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Your job at the Freak Circus was nothing special. You were the assistant, not a fool but The Fool, and the jingling of bells accompanied your every step around the crowded circus like a giggling and childish voice mocking your bound state. You were not like the other clowns—you were small, human, weak. You didn’t have a personal tent, you didn’t have a show, you had no talent that Jester had deemed useful to the circus. You were just their assistant, their toy, their doll to use whenever the nights got too lonely.
You were below them, in the hierarchy. Although you found yourself at a slightly higher step than the other fools. Unlike them, you were not drugged and hypnotized into obedience, you were not an innocent victim whose will had been erased and hidden under a mask. You were the Fool, your mask bore resemblance to a sleeping doll, and your costume was of a soft lilac instead of a bright pink. Except for the bow in the back, the only pink accessory on your person, heavy on your hips yet soft against your bound hands.
“We’re a circus of horror,” Jester had once said, “If you are unable to inspire fear, then might as well make them pity you.”
And pitied you were. Quick glances studied your peculiar costume as you passed by the crowds, whispers travelled from mouth to mouth, fleeting like the kiss of a doomed lover, and yet no one dared to speak to you. Even if they did, you wouldn’t have been able to answer, for your mask had a different design from the others: held close to the face without the use of laces or straps, you were forced to bite on a square or silicone found right at the level of your mouth to keep it from falling.
Jester had taken inspiration from a traditional venetian carnival mask, the moretta or muta, only changing the design to make it appear more similar to their own masks, claiming that his choice had been driven by real meaning of the mask: seduction, mystery, indecipherability. No one would have been able to recognize you without your face and voice, behind the mask you became a nobody, which was exactly what the purple performer aimed for.
As if to make your existence even more miserable, he had fully pushed you into the role of the pitiful creature with the design of your costume, which appeared almost satirical knowing the truth behind it. Dark purple ropes tied your hands behind your back, forcing you to push your chest out and straighten your shoulders, resembling both the bounds of an unwilling kidnapped victim, which you were, and the ties of a lusting lover awaiting pleasure while draped over a soft bed. Which you also were, on many nights.
Taken from your hometown after unfortunately catching the attention of the jesters and clowns, you had found yourself drowning in a world you did not recognize anymore: a world of monsters and blood, of broken and eaten bodies of fathers and mothers, of miraculous performances and whispering nights. Initially viewed as a mere pet to torment with laughter and maddening pleasure, your new owner—the one who had carved his initial on the collar around your neck—you had, in the months, taken the role of an assistant in the Freak Circus of Horrors. You dressed in bells, frills, and tailed hats, you wore masks, danced away with light feet and stole attention as you walked, but you remained a simple assistant, a role which you happily sheltered. Getting a “promotion” was far from what you desired.
Your job was simple: bring props, entertain customers, and, when called, join the performance of one of the clowns as their plus one. They took care of everything, you had nothing to do except stay quiet and let them do their part, even if it entailed having knives thrown your way at the speed of a bullet.
So far you had danced with Harlequin, tied yourself to a spinning wheel as Pierrot attempted not to maim you, laid on the Doctor’s cold autopsy table as your body shook with the effects of a new drug, and acted on Jester’s stage as he told stories of kidnapped princesses never finding their happy-ever-after while being torn apart by wolves. Guests barely cared for you, except for the occasional few who seemed too into the helplessness of your binds, and you thanked whatever god lived above or beyond for the lack of attention given to you.
A bigger crowd implied higher chances to fuck things up, something which seemed to be your only true talent.
“Excuse me?”
Guests occasionally asked you for directions or boldly wondered about your masks, and in the first case you quietly nodded them in the direction.
“Where may I find the black tent?”
The stranger in front of you was tall, towering over you with a silly baseball cap reading “fish want me” and large shoulders hidden under a coat which was definitely too small for him. He wore gloves and kept his face covered with a scarf, and behind his black sunglasses you found no pupil whatsoever. His face, dark and shadowed, had no eyes, only smooth skin, and at the sight you felt a shiver travelling up your spine. The only reason why you could see his eyeless face was because the stranger had lowered his glasses for you, allowing you to see his monster nature.
You couldn’t answer, of course.
A hand reached into his pocket and brought out a black ticket.
“I was told I could… get in line. You work here, right?”
You nodded. Behind you, your fingers twitched. You had never talked with any other monster apart from those who had taken you. The stranger leaned closer and took a deep breath.
“You have… a nice smell.” His voice made you shiver. “You’re not like us, are you, little one?”
A pungent and flowery smell enveloped you, and yet something told you it wasn’t the monster’s perfume, but rather something… more natural. It was sweet, saccharine, and it made your eyes water behind the mask.
You took a step back, uncomfortable, and the monster took a step forward.
“I wonder… if you know what’s on today’s menu. You seem like you could know.”
Cold and gloved hands grabbed both your shoulders from behind you, making you yelp and almost let go of the mask. with surprise, as Ticket Taker’s firm chest pressed against your back. You turned your head up and caught sight of the taller male, who was glaring at the black ticket guest while still keeping his hands on you as a show of claim.
“Dearest guest, the black tent is not too far behind you, near the purple tent. You truly can’t miss it,” Ticket Taker answered for you, clawed fingers digging into the naked flesh of your shoulders.
“Ah, my apologies. I must have been too blinded by hunger to properly see,” the other apologized, having understood that you were “off limits” to guests. “I thought fools were available to... us.”
“Occasionally. This one is not up for grabs, though,” he firmly stated.
“I see,” the monster replied, gaze drifting down to you. “You must be right. They reek of… many of you. Shame.”
You watched him leave, glasses back on his eyes, and slowly Ticket Taker’s hold on your shoulders relaxed.
“Be more careful in the future, doll,” he warned you, still not letting you go. You wondered what he expected you to do if it happened again, but you couldn’t exactly complain. You had long learned not to do it anymore.
A finger brushed against your cheek, the glove soft against the little skin left exposed by your mask, and you felt a burning desire in that simple gesture. If it was your own lust mirrored into the monster behind you or his own, you didn’t know.
“Good thing I came looking for you,” he whispered, and of course, you nodded, as the well-trained pet you were. “Jester asked me to come fetch you. He needs you after his performance.”
You doubted that was the only reason, but again, you nodded.
“Go to him, I will join you two later,” he pressed a quick kiss against the top of your head, and for a moment, you closed your eyes. For some reason, Ticket Taker’s lips are the only warm part of his body, and you always enjoyed feeling them against your face, neck, body—
“Better not keep your master waiting, doll",” he chuckled, and you were suddenly woken up from your personal fantasies. “He needs you, and quickly.”
You walked away with weak knees and wet heat between your legs, hazy eyes wandering in search of the purple tent you had already lost, half-aware of Ticket Taker’s gaze lingering on you. Eventually you managed to slip into the tent in silence, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and you lingered for a moment at the edge of the stage.
As you always used to do before being taken, you admired Jester from afar, listening to his smooth voice as he talked to the crowd before him, and lost yourself into his maddening beautiful eyes. The purple performer had always been the center of your obsession, the root of your deepest desires, and the cause of many sleepless nights. You hadn’t missed a show, had never peeled your stare away, before becoming one of them. Things then changed, you changed, but despite the conflicting feelings you felt towards him after every night of passion or pain, despite your moral code fighting against your heart, you still remained his biggest admirer.
There was no denying it, you were head over heels for him, even when sharp black-gloved claws grabbed whole locks of hair and pulled until you cried.
That day, Jester had forgo the usual theatrical spectacle to dip into another one of his many talents; magic tricks and illusions, although twisted into something far more gory and suitable for their general theme. From what you could see, Jester had already cut open one of the many masked fools in one of those painted boxes, then had pulled a two-headed wingless dove out of pink handkerchief, and was near the end of his performance. An “iron” maiden made out of painted wood stood right behind his tall frame, cold and silent with its colorful tears and down-turned frown, looking close to coming to life with a howl of despair, and the sight of it left you perplexed for a quick moment. It was the first time you saw the painted lady, and you were sure Jester had trained you to be his assistant in almost all of his tricks.
Before you could lose yourself in thoughts, the rumbling cheer of the spectators awakened you, and you brought yourself back to reality with a shake of the head. You admired as Jester bowed at the end of his latest trick, basking in the applause and love of the crowd as, at his feet, the dove waddled, lost, unable to move properly, like chained to the ground.
Purple eyes drifted to you, quick and wicked, sweeping over your figure with intensity, like savouring the taste of the blood pumping wild through your veins, and his wide grin stretched over his mask. He flashed you his teeth with promises of an overwhelming aftershow, making you shiver with anticipation from the shadows, and yet seemed like he still wanted to indulge himself for a little while.
“Now, for my last trick of the night, I require the help of an… assistant,” he hissed the last word like he had already eyed the night’s victim. It was incredible how his voice echoed in the tent without the need of any microphone, like the air itself bent around him to ensure his enrapturing words could reach even the most deaf of ears. Once again, he turned towards you. “Normally, I would pick someone from the crowd, but… it seems like our dear Fool came to watch my show.”
Following Jester’s gaze, many spectators turned to look at your little corner, where you tensed with slight nervousness at the sight of so many eyes suddenly being focused on you. Shivering in anticipation, you began walking towards Jester, hoping you wouldn’t stumble over yourself as it often happened when you and him were alone.
“I know our little Fool is very beloved by the crowd,” Jester smiled with a teasing nod as you mindlessly complied with his silent request and bowed, greeted by another applause. “It would be a shame not to put them under the spotlights, with how dashing they look today.”
Claws slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, causing you to sharpy inhale and grow red under your mask.
“Say, Fool, would you be my assistant for tonight?” The words were spoken so gently against the shell of your ear it almost made it sound like a love confession, and your eyes didn’t miss the whispering and giggling of the humans around you.
Of course, you nodded. Ticket Taker had told you to join Jester, so what you were given was only the illusion of choice. The purple-clad male wasn’t actually asking, he was demanding your assistance.
“Excellent!” he chimed, and the crowd clapped once more, stopping abruptly when Jester’s hands trailed a path down your shoulders to your bound arms behind your back. You stayed still despite the goosebumps rising over your skin, and pretended not to hear the few gasps coming for some of the closer members of the audience, but warm blush spread over your cheek when you realized it probably looked like a compromising position from a certain point of view—you, slightly bent at the waist, arms being gripped tightly by Jester right behind you.
The male untied you and, finally, you managed to relax your shoulders and free your hands from their bounds. Stretching your arms over your head, you allowed Jester to loop the rope around your corset to pull you around as he moved more towards the center of the stage, leading you like the owner of a leashed dog.
“Now, my little monsters, you have probably long guessed what is soon going to happen to this little Fool,” Jester announced, and with a sharp pull of the rope you suddenly found yourself with your back against the hard lid of the wooden maiden. “I don’t know about you, little monsters, but… as much as I enjoy playing with this doll, I quite want to see them cut up in pieces.”
And that’s when the magic happened.
Jester had a talent for bringing out everything he wished from people, be it their anger, fear, or darkest desires. He had done the same with you, long ago, when you were still as innocent as a human could be. He had found you, taken you, and claimed you over bloody sheets as you could do nothing but cry, moan, and tremble. He had tainted you like ink in clear water that cannot ever be clean again, teasing you every night with whispered promises of eternal torment right beside him.
He liked how, despite knowing well that it was wrong, despite initially denying him, you always allowed him inside the depths of your soul. This time, once again, you simply accepted your fate, and that alone amused the clown to no end.
The crowd cheered him on, fueled by that wicked smile, calling for your destruction and pain. They screamed and demanded you to be put in the maiden, to be shoved in, to be torn apart, and a satisfied grin spread over your owner’s mask.
“My, my! How lively!” he laughed as you wrapped your arms around your middle and tried to melt into the lid behind you, shame crawling inside your ribcage hearing fellow humans wishing for your death. “They really want you to suffer, how unexpected!”
You told yourself they just wanted to see a cool magic trick, nothing else, and that they weren’t actually requesting for your head to be served up on a silver platter, but your primate brain could hardly distinguish between the two things. Jester had that effect on you; he made you feel like a caged prey animal relying on instincts to function, and as you stood silently, you understood he was offering you as a meal to those hungry savages.
Jester opened the door to the wooden maiden with the same grace a chauffeur would use to welcome a royal to enter a carriage. Giving you a mocking bow, he offered you his hand and guided you inside, then proceeded to kneel at your feet as you turned to face the crowd. The maiden was actually not an iron maiden at all, for it lacked the characteristic spikes and was made of soft wood, and yet the inside was just as dark and cold, making you feel like raw meat put to rest inside a refrigerator. From behind your mask your eyes darted from the crowd to Jester with increasing nervousness, trying to understand what the real trick was going to be, for you had never practiced this specific one with Jester, and so had no idea what was supposed to happen while you were inside. Did you have to pull a lever to reveal a secret back door? Were you going to be stabbed by spikes jutting in from the sides? If so, then why wasn’t the maiden made of metal?
At your feet, Jester was tying your ankles to the floor of the box, making sure you couldn’t wiggle free, then proceeded to do the same with your hands at the top. When he stepped away, the audience could see the way you were entirely bound to the inside of the large wooden box, and you heard many laugh and cheer at the sight. Studying the box from the inside, you realized it was made exactly for someone around your size, with your shoulders and hips slightly brushing against the sides and your fingers able to scrape the top, and you wondered if Jester could have been planning it for a long time.
“Now, some might still not be familiar with this trick, although by your previous reactions I must guess most of you are just burning to see how our cute assistant will survive.” From inside the maiden you didn’t have a good visual of the stage, you could only see what was in front of you, so your eyes stopped looking for Jester and instead focused on the multitude of rows straight ahead. “Could it be… because you already saw the swords? Or because you recognize this Hans Moretti box? Oh, I’m quite aware the original trick entailed one made of cardboard and not wood, but… I wanted something special for today.”
Swords…?
“Now, my dearest monsters… What do we do with them?”
Again that voice. Again the howling and hollering of the crowd.
“Kill them!” “Stab them!” “Kill!!” “Slice them up!”
The lid of the box closed abruptly, not even giving you the time to fully process the words being shouted at your face, plummeting you into sudden darkness despite your distressed whimpers. You could still make out some screaming on the outside, along with Jester’s laugh.
“Now, now! If I just killed them, where would all the magic go?”
Nervously, you began to tap with your fingertips the top of the box, trying to find a possible hidden button for you to press, and you did the same with your feet, and later with your hips. Your desperate search found nothing, of course, the surface surrounding you was smooth, even though the wood was soft enough for you to chip away at with your nails.
After a few seconds you realized the voices outside had stopped, and that silence had befallen on the large purple circus tent. It was the same tense silence which hung over everyone’s heads during Jester’s usual theatrical performances, like the polished blade of a guillotine ready to fall, and each and every hair on the back of your neck stood up straight when you actually heard the sound of polished metal being unsheathed.
“Shall we begin… with a demonstration?”
A silver sword was thrust into your little box from your right side to the opposite, slicing perfectly through the wood and passing exactly in front of your face, a mere inch from your mask, and you swore you were about to start crying.
You suddenly understood for what kind of magic trick Jester had requested your help.
You yelped when a second sword pierced through the back of the box, barely touching the side of your arm, and a weak whimper left your throat. The tip of the blade peeked through the opposite side, probably allowing the spectators to see the way it had cut through the whole box, and cheers echoed on the outside.
“Want more?” Jester asked, and more yelling followed, along with a third sword, again from the back, this time almost leaving a small cut near your ribcage.
It was followed by a fourth, thrust in from your left, which made you flinch when it got a little too close to your stomach, and by a fifth, aiming for your chest. Breathing heavily, you were praying and begging that Jester wouldn’t mess up and turn you into a kebab, as tears run down your masked cheeks freely and unashamedly, just as another sword went very close to nick your shoulder.
You wished to call for Jester, to beg him to stop and put an end to the performance, but by doing so you would have been forced to let go of the mask—which you were biting into like your life depended on it—and it was simply out of the picture. You had many rules to follow as the circus’ assistant, but the main one was always the most important: never, under any circumstance, remove the mask.
Never.
And so, you didn’t. You cried and whimpered, you shook and prayed, but not once did you even consider disobeying. More swords were pushed into the box, more and more which made you feel like you were surrounded by the spikes of an actual iron maiden, but not once did any of them scratch you, not once did they draw blood, and so you simply waited.
Until, from the front, you felt the very tip of one of the swords being pierced through the lid and right between your slightly parted thighs, and the sudden sight of such an object so close to your sex made you feel lightheaded. Wide-eyed, you stared at the flat edge resting right against your crotch, and your heart skipped a beat.
There, on your inner thigh, where the blade had touched the skin, red was beading like good wine on the edge of a glass, and a shiver ran up your spine with the knowledge that Jester had done it on purpose for sure.
“And so, with this last sword, my dear monsters, we seem to have reached the end of our show!” Jester declared on the opposite side of the lid, and murmurs of malcontent echoed against the purple drapings of the tent. “All good things come to an end, I fear, and so our time together has been depleted!”
Nails scraped the wood from the outside, and your wrists ached against the cuffs as they itched to be free again.
“But before we say farewell… Think our doll is still alive, dear guests?”
A knock, like permission to enter, was pressed on the lid.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” the performer mocked, “Oh, disgrace! I can’t hear anything from inside!”
You could almost picture the rows of humans sitting on the edge of their seats, doubting their own experience, asking themselves if Jester had truly killed you, if they hadn’t been naive to assume he would have never caused you harm.
“Speak, my dear—are you still alive and kicking?” Jester asked, but your mask stayed on, your lips kept shut. “Did I make a mess of your guts and intestines all over the inside of this little box, my doll?”
You could hear the grin stretching over his face, you could picture his absolute satisfaction as he listened to your silence.
“My, my. It seems like we’ll be forced to open this up!”
Jester, facing the public, spread his arms and smiled at the first rows.
“May I present the first ever ‘Schrodinger’s fool’!” He grinned widely as his hand reached for the lid, ready to pull it open. “Now, is our doll dead or alive, visitors?”
The lid swung open, lights suddenly blinded you, and many gasps echoed from the large crowd of humans gathered in front of you. There, bound as you were, you stood with barely a scratch, swords all around you, some resting with threatening coldness against the exposed skin of your shoulders, arms, and back.
You stood silent as the spectators cheered and clapped their hands, and you still didn’t make a peep as Jester bowed for them with regal elegance. You waited, tears drying on your cheeks behind the mask, for your master to finally decide to untie you, but the moment didn’t come until the very end.
Some of the humans were starting to leave, as others still linger around, but the performance has finished, and Jester could finally untie you. He removed some of the swords around you and unlocked the cuffs forcing your hands up and parting your legs, then offered you his hand to take as you slowly stepped out of the box, careful to avoid the sharp edges of the many weapons, until you finally ended up between his arms, against his warm chest.
In that terrible box you had felt so alone, abandoned and cold, but the gentle hands coming down to rest on your lower back eased the tension in your muscles, allowing you to relax in his embrace.
“You did so well, my dear.” Some remaining people were staring at you as Jester praised your good job. “Didn’t scream, didn’t object, didn’t even say a word. What a good doll you are for me.”
Nuzzling into his chest, you nodded along, thanking him for the praises.
“All of this without even knowing what I was going to do to you,” he chuckled, “But you’re a fan of surprises, aren’t you?”
You very much were not, but of course, you didn’t say a word about it.
A clawed hand sneaked down to your hips, massaging them with reassurance, and that alone caused your knees to grow weak. Allowing yourself to melt against Jester, you inhaled the scent of his perfume, just as his mask pressed against the top of your head in a sweet kiss. The tenderness of the moment was broken by the feeling of something hard pressing against your stomach with insistence, and when warm blush dusted your cheeks, a rumbling purr came from the body pressed right against you.
A feminine giggle distracted you from the large erection you were being pulled against, and when you turned to identify the source of you, you locked eyes with two young women laughing in a corner as they stared at you. They seemed to know exactly what was going on between the two of you, they could read it in your panicked eyes and in Jester’s wicked grin, and that only caused you to blush even harder. Your hands shot up to press against Jester’s chest when he tried to lean down, probably to catch your lips in a kiss, and the rejection—which would have earned you a good punishment in the past—only made the male purr louder.
“Someone’s shy?” he asked, “Why, because a couple of humans know I’m about to fuck you right here, on the stage?”
Panicked eyes looked up at him, and Jester laughed.
“Oh, did I speak too loudly? Did they likely hear me, you think?”
Considering the way the two women ran out of the tent in a fit of giggles, leaving you and Jester completely alone, the answer was probably yes. Shame pooled in your guts, heavy and hot like molten lava, and once again you hid your face in Jester’s chest.
“It’s not like any of us is trying to hide it,” Jester sounded amused as he spoke against your hair, petting your sides, slowly easing you back into the comfortable warmth of his love. “Everybody can see the way we touch you, hold you, dance with you, during each of our performances.”
Jester was right, Harley especially tried to make it as explicit as possible every single occasion he had to touch you in front of a crowd. It was embarrassing and you often tried to push him away, but his hands were insistent, and you often ended up under him at the end of each show.
Pierrot, despite being obsessed with you, was far more tame when it came to public displays of affection, although he still liked to have his hands linger on you a moment too long before letting you go. Ticket Taker, on the other hand, preferred to touch you as little as necessary in front of guests, and usually preferred to wait until everyone had left to slowly pull you into a warm embrace. Doctor was casually touchy with almost everyone of the circus cast, but he especially loved having you sit on him, after a show.
Doctor loved to have you sitting in his lap.
Still, despite how much you had been reduced to a stress toy for the cannibalistic monsters who owned you, it didn’t mean you had no dignity left.
A black gloved hand reached up to take your mask, slowly easing you into letting go of the little piece of rubber you had been biting on, until your face was finally revealed to the night air and Jester’s bright eyes. A string of saliva connected your lips to the rubber, tears had dried on your cheeks and around your lashes, and not once did your watery eyes dare to look any further than his lips.
“Doll?” Jester speaks your pet name in a whisper of desire. “You did well today.”
When praised, you always had to thank them for their kindness.
“…Thank you, master.” Your voice was weak, shaky like a newborn calf on unsteady legs, and when Jester pressed his thumb against your lower lip, your knees suffered from the same treatment.
“You didn’t actually believe I would hurt you, did you?”
You shook your head, for a second forgetting you could speak freely once again. “N-No, sir, I trust you.”
Jester nods, approvingly.
“Good. Although… I did hurt you, didn’t I?”
Purple irises shift down, to your legs, and your stare follows his with confusion. The pain of the small cut beading blood down your inner thigh had dulled after leaving the box, becoming little more than a light sting causing annoyance when you walked and your thighs touched, and so you hadn’t paid much attention to it.
“Ah, how disappointing,” Jester mused, trailing a hand down your side and to your hip, “So much good blood wasted.”
Shivering under his gaze, a part of you was under the impression that his eyes were more focused on something else between your trembling legs.
“Go sit on the edge of the stage for me, okay, pet?”
With a nod and unsteady legs, you obliged to Jester’s request and went to sit where he told you to go, letting your legs swing down without touching the ground. The purple clown followed, standing in front of you and between your spread legs, and despite your more elevated position, Jester still towered over you with his height. That alone made you shiver, anticipation blooming in your veins like hot lava, and your eyes followed, enraptured, Jester’s hands as he slowly began taking off his gloves.
You admired the dark skin underneath the fabric, with its rough texture and sharp claws, even though it was not the first time Jester revealed his true form to you. He refused to allow you to see him in his entirety, but so far you had managed to have a clear view of his hands, mouth, and obviously pelvis, and not once did you ask for more. You never wished to anger him, you never craved more than you could chew, and patiently waited for the day Jester decided to simply ruin you without his elaborate disguise on. You knew you would have loved him all the same, that your devotion went deeper than simple physical attraction, but that alone was not enough for your master. He was constantly testing your adoration, and as you sat on the edge of the stage, you recognized another one of his tests in the teasing grin on his face.
Forcefully spreading your knees, Jester slotted himself closer to you, bringing you forward to meet his hips and to wrap your legs around his waist. He didn’t wait before collecting some of your blood dripping from your thigh with a finger and lapping it up with a curling and textured forked tongue, he instead stared at you as he did, causing your middle to clench painfully around nothing.
“Someone’s getting needy,” he laughed, bringing you almost to tears with his mocking tone.
“P-Please, sir, I beg of you….” you nearly cried when a large and beautiful hand pushed your back flush with the wood under you. You noticed, with a tingle of pleasure, that Jester was taking something out of his pocket, and a single pink pill was placed on the male’s long tongue. The dark purple muscle, extended out of his mouth, slithered in your direction, and so you obediently met him right in the middle, taking the tip of the tongue and pill by extent in your mouth. Closing your eyes, you kissed Jester, groaning against his lips as he began to force you to swallow the aphrodisiac you were already so used to take, so of course you did as you were told and relaxed your throat to allow him to choke you with his tongue.
Clawed hands unzipped the front of your leotard, freeing your burning chest and enveloping your breasts with his palms, but he didn’t stop there. The circus’ leader kept going, unzipping your only piece of proper clothing all the way to the end, right between your legs, and chuckled at the sight of your soon exposed privates soaking through the fabrics.
Jester pulled his tongue out of your mouth, finally allowing you to breathe, but before you could speak he immediately dipped his face against your neck, mouthing at it until you were gasping and moaning just by his attention alone.
“Seems like you don’t need to be prepared too much,” his voice whispered against your skin, biting around all other scars he left on you during previous encounters and kissing the black bruises presenting the imprint of his own fingers around your throat. “Look at how you’re desperately asking for me to break you.”
Indeed, your hips were mindlessly grinding against his hardening erection, smearing slick all over his lap like a bitch in heat, and so you apologized for your impatience with a pitiful whine. Jester had stolen all your words with that kiss, leaving your brain empty and mushy, as the pill’s effects slowly began to take place.
The aphrodisiac was one of Doctor’s many recent discoveries, researched on Jester’s request due to his obsession with having you thoroughly without any preparation or foreplay, and you had to admit to yourself that it worked wonders. Just a few minutes after ingesting one you would find yourself panting and struggling to hold yourself up on your legs and arms, your core would drip slick down your weak thighs, and your organs would churn and beg for attention and pleasure. Jester liked to have you that way, because even though he was far bigger than any other human male, he still preferred the idea of filling your entire sleeve up in one go. The pill allowed him to do so, especially when he didn’t feel in the mood to prepare you.
“Master, m-master!” you begged, feeling a scorching fire burning right inside your crotch. “Need… Need you inside, please, need you!”
After slipping the leotard completely off, leaving you naked and helpless, Jester began to undo the ribbons that made up his belt, and soon enough the rough ridges of the mass of tentacles between his legs began dragging over your naked stomach. Five smaller appendages twisted and squirmed around a main, bigger one, the size and width of which dwarfed every other human male who might ever try to compare. The heat and sensation over your skin was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and the texture given by the ridges and bumps covering the entire length made your mouth water and your cunt gape hungrily.
Whining and rolling your hips, you silently begged for the mind-numbing pleasure Jester always graced you with, and you watched as your master chuckled as he aligned his squirming tip with your entrance while his other appendages coiled around your thighs and another two dragged over your clit. You whined and jerked your hips, throwing your arms around his neck, but the Jester had a taut hold on you.
“Ready, doll?” he asked, but you didn’t hear him, only able to listen to your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. The only side effect of the pill you had found so far was the scorching pain stabbing through your abdomen when you were left unsatisfied for too long, and as your unfocused and teary eyes looked up at the tent’s ceiling, you began to feel the quiet burn of your churning guts making itself known. You weren’t only begging for Jester to use you, you begged him to make the pain end, too, to bring with him all the suffering, to fuck those terrible thoughts out of your head.
Your relationship with the circus’ leader was criminal to say the least—simply disgusting at worst. You had been bared of everything which had once made you human, and he was the one who stripped that humanity away from you. Not like clothes being removed to uncover a body beneath, but peeled away like old skin covering a hissing burn, like beautiful wallpaper torn messily from the moldy walls of an old house.
“Please, p-please, guh…! P-Plea… please…!” You suddenly wailed as fangs clamped on your neck until they slipped into your flesh like a heated knife through butter. Pain flooded your veins, bringing your blood to its boiling point, and your toes curled as his hips pushed forward. The wound stung, demanding attention, and as you rolled your hips, a shuddering cry escaped your dry throat.
Jester had ruined you, and you were aware of the wounded mess he had turned you into, and yet, when the tip of his cock speared you open and he violently shoved half of his length inside of you, your bitten mouth only mewled and thanked him.
“T-Thank you, master!” you struggled to say, “Thank you—tha–ah! Ah!”
Each thrust sent you forward on the hard edge of the stage, and each pull of those dark claws sinking into your side forced you back to meet his thrusts, dragging bumps in and out of your abused entrance. The tip of the huge tentacle squirming and pulsing inside your wet heat pressed insistently against your cervix, threatening to do the exact thing it has already done many times in the past, and yet Jester still struggled to fit inside the last inches.
“Tight as ever,” he chuckled, rubbing your bulging stomach with a hand, “Good toy.”
Using you like a sleeve, Jester began moving you back and forth, dragging those delicious ridges along your walls, and each time his tip bullied the tender entrance of your womb, a shock of delight made your whole body shake around him. You reached your first orgasm of the night when your purple-clad master finally managed to push through your abused entrance the last few thicker inches of his cock, stretching you until it burned, and amethyst eyes studied your suddenly tensing form with satisfaction. Your cunt sucked him in, lewd sounds of wet pleasure accompanied your descent into the madness of overstimulation, and Jester watched your body come back to life after your mind-shattering high.
Everything was suddenly too much for your body and mind, every inch of skin coming in contact with Jester caused sharp stabs of pleasure to dig right into your clit, and hadn’t you been nearly as sick in the head as your captors, you would have begged the male to stop.
“J-Jester!” you mewled instead, and hands gripped the fabric still covering his back. The circus’ leader smiled at your helplessness, slowly shifting your hips so he could force himself deeper, as, to distract you, his mouth began working over your many bruises once more. He sucked on the column of your throat, kissed your jaw, bit around your collarbones and nape, until those sharp teeth finally released your neck and the cold air burned at the fresh bites. A coarse tongue lapped your leaking blood up, and a purr rumbled out of the Jester’s chest with familiar warmth, and this alone caused your tender walls to seize his cock.
Your walls burned so deliciously as Jester punched his cock into you harder than before. Your whined and gasped as whimpers fell in rhythm to his thrusts, but with the new angle, there was an addition.
After so long spent teasing around the swollen rim, Jester snapped his hips forward and shoved the tip of his tentacle into your needy womb, piercing through your cervix with animal satisfaction as a scream tore from your chest, and that alone made you almost pass out.
There was something in the knowledge of it—in knowing that you were being used so thoroughly that your body had been forced to open further just for him—that pushed you right over the edge once more. Cumming around Jester’s cock for the second time that night alone, your head fell limp and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, mind teetering the edge of consciousness, until you were close to passing out. You surely would have ended up just so hadn’t the tent’s curtain opened to allow a new figure in, which made Jester put a momentary stop to his thrusts, allowing your fucked out mind a moment of reprise..
“You’re being quite loud, doll,” Ticket Taker spoke, amused by the sight he had walked in on, then closed the tent’s entrance behind him. “Started without me, I see.”
Your mind was so clouded you barely registered when the second male walked closer to cup your face in his hands, admiring your fucked out expression and humming with approval when his fingers ghosted over the many bloody marks Jester had left on you, and instead all you could focus on was the throbbing length keeping spread open the opening of your womb with cruel stillness.
Your nerves were burning like live embers on thin linen, ablaze and buzzing after the assault of sensations you had just endured, and sudden pleasure spiked with a loud moan when a white gloved hand pressed down on your bulging stomach, studying the outline of Jester’s cock breaching through the deepest parts of you.
“Look at you, so full already,” he mused, and Jester, right beside him, gave a heartfelt chuckle. Only then did your eyes finally focus on the blue newcomer, and a pathetic whine left your bitten lips when you recognized the characteristic mask and top hat. “Hi, doll. Are you having fun?”
You didn’t have time to process his words that his hand began to massage your lower stomach again, causing Jester to purr and give your abused sleeve a shallow thrust, pushing more high-pitched screams out of you.
“I would have waited for you, my good friend, but you know well how our toy can be,” the purple monster purred, and both looked down at your twitching body. “So demanding and needy.”
“My, my. We must teach them a good lesson, then,” Ticket Taker nodded along as a white iris focused on the point where you and Jester were connected. Your hole was stretched to its limit, weeping slick on the monster’s pelvis in an attempt to make the penetration easier and pain-free, and your clit peeked through your folds in a silent but clear request for attention.
“If this is your way of asking if you can join us, then consider your request accepted, Bil.” Much to your dismay, Jester began to pull out of you, and your legs shook around his hips when his tip slithered out of your stretched cervix and his cock left you gaping over nothing. You whined and cried at the loss of stimulation, feeling the wave of burning pain rising up again due to the effects of the drug still not having worn off, until you were silenced by another set of lips swallowing up your shameless begging.
As Jester sat on the edge of the stage beside you, Ticket Taker grabbed your face and lifted his mask, and then began to force your open mouth to swallow his tongue, kissing you deeply to distract you from the sound of his belt being unbuckled. Jester was the one fiddling with his belt, dragging him closer so he could pull the fly down and free his erection, but he stopped the second the hardness sprung free.
Beading precum unto the floor, Ticket Taker sighed against your mouth when Jester left him untouched, and his heavy gaze lingered for a moment on the purple clown’s impressive cock before they locked eyes in a silent question, which was soon answered by Jester’s chuckle.
“You won’t need to beg for it, Bil,” he purred, “You will find the pleasure you so deeply crave, and very soon too.”
To your surprise, you were suddenly lifted and put to sit in Jester’s lap, facing him, and the change in position gave you a sudden clarity you hadn’t had in some time.
“U-Uh…?” you eloquently spoke, looking between your master and the male behind you, who had taken off his hat to reveal the slicked-back dark hair you often loved to pull on, and was beginning to jerk himself while watching the one in front of you grope your chest.
You understood what the two were planning to do to you only when Jester lined himself up with your cunt again, whispering into your ear how tight and perfect you were for him, just as Ticket Taker’s hands came to spread your cheeks and reveal your back door to the cold night air.
“Will you be good for us, dear?” Jester asked, kissing your temple and nuzzling your hair.
Looking at the one behind you, you nodded, biting your tongue in an attempt to hold back a whine at the feeling of two fingers collecting some of your dripping slick to push it in your second hole.
“Need to hear you, doll,” he insisted, and so you cursed under your breath when Ticket Taker’s middle finger thrust inside you. He was still wearing those damned white leather gloves.
“P-Please, pl-please! Need… Need you both, so much, so… fuck, so deep!” you stuttered and gasped as the finger began working to open you up for the monster behind you. “I’ll be so good!”
“Really, baby?” the blue clown asked. A second finger was pushed in next to the first.
“Yes! Yes! I f-feel like I’m gonna… gonna die if I don’t— ah…!”
Jester had begun to slowly lower you unto his cock all over again, and so the feeling of being utterly filled came back, this time along to the prodding of Ticket Taker’s long and elegant fingers scissoring you open.
“Ah! Ngh—! Slow!” Your hands held onto Jester’s wide shoulders, your face was pressed right against his neck, and so in a dazed moment of weakness, you tried to suppress your moans by biting into his neck. Of course, your dull humans teeth didn’t succeed at breaking the monster’s skin, but the male’s muscles tensed under the pressure of your mouth, and with a growl, your owner fully sheathed himself inside you with punishing strength, knocking the air out of you and piercing your poor womb all over again.
“Watch your mouth, pet,” he hissed and started thrusting roughly into you, lifting you up and down with his sharp claws digging into the meat of your thighs, like you were little more than a talking fleshlight. Cries echoed in the empty tent, loud enough to be probably heard even from outside, but in your cockdrunk brain you could do very little in the “thinking” department. In fact, there wasn’t a single thought crossing your empty mind when Ticket Taker shoved a third finger inside you.
Fucked on both ends, you came with no warning, which earned you a rough slap on your ass when Ticket Taker felt you clenching wildly around his fingers. You knew of his kinks, you knew how much he loved to impose rules on you during sex, and how much he enjoyed seeing you break them just to earn a punishment from him, so you weren’t surprised when the blue clown pulled his wonderful fingers out of you.
“Did you ask for permission to finish, toy?” He took a fist of your hair and pulled them back, forcing your back to bend backwards between the two males, and an incomprehensible sound between a groan and a mewl escaped your swollen lips. The angle made Jester’s cock press deliciously against your stomach, and another orgasm was quickly pulled out of you, even before you could come down from the high of the previous one.
Both males stopped as they watched you come undone for the second time in a minute, bright eyes focused on your twitching legs and heaving chest, and silence broken by your heavy panting fell like a light blanket over the three of you.
You had made Ticket Taker really mad—a part of you was sure. The other one was too gone to understand a thing.
“I think a punishment is in order,” declared the smaller of the two monsters as the other chuckled.
“You’re asking me for permission?” Jester questioned, and the first nodded courtly, like they were in a formal situation and not both pressed against what was left of the circus’ Fool. “And here I thought you had everything under control.”
“Having them under control? With how much they disobey my rules, I doubt it, sir,” Ticket Taker shook his head. “They always listen to you, though. Your every desire is also their wish, they crave and worship you like a god.”
Jester grabbed your slack jaw, brought your head back so he could stare at your brainless and watery eyes, just as white gloved hands began caressing your sides and hips.
“Oh, really?” he mused, although it was no surprise to the circus’ leader.
“Are they to be blamed?” Ticket Taker spoke, bending down to place a revering kiss on Jester’s knee. “You are beyond immortal beauty, sir.”
A black and white masked face stared up at his master in silence, waiting for the command to stand up again, which was given after a pregnant pause with a slow nod.
“Always the charmer, Bil,” Jester smiled, eyeing the still leaking and neglected cock standing erect against the other clown’s abdomen. “And… I think I know exactly what our pet’s punishment should be.”
He brought you back to rest against his chest, and, still without leaving your depths, spread your legs so your second hole could be perfectly exposed. Grateful, Ticket Taker kissed your spine, right between the shoulder blades, then groped your ass cheeks with rough hands. He then moved closer to place his tip against your puckered opening and smeared some more fluids he had collected from the point where Jester’s cock kept you fully spread, then began to press inside, causing a moan to be choked out of your ruined throat when his girth forced you to open impossibly far.
It hadn’t been the first time one of the circus member had fucked your ass; Harlequin always liked to switch from your cunt to your backdoor with the excuse he had “slipped out” and had “gotten the wrong hole”, but despite knowing it, he never changed back, instead choosing to keep ruining your ass, since “you seemed to like it so much”, and Doctor too always let his fingers explore a bit more during your check ups.
You had asked him to keep it a secret, that once—when you were sitting in his lap, naked as the day you were born, getting your ass fingered by his middle and ring finger—you had cum helplessly without even having your cunt touched. He claimed he was doing it just for research, and that your anomalous reaction had intrigued him, and so of course he had proceeded to pull two more orgasms out of you by just scissoring your ass with his huge hands, but that story had never left his lab, as far as you were aware.
Despite this, it had been quite a long time since you had last been properly fucked there, so Ticket Taker struggled to push any deeper than the tip. Not only that—Jester’s huge cock was also spreading your other hole open, you felt so full you were sure there was no more room in your body! And yet, the blue clown persisted, succeeding with a sharp thrust to bottom out inside of your clenching walls without fully breaking you.
None of them was surprised when you came with a cry at the feeling, and so they simply both resumed their original paces, fucking you in both holes at the same time as your limp body was forced to just take, and take, and take.
“Look at you, what a mess.”
“Can’t answer, little human? Too fucked out to think?”
“This is all you were made for, pet. Getting fucked, ruined, bred full by us monsters—this is what you humans are for.”
Spit and tears wet your face, whine after whine left your throat, and the slapping of skin against skin was so loud you would have felt ashamed by it, hadn’t you been on the verge of passing out.
“Don’t you agree?” Jester kept going, “Humans are our toys, our playthings, useless creatures made to be our cumdumps for when we get bored. This is all you are: an adorable little breeding bitch!”
Right as someone might have thought it was the end, that was all you had to endure—Jester sped up his thrusts with a groan.
“Happy? Look, you’re about to make me finish. Does that make you happy?”
Familiar with the phrase, you instinctually nodded, struggling to get words out of your moans.
“Y-Yea–ah–ah! Yes!”
“Happy to serve your owner? To make him fill your little womb to the brim?” His heartless words were hissed right against your ears.
“Yes!”
“Then beg for it,” he growled, and obediently, you did.
“Please! Master- m-master! Please, fuck my womb, fill me up!”
Behind you, Ticket Taker too sped up his thrust, chasing an orgasm which was not so far anymore.
“Not enough, doll.” Cruelly answered Jester, and you almost broke down in tears.
“Breed me! I’m your breeding bitch, your—ngh!—useless toy! I beg you, I b-beg, sir, ple-ehase, ah…!” You didn’t know what else to say, what else to do. You couldn’t remember your name, where you were from, who you used to be before the circus. Those clowns were rotting your brain, taking everything you had from you and then some more, erasing all you had been to change you and shape you into something they desired.
Jester made sure of it: he had turned you into his toy, and it was finally time to break your psyche and complete the transformation.
“Good job, baby.”
Warm and thick cum suddenly filled your abused womb—an impossible amount, much more than any human could both make and take—and the feeling of it being forced past your cervix alone was enough to make your eyes roll back. Jester shoved himself as far as he could go, gritting his teeth as he emptied himself into your used cunt, and right after him Ticket Taker dug his claws into your sides, filling your other hole with his warm seed and removing his mask just to bite down into the skin of your shoulder.
Dripping onto the floor, a scream stuck behind your parted lips, eyes glassy and hazed after your last mind-shattering orgasm, you slowly began to melt between the two figures pressed against you. You took a first fresh gulp of air with a dry throat, and with it you inhaled the hypnotizing scent of Jester’s hair, who draped over your trembling form as he leaned over you, mouth gently pressed against your scalp, like he wanted to kiss your brain. Pressed against his chest as you were, the beating of two hearts drummed behind the skin of your purple lover, while behind you, your other companion pressed thin lips against the line of your spine, up to your nape.
“Did so well for us,” Ticket Taker spoke against your skin, voice warm and dripping with cold honey. Reaching up, he took a strand of Jester’s beautiful purple hair, brought it to his lips, and kissed it as well in gratitude.
You couldn’t see it, but Jester smiled at his companion—a genuine smile, one of the few the monster ever gave.
The three of you stayed still for a few empty moments, waiting for their breathing to slow down and for you to slowly recover your full senses, but the more time passed, the more your slow body grew tired and dizzy.
“Enough. It’s time to clean you up, doll,” Jester said, caressing your back and slowly beginning to lift you up from his lap in an attempt to pull his cock out of you, but you winced, feeling the burning stretch raw and unfiltered by the pleasure and drug, and whined in distressed when Ticket Taker tried to leave at the same time. Soon, both males had popped out of your overstuffed body, and the result of their orgasms began to leak and ooze out of your gaping holes.
You watched it drip down your thighs with a strange feeling of disappointment, all while aware and self-conscious of the state of your body, while also not possessing enough strength to move or properly speak. You couldn't decide between a bath or a nap, so, cradled between Jester’s arms, being slowly carried out of the tent and into the now empty circus, you choose the latter.
Every muscle in your body ached, wounds and bruises pulsed in your head like hammers hitting metal, every light or sound was too much for your oversensitive senses, and yet, pressed against the monster’s chest, your eyes slowly drifted closed, finally at peace with the nagging voice of reason which had plagued for so long. That night, your owners had finally entirely crushed it—forcibly removing any hint of defiance from your little mind. Fucked full and fucked dumb, you didn’t care anymore about anything which had once worried you, and if Jester had a say in things—as he did—you were going to be much happier that way.
You weren’t hypnotized into mindlessness like a fool, you weren’t forced into submission by fear or torture, you had simply been given a role, and you had finally accepted it.
Ticket Taker, who walked beside Jester back into his composure and collected elegance, albeit with some suspicious stains on his pants and coat, brushed your hair back and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.
“While I run them a bath, could you go fetch fresh water and a snack?” Jester asked him, and of course, the shorter male nodded, but before he could turn around and leave, the purple clown stopped him again. “And… get something for me and yourself as well, will you?”
They shared a gentle smile, and right after you were left alone with Jester once again, silently napping against his chest, as his amethyst eyes focused back on your face. Tears and makeup mixed together in dark streaks down your cheeks, lipstick was smeared all around your mouth, but apart from that, your stage costume seemed to be mostly in order.
“What an obedient assistant you are, my dear,” Jester whispered to your sleeping body, breathing in his and Bil’s scents lingering on you along with the vulgar smell of sex with satisfaction. “You shall be rewarded.”
Lips ghosted over the bridge of your nose, then pressed gentle kisses over both your closed eyes, earning a happy groan from you.
“I know, dear, I know,” your master chuckled, resuming walking in the direction of his personal tent. “You will be able to rest very soon, I promise. I apologize for making you wait.”