Down on a Clown

This story was also blogged by Lolita.

“Ladies and Gentlemen—and everyone who self-identifies somewhere in between or beyond assigned genders—welcome to Cirkus Erotikus!”

We applauded, moving closer to the stage.

“Hot ringmaster,” I whispered.

“Very nice,” Viviane agreed.

“Tonight, we bring you the very finest in erotic performances,” the ringmaster bellowed, adjusting his top hat. “We offer you the opportunity to participate and earn heaps of Kundalini Kash to be spent tomorrow night. You can take part in each and every of tonight’s stupendous acts! Be daring and be rich! Be cowardly and remain impoverished, in cash and in experience.”

“What’s that?” Marcus asked me.

“It’s like Monopoly money,” I whispered. “You get to exchange it at a brothel tomorrow, for sexual favors and such like.”

“Huh, I’ll need lots of that.”

“Yeah,” Viviane said. “Though you are just as likely to sell sexual favors as buy them.”

“Shh, come on. I really want to keep that quiet.” Marcus had asked us all to be circumspect about his work as a whore. He wasn’t sure how it would go over with the people we would meet. “I don’t want them to think I’m diseased or whatever,” he had explained. “It’s complicated.”

“Our Cirkus Erotikus features astounding talents,” the ringmaster continued. “Be amazed by the long whip of Boymeat—and let balloons beware!”

In one corner, a caped man took a bow and turned to face a woman with red balloons fixed to her breasts. Boymeat cracked his whip, bursting one balloon. He cracked it again, bursting the other.

We applauded.

“What, we’re supposed to volunteer to be whipped?” Viviane said. “No thanks!”

“Feel the thrashes of the whirling dervishes under the command of BillySir!”

At another corner, a woman in leather bowed, and then turned to flog a bare-backed woman tied to a wooden cross. BillySir smiled as her wrists gracefully alternated strikes from two identical flogs.

“Wow,” I marveled. “I can’t even see her hands move.”

“I’m doing that,” Selina said.

“Feel your flesh singe under the fires commanded by PyroSadist!”

A flame burst from another corner.

“Shit! What was that?” Viviane asked.

“It looked like he set that woman on fire,” Selina said. “But she’s not burning?”

“I missed it,” Marcus said, craning his neck.

“Beware, the ferocious talons of the bad, bad Kitty!”

A woman in black tights purred from a cage in the center of the crowd. She wore a headband with black cat ears.

“She may look tamed, but beware, beware: she is fresh from the wilds! Only the most brave—or most foolish!—would dare to enter the confines of her cage!”

The bad kitty reached from her cage to strike at her keeper, who yelped and beat her back.

The ringmaster led us through other acts, including someone who used a Tazer to zap participants with electricity (“No, thanks,” Marcus grimaced), a man who treated victims like a human punching bag (“Too violent,” Selina winced), and a couple who tingled flesh with knifes and metal fingernails (“Oh, that looks nice,” Viviane smiled).

“And now, not for the faint of heart. Those who dare to do so are invited to—go down on the clown!”

A clown sat back on a chair, waving arms and legs in the air. She lifted her billowy costume to reveal a large strap-on dildo. A woman came forward on her knees, rolled a condom on the cock, and began to swallow it deep.

The clown smiled and nodded happily.

“Okay, I’m hot for the clown,” I said, taking a swig from my flask.

“She’s great,” Viviane agreed. “I wonder who it is?”

“Look at her smile,” I said. “And think about who makes me hot.”

Viviane watched the clown’s face move through rubbery contortions.

“Oh my God, that’s Lolita!” Viviane laughed, her hand covering her mouth.

“I dunno, but I can’t see Lolita anywhere else in the room.”

“Be safe, be sane, and let the festivities begin!” the ringmaster exhorted.

Selina rushed to the flogging. We followed to watch. She spoke to BillySir as she removed her bodice before settling onto the cross.

The flogs flew across Selina’s back. BillySir smiled, her face focused on her task.

“Fuck,” Viviane said. She settled on a bench to watch.

“I’m going to tackle that cat,” Marcus said, heading to the cage.

I looked at the que already forming for knife play and decided to stay put for Selina’s flogging.

“That was . . . incredible,” Selina said afterwards, pulling her bodice into place. She tucked the three hundred Kundalini she had earned into her cleavage.

“Your back doesn’t have a scratch on it,” Viviane admired.

“It was very soothing, very relaxing,” Selina said. “You have to try it.”

I looked up and realized the clown was beckoning me.

The clown pointed to the woman blowing her, then to me. I pointed to my chest, then to the woman. The clown nodded enthusiastically.

“Excuse me,” I said to my friends. “I think I need to go suck some clown cock.”

The clown bent to pat the woman on the head. She rose and held out her palm. The clown reached into a watering can and surrendered three bills to the cocksucker. She curtsied and left.

I walked up to the clown. I looked into her eyes, just past her blinking nose.

“I hear you need your dick sucked.”

The clown nodded happily.

“Show me what you’re packing, clown.”

The clown lifted her costume and pushed her hips forward, thrusting an eight-inch cock my way.

“Not much,” I sighed. “But it will have to do.”

With great exaggeration, the clown presented me with a fresh condom. I bent to my knees and rolled it onto her dick.

I looked up to her eyes as I lolled it on my tongue. I left it there, shallow and waiting at the edge of my lips.

I let her soak in that pretty picture.

Then I took her cock whole.

I rested my hands on her thighs as I bobbed her cock deep to my throat. I sucked back and forth, realizing, with laugh to myself, that I was wasting my tongue’s gentle flicks on her shaft.

I also realized that the clown was keeping her hips still as I worked her over.

I pulled the cock from my mouth and stood. I looked into her eyes and held out my palm.

“You may as well pay me now if you don’t want it sucked.”

The clown nodded, grinning, and pushed out her hips. Her cock flopped in the air. She waved it from side to side.

“Look, I’ll suck your dick, clown, but maybe you could fuck my face like you give a rat’s ass.”

The clown nodded. I got back on my knees. I put my hands on her hips and looked up.

She gave it to me, just as I asked.

I had shot my mouth off. She showed me what that hole was for.

That clown knew how to get her cock sucked.

“All right,” I pulled back. “You proved you are a bigger man than me. Now pay me off.”

The clown clapped and reached into her watering can. She greased my palm with one bill, then another, and a third.

“That’s what you pay girls,” I said. “I want a man’s wages.”

She slipped me another bill.

“Gratuities are not included.”

She gave me another.

I looked into my palm, then up at her. She shrugged.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Fucking cheap ass mime motherfucker.”

She kicked me as I left the stage.

Marcus was right behind me.

He bowed before the clown and removed his shirt. He rolled a condom on her cock and began to suck.

His body undulated with the movement of his head.

The clown’s eyes rolled back with pleasure.

A crowd gathered and began to cheer.

Viviane nudged me. “He’s good.”

“Huh, bitch is moving in on my clown,” I sneered. “I’ll fucking scratch out that whore’s eyes.”

The clown rained bills on Marcus’s head.

I took Marcus’s arm and led him to the bullwhip. The clown waved goodbye, pointing to an imaginary tear on her cheek.

“Thank God, some boys, at last,” Boymeat said. “The other boys are all chicken.”

“Yeah, well, boys are pussies,” Marcus said.

I looked down as Boymeat’s lovely assistant affixed balloons to our groins. I pulled off my shirt and wrapped my arms around Marcus’s shoulder.

“All right,” Boymeat cautioned. “Be very still.”

He cracked the whip above his head. It came down to my dick, knocking the balloon to the floor.

“Whoa,” I said.

Boymeat pulled the whip back. It cracked to Marcus’s groin, knocking the balloon to the ground.

“Sorry they didn’t pop,” Boymeat said, crushing the balloons under his boot. “But the Kundalini are yours.”

“You’re awesome, Boymeat,” I said.

“And you two are hot,” he smiled. “Thanks.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” I kissed Marcus.

I found Viviane. “Well, I’ve been at the end of a bullwhip,” I said. “I think I’m ready to be set on fire.”

“Oh shit, I want to do that,” she said.

We got in line for PyroSadist, pulling Selina and Marcus with us.

We watched as the PyroSadist—a stocky man with a thick moustache—worked over a woman. He swabbed lines of alcohol over her nude torso, then set flames to the fluid. The fire burned blue before expiring within a moment.

Viviane was up. She removed her shirt and bra, presenting her tits to the PyroSadist.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” she asked me.

“Of course not,” I assured her. “Here, let me do you one better.” I took her elbows behind her back, holding them in place with my forearms. I nuzzled my mouth to the back of her neck. “I’m here,” I murmured, taking a muscle in my teeth.

Viviane nodded as a man she had never before met assured her and then, gently, sent her body up in flames.

“Unh-oh!” she moaned, watching the flames lick over her. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Was it okay?” I asked when it was over.

“Yes,” she said, dazed. “My God, though. I was on fire! Did you see?”

“I did, sweet.” I pulled off my shirt to prepare for my turn.

“Honey, you should be careful with the hair on your belly,” Viviane fretted.

I turned to the PyroSadist. “Is it all the same if I give you my back?” I asked.

“Sure, it’s all the same,” he nodded.

“Okay.” I turned and lowered my pants. I wrapped my arms around Viviane’s shoulders, hugging her close. “Don’t go anywhere,” I whispered, then turned to the man holding a burning swab. “All right, I’m ready,” I said.

I felt the cold burn of alcohol against my skin. It was swiftly replaced by intense heat. “Hunh!” I flinched.

“Are you all right?” Warm hands caressed my back.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “That was just . . . gee!”

The PyroSadist laughed. “Here’s more then.”

I rested my head on Viviane’s shoulder as my back burst into flame again and again. My ass burned. The fine hairs on the back of my thighs singed, as fire burned my testicles.

I heard Viviane talking to Selina.

“Shut up,” I flicked Viviane’s ear. “This is about me.”

“Sorry, baby,” she whispered, holding me close.

When it ended, I turned to shake hands with the PyroSadist. “You done me right, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

His wife laughed. “I’m in the dungeon when you want more,” he smiled.

I pulled up my pants and buckled my belt. I pulled on my shirt. “Where’s Marcus?” I asked. “It’s his turn.”

“He’s over there,” Viviane pointed, “Going down on the clown.”

The clown had removed her cock and lowered her pants. Marcus’s mouth was buried in her pussy.

I walked to her side.

“How much did that cost you?” I asked her.

“I charged him six hundred!” she laughed. “So he got it subsidized by a voyeur.” She pointed at a man smiling nearby.

“Fucking whore,” I said, kicking his leg.

“Mmph!” Marcus muttered into the clown’s cunt.

“Ain’t nobody got to talk if you make it evident,” I retorted.

“Come on, kids, break it up,” Viviane said, holding her schedule. “Now we are off to the icebreakers,” she said.

“Now we go to the icebreakers?” I laughed. “We just melted a fucking glacier!”

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