a chorus of agreement. The girls resented the men’s absence.
‘What have you got in mind, Sheila?’ asked Lisa.
‘Well, for a start we could tangle them up in the sets. When we should be waving our scarves in the air, we’ll wave them alright, but flap them in the men’s faces. That should put them off.’
‘Yes…’ Lisa looked unconvinced.
‘Then in the circles we could trap them with scarves as they pass through our line…’
‘Yes…’ Lisa was getting the picture.
‘And in the finale instead of the necktie and them dancing off, we really tie them up and drag them off as helpless bundles.’
‘YES!’ came a shout from most of us.
‘Can we do it?’ asked Lisa. ‘Can we really tie them up properly?’
‘I’ve thought of that.’ I replied. ‘In the last part, we get the ‘Hungarian’ girls to come on and help us. That will mean two women to each man, and six scarves to tie each man. That should tie them up properly. The men will know that we are supposed to knot a scarf round them so they won’t resist the first one. With that advantage we ought to succeed.’
‘Please, Lisa’ asked one of the others ‘It’s a great idea – and our men need a lesson for missing tonight.’
‘OK’ said Lisa ‘I’ll go talk to their leader. I’ll see what she thinks of it. No promises, mind.’
Lisa went ove
r to their leader. Luckily her English was very good. We knew we’d won when the leader burst out laughing and nearly had hysterics. She called her women together and explained what we intended. Then we were swamped by ‘Hungarian’ girls. The gist of what they said was that they thought it was a great idea. They wished that they could do it to their men as well but their culture wouldn’t permit it. That wouldn’t do. I whispered in Lisa’s ear. She nodded and went to talk to their leader again. At first she looked horrified but one of the ‘Hungarian’ girls who was listening got excited. At least one of them understood enough English. Then she spoke to the others who clamoured round their leader and Lisa. The expression on the leader’s face was transparent. She couldn’t have said more clearly ‘If you want to, go ahead but…’ Then she and Lisa arranged the details.
So we had another rehearsal. Just us Silverbridge girls and the ‘Hungarian’ men. (Sorry Hungary, if they weren’t from Hungary).
We did exactly as before until the finale. Then the ‘Hungarian’ women danced on and formed a circle inside the men. We were outside. When we draped our scarves each blindfolded the man with one of their scarves and spun him. With one of our scarves we bound the men’s wrists. By this time they were protesting. The ‘Hungarian’ woman gagged him while we tied his ankles. Then we pushed the men into their women’s arms. They lowered their men to the floor and we hogtied them by tying the scarf round the wrists to the scarf round the ankles. We danced offstage as each ‘Hungarian’ woman placed a booted foot on the back of her man’s neck. They posed in victory as the music ended. The men were struggling but we Silverbridge girls know how to tie men up. They had no chance of getting free. Some of the gags and blindfolds slipped but every man stayed bound hand and foot.
When we walked back on stage the men were still bound on the floor. Their women were even replacing slipped gags. They thought it was a great joke. Their men were struggling feebly. One woman sat on her man’s back. Another had his head resting on her skirted lap as she knelt before him. He had lost his blindfold and she was teasing him by covering and uncovering his eyes with her apron. A third was being tightly hugged to his woman’s ample bosom. He had also lost his blindfold and his expression was priceless.
Their leader clapped her hands. She translated for Lisa later. What she said was ‘OK. Thank you boys and girls. That was a great rehearsal. Next time it will be the Englishmen’s turn. Then you men can laugh at them.’
The ‘Hungarian’ women gradually untied their men. Some found it impossible and we had to help. Their men weren’t too pleased so we hugged them and thanked them for their help. Their women joined in with an orgy of kissing. With two women to each man they soon began to enjoy themselves. Whether they would stay happy when they remembered what had been done to them was another matter. That was the rehearsal. Now for the real thing.
The next night our men turned up on time. Some of them, including John, objected to the sashes as part of their costume. The programme had been re-arranged. The ‘Hungarians’ would dance their version of the ‘Scarf Dance’ in the second half of their performance. Our parody would be the last dance before the Grand Finale.
The ‘Hungarians” version went well. It was slick and well danced. Our men watched carefully and thought that they could manage except the last section. We told them that we knew that would be difficult. We had changed it. All each had to do was follow the instructions of the girl in front. We even told them that the ‘Hungarian’ women would be coming on to help.
When the time came we started well. In the sets we made the men look clumsy. We didn’t overdo it. We were very subtle. Even so the audience began to laugh. When we started circling we wrapped our scarves around the men, forcing them to circle with us. Then came my revenge!
The ‘Hungarian’ women danced on and formed up one behind each man. We started to drape our scarves on their shoulders and the ‘Hungarians’ blindfolded each man tightly. We spun each man round and tied his wrists. As we dropped to the floor the audience’s laughter became deafening. We lashed their ankles as they were gagged. Then two women lowered each man to the floor for the hogtie. We dragged the pinioned men to a line facing the audience. While each ‘Hungarian’ woman placed her foot in the small of the man’s back each Silverbridge woman sat on his shoulders cupping his chin in her hands as the music ended. The audience gave us a standing ovation lasting several minutes.
Then we dragged the men to the back of the stage and posed them with us. I pulled John’s blindfold off so that he could see and be clearly seen as I scissored his head between my legs.
The ‘Hungarian’ women left the stage and returned to dance their Grand Finale while we posed at the back of the stage. Our men struggled for the several minutes the dance lasted. I stopped John’s struggles by pinching his nostrils flat and threatening not to let go unless he kept still. He stayed still!
At the end, we women came forward to take a bow with the ‘Hungarians’ leaving our men as twitching bundles. The applause lasted for several minutes before the curtain finally dropped. Then I undid John’s hogtie, leaving his wrists and ankles tied. I flipped him over on his back. Round me the other men were being released. I took out his gag. He started to complain so I dropped my sweaty crotch over his mouth and nose. I held it there for about ten seconds. Then I lifted myself and said
‘That will teach you to try to chat up Jane – won’t it?’
‘I was drunk,’ he said.
‘That’s no excuse! Are you sorry?’
‘Well…’
‘Are you sorry? – or you’re staying tied up.’ I insisted.
‘I’m sorry, Sheila.’
‘That’s better. Now I’ll let you go.’
The ‘Hungarian’ girl who had helped me came over.
‘Are you have trouble with him?’ she asked.
‘Not now,’ I said ‘He is no trouble now’
‘You did this to him. You wanted to?’ she asked.
‘Yes. He looked at my friend.’
She clapped her hands in delight. ‘So you tie him up on stage!’
‘Yes. I tied him up on stage. Now he will be a good boy – won’t you John?’
‘Yes. I’ll be good.’ he replied.
I started to untie him.
The ‘Hungarian’ girl hugged me. ‘I will do this to my man, yes?’
‘Why not?’ I replied ‘If he is not good to you then you tie him up.’
‘Yes, thank you. I will. Is he OK now?’
‘Yes. He is OK now.’ I finished releasing John.
She turned to John. ‘You be good to you woman, Yes?’
‘Yes’ he said ‘I’ll be good to Sheila. If not she will tie me up again.’
‘Can I kiss you man?’ she asked.
‘Sure. Go ahead. I don’t mind when I’m with him.’
She kissed him. He looked surprised.
‘She helped me. If she wants to kiss you, I’ll let her.’
‘He kisses like strong man,’ she said ‘Yet you tie him up?’
‘He is a strong man. Look at his muscles.’
John flexed his biceps. She felt them and looked surprised.
John had the final word.
‘I am Sheila’s man. I did wrong. She punished me. Now it is over.
We are still together’ He put his arm around me. ‘I love her. She loves me.’
So that is how the scarf dance ended. I kept the scarves. You never know when they might be useful…
Maddy
- 18.12.2022
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