The crowd had dissipated, and Tejal and Frank stood outside in the empty parking lot of the nightclub, next to Frank’s black sedan. Shivering in the cold night air, they vaguely talked for a while about what they’d just seen … or, perhaps to be more accurate, they talked around it. Neither Frank or Tejal could remember any of the specifics – any at all – of Benedict and the Amazing Bartleby’s ventriloquist act. Both were in perfect agreement that Benedict’s act was absolutely hysterical – a fantastic mix of raunchy and sweet, with some drop-dead hilarious punchlines to some well-crafted jokes … but what those jokes actually were, neither one could remember. No specific catchphrases, no one-liners, nothing.
“And here’s the thing, though,” Tejal said, “I can’t remember any jokes that missed, either. Can you?” Shivering in her overcoat, Tejal blew on her cupped hands, wishing she’d worn gloves as she tried to warm them. “And it’s not like we’re arguing about which joke was the funniest. Something like that, afterwards you’re telling me the punchline that killed you, and I’m saying yes, that was funny, but my favorite joke was such-and-such.”
“I know,” Frank said. He shook his head. “Creepy. It’s like not being able to remember the name of an actor in a movie, or a title of a book. Feels like Benedict’s whole show is on the tip of my tongue. Except it’s not a name or a title, it’s an hour and a half of my life.”
“Exactly,” Tejal said, nodding vigorously. “There’s even more here than I thought.” She checked her watch. “That’s why interviewing this guy’s even more important. How the hell does he do it? If I can get him to tell me …”
“You might not want to know,” Frank said. “Might be a reason nobody’s meant to know.”
“What?” Tejal gave Frank a dumbfounded look. “This is something everyone’s meant to know. And I plan on being the one to tell them. Do you know how big this story might be? A guy who can affect his audiences like … like … like, well, I don’t know, but on the scale he does? It’s a huge story.”
“Well, it might be,” Frank said dubiously, rubbing his chin. “But maybe … well, maybe interviewing this Benedict guy isn’t such a great idea, Tejal. That show of his … I mean, the fact we can’t even remember it all that well, even though it was funny as all hell? That’s not natural. Call it a hunch, but I just get the feeling that there’s something not right about him.”
“Not natural?” Tejal said with a laugh. “So what is it? Supernatural?”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “I think so.”
Frank took Tejal’s hand in his own. Startled, Tejal almost pulled away from her editor’s grasp immediately … but then she saw the concerned look in his face. He was so serious, so earnest, like he wanted to protect her somehow.
“Every once in awhile, there’s a good story that you need to walk away from,” Frank said quietly to Tejal. “This is one of those stories, I think. Walk away.”
“Walk where?” Tejal snapped at Frank. “To a bar, with you? Or maybe back to your place? Bet you’d like that. Well, I don’t think so. There’s a good story here. A great one. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone else scoop me on it.” She gave her editor an icy look. “And if you come back here later to try and interview him yourself –”
Frank held up a hand, cutting Tejal off. He sighed wearily. “Well, you’re right about one thing, I think,” he said. “You’ll be damned. That, I’m pretty sure about.” With a shrug, he slipped one hand into one of his overcoat pockets. “Hope I’m wrong. Hope you get the story, and I hope it’s as good as you think it’ll be. But …”
Tejal rolled her eyes. “But what?”
“But nothing, I guess.” Frank gave Tejal a sad, gentle smile. “Take care of yourself, Tejal.” The editor took out a set of keys. Tipping his fingers in a mock solute to Tejal, he got in his car and started it up … and a few moments later, Tejal was alone in the parking lot of the nightclub, alone with only her thoughts and her car for company.
“Whatever,” Tejal muttered under her breath. She opened her purse, rummaging around to see if she’d brought her trusted tools … yes. Digital camera, digital recorder. Perfect. She’d hoped that Frank would’ve stuck around with her for the interview as well, if only to handle stupid stuff like pictures, too, but she supposed it didn’t matter. Less credit for him, more credit for me, she thought grimly as she headed into the side entrance of the club.
The dressing room was located in the basement of the club, down past a maze of dusty crates and pipes. Reaching the dressing room, Tejal knocked on the door and simply opened it without waiting for an answer. The room was a grimy little place, cramped and dimly lit by a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Posters of rock groups and comedians nearly a decade old – if not more – were plastered all over the walls of the room.
In the middle of the room sat a table, surrounded by a bunch of metal folding chairs. A tray of cold cuts and fruit lay on top of the table, along with some promotion flyers and plane tickets. A bunch of boxes holding T-shirts and other cheap merchandise for the evening’s show rested in the corner, near a smaller changing table and a full-length mirror. A small black case that looked oddly familiar to Tejal rested atop the boxes.
A tall, lanky guy with a mop of brown hair sat right an old, creaking swivel chair next to the changing table, munching listlessly on a sandwich. He wore just a faded t-shirt and sweatpants – a pair of jeans lay crumpled on the ground beneath his chair. His head bobbed up and down in an odd, weirdly hypnotic rhythm. Tejal thought the guy might be listening to music or something, but was slightly surprised when she got a little closer and realized he wasn’t wearing any headphones.
“Benedict, I presume?” Tejal asked the man. She took off her overcoat, hanging it on a hook by the door. She held out her hand to the man in anticipation of a handshake. “Or should I call you Brian? Whatever you prefer.”
Benedict – or Brian – didn’t answer. For that matter, he didn’t even look up at Tejal for several long moments, leaving her feeling like a fool for extending her hand. Tejal forced herself to smile, seething silently, biting back several sharp comments that had sprung to mind. She watched as he took another half-hearted bite of his sandwich, and then another … and then flinched slightly as he finally turned his head to look at her.
Benedict’s face was pale and haggard. His hands trembled, and Tejal noticed that he was gripping his sandwich almost enough to rip it in half. He gave Tejal a small, apologetic smile.
“You really should go, miss,” Benedict said thickly. His dark eyes looked glassy and dead. “Get out now. Please, while you can …”
“Excuse me?” Tejal replied. She closed the door firmly behind herself. Planting herself on one of the folding chairs by the table, she sat down, legs crossed demurely as she gave Benedict a frosty stare. “I don’t think so, sir. You’re the one who agreed to this interview, and I’m not leaving now. I’ve worked too hard for this.”
Benedict groaned. To Tejal’s shock, the lanky ventriloquist doubled over in his chair, holding his head in his hands, his whole body trembling. Migraines? Tejal wondered … and then Benedict sat bolt upright, his limbs jerking around, dropping his half-eaten sandwich to the floor.
“Right,” Benedict said, in a slow, easy voice. He ran his fingers nervously through his stringy hair. “Of course you have. Absolutely right. Sorry about that. Interview it is.” He drummed his fingers nervously on the edge of the dressing table. “So, um, what do you want to ask?”
What. The. Hell, Tejal thought. She took a deep breath, and gave the ventriloquist a sharp, pointed stare, right into Benedict’s dully eyes. It delighted her to no end that he turned his face away from her slightly, as though he was afraid of her. Won’t even make eye contact, Tejal thought triumphantly. This is going to be a piece of cake …
“We can start with why this interview’s even happening,” Tejal answered confidently. She tugged at the hem of her crimson cocktail dress, pulling it just a little further down the length of her slender thighs. “It was your agent’s idea, after all. I’ve been trying to set this up for weeks – you were the one blowing off my messages. Which is fine – you haven’t given a single interview to anyone, ever, as far as I can tell. Your agent’s the one who finally agreed to this.” Tejal’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Which reminds me. I still don’t have his name, so that can be one of the first questions you answer for me. But … bigger picture. Why now? Why me? Why are you finally breaking your silence and granting an interview?”
“Well, um, right, my agent, he, uh, thought it’d be a good idea,” Benedict said. He rubbed his chin and scrunched uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes stared dully at the floor, still avoiding looking over at Tejal. “Y’know, because, well … because he said I should meet you. You might be good for, umm …”
“Good for what?” Tejal asked pointedly. She had to admit to herself, Benedict wasn’t what she expected. She thought she’d be confronting some sort of smooth-talking con man, not some awkward, stammering schlub. What’s his game? Tejal wondered curiously. If this is an act, it’s a damn good one … not to mention one that doesn’t make any sense …
“Good for the act,” Benedict answered. “My – uh, sorry, his act. I don’t really know why. Honest. I know, it sounds stupid. I’m sorry, I think. I guess. I don’t know …”
“HIS act?” Tejal asked in surprise. “You’re the star of the show, sir. Whose act would–”
“Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap,” sneered a shrill, nasal voice from behind Tejal. “Geez louize, bitch, don’t you ever fucking shut up?”
Tejal angrily whirled around in her chair, her hands tightly gripping the armrests in anger. Her eyes went wide as they darted about the dingy dressing room, a slow rage starting to boil inside her. I’m going to fucking kill whoever said that, she thought furiously.
But she saw no one. There was nobody else in the room with her and Benedict, no one at all … except for the Amazing Bartleby, Benedict’s stupid dummy, sitting up on its open black case, back near the cardboard T-shirt boxes in the corner.
Tejal looked uneasily around the room.
“What did you just say?” Tejal said. She thought she knew what was going on … and she didn’t like it. At all.
“I said,” the Amazing Bartleby said cheerfully, “that you’d look great with those luscious lips of yours wrapped around a big fat dick. Not only would I bet that you give great head, but a cock shoved in that hot little mouth of yours might finally shut you the fuck up.”
Tejal stood up, staring at Benedict in complete disbelief. She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d simply just slapped her in the face. Of all the passive aggressive bullshit … wow, Tejal thought, almost stunned in disbelief. This asshole’s a real piece of work …
“Over here, stupid,” said the shrill, nasal voice behind her. “That fucking dimwit’s not going to tell you anything. You want answers, you talk to me. I’m the one in charge here.”
Tejal didn’t bother turning around. I’m not playing this childish game, she thought irritably. Her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at Benedict. She was about to give bastard a piece of her mind, let him know what a creepy, talentless hack he was, and that she’d be filing her exposť article about him in the Herald that weekend, so he could kiss his career in the comedy business goodbye … but she didn’t say anything. Not a word.
Instead, Tejal found herself staring in bewilderment at Benedict. The scruffy-face comedian sat slumped over in his chair, his eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open and his face contorted in pain. He twitched uncomfortably, spasming so hard at moments that Tejal thought he might fall out of his seat.
How is he throwing his voice? Tejal thought uncertainly. Is he having a seizure or something?
“Hey,” Tejal said, a note of concern in her voice, “are you … Benedict, are you okay?” She started to get up, reaching across to table to shake him.
“Sit down,” the voice behind her snapped impatiently. “And talk to me. Now. Obey.”
Abruptly, Tejal sat back down. She immediately turned to face the wooden dummy. Okay, I’ll play your childish game, she thought. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but …
Tejal froze. The dummy wasn’t sitting on its case anymore. Instead, it sat next to the case, up on a couple of cardboard boxes filled with t-shirts. One of the boxes was partly ripped open. The dummy, impossibly, reached down into the open box, and pulled out a black shirt emblazoned with its likeness. TALK TO BARTLEBY, HE’S AMAZING!!!, proclaimed the logo on the top of the shirt.
“Like the shirt says,” the wooden puppet said, “talk to me.” Its little wooden jaw clacked as it spoke. “Skip past the shit where you explain how smart you are, though. You figured it out, Benedict and Brian are the same person. The same stupid person, I might add. Bra-fucking-vo.” The puppet clapped its small gloved hands together sarcastically.
Tejal blinked, unable to speak. She still couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Or hearing. How does it move? she found herself wondering. No strings, and Benedict – or Brian, or whoever the fuck he really is – looks like he’s half dead. Remote control, maybe? Tejal glanced around the room again. Maybe he’s got another partner … maybe someone else controls the stupid puppet …
“So, are we starting this interview, or what?” asked the Amazing Bartleby. The puppet hopped off the boxes, and down onto the floor of the dressing room. For a few moments, Tejal couldn’t see the diminutive wooden figure … and then, she watched as it climbed up onto the table and sat cross-legged on it, right across from her. “I’m ready. Start asking questions, baby.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Tejal said frostily to the dummy. “I’m not your dog. I’m not going to bark for your amusement, or–”
“Obey,” said the puppet.
Tejal stopped herself.
“Well,” Tejal said, “I wanted to interview you – I mean, Benedict.” She spoke uneasily. “You’re quite a phenomenon, and the readers of the Herald would like– ”
“Save it,” the Amazing Bartleby said in exasperation. “You don’t give a fuck about those drooling imbeciles you call your readers. You just want a juicy story that’s going to make a splash and make you rich and famous, or something else stupid like that. So spare me the polite crap, and let’s cut to the chase. Ask me the question that you most want answered.”
“Fine.” Tejal reached into her purse, and took out her trusted tools. She put the digital camera on the corner of the table, and the recorder in front of her. A tiny red light winked on as she turned on the recorder. “Interview one, eleven seventeen in the evening, this interview is with Benedict–”
“The Amazing Bartleby,” corrected the wooden dummy.
“–with Benedict, an up-and-coming ventriloquist and comedian who’s become quite popular, and has gathered quite a following of loyal fans,” finished Tejal. She smiled thinly at the puppet. “Even though I suspect he’s really not that talented.”
“He’s not,” the Amazing Bartleby agreed. “Quite awful, actually.”
“Then we’ll start with this,” Tejal said, “since you said to ask you question that I most want answered first. How do you do it?” Tejal glanced over at Benedict. He still wasn’t moving. “How do you make people think they’re seeing something funny, when they’re not? On the record, if you don’t mind.”
“Simple,” the wooden dummy replied. “On the record, I’m a god.”
“Really.” Despite all of the demented weirdness going on in the dressing room – and Tejal thought she’d already seen way, way too much of it – even that was a bit too much for her to take. “You’re God. That must be nice.”
“No, stupid, I’m not the Big Guy with a capital G,” said the Amazing Bartleby. “I said I’m a god. The sort with a little g. Although trust me, sweetie, there’s not much else that’s little about me.” The puppet absently dusted off the sleeves of its rumpled jacket with the back of its gloved wooden hands. “Anyway, the people that you call the Mayans used to worship me – well, the ones that knew how to party did, anyway. Those were the days … temple orgies, playing with virgins, ritual sacrifices … man, I miss that shit. Good times.”
“So what happened?”
The Amazing Bartleby shrugged his small wooden shoulders. “The usual. There was a misunderstanding, some other gods who couldn’t take a joke got mad, and …” The puppet made a twirling motion with his gloved hands. “Boom. Ala-kazam-presto, I got trapped inside a wooden idol. Trapped for all eternity, said my divine brothers, as they imprisoned me.”
“I see.” Tejal pushed her digital recorder a little closer to the wooden marionette. “You don’t seem particularly trapped anymore, though.”
“Oh, that’s all thanks to that bumbling dipshit over there,” the Amazing Bartleby replied, jerking a gloved thumb over towards the slumped and semi-comatose Benedict. “The sad, stupid twit didn’t mean to do it, but he did. Bless his heart. He freed me. His loss, my gain. Although …” The puppet scratched his wooden chin musingly. “Although I guess it’s hard to say it’s his loss. Not when he gets to pork as many good-looking broads as he does, anyway.”
“Hmm,” Tejal said, nodding thoughtfully. She reached over and turned off the digital recorder. “And you really expect that I’m supposed to believe that ridiculous story of yours?”
“Oh, I don’t expect you to believe anything,” the Amazing Bartleby said blandly. “Even though it’s absolutely true. One hundred percent. But whether or not you believe it, it’s not like you’re going to remember this conversation, or anything else about this night. Now, enough with this interview crap. Pull up that sexy little dress of yours and take off your panties … if you’re wearing any panties, that is. I bet a dirty slut like you probably doesn’t.”
Tejal’s dark eyes smoldered with fury. “All right, asshole,” she snarled. She looked over at Benedict, ignoring the stupid wooden puppet. Benedict lay slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, a thin trickle of drool running out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. “Game’s over. I played along to be nice, but this is the dumbest, most insulting bullshit I’ve ever had to sit through. So if you think I’m going to listen to your crap for one more second, you pig, you –”
“OBEY,” thundered the puppet. It spoke with a god’s voice.
Tejal fell silent. Without thinking about it, she pulled up the hem of her crimson cocktail dress, all the way up her smooth thighs, up past her waist. She pushed herself slightly backwards in her chair, giving the Amazing Bartleby a better look as her body … and then, she hooked her thumbs into the tiny waistband of her thong panties, pulling them down to her ankles. Tejal spread her knees apart slightly, showing off the dark, curly thatch of hair between her legs … and her moist, pink slit as well. Tejal suddenly realized – with great surprise – just how wet and aroused she was.
“Nice,” said the Amazing Bartleby admiringly. It cocked its small wooden head to get a better view of Tejal’s pussy. “Guess I owe you two bits – didn’t take you for a panty sort of girl. Though all that hair … yuck. You really need to wax that, baby. Still, why don’t you play with yourself? Spread those legs wide and finger that sweet honeypot of yours, slut. Get nasty for me.”
No, Tejal wanted to say. Drop dead, Tejal wanted to say. And standing up and storming out of the dirty little dressing room, and maybe even picking up the fucking puppet so she could stuff it into a trash incinerator … that’s what Tejal wanted to do. Badly. And maybe kick Benedict or Brian or whoever the fuck he really was in the groin a couple of times, too.
There were a lot of things Tejal wanted desperately to say. And do.
But Tejal couldn’t do any of them.
Tejal knew she needed to obey.
And for some reason, Tejal was totally fine with that.
“Sure,” Tejal said, nodding vigorously. Without thinking, she slipped one hand down between her legs, running her fingers lightly through the soft curls of her dark muff. Closing her eyes, she spread the lips of her nether regions open between her fingers, exposing her pink, glistening hole. She already was incredibly damp with desire, and with a ragged sigh, she slipped her middle finger into her warm, slick pussy.
“Feels good, huh?” the puppet quietly asked Tejal.
“Mmm-hmm … yes,” breathed Tejal. “So good …” She slipped a second finger into her spread-open cunt, the palm of her hand slapping against her mons as she quickened her pace. Tejal felt her heart begin to thump wildly inside her chest, as a naughty, wonderful sensation of excitement that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time began to spread through her body. She could feel her desires burning brightly inside her, wanting to be released, as she began to pleasure herself with a growing sense of frantic urgency …
Click, click, click.
Tejal’s eyes flew open. She suddenly was aware of exactly what she was doing – lying back on a cheap folding chair in a cheap, dirty dressing room, her long, slender legs spread far apart and wide open, her heels up on the edge of the table as she shamelessly plunged her fingers into her hot, dripping cunt. Sitting on the edge of the table – directly between Tejal’s legs – was the Amazing Bartleby, propping itself up on her digital camera. With one of its hands, the puppet kept slapping the shutter button of her camera … with the other, it kept sliding around the camera ever so slightly on the table, taking pictures from every angle of Tejal as she lewdly masturbated in from of the wooden dummy.
“What … what are you doing?” Tejal asked fearfully. Her dark eyes widened in horror – not so much because the stupid puppet was taking pictures of her, but because she couldn’t stop playing with herself. She couldn’t. Much as she wanted to stop … her hand kept lewdly dipping into her pussy, her fingers covered in her lustful nectar. And the more she kept trying to stop herself, the more insistently her fingers slipped in and out of her hot hole.
“Why, taking pictures, of course,” the puppet answered blandly. Its wooden hand pushed the button on Tejal’s digital camera again and again - click, click, click - as Tejal writhed in ecstasy on her chair, her fingers plunging desperately into her wet slit. “I want souvenirs of this little interview. Well, that, and I want to send all this pictures to everyone you work with at the Herald. I want them to see what a dirty skank you are, taking naked pictures of yourself and doing slutty things for the camera … by the way, can you take off that dress of yours? And the bra, too. You’ve got the most amazing tits. So big and perky. I want to see them.”
Click, click, click.
“I …” Tejal’s mind raced, a thousand conflicting and confused thoughts running through her head. But you can’t take pictures of me, you can’t, you can’t, the pretty young reporter thought in despair, even as her slick fingers kept sliding wantonly in and out of her wet cunt. I’d be fired from the Herald, I’d be finished as a journalist, I couldn’t …
Tejal let out a soft moan. But I need it, she thought. Tears welled in her eyes. It feels so good … I haven’t cum in such a long time … it feels amazing …
Biting her lip, Tejal stood up. She reached down with her free hand and began pulling her dress up over her head, tearing it as it went up over her head. Tossing her dress on the floor, she quickly reached behind herself, fumbling with the clasps of her black lace bra for a moment before managing to free them. Her bra fell to her side, and her ample breasts spilled out, her dark nipples rock hard with arousal. Tejal stood in front of the desk in front of the Amazing Bartleby, naked except for her stiletto pumps, her slender legs spread wide open, shamelessly finger-fucking herself for the puppet … and for the camera the puppet was happily holding as well.
Click, click, click.
“Well, hokey smokes, look at those yummy melons of yours,” the Amazing Bartleby said. The puppet pushed Tejal’s digital camera onto the desk, resting its wooden arms on top of the camera as it kept snapping pictures. “Big, beautiful, and perfect … play with them, too, whore, while you play with your cunt.”
“Mmm … okay,” Tejal said softly. “That sounds good.” Without even thinking about it, Tejal spread her legs open even wider as she stood in front of the puppet, exposing even more of her wet, pink hole. With her right hand, she earnestly began to work her fingers deeper and deeper into her slippery slit, letting out a ragged sigh of obscene joy as she felt a wonderful warmth building between her thighs. The fingers of her left hand wandered up to her firm, succulent breasts, tracing lightly around the curves of their undersides … and then moving up to pinch one dark nipple, then another.
“What a dirty little cunt you are,” the Amazing Bartleby said admiringly. “That’s a compliment, by the way, you skank. And speaking of your cunt … wow, that’s a sweet one, huh? Pink, juicy … and tight. Real tight. Bet it’s been awhile since you’ve been properly fucked rotten, huh, toots?”
“Uh-huh,” Tejal mumbled. Her thumb began to run soft, light circles around her clit as she worked her fingers deep into her velvety depths. She moaned softly. “It’s been a long time … I miss it … I need it …”
“Need what?” the puppet asked.
“I need a really good fuck,” Tejal blurted out. “Something hard, something nasty …” Tejal was surprised to feel hot, desperate tears running down her cheeks. “Please, Bartleby, please, please …” She realized that she didn’t just wanted to be fucked, she needed it. She craved it. She couldn’t believe that she’d denied herself such lovely, filthy pleasures for so long ... and she didn’t want to deny herself anymore, not even for a second.
“My goodness gracious, such a potty mouth on you!” the Amazing Bartleby said. It raised one of its wooden hands to its mouth in mock horror. “So, slut, I bet you’d really like a nice hard cock fucking you like the dirty whore you are. Wouldn’t you? Yeah. You’d like to get fucked senseless.”
No, Tejal thought, but to her own horror she found herself eagerly nodding again.
“Yes,” she whispered, licking her lips for the lewd little puppet. “It’s been so long … I want a nice big, fat cock fucking me. I want it so bad ….” Tejal whimpered as her thumb began furiously rubbing her aching clit, her fingers plunging wetly in and out of her sweet cunt. “I want a big cock to fill me up and fuck me hard, and make … ohhh … make me cum …”
“Well, slut, it’s a good thing we’ve got a stud with a big cock here for you,” the Amazing Bartleby said pleasantly. “What a coincidence, huh? Benedict! Take off your clothes and get over here! I’ve got some fresh pussy for you to fuck.”
Tejal had almost forgotten about the ventriloquist. As she kept playing with herself with even faster, greater urgency, she suddenly felt a strong hand gripping her by one of her arms, pushing her hard towards the table and the Amazing Bartleby. Before she even knew what was happening, Tejal found herself bent over the edge of the table, papers and plane tickets flying everywhere as she was shoved across its length. Gasping in surprise, Tejal felt her legs being pulled and spread apart so her ass was raised high in the air, and her round, jiggling tits fell into the plate of cold cuts still on the table. Her head jerked back as a hand grabbed her long mane of curly dark hair … and then she felt something big and long and hard gently rubbing against her wet, slick sex, teasing her as it traced lightly against her slit.
“I, I, mmMMFFF!!!” Tejal shrieked, as the rigid length of Benedict’s manhood suddenly buried itself in her sopping, needy cunt. Benedict began fucking her with hard, savage strokes, grinding her tits and her flat belly into the smashed cold cuts on the table. Sobbing wantonly with joy, Tejal gripped the far edge of the table tightly in her hands, trying hard to keep Benedict’s frenzied thrusts from knocking her to the floor. She felt Benedict’s hands on her slender shoulders as he hammered away at her pussy from behind … and as she managed to lift her head off the table, found herself looking up into the Amazing Bartleby’s painted smile .
And her camera.
“Obey,” the Amazing Bartleby said quietly.
Click, click, click.
Tejal didn’t care about the camera anymore. All she cared about was being fucked by Benedict. She loved it. Every inch of body felt ready to absolutely explode with depraved delight. Tejal loved how roughly Benedict treated her, how he grabbed her soft skin, how his hips slammed relentlessly into her supple asscheeks … and especially how his thick, meaty cock filled her welcoming pussy so, so, sinfully good. Every time he thrust himself into her, the way the walls of her tight cunt hugged his shaft, the way his balls slapped hard against the top of her slit, the way she could feel the head of his cock sliding so deliciously in and out of her – it was just perfect. She couldn’t believe how much she loved being treated like a dirty little fucktoy … and how eager she was to keep being treated that way, over and over and over …
“So,” said the Amazing Bartleby, as the puppet even snapped more pictures of Benedict shamelessly fucking Tejal on the desk, “here’s what’s going to happen, slut. The pictures are going to that rag of a newspaper you work for. From Benedict’s agent – that’d be me, by the way. Anyway, I’m going to tell them that you and Benedict have been doing the dirty for awhile, and that you think he cheated on you or some bullshit like that, blah blah blah, whatever. So you concocted this idea for a hit piece on him, a smear campaign to get back at him. So whatever you’ve might told anyone about me and Benedict already, it’s all lies. Jealous, filthy lies from a jealous, filthy slut.”
Click, click, click.
“I, uh, OOOOHHH!!!, uh, but that’s not … not, OHHH!!!” Tejal gasped. Her head felt fuzzy, and it was kind of hard to talk anyway, with Benedict’s fabulous cock jackhammering away at her pussy. So she simply gave a small, pathetic nod, and began to grind her ass back against Benedict’s pelvis, trying to get him to fuck her even harder.
“So, I guess your reporting career’s going to be over,” said the Amazing Bartleby. The puppet pushed the camera away, and walked over to her, standing on the table just inches from Tejal’s panting, pretty face.“You okay with that, slut girl?”
“Oh, ah, no, MMMFFF!!! YESSSS!!!” Tejal screeched. For some strange reason, she’d wanted to say no … but then she’d felt one of Benedict’s hands leaving her shoulder, and his fingers traced their way down her spine, down to the small of her back. She mewled shamelessly as his thumb found the tight pucker of her asshole and began teasing it, even as he kept wonderfully ramming his dick inside her. With a loud cry, Tejal began seeing stars in her eyes, big and bright, as she orgasmed … and orgasmed hard. The walls of her snug pussy clenched Benedict’s pistoning shaft tightly as she creamed herself, gushing her naughty juices all over his cock and her thighs and even part of the table, her whole body shaking from the primal force of her orgasm …
… and then Tejal heard Benedict grunt loudly. “Oh yeah, baby,” the ventriloquist growled, slapping her ass hard with a vicious slap of his hand. Tejal felt Benedict’s hips begin to buck and jerk wildly … and then she felt his shaft start to pulse lewdly inside her steaming pussy, filling her up with jet after jet of his hot, creamy semen. The sensation of Benedict’s cum flooding her horny, needful cunt was heavenly to Tejal, with every spurt of it feeling just absolutely amazing to her … and then her own hips bucked wildly, as she sprawled out face down on the table and came hard again.
And again. And again.
Finally, Benedict and Tejal stopped, both sweating from the frenetic pace of their frenzied coupling, both of their bodies trembling slightly. Tejal let out a sad, frustrated whimper as she felt Benedict’s hands slide away from her shoulders and waist … and felt his amazing cock finally pull out of her cum-drenched cunt. Though she loved the feeling of his hot seed filling her pussy, she loved the feeling of him fucking her senseless even more. Already, she found herself wondering when he’d put it inside her again …
“Feel any better?” the Amazing Bartleby asked. The puppet sat on the corner of the table, idly brushing dust off the sleeves of its ugly purple velvet jacket. Tejal suddenly felt a cold fury building inside her. She’d almost forgotten about the stupid puppet, the vile, evil little puppet that had done, well, um …
… done something. Maybe.
Tejal wasn’t exactly sure.
“You … you did this … you, um, ruined … uhh …” Tejal said to the Amazing Bartleby, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe … and to speak. A wave of confusion washed over Tejal’s pretty, sweat-streaked face. She felt like she should be mad. Furious, in fact. And something inside her was beyond furious, beyond enraged, and embarrassed, and utterly humiliated … and for the life of her, Tejal couldn’t think of why.
Why should I be angry? Tejal thought in complete bewilderment. I should be really, really happy … that’s the most amazing fuck I think I’ve ever had … She tried standing up, propping herself on the table with her forearms as she leaned on it. Bits of ham and turkey were still stuck to her tits, but she didn’t notice. Her long legs still shook from the aftermath from her orgasms, and she found herself smiling with a delirious happiness.
“Yes?” the puppet asked Tejal innocently. “You were saying something, toots?”
“Oh, sorry,” Tejal said to the Amazing Bartleby. She felt hot, sticky strands of semen starting to trickle out of her well-fucked pussy and down her thighs. “I, um … you were saying something about my job?”
“Yeah, that.” The Amazing Bartleby reached over to a camera that looked vaguely familiar to Tejal. It tapped its small wooden hands on the camera. “Turns out you probably won’t be working for the Herald anymore. But you never liked that job anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
It doesn’t? Tejal wondered. For a moment, Tejal wanted to say something. For some reason, she felt pretty sure that the puppet was wrong, that she didn’t just like that job, she fucking loved, it was her whole life, it was everything she’d ever worked for … and then, she nodded in agreement with the Amazing Bartleby, her long dark mane of lustrous, wavy hair bobbing merrily up and down as she realized the puppet was right. Being a reporter seemed so unimportant. And stupid.
“Okay,” Tejal said earnestly to the wooden dummy. She clasped her hands together, fidgeting nervously. Glancing over to one side, Tejal noticed that Benedict was slumped in his swivel chair again, passed out and unmoving. “But … um, that means I don’t have a job. What am I going to do?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the Amazing Bartleby said. “Me and Benny’ll find something for you to do.” The puppet lazily twiddled its gloved wooden fingers as it ogled every inch of Tejal’s glistening, sweat-covered naked body. “By the way, slut, can you bark like a dog for me?”
“Woof,” Tejal answered. She frowned for a moment, as a troubled look crossed her lovely face … and then she smiled brightly as she tried barking more realistically. “Arrff! Grrowwff!! Rrrowwff!!!”
“Perfect!” the Amazing Bartleby said gleefully. The puppet laughed and slapped his knee. “See? I think we’ve found a job for you already.”
“You have?” Tejal said. She beamed happily at the wooden dummy. “Oh, thank you, Bartleby! You’re the best!”
“Not only that,” the puppet answered, “I’m amazing.”