The Magician's Assistant

His fingers tensed then relaxed only to tense again, the tips biting into the flesh of my shoulder in a pattern that matched his belabored grunts. Some dozen or so seconds later his body relaxed, beginning with a long, slow exhale near my ear.

"How was it?" he managed to gasp.

"Awful," I said at once, knowing the word had several meanings.

"You wait," he said with a subtle snicker. "Within a fortnight, you will beg for the pleasure of my cock between your legs."

"May I beg for something else just now?"

"What?"

"I need to pee."

"You might," he said, rolling from atop me. "Though I doubt it. Hurry up, regardless. Then come back to bed like a good little wife."

Anxious for even a moment to myself, I leapt from the mattress and rushed into the washroom, closing the door behind me. My hand sought and found the light switch. A glare burst across the room. With a gasp, I stopped. There in the mirror was Christine's naked body; her consummate round breasts capped by perfect brown disks; her taut rippled abdomen. Her face looked right back at me with that dainty princess nose, those movie-star cheekbones, lush lips; rich blue eyes; and hair the color of the sun flowing over her shoulders in curls. She was beautiful, everything I'd always wanted my body to be. And now that it was my body, I hated it.

* * *

Consciousness returned to me in bitter morsels the next morning, each one bringing an unwelcome memory of the day before. Unwilling to wake up and face reality, I tried to roll over and resume the bliss of slumber, and renew the hope that it was all but a bad dream.

When at last I did open my eyes, one scan about the room confirmed my memories did not come from a nightmare. Feeling my captor's body next to mine, I closed my eyes and cursed myself, for having taken pleasure of own ravishment, and for having slept so soundly afterward. That he had left me no choice in either matter did little to abate my self-loathing.

I pried myself from beneath his arm and slid from the bed linen, then headed for the washroom. At the threshold, my foot refused to move forward, as if gravity had somehow turned sideways to pull at me from behind. At once, my words from the previous night rushed to the forefront of my psyche.

"I will not leave the apartment or the theater or your sight without permission."

With a sigh I looked over my shoulder. Giancarlo lay in the bed amidst the sheets, his arm still draped across the bed where I had been, his eyes closed.

His eyes are closed! I reasoned. I'm not in his sight, therefore I can't leave it.

With that simple thought, I eased my toe forward, then my foot. A second later I sprang into the washroom wearing a broad smile. What else did I promise?

Before I had even settled onto the toilet seat the first of my own words echoed through my head exactly as I had said them.

"I won't touch the necklace."

My fingers rushed for the necklace, but never made it. He wouldn't make that rule number one if it wasn't important. I concluded. I tried to sneak up on the necklace, to think of other things, but nothing worked. My shoulders sank in the seconds that followed; I could find no way to circumvent the rule.

I emerged from the washroom more dejected than I had entered. Looking to the bedroom, I saw him still asleep, his eyes still closed. I turned and walked down the corridor as if on eggshells, wondering which would be the step I could not take.

This I found at the door. I could open it, but I could only look at the newspaper in corridor beyond. Standing there, inches from what appeared to be freedom, the urge to scream, "Help!" beckoned, but words came to my brain rather than my tongue.

"I won't communicate with anyone without permission."

I sighed and shook my head. Maybe I can just stand here naked until someone wanders by. At that thought, my hand pushed the door closed. I turned my wide eyes to where my closed fist refused to return to the handle. Yes, I admitted with another sigh, Standing there naked would be communicating.

I shook my head and wandered back into the parlor. There I looked into the mirror over the sofa, once again admiring and abhorring my new body. I looked at my fingers as they petted, then pinched my nipples, remembering how the man's hands had felt upon my breasts the evening before.

Is he really controlling what I like and dislike? I wondered. Am I even still me? My mind flew back, to where Megan lived. I remembered her; being her. Yes, I decided. No matter this body, I am still me.

As if to expel any notion I might not still be Megan, I gave my head a firm shake and looked away from the image in the mirror. My eyes landed on the bookshelf and I began perusing the titles. The Scarlet Letter, The Dubliners, Moby Dick.

The list went on, all classics, all with weathered, faded covers, until my focus landed on a bright new tome at the end of the first shelf, Sexual Behavior in the Human Female.

With a gasp, my eyes widened. I never knew there were such books. I extended my fingers, only to withdraw them again. What are you afraid of? I asked myself. You've been fucked. You may as well learn why you liked it.

I reached again, but a low moan down the corridor drew my attention. Except for my spinning head, my body froze. Stupid! I scolded myself. If he catches you out of his sight, he'll fix the rule!

On my toes I scurried down the corridor to the foot of the bed just in time to see Gino open his eyes.

He smiled at once. "And what have you been up to?"

"Just waiting for you to wake up." My eyes pulsed once as I realized I had uttered a half-truth at best. Hadn't he told me not to lie?

"You must stay in bed like a good little wife," he said.

I nodded, hoping he wouldn't make me say it, then sought an additional distraction. "I need to pee." My eyes swelled as I recognized this statement was one hundred percent false.

Gino laughed. "Looks like you do. Better go ahead."

"Thanks." I sprang for the washroom, shutting the door behind me.

"No!" he bellowed. "We are married. You don't close the door."

For an instant I tried to disobey, but my hand would have none of it. With the door open, I retreated to the john and pretended to urinate. All the while my mind churned. I can't close the door, but I can lie. Why? Is there a time limit...

Gino entered the tiny room, interrupting my thoughts. My thighs pinched together at once, but a second later I persuaded them to relax. Not like you have anything to be modest about.

With a swallow, I brought my gaze back to my captor and got my first eyeful of a man. Seeking a flaw, my eyes roamed his flesh, from his broad shoulders down his muscled back to the trim tightness of his ass, onward to his lean and rippled legs. I sighed. There was no imperfection to be found. My lips formed a pout as I loathed myself for continuing to admire his physique.

Gino moved the door just enough to reach behind it and grab a robe. "Yours is the other one," he noted.

"Thank you," I said with a nod.

"Did I tell you about that room?" he asked, pointing beyond the washroom to the closed door across the hallway.

"No." I said with a shake of my head.

"You won't even open that door, let alone go into the room. Say it."

"I will not open the door or go into that room."

He smiled and donned the housecoat. "What do you know how to cook?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You've never helped your mother cook?"

"Yes," I said. "I've just never cooked anything myself."

"Time to start learning. There's more to being a good wife than just being a slut. Bacon and eggs. Over medium. With toast. Make some for yourself too, if you're hungry. And coffee. Make the coffee first tomorrow, before you pee."

Fifteen minutes later Gino ate his breakfast in silence, his hand appearing once in a while from behind the spread newspaper to snag a bite or a sip of his coffee. I also said nothing, spending most of the meal wondering why I had hoped he might have something nice to say about my cooking. When he did speak, it had nothing to do with food.

"Go. Draw a bath for me. Warm but not hot. We've just enough time to bathe before rehearsal."

I discovered that a bath constituted me kneeling beside the tub and scrubbing him. In spite of my desire to look anywhere else, my eyes kept finding their way back to his shrunken member. It looked so different than I expected, rather like a fat little earthworm peeking from within a black hedge. Every time I caught my eyes lingering upon his cock, my attention leapt to his face. Each time, he was looking back, smiling.

"Go ahead," he said at last. "You can touch it if you want to."

Damn him! I did want to. It angered me more that he wouldn't order me to touch it. Of course, I reasoned, if I refuse, he'll just tell me to do it anyway, no point in angering him.

With a swallow, I extended my open hand and petted him with my fingertips.

"Go ahead," he said with a chuckle. "Give it a good squeeze. You won't hurt it."

Folding my fingers into a fist, I did just that. He felt rather like a worm too, soft and rubbery, but he didn't stay that way long. Within seconds, he began to swell, hardening within my grasp.

I'd never seen one hard before, of course. My eyes roamed the length of his brown, rippled shaft as he grew. He was larger than I had expected. That was in me? I marveled. My nether lips twitched as I recalled the feel of him there, between my legs, pounding. I realized I had begun to smile. Pursing my lips, I looked to his face.

"We don't have time for that," he said through a grin. "For now, go ahead and wash him, then you can have the bath."

Without another thought, I obeyed. By the time I had finished, his cock was a rigid pole lying against his belly. Trying to be subtle, I measured him against my hand, then held my palm up, imagining his length within me. I felt a subtle warming in my loins, and had to admit, to my added disquiet, that I did want to do more than wash it.

* * *

An hour later we were in the dressing room of Gino's modest theater.

"This is your costume for the first act," he said, pointing toward two pieces of white fabric hanging upon the wall amid a half-dozen other outfits. "Go ahead, put it on."

I waited for a few seconds, then my chest shuddered with my subtle laugh. Why did you expect him to leave? Doing my best to ignore the unwelcome audience, I removed my blouse and skirt, then plucked up one of the sections of the sequined garment from the hook.

"No," Gino said. "It's like a swimsuit. Nothing underneath."

With a nod and a sigh, I sent my arms behind my back to the clasps of my bra. Seconds later, I stepped from my panties, my heart heavy in my chest with the realization I wasn't even embarrassed to have his eyes upon my form. That I wasn't yet willing to admit it was my form did little to ease my guilt. Determined not to look at him, I turned my own eyes to the mirror and pulled the taut costume over my equally taut form.

A minute later I puffed out my chest and smoothed the elastic beneath my bosom, then ran my fingertips over my exposed tummy before doing the same with the snug seam at my waist.

"It is a nice body," Gino said. "Too bad you don't get to keep it. Don't worry though, I'm sure I'll easily be able to find you something better than Megan's"

I cut my narrowed eyes his way.

The magician smiled through a chuckle, which only served to drive my eyelids a shade tighter. "This is the middle piece," he said, reaching behind me for the red section of fabric. "Stand up straight."

This I did, holding my breath as he tucked the third section of the costume between and then beneath the other two, thus concealing my abdomen "Elastic is all that holds it in place," he noted. "The tassels hide the seams. You must be sure and straighten it before going on to stage."

With a sigh, I nodded my understanding.

"Good," he said, pointing to the floor beneath the counter. "Shoes too."

I had squeezed my feet into the pair of slippers, then looked up to find Gino standing before me with a set of wires dangling from one hand. The cables reminded me of the sort one uses to start a car with a dead battery, except they were miniature, maybe a foot long overall with clamps smaller than tweezers.

My lower lip hanging limp, I kinked my head to one side and looked to the magician's face.

"One foot on the counter," he demanded.

Stretching my leg, I placed my sole at the edge of the countertop. I was still marveling at the limberness of Christine's form when, without a word, Gino knelt and grasped the strip of fabric at the lowest point in my costume, the part that covered my sex.

I gasped, then tensed, turning my gaze downward as he pulled the cloth toward one of my thighs.

He looked up at me with a wry grin. "Do you know what this is?" I'd barely time to absorb his question before his fingers first found, then rubbed, the delicate nub hidden at the apex of my folds. An instant later, I jerked away from the unwelcome ticklish sensation.

His smile only broadened. "That's your clit. Sensitive, no? Don't move again."

In spite of my desires my body remained rigid as his fingers returned to my sex, tickling me again. Within seconds, the severity of the sensations drove me to the point of tears.

"Please stop," I begged.

"As you wish. But don't move." Still holding the fabric of my costume so as to expose me, he brought his other hand, the one with the wires, upward.

My eyes had but a moment to widen before I felt the cold of metal clasp the flesh of my tender button. My body tensed with the shock and I emitted a whimper.

"Another one," he said and I felt the chilly pinch of a second clamp upon my sex, this one lower on my lips.

Leaving one hand on my loins, the magician stood and slid behind me. His other palm found my horizontal thigh. I had but a moment to imagine his intent before he lifted me and thrust my exposed sex toward the mirror. His fingers shifted to my lips and pulled them apart. "See how you attach the wires?"

With a gulp, my wide eyes fell to my splayed folds. I'd never before had such a view. My eyes roamed the glistening pink of her sparsely furred lips. My sparsely furred lips, I conceded with a gulp.

"Do you see where the clamps go?" Gino asked again, his voice deeper and louder.

My eyes jumped to his reflection. "Yes," I said with a bob of my head.

"Good." He dropped me to the floor. "Now tuck the other end between your ass cheeks and follow me."

I suppose I should have been alarmed, but at least some part of me was still naive and he had not as yet caused me pain. Blissfully unaware that was about to change, I pushed the balance of the wires beyond my sex and in between my buttocks before scurrying along after him.

"Steeplechase is closing for the season today," Gino explained as he walked. "That'll cut down the crowds, so this will be our last performance on a Sunday. After this, we'll only have two performances per week on Saturday; you can spend the rest of your time learning to be a good wife." He stopped at one of the two halves of the sawing box. "We'll start with this on stage. I'll push, you steer."

Thus the two of us pushed the props for the first act between the curtains and onto the stage.

"Stay here," said Gino. "I forgot the lights."

With his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the auditorium, he strode back toward the curtains. The instant he disappeared, I turned to look over the two pieces of the box.

The torso section was essentially empty, with but a few wires, a small red bottle, and the three holes for my head and arms. The foot portion was packed with a dozen automotive batteries, a motor and a pair of fake feet with slippers that matched those on my feet. On the sides of the box that would be away from the audience I found on each section what looked like a light switch and, adjacent to where the box sections would join, a short electrical cable.

I had just put my fingers to the wires when I heard a click. An instant later a blinding glare illuminated the stage. Thinking I had touched something I should not have, I jumped back. Then I sighed through a smile, remembering why Gino had gone backstage.

Stepping forward, I again picked up the ends of the wires and saw how they would plug into one another much like an extension chord. I followed the cables into the portion of the box where I would be. Looking inside I saw the ends of the power lines ran toward a pair of tiny metal screws, one to each side of the red bottle next to where my ass would be.

"It really is a bottle of ketchup," I muttered. My eyes drifted again to the cables. All thoughts of condiments evaporated. My mind and hand both rushed to my ass cheeks and the wires tucked therein. I gasped and spun, hoping against hope the magician was nowhere in sight, but I was not in luck; my gaze landed less than a dozen paces distant on his dark eyes.

An even darker grin spread across his lips while he covered the remaining few steps between us. "Figured it out, did you? You're smarter than most. Pity. I'll have to remember to get the lights first next time."

"Please..."

"Get in!"

"No," I begged even as my leg lifted. "Please. I'll..."

"Shut up and get in."

I did as instructed, climbing to sit in the box. My eyes darted to the two metal screws at my feet then back to the face of my captor.

"Now," the magician continued. "All you have to do is lie down and pull your knees up, then put your head and arms out the holes."

With a gulp, I did just that.

The instant I was in position, I felt his hand again on my loins, pulling aside the fabric and fishing the wire from between my ass cheeks. Though convinced I knew the answer, I still tried to ask what he meant do, yet I could not stir my tongue to speak.

"Your legs need to go towards your sides, like this." He adjusted my position with a pressure to each knee. "That way I can close the top."

He dropped the lid, then leaned. The tendons of my hip and upper legs squealed in protest, but all I could utter was a slight grunt.

Gino's head appeared above the edge of the box. "Oh, did that hurt? Well, I promise it won't in a second." He paused to bounce his eyebrows and issue a broad, closed-lip grin. "Electricity's so much better than the old ways. If one does it right, there's no marks. During the performance I will say, 'Wiggle your feet,' but, of course you don't need to since the feet are mechanical. That's why we need to make sure everyone is looking at your face. Now close your mouth and put your teeth together. We don't want you biting your tongue."

His face disappeared. Even knowing it would fall upon deaf ears, I attempted to beg one final time, but even this I could not do. Instead I closed my mouth and set my teeth against one another. Surrendering hope, I closed my eyes and awaited the inevitable.

"Wiggle your feet."

I heard a click. Then a whirring. Then another click. An abominable tickling fire poured into my being through the most sensitive route imaginable. My entire body quaked all the way to my fingertips. Tears poured from my eyes. My mouth flew wide. A wail emerged.

"Quiet, Christine. You're frightening the children."

My lament ceased, but only because he had ordered it. I still wept. My body still shuddered. "Please," I whispered.

"No," he said. "Don't you remember the performance? You will say, 'But it hurts.' "

"But it hurts!"

"I know Christine," he replied. "I am sawing you in half. Try and bear it like a trouper. "

"It's not funny," I whined. "It really does hurt."