QUINN TONGUE-TIED (OR PLEASURE AND PAIN)

Content warning: this story is based on the fantasy that stage magicians with real powers are - without most of the audience realising - actually sawing and slicing their assistants and volunteers into pieces for real, but with the aid of magic that prevents them suffering any lasting harm and which transforms their experience into one they can even enjoy. And of course they’re all restored at the end (eventually, anyway!). If you find that fantasy distasteful, do not read on. Oh, and there’s  BDSM sex display and some cursing in it too!


Mistress Finella smiled inwardly. She liked doing magic shows at BDSM venues. It gave her a chance to dress in an even kinkier style than normal, and to get even more inventive in what she put her assistants through.

Take QuinnTheAssistant, for example. The brunette was currently dressed in a black leather corset that covered just her midriff, leaving her breasts, hips, and neatly trimmed pussy quite exposed. Apart from that, she wore only a set of leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Mistress Finella had left her perched atop a high stool, wriggling uncomfortably, no doubt because of her flogging her delicate rear had endured at the hands of the domme Finella had loaned her to for a pre-show scene. Finella had seen the angry stripes the red-head had gifted her long-standing assistant with when Quinn had walked onto stage thirty minutes ago and she had no doubt that it had been torture for Quinn to remain balanced on the stool ever since, while the magician had performed tricks with her other assistants, especially as the stool had no cross bars for Quinn to rest her feet on and take the weight off her punished rear.

Still, with Deirdre and Amanda both now - temporarily at least - in no fit state to perform further tricks, it was time Quinn stepped up to the mark again. Finella beckoned Quinn to hop down, then led her over to where a new contraption had been wheeled onto stage, currently hidden under a black sheet.

Whisking the sheet away, Mistress Finella revealed a wooden pillory. The stocks, with holes for neck and wrists, were set at chest level. Two feet behind that, a pair of wooden beams sloped inwards in an inverted V, topped with a curved wooden contraption like a small saddle at just below the level of the stocks. Various leather straps and buckles hung from the apparatus at strategic points.

Mistress Finella had Quinn stand behind the inverted V and step up onto low blocks fixed to it so that she was positioned legs akimbo with her feet some six inches above the ground. Finella quickly knelt beside her and buckled her ankles to the V-beams, then likewise just above her knees and at the very top of her thighs. That done, she flipped the top of the stocks open before placing her hands on Quinn’s bare belly and back and easing the assistant down until her stomach came to rest on the low saddle, guiding her neck and wrists into the lunettes of the stocks.

Mistress Finella then closed and locked the stocks. Finally she secured Quinn to the saddle under her belly using a buckling strap that looped around the small of her back.

Mistress Finella then stood back to admire her handywork. Quinn was held completely helpless, bent ninety degrees at the waist, her unrestrained breasts hanging down in the gap between the stocks and the inverted V-frame. Finella stamped on a pedal at the side of the platform the entire contraption was mounted on, freeing it to rotate slowly round and give the audience a view of Quinn from every direction. As the poor brunette’s behind came into view Mistress Quinn suppressed a wince. That domme she’d loaned Quinn to had really done a number on the girl’s bottom. But any concern Finella felt for her assistant’s treatment vanished under the erotic effect of the crude display. The leather straps around Quinn’s upper thighs tugged them apart to splay the girl open, her parted  buttocks giving a perfect rear view of her mound, her intimate lips open and glistening, and above that her anus cheekily winking open.

From the dampness between her thighs, there was no doubt that Quinn was aroused.

The platform completed its slow rotation then stopped. Finella stepped on the pedal again to lock it, then beckoned a leather-clad red-head domme onto stage.

“Good evening, Mistress Phoenix,” Finella said.

“Good evening,” the flame-haired woman replied. She sneaked a look at Quinn, who was flushing, confirming to anyone in the audience who might not have seen their scene earlier that this was indeed the woman who had striped her ass so efficiently.

“You’ll see Quinn’s ready, Mistress Phoenix,” Finalla said. “Did she meet your expectations, earlier? Was she well behaved and compliant?”

The other woman paused, thinking. “Mostly,” she replied, “though she was a bit cheeky to begin with. She even stuck her tongue out at me.”

Mistress Finella nodded. “Yes, she can be like that sometimes. I’ve been meaning to break her of the habit, but I’ve never quite got around to it. Maybe now would be the perfect time.”

“I agree,” Phoenix replied. “Shall I step aside and let you get on with it?”

“Oh no, not at all. In fact you can help. Just let me get a few things first.”

Quinn had remained silent through all this. She looked a little put out over the two women discussing her as if she was not there, but it was hardly surprising that she hadn’t chipped in. Even an idiot could see how that would have gone.

Mistress Finella walked over to the wings and returned with a trolley loaded with small wooden brackets and shining bits of metal. Without further ado she took one of the brackets and clipped it to the stocks, where it formed a small shelf tight under Quinn’s chin, keeping her head up and facing forwards.

The shelf projected out a few inches beyond Quinn’s chin, and to it Finella attached the lower half of a tiny set of wooden stocks. The piece of wood, no more than six inches wide by three inches high, was painted a dull red and came up to Quinn’s lower lip. It sported a shallow cut-out.

“Now Quinn, stick your tongue out, please. Just like you did to the mistress I loaned you to.” As she spoke, the magician slipped on a pair of disposable surgical gloves.

Quinn kept her mouth firmly closed, her lips clamped shut. She shook her head slightly.

“Don’t be like that, Quinn,” Mistress Finella chided her. “You’re never normally shy about sticking your tongue out at people.”

Another shake of the head.

“OK. Be like that, then.” Mistress Finella opened a drawer on the trolley and lifted out a wooden paddle with oval holes cut in it. She handed it to the domme. “Slap her rear good and proper until she stops being so obstinate and opens that pretty mouth of hers.”

Quinn’s eyes opened wide, but she just set her lips into an even more determined line.

Whack!

Quinn jerked forward but kept her mouth firmly closed.

Whack!

Still no response.

“Harder, I think,” Mistress Finella commented.

Whack!

This time Quinn opened her mouth involuntarily, just a crack, before snapping it shut again.

“Whack!”

Finally Quinn couldn’t avoid crying out. The moment her mouth was open, Mistress Finella’s hand darted in, grabbing her tongue and pulling it out futher.

“Ymm mitch!” Quinn swore. “Met gohm me!”

Mistress Finella ignored the muffled curses and instead efficiently fixed the top half of the tongue stock into place with her free hand. Then she wiped her hands on a rag and tossed it on the floor.

Mistress Phoenix came back round to look. “OK,” the red-headed woman said. “Now what?”

“Now this.” Finella took two more sets of stocks - one set white and the other set blue - and fitted them around the remaining inches of Quinn’s projecting tongue. Then she picked up half a dozen small steel spikes, each six inches or so long and the width of knitting needles, with a sharp point at one end and a round knob at the other.

“There are two holes on the top of each tongue stock,” she told the domme. “I want to check that these spikes are solid, with no trick collapsing parts, then thrust them into the holes and through Quinn’s tongue. That will go some way towards teaching her to keep it where it belongs.”

Mistress Phoenix took the short spikes and turned them over in her hand. She tried bending one, but it proved rigid. Then she rapped it against the metal trolley so that it rang.

“Hmm, pretty solid.” She lined it up with the back right-hand hole and eased it in. Quinn sucked in air noisily through her nostrils.

The spike went in only an inch before stopping. Mistress Phoenix looked at it for a moment, then lifted her hand and brought it palm down, hard, onto the rounded knob, ramming the spike all the way home in one sudden, quick stab.

“Thuck!” Quinn cried out. “Thuckin’ mell!”

“Language, Quinn,” Mistress Phoenix admonished. “And stop being such a wuss. It’s no worse than having your tongue pierced. Well, except for using a much thicker needle. And it happening five more times, of course. But still, there’s no need to curse.”

Quinn looked daggers at her but didn’t try saying anything else.
The red-head now picked up the second spike, hovering it over each of the remaining five holes as if trying to decide which to use. Finally she seemed to reach a decision and slid the spike in.

This time when she met resistance she tried twisting the spike instead of slamming it. This seemed to work just as well and she smiled with satisfaction as the sharp end popped out the other end of the hole at the base of the stock.

The final four spikes went in similarly, and without any hitch.

“What now?” Phoenix asked Mistress Finella, for surely there was more to the trick than this.

“Well,” Mistress Finella replied, “now I do this.” She grabbed the middle of the three tongue stocks and twisted it round in a half circle. Quinn made a sound half way between a cry and a grunt, and her hands clenched. But Mistress Finella wasn’t finished. She turned the section nearest Quinn’s mouth a half circle the other way, then grasped both together and with a quick tug made a movement that was mostly obscured by her hands.

When she lifted her hands away, the red and white sets stocks had obviously changed places, and the red set was upside down. Mistress Finella quickly removed the spikes then undid all three stocks to reveal that Quinn’s tongue was unblemished, with no signs of having been run through with metal rods. However the dark pink appendage that Quinn had so cheekily deployed at Mistress Phoenix now had a large knot in it!

“There you go, Phoenix,” Mistress Finella said. “Quinn’s well and truly tongue tied now. We won’t get another peep from her.”

Mistress Phoenix stared, eyes wide. Then she smiled.

“So I can do what I want with her?”

“I guess so,” Finella replied. “Unless she uses her safeword. Which is ‘supercalifragulisticexpialidocious’.” She looked down at Quinn. “Do you hear that, sub? What’s your safeword?”

“Thpercalimfrathhh...” Quinn tried, before giving up.

“Yes,” Mistress Finella told the domme. “I think it’s fair to say nothing will stop you from doing what you want with her.” Quinn just scowled.

“Good,” the redhead said. “Because I have an idea.” She whispered in Finella’s ear, the magician smiling and nodding.



Five minutes later, it was almost time for the mid-show intermission. Quinn was still locked in the stocks, but a few more embellishments had been added. A large set of old fashioned brass balance scales was set up alongside Quinn with a large brass bucket on each end of the cross-arm. One bucket was labelled PLEASURE and the other was labelled PAIN. From the arm with the ‘pain’ bucket, a thin chain ran across to a small pulley before splitting into two chains, the other ends of which were fixed to clamps clipped tight to Quinn’s nipples. The chains were tight, elongating her nipples painfully and pulling her breasts into downwards-pointing cones.

The other arm of the scales - the ‘pleasure’ side - also had a chain running off to a pulley, but in this case it then looped round the speed control lever of a large vibrating dildo lodged firmly in Quinn’s pussy. With the balance in perfect equilibrium, the speed control was on a low setting, the vibrator ticking over at an intensity that Quinn would be able to feel, and that would get her worked up, but without there being any chance of her reaching climax.

In front of the set of scales was another bucket, this one full of heavy brass coins. Mistress Finella asked all the members of the audience to form an orderly queue in front of it.

“When it’s your turn,” she announced, “each of you can take one coin and drop it in either the ‘pleasure’ or ‘pain’ bucket. ‘Pleasure’ will speed up the dildo and give poor Quinn here a bit more of a buzz. ‘Pain’ will tug on the nipple clamps.”

She paused. “This is democracy in action, ladies and gentlemen. You, and only you, get to decide tonight whether Quinn will, a few minutes from now, be screaming in ecstasy or in agony - at least as much as her tied tongue will let her!”

She stepped aside and let the first member of the audience pluck a coin from the bucket.


The end

Author’s note: I now invite you, as the reader, to use the comments box to drop your coin into the PLEASURE or PAIN bucket, as you see fit!