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Carnival Ride

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Fall is finally here, and with it comes the fair. Ferris wheels larger than life, thrill rides far as the eye can see, and countless stands serving up all manner of greasy foods, syrupy sweet confections and deep-fried fare, from popcorn to cotton candy, caramel apples and funnel cake. The smell of it intoxicating, and utterly enticing in a way where words fail to describe it. You go with your friends, as you do every year, carpooling to save gas as you make the lengthy sojourn into the heart of the city. You arrive later in the day in an effort to circumvent the worst of the heat (final blistering hints of summer refusing to dissipate completely even now, much to your annoyance) but still the sun beats down on you as you meander around with your little group, drinking in the festive sights before you.

You weren't much for this type of outing, truth be told, but an opportunity to see your friends was not to be squandered nowadays, so you came along anyway. You brought a book with you to read while the others threw themselves into every possible ride and attraction, having resolved to pass the time in a way that didn't involve craning your neck down at your phone screen 24/7. It was a classic horror novel, perfect for Halloween that was fast approaching, although comically large to the point where you felt almost a little self conscious lugging it around with you everywhere. The cover boasts a grim looking storm drain, grisly claws reaching up from the grate to greet a paper boat sailing towards it. This wouldn't be the first time you'd read it, it being one of your favorite books from your adolescence. The natural cadence of the words took you away to the nowhere town in which it was set effortlessly every time you opened it up again, scanning your eyes over where you had left off from before. It was something of a comfort for you, the familiarity of the story taking your mind off the recent host of problems that life brought. It didn't bother you much to be left alone so often either, as the pressure of social interaction had a history of wearing on you in record time. It was just so that your friends' apparent goal to conquer every square inch of the fair gave you the respite you needed, energizing you enough to partake in conversation whenever they inevitably returned to you.

The hours wore on and as your party moved around the circumference of the fair, you all came to the unanimous agreement to stop for a food break. The endless options wage war against your impossibly indecisive nature, and in the wake of your fickle deliberation your friends have already made their decisions and set off, but not before settling on a place to meet up again afterward so you could all eat together. Alone once more, you're left to wander the crowded path in front of you and make your own choice. Everything sounded good, you admit to yourself, even the more bizarre things cooked up that they were advertising on huge, gaudy signs outside the stands. Perhaps the fair was beset with a compelling energy, manifesting through the smells in the air, that made everything seem irresistible. Against all odds you're drawn to one of the many funnel cake stands. Classic carnival fare, and utterly decadent in your opinion. You were feeling more sweet than savory today, resolving to buy a funnel cake and maybe some popcorn afterward if you were still hungry enough for it. Walking up to the side so as not to interrupt the line you take a look at the menu, knowing what you wanted but finding yourself still undecided as far as toppings.

"Powdered sugar, strawberries, and whipped cream. Is that what you want, my sweet?" A voice from behind you seemed to read your mind. 

A chill goes down your spine and you turn around, greeted by the sight of a tall man-- a tall clown -- staring down at you with a knowing leer, face half obscured by a red balloon bobbing in his gloved hand. Instinctively you back away, bumping into one of the signs behind you and startling yourself. When you look back, he's gone. Shaken, you pause for a moment to process his words, finding that strangely, yes, that was what you wanted. Who... Was that...? No, it couldn't be. You chalked it up to being delirious from the heat, too tired to entertain the possibility of the monster from your book somehow taking real form and waltzing around the fair.    

You rub your eyes and let out a long, heaving sigh, making your way to the end of the line so you can order. That's when you see it, just beyond your peripherals, on one of the vacant tables sitting not too far away. A balloon, the same red balloon, and attached to it was what appeared to be a plate of funnel cake with powdered sugar, strawberries, and whipped cream on top. Just what you'd wanted. It beckons you toward it and against your better judgement you comply, leaving the line to walk towards this dubious offering that was no doubt left for you somehow. The table is rather secluded, set in the shade, exactly your kind of spot. Perhaps he knew that, leaving it there so you'd be all the more compelled to come to him. Drawn like a moth to light.

You almost thought it might be some kind of illusion, a mirage that would only fade away as you got closer, but to your puzzlement it remained on the table for you. You could even smell it as you drew near, regarding it with a rather wary curiosity. Just then you feel something caress its way slowly up your back and you jump, before a hand slides around your neck to grip your throat gently. A warning perhaps, to dissuade you from alerting anyone else to its presence. He was back. 

"...Pretty little girl, all alone, no friends to save her." The voice whispers to you in sing-song. "Ought to be careful, you should. Never know what kind of dangerous people are walking around, hmm?"   

His fingers dance up from your throat to stroke at your flushed cheek and he cages your body with his own, other hand placed possessively on the crook of your hip and you stand rigid, shivering at his touch. You want to break away. What if someone saw? How would you even begin to explain yourself? Was this even real? But you can't deny how good he feels against you, and some part of you wants more though you would never dare to admit it. If anyone could see you now it certainly didn't matter, as everyone around you continued their business unperturbed, like you didn't even exist to them. His grip on you tightens ever so subtly and you whimper.

"P-Please... Please don't." You force yourself to say, stammering.

He tsks at you patronizingly, making your cheeks flare up again with another surge of embarrassed heat. 

"Mmm, I don't think you're serious, poppet. You can't lie to me- I know you, and I know what you want. I always have."

You can't breathe as his hand makes its way up from your cheek to pet your hair. He was gentle in his movements but that seemed all the more terrifying to you, as you knew that beyond his soft touch awaited deadly promises he would surely act on if he was provoked to anger. If you refused him, defied him too much. You didn't really have a choice in all this, that was obvious. He continues petting you and you almost feel yourself melting into him, your back against his enormous chest, the warmth bringing you... Comfort? After some time he ceases these attentions and you almost protest but you manage to stop yourself, intending to salvage as much of your own dignity as you possibly could. The way your mind and body seemed at war with one another in their receptions to his touch was so frustrating to you in this moment because here you were, being groped in public by a monster, utterly terror-stricken, face wan and blood running cold underneath your skin and... Some part of you enjoyed it.

"Turn around, pretty thing. Let me see your face." It wasn't a request, it was an order. Shaking, you muster your courage and obey. He purrs contentedly at your assent, rubbing your shoulders with his long clever fingers, almost as a reward for your submission. 

"Good girl. Now, I should send you back to all your little friends, but before I do..." He tilts your chin up with his hand, grinning and leaning forward to whisper to you, his voice husky and dripping intent. "...Why don't you give ol' Pennywise a little kiss, hmm?" The mere suggestion of it has you reeling, your face awash with yet another furious surge of blush and he doesn't wait for your approval, as before you know it his lips are on yours, possessively claiming your mouth. It takes you by surprise and you squeak into it but he only growls, arm an iron band around your back to pull you closer to him, keep you from squirming away in your panic. He explores you deeper with his tongue, near choking the life out of you as he shoves it towards the back of your throat. It seems like he might just devour you whole, right here in the middle of the fairgrounds, and no one would be the wiser, no one would even care. He holds you there for what seems an eternity, and you gag and sputter when he finally pulls away, licking his plump red lips with a ravenous satisfaction. He tasted cloying and bitter in the same breath, tastes of popcorn and other delightful carnival staples mingling with the taste of rust and something else revolting you couldn't place. You're breathless, terrified, as he now toys with your hair fondly, twirling it around a gloved finger while he bores down into you with his hypnotizingly golden gaze. 

"Your friends are expecting you, my sweet. We can play some more later, but for now, why don't you take your funnel cake and hurry back to them? You don't want to keep them waiting, do you?" He turns you around again to regard his offering to you once more, but not before leaving you with one final assurance, whispered into your ear, to unnerve you.

 

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you."

 

And then he was gone again.

   

This encounter leaves you quite jumpy and skittish, and as you make your way back to the preordained spot you all agreed upon you stare down at the plate of funnel cake you carry in your hands, finding to your own displeasure that the fear coursing through your veins was rendering your appetite more and more nonexistent with each passing second. Wanting to cry but knowing you couldn't, you hold on to the feeling inside you as it festered and weighed on your adams apple, twisting your guts. Knowing that you couldn't even tell your friends what was bothering you so much, because they likely wouldn't believe you and above all, because you knew it was pointless. Whatever he had planned for you, you knew better than to try to run from him, or hide behind the skirts of someone else. There was no avoiding it. All you could do was wait.

Having kept his last statement to you in mind, you looked around everywhere expecting to see some sign alluding to his presence. You didn't know what to look for, another red balloon perhaps, but you were confused (and rather disarmed) to find that there were no such signs to be found. He was strangely absent from your field of vision, but some part of you was certain he watched you all the same. The faraway sight of your friends gathered around a table gave you some much needed comfort. It wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket to calm your nerves that had turned to ice, and you realize that you're walking towards them faster than you meant to, almost running to the beacon of security they gave off. You force yourself to slow, not wanting to alert them that anything was off. Scary as it was, you knew it was just easier this way, to pretend like nothing was wrong. You were afraid of the consequences that would almost surely come as a result of getting them involved, not that they would ever believe you in a thousand years anyway.   

So you meet up with them again, force a smile, make idle conversation. You pick at your funnel cake and compel yourself to eat as much of it as you can manage, as you were sure the monster watching over you would be none too happy to see you making waste of the gift he so graciously offered to you. Your mind never quite left him completely, in fact every time something so much as moved out of the corner of your eye you would flinch a little, glancing around feverishly expecting to see another red balloon, the ghostly white face peeking from around it with a grin both impish and sinister in equal measure. You didn't like how unsafe you felt, and how helpless you were to do anything about it. Much to your dismay, your plan to take the day to unwind with your friends had very quickly turned into a living nightmare for you.   

Conversation dies down and reaches a lull as you finish as much of your funnel cake as you can stomach, and a comfortable silence settles over your table while everyone takes some time to check their phones and get caught up on whatever they might have missed. A quick glance at your phone reveals nothing much of interest to look into, so without thinking you reach for the book in your purse instead, pulling it out. The cover stares back at you and your heart flutters inside your chest. Pausing. Looking around again in a vain effort to find your tormentor in the crowds of people around you, and then taking a deep breath before stuffing it back into your purse again. Out of sight, out of mind. You pull your phone out again and try to pass the time however you can, cycling through all your social media in an attempt to immerse yourself, anything to forget the things he said, the things he all but promised he was going to do to you.   

The food break passes quietly without interruption, and already you and your group had hit up the main thoroughfare again to continue where you left off. Business continues as usual; your friends blow more tickets on rides and silly games and you occasionally join them in an attempt to make yourself feel safer among them. You even started to have a little fun- This side of the fair featured more booths selling wares than perilous thrill rides, and a lot of the kiosks you visited sold some rather interesting and whimsical trinkets to look at, more than enough to take your mind off the clown for the remainder of the evening and satisfy your need to stay on the ground in one fell swoop. You couldn't say that your appetite had returned, though, unfortunately. This was rather disappointing to you, as without much interest invested in the attractions of  the fair as far as rides, you at least were looking forward to all the food. So many things you wanted to try, things you could no longer stomach thanks to the uneasiness steeping inside you. An utter waste, you think to yourself bitterly, allowing a splash of well-deserved umbrage to mix with the cold sweat of your terror. If you were going to comply with the wishes of this monster, you at least deserved to make your feelings on it clear. You knew he was reading your mind, or you were almost certain. You had no reason to believe he wouldn't make good on his promise to watch over you, prickling feeling at the back of your neck telling you that there were definitely eyes trailing your form as you walked, you just couldn't see them. You almost wished he would make his appearance already, this foreboding waiting game he forced you to play taking an honest toll on your mind as the hours wore on.   

On the flip side of the coin, however, you find yourself clinging as desperately to your friends as you can, your rationale being that Pennywise was less likely to engage your attention around the company of this many familiar faces. Safety in numbers, after all. You were sure it wouldn't put him off completely, as he had more than enough power at his gloved fingertips to control what other people saw and heard, you knew that. With a shiver, you briefly entertain the thought of him lacking even the patience to drag you off into a secluded spot, choosing to take you in public while everyone walked past the two of you blissfully unaware, heedless to his snarls and your pleading cries, your screams for mercy. You lingered on it longer than you meant to, before banishing it from your mind with disgust (and maybe, just the tiniest hint of shame). You were tantalizing prey in the eyes of this merciless predator, and sooner or later he was going to hone in and make his kill. The inevitability of it was enough to make you frantic to buy time, anything to stall his unyielding whims being more than enough of a worthy cause for you now.   

This last-ditch would only carry you so far, however, as the day was winding to a close and the sun was now beginning its descent into the west. As it darkened the sky became a gorgeous shade of purple with the sun casting out a brilliant orange shadow in the clouds, a perfect atmosphere to compliment the long-awaited arrival of autumn. So much walking has left your entire group exhausted, but before making a departure for home they decide on one final attraction to cap off the night: The big ferris wheel in the center of it all, which offered a stunning view looking out over the rest of the fairgrounds. Only trouble was, you were deathly afraid of heights. You wouldn't, you couldn't, but as your friends beg your participation in this last hurrah your eyes land on something in the distance behind them. A lone bobbing red balloon, accompanied by nothing. Not a clown or a plate of funnel cake. It simply nodded in the wind, only thing keeping it from floating off into the sky being the post it was tied to. This, for sure, was an omen, and the only deciding factor you needed to allow yourself ushered into the end of the big line along with everyone else. He can't get me if I'm with everyone else, you told yourself repeatedly, hoping that you'd believe it if you thought it enough times. He can't get me, he can't get me...   

Your party finally reaches the front of the line and the attendant overseeing entry guides you all to the next available gondola. The rest of your group fits inside without a problem, but a horrifying revelation is brought to your attention far too late, that revelation being the big sign outside the fence reading in bold "MAXIMUM CAPACITY: 6 OCCUPANTS PER CAR." All 6 of your friends sat snug in the cabin, with you the unlucky 7th. Made to board the next car over despite their protests, but being last in line, you have the entirety of it to yourself. Pennywise's words whisper in the back of your mind, a grim reminder at a very unwelcome time. "Pretty little girl, all alone, no friends to save her." Your mind is too frantic to make heads or tails of your situation in time, and before you know it you're shut within the confines of the polished, air-conditioned pod, to float alone and against your will without the comfort of your friends to soothe you. As good as dead in the jaws of the wolf who stalked you, who would surely take this ripe opportunity to make good on his earlier vows to reappear. 

    The ferris wheel began to move at a soothing snail-like pace, but the higher you rose into the sky, the more inconsolably afraid you became. You tried to calm yourself, taking deep breaths as you sank into the seat behind you, eyes glancing every which way expecting to see him scaling in through the window at any second to claim you. The sun continues its journey downward in the distance, and with it goes the light of the car, but still no sign of Pennywise. Its at this point that you weigh the different possibilities, and the most ridiculous yet appealing one rises to the forefront of your mind. You had to have hallucinated your earlier encounter somehow, and the rest of the day was simply your paranoia playing tricks on you. Come to think of it, there wasn't just the odd red balloon lingering about the fairgrounds. You recalled seeing balloons of just about every color you could fathom at some point or another, and this thought eases your wary, fragmented conscience. It almost brings you some peace of mind, placates you enough to get through the rest of the ferris wheel ride. To go home, get to bed, and leave this awful day behind you.

 

But then.

   

You feel something shift underneath you, the strange feeling of something sentient, something alive manifesting from behind your back. In no more than ten seconds flat you feel the silk of his suit beneath your clenched fingers and now you're sitting in his lap. Finally he'd fulfilled his promise. Pennywise was here.   

You shriek and immediately propel yourself upward, your fight-or-flight response kicking in as you try to get as far away from him as you can, on the other side of the gondola. But he's too quick and as you try to make your escape he snatches your wrist, getting up to fling you back onto the seat behind him. Your head hits the window and you cry out, both in pain from the impact and fear from the way the car wobbles, continuing its cyclical journey around the wheel despite the commotion but still feeling decidedly unsteady beneath you. He's advancing on you now, a deep rolling growl from his throat punctuating the silence between you as he closes the distance. There's fury in his eyes, they're bleeding red with animosity.

"Stupid girl, trying to get away from me. Thinking that her friends could keep Pennywise from taking what's his. Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl."

He pins your body with his own, effortlessly extinguishing your ill-fated attempts to squirm out from underneath him. At this point you're sobbing, flinching away from the explosiveness of his anger, squeezing your eyes closed to shut this out, shut him out. Suddenly there's a tonal shift that you can feel, and you open your eyes again to see him staring down at you in contemplation. Finally he speaks again, the timbre in his voice deadly serious. He brings to you an ultimatum.

"It all comes down to this, little thing. Give yourself to me, or I will pick the meat from the bones of all your little friends. Would you like to see just how much they can't protect you, sweetling? It all ends the same either way, so tell me, which do you choose?"   

You know his threat to your friends is not a baseless one, and what you had feared all along had come to pass anyway despite your best attempts to make it otherwise. He had you cornered, and knew it. All that remained was the finality of your submission, your agreement to give in. To give him exactly what he wanted from you.  

You hear yourself speak before you understand what you're saying. It comes out of you a flood of sobs and you can't control yourself. "Don't hurt them. Please. I'll do anything." Your eyes are glossy with tears, but you can see the expression on his face change above you, the sternness slowly but surely melting from his features. Its obvious he wants to hear more, too greedy to be entirely placated just yet. He wanted no question in your compliance. Wanted, no, needed you to surrender to him completely. Only then would he give you the relief you craved.

You concede with your head hung, your lip trembling as you offer up to him the magic words, the key to his mercy. "I... I'll be yours." 

A smile, triumphantly smug, creeps over his face once again, and he leans in, drool glistening and falling from the corners of his mouth, to whisper to you darkly. 

"Then kiss me, sweet girl."

He waits for you this time, a deliberate gesture on his part to test the validity of your willingness to obey him. You catch on to this quickly and bring your face forward to meet his, hands placed gently on the broadness of his shoulders to steady yourself. You part your lips and he does the rest of the work for you, taking your mouth once again in a brutally possessive kiss as he cups your face with his hands. This isn't like the last time, though. He still uses his tongue, yes, but its more articulated this time. He doesn't choke you with it, but controls it in a way that has you squirming against him, a storm of knots brewing in your stomach. These feelings of electricity begin there and from then they trickle down, down between your legs, down into the core of your being. You moan into his mouth at these sensations, feeling your resolve quickly fall to the wayside in pursuit of your wanton desires that had so quickly overtaken you. His pleasure at your sudden shift in behavior has him humming into you, and he deepens the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away to observe your flushed face.   

"Mmmm, you taste so good, little girl." He tells you huskily, brushing the heat of your face with the cool silk of his glove. "I wonder... If the rest of you tastes just as good." That same hand brushes against your thigh, snaking underneath your dress to tug at the waistband of your panties, wringing a startled gasp from your throat. He smirks, that hand trailing down to brush against the center of you, friction of his glove against the fabric of your underwear, lightly grazing your clit with his thumb. He runs his fingers along the crotch teasingly, watching your face intently all the while, and slips a finger underneath to gauge your wetness. A few simple seconds of his fingers rubbing your slit has you arching your back, whimpers spilling from your lips, a waterfall of pleas and sobs cascading endlessly from you like music to his ears, encouraging him, egging him on. But much to your dismay he pulls his hand away, and with it follows a string of your own arousal, glistening on his fingertips. He makes a show out of licking your juices from his glove, curling his tongue around the silk and noisily cleaning all traces of you from it as he continues to scrutinize you with his piercing stare. Noting the desperation in your face, your unabashed arousal apparent in the redness of your cheeks, the shallow heaving of your chest. He leans into you again, though careful not to crush you, knowing that brute force was no longer necessary as you now lay before him suitably cowed into submission and practically begging for his touch.  

"Delicious girl." He purrs, taking your face in his hands once more, an insectile clicking noise underscoring the deep rumble of his voice. As he straddles you something writhes between your thighs and you were all too aware what it must be. With each second passing it's thrashing gets more erratic, fighting to break free of its confines so it can rut against you unencumbered. He rolls his hips into your own, coaxing more noises out of you, as many as he possibly could.

    The sun is still setting, the ferris wheel still moving, but time seemed to stop all the same. He wordlessly peels the dress from your body, ripping away your panties, your bra, like wrapping paper to expose you to him completely. The telltale sound of tearing fabric being the only preamble you get before his cock is squirming, undulating unnaturally against your cunt. One look at his cock almost has you in hysterics, the size of it so utterly intimidating it looks like it might rip you in half with a single thrust. He grips your hips and lines himself at your entry, lubing himself up with the wetness of your cunt, paying no mind to your terrified sniveling.

"Shhhhhhh, pretty girl. It's okay. Let Pennywise take you."   

And take you he certainly would. His member filling you is a feeling that's nigh indescribable, the red hot pain of being immediately stretched to capacity making you scream out underneath him, an involuntary response on your part. You'd expected him to ease his way in slowly, so the sudden intrusion brings a fresh array of tears to your eyes and you feel like, in that moment, you could very well die. The pain is so savage and punishing that it burns you, fries your nerves and paralyzes you underneath him. He eats up your discomfort and your agony, and every sound that comes out of your mouth only spurs him on further. Nonetheless he clamps his large hand over your mouth with a barely suppressed giggle, tut tutting at the sounds of your distress.   

"Shhhhh, quiet now, you wouldn't want anyone else to hear us, would you? So many people at the fair, poppet, they could hear what I'm doing to you for miles around if you keep that up."   

You feel your face redden more at the thought and you whimper at him, the ever present glee on his face serving to unnerve you as he continues to impale your cunt on his cock. If you thought time had stopped earlier it had ceased to exist now, as the sheer sensory overload of this terrifying beast on top of you, inside of you, overwhelms your senses and occupies the full expanse of your mind. Now seated within you completely, his cock wriggles torturously inside you before pulling back out. Slowly, gently. Its almost an act of mercy on his behalf, as now that he's past the hard part of splitting open the tightness of your cunt, he can now work at gradually easing his way in and out, further opening you up to him, making you all the easier to pull apart at the seams.   

He growls against your ear and you shiver, feeling your nipples stiffen. As if by cue he slides his smooth, gloved hands up from your hips to cup underneath your breasts, and the feeling of silk on skin as he rolls your nipples between his fingers has you mewling instinctively, pushing your chest up to meet his hands with sheer need, like your life depended on his very touch. Your reception to these advances has him grinning like a mad dog, trying to contain his excitement and utter delight, his urge to take you mercilessly as he moves slowly in and out of you. Your slick walls yield to him more and more with each push into your fragile body, squeezing him deliciously but now allowing him to access the deepest parts of you with ease. The pleasure of it all was so much for him and he wanted more, but he knew he needed to be patient with you so you could last, that he wouldn't break you. What a waste it would be to break you so quickly when there was so much fun to be had with you. What a fun little toy you could be for him, if he was just careful and kept his composure. Slow and steady wins the race, after all, and Pennywise was not one to lose. Not at anything.   

The ferris wheel continues its ascent into the evening sky again, making its leisurely way around and around. The gentle movement of Pennywise's hips against yours makes the car teeter back and forth precariously, and as he begins to pick up speed it starts to feel more and more unstable beneath you. The sends new sparks of fear shooting up through your veins to mingle with the rest of the feelings now bubbling inside you, the pleasure, pain, and dread you feel mixing together to form a heady cocktail that he happily sips from your trembling form. The friction of his cock is beginning to rub your walls raw, and the sting of it sends tears prickling in your eyes. It was just so much, so much for you and you didn't know how you hadn't crumbled at this point, but underneath the ashes of your torment was the glittering of the undeniable pleasure blossoming and growing inside your gut while he took and took and took from you.   

"Good girl, so good for me. You're doing so well, my little pet." He croons at you sweetly, and the softness of his voice vibrating pleasantly against your ear does you in even more. Just a little closer to oblivion, to your own end, and he knows it. He smirks as you pull him closer, burying your face in the ruffles at his neck and muffling your desperate cries that you can't even control, that seem to leave your throat of their own accord.   

By the time the ferris wheel makes it through another cycle you're melting completely under his touch, nothing but putty in the hands of this monster who could so easily rend you apart, eat the flesh off your bones if only he wanted to. But you're not concerned with that at the moment, ridiculous as it sounds. All you care about is chasing your climax, chasing him down that blinding corridor to ecstasy that lay just beyond your reach. Even the feelings of pain, the fear and the dread, drown in the distant waves of your climax that wash closer and closer by the second. With your arms around his neck, he hooks his underneath your thighs and hefts you into the air mid-thrust, backing to the other side of the car so that you now sit astride him. He adjusts your trembling body to bring you closer, fitting your bodies together like two puzzle pieces, and begins thrusting into you again with renewed intensity.   

The irresistible warmth of him moving inside you overcomes you once more and you bounce on his cock, move your hips with the rhythm he sets. Getting so lost in it, the height and the view of so many people down below making you dizzy, the fear of being seen or heard, and you get lost in his eyes, which seem brighter and more luminous to you now than the sun right behind him. Staring into them too long has you losing cognizant thought, the dizziness worsening until you slump forward into his shoulder. He continues to buck up into you, the furious pistoning of his hips not slowing to accommodate your sudden and overbearing fatigue. But despite the loss of consciousness you feel creeping over you, the lucidity of your pleasure is just as real as ever. The heat between your legs screams out for long awaited release, the roiling in your stomach seeming to rise and fall with each breath you take. He rakes gentle claws up and down your back, leaving trails of scratches in their wake as he coos down at you. His voice seems far away now, muffled like there were pillows held against your ears, like you'd simply floated away from him.

"Good girl. Precious girl, taking me so well. Oh yes, I'm going to keep you, make you mine. Would you like that, hmm?"

    You can hardly hear your own noises let alone him, your moaning and wanton sobs lost on you, the only things in existence now being this strange and enigmatic creature, and all the pleasure he brings to you so effortlessly. The rest of the world had faded away.   

"Yes, yes. I know you would. I told you I know what you want, little girl, and I can give it to you." With this he issues an especially deep thrust, one that touches your core and makes you see stars. Its so close, you're so close. You summon your remaining energy and, with a heaving breath, spare a tired glance out the window of the car and down on the hundreds of people standing below you. Its so high, you're so high. He drops a hand down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles over it with the silk of his glove, spelling your end once and for all.

"Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum for Pennywise."

Now at the top of the ferris wheel, you feel the beginnings of your long anticipated orgasm tremble over the surface over your being. You dangle over the edge for an agonizing second, much like a rollercoaster inert at the top of a hill before the big drop and you finally- finally- come crashing down hard. Your pleasure hits you like a freight train and you scream out in his arms, no longer concerned with being heard in this moment as you cling to him for dear life and ride it out, sobbing inconsolably into the ruffles of his collar. You feel something painfully hot spilling inside you and Pennywise looses another fearsome growl, sinking his teeth in your shoulder and digging the claws of his remaining hand into the meaty flesh of your back, summoning blood to the surface of you before trickling warmly down your spine. You're so far gone, however, that this attack on your body registers as nothing more than a dull pain. Sight fading to black, you fight to take back your consciousness before you pass out completely but it seems a moot point. Your eyes glaze and you slump into him again, the tingling aftermath of your orgasm spreading to every inch of your body. You feel like you're buzzing. Alive, but so close to losing yourself. Did you always feel this warm?

The ferris wheel is making its way down again and so is the sun, beginning to slowly but surely disappear over the horizon. Pennywise is purring now, a deep, rumbling sound of satisfaction that compliments the buzzing of your tired and utterly spent body. You still hold onto him, albeit weakly, and this brings a devious smile to his face, your delicious submission to his whims pleasing him greatly along with the seeds planted of your inevitable dependency on him. Your inevitable dependency that would only grow the longer he held onto you, the longer he poisoned your mind and kept you isolated from everything else. Yes, you would belong to him, you would belong to him and no one else, nothing else. It stroked his ego, the thought of you living for no other reason than to please him, to see you broken down, unable to subsist without his hold over you. He was going to ruin you, and he would make damn sure you enjoyed every second of it along the way whether you wanted to or not.

You forgot everything as you felt the final lingering threads of consciousness depart from your body. Going limp, his cooing words of praise and gentle promises are the last thing you hear before sleep takes over.

"Rest now, sweet thing, Pennywise is going to take care of you."

You didn't catch the last word.

"Forever."