The Duelling Magicians (bondage story)

The following story contains nudity, groping, peril, damsel-in-distress bondage, humiliation, sexist points of view, and childish euphemisms for breasts. Reader discretion is advised.

The lights went down, the rich red curtain rose slowly, and deafening applause filled the theatre. The atmosphere could only be described as frenzied. Tickets for the event had been virtually impossible to get hold of; the best seats were going for well over a thousand dollars on the black market, and more than one A-list celebrity had been reduced to begging for an invite on social media. Sources within the Alice Arkwright Foundation, the charity organising the evening, had hinted that, once the TV rights were factored in, this might turn out to be the most lucrative fundraiser in history.

The noise reached fever pitch as two of the most famous magicians in the world walked out on to the stage, and then died suddenly when the prettier, more petite and considerably better dressed of the two put up her hand for silence.

"Good evening," she said softly, "and welcome to an evening of magic, mystery, and terror."

The speaker, whose name was Sophie, was famous for several reasons - there was no denying that the 26-year-old was talented and charismatic - but it certainly helped that she was extraordinarily beautiful. Her glossy black hair cascaded down to her pert posterior like a midnight waterfall, and her light blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She had the grace of a dancer, the body of a pornstar, and the face of a model. All of this was accentuated tonight by her choice of costume: a snugly tailored tuxedo in the Zatanna style, complete with crisp white shirt, white bowtie, fishnet stockings, and black closed-toe heels.

"The phenomena you will witness tonight are beyond explanation," she went on, "and may lead you to question the comfortable truths about which you have built your humdrum lives. Those of a nervous disposition are advised to leave, and will be offered a full refund."

There were of course no takers. Which was probably a good thing, because Sophie had absolutely no intention of honouring that particular promise... or any other promise that stood in the way of her best interests. Officially, she was a big-hearted philanthropist who always had time for an autograph and a photo, was always happy to take on charity gigs for causes close to her heart. In reality, she took on the work that brought in the most money and the biggest profile. Quite aside from the Instagram followers she would gain tonight, the column inches and book sales and Netflix specials, her expenses claim would be a thing of beauty. And who would complain? She had brought the stardust. Everyone was here because of her.

"For those who do not know me" - there was a ripple of laughter at this notion - "my name is Sophie Blackwood, and I am a magician. This evening I propose to entertain, dazzle and mystify... and for one night only, I will have the, ah, more than capable assistance of another magician you may have heard of: Gabriel Templar."

Sophie was reading these lines from the autocue, and they were not her own. In fact, from the eye-rolling and frosty smile it was obvious that she didn't mean a word of it. Sophie and Gabriel had history. They had worked together for a while when she was breaking into the industry, and it quickly became apparent that he didn't take the concept of workplace harassment very seriously. After numerous overtures, she gave in and agreed to date him... which lasted until she caught him in bed with her sister. They had barely spoken since.

Gabriel stepped forward and gave Sophie a wide smile, eyes twinkling. He was undeniably handsome, with just the beginnings of salt in his otherwise pepper hair, and a couple of days of stubble. His tuxedo had seen better days, but he carried it off somehow.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and can I first of all offer my compliments to my pretty co-star, who is an especially delectable morsel this evening. That shirt is really earning its money, am I right fellas?"

More laughter, this time less polite and more genuine, although confined mainly to the male audience members. It was indeed true that Sophie's tight white shirt was working overtime to contain her perky breasts, and it was pleasurable to hear this pointed out, see the outrage on the magician's face, and then have the excuse to look keenly at her chest in order to confirm the accuracy of the observation. None of this, needless to say, had appeared on the autocue; Gabriel had gone off-script, and the evening had barely begun. Sophie glared at her co-star, and then at her long-suffering PA, who was standing nervously in the wings.

"Stick to the script, ma'am," she heard through her earpiece. "The last thing we want is a scene."

This was true. Sophie had just signed a lucrative ad contract with an exceptionally snooty jewellery firm, and had been unable to dissuade them from including a 'morality clause' in the small print. Any hint of a scandal would be disastrous.

"Come on Sophie," said Gabriel cheerily. "Let's put our breast foot forwards."

1. "The Mind Unveiled"

"Six of clubs."

"Correct!"

For all Sophie's boasts, the evening began with a seemingly basic mind-reading routine. Sophie stood in a spotlight at the front of the stage (exactly where she liked to be), her pretty eyes covered with a velvet blindfold, while Gabriel drew cards randomly from a standard deck and held them up to the audience. Sophie then guessed the identity of the card.

"Queen of hearts."

"Correct!"

This routine seemed simple; in fact it was incredibly difficult to pull off, and Sophie was very proud of it. She had always felt she was not given enough credit for her abilities. Probably because she was a beautiful young woman, and the magic world was notoriously sexist.

"Queen of hearts again."

"Correct!"

The problem was that you needed to be an accomplished magician to appreciate how good the routine was, and that excluded most of the audience. They looked bored. The atmosphere had taken a nosedive.

"Queen of hearts... again?"

"Correct!"

Gabriel was grinning and winking, and the crowd realised he was going off-script again. The chances of drawing the same card randomly three times in a row is roughly 2,700 to one. He was manipulating the deck.

"Another queen of hearts, Gabriel?"

"Exactly right!"

The chances of drawing the same card randomly four times in a row is more than 140,000 to one, and Sophie muttered darkly under her breath about Gabriel's lack of professionalism. He ignored this and did a series of ferociously difficult trick shuffles, drew a card with a flourish, and winked again.

"Let me guess. Is it another queen of hearts?"

"Of course it is, sweet cheeks! You're queen of our hearts!"

The crowd groaned and laughed, relieved that something interesting seemed to be happening. Sophie, thrown by the deviation from the script, blushed and tried to improvise a reply about Gabriel being a royal pain in the ass, but panicked and stammered to a halt halfway through when she couldn't decide whether it was okay to swear. She looked incredibly vulnerable up there: everyone could see her, and she couldn't see a thing.

"What about this card, hot stuff? Can you guess what I've got in my hand?"

"Er, is it the Uno reverse card?"

"Amazing! She's not just a nice set of tits, ladies and gentleman. And this one?"

"It's the Year of Plenty card from Settlers of Catan."

"What about this one?"

"Er..."

Sophie paused.

"It must be the queen of hearts again."

"I'm afraid not, darling. Why don't you take off the blindfold and look for yourself."

She peered back, momentarily blinded by the stage lights. Gabriel was holding up the ace of spades from a deck that could only be described as extravagantly pornographic; it featured a picture of a naked young lady with pneumatic breasts and more than a passing resemblance to Sophie.

"Such a shame, my dear. And this is my favourite card! I suppose you're not quite as talented as you thought, my pretty little bimbo. What do you think, ladies and gentlemen? Should we make Sophie do a forfeit to punish her for messing up the trick?"

Sophie started to reply, but was completely drowned out by the positive response from the crowd.

"It's best to go along with it," said her PA through the headset.

Sophie gritted her teeth and nodded.

2. "The Exploding Barrel"

"There you go, sexy. That should hold you."

"This? You must be joking, Templar," Sophie sneered. She turned to the audience. "It takes a lot more than this to render the great Sophie helpless!"

The forfeit trick, Gabriel had announced, was an escape called The Exploding Barrel. And so far, it seemed laughably straightforward: Gabriel had merely zip-tied Sophie's wrists behind her back. She could get out of zip ties without breaking a sweat. Her party piece at college had been drinking a shot, escaping from a zip tie, and then repeating; she once got through 10 shots in an hour before puking.

"Bring out the barrel!"

The crew brought out a large barrel (where had this come from? Was the whole routine planned in advance?) and placed it in the centre of the stage. Gabriel grabbed Sophie unceremoniously around the waist and lifted her into the barrel; from her annoyed squeaks and wriggles it seemed like he might have taken a few liberties in the placement of his hands. The crew started to attach heavy ropes to the sides of the barrel. While Sophie waited patiently for the next phase of the trick, Gabriel patted her on the head and stroked her cheek. "She looks cute sitting here helplessly, doesn't she ladies and gentlemen?" he said mockingly. "Like a pretty little damsel in distress." Sophie began to object but he silenced her with a kiss, then slammed on the lid before she could respond.

"There's nothing sweeter," Gabriel mused aloud, "than the look of frustration on a bimbo's face when you prevent her from having her say. I will never get tired of it. Now raise the barrel!"

There was a drumroll and the lights dimmed. Then a colossal bang shook the theatre as a cannon at stage right blasted the barrel to smithereens. The audience gasped. What had happened to poor Sophie? She was nowhere to be seen.

...and then she appeared, lowered slowly on ropes suspended from the ceiling. Sophie's wrists were still securely zip-tied behind her back, which was exceedingly odd: she was pulling at her bonds in obvious frustration at not being able to escape. A further mystery was the unexplained appearance of a bright red cloth pulled tight between the pretty magician's teeth and knotted behind her head. She was currently doing her best to complain through the muffling gag, a comical sight and sound that provoked loud laughter in the crowd.

"Hymmph!" she mewled. "Wmmph hmmppnn?!!!"

"You see what I mean, ladies and gentlemen? She's absolutely furious at being silenced, and there's not a thing she can do about it. Wonderful! But I expect she's about to escape. Let's not hurry the poor thing."

Sophie wriggled, squirmed and strained against her bonds, but simply couldn't get free. She couldn't understand it at all.

"What's happened, my dear?" asked Gabriel. "Having trouble?"

Sophie lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "Ymmpphh."

"Oh dear! Are you sure you can't escape?"

She blushed deeply. "N'm phnrm."

"You need help?"

"Yymmph."

"What's the magic word?"

"Plmmph."

"Please what?"

"Fnchnng hmmm! Plmmph hmmmph mmmph, ymm gnnnnmn nrphmhnmm!"

"Very well. A round of applause for our, er, accomplished escape artist."

3. "The Vanishing Mermaid"

Sophie, embarrassed at not being able to free herself from the simple bondage, was not left to dangle for much longer. Gabriel invited the audience to give her a round of applause "for being such a good sport" and then began to free her... taking the opportunity while doing so to make rather more physical contact with the helpless magician's breasts and bum than was strictly necessary. She protested as loudly as she was able, but Gabriel was careful to get his groping in before removing the gag, so that her objections were almost inaudible and certainly incomprehensible. And once her mouth was freed of the cloth intrusion, it was too late to register any further complaints because he was pressing on loudly with the next part of the show. Speaking over beautiful young women was something Gabriel was used to, and he made sure she couldn't get in a word.

"Technically," he said gravely, "that performance must count as another failure. And while we were all thoroughly entertained by poor Sophie's shapely wriggling and gagged moaning, we will have to call on her to perform another escape - and perhaps this time, my dear, we could trouble you to actually escape? Or are my knots too cunning and my ropes too tight for you?"

"Certainly not," she scoffed. "I must be out of practice with zip ties. I'm used to a more sophisticated brand of escape magic and it's been a few years since I slummed it with simple bindings like that. But rope bondage will be straightforward. Do your worst!"

"Well, this might be more of a challenge than you think. This little routine is called The Vanishing Mermaid, ladies and gentlemen. Could you bring out the water tank, please? And my set of red ropes. They'll look good against the white shirt."

Sophie was extremely embarrassed and frustrated by the turn the show had taken, and while the equipment was being brought out she stalked over to the side of the stage to speak to her PA.

"This is insufferable. I'm leaving!"

"Please reconsider, ma'am. You'd be letting down the foundation."

"I don't give a shit about the foundation."

"And you'd look bad in front of a lot of people. You might lose some Insta followers."

"Hmmmm." That was a serious consideration. "Well, perhaps I'll carry on. But you find out how he's sabotaging my routines, or I'll find a new PA. Now scram!"

The PA - whose name was Veronica, not that Sophie was aware of this, preferring "hey you!" or "idiot" - dashed off to make enquiries, and Sophie returned reluctantly to the centre of the stage, where Gabriel was waiting with an armful of scarlet rope and a big patronising smile.

"I'd wish you good luck, but I'm pretty sure your tits have a better chance of escaping from that shirt than you have of escaping from my ropes. Sure you don't want to chicken out?"

"I'm sure." Sophie smiled in her turn, a sparkling and confident grin that usually got her what she wanted. "I doubt you can even remember how to tie a water bowline. I said do your worst and I meant it."

"Oh, if I did my worst, you'd know about it. Just a little light binding should be enough to turn you into a helpless damsel in distress. Now turn around, wench, and cross your wrists behind your back."

She didn't like being spoken to like that, but couldn't think of a good comeback. So she obediently put her hands behind her back and submitted to Gabriel's ropes, which while relatively few in number - he was telling the truth about not inflicting his worst on her just yet - proved to be both tight and uncomfortable. He quickly bound her wrists securely behind her back and tied her ankles together so she was standing precariously on her four-inch heels. After the initial loops, the bonds were cinched crosswise as well, tightening them up like rope cuffs. There was no slack that Sophie could detect. The cords were digging into her soft skin; she would have rope marks for days.

"I wasn't going to bother with any more, because I don't think an airheaded bimbo like you could escape from a wet paper bag," he said with a smirk, "let along a proper set of bindings. But I'm fascinated by that chest of yours. I just wonder if we could make that shirt even tighter... maybe induce a little wardrobe malfunction. We'd all enjoy that, I think."

Sophie wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but again couldn't think of a valid reason to call a halt to proceedings, and didn't want to seem weak. Instead she stood there trying to look confident while Gabriel looped red rope around her chest, above and below her breasts, and around her shoulders and neck. This served to imprison her arms in position, and accentuated her bosom in a way that seemed almost obscene: her breasts jutted forwards and her nipples poked noticeably through the thin material. She wasn't sure the buttons would stand up to the strain, and resolved to escape as quickly as possible.

"Ready to begin, pretty mermaid?" Gabriel asked with a grin.

"I supp-mmmppphh!"

Gabriel laughed as he yanked another length of cloth between Sophie's teeth, this time a blue and white spotted bandana with a fat knot in the centre. The knot filled her mouth and kept her complaints to a furious muffled murmur, while the tight cloth pulled back uncomfortably on the edges of her mouth. He knotted it behind her neck, and mussed up her hair.

"You see what I mean?" he chuckled. "If you time it just right, just when they're about to speak, they find it utterly humiliating. Honestly, I'd do this job for free."

Sophie was glaring at him, and wasn't paying attention to the activity of the crew. Her ankle bonds had been attached to a large winch, and when this pulled taut and she was lifted upside-down into the air, she squeaked with surprise and no little alarm. Gabriel had been ready, and made sure to grab her torso "to make sure the little lady is safe", he told the audience. He gave her curves a good squeeze as she rose, and then gave her a mocking salute as the winch moved her above the water tank.

"Look at her floundering about like a captured fish," Gabriel hooted derisively. "More like a trout than an elegant mermaid."

"Just put me in the water, you idiot," thought Sophie in silent frustration, disoriented by her position. "Lmmppphh mmmppphhh gmmppphhh!" she complained, to general amusement.

"I suppose we can throw our silly fish back," he conceded, nodding to the crew. Sophie was dropped in the water. Taking a deep breath as she fell, she immediately started working at her bonds - at first carefully, then more urgently. It all seemed more difficult than usual: Gabriel's insults and objectifying comments must have thrown her concentration. She wrenched and strained at the ropes around her wrists, but found the knots kept getting tighter. The ropes were reacting badly to the water. She suspected that Gabriel had chosen them for exactly that reason.

There were gasps in the audience as the magician grew more and more visibly distressed, but Gabriel seemed unworried.

"Are you okay, sweet cheeks?" he asked innocently. "Would you like some help?"

Sophie pulled a face, annoyed by his patronising behaviour, but realised she would soon be in trouble if she couldn't slip the bonds. Her lungs were burning and she could feel herself starting to get lightheaded. She was now struggling furiously to escape, wriggling and writhing in desperation, but still the ropes held her prisoner; they were tighter than ever. What had gone wrong? This sort of escape was her bread and butter. Pushed to breaking point, she finally admitted defeat.

"Pllmmmmmm!" she pleaded. "Hlllmmm mmmpphhh!"

Gabriel waited, sadistically, for just another moment before waving to the crew. The winch whirred and Sophie was lifted up and out of the tank, before being dumped on the stage. She was soaking wet, thoroughly embarrassed, and seriously shaken up.

4. "The Iron Maiden"

As Sophie lay on the stage gasping for breath and trying to recover her composure, Gabriel tutted and winked at the audience.

"Another failure? Oh dear, sweetheart, oh dear me. And look at your shirt! I think you need a change of clothes. Perhaps the next trick will help us out."

Poor Sophie's breasts were indeed clearly visible through the transparent, clinging shirt, and with her hands bound behind her back she was unable to cover them up. She wriggled and mewled for release, looking about for assistance. Where was that PA of hers?

"The next trick," smiled Gabriel as he untied the bonds and finally removed the gag, "is called The Iron Maiden. I think Sophie will enjoy this one. It's a little bit more challenging. Should give you a chance to restore your reputation, babe."

"My name is Ms Blackwood, or Sophie if you must. There is no need to call me 'babe', you toxic little man." She hissed this under her breath, hoping to avoid too much drama, but it didn't take a genius to see the two magicians were not getting along.

"Quite right, doll. Could we have some fresh ropes, please? These are all wet."

"And perhaps some more clothes for me, you idiot?"

"Oh no, there's no need. I told you, the magic will provide. Now put your hands behind your back. I seem to be saying that a lot, don't I?"

"No matter." Sophie did as she was told. "Bind me as tight as you wish, I will escape with ease."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Is the device ready?"

The crew, primed and ready as before, dragged out what seemed to be a large medieval torture device: a black leather-bound box with brass fittings and viciously sharp-looking spikes pointing inwards. Sophie was well aware of this device and knew perfectly well how to avoid injury. This should be simple. Should.

Gabriel seemed to have decided to escalate the thoroughness of Sophie's bondage with each successive trick. So this time, as well as binding her wrists tightly behind her back, lashing her ankles together, and immobilising her arms with multiple loops of rope around her chest, shoulders and neck, he tied her legs together above and below the knee. She was just that fraction more helpless than before, with slightly less freedom of movement and two more bindings to untie before she was free. It was still a straightforward setup she would normally escape in her sleep, but she hadn't managed even one escape tonight. She really wasn't sure what was going on, but was determined, as Gabriel had said, to salvage her reputation with a success.

Once she was thoroughly and tightly bound with the fresh ropes (which were bright pink, oddly), Sophie was 'helped' into the box and strapped to its back wall with stout leather belts.

"You're just going to wait for me to start talking and then-mmmppphh!"

Gabriel, laughing again, chose this moment to shove a large pink ballgag between the magician's pretty lips and deep into her mouth. She groaned and complained as it forced her jaws apart and pressed her tongue down, but found that she was efficiently silenced. Gabriel buckled the gag behind her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Are you ready, baby cakes? All set to dazzle us with an amazing escape? And just in case you were confused, by 'escape' I mean 'actually get out of the bondage'. I don't mean 'wriggle about helplessly while everyone laughs at your incompetence'. All clear?"

"Ymmpphh."

"That's easy for you to say. Okay, let's close the Iron Maiden! Ladies and gentlemen, please give me a countdown from ten."

The crowd chanted the numbers happily, enjoying the spectacle and drama. And, in the case of the heterosexual men and lesbians in the audience, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Sophie's tits straining against the fabric of that soaking wet shirt. Gabriel, for his part, was staring at them very obviously, and pretended to have forgotten what he was doing. This got a laugh when the countdown reached zero and nothing happened.

"Whoops! Got a bit distracted. Sorry about that. Here, that strap looks loose, let me just adjust it."

Pretending to check the strap across Sophie's chest, he quite blatantly gave her left nipple a little tweak. While she squeaked with outrage, he slammed the door of the device closed with a flourish and a bang, and several women in the audience screamed involuntarily. Those spikes had looked awfully sharp, and had Sophie really been ready?

"Our damsel faces dire peril. Has she perished, or has she escaped? Or... something else?"

The door swung open again, and Sophie looked out. She was unhurt. The trick had worked. Except -

Well, there were three unexpected elements. First, she was still bound, just as tightly and thoroughly as before, as could be seen from her straining and writhing to absolutely no effect. (To be fair, given the poor girl's dismal record across the evening, this might not qualify as especially unexpected.) Second, the bonds themselves were no longer pink; they were now black. Every rope, every fiendish knot, was in exactly the same place as before, but the ropes themselves had changed colour. The ballgag was now black too.

And third, Sophie's damp tuxedo had vanished, to be replaced by a pink satin dress she would never have voluntarily worn in a million years.

The dress, a glossy off-the-shoulder number, was somehow both daring and old-fashioned, evoking the fashions and gender roles of the Middle Ages and 21st-century fetish clubs at the same time. It had a modern plunging neckline, showing off her cleavage to great effect; a distinctly medieval laced corset, cinching in her waist and adding to the prominence of her bust; impractically long and flouncy ruched skirts; and white elbow gloves. It was decorated with lace and frills and bows and ribbons, and was exaggeratedly, almost comically feminine. The outfit was completed by a cute little tiara and shiny pink 6-inch heels. Sophie looked, in short, like a pretty princess from a fairy tale, the sort of helpless damsel who spends the whole story being captured, rescued or married off... only a sluttier, more sexualised version of that. She felt utterly demeaned, objectified, and humiliated.

"Ah! The princess has been captured," said Gabriel in a mock-serious voice. "Will no one free this fair maiden from her bonds? She is evidently unable to do so herself."

Sophie mmmmppphhed furiously through her gag, and everyone laughed.

5. "The Dragon And The Damsel"

"Well," said Gabriel, smiling now from ear to ear, "since you're dressed for the part of a helpless princess, why don't we show the audience that old trick we used to do together? You know - when we were an item."

He paused a moment to give Sophie a chance to respond to the suggestion, but of course this was merely yet another humiliation, since she was gagged so thoroughly she could barely make a sound. Despite her best efforts to object she was able only to mewl softly and give a feeble squeak of vague disagreement.

"Since Princess Fun Bags doesn't want to tell you about the trick, ladies and gentlemen, I had better fill you in myself. The trick is called The Dragon And The Damsel, which appears to suit the situation admirably. We have our damsel" - he gestured at the neatly bound magician, struggling uselessly against her bonds - "so all we need is a dragon. I don't suppose we have something suitable waiting in the wings?"

Gabriel looked to the side of the stage, where Sophie was surprised to see the stage manager winking and giving a thumbs up. This was all planned! They had set out to defeat and humiliate her! How dare they!

"This routine, ladies and gentlemen, can go one of two ways, and Princess Busty Bimbo and I will be competing to decide how it ends. Yes, this is the world's first competitive magic trick. It's sort of an escape, and sort of a reverse escape, and... well... you'll see what I mean."

Gabriel was obviously enjoying the attention of the crowd, strutting around and waving his arms as he explained what he evidently thought was a brilliant and groundbreaking concept. Sophie found this all extremely frustrating, since she had invented the routine, but for the time being could make no objections; she was still stuck in the background, while an extremely junior member of the crew laboriously freed her from the intricate ropework. He finally extracted the saliva-drenched ballgag and she immediately starting complaining.

"Typical sexist pig!" she cried. "Taking credit for a woman's work!"

Gabriel grimaced and winked at the audience.

"Oh dear," he laughed. "More nagging. Chicks just have to get the last word, don't they? But don't worry, she'll be gagged again before long, and we can have some peace."

"I certainly won't!" Sophie replied. "I invented this trick, just like I invented all of the best tricks currently being used, and I intend to win!"

"I'm sure you do, Princess Shirt Potatoes. Have we got the chains, please?"

Still dressed in her girlish, maidenly outfit (if only her stupid PA would appear, she could ask for a fresh tuxedo!), Sophie stood behind an ornate carved screen in the middle of the stage. Unusually, she was largely unbound; her only restraint was that her wrists were shackled in front of her, connected by a stout chain to a ring in the floor. An enormous mechanical dragon could be seen in the wings, bristling with spikes and belching flames. They must have assembled it during the first half of the show, Sophie realised.

"The dragon approaches!" Gabriel bellowed theatrically. "But can it be defeated in time to rescue the fair maiden?"

Dropping out of character, he explained, more prosaically, that Sophie had until the dragon reached her to escape from the shackles, change into a suit of knightly armour, and then 'slay' the beast with a mighty sword. It would be a show-stopping performance! Gabriel, meanwhile, would be working to ensure a different conclusion. But he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"You'll know it when you see it," was all he would offer.

A blazing spotlight lit up the screen and the area around it, but the theatre was otherwise plunged into darkness. Dramatic music began to play. Then red and yellow lights, almost demonic in character, played on the mechanical dragon as it lumbered on to the stage and moved slowly towards its victim, smoke and flames billowing out of its jaws.

"Poor Princess Party Pillows! Who will save her?" called Gabriel from somewhere offstage, stifling a giggle. "And more importantly, can we have a look at her knockers?"

The audience laughed, but there was a certain amount of tension; the dragon looked quite dangerous, and it was getting alarmingly close to the screen.

"Fear not! Sir Gabriel will save the damsel in distress!"

A spotlight found Gabriel as he sprinted on from stage left, waving and grinning and soaking up the applause. He was now dressed as a fairy-tale knight in polished full plate armour. The visor of his helmet, which was too big for him, kept clanging shut whenever he tried to talk, and he had an enormous armoured codpiece that kept bumping into his sword.

"Sorry about that," he said. "It's always getting in the way."

Gabriel's silly slapstick had defused the tension, but the dragon had now almost reached the screen, and parts of it were showing scorch marks from the beast's fiery breath. Several members of the audience tried to remind the knight of his duty.

"Whoops!" he said, clapping his gauntleted hand to his forehead and making a loud and comical BONG. "I'd forget my own head if it wasn't screwed on. Better go and rescue the innocent maiden. Are you still in there, wench? Strange, she seems to have gone quiet. I wonder what is preventing her usual shrewish prattle? I do hope she hasn't got herself bound and gagged again!"

The helmet clanged shut once again as 'Sir Gabriel' hurried across the stage, almost falling over his codpiece, and pulled back the screen...

...and there was poor Sophie, in the same place as before, and still dressed as a princess. But everything else had changed.

The chain and the shackles had disappeared; even the bolt in the stage had somehow vanished. But she had not escaped... not even slightly. She was now tied very thoroughly to a large wooden stake (where had that come from?) with a cruelly tight network of thin cords. Her wrists were crossed and bound behind her back; her elbows were tied together in what was obviously a desperately uncomfortable pose, forcing her back to arch and her bosom to jut out; her legs were firmly lashed together, and to the stake, at the ankle, calf, knee and thigh; ropes wrapped her chest above and below her well-displayed breasts, and constrained her shoulders; and several loops of rope anchored her neck to the post and kept her almost as still as a statue. Only the movement of her chest as she breathed, the occasional flex of a muscle as she strained to escape, and the deep blush on her pretty, wide-eyed face showed that she was indeed a living and extremely unhappy young woman.

Oh, and of course she was very tightly and thoroughly gagged, too. Her mouth had been well stuffed with fabric, and then a long strip of brightly patterned cloth had been forced between her teeth and tied behind her neck. "Hmmppphhh!" she tried to say, blushing even more. "Mmhnph phhm hmmm?"

"Fear not, fair maiden!" cried the knight.

He swung his sword in the dragon's general direction, but nothing happened; he grimaced at the audience, and did a thumbs-down sign. Then there was a loud roar of bestial pain, and the beast's head fell off and landed on the stage.

"Ah, sometimes it takes them a moment to realise they are dead. Sir Gabriel saves the day - and the fair maiden - once again. No need to thank me, wench, I'm sure you will show your gratitude in your own way later tonight. Maybe we could use some whipped cream again. I remember you like that."

He winked at the audience, patted the helpless and clearly furious magician on the cheek, and gave her nipple (the right one, this time) a cheerful tweak. She squeaked with fury, but nobody could hear her over the crowd's rapturous applause.

6. "The Princess On Trial"

Sophie continued to buck and writhe against her bonds as the remnants of the dragon were cleared away. Gabriel pretended to ignore her, carrying on with his showman patter as if there wasn't a very lovely and helpless gagged and bound beauty tethered to a post a few metres behind his back. Well, he mostly ignored her: every now and then he turned and had a good hard (and completely blatant) stare at her chest, ignoring her muffled insults and complaints.

When able to concentrate on his work, Gabriel started building up the next trick, the sixth of the evening. It was called The Princess On Trial.

"Princess Dairy Dumplings has been accused of witchcraft!" explained Gabriel. "As a test of her virtue, she has been bound to the stake for burning. If she is a witch, she will use her magic powers to escape and fly away to safety. If she is unable to escape, that means she is innocent. Or, er, was."

Gabriel pulled a confused face, trying to understand how the trial was supposed to work, and how it would be used to administer justice; the audience laughed. Eventually he shrugged, apparently satisfied, and proceeded with the trick. As he began to pour lighter fluid on to the kindling and logs around Sophie's feet, her irritation changed to visible alarm, and she struggled more and more urgently. Unfortunately, she was still quite unable to free herself, and made no progress whatsoever.

"Nnmmm!" she pleaded through the gag. "Wmmm dmm fmmpphh ymmdmmmphh? Pllmmmm dmmm!"

Gabriel, ignoring these sounds, was handed a large medieval-looking torch by an obliging member of the crew, and held it to the pile of wood. There was a flash, a loud bang, and an enormous billow of pink smoke. When the smoke cleared, Sophie had vanished.

Again, the magician hammed it up by pulling a range of goofy faces. Where had the princess gone? He looked about dozily. What a confounding mystery! Did this mean she was a witch, or had she been rescued? Had he burned an innocent maiden?

And then, just as suddenly as she had vanished, Sophie (or perhaps we should call her Princess Sophie, for she was still in the same girly pink dress) reappeared at the side of the stage. In most respects she was just as tightly and comprehensively bound as before: hands behind back, elbows painfully close together, legs useless, bosom neatly rope-framed and displayed. There were only a few slight differences. Someone had added extra reinforcing rope to her ankle and wrist bonds, making them even more difficult to escape, her forearms were now tightly tied together as well, and the stuffed cleave gag had an additional layer of cloth tied over the top, covering her mouth completely and muffling her cries even more thoroughly.

Oh, and she had technically escaped from the stake. In fact she was no longer attached to anything static, which had to count as an improvement.

Looking about anxiously, eyes wide, she started hopping towards Gabriel. It quickly became apparent who she was trying to escape; she was pursued on to the stage by a crowd of extras dressed as peasants and brandishing pitchforks. This group received a loud cheer, and several waved to friends in the audience. They weren't taking the role particularly seriously.

"Goodness me! It looks like we were right to suspect Princess Sweater Puppies all along!" Gabriel said loudly, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "What a shocking development. By the way, I should warn you all that if I remove that gag, the witch may cast a spell. Should we risk it?"

The crowd laughed and cheered good-naturedly.

"You're right, we should probably play it safe and keep the gag on. Okay with you, babe?"

"Nf cnnrphm nnph! Phnhm phhnph nff rnghph nnmm!"

"Oh you said it! By the way, are you carrying a wand?"

Gabriel patted down the helpless 'witch' in an exaggerated, cop-show style, but of course this was merely an excuse to squeeze and grope her chest, waist and ass through the thin pink satin. When he was satisfied, he absent-mindedly slapped her on the bum.

"All right, sweetheart. I suppose you're free to go."

7. "The Cabinet Of Death"

Sophie had now been tightly bound for two entire tricks in a row, and it seemed only reasonable for her to be freed. Gabriel, in fact, condescended to do this himself, busily working on the knots, cords and cloths bedamselling the frustrated magician.

Only the most astute members of the audience noticed that, for some curious reason, he was careful to begin with the less important bonds, and that he left the rope around her wrists and the two-layered gag until the end. This meant she spend the entire process more or less helpless to prevent or object to him taking advantage... which he did more blatantly than ever. Given that his 'freeing' technique involved continually rotating Sophie so that the bond being worked on was clearly visible to the audience (he even commented on the style and proficiency of the binding technique), each part of her body spent some time away from their view; and whether this was her breasts, her bum, her legs or the ticklish place in the small of her back, he took immediate and greedy advantage of the opportunity to tweak, stroke, grope or tickle to his heart's content.

She wriggled like a fish while this was going on, but he instructed her firmly to keep still, "or I shan't be able to untie you, my dear. Heaven knows how you got yourself trussed up like this." When the wriggling continued, he gave her a light spank on her pert bottom, and then several harder ones.

"I had the same problem with Sophie's sister, you know," Gabriel said to the audience. "She would never behave either. I had to spank her nearly every day. Of course, she secretly loved it. As does Sophie, I think."

"Mn dnn nnph!" Sophie was furious to hear her sister mentioned so casually. The nerve of the man! But the spanking continued, each blow on her round little butt stinging just a little more than the last. Finally she gave in and stopped resisting. He was clearly going to grope her regardless of what she did, so she might as well avoid any more spanking. She could get her revenge later.

"That's better," he said. "Nice and obedient."

When she was finally freed from her bonds and ungagged, Sophie immediately began to complain, loudly and bitterly. All of her frustration from the evening's failures and humiliations came rushing out.

"You odious, obnoxious man," she cried, "you small, cowardly, worthless fraction of a human being, you've been sabotaging my escape attempts all evening! Those ropes appearing on me - that was you! Those gags in my mouth - that was you! You changed my outfit, didn't you! This was all your fault! I should be treated with more respect! I'm a star!"

Gabriel watched her, smiling, letting her talk. He thought she was especially pretty when she was angry. She got the cutest little blush in her cheeks, and there was fire in her eyes. He liked seeing her sharp little canine teeth, too, which made her look slightly feline. But she was starting to get her temper back under control now.

"Anyone can spoil a trick," she sneered. "It takes a genius to perform one properly, and you're not half the magician I am. I insist - insist, mind you! - that you prove your abilities with an escape of your own. Let's see how you like it when someone does their best to defeat and humiliate you. I bet you couldn't even escape from..." She looked out at the audience and smiled, finally getting a chance to build up some tension and work the crowd. "...a charming little place I like to call The Cabinet Of Death."

For the first time that evening Gabriel looked worried, but Sophie had insisted, and the audience now seemed to be at least somewhat on her side: they chanted and clapped and otherwise made it clear they wanted him to take on the challenge. Finally he nodded, and a large cabinet was brought out on to the stage. It was black, steel-lined, and elaborately decorated with pictures of dragons and serpents.

"It's time to bind you, my glamorous assistant!" Sophie said, plainly enjoying herself enormously. She carefully chained Gabriel's hands and feet, and wrapped more chain around his legs and body, pulling it as tight as she could and padlocking it in place. He made a few exploratory flexes to see if he could find any slack, but based on his expression, there wasn't any to find.

"Oh no!" Sophie gloated. "I do hope the great magician isn't helpless!"

Gabriel was pushed inside the cabinet - it was a squeeze getting him in there with all the chains - and Sophie slammed the door dramatically, then sealed him inside with multiple heavy locks. She clambered effortlessly up the side of the cabinet (it turned out that some of the decorations were actually handholds for this purpose) and stood on top as the music reached a crescendo, and then suddenly died away to silence.

"Our victim is a helpless prisoner!" she cried. "But now we must give him a real challenge. Gentlemen: bring out the deadly serpents!"

Two crewmen appeared on stage holding large, brightly patterned snakes, which they handed carefully up to Sophie. She held them expertly just behind their heads so they could not strike.

"The fool will regret his insolence towards the great sorceress!" she gloated. "He will be punished with an agonising death, bitten by these vicious creatures until he hangs lifeless in his chains. Ha ha ha!"

The cabinet had a small opening in the top, and Sophie crouched and dropped the snakes through this into Gabriel's prison, before closing it and adding a further lock.

"We shall see just how great the great Gabriel really is. Gentleman, bring out the curtain, and begin the countdown!"

A large heavy purple curtain was brought out, encircling the cabinet and completely covering it, and Sophie as well. The announcer counted down as the music began again.

"Five. Four. THREE. TWO! ONE!!"

The curtain was whipped away, revealing... none other than Gabriel, unbound and holding a snake in each hand, standing on top of the cabinet exactly where Sophie had been five seconds before. The music now stopped again, and the audience could hear a muffled sound coming from inside the cabinet.

Gabriel hopped down nimbly, and gestured towards the door. It was hard to believe, but he was even smugger now than he had been for the previous six tricks. He was grinning, struggling not to laugh, and soaking up the adoration of the crowd.

"Shall we see what's inside?" he asked. More cheers.

The locks were opened, one by one, the handle was turned, and the door swung open. And inside the cabinet stood, inevitably, Sophie. Oh, poor Sophie. She was mortified.

Gabriel had been chained securely, but there was absolutely no comparison: Sophie was far, far more thoroughly and helplessly bound than he had been. Her wrists were tied behind her back with rope in a brutal reverse prayer, palm to palm between her shoulder blades with the fingers pointing up. These cords had been cinched cruelly tight, and were biting into the damsel's soft, flawless skin. She would have had no hope of freeing her hands in any case, but Sophie's fingers had also been wrapped in duct tape. It looked like she was wearing a pair of shiny black mittens.

More rope had been used to tightly truss her chest, looped above, below and between her prominent breasts and around her shoulders and neck. Her shapely legs were lashed together at ankle, calf, knee and thigh, and a knotted crotch rope disappearing between them was obviously causing her considerable distraction and distress. Finally, her jaws were forced apart, and her voice silenced utterly, by a truly gigantic black ball gag.

"Plmmmm lmmm mmpphhh ggmmmpph!" she pleaded, tears starting to form in her eyes as she struggled and squirmed - then stopped suddenly, blushing, when she noticed the friction from that devilishly well-positioned rope.

And what of Sophie's outfit? It had changed again, and could only be described as minimal. She was not wearing a tuxedo, or a medieval princess dress, but merely a black corset, dark fishnet stockings, and an absurdly tall pair of high heels. Her breasts, forced out by the cruel bondage, were fully on show. Her nipples, whether from the cold or some other reason, were standing rigidly to attention.

There was huge applause and laughter. It was the greatest triumph of a triumphant evening.

Gabriel led the helpless damsel out of the cabinet and on to the stage - she had to hop, of course, and very carefully - where he bowed and she did her best, within her unrelenting cage of tight rope, to present a girlish curtsey. It wasn't the most elegant, and earned more laughter. She was blushing, crying, and utterly humiliated, but Gabriel hadn't the least morsel of sympathy.

"Yet another failure! Oh dear," he said, tutting and shaking his head. "You had better be punished."

With one hand holding her long dark hair, he spanked her ass, hard, several times with the other, then groped her breasts and tweaked her nipples, causing a series of tiny, muffled squeaks and mewls of protest. These weren't very convincing, however. From the state of her nipples, the blush on her cheeks, and the soft gasps and moans emanating from that well-gagged mouth, the crowd were starting to suspect that she was enjoying herself.

Eventually the laughter and applause died down, and Gabriel stopped tormenting his defeated foe.

"Before we close the show, wench," he began, "I have a question to ask. I'm going to give you two options. One: I can untie you, yet again, take those tight ropes off your lovely body and pull that big gag out of your big mouth, and allow you to leave. You can go back to your career as a substandard magician and full-time Instagram slut, and I'm sure you'll do very nicely. People might not respect you quite as much as they did before you were defeated and repeatedly humiliated by a superior magician, but I imagine you'll be able to scrape a living. Everything will go back, pretty much, to the way it was.

"Or two: you can have a job as my assistant. Since I'm a man and you're a woman, I will of course be completely in charge. You will wear what I tell you to wear, do what I tell you to do, and behave obediently and submissively at all times. You will no longer do any magic. You will be a prop - a very pretty and appealing prop, but a prop nonetheless - which I will use when performing magic. You will spend your time on stage wearing appropriately feminine attire, and you will be bound and gagged a great deal. I think this position will suit your skills far better than your current job, but perhaps you disagree.

"So this is your choice - and it is truly your choice. If you wish to be freed, squeak, or moan, or make whatever noise you're able to make, but do it just once. If, on the other hand, you wish to have the job as my lovely assistant and perpetual damsel in distress, squeak several times, and jump up and down. You have ten seconds to decide."

Sophie was taken aback. Perhaps she had grown so used to captivity that she didn't expect to be given a choice. She looked about, blinking into the spotlights and trying to clear her head. Of course she wanted to be free... didn't she? She was a magician, not a glamorous assistant. Not some piece of ass to be shown off and ogled and treated like an object. She had to get back to her work, put all this behind her, and rebuild her reputation. She looked Gabriel in the eye, and gave a single defiant "mmppphhh!" It was barely audible, but Gabriel heard it, and smiled.

"One squeak!" he announced.

He was still smiling, and his smugness, his obvious pleasure in having beaten her, his utter arrogant confidence that she would do exactly what he wanted, triggered a feeling deep inside Sophie that she didn't understand. She lowered her eyes, unconsciously behaving in just the sort of submissive way that Gabriel would most enjoy, and tried to think. She had been defeated, in front of everyone, mocked, laughed at and humiliated, and it felt... weirdly, intensely pleasurable. Did she... want to be controlled, to be owned? Did she enjoy being a damsel in distress? Had Gabriel taught her to know her place? And was that... something she wanted? She looked up again, the decision made.

"Mmmpphh!" Sophie repeated. "Mmmpphh! Mmmpphh! Mmmpphh!"

"Two, three, four, five squeaks! I think we have our answer!" said Gabriel, gloating, as she obediently started to bounce up and down on her bound feet, tiny little hops on those teetering, skyscraper heels. Hands trussed tight behind her back, mouth muzzled, tits exposed, she was a helpless and humiliated prisoner, a curvy feminine object on display for male pleasure. Her breasts were jiggling and wobbling around all over the place, her face was bright red, and she was sweating from the exertion, but she didn't care.

"Good girl," said Gabriel. "Good girl."

He grabbed her roughly and kissed her gagged mouth, leaning her back in a parody of a romantic movie scene. Unresisting, she hung in his embrace, completely reliant on her captor to keep her from falling. The crowd cheered louder than ever, and the curtain came down. On the show, on the greatest night of Gabriel's career, and on Sophie's life as a magician.

Epilogue

Veronica made her way through the labyrinthine tunnels and passageways, and eventually found Sophie Blackwood's dressing room. She knocked; there was no response, but she walked in anyway. The pretty ex-magician was sitting in her chair in front of the mirror with a dazed expression on her face, still coming to terms with the evening's events.

After the curtain fell she had been freed from her bonds, reasonably quickly, and her limbs were now unadorned with the ropes they had worn for so much of the evening. She looked almost bare without them. To be fair, she was almost bare. Nobody had given her so much as a dressing gown or an old T-shirt to put on, so she was still in the corset and fishnets, her breasts on show for all to see. They shone with a slight sheen of moisture: sweat, perhaps, or the drool that had dripped down from that huge ballgag.

"I have some bad news, Sophie," said Veronica.

Sophie? What had happened to ma'am?

"I don't see how this evening could get much worse."

"That's the spirit. But you've lost the Las Vegas residency, I'm afraid."

"That was supposed to last for two years! They signed a contract!"

"Null and void, Soph. Morality contract. There's loads of clips of you on YouTube with your hands tied behind your back and your tits out. And on TikTok, for that matter. And on your own Instagram account! I don't know how they got on there. Anyway, all of that stuff killed the deal. Same with the jewellery ads."

"The ads? No! I needed that money!"

Veronica smiled unsympathetically. She didn't seem particularly bothered.

"You've lost this evening's expenses, too - I just thought you should know. Mr Templar has claimed them for himself. Said you're his employee now, so it all goes through him. Between you and me I doubt you'll see a penny of that money, but I suppose you could talk to him about it."

"No," said Sophie glumly. "I probably won't. Is there any good news?"

"Yes! I thought you'd never ask. I've got a new job, at twice the salary. I'm over the moon about it. And to be honest, my new employer is a lot more likeable. The last one, excuse my French, was a bit of a bitch."

"You're leaving me?" Sophie's heart sank, and she knew the answer before she asked the question. "Who's hired you?"

"Mr Templar, of course. And that's why I'm here. He asked me to pop round and bind you up nice and tight, shove a gag in your mouth, put you on a leash, and take you out for a walk - or rather a hop - to meet all the fans waiting at the stage door. I understand there's more than a hundred people out there."

Sophie blushed and started crying again, but Veronica was unmoved, taking a coil of white rope out of her pocket and looking steadily at her former employer. The moment passed. Sophie, resigned to her new life, nodded in agreement, turned around, and crossed her wrists behind her back.

FIN