The Duelling Magicians

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."