“In thirty minutes, meet me in the back of my tent,” she whispered in his ear. “Remove your leather and make yourself hard. Do I have to tell you not to come?”
He shook his head.
She kissed his bare scalp and stroked him like a puppy before stepping back.
“Rise, my dragon. Even though you are not leashed, you shall know that you are mine,” Valorie said, backing away.
John stood up, made to step toward her, but she clicked her tongue and wagged her finger at him.
“I know,” she murmured. “And just so you know who rules you…”
She bent over backward into a handstand, turned around on her hands as she spread her legs until she’d done a full rotation to wolf whistles from the crowd and John’s avid attention.
When John tried to step forward again, Valorie stopped him with a foot to his leg. She’d be calling attention to his semi-erection, but that was well within the rules of Arcanium.
“Go, pet. Fly free now and fly home tonight. The Queen has her duties for the day, and so do you,” she said.
And to the applause of the crowd, she back-handsprung all the way to her tent and did a flip onto the platform, landing on her hands so that she could seamlessly return to her routine, folding down the placard that said she was out in the circus and would be back. She left the leash unraveled on top of it, a reminder to those who had seen her with the fire-eater of what had occurred. She didn’t mind it being a mystery to the rest. Was the chain for her, or could the contortionist not be chained, just like she couldn’t be contained?
* * * *
Thirty minutes seemed to crawl, as time tended to do in the wake of anticipation. At the same time, once the thirty minutes were up, they seemed to have flown by. She put up her placard again and scurried, twisted and backward as though possessed, off-stage to laughter and applause.
A girl liked to know she was appreciated. She didn’t like it when customers talked because they almost invariably said all the wrong things. However, when they didn’t speak, they almost invariably said all the right things.
Speech was overrated.
Which was why, at the sight of John flogging his cock as though desperate to come—too desperate—she clicked her tongue.
He immediately jerked his hands behind his back.
She rose. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground. This time he knelt right at her command. The man acknowledged his commitment and honored it. Too bad she couldn’t reward him. Not yet.
She snapped and pointed downward again. John fell forward so that he was on his hands and knees, his cock caught between being pulled down by its weight and drawn up by its stiffness. Its head was darkly flushed, the eye leaking its thick tears of pre-cum over the flesh.
“You’re not just a one-off gift anymore, fire-eater,” Valorie said. “He gave you to me. Or rather, he gave you the opportunity to give yourself to me. The vow still stands. You do whatever I ask, for whatever reason or no reason at all, and you’ll have some relief for that cock. If you decide to terminate our arrangement, I can’t stop you. But you won’t get me anymore. Simple as that. Still interested in keeping that collar on, pet?”
John nodded. He opened his mouth. Hesitated.
“Permission to speak softly. We’ve still got a crowd outside,” she said.
“I told the truth last night,” he said. “And I gave my word today. I’ll do anything for this circus. I’ve already given it my life, and when I give, I give a hundred percent.”
“I ought to kiss you for not saying a hundred and ten percent,” Valorie said.
He let his head hang as though his neck was tired, but he laughed. “I got a lot of clichés in me, like most people, I guess. But even I won’t use that one anymore. Anyway, I have plenty to atone for. Whatever you think I deserve, I’ll accept—as long as it isn’t death or dismemberment, and I’m thinking you can’t do that anyway.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” she asked. “You’ve given me carte blanche to do terrible things to you—or let the demons do them to you. Bell’s already given me that, but you…you know I’m a vindictive bitch, right?”
“You’re my Queen,” he said drily. “I’m your dragon, one of your subjects. Put me in a dungeon or cast your spell on me. I’m the one who put myself in your hands. I’ll take it. I’m telling you I can take it. I’ve been burning myself every day for the last year and a half. Nothing can be worse than what I’ve gone through.”
“You’d be wrong, of course,” Valorie said. “I am somewhat limited in what I can do to you, but I’ll do my best to absolve you, fire-eater, with all the tools in my arsenal. Believe me.”
“I do,” he murmured.
“Then I want you to spread your legs a little more. Just like that. Now stay still,” she said. “I’ll count.”
He didn’t ask what she’d be counting.
Valorie traced the line of his body, from the slight dip in his skull to the dry riverbed of his spine. He swayed in his position, his hips moving him forward against his will. But with his hands on the ground, he couldn’t touch himself anymore, and he knew better than to change position without her say-so.
She stepped over him and sat down on the small of his back, facing those firm, round buttocks. The ass of a football player. Valorie bet he’d been devastating in football pants for all the ladies to ogle. Leather pants did him justice too, but a different kind of justice. In football pants, a girl could convince herself that she was admiring his athleticism.
Valorie straddled him as though riding a horse backward. This way she could knead each buttock like clay on a wheel, separating them to reveal his hole, pushing them together like a man plumping big breasts. When she leaned forward, she could glimpse the wrinkling at the back of his dangling scrotum. She pinched it between her nails. She giggled when he bucked like a horse, but he couldn’t unsaddle her when she tightened her knees against his hips. Valorie softened the harshness of her pinches with firm, broad strokes over his balls. There wasn’t much to handle in that regard, but he groaned, working to keep his shoulders up instead of buckling down. She kneaded the pliant flesh, brushing the base of his shaft here and there by accident.
She’d devoted so much of her gentler attention to his balls that the first slap to his left buttock took him by surprise, and he bucked again.
“Stay still,” she ordered him, “and take your punishment.”
Valorie beat him like a bass drum, though he sounded like a snare, and at one point she hit him so fast—one hand on each buttock—that he might as well have been one. She slapped him until the flesh started showing flushed handprints and grew even hotter than usual, like a fatal fever under her palms as she ran her hands over his ass again. She didn’t bother actually counting. His punishment would take years, so counting was superfluous. She just beat him as long as she liked.
She could tell when fire came out of his mouth against his will in response to her choice of punishment. Not only did he get hotter under her own ass, but he coughed and the air suddenly became drier for a moment. He panted, each exhale a soft moan at how tender she’d made his ass. When she stroked him, he hissed at the sting, oil on a hot skillet.
She stopped at one point because her hands were stinging too, but she started up again once they’d calmed down. Sometimes the spanks were fast and lighter, but in this second series, she also took the time to outright wallop him. She wanted a shout, something for which she could punish him more, since he’d be drawing attention to them from the public.
But John was good. The juddering of his breathing underneath her told her he fought against the impulse to cry, but he managed to keep himself under control vocally. Valorie had underestimated the willpower of a man who’d had to hold back the pain of third-degree burns for months on end. He didn’t complain. He didn’t beg for her to stop. They hadn’t established a safeword or anything. For now they didn’t need one. If John said ‘no’ or ‘stop’, she’d have to. He had the p
ower in that respect. But he respected the promise he’d made. He was trying to prove himself to her.
It was working. She admired a man in control of himself, even if that control was borne of torment. Here in Arcanium, every human underwent some kind of torture—some more than others. A person could make a case for whether psychological or physical torture was the worst. But control was something a person learned quickly here, whether it was to hold one’s tongue and hide one’s shame or embarrassment in front of the normals or whether it was to relearn how one’s body worked after Bell had had his transformative way with a wish.
Valorie hadn’t had to learn how to walk like Joanne and Jane, nor had she had to depend on other people to take care of her like Christina. But her body had changed after being taken into Arcanium, and she had been extremely resistant to the transition after being ripped from her old world, inconsiderate boss or not. Her professional life had been lacking at the time, but her personal life had just been starting to get good, and it had taken several escape attempts—each more painful than the last—and several sessions under the Ringmaster’s whip before she’d finally given up.
Which was its own torture. Resignation. Resignation was when the spirit was finally broken. Like bones, sometimes what was there after healing was nowhere near what it had been. And there was no way to get what she’d been back. All a woman or a man in Arcanium could do was move forward, adapt, survive and come out the other side a fucking king or queen of his or her individual court.
So when she beat John like this, it wasn’t because she lacked empathy.
Some people called this place hell. Valorie knew better. Arcanium was purgatory. The Ringmaster was the one taste of hell the cast ever had, even for most of the demons. The rest? The rest was of this world, pain and all.
After all, hell was unending. Arcanium could make torture feel like forever, but John’s suffering would eventually end.
Even Valorie knew that this beating wasn’t true suffering, not when she peeked between his thighs and couldn’t see his cock, which meant it hadn’t flagged an inch. Valorie had probably left bruises on his ass. She’d probably done the same to her hands too, she thought, shaking them. But a person didn’t get turned on by a true beating. Not without magic that Valorie didn’t have at her fingertips.
She kissed one reddened cheek, licked it, bit at the sweat-shining flesh.
“Ah…ah…” John cried, twitching but keeping himself as still as he could.
“You’ve been very good taking your medicine, pet,” Valorie said. She kissed him again, the other cheek this time.
“I do what I can,” he said breathlessly.
She patted his thigh. “Back up.” She laughed a little as she rested her feet on his calves and he carried her closer to the ottoman. The floor in the back of the tents was carpeted with cheap rugs, but they looked decadent.
Valorie stood up on either side of him and walked backward on tiptoe so that she faced him after her leather-clad cunt brushed his skull. She lowered herself down, crossing and folding her legs until she sat in front of him with her hands in her lap. She inspected between his arms. More giggles spilled from her mouth when she saw that there was a line of pre-cum from the tip of his cock to the carpet.
It pleased her that the spanking had maintained rather than deflated his erection. That would make her time with him so much easier—for her, not for him.
“You know, I had the pleasure of meeting a man with diphallia while working here,” Valorie said. “He no longer does—work here, I mean—although he sometimes joins us on the private circuit in winter if he has a yen to. When he first joined Arcanium—a few years before I did—one of the penises wasn’t fully functional, although it would get a little hard. But with his wish and Bell’s power, he ended up with two fully functional cocks.”
“Is now really the moment for story time?” John asked, still panting, his hips moving in the air as though he was trying to will something to appear around his cock so he could fuck it.
Valorie grinned and began to undo her pants. “I’ve also had the pleasure of watching this same man show off his flexibility by sucking one of his own dicks. On one memorable occasion, he got both of them in his mouth. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. Apparently he’d discovered his flexibility early in his masturbatory experimentation. Admit it. If you could suck your own cock, don’t you think you’d do it all the time? It’s like guys talking about how, if they spontaneously turned into girls, they’d play with their breasts all day. It’s not as fun as they think, but still… I asked you a question, pet.”
“Yeah, I probably would try it at least once if I could do it,” John admitted, although he looked down at his hands to do so. “I wouldn’t go around telling other people about it.”
“It’s not gay if there’s only one of you,” Valorie said cheerily. “After all, you’re not gay for giving yourself a hand job, right? Why’s a blow job any different? Anyway, after watching him go after himself like a man at a sausage-eating contest, I got inspired.”
“God help me,” John groaned as she pulled off her leather. She’d eschewed underwear for a long time. She’d wear a bustier or a costume corset—the boned corsets weren’t good for contortion—and she’d wear bloomers under her skirts, although she didn’t wear skirts much anymore. But when she removed her pants, she was just sitting bare in front of him with her legs bent and parted, hugging her knees as what she’d been saying sank in.
“If this man, imbued with natural flexibility, could tend to his own needs, well… I thought it was worth a shot to see if I, imbued with unnatural flexibility and naughty bits that are a little farther away from my mouth than his were, could do the same,” Valorie said.
She grabbed her ankles and pulled herself almost completely into the splits, displaying herself to him.
“Now, the problem with oral sex on a woman has always been visibility. You’re a virile young athlete. You’re probably aware of the various issues in Internet porn. Visibility is one of the driving forces behind most technical aspects of pornography. Did you know that? That’s why the anatomy is so exaggerated. When Eddie deep-throated himself—a skill that made him a lot more sympathetic with any female partners that gave him the same treatment—the placement of the cock made it easier to see from several angles. There aren’t many good angles to watch a girl lick herself. It took me a while to find one so that my partner as well as myself could appreciate the position. Normal sitting was out. Then all anyone would see is my head. But if I do this…”
She rolled onto her back and hooked her arms over her thighs to hold herself open as well as to pull her torso forward. This was one of the few strains on her spine, the kind that made her feel the pull, but it never hurt, and Valorie was almost certain that it was impossible for her tendons and ligaments to tear or her bones to snap in the process of expressing her flexibility. Any damage she might do, though, Bell could rectify.
She was rewarded in her tenacity by the look on John’s face, like a dog being denied a bone, when she rested her chin on her mound, not inches from her clit. She could see her folds, damp from the arousal stimulated from spanking him and listening to the sounds he made from it.
John didn’t dare look away from her eyes, but they were conveniently right above the compelling parts of her anatomy as she snaked her tongue out and licked around her clit. Valorie’s eyelids fluttered, and John made a choking noise and jerked his hips again. It had been a long time since she’d done this, given that most of the time she had a man happy to do it for her.
She alternated slow licks over her folds and darting her tongue into her pussy like a reptile. When she moved her mouth back to her clit, Valorie nearly lost her balance. She knew exactly the kind of pressure she wanted. It wasn’t the same spontaneity she could get from a man doing it, but she could make herself moan, just like with the toys. Nothing beat a real, live tongue, though, even if it was her own.
“Fuck, please, my Queen.
Let me help you. Let me do that for you,” John begged. His eyes were still red from the side effects of the spanking, but his face was dry and his lips were wet. “You shouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“What you mean is that you shouldn’t have to work so hard,” Valorie said. “Just kneeling there, but oh so hard, pet… Look at you, you’re dripping all over my nice carpet.”
She slid two fingers into her aching pussy then gave her clit a few broad, firm licks that had her tightening around her own digits. She started losing track of her body, as though she’d truly tied herself into knots. The rush of her blood and the tingling of her limbs and her skin, the strain both of muscle and of her cunt, all these things conspired to twist her head into knots as much as her body.
“Please,” he said hoarsely. He licked the scars that made up his lips. She knew what those scarred lips felt like on her cunt. They were strange in their smoothness, but as warm and dexterous as any man’s.
Valorie relaxed, letting her body unravel itself because she couldn’t immediately figure it out herself. She fell back, her legs still parted like a burlesque dancer’s.
“Dinner time, my dragon. Eat until I’m satisfied,” she said.
Now that John knew how good oral sex could be on a woman, he was thoroughly enthusiastic, as though he believed he would come by giving her an orgasm. He didn’t touch her, didn’t take his hands from the carpet. She would have let him, but she was irrationally pleased that he hadn’t. It meant he wanted to obey, wanted to do what she told him so much that he wouldn’t even test the boundaries. Such blind obedience wouldn’t continue forever, but his service was new. In the future, he’d no doubt give her more reasons to punish him than the ones she already had.
Valorie stroked his head with both hands, smearing her essence over the unscarred skin and massaging the scalp. When he got her raising her hips against his mouth, she crooned her encouragement, let him know through her whimpers and cries that he was doing something right. When he sucked her clit between his teeth and pulsed his tongue against her, she shouted in spite of her command for him to keep quiet. And she didn’t care if anyone on the outside heard, because he kept doing the same action, more intensely with each passing moment, until she clutched his shoulders and moaned her climax into her arm.
Contortion Page 11
