The Tenth Performance

Also, was it Noah who made that panting sound? And why? Hadn't his magic vision spell let him see me fully naked a few minutes before?

But this, perhaps, looked different. It certainly felt different. The ropes still hadn't even touched me, but already my heart was beating faster and my breath was sometimes catching. Which surprised me. I'd never had any ... I don't know ... bondage fantasies? But standing there, waiting, ready ... the anticipation was so fucking sexy.

"Keep going," I whispered, then felt my pants unraveling.

Soon I stood there, onstage, wearing only a pair of hip-hugging bikini underwear, on display for everyone.

I spoke softly.

"Please," I said, "tie me."

But first the spell unclasped my earrings and slid them off - about half a dozen metal studs that I'd brought to the Divinorium only so my piercings wouldn't close - then used that tiny quantity of metal to seed another conjuration: a pair of blunt-tipped medical safety sheers formed midair, then dropped to the carpet at the edge of the stage, lying there just in case. As though the spell itself was working through a checklist to ensure that our scene was "safe, sane, and consensual." (To be honest, I hadn't known that phrase at the time - I explored a few more things after the night we first cast The Spell.)

And then the ropes on the floor around me - all the glossy-looking braided hemp that had been conjured from the sacrifice of my clothes - suddenly scattered, clearing a wide swath of the carpeting.

From the loose coils, a few sections of self-animated rope began to rise in doubled lengths. These swayed slightly in the air. A paired strand rose higher than the others, bent backward momentarily, as though for balance, then suddenly arced toward my body. I gasped when the twinned rope first wrapped itself around me, encircling my torso and rib cage firmly, then looping around again - again and again - hugging me tightly just above and just below my breasts, then weaving itself through the lengths that already lay against my skin, like a lover's touch that lingered, continuing to hold me everywhere its attention had grazed.

A tendril of rope wrapped around my left arm, and it began drawing my arm backward, behind me. I let it. Another tendril was pulling gently on my right arm; I let it lead that arm back as well. I bent my elbows, pairing my forearms behind my back, and felt the ropes flit through the air, binding me.

For the first time since I'd realized I was haunted, I was letting my guard down. I would be so utterly helpless like this.

For the first time since I'd realized I was haunted, though, I felt safe. My classmates were here, watching me. I was giving them this, to watch. And they would all protect me. I knew it. I'm sure they knew it.

Older students were downstairs, too, guarding the door.

For a moment, I found myself blinking back tears: everything had been so, so stressful! I'd been carrying so much tension ... for months! Which is why it felt so good, all of a sudden, to simply be, wrapped up by the ropes. In that moment, I couldn't do anything. Which meant I didn't have to do anything.

And then, with my arms behind my back, with my chest thrust forward and tightly bound - I'd glanced down to see my own breasts accentuated by the ropes - I felt another tendril of rope reach out to me, wrapping itself around my body much like the first strand had done, except that this new rope also exerted a gentle pressure upon my back, tugging at me inquisitively, as though asking for me to come down, to drop down to my knees.

I lowered myself. Dropping first to one knee, then the other.

I looked up, caught Nicole's gaze, and saw her blow me a kiss.

Then the tendril of rope tugged at me again, questioning further. And I actually felt ... really grateful? I mean, it felt sexy to be watched, to know that everyone was watching, and simultaneously felt so blissful to be at peace. To know that, for a few minutes at least, there was nothing I could do, and so I didn't need to worry. Those two emotions - exciting, calming - were swirling inside of me, not so much competing as complimenting each other in my mind. And so as the tendrils of rope kept asking, I found myself answering yes and yes and yes with every breath.

I let the rope draw me downward till my cheek was resting on the carpeted floor. My arms were still tied behind my back; my bum was up in the air. And although I couldn't see my classmates anymore - I'd turned my head away from them - I still knew that they were watching me. Ogling the artwork that these ropes were helping me become.

I felt a length of rope wrap around me just above my pelvis, lightly squeezing the soft flesh below my belly. Another length of rope circled my left thigh, coiling close to the tingling warmth between my legs.

I thought to myself, If this were my own fantasy, someone would come onstage and fuck me now. I'd keep my eyes closed; I wouldn't know or even care who it was.

I felt so hot. So wet.

I thought, If this were my fantasy, another person might come onstage after the first was done.

I whimpered softly into the carpet, letting my imagination run wild.

And then I felt a sudden pull, at my waist, my chest, my left leg. I was startled - my eyes shot open. That's when I realized that the ropes were lifting me up into the air.

I tried to trail my free leg along the ground, to help support myself. But soon even my toes lost contact with the carpet and there I was, dangling before my classmates, my weight distributed between all those doubled pairs of rope that had somehow snaked their way into the previously-solid ceiling.

As I looked out at my classmates (even then, I couldn't tell for certain whose fantasy this had been, because Cora, Nicole, Ravi, Micah, and Sebastian all looked very flushed, watching me), I felt a gentle tugging at my scalp. Other strands of rope began braiding themselves through my hair. Binding my head firmly in place. My neck was craned; I wouldn't have been able to look away from my classmates' watchful eyes even if I'd wanted to.

Ropes looped themselves around my right leg - binding me at my thigh, my calf - and hoisted this leg into the air behind me, too. My right leg was bent at the knee, the ropes holding my foot high. I crooked my left leg, too, in symmetry.

And my waist had been lifted higher than my head. With both legs in the air and my body inverted, titled toward the floor, it felt like I was flying.

Or maybe it was the sensation of so much blood rushing to my head that made this so intense.

I dangled.

The walls around me were still glowing with sunset hues of orange and pink; my own body was presumably still shimmering with the spell's inner luminescence of moonlight. As I dangled, my body twisted slowly in the air, angling me first vaguely toward where Ravi was sitting, just in front of my own empty pillow, then back toward the center of the room - Eddie, Nicole - then farther, toward Cora and Rick, then back again. I felt the tug of the ropes braided through my hair when I tried to even slightly turn my head. All I could do was stare out into the room wherever the ropes angled my body. It would have been awesome if I were smiling, but the experience was too intense for me to pay much attention to what my face was doing. And yet, as I twisted, turning slowly in the air, I saw them all, all my classmates - Shane, Sebastian, and Micah. Trevor near Rick and Cora. Noah near Eddie and Nicole. And all of them - everyone - was watching me with such dilated eyes. I'd become a piece of erotic artwork for them to enjoy. Flushed Woman, Trussed at Sunset.

I thought about how it might feel to be tied up in a public museum, with hundreds or even thousands of patrons strolling by to have their delicious look at me.

And then, I almost yelped! Because while I'd been dangling there, daydreaming, another thick strand of rope had snaked down from the ceiling. Then up again, along my body. The rope slid its way alongside my neck, past my shoulder, between my breasts, up the midline of my belly, and then, in arcing back toward its origin in the ceiling, pressed right between my legs!

And the rope seemed to have two knobby knots along its length. The rope had looped around the entirety of my body, parting the cheeks of my rump, pressing into all of me with a firm touch about two fingers' breadth across. And, those knots! One had ended up just over my clitoris; the other knot pressed firmly against my aching wetness.

After all my moments of fantasy, this rope's presence felt incredible. Not just erotic, but intensely like sex. As my body dangled - my weight rocking gently back and forth, back and forth - that center rope teased at my clit, and its second knot pushed ever so slightly between my vulva lips, as though asking to be let it.

Would that I could let it!

I squirmed, moving my bound body as much as the firmly clutching ropes would allow. I rolled my hips, then softly moaned when I realized that even those little motions would be enough - I could get myself off against those knots. They were positioned in exactly the right places. The knots slide over the soft fabric of my skivvies, gentle yet firm, rubbing my clit, my slit, my backside ... all while my classmates watched.

I felt a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek.

I saw Noah lean forward, eyeing me hungrily.

I realized, with another moan: if he came onstage and stood behind me, his mouth would be at the perfect height to eat me out.

Maybe Noah was thinking that, too.

A droplet of sweat fell from my chin.

I felt glad that my hair was tied away from my face.

Our eyes met, Noah's and mine, and then, after a moment - his gaze, my squirming motions, the rope tight between my legs - our connection felt almost too intense.

I flushed deeper. The knot still pressed in against me. Wanting to fuck me.

Noah too, little buddy, I whispered to the rope, even as I pleasured myself against it.

And, I wondered ... yes, when the ropes holding me aloft finally began to turn again, enough that I could avert my eyes from Noah's, I found that everywhere I looked, there was another flushed face, excited to see me doing this.

Excitedly imagining the prospect, perhaps, of having me.

I kept rolling my hips. There I was - dangling, sweating, panting - working with the knotted rope that was so eager to masturbate me.

The ropes creaked. My heart was pounding. I could practically feel my pulse throbbing between my legs. And, from out there in the audience, I could hear the sounds of twelve people raggedly breathing.

Then I felt a strand of rope caress my cheek. Despite its strength - these ropes were holding me high up in the air! - the touch of the rope along my skin felt so soft. A lovely texture caressing my face; a lovely texture surrounding my body.

The new strand of rope slid onward. It had started near my ear; now it slid toward my mouth, as though it were about to bind my very face. I felt the rope lingering over my mouth, my now puffy lips. With my next breath, I whispered another yes into the spell - I parted my lips and the length of rope slid contentedly between them, wrapping around my head, pulling my cheeks in at either side. The rope's pressure held the corners of my mouth tight against my teeth. I was breathing heavily around the rope; I touched the fibers with my tongue; the rope wicked moisture from my mouth. It tasted grassy, smelled like a warm bale of hay ... but also, like sex.

The rope had wrapped around my head, and then, on its second loop across my face, the rope parted my lips again, farther, slightly farther. My eyes were wide, but I could hardly focus on my classmates: the rope had commandeered the entirety of my attention. It was lightly gagging me, controlling me, holding my mouth open as though this length of rope composed a bridle for a horse ... as though, yes, I was that horse, and the spell was riding me.

I was its plaything, there, twisting slowly in the air. And although my breath was muffled by the rope between my lips, I found myself still panting yes and yes and yes, mumbling with my full, open, swollen, drooling mouth exactly how much I wanted for the spell to fuck me.

All those ropes wrapped about my thighs - they were grasping me like strong unwavering hands to hold me aloft. More ropes circled my arms, my chest, my waist. What sort of crowd, I thought (although to be perfectly honest, by then I could only just barely think, since the intensity of those sensations had made me mostly incoherent), would it take for me to feel such firm grip over the entirety of my body?

What sort of crowd, I wondered, as a knot kept stroking my clit, as a knot continued to press into me from behind. And then I found myself offering an answer: perhaps ... perhaps THIS crowd.

That thought, finally, was enough to tip me over.

I locked eyes with Cora while I was coming. Her mouth made a little "o." I would've thrashed if not for how tightly those ropes held me.

The touch between my legs felt so much more dexterous than any rope could possibly be. As I shuddered, I found myself licking the length of rope inside my mouth. My tongue flit gently over the braid.

And then I bit down, hard.

In the air, staring at Cora, my teeth clamping on the rope, dear god how I came.

#

THE SIXTH PERFORMANCE

#

After another few moments of dangling there, as though in a personal, form-fitting, very sexy inverted hammock, the ropes began to uncoil. First the loops unwound themselves from my mouth, then the penultimate strand loosened itself from between my legs. My underwear was so damp; the rope, too, was likely damp and scented thoroughly of sex.

Then I felt the remaining ropes lowering me, slowly. I was still in that flying pose, as though I were a bondage superhero who'd soared long enough for now. Soon I was hovering just above the carpet ... then all the way down. The descending ropes let my body greet the floor.

I went limp. The soft carpet tickled my bare skin. I felt so good, so relaxed. I just lay there, not bothering even to open my eyes while the ropes untied themselves from my legs, my arms, my hair and chest. Yup, dear reader: I just lay there, mostly naked, extremely satisfied, contentedly breathing.

When my classmates began to clap, though, I decided to sit up.

I rose and saw that my classmates were all smiling. I smiled back at them. Because that had been fun for all of us, right?

I mean, presumably it had been most fun for me, but, still, I like to think that I had put on a good show.

I looked down at myself and saw faint lines crisscrossing my body, like the pattern from a pillow pressed against my cheek in the morning, a lingering reminder of where the ropes had held me. A lingering reminder of the experience. And also, I looked around, and ... well, where were my clothes?

My clothes were gone. Instead, I was sitting onstage amid coils and coils of rope.

"Um ..." I said, "I kinda thought ... I kinda hoped that my clothes would turn back to clothes on their own?"

They didn't.

"You could ask?" Shane suggested, hopefully.

So I asked.

"Oh mighty spell, might you have any recollection about the former composition of my clothes?"

But nothing happened.

I looked out at my classmates. They looked back at me.

They looked back at a version of me who was, at that time, mostly naked, damp-skivvied, really-flushed-and-sorta-sweaty-from-just-having-an-awesome-orgasm, and still lightly luminescent. In a moment, it might start feeling a liiiiiitle awkward.

"Well," Cora offered, "I do know one spell that would maybe ..."

Cora stood up, walked toward the stage, and took an end of the rope in her hand. She closed her eyes and her brow furrowed in concentration.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

And then, suddenly, all the ropes were gone ... and Cora was left holding a medium-sized, gray, fleecy-looking blanket.

We were first-semester wizards, remember?

"That's, um ..." I started to say as I turned slightly, checking the stage behind me just in case. "That's really ... you used all the rope?"

Cora glanced down at the floor, embarrassed.

"Oh, god, no, I meant to say, thank you," I said, and hopped down off the stage to hug Cora. If not for the blanket between us, she'd have been pressed to my bare body. "This blanket will be great," I said. "God, it's so soft."

And it was, really. The fabric felt amazing against my nipples - I could feel them getting hard again.

Cora said, "I mean, I wish there were a little more," looking a bit embarrassed, but I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Right now, I wish there was a little less." I'd have wished anything that brought Cora's body even a little closer to my own.

She blushed so hard in my arms.

And Ravi had stood up by then, tossing me his shirt. (Which flew, it must be said, exactly where he aimed it.)

I let go of Cora to catch it. Although maybe I should have just let Ravi's t-shirt smack me in the face, so that I could keep holding her. Damn reflexes!

"With that and the blanket, would you be good?" Ravi asked.

And, god, Ravi was so sincere. So nice. I couldn't help but smile. "With this and the blanket, I'll be perfect," I said.

I pulled on Ravi's shirt. His shirt was long enough to dangle to my upper thighs ... and also, I noticed that his shirt smelled a bit more strongly - in a good way - than when I'd held it earlier. Which was flattering. I liked the thought of Ravi getting worked up and sweating while he was watching me.

And Cora handed over the blanket that she'd made for me. At first, she demurely averted her gaze while proffering the gift ... but then, at the last moment, her eyes met mine and she flashed a devious little smile.

I felt really happy to have that blanket. Not just as something to cover up with, or to keep me warm - it felt like wrapping this particular blanket around my body would preserve something of Cora's embrace. Letting our hug linger.

And then, after I'd settled back onto my pillow - and wrapped the incredibly soft and fleecy blanket around myself - the moonlight glow finally faded from my body.

When it faded, Yvonne started glowing.

Much like I had, Yvonne rose from her seat slowly. Hesitantly. And I felt like I knew why. Yvonne, too, must have been thinking about all the things that the next fantasy might be.

I couldn't look away. I found myself staring intently at Yvonne as she walked toward the front: the little hitch in her normally fluid gait, the sight of her tight jaw when I caught a glimpse of her face in profile. I watched her, wondering what she was wondering ...

Everyone must have realized that the intensity of our fantasies had been gradually increasing throughout the evening. And what if the next fantasy was going to be something like, oh, I don't know, being chained to the wall, maybe, and then alternately pleasured and tormented, the uncertainty and anticipation making each and every sensation more intense, more exquisite ...

And, to do all that ... in front of everyone?

Would the desire to see how much the spell would ask of everyone else be enough to make Yvonne want to say "yes" to that? Or, god, what if, by some coincidence, whatever fantasy she was presented with exactly mirrored a fantasy of her own? Would Yvonne want for us all to know, to have us watch her moan and wriggle and all know exactly how much she enjoyed all manner of unconventional delights ...