Images In a Fractured Mirror V
Melinda, Mistress of the Horses was exhausted. Instead of being able to relax for a couple of hours between the afternoon and early evening performances she had to go and relieve Max. Time was when a star could turn her nose up at the sideshows and novelties that kept the customers and the cash coming in between the real attractions, but now.... television killed the gawp and peek, theme parks made their rides look tame, and the deadly duo of animal rights and public health and safety inspectors were driving the life out of the big top. So now she owned, and had to run, the Hall of Mirrors to try and bolster her share of the dwindling performance receipts.
Unfortunately along with the show she'd acquired Max. Ladies, next time you feel someone rubbing themselves against you in a crowded train; or some of your underwear vanishes from the clothesline, or your shoes return from the menders with dribble marks on them, a Max has been around. And right now Max was in his element.
The giggling girls had gone through the ranks of distorting mirrors and were now edging through the maze, a bewildering labyrinth of twists and turns built of mirrors and sheets of plain glass.
An unseen hand reached out and fondled a ripe young bottom.
A finger made an unwelcome intrusion.
There were half a dozen ways through the maze and Max knew every inch of it. He slipped greasily from concealment to concealment taking liberties with any unaccompanied females.
"I'm outta here!"
"There's the door"
Max, standing behind the mirror his victim had just collided with, smirked and waited for the blind panic to set in; but the mirror maze had been built in the era of bobby sox and sneakers, not anticipating the days of nose rings and industrial boots.
Craaaaaash!!! The mirror in front of Max disintegrated in a mass of shards.
"There's the perv, get him!"
Melinda came, slipping swiftly through the maze, taking in the scene in a glance.
"You can stop strangling him now," she said icily, "I've got something much better in mind."
In the big top a new show, a private show, was beginning. Melinda looked magnificent in her ringmistress outfit, long leading reins in her left hand, whip in her right.
Crack! The whip snaked out and the bridled victim leapt and ran. Melinda pulled hard on the reins and Max was forced on a circular path. Crack! At any sign of flagging another livid weal appeared on his pallid, naked behind. At opposite sides of the ring Melinda's two new assistants armed with short whippy riding crops waited to exact their quota as Max passed.
Half a dozen circuits and then they added some jumps and obstacles.
After twenty minutes Max was finished, but as he lay sobbing in the sawdust he heard Melinda, walking off with the others. "Y'know I've got this great idea for a new act...."
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