Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

E velyn

The main tent buzzes with excitement, filled to capacity. The audience is a sea of eager faces, eyes wide with anticipation. The lights dim, a hush falls over the crowd, and the air thickens with expectancy. Elaborate props decorate the stage, and the silks hang from above, ready for their dancers. This performance is unlike any the audience has seen before, a seamless blend of eroticism and aerial acrobatics. The pressure on me is immense, but so is my resolve to succeed.

Leo and I step into the light. Our movements are synchronized, fluid, the culmination of countless hours of practice and that unspoken connection that binds us.

I ascend the silks with grace and power, my body moving in perfect harmony with the fabric. Each maneuver is intricate, more daring than the last. I feel the eyes of the audience on me, their breath held in rapt silence. The silks wrap around me like a lover’s embrace, and I lose myself in the dance, in the sheer physicality of it.

Leo moves below, his illusions complementing my performance, enhancing the spectacle. At one point, he makes me appear to vanish and reappear mid-air, eliciting gasps from the audience. His presence is a constant, grounding force, his magic weaving seamlessly with my movements.

The performance builds to a breathtaking climax. I execute a final, impossibly complex aerial maneuver, spinning and twirling high above the stage. My body becomes a blur of grace and power, a living embodiment of the beauty and danger of our art.

I land gracefully, my chest heaving with exertion and relief. I look to Leo, who beams with pride, his eyes reflecting the same triumph I feel. The crowd’s reaction is overwhelming, their applause a testament to the success of our performance. Backstage, the performers gather around Leo and me, their faces alight with joy and relief. Dante congratulates us, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve done it. You’ve truly elevated our art to new heights."

Leo's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "You were incredible," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and pride. "I always knew you could do it."

I smile at him, my heart full. "I couldn't have done it without you."

As the celebration continues, I take a moment to reflect. This night marks the culmination of my journey from a woman running from her past to one who embraces her talents and potential. Leo's belief in me, Dante's vision, and the support of the entire circus have brought me to this point. I no longer feel like the girl I was when I arrived at the Misfit Cabaret. I feel like a woman.

With Leo by my side, I feel invincible. Together, we have created something extraordinary, something that transcends art and touches the very essence of desire and emotion. This is just the beginning, and I am ready to embrace whatever comes next, confident that our journey has only just begun.

Leo and I walk hand in hand back to my caravan. When we reach the door, he presses me into it and I can feel the hard bite of his thick cock against my body. My breath stalls as he moves his hand to my core, pressing his fingertips into the valley of my pussy. I whimper as I feel him invade every aching part of me. “My pussy is yours,” I whisper, and feel him stop.

He leans in close, his hand delicately brushing the hair from my face. “What was that, baby?”

“I said my pussy is yours. You can do what you like with it.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” I let my thighs relax, and he withdraws his fingers. “Now, let’s see my soaked little prize, shall we?”

Leo doesn’t wait for my answer. He pulls at the hem of my dress, and then I hear it tear. I feel cool air on my ass, then my back as he tears through the only item of clothing I have with me. But I don’t care. I feel liberated, sexy, worshiped. I know I shouldn’t. The things he’s saying and doing to me should make me feel dirty and empowered at the same time. I feel safe with him.

When the dress is torn away, he peels it gently to either side, and I feel him grip one of my buttocks. “Such pretty little panties. Did you wear these for me?”

I nod. “It’s all for you.” The words tumble from my lips without a moment’s thought, natural, easy. I’ve submitted now, he’s dominated me, and all I can do is comply.

“So I get to keep them?”

“Yes.”

I gasp as he slips a finger between the flesh of my hip and the strap of the thong. A single rip and it goes loose. He moves to the other side. Another rip. And I feel the strip of material pulled away from my soaked pussy.

I hear him inhale deeply, then hear the rasp of a zipper. “That feels good,” he says, and I moan in frustration at the thought of what he’s doing.

“I want to watch.”

He laughs. “Watch what, baby?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

He turns me and I feel something heavy and thick slap against my left butt cheek, and I know what it is as he leans back over me.

“What am I doing?” he asks.

“Masturbating with my panties. I want to watch.”

“Does it make you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes. I’ll touch myself, just let me watch.”

“What do good little girls say?”

Again, I don’t even hesitate. “Please.”

The pressure releases as he moves back, and I take the first proper breath I have since he turned me around. I turn and meet his eyes, then let my gaze drop.

God, there it is. It makes my mouth go dry to see it.

I’m surprised to see my panties slick with nothing but my own juices. As he strokes himself, apparently not caring that I’m watching, I move to complete my end of the bargain, slipping what’s left of my dress off my arms and letting it fall to the floor. He doesn’t disguise his interest as he stares at the spot between my legs, but I no longer care. I spread my legs apart as I reach behind me and unhook my bra, watching his cock engorge further still, the head turning swollen and red when he sees my nipples, hard as bullets right now, revealed for him. I let the bra fall with the dress, then reach down.

I rock against my fingers as I watch him rub my ruined panties along his length. I’m so sensitive right now, I don’t know how long I can hold back, but I’m determined not to climax first. Let him be the weak one that comes in his hand, then I’ll tip over into my own orgasm. In silence he watches me pleasure myself, almost like he’s studying for an exam, then adds spit to his hand and glides it up and down his shaft.

He works faster, and I follow suit. When he starts to grunt I allow myself to huff a little as I rock and tremble.

How long can he hold back? He must be near. I can’t. God, it’s too much.

The orgasm nearly knocks me off my feet, and I have to reach out my free hand to grip the edge of the counter just to steady myself. I close my eyes, no longer caring that I came first, just wanting to ride the pleasure. My whimpers come to my ears as if they’re someone else’s, and I quiver as I cream my hand all over again. I hear Leo grunt hard, and open my eyes to see string after string of white cum emptying into his hand.

Seconds.

That’s all it took.

Seconds longer and I would have won.

I grin at that thought, my competitive streak coming to the fore, but I don’t care. Not really. I only care about this.

He meets my eyes, then steps forward, his cock still standing proud as he takes my covered hand in his empty one and raises it to his lips. At the same time as he begins to lick it clean, he reaches his own used hand to my face, and I open my mouth.

Ready to clean him. Willing to clean him.

There’s nothing right now I want more.