When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Twenty-Three - The Musician, the Juggler, and the Trampoline

TWENTY-THREE

The Musician, the Juggler, and the Trampoline

After the second master-canvas hour of the weekend, it is time for the second circus-themed show of the forty-eight hour jamboree. Once the six hundred people participating in the events are assembled in front of the stage, or to its sides, or within the first few feet of every row of work stations before it, the first act begins. Catherine, however, does not immediately register what the performers are now offering, since she is hit by another pang of feeling most uncomfortable at her nudity among so many. Master-canvas hour, after all, is rather intimate, despite the large ballroom and all the eyes in all the stations, when compared to activities of the other three hours of each cycle

Would you prefer they be naked as well? Healer asks.

I’d prefer not to be without any first line of defence, uh, ever, Catherine replies.

Tristan pinches her upper arm to get her attention. Once she turns her face towards him, his eyes instruct her to watch the show.

The rear-ends of the twenty-eight non-refundables drawn at random to participate in the second performance are soon seen. They are on hands and knees, on slabs placed about waist high from the floor. Each of their behinds has been mounted with a sensor that plays a note when a professional porn-acrobat-musician presses the tip of his manhood against the woman’s hidden flesh-ring. This sensor also keeps the cheeks separated some, in the women where that does not occur already, in order that reaching the “key” within each be easier. The women are very close to each other, partly atop one another, in order that the notes be reachable more quickly.

If the man keeps the tip of his manhood in position once he is touching, then the note lasts longer, since it sounds for as long as the sensor picks up the presence of his organic staff there. If he quickly touches and withdraws, then quick notes will be played with his every back and forth return to touching the “key.”

After this is explained to the audience by way of a typical circus-voice, with all of the appropriate intonations echoing throughout the vast room in keeping with the theme, the “musician”  appears on stage.  He is dressed in the classical-musician part for the most part, with the exception that he is wearing a crotch-less black suit . . .

He first stands with his back towards the women -- not that they know due to their own positioning on stage, facing away -- before he takes a bow in front of the audience. His manhood is seen not to be erect yet. He then turns, and, after a hand quickly strokes his instrument into shape, begins to play the behinds before him.

As he rushes about with his erect organ in his hand, the audience recognizes a medley of songs. He even plays the chorus of an Incognito piece, which amuses Tristan. When the latter composed the song, he most certainly could not have imagined it ever being played this way. He turns his face to look at Catherine, who was just thinking that Tristan’s hypocritical, insincere, deceitful song is well suited to being played on asses, rather than fooling fans everywhere. She quickly wipes her mind clear.

The following act is a juggler. Nude herself, she juggles manhoods. They are fake ones at first. She sends them up, and, as more and more are added to the act, round and round her hands continue to control them, until she makes them dip into her mouth, one by one, as they continue to circulate by her hands' command.

“Maybe she’ll set them on fire,” Catherine whispers. Circus jugglers do juggle fiery items, after all.

Well, close, but not quite: when the lights go out, the fake organs soon begin to shoot off sparks as the woman juggles them, in climaxing-representative form, and soon after that, from their other end, the imitation manhoods then begin to shoot out a liquid, just as the performer begins to send each one tumbling in turn down under a raised thigh, once again, like jugglers do with more conventional juggling items. In the darkness, the neon-reflecting lines of liquid squirting out are seen hitting her as she makes every imitation organ travel down and up again, alone to her thigh, and then back to the fold, to the loop. The music completes the act, and she moreover sells it excellently well through her body-talk, with her face expressing what is sold to the masters as a beloved  fantasy of hers to  be spewed upon truly in that very way, by real male organs.