chapter four

lux

Carrie - Ugovhb, EF

T he entrance to the circus is alive with energy as the first guests begin to arrive. The air is electric with passion, and thick with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I lean against a tent pole, taking in the scene as the crowd surges forward, eager to dive into the night's forbidden pleasures.

The entrance to the tent is perfection—dark, twisted, and unsettling, just the way I envisioned it. Black cloth hangs from the archway like decayed skin, tattered and swaying in the wind, inviting anyone who dares to step through. Jack-o'-lanterns line the path, their jagged grins lit by flickering flames, casting erratic shadows that crawl across the ground like they're alive. Gnarled branches stretch toward the sky, draped in thick fake cobwebs that shimmer in the dim light. Above us, bats and ravens dangle, their glassy eyes gleaming, watching over everything.

A low mist creeps along the earth, swirling around plastic skeletal hands some of the cirkies stuck into the ground, clawing up from the dirt as if the dead themselves are trying to escape.

Dolly is that you?

The air smells of burning incense and damp leaves, thick with the promise of what lies ahead. It's a beautiful, horrific sight—a glimpse of the madness that will take place under my big top.

Exactly how I like it.

Each guest is handed a plain black mask as they turn in their tickets—simple, unadorned, and entirely blank. The uniformity of the masks serves to both unify and anonymize the crowd. There's something unsettling about the sea of identical faces, a collective facelessness that adds an extra layer of intrigue and mystery to the night.

The guests move with a blend of eagerness and anxiety, each one hiding behind their mask while their true selves remain concealed. I watch them as they filter in to the big top like little mice. A mix of those who are curious, those who are eager, and those who are already broken. Though, who they are when they arrive doesn't matter. It's who they'll be when they leave my big top that really means something.

If they leave, that is.

Among the crowd, I spot a woman in a sleek black gown, her mask blending seamlessly with her attire. Her eyes dart around nervously, betraying a flicker of the apprehension beneath her confident facade. Nearby, a group of men in tailored suits, their masks matching their formal wear, laugh loudly, their voices a mixture of bravado and nervous excitement. And then there's a lone man, draped in a tattered coat, moving with a predator's hunger as he scans the crowd around him. What he's looking for, I haven't a clue, but I bet when he finds it, it will be a show worth watching.

The masks, simple as they are, are part of the game. They strip away individuality, allowing the revelers to indulge in their darkest cravings without fear of judgment. It's a clever ruse, but one that I don't entirely understand. Not anymore.

Not since Indie.

Why hide behind a mask when the real thrill is in embracing one's true self? Yet, here they are, eagerly awaiting the night's revelry, ready to let go of the role they play to please those around them, and immerse themselves in the chaos we've prepared.

As Indie approaches, my eyes are drawn to her like a moth to flame. She's not just dressed for the night—she owns it. The black lace corset bodysuit clings to her, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her pure skin, flecked with gold sequins that shimmer like forbidden treasures. Her thigh-high boots with towering heels add an edge of dominance, while the thick black choker with its upside-down cross declares her unapologetic power. Her mask, a black satanic goat, that conceals her scars but enhances the aura of dangerous elegance that surrounds her. With matching gloves stretching to her elbows and her long, straight hair cascading down, she looks every bit the dark queen she was born to be.

In this moment, she's not just a queen—she's the queen of my circus, the queen they need, the queen they deserve. My fucking queen.

"Tonight's going to be unforgettable," she purrs, her voice dripping with seductive confidence.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I take in the wicked gleam in her eyes. "I can already feel it," I reply, my voice thick with possession and pride. "The crowd, the anarchy—it's all falling into place."

She glances around, surveying her kingdom, and it's clear—tonight, Indie rules this world. The anticipation builds between us, the night stretching out before us like a masterpiece of mayhem. As her fingers trace up my arm to my shoulder, I know —she's mine , and together, we're about to wreak havoc on this town.

I stand tall next to Indie, my breath catching as I take in her presence. The crowd may be lost in their masks and illusions, but they can't miss the raw power radiating from the two of us. For tonight's show, I've retired my usual clown mask, leaving it behind like an old memory. Instead, a skeletal mask covers my face—white bone etched against the blackness, hollow eyes peering through the thin slits. It's a fitting symbol for what I've become: death personified, the master of this dark circus.

My suit is simple but striking—a black ringmaster jacket that fits perfectly, its tails brushing my legs with each step. My chest is bare underneath, showing not just my ink but the small round scars that prove the battles I've fought and won. They tell my story, reminding everyone—especially those who challenge me—that I've earned my place here, through pain and blood.

Indie's fingers still rest on my shoulder, her touch electrifying, and I can feel her gaze tracing the lines of my chest. My dark queen standing beside her skeleton king. I glance down at her, our eyes meeting beneath our masks, and in this moment, there's no doubt—this circus is ours.

The crowd, the carnage, the blood—they'll all belong to us before the night is through.

"Lux, I need you before it all starts," she says, her voice a mere whisper. Without waiting for a response, I guide her toward the bus, the awareness of what's to come making my pulse quicken.

I smirk as I look back at her. Her dark eyes gleaming with mischief as she lets me lead her. "Needing me already, huh?" I tease, my voice soft but edged with confidence. "I thought you liked to save the best for last."

She follows without hesitation, her fingers trailing down my arm as we move, her touch sending a spark through me as she leads me to the bus. Once we're inside, the world outside fades away. The cramped space becomes our private haven, the tension between us palpable. I turn to face her, my hands roaming over her body as if memorizing every curve and line. The mix of lace, leather, and dark desire makes her look like she was crafted from sin itself.

"Tell me what you want," I command, my voice a dark whisper.

She shivers as my fingertips graze her inner thighs, teasing the edges of her core. "I want you," she breathes, her voice laced with need. "I want everything you've got."

I push her back onto the bed, the passion crackling between us like a live wire. Her black lace and leather bodysuit clings to her, barely hiding the softness of her skin beneath it. My hands move with precision, unclipping the bodysuit in one swift motion. The lace peels away from her body, the leather straps loosening. Her breath hitches, her body already trembling under my touch as I slide the fabric aside, revealing in the sight of her . Her pussy is coated in her own arousal, and glistening in the dim lights of the bus.

Fuck. Such a beautiful sight.

I press my fingers against her, feeling the wetness already pooling there, and teasing her. She arches beneath me, her body instinctively pressing closer, aching for more.

"Look how fucking wet you are for me, baby. Such a hungry fucking queen you are."

My fingers explore her with a relentless intensity, probing and caressing her just how I know she likes it. Her reactions are goddamn exquisite—soft gasps, and breathy moans as her body responds to my touch. I relish the way her body always reacts, the way she arches and squirms beneath my fingertips even with the slightest touch.

"God, Lux," she moans, her voice thick with pleasure. "Don't stop."

I slide my fingers deeper, feeling her velvety wetness clamp down around me as I move inside her. My movements are deliberate, rough, designed to elicit the most intense reactions from her. She's completely lost in the sensation, her fingers gripping my shoulders as she rides the waves of pleasure I'm creating.

Lowering my mouth, I flick her swollen clit with my tongue. "You bring out the worst in me, Indie, you know that, don't you?" I growl, my voice a dark rumble. "My demons, they love to play with yours. They can never get enough of tasting you."

Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mixture of lust and surrender. "Show me," she gasps, her voice a desperate plea.

With a final, teasing flick of my tongue, I pull away, rising to my full height. She looks up at me, breathless and flushed, her body shaking with lust. I don't waste any time. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I guide her to the bed at the back of the bus.

The moment I enter her, it's a collision of raw, unrestrained need. I thrust into her with a roughness that leaves no room for gentleness. Her cries of pleasure mix with my grunts, a fucking symphony of primal desire. I grip her hips, holding her firmly, and guiding her as we move together.

"Fuck, Indie," I growl, my breath hot against her ear. "Is this what you wanted? What you needed? You wanted my demons to come and play with yours didn't you?"

"Yes," she gasps, her voice strained but filled with need. "Fuck. I want it. I want all of you."

I take her words as a challenge, driving into her with a ferocity that leaves us both gasping. My control slips, replaced by a dark, possessive hunger for more. I can't get enough of the way she clings to me, the way her body responds to each thrust and the goddamn noises she makes when I fill her.

It's enough to make me come undone.

The bus becomes a cage of our desire, the confined space echoing every sound. We're lost in each other, consumed by the intensity of the moment. Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as she nears the edge of climax. That's it, Indie. Give it to me. I keep my pace relentless, pushing her closer to the brink.

Just as she's about to shatter beneath me, the door to the bus creaks open. Johnny steps inside, his massive frame filling the doorway, interrupting the feverish rhythm between Indie and me. My hands are still on her, I refuse to stop. My eyes flick to Johnny as he takes in the scene, completely unfazed by the intimacy between us.

He's dressed for the night. His face painted with a new grinning clown face that looks like it crawled straight out of someone's nightmare. The sharp lines of his jaw are clean-shaven and squared, giving him an unsettling calm look. His full lips are pressed tight as his haunting brown eyes meet mine with an eerie, unblinking gaze.

He's dressed in his show costume, a black pair of skinny jeans, and a set of black suspenders. Wearing no shirt underneath, everyone has a clear view of the tattoos scattered across his skin. Dark shoulder-length hair falls around his face in messy waves, making him look as though he's just crawled out of the shadows.

And shit, he probably has.

More tattoos litter his neck, symbols etched in black that tell stories of violence, pain, and darkness he's witnessed and survived. He's geared perfectly for our Dark Harvest, the event that will mark our circus on the map in blood. I continue to thrust into Indie, deeper and harder. I don't break my stare, instead my grip tightens on her, as if to remind him she's mine.

All fucking mine.

Johnny's eyes stay on us, but he understands the dynamic at play. We've done this before, and he's not dumb enough to think this time is any different. His expression remains unreadable as he takes a seat on the couch, his glare fixed on us as he unbuttons his jeans, and pulls out his already hard cock. He begins to touch himself, his movements starting off slow and deliberate. I can see the glimmer of interest in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and arousal.

"Fuck her harder, Lux," Johnny's voice comes out low and commanding. "She loves it. Don't you, little Indie. You like taking every fucking inch of Lux's cock like the fucking queen you are," Johnny murmurs, his voice a low growl. His hand moves with practiced ease, pumping himself with a steady, almost hypnotic motion. "Such a pretty fucking sight. You take it so well."

Indie's eyes flicker towards Johnny, her gaze a charged mix of curiosity and defiance. She holds his stare, her breath coming faster as she rides me harder, her body moving with a needy, urgent rhythm. The sight of Johnny's imposing figure, his mask dangling in one hand, only seems to fuel her need further.

Johnny's breaths are heavy, each one synchronized with the rhythmic motion of his hand. "Tell us. Tell us how good it feels, how much you fucking love it," he grunts, his voice rough and commanding, as he increases his pace.

"Yes—fuck yes, just like that!" Indie moans, her voice thick with pleasure and need.

Johnny's eyes are dark with satisfaction, his smirk widening as he watches the scene unfold. With a final, sharp gasp, he releases, his come spilling onto the carpeted floor in a hot, sticky splash. The sight of it seems to electrify the moment, adding a raw edge to the intensity of our actions.

As Johnny's release soaks into the carpet, Indie's moans grow louder, more frantic. She looks back at Johnny, her voice strained but filled with an urgent, pleading edge. "Are you watching Johnny? See how good my pussy takes his big cock? How much it needs him?" Her words are a mix of frustration and desire, her eyes locked on his with a fierce, almost defiant hunger.

Johnny's smirk remains, but his eyes narrow slightly, taking in the scene. The tension in the bus thickens, the raw display of need and dominance pushing all three of us closer to the edge.

Johnny says, his voice laced with approval, "Oh I'm watching, and fuck you stretch so pretty for him. You're a fucking queen."

"Fucking right she is, my fucking queen," I groan as I drive into Indie with renewed vigor, my movements rough and unforgiving. The pleasure in her eyes is a reflection of the raw, primal energy that's coursing through all of us. As I feel her tightening around me, I know she's about to climax.

"Come for me Indie," I growl, my voice thick with desire. "Give me your fucking demons."

"Oh Christ," she cries out, her voice a mixture of desperation and bliss.

"Christ abandoned you a long time ago. It's me who's making you feel so fucking good. Me and all of my sins."

"Don't stop, Lux. Please."

Her words push me over the edge. I feel her body convulse as she reaches her climax, her cries mingling with mine. I pull out, my own release coming in hot, forceful spurts as I finish on her ass. The sight of her, flushed and trembling, drives me wild. I swipe some of my release from her skin on my fingers, and shove it into her mouth, the act both possessive and primal.

"I want you to taste me coating your tongue all night long," I murmur, my voice rough with satisfaction as I pull Indie closer, savoring the last tremors of our shared intensity.

When we're finally done, Johnny rises from the couch and tucks himself back into his pants, his face relaxed and content. He gives me a nod, a silent acknowledgment of the scene he's just witnessed. His eyes flick to Indie, assessing her with a mixture of interest and approval.

"Your shows never fail. Who needs porn when they have you two a few buses over," Johnny says, his voice carrying a hint of dark amusement. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good Porn Hub binge, but goddamn, watching the two of you is a whole new level."

Indie, her breath still ragged, catches her breath and shoots Johnny a defiant look. "Well, you haven't seen anything yet," she says, her voice edged with a blend of exhaustion and exhilaration. "Just wait for tonight, Johnny. I'm sure you'll get all the fun and pleasure you need."

Johnny's smirk widens slightly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Oh, I'm counting on it. We should get out there and make sure everything is ready to go. You know how the crowd gets if they have to wait too long."

We exchange a few practical words about the night's setup. Johnny's tone is focused and efficient, the weight of his role in the night's events clear in his demeanor.

Indie and I quickly fix our costumes, the urgency of the upcoming show pressing on us. We don't really know what to expect from tonight. Tonight's show is unlike anything anyone's done before. As we clean up, the excitement for the night ahead crackles in the air.

I glance at Indie, her eyes still sparkling with the afterglow of our encounter. "Is my queen ready to make history with me?" I ask, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Absolutely," Indie replies, her voice steady and resolute. "Tonight, we'll show them what it means to truly experience the dark."

As we head out, the energy of the circus surrounds us, an apparent buzz of excitement. The guests, masked and ready, are eager for the anarchy we've promised. I can feel it—the thrill of what's to come, the dark, exhilarating dance of lust and danger.

Tonight is going to be epic, and it's just about to begin.