The Ringmaster caught her as she fainted, pulling the release and sliding her off the saddle of the Fucking Bronco. The Bronco had overwhelmed her with pleasure, just as he had warned her it would. Nodding to Mark, who hustled in from stage left with a couple of rowdies, he slid her inert form to their strong, waiting hands, then whirled to face the crowd, smiling. He threw up his hand and shouted into the mike.

“Ladies! There you have it! One of you, chosen at random to ride the Poly-Chromatic, Destiny-Defining, Multi-Orgasmic, Sense-sational, Electro-Pneumatic Fucking Bronco has, once again been brought to Heaven’s Gate by its irresistible charms!

“Who will be next? Who among you has the courage, the desire, the panache – and the money! – to be transported by this amazing vehicle to your fondest wish, your wettest dream, that Dream of Desire, the Clamor of Cumming to your pussy’s hottest hope and greatest wish!

“Step right this way – and find what you’ve been missing, not just today, not just this week or this month, but your entire lives! Ladies, if you say “no” today, the thought will haunt you all the rest of your life: What if I had done it? What if I had ridden my Flight of Fancy? And the thought will be bitter – bitter as gall, a painful, black smudge on your memory, a Catastrophe of Cowardice!

“So, waste no time – climb the stairs and find out what you’ve been missing – or forever regret this day, and look back on it with bitterness! Nay, with pain and tears, for it’s… now or never!”

He flung his upstretched arm around towards the neon-flashing, highlight-reflecting, gleaming machine, its face frozen in the moment of orgasm, nostrils flaring and red, mane flying in an imagined wind, head tossed, and cock rampant between its sinewy thighs, seemingly galloping forward even though it was frozen on the pistons that pushed its movement.

And, as they always did, a trickle of women moved nervously towards the stairs, hesitantly at first, then more quickly, then pushing to be first in line, vying for the stage, eager to press their money into Mark’s hand as he smiled.

The Ringmaster eyed the prospects, and selected a delicious little redhead, nodding at Mark, who cut her out from the herd and took her backstage to prepare her. First, she was handed a goblet of sweet-smelling liquid, “to enhance your sensations,” she was told. She returned to the stage shortly wearing a tight-fitting, diaphanous blouse, plus harem pants that cleverly concealed a slit along the centerline. The outfit sparkled in the lights and contained lines of electrodes embedded in the material, which barely concealed the luscious, almost naked form underneath. On her head was what looked like a jockey’s helmet, but contained a network of sensors that covered her scalp, headphones that covered her ears, and goggles covering her eyes that would act as a display.

The Ringmaster strode to where the redhead was now seated on her mount, her torso settled on the soft, warm, and gently pulsing material covering the horse’s back. Mark guided her forward, so she was positioned like a jockey clinging to the neck of her mount, then slid her hands inside the reins, looping them around her wrists, cinching them tight, fitting her feet into the stirrups, and closing the clasps at the back of the heels, and fitting the flaps outside the blouse to snuggle her already prominent nipples firmly against the bronco’s neck. Finally, he secured leather straps around the rider’s knees, fastening her to the mount, pulling her legs wide, and pressing her pussy firmly into the back of the mount, centered over the Glory Hole.

The music began to play, and the redhead nervously began to wonder if this was really such a good idea, her head muzzy, the thoughts coming sluggishly but found that she was bound tightly. All thoughts vanished as the bronco began to move, its limbs stretching forward and back as if it were beginning a slow gallop. Her head spun, even as the Bronco picked up the pace. As it moved, the redhead’s limbs were pulled forward and back with it, her legs stretching long as the bronco’s hindquarters moved back, then moving together, knees forward, knees bending, as the hindquarters moved with it. Her arms, pulled by the reins, were stretched long as the bronco’s head advanced, with the result that her body first hunched together, then stretched long, mimicking the movement of the bronco.

As the bronco began to move more quickly, the redhead felt something beneath her pussy expand, pushing the slit in the material wide, slowly spreading her labia, then a slick, slim, balloon-like protuberance moving further and further into her now wet, gaping pussy. Once it was inside her, it began to expand, sliding deeper into her now clenching tunnel and spreading ever-wider until the machine began to feel a greater resistance, indicating that her pussy was massively full, almost overstretched, at which point it stopped its expansion.

The pneumatic cock moved in and out of her pussy as the bronco moved, the fucking action coming from the motion of the bronco, up and down, and stretched forward then bunched back. As her body collapsed with the bronco’s stride, knees up, arms down, the cock pierced deep inside her, bottoming out, slick and sensuous, and filling her fully and precisely in a way not given to a natural cock, then withdrawing as her body moved up the bronco, drawn by her arms fastened to the upper body, and pushed by her stretched-out legs.

Next, the electro-stimulation began. Light shocks trickled down her sides, almost like hands stroking her, but all over at once, matching the movement of the bronco – starting at her shoulders, then moving down to her tits, sides, abdomen, flanks, bum, mound, then down to her knees and calves, then retreating back upwards.

The sensations were overwhelming. She started to moan, and she would have writhed in pleasure if she hadn’t been so securely strapped to the bronco’s body.

Meanwhile, there was a cyclical swirling sound in her ears, and a dashed line in her visor moving towards her, like driving a highway in the fog, drawing her deeper and deeper into a trance-like state. Her breath was becoming shallower and shorter, and had anyone been able to see them, her eyes would have looked glazed.

The bronco picked up its pace, and electro-stimulation now began through the cock, stimulating her pussy and labia. The sounds in her headphones became a mixture of moaning sounds, and a quiet, low-pitched voice suggesting that she should give herself over to her feelings, to let herself cum, and cum hard.

And very shortly she did just that. Her whole body spasmed, her cunt clenched hard around the cock, increasing the wet connection and the resultant electro-stimulation in her pussy. Soon, she was crying out, her entire body tingling, partly from her hyperventilating, and partly from the increasing electro-stimulation, all the while the bronco’s motion back and forth, stretched long and bunched close, kept the cock pistoning in and out of her.

Her orgasm went on and on, longer and harder than any orgasm she had ever experienced, sending her to a level of bliss she had never imagined, sweat streaming from her body, which shivered and shook in sensory overload.

The voice in her ears now started telling her she would always listen to this voice, and always associate the voice with how she was feeling now. That she would be eager to do whatever the voice said and would seek to please whoever was speaking with the voice. That this was the only way she could feel like this again, and she would be richly rewarded for her obedience.

And when, finally, her heartbeat was measured as reaching dangerous levels, the bronco slowed gradually and finally came to a complete, shuddering halt.

Mark and the rowdies hurried forward, quickly stripped off her restraints, and carried her limp, blissed-out from backstage to the Ringmaster’s private dressing room, then left, locking the door after them.

A short while later, the latch turned, and the Ringmaster walked in, quickly shutting the door behind him. He sat in the chair next to the girl’s limp form. Her eyes were fluttering, and her breast was rising and falling quickly.

“You are such a good girl, and you feel so good, don’t you?” the Ringmaster said.

“God yes!” the replied, her voice slurred and barely audible.

“You want to continue to feel this good, don’t you?”

A look of concern flashed across her face, “Oh, please, yes – YES!”

“Then slide down on your knees, my eager slut, and open your mouth, my sweet…”

Standing, the Ringmaster unzipped his pants and hauled out a thick, hard, dripping cock.

The girl slid from the bed onto her knees, her eyes glazed, blinked, looked at the cock before her, then licked her lips, and opened them to let the Ringmaster force his way in, his hands finding the back of her head to pull her forward…

The girl left sometime later, convinced that she had experienced the greatest orgasm of her life. She felt sore in all three holes, but smiled, remembering the suggestion that she had enjoyed everything that had happened to her, and wishing ardently that it could happen again, unaware that she had been just the latest in a long chain of women whose bodies had been abused and who had paid handsomely for the privilege.

The blonde was petite but carried herself with a self-confidence that radiated to anyone who came near her. Her hands were shoved into the front pockets of her faded, ragged jeans and her knees peeked out as she walked. Heads turned as she passed by, and several men attempted to gain her attention, only to be ignored.

She wandered through the Sex Toy Carnival, sniffing the air and following the tendrils of sexual energy. Finally, drawn by the energy and vibes, she stopped by the stage of the Fucking Bronco, a small smile playing on her lips, and waited.

Shortly, the Ringmaster emerged and once again began his spiel, his gaze traveling over the crowd, and being drawn toward the petite blonde standing off to one side of the stage.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to select her at the end of his spiel, to suggest that she be the one who demonstrated the prowess of this greatest of all possible sex toys.

She dropped her head, and let her long hair cascade around her face, veiling the satisfied smile. She slowly mounted the stairs, and went through the entire process of preparation, consuming the decorated goblet, and being strapped onto the Bronco.

Her apparent reactions all seemed typical. Her moans were loud, her body behaved as anticipated, and her heart rate achieved the expected levels of orgasmic excitement, causing the Bronco to slow, then stop.

Mark and the rowdies unfastened her limp form from the Bronco and carried her to the dressing room. Strangely, Mark paused, looking down at the striking face, and wondered if what she was feeling was being reflected there. She looked strangely satisfied, even smug.

Shrugging, he departed, locking the door, dismissing his feeling of unease.

Shortly thereafter, the Ringmaster unlocked the door and slipped into the room, eager to possess his latest… client.

And very shortly after that, he pushed his wet and eager cock into her hot, waiting maw. He groaned in pure pleasure. This one had the most amazingly velvety mouth he had ever experienced, and she was sucking like a vacuum hose…

Sometime later, Mark tapped on the door. “Ringmaster? Ringmaster, it’s time for the next show! You’ll be late!”

When there was no reply, he took out his key, unlocked the door, and slipped in, minimizing any possibility of someone seeing inside.

He stopped, confused. There were the Ringmaster’s clothes on the floor, but there was some kind of dried, wrinkled thing inside them.

He crept slowly closer and looked down, then jumped back in horror. It looked strangely like the Ringmaster, but as if all the fluids had been sucked out of his body, the blank eye holes staring up at him…

The blonde succubus made her way through the crowd, turned a corner, licked her lips – and vanished.