EJAX-472: Ch. 03

"Chris..." she began, her voice faltering.

I didn't wait for her to say anything further as I rushed to her side and threw my arms around her.

"I'm sorry..."

I kissed her face, tasting the salty effluence of her pent-up sorrow.

"I know. I know," I said, comforting her.

Her chest rose and fell at regular intervals as the crying continued unabated. I held her close to me feeling her body convulse with each intake of air. These were not the gratuitous tears of someone seeking to gain an advantage via manipulation, but rather the tears of a grief stricken woman who had looked in the mirror and was horrified at the image reflected back at her.

Through some mysterious process, she had arrived at a profound self-realization: that the limits of her capacity to manipulate and control others was not circumscribed by her own innate abilities as a dominator, but due instead to the latitude afforded her by family and friends; a generosity of spirit which allowed her to act out her fantasies based upon sufferance. Specifically, this meant that her husband had done nothing more than indulge her every whim in order to please her, and also because he, himself, enjoyed playing the role of a subservient, obedient to her will not so much because she wanted it, but because in allowing himself to be dominated, he was satisfying his own inner desires as much as he was satisfying hers. This mutual reciprocity of feeling is what had sustained their marriage for so many years. In effect, her own conception of herself as the one always in control was nothing more than pretence. Having planted the idea in her head that Philip's health and safety could possibly be compromised due to his ignorance of the drug within his body, I had forced her to confront the fact that if anything should befall him, her own illusory foundations of power, so carefully wrought by their combined and willing participation, could come crashing down around her in the event of his dissolution. Without his love to sustain her, there was no such thing as the control freak I regarded as my sister, only the helpless, teary-eyed little girl I was now cradling in my arms.

I remained holding her for several minutes until her crying began to subside. She did not go into the details of her conversation with her husband, but from what she did tell me, I knew it was what triggered her crying fit. After assuring me that everything was all right between her and Philip, she went into the bathroom to freshen up. While she was there, one of the attendants entered the room.

"Excuse me, miss," he began, "Mr. Olmstead sent me in to inquire after his wife. Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine, thank you."

"He would like to know when she'll be rejoining the party. The show is about to begin."

"Tell him that she will be out momentarily."

"Very good, miss."

No sooner did he leave the room than Bonnie entered looking still somewhat drained but a little happier. She had changed into a pair of white shorts and halter-top and had fixed her makeup and lipstick.

"Were you talking to someone, sis?" she asked.

"The attendant was looking for you. It seems your husband and the rest of the world need you, birthday girl."

"I guess we'd better get out there. How do I look?"

"Better than you did ten minutes ago."

I grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on, let's go. It's show time."

When word got around that the show would soon begin, everyone made a mad dash for the choicest seats, fighting amongst themselves as they scrambled to sit in the rows closest to the gated fence. The fence itself stood about ten feet high and served to effectively obstruct everyone's view. What lie beyond that green-plated barrier was difficult to tell, but knowing Philip's sense of the absurd to be every bit as highly developed as Bonnie's, anything was possible. Thoughtful man that he was, Philip had the foresight to hire a film crew to record the event. And it was a good thing he did, because the show about to take place would forever be remembered by myself, and I'm sure by all those attending, as one exemplifying the very epitome of libidinous fantasticality and outright deviation, reducing my own sexual experiment of a few days earlier to nothing more than a mild amusement with all the entertainment value of a peep show.

Bonnie, being the guest of honor, sat in the very first row surrounded by myself and all our other friends, including the two argumentative twins who sat directly behind me. Suddenly, the sound of a drum roll brought the audience to attention. Several attendants scrambled to take their posts by the fence, each of them holding a metal bar attached to the fence itself, as a voice began to talk over the loudspeaker. It was Philip.

"Welcome ladies," he began. "In honor of my wife Bonnie's birthday I am proud to present to you this evening a most fantastic entertainment. Relax and enjoy yourselves for the show is about to begin!"

As soon as Philip's speech ended, the attendants on each side of the entrance to the fence began moving quickly from the center to the left and right, respectively. As they did so, the fence, which was apparently secured at its base by wheels fitted into tracks, folded in on itself like an accordion, revealing a 50-piece orchestra immediately behind it. At that moment, the entire area inside was flooded with light from the overhead floods, which had been secured by tripods circumventing the arena. I watched as the conductor raised his baton and began leading the orchestra in the first few bars of the Swedish National Anthem. That was amusing enough, but as the fence continued to contract, we were treated to the sight of what I can only describe as a modified three-ring circus, replete with clowns, midgets, aerialists, and a motley assortment of strange-looking people who walked around amidst a bevy of gizmos and gadgets reminiscent of the items one might encounter in a toy store. But the most obvious item on display was an enormous cannon whose muzzle extended about eight feet from its base. On the lawn, directly behind the sea of chairs, was a huge net, presumably to entrap whatever person or thing that was to be shot out of the cannon. I had no idea then how important a role this piece of equipment would play in the wild spectacle about to take place. I noticed there were no animals, and for that I was grateful. However, Philip had spared no expense to create the illusion of a circus and this was not lost on Bonnie, who regarded the whole affair with overwhelming approval.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe this! Is my husband crazy or what? What a man!"

"This is going to be really cool!" Alice said excitedly.

"No," Patti Ann disagreed, "it's going to be way cool!"

Cheryl and Maria wasted no time in standing up and cheering wildly at the stupendous sight, joining many others in the audience who could not refrain from expressing their enthusiasm. Michelle, who was seated between them, simply sat quietly in her chair trying to digest the incongruous images flooding her brain.

Bonnie was taking this all in with utter delight. It was wonderful to see her so happy after the emotional hurdles she had faced earlier. Judging by the overjoyed look on her face, it seemed to me that she was now beginning to put those issues aside for the moment so that she could enjoy this little slice of happiness her husband had so lovingly provided for her.

Suddenly, a small arc of fire shot out from the stage. It seemed that two of the clowns were having an argument—all performed in pantomime. One of them had a small flamethrower in his hands and had decided to incinerate his companion's bottom with the device. Letting out a howl, the injured clown leapt off the stage and headed directly towards us, the rear of his pants on fire. He stopped right in front of me and began running in place, unsure of what to do. Just then another clown came running to the rescue carrying a large fire extinguisher in his hands. In a second, a giant spray of water was released upon the clown's burning buttocks, effectively putting out the flame. However, the clown didn't stop there. Running amok, he christened several of us in quick succession—Bonnie and I taking the brunt of his liquid assault. He seemed to derive the greatest pleasure from my own discomfort, and I was forced to swing my pocketbook at him to drive him away. For some strange reason his sarcastic laugh made me dislike him even more, and though this menacing laughter seemed oddly familiar to me, I couldn't place it. Bonnie had an attendant bring us all towels to dry off, but the image of that little clown in the black and white polka dot costume troubled me. As the myriad stunts and feats of acrobatic skill concluded, I tried to put the present unpleasantness out of my mind.

Rebecca, who was seated to my right, suddenly tugged on my sleeve and said, "Look, there's Philip!"
Sure enough, Bonnie's husband, all dressed up as the master of ceremonies in a formal black tuxedo, made his way to the center of the ring surrounded by a half dozen beautiful women all dressed alike in black satin evening gowns and matching high-heel shoes. He was greeted with overwhelming applause as he stopped center stage, highlighted by a single spotlight, microphone in hand. Within moments, the final strains of the patriotic anthem faded away and he began to speak.

"Good evening ladies!" he shouted.

The response was wild and deafening.

"Tonight I am proud to present to you the most hedonistic, outrageously lascivious entertainment that Sweden has ever seen!"

Again the audience roared their approval.

'I guarantee you that you have never seen anything like it before and probably never will. So, without further ado, I present to you—"The Carnival of Sex!"

Amidst thunderous applause, Philip and his entourage walked briskly out of the ring while the orchestra began playing a quick, spirited waltz. By the time he had ended his speech, all the entertainers who had previously been visible, including three people who had been swinging from the trapeze, had left the area, leaving only two small figures remaining far to the rear of the stage. Even with my contact lenses on, they seemed rather small even at that distance. What from I could tell, they looked like two pre-teenage girls—one blonde, one redhead—dressed in snow white ballet costumes, standing together holding each other's hand. I was alarmed at this because Philip would have to be insane to drag two underage children into an event such as this. I looked at Bonnie and then at Rebecca, but neither them nor any of my other friends seemed to be concerned, which puzzled me.

For several moments the little girls just stood there motionless until the waltz abruptly ended followed by a few seconds of silence. Accompanied by a loud drum roll on the timpani, the two elfin figures fell forward simultaneously on their hands and performed a series of splendid, contiguous somersaults, which placed them center stage within a matter of seconds. The execution of the exercise was so precise that they were greeted with a tremendous round of applause as they came to their feet, arms outstretched. It was then that I realized that these two tiny people were not little girls, but midgets.

"Little people," I said to Bonnie.

"Of course they are," she replied with assurance. "Why? Who did you think they were?"

"Well, from far away..."

"You thought they were kids?" she said chuckling. "No, those two are Packi and Pompi, the acrobatic midgets from that new French circus you may have heard about. They're both of legal age, I assure you. Packi is the blonde and Pompi is the redhead. Philip and I have had them over the house a few times for dinner, and for other things."

Bonnie winked at me, making it obvious what she meant by "other things."

The two women continued their performance in grand style, showcasing their talents as ballerinas, jugglers, and trapeze artists. In all, their performance lasted about 15 minutes, culminating in a superb series of acrobatic stunts that made us all stand up and cheer.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind me, I heard the voice of a man growling and a host of shrieks from terrified women. The growling became more intense as the man approached the front of the audience and as he passed I saw that it was a tall, black man dressed in a lion skin who was the source of all the excitement. In his hands he carried a huge wooden club and he appeared to be naked underneath. He came over to us and stopped directly in front of Bonnie. As he danced, he adjusted his loincloth costume to reveal a huge black phallus, which bounced freely up and down in front of Bonnie's face. All of us screamed with laughter as she bobbed her head up and down in time with the bouncing penis.

"I think he wants you to suck it Bonnie!" Michelle shouted.

Without any further encouragement, Bonnie reached out her hand, encircled the massive tool and thrust it between her lips. Everyone cheered. As I was seated to her immediate right, I got a wonderful close-up of the man's genitals, and I must admit that he was blessed with a rock-solid piece of equipment. She held his cock in her mouth for several moments and then I saw Rebecca reach over and begin stroking him. The man, whose name we later learned was Lars, was also part of the circus troupe Bonnie described and was a friend of hers. After a few more seconds of pleasuring him with her mouth, Bonnie removed his penis and watched while Rebecca continued to masturbate him. Lars moaned with delight as Rebecca pulled on the now fully erect cock and then, just when I thought he might cum, he gently removed her hand and ran toward the stage, his huge prick bouncing wildly up and down all the way.

"I've had him over for dinner too," Bonnie confided with a smile.

Now in the arena with the two midgets, Lars began chasing them around the periphery of the ring, swinging his club and snarling menacingly like some kind of leonine man-beast. The orchestra abruptly began playing accompanying music, which mimicked musically the frenetic action that was taking place.

Packi and Pompi utilized every trick in their proverbial acrobatic grab bag to throw their pursuer off the scent, employing a host of various flips, somersaults, dives, and climbs to confuse and confound their enemy. At one point, he found one of the girls directly underfoot and raised his club high in order to bring it down on her head. She deftly maneuvered her lithe body out of harm's way as the club crashed down upon the spot her head had previously occupied. The lion man let out a howl of pain as he realized that it was his own foot that he had clubbed.

The audience roared.

Seeing their enemy in pain, one of the girls grabbed the club and jumped up on the back of her partner, delivering blow after blow upon the poor beast's head. It was a hilarious sight and I was laughing so hard that I had to hold onto Bonnie for support.

"Teach that son of a bitch a lesson!" Bonnie shrieked.

Finally, the lion man was knocked unconscious and he fell to the floor with a thud. The crowed exploded with applause. The two midgets danced around with glee at the sight of the fallen man and did another fine set of acrobatics to celebrate their victory.

Several of the women who had accompanied Philip to the ring now entered the arena pushing a large wooden recliner. As they helped the victim to his feet, they had him stand flush with the recliner and then strapped his hands and feet in, so that he lay in an upright, spread-eagled position. The poor lion man looked around him in dismay as Packi and Pompi contemplated what form his punishment should take. They conferred for a few moments and then both vigorously shook hands, thrilled that they had arrived at a satisfactory solution.

The other women now left the arena to the machinations of the two girls. The first thing Packi did was to remove the loincloth from Lars' body. This she did with one quick pull, which made us all laugh. The only piece of clothing the unfortunate man had on his body was now in the hands of the snickering elf who waved it around and over her head for all to see. As she continued to play with his clothing, Pompi took a saw and began to cut out a section of wood in the area between the man's legs. In a short while, the wooden cutout fell away, and the two of them began to sing and dance around the frightened man-beast. Having paraded around him several times, they now began to walk under the makeshift aperture, halting underneath him purposely at intervals to give his flaccid penis a whack or to tickle or slap his bulging sac.

"Take that," Packi said, slapping his balls back and forth.

The beast cried out in pain as the midget's tiny hands delivered several nasty blows.

"You're nothing but a big bad lion!" Pompi screeched as she raised her foot and kicked him in the groin.

Again the beast bellowed in agony as the torture continued unabated.

It was a marvelous performance made all the more spectacular by the seeming reality of it, due in no small part to the professionalism of the performers themselves. No one believed that anyone was being hurt, but the illusion was so incredibly effective that I found myself wincing every time the lion man was hit, sharing with him the pain of every blow at the hands of his tormentors.

"How are we gonna get this beast to calm down and leave us alone?" Packi inquired of her partner.

"I don't know," Pompi replied. She reached down and picked up the saw. "Maybe we could cut off his head!"

"No, no, you silly! I said 'calm him down,' not kill him!"

"I don't think you can calm a wild animal down."

The lion man growled at them just then, making them both jump.

Packi looked annoyed. "Well, we've got to find a way or else he'll keep coming back." She turned toward the audience. "Does anybody out there know how to turn this wild beast into a nice, cuddly little animal?"

From somewhere in the audience a woman shouted, "A nice good fuck should do the trick!"

This was greeted with howls of laughter.

"We don't wanna fuck him," Pompi replied. "That big thing of his would tear us little girls apart!"

More laughs from the crowd.

"How about a handjob?" someone else offered.

Packi's face lit up. "Hey, that's an idea!"

"Why is that a good idea?" Pompi inquired.

From a nearby table, Packi picked up an oversized newspaper and held it up so that the audience could read the title. It read, in gigantic, boldface type: "Too much sperm causes aggression."

It made me laugh knowing it was all too true.

"It says here," Packi began, "that all wild beasts, including men, become aggressive and violent if they are not periodically drained of their sperm. Does that convince you?"

Pompi nodded. "If it says so in the newspaper, then it must be true. Let's do it!"

The twins, who were seated directly behind me, were strangely undemonstrative up to this point. I turned around a few times to make certain that it was indeed the two of them who were sitting behind me. Patti Ann and Alice both smiled at me but said nothing, preferring instead to munch on bags of popcorn and to drink from a six-pack of beer. I could tell from their expressions that they were enjoying the show, but it seemed odd to me that they were so uncharacteristically quiet. Then I realized that with their faces stuffed with food, and their minds occupied with the events at hand, their opportunity to engage in any form of disagreement was at a premium. For that, I was grateful.

"Oh, look! Michelle exclaimed, pointing at the stage, "they're masturbating the lion man!"

Amidst wild cheers and encouragement from the crowd, Packi and Pompi had begun jerking the giant black man's cock with wild abandon. Packi stood directly underneath the man-beast, his huge penis resting on her head. She brought her hands above her and grabbed onto his cock with both hands, stroking it back and forth in a rapid motion. It was very funny seeing a man jerked off in this way and the sight brought forth gales of laughter from the audience. The scene was enough to cause Alice and Patti Ann to rise to their feet and shout encouragement to the two tiny vixens.