The way he wants me to. Apparently, Joseph hadn’t liked her gagging when she tried to take him all the way in. It was difficult to resent him that. She hadn’t liked gagging either.
“Mmmm.” She swirled her tongue around the artificial slit, imagined a man’s answering groan, the jerk of his hips at the absence of her mouth around him. “God, I want you. You don’t even have to do anything for me. I’m ready now.”
It was strange to speak to no one, but she wasn’t wrong. And she could imagine she was speaking to the man she was sucking off, because she knew who she wanted that to be, even if she refused to go to him. She wanted him in her bed right now, his darker skin and black hair on her white sheets, his cock erect and ready for her like the one she stroked now. Except he’d be hotter and harder, and she’d be able to kiss him, stroke over his abdomen and chest instead of tracing the wood-grain tile on the floor. She’d be able to see him in her bed the way she hadn’t been able to in the darkness of the bedroom. The lights were on in here, her body and all its inglorious imperfections, as well as the things about her that distracted from those imperfections, on equal display.
She felt silly, dirty, helpless as she took the dildo into her mouth again. She brought the saddle up with her, moved it to the bed so that her knees wouldn’t hurt so much as she knelt.
Splayed out on the bed like a boudoir shoot just made her wetter. There was no one in the room with her, no one able to see through the blinds, yet she felt on display, watched by many male eyes, gazes dragging over her skin like the hooks of a rake, the way she’d always felt men’s eyes. But those eyes had never been allowed to see her, and now these imaginary men did. They got to see her deep-throating a huge purple dildo to its middle and reaching down between her legs to slither her fingers through the folds, whimpering like a kitten at how her juices clung to her fingers. Would she even need lube? She decided better safe than sorry.
She put a towel under the mount then set out a container of water-based lubricant and a few other toys on the bedspread, like someone picking tools from a tool box.
She poured the lube on the top of the dildo. The bulbous cockhead wasn’t as big as the strongman’s, but it was about twice as wide as Joseph’s, and there was no magic here.
“Now,” she whispered, closing her eyes and willing herself somewhere else, with someone else. “I need it now.”
The cock was too long for her to stay on her knees to take it in, to her chagrin. She crouched over the tip, gripping the bookshelf to hold herself upright, then brought the head of the cock to her clit, rubbing herself with it until she tossed her head back with a groan and impatiently pushed the dildo through her folds to the entrance of her cunt. She was clenching already, grasping, and she nearly cried as she lowered herself onto the purple cock. Her cunt seemed to yawn around the wide head, with the same fundamental satisfaction, clung around it like a snake consuming its prey. That’s how she felt—dangerous, powerful, taking in something so big, already close to coming.
With her head still thrown back, her wet hair brushing her shoulder blades, she rode just the first few inches, but her hungry cunt wasn’t content with a bite. Half-inch by half-inch, she lowered herself until she had to adjust the saddle to bring the dildo forward—too darn big to ride, even though Mikhail’s had been bigger. It was better on her hands and knees.
Lube and her own juices trickled forward to tickle her clit. She gasped, writhed, stretched, purred, set her own pace, took the dildo exactly as far as she liked, riding it deeper than she would have guessed possible without magic. She was so turned on, she didn’t think she’d be able to touch her clit without coming.
She wasn’t wrong. Neve pinched her nipple, and just after twisting that little, hard nub for a few seconds, she let out a prolonged moan and pushed back against the dildo, filling herself as her climax gripped it and rocked through her like hot bathwater. She fucked herself through it without trying to extend the orgasm. She already knew her cunt wasn’t finished with the cock whose soft exterior she squeezed so hard that she was surprised it didn’t burst.
She continued to ride, moving her hips more than her torso. She wished someone’s fingers would dig into her hips, her thighs, grab her subtly swinging breasts and keep her clit throbbing with each rub and twist over her nipples, because now she moved her own hand away. She circled her navel, imagining a tongue dipping in before moving farther downward, where dark ginger hair framed her pink folds and shiny, swollen clit. She used some of the lubricant and her own arousal to wet her fingers before stroking along the length of her stretched-thin labia up to her clit.
She gasped, shifted her position to make it easier to stroke. “Oh my God…”
Neve fumbled for the vibrator, wondering how intense that would be in comparison to before, but she closed her fingers around the cluster of sculpted red tentacles instead. And all of a sudden, her mouth wanted to be filled. She wanted two cocks, maybe three, maybe four—thick meat over her tongue and thick flesh in her cunt, stroking, stroking, stroking…and everything felt so good. Her body was awash in pleasure she didn’t know a human being could endure—as big and intimidating as the strongman’s cock, as impossible to take. Yet she had, and she’d survived.
The tentacles stuffed her mouth, muffling her cries, her swears, and she’d taken the purple dildo almost to the base by now, the silicone balls striking her fingers every time she bottomed out. The jelly coating of the dildo masked just how wet she’d become with its own noises. She stroked her clit like she had the head of the cock, round and round, mostly indirect, but sometimes a tap, a nudge, a press into her pubic bone and the sensitive cluster of nerves there.
“You’re such a slut,” she imagined someone saying to her in an unmistakable, animalistic growl. “Look at you. But you’re my slut now. You’ll take whatever I give you, and you’ll come for me when I tell you to. And you’re going to come…right…now.”
She thrashed over the purple dildo, nearly rocking the saddle clean off the bed, nearly choking herself on the tentacles, but this time her orgasm wasn’t its own foreplay. It shattered in her as terribly as a crystal vase on concrete floors. She rubbed her clit frantically, telling her climax to keep going, keep going, she was almost there, almost to that perfect point of satisfaction, just a little more, just a little more...
Neve spat out the tentacles and really did sob this time. A single burst of satisfaction, brief but there—then not. As her orgasm subsided, she knew she hadn’t been satisfied. How many more times would she have to do this? One? Three? Fifteen? She wanted hands on her, a mouth, but all she had was silicone, lube and fine craftsmanship.
This time she reached for the vibrator, tried and true. As soon as her clit could stand rough, rumbly stimulation, she worked it the way she had hundreds of times before. And she did come, squelching around the now well-lubricated dildo again, but she lifted herself off it and collapsed, alternating between sighs and sobs, because it still wasn’t enough.
* * * *
Neve opened the door for Kitty, who took in her tousled appearance, flushed face, hastily tied robe and very clear projection of frustration. Then the Bearded Lady’s nostrils flared, likely catching the unmistakable scent Neve had gone nose-blind to.
“Oh dear.” Kitty stepped back, gesturing to invite Neve out. “You haven’t left your trailer since we arrived. Bell wasn’t distressed—not about you, anyway—so I left you alone, because sometimes new folk need their space. But the circus opens again tomorrow. I wanted to give you a chance to visit the real Arcanium before you deal with crowds.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s Thursday.” Neve attempted to rake her nails through her hair to tame it, but she caught on a number of snags that told her fingers weren’t going to be enough.
“It’s Thursday morning, if that helps. The golems make a good communal breakfast. There are some vegetarian and vegan options, too, ever since Elizabeth joined us and brought her dietary principles with her.”
“Changing people’s bodies is okay, but he respects dietary principles?” Neve swiftly grabbed a brush from the bath tote and undid most of the damage. Then she retied the robe and knotted it so she wouldn’t accidentally flash everyone. It would have to do, because she had no interest in doing any more at the moment.
“Don’t try to understand or reduce Bell into one or even several boxes. I’ve been here longer than any human, and I’ve yet to make sense of him or stop being surprised, for better or worse. Have you been having some…trouble?”
Neve stepped down out of her cabin. There was definitely magic at work, because the robe was good enough for her, although traces of snowfall still lingered on the grass. Kitty’s low neckline and flowy skirt could hardly be supplemented by her hair—she was more Lykoi than Bigfoot. Yet she and Neve crunched over snow and dormant grass with no need for additional layers. This answered a few questions she’d had on her first visit. It was actually refreshing, though—the winter sharp on her skin, crisp down her throat and not making her utterly miserable. She’d never been able to enjoy winter weather before.
“Why did no one tell me?” Neve said.
“You didn’t give us a chance to. The fault isn’t yours, since your welcome was hardly welcoming. But now I guess I have to warn you that if you’ve been trying to alleviate that particular pressure yourself, I’m afraid it’s not very effective.”
“That’s not a relief, knowing it isn’t just me. Providing a small fortune in sex toys seems cruel either way.”
“Is that what he did?” Kitty appeared to be trying to hide a laugh, but Neve didn’t think it was at her. “I assume he had his reasons, but I doubt cruelty was one of them. He doesn’t provide a complimentary toy basket with every new recruit, although things would certainly be livelier if he did. I’m sorry, though, that it took you three full days to figure out that it doesn’t work in here. The sex demons’ magic has a very specific end in mind. It’s not you.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure at least part of it is me.” After dozens upon dozens of attempts to make a toy satisfy and doing things she never realized she was capable of doing—her own inventiveness and depravity shocking if she hadn’t been so single-minded—she’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had. Clearly lost track of how many days had passed. She wasn’t sure when she’d last eaten, but her stomach told her it was longer than it should have been.
This was how addictions started.
Sometimes she’d been too rough, pounding a too-large toy too hard inside, keeping a wand against her clit beyond the point it was painful, as though she could punish her dissatisfaction into submission. Maybe part of it was the sex demons’ magic—and that was a whole other barrel of infuriating—but she really thought the other reason was in the wording of the wish.
Wanting sex the way he wanted… Maybe Joseph hadn’t wanted her to enjoy sex solo, hadn’t wanted her satisfied alone—some sort of primeval misogynistic pride that paralleled his irrational need for her to have only mind-blowing sex with him. She could thank him for the mind-blowing, she supposed.
She felt five seconds from succumbing to the flu. Her skin itched and gritted in that strange, ill-fitting feeling she got after pulling an all-nighter. Her eyes were gummy, her mouth fuzzy and salty, her thighs smeared. She hoped Kitty couldn’t hear it, bad as it felt.
And all because it was difficult to sleep when she wanted sex this much. It was dangerous, the sheer depth of her desire. The pit of it seemed bottomless, but she didn’t want any other outlet. It was one thing to imagine being called a slut, but she didn’t like the idea she might be one. Not at all. Like the butt of a mean joke—strung out, a junkie for sex and no rehab in sight, just plenty of enablers, men willing and ready to take advantage, standing in line to be her drug.
Hard not to view it as a cruel twist of fate, in which Bell was fate and his twist a razorblade dildo.
She wasn’t in any state to be good company right now, but Kitty didn’t seem to mind.
“Has Bell told you what he wants with me, or was he just hoping to add a bicycle to the line-up?” Neve asked.
Kitty laughed. “You’ll be happy to hear we’re very supportive and nurturing of a bicycle culture around here. Seems he might have made your sensations more intense, though. I haven’t seen anyone this miserable about not having sex before—not even the prisoners, who sometimes go without for weeks due to whatever limitations or afflictions plague them at the time. But I recommend you avoid them until you’re absolutely sure what you want and don’t mind doing those things with people who don’t deserve better than shit under your shoes.”
“Who are the prisoners?” Bell’s standard for punishment didn’t seem to be oddity-based, and she didn’t expect or want it to be. It would undercut everything he said he stood for. “For that matter, how do I tell what demons to avoid? Everybody looks like everyone else—in the sense everyone looks odd, not that they look the same, of course.”
“Of course.” Kitty appeared to enjoy Neve’s turn of phrase, too. “We don’t tattoo the prisoners or mark them as undesirables or anything, but they hold themselves apart. A few have transitioned into Bell’s crazy family, but you’ll know because of how comfortable they are with you, whether they can look you in the eye—or directly at you, as the case may be. Apparently, you can look like an orangutan and still all some men see is a pair of breasts.”
Kitty led her into the big top tent from its entrance. Neve hadn’t stayed for the evening performance, so she hadn’t seen the ring yet. The two men who she’d thought were acrobats held hands as they pointed at a pair of trapezes. The African-American man lifted his chin with a smile as Kitty and Neve passed.
“Seth and Lars, our aerialists. They’re like you, wished in by accident,” Kitty said. “It enhances the wonder and magic of their performance, but Bell can do other things with you that aren’t necessarily tied to the wish or simply tangential to it. He’s good at that.”
“What did they wish?” Instead of looking over her shoulder at them, which would be rude, Neve called them to memory from the brief glimpses—young, athletic, lean, a contrast of light and dark but otherwise similar in frame. She licked her lips at the thought of them kissing each other before kissing her in a trio of shared moans.
“Seth wished Lars would stick with him on a matter of importance to him at the time. Now they’re physically incapable of separating. Things started shaky for them, like it does for most, but they’ve found their peace with it.”
“What did you wish?” Neve realized the implication of the question only after she said it, though she hadn’t meant it that way.
Kitty didn’t seem to mind. “I just wished myself in. Arcanium’s a good place if you’re already a freak, too, human or demon. Not all demons can hide as well as Bell and the Ringmaster. For even the best of them, the illusions still let the monster through.”
“Like the clowns? All three or just the one?”
“All three, and yes. Stay away from the clowns. Caroline, our carousel engineer, is the only human who gets along with them. They’re complicated creatures, more monster than demon, but they are demon, and they’d rather eat you alive than play nice. Most of the other demons are mild-mannered, as you’ve no doubt discovered. You don’t even have to be careful around the incubus like the rest of us.” Kitty didn’t miss a beat, so she must not have noticed how Neve flinched. “The other demon you have to watch out for is the Ringmaster. He’s the only hellborn demon Arcanium harbors and the one most deserving of the name.”
“And he’s your lover.”
“Yes.” Kitty didn’t elaborate. “You likely won’t have to deal with him more than once or twice in your tenure here. Although if you’re partial to getting whipped, he wouldn’t refuse to indulge you.”
“Are you? Partial to the whip?”
“No.” Again, no elaboration.
Neve took the hint. “Neither am I.” As far as she knew, that hadn’t changed.
“Maya is.
That’s the only reason I bring it up. Before her, we never added that caveat.”
This time, Neve chose discretion and didn’t ask.
“The rest will poke and prod you, except Ciarán. But Moss, Lennon, Lady Sasha, Lord Mikhail, the Horned God… They won’t do more than talk. Bell’s policies make it very difficult for a demon to be demon-y, and most of them are part of Arcanium voluntarily because they aren’t inclined to be demon-y. Besides, it’s not the demons you have to worry about. Bell’s the most dangerous, especially if you make a wish without realizing it. You should probably stop saying the W-word entirely. You only want to use it when you have a damn good reason, otherwise he’ll make you regret it, and you’ll be out one of the three. I sometimes forget, because I already used all of mine.”
“And you’re still here.” Neve stopped outside the red curtain she now knew led backstage, where she’d awoken in the strange bed.
“Some people wish themselves out. Maya wished herself free and stayed, so she can leave whenever she chooses to. The Lizard Man wished himself out and got eaten because that’s what he wanted. If some of the people working here wished themselves out now, Bell would probably grant their wish, but almost everyone’s too nervous to ask, and Bell’s not inclined to let people out before they do. I’m at Bell’s disposal now, since I didn’t use the last of my three to leave, but I don’t have any more options outside Arcanium than I did when I arrived. It’s more my home than anywhere else I’ve been, and I’m not sure I’d like what Arcanium might become if I wasn’t here. Perhaps that’s just vanity.”
Kitty smiled crookedly then opened the side of the curtain for Neve to enter. “Aside from his granting, Bell’s as careful with humans as the demons are. In the end, it’s the humans you have to watch out for—the guests who think they’re owed something from circus folk or who don’t like freaks, and the prisoners who got trapped here because they did something wrong and aren’t afraid to take it out on the rest of us. The Ringmaster punishes them if they do, but even if you get hurt, Arcanium has ways of saving its own—unless Bell doesn’t want them saved.”
Funhouse Page 11
