The Secret Circus of Pain and Degradation

Excerpt

“Three!”

Amy’s comfortable dream became a sudden waking nightmare. She had been—she thought—riding her favorite pony, giving it free rein and holding her arms outstretched for balance. In the nightmare, her ankles and wrists were spread wide and pinioned by ropes to two thick upright poles. In the dream she’d been wearing a clinging, suede cowgirl dress covered in spangles and rhinestones. Now, as a sudden draught swirled across her flesh, she realized she wore no clothes at all. Every single item of clothing, even her underwear and best court-style shoes, had been taken from her.

Amy gasped in horror, twisted in the ropes and grimaced as they bit into her slender wrists. Looking around wildly in the guttering candlelight, she saw canvas—evidently this was a tent—but there was more. Paula, similarly naked, was bound hand and foot, lying on the ground a few yards away. Another young woman sat, legs splayed to either side of Paula’s head, which she had grasped by the hair. Paula’s face, hidden from Amy’s view, was being forced into the woman’s… Amy shuddered involuntarily.

The link between the dream and the waking nightmare lay in the person of the ringmaster, who now stood before her. A little over average height, slim-hipped yet athletic, with slicked-back dark hair and piercing green eyes, he regarded her at arm’s length. Appraising her, Amy thought, as if she were merchandise in a market.

A blush colored her cheeks. She’d never been looked at that way by any man she knew—still less by a complete stranger like the ringmaster. She pulled again at the ropes, only to find they were utterly secure, and a moan of frustration escaped her lips.

Ringmaster?

Memories came at her in a blurred rush. The circus. The ‘special performance.’ Being drawn out of the audience. Trying on a new dress, one that fitted like a glove and made her look wild, untamed. Riding a pony bareback…

“You wicked bastard,” she said levelly, looking into his eyes. “You hypnotized me!”

The ringmaster shrugged, “I merely allowed you to express your hidden desires. One cannot be hypnotized without consent. That would be quite improper.”

“No, this is improper. Let me go and give me back my clothes!”

His reply was simply to reach out and grasp a nipple between finger and thumb. Amy squeaked in outrage and tried to shrink back from the invasive hand, but merely bounced on the ropes as his grip tightened. The ringmaster grinned.

“I think not,” he said. “I’m merely following your own express desires, as announced to a hundred or so witnesses… And such a performance you gave! You’ve the makings of a good trouper. I saw it in you as soon I clapped eyes on you. Plus, you have such a wonderful body; it’d be a sin to hide it under clothes.”

Performance? What on earth had he made her do while she’d been under his influence? A shudder of revulsion started somewhere deep in her belly. But there was something else, some half-memory, in the back of her mind.

His hand was still roaming over her breast. If Amy had been the kind of person who’d learned to spit, she’d have spat in his face.

“Untie me! Now! And get that… that woman to stop doing… what she’s doing… with Paula! Or else…” She stopped, the stretched position straining her belly and taking strength from her lungs, and tried to take a deep breath.

The ringmaster’s hand circled her tit teasingly, then held it as if testing its weight. The extended position she was restrained in had flattened Amy’s naturally pert shape, so there wasn’t much to test. She endured the fingering with clenched teeth.

“Or else…?” the ringmaster demanded. His face was in shadow but she could see his amusement. “On the contrary, what I’m doing now, and what I shall be doing shortly, is exactly what you really want me to do: I’m letting you join the circus. Consider this your interview.”

She digested this information with incredulity.

“What you mean is, you’re kidnapping me? Is that what you do, traffic in women?”

The smile grew wider. “Kidnapping is such a harsh word. Let’s just say I see women with… potential. And I give them the training necessary to bring out their particular skills.”

Amy forced a laugh she didn’t feel. “So, kidnapping and then slavery. Next you’ll be selling me as a prostitute and telling me I’m an artiste!”

“You’ve a lot of fight in you. I like that. It’ll make things more… interesting.” A movement outside the tent flap had evidently caught his eye. His head turned, “Ah, I have business to attend to. We’ll talk later.” He patted her belly proprietarily, causing Amy to squeak in outrage, then yelp as the ropes bit again to contain her struggles.

Amy’s eyes followed the ringmaster as he turned away to deal with the newcomers—a middle-aged man, puffy in the jowls and broad in the gut, wearing a brown suit, and a slim, slight woman with shining black hair coiled on the top of her head, wearing an ankle-length black cloak at the neck of which was a broad metal collar.

“This is the one you were telling me about?” the ringmaster asked the brown-suited man.

“Indeed,” he replied smoothly. “Allow me to present Pearl. Pearl…?”

Without a second’s hesitation the woman shrugged off the cloak, revealing herself to be completely naked except for boots and the collar. She moved her legs slightly apart—Amy noted there was no triangle of hair—and clasped her hands behind her head, a move that showed tiny breasts to their best advantage. The ringmaster looked her up and down critically, and did to the woman what he’d done to her—took a nipple between thumb and forefinger, and pinched. The woman’s face remained expressionless. She didn’t even flinch. Releasing the nipple, the ringmaster casually walked around her for a rear view, then unleashed a slap on her backside that rang round the tent. Amy shuddered. The woman accepted it without moving a muscle.

Reaching into the woman’s hair, the ringmaster removed the grip, allowing her mane to uncoil and flow down her back like a long black snake. It stopped just short of her high, trim ass.

“So what does she do?”

Amy realized that the ringmaster was, in all seriousness, looking at the woman as a piece of meat. The brown-suited man was selling her, the ringmaster was considering whether to buy. The fact that this was happening before her very eyes, might indeed happen to her, formed a small knot of tension in her belly and she shivered violently, feeling her nakedness even more intensely.

“Trapeze. High wire. Acrobatics. Magician’s assistant. Some fortune telling if you want.”

“Trapeze and high wire,” the ringmaster snorted. “I think we have one or two people who do that already.”

“Blindfolded, with their hands tied behind their back?” enquired the brown-suited man. The ringmaster shrugged, “I suppose that does make a difference.” He turned to the woman. “You speak English?”

“Yes, master,” she replied without hesitation, not breaking position. The ringmaster grinned, exposing canines that were almost fangs. “I’m not your master quite yet, my dear… If you’re going to join the circus you have to expect to pull your weight. Can you clean, sweep, cook, look after animals…?”

“Oh yes, master. And I’m a good fuck. Very tight, you know? Make you cum quick and hard.” She smiled sweetly, “Ask my boss.”

Despite her own predicament Amy found it in herself to be shocked at the woman casually describing herself as a ‘good fuck’—and was then even more shocked at a sudden series of high-pitched, yet somehow guttural, barks from the corner of the tent. They came from the woman who’d placed herself directly over Paula’s face. Her body now trembled, breasts visibly shaking, head thrown back in abandon. Paula had evidently been forced to pleasure the bitch intimately with her tongue. And yet, relaxed in her bonds and with an enigmatic smile on her face, she seemed to have enjoyed doing it.

And as if tonight she were to be witness to complete depravity, one of the circus hands, who’d been lounging in the shadows, stepped forward. He grabbed the rope pinioning Paula’s arms behind her and roughly pulled her to her knees. “My turn now,” he said with a grin and unbuttoned his breeches, allowing his cock, as virile and strong as the rest of him, to spring free. To Amy’s amazement, without any fuss or protest Paula leaned forward to take it in her mouth. After a few seconds her head began to bob up and down…