A Magical Mistake

Rebecca twisted and turned in her ropes, and wondered how things had gone so badly wrong.

If there was one decision she regretted more than any other, it was the use of a volunteer. Audiences loved to feel involved, but wise magicians viewed volunteers as an unnecessary risk. They got stage fright, or couldn't stop talking, or stood in the wrong place, or tied the knots too loose and turned the whole thing into a farce. Or, very occasionally, they turned out to know what they were doing and presented a whole different set of problems.

Still, there were ways to avoid undesirable volunteers. Rebecca's mistake, and it was a bad one, had been to select one without vetting him in advance.

The show had been going well, the crowd were happy, and she was feeling confident. That glass of Rioja during the meet-and-greet hadn't helped. And the guy seemed so innocuous! Young, kind of dorky, kind of cute, and clearly ill at ease. She had a hunch he'd be good value on stage, and planned to gently embarrass him with some mild flirtation. But he had proved, like so many geeky men, to be a bondage expert, and now she was bound more tightly and skilfully than she had ever been in her life.

Because they'd settled on the idea of a volunteer, there hadn't been a strict plan when it came to Rebecca's bindings: she was supposed to talk them through the process, maybe tie my hands behind my back, now you could tie my ankles together, that sort of thing. But in principle the volunteer was in charge. That was the challenge, after all: can you bind the escape artist so well that she can't, well, escape? Or, from the other point of view, can you escape from the best bondage efforts of a total stranger? When you put it like that, it was obviously a disaster waiting to happen.

So Rebecca had begun in the usual way, crossing her wrists behind her back and sticking her chest out, and then with a flirty smile asking the volunteer - his name was Doug - if he'd like to start binding her. See, this was why it was best to select a guy: they were easy to distract. Sure enough, Doug blushed and stammered and looked thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. It just didn't make any difference to the standard of his ropework.

He did tie Rebecca's hands behind her back, although he did so in a way that was new, and odd: he pushed them upwards and crossed them just below the nape of her neck, before lashing them tightly together. Then he wrapped the remainder of the same piece of rope around her neck, shoulders and chest, limiting her movements still further and anchoring her hands firmly in place, where they were unable to do any good at all. Indeed this cruel arrangement was agony for poor Rebecca, arms strained backwards and upwards and back arched. And now her chest was really jutting out, whether she liked it or not.

At this point she had a severe premonition of danger, quickly realising that she had no way to escape from Doug's ropes. And she very likely would have signalled this concern to her team, if Doug hadn't next decided to gag the foolish magician by jamming a knotted cloth between her pretty lips and tying it securely in place. Rebecca was astonished by this, having never been gagged in her life. She wasn't some sort of damsel in distress, and there was no conceivable reason why she would need to be gagged for an escape - other than the relentless logic in Doug's porn-addled head, which said that bondage shall and must include a good tight gag. She mmpphhed furiously at her assistant, but knew with a heavy heart that the team wouldn't step in unless she gave a clear and unmistakable signal. Something she was now unable to do.

Helpless and thoroughly silenced, poor Rebecca now had no hope of escape, and the remainder of the performance was mortifying for her, obliged to stand there and submit while more and more rope was applied to her body. Doug had absolutely no sense of moderation, nor of decorum: he had no qualms about giving her a cruelly tight crotch rope with three fat knots arranged in provocative positions. This rope's stimulating effects made it even harder for Rebecca to concentrate on her imminent attempt, but when she was able to think about it at all she could only foresee with dread the humiliation of not being able to escape. She wasn't even sure how that would work if she was gagged. How would the team know to come and rescue her? Would she simply remain bound and gagged on stage until the audience decided to leave? It was a grim thought.

But in due course Doug declared himself satisfied, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. As well as her strictly bound chest and arms, her tight gag, and her deeply distracting crotch rope, Rebecca had been further restrained with sets of bindings at various points running up her shapely legs, while a rope leash connected her throat to her ankles and held her in a brutal hogtie. She squirmed, and strained, and moaned into her gag. No good. No chance.

A bell rang as a signal that the escape would now begin, and a red satin sheet was draped over the magician's wriggling body. She could hear the audience whispering among themselves, and could sense the scepticism. She knew they didn't think she could escape. She so dearly wanted to prove them wrong. But the ropes were so tight! The crotch rope was so distracting! It was just impossible.

A second bell rang to indicate that the magician had one minute remaining. One minute until she was exposed as the helpless and hapless damsel in distress she really was. She had to escape. She had to avoid the humiliation of being revealed as a tightly bound and gagged failure. She thrashed ever more desperately against the ropes. But the only thing this succeeded in doing was to generate a dangerous amount of friction from the crotch rope, and she began again to lose focus. The imminent public humiliation. The tight ropes. The gag! And that merciless, unavoidable stimulation. Her eyes began to roll back and she could feel a huge orgasm building. She fought and fought, but found that she no longer wanted to escape. She wanted to be helpless. She wanted to be humiliated.

A final bell rang, and it was just what Rebecca needed to tip her over the edge. She had failed, utterly, and she had never felt better. The sheet was drawn back, and there was a collective gasp from the audience: the magician was a blushing, moaning mess. Not only had she failed to escape, but she had somehow managed to cum while doing so. It was almost impressive.

There were a few scattered boos, but most of the audience appeared to think they'd got their money's worth, and bimbled happily towards the exits. Doug took this as his cue too, but Rebecca desperately flopped towards him, mmpphhing for all she was worth. He looked confused, but dutifully knelt down and pulled down her gag.

"Please," she said. "When can I see you again?"

FIN