Oil Of RosesChapter 52 free porn video

First up on the stage was House Risotti, and people could say what they wanted about Veronika, but she wasn't in the least afraid to put her subs' genitalia in danger for the sake of a show.

It was obvious, watching One, Two, Three and Four up in the air, suspended by elastic straps, that it wasn't their first time. While they weren't as brilliant, gifted and well-trained as Cirque du Soleil, they had skills in the air that most of their audience wouldn't have even dreamed of. The four of them seemed to demonstrate the entirety of the Kama Sutra while swinging through the air, changing partners and positions as if it were the most natural thing in the world. At one point, the two couples were fucking in sync with each other — One and Three right side up, Two and Four upside down mere feet above them — almost perfect mirror images.

All in all, the performance pleased the audience, although they were perhaps a bit too apprehensive to be titillated, and Risotti's finale had every one holding their crotches, male, female, and other alike.

Accompanied by the roll of snare drums, stretched to the limits of the straps, separated by approximately twelve feet, One and Four were launched at each other, using eyeball reckoning, and met in the middle with a resounding slap of flesh on flesh, after which they locked arms and held each other — with One's cock having slammed dead center into Four's cunt. The audience went from stunned shock to roaring applause. Veronika and her subs took their bows, and left the stage.

"Whoa!" said Dommi over the applause. "Did you think you'd see anything like that when you left your homes this evening? House Risotti, everyone! That's right, give it up for House Risotti!"

Veronika had never felt so good, so happy, so a part of something in her life. Her Senior House has needed her help, she had not failed them, and her House was appreciated.

Gloria Tanner was bored and lonely, and had been so for quite some time. She had her job, she had her son, Jason, but the first was strictly eight-to-five and the other ... well, Jason was fourteen, firmly in the "Leave me alone" years — and to be perfectly honest, she hovered too much, so he shut her out. That left her with a lot of hours, every night, every weekend, with no company but her own.

Since her husband divorced her, five months previously, it had been that way, even longer as they'd been separated for almost a year prior. Her half of the marital assets had enabled her to buy out his share of the house, and her job, and the child support payments, were enough to keep her and Jason comfortable, but there wasn't a lot of money for luxuries

A bigger issue was her needs - even as rarely as her husband had given her what she craved, the gulf between 'rarely' and 'never' was vast. She lived in a boring older neighborhood, where everyone was either retired, near retirement or very conventional, as best she could tell. She wasn't much for chatting up the neighbors, since she was pretty sure none of them had anywhere near the interests she did.

Then an old friend from her married days who'd moved to another city sent her a one-word email.

"Dominique's"

She'd tracked the place down, not that it was hard to do so once she knew to start looking, and that night she'd put on some of her skankiest slut clothes, a Carnival masque from the good old days to preserve her anonymity, and gone to see what it was like.

She was thankful she'd gotten there early. The place was packed to the rafters. There was a lot of stuff going on she didn't understand - the best answer the waitress could give her was "It's political" - but she was happy to find herself in the midst of her kind of people. Fights and fucking, auctioning off virgin assholes, bets paid in anal violations and blood, more freaks and perverts than she'd seen together in her wildest dreams.

She'd been in the ladies lounge when the big parade came through. Their matching costumes made them hard to miss, but she decided to take her time, enjoy the shows, watch the crowds, stay on the fringes and see if anyone particularly appealed to her, rather than make her way into the center of the club where all the action was.

Gloria hoped things wound down before 4 or 5 AM, though — she had agreed to attend a neighbor's backyard barbeque the next day, and although she almost dreaded it, it would be a way for her and Jason to connect with some of their neighbors.

"Veronika, and the four of you, get the fuck over here!" Harry called in between acts. "Goddamn, that was astounding ... although One, One is it? I was terrified I was gonna have to watch your cock break in half if Veronika missed."

"Master Grimes," One replied, grinning, "you don't truly understand 'terrified' until you're the arrow in that particular archery stunt. Last time we practiced it at home, I hit wrong, I mean, my dick went in the right place, but I thought my balls were going to pop like zits."

Four walked over, slightly bow-legged. "Yeah ... that trick, even when it works ... damn ... it's painful."

"Yeah, but trust me, you looked amazing and I can pretty much guarantee, no one's ever seen anything like it before."

"Nor shall they again, any time soon," Veronika replied. "I have to make major concessions to the four of them, One and Four particularly, to get them to do routines like that. I'm going to be paying that one off for over a month.

"Yeah, the only reason we agree to practices is so we won't hurt ourselves when she does decides to have us do that crazy shit," Three said.

"Do you perform anywhere else?" Margo asked.

"Nope," Veronika answered, "they do it hanging over me while I masturbate. Once they get going," she shuddered with pleasure, "it's like laying naked in the rain — sweat, jism, juices ... and the show's all for me."

Harry pulled her close and kissed her neck, giving it a little bite as well.

"Some day you'll have to invite us over and give us a private showing."

Mistress Veronika of House Risotti glowed as she and her House returned to their table.

Carol had been so impressed with Rose and the members of Psychosexual Circus that she'd combined two of her planned performances into one, and let Rose and the group have center stage for something all of their own.

While members of her troupe slowly turned her on a Lazy-Susan-like apparatus on one of the side stages and a music box cover of "I Could Have Danced All Night" played, the lights came up on Rose, dressed in a black Goth prom dress. She was a music box dancer, her clothing and hair in contrast with the song and the way she danced, and as the music slowed, so did she, finally coming to rest in an awkward pose.

From out of the darkness, a tall man — swarthy, muscular, bald and covered with intertwining Oriental dragon tattoos, wearing only a pair of leather pants — came and lifted her rigid form off the stand. He carried her to the center stage where a backless couch had been placed, and he awkwardly posed her on it, bending her joints into place. In the end, she was holding on to the chaise lounge at its curved end, on her knees, blank face staring at the crowd.

When he finally had her posed to his satisfaction, he walked around behind her, flipped up the long black skirt and threw it over her back. He opened the front of his pants, exposing a considerable length of cock, and laid it in the crack of her ass, slowly moving forwards and back as it began to grow hard and erect.

A lick of his hand, saliva spread along his cock and he entered her. Slowly, he had his way with her, only speeding up at the end when he appeared to spend his load deep inside her. Pulling out and buttoning his pants, he carefully picked her rigid form back up, took her to the turntable and reposed her, close to how she'd been before. Somehow, in all of that, so slowly no one could have noticed it happening, her blank and neutral expression had turned to one of contentment and love. The lights went down.

When they came up again, it was on the opposite side stage from where the doll was placed, and the same man, wearing lounge pants and a t-shirt, was putting the moves on another girl, a short, cute blonde, who was wearing a blue vinyl dress that shone in the stage lights. He took her back to center stage, where he peeled her out of the dress, got out of his clothes, and proceeded to lay into her with a will, first fucking her on her back, then rolling the two of them over and bouncing her on his dick. As their squeals and moans filled the air, the lights dimmed on them and then slowly crawled up Rose's body where she stood in the same position she'd been left in ... but when the light revealed her face, it was a mask of rage and hatred. The lights went down.

When they came back up, the man was sitting up and stretching on the couch in a pair of black boxers, obviously having just awakened. He scratched himself and walked over to his doll. As the lights came up on her, her face had returned to its original blank expression.

He carried her to the couch, posed her on her back and ripped the top of her dress open, spending some time mauling her breasts. Then he flipped up her skirt and entered her, apparently without lubrication.

As he pounded in and out of her, a curious thing occurred. His movements became more and more stiff and mechanical, slowing to a dead stop over a period of perhaps five minutes, while her limbs lost their rigidity just as slowly and by the time he was frozen in place, she was moving as if alive.

As both Rose and her partner were skilled mimes, the effect was chilling.

She kicked him off of her, and he fell to the floor, as still and rigid as any mannequin. Rose hopped off the couch, picked him up, drawing sounds of amazement from the audience, and carried him to the turntable, where she placed him in a traditional store dummy pose and left him, walking off while whistling to herself. The lights went down and the sound of a power tool, a belt sander to be precise, was heard.

A few moments later, the lights came up on Rose lying on the couch, with the cute blonde's head buried in her crotch, while another man - skinny with long brown hair that didn't appear to have been brushed in recent years — slid in and out of the blonde's cunt. The three of them were obviously enjoying themselves. Rose rode out an orgasm, the man spasmed his load into the blonde, and the little blonde girl ended up on the floor, face covered in Roses' juices, oozing sperm onto the stage. As the three of them relaxed, the light went down on them, and slowly rose on the turntable.

The tattooed man was dressed in a pink tutu, a princess' tiara in his hair. His crotch was completely smooth, as if sanded down, no trace of his genitalia remaining, and there was a look of horror on his face. He was covered with cobwebs and dust.

A music box carousel tune began, and he danced to it as he turned in place, his dance beautiful, and the look on his face never changing from the expression of absolute terror. As the music and his dance slowed to a stop, the lights went down.

When they came up again on center stage, Rose, the blonde and the skinny man were taking their bows.

Dommi's voice came over the speakers.

"That was a scene by four of the members of Dominique's newest performing group, Psychosexual Circus! Let's give a big round of applause to Rose as the doll, Cammi as the hot blonde, Zarko as her partner and Butch as the doll owner!"

The three of them continued to take their bows and then walked over to the turntable, the lights following them, lifted Butch off, still rigid and posed, and carried him off the stage into the darkness.

The applause was thunderous.

As their props were removed from the stage, the four players sat down and visited with Chorale and her allies.

"Jesus Christ, that was fantastic," Carol said, hugging Rose, then the rest of the cast. "You and Butch do the greatest music box dancer mime I've ever seen!"

"We're all pretty damn good," Rose replied, hugging Zarko. "Every member of the group is trained in mime and that skill particularly. We used to perform as a troupe on the streets of the French Quarter in New Orleans ... made a lot of money in tips, with fourteen people all doing music box routines, sometimes in sync, sometimes not. But when the first reports said Katrina was on her way, and an evacuation was recommended, the Circus loaded up the bus and got the fuck out. The guy who owned the bus was chicken-shit that way, and for once we were all glad he was. Maybe we'll go back some day, but I doubt it. I'm enjoying being close to Mom and Dad."

"Butch, I got to ask," Eddie said. "The crotch?"

Butch laughed. "Hold on, I'll show you." He stood up and put fingers in the band of a pair of flesh-colored shorts that were almost invisible. Peeling them off, with no small amount of effort, he held them up. "Tool number two, heavy rubber shorts." He reached between his legs, and with a sound of ripping tape, pulled his cock from between his ass cheeks, his balls flopping freely as he did so. "Tool number one, getting taped down ... drag queens have been doing it for centuries, we figured it would make a vicious end to this skit."

Harry and Eddie's eyes were comically wide.

"I won't say the girls enjoy taping me up," Butch continued, "but there sure is a lot of giggling while it's done."

Eddie looked at Carol. "No, Short Stuff, just no. I don't give a goody gawddamn what scene you plan out for me — the answer to that question is 'NO'."

Tamara said, "But Master, what if we really, really needed you to?" She climbed up on the seat next to him and whispered something in his ear.

"Okay Short Stuff, the answer is a 'maybe', with many qualifications," Eddie replied, to the laughter of all.

At the table House Hurley was sharing with St. Paul and Franklin, there was a flurry of hands in motion as all three of Hurley's members communicated at lightning speed with each other.

Lourdes was, in mock jealousy, trying to fuck any memory of Galena out of Stefan's head while he softly conversed with David Wilcox.

"If I had to guess," David whispered, "I'd say from body language that Laurie has said or done something that Marcus just cannot believe, and Marcie is supporting her, in whatever it is."

"That's my read, too," Stefan responded quietly. "I can't tell if Marcus is pissed or just confused."

Lourdes pouted and made impatient sounds at Stefan.

"I'm sorry darling, you're trying to mark your territory and I'm not helping. I'll give you my full and undivided attention."

As Lourdes began fucking her Master again, David Wilcox pulled Andrew over and aimed him at his dick.

"Never a dull moment around here, is there boy?" he asked.

"No fir," Andrew replied, his mouth full of cock.

Eight women of Karghold Newton, naked save for their jewelry, and in the case of the submissives, their collars, began to dance to a tune that sounded Middle Eastern, but with much heavier percussion, in the large open space where the ring had been set up.

The women were snakes, their bodies undulating to the music like they were boneless, and it was clear to everyone watching that the ladies practiced often, and to incredibly sensual effect. They continued to dance, weaving in and out and around each other, brushing against each other, slithering around each other until most of the audience was convinced the ladies were seconds away from dropping to the floor and devolving into a tangle of lips and cunts, tongues and asses, mouths and breasts.

Then a sword flew out of the darkness, through the women and into the darkness on the other side. Then another, and another, flying from every direction as the men of Karghold Newton, naked as well, came out of the darkness and surrounded the dancers. Soon there were eight blades, all passing through the women as they danced.

The crowd was clearly impressed ... but apparently Vida Newton wasn't.

She held up her hands, stopping the dancers and jugglers as well, walked over to Thad and held out her hand, a disgusted look on her face.

Thad juggled both the blades he was holding, high in the air, caught them, then looked at his wife with a hopeful, questioning face.

She shook her head, and held out her hand more forcefully.

Thad hung his head dejectedly and handed over his swords. Around them, the rest of the men did the same.

Putting the swords underneath one arm, Vida Newton clapped her hands imperiously, and the men began to dance. The music was different, more Slavic or Russian in sound, and there was much stomping, jumping and swinging on each other's arms.

In the midst of that, the women started slinging the swords through the dancers appreciably faster than the men had, as well as adding more swords brought over by other members of the Hold. Soon there was no counting how many blades were in motion, and the men continued to dance, apparently unconcerned by the metal implements of destruction that seemed to surround them like buzzing bees.

After a time, Thad stopped, panting for breath, and weakly clapped his hands. The dancers stopped, the swords ceased flying as he and his apparently exhausted fellows almost slumped to the ground.

Vida and the other women shook their heads in disgust, dropped the swords and as their music began again, danced off into the darkness.

"That was the Lord and Lady of Karghold Newton, and their submissives dancing and juggling and giving us an example of the difference in endurance between men and women!"

The applause was loud and long.

"Holy shit, Thad, Vida ... I wanted you to show off the Karghold's women but day-um!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, don't be too fooled, Harry," Vida replied. "The guys are capable of much faster and much longer range sword tossing than they demonstrated. We just took your request to heart and came up with that demonstration. I hope it might have changed some minds about all Karg being the same."

Harry motioned to the seat by him. "I hope so too ... but you know, there's a performance I wish we could've gotten on stage tonight."

"What?" Thad replied.

"The two of you and Galena ... my gods and li'l fishies, if I'd been in any condition to, someone at this table would've gotten frenzy-fucked 'cause of y'all ... maybe even Eddie."

"Hey now," Eddie replied, "getting buggered once a night is enough."

Harry laughed and then looked at his leg and the brace with disgust.

"Because of this happy horseshit, it's going to be awhile before I can easily yield to impulses like that ... or if I do-"

"Then your family and I beat the shit out of you," Helen finished from her seat nearby, "carefully avoiding hurting your leg."

Thad and Vida laughed.

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, I'm going to have to let the ladies do all the work for quite some time, isn't that right, physical therapist?"

"Yeah, you're just lucky we don't mind, Harry," Helen replied, before going back to her conversation with Margo.

The Newton's eyebrows rose and Thad looked at Helen, then Harry questioningly.

"Yeah ... and don't ask, I don't understand it, I'm just grateful and shut the fuck up."

"Which proves you're wiser than you act most days," Kelly said, hugging and kissing Harry as she strolled by.

Gloria had worked her way around the periphery of the club, getting some hard looks from the tables in one corner where those she thought of as 'pretentious shits' were sitting. It was time to move in towards whomever the big group in black and scarlet were.

When she did so, her eyes widened in surprise. She'd seen several things she'd never imagined in the club that night, but the evening's latest revelation was nothing short of unthinkable.

The familiar strains of Felix Mendelssohn's "The Hebrides — Overture', better known as the Warner Brothers cartoons "Stalking the Mynah Bird" music, was playing. The lights came up on Patricia wearing her 'Cave Girl' costume, which meant hardly anything at all except a few scraps of leather, with her club over her shoulder. She slowly walked along the stage in time with the music; obviously stalking something by the way she kept looking at the stage. At one point she turned to one side of the stage, then the other, putting a finger over her mouth and going "SHHHH". The audience giggled and chuckled. As she reached the center stage, a second light came up on Karen, in her bright pink Dyke-a-saurus costume, without the dildo attached.

As the crowd roared with laughter, she too looked left and right, and shushed them.

Dyke-a-saurus slowly stalked after Cave Girl, who after reaching the end of the stage, hopped off and continued to track her prey. She circled through the area where the ring had been set up, only to hop back onto the stage.

It became clear to the audience that they were watching the age-old gag of a hunter stalking prey that was stalking the hunter. By the second time they made the circle, Dyke-a-saurus dropped out of the chase, running around to hide behind the seats on the far end of the stage. As Cave Girl neared the end of the stage again, Dyke-a-saurus leapt out, frightening her. When she turned to run, she managed to slip and knock herself out with her own club. Dyke-a-saurus hopped up on the stage, checked out the unconscious hunter, looked at the audience and gave an exaggerated shrug. Then she grabbed her victim's leg and pulled her out of the lights as they faded to black.

When they came back up, Cave Girl was lying unconscious on the stage as Dyke-a-saurus leaned into the light and prodded her still body with her nose. The great pink beast pulled away the scraps of leather that Cave Girl had worn, carefully nudging Cave Girl's legs apart.

Then with a ferocious growl and a lunge, the Dyke-a-saurus was on the stage, hunched over her helpless victim, the pink, sparkly dildo attached to its harness and waving in the air over Cave Girl's exposed cunt.

It bent down over its victim, nuzzled her face, then leaned down for a kiss. The light began to flicker and change color. In the light of the strobe, pieces of Karen's costume were taken off by willing hands off-stage. Finally all that was left was the corset, the harness, the dildo and her tail attached to a butt plug. There was a comedic moment as someone tried to pull the tail and Karen pulled back, eventually giving in and unhooking the tail from the plug. Someone came in and reached for the plug and Karen glared at them till the hand retreated back into the darkness.

Karen lifted Patricia and carried her to the center stage where the couch awaited them. She placed her 'unconscious' lover on the couch, and entered her.

"Does Karen have any idea how hot she looks in that corset?" Kelly asked, shooing Camille, Nicki and Candy away as she lowered herself onto her husband's erection. "I would go facedown and bound before that any day of the week."

"No, she really doesn't," Harry replied, holding her tightly. "I don't know if she'll ever believe it, no matter how many people tell her. Just the same, did you ever think you'd see her up on stage, dressed like that, with Patricia?"

"Ummm ... no." Kelly clung even tighter to Harry, whispering in his ear, "But then again, so many things have happened that I never thought I'd see ... what's one more?"

Once they left the stage, Patricia returned to her seat, wriggling with delight. As they had taken their individual bows, the applause had been hot and heavy for both of them. It pleased her that she was appreciated, but even more that Karen was. Karen's self image issues were a constant source of frustration to Patricia, and any validation was fuel for Patricia in their all-too-frequent 'discussions' on the issue.

As Karen sat down for a moment before getting out of her costume, Kelly hopped off of Harry and skipped over to Karen.

"Hey there, beautiful woman, can I please sit on your lap?" Kelly asked in a little girl voice, her eyes fixed on Karen. Kelly threw a leg over Karen's lap before the woman had time to answer and began lowering herself onto the dildo. "You look really sexy in that outfit," Kelly said in the same voice, eyes now locked on Karen's breasts. "You look yummy enough to eat!"

"Harry," Karen growled, "retrieve this woman or I'm going to give Carol an interesting impromptu next act."

"Sorry Sappho, I'm out of the action," Harry replied, patting his brace.

"Margo?" Karen asked, a little louder.

"She's in charge tonight — I can't stop her."

Kelly was sliding up and down on the dildo, her hands running up and down the sides of the corset, stopping just shy of caressing Karen's thighs and tits.

"Carol ... what am I doing, asking Carol?" Karen snarled.

Carol came up beside her.

"You really want her off your lap? Really?"

"I don't," Patricia laughed. "I like Kelly where she is ... of course, there are a few places closer to me I'd rather she be."

"YES," Karen bellowed.

"Really, really sure?" Carol asked.

"YES, really really REALLY sure!"

Carol's hand snaked up behind Kelly's head and grabbed a handful of hair. She jerked Kelly to a stop and murmured in her ear.

"Princess, don't even try to top me right now. Karen wants you off her lap.'

"Yes Mistress," Kelly replied, hanging her head as she got up off Karen's lap. "I'm sorry Mistress Karen. If it's any consolation, I'm sure I will be punished at some point tonight."

"Yes you will ... when we get home ... or after the party tomorrow, as I imagine we're going to be very tired tonight," Carol said. "Now then, go sit down and be the Queen again ... and don't make me do this again this evening or I will make your life a living hell later."

"Yes Mistress."

As Kelly walked back to her seat, Karen said, "There are days I wish I understood you people ... and then there are the days I'm glad I don't."

Patricia stuck her tongue out at her lover. "Spoilsport!"

"Do not even get me started on what a little freak you are, Trish ... do not even get me started."

While the next act was setting up, Harry lounged at the table. He had Nicki on his left, still cuddled close, Camille on his right, tonguing his nipple, and Candy between his legs languidly sucking the Kelly off his cock.

If he didn't feel like he'd been hit by a truck, it would have been a perfect position to be in.

He was talking with Eddie, teasing him about how it turned every woman at the table on when he was getting his first anal, when someone caught his eye, moving through the crowd towards their table with purpose.

She was five-eight, five-nine, short blonde hair almost to her shoulders, wearing a scarlet strapless leather mini-dress with a hood-and-eye front, and breath-taking thigh high boots of the same color. He couldn't see her face, as it was covered by a gold and red Carnival masque but he could certainly see plenty of her body. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say mid-thirties, with a little more padding that was fashionable, and a healthy serving of tits and ass, stretching the leather dress delightfully. She was either wearing no underwear, or a thong that had gotten extremely friendly with her.

Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, and he cursed the luck that had Stan Carter picking that night to mess with him. Otherwise, he'd found who he was going to play Kelly with and from the smirk on her lips as she circled the table, eyes still on him, he didn't think he'd have to work all that hard. He'd lay even money that he would have had her up on the table, clothes scattered to the four winds, in almost no time at all.

She came to a stop next to him, still with the smirk that was starting to make him crazy. He wanted her — in almost every way that word could be used.

"Well," Harry said, "if you've come to join our party you're already in the right colors."

She leaned in and ran her hand across his bare chest. Harry's hands reached for her, but he only managed to get one on her ass before she whispered in his ear, "I'm a wicked, thieving little fuckslut and I deserve lots of punishment."

Then she laughed spun away from him and ran off into the chaos of the club.

"What the hell was that all about?" Carol asked, raising her head from Kelly's cunt. "Y'all had some crazy chemistry going on."

"I didn't say you could stop, Slut," Kelly snapped, pushing her head back down. "But I have to agree with her, Prick. You two had some sparks going ... understandable on your part for certain - I'd fuck that like it was my Christmas present."

"Me too, Mistress," Harry answered. "In fact, if I wasn't so banged up, I'd be trying my best to pull a 'you' on her."

Kelly sighed. "I'm sorry, my love. I was really wanting to see you be me tonight..."

"There'll be other nights," Harry replied, "and somehow, I'm sure we'll see her again."

Insecurity gripped Margo again ... what if Harry ... and if Kelly and Carol felt the same ... what if? She pushed back her fears — for the moment — and smiled.