chapter two

johnny

Grim Weeper - Diggy Graves

T he big top looms against the star lit sky, its tattered, dark fabric twisting and writhing in the wind like something alive—a living, breathing fucking nightmare. Watching it sway makes my pulse quicken, a deep shudder running through me. The thrill of it, the chaos it promises… It sends a wave of delight straight to my gut, making my cock twitch with excitement.

Tonight is going to be perfect .

Leaning against the side of one of the buses, I let a wild grin stretch across my face. My fingers itch to hold a blade, to carve into something soft—something that bleeds. The starlit sky glows above me. I can practically taste the blood in the air already, hear the screams… the terror—it's like a warm-up act for the main event.

The foreplay before the violence.

Some of the crew is still bustling around the tent, meticulously checking every detail for tonight's show. They know the consequences of missing a single thing if Lux finds out—everything must be flawless. While the rest of the cirkies huddle inside their buses, avoiding the cool night air and the mayhem of last-minute adjustments, I stand outside, embracing the tranquil beauty of the clear, starry sky. They don't see the perfection in this—how everything is aligning for something truly spectacular. But I do.

Oh, I fucking do.

I scan the field and spot a group of them huddled together, already drunk, laughing and stumbling like the fools they are. They've got no clue what's coming. It's 3 a.m., and they're behaving as if the night's already over. But it hasn't even begun. My gaze locks onto Sydney, one of the knife ballerinas, sprawled on the ground with her legs wide and a bottle in her hand. Her tight black outfit clings to her curves, and her painted red lips glisten with the cheap booze they've been passing around.

She's perfect.

The anticipation of what's about to unfold sends a shiver down my spine, igniting a heat that's both thrilling and unsettling. The tension in the air, the promise of chaos and perfection, has me more than just stirred up—it has me on edge, craving what's to come.

I push off the bus, sauntering toward her with a predator's focus, my grin widening as her laughter begins to fade with my approach. The cirkies were always afraid of me, but not like they are now. Not since I replaced Dolly after Lux took her out.

After I fucked that bitch into her next life.

Now they not only fear me, but they respect me. They know my word is as firm as Lux's and that I'm not one they want to fuck around with. Not if they want to continue breathing anyway.

Sydney's nervous, I can see it. Maybe a little drunk. But there's something else in her eyes that tells me she knows what's coming, that she wants it. Not that I'd care if she didn't. Whether it's excitement or fear doesn't really matter. I'll get what I want from her either way.

"Sydney," I purr as I crouch down in front of her, my fingers brushing her thigh. Her skin's warm through the fabric, her body tense. "You having fun, darlin'?"

She looks up at me, her green eyes wide and glassy from the alcohol. Her dark hair is hanging in perfect ringlet curls around her face. She tries to smile, but it comes out shaky. "Yeah, Johnny. We're all excited for the Dark Harvest show. We're going to make a killing. Aren't you excited?"

I chuckle, leaning in until my lips are brushing her ear. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm more excited than you could ever know."

She shivers, but she doesn't pull away. Good girl. I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me, making sure she can see the hunger in my eyes. "How about we have some fun before the real show, huh?"

She hesitates, and I can feel her body stiffen under my hand. That little flash of resistance is cute—pathetic, but cute. She wants it, whether she admits it or not. After all, being fucked by Lux's second hand well, you could probably even expect some extra perks. A little more respect from the fellow cirkies. And if she doesn't want it? Well, that's not my fucking problem.

Before she can respond, I'm already standing, pulling her to her feet. She stumbles, trying to keep up as I drag her around the back of the bus, away from the rest of them. Her breaths come in quick, panicked bursts, but I don't slow down. I shove her hard against the side of the bus, my hand immediately wrapping around her throat.

"Johnny, wait—" she gasps, her voice shaky with fear and drunken confusion. But I'm not interested in her protests.

"On your knees," I growl, pressing my body against hers, my fingers tightening around her neck.

Her eyes widen, and for a second, I see the fear flicker in them. But she knows better than to argue. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, her hands trembling as they fumble with my belt. The thirst thrums through me, a delicious rush of power that makes my heart pound faster. I love this shit. I love watching them break. The way the fear takes over and they'll do whatever you ask of them in hopes that maybe, just maybe they'll walk away, alive.

"Faster, bitch," I snap, yanking a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back so I can see the tears welling in her eyes. "Don't make me wait."

Her hands are shaking, her breath ragged as she pulls my cock free and wraps her lips around it. I groan, low and feral, as I thrust into her warm mouth, not giving a shit about how rough it is. The sound of her gagging only fuels the fire inside me, the wet, desperate noises making my blood roar in my ears. She's nothing to me—just a fucking hole.

Just something to use. But fuck if she doesn't feel good.

Her hands grip my thighs as she tries to steady herself, choking on my length, her face flushing with effort and shame. Tears stream down her cheeks, her lips slick and swollen, and it's perfect. I grip her hair tighter, thrusting deeper, forcing her to take me. I don't care if she can't breathe. I don't care if it hurts. The way her body trembles beneath me, the fear and submission in her eyes—it's intoxicating.

"Yeah, that's it," I hiss, watching as she struggles to keep up, her breathing ragged through her nose. "You like that, don't you? You like being used, you little whore."

She can't answer—her mouth too full of me, her throat convulsing as she chokes on every thrust. But that's the beauty of it. She doesn't have to say anything. She knows her place. All the little whores here do.

I can feel the heat building, my muscles tensing as I get closer, her gagging and the sound of her struggling driving me higher, closer to the release I fucking need. That I fucking deserve. With one final, brutal thrust, I spill into her mouth. My hands pull on the roots of her hair, gripping her head tightly, holding her there with my cock shoved balls deep down her throat while I force her to swallow every fucking drop.

Such a good little slut.

When I'm done, I shove her away, and zip up my pants. I watch her crumple to the ground like the pathetic thing she is. She coughs, wiping my mess from her lips with shaky hands. I can practically taste the fear in the air, see the shame crawling under her skin. She's confused. Caught off guard by my dismissal. This bitch really thought she was going to get something from me. That her needs would be met. Stupid bitch. The disappointment on her face sends a wicked grin stretching across mine.

How absolutely fucking precious .

I step over her like a discarded piece of trash. "Thanks for the warm-up, Sydney," I say, voice thick with mockery. "But, sweetheart, that's all you were. A quick fix. Did you actually think this was going somewhere? That I was going to… what? Stick around? Tend to you?" I let out a snort of laughter, shaking my head. "You're even dumber than you look. And that's saying something."

She shifts on the ground, blinking up at me, her breath hitching. The confusion on her face is priceless. She thought this was going to be different. That's the funniest part of all. She really believed she was more than a hole for me to fuck. That she'd get hers. Oh, sweet Sydney, you tragic little idiot.

Don't get me wrong. I love eating a good pussy or two, but these bitches? They're all wrong for me. Sure, when it comes to getting my dick off, I'm game, but I've seen the amount of cocks that go into these whores. None of them are good for anything besides a quick fucking nut, or a little bit of fun that leaves them cold, grey and stiff in the morning. Which I've promised to Lux I wouldn't indulge in until he can bring in some new talent.

I crouch down next to her, my fingers trailing across her cheek in a mockery of tenderness. She leans into it, still hopeful, still frantic for some kind of affection. It's fucking hilarious. "Aw, you really did think I was gonna take care of you too, didn't you?" I whisper, my voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "That I'd touch you? Make you come?" I grab her face roughly, squeezing her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. The confusion and desperation on her face is like a hit of pure adrenaline. "You really thought you mattered? That I'd waste my time on you? You're nothing but a cheap diversion, Sydney. Just a pathetic distraction. Nothing more."

She doesn't say anything, her lip twitching like she's about to cry. It's almost too perfect. She wanted more—expected more. The way her body's shaking, the way she looks at me, all wide-eyed and broken, thinking maybe I'll still give her what she wants.

She blinks, like she's finally starting to get it. That little spark of anger flashes across her face, and oh, it's cute . It's like watching a kitten try to hiss.

"You piece of shit," she spits, her voice shaky but defiant. "You think you can just use me and walk away? You're nothing but a?—"

Before she can finish, I'm on her. My hand wraps around her throat, lifting her off the ground as I slam her against the side of the bus. The thud echoes, her breath catching as her eyes widen in shock. Oh, now she's scared. Perfect.

"You were saying?" I growl, my grip tightening around her neck as her body spasms in panic. "Go ahead. Finish that thought. I dare you ." I squeeze harder, feeling her pulse throb under my fingers as she claws at my wrist, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. The fear in her eyes is fucking intoxicating, sending a jolt of arousal through me. Her terror has me ready to go again, each frantic movement heightening my desire.

"I—" she chokes, barely able to get the word out. Her pretty little face is turning red now, and I loosen my grip just enough to let her gasp for air.

"Thought you could threaten me? Talk to me like that?" I bark out a laugh, pushing her harder against the cold metal of the bus. "You're nothing. Nothing , you dumb little cunt. Just a warm-up. A toy to get me going before the real fun starts."

Her lips quiver, trying to form some weak defense, but nothing comes out. She's just gaping, her mind scrambling to understand how fast things turned on her.

I loosen my hold on her throat just enough to grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so she has no choice but to look me dead in the eye. I taunt, my voice dripping with venom. "Thought I'd stick around to give you any more of my time? Wanted me to give you a little ride on my cock, did you?" I laugh, the sound manic and unhinged. "Oh, Sydney, you sweet, dumb little thing. You're not worth the spit it'd take."

She trembles beneath me, her fear swallowing any remaining defiance. That's the thing about people—they always think they're something until you remind them they're not. She's no different.

I shove her away, and she collapses to the ground, gasping for air, her hands shaking as she scrambles to salvage her dignity. But there's none to be had. Not for her.

"Clean yourself up and turn in for the night," I command, standing over her with a detached voice, as though she's not even worth the effort. "I want you looking halfway decent for tonight. You might think this was bad, but trust me—what's coming next will make you beg for mercy."

As I start to walk away, I glance back at her, a trembling, broken mess on the ground. Her lip quivers, tears threatening to spill, and I laugh again, low and dark. "Don't worry, Sydney. That disappointment you're feeling right now? That's just the appetizer. When the blood starts flowing tonight, you'll wish you'd stayed dead inside."

She doesn't respond. She can't. Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Her body's still shaking, and I can almost feel her shame from here. But I'm already gone, already focused on the insanity and carnage to come tonight.

Her needs, her desires—none of it fucking matters.

Tonight's about me. About the blood. About the twisted beauty of what I'm about to unleash.

And it's going to be fucking glorious.