Hoist by... bondage story | chain, box, stage girl, gag

It all started as an impromptu joke; just a prank conceived and carried on the spur of the moment. Would you be surprised to learn that at its roots there was a girl? ALL RIGHT THEN ... are you also sceptical about love at first sight? Ohh... you're not only dead from the neck upwards but also buried from there down and I'm going to finish writing this down for my own amusement.

I was a stage magician - or, I should say, a stage illusionist. Obviously we don't do magic as such but only create the illusion that we do. Some of us do really mind-blowing reason-defying stuff. At the other end of the scale there are people, such as the late Tommy Cooper, who combine dexterity and genius with apparent failure so making it a joke.

To satisfy my own fetishes, and also with a mind to the commercial appeal, I based most of my act around the female form. Of course, most acts incorporate a young girl assistant for the simple reason that they can be small in size without attracting comment. It's also important that they should distract the eye and so her costume plays more than a SMALL part in that.

One gimmick, as old as the hills and which I have always thought rather cheap, is to plant the girl amongst the audience from whom you call for assistance. That could get risky should you come up against a pushy type who won't take no for an answer; that is the time to trot out the 'Make the Lady Vanish' trick?

In fact that was the very trick I was about to perform. I always called for a volunteer from the audience but I never found the need to plant a stooge. It was very seldom that I did not have to go down amongst them myself and persuade a delectable female but that gave me the advantage of choosing.

On that particular evening I called for a volunteer to be "vanished" and, much to my surprise, a young lady stood up in her seat. Nobody else was that brave and so I thanked her and then invited her on to the stage. As I met her at the top of the steps and we shook hands I found that I was staring. She was... is there a suitable adjective? I have always believed that she was also giving me a good quizzing but, with my eyes unable to leave that face, my heart was missing out on about every third beat.

She had an angelic oval face which ended below in a most determined-looking chin and topped by a flood of thick brownish hair with red flecks that fell to just below her shoulders. Somewhere in the centre was a delicious little nose that turned up cheekily at its very end and, above that, a pair of large soft eyes that so riveted my attention that I failed to note their colour.

I asked her name, took her centre stage and introduced her to the audience. I then explained that the young lady would be chained into my box, the one that stagehands were just then wheeling into place, after which she would vanish. Of course, the Law required me to bring her back again and, no doubt, they would all suspect connivance between us and would suspect me of trickery. To obviate that she would be thoroughly restrained with steel manacles - to which I hoped she could agree? After a slight hesitation she did so agree - and I would use the services of another lady from the audience and three men so that I could be seen not to approach the box at all.

As usual there was no lack of male volunteers but it took a short while for a lady to consent to mount the stage and carry out the deed with manacles. After they had all inspected the ironwork, I instructed the lady to first handcuff the victim and then to lock her ankles into leg-irons with a twelve-inch hobble. Lastly she locked the steel collar around that beautiful neck and retained the end of the attached chain.

Meanwhile the men, with notable reluctance, had been examining the box. When they pronounced themselves satisfied, the jailer was asked to bring her prisoner. The girl was helped in, her chain was fed out through a hole in the back and then the first man proceeded to fasten chains one across her waist, one across her neck and a third one across her ankles. Man number two, who had been sent around to the back of the box to collect the end of her collar chain, now pulled on the lever mounted there and all could see those chains tighten. The box was rotated so that the audience could watch him lock that lever into place with a large padlock, the key to which he retained, and then he was instructed to lock the end of the girl's chain to the lever with yet another padlock.

Male number three was now detailed to close the box, lock it and secure a heavy chain around it. He also retained his keys. The three men now lifted the box on to a raised platform so that the audience could see under it.

It was now my turn as I addressed the audience. "The reason that I requested four assistants," I explained, "was, as it were, safety in numbers. Surely, nobody would believe that I had planted four assistants among them? This theatre couldn't pay me enough that I could afford that every night and twice on Saturdays!" I thanked my assistants and, for the time being, sent them back to their seats.

It was here that I changed the routine and I could see the slightly puzzled look on the Stage Manager's face as he stood there in the wings. As I was standing aside, while the four were securing the girl and incarcerating her in the box, I had been prey to some dismaying thoughts. In just a few minutes we would be opening that box again, we would fetch out the girl, go through the ceremony of unchaining her, take her forward for the audience to applaud and then watch her go back down those steps. This was our last performance here; tomorrow I would likely be two hundred miles away. Maybe one of these three lechers on stage might date her but... I would never see her again.

Yes! It was daft. Not to mention risky. But right there I decided on changing the routine.

I called for the scene-shifters. Nonplussed they came on and I spoke to them quietly explaining that there was a need to change the routine and I wanted them to take the box straight to my dressing room. "Explain later," I said. "Just play along with me, there's good fellows."

I started to walk back across the stage while they began to transfer the box to their wheeled trolley. Close by the microphone I turned and gave them explicit instructions to be careful with it and to leave it in my dressing room. Not surprisingly there was a complete silence both in the House and backstage as the box slowly disappeared into the wings.

I turned to the audience and spread my hands wide to each side as I made an exaggerated shrug. "Well? What did you expect? I said I would make her go away, didn't I? She's gone. On this stage there's no longer either a box or a girl... be it a girl either in or out of manacles. She's gone. What did you expect, MAGIC?"

For a seemingly never-ending spell that silence continued and I thought I had blown it. Then somebody gave a shout, applause began and they all but brought the house down. Frankly, I didn't think, and I still don't think, that it was all that funny but they were very happy with it and that was all that counted.

I had to go straight back on stage as I had been roped in to assist with the following act - the last of the evening - because one of their number had been involved in a street accident. Dare I confess it that, with the strain of improvising in a part I had not had time to master, I actually forgot about the girl stuck in that box. It wasn't until the curtain finally came down and, with a sigh of relief, I was making a weary way back to my dressing room that a thunderbolt dropped on my head.

"Good God - that GIRL!"

I ran the rest of the distance and burst into the room and there, right in the middle, was the box still with its encircling chain. Nobody had opened it? I pulled out the drawer under my mirror, picked up the spare keys and began urgently on the chain. It fell to the floor and I started on the door.

To my intense relief and great embarrassment I was confronted by two large but seemingly calm eyes that stared at me dispassionately: "What kept you?"

"I ... I'm awfully sorry, " I began but she interrupted me.

"I was beginning to wonder if I was on my way to an eastern market? Do you treat all your volunteers in this manner?"

"No. No, no. You see ... well the routine got changed ... and I was asked to stand-in on the next act who have lost a member in a motor accident on the way in tonight. I'm ashamed to admit it but ... you see ... I forgot all about you ... but it never occurred to me that nobody had let you out." "So you admit to flattery as well as deceitfulness and kidnapping?" "Flattery? Oh, I see. Yes, that was clumsy of me, wasn't it?" I nipped smartly around to the back of the box, unlocked her leash-chain and the lever handle and slackened off the chains that held her securely in the back of the thing. Then, again in front, I started to unhook them and assisted her out. I bent down and started to insert the key into the cuff on her left ankle but she stopped me.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Well... I'm prepared to admit that I agreed to your chaining me up and locking me in a box... although, as I recall the matter, nothing was said about leaving me like this for most of the night... but I have certainly not agreed to being UNchained?"

I looked at her in surprise; so much surprise in fact that I overbalanced and fell back on to my rump. "I don't... what exactly is your beef?"

"I'm not aware of any complaint emanating from me. But I do object to a second physical assault on my person within the space of an hour or so."

I made a conscious effort to close my mouth and stood up. "If that's the way you want it ... do I have your permission to lay hands on your person that I may remove these restraints?"

She answered with the one word: "No."

"But...?"

"It so happens that I am enjoying the feeling of being in captivity. If you want your fetters back it will cost you at least a decent dinner."

"Hu-huh. That's easy enough... and it will be a very great pleasure. Now... may I remove them? Please?"

"So far you have not proved too reliable. Dinner first."

"My dear girl, how am I going to get you...?"

"Don't dear girl me. You may be holding me in chains, and on the end of a chain, but that's no reason for being patronising."

"What the...? I can't walk you out of this theatre and down the street like that. For one thing that hobble chain will drag along the pavement and raise the dead."

"It's your chain - although to be sure it's on my ankles... and that's not my fault. Your chain - your problem. You solve it. But you don't get your irons back until I've been fed decently."

"Now look here ... I've a jolly good mind to go home and leave you in them. However..." and I advanced purposefully; this little chit needed putting in her place.

"I'll scream the house down!" Then, dreamily: "I've been told that my scream could rival a river boat."

"OK. You want my solution? Here it comes."

I went into my props trunk and came up with a short length of chain - about eighteen inches. I padlocked one end to her ankle chain and pulled the other end up to her handcuff chain. "That should stop it scuffing in the dirt."

"If nothing else it adds to the feeling. But is that all? You proposing to drag me through the streets like a bondage queen?"

"Unfortunately... I don't have a tongue clamp. But I do have an idea. Sit down there and, for heaven's sake, try to be quiet for a while."

I left her sitting there... she wasn't likely to be going anywhere anyway... and nipped down the passage to Maggie's dressing room. She answered my knock with a hearty, "Come in. I'm not decent."

Maggie was an old trouper and a good friend. The sort you could always depend on for sensible advice. And, let's admit it, this girl was beginning to worry me. I poured out the tale of my affliction and she sat back in her chair and roared out her delight. "You're being had, Wizzo. But then you know that, don't you? Is she vicious, you think? A gold digger? What do you want me to do about it?"

"Well I'll meet her on her own terms but I can't take her anywhere when she's blatantly in irons and being led on a collar and chain. And she's beginning to drive me mad with her answer for everything I say. Can I release her by force?"

She chuckled as she stubbed out her cigarette. "No, boy. Give her what she wants. And that would appear to be a session in bondage. I know the feeling too well. Here... " She opened a leather trunk and began to haul out the sort of things about which I knew little.

"This... " she handed me a pale pink ball-gag, "will put an end to any threats of screaming and stop that endless repartee. If her hands are locked to her feet as you described she won't be able to remove it without your help. And this... " She produced a smart little hat with a veil attached. "You wore that last year at that wedding."

"You remembered - full marks, Wizzo. But I reduced the veil; see, if we do this, that gag will be all but invisible. And this... it's a full-length coat that covers an evening gown. Take her anywhere in that lot; nobody will notice."

"And here; this is the key to our flat. We are all out of town tonight except me and I shall be sleeping elsewhere. The freezer's well stocked and none of us will begrudge it you after that helping hand you gave tonight. You did well boy." "Ah!" She called me back from the door. "I think it might be a good idea if I cast an eye over this bit of fluff before you commit yourself any further. Wait here ten minutes and then come join us. Don't forget to bring the paraphernalia." I said she was a good friend? As I entered my own dressing room, I was greeted by gales of laughter. "Hey, Wizzo," sang out Maggie. "Where did you find this one? You don't mean her to get away, I see. He's never done that to me and I've known him a few years." It was her way of saying she approved. I was to discover that she did a lot more than approve.

She took the hat from me and, with her back turned, fitted it on top of that beautiful hair and adjusted the veil. When she moved out of the way I could see that she had achieved a perfect disguise. "Now the coat, Wizz." In no time at all she had the girl ready for the outside world; she had hung the coat over her shoulders and fastened two buttons so that it stayed closed around her manacled hands. She held the collar-chain in her hand but gave me a speculative look: "Best to drop this in the pocket," she said. "Oh, by the way, she answers to Roxy... short for Roxanne."

I should have known that... hadn't I asked her there on stage?

Maggie came with us to the stage door and said goodbye on the pavement outside; it was pretty well deserted by that time. I led Roxanne to my car and opened the door for her; she stood for several seconds until I recalled that she was (virtually) in transport chains and I had to help her in.

As I drove off I thought some kind of explanation must be made. "If you insist on wearing those chains," I said, "we can hardly go to a restaurant? Maggie suggested that we use the flat she shares with a group; they're all out of town at the moment and she doesn't need it tonight. Is that OK with you?"

She didn't answer. I glanced briefly across: "OK?" She nodded. In view of her ready answers and chitchat before, I wondered which particular cat had nabbed her tongue - perhaps she had found Maggie overwhelming?

It wasn't far. I parked and helped her out but she seemed hesitant. "Oh, come on. You can't back out now. Promise I won't eat you." I seized her chain, pulled it over my shoulder and led her within. I flooded the place with light and put a match to the gas-fire in the lounge. She was still standing in the hall.

"Hey, what's the matter? Don't say you're not hungry after all this? Nothing will happen that you don't wish. I'm just happy to have your company for a couple of hours. Want to shed those irons now?"

She shook her head and made a strange sort of low moan noise. Was she crying? Gently I lifted the veil and discovered the depth of Maggie's machinations. A large pink rubber ball was plugged in her mouth and strapped behind her head. I'd clean forgotten that gift of a gag. I reached out to remove it but she backed off and shook that head again. Then she pointed across the entrance hall to where (I knew) lay the kitchen. But how did she know? I have never pretended to fathom the female mind.

She caught my sleeve and pulled me back. She tried to lift her hands but was brought up short by the hamper chain. So she contented herself with raising her face, stood on tiptoe and gestured a kiss. I put a hand behind her knees and lifted her then planted a return kiss on her ball-gag; then I kissed her left eye; then I kissed her right eye; then I kissed the very tip of that funny little nose and finally I returned to the ball-gag.

"Is that enough? " I enquired. "At least... for now?"

She nodded vigorously and then gestured with her head again in the direction of the kitchen. I carried her with me and sat her on the table. Removing the hat I laid fingers on the gag: "I suppose," I said, "with a certain amount of mess... I COULD stuff it in through your ears. But, frankly, I'd rather leave them just as they are."

I kissed the nearest ear but she started a vigorous protest. When she had my attention she made imperious gestures once again toward the cooker. "If," I said, "But ONLY if, you are going to spend a lot of time in this delightful condition - which, if nothing else, will prevent my chains from going rusty - I would be prepared to do the cooking... always."

She coloured... but she didn't answer me!