Beastiality

Chapter 1

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!

“Think you’re pretty good, don’t you, pussycat?” Myrna snarled.

“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