Fetish Magician 2: The Claustrophile: Tom: Part 1

A few days after my first ‘adult’ magician’s gig I received a phone call.

“Hello, Tom, here,” I answered.

“Oh hi, Um, I was, kind of, expecting an answerphone. Are you busy?”

“That depends on if you’re talking immediately or for the next few weeks. By the way, who am I talking to?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m Hannah. I was speaking to Angela and she suggested that I might like to be a magician’s assistant. I’ve seen the video Robert took. I was amazed. Angela said that you could probably do some stuff that I would enjoy.”

I was not taking all this in, because I was trying to remember if I had met any Angelas or Roberts recently.

Then the whole conversation slid to a halt, when she added, “Angela even suggested that you could probably give me the fucking I need in the process.”

“Whoa, Lady. Are you sure you’ve got the right number?” I exclaimed.

“This is the number Angela gave me,” and she reeled off my number.

“That’s my number, but who is Angela?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry. Of course, she uses her other name when she has her ‘Interesting Experiences’.”

The phrase rang a bell. “So that would be Annie, right?” Annie had been my assistant at the ‘adult’ show I had done and kept referring to it as an ‘interesting experience’.

“Yes,” confirmed Hannah.

“So you’ve spoken to Annie, Angela, whatever, and seen the video that her ‘Master’ took (and he’s called Robert?)” Hannah made an affirmative noise. “So you think you might like to be my assistant?”

“Well, yes and no.” she responded.

“That tells me nothing,” I commented. “So what do you want?”

“I want to book you for a private show.”

“Ok, when? I’ll see if I can fit it into my calendar.” I was at my computer bringing up my calendar app, so when she said a date I could tell her if I could do whatever date she said.

“I don’t know, when are you free?”

“What?” I was confused.

“Oh, I’m sorry. When I said I want to book you for a private show, I meant I want to book you for a VERY private show; just you, me and a video camera, so I can see what you did to me afterwards.”

“Ok,” I said dubiously. “You want to meet me for a private magic show and be my assistant with no audience other than a video camera?”

“Finally, he gets it. That’s exactly what I want, and, if Angela is right about you, and she reads people well, generally, I think I’d like to have sex in the process.”

“And do you have any idea what tricks you’d like to be involved in?” I was trying to ignore the offer of sex; I am not the type that lusts after anything with a skirt and a pulse; the time and the people have to be right too. Also I was not doing these types of show, because I wanted the sex, but so I could perform the magic I wanted to perform.

“Yes, I do. I want to be in magic boxes. I love being inside boxes. You might call it my kink; I’m a Claustrophile; I love being in confining and enclosed spaces. I guess it stems from having my first orgasm while hiding in a laundry basket, aged fourteen.”

“So things like ‘the Hindu sword basket’, or ‘the sword box’, or ‘the Origami box’?”

“I guess, but what is ‘the Origami box’?” she asked.

“That’s where I put you in a smallish box and the fold it until it is impossibly small, with you still inside it, and then I stick swords through in each direction.”

“Wow! That sounds like I might get a kick out of it. But will there be boxes where you won’t sticking things in the box with me? ‘Coz, I guess once you been in a box and had things stuck through you, doing it again might be a bit dull, right?”

I realized at this point I had only mentioned box and blade tricks. “Of course, there are box tricks that don’t involve blades, it’s just that those were the first to come to mind. I reckon I should be able to put together a varied program for you.”

“Great, and when can you fit me in?”

“If you don’t mind a weekday morning, any time after a couple of weeks; you see most of my normal work is in the afternoons and evenings.”

“And why the delay? Why not next week?”

“Because it’ll take me a little time to plan and get together what I need for your show, I’m just starting, so I don’t have everything available immediately. So how about we exchange email addresses and then work from there.”

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Between normal engagements and preparing for Hannah’s private show, it took nearly four weeks to get everything together, during which we corresponded by email about her measurements, so that I could make sure I did not make the same mistake I had made with the sawing in half of Annie, of building it the wrong size.

Hannah also said how she wanted the tone of the show; she wanted to turn up and be told what to do and experience the results. She also told me about safewords; it seems that Annie had felt a little vulnerable without a way to indicate that she needed to stop, but with ‘Master’ there she felt that she had some back-up, if needed. Hannah told me that if she said, ‘Yellow’, I was to slow down a bit and if she said ‘Red’, I was to stop straight away and find out what the problem was.

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The day of Hannah’s very private show arrived. I had borrowed several cameras to record what happened and set the whole thing up in a small industrial unit (that favour cost me a kid’s party for the owners little girl). I had told Hannah to arrive at 10 o’clock and come straight in. At nine-thirty took up position in a chair on the roof the section that held the office and the toilets.

About a minute past ten, Hannah arrived. She came in the door into office section and then out into the main space. I allowed her a little time to look round and get her bearings. I also used the remotes to turn on all the cameras, except the hand held camera that sat on top of one of the boxes arrayed around the area.

I got a good look at her. She was wearing a coat open and underneath she seemed to have gone for the same style of t-shirt and mid length skirt that Annie had arrive at the gig in. She was also definitely petite.

“Hello?” she called.

I whispered into a microphone and my voice came from a speaker at the rear of the space. “Please confirm you are the Hannah I have an appointment with!”

She turned to look in the direction my voice came from and seemed surprised not to see anyone.

I repeated my request that she identify herself as Hannah, while she looked round to see if she could spot where I was. I was beginning like this because what I had planned could be deemed assault if performed on an unsuspecting person.

“Yes, I am Hannah. And I assume you must be Tom, right?”

“Yes, I am Tom. Shall we begin with a bit of housekeeping before the main event? And, maybe, a few instructions to help this go smoothly.”

“Ok.” She said to the space in general.

“Firstly, unless instructed otherwise, you will remain in the circle chalked on the floor. This is because that is the only area covered by the cameras. I decided that using several cameras would make recording your private show easier; I shall be sending you an edit that will make the best of the show, but I’ll also be sending you the raw video from each camera.”

“Secondly, I have a box for you to inspect. It is at the edge of the circle near the speaker I am using. Please go to it and describe it.”

As she approached the box, she seemed to slow as if appreciating it like a work of art. “That’s a beautiful box!” she breathed. “It’s a trapezoidal box constructed of steel and glass.” I was a bit surprised when the reach out and caressed the box.

“And how would you get into the box?” I asked.

“Let’s see,” she pondered. “Hmmm, it seems to be constructed as a solid box; no opening lid or anything like that.” She paced round the box. “There only seems to be one way to get anything into or out of the box and that is unscrewing the bolts on this side.”

“And what about the hole in the top?”

“Sorry, I hadn’t spotted that with the other things lying on top. But I couldn’t put anything thicker than my elbow in there. What is this other stuff, anyway?”

“Well, there’s a hand-held camera, so that we can get close-ups of what is happening, when it is needed. Then there’s a Bluetooth earpiece, so we can communicate more easily; if you could put that in now, it will also record our talk so that it can be added to the video.” She picked up the earpiece and began fitting it. “Next there’s a sheet of security labels; you can see they’ve been scored so that once they are stuck down trying to peel them off will cause them to break apart.” I switched from the microphone to the earpiece I was already wearing. “There! That’ll be more comfortable; you won’t have to shout.”

“You’ve got a nice voice; kind of, calm, in control and reassuring. I get the feeling that following your instructions will bring me only pleasant things, even if that goes against common sense.”

“You’re in luck, because I’m a magician and common sense has very little to do with what I shall be doing to you and with you.” I gave her a moment to take that in. “But we weren’t talking about my voice, we were talking about security labels. As you mentioned the only practical way to get into or out of that box is to undo the bolts and remove the side. To prevent that I want you to apply a security label to each of the bolts and then use the marker on top of the box to sign each one; do you understand?” From my vantage point I could see that she did and was getting on with the task I had set her.

“Yes, er,” she seemed to be casting around for a proper conclusion to the sentence, finally settling for, “I understand.” As the last label was being signed, she decided that the question needed asking. “How do I address you? Do I call you ‘Sir’ or ‘Tom’ or something else?”

“In the current setting, ‘Tom’ is just fine,” I said. While her posture did not change, she seemed a little disappointed, so I added. “If you wanted to be a magician’s assistant, on another occasion, perhaps more public, then we would have to decide if another form of address would be more appropriate.”

Hannah seemed to straighten and be more proud. “The security labels are done and signed. Nobody is getting into that box without destroying those labels.”

“That is all with that box for the moment, so we move on to the first illusion. You will need to take the camera and the other item on there that looks like a small remote control.” She grabbed the camera and then the last item from the top of the box and held it up. “Yes, that’s the thing,” I confirmed to her.

“Now, go over to the wooden crate and check it out for solidity and tell me about any unusual features you spot. You may video your inspection as it will probably be good to put in an insert in the final video.”

Hannah walked over to the crate and looked inside. Holding the camera in one hand, she tapped the sides and base of the crate, producing some solid thuds. “Features to this box? Hmm. Well, we have a metal loop on each side,” she said, touring the box and giving each loop a tug to be sure it was secure. “These, I assume line up with the plates at the edge of the lid over there with enough space to be locked down with the padlocks. The only other odd thing about this crate I’ve noticed is the small holes build into either end; they’re, maybe, three fingers widths wide (perhaps fractionally more)”

“That’s good. You’ve mentioned all the features that I intended you to find, but if you spot anything else, let me know, ok?”

“Do I get in the box now, Tom?” she asked. I thought I detected some pleading in her voice. I wondered if her claustrophilia was being triggered by being shown two boxes that she liked the look of, and was yearning to be inside.

“Not just yet, Hannah, there is more work to do before you see a box from the inside.” She seemed to snap to attention. “The first bit involves using the remote control. Press the ‘start’ button.”

She peered at the remote and pressed the button, then jumped at the sound of a diesel engine starting up in the darkened area outside the chalk circle; the noise soon faded to an idle.

“Now, you may have spotted the steel cable with the hook on the end lying on the floor. You should find that the hook will fit through the holes in the ends of the box, but you will need to operate the winch control on the pay out enough cable for it to reach through the crate. You may also want to press the light switch so you can see what you’re doing.”

Hannah pressed the light button and was bathed in the headlights of an SUV with a winch mounted on the front. A little experimentation showed her which of the winch buttons payed out and which pulled in. “How far do you want the hook through the crate?” she asked.

“I want the hook to be between 6 and twelve inches beyond the hole it comes out of; this will give you enough space to work with it, without too much slack.”

I watched as she fed the hook through the box paying out just enough cable to get the hook to reach the area I specified. “I’ve done that, Tom; now what?”

“Now you put the lid on the box and lock it down with the padlocks that are currently on the lid. Please, be careful not to dislodge the other thing on there and not to prematurely lock any of the padlocks, because I have the keys, I shall not be unlocking any of those locks until I’m ready and missing padlocks diminish the wonder of the trick.”

Suitably warned she went over to the lid and turned the hasps of all padlocks so that they could not lock by accident. She then knocked on the lid to ensure that it was as solid as the rest of the box. She carried the lid over to the box and rested it on the edge; I think to assess if it had a particular way round it need to be placed on the box. She then slid it into place and flapped the metal plates into place. Next she fitted the padlocks to fasten the lid to the box on all four sides; it seemed to me that she did this a little mournfully, as if she had been shown two lovely boxes that she wanted to be inside, but could not get inside.

As the final padlock clicked shut, I said, “Now, Hannah, you are going to earn your entry into this box. Please remove all your clothes; you’ll find a basket to put them in so they aren’t in the way and will remain clean for you to re-dress when we are finished.”

For a moment she seemed torn between doing a striptease, so trying to make something of her undressing, and getting out of her clothes as fast as she could in the hope of being in a box sooner. In the end she undressed in an unhurried manner; I assume because not knowing where I was viewing from a tease dance would lose its impact and she wanted to display a bit of dignity, rather than show quite how much she want to be inside either of the fine boxes I had shown her. The coat, blouse, skirt and bra had been put into the basket, when she asked, “Shall I take off my shoes too?”

“Yes, the shoes and socks go too. I swept the floor, so other than some grit, perhaps, it should be clear of anything that might hurt you.”

The shoes and socks and finally Hannah’s panties found their temporary homes in the basket. She moved to the centre of the circle and did a self-displaying turn on the spot, before returning to the crate. She may not have been very tall, but she was well proportioned, with an ample supply of womanly curves to her well-exercised figure. I failed to resist the comment, “You look good enough to eat.”

She seemed worried by that comment, so I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you plan to do with me, but I hope that that comment was metaphorical rather than literal; while some people get off on the Vore fantasy, I would rather not be involved.”

Being a relative newb in the world of fantasy, I had to google it on my laptop to discover what she was talking about, and quickly dismissed the worry that I was planning something that she was not in to. “No, vore-anything going to happen today, although it might be interesting to try if I could find a willing vore-ee, if that’s a word. I just meant you have a beautiful body.”

She seemed to relax from the tension the vore-issue had instilled and appeared to accept the compliment I had intended all along. “I’m naked, what’s next?”

“Put on the belt that you had on the lid and then attach the loop on the back to the hook you so carefully pulled through the box, making sure that the remote is within easy reach, as you’ll be needing that in a few moments.”

She examined the thick leather belt, before wrapping it round her middle and fastening the buckle. She took a moment to shift it until it was comfortable, then she grabbed the remote and went to the end of the box that the hook hung from. She had just enough room to attach the hook to the belt.

“I’m hooked up, Tom.”

“Right, on the remote you’ll find a red button. Press that once! These next instructions are very important for your safety; crouch down as small as you can, then press the ‘winch in’ button once and then drop it immediately.”

I could picture her face on the horns of a dilemma. Did she press the button and possibly be pulled against the crate and dragged across the floor until the crate smashed into the winch and hopeful jammed it, or did she have faith that I would not ask her to do something dangerous and let the magic happen?

It took Hannah about three seconds to make the decision. The revs of the SUV briefly picked up and the winch jerked the cable about four feet. The box had moved a few inches, but Hannah was nowhere in sight. Where she had been was the remote for the SUV. The cable stretched from the box to the winch. As it happened I heard Hannah emit a cross between a surprised scream and an ‘urk’ sound. As I lowered the ladder to leave the office roof I heard her sigh, as if a lot of tension had been relieved.

I approached the box and picked up the remote, pressing the red button. I tapped lightly on the box. “Hannah, are you alright in there?”

“Fine, thank you, Tom.” And she sounded the most relaxed I had heard her.

“I need you to do one thing before I release you; unhook the hook from your belt. You can take that off too, if you want; you won’t be needing it again today.”

There were a couple of thuds from inside the crate, then a scraping noise as Hannah fed the hook out through the hole nearest the SUV. I pressed the wind button until the hook could be hooked into its stowage place, then killed the car.

“I’ll get you some water, then you can get out, but not until I say.”

“Ok,” she said.

When I returned with a large glass of water, I could hear Hannah making small sounds of pleasure. Rather than interrupt her I went round the crate unlocking the padlocks and hinging the metal plates they held down back onto the lid. I made my way into the darkness behind the SUV. She was soon quietly yelling her orgasm to all within Bluetooth range.

When her breathing had settled, I said, “Hannah, you may now exit the box.”

The box lid rose and then slid from the box; making a clatter as it hit the floor. Hannah emerged from the box beaded in sweat, but seeming a little happier for her time in the crate.

“Have yourself a drink of water!”

She picked up the glass and took a small sip. For a moment, I wondered if she suspected that I might have drugged it; that is not my style at all, if I really wanted to take someone (something I have never done), I would use my hypnosis; I would be in control and there is no known test that will detect that the victim was hypnotised. Hannah then drained the glass in a single gulp.

Time to move on to the next illusion I had planned.