This is part 9 of an 11-part series (click here to read the first blog in the series).
Sophie snuggled her cheek into the silks as the Circus Master sat down on the bed beside her. Could feel the magic twinkling as his large hands massaged her body. Pressing down on her flesh and brushing – wiping away the wounds inflicted by the whip. Red slashes and charred burns vanishing as his healing palms past over. Her skin left fresh and nourished and glowing with healthy invigoration. His hands squeezing, sliding and sweeping all over her neck, shoulders, back, buttocks and legs. He put her palm to his lips and gently kissed away the jagged cut of the thorns. Then turning her over to smooth her breasts, belly and thighs… her arms, hands and feet. Looking into her dreamy eyes as his fingers stroked over her flowering pussy.
When her whole body was replenished, he took her in his arms and carried her across the room. Setting her to stand, on a fur rug, in front of an enormous mirror. Her skin was unblemished, glowing golden-brown. Crinkles of shiny, wet hair trickling over her gleaming cheeks. He towered behind, his elbows surrounding her shoulders as he linked his hands over the top of her head. Long fingers softly clawing and stroking through her hair. Sorcerous warmth drying it, so her mane sprang up to array in a wispy haze. Yellow feathers appearing, elegantly weaving themselves into her corkscrew locks. His fingers moved delicately, adjusting the tufts of her beautiful plumage like an arrangement of flowers. Two sweeps of his empty palm applied magical makeup. Sparkling saffron triangles scoping diagonally from her eyes to spread over her brow in feathered strokes of paint.
Her lashes lapping as he turned away and walked across the room. Returning with a lemon-coloured corset, dusted with glitter and feathers. Sophie raised her arms in a spire and he pushed the bodice down over her head, fitting it around her slender waist. It pushed up against the bottom of her bust, angling her rocketing nipples even higher. Her body swayed as he began to pull the cords, lacing her up. She paced her breathing with the alternating compression and decompression around her middle. Constricting as he tightened the corset. Narrowing her waist, thrusting her breasts, accentuating the flare of her hips and the femininity of her figure. Shaping her. Moulding her. Sophie loved the feeling of security as he tied her ribbon-bonds in a lacy bow.
The Circus Master circled the room again, this time returning with metal tinkling in his hands. The bracelets, anklets and necklace-collar were jewellery-bondage shackles. Slim loops of gold spiralling together into solid plats and fastened with miniature padlocks. He chinked them tight around her wrists and ankles. She held her hair up as he applied the necklace-collar. The perfect size to fit close – holding her throat in a solid, cold ring. It felt very secure – as if it could never be removed.
After his next circuit of the chamber he brought back a pair of golden-yellow shoes – sandal-style with absurdly high heels. He knelt before her and placed the shoes down. Could scent the singe of sizzled hair in her nostrils. His unruly locks writhing and spiking over his head… like fire that turned black when it petrified. She raised her right leg and he pushed the shoe over her foot, securing the buckle around the top of her heel. The extreme gradient of the platform made it difficult to balance as she lifted her left foot into the other shoe. The heels angled her posture to embellish the curling S-shape of her breasts and buttocks.
This time he circled the grand caravan to bring her feathered jacket. She moved with him as he dressed her, then he stepped back to admire her spectacular costume. His Little Bird glittering in gold, lemon and saffron. Heels and bodice working together to pronounce every slope of her curving figure. Naked lower half squeezing from the bottom of her tight corset. Jacket framed to display her puckered breasts, tufts tickling her nipples. Coils of hard gold adorning her wrists, ankles and neck. Bustling plumage of black curls and yellow feathers radiating like a crown.
She turned her body towards him, but kept her eyes fixed on her own reflection. Bending forward daintily to admire the brand seared into her ass-cheek. The clean-cut letters ‘CM’ inscribed across her flesh. Marking her – it meant she was his! A fluster of excitement as the potions in her loins bubbled. She gazed at her Master with a contented smile. The macabre beauty of his chiselled facial features. He pointed his eyes skywards, guiding her focus to follow his own.
A human-sized birdcage hung on a chain, several metres above. From directly below, the golden bars looked like spokes, arching around to cross one another at the central-highest point, from which hung the swing-style perch. The bottom of the cage was flapped open – two semi-circles of sheet metal dangling from opposite sides. The mystical mechanics moved silently as the perch descended on its elongating chain, lowering out of the cage. The Circus Master adjusted his Little Bird’s position, turning her so she faced the mirror with the seat coming down behind her back.
The swing was a triangular folded loop of gold with squared bottom corners. The poling only 2cm thick, even on the seat. The metal matched Sophie’s bondage-jewellery, so she sparkled inside. She reached her arms through the perch as if putting on a backpack and then pulled herself off the ground to sit. The cold metal digging into her buttocks and thighs as her weight pressed down on the narrow seat. Her arms made folded wings as she clasped the perch with hands either side of her neck. Head up with breasts thrusting forward and ass bubbled out behind, her posture giving the swing a little momentum, back and forth.
The Circus Master walked around the room, once more, returning with an extravagant bouquet of long feathers. Elegant gold, yellow and saffron tassels. Her moistness glistened and drenched as he showed her the handle of the bouquet – a smooth, steel staff with a balled butt-plug on the pommel. She wiggled to adjust her posture, opening herself slightly. The coo trembled through her whole body as he reached his hand down and lathered the plentiful juices from her pussy over his fingers. Using them to lubricate the plug.
He leant his head forward beside hers and they maintained eye-contact through the mirror as he pressed the metal against her ass-hole. A sore stretch as he pushed up to thrust it inside, the bauble slipping into her ring and hooking like a harpoon. Caramel eyes melting as she sighed romantically. He stood back to admire his handiwork and the swing slowly began to rotate. She watched herself in the mirror as she twirled on the spot – flashes of glitter and gold, flesh and feathers. Beautiful face, hair and breasts bursting from one side of the swing, rounded buttocks bouncing out from the other. Butt-plug jostling inside as the protruding tail-plume swooshed around and around. The cage coming down overhead. Flashes of her swirling reflection through the bars as they enclosed her. The rhythmic oscillation of the ass-plug as her tail brushed against the golden ribbing – felt like rumbling over a cattle-grid. The sheets of semi-circular metal on the bottom of the cage folded up, and locked, to trap the Little Bird fully. Her rotation continuing to gather momentum, spinning faster and faster. As she twirled her reflection leapt in and out of view. Intermittent flashes of a little, yellow bird sitting in a cage. Sometimes she saw the bars, sometime she didn’t. She put her head back against the top of the perch, closed her eyes, spread her elbows… and flew free.