Circus Girl
"Laaaaadiiesss aaaaaaand gentlemen! Chiiiiildrrrren of aaaaaalllllll ages! The Spaaaarrrrkle Circus proudly prrresents in the center ring, The Amazing Ammmmmmber and her Agile Anacondas!"
The band sounds a flourish and a rising drum roll. A single trumpet blares commanding attention. A single blue spotlight sweeps across the tent and hits me, center ring, standing with folded arms. My sequined robe sparkles, a thousand purple stars flashing and shimmering. I raise my arms and the bright satin falls to the canvas floor, pooling at my feet and glittering. Applause. My snake skin printed spandex leotard hugs my curves and reveals to the audience the form I work hard to keep. I know that every man in the tent wants to touch me, to feel how the cloth follows my lines, to feel the heat of my body radiating through the thin material. My nipples pop up. I don't have to look to know that they are clearly visible outlined through my suit. Another roadside attraction. Enjoy the view, boys.
My music begins and I step away from my robe, turning and swaying to the rhythm. I slowly revolve, dancing with slow languorous movements, letting my own body heat begin to rise. I can feel the sweat start to run down my back. As it grows moist, the leotard will mold itself to my skin. I will look as naked as if I were wearing nothing but my virtue. Not that any of these people actually believe that I have any virtue. I like the attention. Some men come back every night, alone or with a girl. I can tell that they like my show and hope that their lady of the evening gets turned on by it enough to let them get lucky. The others always come alone. I like to make them sweat. Their eyes are as good as hands or probing fingers. They inspire me to my lewdest and best. Once in a while it's a woman. Usually they are well-dressed and look educated. But I can tell by the way they slowly twist and squirm on the hard wooden bleachers that their thoughts and fantasies are anything but educated when they watch me. Sometimes I like to invite one of them back to my tent for a "private" show after my act, but only the pretty ones.
As I continue my warm-up the roustabouts wheel out the cage. It's actually not a real cage with bars or anything. I had it made for my act. My "cage" is a ten foot wide cylinder of one inch thick. The top of the cylinder is a flat plate of the same material cut to fit smoothly to the curve of the walls. In the center of this clear roof a hatch is set, hinged so that it opens downward into the cage. The hatch is spring loaded. My weight on the surface causes it to swing down into the cage and then snap shut after I have passed though. The underside of the hatch fits flush against the cage roof, without knob or handle that one of my adventurous "children" might find and use their weight to escape. Of course that also means that once I am in the cage, only someone on the outside can open the hatch and free me. But that just adds to the thrill of the show, y'know. All part of the act.
The cage is covered with a bright green canvas shroud as it is wheeled out. Only the repeat customers have a clue about the next part. As the cage reaches the center of the ring, I raise my arm in command and all but invisible wires begin to lift the canvas up and off the cage. As the contents of the cage are revealed, a collective sound that is somewhere between a gasp and a sigh goes up within the tent.
The entire bottom of the cage seems to be alive. And it is. Three green anacondas carpet the cage floor. The spotlight warms the cage and they begin to come awake. Like a layer of living fire hoses they begin to twine slide and circle the cage. Their forked tongues test the air. I know they are seeking my heat and scent. I will not disappoint them for long. My precious pets. My pretty pleasures.
I raise me arm again, a sweeping gesture. From the rigging high above a line lowers. On its end is tied a single padded ring. It drops to within a foot of the ring and I daintily insert one leg through it and take hold of the rope. The line is pulled up. I rise with it, slowly spinning and gleaming in the spotlight. I let my weight slide forward into the ring until it presses against my groin. I twist and squirm against the padded metal, knowing that my firm ass is clearly outlined when I do this. All their eyes are on me now. I pretend to lose my grip on the rope and for an instant I appear to be falling from the ring. A gasp greets this little show. It always gets 'em. At the lest possible second I hook the ring with my foot and hang suspended, head down. I stretch my arms out like a bird and rotate. Applause. Such a simple trick.
Now I draw my arms to my sides. The rope begins to lower me head first toward the cage. I let my weight press open the trap door on the top of the cage. When my torso is through I release my toehold on the ring and drop the few remaining feet into the cage. Over my head the door snaps shut. I am alone with the snakes.
They react instantly when they feel my body hit them. Great looping coils envelop my body from head to foot. I disappear in the toils of the anacondas. I keep very still until my sweet girls have lovingly wrapped me in their embrace. I exert myself and push upright in the cage. It looks like I am fighting the snakes. All I am really doing is fighting to stand up under their weight. I begin to sway with the music still playing. My angels slither and slide over my body, moving from one grip to the next. They hug my waist, press my belly, caress my breasts and face, push between my thighs, circle my legs. Slowly they draw their embraces tighter around my body. The microphones in the cage carry the sounds of their hissing to the whole tent. And my gasps and grunts. I love this part. I must be at least part ham. I love to play the desperate heroine, gasping out her breath squeezed to death by the giant constrictors. I rise and fall and rise again, completely wrapped in the coils. I cry out in mock agony and passion that is somewhat less than mocking. I fall at last to the cage floor, buried under the weight of the snakes. I thrust one hand up out of the mass. The light goes out. The music stops. In the darkness the girls fall away from me as they have been trained to. A circus hand climbs to the top of the cage, presses open the door and drops my line. I take hold and am drawn back to the cage roof, all in less than ten seconds. The line whips away, the spotlight snaps on, and I stand with a flourish on the cage roof, whole and alive. Applause applause.
Afterward, the last show of the day. The time I really love. Hunting time. I stroll casually from the big top. My trailer is near the back of the lot, set a little bit away from the others. I like that too. It's quieter that way. And there aren't so many prying eyes to see or curious ears to hear my private play.
I remember how it was at the beginning. Imagine me, the Snake Queen! I never imagined that I could be here doing the things I do every night, having the private pleasures that I have. Being the huntress and finding all the sweet little mice that are drawn irresistibly to me and my snakes. Sure, I was naive once, just once. Then I learned what real power, real pleasure, is and how to use it.
I was just seventeen. Still a girl in many ways. But my body had begun to become the thing of beauty that it is today. Pale creamy skin without scar or blemish. Long glossy dark hair that hung to my waist. Vivid green eyes like emeralds, deep but piercing. Full wide lips both kissable and soft. Even then I worked out daily. I molded my body to be strong and firm, but without overmuscling it to the extreme I have seen some women do. No bulging biceps for this kid. I liked smooth lines and the power that came from a body completely under my control. And somewhere along the way I started liking snakes.
It probably started when my uncle gave my an albino Burmese python for my birthday. She was just three feet long. I called her Butterscotch because of her golden color. She became a fast friend and a wonderful pet. I cared for her and fed her and before the year had passed she doubled in size. I began to see some possibilities. I Taught her all the games I could think of that summer, fantasy games that let us play with each other and come to understand each other. We played Lost Hunter. And Jane And The Snake. Sideshow Dancer. Jungle Queen. Helpless Sacrifice To The Serpent God. And lots more. Butterscotch seemed to enjoy the games as much as I did. She loved testing her growing strength and making our games seem almost real. She would hiss and strike and throw herself on me. She would push me to the ground and hold me so tightly that I could not move and keep me that way for hours. Sometimes she squeezed me so hard that I would actually pass out, only to wake to find her nuzzling my face to be sure that I was still alive.
When Butterscotch grew to eighteen feet she demanded and got the run of my apartment. She like to curl up with me in bed. Sometimes she would surprise me when I cam home with one of our games. And while I wrestled with her and let her sweet strong coils wrap me and hold me tight I started thinking about snakes as a career and the circus. After all, there weren't many other places a girl with a thing for snakes would be accepted. There were enough odd people in the circus to make us look like one of the bunch. So I created the Agile Anacondas act and went on the road.
So tonight I get lucky. A shape detaches itself from the wings of the tent.
"I really liked your act tonight, Miss Amber."
She must be in her twenties. Cascade of blonde hair. Short tight skirt. Knit
tube top. Goddess, just look at those nipples! China blue eyes. Good strong
legs. A ream item.
"I'm glad you did. It's always a challenge working with the big snakes.
One wrong move in there and I'm lunch."
She shudders delightfully.
"Ooh! I can tell. You must be as brave as you are beautiful."
She moves closer. I can feel the heat of her body now. And a hint of perfume.
Intoxicating. I must have this one.
"Thanks. Listen, I got to go and change and get cleaned up a little. How'd
you like to come to my trailer and we can talk more?"
"Could I really? That would be really great!"
I drape one arm across her shoulders and begin to lead her toward the trailer.
She is breathing harder. She is excited. Her hero takes notice and invites her
in. What fun I'll have! We cross the lot and finally come to the silver trailer.
Home.
"D..do you have any snakes in there?"
"Just one. Does that bother you?"
"N.n.no. I guess it's OK. Is..is it tame?"
"Oh very tame."
How sweet. She's nervous. Like a rabbit or a deer. I laugh to myself. Wonderful.
I open the trailer door and invite her in. I can see her taking it all in. Doesn't
take long. My trailer is mostly just one room, combination living sleeping kitchen
whatever. There' an ample bath and shower that takes up one end. Gotta have
my shower and soak. So does Butterscotch. I like to bring the other girls in
about once a week and let them have a long bath too. Keeps their colors nice.
The other end of the trailer is Butterscotch's home. I had the front eight feet
partitioned off with a plexi wall and draped it on the inside so she can have
her privacy when she's shedding or finishing off one of her weekly meals. The
partition has a doggy door built into the regular access so she can come and
go when she wants to. The trailer walls are covered with posters of me and the
girls from all the places we've been. I can look anywhere and see images of
me and the girls. I've even gone so far as to cover the daybed with snakeprint
fabric. A homey touch. I open the fridge and take out a beer. "Here. You
look like you could use a drink. Why don't you relax a minute wile I change
and then we can talk."
"OK. Gee thanks."
She sits on the daybed and open the can, nervously drinking down about half
the can right away. I step around the bathroom divider and strip off my hose
and leotard. I cover my hair with a shower cap and take a quick rinse to get
the sweat off. I shut the shower off and peer around the corner shyly.
"Can you help me?"
"Ah sure. What can I do?"
I step out naked holding out a towel.
"Dry my back, please. It's hard to reach."
I hear her catch her breath at the sight of my body. Good. But after all, it's
just girl stuff, right. I hand her the towel and turn away. She pats my back
dry.
"Oh. That's wonderful. I should keep you just to do that."
I turn quickly before she can step away. My breasts graze the backs of her hands.
I stand very close and gaze directly into her eyes. I lean forward and kiss
her softly on her full lips. She is paralyzed. Caught like a bird. I reach out
and roll the tube top down to her waist. Her beautiful breasts pop up and greet
me. I cup them with my hands, enjoying the firmness and weight. I kiss her again
and lightly stroke her distended nipples. She moans softly, deep in her throat.
I reach around her and find the zip for her skirt. When I undo it, it slides
down her long smooth legs and pools at her ankles. No underwear. I like that.
She wraps her arms around my back, reaches down and squeezes my ass. She's not
so shy when she loses her inhibitions.
Behind her I see the doggy door push open. Butterscotch's huge blunt heat pushes
into the room. Her barrel body follows quickly. The rocking of the trailer has
attracted her attention. It always gives me a thrill to watch her come into
the room. She is now twenty-two feet long and I know that she weighs well over
two hundred pounds. Golden muscle
in a skin or iridescent scales. When all of her length is in the room she arranges
herself behind us in a pile of loose coils, waiting for me to make the next
move.
I bring my hands to the girl's breasts. She arches her back for a moment in
appreciation. I cup and squeeze her breasts and then suddenly push her backward.
Off balance she falls, directly onto Butterscotch's coiled body. The snake reacts
with lightening speed, capturing the girl's flailing arms against her sides
and wrapping her in four great loops from shoulders to hips. She screams.
"Go ahead. The trailer's soundproofed. Scream while you can."
"Take it off! Take it off!"
"Not just yet. We're going to play for a while. If you're good and play
nice I might make her let you go. But she's awful jealous about her toys."
She struggles. Butterscotch reacts by drawing tighter around her.
"If you do that, you'll just shorten our play time."
She lies still. Butterscotch stops squeezing.
"There. That's better. Now we can have some fun."
"What..what are you going to do?"
"We're going to play some nice snake games. You said you like my act. This
is the private show. And you don't even have to pay for it. Isn't that nice?
"This is my personal pet. Her name is Butterscotch. She's an albino Burmese
python. The last time I measured her she was twenty-two feet long and over 200
pounds. Out in the jungles, they catch and swallow deer when they get this big.
What do you think I feed her now?"
The girl moans. I know that she thinks she is going to be snake food. Butterscotch
begins to slide more coils around her body, circling her neck with her golden
tail and pressing around her quivering buttocks and up between her thighs, forcing
them open.
"Please. Don't let her eat me. I'll do anything you want."
"I imagine that you will. We'll see about diner later. If you play good
you might leave to play another day.
"Let's see. What should we play tonight? I know. Let's play Sacrifice to
the Serpent God. You look just right for the part."
I kneel beside her helpless body.
"Great Serpent God. Here is your sacrifice," I say to the snake. "Take
her and show her the mystery of your power."
Butterscotch knows this game well. I pat the coil around the girls slim waist
and she draws it tighter. The I pat the coil that circles the girls ribs and
she tightens that one too. I pat the coil around her hips and Butterscotch squeezes
compressing the girls buttocks. The coil between her thighs slides tighter too
and presses more firmly into her groin. Finally I pat the coil around her upper
chest. As it draws tighter I hear the first gasp of air forced from her lungs.
"Hooof! Aaaah! Uuuuhhhh!
"No. Please. Stop," she pleads prettily.
"Oh Great Serpent God," I address the snake. "Your sacrifice
has not learned the meaning of humility. Teach her now the Path of Acceptance."
I quickly pat each of the coils around her body in turn, from bottom to top.
Butterscotch constricts each as I touch them. The effect is like squeezing a
tube of toothpaste from bottom to top, but much more enjoyable. A rush of air
is forced out of her lungs. Her breasts are pressed flatter against her chest.
Her tender pussy begins to engorge with blood as the force pushes her fluids
down into her lower parts.
"Ahhhhh....hukkkk," she gasps. The space she has for breathing is
much less now. She labors to draw a breath. I see tears begin to flow. She believes
that she will die. I caress her cheek and kiss away the tears.
"Great Serpent God," I intone. "Your sacrifice learns Acceptance
of Her Fate. Open now for her the Gate of Pleasure." With these words I
lean down and quickly pat the coil that presses between her legs. Butterscotch
responds with a rippling motion, rubbing her body back and forth along the girls
constricted pussy. I know from experience that the sensation is indescribable.
Butterscotch's belly scales are wide and smooth. As she rubs there is a series
of pressures as the scales ripple along the skin. The girl's eyes open wider.
She would cry out at the sensation but her lungs will not allow her a full breath.
She only whimpers and squeaks. I insert me fingers between the coil and her
body and begin to finger her pussy. She convulses with pleasure. Butterscotch
reacts to her movement by drawing still tighter.
"You must surrender to the Serpent God," I tell her, stroking faster.
You must tell the God what you desire and find freedom."
For a moment she does not understand. Then her mind puts it together. She passes
over the line. Fear is behind her. She begins to thrust against my fingers.
With the remaining air left to her she begins to beg.
"Oh! Squeeze me. Take me. Harder. Tighter. More. Please. Squeeze me. Squeeze
me harder!"
I tap Butterscotch's head twice and she begin to wind slowly inward. I know
that her pressure is immense. The girl can barely inhale at all. My fingers
fly faster, over and in, over and in. Deeper and harder.
"Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh! Yesssssssssss! Ahhhhhhhh..huuuuukkkkkkk!!"
My fingers are suddenly drenched with her climax. She stops breathing altogether.
Her eyes close and her body convulses with orgasm and asphyxia. I quickly tap
Butterscotch's head three times and she releases her pressure. From the very
edge of unconsciousness the girl draws a shuddering breath. Her eyes open. She
looks into mine with a sudden understanding.
"Please. I want to do it again."
I kiss her deeply, sucking gently on her tender lips.
"Oh we will, my little mouse. There are lots of games we can play and the
night is very young."
I am happy. I know that this one will come back again when the circus comes
to town. She will be one of the ones who comes every night. And she will wait
for me outside after my show. And I will teach her more games and Butterscotch
and I will play with her until we have tired of her. Then we will play a very
final game, The Lover Who Stayed to Dinner. After that we will wait for another
night and another innocent who will be drawn to us and wait for us and we'll
have new games and new pleasures and new meat.
By Summer