Page 15 of Maison De Fous

The cirkies have the spider show under control. They don’t need me here. Besides, the thrill isn’t hitting me like it usually does. My attention keeps drifting, my fingers itching for something else. Something darker. I want more, and I want to see what Indie’s been up to.

I’m curious as to how the Dark Queen’s night is unfolding.

“Keep this going,” I snap at one of the cirkies. He nods quickly, eyes darting to the crowd as they cheer on the writhing bodies covered in spiders. I turn away without another word.

The moment I step out to the main part of the tent, the energy changes. The chaos has spread. All around me, freaks and perverts are indulging in their darkest fantasies.

It’s a fucking carnival of filth and I love it.

As I make my way through the madness, I catch sight of Sydney and the other ballerinas. Their pointed knives slice through a woman’s flesh as she’s strapped to a chair, her body jerking with each cut. The crowd around them roars in approval, some too high on whatever Lux laced into their drinks to fully grasp what’s happening. Others? They’re getting off on it. Touching themselves and each other as the bitch’s pleasure filled cries echo around them.

A group of horny people, customers and cirkies alike nearby are tangled in an orgy, limbs intertwined as they roll on the ground, moaning and clawing at each other.

There’s no shame here at Cirque Du Desir. No fucking boundaries, just a mess of flesh, desperation and carnal need.

They’re a writhing mass of bodies, glistening with sweat, their limbs tangled together in a frenzy of primal need. I watch,groping my hardened cock through my pants as hands roam freely, fingers grip at skin, and nails dig deep into flesh as they claw at each other. These fuckers are desperate to connect. Dying to consume. Moans and gasps rise above the low hum of the surrounding havoc, blending with the distant beat of the DJs music that pulses through the tent.

One woman is on her knees, head thrown back, her huge tits heaving as a man behind her thrusts with unrestrained hunger. The bitches mouth hangs open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes glazed and unfocused as another man in front of her grips her red hair, pulling her head down onto him. She doesn’t resist; like the little slut she is, she’s lost in riding the waves of her own release.

Beside them, two other little sluts are locked together, their hands exploring every curve and crevice of each other as their mouths bite, and suck. One of them grips the other’s thigh, lifting it to grind against her, both of them slick with sweat and arousal. Their moans mix with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, a filthy, erotic symphony that sends jolts of excitement right to my cock.

I rub myself harder over my jeans. “Fucking hell.”

Nearby, a man with his face twisted in ecstasy, has a woman straddled across his chest as her hands grip his shoulders and she rides him. My lips pull into a smirk when I see another man behind him reach around, groping and stroking the length of his thick cock.

“Fuck yeah! This shit is a fucking madhouse of pleasure and pain. I love this shit!” I shout, my tone raspy as my own need intensifies as I watch the insanity around me.

They roll together, bodies sliding over one another, mouths finding anything to taste—skin, sweat, saliva—lost in the haze of lust and madness. There’s no sense of individuality anymore; they’ve become a singular, heaving beast, writhing andthrashing in the dirt, uncaring of who is touching who, as long as it satisfies their insatiable hunger for more.

It’schaos.

Pure, unrestrained, filthy anarchy, and I can’t help but feel a sick thrill pulse through me as I take it all in.

I push through the crowds, eager to see what else I’ve been missing. Carlos towers over a row of bodies laid out in front of him, his stilts making him look like some kind of fucked up god. The people below him—men and women—are naked and begging, mouths open wide as he pisses on them. They gulp down the warm yellow liquid like they’ve never tasted anything better, as their hands roam their bodies, spreading it all over their skin.

Fucking animals.

I continue making my way toward where I know Indie’s show is set up, eager to see just how well our little queen is handling the first night of her reign.

When I finally reach her show, the sight that greets me is enough to stop me dead in my tracks. Indie is on stage, and fuck if she isn’t magnificent. The mask, the leather, the blood... goddamn she’s owning it, commanding the pathetic needy crowd like she was born to do this.

My dick twitches at the sight of her, every inch of me wanting to be up there, watching her tear into some poor bastard while I pump my cock. She cracks her whip with precision, the snap echoing in the air like a gunshot, making the audience flinch and shiver. Every little flick of her wrist is deliberate, controlled, and she wields her power like the Dark Queen she’s become.

I stand in the back, leaning against the side of the tent, watching her command the crowd. I can barely hold back the low growl in my throat as I take in the way she’s taken control. Indie’s not just some girl playing at being in charge. Sheisincharge. Her eyes gleam behind her goat mask as she makes the crowd hang on her every word. She’s fucking enjoying this shit.

She’s getting turned on by it all, and fuck if that doesn’t have me ready to explode.

I glance to my left and catch sight of a man dressed like a baby. He’s sitting on the floor, sobbing into a ragged brown teddy bear, his whole body shaking as he watches Indie. He’s here for the Bunny Babysitter show, no doubt. A show that I still don’t fucking understand but yet makes us a killing.

His soft, muffled sobs get on my nerves as I watch him suck away on his stupid fucking pacifier like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter under my breath, glaring down at him.

But the idiot keeps going, forced tears rolling down his face, his cheeks puffed out like he’s waiting for some mommy figure to come along and wipe his nose. Thanks to the drugs Lux has the bartenders add to the drinks, he’s so far into his pathetic little fantasy that he probably doesn’t even realize Bunny Babysitter isn’t here—her shows on the other side of the fucking tent.

It’s fucking pitiful, but there’s something about it, something twisted and perverted about a grown ass man crawling around and sobbing that makes me pause.

I grin.Yeah, I can fuck with this.

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