Halloween CarnivalbySateema Lunasi©
by Sateema Lunasi (AKA Maralily, AKA, Lily St. Claire)
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Drunk, mascara smearing a dark streak of 'Vampiress Black' down two puffy cheeks, jeans dirty from three days wear, barefoot, one purple bruised eye. I was 23. New York faded away. Joey had hit me for the last time. At least that is what I told myself. I might have gone back to him if he bought me cheap roses. I drove the Mustang 6.0 (Joey would report it stolen) with the abandon of a fifteen year old on a fearless joyride. I got to Memphis before I ditched the Mustang and used a stolen credit card (this too, Joey would miss) to buy a 1977 Chevy clunker that was the color of moldy bread. I named the car "Loaf." I bought a car, but I didn't bother buying shoes. The salesman wasn't the kind of man who cared about shoes, shirts or service. I hugged my shaggy designer coat to my body and drove.
It was that night that I had decided to drive to Nevada. New York had stuck me with Joey, a job dancing at a topless bar, a boss that took most of my tips and a knife scar on my abdomen (now artistically covered by a Celtic tattoo.) I had to get the hell out of New York. I left on October 27th and drove for three days. I stopped for Pepsi and Vivrin. Then I drove again.
I was tired. I was drunk on nothing. I felt the puffiness on my blackened eye swelling and the rawness like peeled grapes. A stinging application of Maybelline fixed the redness and hid my shame from the world with the help of Ray Bans and dramatic purple eye shadow that I applied on the bottom as well as the top of my eyes. I teased my hair, spiked it in it's shortness and slicked sticky glittery gel through it, blushed my cheeks with a gray powder that make me look more gaunt, thinner, more dramatic. I painted my nails deep forest green and slathered silvery smoke gray lip gloss on my lips. The costume was effective. It was one I used often and it fit me well, the appearance of a gothic street kid. No one would guess I was 24. The make up hid the bruises. The ratty clothes and lace gave me a mysterious appearance and hid the real me.
I finished the make up in the car mirror, and I drove again, drove as far as I could toward Las Vegas. A friend who worked as a showgirl in an upscale club there told me that her club was hosting a huge Halloween party and that a few of their strippers had been flaky lately. She assured me that if I could make it to Vegas by Halloween, I could get into the party and pick up a stripping job. She had said the girls made around $700 in one night at the yearly Halloween party. Seven hundred bucks could certainly help me get an apartment in Vegas.
The clunker pushed down the highway and I was not thinking of the road. Living was on my mind. I could get a stripping job, share an apartment with one of the girls, maybe work another job as a waitress until I could save up to go to one of those nursing schools…
I was somewhere in Arizona, taken a wrong turn after stopping for gas and a milkshake, when the clunker slowed. The tank of a car lurched, protested and belched, then stopped. Knowing nothing of cars, I checked the engine anyway. It looked like a mass of metal guts to me. It meant nothing. The car would not start, and each time I tried it's life seemed less. Checking my watch, I glanced around me. This was nowhere. It was nearing 8:00pm. The sun was down and the sky was a deep rotten purple like a wound in the sky. The sounds of a rattling in the brush near my feet startled me and I thought of rattle snakes. I moved quickly and climbed back into the car, looking in the back seat for the backpack I had stuffed a few articles of clothing in before leaving New York. It was there, holding my jeans and panties for me. I slung it on my back and started toward the horizon, hoping to find a gas station, a person, a hope. Something.
An hour later I found something, but not much. In the distance was a dirt brown ranch house with a truck parked in the front of it and another vehicle covered by a blue tarp.
I walked faster.
Another thirty minutes and I reached the house. I was on fire it seemed. The desert did not cool down as I thought it would at night. The temperature soaked my shirt and made me feel dirtier, stickier than the vinyl seat of the clunker had.
The ranch house was larger than it had looked from afar. It was two stories with a large, looming barn several yards out in the back. The house might have been built at the turn of the century and was in ill repair. I wondered if they had indoor plumbing. I gathered my wits and knocked on the door. I heard a dog bark. I saw a light turn on. I heard footsteps.
A fat middle aged woman with tobacco stained teeth and a milky white eye opened the door just enough to see me. I tried to smile.
She said nothing.
I said, "I'm very sorry for waking you, Ma'am, but you see, my car broke down back there and I couldn't find anywhere to go…"
She looked at me with obvious scrutiny and I regretted my choice of make up and style.
"You 'aint from around then." She said flatly. She had a voice that would be more suited to a man. A big, burly man.
"No, Ma'am. I'm from New York, but I was born in New Mexico. I am going to Las Vegas…I have a job there but I have to be there by tomorrow night and the car just broke down and…"
"Whatcha want?" she blurted out.
"Is there a place I can get my car fixed?"
"About thirty miles from here is a mechanic."
"Thirty miles…" I swallowed stale air. "Then, is there someone who could take me there, or even to a train station?"
"There's a train that leaves to Las Vegas but it's about 80 miles from here. There's an airport too but it's been closed a while due to the strike."
"I could pay you to take me to the train station…" I became desperate. This had to work. My life could not get worse. I couldn't let that happen.
She seemed to think about it for a long moment, scratching her chin, which I was sure had a shadow of a beard on it. Her milky white eye blinked and the other eye narrowed.
"Let me talk to Sam." She closed the door in my face. Okay, she was talking to Sam, whoever Sam was.
About five minutes later, the door opened, a little wider this time and I saw in the window near the door, the pale yellow curtain move aside and a shadow of a face peered at me in the darkness. The woman brushed her palm over the loosely braided bun on her head and nodded,
"Sam can take you into town in the morning."
"Great, that is really kind of you Ms…?" I waited for her name. She didn't give me her name.
"Eighty dollars." She coughed and looked at me, waiting.
"Eighty dollars. Sam will take you to town in the morning and you can sleep here. In the barn though. But it will cost eighty."
I wanted to tell her to suck my…well, I wanted to tell her a lot of things but none of those things came out. I dug into my backpack and extracted four twenty dollar bills, noting that I had one hundred and seventy dollars left after paying this Nazi. I started to give her the money but when her hand touched the money I held onto it,
"I need to get to town first thing in the morning. I have to get to Vegas by nightfall. Can you get me town in time to catch an early morning train?"
She nodded and coughed again, "Sam's always up by five."
I released the money and she opened the door and let me in. The house was clean, though old and it almost seemed rusty. The smell of cooked potatoes and meat filled the rooms from the dinner they had left on the kitchen table. My stomach tightened. I was hungry and the Pepsi had given me a belly ache.
"You can eat some left overs if ya want. There's blankets in the cupboard if ya wanna take those out with ya. You'd best eat quick cause we go to bed soon."
"Sure." I nodded, and made my way to the kitchen, wondering where Sam had gone. I saw him peek around a wall at me and then dissappear, a graying old man with a face that twitched like dying fish. I sat down at the small table and scooped a spoonful of boiled potatoes and rump roast onto the plate the nameless woman set down on the table. She plopped a jug of tea down on the table and left me to eat.
I was quick and devoured a plateful, then another helping when she wasn't looking. She came back with an armful of shoddy blankets and a flattened throw pillow from the couch. She didn't say anything. I followed her. Outside, past a rusty shell of a car, past the tarped vehicle, past a guarding pit bull that gnarled at me, and then to the barn. She unlocked the door with a key and I thought it odd that they would keep a lock on a barn door.
"Teenagers go joyriding out here and come in and spray paint the barn, do crazy shit to the horses. We keep it locked." She explained.
She lead me inside and into a neatly kept area covered in haystacks and wooden crates. I heard a horse or two. I saw no animals other than the manes of two horses sticking up over stall half doors.
"Five o'clock, be up and Sam'll take ya to town."
She said nothing more, but sat the jug of tea down on the floor and left. I heard the door shut, but I did not hear it lock.
Reluctantly, I took a swig of the dark brown tea from the plastic milk carton and I went about making a bed for myself near a tall haystack. A dim light flickered under a layer of fireflies on the rustic ceiling. My head touched the pillow but I did not close my eyes. Fear had come over me, of bugs, of nothing, of darkness, of milky eyed fat women, of Sams peeking through curtains. The heat was thick and pulsing like an electric blanket. I took off my sweater and lay down in my bra and my jeans. Breathing deep through the thickness of the hot air, I felt myself sweat, felt the droplets form on the backs of my knees. I stood up and decided to find a garden hose. They must have one to wash and water those horses, and in little time I found one. I braved reaching my hand beneath spiders to turn the faucet on and I flipped my hair over my head and wet the sticky mass of short spikes. It felt too good, the coolness of the water and I set down the hose and took my pants off, my panties and my bra, standing naked in the barn and reaching for the hose.
I wet my entire body, washing my hair and cleaning the black streaks of make up from my eyes, feeling the sweat washed clean. I looked at the horses and felt sorry for them, being pinned up, with nowhere to go, no escape. I had known the same feeling before. By looking at them, at least Milky Eyed Fat Woman and Sam took good care of them. Standing there drip drying, I heard the sound of metal against metal. I jolted and looked around. I saw nothing and assumed one of the horses must have made that noise. But I heard it again, and then a groan. A human groan. Instantly, I began searching for something to kill someone with. I found a pitchfork and held it tight in my grip, wide eyed and scared shitless.
"Who's there? Come out now…"
There was no answer, just another groan. Maybe it was Sam. I thought that old fucker probably came in here hoping to get a glimpse of me naked. Well, Sam was a small man and I could take him down with a pitchfork. The metal sound came again and I stepped forward, then around the corner, getting a new glimpse of what was behind the walls of crates and haystacks. My eyes widened more than I thought they could. It could not be real. My brain did not register it as a reality until it made another noise.
In front of me was an intricate mass of chains, all bolted to a sturdy wall, and shackled to the chains was a man. He crouched in the corner, his arms folded against his chest, and his chest moving calmly, evenly with each breath. His eyes were fixed on me. He seemed calm, unaffected.
"Who are you?" I asked with a sharp breath, holding the pitchfork out between him and myself. He held out his hands slowly, showing me the shackles on his wrists, showing that he could not hurt me. He seemed gentle. I looked him over, taking in the beauty of him. He was not starved or unhealthy as a captive would be. He was strong and well muscled, impressively so. His skin was tanned a light honey color, his blond hair streaked with light golden color and his eyes bright and the deepest of blue.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I was dreaming." He said quietly.
"Are you hurt?"
"Not at all."
"What happened to you? Those fucking freaks did this to you, didn't they?"
He looked up at me and held my gaze. "No, Alexander keeps me here, Miriam and Sam just take care of me."
"What the hell? Take care of you…? I don't understand. Do you want to be here? I mean, my God, they have you chained up!"
"I was bad, and so Alexander sent me here."
I stood very still for a moment, thinking this was a strange dream. He spoke again.
"I don't want to frighten you." He said.
"You really want to be here…like this?"
"I do not want to be here. I have no choice. I do not know any other way. Alexander keeps me and many others to entertain people."
He stood then, slowly, gracefully, and towered over me. He smiled a small shy smile and tilted his head.
"Who is Alexander?" I asked.
"He owns me, but I have never met him. He owns the carnival. But I was bad and so I must be here for a year."
"A year? My God…you can't be serious…a carnival…what are you talking about?"
"People pay to be entertained. I entertain them, and there are rides sometimes too, and candy, things to play with."
I shook my head. He knew I did not understand.
"Let me show you." He said and waited for my response. I nodded my head, tears forming in my eyes at the strangeness of it, my own fear. Fear for this man who was more of a creature.
He came close to me and I held tight to the pitchfork, though I stepped forward so he could reach me. His hand touched my shoulder lightly and I was suddenly aware that I was naked. He was naked also, but it seemed part of his shame, part of his captivity. I shivered, and my shoulders became tense. He touched me expertly, his hand moving over my breast and my belly.
"I am to pleasure people." He explained.
"But why? How did you become…this way?"
My eyes moved to his thighs, the stiffening male harness at the apex of his thighs. It was already an impressive length at only half it's fullness and I felt a flush of wetness between my legs despite myself.
"I don't remember coming here. I was trained here, I know that. I was a small boy, I think. My parents died and I came here. The chains were put on me and they have been since."
"You have grown this way…as a slave?"
"Does anyone know you are here?"
"I do not see people unless they are the ones I am to please. Mirium taught me to read though. I can read books."
"Your whole life…" I mused. "I don't know how to let you go…"
"Don't. Sam would beat me if you did."
"Are you kidding? You could kick Sam's ass!"
"I would never hurt Sam."
I came closer to him and dared touching him, feeling flesh to feel reality. He was there. He was real.
"I am sorry you found me. I am supposed to be quiet. They will be angry if they find out you know about me."
"I will pretend I don't." I said quickly. "I'll find a way to get you out of here. I'll go to town and tell the police they have you here…"
I fell to my knees then, crying. It could not be worse. This was not supposed to happen, such a horror. I covered my eyes with my palms and sobbed into my hands. His hands touched me then,
"What is your name?" I asked him.
"I don't have one." He answered. The idea shocked me. Someone not being called anything.
"No name? How could that be? What do Sam and Miriam call you?"
"They don't say anything to me. They have never really talked to me. I don't know."
I stared at him for a long, piercing moment.
"I'll help you, I swear." I said.
He shook his head slowly. He touched me again, his hands on my shoulders and his arms surrounding me. He embraced me, as if I were the one who should be unnerved.
"Do not worry about me. Tomorrow night is Halloween. They will take me to the city then. They will have work for me to do. The carnival will be there. The others will be just like me. It is not so bad."
"What do they do to you there?"
He touched my breast and I pretended not to feel it, not to know it was there. The caress of his hand felt wonderful, even under the blanket of fear and sweltering heat.
"What they want. You can use me if you want. I like you. You are pretty and sweet. You feel soft."
His fingers found my small nipples and he lightly pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. I felt the wetness again, the fear that gave it it's edge. I felt crazy, losing every bit of sanity I had taken along for the ride. This man was something from a tabloid story, a victim, a captive, and here I was being turned on by his vulnerability.
I wanted to save him, but what could I do once I saved him? Then, unexpectedly, he kissed me. Warm, sweet, hot, moist. I kissed back. I felt like wood against him.
"What is this thing?" he asked, touching the face of my watch.
"It is a watch. You don't know what a watch is?"
He shook his head and examined the plastic thing with a child's curiosity.
"I know about cars though. I drove once but just in the country side, not on the road." He smiled sheepishly.
Daring to press myself closer to him, I felt his erection grow longer and thicker against my hip. My nipples hardened and I wanted to scream. What was I doing? I wanted to run, to fly, to break down walls.
"You are not like the others. You are so kind. So sweet." He said with the most innocent sincerity. It was me who kissed him then. I tasted his lips, the softness, the sweetness. With large, meaty hands he pulled me to him, and to my shock, lifted me up. I felt the coolness of the shackles on his wrists, the slight pinch of the metal bite against my ribs and he held me up in the air in front of him, then took my swollen nipple into his mouth. His kiss was expert. His strength unfaltering. Suckling, lightly tugging at the sensitive peak, he lowered me to the ground, on my feet, waiting for him, wanting him.
He reached for me, to touch my breasts again, and I stopped him,
"No, let me…"
Dropping to my knees in front of him, I took the hard length of him into my hands and stroked him. I felt him sigh, felt the muscles in his thighs tighten. My body still wet, my nipples lightly brushing against the blond, wiry hairs of his legs, I stroked him to full hardness, engorging the pink shaft and licking at the tip of his pleasure.
When I was certain he was ready, I took his length into my mouth, suckling at the tip and then down the shaft. His erection filled my mouth and it was too much to take in the entire length of him. He looked stunned, as if something had hit him. He looked confused. I wanted nothing more than to pleasure him, to give this creature who had been used so many times for the enjoyment of others, some pleasure of his own.
Swelling and ready to burst, he gripped my shoulder and groaned, seeming afraid to release, frightened to come to a closure. But he did. I felt his fluids in my mouth, waxy bitter, the unmistakable taste of a man's intimate flavor. It did not taste good to me, nor did it taste bad, but his pleasure felt wonderful. I swallowed him and rose up to kiss him, letting him taste himself. His eyes were wide like that of a child's.
With one gesture, he had me in his arms again and I ignored the bite of the metal, wishing I could release him of his bonds. My lips took his, tasting him, tasting his very being. My feet lifted from the cool concrete floor as he lifted me up in his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips. I felt unnatural, like I were fucking some creature, this strange and beautiful beast.
The cock pressed at the core of me, the wet and hungry mouth between my thighs that beckoned for him. Pushing against him, I brought myself down on it, the length, the thickness impaling me painfully, beautifully. The pleasure of it was overwhelming, the darkness mixed with my fear. I could smell the tangy scent of our sweat, the unmistakable scent of my own sex. He moved me on his cock, pumping into me and letting me ride him, watching the swells of my breasts rise and fall with his movement. I was all too aware of him, of every wiry hair that brushed against the soft inner flesh of my vagina, of the muscular chords of his arms, the broadness of his chest, the taut little dimes of his nipples that were hard like little stones. I wanted to suck them. I bent to suck them. He groaned, his temples slick with sweat.