E-written Hedony: What Big Eyes You Have

He opened a pressure release pack of lube and coated the fingers of his right hand. With his left he held my left check out of the way. His cool, wet fingers started gliding around my anus, the most intimate touch yet, despite all the bondage. My head fell back and I moaned.

"Feels good does it Red?" I could hear the smile in his voice. He worked first one finger, first shallow and then deeper, then another was pressing in besides it. I gave a small grunt, the stretch bright and yet slick, his fingers gliding in and out, then scissoring open, prying me further. I was panting and pushing back onto his fingers.

I started to snake my hand down to my clit, the ropes following my movement, when he gave me a small slap on the rear with his left hand. "No Red, don't go messing up those tightly furled pussy lips. They look like you're completely unaffected, even though we both know you're not." He pushed into my ass to emphasize his point, my hips pushing back onto him instinctively.

He was right, my inner lips tended to stay pretty closed up, no matter how aroused I was, until I or someone else slid between them. Then a questing finger would find a deep pool of warm, thick girl honey. It was something I noticed whenever I held off touching my pussy when I was masturbating.

"It's completely perfect for the look I'm trying to achieve so just leave them undisturbed."

Obediently I put my hand back on the vanity but I pushed my butt back all the more insistently, craving the stimulation.

"Did you know Ovid wrote about how the Roman Circus was the best place to get your flirt on because it was the only place where men and women were permitted to sit together?"

"NOOoooo... I hadn't realized that."

"Mmmhmm." He was now working just the tip of the plug into me, rocking it back and forth, in and out. "Imagine, men and women sitting together. In public." The widest part of the plug stretched me, burning in that good sex kind of pain. "That kind of thing got him exiled from Rome. Well, that and fucking the Emporor Augustus' slut of a granddaughter." He was really fucking my ass now with the plug, letting it slide home to the hilt beyond the buldge and then pulling it back out, only to repeat it again. "We're going to do such things in public tonight my sweet Red. Such dirty things." He practically growled this into my hair and I couldn't stop the full body shiver it evoked.

He straightened and turned me, pushed me back into the seat, a teasing smile on his lips at my wince when I landed on the plug. It wasn't unduly uncomfortable but I was really full. It was easily the biggest thing that had ever been up my butt. He went and washed his hands in the little sink. I was feeling confused again. As aware as I was of the plug, given it's color and how slender the base was, I didn't think it'd be visible to anyone just looking at me.

He came back, carrying something from his bag and a shorter length of rope. He tapped my lips. "Open." I opened my mouth, then opened it wider. He was shoving something plastic up against my palate. It didn't quite line up right, it had most likely been molded specifically for Evion's mouth, but with a bit of fiddling he got it wedged in. It was awkward and my arousal level dropped precipitously. I closed my mouth and explored the thing with my tongue. It felt smooth and had no real taste. I had no idea what it was for.

Malcom tapped my lips again. "Open." This time he fitted the rope between my teeth and wrapped it around behind my head, under my hair. It wasn't tight but it forced me to keep my lips back and my teeth bared. "Is it too tight? Tap three times or snap your fingers once if it's too tight." I kept still. "Three taps or one snap is your safeword for tonight, since you can't talk. Either one will stop the scene immediately. I'll be there almost the whole time and even when I'm not, when I go get change, the black masks will be watching over you."

The black masks were both stage hands and security in the Cirque. They kept the audience in line, helped anyone who was lost or in trouble. They also had earpieces that put them in contact with the infrared eyes in the sky, which saw if people were doing things in the dark corners of the Cirque they should not. I didn't love the idea of Malcom having to leave but I knew the black masks would keep me safe.

He had me stand, then coiled the loose ropes back up and handed them to me. "There's one more thing." He opened the garment bag and brought out the most gorgeous red hooded cloak, done in the same vibrant shade. He draped it over me and it was so long it pooled on the floor around me but so silky it didn't feel like much of anything at all as it glided over my sensitized flesh. I looked in the mirror again. Except for a few artful tears in the glorious cloak, I was completely covered. But under it I knew I was anything but clothed. And my face was naked. In the world of the Cirque that felt naked indeed. There'd be no mask to hide behind tonight, white or otherwise.

"We'll go into the Cirque now. You're Red Riding Hood. You went to your grandmother's only to find her dead and you were assaulted by the Wolf. Then a huntsman burst in and attacked the Wolf. You fled before you knew who won. Fleeing through the woods you ran straight into one of the huntsmen's snares. From there just let the scene play out, try to react as that Red would." He kissed the top of my head from behind, looking into my eyes in the mirror, hugging me from behind over the cloak. "And when this is done, we'll still be Malcom and Red. I promise." My too big eyes stared into his in the glass and I nodded, unable to do more, my ass full of his plug, my hands and mouth full of his rope. For tonight at least I was his creation.

*****

Every step of the walk from the dressing room made me hyper aware of the plug. Holding a bag with his outfit, Malcom led me up through the warren of off stage hallways that infiltrated the Cirque, stopping next to a door marked F4R8D. The lights in the hall were doused completely and then he opened the soundless door. He left his bag there and led me through a stand of fake trees into a large room, done up to look like a wood at night.

There was the appearance of a cloud-shrouded moon high overhead - the room had to be at least two stories high - and insect noises all around. He led me to the edge of a small cliff, about seven feet above the main floor of the room, then quickly worked to fix my bonds to anchors on the trees around me. My arms were stretched over my head, affixed to a branch directly above, and my thigh was lifted and suspended from another tree to my right. I was balanced on my left leg but because I could put weight onto the bonds, it didn't feel too precarious. The ropes on my thigh pulled my cloak open so I wasn't as covered as I'd like, but I knew that things would only get worse in that regard. Then Malcom was gone and I was alone on my clifftop.

I could see a few masked audience members milling around, exploring the wood, but they hadn't noticed me yet in the relative dark. All of a sudden music swelled behind me. There was a bloodcurdling female scream, the snarls of a large animal and unintelligible, deeply masculine shouting. Then the sound of a run through woods, branches snapping, someone in full flight running straight for me, sounding like they had started from far back beyond the wall I knew lay behind me. Finally, a sprang of branches, like a trap being sprung. There was a scream that was suddenly muffled and it came from my mouth! The box Malcom had wedged up against my palate was some kind of speaker. I could feel it vibrate against my tongue when it made noises.

And then the moonlight seemed to grow brighter, the clouds thinning on cue, the clifftop not quite so dim. I realized there had to be black lights hidden so that they were spotlighting me, though they were dim too, only evidenced by how much the white flashes of my top and "skirt" were popping, without much of that telltale purple glow. The sounds of the struggle behind me hadn't diminished.

Masked people were flowing into the wood from several directions and heading my way, drawn by the music and the sounds. Sensing what was called for I thrashed for a moment against my bonds, the box in my mouth providing the grunts of protest and desperation. Then there was a yowl behind me that was cut off with a meaty thunk. I froze, my eyes rolling as though I was trying to see what was behind me. The music got quieter but even more tense.

In the meantime, a male audience member, wearing a red mask, who was closer than the others, was trying to climb up the sheer cliff face to reach me. He could get his hands over the edge but I pulled on my bonds and hopped my left leg back far enough I was out of reach, though this put me a bit off balance and stuck my ass out behind me. I had to rest more weight on my bonds. He couldn't get enough of a handhold to hoist himself up. Giving up on the thought of reaching me he stared up, looking straight at my pussy through the open gap in my cloak.

"You look so tight Red. You look like the wolfy didn't get a taste of that sweet little pussy." He pitched his voice low, knowing he shouldn't be talking, but I could hear him, could feel his eyes burning on me. He stopped talking as other people got closer, all staring up at me. His eyes felt the hottest. The light was getting brighter, the moon now full and naked in the sky, seeming to highlight this hilltop. Something was happening with the plug in my ass, it was moving, expanding. Something started to tickle the backs of my thighs. I closed my eyes, the feeling and the eyes on me too intense.

"Shit, she's got a tail!" I opened my eyes, the world now bathed in red, to see a black mask starting for the red mask who kept talking. "And her eyes are glowing! Look at those ears! Her teeth!" Something was moving on my head. And my canines were biting into the gag rope more deeply, my nails elongating and digging against my palms, against the ropes that bound me to the tree.

He was right, I did have a tail, a tail with a mind of its own. Growing down from the plug in my ass was a full, furry wolf tail, agitated and whipping from side to side, moving the silk cloak with it. It felt amazing on my thighs, like someone was hitting me with a fur feather duster, but it was the plug, moving in counterweight, expanding to better secure itself, that was really drawing my attention.

Red mask was silenced but I could feel the crowd's excitement at my transformation, the hum of expectation as the music rose and more people gathered. I writhed, shaking my head, baring my teeth, flexing my new claws. From behind my gag came first mewling pain sounds and then angry growls. I clamped my ass muscles down on the unruly plug and was rewarded with a tail lash. I could control it to an extent. That was so cool. I tested the range of my bonds. The music continued to build. The audience's attention was taut, now focused on something behind me. It was my only warning.

The music soared. The red cloak was yanked back, bowing my neck back as much as the bondage allowed, then flung to the side, covering none of me, hanging down off my left shoulder. The tail whipped up, now lashing back and forth against my back. Strong hands grabbed my hips and suddenly a big cock was without preamble shoving into my cunt, taking my pussy lips with it, dragging them into my channel, tugging and hurting me, making the dick seem even bigger than it was as whoever was behind me, please let it be Malcom, hilted himself in my body. The plug in my ass and my own lips made it impossibly tight. It was only brute force that made it happen, made it look smooth and inevitable. The scream ripped from me was only amplified by the one from the box lodged in my mouth, the two gagged cries melding into one.

Those strong hands came around to squeeze my breasts, swollen from the pressure of their bondage, slight as it was, sensitized and hurting. Strong fingers squeezed my nipples, my right through the top, my left naked and vulnerable. I wobbled on my single, tired leg, almost giving up to the suspension, arms aching from the strain. Through it all I stayed acutely aware of the audience. They could see everything, better than I could, my sight washed in red and the man hidden behind me. They could see every flinch and every snarl, every buck of his hips, driving him that little bit deeper as he toyed with me.

Finally, achingly, he pulled back and my pussy lips were freed, slick with my own wetness. He began to jack into me, power strokes, but it didn't feel quite so painful without the width of my lips crammed into myself and the pull on them. Instead pleasure began to bloom. Something was happening with the plug, the tail still moving when it could, but the plug felt like it was going deeper. He kicked my one good leg out from under me and held my thighs up over the crooks of his arms, spreading me wide to the audience's eyes, letting my arms take much of my weight as he bounced me on his cock. The snarls coming from the box in my mouth were nothing human. But the pleasure building inside me was.

He was getting close too, his rhythm was beginning to falter. He drove into me, against my deepest part, a pain so sweet it felt like pleasure and I swear I could feel the moment he exploded inside me, stretching me with his hot cum. He let go of my right leg, letting it hang from the ropes, then brought his strong hand crashing down on my clit in a smack that was audible even in the music's crechendo and I was gone, falling into pieces. His hand came behind me then, took hold of the tail at the root and yanked it from me, a long string of sensation that prolonged my orgasm.

My head fell back onto the chest behind me. I could see the hand holding the full tail aloft like a trophy, the once compact plug hanging from it now a long, dark blood colored series of ridges looking very organic, something torn from inside me. A glimpse of Malcom's face, exultant, his dark costume, and I let my eyes fall shut.

The music got haunting, ethereal and expectant. A shadow crossed over us and I opened my eyes. The red was dimming. I could feel vibrations as servos retracted ears, teeth, and claws. The moonlight came back and the music told the story of the miracle. My eyes saw true moonwashed colors, my nails and teeth were blunt. He pulled back, his cock falling free, and I felt his cum run out of me in a gush, more than I'd ever felt in the past. I looked down and knew he must have taken something to make it more, make it whiter. It was glowing against me with the same white glow as my tattered skirt. I hung there for the audience's eyes, pussy lips and ass open, on full display, conquered and cleansed.

He let me get my left leg under myself again, then stepped away. Picking up his discarded ax, he swung it through the air, slicing the ropes holding me up and embedding the ax in a tree to the side in a single stroke. I collapsed to the ground. He gathered me up so my cloak enveloped me, a small figure of hair and silk, copper and blood red. I buried my too naked face in his chest and he carried me easily back through the trees. The clouds covered the moon and the insect noises returned.

*****

"TERRITUS IPSE FUGIT NACTUSQUE SILENTIA RURIS

EXULULAT FRUSTRAQUE LOQUI CONATUR; AB IPSO

COLLIGIT OS RABIEM, SOLITAEQUE CUPIDINE CAEDIS

VERTITUR IN PECUDES ET NUNC QUOQUE SANGUINE GAUDET.

IN VILLOS ABEUNT VESTES, IN CRURA LACERTI;

FIT LUPUS ET VETERIS SERVAT VESTIGIA FORMAE:

CANITIES EADEM EST, EADEM FERITATIS IMAGO EST."

"TERRIFIED, HE FLED AND COMING TO THE SILENCE OF THE COUNTRYSIDE

HE WAILED AND TRIED TO SPEAK IN VAIN;

HIS MOUTH FOAMED, AND WITH LUST FOR HIS USUAL SLAUGHTER

HE TURNED UPON THE FLOCKS AND NOW REVELS IN BLOOD.

HIS CLOTHES TURN TO FUR, HIS ARMS TO LEGS;

HE BECOMES A WOLF AND KEEPS THE TRACES OF HIS OLD FORM:

THERE IS THE SAME GRAYNESS, THE SAME IMAGE OF FEROCITY."

-Ovid, The Metamorphosis, Book I, The Story of Lycaon

If you enjoyed my story, please let me know. If you didn't, I'd love to know how I can improve. If enough people liked it I'll post more Hedony stories and maybe even do a postscript for these two. And if you ever get the chance to experience Sleep No More in NYC, or anything else by Punchdrunk, do it. It's the closest you'll come to the Cirque.