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Circus Tricks

by Greymoon

Circus Tricks

Detective Constable Jane Herbert had always maintained that everything should be tried once. Which was why she was in the circus that night. It was why, on her day off, she volunteered to be hypnotised during the 'Adult Circus' first night in her home town. The ringmaster had seemed a nice enough guy - he just wanted to provide entertainment for adults only. It wouldn't involve sex - you couldn't be hypnotised into doing things you wouldn't agree to do anyway, as Jane knew - but those who came to the circus were also the performers. And that was how it was described; a risqué hypnotism act where the hypnotised took the parts of circus entertainers and animals. This host didn't test people for susceptibility, though; he just called for volunteers. Jane stepped up, along with a cast that was about 90% female. They followed their host backstage, where they were presented with a line of numbered changing cubicles. They lined up, too, and he sized each of them up and told them what part they would be taking in the show, and which cubicle held the costume for that. "If you'd care to get changed first; that way nothing will interfere with your total belief that you are that character when I put you into the trance." It seemed a logical enough explanation; and Jane was happy to have been chosen as the strongwoman in any case. It sounded like a fun role. So, along with the others, she filed into her changing cubicle, whisked the curtain covering the entrance shut, and turned to the table with the box containing her outfit. At almost exactly the same time as the others, she opened the box lid and felt a momentary pang of fear as a snake reared out of the box. And, like the others, she did not scream as the snake's eyes lit and beams fired into her eyes before she could react. The beams surged through the minds of the volunteers, silencing them, changing minds, erasing old assumptions, turning what once were their own minds into machines, things with as much capacity for independent thought as the average PC, laying them open to instruction. Then the snakes subsided and returned to their posts, lying dormant in the boxes. Jane still stood, her hands holding the lid of the box open, her eyes still trained on the point where the snake-eye beams had come from. She had not moved since the beams hit her eyes. She hadn't been told to. She didn't hear the curtain swish back open. Nor did she feel the ringmaster's hands rest lightly on her back, slide around to her front, and caress her breasts. She could not sense anything, or react to anything, until she had orders to follow. The hands began to undo her white blouse, working quite slowly. A mouth began to nibble delicately at her ear. Then her blouse was off, and the mouth withdrew, and the hands began to work on her bra. Her arms were lifted away from the box and allowed to hang limply by her sides, ready for when the bra was removed. A voice spoke. "Tell me your name." She spoke, slowly, her voice low and flat. "Jane Herbert." The bra came loose and the unnoticed hands slid it from her. They reached into the box, lifted the snake from the neat piles of folded clothes, and produced a lycra, leopard-skin pattern bikini, cut very low, with a single strap on the right to secure it. This was quickly pulled onto her unresisting body and secured in place. "And what do you do, Jane?" "I am a policewoman." Again, her voice remained low, flat; no emotion. "A policewoman? Excellent. Judging by the press attention at my last tour venue, someone on the force could be very useful. We will have to keep in contact after the performance, Jane." "Yes." "I have a suspicion-" and now the hands had finished their caressing of her breasts and were casually resting at her waistline, one middle finger extended upward stroking her navel, "-that I would have insisted we do so in any case. You have an excellent body, Jane. Did you come with anybody, or on your own?" The unseen fingers unbuttoned her trousers as she replied. "I came alone." "Excellent. Is anyone waiting for your return?" The zip was undone now and her trousers slid slowly from her legs, revealing them to be a shapely pair and demonstrating Jane's possession of an attractive backside hidden only by a g-string. The fingers slid around her waist, slowly, as she answered. "No. I live alone." "Then you must stay with me after the performance." "Yes." The fingers hooked into her g-string and began to ease them down. "Tell me, do you wear a g-string every day, Jane?" "No." "Then why wear it today?" "I am proud of my looks. I decided to perform in the circus, and I felt that my lingerie would show me off to my best effect. I did not know we were required to change." "No, you wouldn't have done. Well, Jane, here's what will happen. I'm going to snap my fingers, and when I do you will be able to react and think once more. You will put on your strongwoman panties and boots and walk out of the cubicle, ready to do what I tell you to do. From now on, you take orders from no one but me unless other orders allow you to. Is that understood?" "Yes." "Good. Oh, and from now on you will call me Master." Her voice replied, dully, "Yes, Master." Her g-string now was on the floor. He massaged her sex with his fingers briefly, chewed on her earlobe a moment longer, kneaded her breasts once more, relaxed his grip, stepped backward, and snapped his fingers as he left the cubicle. She blinked, reached out, and picked up the leopardskin print panties. She put them on, wondering how she had managed to change so far without any memory of it. She pulled her thigh-length, close fitting, leopard-spotted suede boots on, one by one. Then she turned around and stepped out of the cubicle. She did not know what was going on, but she was sure someone would tell her what she should do. * * * Marion Hutson was also a volunteer for hypnosis that night. She had heard about the circus while doing modelling work in Chester, where it had last visited; but she hadn't had a chance to see it. A friend of hers had told her that it looked like even more fun to be in than it was to watch, so she had decided she would take part. She was sure her body would gain a starring role for her. By this two things should be understood; Marion Hutson had an extremely good-looking body, and she was also more proud of it than her looks perhaps suggested. She hadn't been too happy to receive her actual role, as it turned out; she didn't think a lion-tamer was a high enough profile position. Still, that was what she had; so she shrugged to herself, nothing to be done, and stepped into cubicle 3 to change into her costume. She lifted the box lid and saw the snake within, thought, irrationally, for a fleeting instant of her last glamour shoot, and then lost herself in the hypnotic eye-beams of the robotic snake. The beams tore through her mind, whirling around her cerebellum, unpicking an inhibition here, destroying a little of her capacity for independent thought over there, shutting down access to memory here, and generally reprogramming her mind. It didn't take long at all before she was lost totally; her mind, her personality, locked off from the rest of her brain, which was now reduced to a control box for whoever wanted to use it. She stood there, in the same pose as Jane, with her hands resting on the lid of the box. The snake subsided. Marion stood there, oblivious to what was happening, deaf to the curtain to her cubicle being pulled aside, not hearing the low whistle of approval, not feeling the fingers of the ringmaster's hands begin to knead her buttocks through the taut leggings. "Tell me your name," came the voice. "Marion Hutson." "Well, Marion, I like your looks. Not many women have the legs to carry off leggings. Is that why you wear them? To show off?" "Yes." "And that's why you volunteered to be hypnotised, is it?" "Yes." "But you're not keen-" the hands lifting her arms from the case, letting them hang loose, "on being the lion tamer, are you, Marion?" "No." The hands pulled her tight V-neck T-shirt up and over her head, revealing the fact that Marion had decided not to bother with a bra. Her arms, pulled up as the shirt rose, fell back to their sides as her breasts bounced back into place. A figure stepped into her line of view, though she would not remember seeing him when she left the trance. It was the ringmaster. "Why not?" He held a baster filled with some sort of glutinous, shiny red gel. He stroked her breasts a couple of times, then bent his head forward and began to lick her nipple. "It is not the most important part of the circus." "And you feel -" as his head returned to her field of view now that her nipples were standing erect, rigid, "-you feel that you deserve to be the most important part?" He used the baster to draw a horizontal red line across both of her bared breasts, a line that crossed just above her nipple. As she answered, he began to draw tiny, centimetre-long vertical stripes at irregular intervals leading down from the horizontal line. "Yes." He repeated the process twice, then set the baster down. "I see. What do you do, Marion? What do you do when you are not being enslaved?" "I am a model. A glamour model." "In other words, you feature in soft porn photos. Hence the figure, I suppose." He reached down and slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her leggings, preparatory to pulling them off. "Can you act, Marion?" "I don't know." "Oh. Well, it doesn't matter. If I tell you to act, you'll act." He knelt now, and jerked her leggings down savagely. "Tie your hair into a ponytail. The type that rises slightly at first and then falls all the way down to your waist." "Yes." She accepted the tie and proceeded to knot her crisp, straight platinum blonde hair back in the fashion he had suggested, all the while staring blankly ahead, with no idea what she was doing. "Yes, Master. Call me Master, Marion." "Yes, Master." "That's much better." He was untying her shoelaces; for Marion was the type of woman who saw high-topped Docs as an assertion of her independence. Not that she was very independent at that moment. "Marion, are you cohabiting?" On the face of it, it seemed a foolish question, but the ringmaster knew well that often these models preferred to be able to sleep around. "No, Master." "Did you come here alone, or with someone?" "I came with a friend, Master." "Male?" "No, Master." "I see. No prior engagement for later tonight?" "No, Master." "Splendid. You must stay behind after the performance tonight." The hands had eased the leggings entirely off the feet now and the ringmaster stood up once more, admiring the view of the woman, naked except for a pair of panties and three glistening red lines that looked like fresh cuts across her breasts. "Yes, Master." The ringmaster reached into her costume container and produced a navy blue lycra top that would be close-fitting when he put it on Marion, but which lacked any material covering her breasts. He lifted her arms up a little, eased the top onto them, then worked it properly onto her. He turned back to her costume box and produced a slim rectangle of the same material with Velcro on both short ends. This he proceeded to stick tautly across the hole in her top so that it looked like the top was whole. He took a step back and looked her up and down again. He slid her panties down her legs and lifted her feet up, allowing the panties to fall from them. His hands slid up her smooth legs and stroked the shaved mound of her sex, very different from Jane's but just as enticing. "What is the name of your friend? Is she in the act?" "Her name is Carolyn Dublin. She is to play one of the lions." He stood up and slapped her cheerfully on her rump. "Marion, when I snap my fingers you will put on the tights in the costume box, then you will turn around and leave the cubicle. You will then stand motionless, waiting for me to give you orders. And from now on, you will obey only me, unless I give you further orders to allow you to obey others. Is that clear?" "Yes, Master." He snapped his fingers as he left the cubicle. Marion blinked, and picked up the tights. Aside from their slight blue tint, they were almost totally transparent, and there was nothing left in the box to go on as well. But such considerations meant nothing to her. She pulled them on, and wondered why she couldn't remember anything else since she lifted the lid off the box. * * * And so it progressed; the ringmaster visited each of the cubicles, ordering the men to go back to their seats and undressing the women, finding their names, and in two or three other cases telling them to stay behind afterward. Eventually, the cast of the show all stood outside their cubicles, staring into space, waiting for further instructions. One or two of the women wore nothing but Afro wigs; these would be the lions in Marion's act. The ringmaster stepped up to them one at a time. "On your hands and knees." "Yes, Master." He stepped backward and surveyed the line-up. "You all know what roles you were assigned. Get into groups according to those roles now." He watched as the lion tamer walked to her two lions, who crawled toward her, and as all of the stagehands - dressed in a white, high-cut leotard and silver tiara combination - gravitated toward each other. He looked them over, then walked back to Jane. "Jane, it occurs to me that your hair is not quite right for your role. Make it less ordered, more chaotic. More savage. If all else fails, just ruffle it up a little." "Yes, Master." A blank expression on her face, Jane did as she was bid. "That's better." He walked over to the stagehands, picked on particular girl out. "June, get out of that group. You aren't a stagehand." Anyone not under the total control in which these performers had been immersed would have questioned this, or at least hesitated; but June, a tall, willowy young woman, just stepped forward out of the group.. The ringmaster briskly stripped her naked. "Do you remember I asked if you were afraid of heights?" "Yes, Master." "Well, that was because I wanted someone who has a problem with heights to do the high-wire act. And a strip while she's up there. The costume is in cubicle twenty. Get in there and get changed, there's a good girl." "Yes, Master." While the woman was changing, he gave the lion-tamer and her lions orders; or, more accurately, unremembered commands which would seem the only natural thing to do when I was time to do them. Marion would certainly seem to suffer at the hands of her friend... He also instructed the stagehands and Jane on how to behave when the strongwoman was brought on. Immediately, they began to tie ropes around Jane's wrists. June re-emerged, now dressed in the high-wire outfit. "June, you look wonderful. But you look better nude. Still, we'll see that again soon enough. Go out into the big top and climb up to the high wire platform. Wait there until I cue you in. Do not look at the video screen. That's the most important part. Do not look at the video screen." "Yes, Master." Obediently, she walked out of backstage and across the sandy arena, carefully avoiding the large TV screen showing pre-circus entertainment videos, designed to keep the crowd amused while the cast were hypnotised, and climbed the ladder on leading to the high wire platform. The ringmaster, watched him go, then turned to his assistant. She had first been hypnotised right at the beginning of his plan; and she had stuck with him ever since. "It's time to start the show, Claire. Go and turn off the video screen. Then get into your costume." "Yes, Master." He lazily watched her as she walked over to the controls, her body utterly nude, and press a button. Then he turned to his white-clad troupe of stagehands. "Girls, go and bring the video wall back in her, would you?" Outside, in the auditorium, the entire audience shivered slightly as the instruction trance left them and they settled down to watch the show. Nothing would surprise or shock them and they would enjoy every minute of it. But they would never know their minds had been tampered with. They watched the stagehands retrieve the video wall with eager anticipation. Clearly, the show was about to start. The ringmaster entered. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "may I begin my show, first, with a wild animal show. I would like to present my lion tamer, Marion Hutson, and her two savage lions." At a gesture, the stagehands filed in again, this time towing a large cage containing the two 'lions'. Alongside it marched Marion Hutson, every part of her body language suggesting that all she knew was lion taming. Her two lions, too, seemed only to know what it was to be lions, though they also managed to combined an uninhibited aura of the show off in the way they prowled their cage. The ringmaster himself leaned back, ready to watch with interest. It promised to be a great moment. The stagehands moved the cage centre arena, and retired discreetly. With much pageantry and showmanship, Marion swung the heavy door open and entered, bearing nothing. She would have to tame the lions with her bare hands. "Oh, but Marion, I forgot," the ringmaster announced, through his loudhailer. "We all know you can deal with lions. So we decided we'd spice it up a little. Did you meet our sorceress?" His assistant entered. No longer nude, she wore a shimmering purple bodystocking with stars adorning her nipples and a white spiral stemming from her crotch and spinning out across her midriff and partway down her legs. The backside had been cut out and half-moon stickers attached to each fleshy buttock. Her straight black hair cascaded down her back, topped by a Fantasia-style blue wizard's hat. The audience went crazy. The ringmaster continued. "Marion, our sorceress is going to give you a little bit more danger to deal with. These two savage, untamed lions -" as if on cue, both 'lions' growled. Of course, it had been a cue. "These two lions will retain their savagery, but our sorceress will turn them into women. Veritable Amazons with the strength and agility of their former shapes but a hint of predatory intelligence as well. Oh yes, and they'll get to keep their claws..." His assistant climbed into the cage and waved her hand in the direction of the two prowling, snarling 'lions'. Instantly, they lay down like big cats, rested their heads on their forearms, and closed their eyes. One of them started to purr. She - 'slinked' is the only way to describe it - up to the two prone lions and waved her hands over them a couple of times. Then she turned and made her way back to the cage door. On the way, she paused next to Marion, took Marion's head in her hands, and kissed her long and tenderly. Then she broke off, licked the lion tamer's nose mischievously, and left the cage, shutting and locking the door behind her. As she walked away from the cage, she clapped her hands twice, imperiously. The two lions lifted their heads from their arms and quickly stood erect, displaying still more clearly their nakedness. Then they snarled. For the first time, Marion looked faintly unsure. Nevertheless, and to her credit, she still stepped forward to grapple with the closest lioness, who happened to be her friend, Carolyn. A savage swipe at Marion's bust took away with it the Velcroed strip of lycra covering her breasts. They sprang loose, revealed, with the three red lines showing like blood clawed free of new wounds. Marion believed that they were wounds; she stepped back and stumbled slightly, her heel twisting. She fell down and the second lioness was suddenly upon her. She seized Marion's pony tail between her teeth and jerked at it savagely. Marion screamed in a hypnotic, totally believable simulation of real pain, one arm still cradling her seemingly injured breasts. With the other arm she lashed upward and caught the lioness a painful blow on the nose. The woman released her grip on Marion's hair and took a pace back. Marion half got up and then Carolyn was on her. The lion tamer karate chopped her savagely in the solar plexus and she stumbled back a couple of steps. Marion stood up and attacked, flailing at her prey with her one free arm. The other lioness leapt into the air and landed on her back, legs wrapped around her midriff, a hand clinging to her hair and another arm around her neck. It snarled and it's head jerked forward, biting Marion on the shoulder. Marion howled, released her breasts, letting them spill free, and punched it in the face. The grip on her hair fractionally released and that let Marion reach around behind her and throw the lioness off her, coming forward over her shoulder. The hypnotised lioness landed heavily on Carolyn, who scratched her breasts for real this time, tossed her aside and leapt at Marion, who swung both hands at her and succeeded in knocking her to the floor. Marion jumped on Carolyn, spun her over and drove her face into the floor, grabbed her breasts, and squeezed hard, her nails biting into the flesh. Carolyn screamed, whereupon Marion released her grip and stood. "She is tamed!" she called, just before a vicious kick from the remaining lioness doubled her over. Carolyn continued to lie prone on the ground, a smear of blood around her breasts. Marion turned her full attention to the remaining lioness. A stunning martial arts display on both sides culminated eventually in a second subservient lioness, this time with a trickle of blood leading from her mouth. "Marion," came the voice of the ringmaster, "show the audience what you can do with your new pets." At this point the show became much what you'd expect from a lion tamer's act, apart from the fact that the big cats had been replaced by two attractive, naked, big-breasted women. Eventually Marion climbed out and took her bows, and then the nude lionesses climbed out and also took their bows, and then the ringmaster ordered the two lionesses to return to their seats in the auditorium. Which they did, still nude, utterly unconscious of that fact. They sat together, their hands idly massaging each other's breasts, their faces betraying no hint of interest in such a fact; merely concentrating on the action in the arena below. The men sitting beside them, however, had difficulty concentrating from then on. Next came June and her high-wire striptease, acting only on instructions from the ringmaster. The audience all loved that one. The ringmaster watched, idly stroking one of Jane's tits as Marion's tongue worked at his penis steadily. Snakes hung around each neck, their eyes still lit. Tonight, he thought... Tonight would be a good night indeed.


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