The Secret Circus of Pain and Degradation

Chapter Two-2

The three remaining women were left to the attentions of the soldiers. The first was forced to the ground on her back, her legs pulled wide until she cried out. One man immediately mounted her. The second, to the right of the arena, was bent over, legs splayed and bound wrists forced into the air by a soldier who entered her from behind. The third, to the left of the stage, was dragged to her knees, her head on the ground and her ass presenting an open invitation.

There was nothing remotely simulated about any of the f*****g. Erect c***s were buried hard in open slits; the couplings were energetic and—on the part of the women—highly vocal.

Amy, having leaned forward slightly the better to take in the view, stole a sideways glance at Paula. The latter had both hands over an open mouth, incredulity evident in her pose.

“Well, he did say it would be shocking…” Amy murmured to her companion.

“But they’re… they’re doing it…in front of people…”

Amy had always been under the impression that Paula was uninhibited and up for anything. Paula was the only girl she knew who admitted to having had three-in-a-bed romps. It seemed out of place that she’d be concerned about seeing a s*x scene.

“Haven’t you ever opened the wrong door at a party?” the blonde giggled, but her reply was interrupted by torches lit around the cage.

Long poles had been thrust between the bars of the cage, creating an X-shaped cross on its roof. To this, the long-haired woman dragged off by the Tamurlaine character had been chained, and she now struggled desperately. Tamurlaine himself stood to one side, a whip trailing from one hand. He swung it, and the smack of leather on naked flesh mingled with her shriek.

Sitting on the edge of the bench, Amy suddenly became aware of the tautness of her own thighs and the moisture between them. The idea of being used so shamelessly, of being made to shriek with precisely the mix of pain and pleasure she detected in the girl’s cry…

Another blow, another shriek…

But this must be, she thought, how Paula felt when one of her ‘special’ friends used the crop on her…

Crack! Shriek…

The woman shuddered under the lash and Amy shuddered in sympathy, filled with a sudden desire to know how it felt to be treated so sadistically. The child of wealthy and doting parents, she had never, never been dealt with so cruelly.

There were three more cracks, three more cries of pain, before Tamurlaine threw the whip down and moved to take advantage of what lay between the girl’s splayed legs. As his muscled buttocks pumped back and forth, the girl’s inarticulate cries rose in pitch and intensity, culminating in an almost wolf-like howl. And when the man finally stepped aside, she was left hanging on the cross, spent and limp.

The soldiers, and Tamurlaine, bowed briefly to their audience, the soldiers pulling their victims out of the arena with little ceremony while Tamurlaine unchained his slave, slung her casually over one shoulder, and nimbly jumped from the top of the cage to move away from the torch lit arena.

Amy briefly imagined herself as a chained captive, subjugated to the desires of a man who could literally sweep her off her feet one-handed. Being at the mercy of such a rascal did, she admitted to herself, have a perverse attraction. She glanced slyly at Paula, who had the knuckles of one hand pressed against her lips as if trying not to moan. Paula’s knees, clamped tight together under her skirt, moved against each other, betraying the emotion the scene caused in her.

And then the ringmaster was back. “Now,” he proclaimed, “an entertainment of a different kind. A demonstration, indeed. You will be familiar with”—and here he made sinuous movements with his hands—“the phenomenon of mesmerism, also known as hypnosis. The mesmerist makes passes of his hands around the body of his victim until she is entranced. Allow me now, please, to offer a display of this strange phenomenon…”

He paused, waiting for the low chatter at the back of the audience to stop. He began to pace the arena, reaching as he did so for in his pocket to produce a large silver coin that glimmered orange and yellow in the light from the braziers.

“To perform this feat I shall require the assistance of two young ladies from the audience.” As he said these words he paused, about five paces from where Amy and Paula were sitting.

As his gaze fell on her, Amy felt a sudden moment of vertigo. The ringmaster’s eyes connected with hers, and seemed to bore into her being, heating her blood, flushing her cheeks and relaxing her thighs all at the same time. They were twin pools of flickering blackness and she wanted to fall forwards into them…

…but instead, found her attention drawn to the coin he held in his hand. It flickered in the firelight as he rotated it through his fingers, and Amy had to crane her neck backwards to see what he meant to do with it. He was saying something about the uses of hypnosis in by doctors to relax their patients to relax, to help young women rise… rise above the words flew through her brain like brightly-plumed birds, and as difficult to catch.

There was applause, and to her consternation Amy abstractly realized that in the moments since his eyes had rested on her, she had stood and taken two steps forwards. And next to her, also standing, looking astonished and confused, was Paula.

The ringmaster strode back to the centre of the arena, then turned again to face Amy and Paula. He made a gesture, as though pulling a cord that connected her to him, and dazedly she took another step. And another. Then she and Paula were standing directly in front of him. Then he was holding up his hands to the crowd, silencing them.

“I think,” he was saying, “you are friends, yes?” Paula nodded. “And also lovers? No? But close friends, who share each other’s intimate thoughts?” They both assented.

“Very well,” he continued, now addressing Amy, “you, my lady, are reclining on a sofa, reading a volume of erotic stories…” Looking around, she indeed saw a sofa, and promptly sat on it, relaxed, trying to make out words in the book that had inexplicably appeared in her hands. Even without quite being able to make out what she was reading, Amy felt the first tremors of arousal in her belly. Dimly, in the background, she registered that the ringmaster was conversing with Paula who was explaining, in graphic detail, the uses of the toys in her bedside cabinet and under her bed.

“Now imagine,” the ringmaster was saying, “I take that riding crop to your backside.” Paula nodded. “When you hear this,” he continued, clapping his hands once, sharply, “you will feel the sting of the stroke. Now tell me, did you enjoy our show this evening?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what did it make you want to do?”

Paula smirked. “Find a nice man and have him—” The ringmaster clapped his hands. Paula jolted forwards, looking puzzled.

“Have him ride me like a stallion after—”

Clap. Jolt. Paula uttered a gasp.

“After…?”

“After he’s tied me up and given me a good—”

Clap. This time she yelped.

“…spanking,” she managed to finish breathlessly.

The ringmaster paused. “Well, young Paula,” and then, to the audience, “Please, put your hands together for this young lady!”

There was an enthusiastic burst of applause. It was as well the ringmaster held her by the elbow as she squealed and doubled over in shock. He held up a hand to stifle the applause, then beckoned to the shadows. Two of the girls from the earlier performance, still naked and apparently unconcerned by their state, stepped forward to receive Paula and guide her away, one holding each hand. She’d taken perhaps half a dozen steps when the ringmaster clapped his hands, once, sharply, causing her visibly to wince and cry out in astonishment as the darkness swallowed her.

Now the man turned to Amy.

“My dear, how is your book?”

“Very nice, thank you,” Amy replied, looking down at her hands, slightly confused that she hadn’t the slightest idea of the story she’d been reading—though whatever it was had made her moist in all the right places.

The ringmaster took her hand and guided her to the middle of the arena.

“Tell me, my dear, where are you?”

“Um…” she paused. “At a circus?” She could envision herself, earlier, sitting in the big top.

“And do you remember thinking you wanted to run away and join the circus?”

She heard herself saying that it was such a small town, a small-minded town where nothing ever happened, that she’d always wanted to run away. And when she was a child, the circus that came had been the most exciting thing she could think of to run away to.

“Would you like to get ready for your first performance now?” She nodded dumbly, not quite sure what was going to be expected of her.

“We have a cowgirl outfit, with spangles and rhinestones. Here!”

In her mind it was soft suede, with long fringes on the sleeves and a skirt that was too short to be decorous—though showed her long legs to great advantage. She quickly slipped out of her dress and donned the outfit.

“It’s very nice,” he said, as she was smoothing the skirt over her hips, “but perhaps a little tightly cut. May I suggest you’d be better off with no undergarments?”

She nodded submissive agreement, quickly removing her drawers and chemise and climbing into the costume again.

“It feels very sensual next to your skin. Feel it.”

She ran her hands across her stomach, ribcage, breasts, feeling the material like a second skin. It was sensual. The skirt was so soft and supple it was almost not there. She stroked her thighs, feeling her long fingernails run silkily, gently, over the upper part of her legs. It was almost as if she were wearing nothing at all…

“Now, ride your horse bareback, ride like the wind, around the ring.”

Suddenly she felt lifted up, a warm body under her, no saddle, and she was moving like a dancer, exquisitely balanced, floating on air. She held her arms out for balance, suede fringes flowing behind her, became lost in the sensation. The murmurs and buzz of the crowd brought a feeling of intense pleasure, as good as the best s*x she’d ever had. And then she seemed to be falling into darkness, away from the circus. She ceased to be aware of time. Was this a dream?

A voice came from close by her ear.

“You’re a pretty catch and no mistake,” it said. “You have so much potential, so much to learn, and will look so splendid learning it…”

Amy frowned slightly, trying to work out what this voice meant.

“You’ve been asleep, my darling. And now it’s time to wake up. I shall count to three, and when I say the word ‘three’ you will understand what has happened to you was all a nice dream, and you will be awake. One… two…”