Chapter 9: A Day At the Circus
PROLOGUE
Amanda stared forward at the party for her sister Aurora’s new fashion line. Sibling rivalry ran deep in the Night family, particularly lately. Amanda, of course, considered herself the star of the show. After all, she was most conventionally stunning and the most interesting, but her sisters smelled blood in the water after her numerous social and legal mistakes. They were all looking for ways to spin out their success out of Amanda’s misfortune. Aurora’s new line of athletic wear for young mothers was opening tonight. Despite Amanda’s desire to be anywhere else, she was trapped at the event, having to perform publicly for the big investors.
She must not have been doing a good enough job because before long, Aurora, holding her new baby, walked by her and whisper-hissed in a way that resembled their mother.
“Try to look a little interested, Amanda. God knows I’ve done enough for you over the years.” Amanda looked to see if the cameras had picked any of that up, but having lived their recent lives in the spotlight, Aurora and Amanda knew precisely when and where to speak up to avoid the microphones.
Amanda made an annoyed face. She had just experienced her first brush with the law days prior, and she wanted to avoid the paparazzi and the glances of the high society snobs where she was always treated like an interloper. Instead, the young celebrity had to sit here and put on a happy smile, a pretend act for an older sister’s ugly clothing line built primarily on her back. She continued the act briefly before leaving the room for a quick smoke and maybe a bump.
It was there that Amanda met Kyle. In a room full of rich assholes, Kyle worked for the catering company and was also enjoying a smoke outside. The two shared a glance, and Kyle spoke quickly and nonchalantly.
“Hey, I know you…”
Amanda’s smile disappeared for a second as she responded with a cold reply.
“I didn’t think the help was supposed to fraternize,” Amanda said, taking a drag off her cigarette.
“Oh, you’re a big shot? I thought you worked with me on a catering job last year…” Kyle said with a sly smile. Obviously, the elegant fashion of the young woman before him was not anything like the catering outfit. He knew exactly who she was.
“Cute…” Amanda said, her smile returning.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying to converse with the only interesting person here. By the way, your sister’s a bitch.”
These were the exact words that Amanda needed to hear in the moment. She turned to the handsome young server.
“Do you want to have some real fun?”
The rest of the night was a whirlwind. The two escaped the party and had a night all to themselves. After being stuck with phonies and slimeballs for most of her young adulthood, Amanda was so struck and so instantly enamored with the young man who just seemed so effortlessly cool and collected though he had no money.
It was a magical evening. Amanda already had her share of partners, and some of those encounters were publicly shared. But she never truly believed in love at first sight. Her experience with men was transactional and manufactured like everything else in her life. Sometimes, there was lust, sure, but she had never really connected with a man the way she did with Kyle. She wondered if there was such a thing as love at first sight.
After the evening, the young server found his way into her heart and her phone. The following day, she felt a joy she had not felt for years, if ever. When she walked downstairs in a robe, her sleep mask over her head, she saw her mother's disapproving look below.
“Amanda…” the hostile greeting hit her ears, but she was in too good a mood to let her mother’s usual machinations bother her. Even when she saw the buff, smiling figure of Kamille Devine sitting alongside her mother, which was never a good sign.
“Good morning, Mother,” Amanda returned the greeting with much more cheer in her own voice. Until she turned to Kamille, “Good morning, Ditzy,” she said with disdain. When Amanda really wanted to get under Kamille’s skin, the former used the name of the latter's childhood sitcom character. She could see Kamille’s impressive muscles tense in anger as Kamille returned a brief nod and discourteous reply.
"Good morning, Whore."
Missy started the conversation with her daughter without any matronly warmth but in her best manager voice, her manipulative voice oozing out with power and control. “Rather rude of you to rush out of Aurora’s event. She was inconsolable. When she should’ve been bathing in her success, she was forced again to answer questions about her inconsiderate little sister, who decided partying was more important than family. Again.”
“I thought my partying paid the bills,” Amanda observed, and she poured herself a glass of orange juice.
“Well, lucky that Kamille here figured out where you were. And with who? A waiter? Really?”
Those pointed questions stung. Amanda really liked Kyle, and her mother’s dismissive tone hit her already hardened heart that she wasn’t sure could be hurt anymore.
“I talked a bit over with the network executives. They thought a Romeo and Juliet-type story could get good ratings, but I disagree. Instead, I’ve got a new boyfriend for you lined up for the next season. I’m sure you’ve heard of Kuntah Kash? The young rapper with that shoe line? That’s got cross-promotion all over it instead of bringing us what….more crab puffs?”
“Mommy, this isn’t about business…” Amanda said, but her heart sank at the direction this was taking.
“Honey, everything in this town is business. If you don’t believe me, ask your new boyfriend. He was happy to accept a little pay-off to leave you alone. It will get him out of sharing a two-bedroom apartment with three other people.”
Amanda was briefly shaken. It took a lot to get past her cynical nature, but this did. “ N-no..that can’t be right. Kyle’s so genuine. He’s real…”
“Oh, is that right? Kamille, why don’t you tell Amanda what dear Kyle requested during your negotiations?”
The sociopathic fixer smiled a toothy grin, all too happy to contribute to breaking the heart of any Night, especially Amanda.
“He asked for a recurring role on the show. He felt it could help his acting career.”
And with that, Amanda knew she was telling the truth. She turned away from them, trying not to put on a show of emotion for their benefit.
Instead, she just grabbed her orange juice, returned to her extravagant bedroom, put herself back to bed, and sobbed her eyes out as she was once again forced to confront the ridiculous and absurd nature of her life.
END PROLOGUE
Elise enjoyed her morning sauna after beginning her day. She took her tea there today. Elise considered this daily ritual to be soothing and help her maintain her youth and energy while she aged. As a result, she kept fighting off the horrors of starting her decline to obsolescence. A battle that had seen some enemy wins recently.
Elise’s morning routine consisted of yoga, exercise, a healthy breakfast, and a cold plunge, and now, this sauna is used to warm up and stretch. Her doctors recommended that she only stay in the heat for minutes, but Elise ignored them as usual. The proud woman liked to spend as much time as possible in the high temperature, which made her feel young again. While the rocks hissed as she poured water on them, Elise felt the dry heat intensify. She stretched and worked out her muscles and joints, enjoying the freedom.
Her companion did not feel the same serene relaxation, nor did she enjoy the heat. It was hard under the circumstances.
Instead, Amanda Night’s experience was much more intolerable. The former reality star, now missing for quite some time, had just experienced her own version of exercise, a forced routine that helped her maintain a trim and beautiful physique worthy of her status. She had also experienced her own version of a cold plunge, though that was involuntary, as well as her bound body was forced into the icy bath. While those experiences were awful, her focus was now entirely on the heat she was experiencing.
This sauna experience was made worse by her attire, which comprised heavy leather and rubber. First was the leather corset, which continued to work on reshaping her already exquisite figure. Already, there had been some improvement in that regard. Over the top of that was a heavy rubber inflatable straightjacket that had kept Amanda’s arms hidden. It was impossible to tell, but that outer straightjacket was designed to fit over a much tighter, constraining rubber straight jacket that was underneath and fit her like a leotard with a strap pressed tightly into her crotch.
Rubber thigh-high “socks” or stockings climbed up Amanda’s defined but short legs. They compressed against her skin. Metal inserts in the foot forced her feet into a point that resembled the highest of high heels. Strangely, each “sock” had an opening for her big toes. The toes were cuffed together with toe cuffs and secured to an “O” ring screwed into the floor of the sauna to keep Amanda’s sweltering, sweaty body sitting. Elise had shown some rare pity on her captive by allowing her out of a discipline hood, a fate that Amanda had not yet become accustomed to if she ever would. Instead, Amanda’s face was stuffed with a red ball jammed into her mouth, and behind it was a transparent face harness buckled at numerous spots around her head. Her brown hair was in two twin braids. Really, Elise had kept Amanda’s face out, not out of compassion but because she enjoyed seeing the sweat pouring down the uncomfortable woman’s face and the reddening of her overheated body. Elise had even made Amanda up after the cold plunge, so makeup., including mascara, ran down her face to make her predicament even more apparent.
After another ten minutes, Elise patted Amanda on the head, feeling the deep and slimy sweat from her perspiring plaything.
“Oh dear, you’re a mess. I don’t know about you, darling, but I am getting absolutely roasted. It’s positively TOASTY in here.”
“Yggghss….pllggss….” begged the dehydrated and dripping former reality star, believing this was the cue that they were going to cease this humiliating ordeal.
“Yes, I think I’ll go in and enjoy a nice, long, leisurely bath. I take it you’ll be OK for a little while longer?”
“No…no….she can’t leave me like this,” Amanda thought with panic. “NGGGHHHHH!” Amanda protested, but as always, they fell on deaf ears. Elise simply exited the sauna, padlocking it behind her. She couldn’t be too safe after all. And she went to enjoy her bath without worrying about any heat or sluts escaping.
Elise returned, cleaned, and self-pampered to find a passed-out Amanda. Finding her captive somehow breathing, Elise began to attend to her prisoner’s needs.
After quite some time, Elise cleaned Amanda (inside and out) in a way that did not resemble Elise’s luxury self-treatment or the life she used to live. Instead, she was subjected to, as she had many times before, the horrible invasions of enemas and sprayed with hose water like she was an animal before Elise set about making her ‘presentable’ through some humiliating grooming that Amanda was at best, semi-conscious for.
Since the cancellation of Search for Love, Elise has had time. Much too much time for Amanda’s comfort. While the periods of intense isolation were unpleasant, to say the least, Elise’s personal torments made these periods of rest more infrequent. Sadly, a small part of Amanda was grateful for this as she remembered what happened to Elise’s toys that outlived her curiosity and interest. Amanda was ashamed to say that there were plenty of times that she forgot about the brutally mummified woman that existed next to her. Amanda was never ‘conscious’ when Elise attended to Kimberly’s needs, and Amanda secretly hoped that Kimberly was gone. Or maybe not, since Amanda desperately wanted to avoid taking her place.
But the first few weeks after Elise was told she was officially unemployed awakened cruelty and depravity in the jailer that Amanda did not believe a human was capable of. And she was the daughter of Missy Knight.
And uncharacteristically, Elise had not yet begun to lose interest in Amanda. In fact, the cancellation of her beloved show awakened even more sadism in her. The first few nights afterward were full of extreme pain for Amanda, who exemplified the vapid loss of culture that Elise blamed for the demise of the soap opera. But Elise also enjoyed adding such a famous trophy to her collection and was in no hurry to trade upwards.
Amanda had noticed, though, that whatever passed for sanity was starting to shatter in Elise. It seemed that whatever kept Elise together had been splintered by the passing of time and the end of her era. The parts of Elise hidden behind her cultivated image started to overwhelm her as she lost both her performing outlets as a working actress and her more convincing portrayal of a sane, nonpsychotic human being.
Today, Elise’s attention had already humiliated Amanda. After her forced grooming, Amanda was dressed in what could only be described as a parody outfit for the day's activities.
Amanda knew she was in trouble when Elise started to speak as her brain stumbled out of its grogginess following her morning makeover. Elise spoke again of Amanda and her sisters and their perversion of art and entertainment, a one-sided discussion that never ended anywhere good for the ex-reality star. She knew this would be no exception.
“Amanda, I have decided I have misjudged you and your ilk. Here I was, believing I was a superior performer simply because I had training, talent, and experience. But that is where I resemble Icarus…I overestimated the base instincts of the audience. They do not want to be challenged. They want to point and laugh. They wish to mock and deride. They want to feel superior. Feeling superior to a classically trained actress like Elise Konrad is impossible for them. But Amanda Night? Very easy.”
Amanda stifled her anger. Despite the horrors of the past few days, Elise was pleasantly surprised that Amanda was remarkably tough for such a spoiled brat. No doubt her time being shaped by the moral wretchedness of her siblings and family helped create an ego and outer shell that even Elise’s torments couldn’t yet pierce. Elise, admittedly, helped to foster it. There was little fun in working over an unresponsive husk. By that time, she was usually already mentally preparing to move on and get one last emotional response before sealing her captives away forever. As such, she tried to allow Amanda enough time to heal her body and mind before restarting her torments, trying to create resilience and elasticity in her personality. As a result, Amanda’s body looked even better than ever as she managed to keep her curves while developing more muscle from the grueling workouts she was forced to endure. The trendiest LA yoga studios had nothing on the stretching Amanda was forced to endure, along with the intense cardio.
Elise continued her monologue. “Yes, Amanda. I have now discovered precisely what you and your family are. You’re the most basic of entertainers, the most accessible, and the most universal. You’re a clown, Amanda. You’re all clowns.”
Amanda, since awakening, had discovered she was trapped, once again tied to a chair with something unpleasant in her mouth. The ropes held her legs spread, a crotch rope bisected her pussy and her ass, and her hands were tied to the chair’s arms. It was relatively basic; therefore, she knew it had to be temporary. The only thing she knew might be to stay was the phallus gag ticking the back of her throat attached to a large ball that spread her jaw wide. This was sadistic enough to remain; the rest was too easy for Elise now. Still, Elise needed her prisoner restrained, and with this accomplished, she slowly spun Amanda around to look into a full-length mirror so the vain young woman could see herself.
Fucking shit…she’s lost what’s left of her fucking mind…Amanda thought as she gurgled around the hated gag, which she now saw pushed inside her wide-open mouth and resembling a colossal cherry red ball gag, the phallus hidden behind. There was a hole in the middle of the gag. She was tied with multi-colored rainbow rope. But what caught her attention more than the restraints was how Elise expressed her latest epiphany about Amanda’s status: a confused mixture of “fetish” sexy, drag queen, and circuslike.
“Amanda, meet Bimbo the Clown. I am sure it must feel comfortable for you to finally adorn yourself in your true colors. For what is a clown but someone that degrades themselves time and time again for an audience’s amusement? While artists create art, you distract them with frivolity. And now you truly look the part. A very sad clown indeed.”
Amanda first looked at her face. She did not know how long she was floating in and out of unconsciousness during her cleaning and ‘makeover.’ However, she knew the intricate makeup (or face painting) must have taken quite some time as she was forced to gaze at every component of the humiliating “mask” she now wore over her face.
“I don’t think this is too unusual for you. Despite your young age, you were always on camera. Always slathered in whorish makeup to accent yourself and bring the boys to you like a honeytrap. Again, I’ve just revealed the real you.”
The words stung, but Amanda was more focused on the visual humiliation of what Elise had foisted upon her suddenly and without warning.
The beautiful face of Amanda Night was hidden under a heavy foundation, a thick, stark white that left her face pale and unrecognizable, like grease paint mixed with some glitter. But Elise had not stopped obliterating her distinctive features like her eyebrows and tan; she had gone much further. Her eyes were comically ringed to an absurd level with dark black kohl and mascara like a raccoon. Surrounding those black rings was turquoise eyeshadow that overpowered even the black and two brown arched, high, redrawn eyebrows that gave her a look of perpetual surprise. Elise had glued on a pair of false eyelashes so long and thick they brushed against Amanda's brows with every blink. A neon pink harlequin’s triangle completes her eye makeup. From the inner corners of those created eyes, Elise had drawn two glittery blue streaks curving down her cheeks, resembling tracks of fallen tears. Elise was particularly proud of this. The paths glistened wetly, taunting Amanda and reminding them they both realized Amanda was sorrowful inside despite her life’s constant performance as the blissful idiot, like the joke about Pagliacci.
Amanda’s colorless white cheeks were enhanced with a glittery purple/pink blush that resembled a porcelain doll. On one of those cheeks was a garish rhinestone meant to resemble a beauty mark. Her nose was the same purple/pink color as the artificial color on her cheeks, a twisted version of a clown’s trademark ruby nose. Two tacky, heavy earrings dangled from her pierced lobes, each containing the word “Ha!” in golden letters. And then there was her mouth. The centerpiece of every clown.
Amanda's mouth was completely covered and distorted by the massive red ball gag, turning her lips into an exaggerated, comical pout. The bright cherry red of the gag clashed garishly against the stark white of her face paint. Drool was already beginning to seep around the edges and drip down her chin, but she had not yet smeared the grease paint. Elise had done her best to ensure that would not happen for several hours.
But even the ball gag did not satisfy Elise. She had taken a tube of dark crimson lipstick and created an oversized, cartoonish grin extending from the corners of the gag and covering most of Amanda’s lower face, extending nearly to her captive’s ears. The effect was grotesque and unsettling, a nightmarish parody of a smile. Combined with the blue tear tracks, it looked like something out of a horror movie or Batman comic.
Amanda's naturally dark brown hair had been styled into two long French braids adorned with brightly colored extensions - neon pink, electric blue, and acid green. The braids hung past her shoulders, swinging with every movement of her head. She could feel the heaviness of the extra hair on her scalp.
Amanda’s curvy, famous body, including those breasts and her plump ass, was also used against her and transformed through clothing. She had been thrust into an electric blue and neon pink leotard that looked like something a demented aerobics instructor would wear and seemed a size or two too small even for her frame, as it barely covered her breasts and ass. The sleeveless leotard had white ruffled trim around the holes for her legs and arms. The look was further accented with purple fishnet stockings that shaped and highlighted her legs. Instead of the traditional oversized clown shoes, her feet were jammed into read patent leather thigh-high boots with an impossible stiletto heel, forcing her toes into a point, making them a more vibrant version of ballet boots. She also wore opera leather gloves, but these were versions of the fingerless mittens she wore before laced tight around her hands, making them clubs that were of little use to her. White ruffled thigh-thigh socks and two frilly mismatched pink and purple garter belts peeked over them. Her leotard was crotchless and also allowed access to her anus, her pussy lips crudely accented and exaggerated with a flesh color to make them seem even more prominent. This was obviously an ominous sign for her future.
Amanda had been on her share of fashion shoots wearing things she felt were ridiculous. But she never felt like they were meant to demean her. Or at least not in a way she understood. But this was meant to do just that. To destroy her spirit and reveal what Elise felt about her life and career. Secretly, it also reflected what Amanda thought, though she did her best to bury those notions deep inside her uncomplicated mind.
Amanda looked absurd, like a deranged drag queen crossed with a children's party entertainer. All traces of the glamorous, sexy starlet were brutally suppressed by the humiliating ensemble and replaced by its grotesque parody. She was especially bothered by the glittery blue tear tracks running down her face in a perversion of her inner feelings.
Before she could contemplate it much further, Elise roughly grabbed Amanda's chin and held it tightly, forcing the trembling, transformed younger woman to meet her cold gaze. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for the privacy and relative comfort of your isolation drawer. Maybe even the discipline helmet. But we have a ways to go before you earn that privilege again, don't we, my little harlequin?”
“But what good is a clown without a show? Sadly, I can’t have a missing, famous clown walking around in public for obvious reasons, so it will have to be a private show. No more slack-jawed idiots gawking at the television. No, this show will be for an audience of one, I’m sure you understand.”
Elise walked off and returned with a worrying circular stand or platform that she managed to move with some effort. It was connected to a series of electrical motors. Elise tested the simple device before attaching Amanda to it. To Amanda’s shock and horror, it was a turntable. Elise then walked over and fiddled with the lights. Darkness filled the room except for two spotlights focused directly on the rotating platform.
Elise was pleased as she momentarily turned on the lights again. “Perfect. The house lights are ready for your big act, you circus freak. However, I have no desire to wrestle with you to get you precariously perched. So, why don’t you nap and rest until your big performance?”
Amanda froze and then started to thrash. Despite her recreational habits, she hated being knocked out or otherwise sedated, especially when she knew it would result in her waking up in some horrific predicament that she never could have imagined.
“Nggghhhhgghff! Ghhtt thgggh fcckkk awggyy frggmm mghh!” Amanda shouted into the phallus, fighting off her gag reflex as her attempts to use her tongue to enunciate only exacerbated the feeling of fullness down her throat.
Elise didn’t care, as she replied with mock horror. “Such language. And at such clean family entertainment.” Elise walked over and grabbed the syringe, much like she did when Amanda first involuntarily joined her company. And much like that first time, the needle found its way directly into Amanda’s plump ass and resulted in a snoring, unconscious reality television star.
With great effort, Elise started to untie the rainbow ropes holding Amanda to the chair to transfer her captive to the platform. She would need to restrain Amanda so tight that she couldn’t move or find her way off the platform despite her best efforts or even involuntarily through sheer terror. Not only because she didn’t want Amanda to fall and possibly injure herself. Obviously, Elise’s empathy levels were far too low. But because it would spoil the fun.
Elise administered the smelling salts precisely when she felt like Amanda was thoroughly bound, and she hissed out, "It's showtime, Amanda."
When Amanda finally stirred, and her eyes started to flutter open, she found that Elise had met her twin goals of fitting Amanda on the platform and completely restraining her. What had been done was groundbreaking work on the concept of a hogtie.
Amanda could only long for being tied to the chair as she was now instead contorted into a strict hogtie on the rotating platform. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, hands meeting opposite elbows in a painful reverse prayer position. Elise had used copious amounts of the rainbow rope to cinch her arms together from wrists to shoulders, rendering them entirely immobile.
Those garishly colored ropes continued down her torso, framing Amanda’s huge breasts obscenely and pinning her shoulders back to thrust out her chest into the platform. They ornately snaked around her waist and hips before traveling down to bind her legs. Her knees and ankles were lashed together brutally tight, forcing her legs to fold up behind her. Even her red boots were tied together with rope pulled tight into their heels.
The most challenging portion of this terrible position was the rope connecting her bound ankles to the ropes at her neck, completing the hogtie and arching her back into a painful bow. She was folded up like a pretzel, every inch of her body restrained and vulnerable. The only part of her that was free were those heavy and comical hair extensions, the twin braids nearly hitting the floor and accompanied by heavy bells that pulled her hair and jangled like a jester if she tried to move her head.
To keep her secure on the small platform, Elise tied Amanda down at multiple points. Ropes anchored her folded legs, torso, and neck to metal rings bolted into the wood, allowing almost no wiggle room. She was utterly trapped, the platform and her becoming one.
“Well, Amanda. You always did want to be the center of attention. And now you are that, quite literally. The only problem is that my attention is mine, and I am a patron with very discerning taste.” Elise smiled, leering at the well-bound form before her, watching as the humiliated girl tried to move a single finger or toe to no avail. All that writhing and squirming resulted in was a few moans escaping past the phallus gag still perched inside her mouth or Amanda’s beautiful, wide eyes trying to take in her predicament.
“The way this works is simple. Well, it's not so much simple as it is unnecessarily complicated. But that’s the way I like it sometimes. You will sit here under this spotlight while appropriate music plays, and this platform rotates you for my amusement. As you can see, the platform moves from one minute to 20 seconds. It is set to turn unremittingly but in random directions and speeds. Why is this important? Let me get you hooked up, and I’ll explain.”
“I’m sure you can already feel the fullness in your crotch. As well as an unpleasant feeling in your bladder. I had to get that all hooked before lashing you to the platform. But I figured that you could at least experience this.”
Elise placed on rubber gloves, snapping them around her hands threateningly. Then she coated her fingers in cold lube as Amanda felt the fingers enter her own suddenly well-lubed back hole. As Elise stretched it a bit, she felt the most oversized plug she had yet to experience push past her sphincter to the point where she thought it was moving right through her.
“F-fuck…w-what the hell….innnnnnnnggGGGGGGGGGGhhh!” Amanda thought as she screamed into the gag; she felt the cold metal enter her, exceeding the fullness inside of her.
“Oh yes, you probably realized now that I accidentally used the small plug on your front, leaving this full plug to fit in your rear. I saw those sex tapes…let’s just say you have a new record for either front or back, my dear. Think of it as my tribute to the proverbial clown car. How did they all fit? Well, now you know.” The anal intrusion was sealed with a humiliating slap to Amanda’s leotard-clad bottom. Elise then attached tubes to each of Amanda’s intrusions. One in her bottom, one in her mouth, and one in her stretched cunnie. Try as she might, Amanda’s clown-like face and darting eyes could not see what was happening.”
“The basic act is this. I call it ‘juggling’. If a rotation completes a turn clockwise, you’ll get a shock to your ass. If it completes a turn counter-clockwise, it will shock your little cunt. Each time you rotate entirely, the device's intensity will increase and decrease the power on the opposing hole. But what direction it goes will seem entirely randomized to you. Sometimes, you’ll go five times in one direction. Maybe sometimes you won’t even complete a rotation at all. But I guarantee you’ll be biting down hard on that gag and filling this room once you complete one…”
“Now, you’ll probably be wondering what the punchline is? Well, let’s tell you about your grand finale. Perched above your platform is a bucket. You’ve seen that trick where a clown throws the contents of an empty bucket towards somebody? Well, let me assure you this particular bucket is anything but empty, not that you have the ability to flinch. I’ve been collecting and storing it for quite some time, and trust me, you will not want it poured on that head of yours. But if you rotate ten times in a row clockwise, a little of its contents will pour down on you. And if you go ten times in a row counter-clockwise? It has to at least be a matching humiliation, right? Well, that’s where my variation of the squirting flower or seltzer bottle comes in, along with your fat little ass.”
“You see, above you…it is so cute how you strain to see…along with the “bucket” is an enema bag filled with oil, solution, and, let’s just say, other unpleasantries. You go around ten times widdershins, and a little will be released inside your plugged-up little ass. That’s a 5-gallon bucket above and a 3-gallon bag. Let’s just say this game can go on for quite a while. And it will. Which brings me to the grandest of grand finales. And that’s where your other two holes, also filled up with its own plastic cock, come into play. When you hit 2000 total spins, you will take your final bow. Would you like to hear what that will be, or do you want it to be a surprise?”
“You see, ironically, you’ll probably be begging for release at that point. And a release you will get. Not only will the remainder of the bucket and enema rain down, but that catheter in your urethra and that plug up your ass….where do you think they both empty?”
As Amanda contemplated that fact and her eyes widened, Elise punctuated it by squeezing a loud clown’s horn.
“You got the joke! You’re not as slow on the uptake as you think. I call this brilliant act “Ouroboros.” It could easily be mistaken for mere potty humor, but I think it is a grand statement about the garbage our society consumes and the garbage our society excretes. Grand comedy and the perfect finale to the clown show, don’t you think?”
“NNGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHff!” Amanda screamed as this was delivered as a taunt and a horrifying threat for many reasons. Amanda knew that 2000 rotations would take a dozen or more hours, even at the fastest speed, if not a day. And secondly, Amanda was reacting to the horror. As clean as Elise routinely left her, Amanda was in no danger of imbibing anything too disgusting, but the fact that it would filter through her body nonetheless was thought maybe worse than death.
“HHHHHHhhhhhnnggGGHHHHHh……” Amanda thrashed, but Elise was done with the explanation. She turned on the speakers in the soundproofed basement, and soon, the familiar strains of “Entry of the Gladiators” filled the room.
“Well, it is time for me to get some refreshments and enjoy the show….Elise said with a smile. She turned on the motor, which in reality was not random at all, but on an elaborate script that Elise had planned for ultimate mindfuckery. As Amanda started to slowly rotate, Elise walked over, turned off the lights, and sat down to enjoy a glass of wine, freshly made popcorn, and a delectable selection of snacks. Elise’s form wasn’t even visible as Amanda started to slowly turn at the slowest speed to allow Amanda time to reflect on how helpless she really was.
“Well, it is time for me to get some refreshments and enjoy the show….Elise said with a smile. She turned on the motor, which in reality was not random at all, but on an elaborate script that Elise had planned for ultimate mindfuckery. As Amanda started to slowly rotate, Elise walked over, turned off the lights, and sat down to enjoy a glass of wine, freshly made popcorn, and a delectable selection of snacks.
The former soap opera star’s form wasn’t even visible, with the spotlight putting everything on the reality star—a fitting metaphor for the flavor of the day—as Amanda and the platform turned slowly, prolonging the tortures to come. This turtle's pace allowed Amanda time to reflect on her helplessness.
And helpless she was because soon Amanda was in agony, both physical and mental, as the platform ramped up its torturous rotations. The ropes bit into her, holding her captive in the unyieldingly strict hogtie. The carnival music blared throughout the room, overwhelming her ears. Her artificially enhanced hair jangled with the bells and weights like a demented jester's hat.
Amanda tried to keep track of which direction she was spinning, dreading the impending electric shocks to her most sensitive areas.
But it was impossible. The changes in speed and direction were too erratic, too unpredictable. One moment, she would be crawling along at a seemingly agonizing pace, the next whipping around dizzyingly fast. And always, always, the threat of further sadistic punishments hung over her.
The first shock came without warning, a jolt of electricity straight to her plugged asshole that made her whole body seize up against the ropes. "MMMMPPHHH!" The ball gag stifled her intense scream as drool poured down her chin, smearing her clownish lipstick. Tears welled in her eyes, making the glittery tracks on her cheeks run.
No sooner had that pain subsided than another shock hit, this time to her vulnerable front hole. Back and forth, the intensity ratcheted up with each completed rotation in either direction. Amanda soon lost all sense of time; her world narrowed down to the garish spotlight, the demented circus music, and the all-consuming agony between her legs.
Her body instinctively tried to flinch away, but the ropes held her fast, forcing her to endure the shocking sensations over and over. It did not take too long for tears to leak from her eyes, smearing the clown makeup and mixing with the glittery blue tracks painted on her cheeks.
The platform again changed direction and sped up slightly, this time sending a current straight to her stuffed pussy. Amanda screamed, the sound muted by the giant ball gag and drowned out by the music. Her hips bucked uselessly against the bonds, trying in vain to escape the cruel electric pulses violating her most sensitive areas.
She had no idea how many spins she'd endured in either direction; she couldn't even begin to guess. All she knew was that everything hurt, and she was utterly helpless to stop it. Elise had scheduled no additional punishment for the first ninety minutes. She enjoyed a full feature-length agonizing anticipation for her captive before Amanda finally experienced the first ten consecutive spins in a single direction.
Sweat soaked through Amanda's absurd leotard as she was forced to perform like a demented ballerina in a music box, caught in a constant dizzying spectacle. The spotlights made her glisten as her prone form twirled. Muffled sobs mixed with broken moans as the relentless shocks wracked her restrained form, contorting her into a pathetic puddle. Her made-up face was a mess of smeared paint, drool, and tears - a perfect picture of a broken clown doll.
Just as Amanda felt she could endure no more, she rotated for the tenth time counter-clockwise. She braced herself for another shock, but instead of that cruel anticipation, she involuntarily received a small gush of warm liquid flood her plugged rectum; just a little bit for now, but even so, she could feel the oily concoction churning inside her. It was humiliating and violating; the sensation flowing into her felt foreign and sinful. As this occurred, a humiliating laugh track filled the air as if Amanda were performing live in front of a studio audience.
30 minutes later, Amanda's spinning body aligned perfectly beneath the suspended bucket, completing ten consecutive clockwise turns.
Suddenly, she felt something wet splatter onto her back, cold and slimy. The platform had hit ten rotations clockwise. Amanda wailed in misery as more of the mystery substance dribbled onto her, eventually matting her colorful braids. The mystery liquid appeared to be semen. Likely, it was a concoction or simulation created by Elise mixed in with some real that she had somehow commandeered, but authentic or not, it certainly looked that way as Amanda could not avoid the humiliating spatter and the bukkake-like effects. Again, a mixture of canned laughter and Elise’s genuine laughter pierced the air.
Amanda's torment continued for what felt like an eternity, the shocks and degrading punishments blurring together into a haze of suffering. Her muscles and tendons ached from the prolonged bondage. The clown makeup was now a ghastly abstract painting of smeared colors, her false eyelashes clumped with tears.
The enema solution continued to be pumped into her at irregular intervals. Eventually, she could start to feel and resent its presence, feeling it bloating her stomach grotesquely against the tight leotard. It gurgled and sloshed sickeningly inside her with every spin, intensifying her cramps. Amanda knew she would eventually pray it would all leak out around the massive plug, but Elise would have carefully ensured it was tightly sealed. She already knew there would be no relief until Elise willed it.
Intermittently, more of the disgusting mystery fluid splattered onto her, coating her hair and outfit. It reeked, though she couldn't identify the smell. All she knew was that it made her gag, which only caused her to choke around the intruding ball gag. Thick strands of drool poured down her chin, further ruining her clownish lipstick.
The gag did its job of muffling its wearer into incomprehensible gurgles, a soundtrack only punctuated by the music and punctuated by the mocking laugh track that blared every time she was subjected to a new humiliation. The heavy spotlights beat down mercilessly, making her dizzy and disoriented.
Time lost all meaning as Amanda spun like a floundering human centrifuge. Minutes blurred into hours, marked only by the changing tempo of the demented circus music and the rhythm of her torments. She was delirious with pain and humiliation, barely cognizant of her surroundings beyond the spotlights' glare and the cruel laughter. In her delirium, she imagined the leering faces of the audience taunting her, jeering at her debasement, eager to see the infamous Amanda Night humbled just like they had cheered when she was on her way to jail.
The bucket above continued to rain its disgusting payload each time she spun clockwise ten times in a row. The thick, slimy fluid coated her back, matted her braids, covered her face, and dribbled revoltingly down her neck to soak the top of her leotard. The stench of semen clogged her nostrils, making her gag and retch uselessly around the ball gag. Globs of the repulsive substance ran down her front, mixing obscenely with the streams of drool, sweat, and tears. Only a few quarts had spilled on her so far, and if what Elise told her was true, there was far more available in the bucket to be judiciously applied to her squirming form.
After about three hours of the repetitive process, Amanda was still several hours from the two thousand spin limit, and Elise had grown bored and retreated upstairs. She would make it back for Amanda’s curtain call. Elise wondered how Amanda’s mind was processing. There's no way her pea brain could realize how long that would take...Elise had programmed it for more than 24 hours. Maybe she would slow it down near the end. Was she praying for that 2000th spin in one direction -Elise had deliberately programmed it to take as long as possible at an even 1999-2000- even knowing the consequences?
In reality, Elise was unlikely to go through with that final punishment. She merely wanted the mind-fuck, an ultimate practical joke on the now sobbing clown. Instead, she imagined Amanda's growing anxiety as she felt the platform slowly come to a stop...hearing the valves unlock only to feel a massive dose of tranquilizers and muscle relaxers hitting her. And then waking up again in her isolation. Or maybe Elise would do it after all? She was nothing but not temperamental.
But for now, for Amanda Night, the show must go on—and on and on.