Tag Archives: mind control

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 2.4

Okay, I swear I’m not going to fall into the habit of making the fourth part of each chapter the lewd part.

If you missed the previous installments, check here!


I tossed my keys on the counter and glanced back at Vivian. “Well, here it is. Don’t judge.”

She smiled as she hung her coat on the rack by the door and looked around the place. I blushed a bit and made myself busy in the kitchenette. I hadn’t really intended for dinner to lead to- actually, no, that would be a lie. I had very much intended dinner to lead to something else. I just hadn’t expected that we’d be coming here. The place was less immaculate than I would have liked: dishes in the sink, discarded outfits near my dresser, underwear on the top of the laundry bin, etc.

Vivian had followed me into the kitchenette and I gasped a little as her arms slid around my waist and her lips pressed against the back of my neck. “No judgement. Promise. I like seeing where you live, Zoe. I like knowing more about you.”

I could feel my cheeks burning scarlet as my pulse quickened just having her this close. “You do?” I said as I closed my eyes and leaned back against her. I smiled as I pulled her arms tight around me and indulged in her embrace.

“Of course,” she said as she let her mouth wander up until she was whispering into my ear. “It lets me know just how to get into that pretty little mind of yours.”

I laughed and turned my head, my lips meeting her cheek. And then our lips came together and for a moment I lost myself in the taste of her. After the kiss broke she smiled that dangerous little smile of hers, kissed me once on the cheek, and whispered something else into my ear, something I didn’t quite hear.

My body felt as though something inside was starting to unwind. A knot of heat twisted and radiated out through my chest. A moment ago, I had been gently leaning against Vivian, luxuriating in her attention. Now, I was clutching at her, clinging to her, desperate. Her arms tightened around me and she kissed the top of my head. “Shhhh…I’ve got you, kitten.”

And then she said that word again. My body arched, sweat beaded my brow, half formed sounds tumbled from my lips. And again. If not from her arms I would have tumbled to the floor. My legs were weak, my thighs clenched helplessly. Again, I half heard syllables falling from her lips. And I came with her kissing my ear. My whole body shook as I cried out in mindless, inarticulate bliss. And the whole time she held me close.

Finally, she gently let me go. Still unable to stand, she helped me slide awkwardly down the length of her until I was on my knees on the floor. With one hand she gently but firmly guided my chin to look up at her.

“Now, are you going to stop worrying about disappointing me?”

“Yes” I managed, barely a gasp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Mistress”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall, Chapter 1 (Complete)

So, it’s come to this. I not only managed to stick to releasing this thing, I actually managed getting an entire chapter finished! It’s collected here for ease of reading. I toyed with the idea of waiting and releasing this Thursday instead of the first part of Chapter 2, but there was rather insistent demand for new material.

A sincere thank you to everyone who has encouraged me and shared the story so far. I promise that there is a lot more to come.

Oh! And if you missed the prelude, click here!


“Fuck,” I whimpered at the dead piece of vinyl between my legs and my nose curled at the faint smell of smoke. This wasn’t working. A magic wand is a terrible thing to waste, and burning one out seemed a bit more like pointed commentary that I was comfortable with. Fifteen minutes and a cold shower later, it still wasn’t sitting well with me as I toweled off my shoulder length hair. I looked down at the dead vibrator sitting sadly on my bed and frowned. I flicked the switch back and forth and offered prayers to whatever god looks out for single kinky girls. Nope.

Flopping on the couch in a fuzzy blue bathrobe, I stared up at the stucco and thought about my options. School was a no, the less anyone there knew about my personal life or proclivities the better. Bars were…problematic, the kind of things I liked to do were best done sober and not with complete strangers. Personal ads? Nah, that just seemed like a good way to wind up in pieces in the river. “Fuck,” I reiterated with a heavy sigh into wet blonde bangs. Propping myself up on one shoulder I poked the laptop on my coffee table to life and with one finger poked out: ‘bdsm clubs’. Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

I mean, sure, first I had to scroll through a host of sites form the early days of the net, had to break out the brain bleach to deal with loud color schemes, autoplaying metal music, and so called ‘true dom’ bullshit, but in the end? I found a name: Sable, an address, and a calendar of events. With one of those events, a tea & coffee munch, being held in just two days. I paused as I looked at the event details. Maybe this had been too easy. I think my mind had wanted something more unattainable, something to think about and fantasize over, and eventually give up on. I hadn’t really expected it to be as easy as just, showing up and having a cup of tea. And now that it was, my stomach squirmed a bit as I tried to think of a good excuse. I bit my lip as I stared at the screen. My mouse hovered above a small RSVP button. And I clicked, and began typing an e-mail.

We’ve all got times in our life that we look back on and think: what would have happened had I done this differently? Where would I be if I had stayed home? Would things be the same had something different? And its infuriating, because you’ll likely miss the biggest decision of your life when you’re making it. You can only see that sort of in retrospect and then sometimes you’ll lay awake at night and gaze into the dark and entertain: what if? And those thoughts? They terrify me. Because I look at what came from that night, and can’t imagine my life any other way.

* * *

It turns out that the human perception of time is relative. Yeah, I know. Not exactly the biggest insight there. We’ve all had good times fly by while those things we would rather not linger: class, dentist visits, etc. take forever. Those two days? They took around two years, minimum. My anxiety used that time to run amok. What would these people be like? What should I wear? What if someone from school found out? Thoughts and fantasies about it occupied almost every moment not spent on class or sleep.

Of course, when the time came it was all rushing and cursing the traffic for making me get home late. Then it was popping in and out of a shower and racing through my wardrobe trying to find any of the outfits I had spent hours planning. Not to mention what I had to do to make my hair actually behave. Somehow though, it all came together. I made it out the door in a style that was both cute and warm: heeled boots, tights, and a cute black dress bundled beneath a scarf and a gray tweed trench coat.

The place really was just a short hop from my apartment. I’m not quite sure what expected from a depraved sex dungeon, but I actually drove right past it at first because it was so unassuming. Sable was tucked away down a little side street in a slice of downtown more devoted to shopping and nightlife than business. It was the only business on that street, but it shared a building with a bar and a darkened, “appointments only” junk shop. The windows were heavily tinted and the name was spray painted on a stretch of wall to the left of the door in a metal album cover style. The only thing that really indicated the place’s true nature was the gaggle of black leather clad smokers crowding the front walk and hovering around patio furniture.

I flushed as I walked to the door, eyes on the sidewalk. I could feel people looking at me, making comments to each other, and I knew I should say ‘hi’, but it was taking all my focus to just tamp down my nerves as I made it to the door. As it opened, a gust of warm air teased my red cheeks and brought the smell of coffee, tea, and spices. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim indoors and begins to take things in: tables, chairs, a long wooden bar; people in groups talking quietly or laughing boisterously; and a small stage space where a person patiently layered rope around an uncertain looking boy. Yeah, either this was it or I’d just walked into a really big coincidence.

“Hey, welcome!”

My reaction got a laugh. I’m told I looked like a deer in headlights. The bartender waved me over with a grin. “Menu’s up there, byob, limited food. House rules over there. Any questions?”

“Yeah, a few…”

* * *

“So…they say you have spooky mind powers.” I said with a nervous little laugh. It wasn’t the best pickup line, as these things go. But then, I was a bit out of my element here. I’d never actually been inside a BDSM club until a couple hours ago. Now I was trying to chat someone up at one. Besides, I’d never been good at this whole thing: being single, dating, etc.

The raven-haired woman looked up from her book. She took me in at a glance and then quirked a dark eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really?” She said, her voice honey laced with sarcasm. “And just who would ‘they’ be?”

I flushed a little. Then I hurriedly gestured at the person who had been up on stage tying a boy when I came in: all lanky and tattooed with a short-cropped blaze of neon red hair. “Them. Jacques. Y’know…cute, genderqueer, obsessed with rope?”

She looked over my shoulder to see Jacques, now draped over the lap of a woman done up in a corset and petticoats, and couldn’t resist a smile. “Oh. Well, they certainly say a lot of things. And I wouldn’t believe half of it if I were you.” She used her foot to push out a chair from the little wooden table she had claimed in a rather private corner of the club. “Sit.”

I could have said something about how it wasn’t a request. I could have acknowledged how that casual level of command simultaneously rubbed me in both the wrong and right ways. Instead I just set my teacup down on the table and sat myself down in the chair. “Are you saying you don’t have spooky mind powers? Cause I have to admit, that got my curiosity up.”

She took a sip of her coffee, leaving a crimson crescent on the cup. “I mean, I certainly didn’t say that.” She extended a hand. “Vivian.”

We shook, her skin was warm and a little rough. It was hard to say how old she was, though I’d guess there was almost a decade between us. “Zoe.”

“Oh, really? So tell me, is it just a coincidence that you’re named for a woman who couldn’t resist temptation?” Her eyes sparkled at her own cleverness. She wasn’t letting go of my hand, and I was in no hurry to take it back.

My stomach squirmed. “I mean, I had another name once…prefer not to talk about it though.” I said, looking down and away. Presumably she’d find out sooner or later.

“Ah.” It was a small noise. And then she squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to talk about anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

I smiled, I couldn’t help it. “Appreciated. So…mind powers?”

She gently let go of my hand and leaned back. Her teeth were perfectly predatory, and she ever so idly began to toy with her necklace: a pendant of some kind of dark, reflective stone. “Tell me…do you know much about hypnosis?”

* * *

I was falling.

Something came up to meet me. It was warm and cradled me as I tumbled down. It felt like sinking into a sea of warm sand. My body was heavy, but it floated. My thoughts drifted. I could feel her hand on my cheek. I could hear her words, even if I couldn’t quite understand them.

Later, I would be surprised at how little time had passed. But that was later.

And suddenly words I could understand came bubbling through my head, words in Vivian’s honey voice dripping their way across my placid surface, making ripples: “And how do you feel now?”

“Good.” The word echoed up slowly from the well of my reality.

“And would you like more?”

“Yes.” Quiet and eager. Almost desperate.

I continued to fall. And I was gone.

I gasped with pleasure, mind reeling as her finger lazily wandered its way along my clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” She murmured.

At some point I had gone from dressed and sitting across from her on her bed to laying back naked against her. Her arms wrapped around me, my head nestled beneath her chin. I pushed back into her as she continued to touch and tease, small short gasps the only sound I could make.

“You were already so sensitive and grinding against me, and I just couldn’t help myself.” She purred, clearly amused. “I made everything a little more sensitive.”

I wanted to curse. I wanted to scream. The sensation was so intense it was agony, but it was agony buried under waves of intense pleasure. I stopped breathing for a few seconds, my mouth worked uselessly.

She leaned down and kissed me then, distracting my lips from their futile attempts to make words. I arched up to meet her. And I whined pitifully when her lips eventually drew away.

“No, shush now, I don’t think you get to talk.” She drew her hand away and hugged me tight as my hips lewdly, uselessly worked against the air, “The only thing you get to do is come. Come for me. Now.”

And I did. Just from her words in my ear. Just from her voice in my head. I had the most intense orgasm I’d ever had as she held me and kissed the top of my head.

“Good girl.” She said again. Then she said something else, but I wasn’t there anymore.

I was beneath her. The warmth of her thighs around me, her weight on my chest. My head swam as her hand ran through my hair. My eyes fluttered as the scent of her filled me. Her free hand gently played with my left nipple as she smiled down at me.

“I figured we’d both want you to be awake for this part.”

I was powerless but to blush and agree.

And then she shifted her hips forward, and I learned that the honey between her legs was just as sweet as that which flowed from her lips.

* * *

Some women just wake up looking beautiful. I have never considered myself one of them. So, I hadn’t really intended to be waking up in a strange woman’s bed within eighteen hours of meeting her. Luckily, I woke up first. Which meant I had plenty of time to waffle between freaking out and marveling at how cute Vivian looked sleeping next to me. It was hard to imagine that this serene sleepy woman had been the smoldering domme of my fantasies last night. I felt a happy little squirm in my stomach just remembering it. On second thought, I was glad I’d stayed over. Otherwise I really might have thought that it was all just a (soaking wet) dream.

I sighed and felt around on the floor for my purse, grabbed it, and washed down my morning meds with a swig from the water bottle on the bedside table. Then I went digging for my compact and tried to figure out just how disheveled I looked. Vivian must have felt me moving around. She rolled over, blinked a few times, and brushed strands of dark hair out of her face.

“Awww, kitten,” she said with a bemused grin as she placed a reassuring hand on my thigh. “I promise you’re just as much of a hottie by the dawn’s early light.”

And my cheeks were burning again. “Hey, I…sorry to wake you,” I said, awkwardly fumbling for whatever it is you’re supposed to say in these situations.

She sat up in bed, wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me back against her. Her body was warm and comfortable, and I desperately wanted to nuzzle back into her and fall back asleep. Apparently, Vivian had other plans. “Cute enough that I could be tempted into another round,” she said as she kissed my neck. “After I pee. Be back.”

She hopped up and padded to the bathroom, leaving me with my heart fluttering and a helpless grin. Both of which lasted until I heard noise from the rest of the house.

“Hey, Viv? I didn’t ask, do you live alone?” I called out. No response. Feeling suddenly self-conscious I began to dig around for my clothes. I couldn’t quite remember where they wound up last night. I was still looking when I a voice bellowed from the hall.

“All hail the conquering her-“

I grabbed at the covers, trying for modesty. Jacques burst in the door to the bedroom, same clothes as yesterday and a silly grin which quickly turned to awkward surprise. At the same moment, Vivian came out of the bathroom and stopped, naked and clearly annoyed.

“Jacques.” She said, rubbing her forehead. “Knock. That’s all I ask. It’s not that hard.”

Jacques nodded, chastised. Then couldn’t contain themself and broke out into a grin. “Wait…new girl! You’re the new girl from the club.” They winked at Vivian. “Way to go, mom!”

I fumbled for words, face crimson. And then I stopped, and stared at Vivian. “Wait. Mom?”

[Fiction] Trust/Fall 1.4

I mean, we all knew this was where she was going to end up, right?

If you missed the previous  installment, click here!


I was falling.

Something came up to meet me. It was warm and cradled me as I tumbled down. It felt like sinking into a sea of warm sand. My body was heavy, but it floated. My thoughts drifted. I could feel her hand on my cheek. I could hear her words, even if I couldn’t quite understand them.

Later, I would be surprised at how little time had passed. But that was later.

And suddenly words I could understand came bubbling through my head, words in Vivian’s honey voice dripping their way across my placid surface, making ripples: “And how do you feel now?”

“Good.” The word echoed up slowly from the well of my reality.

“And would you like more?”

“Yes.” Quiet and eager. Almost desperate.

I continued to fall. And I was gone.

I gasped with pleasure, mind reeling as her finger lazily wandered its way along my clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” She murmured.

At some point I had gone from dressed and sitting across from her on her bed to laying back naked against her. Her arms wrapped around me, my head nestled beneath her chin. I pushed back into her as she continued to touch and tease, small short gasps the only sound I could make.

“You were already so sensitive and grinding against me, and I just couldn’t help myself.” She purred, clearly amused. “I made everything a little more sensitive.”

I wanted to curse. I wanted to scream. The sensation was so intense it was agony, but it was agony buried under waves of intense pleasure. I stopped breathing for a few seconds, my mouth worked uselessly.

She leaned down and kissed me then, distracting my lips from their futile attempts to make words. I arched up to meet her. And I whined pitifully when her lips eventually drew away.

“No, shush now, I don’t think you get to talk.” She drew her hand away and hugged me tight as my hips lewdly, uselessly worked against the air, “The only thing you get to do is come. Come for me. Now.”

And I did. Just from her words in my ear. Just from her voice in my head. I had the most intense orgasm I’d ever had as she held me and kissed the top of my head.

“Good girl.” She said again. Then she said something else, but I wasn’t there anymore.

I was beneath her. The warmth of her thighs around me, her weight on my chest. My head swam as her hand ran through my hair. My eyes fluttered as the scent of her filled me. Her free hand gently played with my left nipple as she smiled down at me.

“I figured we’d both want you to be awake for this part.”

I was powerless but to blush and agree.

And then she shifted her hips forward, and I learned that the honey between her legs was just as sweet as that which flowed from her lips.

[Fiction] All In

So I wrote this a couple of weeks back. It was written for someone very special to me. I am stealing time to post it here tonight for your enjoyment, because it makes me happy to share these things. And because it makes me happy to think of her. And I could use some happy.

Content notes: mind control, body control, gambling, damnation


Once upon a time a Maiden stepped into a House of Sin. She was a preacher’s daughter, and the moment her foot crossed the threshold she stood out like a lily rampant on a field of vice. As her gaze saw what there was to see, glasses fell silent on the bar, the clack of dice and the clatter of the wheel slowly faded, and only the needful sounds of lust from inner rooms continued unabated. A blush graced her cheeks. But this girl was on a mission and the fire of purpose was in her belly. She would not be deterred.

The Madam looked down from where she lounged on high. Eyes not unlike to a cat’s narrowed. She observed the girl with caution mixed with desire. She knew her pedigree but not her reason. The Madam rose from her divan, letting long fingers trail the flesh of the collared young thing that had been allowed to share in her pleasure. With a thoughtless wave she dismissed the attendant who sprang into motion as she rose. Then she leaned, slender, spidery thing she was in layers of green and black, and loomed down at the floor below. Lips stretched into a captivating smile that held no warmth or soul. All eyes turned upwards to look upon her.

“What brings you to my parlor, young lady?” her voice was like silk and fire, “Your daddy would have your hide if he knew you so much as set eyes on this hall, much less foot in it.”

The Maiden looked up, face hard with determination, mouth a thin line, eyes clear and blue as heaven. “My daddy…” she began, but her voice caught ever so slightly, “My daddy has already damned me to hell. So the way I see it, there’s not much more to fear.”

The smile on the woman’s face grew wider, uncannier, and she gave a hollow laugh. It was a sound without humor affected, practiced, and tailored in it’s flawed mockery. “Girl, all may have sinned, but there is always further to fall. Go home.”

The Madam turned her attention towards a lithe young thing in silk and chains that offered a sparkling green cordial on a tray. The sounds of drink and sin began to swell again as the patrons returned to their diversions. The preacher’s daughter was ignored, for a moment forgotten, but she was not swayed. Her shoes clicked a staccato rhythm as she hurried across the well worn wood floor, and there was the clink of metal on metal as she threw her purse down upon the table. The Madam’s hand froze then, just as she was raising her drink to her mouth. The glass hovered less than an inch away, forgotten as her hand slightly trembled and her tongue tasted her lips. And then she turned back and looked down.

“All I own.” The girl whispered, unable to look up and meet the woman’s gaze. But the Madam heard it as clear as if the young girl’s lips were tenderly brushing her ear.

The mocking smile and hollow laughter were gone, and a lean look of hunger blossomed in its place. “And just what are you going to tell me that you seek to win?”

 “Freedom.” The maiden said, this time with nary a waver.

“I already told you. Only freedom for you is out that door.”

“It’s not for me.”

“Regardless, I think you’ll be disappointed.”

“Only one way to find out.”

The money was collected, counted, stored under lock and key. And the worth of the Maiden’s life was doled out in chips of bone. She rolled one between her fingers, marveling at how it felt both light and heavy at once.

And then the games began.

The girl wasn’t knowledgeable in the ways of risks and wagers. But she was, as it turned out, a natural. Either that or a bit of her family’s affection for the divine was paying dividends.

The clack of dice slipping from pale gentle hands…

The buzz of it didn’t come immediately. No, it was rather a slow rise that worked its way through her. Each victory and each defeat added to it. The taste of winning after a losing streak was particularly sweet. And the sting of losing filled her with new fire. After all, her purpose was righteous.

The whirr of a wheel and the clatter of a ball…

The pile of chips in front of her fluctuated with each wager. But over time it was becoming clear that her winnings were accumulating. Chip by chip and inch by inch she saw her goal in her mind. And seeing herself get closer to it made each chip feel heavier in her hand, made the value behind it mean all the more, and made the stakes drift ever higher.

The shuffle of cards falling onto a table…

How much time had passed she did not know. The room held no windows. It could have been an hour. It could have been eternity. She pulled her chips to her, tallying them as best she could. The numbers were coming more slowly now as a heat pulled at the edge of her attention. She counted it twice, and then let her hand brush the silver locket hanging at her chest.

“It’s not enough.” She said finally, quiver in her voice.

The Madam detached herself from where she’d been watching and came up behind the girl. One hand touched her shoulder, brushing against her hair and the girl tensed as the woman leaned over and whispered. “It never is. Not for someone like you…”

“That’s not what I…” The Maiden swallowed and softly whined as she shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t have to. All I have to do is play. Same as you.”

The Madam reached past the Maiden and a slender hand flicked and produced a chip out of thin air, and letting it fall on the table. Another and another and another followed, spilling out, clattering, piling in front of the Maiden’s widening eyes. “It’s a gambler’s dream.” She said with a smirk. A chip rolled idly across the Madams knuckles. “There’s so much here how could you ever know where to stop?” She let the Maiden go and slid into the chair opposite her at the table. Her sharp chin rested on the palm of her hand and she looked at the girl through hooded eyes. “If you want to win big though, or should I say…if you need to win big, you could always challenge me directly. No limits. High risk. High reward.”

The Maiden idly played with her silver locket as she tried to look away from the beautiful creature that smoldered at her across the table. But her wide eyes were fixed on that dark feline gaze. She swallowed hard and finally managed to look down at the table, at her winnings, and she took a long moment and to remind herself what this was for.

“I’m in.”

For the second time the crowd fell silent. Her only response was a smile sharp enough to draw blood and a snap of the Madam’s fingers.

Attendants approached through the crowd of onlookers, a deck removed for a box of black stained wood, the table cleared, and the cards passed to the players for inspection. As the Maiden touched the deck she shivered. The cards felt cold and slick. The images drawn on them severe, grotesque, and sensual. A flush came over her cheeks as she stared a bit too long at some of the court cards, fascination only broken by the polite throat clearing of the youth who had brought them.

The Maiden nodded and didn’t meet his eyes. She passed the deck and felt as though her hands were unclean.

The Madam purred as the attendant began to shuffle. “Stud poker. No limits. Know the game?

“Yes.” The Maiden said. “My daddy plays. He’s not half as holy as he puts on.”

“None of us are. You’ll learn that in time. Ante up.”

The cards went out. First one down, next four up. And with each round of betting the clatter of chips told a story of risk and desire. If fortune had had favored the Maiden before, or if angels above smiled down, nobody was smiling now. Piercing blue eyes looked across the table into a cold deep green. And ever so slowly, as hand after hand went by, the Maiden began to sweat.

And then, just like that, she thought she had a break. It wasn’t her fault. It’s happened to lots of folks before. It’s happened to lots of folks since. She was dealt an ace in the hole, and one more along with a five card and a pair of queens face up. The sight of that lovely single heart looking up at her from where she cradled it was enough to make her head spin with excitement and from the buy-in she was wagering with an eager, heavy hand. Meanwhile the Madam looked downright bored, calling each raise in kind, casually sitting on shown pair of sixes. Until finally, after the last card was dealt with so much of her opponent’s resources on the line, the Madam gently pushed a stack of chips towards the center and in a voice that was almost a purr she raised. Excessively.

The Maiden’s heart started pumping ice instead of blood. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes hard as she took in the scene. Her brain fumbled with the logic and then fumbled with the math. She had this. Didn’t she? And if she didn’t… She looked at just how much she stood to lose and felt sick. But there was no way. She surveyed her opponent’s cards, saw the possible combinations, dismissed the most unlikely. And with a slick feeling of surety within her, and trickled of sweat running down her face, she realized that she was being underestimated. Clearly her opponent was bluffing. She had to call. If she folded now, it would mean that fear won. And she would have to go back home, to be with him, and she could never…

“I want to call, but I’m short. That last raise…it’s more than everything I have.” She said at last, voice breathy from the mix of emotions.

The Madam affected a yawn. “It’s more than the money you’ve staked. But I’d hardly call it more than you have to offer.”

“What do you mean?”

The Madam chuckled, “Pretty, but not quite so clever are you?”

“A debt. You’re saying I could go into debt.”

“Yes.”

There was a pregnant pause, and she couldn’t meet the Madam’s eyes as she spat “Agreed.”

The Madam turned back to the table, eyes burning, alight with hunger.

The cards were flipped. The Maiden couldn’t help a little smile as she laid her aces next to her queens. And then she let out an audible whimper of when she saw the Madam flip over a third six.

She was frozen. She was screaming inside. She was ruined.

The madam smiled. A fox savoring a helpless chick.

“Poor thing. I do have a heart. Let’s go double or nothing.”

“No…I…what else do I possibly have to give?” the Maiden sobbed.

“Oh there’s one last little thing that’s yours, and I’m willing to let you walk away with your life and your winnings all for the chance to take it.” She tapped meaningfully at the skin between her breasts. And the Maiden’s hand gripped, quickly and protectively, at the locket that hung from her neck.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no way…I will not let you. N-“

With a snap of the Madam’s fingers the words were jerked from the Maiden’s mouth. “I’m afraid you’re mine now. Remember? And that word isn’t going to be in your vocabulary for long. This is the one chance I’m giving you to get it back. To get yourself back. And to walk away with a nice pile of my money. All you have to do is risk the one thing you never thought you would.”

Tears began to bubble and stream from those bright blue eyes as the Maiden watched herself, body moving almost automatically, like a marionette, as she removed the locket and gently tossed it on the table.

“Good girl. Now deal.”

And she did, with the same stilted pace, uselessly trembling with anger and fear and resistance that came to nothing.

The game was perfunctory: no antes no buy-in no raises, just five cards dealt out one by one from the Maiden’s trembling hands. She lost. She had a sinking feeling the game was rigged in favor of the House. And as she sat and stared emptily at her cards, the Madam leaned forward and pulled the locket from the table. She popped it open and gazed at it with a look of lazy satisfaction. She looked across at the defeated Maiden. If asked, the poor girl likely wouldn’t be able to remember the girl in the locket. She likely didn’t even remember who she was.

The Madam let the locket dangle from her fingers and then tossed it to one of the attendants with a smirk. The youth caught it, glanced at it, gave a slight nod, and then slipped off. More attendants came and began to clear the table.

“Drinks on me!” The Madam shouted as she stood, and the silence that had persisted through the last two tense matches was broken by cheers. “Enjoy yourselves while I teach my new employee the rules of our hospitality.” And with a little bow and a handful of chips scattered to the crowd, she none to gently pulled the Maiden up from her seat by her dress and led the dazed girl by the hand. Her course never wavered as she passed through the curtain to those deeper parts of the House reserved for carnal delights.

And in those days and after there were two new girls began to be seen around the House. One fair and innocent, the other more lean and lithe. Both with an ace of hearts branded on the smooth flesh of their upper thighs. They’d lost themselves and found that the Madam always collects what she’s owed. And sometimes it was said that, when they were led obediently on their chains, or when they hung off the arms of the high rollers, or when they knelt and set their bodies to obedient service, that their eyes met. And when their eyes met there was something there that was more than the dazed and empty look of the other girls in the house, something almost like love.

[Fiction] It’s a Kind of Magic – Part 3

So here it is! The belated conclusion of “It’s a Kind of Magic”.

…it kinda took me this long to realize that this thing probably needs content warnings, huh? Sorry about that. We’ve got: rape, incest?, mind break, vore, death, soul devouring, humiliation, BDSM themes… I think that’s it? Please let me know if I missed something.

Oh, and if you missed the first two parts this will make no sense. I’m not sure it makes sense anyway, but it will really really make no sense without the first parts. I’ll post them all together somewhere. Sometime. Somehow.


I was naked and wet in the dark.

“Well…shit.” Charlie said.

There was a loud clunk and a hum. A light came on, illuminating a cluttered backstage space. Charlie sat on a reversed chair and made a motion like striking a match. With a sizzle the tip of her finger caught fire and she lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. “It’s always a bit more work once you figure that out.”

I curled my legs up to hide my nudity. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. “You’re sick! Just evil! That thing with my mom…”

She gave a soft chuckle: “Oh no no no, kiddo. This is your mind. Remember? Your desires, your fears, your fantasies. All you. Besides, you and I both would have had an easier time of this if your brains had melted out with your tongue buried in mommy’s snatch.”

I wretched a little, but my cheeks burned scarlet. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, let me go? Just walk away?”

She took another drag and quirked up one side of her mouth as she blew smoke. “Sorry sweetie, no can do. There are bills to pay to stay this pretty,” she said

“I’m not powerless here. I know that now. This is still my mind.”

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Technically true. But it’s not worth the headache. I’ve been doing this for centuries. You’re not the first. You won’t be the last. You’ll get over it. You won’t even remember what freedom is, by the time I’m done with you.”

I pushed myself up and lunged towards her. I was not powerless here and I wouldn’t let her do this to me. I closed the distance between us, focusing on my anger and disgust as I did. I had looked up to this woman, fawned over her, fantasized about her. But this? This was the truth: she was an unhuman thing, a walking corpse. I would not let her take me! I screamed in anger and frustration and pain as my body was sheathed in a burning radiance.

She hissed and flipped backwards, placing the chair between us. And she used my own momentum to send my flying. I thumped hard into a corner and by the time I was on my feet she had conjured a black cane tipped in silver and had taken up a mocking fencer’s stance.

“You had a chance.” She spat, and a cruel smile bloomed on her lips. “Now, I’m going to make it hurt.”

I hesitantly took a few steps towards her. She lashed out and I dodged back. I lunged and the tip of my blazing fist passed to the right of her head as she leaned out of the way just a bit too slowly. A thin slice appeared on her cheek where my knuckle grazed her, trailing black wisps of smoke. She cursed in a language I didn’t know, hauled back with her free hand and slapped me across the face with enough force that I staggered back and fell on my ass.

She advanced on me, but I swept at her legs and she jumped back, giving me time to stumble back up to my feet. I wobbled a bit and my light flickered. I heard Charlie snicker, “You can’t keep this up.”

I bit back my fear and focused, starting to shine bright again. “Try me.”

With a snarl she leapt at me, cane raised back, only to find my knee colliding with her stomach. She hissed and dropped the cane as I clumsily wrestled her to the ground, trying to hold her to me and let my righteous anger burn her. She wriggled and hissed like a cat dropped in a bath and eventually squirmed out from under me. Her boot collided hard with my chest over and over again, and I heard a snap as I squirmed helpless on the floor.

“You bitch,” Charlie said as she pulled herself up. Her clothes and body were tatters, flesh weeping and blistered. She held out a blackened hand, the glove had burned away against her skin, and the cane whistled across the room back to its owner. “What the hell makes you hate me this much? We both know you fantasize about me.” Her words were ragged and there was pain in her voice.

I pushed myself up on one arm, tried to struggle to my feet, and failed. I pressed my face against the cool wood of the floor and kept trying to tell myself that this wasn’t really my body, these almost certainly broken ribs were a figment of my imagination. “I didn’t just fantasize about you.” I spat. I heard her boots walking slowly towards me. I knew I had to get up. I couldn’t just lay here. I had to fight her. “You were my first crush, you were my hero.” She stopped. And then I felt her boot push into my shoulder, forcibly rolling me onto my back. She stood over me, horrible and beautiful.

I struggled for air as I tried to speak, though I don’t know if it was for myself or for her, “This is my-”. She drove the tip of the cane down through my forehead. My mind split into pieces.

…the other girls in the locker room giggled as I sunk naked to my knees in front of Charlie, half terrified and half aroused. I knew what they all said about me, and now they would know the truth. I closed my eyes and felt a tear drip down my face as I leaned in and gently took her labia between my lips, tongue trailing along her sweet and perfect slit…

…I was lost in the dark, but I knew I was not alone. Some thing was in here with me, I could hear it breathing. And soon I could feel it’s skin on my skin as the tentacles wrapped around me and inside me and through me. They slid between my legs and down my throat and into my ears and began to fill me with her will…

…she enclosed my entire body in one black clawed hand and swept me from the ground up towards that terrifying maw. The heat of her throat and the heavy smell of lust on her breath made my head swim as I struggled and screamed, sliding down her throat…

….We fought on a rooftop: spandex, masks, the whole nine yards. She wouldn’t escape me again! I definitely wouldn’t wind up trussed up in the tatters of my own outfit drooling like a silly slut for the police to find. Not this time! Wait, why was my body getting hot? Oh shit…

…I was so pretty and perfect, so perfect that I couldn’t move. I could never move. Not to speak, not to fight, not to remove the wonderful buzzing inside that made it so hard to think. Charlie had made me so pretty. I was a pretty doll all ready to be packaged. I wanted nothing but to be played with. I was so pretty and perfect…

…I curled in Charlie’s lap as she pet my just where I liked it, eliciting a purr of delight. My paws and tongue found their way down between her legs, and I began to pleasure my beautiful owner in return. The sound of her collar locking around my neck was the most perfect sound I had ever heard…

And more, too many more to count. Nightmares, dreams, fantasies all blended together, but there was one constant: I lost. In every last vision, I always struggled and she was always too strong. My strength failed. I lost. I gasped and writhed on the floor as each defeat pounded into me. My body shuddered as each new horror filled me with unwanted pleasure and sent a climax burning through my brain.

I sniffled, thighs spasming, body oozing. “…my mind.” I gasped weekly. “…my mind. My…”

I felt the cold tip of her cane on my chin, forcing me to look up and meet her gaze. That stunning smile graced her lips and her eyes sparkled. “Not anymore.”

She pressed the toe of her boot between my legs and the now dim light I had struggled to conjure shuddered and parted eagerly before it, exposing me. My thighs flexed and my eyes rolled back as the wetness between my legs pressed against soft leather. She reached down and gently tousled my hair as I humped her foot and tried to hold back tears.

It was so much easier this way. It was always going to end this way. And I knew in that moment, when all was said and done, some sick, dysfunctional part of me wanted it to end this way.

Her fingers tightened in my hair and she began to walk, leaving me no choice but to try to crawl behind her. She led me, dragging forcefully when I was too slow, out from backstage and into the theater. Only instead of the audience that had been there at the start of the show, all of the seats were filled with shadowy figures of women bound in chains.

“Good evening, girls.” She shouted as if opening the show. The sound of her voice was greeted with a writhing mewling from the crowd. “Tonight, it’s time to welcome your new sister into the fold.” She pulled me up onto my knees by my hair, presenting me like a piece of meat. I was crying openly, hair and body slick with sweat, face puffy from tears, vulva puffy from lust. “And this one’s been so pathetically obsessed with me for so very long that she’s going to show us all what a good girl she is and put herself over the edge with her own hands. Isn’t that right?” As she spoke with a mocking sneer she drew the length of her cane across the slick mess between my legs like a bow across a violin.

“Yes!” I screamed. Over and over. Anything she said. Anything she desired. Anything to keep the pleasure flowing and forget everything else. If I just did what she said I could forget the fear and humiliation and loss and just have this pleasure forever.

She pulled me by my hair, putting my face against her thigh so close to the edge of her short skirt that I could smell her and I didn’t even try to hide my mindless, desperate desire. My hands went to work as I nuzzled my face into her thigh: one sliding between my legs, the other kneading my breast as I dripped a sticky pool of humiliation out onto the stage.  Time had no meaning. I could have been playing with myself for hours, hovering on the edge of bliss. In time, once she was satisfied I’d put on a good enough show, she gave me what I craved, and pulled my face into that perfection between her legs. And in that moment, as my pleasure crested and the penumbral crowd murmured and moaned, I realized that I had never had a chance. I came my very soul out and loved every eternity of it.

And the curtain fell.

I opened my eyes in the darkness of the cabinet, sword still sticking from my chest, slick and faintly glowing in time to the helpless thumping of my heart. It thrummed and burned as I hung there pinned. My body was exhausted, my clothes thick and clinging with sweat, my thighs beyond soaked. The sword was pulled out with a sickening sucking leaving an ache inside me that would never go away. No blood came out but there was emptiness where the blade had been.

The cabinet opened and the audience gasped. At first, I thought it was at my dangling corpse. But they looked right through me like I was a ghost. To them the box was empty. I screamed and no one reacted. I tried to struggle free, but I didn’t have the strength. I went lip and sobbed and no one heard me. With a musical sting and a puff of smoke, something that looked like me, appeared at the back of the theater, clothed and whole. The bizarre double smiled sheepishly and gave a cute little bow before heading back to her seat. As she sat down, she looked me right in the eye and gave a little wink. And then the cabinet closed. And then I was rolled away into the dark.

The stage hands eventually helped me down, stripped me from my clothes, and let me clean up a little. I would say that they were compassionate, but I’m not really sure we’re capable of that any more.

Later, I would attach silver cuffs to the arms and legs of a cute blonde. I’d watch the excitement in her eyes, marvel at the feeling of her warm skin, and somewhere lost deep inside I would mourn her. She would look up at me, innocent, nervous, a little tipsy. “Hey, I’m going to be okay, yeah?” she’d ask with a giggle.  And I’d just slightly shake my head “no”.

[Fiction] It’s a Kind of Magic – Part 2

I woke up from nightmares of flying and falling. Slowly, fragmented thoughts began to fall into place. This didn’t make sense. This was in my room. Not my room now, but my room from senior year of high school. I was laying back on my bed, nude, legs slightly spread, staring at a poster of Charlie that had hung on my wall since I was a kid. My body, slick and sweaty, hummed with pleasure. The air smelled of arousal. But this was wrong. This didn’t make sense. Mom had converted this room to an office after I had moved out for college. This bed had been sold. The clothes hanging in the closet had long since been trashed or donated. The stuffed animals, and books, and posters were in storage or otherwise long gone. How could I even be here? Where the hell were my clothes?

“Oh, sweetie!” a gently mocking voice said, “You really had it bad for me.”

I blinked as my mind struggled to understand what I was seeing. The beautiful woman hung up on my wall was moving and talking to me, suppressing a smirk and a giggle behind one white gloved hand.

“Go ahead; rub one out for old time’s sake. It’ll make all this go much easier. Besides,” she winked, eyes hooding, “I’ll enjoy the show.”

I scrambled up to sitting position and wrapped my sheet around myself as best I could while not taking my eyes off the moving picture. “What is this? What’s going on?” I said, trying to keep a whine of fear from my voice as I pressed back against the headboard. This was wrong.

The Charlie on my wall pouted a bit. “Exactly what was going on before. I’m on stage, you’re in a box, a sword is in your heart, and the audience is absolutely loving it, by the by. And it’s all going to stay like this until our business is concluded.”

“Business?”

The poster shrugged. “Business is one way of putting it.” With a flick of her wrist the sheet was jerked out of my grasp and went slithering off the bed. I moved to scramble after it. A pair of white gloved hands pulled me back, wrapping around me and jerking me roughly against the headboard. A similar pair emerged from my bed, holding me down, spreading me and leaving me exposed. Charlie shrugged. “Breaking you and sucking your soul from the wreckage is another.”

Lips I could not see found my neck and grazed it with teeth that seemed far too sharp. One hand cradled one of my breasts as the other searched for a way lower. My thighs strained against the unyielding grip of her other pair of hands. My body began to burn as her fingers found just the right places. I wished it didn’t feel so good. Not even the fear could overcome the pleasure of her touch. My head was hazy and my vision seemed to glitch as my brain tried to comprehend what it was seeing. The woman on my wall stepped out of the poster, fixed her bow tie, adjusted her hat, and begin leisurely walking towards me with the pace of a predator.

“It’s not like you really thought I stayed this young and beautiful naturally, did you? And surgery is so…mmm…pedestrian.” She smiled with her lips as red as blood. “No, instead every five years or so I find a cute young fan with a thing for me, consume her, and leave a pretty little shell that’s all broken on the inside. As a perk you make such lovely servants: stage hands, chauffeurs, and sex toys, and such once I’m done with the juicy center.”

This was a dream. This didn’t make sense. This had to be a dream. Why did it feel so real, and warm, and wet? There were lips and breath hot on my neck. Her grip was tight around me. Her hand toyed between my legs… I bit my lip and fought to stay focused as her double reached the foot of the bed.

“So be a good girl, cum your little brain out, and the show can go on.”

She leaned in with that smile, watching as her other fingers brushed my lower lips. My body arched and I trembled with a mixture of lust and fear. I whimpered a “No” as she crawled up onto my bed and forcibly locked her lips with mine. Her mouth tasted divine. It was better than I had ever imagined. My head swam. But this was wrong. This wasn’t how I had dreamed it. Her fingers moved within me. As she pulled back from the kiss I took the only chance I saw and began to struggle like mad. I managed to headbutt her more by frantic accident than design. As she reeled back and spat a curse, her grip weakened and I wrestled the other her hands away, rolled and stumbled, and half ran half crawled for the door.

I scrambled into the hall, naked and terrified. The door slammed behind me. And I whirled around. This wasn’t my house. I stood in a dark hallway that seemed to curve and bend. Identical doors dotted its length. I turned and glanced back, unsure which door I had even come through. The walls shifted and buckled as I tried one door after another after another only to find more hallway. With every passing second the panic was becoming stronger; my breathing was becoming more ragged. I felt more than heard her. She was here. She was walking the halls, searching for me. I felt trapped in a maze I couldn’t begin to navigate, and it housed one hell of a monster. And suddenly I turned a corner and a figure loomed in front of me. I screamed but had no time to stop.

I ran headlong into my mom. Just like my room, this wasn’t my mom as she was now. This was my mom from back when I was a little girl, right after we had lost dad in the accident. Right after she had almost lost me too. This was her full of energy and fire, back when she was busting her butt to take care of the two of us: late thirties, her hair a deeper shade of brownish red, curly where mine was straight, in good shape beneath the loose robe she wore every night before bed, and smelling ever so faintly of the pot she never knew I knew about.

“Whoah, hey, Vivi, honey, what’s wrong?” She said as she put her hands on my shoulders and steadied me. “Just hold on now. Hey, look at me.” She took my face between her hands and looked me in the eye as tears began to slide down my cheeks. “Did you have a bad dream? Is that what this is?” she asked, worry wrinkling her forehead as she began to stroke my hair.

I sobbed with relief and collapsed into her, arms wrapping around her as I trembled. “Mommy…” I mumbled as the tears began to fall faster.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay.” She held me close to her, gently rocking.

“It’s a dream. It has to be. This has to be a dream. It just has to be.”

“Everyone has bad dreams sometimes. Everything is going to be okay. Mommy is going to make everything okay. I’ve got you.”

I laid my head on her shoulder. She smelled so good and everything suddenly seemed okay. Gently shushing me and comforting me she slowly slid my head from her shoulder as she opened her robe and let me rest naturally on the warm skin of her chest. The feeling of her skin on my skin was so comforting, the smell of her surrounding me and taking me back to a time when she had the answers to everything. I didn’t even really process it when her bare nipple found its way to my lips and a droplet of liquid burst on my tongue.

Everything was going to be okay. Mommy would make everything okay. That was the only thing that mattered. My lips tightened instinctively and I began to suck, gently at first, and then a little harder as her milk began to flow into me. Everything was going to be okay. Mommy would make everything okay. That was the only thing that mattered. My head swam and a warm relaxation flowed through me as she kept slowly petting me, letting me suckle and mewl as she kept talking.

“I’ve got you, Vivi.” Her words hardly meant anything to me as I eagerly took in more and more of her milk. “That’s my good girl. My stupid, sleepy, horny little girl.” She kissed my head. “My dumb little slut of a daughter who thinks she can avoid her fate. Too dense to know she’s already lost.” The petting gradually turned into mommy holding onto my hair and she gently pulled me back with an audible ‘POP’. Milk trickled from my still moving lips, it fell from my chin as I stared at her with empty eyes, my tongue kept reaching out towards that source of warm happiness.

She applied a little pressure and I sunk to my knees. She opened her robe further and I saw the wetness between my mother’s legs. “Since you’re damned anyway, sweetie…” she said as she pulled me to her and the scent of her filled my nose and brain with pure desire, “…you might as well lick mommy’s cunt before she takes you.” Her firm grip on my hair pressed me between her legs and my tongue found a taste that was better than milk.

Something clicked in my brain. My eyes went wide. A staggered back and fell hard on my ass as I stared up at Charlie smiling down at me. I scrambled and tried to make it to my feet only to find myself stumbling down a stairway that hadn’t been there a moment before.

I tumbled into the darkness and lost my self.

And then I jerked awake screaming. I was staring into bright light, but I couldn’t sit up, I couldn’t move. Masked figures stood above me, dark silhouettes looking down and whispering.

“Vivian?” one of the figures said and leaned down, revealing a surgical mask and pale purple scrubs. “You’ve been in an accident. You won’t be able to move for a while. I need you to blink if you understand.”

Slowly, I blinked. And then I tried to look around to see what was going on. There were two other nurses, one in blue and one in pink, besides the one who stood over me. I winced as one of them put a needle into my arm and hooked it up to an IV bag.

“This will make everything a bit easier. I’m afraid we’re going to have to take some drastic measures. There’s no need to worry though. We’ll take good care of you.”

My head began to swim. Whatever they were giving me, it worked fast. I could almost feel it flowing through my veins, each beat of my heart filling me with more of their drug. The nurse in blue came over and whispered something to the one in purple. I didn’t really catch what she was saying I was too busy getting distracted by how cute they all were in their scrubs. That didn’t seem like what I was supposed to be thinking, but my brain didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything else.

The one in purple leaned in again and I just got kinda lost in her eyes. “-hearing me. Vivian?” She had apparently been talking. “Blink for me if you consent to the procedure and accept all consequences.” I blinked at how pretty she was and let my mind float as the nurses turned and conferred with each other again.

Without really understanding what was happening, I felt my legs spread by gloved hands and the warm wet heat of a mouth between my thighs. I had no control over my body, I couldn’t even curl my toes. But I had full, vivid sensation. I struggled to make noises with almost motionless vocal cords and one of them stroked my hair and shushed me. The nurse in pink began to caress my chest, stroking and pinching and my whole body was alive with feeling even as it lay limp on the table. In combination with whatever drug was flooding my veins, I was flying in bliss.

And that’s when the one in purple leaned in over my face and pulled down her mask to reveal Charlie’s face. “It was a bad accident, sweetie. You accidentally thought you could escape.” Giggling at her own joke, the beautiful predator held up an ice pick. “But don’t worry, we can fix that.”

I gurgled a bit and screamed at my body to move, but all it could do was lay there making strangled sounds and receive the unfiltered pleasure. As Charlie positioned the ice pick over my temple I struggled to keep from climaxing. She was a sick creature doing this to me. My mind raced with desperation as she pulled out a menacing looking mallet. I had to do something. I had to escape. This wasn’t fair! She couldn’t do this! The tip of the pick pressed cold and sharp against my temple as Charlie smiled with a dark sense of satisfaction. Tears ran down my frozen face as my body was wracked with a storm of fear and pleasure. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t do this. This is my mind!

TAP

Htis si ym ! mndi

TAP

Sthn!smiymiid

TAP

THIS IS MY MIND!

[Fiction] It’s a Kind of Magic – Part 1

She had one hell of a smile. That’s what first drew me to her. In fact, that’s what gave me my first indication that I might be a little more than casually interested in other girls. I first saw her on one of those late night talk shows that mom and I would stay up and watch together. She was witty, charming, and gorgeous: long black hair, eyes that sparked, and a mischievous smile that made me tingle in new and interesting ways. I think a lot of girls probably had more obtainable first crushes, but for me it was always Charlie Winters, Mistress of the Theater of Magic.

It would be a decade before I got to see her perform live. And I had my fair share of sexual experimentation and development with a friends and partners. But somehow, late at night, whenever I lay back in bed and felt a little lonely, it was Charlie on my mind as my hand moved between my legs.

And then, one day, my I got my chance. When I first saw the poster tacked up on the wall of one of my usual hangouts, I my heart skipped a beat. My friends looked at me like I was nuts. These days stage magic is pretty much a thing of the past, and I’m sure I came off as a huge dork. Not that I cared. The woman in the glossy photograph had been haunting my fantasies for the better part of my life, and she didn’t seem to have aged a day. All those nights of teenage desire came back with force as I stared at her picture: high heeled boots, stockings, a black miniskirt, a tight white blouse stretched across a practically perfect chest, and it was all capped by that teasing, knowing smile.

She was playing at the casino downtown. It was a limited engagement, three nights only. Of course my friends lamed out on me when I offered to score tickets. By the time I finally got a ticket for the last night of the show, it was clear I’d be going alone. Honestly, I wasn’t too upset. Even I knew that I was going to spend the night being an insufferable fangirl. I spent far too long getting ready: cute, chunky heeled boots, little black dress, dark red nails and lips to match, and so much time getting my short auburn hair to behave. I knew there was basically zero chance that she was going to notice me, but…if she did…well, you only get one chance to make an impression!

A ride share later and I was dropped off in front of the casino. I killed time playing slots, accepting free drinks, and deflecting poorly thought up pickup lines from boys barking up the wrong tree. Basically, I just tried to burn off nervous energy, goodness knows I had enough. When the doors finally opened, I was as giddy as if I was on my first date. I filed in with the first part of the crowd as stragglers trickled from across the casino floor to join us. There’s something about theaters right before a show begins. It’s a cool stillness, almost heaviness, like the moment before a rainstorm. I found a seat a couple rows back from the stage and didn’t even attempt to tamp down my excitement.

After what felt like ages (but I’m sure was actually only around ten minutes) the house lights blinked a few times and music began to play. I looked around and was pleased to see the place packed. It was nice to know that even if my friends turned up their noses, Charlie could still draw a crowd. Though I couldn’t help but wonder how many people here were drawn here more for the person than the show. She was a beautiful creature from another time, sustaining her art almost solely based on her charisma.

The lights dimmed and a rather mediocre emcee opened the show. He introduced the act, made jokes that were more annoying than funny, and touted the other shows that were coming and going from the theater in the following weeks. And then, it was time. The music stopped and the lights fell until the entire theater was plunged into darkness. The place was silent except for the murmuring and giggling of nerves in the dark.

I’ve never been really afraid of the dark. I mean, when I was a kid I was as uncomfortable in it as anyone else. But in that moment I felt something different. It started ever so slowly and grew to a stomach churning, visceral fear. It was primitive, almost instinctual. I felt as though there was something in the darkness with us, moving between us, washing over us. And whatever it was, it was…hungry. I could feel myself beginning to sweat, seconds seemed to stretch and distort, and I squirmed in my chair and wished for the return of the light.

But then a seductive voice echoed from the theater sound system, cut through the darkness, and made me forget my fear: Welcome to the Theater…of…Magic!”. Each of the last three words was punctuated by a loud click and a spotlight coming on, trained on the center of the stage. Under the cover of darkness, a large trunk had been moved to center stage. The top and sides appeared to be made of solid wood, and the joints were cast in iron. The chest was closed tight by a large built in lock, and a heavy looking chain was wrapped around it several times and shut by a separate padlock. But the most remarkable thing about the chest was that the front was thick, transparent glass, and Charlie Winters was hogtied inside.

She looked every bit as good as her promos: from the dark head of hair that spilled down her shoulders to the tips of her booted feet. Her arms and legs met behind her back, contorted and tied yet showing an impressive figure clad in a sultry take on the traditional magicians outfit, right down to a top hat that rested at a jaunty angle on her head. She pretended to struggle for a minute, but then grinned and winked conspiratorially at the audience as if to say: “Hey, it’s a living!”

As the opening theme of the show began to swell over the speakers, Charlie got to work. What happened next was a combination of obvious skill and athleticism coupled with moments of “what the fuck?” and “how did she…?”. But she did. In less than a minute the ropes were off, the lock was sprung, and a delicate white gloved hand was coaxing the padlock. As the music reached its crescendo, out she stepped, boots clicking on the stage. Top hat and modesty both intact.

As a pair of black clad stage hands, a blonde and a brunette, removed the trunk, as the star smiled and addressed the audience, “Sorry to keep you waiting folks! I got a little tied up before the show.”

I somehow don’t think she even cared if that got laughs or groans.

“I’m Charlie Winters, welcome to the show! Thank you for giving me and my crew the chance to thrill, delight, and amaze you! And I promise you: before this night is through, at least one of you will experience something life changing!”

We burst into applause. How could we not?

The show went on, as they do. Trick flowed into trick and act fell into act all linked together by her seamless patter and a collection of jokes that would bomb for anyone else. Rings, levitation, rabbits from and to places rabbits had no business being, etc. And then, we hit the bit where she asked for a volunteer.

My hand shot up without hesitation, along with about half the crowd. But strangely, I had the feeling that she was looking at me before I’d even moved. And that look…it made my heart beat a little faster and my thighs clench. Her smile widened as one white gloved hand lazily raised and pointed my way.

“You,” she said with a smirk of those full, red lips.

I swear my heart almost stopped then and there. A lovely squirming took up residence in my belly. Standing, slowly and awkwardly I pointed at myself. “Me?”

She shrugged dramatically. “That’s right, gorgeous. Though, I’ll pick someone else, if you don’t hurry.”

I like to pretend the whole theater didn’t hear me whimper. I was extremely self-conscious as I hurried my way down the aisle. My heart hammered in my chest. This felt like a dream come true. No, literally, I’d had this dream before…though I was less clothed…

I was snapped from my internal rambling by Charlie reaching down and grabbing my wrist with one gloved hand. I grabbed hers back and she helped me up onto stage. Then I found myself staring straight at the woman who had been the center of far too many masturbatory fantasies. Only two thoughts were left in my head: 1) she was shorter than me, I hadn’t expected that, and 2) she smelled amazing.

“What’s your name, doll?” She said.

For a moment I just kind blinked. “Uh…Vivian”

“Well Vivian, it’s a pleasure. “ She grinned, “but…I don’t suppose I could have my wrist back?”

I flushed and the audience giggled as I let her escape my grip.

“Thank you! Now, Vivian, have we ever met before?”

“No.” I said, feeling myself blush.

“Aaaaand since we’ve never met , there’s no way I could have paid you, instructed you, or in any other way prepared you to be my sucker- uhh…I mean, assistant for this next trick?”

The audience got a good laugh as I managed a “No” with a bit more conviction.

“You’re a woman of few words, aren’t you Vivian?” she said, gently patting my on my back, “Let’s hope you’re more generous with your screams.” And then she turned and shouted: “Bring it out, girls!”

The stage hands were back and between them they wheeled an odd looking cabinet. It was clearly old, but hard to tell how old. The material was deep ebony, but it wasn’t clear if it was wood, stone, plastic, or something else entirely. Designs were traced in silver up and down its sides, but their significance was as mysterious as anything else. I had a churning feeling in my stomach just at the sight of the thing, but Charlie gave my shoulder a squeeze of encouragement before turning back to the crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and those otherwise inclined, you are in for a treat.” She said, “Tonight you’ll see a special version of this trick that I only pull out once every couple of years.” She gestured at the cabinet. “Believe it or not, but I suggest you do, this cabinet was recovered from a ruined monastery in the south of France. It was apparently once belonged to a very twisted woman. She was a sadist and a practitioner of the dark arts. Put simply: a monster. But, despite the disposition of its owner, as the legend goes, this cabinet holds the secret to eternal life, eternal youth, and invulnerability!” She leaned out and put one hand up pantomiming a whisper to the audience while giving me a wink. ”Let’s hope that last part’s true, at least for Vivian’s sake!”

When she opened the cabinet with a flourish, a cold stirring of the air made my skin crawl. Inside, the cabinet was pretty plain except for four silver cuffs, two high and two low, set into the back wall. It might have been my imagination, but the inside seemed a little darker than it should been and a faint, sweet, musky smell slowly drifted out.

As Charlie continued to talk, the blonde stage hand presented her with a sword that gleamed beneath the stage lights. Knowing less than nothing about swords, I have no way to know how much of the patter Charlie was dishing out was true. All I knew was that it looked sharp, and I was seriously beginning to question what I had gotten myself into. Though truthfully, I was having trouble focusing on much behind the yawning entrance to that cabinet. The brunette stage hand silently took my arm and led me towards it and helped me step up into the box. It was definitely at least a few degrees cooler in here and as the girl began to strap me to the back wall, I hoped she didn’t notice how nervous I was.

“Hey,” I murmured as she had finished strapping me in and began to pull away, “I’m gonna be okay, yeah?”

She looked me straight in the eye, and ever so faintly, to the point that I’m not even sure I saw it, her head shook a quick ‘no’.

And then the door closed leaving me alone in the dark.

Sound inside the box was muffled. I could vaguely hear Charlie talking, the occasional ‘oooh’ from the crowd, but it was hard to tell just what was going on. Then things got quiet except for clack of her boots on the stage. I really didn’t know how to process it when the point of a sword slid straight through the side of the box and skewered me through the chest. But Charlie certainly got her wish: I screamed at the top of my lungs. The crowd reacted with shock and a little bit of applause. Then everything felt right and the whole world fell away.