3 comments/ 10197 views/ 2 favorites The Night We Fikked the Jinx By: The_Wolff Disclaimer: All living and artificial characters, places and companies are figment of the author's imagination. Unfortunately you cannot order a doll from 'Fooka Fikka Pichka' Inc. Note the tongue? It is firmly planted in cheek. ©2010 Wolffwerks "Please fuck the shoe slut Sir or Ma'am! I am Dr. Bane's Pichka and I would love to take you to the Night of the Jinx. Just have a Bane-cookie. They are delicious and shaped exactly like the Jinx pussy. Please do have one! . . . . There, aren't they sweet and tangy? Now, welcome to the Wolf Mansion Sir or Ma'am!" Evening In Blue Moonlight turned a tuxedoed man and the almost naked woman connected by the piss stream into a Beardsley illustration. Dr. Bane was absentmindedly smoking a cigarette looking out the open French window at the big Louisiana moon. Baton Rouge was glowing on the darkening horizon. Pichka's gulping and slurping was faint over the frog croaks, the flapping of bat's wings and more ominous marsh-sounds dampened by the city hum. In the ascending bird position, holding her spread ankles, barefoot, she was suckling on his gently pissing cock. His age moderated the stream. She was grateful for that. His manicured fingers touched her pulsing throat idly, just above the collar. The steady movement was calming him and he felt proud of its inexorable rhythm. The heady mix of Pichka's marine pheromones, his cologne and the marshy dampness filled the room. She could taste his cigarette in his piss but she did not even blink. Finally, his mind came back to the room in the Wolf Mansion. He stopped pissing and made a tiny, flipping motion with his hand. She lifted her naked ass and pressed towards his rising cock. Her short, red hair mopped the floor while he guided her by the idle slaps on her ass. Pitchka felt a pang of pride at how effortlessly his cock entered her budding asshole and that she could milk Master's cock with her anus. Another pang clutched her guts when her bare feet slipped in her own juice and its source, her pussy, her pichka, gaped open, unfucked. Dr. Bane let her ass-fuck herself and he returned to his thoughtful smoking. Then he grunted: "You bitch," and grabbed her hips and efficiently pumped his cum into her. He flicked his cigarette through the French window and grumbled: "Stay, Pichka." Walking over to the secretary, he took out the newest set of butt-plugs he had ordered from Swarovski, the latest in the series of butt plugs for bubble butts he was developing. He selected a huge Art Deco one, made of the Venetian glass crystal, with a long flaring neck ending in a massive egg. Silver chain was embedded in its base and it went around her waist. He clasped it. "It is going the hold in a lot of loads for tonight, little one," he said distantly, sealing his cum inside her ass with it. Then he made another tiny gesture and she gratefully flipped over, back in the same position she was in before. Blood was beginning to rush in her head. He brought over the rest of his new set. "Your adornment for the night. My Pichka doll must look her best." He pulled out her 38DD enchanted tits from her tight, black latex t-shirt and attached the matching crystal clamps on her protruding nipples. His hands followed the chrome chains embedded in the upper clamps to the second set on her slippery pussy. He had some difficulty clamping her puffed up lips properly. The exotic name he has given her, Pichka, applied to both her and the ever-blossoming thing between her legs. He ts-tsked at her red pichka, which was bubbling over and squirting whenever he touched it. It seemed to foam whenever he even thought about it. Pichka's pichka seemed jinxed. Finally, he clasped her ankle and wrist cuffs with chromed links. Then, he wrapped wide leather straps just above her knees and her calves to keep them at the right angle. He wiped his sticky fingers on her loins, slapping her playfully: "Pichka FIKKING later . . . perhaps even shoes if you are really good." The blood from her head rushed to her pussy and back again. Fucking! Shoes! Oh my god, she prayed, let me be perfect. He rang a silver bell and called out impatiently: "Fauntleroy!" A huge black butler appeared at the door, carrying a chromed dustpan and a brush. Obviously, he had just picked up the cigarette butt Dr. Bane threw out of the window. There was a hint of reproach on Fauntleroy's stolid, square face. Otherwise, he was an embodiment of an impeccable butler, from his shiny patent shoes, to his perfect graying hair, and the tips of his white gloves. "You rang Sir?" "I need to be cleaned, Fauntleroy. And there is a pool on my floor." Pichka feared Fauntleroy. He just followed Bane's orders impassively, never touching her improperly but he could swing a mean whip. His cock rarely left his perfectly ironed pants. He took her leashed for walks by the 'gator ponds and through her shoe closets. She could look, sight, even sniff at her shoes, yearning, but he tugged her back from them harshly unless it was Dr. Bane's order. Fauntleroy disappeared and returned with a plate carrying two cups and a toothbrush. He bent over her and dabbed the toothbrush in the pool between her legs on the aseptically clean marble. He rubbed off more of her juices from her thighs. "Open up, Ma'am. You certainly don't expect to touch the Master with a pissy slut mouth," he said seriously. There was no hint of irony in his voice. His gravity always rocked her to the core. With the same impassive expression, he administered enemas to her and carried her around. All the while Fauntleroy brushed her teeth Dr. Bane looked in her eyes, observing her burning face. He was daring her. His hard lips formed a silent 'you are MINE, piss mouth,' and a kiss. "Rinse Ma'am." Fauntleroy offered the cup with the mouthwash. She obeyed and spit it into the cup. Pichka was finally allowed to clean Bane's cock. She gently tongue-tucked it back in his trousers. All that was left for Fauntleroy was to pull up Master's zipper. "Get the Pichka on the display. And don't forget to water her." Fauntleroy lifted her on the large, wheeled, food cart, pushed her on the front of the colonial verandah of the Wolf Mansion, and turned on the UV lamp. He set her up in sitting position, leaning against the post, hands tied behind it. A set of ropes pulled her spread legs up offering her bare feet to spectators. He placed the Banolu Ray-Ban sunglasses on her head, sprinkled her with the silver glitter and left her. In the descending darkness, she glowed in the UV light, like a fucking votive offering. Her soles shone white and all that chrome glittered in the dead waters of the bayou where pink dolphins lazed, chasing pitchkas of their own. She was a figurehead on Dr. Bane's boat. ~* * *~ Soon the cars began to arrive. Driving along the interstate 10 from Baton Rouge through Grosse Tete and past the Bane alligator farm, they reached the now revitalized old Wolf Mansion hidden in the Loup Garou Bayou. Along the long alley of mulberries and poplars they came, squashing bloated things that go pop in the night, straight at her, transfixing her with the glare of their headlights, like a little submissive moth. The words 'Fikka-Shoe-Pichka' on her t-shirt sparkled and her gleaming pussy beaconed red-hot. Fauntleroy reappeared with a pitcher of water and patiently waited for her to gulp it all down. He then tsk-tsked discreetly at the pool she was making on his food cart and left her, returning to Dr. Bane in his trophy room. Sitting at his laptop, his large frame lit by the screen, Dr Bane worked on his presentation, even while his guests arrived. In his early sixties, Dr. Robur Bane did not practice anymore, he was retired. Only his white hair, deep lines around his full mouth and eyes and the somewhat cynical outlook at the world testified about the hardships he had endured. Treating Pichka for her shoes addiction was an experiment. The treatment involved total enslavement of the subject. The training was not always related to her need to go shoe-damage shopping. Dr. Bane genuinely loved his little anthropologist-addict. He discovered that there was a steel rod in her he needed to bend to a breaking point. It started at Sax where she was doing her futile anthropological research. Soon he was treating her and she was discovering she needed to give over to him and become a subject of research herself. They were both jinxed. She moved to Wolf Mansion he just bought and started her training with the two men. She could not fathom their relationship. Fauntleroy seemed more like a companion then a servant but his obvious deference towards Dr. Bane confused her. Only the use of French and Creole hinted at his origin. In a rare talkative moment Dr. Bane told her that he wrestled free be-zombied Fauntleroy fom Haitian Bokor but she'd learned that trusting this shrink was a good start to mindfuck. She did not see anything zombie-like in Fauntleroy. The strange screeching and cracking sounds coming from the deep cellars of had nothing to do with the good doctor's former job. The noises testified that the Mansion from 1823 had dark family history and that the words 'repairs' and 'rejuvenation' were relative. Now Dr. Bane ran a blow-doll empire and the alligator farm. The Banolu line of eyewear was just a profitable fringe for him: only the maintenance of the Wolf family mansion and it's cellar cost him a fortune. The blow doll business itself seemed jinxed. Dolls sold like crazy, dolls with the 'incredible, self-lubricating, squeeze-and-pump sucking action and 100% life-like pussy' as the sales pitch went. Dr. Bane made sure all models were widely available. He derived pleasure from whoring his Pichka in this manner. He showed her all the sales figures, how the dolls were used, and the profile of her customers. There were even clips demonstrating all the uses of the blow up Pichka. All the Pichkas' pichkas were fucked but hers. Now he developed a new model: the Jinx. For days, hot wax and latex casts were repeatedly taken of Pichka's body, her orifices and the face. The newly planned models required new casts. Pichka shuddered whenever she remembered it. The Jinx was not just a plastic blow-up fuck-toy. Made of Dr. Bane's secret mixture akin to ballistic jelly and plastic bones, it reacted realistically to bondage and pain play, had a multiple suck orifice action and came equipped with appropriate sounds. Maybe his research in the vodou had something to do with its incredible properties. And it came with two coils of rope and recorded instructions suggestively read by Pichka herself. Not even Dr. Robur Bane, knew what the Jinx could do. It would be found out tonight. He rang. "Fauntleroy!" "Vous a sonné, Monsieur? You rang Sir?" Fauntleroy materialized, carrying a large Art Deco glass bowl. It was full of pickha-shaped, laced cookies. Many were filled with Viagra. Some of the ingredients were very exotic and perhaps charmed. They were acquired in Dr. Bane's witch-hunting days at secret experimental labs and other, much darker places. The good doctor picked up a toothpick and deftly nailed one right in the pink middle. He munched it with relish. "Pretty good. You may serve them... what was that splashing noises and screaming few moments ago?" "Lord Toff the Tought's SUV turned into the 'gator farm. Shall I send a rescue party or go see to it myself?" Fauntleroy hated the alligators; therefore, he had to work with them in person. "Franey and Zooey were moved to the south end?" "Yes Sir, yesterday." "Then there is no need for rescue." An evil glint appeared briefly in Dr. Bane's eye as he pulled his hand over the steel gray at his temples. "I'm sure such an expert rigger can disentangle himself from the marsh." "Will he still want to perform a demonstration on the Jinx tonight?" "Oh, he will perform all right. He is vain enough and greedy enough. Ha, I might even give him one Jinx; give him a taste of what he will never have." Dr. Bane wanted to have his enemies close, especially the imaginary ones. "Did you water Pichka?" "Yes Sir. She is trembling now." "Good. Bring her back in here." Soon Fauntleroy reappeared, pushing the cart with Pichka. "Go down and take care of the guests. Extend the appropriate welcomes and apologies. See that all get the Jinx booklets and complementary sets. Have the latex maids serve the crawfish étouffée. Is the carousel ready?" "Yes it is Sir. It works. I tried it out. Two sluts will help turn it." "Good." Dr. Bane nodded towards the bowl. "And make absolutely sure that everyone takes a 'Bane-cookie'." "I'll see to it Sir." Dr. Bane believed that everyone would pick out the 'pichka-cookie', which would fit them perfectly. He also called them Karma candies. "All male slaves must take them." Dr. Bane grinned. "And, take one yourself, right now. Oh, and the shoes . . . they all have them?" He made sure Pichka heard him. Fauntleroy and Pichka exchanged glances. For a second she thought his impassive masque of a butler dropped and someone still awakening from datura stupor and scared as hell appeared. They looked at each other like two rats in the inescapable cage. "Yes Sir." Fauntleroy whispered and swallowed. "Sausages?" "Fresh shipment just arrived." 'Home made indeed. Fireworks?" "They are setting it up." "Forecast?" "A storm is coming, ma Totò." Bane looked sharply at his butler but all he said was: "Of course it is. Our storm. We're almost ready, then." Dr. Bane took Pichka off the food cart himself and laid her down on the floor on her back. He straddled her clamped breasts. Pushing the Banolu eyeglasses onto the top of her head, he presented his hardening, gnarly cock to her face. A crop miraculously appeared in his hand and he delivered a series of sharp strikes between her legs. A wet splat accompanied each stroke. He kept riding and cropping his buckling Pichka-pony until her crying, bawling face was in a satisfactory state. Then he fucked her mouth furiously, repeatedly gagging her. Soon she was deeply flushed, breathless, and wet, saliva running down her chin. He was putting her fluid resistant make-up to a hard test. "That 'just fucked' look is a good look for a slave like you, don't you think?" "Glllppaaahh .... Yaah Sarrrr." "But a really good look for MY slave is 'just face-fucked'." He teabagged the sticky mass all over her face. Sliding her sunglasses back he made sure that a nice globule of cum landed on the lens. All of his shiny adornments would have to stay on her all night. Dr. Bane released her and helped the trembling Pichka stand up. He let her rub her wrists while he walked around, looking her over. He added a sheer black gauze skirt reaching just above her labia. "And this," he slapped her plugged rump, "gets many more refills tonight. You will be most courteous to my guests, serve them, repeat your mantra to each and every of them. And no naughty wetting in front of my guests." "Yes Sir!" "There will be a lot of fikking tonight." "Oh YES Sir! Please Sir!' "The question is -- which pichka gets fikked, you or the Jinx? Both are mine, but only one will be jinxed. You'll have to compete with her." "Uh... Sir? With the doll, Sir?" Her heart skipped a beat. "I should definitely have Fauntleroy dye your hair blonde. The Jinx comes with that nice red color of yours, but you should give it up to her. Of course, you will compete with the doll. You can start by trying to imitate that wide-eyed and open-mouthed look. Are you ready?" "Uh, I am not sure, Sir." "Good, that is a good start for a real submissive." He picked his dreaded walking cane and took his all-wet barefoot Pichka under the arm. He was wearing his crocodile shoes. "It's time, little one." She stood, frozen. He waited, studying her forlorn look. Then he laughed. "All right, you can wear them but you better earn them. Fauntleroy!" Fauntleroy appeared carrying the leash. Pichka was on all fours in a second and he led the eager shoe puppy towards the great closet. The lights came on as he opened the gates of heaven. Hundreds of pairs of shoes, sandals and boots winked at her. She trembled and squirted a little. Sadly, she noticed many of her favorite pairs missing. She knew that Jinxes were wearing them. Unerringly she scuttled towards the red Prada mules, the last pair she bought before Dr. Bane took matters in his own hands. She kissed them and put them on lovingly sitting on the floor in her familiar puddle. The glass butt-plug clicked against the lacquered floor. Fauntleroy allowed her to clickety-clack back to Dr. Bane. She loved that sound. "Alllll right, all we finally ready?" She nodded like an eager puppy. "At last - let the Bane Mardi Grass begin!" The great door opened. They walked from a black and white Beardsley etching into another one in which reds dominated. ~* * *~ Night in Red "Please fuck the shoe slut Sir or Ma'am! I am Dr. Bane's Pichka and I would love to take you to the Night of the Jinx. Just have a Bane-cookie. They are delicious and shaped exactly like the Jinx pussy. Please do have one! . . . . There, aren't they sweet and tangy? Now, welcome to the Wolf Mansion Sir or Ma'am!" ~* *~ In Fauntleroy's skillful hands the bowl with Bane-candy whirled around the red Beardsley world of the great gothic reception hall and gardens of the Wolf Mansion. Its path was getting erratic as the Bane cookie took hold of Fauntleroy. The company was as diversified as the candies in the bowl. An old-fashioned ballroom mirror-globe cast spinning shards of glitter on the leather, the chains, latex and nylon, the silk of kimonos and cotton of the bohemians. A thin layer of oily smoke slithered around the heels of the boots and ballet shoes and fondled the sandals of pagans and bare feet of slaves. The patent shoes of southern gents and their made-up dolls were there. Even a hougan, a mambo, a voodoo Queen or two and Chief Wicker Basket were there. The music alternated between Cole Porter in Dub, Compas, Meringue and good old swing with some techno thrown in. Flannel suited businessmen stood out. No matter how busy he was, Fauntleroy always managed to appear just in time to drive the flies out of their bewildered mouths. Others were paying homage to two of Bane's Beardsley Salome originals displayed in a place of honor above his collection of griz-griz. Pichka walked slowly, trying to attend to guests and yet be at the entrance to greet each new arrival with her mantra. Wearing her Pradas helped with the desperate need to hold her burning pussy tightly shut. 'But what if the liquid escaped, ran down my legs and mars thee shoes?' She though. 'Horror.' There were all kinds of comments on her mantra. 'Later slut' was the most common response. She was wondering what she would do if anybody accepted the offer right away. Would Master come to her rescue? In the salon, Dr. Bane circulated the groups, animating his increasingly bewildered guests, enjoying the toothy-smile moth dance always aware of his Pichka's travails. Pichka curtsied before the big man who just entered brashly. She made a brief eye contact. On his handsome face his eyes squinted under the black dyed shock of hair. She recited her mantra. "That will be the day," Lord Toff de Tough harrumphed. "I do not intercourse with Bane's sluts just when they ask for it. I am here to tie the kinky bitch! Show you ignorant people some art." Pichka lowered her eyes in embarrassment. She felt delight at the wet splashes of mud on his boots and his leather overcoat, sneering inwardly at the wet ballet shoes and works boots of his two bunnies. What poor taste! Nevertheless, the rigger impressed her. The Night We Fikked the Jinx Dr. Bane approached, his crooked smile flickering like a red candle fame. They greeted each other curtly. Neither mentioned the alligator pond incident. They played this game for years. Lord Toff the Tough was losing but he could not resist Bane's siren call. And with Dr. Bane, there was always a challenge. Tying the supposedly 'magical doll' was something he could not miss, even if there wasn't any rapport like he had with his bondage bunnies. Therefore, he went on. One day he might find a rope noose tightening around his own neck. The idea both horrified and thrilled Toff de Tough. "Nice place you've got here. A little spooky perhaps." "Sure is. I could tell you some gruesome tales about the original owners. Now they have a history." Dr. Bane's eyes glittered. "Not right now, old chap. I have to focus on my act." "They were famous for the Wolf sausages. Made an industry of it. Here, let me show you . . . " He guided the increasingly suspicious Lord Toff to the buffet. The fat, heavy sausages were piled high and Bane's Latex Bunnies, Marie Mima and Marie Phima were serving them. "Sausages went with the Mansion. It was a family tradition which deteriorated just as the mansion deteriorated. The place was shunned and empty but I did find the proverbial chest in the attic." Dr. Bane's crooked smile made Lord Toff wonder for the millionth time: 'What's he REALLY saying?' "In the chest, among the faded pictures of the family members they did not dare show to the world was a family recipe for Grandma Wolf's sausages. They were shipped all over the country until it was discovered why the slave girls and dogs feared them so much. Do try one." The steaming, glistening sausage on the silver pitchfork backed by Bane's innocent smile was really spooky. Tough decided now is the time to do something he was delaying for years: become a vegetarian. He took some crawfish étouffée. "I can't eat anything heavy before I perform, old chap. That is what I want to do." "Of course. Help yourself." Dr. Bane's sweeping motion seemed to cover both the buffet table and the serving latex sluts. Lord Toff could not help eyeing them. He gave them his best tough smile, nodding towards the rope bag his bunny carried. The latex angels were unimpressed. Marie Mima and Marie Phima were under orders to keep serving food and drink just as the techies and handlers were. They had duties serving Jinxes later. The positioning and the clothing of the dolls needed to be checked all the time. They serviced the guests only on demand. They would end the evening red-assed and be-cumed too but had no desire to start with this funny toff guy. Pichka tried not to hate them. There were several Jinxes in the corners of rooms. They were kneeling on pedestals, in various attires like French maids or schoolgirls in uniforms offered for the use. They all wore Pichka's shoes. Feigning disinterest or awe, the groups were strolling around them feeling and examining them. They were surprised at wet orifices and the unbelievably firm, yet succulent bodies. Several more Jinxes hung in the thin rope suspensions, high above the crowd, adorned with lit candles. Lord Toff de Tough snickered. The knots were so simple! The French windows let in the iridescent moon glow. It mixed with mirrored shards and flickering of candles in crystal Wolff chandleries, Dr Bane had painstakingly restored. The whole room swung. So were the minds of Dr. Bane's guests as his 'candy' was taking effect. The unreal confusion grew. Dr. Bane's threatening glee was rising. So was his cock. His dark countenance was morphing into a baleful grin. ~* * *~ One of the flannel suited businessmen improbably called Ted Lovejoix, was finishing the testing of the Jinx. He pumped it full of cum, flying on its moans, bending its limbs, squeezing the luscious flesh, and admiring its reactions. He was shaking his head and his beady eyes were rolling feverishly. "Lil lady here can't be just a doll, Bane. She's too damn real. You done something to her. Something dark and unnatural I'm sure." Dr. Bane switched his grin on and off. "Yes, sure. I boiled her in the cauldron with the cum juice of dozen virgins while playing Cthulhu incantations on the banjo." "You mocking me?" Countered the suit. "Of course not. The Jinx is exactly what it says. Just a doll." "Shit!" "Scat is not one of her active functions. However, I will let you take fifty of them for $3000 and throw in two special models free. Just for you. You can play any scat games with them." "That is not what I meant! Your price is preposterous. How about twenty two hundred, payable after retail sales?" "We could meet at four hundred and twenty for six and sixty six. Each will come with a new bubble butt-plug." "Uh? Huh? I am not sure. What? Just tell me..." Ted the suit had problem with his thick tongue. His cock, hanging out of his flannel pants, was starting to twitch again. "All right I'll tell you. Casts were taken from MY Pichka, and then adjusted to fit the more common taste. The first one was the key one. After fitting it with the lube glands, we dipped the doll in the special brew. The composition is secret of course." "Yeah I believe that." "A circle of tall models in flowery stilettos masturbated with charmed Hitachis and baptized us with their juices as I fikked the doll to life. And it came to life!" "You fucked her to life?" Ted's cock grew hard again. He never met a bullshit artist like Dr. Bane before. "That's right. Tell you what, Ted. Missus Little Strap-on Fanny, The Voodoo Queen was Li Grand Zombi when we brought Jinx to life. Let her show you how we did it and then we'll talk some more. Hey Fanny! Fanny!" Little Strap-on Fanny detached herself from the crowd, She was small but the shadow of her black strap wavering deceptively in the candle light was huge. "Sweety, let me show exactly how we infused life in that minx. And I will show you exactly what part Fauntleroy here played. Fauntleroy! I need some lubing here! " Ted's mind stopped for a while. ~* * *~ "Fauntleroy!" Fauntleroy was busy getting a slave not to fuck the wall and his owner not to talk to the lamp. "You rang Sir?" "It's time to start the comparison." Pichka and the the Jinx were on their backs on parallel daises in the same position, legs tied with hemp rope and attached to the same sturdy link embedded in the ceiling, feet almost touching their ears. The the Jinx looked like a pumped up, unused twin of Pichka. The only difference was the stilettos on the Jinx's stockinged feet did not match Pichka's. As the crowd gathered, a line formed in front of the Jinx. Some Dominants delegated their slaves to fuck. Dommes delegated their strap-ons. Only the point of entrance in the unliving and living differed: Pichka was getting it only in the ass. Bane's crystal butt plug was stopping her asshole full of cum-juice. Dr. Bane invited all to observe how it was to fuck the Jinx holes. "Note the lubing. Isn't that elastic anus gripping that cock just right? Now that is one fuckable pussy isn't it?" Pichka saw him grinning. Some of the Jinx lovers moved on to Pichka and her asshole. There was a silver bell on her collar and whenever someone rang it, Fauntleroy would pop up and ask in a level voice: "Vous a sonné, Monsieur ou Madame? You rang Sir or Ma'am?" In front of the offered cock he would POP out Bane's crystal butt plug stopping her asshole, offering it for use to Master, slave or a strap-on. In this matter, there was an absolute equality in the Wolf mansion. Then Sir or Madam fucked her asshole and filled it with more loads of sticky goo. "Thank you for gang-banging our products, Sir or Madam." Fauntleroy said after they finished. He said it always to Masters, never to slaves. There was there was an absolutely no equality in the Wolf mansion in this matter. "I'm not yer fikking Monsieur or Madame!" snapped Little Strap-on Annie as she bounced her latex dong on Pichka's clenched pussy. "And I am not a Sir at all," added Chief Wicker Basket. De-gloved, Fauntleroy used the butt-plug to scoop and push back the Chief's cum escaping from her brimming asshole, before he stopped it again with the butt plug. He was careful to shovel all the cum in her no matter what cock it came from, Sir or Madam, Master or slave. In this matter, there was an absolute equality in the Wolf mansion. The guests, seeing his black fingers smear ooze on her white ass, hoped he'd wash them before he resumed serving Bane cookies and sausages. Yet other guests wanted to lick those fingers. "Sir or Ma'am, please use our product's cleaning facility," offered Fauntleroy to each guest. The guests moved to her other hole and Pichka mouth-cleaned their cocks or strap-ons. Although she hated messes and the stickiness, she was happily licking and sucking. That was something the Jinx could not do. She wished every single man and woman would line up so she could lick their cocks, pussies and asses clean while her Master's cock throbbed in her pussy, pumping her with HIS cum. Yumm. Uncannily HIS face appeared in her field of vision. He mouthed a silent "How's it going, cum-face? You are MINE!" He checked her tit clamps, pulling the chain. The numbed flesh came to life and she moaned. He blew another kiss at her becumed face and disappeared. This fuck-dance, this SWINGING, went on until the lines parted. Bare chested Lord Toff de Tough approached through the smoke. His bunnies held his leather cape. Now he will pronounce his doom. He always liked to fuck the flesh before he bound it, just to get the feel of it, even if he felt he was getting sloppy seconds. He was going to fuck her after all. Fauntleroy unstopped Pichka's ass and the bunny put the condom on Tough's uncut, wiry yang. He was not gong to thrust his naked pestle into that sticky hole. Condomed, he rammed her squishy ass, pumping mercilessly. While he fucked one of the bunnies pushed his ass with her face, her head under his leather kilt. Pichka moaned and yelped, over the slapping of the leather kilt on the naked flesh and the chattering of the teeth of the bunny when his hard ass rebounded on the upstroke. The wave which was building in her all evening crashed. Pichka convulsed. Lifting her ass even higher she started pissing. The release triggered an orgasm. She squirted, still pissing. Her golden pee splashed on Lord Toff the Tough. He screamed, in a high pitched voice, "STUPID FUCKING BITCH! YOU PISSED ON ME!' Stumbling over his bunny, Tough backed up from the still pissing Pichka. As he pulled out his cock, it started to fill the condom. He howled in rage. Amidst the gasps and snickers, Dr. Bane's "WHAT?" rang clear. "The stupid asshole is pissing like rabid bitch! I am not a piss tree!" The fountain was dying out. Pichka froze in dread. The circle, crowd they were in broke as Lord Toff the Tough backed from advancing Dr. Bane. Jinx was forgotten. Pichka wanted that, but not like this. "What a disgusting piss pig she is. A worthless bitch!" Tough grinned feverishly at the audience. "No way will I rope this bitch. She will soil my ropes!" He looked around waiting for approval. Then Dr. Bane spoke softly: "What was that Sir? That was MY property. MY property isn't stupid and she's not a bitch for you, Sir or Madam." The voice was soft, but the eyes were not. They were opaque, cold and sharp like a stiletto. "She pissed on me, Robur." Those eyes started to spin. Suddenly Lord Toff de Tough felt his limbs get clammy and cold. His head spun with all the hints and gruesome tales the Wolf family, the dungeons of the Mansion and the hot horrors that went on here in the days of slavery. And now, the present owner whose macabre reputation he knew so well was speaking to him: "Yes... the Dungeon, Basil." Bane whispered. How did he know what he was thinking? Thought Tough. It was always uncanny. The hairs on his neck rose. He felt Fauntleroy's huge mass pressing on him from behind. "You will not spoil my party," the Owner was softly hissing. "You will apologize to Pichka. Then you will perform your act with the jinxes. You will be good. Then, we will see. Maybe you can avoid the Dungeon." "Uh, yes. Sorry Pichka. I'd better go get ready." He backed up. Fauntleroy let him go. Toff the Tough screamed at his bunny: "Why aren't you cleaning me yet? LICK IT OFF BITCH!" Dr. Bane's voice rose. "But MY bitch pissed on MY esteemed guest. Therefore . . . " He lifted his hand. "You rang Sir?" added Fauntleroy as he slapped the braided handle of a massive leather flogger in Bane's palm. " . . . the piss offender will be flogged." He whispered to trembling Pichka: "You did the right thing, slut!" "I love you, Master," she croaked. Gently he arranged the sweat-sticky lock of hair on her forehead. "Me too, little pichka, me too." He lifted the flogger, drew it back and crashed it full force on her wet, pouting pussy-pichka. She screamed. The Beardsley illustration they inhabited now, turned from red to blinding white. Then it faded to blue and black. ~* * *~ The poles Toff the Tough requested rose high in the iridescent blue sky. On their sharp tips 'Fooka Fikka Pichka' banners snapped gaily in the rising wind. Between the poles, the rope suspension scaffolding was constructed over the low stage. It was ready for Lord Toff the Tough. Two naked Jinxes waited patiently. On the other side a dark two story forbidding gothic tower rose in the same iridescent sky it was 'Refuge de Epè Wolf'. No slave wanted to find out what Grandpa Wolff did there but many did. "Ladies and gentlemen let us proceed to the lawn. Our esteemed guest will perform artistic bondage on the Jinx. And I have another salvaged antiquity to show you!" The gust of wind blew out red candles in the atrium. Like Moses, Dr. Bane led them out. They were accompanied by The Pied Piper - Fauntleroy. Pichka's pussy was burning and drooling as she, like Toto on kneepads, followed on all fours. Somewhat dazed, the guests filed out of Wolf Mansion reluctantly. They spilled out, milling among the tents pitched among the poplars, around the carousel, wandering towards the stage. With the help of handlers, Fauntleroy had to prevent them from wandering off in the mulberry orchard and the alligator farm beyond it. Fauntleroy was beginning to loose his decorum but Dr. Bane thought it was perfect. He wanted to take the attention off Pichka. She certainly got attention when Dr Bane flogged her earlier. While he was flogging her impudent pussy she was screaming and thrashing, rolling from side to side as far as the ropes allowed. It was not that it hurt very badly - she was caned much worse before. The scene turned into a public spectacle of total release. As the curious crowd gathered closer around her, a particularly vicious stroke caused her to empty the captured cum. With her whole body convulsing, the crystal butt-plug POPPED out forcibly. Globules of semen flew out after it, landing on both Pichka's and The Jinx's shoes which seemed to attract them magically. The rest of bottled up (or rather, assed-up) cum seeped out. The chain on her waist snapped and the butt-plug clanked on the floor. "You popped, ma Totò?" asked Fauntleroy Dr. Bane innocently. "I'm going to pop your ass!" Growled Dr. Bane. To Pichka he said: "Bitch, this mess is an unbecoming loss of self control and dignity. It's just too much. Popping butt-plugs at my guests? It's time for boot blacking." He did not make her lick her shoes while she was still wearing them. He let her off the dais and made her lick her own mess from it. Then, kneeling on the floor she had to lick off every cummy spot of her neatly arranged Pradas in front of the observers. No hands. And then, she had to lick off very visible spots on the Jinx's black shoes (her shoes!) while Dr. Bane fisted the Jinx challengingly. Now, that was a pussy to fist. At the height of the moment he pulled off the crystal clamps off poor Pitchka's tits. She managed not scream and grab her tits. "I am going to operate," announced Dr. Bane in his stage voice. His hands went up in the air. "Gloves!' Fauntleroy handed him a pair of black surgical gloves which Bane snapped with flourish. "Glasses." Anne Mima placed them on his head. "Sausage." And it was there, steaming hot, on the silver platter, impaled on the pitchfork. He grinned at it again. Pichka shuddered. Guests who knew Dr. Bane tried to ignore it, but many shuddered too: the way he was grinning at the pitchfork rose disturbing associations. Despite themselves, they gawked. He took off the sausage off the pitchfork and thrust the fat meat in the Jinx's pussy. The sauces mixed and bubbled. He pumped it in and out. "Note how tightly that pussy grabs Grandma Wolf's sausage, yet how easily it slides in?" He moved it to her asshole, then back to the pussy again. Pulling the sausage out, he offered the morsel to Pichka. She hesitated. "If it is not in your mouth in seven seconds you are going to lap all the sausages from the floor." Knowing he would follow through, she did it in five seconds. It was hot, greasy, mixed with the sesame flavoring of the Jinx juice and heavily seasoned with various semen. As she sucked and the chewed on it, she thought about thousand of cocks who will be fucking the twin of her pussy. "Now, I'd like to ask all of you to feed my bitch." He nodded towards Pichka. "There are sausages aplenty. If you can't find one I am sure you can think of something else to feed her." There was nervous laughter around the room. "You are going to remain on all fours, bitch. Grab every sausage offered and if I see a cock hanging out for more then seventeen seconds without your mouth around it, that flogger will seem like a tickler. Only then, you might earn those shoes back. Understood?" She nodded. That promised fuck seemed further than ever. Looking at the amazed and amused faces around him, Dr. Bane's eyes glittered behind his dark eyeglasses. ~* * *~ Yes, she got attention all right. She crawled among the guests barefoot, munching pieces of sausage and other things, racing after cocks popping out of pants. She got few strap-ons as well. She did not know if they counted as sausages. From the PA 'As the Saints Go Crawling' blared. Between the tents was an ancient, carnival carousel. That was the other antiquity Dr. Bane salvaged from the attic and restored with some modifications. Among the red-painted wooden poles, four harnessed Jinxes were on all fours on its platform. Four more dolls rode the pony-dolls , held fast by huge dildoes sticking from the other backs. each pair was further connected by more leather straps. Dr. Bane was using a long braided bullwhip to spin the carousel. He struck the Jinxes with a horrifying force. The jinxes swayed but did not fall. They could take it. He was laughing harder and harder. Some guests thought he was going crazy. But Pichka saw the concentration with which he fondled the long whip before each strike. He was totally focused and serious, as she knew him. In leather harness, Marie Mima and Marie Phima, the two latex sluts, labored in the center of the carousel, helping it turn. With a cackle, he tickled them with the whip tip, roaring when they jumped up in their harnesses, screaming. He did not mind tearing some latex. He let Fauntleroy take his jacket and sweaty shirt. He finally threw away his dark operating glasses, gave the whip to Fauntleroy and took another shirt from him. "All right, on with the demonstration. On on on. THE ROPES! Let's see the Jinx jinx the ropes!" The rope was fluorescent red. It was not rope at all. It was a 4-millimeter optic fiber that would glitter in the low magnetic field. Lord Toff the Tough was practicing with it for a while. Now it would obey him, following his fingers like a thin coral snake. He was still apprehensive since Dr. Bane would help him with the light-rope but would not let him test it beforehand on the doll. "The demonstration needs to be authentic and not rehearsed." Dr. Bane said. The Night We Fikked the Jinx With a flourish, Lord Toff the Tough let his rope bunny take his cape and started to work bare-chested. He quickly tied the limbs of the first the Jinx using just one loop of the cord. He knew the doll's skin could take it and there was no blood flow to cut. Another loop just under her breasts and he pulled the light rope through the ring on the beam. The other the Jinx was ready soon. They were suspended separately, each pivoting freely, bound only by his will. As the bunnies pulled the ropes, he pressed the remote and the whole suspension beam rose slowly. The jinxes gyrated, the head of one passing through the open V of the others legs. The dolls responded surprisingly well, bending just a little more than the living bondage doll would. They moaned appropriately. Were Tough capable of admiring anybody's work but his own he would admire them. He spotted Dr. Bane's grin among the faces gathered around the stage. Were the other smiles smirks? The ropes were almost invisible. Perhaps that was the problem? Maybe the dungeons under Wolf mansion were real after all? He hissed at his bunnies and clicked the remote again. The red light teardrops raced through the ropes. In the semi darkness the jinxes looked like silvery fishes chasing the devil's bait in the lighted ropy universe. He went on retying knots and pulling the ropes, proud of his speed. The jinxes turned into sacked, inverted parrots, then into hare and hound chasing their asses. Pichka was mesmerized. She wanted to be up there, bound and transformed by the almost invisible light, fucked helplessly by her Master. She watered the grass. The distant rumble raced towards the Wolf Mansion. Everybody thought that St. Elmo's fire that danced briefly atop of the poles was a special effect. Dr. Bane laughed aloud just when Toff de Tough made twitching jinxes spin in a Catherine Wheel of light and twisted flesh. The people around Bane gaped at his harsh laughter. Another rumble came, much closer. Fauntleroy said loudly: "Bondye is ringing loud and clear... Sir. Maybe we should get the guests inside?" "The hell we will go inside. We're outside and we're staying IN THE OPEN," cried Bane. "OK then . . . , "said Fauntleroy, pulling out the cell phone and placing it on the silver platter. He offered it to Dr. Bane. "It rang, Sir. It's for you." "Now? Are you crazy?" "It's . . . HIM." Dr. Bane looked at the sky quizzical, then his gaze shifted to Fauntleroy. "You are tempting your fate, man." "It's the Arkham Asylum, SIR!" "Oh, it's about V? Give it to me!" Dr. Bane grabbed the phone and staccatoed instructions to the head of the asylum that kept his brother V in the safe environment. He never took his eyes off the dolls' aerial ballet performed under the guidance of that pompous ass. Ending with "Tomorrow!" he threw the phone back to Fauntleroy. Lord Toff was making jinxes gyrate and bounce against each other. The geometry of lighted ropes was an arcane sign controlling the curves of plastic Jinx-flesh. The distorted pentacles screamed the secrets of life and death to the mesmerized audience. Dolls had everything but life. Tough was in full control -- but there was nothing to control but the inert matter. As much as Pichka wanted to be the Jinx, she saw that THAT was a message for her. The sizzle and the crash of the God's Whip were deafening. It seemed that the lighting erupted from one of the poles. Sparks flew. The stage shook. Tough froze. Jinxes started to twitch and quiver in the vibrating ropes. The remaining sausages blistered, sizzled, and popped. Gumbo spilled, drowning the crawfish. Alligators grunted and splashed in the dark, waiting. A flock of pussy shaped Bane-cookies scattered, spinning in flight, singing 'There will be fucking!' The crowd fanned away from Dr. Bane drew them back when he deftly jumped on the stage. He waved his hands and kicked at the dolls: "It's ALIVE!" He screamed in front of jerking Jinxes. His white hair flew in a backlit halo around his head. He shook his fist at the tumultuous sky. "It is FUCKING ALIVE! I did it! YOU HEAR ME?! They LIVE!" A real lighting crashed over the Loup Bayou. Pink dolphins greeted it with a singsong. As the sound wave washed over them, Bane screamed: "Do your worst. You can't stop me. I gave them fucking LIFE. Come ON!" Lord Tough turned white and slipped away. Barging through the crowd Fauntleroy cried: "He is definitely ringing now. Sir . . . SIR, please stop it." "Are you all right, Master?" spluttered Pichka. She crawled to the top of the stage and started to climb it. He was shaking with pent up energy. 'He HAS to fuck me now,' thought Pichka. 'He has to fuck SOMETHING now.' His feverish gaze nailed her down. "You STAY," he said hoarsely. "You unfucked meat you. And YOU," he hooked his finger at Fauntleroy, "Come here. I will give you the sign of life which will ring forever." Fauntleroy froze. "Come here and drop them!" Fauntleroy trembled, his muscles twitching. "COME HERE! By the power of Bane I command you. I AM YOUR MASTER!" Fauntleroy moved forward stiffly, step by step. Pichka gasped. At the same time, Bane-cock finally made its appearance. Now the audience gasped. It jumped out of his pants miraculously hard as a rock again.. The cookie was doing its magic. Tugged by the strings of Bane's will Fauntleroy jerkily reached the stage and turned around. Leaning on the stage, he unbuttoned his white pants. They slid down. His eyes swam. Pichka caught his trapped look. "Madame," he mumbled. At last she knew. Even when Fauntleroy whipped her, they were in the same boat and Master Bane floated it. He was the ocean. The Ocean was getting a good grip at Fauntleroy's black muscular ass. Pichka crawled over to them, knelt, opened her mouth, and licked her full lips. "Master . . . " "Ah yes, the lube for the asshole." He fed her his bulging cock and she slobbered all over it. The strawberry taste of XXL Mojo Condoms dissolved in her mouth. Freshly lubed and condomed, Bane-cock easily found the butler's asshole. Then he gunned it and with next thrust and sent Fauntleroy reeling. At first, there was laughter and gasps -- until Dr. Bane began to howl as he fucked him. Yet, Fauntleroy refused to scream or howl himself. However, he grunted quite satisfactorily. At last, Pichka felt real kinship with Fauntleroy and the Jinx. Their all-fucked assholes certainly did. ~* * *~ Rosy Dawn As the rosy dawn fondled the Wolf Mansion, Dr. Bane fikked Pichka at last. All the guests were found wandering the orchards and the ponds. The handlers gathered them up before anybody had a close encounter with Franey or Zooey or walked into Loup Garou Bayou. Lord Toff de Tough was found too, hiding in the dreaded basement. There was no dungeon there, just half flooded piles of construction materials, water pumps, a room full of weird machinery, and vats of wax and plastic casts. Chinese workers finished the Jinx dolls there. Everybody was escorted towards Grosse Tete. Surprisingly, many cars drove away with a doll. After all the lights were extinguished, the fires put out and all the fluttering Bane cookies caught, Dr. Bane fucked her on his bed. No trappings or rituals, he just fucked her hurting, needy, pussy. She was screaming so much that he said he would develop matching earplugs for fucking 'ungagged, needy sluts' to go with his new Banolu glasses. He even let her wear those red Pradas while he fucked her. They were arranged neatly by the bed. She knew they were going back in the closet until the next time. He flicked his last cigarette through the balcony and now laid calmly, staring at the sky, blankly, like a dawn greeter. She thought it was safe now. "Master, may I ask you something?" He turned to her, the distant look coming back and slowly focusing. "I hear you, little one." "Master, why? All . . . That?" She waved vaguely towards the patio where the stage still stood. "Why?" "Why would I fuck my butler's black ass over your pink pichka? Because I wanted to." "I do not understand." "Did you see their faces? It was priceless. Especially, yours." He laughed. "That is why. You needed to be fikked out of your shoes, you know. You get it?" "Uh, I am not sure, Sir." "Good, that is a good start for a real submissive." He repeated. "But the dolls . . ." "Oh, they sold and they will sell even better when the word gets out. You will be fucked by proxy worldwide. By the way, did you like the fireworks?" She did not realize there were fireworks at all and looked at him blankly. "It was amazing." As an afterthought, Dr. Bane said, "HE cooperated quite well." "Fauntleroy?" "Not him -- HIM! But Fauntleroy did great as well. Great zombie walk. And how he squealed at the end!" "But then, why did you sell him?" she blurted out. "I did not sell him. I can't sell him anymore than I can sell you. I lent him to the good sisters of The Holy Flogg. He will serve as a sonneur, a bell-ringer and a spank boy at their church and learn some humility. No more 'Vous a sonné, Monsieur ou Madame?' or 'ma Totò'. Old man? . . . hrmpf." They fell silent. Pichka realized that Monastery of the Holy Flogg was in Arkham, close to the Asylum where Dr. Bane's cuckoo brother was kept. "Yes, there." He added, reading her mind. "Now I want you to take those shoes back to the closet and crawl back with another pair. Choose carefully." It took her a while. She returned with lacquered pink ballet boots armed with six inch stilletos. He eyed her and laughed uproariously. "You are really asking for it, slut. But I am sure I can invent something for the 'Night of Pink Boots.'" THE END Meanwhile... There was a small camp of wet tents in front of the wrought iron gate of the Arkham Asylum. A small fringe group huddled in the New England chilly dawn. Their placards read 'Don't Make Him Sleep,' 'V for President,' 'Dreaming is Our Constitutional Right', 'Take Me with You, V', and, of course 'Fuck Me, V.' They started to moan and fell to the grass shuddering unision with their mad prophet who was locked in the Asylum. Inside, despite the massive doses of tranquilizers, V Bane spun another dream: Rescuing Princess Nina.