The thick, black king snake twisted its way from round Joan Engle's neck and headed between the alley of her breasts. As it moved the forked tongue darted in and out of its mouth and there seemed to be a hiss. It was not possible to tell, however, if the sound came from the snake's mouth or was merely the sound of its cool, dry body slithering across the smooth flesh of the girl. Everything about its movement seemed to suggest silence and cunning. For the snake was a born killer. Oh, not of people, of course, but of their snakes. Especially its arch enemy, the diamond-back rattler. And this was a big King. Over six feet long and thicker in the middle of its body than a man's forearm. If one were to happen upon the scene by chance something ominous might appear to be taking place. But if the observer looked more closely there was a peculiar aura about the way the girl's head lolled back and her eyes remained closed. And the snake seemed to know what he was about.
He curled his way beneath her lovely breast, then doubled back on himself until his head passed directly across the nipple. As his long body glide slowly across the bud the girl rolled her head from one side to the other. The snake's head started up the slope of the other breast. He passed across that nipple, too, then down the other side and back below the underside of her breast. His thick body moved slowly in a figure shaped somewhat like an eight. Then he headed down the gentle slope of her belly--slowly, very slowly, while the same strange almost eerie sound came from him.
The sound thrilled Joan with its persistence. She lay with a pond of cool water reaching just below the level of her pubes in the bathtub and thought: Will Eric go down?
Now was the time when the snake would decide if he would search along the water level for the entrance to her cave. She waited for the sound to tell whether or not the King was going down.
The chime sounded once on the bell from her telephone, and she let ring. Her hips sloshed the cool water around as if to beckon Eric and the sound increased.
He had been going for sometime around the figure eight track his body made as it dipped and wound around Joan's breasts, his cool white underbody sliding like a tunnel above the pink nubs of her nipples.
Her mind was centered on her cunt. Just above where the water level lapped was the stud of her clit and now the King's head looked over the scene. He could see the pink wings of flesh at the labial top and the wave in the water as it disappeared into the foliage around her twat.
The phone bell chimed again and Joan wished that she had brought it into the bathroom with her. Eric was disturbed by the noise.
She would have to answer it. The snake would not perform with the sound of the bell in the tile room. She answered it with petulance in her voice.
"Hello?"
"Playing with Eric, dear?" Amanda Westmore's voice mewed in her ear. The older woman was teasing Joan.
Joan laughed humorfully. "You always know when I am; so why do you ask?"
"I'm envious, of course," answered Amanda. "You never bring him over here."
"You know he and Prince don't get along."
"Are you coming over tonight?" asked Amanda. "I've got some news I think you'll like."
"Did I get it?" Joan exclaimed excited with the tone in Amanda's voice and forgetting her question. Oh, if she only had gotten the job with the circus as assistant animal trainer!
"Yes, dear," said Amanda lovingly, unable to restrain herself from breaking the good news: "Are you still coming over tonight?"
"Of course, Amanda. Don't be silly," replied Joan. "But, did I really get it? It's too good to be true!"
"It's not going to be easy, Joan," the taskmaster in Amanda Westmore compelled her to warn. "You know that animals are dangerous and especially to you with your special cravings. You'll have to be very careful, Joan."
"Yes, Amanda. Yes, I will," said Joan reverently, as if she'd just been invited on the ark. "But oh, Amanda! I'm so excited; I'm just thrilled!"
The large pools of excitement in Joan's voice were infectious and Amanda asked, "Where are you and Eric, dear?"
"In the bathtub," Joan answered glancing down at the snake who lay calmly coiled around her breasts. "Sometimes Eric will do my clit, if I keep it above the waterline. It's wild trying to stay on the edge."
Eric's head came up and he turned the first foot of his body around until he looked levelly at her.
"Hurry over, Joan. I've told Prince you're coming and he's impatient. So am I!" breathed Amanda as she imagined the scene.
"Okay ... oh, Amanda, I'm so thrilled about the job!"
"I'm sure you are, my dear. Come quickly now Goodbye." Amanda hung up.
"Bye," said Joan to her disappearing voice. She hung up the phone, and then turning it upside down she spun the quarter sized wheel that shut off the chime.
Wow! A job with the circus! Amanda was certainly a marvelous friend to have.
The snake resumed its body crawl over Joan's naked flesh. It was nearly an unimaginable sensation to the girl. Each time she tried to describe the feeling of this cool white corridor of life passing over her sexual organs, she somehow failed. Amanda was the only one Joan talked to about it, but still the immense pleasure of such bestial eroticism was not possible to put into words.
Eric's gaze had returned to the foliage where it met the water line, and he poked his head toward it.
Yes, Eric, I want your head down there, Joan thought. Her breath increased until the mounds of pink nippled ivory flesh around which the snake was winding began to heave evenly.
The King used their melon shaped heft to support himself while he inched his head lower and peered through her pubic hair. The pink crease was the way to the water. It would be warm as its lips clutched his neck. Warm and wet it would soothe his cool flesh. He entered the tangled muff of luxuriant hair around her mound. He was the master here.
Nothing he would meet in this land would disturb his pleasure. He would push his head between the wings of Joan's pussy lips and stroke himself wet. The cool flesh of the King's head slid between the lips of Joan's cunt as Eric tested his way.
"Yes," Joan moaned aloud. Her hips longed to rock a cradle around the snake's head, but that would lap the water and Eric would back off. She must stay on the edge and vibrate her body. Then the water like a cool tongue would soothe her with its edge just below the stud of her clit while the snake's head rocked.
His limber neck followed each curve of the flesh of her inner lips while it sought to lather up her fluids and lubricate their flesh. Joan lay back and glistened while the King felt the flesh beneath his body sweat. Her body fairly hummed with each of Eric's strokes. The sound of the hum was transmitted through her to the water with their sex.
Joan's mind floated off in erotic remembrance and she thought of Prince, Amanda's Great Dane. The gold coals of his eyes came back to her as she remembered the dog's black headed face--the triangles of his shapely ears as they stood puckered up over his glowing eyes--the wrinkled slope of his intelligent forehead frowning handsomely up at her that night in the park five years before.
She had been clinging naked to a tree trunk when his cold nose had nuzzled her butt; she had whirled and found him there. Then, only thirteen, she had been captivated by the dog's proud stance and stroked his silky form with her hand.
Joan saw her young body move nakedly along the black length of the dog. Her flesh glowed tawny in the yellow moonlight.
Eric stroked his oarsman neck and shot a fleet of thrills canoeing through Joan. Her body vibrated with it.
Like a child, she had caressed the dog and then mounted him, playing horsey.
In the tub Joan's hands found her breasts and she cupped the palms' centers about her rubbery nipples and revolved them slowly on the turgid flesh. Blood flowed to the tips. The palms of her hands became electric with her sweat as she sucked them on the ruby tips of her tits.
Joan's thoughts saw the elven-like creature she was that night with Prince. He had been there at the moment when she had freed herself from inhibitions about sex. From that night on, the dog and his owner, Amanda Westmore, had been instrumental in shaping her life. The black dog fucked her and she liked it. She reminded herself deliciously that tonight there would be more of their sex.
Eric's thick body was rubbing her pussy into quite a lather. Like a rigid fist he held his head on the end of his body and stroked between Joan's pink pussy lips, as they moistly caressed him with hot cum.
The fluid was electric on his skin. His head bobbed freely beyond the lips; he was a massive muscle soaking in the heat. Joan felt the bliss of orgasm flood her loins as her body fairly sang with pleasure. The King's lubricated body would stroke there as long as she would let it now, but at this moment that was not enough.
Tonight she would feel the long thin heat of the Great Dane's prick slice between her legs. A groan of want seeped from the girl's pouting lips with the thought. The water in the bathtub sloshed and Eric looked up.
The lust in his eyes was a rage of life as he looked for the cause of the disturbance. Joan's face was to him a distant cliff hiding some intruder as he regally surveyed the countryside.
She saw the full slopes of her mountainous breasts on each side of the snake's head like a gunsight and lined the notch up evenly. Her flesh glistened with her own sweat like a desert of heat and she wondered what Eric must feel. Did he take the water shimmer of her flesh for heat? With something like regret she took his trunk in her hand and led his head up her wrist. His eyes were angry at the disturbance as he cast about the room, retreating. Quickly Joan dipped her arm by the white tile tubside and the King glided safely into the lair of his cage.
Joan thought of Amanda again as she slid lower into the cool water and felt the edge of it slice up her stomach to her breasts. She palmed the water up at the pouting nipples and felt it rinse her off.
She writhed her lithe, tawny body in the tub like an eel until she felt refreshed.
Amanda had been such a fine friend, she mused. Getting a job with the circus was the culmination of Joan's dreams after five blissful years with Amanda and Prince.
All through high school, with Amanda right there as the school librarian, Joan had explored bestial sex. Timidly at first, of course, but with increasing passion until now its realms intrigued her more every day.
Joan rose from the tub and stepped out. Her long graceful legs glistened wetly and her feet left prints in the heavy nap of the bathmat. She toweled up the length of her calf feeling the cotton nub bring blood into her tingling flesh. She imagined the coal black flanks of the Great Dane humping between the buns of her ass: his red cock cutting through her wanton pussy with knifelike piston strokes; his neck cords standing out with the grip of his forelegs about the girl's waist.
She again saw herself as the child she was that first night with Prince. Mounted on his back as though he were a horse; her pussy open and fluttering wetly along the ridge of his silky black spine. Then Prince had moved from beneath her, spilling her off onto her rear. She lay spread-legged on the cushion of the park's green grass while the dog licked his pink tongue up her slit. It had happened almost before she knew it and her body had gone on to drink in the pleasure.
She lay with her face to the stars. A bright sky with pinpricks of twinkling lights shone from a full moon overhead. The bottom of the dark blue bowl in her sight was laced with treetops at the underedge. For a while she had seen the greenish moonlight shed Autumn all about her in impossible colors while the great dog licked his dry pink tongue like a spoon into her pussy and nicked her cut. Lightening bolts cracked through her as she felt Thor's thunder beneath the jowls of the Dane: their yellow flash sang and the night seemed to throb in her face.
She was alone with a huge dog and gaining exquisite pleasure from his tongue. She had cum for the first time in her life.
Prince tasted the sweet fluid as it crept from between the walls of her box and seeped deeper into her butt. Before she fully understood the animal's purpose, he was beside her and nuzzling between her hip and the ground.
Joan remembered how the muscles had bunched cordlike in his powerful neck for an instant before he rolled her over onto her face. Then the dog was between her legs once more and his muzzle snorted its way into the vee and up she came to her knees. It was so neatly done that Joan knew then that the dog intended to fuck her and she panicked at the thought. As she started to crawl away the beast growled with warning and she hesitated in fright.
The dog was on her in that suspended moment. He took her with all his lust like a pink blade knifing between her legs His forelegs hugged his slim powerful hips to the curve of her ass, as he socked his hindquarters into her glory hole.
Betraying everything she knew by her mind to be true, her body responded to the deeper voice of her soul. Her orgasm grew like the red-yellow moon lighting the sky. It glimmered in her, then came roaring up from beneath her like a train and she shot hot, nearly scalding torrents of cum rolling down the ivory curves of her inner legs' marble flesh.
And suddenly the hot spurt of the dog's semen spat from his cock and seared between her torrid pussy walls. Then in some unearthly voice he howled the pain of his pleasure to her and backed-off, his tail between his legs.
Here she was alone with herself and the night, after having bestial sex. There was no denying the fact and wisely Joan made no attempt to fool herself. Her real concern was that the other girls she was with that night not find out.
Amanda had come looking for her dog; and in some crazy way she and Joan had understood each other as if across some secret gulf of their own.
With a threat to expose herself as well as Amanda to the scrutiny of public knowledge regarding what the dog was trained to do, Joan had won power over Amanda and turned the older woman to her will. An orgy had followed from which many curious relationships had evolved that now after nearly five years of steady growth and involuting complications seemed far away from Joan's existence.
Joan's mind ran over some of the faces of her hedonistic friends. Each of the six girls at the slumber party that night had developed lives separate from the others.
Sheri Sloan had gone right out of high school into a beauty contest, which she won, and then had whirled away from their lives. She was a cocksucker who believed that a male's semen lent it essence to her own beauty. She gave her mouth to its collection with the utmost relish. Beneath her strawberry blonde beauty she worshipped men with her eyes, then made frank admissions with her tongue and lips. I want to suck your cock, sweetie, she called out to every man that met her gaze. So honest was the invitation that few took her up on it, but those who did became her captives for life. At sucking cock Sheri Sloan was the very best.
Patti Norman and Cindy Martin, the mainstays of the slumber party, had grown close--if that were possible. The nymphettes had become sophisticated swappers. They had married twin brothers and devoted their early maturity to the pursuit of hedonism in one of its richest forms.
Margie Blake had become a star almost over night. When a rock 'n' roll bank had played the city and left, Margie was with them. Their leader was a big black stud who arranged the music and played bass while Margie sang the hottest blues of the day. On stage she raged her sex like a funky kitten while her man's big base sound boomed around her. Off stage, his overgrown rod filled a basic need in her hot and pungent ass.
And finally, there was Susan Foster, who became Daddy's little bundle of incestuous joy. In the face of the whole town's wrath, they blissfully went their chosen way.
Joan sat before her vanity, looking into her own face and realized she had gotten lost in another world. She would never get to Amanda's at this rate.
As she dressed, her thoughts flitted again to Sheri Sloan and she tried to imagine herself sucking Prince's cock. She found it hard. She could easily imagine herself below the belly of a horse tonguing the blunt end of his huge curved dick. In fact, she relished the thought.
But a dog was different somehow. No matter how Prince thrilled her with his quick hot fucks she had no desire to mouth the thin pink sword. To Joan's mind the act of fellatio was blunt submission to the will of the beast one coupled with and she reserved her mouth for very special occasions.
When a man struck her as a beautiful, savage creature she would prowl about him until the time presented itself and then attack his loins. With that other human being she then felt at peace. She would drain the beast from him even as she humbled herself before the alter of his phallus.
But never with an animal of another species had she given her mouth to the act of bestial love. She wondered if she ever would. But now her mind had turned from such thoughts and she hurriedly finished dressing and left for Amanda's.
* * *
When Amanda Westmore hung up the phone after talking with Joan she went to the kennel immediately. She wanted Prince to soothe the feelings that were urging her cunt to heat. Joan's eagerness at the news of the job thrilled Amanda nearly as much as it did Joan.
The girl was the most engaging of figures coupled with the dog. Amanda wet her lips at the thought.
The image always excited her, ever since that night years before when the little fool had nearly exposed them both to the prudish, moral examination of their small town community. Amanda shuddered thinking what the outcome might have meant to them.
She remembered that through the shock and turmoil of finding Prince actually making advances on the thirteen-year-old Joan Engle in a moonlit park, the evening had grown into a full-blown orgy. To both of their good fortunes everyone gave themselves over to the luxuriously dissipated night and forgot to press their suspicions.
Ever since then Joan had devoted herself to Amanda and Prince and bestial sex.
Amanda entered the kennel. The burgundy plastic carpet that ran the length of the room between the cages still shone with the wetness of an afternoon rinse. Amanda had solved the odor problem the kennel presented with lavish expense. The dogs were her only excess; so she created a veritable palace for them despite the wires of their pens.
Simulated grass lay on the floors of both Prince's and his bitch's separate dens. The bitch lay now on her side giving suckle to one of the three gangly pups in the pen with her. Amanda paused by the side of the pen and called lovingly to one of the pups.
"Duke. Here, Duke."
The pup lay to the side of his mother, licking his forepaws and rubbing his jowls clean. With an apparently satisfied and full expression on his face the young dog looked up from his task at the sound of his name. His mottled head of black and white was so nobly turned that it nearly took Amanda's breath away to look at him. He regarded her with alertness and she called to him again.
When he stood up she saw how big he had gotten over the last few days. His mother would wean him soon Amanda knew.
He was a pinto-like Dane who would be big and chesty. His short-haired, downy puppy coat shone with the contrast between the cloud shapes of black and white scattered in patches along his flank. His rib cage stood out beneath the shiny coat like a heart shaped cave. His almost laughable leg sticks were like stilts and she knew he had a long way to run before he filled out. He was to be Joan's dog.
The thought of the girl broke Amanda's reverie and she stood up from where she had kneeled to call the puppy. She stared through the bars of wire squares at Prince.
The black Great Dane stood now with his attention focused on her. His black head contrasted against the baby blue walls of his stall. The dog's golden eyes shone fiercely. Amanda saw the greed molten through them like nuggets of gold and she experienced a chill of anticipation. Soon she would have his hot pink cock pumping between her legs from behind and her cum would course down his balls. Silently he awaited her command.
Amanda Westmore was a large woman of intoxicating proportions. Now she ran her graceful long-fingered hands over the pendulous swell of her breasts and felt the nipples harden through the elastic material cupping her breasts. The nubs of her nipples shone clearly through the silver lame of her jumpsuit. Her statuesque build curved almost primitively naked beneath its mold. The clear outline of her cuntlips were traceable between her legs. She unzipped the front with a flick of her wrist and the wanton melons of her breasts sprang into view.
She was evenly tanned, all except for a narrow white stripe across her tiny plum colored nipples. Amanda stripped the suit from around where it clung to her firm-fleshed hips and flanks, then ran her nails behind the hissing cloth down her thighs and calves and finally off. Her sandaled feet stepped out of the shiny silver puddle on the burgundy corridor runner and she approached the Great Dane's cage, naked.
His eyes were nearly red with lust. He must smell my sex even before my clothes are off, she thought as she opened the door to his kennel and stepped in. Amanda ran her finger between the lips of her pussy and felt the slick wet heat ooze stickily around it. She raised the finger to her nose and sniffed the musky juices of her cunt, then put it to her lips and touched it with her tongue.
The dog whined at her apparent teasing and she knelt beside him. Her hand plunged beneath his belly and she found the sheath of skin which housed his cock. She stroked down its length and the pointed pink end emerged like a dragon from a cave. She let the tip feel the skin of her palm and led the dick further awake. She felt the hot pink blade emerge from its sheath and slide toward her wrist. It gave itself to Amanda's hand to command and she stroked its pen shape.
Amanda thought of Joan as she had seen her so often at home: the big king snake seeming to pulse with sexual energy as it wound its way around Joan's arm. It's the energy that so compels me to animals, Amanda mused. They radiate so freely and clearly when they're aroused.
She stood up and looked down at the black back of the glistening dog. Her loins were on fire with longing for his prick. With practiced, urgent motions she readied the scene.
She took a long sling, much like a hammock, and strung it across the cage. It was made of highly elastic mesh-like cloth. Now, she unfurled it, hooking one large metal claw into an eye-ring placed low on the wall. On her hands and knees, she then crawled across the plastic grass and hooked the hammock into place on the other side.
"Yes, Prince. Easy, baby. Mama's almost through."
The dog had already begun to nuzzle his cold, sensitive nose into her ass. When the woman had satisfied herself that the taut cloth would function properly, she leaned forward and settled her pendulous breasts into the sling. She tested it, then she rocked forward with her hips and the top of her body swung. She scraped the points of her fingernails on the gauzy mesh about her breasts and was rewarded when the sensation communicated itself to her sensitive flesh.
Prince was already behind her, anxious to mount himself against the twin pillows of her buttocks. Amanda felt his tough forepaws scratch lightly along her rib cage as he stood up and wrapped his legs about her waist. She could feel his massive silky chest hook its ribs at the top of her round buttocks and the pounding of the animal's giant heart as it thumped behind his hairy chest. His underbelly was cool and trim as he thrust his anxious prick between her legs. She could feel the muscles bunch in the flanks of his legs as the hot pink flesh of his sharply pointed cock rubbed her inner things. She nestled the mounds of her ass a little wider against his slim, powerful hips and was rewarded when she felt his long thin tool slide into place between the lips of her cunt.
Prince felt it, too, and responded with a quick powerful thrust. His pink dick shot into the depths of Amanda's eager pussy and she rocked forward in the swing while her nails clawed her satisfaction about the nipples on her breasts. A sweat of pleasure broke out on the woman's breasts in response to the clawing nails and the crush of her weight. Amanda felt the dog's cock pierce deeply into her womb. Her orgasm started almost before he had completed his first thrust. It rumbled up the torrid walls of her cunt, and Prince's already fast pace quickened in response.
Amanda's mind tumbled freeform in the sensual ecstasy of the event. She knew she was above any guilt for the bestial act since she had fought that out with herself years before. The dual pleasures of knowing her act was without social sanction and the feelings coming from her own body combined to create an emotional state in Amanda of a heady dimensions. That is to say, her mind dug the fact that she was coupling with a dog as much as her body found erotic bliss in the actual fuck. A balance was achieved of cataclysmic proportions between her mind and body that enabled her imagination to attain the heights of forbidden fruit.
She saw the dog in her mind's eye as the devil and herself as a golden mare out to graze. The pasture's flower tops were at the peak of Spring's bloom and she nibbled them with bliss. The clean, high shine of the sun on her delicate horse face grazed above the flowers fleecing the field. Unbeknownst behind her stalked the black two-legged dog shape of the devil with bright ruby eyes and silver horns. Without making even the noise of a snake slithering through the grass, the devil tiptoed up behind the filly's ass.
The auburn of her swishing tail caught the light as she dusted the flies from her pale bay flank. Red jewels danced up each hair strand of her tail as the devil took her from behind with his cock in his cloven hoof.
Amanda came back from the fantasy just as Prince's seminal fluid seared into the canal of her box. The hot bar of feeling flesh ejaculated in a steady chatter of tempestual thrusts. She nearly succumbed with the feeling of pleasure as her hips heaved frantically back in response as they both reached the peak.
She let her weight hang in the hammock while she waited for him to withdraw. Soon, she could feel the animal's tongue licking deeply along her sticky things and mound. When he was satisfied with having left no residue of their love juices he whined and nuzzled Amanda for more.
"Not now, love," she purred at Prince. "Mama's got to shower before Joan arrives."
At the sound of the younger girl's name Prince pricked his intelligent ears up and looked almost gleeful. Amanda laughed.
"Yes, Prince. Joan is coming tonight." She rose from where she lay, wondering if the dog could reason enough to know that Joan's presence was not far off. Or whether it was just a momentary attention to the sound of the girl's name.
Chapter 2
When Joan arrived at Amanda Westmore's house it was nearly dark. A thin grey light hung in the air as she stepped from her Sprite. The car gleamed whitely from a new waxing.
Already bored after only two days of the summer, Joan had spent the early morning hours lavishly grooming her car. A graduation present from her parents for which she vowed to be responsible, her car was her pride and the job Amanda promised meant far more than the older woman knew.
She sounded the door chimes with a press on an ivory button and heard the bells peel throughout the house.
Amanda's house was a flat-roofed, almost winged structure that sat in the gully between two gentle slopes on the edge of a cliff. Poised as if for flight, from a distance it resembled a redwood seagull caught in a gossamer of fronds.
Joan heard the soft pad of Amanda's cloth-slippered feet on the carpet within, then an amber light snapped on in the alcove before the door. Moments later Amanda opened the oaken door to her cavelike house and Joan went in.
"I'm so glad you could come, dear," Amanda purred as Joan stood before her.
"My, my, my, said the spider to the fly," Joan answered in a teasing sing-song voice.
Amanda had changed jumpsuits. She now wore a gold lame sequined suit of the same elastic style as she had been wearing before. About her neck she wore a mink collar with a dangling golden ring attached to the fur covered leather band. Her shoulders were bare except for the brief straps haltering up her breasts, and her auburn hair cascaded about them in long silky curls. She was a voluptuous and feline creature in the traditional sense of sexy.
Joan on the other hand had a completely opposite effect on the observer. She was tanned like an athlete and wore brief white tennis shorts beneath a cool organdy paisley print blouse. The swirls in it were like ivory horns on a pale purple background and the see-through material gave a strawberry sundae effect to her eager young breasts. She wore her hair in a pixie cut while light blue eyes sparkled innocently in a face of classic Alpine beauty.
Amanda stood silent waiting for Joan to begin the game they always played. Joan's eyes fell on the brass length of the dog leash hanging to Amanda's right. She took it from the wooden peg and hooked it through the ring on the collar around Amanda's long, sinuous neck.
"Sorry, girl," Joan baby-talked and stepped close to Amanda, running her nose in the shell of Amanda's ear and sending her hot breath down the channel while her lips nibbled the lobe.
"I understand," replied Amanda with hurt in her eyes. The older woman squatted until she reached all fours. Then she rose on her knees and began unbuttoning Joan's shorts. When the top came loose she kissed the girl's downy belly with full pouting kisses. Pulling the brief cotton pants slowly down from Joan's firm young buttocks, Amanda followed the progress of her sculpting hands with lavish kisses. She licked her way along the resilient marble smoothness of Joan's thighs. The golden tan flesh tingled cleanly on her tongue.
Joan sighed deeply and began unbuttoning the sheer blouse. Her lean fingers nimbly ran the row of pearl-shaped buttons through the buttonholes. She shrugged and the top was off just as Amanda's tongue reached her ankle bone. When she stepped out of the shorts Amanda caught her foot and bit lightly at the leather straps of her sandal. Slowly, she slid it off. Still holding Joan's foot in the air she took one finely shaped toe into her mouth and sucked on it. The movement was highly effective. Joan felt the first heat in her belly and a sound like a hiss curled from between her lips.
Amanda was back on her hands and knees before Joan, running her tongue in and out of the girl's hot pussy. The brass leash Joan held loosely in her hand coiled over Amanda's shoulders and onto the scoop of her bare back. Amanda wagged the golden mounds of her hips as she rubbed her thighs together. Her tongue was scooping the musky nectar of Joan's cunt lavishly into her mouth. She cherished the soft inner lips as if it were a loving cup and the wine within truly holy. Joan was her master as with her avid tongue she drew the girl's secret juices down her throat.
"Let's go into the living room," Joan said. "We'll be more comfortable. And don't let's make it an evening of you silently obeying my commands on your hands and knees. I'm much too excited for all of that. I want to know about the circus job!"
The room they entered was essentially black and white. The walls were charcoal, the heavy shag rug, white. The couch was covered in real zebra skin. Before it stood a large glass-topped coffee table with an angular brass base. Opposite the couch were a pair of horsehair ottomans. The soft cylinders were covered with skin from painted ponies. In one corner there was a reclining sculpture chair made of wood and black leather. Balancing the room was a huge, overstuffed white goatskin lounging chair. The accessory tables were made completely of glass. Globed lights hung about the room from copper chains, lighting it well but leaving geometric shadows clinging to everything and everyone in the room.
"Amanda, may I have that mandarin housecoat you gave me last Christmas? That's a dear," said Joan as she unhooked the leash from Amanda's collar. She watched the woman leave the room to fetch the coat. She wanted to lie back on the zebra couch and have Amanda lick her pussy. But she just could not get relaxed into the feeling of the prickly hair of the couch cover on her bare skin. She wondered how Amanda could stand it.
Joan looked around at the portraits of dogs on the walls. A huge painting of Prince hung above the fireplace mantel. There was a grouping of fox hounds to his right and another smaller, more revolutionary portrait of a grey wolfhound to the left.
A rogue's gallery of photographs considering pedigreed faces occupied one entire wall. What seemed to be every large breed was there. But, of course, predominance was held by Prince's family since he had been with Amanda for so long. Once Amanda had explained to Joan that Great Danes were used for lion hunting. The dauntless spirit which years of breeding evolved to that purpose was one reason Amanda admired Danes so much. "It's what you must look for in the puppy, Duke, when you take him, Joan," Amanda had said one day by way of counsel.
Joan turned her attention away from wondering what Amanda had meant, and her eyes fell on a red lacquer box. Painted in gold, silver and black, a lion stood by a pond. That must have been what caused me to think of the mandarin housecoat "here," said Amanda, returning as if she were a piece of the puzzle of Joan's thought.
"Gosh, Amanda, this room is peculiar when I'm alone in it. It's so erotic. I was just now looking off at a lion. That must be what I think of as typifying the circus job before me. Please! I want to hear about the job." Joan took the housecoat from Amanda's outstretched hand.
"Oh, Joany, I've got my collar on. And you know how I feel like worshipping you," said Amanda with a whimper.
"All right, Mandy, come and lick me, pussycat. You can tell me while I cream." Joan obliged Amanda as she would a child and sprawled her body gracefully on the couch. The housecoat which she had donned reached only to the top of her box when she stood so that when she sat her ass could feel the wiry hairs from the couch's zebra coat. But that was all right because the buns of her ass would sweat as Amanda licked her. It was her back that the couch really irritated and which the coat was to protect.
Amanda pressed her breasts on either side of Joan's thigh as she knelt, laying herself at Joan's feet.
"Joany?" she whined in a little voice, "I've something to tell you, so please don't be mad."
"What is it, pussycat?" Joan asked contentedly. But suddenly alarmed when she suspected something amiss with the job: "What? Nothing's the matter--I hope I've still got the job?"
"Yes, you've got it," answered Amanda. "But maybe you won't want it when you hear what I've got to tell you. The animal trainer's name is Westmore. In fact, it's Myrna Westmore, my twin sister--if the truth must be known."
At first Joan felt ill at ease with the news. To begin with, Amanda was a Gemini, and after five years of being close with Joan suddenly springing a twin out of the blue was unique to say the least. Some harbored secret must be brooding in Amanda's soul, and Joan was not sure she wished to get involved in anything so incestuous. But that's what the circus is, Joan told herself as she struggled with the inner conflict for words to answer Amanda.
"Why haven't you told me of her before this?" Joan spoke, the pique rising in her face.
"Because she is the one who trained me to be as I am right now. And though I find it so uniquely pleasurable I was still afraid that you would not allow yourself to be tested with her, when you discovered all the circumstances of the job."
"When are you going to learn to trust me, Amanda? Bestiality is good to me. I want more of it. However, my point of view is different from yours, and I do not have to pervert my mind in order to occupy another dimension. The fact that underneath you sort of wanted me to be like you after your sister gets finished with me caused you to conceal what you should not have--if for no other reason than that I, too, have mastered you."
The woman whimpered at the reprimand in the girl's voice. She had been rebuked and must now plead submissively to resume licking Joan's cunt. Joan had no wish to see Amanda grovel her voluptuous body tonight. She patted Amanda's head and assured her with warm blue eyes that she could continue.
Immediately Amanda's hot tongue plunged into the crevice between Joan's willowy legs. It fluttered wetly through the foliage of hair and licked at her clit. Joan opened her legs wider and scooted downgrain on the cushion. The hair that covered the couch became even slicker as an even sweat broke out on Joan's flanks and hips.
"What's she like, Amanda? Myrna, I mean?" Joan asked vacantly as she pictured a brazen version of Amanda stepping into the animal pen whip in hand.
"You'll see, dear," answered Amanda as her tongue slid in and out of the cavern in Joan's gently rolling hips. "Umm. You taste so good, baby. Spread your legs wider so I can get my tongue in farther. Ummm, ummmm."
Joan widened her legs and let thoughts of the circus drift away through her mind. She felt like a seagull lazily flying above the ocean. Like a body of rolling water, Amanda's mouth sucked while her tongue twirled in Joan's cleft and shocks of pleasure emanated through the girl like an electric bird.
"Amanda. Am I stronger than her, your sister?"
"If you remain at heart true to yourself. It will take courage to face her among her animals. Of course, she may not choose to test you--but then your summer would be a bore."
Hush, child, Amanda's thoughts continued. I don't wish to speak this nonsense to you while my tongue licks at your love.
The wriggling pink snake-shaped tongue cleft into the volcanic hole of Joan. The fires erupted and her orgasm started to build boiling up with her cum.
Joan began to hump her hips on the couch with increasing force. Soon her sweaty hips sang rocking off the slick zebra hair and slapped back down against its prickle.
The zebra hair was silky to the touch hut stiff on its ends: it felt to Joan like a silky wash brush stroking a soapy ass.
Amanda's huge hunk of tongue reamed the moist fleshy walls of Joan's blistering pussy. As each hot sparkle of fluid reached the hungry tastebuds, Joan's juices were sucked into Amanda's molten mouth.
Joan locked her legs around Amanda's auburn head and let the woman's tongue ravage her eager cunt. The ragged edges of her pink vagina held tiny bubbles of the joy juice up for Amanda's flicking tongue to lick off.
"Oh, it's so good," Joan wheezed, tears of pleasure welling up in her eyes and causing the two-tone room to spin greyly.
Amanda ran her tongue like a channel beneath Joan's cut. The turgid pink stud throbbed with the swift wet passage the channel had become. A river of cum raged its twisting way down the corridor of canyons of Amanda's tongue and thrilled the love bud awake. The love button scooped out a passage against the grain of Amanda's plunging tongue and hot wet chills sang through Joan's torso.
"Oh yes, Amanda baby, eat me! Mmmm ... it's so very, very gooood." Joan groaned in a rhythm to Amanda's lascivious tongue. Her hips thrashed up about the probing organ like wheels and she humped her pelvis around and around.
"Eat me, Amanda, eat me," Joan snarled between clenched teeth. She pounded her hips down at Amanda's turgid tongue as if she were trying to snare it for a plug. Her body glistened with rainbows of sweat. Like a steamboat river wheel she churned her hips around the rudder of Amanda's tongue.
While her tongue flashed deeply into the hot pink walls of Joan's love lips, Amanda began to gnaw on Joan's clit. As she rubbed her teeth across the top side of the stub, her tongue glazed the lower half with saliva and cum. Shocked hot thrills echoed up in Joan from where Amanda's lips and tongue and teeth were driving her pussy mad.
Her body writhed slipperingly across the zebra hair while shock wave after shock wave of tumbling riotous orgasm washed blindingly through her. She surfed and surfed; impaled on Amanda's tongue like an eel her body squirmed.
"Oh my God yes!" Joan screamed in an agony of pleasure. "Cum, cum, cum, cum, cum." Her voice ran downhill as it shook with her diminishing breath and she quaked like a rag doll at the end of the delirious words. Finally after long spasms of passion had sung through her in deep crescendos, Joan quieted and Amanda's licking tongue only cleaned and soothed.
"Did I please you, Joany?" Amanda mewed coyly.
"Yes, pet, yes!" Joan sighed contentedly. "Let me rest for awhile."
"As you wish," Amanda answered, toying with the ring on her mink neck collar. Her tongue ran incessantly back and forth across the pout of her full lips like a snake, wetting them and tasting the air for moisture.
"Let's have Prince in the living room tonight, Amanda. I'd rather not go into his cage this time."
"As you wish," replied Amanda awaiting Joan's command to act. Idly she stroked Joan's cooling flesh while the girl lay back, relaxing on the couch. Her fingers trailed up and down the girl's tawny calf and thigh.
"How is my puppy doing?" Joan asked.
"Fine; he's gotten so big recently!" Amanda's eyes glowed as they looked up at Joan. The affection she had for the pup and his mates was obvious in the way Amanda let the love show in her eyes and it made Joan feel good with its warmth.
"Duke," Joan said the pup's name dreamily. She remembered the clownish black and white face of the puppy, his floppy ears out of trim and a sorrowfully serious expression clouding his features. He would approach her with his laughing head and want to play.
"Can we have Duke, too, Amanda?" Joan asked hopefully.
"Not 'can we'--'may we,' dear. And yes, I think so. But you will see when you take Duke to raise that all is not such a treat since--"
"Oh hush, Amanda. I am feeling like Prince now. Perhaps you should bring them both here."
Amanda rose without a word and hurried to the kennel. Without any fussing she slipped into the bitch's cage and snatched up the gangly pup, then out to let Prince glide from his pen into step beside her.
They were a well-oiled team. Just seeing them as they were now sparked hidden remembrances of Nazi sadism at its brightest. In fact the great black dog and his auburn-haired mistress could very well have been a commando interrogation team during another time. Except for the one psychological quirk in her makeup Amanda would have been cruel even without the impetus of war. But instead her twin sister Myrna had taught Amanda as a child to serve rather than to enslave. And not only institutions; but moreover individuals of a certain criteria. Individuals so free in life that they performed with animals bestially. Then Amanda would watch them and devote herself to their every need. She existed solely to please these special people of whom so far there had only been two, Joan and Myrna.
And now she was sending this child to the circus, perhaps, for Myrna to enslave. Well, if so, they could share just that much more. A sister of equal bondage would be nice, thought Amanda wickedly. But perhaps not. Certainly Joan was strong enough to best Myrna if their struggle was without tricks. But what would not seem a trick to the experienced Myrna might easily become one for Joan. Well, only time would tell. Amanda shrugged.
She put the puppy Duke down to trundle along beside Prince. Once on the floor Prince took him in hand. The great black dog looked up at her to let him run ahead and Amanda permitted it by running her fingers forward on his spine.
He was off. Kicking Duke with his hind legs to make him follow closely, he rushed into the living room and up to Joan. When Amanda arrived he was sitting at ramrod attention, literally quivering before the girl while she fondled Duke.
"Oh Joany, don't tease poor Prince. He so wants to sniff you, of course," Amanda said as she took her place at the head of the dog.
"He'll have to wait until I finish with this guy," replied Joan. Her voice was full of good natured cheer at Duke's puppy antics.
"As you wish," Amanda said and patted Prince's quivering shoulder. The black silk of the dog's warm flesh coated her palm with heat, while Joan's hand was buried like a fist in the midsection of the puppy.
Joan leaned farther forward and Prince licked her face. His broad slurpy tongue painted her face with cheerful greeting. It was comical the way the two met like children face to face. Prince kept nuzzling Joan's ear while Duke played with her hand with his paws in a ball between the two. Joan was innocent with the older dog and that Amanda knew to be the secret of the bond between the two. The girl met the animal on equal, incorruptible terms and she was rewarded with the same attitude of friendly equality in Prince.
Joan shucked the mandarin housecoat so that she could run her naked flesh over the coat of black satin hair covering the dog. When her breasts brushed along his shoulder, their tips sprang erect and she offered one to his tongue.
Prince licked his jowls, then began slowly licking up the underside of Joan's resilient breasts and flicking the turgid nipple just at the last. He lavished his hot pink tongue on Joan until a feeling of ecstasy began to mount in her. Then Joan brought the other tit to his mouth while she picked up the puppy Duke and encouraged him to suckle the hard nipple of the one Prince had just left. The puppy's soft mouth clamped about Joan's areola and sucked contentedly while Prince took nearly the entirety of the fleshy globe into his mouth with each lick. Joan felt heat creep into her loins as the pleasure from the animal's tongue increased.
Amanda watched as Joan began to fondle Prince more raggedly. She put the puppy on the couch to be safe and started wrestling good-naturedly with Prince.
Prince was clearly the stronger of the two. He allowed Joan to scuff the side of his head and rolled to the floor on his side. The lithe girl quickly pressed her advantage and dove after him. She rolled against his stretched out length and hugged him to her, careful to avoid the wavings of his errant forepaws.
As they frolicked on the floor and Joan's body pressed against the sleek black dog, Amanda could see the hot pink of inches of the dog's dick creep from its sheath and press itself against Joan's leg. Joan rubbed her thigh up and down on the torrid prick and an involuntary humping started in Prince's hips. The fun began to turn toward sex as Joan let her hand stroke the shaft of his cock against her leg.
She knew Prince was ready and much more teasing would only make him frantic. She rolled away from him and crawled on all fours to the couch. She laid her head and shoulders down on the edge of the couch and spread her legs wide so that her firmly rounded ass gleamed invitingly to Prince.
The dog did not hesitate but was upon her immediately Joan felt her pussy quivering with anticipation, as his hard lean hips nestled rigidly between her spread buttocks and his forepaws clutched around her waist. She hunched up farther on the couch and drew the puppy to her breast. While Prince poked his prick between her legs, trying to make connection with her cunt hole, she held one breast out from beneath her weight for the puppy to nurse. The pup whined his pleasure and sucked the tit into his mouth making big slurpy sounds. With his hot tongue he began to lash the rubber hard nub and to draw the areola deeply toward his hungry throat.
Prince's humping hips were becoming more frantic now as his dick searched for Joan's pleasure hole. She reached beneath herself and back until she found the hot pulsating cock and drew the thrusting member to the entrance of her cunt lips. She could feel the hot pink blade of his tool part the hair as it wormed its way toward exactly the right place. Then, for an instant the dog's hips paused as the tip felt the lips of Joan's pussy part and her hand slide the phallus into place. When he was sure the slim fleshy rod would not pop out he plunged forward with all his might and Joan felt the dog's cock sear deeply into the wanton walls of her cunt. She tensed the muscles of her pussy so that the utmost friction took place and humped herself backwards onto the rod with a groan of, carnal joy.
Prince began to fuck the girl with quick hard thrusts, ramming his heated prick in and out, in and out so that the front of her legs were soon pressed against the couch. The dog's tongue lolled from its mouth and he began to pant rapidly and jaggedly.
The incredible feeling of Prince's driving thrusts caused Joan to moan aloud. "Fuck me, Prince, fuck me. Oh! How I love that dog cock!"
The dog was in a lather now. Foam began forming about his jowls and his eyes gleamed with lust. He rammed his slim hindquarters faster and faster from behind Joan.
Amanda watched the pair as their passion mounted. She looked about the room hurriedly, not wanting to miss a movement between them. Her eyes found what she sought. She reached for the brass leash and swooped it up. Then stringing it between her legs she rocked herself to-and-fro on its length, still feasting her eyes on the beautiful girl fornicating with the dog. From between her lips came a soft sound like a dove. It was barely audible between the groans and pants from Joan and Prince. Amanda's eyes wheeled up in her head from the rubbing of the chain between her legs and she saw the room in a milk glass light globe. The first whimper of the painful screech Prince would emit upon cumming interrupted Amanda's masturbatory reverie.
Of all the worlds of pleasure that Prince afforded Amanda, the unearthly way he howled as if in pain was the only thing that made Amanda sad. She had prayed to understand it, since it happened with Prince was coupled to a bitch as well.
But Joan seemed to ignore it or understand it with placidity. She humped her ass back at Prince as fast as she could. Her body sweated so that when Prince's lean hips slapped her backside it sucked between her buns with an audible sound.
Smack, crack, Amanda reacted to the sound by rocking harder on the whipping brash chain.
Joan was grunting now with the effort of keeping up with the quick hot thrusts from the Dane. He socked the knife-like blade of his pink prick deeply into Joan's seething cunt. His hairy black loins were almost chattering against the girl's ass with each thrust.
Amanda heard the dog's whine deepen to a whimper and knew he had started to cum.
Joan had felt her own orgasm well up in her womb as if in response to the howl's growing depth. Her churning, sweaty hips were like wheels of glazed passion as her pussy seized the dog cock in its grasp, and she felt the hot, seething semen burst into the moist canal of her box. Her labia literally fluttered as her cum exploded around the red hot prick. It felt like a glowing fire poker as splash after splash of Prince's seminal fluid twirled up the walls of her throbbing cunt. Both the girl and the dog shook as if vibrated by lightening in the throes of the orgasm. Prince howled at the peak of his lungs while Joan rolled in oblivion, and Amanda wailed for Prince's pain as she came from the knobby links of the rubbing chain.
Chapter 3
Joan Engle stood by the ringside of the main tent and watched the circus performers work out.
In the middle stood a blonde Adonis supporting the weight of twelve men on his shoulders. It was the young strong man, Justice Holt. All the circus posters were full of his face.
He was built like Michelangelo's David. His gaze as it peered regally from the cardboard signs that were shouting from every shop window that the circus was in town charged deep thrills into the hearts of romantic women, insisting: You shall come to see me perform. You shall come.
And Joan could see why the signs were so effective as she stood just outside the ring and her eyes met Justice's. He was cool and sure of himself under the weight of twelve sweating men. Her eyes dropped with practiced acumen to his loins and beheld the fist-like bulge.
What a magnificent beast! she breathed to herself wishing to humble her mouth at this proud bulging staff. Sometimes it's like I need a man after a night with Prince, Joan thought and wondered at the compulsion.
But the man did not seem willing to acknowledge her interest. He was a base beneath a tree of people; he did his job and that was that.
Realizing he could not simply stride over and take her to his cave, Joan eyed the strong man and amused herself with imagining kissing his cock and mouthing his balls. Her face must have been telling quite a story, for a female voice surprised her as it purred from beside her:
"He's not of the animals, kitten." Joan turned to find herself looking into a face identical to Amanda's, only lustier.
"I'm Myrna Westmore and you're Joan Engle," Amanda's twin said without doubt of her conviction. "Amanda told me everything about you and her description fits you exactly."
Without wishing to reveal it Joan was taken aback by the woman's presence. She was, indeed, Amanda with a whip in her hand: a woman who tamed big male cats. A shiver akin to fear chilled through Joan.
"Yes, I'm Joan Engle. How do you do?" Joan answered finally and felt like a fool with her formal tone.
Myrna laughed, "You can call me Bwana Lady later. But until you get to know the place, make it Myrna, okay?"
Joan relaxed a little, hoping Myrna was human after all. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, he's so strong and all." She motioned vaguely at Justice standing beneath the twelve man triangle.
"You know, they always look like a pool rack to me." Myrna's voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper with a grin. "Only trouble is the cue ball would have to be Justice and there'd be nothing to stroke but air without him."
Joan was not sure she knew what Myrna meant but she laughed anyway and let the woman lead her away from the center ring.
Everything seemed to twirl about the girl. It was as if the lives who moved through the giant tent were caught forever on a ferris wheel. What would it feel like to be a part of all this big top?
Unknown stories above her head she could see an aerial team flying through a work out. The taut, bright hi-wires seemed as full of people as musical notes to the awe-struck girl. And all day long it was like that. The following hours were a maze of brightly colored people drifting through Joan's eyes. She felt in a daze like fog on a horizon and was nearly exhausted when finally she found herself alone late that night.
She had been assigned a compartment on a train car just big enough to stash a bag and her body in for a night's sleep. It was a box smaller than a closet laid over on its side.
'Where to get out to?' was the first question that struck her mind. The canteen. But there was only another railroad car containing so many new faces she didn't feel up to facing.
Her mind drifted back to the day's beginning and she remembered Justice. Like a clear light the remembrance pierced the daze of her thoughts. That was something she would like to do. What she hungered for was some man cock raw and wild. She thought of the thick smooth body of the Grecian boy, Justice Holt, and the hunger thickened in her throat and tongue. She imagined the hot head of his purple prick tip glazing the depths of her throat with the force of his giant muscles and she nearly wilted with desire. Quickly she rummaged through her suitcase for her elastic leopard leotards.
Joan's face wore a feline expression of awakened hunger. Just like the cloth into which she molded her body, she became a cat that hunted at night. She was thinking of what the hairy cave between his buttocks might taste like to her tongue. Only when she had tasted the sweaty musk of his asshole would she be satisfied her hunt was done.
Where would Justice be this time of night? Joan forced herself to ask logically. Well, if he had been paying any attention to her appraisal of him during the morning, he just might be looking for her about this time. And if he was looking for her, of course he knew she was connected with Myrna and the animals. So, Justice might be somewhere amidst the animal cages?
Joan left her compartment door unlocked, then returned and locked it hurriedly, slipping the key in the only available place, between the mounds of her breasts. Fool she thought to herself at the unthinking gesture, it'll work its way down the front and into my cunt. But that did not matter, she would take it out if it hurt.
Once outside, which took only a moment, Joan became a huntress. She stuck to the shadows while surveying the circus grounds, the huge arc lights were just dimming out, and as the girl watched a smaller light adjusted the circus to bedding down.
Tired people trundled between the elephantine tents, performing the last tasks of a long day, and Joan was struck with how brave these people must be. To lead lives ceaselessly in motion before a sea of leering faces was an awesome task indeed.
Like fireflies her eyes lit hungry sparks into every shadowed corner where she hoped to find Justice's handsome shadowed face regarding her with easy grace.
She drifted further on until she came again to the center ring. She found the main tent strangely quiet. The performers had quit it after the show, they would not step back into the circle until after dawn and the echoes of the night's crowd were completely gone. As she stepped across its boundaries a mysterious feeling fell about her. All that she had seen that afternoon of the performance came rushing back to her.
She heard the way the crowd had hissed with a sizzle as it quieted down when the Wolfgang Flyers came on. The flyers tumbled from tower to tower using the swing to spin on, until Joan imagined there was a huge, unseen juggler beneath spinning them like bowling pins. The silence had deepened further still when the melodramatic voice of the ringmaster proceeded their finale with a description of death-defying gloom. Everything was so vast and mysterious about her that she scarcely had noticed the clowns rig the membrane of spider-webbed nets below the trio of flying heroes.
Yes, the Wolfgang Flyers will do a triple axle with Hans hanging from the narrow swing while Sara and Hart lock legs with each other and the three whirl about the trapeze like burning torches.
The red glittering hunk of a man that was Hans Wolfgang began to swing on the high flying bar in longer and longer arcs between the two towers where Sara and Hart stood poised like statues. Hart was sequined in black, Sara in white. Hans now spun gaining momentum with his arms and legs stuck straight out from his body. He then hooked some gadget from his belly button to the bar and started to revolve slowly head over heels around the swinging bar like a swiftly moving clock.
From where Joan sat in the front row on the left of the center aisle to the ring, the energy of twenty-five thousand people seemed to catch on one breath. Tension was knotted at the base of her upcraned neck. Beneath the sky blue umbrella of the tent the lights dimmed until all that could be seen were the lighted, glowing torches hooked to the sides of the three performers. The mood of the music changed and cracked into an excited, building roll as Sara leaped from her tower like a tumbling dive? and curled into a ball. The flame lights revolved slowly twice then jerked to a stop as Hans caught her fall.
The lights came up on the high flying pair now both revolving around the trapeze as it continued to swing between the high towers. With a powerful thrust, Hans doubled up and allowed Sara's muscular hands to grab his ankles. The movement gave added momentum to the bar for the next stage of the spectacular stunt.
The crowd let out one breath, then uniformly gasped another as the ringmaster said:
"And not to be outdone by his sister, Hart Wolfgang will attempt not two--but three!--three complete tumbles, Ladies and Gents, in freefall before Hans stops him with a catch."
Hart seemed to stiffen majestically. The music quickened while again the lights dimmed. The stage was set. The twirling wheels of fire sent off conical shapes like magicians' hats and within the tent a spirit akin to Halloween took hold.
Then, almost as slowly--or so it seemed--as a goldfish in a bowl, Hart started to swim toward the top of the tent. He reached an airy pinnacle and turned into a burning fist that wheeled about itself once, a second time, and three times, then jerked out straight. The audience grasped and started to applaud. But the stunt was not done.
The three balls of fire were swimming around and around the arching trapeze bar at the top of the tent and still the lights did not come up. The flyers were twirling around up there attached only to Han's buckle.
Now, as Joan stood in the ring above which this fiery feat had been performed earlier, she was suddenly aware of how quiet the big empty tent was and she shivered with the magnitude of it.
"It's big, isn't it?" A deep melodious male voice retrieved her from her reverie with a start. Justice Holt's grinning Greek face mocked her from the dark.
"It's you who brought me out tonight," she answered simply directing her words to his more hidden question.
"I'm glad. Because I wished it would turn out this way."
"Do you have somewhere to take me?" Joan asked meekly while she stood like a slave before the massive dimly lit man.
The face of Justice looked down from the strengths of its peaks to a cleft chin. His handsome olive eyes took in Joan with appreciation as she stood like a vixen kitten glowing sex in the dark of the ring. Leopard spots of orange and black clung to her curves and left hefty shadows in which he feasted his eyes. She had come for him as he had known she would this morning.
She was in Justice's mind like a yellow balloon on a rainy day, a treat for being true to what he was.
Because of that truth, he was there to be obeyed blindly. Even he did not know the causes of all events and he devoted himself just as blindly to that thought. Whatever the woman wanted of him, if she were as devoted as he, Justice would perform.
"There is no need to go anywhere While we are in the center, no one will intrude. It is the understood code," Justice said grinning wickedly.
Slowly he took Joan into the palm of one strong hand and felt her willow with his strength. She just lay there like a muffy kitten with delight in her eyes. He stroked her spine, feeling the butt of her hips swell off her back, and then cupped the firm mounds of her heart shaped ass in his hand. He could feel the heat from her bowels jab like a point into the center of his hand and he crushed her pelvis to his prick.
The join cloth the muscle man wore flapped aside, and Justice felt the lips of the girl's cunt clutch for the head of his prick. But it was not enough. The material of her leotards was between the feeling of her flesh and his.
"Take yourself from that suit so I can feel you," Justice said to Joan. She made no reply but stepped back and peeled the zipper down.
The garment had a zipper both front and back so that when undone Joan was split up the middle with a swath of resilient flesh. Something flashed to the ground and Justice saw it was a key. He stooped to pick it up, then rose as her eyes urged him to look at what she had revealed.
Her breasts were cleft so deeply that Justice thought they resembled what his hand had felt cupped about her ass. He wanted to suck on those strawberry nipple tips.
Joan's breasts were indeed nearly as firm as her butt for she was as sinewy as a mountain cat. Her heat rose sumptuously out of her cunt while Justice took off his loin cloth.
A gasp of delight escaped Joan's lips when she saw the trunk of the man. From that incredibly wide chest full of bulging pectoral muscles his waist slipped into hips of such narrow ramrod strength that his pecker had the scope of a pool cue.
So that's what Myrna meant about a cue ball, Joan thought as she kneeled before the man's magnificent member. With her pixie-cut hair she looked like a court page before a pagan king. Her pulse quickened and heat seeped from her womb when she beheld the staff protruding from his hips. The bulb of it was red and swelled as the slit of it peered evenly between her eyes. She saw how the vee shape of the glans narrowed its sides up the slope of the prick head's elliptical mass.
The trunk of Justice's prick looked long and lean as it disappeared into the blonde briars about his balls. His balls were unusually large and seemed to be held in an almost translucent sack causing Joan to feel she must taste the fruit there first.
She let her tongue lick out to soften the briar with wet hot licks. Then her pouted lips kissed in the thatch and suckled onto Justice's ballsack. The tender skin felt baby smooth beneath Joan's tongue and she licked between his balls at the cave of his ass. Then she led her sharp tongue up the steep base of the Greek's massive erection. She could taste the sweat of the day's performance on him.
She worshipped at the glans with hot pouting kisses and sent wings of pleasure sailing through Justice like a flock of doves. Like the sound of the birds' greased wings Joan hummed her love while her pink tongue tip wriggled beneath the head of Justice's cock.
Joan let her voice growl up and vibrated her taut lips all over the slick elliptical surface of the Greek man's pecker head. The effect of her lips was electric on his organ and Justice began to rock his heels to a rhythm of his own. While her lips vibrated on Justice's turgid bulb she let her tongue glaze the crease of its tip. The red eye opened to the intruder like a slit in a rock to a snake. Joan made her tongue tip small and dry then reamed the tiny slit as she thought of Eric.
Justice knew this kind of worship from Myrna as well and he could not help but compare the techniques of the two different women.
Myrna had always attacked his loins hungrily, as if with one lusty gobble she would suck his root off and victory would be hers. But Joan was different somehow. While the humming heat of her lips toiled almost frantically over the distended head of his prick, she was gentle still. She did not seem to wish to devour him but rather to share some need of hers with this one way of giving him the pleasure of her kiss.
Justice centered all his concentration on the point where her tongue licked his prick and felt his body take its key from its tip. In his palm he felt the brass key he had picked up punch its shape into his clenched fist. He ignored it and turned his mind on to the picture of her heart shaped lips as they hummed around the head of his cock. Her sucking was so beautiful that for the moment he gave himself up to its power like a slave.
Joan felt the heat of his meat increase and her lips widened in response. She let the entire bulb pass her lips and felt the foreskin peel and roll rubbery beneath her teeth. She sucked her lips back between his cock flesh and her teeth and flicked her snaking tongue at the same time. Her saliva thickened and Justice felt a hot pool of it form and cup the chin of his prick, wetly. She sucked and a well was formed with his prick as the pumping handle. His huge muscular body already had begun to vibrate with the pleasure, yet Joan had only just begun.
Her eyes were closed as she took the cockhead of Justice into her mouth, but they popped open with the entrance. Her mind was cool as her eyes looked around at the dark.
Justice's cock began stroking between her lips and she led it deeply into her throat with the trough of her tongue. Then as it withdrew she whirled her tongue tip on the shaft end like a propeller. Justice clenched his hips and rocked on his heels.
Joan knew she held the man's very root in her mouth and could tell by the way he tensed that he would put everything he had into the act. Her hand curled up beneath the ropes of his limbs and fingered the large olive shaped fruit in his sensitive ballsack. She stroked her fingers down the track between them until she came to Justice's ass. While she sucked and plunged her mouth and tongue avidly about the ring of his prickhead, her finger twirled along the rim of his rectum and she stiffened her thrusts. His hips were rocking savagely, driving the length of his rod in and out of her mouth like a piston. She used her finger to counterpoint the backward pump and timed the short sharp pokes to coincide with each hump.
To-and-fro his slim muscular hips humped while Joan's busy eyes lolled about, searching in the dark. Something like a woman's form seemed to move beyond the seats into the gloom of the hallway between the animal tent and where it connected to the main ring, Joan's eyes picked out the face of Myrna Westmore watching them.
She was making no attempt to conceal herself from Joan but rather stood with her hands on her hips and leered.
But Joan was too involved with sucking Justice's huge cook to acknowledge Myrna in any way. She buried her eyes in the foliage about the fleshy stump and gave every fiber of her being to the blow-job.
Each time Justice jerked his hips forward from the lance her finger was in his ass, the length of his rod buried itself to the hilt in the girl's mouth and down her throat.
Joan deepened the growl from her lungs until to Justice it seemed an animal was welded on to his cock with its mouth.
Again he thought of Myrna and found Joan a far better cocksucker than the lion tamer could ever hope to be. Although the snarl seeping from around the contact between her lips and his massive prick was easily as savage as anything Myrna had ever growled, the feeling Justice came to know from Joan's lips held infinitely more grace. Nevertheless Justice, too, felt Myrna's presence even though his back was to her.
Justice felt himself cumming and Joan sensed it also. She increased the flickering flutter of her tongue and sucked with all her might. He felt the hot jism surge up and it was as if it were being pulled from him by a steady current similar to a huge, slowly surging ocean wave. When the first hot gob splashed out of his groin and into the girl's working mouth Justice felt strength surging through his loins and he came in a huge jerking spasm. Joan sucked deeply until every drop was consumed and Justice's giant muscled legs were weak.
"Please, that's enough," Justice said and pushed Joan's head back from his tingling prick. Still, it seemed she could not get enough. He sat down on the floor of the ring with a deep heaving shudder and groaned his contentment. "You're too much, girl. You know that?" Justice breathed, relaxing slowly.
"You're all right yourself, Justice Holt," Joan replied while her fingers played with the hair of his crotch. She bent her head once again to his groin and licked a shiny streak that her mouth had missed. Then she said, "I'll bet that I can get it up again for you in no time. Do you mind?"
Under normal circumstances he would have repeated firmly that he had had enough, but something in the girl compelled him to say instead, "Sure. Why not?"
"Roll over and spread your legs. I want to lick your ass," Joan then commanded. The way she said it and the gleam in her eye decided Justice. He did as she asked.
When he was on his stomach she reached between the ground cover and the washboard of muscles on his lower abdomen and straightened his soft cock until it stuck straight up toward his chest. Then, satisfied with the arrangement and asking Justice's approval with her eyes, she received a nod from his head and crawled between his legs. Her fingers started to toy with the fur of his balls while her tongue licked down the crack of his ass. She took savage, tiny nips tom the cheeks of his buns until his muscular torso began to bunch and jump from the tiny bites. Then, just as she sensed Justice was about to complain she plunged her tongue into the rosette of his anus and wriggled the pink tip past the elastic sphincter. The tiny, wet hot, pink cleaver whirled in and around Justice's asshole in a perfect frenzy of wantonness. And he could feel his prick harden beneath his belly with each stab or Joan's tongue. As Joan licked and caressed the tiny wire-haired hole, her gaze roamed over his buttocks and saw Myrna Westmore turn away in apparent disgust. Good, thought Joan. The old bat shouldn't have been looking anyway.
Justice widened the cheeks of his ass to give Joan more depth, and she plunged herself into the act of anal fellatio with gusto.
This was the time that the sexual act with another human spoke loudest to her. It was illicit even in her own mind and the dark psychological thrills her imagination underwent nearly took away her breath. Her face was stuffed as far between the buns of the man's ass as it would go, and her tongue delved for the tiny prostate gland within.
Joan could tell that Justice's cock had hardened and he was ready to fuck she was sure and didn't want to push him too far. She raised herself and turned around so that her heart shaped ass twinkled lewdly at him as she spoke:
"Justice, fuck me like a dog!"
The words awakened Justice as if from a sleep. He rolled off the length of his log-like dick to his side and contemplated Joan's behind. Now if there was one secret corner of pride in Justice about his sexual prowess, it was that in being an animal no other could equal him at his refined tastes. All right, he was a bit dandy; have it as you may. But when the animal of Justice's pride heard Joan's words, he thought it was a cinching bridle around his powerful gut.
After all he had been rolling on a swelling pecker while Joan ate his ass into a regular holocaust. And that could make a fellow sore. Justice saw himself often in his imagination as a cowpoke about to tame a bronc. So he rose from his side and went to claim her, wishing he was wearing chaps to save the skin of his knees.
It was Justice's secret wish to have an act without the twelve other performers he balanced on his shoulders. What he hoped for was some western drama in which he alone was the star. But tonight he was young and strong and none of his thoughts made any sense to him except the one about the length of his copper-headed prick stuck in Joan's twat from beneath her ass.
Justice fitted himself to the back of the girl's gams, aware of the rocky pits of earth beneath his kneecaps. He did not want bruises on his knees, for they would give him pain during the act when the blood rushed to the far reaching muscles as they strained. No, not that.
He was careful, almost cautious, as he slid into the saddle shape of Joan's arching rear end. But the backs of her legs and ass were hot and turgid with the first contact and he threw caution to the winds.
Joan was impatient to get him into action. With a sound resembling an eager mare she pawed the ground with one hand while the other snaked between her legs and found the wavering member.
Justice felt the cool palm of her hand cup the underbase of his cock and tug his whole body forward. When she pressed the elypde of his organ into the thatch of dark hair between her legs, Justice's prickhead felt the heat immediately.
Joan's snatch was smooth and creamy. It frothed around the turgid head with the first contact. Her pussy snapped around the knob of his prick like a clam shutting up its shell. Only, her cunt was soft, so incredibly hot and soft.
The butterfly lips of the pink hole fleshily sucked the purple headed member past the labial lips and a groan of pleasure escaped Justice when his cock tip felt the pulsing walls of her box.
Goddamn! This chick is hot, he thought. Careful that his stroke was slow and smooth, he pressed in with a clenched ass and drove his red-
headed staff home. He could still feel the deep tingling sensation on his prostate gland left there earlier by Joan's probing finger, and the slit between his buns was still hot and slick with her spit. He was roasting with joyful thrills at both ends and his thrust was so powerful that he sent Joan forward onto her face. Her firm young flesh was crushed to a puddle beneath the strong man's weight.
"Let me back up!" Joan groaned up to Justice with what little wind she had left from the crush. She wiggled beneath his enormous frame like a speared fish on his cock and Justice debated whether to grant her request or not. The subtle feel of her squirming beneath him could go on forever and his cum would hold off a long, long time. On the other hand he could stiffen himself as if performing and stand on his knees while he bucked and jumped around his rod.
Justice was always one who took pleasure wherever he found it, and he decided to let the girl squirm for a while. But just as he reached his decision Joan's contortions managed to pop his cock from her box and resignedly he pushed his weight off the girl for another stab at it.
Alas, this time Joan was ready for him with a trick of her own. When Justice slipped his pecker between those sweet pussylips, Joan lunged back until she was impaled to the hilt, while her hands clutched backwards and latched onto his legs. It was an enormous contortion and Justice felt every muscle of it like a cord against his rigid cock. The girl's slim body was like a fireband locked against his loins and Justice responded in kind.
Joan had taken her whole weight off the ground by wrapping her legs between Justice's wide-spread limbs and pushing out. The combination of that maneuver and the steel grip in which she held his thighs changed the very center of her gravity. Now, she throbbed on the length of Justice's prick and he shook her like a rag doll. Like a tree he planted himself in a wide powerful triangle of muscular concentration and sent shock waves off his cock tip and rippling through her.
Their bodies were welded together so closely that each time the flesh parted anywhere there was an audible suck from the sweat of their contact. Somehow Joan had managed to establish a counter hump of her buttocks to Justice's steady thrusts and her beautiful ass began to revolve on his stomach.
Justice was suddenly on a merry-go-round, wheeling like a bobbing horse up and down and around in Joan's torrid cunt. His pricktip drove deeply into her and glanced onto her cervix, then out slowly as her pussy pulsed around his shaft. The fleshy walls throbbed hot syrupy fluid to ease him past their grasp and he was back to the opening.
Joan had let go of Justice's legs and now was hunched forward with her back bowed. Her delightful ass churned like an electric fan around the iron length of Justice's erection. Their bodies were slapping and sucking together and the animal grunts coming from them could be heard far away.
Joan became aware of that fact and she humped her ass in a fantail as if she were a peacock. She wondered where Myrna had gone because she was certainly missing one hell of a show.
Justice socked his lumber to her and she sawed away fervently with the blazing churn of her hips. But then just moments later the lumber thrust again and was an angry bear having caught an invader in its cave. He remembered how glorious Joan's face had been as she had mounted her lips to his cockhead and sucked. Her eyes had shined in the centers like suns. He was a white goat with a red-centered eye being sucked into a dream.
Whap! The whip of his hips slipped her a good one and he felt the filly shudder. He was a cowpoke again but it did not matter to him because here she comes!
He felt Joan quake and shudder and he knew she was cumming from his rock hammer blasts. Justice felt his cum start. Boom! The cum shook out of the stern of his erection with gigantic power as he let every fiber of his being loose and he shot off the first orgiastic spasm into Joan.
The heat of the seminal fluid seared within Joan's pussy canal; and she clutched at him with the walls of her cunt, creating a snapping sound.
Wow! But this bitch is good, Justice thought to himself. So that she would not miss any of it he put all his might behind the blasts of cock cream hurled within. Joan felt absolutely gorged with wild, raw cock.
Pulsing and vibrating with aftershocks of their mutual cumming, they collapsed on the circus clods of earth beneath their sweating bodies. They both rolled lazily over until Justice lay on his back with Joan on her side, leaning on his ribs and muscled thigh. With a groan of beautiful sexual surfeit she flung her delicate arm over his massive chest and they fell asleep like two exhausted children.
Chapter 4
"Oliver! Oliver, you and I must talk," Myrna said in a gush as she burst in on the circus manager late that night. "You'll never believe this. But, already that little she-bitch has got her heat on--and I just left her licking Justice's ass in the center ring."
"You should have joined in, my dear." Oliver grinned lewdly at the animal whip in Myrna's hand. 'Evidently, you'll just have to start whipping the girl into shape earlier than you thought."
Oliver Oates, short, squat and blond, chuckled like a greedy fat child after three candy bars.
He was a punster when he could be but most often Myrna's whip cut his wit off short. She glared at him now.
"This is no time for bad jokes, Oliver Oates." She reprimanded the fat little man and the chuckle disappeared. "We're going to have trouble with that kid."
"What kind of trouble, Myrna?" Oliver whined. "I thought your sister said she was an animal lover."
"Oh, stop your sniveling and let me think!" Myrna snapped, then turned her back on Oliver's dismay and stared into the night. "Oh, it's no use!" She stomped her foot, then turned back to face Oates. "I'm sure what Amanda says about the girl is true enough, but that's not the question here."
"Why! I believe you're jealous, Myrna love," Oliver said cunningly.
"What? Of that kid? She couldn't possibly come between me and the animals. Why, my years of experience alone ... Hell, I'm old enough to be her mother!"
"That's not what she's come between, dear," Oliver said with relish in his voice. "She's come between you and Justice, Dear. And you're afraid she might be better than you."
"That little brown nose," sneered Myrna unconvincingly. "She'll never be the cocksucker I am--I can assure you of that."
"Have you checked the animals yet?" asked Oliver, suddenly feeling queasy and wanting to change the subject in the face of Myrna's wrath.
"No," Myrna answered irritably. She had nearly forgotten her nightly check she was so pissed at that little bitch. "No, I haven't, dammit! And wipe that sneer off your face!"
"Yes, Myrna," Oliver said sheepishly as with some effort he turned his lips up into a grin.
"And wipe that insane smile off your face, as well!" Myrna's voice rose in a tirade and Oliver was caught betwixt and between.
When Oliver had nowhere else to go, he became jovial: "Yes, indeedy!"
"Oh God, you are incorrigible," Myrna gasped, completely exasperated. "Come on. I want you along when I check the animals."
"Not tonight, Myrna."
"Tonight, Oliver," Myrna insisted, now firmly gaining control of herself. "I haven't seen you around the ewe much lately. For a while there, a real love affair was going on. What happened, Oliver? She too hot to handle?"
"There's no need for abuse, Myrna. I'll come with you, of course; just let me get my coat."
As they walked together across the circus ground to the animal tent, Oliver's shape was like a butterball next to the statuesque Myrna. She was still in a lather and smacked the coiled whip against her leg like a tambourine in march step. Her jaw was set and her eyes gleamed with a hidden fever. Her strides were so long that the shorter legs of Oliver nearly had to run to keep up with her.
When Myrna was in this kind of mood Oliver knew better than to say anything; so he merely hurried along by her side and kept silent.
When they arrived at the animal tent, Myrna suddenly ordered: "Put your hipboots on, Oliver. I want you in the ring with the ewe."
Rather than enrage her any further Oliver shrugged his coat off and took the huge rubber boots to a nearby bench and sat down.
Myrna moved between the bars of the cage rows until she found the ewe and her ram. Then she trotted out the female while holding the old man off with the handle of her whip against his forehead. "Phew!" she grunted with the effort. Turning, she saw that Oliver already had his pants off and was into his hipboots. He looked ludicrous; the plump mounds of his white ass glared chubbily in the dark. She flicked the whip sharply from her side and a tiny ping of pain stung Oliver's behind.
"Now you know how I feel about the whip, Myrna. I forbid you to employ it on me!"
"Shut up, and get in the pen, Oliver. Here's the ewe."
The sheep's eyes gleamed like red rocks of fire in her white head as she gazed up at Oliver from beneath Myrna's hand. He was entranced by those eyes and moved like a fat wooden soldier into the training pen.
The ewe followed and Myrna swung the gate closed behind them. Oliver had his back to the animal and when she pawed the ground impatiently he turned to face her. He approached her with a coo in his voice so as not to get her excited at first. He wanted to avoid a struggle with her legs when he picked up her rear end and imprisoned the limbs within his boots. He soothed her fleecy coat with light strokes as he moved along her flank.
"Good girl. Good. Take it easy." Oliver's voice was gentle and sure; as he took her by the loins and dropped her hooves into the hipboot tops. She squirmed a little and Oliver had to struggle to avoid being toppled, but soon she calmed and he soothed her rump with gentle hands. Expertly his fingers found the puckered twat beneath the sheep's fleecy ass and he moved his stubby cock toward its goal. Wriggling the tip of his stem into the blossom of the ewe's cunt.
Just then Myrna's whip stung him like a bee on his chubby ass and he screeched his displeasure.
"No whip, Myrna! No whip--I told you that!"
Oliver was beginning to sweat from the effort required to keep the wriggling ewe impaled on his prick. He grasped each side of the sheep's flanks and clutched the loins of her legs to him while his midsection worked to get a rhythm started. He was huffing and puffing around the pen with the sheep's weight on her forward hooves like a wheelbarrow. He was maintaining his own--but it was a struggle. Finally he managed to guide her into a corner of the square pen and to press her into it. Her head tucked between the ropes while Oliver resumed his thrusts.
The ewe's twat was elastic and hot around Oliver's stubby joint. As he stroked, it pulled on his foreskin like a suction cup. Both the men and the animal were grunting and too far out of whip range for Myrna to flick.
Lazily she considered whether or not to enter the pen and nick little fleshpots from Oliver's ass with the whip. But she tried not to be cruel to any beast. So, instead she put the thought away and leaned on the gate to watch.
* * *
Joan awoke with a start from where she slept curled like a kitten in the crook of Justice's arm. She listened tensely for some sign of what had awakened her, while Justice groaned in his sleep and rolled away from her tension.
There it is again, she thought when the sound of the squawking ewe reached her ears from the direction of the animal tent.
Like a cat she slipped silently to her feet and rubbed her eyes to adjust them from the glow of sleep to the dark night. Then treading with her lightest step she slipped through the night toward the source of the noise. She was the huntress again, and so caught up in the role of a stalking cat was she that she crept off and forgot the room key still clutched in Justice's sleeping hand.
She paused for a moment when she became aware of the cool night air on the swath of her exposed skin. She quietly zipped the leotards back together and the white flesh disappeared with only the slightest of whispers. Then she resumed her quiet stalking of the sounds that had awakened her.
She followed stealthily past the tiers of seats and into the hallway to the animal tent. She crept along in the deepest shadows with all her senses alert and like a leopard did not make a sound.
The grunting increased and she began to suspect that both a human and an animal were responsible for it. As she drew closer she saw the leather-clad figure of Myrna Westmore leaning against the corral fence. Not wishing to be discovered sneaking about silently, Joan changed her tack. She stepped out of the shadows boldly, being sure to scrape her feet for the noise and approached the apparently enraptured Myrna with a firm step.
As she drew within a few feet of Myrna, the woman's voice suddenly cracked like a whip. "You could have come silently, Joan. I've known you were coming for some time now!"
"You think you always know, don't you?" Joan said reaching the gate. "You said something very much like that this morning when you found me in the main tent. Did you arrange this show for my benefit?"
"Let's say in response to the brown nosing you were doing with Justice earlier ..." Joan eyed the white globes of Oliver's fat ass as they bobbed gelatinously in the dim light.
"What's that--a ewe--he's with? And who is it anyway?"
"Oliver Oates, my dear, the circus manager. And to answer your first question: yes, it is a ewe."
Myrna's voice dropped into a matter-of-fact, friendly tone as she continued, "He was too busy to see you today. You'll meet shortly, though, I'm sure. And now back to Justice, my dear. Another little something that didn't come to your attention today is that Justice is mine alone as long as he is with this circus." A dreamy light came into her eyes. "And I don't think he has any reason to complain." She licked her lips lasciviously.
Joan watched her with deliberate humor and mewed, "My, yes! He does taste good."
At first Myrna did not answer. All that could be heard was the cacophony of grunts and bawls from the fornicating couple in the corner of the pen.
With imperceptible slowness, her eyes seemed to fill with rage and Joan tried to imagine what Oliver and the ewe looked like through those angry eyes.
She could not. To her, they were simply an animal and a man engaged in the event of bestial sex. The union aroused heat in her loins while her mind became cool and stellar in its placid depths. The innocence she radiated in the face of Myrna's rage infuriated the woman to a new pitch. The cheshire expression on Joan's puss nearly made Myrna scream like one of her big savage cats. She would teach this little bitch!
"When I want to be, just like everybody else." The cut was obvious and Joan left it to sink in as she continued coolly, "But I don't really wish to talk--I'd rather watch."
She turned on her words and gave her attention to the man and goat. No-
-ewe, she reminded herself, though what the difference it made she had not yet enough experience in her short life to comprehend.
Suddenly the enormity of her commitment to bestiality glared out of the pen at her and she was fascinated with the sight.
The bawling animal was like an overstuffed sheep dog, while the fat man's jolly buns bunched into her behind. In Joan's imagination she saw the two nutty putty mountains doing the soul shake behind the sheep and Joan squirmed with delight at the thought.
"Like to watch, do you?" Myrna drawled in Joan's ear. "All right. Come along with me."
Joan was fascinated by Oliver and the ewe and did not want to leave. But then she shrugged and complied. After all, Myrna was turning their relationship into a battleground and there seemed to be nothing else she could do.
Myrna turned and stalked off with a suddenly tired Joan following. From Myrna's tone, what was coming had to be something lewd and Joan wondered whether or not it was all worth it. She was strangely dissatisfied with the whole affair. Bestiality seemed sordid when in the presence of Myrna and Joan did not like the change. Myrna seemed to make a special effort to be dislikeable at the outset of any exchange between the two of them. Joan wondered at the cause.
Amanda was not like that. Joan's mind ran over remembrances of Amanda: the secret, almost blushing smile that washed across her face as Prince fucked Joan and Amanda watched. She truly enjoyed the play. But not so, it seemed with Myrna. Myrna wanted to corrupt everything with hate. Again Joan wondered what it was that Myrna wished to show her. She would try to make it ugly and Joan would fight to keep it pure. The stage was set.
Myrna emerged from the shadows, leading a pony behind her. The animal's coat was like steeldust in the dim light. And Joan could see a tired, woeful expression on his face.
"It's late to wake him up, isn't it?" she asked Myrna with concern.
The woman only smirked and shouldered her way past the girl, with the small horse trailing dutifully along.
Don't let her get your goat now, girl, Joan reminded herself to be cool. Quietly she joined the train of midnight figures in the rear.
Myrna led her back past Oliver and the ewe. Joan paused long enough to make out that the man must be cumming. Good! she thought triumphantly. Myrna did not see.
But she did not stay long, as the pony's flank was already disappearing from view. She hurried to catch Up.
Myrna seemed to be headed for the center ring.
Joan wondered if Justice was still there and what he would do if Myrna found him. As they entered the ring she breathed a sigh of relief to note that he had gone. Then she remembered he still must have her key.
Myrna's whip swiftly cracked through the air and the pony trotted away in a widening circle. The whip snapped again and the pony's iron-shod hooves began a rhythmic clomp.
Joan was not sure, but she guessed he was a long-haired shetland. His tail stood behind him like a silver comb and streamed in a point to the long grey feathers floating along his flank. His white mane slapped the steeldust grey of his noble neck and his head turned his eye to follow Myrna's commands.
The whip cracked at his forelegs and he began a goose-step trot. Clip clop, clip clop went his hooves as he strutted proudly about the circus ring. Joan's heart went out to the horse: how beautiful he wag.
Myrna's whip cracked between the pony's legs and he slowed to a walk. Joan found herself standing next to the seat she had been in earlier in the day, and she sat down to watch the show again.
Myrna was an incredibly compelling figure in the gloom of the dark tent as she spun on her heel to follow the pony's walk. His pace quickened again to the snap of the whip in the air and his coat seemed to sparkle electricity in the dark. Blue sparks clung to his gunbarrel colored coat and shone brightly.
The woman looked like a leather crop handle as she revolved in the center of the ring. Her fingers toyed down the front of her leathers and unfastened the buttons one by one. Her face cast a leonine glare into the shadows where Joan sat and she swelled her breasts with contempt.
She pulled the tails of her deerskin shirt from her waistband and ran her red-nailed hands across her golden abdomen.
Despite her reserve Joan's breath quickened a notch. So did the pony's trot.
Myrna flared the bells of her slender nose, shook her head and stepped up the pace with a nick of the whip on the pony's shiny flank. The animal snorted with the cruel flick and Joan felt contemptuous of Myrna. But she could not deny a flicker of interest in Myrna's charms.
Myrna stood planted in one place now with her body seeming to rock in a rhythm to the pony's clip-cloping hooves. She clutched the whip handle in her teeth while her arms struggled to get out of the snug fit of her leather coat. Her torso was bare beneath the garment and it seemed to Joan that her body was shiny with sweat.
She was like a pagan princess carved out of jade as she stood glaring at Joan with her bare breasts heaving and gleaming. They were as pendulous as Amanda's and swung from her chest like tropical melons. Joan felt her mouth desire a taste of the sweet water in the melons and stood up without hesitating to unzip her clothes.
When Myrna saw the movement, a leer of sadistic pleasure swept across her face and she peeled her lush hips out of her leather pants.
Joan rolled the leopard spotted garment off one shoulder at a time.
Her breasts were no match for Myrna's in weight but they had a greatly sensuous beauty all their own. Strawberry nipple tips crowned the gentle mounds of her young, eager, sexy flesh. She finished rolling one leg of her costume off as Myrna cast aside her own pants with one hand while she ran the other deeply into the lush dark growth of the furred vee between her legs. She watched the girl roll the other leg of her leotards off and approach her. Myrna was forced to admit to herself she admired what she was.
In the dim tent light Joan's slim body was elven. The sensuality of animal creatures glowed from within Joan and her lithe form radiated a feline grace.
The way she carries herself is so pussy-after-a-dish-of-cream, thought Myrna viciously, wondering how Joan would look with some horse cock stuffed well into her. If there was a chance, she'd damn well find out.
As Joan approached Myrna she felt her cunt heat up with expectation. She felt the hot slick crease between her legs moisten and the lips pout open as if for breath. Without speaking Joan bowed her head slightly as she reached Myrna and suckled her mouth onto the plum of the woman's breast.
The suddenness of the move surprised Myrna but she recovered herself quickly. Her right hand still held the whip and while Joan kissed and sucked her tender nipple, she ground the handle absentmindedly into her thigh as she spoke.
"I thought you said you liked to watch," Myrna's voice was contemptuous of Joan for what she took to be submission.
"I like to do this, too," Joan breathed heavily, as she took her mouth from Myrna's nipple to answer.
"What don't you like, my dear?" Myrna asked sarcastically.
"Cruelty," Joan replied with a level gaze at the woman.
Myrna laughed in her face.
"I am not cruel, my dear. My love is to administer discipline--not punishment. You misunderstand my actions."
"You may call it discipline, Myrna. But that's not what it looks like to me. Put down that whip if you're telling the truth and let's make love. We will soon know each other well enough to judge."
Myrna threw the whip aside and said scornfully, "I don't need a whip to tame you, pussycat. I can do it with my tongue!"
"We'll see," said Joan evenly and resumed mouthing Myrna's breast. She let the weight of her head hang from the pendulum's end and encircled Myrna's waist with her arms. Myrna allowed her knees to collapse and followed Joan's weight down until their bodies reached the earth.
Joan's mouth still hungrily tongued the hard nipple on the end of Myrna's big breast, and now she let a tiny growl seep between her lips. Myrna heard the purr and her eyes closed while her head lolled back on her shoulders. Her own hand came up her ribcage and cupped the swelling gourd to Joan's eager lips.
Joan took the areola completely between her lips and lashed the nipple with her tongue. When the nipple was as hard as it could be she sucked it soft then switched her head to the other breast. Her tongue seemed to lick tiny flames on Myrna's vibrant flesh, and she was rewarded by the sound of the woman's groans.
The growl that hummed from her own lips was the same kind of sound she had made earlier as she had vibrated her mouth over Justice's cockhead. But Myrna's breasts were immense in proportion to the whole of Justice's staff even though his man cock was large under normal comparisons. The turgid knobs of Myrna's nipples were only tiny buttons though, and Joan had to pout her lips in a tiny 'O' to feel the rubber hard flesh. When she could not draw the sweet water taste her mouth hungered after she made her growl a snarl, then began to devour the whole of Myrna's breast.
The increased sound startled Myrna with its fury. Suddenly the kitten had turned cat and was mounting an attack on her breast. But still the pleasures increased even though the sounds coming from Joan's mouth were fearful. Myrna shivered. When she understood she no longer held the upper hand with Joan, her mind cast about for some way to change this ranking sexual order. She whistled shrilly.
Joan heard the clip clop of the pony's hoofbeats change and she sensed him coming toward them. Not wishing to be caught in any situation in which she could not face the onslaught, she rolled off Myrna and onto her back beside the woman.
The pony came looming out of the shadows until he stood just before their legs and stopped. His breathing was heavy from his run and his nostrils steamed warm drafts of air onto Joan's naked thighs. The saucers of his huge, dark, melancholy eyes regarded her from the top of his muzzle.
"What's his name?" Joan turned her head and spoke to Myrna with a ragged breath.
"Clyde." Myrna's voice came out of a deep valley of breath heaving in her passion-gorged tits.
"Oh, why did you give him such a name? He's so much more noble than that."
Myrna sneered a laugh.
"Down, Clyde! And roll over." Her voice boomed the command and the horse obeyed instantly. Joan feared she would be crushed by his weight and tumbled backwards over her head and to her feet.
"So, you're a tumbler, too," Myrna snorted shortly when she saw Joan's move. "Perhaps we should give you to the Wolfgang Flyers."
"No, thank you. Why did you have the pony lie down?"
"I'll show you, pussycat," Myrna said, heaving herself to her feet and stepping to the prone animal's middle. The pony was lying on its side with its legs outstretched. Myrna took both fore and hind legs up and rolled the little horse to his back. When she was satisfied with the positioning she stepped back and simultaneously barked the command, "Hold!" to the animal.
The pony's rear quarters were wide-spread and Joan could see the skin sheath of his cock grow like a ridge out of his belly. If Myrna had hoped to shock Joan she was disappointed.
"Does he have a big prick?" Joan asked with a touch of excitement in her voice.
Myrna stared at the girl and was thrown off balance by the innocence inherent in the question. "Big enough," she said defensively. Then she added with catty gloating, "Are you familiar with a horse's sexual organs, my dear?"
"Oh yes," replied Joan. "My uncle has a breeding farm in Kentucky and my family goes there all the time. "Will it bother him if I touch it?"
"No. Be my guest," Myrna said completely at a loss as to how to stump the girl.
Joan moved in next to the pony, then dropped to her knees beside him and took the sheath of skin gently in her hand.
At her first touch the nearly flat head of his prick showed itself bluntly at the end of the skin. It was purple-grey and shiny, and Joan could feel the enormous volume move beneath her hand. On the slit end a drop of white fluid formed and stood like the white of an unseeing eye on the blunt stick. Joan stroked her hand over the length of the skin covered shaft and it slid farther into the air. It was big--but not so big as the stallions' on my uncle's stud farm, Joan thought. She increased the steady strokes until the organ stuck out of the sheath of skin nearly a foot. It looked shiny and black and curved up at the end until the last four inches of the blunt tip were nearly perpendicular to the pony's chest.
"It's big, isn't it?" Myrna interrupted Joan's inspection of the gigantic organ.
"Big enough," Joan answered the woman, mimicking the words and tone of Myrna's earlier remark. "Do you fuck him, Myrna, or just watch?" Joan turned her gaze coolly on the woman.
"Fuck him, my dear." Myrna raised her eyebrows in mock horror. "What do you think?"
Joan did not answer but instead placed her lips against the blunt-ended horse cock and murmured something to herself.
"Would you like to watch me fuck him, Myrna?" Joan asked with the back of her head to the older woman.
"If that's what you want," Myrna replied, now even more unsure of what to make of Joan. The girl seemed open to anything, and therefore Myrna could not find a way to blow her cool.
"I don't really care if you watch or not," Joan informed her as she rose and straddled the pony. Her hand toyed briefly with the wet slick lips of her cunt and she lowered her body slowly to the animal's stumpy cock. When she felt the blunt head touch the inner flesh of her labia, she paused and looked at Myrna.
"You expect me to hurt myself, don't you?" she asked when she found a cruel smile on Myrna's lips.
"I don't expect anything, my dear. You seem to know what you are doing, in any event." Myrna's voice was a sarcastic drawl.
Joan did not reply but instead bent all her concentration to her body and to her cunt's attempt to swallow the enormous organ.
She concentrated her breathing until only her chest moved and her abdomen was still as she relaxed the muscles of her thighs and panting cunt. She forced herself to look far off at some spot of indefinable light in the distance. The muscles of her pussy relaxed completely and she let her thigh muscles stretch to their greatest extent. Slowly she let the weight go out of her lower body and felt the blunt-headed tool of the pony's member move deeper between her cunt's slick, soft lips.
Myrna had moved closer when no sound came from Joan and she looked at the concentrating girl intensely. But Joan ignored her and centered her entire being on assuming the gigantic cylinder into her pussy with the minimum amount of fussing.
She breathed slowly and evenly, then fell into an escalating dog pant as first one inch, then two, of the blunt prick worked its way into her depths. She began to sweat with the effort of making no sudden motions and Myrna interpreted the struggle to mean she was in pain.
"Sometimes a little scream lets it feel better right away," she advised like a lewd pedant.
Joan let a slow smile roll up from her lips and into her eyes as the prick made its way a little deeper. She let her eyes roll up in her head as far as they would and her head lolled back on her shoulders. A sigh of pleasure escaped from her lips. Nearly five inches of the enormous instrument were buried in her box and she began to rock herself on it. She felt the rest of the shank touch the elastic ridge between her pussy and her asshole and she clenched the buns of her ass tightly against it.
Myrna saw the distended, purple-black flesh of the pony's cock disappear smoothly into the girl and she was amazed. The little bitch must be incredibly limber, Myrna thought. She was transfixed at the sight of the girl and the pony and almost unconsciously her hand stole to the thick bush about her own hot pussylips. She remembered how painful that very cock had been when she had first attempted to mount it herself. For the first time, something like respect for the slim girl was felt in Myrna's breast. A little doubt of her own ability to tame Joan crept into Myrna, and it was the first time since her sister Amanda that any such thought had occupied her. But she had broken her sister's will. And she would break Joan's as well.
Joan had given herself over completely to the feelings between her legs as the gigantic organ pulsed in her cunt. Her own juices lubricated the blunt shaft as it slid in and out of the flexible walls of her box. She could feel the heat of the huge meat as she humped herself up and down on the shaft. It was like a slab of hot iron as it throbbed to-and-fro inside her. The blunt tip glanced against her cervix at the bottom of her hump and she grunted as she experienced a muted pain. God! Had she already taken in that much of his length? A self-satisfied expression sifted across her face, Myrna sensed a growing defeat in herself as she saw the cheshire smile reach Joan's lips. Bitch! she wailed to herself.
Joan was much too involved with fucking the pony to care what Myrna thought. She swayed her spine forward and cocked her hips like pivots over the massive erection. Then she rippled the long muscles attaching the base of her spine to her hip fronts and slowly ground her pelvis around the cock. Myrna could only marvel at the intense concentration Joan put into the act. She literally chugged her hips like slow moving cartwheels while her trunk remained rigid above. Like a piston driving the wheels of her hips Joan lowered and raised her torso rapidly as her hips thrashed around the tremendous rigid rod of horseflesh below. The girl's body was quickly wet with the effort and her hands ran over her now slick flesh. She found the buds of her nipples and rolled them in a counter rhythm to her rocking hip thrusts. Drops of perspiration began coursing down her brow. It was as if she were mesmerized into some pagan dance, drumming her hips around the phallus with her back arching her breasts to the gods above. She began running her hands up the slopes of her breasts as if they were mute offerings to the god of love. Joan shook the sweat from her eyes and gulped draughts of air into her churning body. Then like a racing filly who had found her pace, she began an even gallop within the saddle of her hips.
"Oh yes! I'm cumming--horsey cock, rock me home. Oh yes, yes, yes!"
Myrna felt as though she were attending some sacred event and for the moment forgot any thoughts of taming Joan. The picture she made as she fucked the horse was so purely erotic that fascination soon turned to the need for more satisfaction and she cast about for the whip. Without even thinking of using it for any other purpose, Myrna pressed the whip handle to the lips of her pussy and pushed it in. Under certain conditions she would have considered using the whip on the girl.
But that obviously was not going to be so easy with Joan. The girl certainly was not like Oliver--or Amanda, for that matter. Her presence seemed to exude the strength of steel. Myrna compared Joan's personality to Justice's physique and found them alarmingly similar.
However, soon the feel of the ivory dildo on the end of the whip took charge of Myrna's thoughts and she drove the hard bone dick relentlessly in and out of her pussy.
It was only after the carved ivory of the pecker-shaped handle had given some relief to the heat of her loins; she became aware of the noise coming from Joan and the pony. Each time Joan squatted on the horse's dick she grunted, then sharply sucked in her breath while her hips thrashed up the pole. The sound was like a calliope when the pony neighed. Up and down she churned on the rampant engine, breathing and grunting faster and faster as she felt herself cum.
"Ahhhhhh!!!!!" Joan screamed her pleasure at the top of her lungs. The sound startled Myrna as she rapidly worked the ivory dildo between her legs. She poked the hard bulb too deeply into her sensitive box and the sharp pain gave Myrna one more reason to blame Joan for her own fall from being high priestess of sex.
The way the girl's body was vibrating it was obvious that she was lost in a continuous orgasm. Myrna could tell that Clyde, as well, was very near cumming. Her own loins were cooling though.
Damn the girl.
Joan felt the first hot gob of the horse's semen blast into her canal and she shook to her roots with the sensation. It was as if she were a sponge suddenly before a roaring river and her body sucked up the cum to overflowing.
"Oh yess, yess, yessss," she snarled as the horse's prick spasmed again and sent more of the fluid coursing within her snatch. Joan's own orgasm had reached such proportions that it ran in sheets down her thighs to dry sticky in the air.
The pony kept cumming. It seemed never to finish, and now Joan's distended box filled beyond its capacity. The thick syrupy fluid mingled with Joan's own pussy juices and dribbled from between her legs onto his underbelly. Finally the pony ceased his giant spasms and shuddered beneath the girl. Joan gently disengaged herself from the horse prick and fell exhausted to his side.
"That was very interesting," Myrna commented dryly to the girl as she lay breathing heavily on the earthen dust of the main ring. Joan wanted to say, Fuck You! But she decided against alienating Myrna any more than she already had. So, instead she said:
"Dear me! I hope I haven't taken all the pleasure out of him for you, Myrna. Does he revive quickly?"
"Fuck You!" said Myrna in a whispered scream. She was nearly beside herself with how truly bitchy Joan was. And she seemed not even to try to hide it at all. So what was Myrna supposed to do when she caught the tip of the bitch's lance? Applaud? Not by a long shot--not Myrna Westmore!
She held the dildo reversed back into a whip handle, and her palm felt the stickiness of her drying vaginal fluids on the ivory. Joan saw her hands move the whip a flicker as the palm caressed the handle savagely.
"If you try that on me and I don't like it, I will spend the rest of my days with the sole purpose of making you wish you hadn't. On the other hand, if I do like it I'll want to see you have a little, too. So start what you want, Myrna. Or else, let's make peace right now and just be careful where we tread. How does that sound?"
Myrna had stopped at the start of Joan's words and trained her attention on what the girl meant. She was saying in effect that if she liked being whipped, she would whip Myrna, too. If not, she would visit a plague upon the lion tamer. As a third choice, there was an amnesty: they would regard each other in the future with care.
Well, the first choice was definitely out. Myrna really never did inflict cruel wounds on any animal. And among humans the whip was but a psychological tool. When fools like Oliver corrupted themselves into its uses; then only did she nick their flesh. Even though the thought was a tempting one, Myrna did not wish to explore the realm of sado/masochism. The self-admission coupled with Joan's apparent readiness to look at the whip as a means of pleasure decided Myrna.
"All right: truce. But leave Justice alone!"
"I'm sorry, I can't do that. To begin with, he is a beautiful beast. Of all people, you should know that."
"I do," Myrna reluctantly admitted. "But I find it impossibly difficult to allow that knowledge to others at all. And what you're asking me to do is far greater than just allowing. You have to give me something just because I live here and you don't. You'll go away and things will never be the same between me and Justice again."
"Things will never be the same in any event. And if you don't act like a fool and fight me for him right where he can see us struggle, he'll never know of this talk. If you'll share him with me, I'll share him with you. Simple as that."
Myrna could see the logic in Joan's argument. If she acted as if it were just the way things were supposed to be, she and Justice would have no argument about Joan and everything would be settled.
"What if Justice doesn't want anything more to do with you?" Myrna asked peevishly.
"I'll risk that. Will you?"
"Justice give me up for you?!? Don't be absurd, pussycat! Wanna bet?"
"That's exactly the bet I've been suggesting that neither of us should make, since I don't want to win him nor do I want to lose him to you. He is a man, not an animal. One cannot do with love what people do with money and barter over a man's body. We aren't merchants of flesh, but trainers of animals. Don't you see?"
"Of course, I see. But the boundaries of sex confuse the intellectual division between man and animal--don't you see?"
"In that case, an animal, too, should be able to decide who it wants to fuck and not be whipped into the choice." Myrna was silent. "Well, while you think about it, can't we let the horse up? Unless, of course, you're going to use him."
Myrna looked away from Joan at the horse, then let her whip hand fall slack, dropping the whip. "Can you show me how you get so much in without pain?"
"Of course. If you do exactly as I say," Joan replied, amused. She had won the battle and now she would claim victory in the war.
"I will," Myrna solemnly agreed. Then the thought of the hot pony prick in her cunt sent excitement charging in to her voice. She asked. "What shall we do first?"
"Get you a collar," Joan answered matter-of-factly.
"A collar? What for?" Myrna's voice was alarmed as she sensed what Joan meant and her hands flew to her throat.
"Yes," Joan purred and her face wore the same omniscient grin of a cheshire cat. "I have tamed you, Myrna. And you will wear my collar as Amanda does. Will you not?"
"I will wear it." In Myrna's voice was abject submission as she realized what Joan said was true. "Do you wish me to call you 'mistress' or 'Joan'?"
"Wrap the whip around your neck and give me the handle," Joan replied without answering the question. "It will serve as a collar until we have one made." She tested the strength of the noose about Myrna's neck by tugging on the handle as soon as Myrna had done as she had been ordered.
"Now, Myrna. You may call me 'mistress' as you eat my pussy. And I will tell you how to relax for the pony."
"As you wish," Myrna said.
Chapter 5
It was several weeks later in the course of the summer that Joan nearly lost her life. She was feeding two of the lions, Andy and Mae, when she did a very foolish thing.
The two lions were the most tame of the big cats. And because Myrna was a very careful taskmaster she had insisted that Joan learn every aspect of circus life slowly and surely. She taught Joan to feed the lions with a watchful respect; for the first four days she instructed Joan to use a long pole with a hook on the end to shove the slabs of beef between the bars of the cage towards the two hungry lions.
Gradually, as Myrna recognized that the lions were coming to respect Joan themselves and that Joan in her turn was gaining confidence in handling them, she allowed Joan to dispense with the long pole. For a week, she carefully taught the young girl how to use the short training whip, making it snap directions at the lions but at the same time never touching them with its painful sting. During this time, Myrna showed Joan how to keep the lions at a distance while she placed the raw meat before them and allowed them to eat only on her command.
Myrna's patient teaching and at the same time grueling insistence on maintaining the same, careful procedures for dealing with the lions had enabled Joan to become a great help to Myrna in the circus ring.
Myrna's lion taming act was simplicity itself. A pasteboard library front stood at the back of the large, barred performing cage in the middle of the main ring. Andy and Mae, the two biggest of the cats, would come snarling into the cage and Joan would use Myrna's whip to direct them up onto the stands at the sides of the library doors. The two lions then sat still as the bronze statues they were supposed to represent until Myrna entered the cage in a silver flash of her metal studded leather costume. As the lions yawned in trained boredom Myrna stuck her head into their mouths and, with the care of a dentist, inspected their gums and teeth. This oral daring was the signal for the library doors to open and allow six more large cats of various exotic species to come roaring into the performance.
Myrna then jumped them all through hoops and over jungle gyms while Joan learned to hold the hoops and arrange the stands and, perhaps most important, to keep a firm eye on the cats that were not going through their paces with Myrna in the center of the cage. In this way, Myrna was able to add more animals to her act and to include a daring leap of three tigers through a burning hoop.
Joan was well aware of Myrna's gratitude for the expansion of her act in the ring (as well as out of the ring with Clyde!); and therefore, she resented the older woman's continued insistence on mundane details and what Joan now considered menial tasks in her training.
This insistence truly rankled the impatient girl's pride, and by the start of the second week when there still seemed to be no change, Joan had decided to take matters into her own hands.
Instead of feeding the lions in their respective lairs, she would let them both loose into the smaller performing cage that was used for training. She would feed them a trick of her own. She resolved to surprise Myrna into complete respect for her. And since Andy and Mae were the mainstays of Myrna's act, they were therefore the most dependable; Joan simply allowed her eagerness to overcome her good judgment. She was sure she could handle any situation that might arise.
So, with an excited, almost childish, word of caution to herself she set out eagerly this afternoon from her rooming compartment for her usual chore of feeding Andy and Mae.
The walk across the circus grounds usually took her about ten minutes, and she smiled confidently to herself as she decided to go over in her mind the personalities of the two lions and how she would handle them. She thought first of the older lion, Mae.
'Mae' was Myrna's solution to the problem of naming an old trouper that had formerly been called 'Mack'--until another lion had ripped out his intestines in a fight. After saving his life the vet had assured Myrna she could still use him in the act, if he were neutered. They were sure that by neutering the beast they would keep him from nurturing any grievances against the young lion who had beaten him. So, Mack became Mae.
Second, there was Andy. He was a young male in his prime with a full pride of mane that surrounded his handsome face arrogantly. Andy was a friendly rogue who, unlike Mae, genuinely liked people. Joan had fallen in love with him immediately. Now, she told herself that he would probably give her less trouble, if she watched out for this massive playful paws, than Mae. She would just have to make sure that the older lion had enough raw meat to make him agreeable to learning a new trick.
It was really too bad that one had to be an amateur psychologist on top of being a true animal lover in order to teach a lion a simple trick. Joan's mind wandered over the problem as she pictured Andy's sweet noble face. The lion held a curiously sensual resemblance to Justice and Joan felt the comparison enriched them both.
The thought of Justice brought a tingle to her loins and she remembered that night when she had been with Justice and Myrna and the pony, to say nothing of Oliver and the ewe. That had not been the only time of blissfully frenzied sex. There had been many more wonderfully full nights of Justice as they filled her tiny compartment with him on his back and Joan's cock-loving mouth sucking him off. Or times with the pony--without Myrna--when just she and the steel grey horse had fucked for hours.
The summer had been like a roman holiday so far for Joan; everything had been so good so far. Except for the fact that her room had no key, and she had to go in and out of the minuscule train window. That was a bore.
When she bad found Justice the morning after her first wild night, she had asked him if he still had her key. However, he could not remember picking it up. Something in his face made Joan doubt that he was really telling her the truth, but she accepted his words as part of her fate and climbed in and out of the train window without another word.
The only visitor she would entertain was Justice and she kept even Myrna from knowing of the missing key and the foolish consequences of its loss. When Justice asked her why she did not question more people about the key, she said she would rather not discuss it and that she wished to keep the missing key a secret--just because she wanted it that way.
Joan was becoming a trifle bored having to enter and leave her tiny compartment through the even tinier window. Fortunately however for her, the elephants were washed nearby, and after making a friend with their keeper and with several of the elephants, she took a chance on bucking circus protocol. With a careful dispensation of peanuts, she trained a young female elephant to place a long and heavy ladder near the cat window. Joan had explained to Myrna that sometimes claustrophobia due to the compartment got to her and she needed to get out of it the fastest possible way. Myrna did not question the motives of the ladder any further.
Neither did Joan's neighbors in that section of the circus grounds that Joan and the crew came to call 'Amateurs Ark.' On one side of her was Lawrence, the apprentice sword swallower. He could manipulate the cords of his neck in such a way as to strut like a turkey within a circling crowd and lower a double-edged sword down his throat at the same time.
On the other side of her compartment was Gloria, a blind girl who was training for one of the side shows. She was a genuine seer or psychic prophet, if you will, who still spent all her time with a crystal ball. She claimed she did not need it but the customers always seemed to demand a prop. Rather than exploit the world with her talent, she had chosen to just get along. So, she had joined the exciting but quite anonymous life of the circus.
Joan mused what a truly amazing person Gloria was to know. She did not really have enough time to spend with the blind girl and she regretted it, since Gloria was as beautiful in the flesh as she was spiritually. And besides, Joan thought ironically, I'd like to fuck her.
As she reached the tent Joan heard a lion cough and moan, and she knew Andy had sensed that she was coming.
The sides of the tent had been raised and the late afternoon sun had slanted corridors of light rays filtering through the dusty air. As always the mixed smell of the animals overcame her as she entered the tent. Joan had fallen into a regretful mood as she passed through the square of cages toward the training ring. She did not really have enough time for many things. The other animals, for instance. They passed her by without notice and she felt it was because Myrna would not let up on the dull routine of only allowing her a few responsibilities.
But, Joan knew it was important to form good work habits around something so dangerous as lions--so Myrna was probably right. Joan would just have to cut down on her sex life a little. After all, every night was a bit much.
Andy coughed again, and this time Mae joined in with him. Joan heard the crack of impatience creep into the beasts' moans as she drew near their dens. She had nearly an hour before Myrna would arrive to feed the other cats, so there was plenty of time.
Andy was already on his feet and stretching himself with anticipation when Joan arrived. Mae on the other hand lay diffidently with his face pressed against the cage bars, regarding her with a resigned face. She raised his cage door first on an impulse and while waiting for him to act she talked to Andy.
"How ya doing, guy? Bet the big fella's hungry. But first the trick ... That is, if Mae would just once act like Mack again."
The older lion still had not moved and Joan knew with exasperation that she would have to use the whip. She let Andy out then and to her surprise Mae followed. Will I never learn? Joan thought. Mae no longer cares and just does what Andy's doing, stupid girl.
Joan went to the huge refrigerated trailer that served as one wall of the tent. She slipped an apron over her head and hefted two hind quarters of beef off the hooks and onto a cart, then wheeled the meat back to the ring.
"You guys are hungry, aren't you?" she said when the lions growled their approval at the scent of the meat.
She took the training whip from where it hung near the cage door and entered assertively. Back Mae! Andy back! Her mind chanted while the whip sang out the confidence of her orders.
It was so simple. If you wanted to voice a command you called the beast's attention to you with the pop of the whiptip near his ear. Otherwise, you just randomly let him know it was there. Whipspeak, Myrna called it.
The handle of the whip felt big in Joan's hand. She glanced at the carved penis tip of the upside-down ivory dildo. Myrna had frigged herself with this the first night with Clyde. Joan smiled at the remembrance; then, out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy approaching fast.
Pop, crack! "Andy back!" Joan regained control of the situation. Concentrate girl, she told herself. These animals are lions.
As if to reinforce the thought Andy roared his majesty and Mae chimed in. God, what an awful sound their voices made: like a waterfall of bloody roars.
Joan cracked the whip to wipe the snarls off their faces and commanded them to their stands. She wanted to teach Mae to heel, after she had taught Andy to bring her a leash and collar. She was not having much success. Perhaps, her conception of the trick was somehow flawed.
She had tried for nearly a week to get Andy to come to her on call. He would approach her, all right, just out of his good nature and curiosity--but not when she called. If she let it happen, just relaxed the whipped reminders a little and held Mae off, Andy would stroll coolly right up to her.
Once, she had even let Andy rub himself against her while Mae roared his displeasure at the affront. That could be it. For the trick she could let Andy come up to her ... and what? Wrestle with him? Well, then how could she use the whip to control Mae? Couldn't be done.
Suddenly Joan had an inspiration. What if she let Mae eat while she played with Andy? How about that? What would she use in an act to distract Mae, though? Well, that could be worked out later. But first she would have to try it. And there was no time like the present.
With several emphatic cracks of the whip, Joan commanded the animals to remain still. Then she hurriedly brought one beef leg into the cage and placed it on the steps between the pair.
While she backed off, she considered what this placement would arouse in the beasts. She knew she could keep Andy from taking the meat simply by popping the whip in his face. She had tried it once. But right after she had tried it, she had fed him. What she hoped would happen this time, however, was that Andy would approach her while Mae ate. And she hoped he would also remember his affection for people.
She held Andy off with the whip snaps while Mae took the hindquarter of meat and sulked off to one side of the cage. Then, instead of feeding Andy as she normally would have, she stopped the whip pops and watched him very carefully.
When she did not move, Andy eyed her with curiosity and roared a question to the air.
Joan answered with a whip pop beside his ear and said commandingly, "Andy, come." One hand gestured stiffly before her pointing at the spot.
The lion grew restless on the stand and dismounted with a cat-quick spring. He prowled once back and forth before his place and then eyed Joan when a whip snap did not come.
"Andy, come!"
The big cat roared and flexed his tawny muscles beneath his golden coat. Like a St. Bernard, Joan thought and wondered why she always compared cats with dogs.
"Andy, come!" She snapped the whip at his hindquarters to let him know which way not to go. He roared his displeasure again and resumed his prowl in a circle to her left. Away from Mae, Joan thought, that's good. She let him amble, then saw that his path would take him to the meat where it lay just outside the cage.
Stupid girl! He can reach it with his paws and then if he drags it in and eats it before the door--why, you're caught between with no where to go. Suddenly she wished Myrna were there.
She cracked the whip tip just above his nose. He stopped and roared. She popped it again, this time thinking only to get him moving the other way so that she could get out. Again she cracked the whip. Then Andy did a curious thing. He quieted suddenly and eyed her slowly as he turned her way. My God! Joan thought, is he going to eat me? And terrified, she froze.
The big cat sensed her fear and roared mightily to imbed the terror within her. Take command! Take command! Joan's mind screamed frantically inside her prison. But her body did not heed. She attempted to instruct her frozen nerves to obey by concentrating and commanding her hand to move. She was successful; but as she breathed the first relief from the stricken moment, her hand relaxed completely and she dropped the whip!.
Andy saw and roared again, then started to move in her direction. There was no time to stoop and retrieve the weapon so the foolish girl was defenseless before the beast. What could she do?
As if mesmerized with fear Joan started toward the lion.
"Good boy, Andy. Easy does it, big fella. Easy. Easy," she cooed.
Andy's ferocious growling changed timbre at the sound of her voice and he paused and moaned his indecision. Joan was moving toward him instead of away. If she was game to be brought down with a charge, she would run. But instead she had approached him with an outstretched hand. His curiosity was piqued.
Joan watched his switching tail closely. She knew that if it went rigid the lion would charge. It was moving in a lazy whip behind him: its bushy top kicking little dirt puffs up as he swished it to-and-fro.
But what would she do when she reached him? She was nearly there so she had better make up her mind.
The huge golden cat moaned as Joan drew near but made no move toward her. His tail frothed the dirt and Joan audibly breathed a sigh of relief when she was sure that he was going to remain friendly.
"Oh Andy, you're such a good cat," she said affectionately and knelt before the big creature to embrace his proud neck. Myrna has certainly taught him well, she thought, as she buried her face in his bushy mane.
Behind her she could hear Mae tearing great chunks from the beef hindquarter as his huge fangs rent the bloody meat into shreds. Andy growled and she heard the sound rumble up out of his mighty chest like the first of an earthquake's roar. God, but the depth of it is enormous, she thought and smelled the primitive nature of his being. It was as if she were inhaling centuries of the lion's heritage, so strong was the beast's smell as she embraced him. But the odor was like perfume to the girl.
Her mind reeled in its fantasy. Before she was fully aware of how it had occurred, her thoughts turned to sex. Could she get the lion to fuck her? The thought sent chills goosepimpling up her spine. Fuck a lion? That would be some act!
The beast roared again and the immensity of the noise deafened the girl. He was restless in her grasp and moved suddenly, surprising Joan off balance so that she fell onto her back. Playfully Andy batted her with his paw on her shoulder and sent her rolling over onto her face. Thank God his claws weren't extended, Joan thought as she lay still, wondering what to do. Her shoulder began to throb and cautiously she moved her head to see if there was any blood. No damage--but what was Andy doing now? She had to risk a look. With the same fearful caution, she turned her head back toward him. He was staring at Mae. The food. Would he forget her? She lay completely still and held her breath.
Where was Myrna anyway? Why couldn't she be early for once? Joan wished frantically as her mind cast about for some escape from the dilemma in which the sound herself. Myrna, help! She called silently as she watched the beast gaze across the ring at Mae. He roared again, this time with challenge in his voice and the girl trembled at the sound.
The lion saw her motion and returned his gaze to Joan. Almost as if urging her to move again the lion slapped his huge paw across the girl's buttocks and Joan heard the leather pants rip. Cool air suddenly surrounded her ass. She rolled away from the lion just as he swiped again. This time his claws glazed her hip with thin lines of blood while the front of her pants were ripped away to the knees.
Suddenly Joan was naked from the knees up and her eyes watched fascinated as three pencil lines of blood welled out of the scratches on her white flesh. The shreds of her leather pants wound round her lower legs and now held her as if she were bound by them to the lion. But to Joan there was something magnificently sensual in spite of the danger. And absurdly her mind wished through the fear for the cat to scent her sex instead of her blood. Andy paused in his playful swipes--
it was as if somehow the big cat sensed the thought. Joan watched his eyes change from playful to lusty. She hoped it was not a blood lust as he roared once more with a sound that was even more savage than before. Joan was chilled to her bone marrow as the lion looked down on her. When he lowered his head toward her naked abdomen, she was caught in indecision between terror and a fantastical lust.
His large rough tongue came out and licked from the top of her crotch up her belly. Then his wet nose prodded her thighs apart, and his hot wet tongue licked the lips of her pungent box.
Joan's terror gave way finally and supremely to passion. She was experiencing the intimate in a bestial act that was completely beyond her control except for the power of giving herself up to lust. She no longer feared any motion Andy might make, but rather, welcomed it.
As a lion's purr of pleasure rattled in Andy's throat, he settled down on his haunches with his magnificent head between Joan's legs. Unmindfully, she extracted her legs from beneath his forepaws and threw them around the beast's neck. She could feel the huge, awful muscles rippling beneath the soft long fur of his neck. She tensed her thighs as the rippling sent tingles of lustful joy charging up her body.
They were met at the tip of her clit as it pulsed beneath the rough cat tongue. One of Andy's licks took care of her whole snatch--from the slurping roughness on the taut skin of her asshole, up the tender sponginess of her aching vagina, wagging wet and strong on the soft, tingling lips of her vulva, and finally flicking her helpless cut again with a rough erotic strength that Joan had never before experienced with any other creature: neither human, nor reptile, nor beast.
She moaned in ecstasy and reached down to stroke Andy's cold nose. The lion continued his velvet purring and licking, only closing his eyes as her impassioned hands mindlessly caressed his huge soft face.
The thought flitted across her mind that she wished she could stroke the lion's balls and suck the spear point of his savage cock. She saw in her mind the cock of an alley cat: the tiny pink prick had always reminded her of her own clitoris and the connection kept her in a constant state of erotic excitation whenever she wore her leopard leotards.
Now, she smiled blissfully as she thought of Andy's prick and how the licking, slurping, sucking he was giving her had made her vibrating clit feel as though it must be just as big as a lion's cock.
Still frustrated by her wishes, but yet almost frenzied by sexual surfeit, she wailed softly in gasping, heated whimpers as her hands left Andy's face and brushed over her hips and belly. Her fingernails glazed the drying blood of the lion's scratches and the slight pain sent new chills coursing through her loins and brain at the same time. Her hands caught at her breasts and began pinching and palming the pouting swollen nipples. As she mauled her own breasts, her head lolled from side to side and beads of salty perspiration ran down her forehead and temples, dripping into her eyes and catching on her gasping, parched tongue. Her hair massed in sweaty curls around her face as her whimpering breath became yet more frenetic. And still, the rough softness of the lion's tonguing kept up in a steady driving rhythm. He maintained the rhythmic licks, forcing the girl beyond the possibility of climax.
Her erotic capacity was so filled past overflowing that her body had no outlet but to go numb. Wailing with the unrelenting orgasms, she spasmed and her body shivered and trembled into an unconscious catastrophic climax. She fainted suddenly, although her body took a long time after that to relax. And Andy kept up his slow contented licking, tasting the musky sweetness of her cum as it spilled over his soft muzzle.
* * *
It was nearly dark and the dusk light, full of tension when Joan woke. The changes in the light told her immediately that some time had gone by without her knowledge.
She heard a tense heave by her side and looked up at the shadowed form of the giant lion as he prepared to charge. But he was not paying the girl the slightest mind.
He stood facing where she surmised Mae had to be; his tail swished more slowly with the passage of time. She could feel him ready himself--it was as if she were part of him somehow. The dynamic energy that flowed from the savage beast infected Joan with something primitive and demanding which beat in her heart. Then she felt the air chill on something wet at her crotch and she started to move her hand to feel what it might be.
"Don't move, Joan!" The voice was a whispered hiss and instinctively the girl obeyed.
"There's going to be a fight. Come to the door as soon as Andy charges." Joan recognized Myrna's voice and her eyes strained to see the woman.
"Freeze," hissed Myrna.
And at that moment Andy's tail stiffened. Joan heard a gurgling roar deep in his throat just as he charged.
"Move!!" Myrna screamed at Joan.
But the girl's muscles were frozen. "Move!" screamed Myrna again at the top of her lungs but the sound was nearly drowned out by the impact of the lions' meeting. There had been something terribly human in Andy's roar but now the sounds from the fighting cats were horribly bestial.
"For God's sake get up, Joan!" Myrna's voice was terror stricken just as the girl finally began to move.
In Myrna's eyes, the youngster seemed to be caught moving in slow motion. Myrna had seen big cats fight before and had experienced then the same perception. It was as if the animals fought with such energy that everything about them slowed down to compensate.
Joan was nearly to her feet now arid the snarling massive cats were locked together in the center ring. But, should any of the titanic blows that were being thrown in the fight connect and should that blow be pointed in the girl's direction, the fight would suddenly center around her too rapidly to describe. It was the essence of power that was being so rawly exposed. Nothing else alive could match that demonstration in its ferocity. Myrna could hear from a far distance through her mind the shouts of other hearing the battle, but their tiny voices were far, far away.
The girl was on her feet now and moving toward the door. "Thank God," breathed Myrna and then held her breath.
She found it impossible to distinguish which lion was which in the furious fight. Swift as whips, cat paws clawed in and out of the wheeling golden ball and snapped audibly through the air on furred skin. The force of the blows seemed volcanic. The mad power erupting from the whirling ball of lion fury was like a cyclone happening in the space of a moment and just about to catch up everyone and everything around.
Joan reached the door and was through it just as the complexion of the fight changed. One of the beasts came wheeling out of the ball like a floating paper sack and there was a horrid scream.
Myrna saw that it was Mae as the big cat landed crouched on his feet just at the very instant that the charging Andy arrived in his face.
The younger lion reared and cuffed the other's head with a series of blows: any one of which would have torn a human head completely from the shoulder. But somehow Mae took them and fell backwards on his curled spine, attempting to claw Andy's gut open with his rear paws. In the space of a second Andy leaped high above Mae and came down with stiffened legs and vicious claws extended and a horrible scream. But Mae, too, was just that quick.
He was out from under the attack and striking back with stiff powerful jabs. The lions grappled almost like wrestlers, and in that hold, Myrna saw with sorrowful terror that Mae was getting tired. She knew Andy would win unless Mae struck some lucky blow.
Half a moment passed and there was no longer even a chance of that; for Andy spun Mae with a tremendous blow and before the older lion could recover snapped his back with an effortless jab of his paw.
There was a loud pop and Mae just stopped moving in mid-air. He was dead before he hit the floor. And then both Joan and Myrna saw Andy place one huge forepaw on the dead lion's ragdoll form and roar his might. It was a moment of savagery so terrible and yet so strangely beautiful at the same time.
Suddenly both women wept. The loss of a creature's life; the conquering rightness of strength; the fear of what might have happened to Joan: all these thoughts crowded into the women, wracking their bodies with painful sob. Myrna had lost years of patient training and her two most spectacular cats. Joan was not as conscious of what she had lost--the terror of what she had caused was already dissipating the forbidden bliss of her erotic encounter with Andy Had it been a fantasy or as real as the horrible fight she had just witnessed?
The tension in both women still held them riveted to the ground before the cage door, so that they were not aware of the human commotion now surrounding them.
Without needing to be told what to do, someone grabbed a hose and turned it on full blast, sending the jet of water at the screaming cat. Reluctantly the beast backed off his prize, swatting the spout of water and roaring his rage. With the high pressure hose as a prod Andy was herded back into his cage. But the damage was done; Andy was a killer now and would have to be shot.
Chapter 6
"How could you be so enormously stupid?" Myrna screamed furiously at Joan.
They were in Myrna's trailer and the woman had just told the weeping girl what the consequences of her act were. The lion was a killer now and would have to be destroyed. There might have even been a possibility of hope had not the fight ended in Mae's death. Then both cats would have been put in zoos. But once a tame cat became a killer there was nothing else to be done but destroy him. And it was all Joan's fault. She had overstepped her authority and the results were disastrous.
Myrna's act was ruined. The two lions that she had trained to allow her to stick her head into their mouths were gone. Where could she find such animals again? And the time to train them? She was ruined because of an impulsive, unthinking child.
There was nothing Joan could say. So she wept.
"Here I am with your collar round my neck!" Myrna continued to fume. "My cats are gone and a spiritless bitch sits sobbing in front of me. It's too goddamn bad that it would kill you or I'd cut you up like Mae, you dumb little bitch! And I've got your collar on!" Myrna shook her fists at the heavens as if her rage were inspired by the gods of fate.
"Please, Myrna, please," Joan burbled. "What can I do? What can I do?"
"I don't know yet," Myrna's eyes glowed with contempt and rage. "But you can be sure you will pay. For a start, you can put this around your neck." Myrna's hands fairly tore the mink collar from around her throat and threw it at Joan.
It was the same kind of collar that Amanda wore, and Joan knew that if she placed herself into submission to Myrna, she would become like Amanda. Myrna would have won again.
Even though Myrna had allowed the collar to be fitted around her neck she had struggled continually. Now the roles were reversed.
As if the guilt Joan felt were not enough, Myrna was now insisting the path to forgiveness for the havoc lay in enslavement.
Darkly, a secret thrill rushed to Joan's womb. She had never played that role before!
She imagined what the collar would feel like as it surrounded her throat. Suddenly she wanted to know and at the same time she felt the heat in her crotch spread like a flower through her hips. She wanted to submit! A whimper escaped her lips.
"Pick it up and put it on." Myrna's voice was like thunder in the small room.
"As you wish." Joan felt the words pass her lips and was surprised at how easily they came out. That is what Amanda always says, she thought and felt as if she were gently relieved of a great burden.
She got down on all fours from the chair in which she had been slumped and crawled to the collar. Her tears had become whimpers and she seemed to cower like a dog.
"Please, please." The tiny sound was surrounded by Myrna's heaving breaths.
"Put it on," Myrna commanded. "From this moment on you are mine to do with as I choose. Do you understand that?"
"Please," said Joan whimpering as she put the collar around her slender throat.
The leather was hot and pliant as her fingers struggled to fit the tongue of the belt through the buckle. But the mink fur was sensual and soft.
"And cinch it tight. I want you to feel it."
Joan's fingers trembled as her mind whirled in a jumble of conflict. She was submitting to Myrna's will and the feeling thrilled her. She wanted to grovel at the other woman's feet.
"Punish me, please," Joan whispered. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her cunt grow hot with the thought of what Myrna might do.
"Here. Let me do that." Myrna strode to her side and seized the buckle from the girl's fumbling fingers. Joan felt the band tighten until she choked. But the only sound she uttered was a submissive whimper. Myrna tightened it farther, and despite herself, Joan choked for air.
"Don't want to kill you," snarled Myrna cruelly through her teeth as she ran her fingers between the leather band and the girl's tight throat.
"There, that should do it," Myrna said as she hooked the buckle. Joan felt the blood in her neck swell around the leather band. But she had enough room to breath, barely. Her eye watered and her head throbbed from the sudden surge of blood.
"All right, get the rest of those clothes off," Myrna commanded harshly through the rising din in Joan's ears from the pounding blood.
"It's too tight ..." Joan gasped.
"Shut up, bitch," Myrna snarled. "You can breathe and I want it to leave a scar. Just get your clothes off fast." She strode across the room and took a cluster of leather thongs from the wall.
She's going to whip me, Joan thought and something thrilled her until it showed in her eyes and Myrna saw the glow.
"So you think you'll like it, do you?" Myrna's voice was a rasp. "We'll see. And if you do--I may not use it where you like."
Joan was hypnotized with the whip and slowly her fingers unbuttoned her leather vest.
"Please," she mewed as she felt her pussy throb with desire. She imagined the lash on her bare breasts and her nipples stiffened with blood. Myrna saw her lick her lips and that familiar cheshire expression take its place on Joan's face. It infuriated her and she threw the whip away in disgust.
"You can't turn everything to sex," she shouted and slapped the girl in the face with her hand. The effect was like cold water on Joan. Her mind cleared instantly.
"What does this collar mean then?" she demanded to know as loudly as her voice was able.
Myrna was taken aback. In a sense, slapping Joan refuted everything bestial in Myrna's life and the woman was startled by the unconscious admission. But she recovered quickly.
"I don't want to hear anything but your whimpering," she said in a voice as cold as stainless steel.
"As you wish," Joan assented by lowering her eyes and crawling to Myrna's knee.
"Stupid bitch!" Myrna muttered as she tangled her finger up at the back of Joan's head and forced the girl's face up to behold her rage. What she saw in Joan's face was so compelling, however, that she felt pity take the place of her rage.
That Joan was a pagan slave to bestiality was obvious. She could not help her condition. What her actions had caused was as much Myrna's fault as Joan's since she had known of Joan's nature from Amanda.
Joan placed her face in Myrna's crotch and sniffed like a nuzzling dog. Then, despite her pity Myrna was quickly aroused.
The beautiful girl was as base as a dog and the comparison fired Myrna's imagination to a raging boil. If her nature took to submission as compulsively as it had to bestiality, Myrna knew she would have a nearly perfect body slave. Did she want the girl like that? The responsibility was great. And she wanted the girl right now and with every breath her loins grew more aware of Joan's hot tongue.
"Take them off me," Myrna commanded as she looked down on the auburn top of Joan's head. The girl's face was pressed into the sweet smelling goat leather of Myrna's crotch; without raising her head to look, her hands fumbled over her head and unbuttoned the buttons above Myrna's leather covered cunt. Her mouth breathed heat into the taut coverings while her tongue wet it to make it soft and hot. But then her fingers were finished, and with a tug at both sides of Myrna's hips her hands rolled the pant tops down.
Myrna was naked beneath her outfit. Joan plunged her nose into the lush forest of hair about Myrna's love lips while her tongue licked through the foliage for the slit. The tip encountered the tiny wings of flesh at the top of Myrna's clit and she twirled her tongue. Myrna moaned and Joan mewed.
"Stand up and take off my top," Myrna commanded and Joan rose.
Her fingers toyed with the buttons down the front of Myrna's leather shirt and the smile on her face was kittenish.
"Why did you want to be whipped when you've told me how you feel about cruelty?" Rather seriously Myrna asked the question even though she was panting for breath.
"I want to be broken," Joan replied simply as her fingers moved lower on Myrna's front.
"I will not whip you," said Myrna with control. "As you wish." Joan then nuzzled between the globes of Myrna's now exposed breasts. Despite the effort she was making at reserve, Myrna gasped as Joan licked her tongue across one plum-colored nipple. Joan's mouth moved to the other nipple and Myrna felt the cold air on her aroused bud.
"Do you know that Andy was licking your pussy when I came up?" Myrna's voice was passion laden, her breath heavy as she questioned Joan.
"Ummmm ... so that's why my stomach and thighs were still wet when I woke up." Joan's words mumbled on Myrna's velvet breasts. "What made him stop?"
"Mae finished eating and was prowling nearby. Andy is very protective at times."
"Oh Myrna! Can't we save him somehow?" Joan looked up to the other woman's face with abject eyes while her voice pleaded.
"Quiet," Myrna commanded and pushed on the girl's shoulders so that she was forced to kneel with her nose only inches away from the woman's lush crotch.
Joan grasped Myrna's naked ass with both hands and pressed her face into the heavy growth. She was intoxicated by Myrna's musky scent and a mew of pleasure came from between her lips. Her pink tongue tip followed it and licked up Myrna's labia. The soft lips opened for Joan's tongue to dip into the honey pot and spoon the hot juices of the woman's pussy into her avid mouth.
"Let's move to the couch," Myrna moaned passionately.
"As you wish," Joan's muffled voice replied.
Myrna curled her fingers between the leather backed collar and the girl's neck and led her like a dog to the couch. Joan coughed at the pressure.
"How does it feel, dear?" Myrna asked with hard bitchery in her voice as they reached the couch. Joan did not bother to answer but instead nipped with small bites on Myrna's fleshy ass. The woman yelped and pulled on the collar until Joan choked for air.
"Don't play games, bitch!" Myrna's face was an angry, threatening snarl even though she was full of self-doubt.
When Joan had admitted her willingness to undergo the whipping, it was as if Myrna's last resource had been taken away. She felt as though she was about to fall off a tall building. How long before Joan knew of her failure? But Joan truly deserved to be punished if only Myrna could find the strength in herself. Why was it absent? From a lifetime of empty words such were the thoughts running through Myrna's head when the phone rang.
Joan flashed, "I'll bet it's Amanda," and she looked upwards at Myrna. She could see the lush swelling gourds of her beautiful plum-tipped breasts looming above the woman's thatchy ebony covered mound.
The bell shrilled once more and Myrna started to answer it, then seized the opportunity of the moment and bent it to her will.
"Answer it," she ordered Joan.
"As you wish."
"And don't be so damned submissive, bitch!" Myrna exploded in utter exasperation. Then she slapped her forehead with disgust. "Stupid," she muttered to herself as Joan went to answer the phone.
"Hello, Amanda." No! thought Myrna, she couldn't have known. What if it was ...
"Yes," the girl replied into the mouthpiece, all the while eyeing Myrna levelly. "Yes," she went on.
"Give it to me," Myrna spat out and snatched the phone from Joan's hand. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Your sister, dear." Amanda's melodious voice floated through the receiver and found Myrna's mind in a fog of disbelief. "Myrna, are you there?"
Amanda's voice expressed concern at the growing silence.
"Yes. I'm here," replied Myrna from a void. It was as if she were suddenly alone in the room with her sister's voice coming from a shoe held in playful pretending at her ear.
"Myrna, what's wrong?"
"Oh Amanda! I don't know what to do. This child has cost me my act and yet I can't tame her. I don't know what to do."
"I know about the lions, dear; and I'm grief stricken. But just hold on and I'll be there shortly. Oliver called--" Myrna cut in.
"You're coming here? Oh, thank God! But what should I do with Joan until you get here?"
"How is she?"
"What the hell do you mean how is she? The little bitch just got Mae killed and Andy destroyed. How is she, you ask. Well, I wish she were dead!"
"No, dear, you misunderstand me. What I mean is what state is her mind in? What ever she feels shows all over her face. She is such a simple child, really."
Myrna glanced at Joan for the first time during the conversation and after a moment said, "She looks like either a zombie or a maniac--I'm not sure which. But in any event, the main thing in her face is sex.
"Is Eric with her?"
"Who's Eric?" Myrna asked, her exasperation starting to churn within her again.
"Eric is Joan's king snake. He acts like a sedative sometimes on the girl. He soothes her if you understand and, of course, you must."
Myrna chuckled slowly in response. "Will other animals besides the snake do?" Myrna felt an idea taking shape in her head.
"Well, Prince for one; and from the letters I've received from her I'm sure that pony of yours is another. But I thought you understood about Joan from the first. She is not to be held responsible for her desires where animals are concerned. She is a free agent."
"I understand. It's nearly impossible to act against, however. How do you ever manage?" Myrna asked trying to remember what they were talking about and suddenly very aware that the subject was just across the room. Joan stared up at her with the glazed expression of a dumb beast and for a moment Myrna was disgusted.
"I have no wish to subject the girl, or anyone else for that matter, Myrna. You should know that. You trained me," Amanda said quietly.
"When are you coming?" Myrna changed the subject curtly.
"Tomorrow morning first thing."
"What do you suggest I do with Joan in the meantime?" Myrna asked rather sarcastically.
"Why not entertain her with the pony, dear?" Amanda suggested glibly.
Myrna had the feeling that she had already thought of that, but since it was a rather good idea she said nothing. Yet, there was something else bothering her. What was it? Ah, yes. Somehow Joan had known it was Amanda calling.
"Amanda. Joan answered the phone with your name. How did she know it was you?"
Amanda chuckled. "Yes, I know. It was probably a hunch on her part, but I do have a habit of interrupting Joan with phone calls at inopportune moments. That was what she replied 'yes' to: I asked her if she was making love with someone and she said, yes, she was."
"I see," answered Myrna even though she did not really follow the entire trend of behavior between the strange girl and her own twin sister. "Well, I'd better go."
Joan was restless. She prowled between Myrna's legs like a pussycat and licked the woman's creamy snatch while she was talking.
"See you tomorrow," said Amanda.
"All right. Goodbye," returned Myrna hurriedly replacing the phone on its hook.
"Jesus, girl! Nothing turns you off, does it?" Myrna exclaimed.
"No." Joan's voice came silkily from below and she nuzzled her nose for Myrna's clit.
Myrna was incredibly disturbed. It was as if she wanted to be eaten softly by the kittenish tongue of the girl, but at the same time she wanted desperately to punish her. And it was evidence she could not do it with sex. The dilemma was ponderable but not while Joan licked between her legs. All right. The girl wanted submission. There was no better time to begin than right now.
"Stop that," Myrna ordered and Joan obeyed with a woeful moan.
"Put some clothes on. I want you in the ring with Clyde. And you are going to perform!"
"As you wish." Joan nodded her compliance and thought of what Amanda would look like saying the same words: As you wish.
Myrna saw the resemblance to her sister pass across Joan's face as the tone of the girl's voice took on a mimicking sound.
"Think you know all the tricks, don't you, chickadee?" Myrna taunted Joan sarcastically.
"Not necessarily," Joan said in a placid manner. "I haven't got any pants to wear."
"Here." Myrna took a silver-studded, goatskin wrap-around skirt out of her closet. "Put this on and hurry it up."
Joan took the leather garment and slipped it on. The feel of leather on her bare skin made her squirm the wet lips of her pussy together, and she became anxious to know where they were going.
"What are you planning?" Joan inquired. She knew she was taking more liberty than her role as slave allowed.
But Myrna surprised her. She did not give the conventional response and shut her up but instead answered her honestly. "I don't know."
"Well, aren't you going to get dressed as well?" Joan asked innocently.
"Apparently I've forgotten myself," Myrna answered bemused and took a light weight raincoat from the closet. "Get your top and let's go." She slipped the raincoat on and crossed to the door.
"Don't you want your whip, Myrna?" Joan taunted as she shrugged on her calfskin shirt.
"Bring it if you wish," Myrna snapped and swung the trailer door outwards, motioning Joan to go before her.
The summer night air was warm and beneath the leather outfit Joan's body began to sweat. She was hot everywhere.
The tight collar still was hard to breath against, so her nose flared with every long breath. Her scalp tingled with perspiration from the blood gorged in her head. The control she exerted on herself to remain submissive to Myrna took a visible effort. All in all, everything the girl's mind dealt with contributed to heat and the accentuation of her drive toward sex. The sweat poured into every crack of her tawny body and made the leather slick. Her face was red.
Myrna on the other hand was cool beneath the light raincoat and the warm air was like a caress against her naked skin. Her large breasts pressed her nipples taut against the fabric and jiggled with each step. The breeze kissed its way down along her marble thighs and blew lightly among the lush ebony curls between her sculptured loins.
Myrna was contemplative as they walked. What Joan had must somehow communicate itself to animals. Because, wasn't Andy eating her when Myrna had arrived at the tragic scene? Myrna knew there was no way of explaining something like that to anyone who had not seen it. And even then, unless one knew of Joan's nature before, the sight would most likely be taken for a freak event.
The pensive Myrna had dropped behind the girl, and she saw Joan pause and stand still near Clyde's stall, waiting for Myrna.
Good, thought Myrna: She is maintaining her self-control even though she knows I cannot master her. Amazingly, Myrna realized she was somehow not disturbed when the thought struck. It was as if she, too, agreed with Amanda that Joan was a free agent and, as such unmasterable. There's something amusing about that, Myrna continued the conversation with herself, but for the life of me I don't know what it is.
"Lead the pony out to the training ring," she said coming up next to Joan. "I want this to be private. All right, move."
Joan obeyed without so much as a glance at Myrna. Eagerly she opened the stall door and led the pony into the aisle.
"I'll close it," Myrna said as Joan stopped to close the door behind the pony's exit. "Go on ahead."
Joan had calmed herself somewhat but her body still felt on fire with excitement. The seams of her leather garments had begun to chafe beneath her arms. Across her sweaty shoulders and down between her breasts, the leather chafed and sweat trickled down the valley to her belly, collecting in the forest of her snatch.
She could smell the strong scent of the tiny horse and her nose took in huge draughts of the strong dank odor. The thought of his pole-like cock sent electric messages to every part of her body and she squirmed with anticipation and desire.
As the pony fell into step slightly to Joan's rear he nuzzled under the hem of her skirt and found his way to nose between the firm buns of her twitchy ass. His warm soft muzzle nearly made Joan melt to the floor. The pony tasted the salty sweat and licked his tongue between the girl's legs. She moaned when the hot flat tongue cleaved her torrid thighs and licked off the salt. She did not hesitate at the gate to the ring when she reached it but instead hopped lightly over it and urged the pony to move around the outside with a slap on his behind.
When Myrna arrived Clyde was already trotting in a circle around Joan, and the younger girl tossed the training whip to Myrna.
"All right, I'll use it. But keep your leathers on in case I nick you."
"No," countered Joan petulantly. "I want to feel every inch of Clyde that I can on my body. And besides, the nicks might be fun." She took her clothes off swiftly. Myrna swore beneath her breath because there was no way to stop the girl. More than that, she wanted Joan to know what it felt like to be ordered around with a whip popping near her every action.
And well, if Joan got cut, it could not be stopped. Then, too, if she enjoyed it--fine--as long as Myrna herself did not become involved with the ministry of pain. She would treat the girl as she would an animal. Fairly and without hate. And if for nothing more, Joan would perform because she was bored.
She unfurled the whip with a snake-like graceful side step and a flick of her wrist. It whirred in the air, until she popped it once high above. The sound cracked way up on the whip's hiss and snapped like a spark. Then swiftly, as if she were an adder striking a wisp, she popped one between Joan's eyes, about an inch above the slope of her nose.
"All right, kitten, I want you to mount Clyde while he's trotting. Move!" Myrna snapped the whip an inch above Joan's hip; but the girl's eyes were still dazed, almost crossed, from the sound before her eyes and she hesitated. Pop! The whip snapped again beside her ear as Myrna's voice ordered: "Mount the horse, Joan."
Pop! The whip above her hip caused the girl's body to start in the direction Myrna wished.
Clyde was trotting quickly about the ring now. Skillfully, Myrna slowed him just a bit with a snip at his forelegs. Then she snapped one again to Joan's rear and saw the girl's ass twitch in response. She popped two quick ones over her buns like dimples, and effortlessly, Joan started to trot.
She timed Clyde's passing after one loop of the ring. With Myrna's whip snapping through the air like a firecracker, Joan ran along beside Clyde and jumped on. Pop! Crack! Myrna snapped the whip high in the air and Joan felt the pony's tempo quicken. Her naked loins sweat against his coat as she slid into the valley between his shoulders and his rump. She felt the bunched bundle of muscles throb beneath her own buttocks and she squirmed her crotch more tightly against the small horse's back.
Myrna's whip popped another order, causing the pony to lengthen his stride until he fairly flowed around the ring. Joan was a flesh-colored blur on he streaking pony's back. His long silver mane and feathers trailed from his gun metal coat and she was forced to hang on to his straining neck. Her breasts pressed on either side of his thundering shoulders and Joan felt the horse hair slick with the mingling of their sweat. The effect was volcanic in each nipple. Blood swelled the nubs of her nipples as the coarse hair rubbed and bounced against her gelatinous tits.
Myrna cracked the whip before the pony's outstretched nose and suddenly he slowed down to a walk. It would not do to run the tiny horse into the ground. After all, she wanted him to be able to perform. Crack! Myrna used the whip to bring Clyde to a halt.
"Dismount, Joan," she ordered.
The girl got off without speaking. She was too much out of breath to utter a sound. When she was on the ground she leaned against the horse's flank for support while her tiredness overcame her. Her face was nearly purple from the tight collar and mutely her fingers fumbled with it.
Myrna saw the movement and popped the whip beside Joan's ear. "Leave it on!!"
But Joan knew that if she did, she would soon pass out from the blood gorging her head. Awkwardly and still unable to catch her breath to the point that huge black spaces were appearing in the world about her, she managed at last to loosen the collar. She gulped huge draughts of air into her starved lungs while she felt the blood rush from her head. So fast it went that her throat pulsed heavily with its passage, and she staggered. She felt as if she was going to vomit, and without wishing to, fell to the earth and was sick for a moment.
As she looked at Myrna hot tears scalded her face from the subsiding burn of the vomit in her nostrils and her esophagus.
"Kick some dirt over the puddle and go wash your face off in the water trough," Myrna wryly suggested. "You'll feel better in no time." Without waiting to see if Joan was going to obey she turned her attention to Clyde.
Joan raised herself from her hands and knees and pawed through a bleary world to the trough. She tossed the cold water into her face, then dunked her whole head into the wooden water tray. Softly, it washed off the sickness. When she raised her head the water poured down her neck and across her breasts. She shook her head like a dog with a coatful of rain.
Myrna was standing next to Clyde and the pony was sitting on his rear haunches with his forelegs up as if he were begging.
"Come here," Myrna commanded, gesturing with the hand that held the now coiled whip to a spot just in front of Clyde. Joan complied.
"Make it hard." Myrna pointed to the pony's sheathed cock. Joan kneeled and grasped both hands around the protective sheath. She began to pump her hands up and down on the shaft and was rewarded at once when the pony's blunt purplish-black prick emerged from its hole.
"Kiss it."
Joan dipped her head in obeisance and placed a light pouting kiss on the blunt end.
"That's enough." The girl's head withdrew. The shaft extended itself farther from its case and a drop of crystal fluid formed on the slit.
"Lick it off." Joan's tongue slid from between her teeth like a pink-
headed snake and wet her lips expectantly. She pouted them slightly so that she could surround a kiss about the drop, and then with a dart she licked the semen off.
"Have you ever sucked an animal's cock?" Myrna asked.
"Yes," replied Joan, "a man's."
"Only men?" Myrna's voice was surprised. "Why?"
"None of the other beasts have been noble enough though I have thought Andy would be."
"Would you like to blow the horse until he cums?"
"As you wish." Joan bent her head to comply.
"Not so fast!" snapped Myrna. "I asked you if you'd like it."
Joan turned to face the woman for the first time. "I don't know. Do you wish me to find out?"
Myrna was caught in her own trap. She still wanted to punish Joan somehow. But at the same time the sight of the beautiful girl kneeling with the horse's cock in both hands excited Myrna beyond delight. Despite her fully justified anger Myrna was caught up with the erotic sight.
"Yes, I do," she admitted. "It's something I want to do and perhaps have been afraid to admit to myself before. Suck it. I want to watch."
As if the now fully distended pecker were a clarinet, Joan turned to the instrument and lipped it, licking a ring around the face with her tongue. It was salty and hot. She stretched her mouth as tightly at the corners as she could, then slipped her taut, elastic lips over the blunt-ended tool. It barely fit between the circle of her lips; how could she get her teeth down the shaft without scraping off a pound of flesh? It was an impossibility. Her mouth would not open that far. A growl full of frustrated rage trembled from between her lips. But when her neck muscles tensed to open her mouth farther the collar cut her wind off. Joan was perplexed.
She did not want to remove the collar for it was the symbol of submission, and once her mind embraced the idea in its full scope, well, she had an excuse to suck the horse's cock. So instead of trying any further to make her mouth bigger, she contented herself with lipping the end while her teeth ran smoothly over the blunt face. Her tongue tip licked the slit of the horse prick while her hands jacked off the shaft. She let her vocal cords hum on the end of it while her tongue licked frantic patterns on the slit purple disc. Her hands could feel the huge member swell and stiffen with her rapid strokes. Then she sucked.
But Myrna was not satisfied. She heard the growling deep in the girl's throat and took it for the hungry sound it was. However, when Joan did not try to choke herself with the prick but instead seemed to settle for a hum and a hand-job, Myrna was miffed to say the least.
Crack!! The whip tip popped beneath Joan's crouching hips and the girl felt gravel spray her loins and twat.
Joan increased the power of her strokes down the length of the gigantic organ and revolved her head and mouth around the tip. Myrna could hear the sucking sounds increase and leaned closer to the event.
The purplish-black flesh of the distended horse cock glistened out of Clyde's belly like a baton. Myrna could no longer remain reserved. With a snarl much like a beast she threw herself to her knees and began to lick the pony's balls. They tasted of grass and sweat and earth and something beastly secret and somehow filled with the zest of life. Myrna's mouth was hungry for the flavor and she sucked and tongued the wrinkled, loose, hanging scrotal sack with fervor. She took one of the balls into her mouth, then the other, and she heard the pony neigh She could nearly feel the thunder of his orgasm as the huge shaft swelled like a pole past Myrna's ear. Frantically, as if frenzy would somehow overcome her late entrance into the carnal event, Myrna gobbled her way up the length of the prick until she came to Joan's startled eyes and vibrating lips. Then hungrily, because she felt the horse cock spasm and was afraid to be left out, she pulled Joan's face to hers and glued her lips to the seal between Joan's lips and Clyde's cock.
Just then the horse came and Joan's lips slipped off the end to receive Myrna's kiss. The freed member shot huge gobs of hot cum into both their faces as the two women frantically licked the fluid into their mouths. The cock shot another load and splashed Joan's cheek. Hungrily, Myrna licked it off, then turned to take the next load in her mouth. Like a team then, they alternated turns until every drop of the orgasm was devoured. Unsatiated they fell into each other's arms beneath the horse.
As the women kissed and sucked their volcanic mouths slickly together, their bodies writhed and finally bumped the horse nearly onto his back. Startled he stood up, but the women were unmindful of him anymore.
Mindlessly Joan kissed her way down Myrna's throat while her fingers ripped the raincoat open. She fastened her mouth to suckle on the woman's breast as her hand stole across Myrna's resilient flesh to her cunt. The slit opened greedily and Joan plunged two fingers into the juicy box.
Myrna moaned and clutched the back of Joan's head tightly against her tit. The nipple felt as if it would burst from the pleasure of Joan's hot kiss. Her other hand struggled between the buns of Joan's firm ass and found the frothing spongy entrance to her cunt. Joan growled deeply in her throat and savagely tongued Myrna's breast while her fingers plunged in and out of the woman's pussy.
And Myrna responded the same way. Like fornicating beasts they groveled together mindless of anything but their own desperate needs while climax after vicious climax caused them to shudder together as if they were both having fits.
Finally they quieted and after a long while Joan heard the gentle whimpers of Myrna's crying. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
Myrna just shook her head mutely with her eyes clenched tightly closed.
"Myrna, what is it?" Joan's voice was instant.
"Oh, I don't know!" Exasperated tears were running wildly down her cheeks. Sobbing she got to her feet. "Oh, damn you, damn you, damn you ... take off my collar and give it back to me. I don't want to tame you anymore."
"As you wish." Joan spoke evenly through her cheshire mask and smiled.
Joan stumbled back to her compartment window, taking off her uncomfortable leathers. She was caked with mud and sweat beneath them and she smelled like a horse. Rather than undress in the cramped room she took the garments off outside and trundled tiredly up the ladder.
Once inside she switched on the light and found the door to her room ajar. The key must be back!!
She looked about her quickly but found no evidence of its presence. Well, at least I can go through the door for a while, she thought. But I've got to get clean!
She took a towel and soap from the cupboard behind a small mirror and trailed it behind her as she went down the corridor to the shower.
"God, I hope no one's using it; I don't think I'd be willing to wait." She mused to herself, but on the other hand if someone was using the shower she hoped it would be Gloria.
But alas, it was free after all. Quickly, Joan adjusted the water to a fine hot spray and gratefully plunged beneath the soothing liquid. She let the warmth sink into her tired, bruised body and slumped against the wall.
After nearly half an hour she soaped herself until she felt refreshed and then adjusted the temperature until the needle pointed to water that was icy cold. She shivered for a few moments with her teeth clenched, then finally shut the water off and stepped out of the stall.
She rubbed her goosepimpled flesh briskly until it glowed with new life. Her throat was raw and tender where the collar had chafed her skin. Her shoulder ached and the scratches on her hip smarted from the mauling she had taken from Andy. And underneath it all her body wracked with fatigue. It was as if she were a balloon suddenly deflated and she felt almost sick for the need of sleep. Wrapping the towel about her and tucking the end of it between her cool, swollen breasts to bold, Joan made her way back to her compartment.
Chapter 7
"Hello, Joan." Amanda Westmore stood in the compartment doorway as the girl rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"Is it that late already?" yawned Joan. She felt as though she had only slept a moment before Amanda's knock awakened her.
"It's nearly noon," said Amanda, "but I can well see how you might be tired. Look, dear! I've brought Eric with me."
"Oh, Eric!" Joan's sleepy mood changed instantly and she was wide awake. "Let me have him," she said anxiously, reaching down toward the box on the floor beside Amanda.
"Not yet, my dear. First, you and I have got to talk."
"There's nothing to be said." Joan was sullen. "What's done is done and there's no way to undo it. Believe me, I've tried to think of ways ever since it happened."
"Never mind feeling sorry for yourself, Joan. I won't hear any more of it. Right now we've got to talk about what you're going to do from now on."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you certainly can't stay with the circus after all the trouble there has been. Don't tell me you haven't thought of that yet." Amanda's voice was stern.
"Well, I ..."
"It's time you faced life; my dear. You can't go on being irresponsible to everything but sex. There's not always going to be someone around to clean up your messes.
"Oh, but Amanda! What can be done?" Joan burst into tears. "Everything's already ruined. Mae's dead and they're going to shoot Andy."
"No, they're not, my dear. At least that's one part that's changed. Here. Blow your nose on this and stop your sniffling."
"What do you mean they're not?" Joan managed between sobs. "Myrna said-
-"
"Myrna's a fool. She's locked in her trailer and won't open the door for anyone. Not even after I told her through the door that the zoo was willing to take Andy after all. I've just spent the morning on the phone with the curator and everything's all agreed. Honestly, sometimes I think Myrna's a bigger child than you are."
Joan had stopped crying and she was waiting breathlessly for Amanda to finish speaking.
"Oh! You mean Andy doesn't have to be destroyed? You mean it?? Oh, Amanda, you're wonderful!" She leaped off her bed and into the startled woman's arms before Amanda could protest.
"Easy, girl, easy," Amanda said, infected by the girl's cheer in spite of herself. "What if your neighbors were to see us right now?"
"Who? Lawrence and Gloria?" Joan giggled. "They don't care, and Gloria is blind. Besides, they've been working for hours by now. But if you're worried, come in and close the door."
Joan stepped back into the compartment and sat down on the bed. Before Amanda could stop her, she reached down and took Eric's box onto the bed with her.
"Joan, let's not start right now, dear."
"Come in and close the door, Amanda," Joan said firmly without looking up from unfastening the door on the king snake's box. It was open then and Joan stuck her hand into its dark confines. Slowly, and with a peculiar sound, the great snake uncoiled and then wound up the girl's arm.
"As you wish," Amanda submissively complied. "You've never been with Eric, have you, Amanda?" Joan asked as she saw Amanda was fascinated with the big king. He glided up Joan's arm and wound around her shoulders, then on to the back of her neck and returned so that he paused on her breast and hissed.
"What's that sound, Joan?" Amanda was mesmerized by the snake. "Just a sound Eric makes when he's happy."
"Do all snakes make it?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't know. I've never had another snake besides Eric. It's a sound that king snakes make all the time though."
Eric was gazing at Amanda steadily. The gaze had an unsettling effect on her even though she was fascinated by him. Her breath grew heavy and a light sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. It was as if she were in a trance.
"Do you want him?" Joan asked, amused by the expression off Amanda's face.
"Well, I ..."
"Never mind. Take your clothes off. Eric doesn't like the feeling of clothing." Joan's voice was matter-of-fact, but her tone left no doubt in Amanda that it was an order, not a request.
Amanda wore a conservatively cut, black wool suit. As usual she was naked beneath it. And despite the fact that Joan knew she would be, the contrast between the woman's voluptuous curves and the nearly old maidish outfit she wore gave Joan an instant of delight. In fact, neither of the Westmore sisters wore anything beneath their clothing, although Myrna chose to accentuate her sex with tailored leather while Amanda strove to make hers disappear.
"Why do you always wear such out-of-style clothes, Amanda? It's as if you wanted people to find you ugly."
"In a way, I do;" said the woman as she unzipped her skirt at the side and pulled it over her hips from her sitting position on the bed. "That way I can keep my affairs private to some extent. It's something you should consider, Joan, if you're going to continue with bestiality."
Amanda's mound was covered with a heavy, vibrant growth of ebony curls. Even heavier than Myrna's, Joan thought as the woman began unsnapping her high collared coat. Her breasts swung out from between the parted black cloth as if anxious for breath. The exertion of getting undressed while sitting down seemed to make the woman's breath come more heavily than before.
Her nipples are purpler than Myrna's and they seemed softer to the eye, Joan thought.
"Lie back, Amanda. I want to suck your tits."
"With my coat still on?"
"As you wish."
Amanda lay back and her black jacket spread like wings by her sides. Joan led Eric down her arm with a serpentine, hooded motion while she scooted forward until she was able to nestle her head between Amanda's pendulous breasts.
"Aren't you going to put Eric away?" Amanda asked tremulously, staring with wide eyes up at the snake's head waving from Joan's hand. He looked as if he wished to strike.
"No," Joan said as she took Amanda's gourd-like breast in her hand and brought the soft plum tip to her mouth.
"Does he bite?" Amanda's voice was caught between a gasp of pleasure from Joan's kiss and curiosity.
"No," Joan mumbled over the hardening nipple. Eric hissed. "Oh, Amanda, this has all been like a nightmare here!"
"I warned you, dear." Amanda's tone grew sultry and low in her throat. She felt her nipple grow rigid and vibrate with Joan's words. She whimpered, "Oh, Joany!"
"But it's all been better since I got my key back." Eric hissed in accordance with the girl's brightened tone.
"What has, dear?" Amanda asked distractedly. "Aren't you listening?!" Joan nipped at the turgid purple nipple with reprimand in her voice.
"Oh yes," Amanda moaned.
"You like to get hurt a little bit, huh?" Joan's voice was a suddenly enlightened question, as if she had unexpectedly seen the light. Eric hissed.
"It must have been a nightmare here," Amanda agreed when she heard the change in tone of Joan's voice.
"But then Justice returned my key. I'm sure the only reason he kept it was because he likes me to suck his cock!"
"What on earth are you talking about, dear girl?" Amanda sat upright since apparently Joan had lost interest in her breast. Eric hissed.
"Oh, it's all so complicated," Joan said, exasperated with the thought of going back over the last two weeks. "I'm just happy that Andy's not going to be destroyed. That's all. Never mind me when I'm tense. Here. Lie back down again, lover. I'm not finished with that breast."
Amanda could see that Joan was in no mood for further talk so she started to lie down, when her jacket bunched uncomfortably beneath her. She straightened up and said, "I'd really rather this were off--if you don't mind?"
"No, go ahead." Joan hesitated her body as it was about to follow Amanda down, and Eric hissed as if to say 'Okay.'
Amanda eyed him ruefully as she shrugged the jacket off.
Joan giggled when she saw the expression pass across Amanda's face and said, "I keep forgetting that you've never been with Eric, really. He likes you; I can tell."
Eric hissed.
Amanda feigned as if to swoon and remained silent, congratulating herself on her self control. Without further teasing Joan suckled onto Amanda's areola.
"Oh yes," Amanda moaned as a shock of pleasure lifted her hips off the bed.
"Ummm," Joan hummed then deepened it to a gurgle while Eric hissed.
Her hand made its way across the woman's furry belly and into the lush thick brush around Amanda's snatch. Her finger went in and located the soft flesh where it rolled over the bone and became a pouting slit. Her finger tip found the cut and rubbed back up sending a radiation of bliss singing through Amanda. She stroked and the lips pouted wider to take the digit in.
Amanda heard a strange sound grow into her consciousness through the waterwell of pleasure in which her mind was fogged. It was like a river flowing nearer by the second. Just the dull, pounding roar of a fast river with the hiss of water sizzling bubbles on the air. Pop! Amanda started.
"Is that sound Eric, dear?" Amanda was afraid to look around so she stared with apprehension at the blank page of the grey ceiling in the compartment's vaulting walls.
"Ummm," Joan's answer was muffled by the growl in her throat.
"It is! I just know it is," Amanda's voice rose to a small wail.
"Hush," said Joan taking her lips off the rubbery nipple.
"Where is he, Joan?" Amanda's voice was full of trepidation.
"Rubbing his neck on your cut, if I'm not mistaken." Joan's finger snapped the nipple in mock annoyance.
"Oh, dear God!" Amanda groaned and tried to faint.
Joan roared with laughter at the response and Eric stopped his rubbing neck. He hissed.
A shudder of titanic proportions ran up Amanda's frame. "Oh, Lord!" she moaned.
"Hush! You'll throw Eric's rhythm off, if you don't stop."
"I can't help it!" Amanda moaned like a bawling cow. Then she moaned and shuddered again.
But surprisingly enough, the king snake resumed his slow stroking at the top of Amanda's venus mound as if undisturbed.
"He's doing it again," Amanda wailed, but Eric kept right on as Joan plunged her lips back to the quivering breast.
This is foolish, Amanda thought. He's not going to hurt me--she thought, squirming her hips as the snake's head grazed her clit--
besides, it feels kind of nice. She moaned.
Joan heard the change in tone and hummed pleasurably to herself. Good. Amanda was digging it.
Joan licked quickly away from one breast to the other. She unloosened her arm from the snake's twist and gave Eric's tail to the abandoned breast for support. He clung on with a steady, sure grip while his neck never missed a stroke.
Amanda moaned, her pleasure increasing. Timorously, her hand came up to feel the snake's body as it used her breast for a curling base. His scales were cool against her skin. But when her fingers felt the huge muscle his body was, she sensed the fierce life that beat within.
"It feels good," Amanda ventured as she felt her hips respond. Joan smiled and growled her assent.
"I wish Prince were here." Joan raised her lust-glazed eyes for a moment to watch Eric stroke.
"He is, dear, in the car. And so is Duke. Oh, Joany, I'm going to cummmmmmmm!!!!!" Her voice trailed off as the orgasm hit her and she bucked like a horse.
"Easy, baby," Joan cooed. "You'll disturb Eric and he may get angry."
Amanda stilled at once. Though it took incredible effort, she went rigid and stayed that way as much as she could while her orgasms shuddered through her--all the way into her tight asshole. "Oh, oh, oh, oh," Amanda's voice rose.
Mercifully, Joan dipped her arm beneath the snake's body and took his head up weaving in the air.
"Shall we go get Prince, Amanda?" Joan's eyes wore that cheshire grin again.
Amanda could not speak. She could only nod her head while her eyes said, yes, yes, yes!
Chapter 8
"Why not stop by Myrna's trailer on the way to the dogs?" Amanda suggested as they stepped out of the railroad car.
"All right." Joan skipped down with her hands clasped behind her back. Like a youngster she pretended there was a hopscotch figure and jumped a leggy dance through all nine squares in the imaginary pattern.
Will she never stop being a child? Amanda wondered as she watched the girl hop. For her sake, I hope not too abruptly, she thought.
Myrna's trailer was next to the elephant wash and one of the brutes trumpeted a greeting upon seeing the girl. She couldn't have, thought Amanda. It's too ridiculous to even think about. Why do I always think the cause is sex when it comes to Joan? Perhaps because it so often is.
They reached Myrna's trailer and found the door ajar. She was not home when Amanda stuck her head in and called.
"I wonder where she's gone." Amanda's face wore a worried frown.
"Perhaps we should look for her." Joan shared her concern. "Maybe she's with Andy. You said you told her about the zoo."
"That's a good idea. Where do they keep the cages?"
Joan led Amanda across the grounds to the big side tent. It was noon at the circus, and everybody was bustling about. The yard and tents were filled with people, yet they all ignored the pair.
Evidently they felt the loss of Myrna's act was reason enough to ignore the girl, and Amanda felt a chill despite her heavy wool suit. Gradually Joan's skip became a walk, then a shuffle as she glanced around at the stony faces.
"Have you seen Myrna?" she asked one person hopefully, and an arm waved vaguely in the direction they were heading. That was all.
Their mood changed to one filled with grim purpose. Myrna's whereabouts became their sole goal and the dogs were forgotten in the car.
Amanda had the impulse to call aloud. But she stifled it as they passed into the shade of the big tent. It was hot and still. Amanda guessed that everyone would be avoiding the area of Andy's cage and wondered if it would not be silly of Myrna to go and mope there. If she knew her sister at all, she had a hunch she would not be there.
Myrna was not anywhere in sight when the lion's cage came into view. And Joan stopped in her tracks.
"She's not here." Joan's voice was quiet and reserved.
"Is that Andy?" Amanda asked about the proud golden cat. She could see him prowling behind the bars. She heard him cough, then growl low and plaintively to Joan.
"Let's go," Joan said, unwilling to approach any closer to the lion. Amanda understood. There was no need to punish the girl. She felt guilty enough--of that there could be no doubt, especially after seeing her swift change of mood.
"Where next?" Amanda asked.
"I don't know." Joan turned away and started to leave when a sound caught her ear. "Over here." She suddenly changed her direction. Like a dog following some distant calling, she stood poised for an instant, then headed for the training ring.
As they approached the noise, Amanda saw ahead the broad, incredibly muscular back of what to her mind she thought must be Tarzan, or some such manifestation thereof. He was magnificent from behind and covered only with a loin cloth. God, breathed Amanda to herself, what a beautiful man-beast from the rear!
"That's Justice," Joan said as she heard Amanda's breath quicken.
"My God! He looks beautiful!" Amanda breathed in a whisper.
Justice must have heard them approaching, for he suddenly turned and Amanda saw his front was even better looking than his rear. He was easily the most perfect man she had ever seen. She could not get over the shock and her pussy began to throb. She faltered with the intensity and felt the lips of her twat soften and cream against each other with desire.
He turned back for a moment to whatever it was he had been looking at before they came up, then suddenly back to them as if he were caught between two opposing forces.
I want him, Amanda thought. Like nothing I've ever wanted before! Her pussy creamed until she thought she could feel it run into her pubic hair.
"There's Myrna." And although Joan's voice interrupted Amanda's thoughts as they reached the man, Amanda did not seem to hear. She was locked into a rapturous stare of sheer desire and Justice could not help staring back.
What is this? Must be Myrna's sister, Amanda. Looks like a strange one to me, Justice thought. But the look of lust on Amanda's face took place in his eye as a beautiful event. Forgetting her clothes he suddenly wanted his hands on her naked flesh. His cock hardened and Joan saw the head peek past the loin cloth edge like a gnome.
"Look over his shoulder, Amanda. Your sister's fucking Clyde."
"What?" said Amanda from a daze.
Justice heard her clearly, though, and shot Joan a look of incomprehensible depth.
"There's Myrna, Amanda."
"Oh, I see," said Amanda from far off. Her voice sounded as if she had not really, though her eyes were focused to the center of the ring.
There was Myrna with her head thrown back nearly to the ground while she straddled the front of the sitting pony's haunches and rocked a bugaboo. She was absolutely lost in a world of her own and the horse's.
The sight was so enthralling that Amanda's hand covered the huge 'O' of surprise her mouth had become as she sighed, "Oh my!"
Slowly Myrna was lowering herself, then rising up as all the while her body danced in torrid rocking jabs around the pony's cock. Her mouth hung slack while her eyes seemed rolled up into her head from the thin line of white Amanda could see. She lolled her head from side to side. Primitive snarls stuck in her throat, then grunted up with the rasp of each breath.
Jesus, thought Amanda. Christ! But I want a man. And her eyes roamed away from the horse fucking her sister to Justice's face. She was hardly surprised when he read her thoughts and grinned.
Just then Myrna screamed. It was clear from the contortions her body was going through that she had reached her peak.
It's ironic, thought Amanda, she cums on a horse cock like the world's at an end--while I look into the eyes of the first man I've admired in more years than I can count. Sometimes coincidences can be weird!
A mood of melancholy fell over Amanda as the full impact of the tragedy which had taken place during the last twenty-four hours took hold of her. She mused to herself, Poor Myrna. Somehow I feel free of her now and I don't know why. And deep inside I'm so glad. Oh, you beautiful man thing, I want you so bad I ache all over?
Her fingers fumbled with the jacket which suddenly had too many buttons. She was frantic to expose herself to Justice. When her fingers would not work fast enough to satisfy the craving urge, she ripped the heavy wool away from the buttons with a powerful thrust that left her in an Amazonian stance.
And that was how Amanda felt as she tore the coat from her shoulders and stood proudly before Justice, bared to the waist.
Her breasts heaved with her sudden passion and rose and fell voluptuously before his eyes. His cock stiffened as he had never know it to before, and a sudden rage took hold of him. Almost as if it did not exist he shred her skirt front with both hands and let his eyes drink in her magnificently nude body.
She stood before him, a little timid because of his strength but with raw desire firing from her eyes and heated pants escaping her parted lips.
Would he like her? Was she beautiful enough for this god? Her loins ached to feel his pecker in her and she wondered how long her legs would hold her up. Already she felt as heavy as if she were with child. She wondered if this was what was meant by love at first sight.
"Ahemm," Joan pointedly interrupted the gluttony on which both Amanda and Justice were thriving at the moment. "Ah, it looks like Myrna's about through over there with Clyde. If, ah, you two lovebirds will excuse me, I think I'll get me a piece of that stud."
Myrna was indeed coming to her senses. She extracted her body slowly from the rod on which she was impaled. It was evident that Clyde had not cum.
His black shaft stood stiffly a foot along his belly and the blunt head looked about to burst. Joan was wearing her leopard leotards and quickly she unzipped them down the front and back until her cunt was fully exposed. The elastic material shrunk away from the middle of her body and she was naked in a swath of ivory flesh.
While Myrna staggered away with bleary eyes, Joan knelt as if praying before the horse's phallus. She bowed her head like a serf and licked Myrna's cum off the horse prick's blunt tip.
Damn the girl. She's always ready, thought Myrna as her eyes cleared and she saw Justice and a naked woman rush together like two raging cats. Where did they come from? But she should have remembered that Amanda would be with Joan. And vaguely she remembered Justice watching her fuck the horse.
God, but it had been good! For once it did not hurt at all.
She heard a sound come from Amanda similar to the babylike wail of cats fucking at night. She was struck with how much Justice and Amanda actually resembled fighting cats as they clawed each other in a frenzy of flesh.
Amanda tore Justice's loin cloth off his muscle-bound hips and fell to her knees before his massive prick. Humbly she kissed the turgid end. Myrna glanced at the pony and Joan and thought the sight of them was like an echo of her sister and Justice.
Joan raised herself and carefully straddled the huge black prick of the horse, while another look in the opposite direction revealed Amanda gobbling Justice's organ into her mouth in a froth of frenzy. Justice churned his hips and raised his arms as if he were lifting a tremendous weight. He screamed his passion at the top of his lungs, while Joan lowered her body like a rag doll onto the blunt leg-shaped prick.
Myrna's eyes cast about for something to use to join in the orgy. Her eyes fell on the training whip she had left by the side of Clyde. Quickly she strode over to it and picked up the dildo handle. The ivory was as always cold and perfectly shaped so that the bone-hard glans had a little nick on its underside.
Anxiously she wormed the whip between her legs as the coiled rawhide spun out in a lazy tail between her legs. Myrna felt the glans nick her clit and a little chevron of delight shivered in her pussy. "Oh yes, so fine!" she said to the orgy at large, as she dipped the dildo to her hips and snaked the tail of the whip between her legs.
One of its snarls wound around Joan's ankle and reminded her of Eric as she plunged herself up and down on Clyde's cock as if she were the stripes of a barber pole. Her hands came up to her breasts and she ground her palms around her nipples while her nose flared. Her face wore an expression of utter bliss as she felt Clyde begin to cum.
Justice broke his scream off in mid-note, and he seized Amanda by the shoulders. So suddenly did he seize her up that her teeth scraped a raw place entirely around his prick as he pulled her sucking mouth off of him.
As if she were no more weight than a lamb he lifted her to him, then past his hips so that her legs caught around his waist. She locked her ankles together at his back. She rocked back and Justice's stiff rod popped like a stake between her thighs. Amanda grew wide-eyed at his enormous strength and she felt like butter in his arms. She shuddered as his cockhead perfectly fitted itself to her pussy's flowering lips and he plunged the mass of himself home. Amanda screamed her joy.
Myrna saw the horse's nostrils flare while his eyes grew enraged with lust. She knew he had begun to cum. She watched Joan's lithe form absorb the spasm as if it held balm for her womb. Her body shook with the throb of the horse's cumming while Myrna felt her own box electrify with the charges of the dildo. She switched the whip tail with tremendous energy and it hissed through the air with an audible parting of wind.
Amanda heard it and thought for a frantic instant that Eric was about. Was she hearing him again? But how could he have escaped from his box, locked in Joan's compartment? She looked up and found her sister jacking off with the whip handle. It was only the sound of the whip.
She wondered where Joan was. Then she saw, but it did not matter because Justice's immense prick filled her to completion and she floated off into an ethereal orgasm of her own.
Justice came like a cannon shot. He boomed his hips forward as if he were on wheels for the big iron gun. He seemed to measure his thrust on the brink of an instant's cliff, then hurl the cannon ball of his cum into Amanda's empty womb. Take seed, they both wished together in that moment. And looking into Justice's eyes from her position in the air as she was impaled upon his rod, Amanda knew she did not care who saw. She was in love. And so was Justice Holt.
Their mouths came together and formed the flower of an eternal kiss: a kiss like a meat-eating orchid having a feast. They gloried in its bestiality. Amanda knew she had finally won it all.
Joan was the picture of contentment as she let the wilting horse's cock sheath itself. She clung to Clyde with weak knees.
Myrna was alone seeking orgasm in a masturbatory reverie: the place of solitude which she had trained Amanda to occupy. Events had come full circle and now Myrna held Amanda's place in the order of things. A just ending to a fairy tale story, Amanda thought happily.
