I Need a Volunteer, Part 4: Head to Head

A ‘real magic’ story featuring QuinnTheAssistant.

This story follows directly on from I Need a Volunteer, Part 3: Face to Face.

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!). Oh, and there’s  some crude language and explicit sexual content too (yay!)



It was total sensory overload. My world was a mass of bright lights and flickering stars and pulsing exhilaration. Then suddenly I was free. I was floating, yet at the same time very tightly tethered to my naked and thoroughly impaled body. Lightheaded, but nevertheless viewing myself with an almost clinical and sharp-edged logic.

I’d climaxed. Pretty hard. I was still shaking from the aftereffects. Each shiver widened the stab wounds from the swords running through me, setting off more cascades of bliss as the magic zinged and coalesced around the fresh damage. Quinn was smiling at me, though even she looked a little spaced out. She seemed to be trying to minimise her movements just as I was, so I was guessing she was feeling the same things as me.

“That was a good one!” she murmured to me, her lips a mere inch or two from mine.

“Yeah,” I replied, somehow managing to get the word out without moving doubly-impaled chest more than a fraction. “Wow!”

“There’s even better to come, though,” she replied.

How could it get better? If I climaxed any harder than I’d just done, I might just die! The irony of that thought made me do a double take. Here I was, pierced through both breasts – and through my belly – by three outsized swords. And yet I was pondering death by orgasm? Unable to stop myself, I laughed. The chuckle set off another chain reaction of mini quakes. My choked-off giggles infected Quinn too, and she shook as her own suppressed sniggers caused similar pleasurable seizures of her delectably naked body.

Quinn recovered before I did. The first I knew of it was her hand on my shoulder. Of course I couldn’t reciprocate, my own arms being well and truly strapped down, but I got myself back under control and looked her in the eyes, across the miniscule gap that separated us.

“Are you ready?” she asked. I nodded.

“Are you ready, Boss?” she called out, directing this enquiry to Mistress Finella.

There was a clang of metal, then I heard the female magican’s voice from off to one side. “Yes. Ready when you are.”

Quinn’s hand snaked round the back of my head, through the gap between my skull and the headrest. She grasped the back of my head firmly, then tugged my head forward – as much as the stocks around my neck would allow, that is.

Then she angled her own face towards mine, and at long last our lips met.

This was no tentative kiss. This was a full-on, bruising buss of a kiss and it shocked the hell out of me. Instinctively, I tried to pull back, but then I stopped myself. For years I’d dreamed of kissing Quinn – and doing a lot more with her besides – so what the heck was I doing pulling away?

I threw myself into the kiss, opening my lips and tilting my head so our mouths could mesh better.

Quinn’s lips were soft but strong. She kissed me hungrily, voraciously. Unable to move my arms, however much I wanted to, I let her take the lead, though I was determined to give as good as I got. I kissed her back with such passion and such force I knew I’d have bruised, tender lips tomorrow. But I didn’t care.

Quinn’s tongue flicked forward, brushing the very tip of mine. I returned the favour, and on meeting no resistance I thrust my tongue firmly into her mouth, forcing hers back, ravaging her mouth, which vibrated softly as she moaned her enjoyment.

Fuck, she was a good kisser! I tried to imagine how her lips would feel kissing me all over my body. Would she be just as forceful each time she planted her lips on me? Or would she tease, feathering me with soft kisses until I moaned for her to kiss harder? And how would it be for me to kiss her naked body, in return? Would her nipples peak harder as I sucked each one in turn? Would she want me to lick them? Or bite?

And when our explorations crept southwards... how would she taste? What textures would I feel? What sounds would she make as my tongue ravished her intimately?

So engrossed in my carnal imaginings was I that I didn’t notice what was going on around the two of us, at least not until Quinn gave a gasping grunt. For a moment her lips went slack. She gurgled faintly.

My eyes snapped down. One of the broad, flat blades had been rammed right through her neck stock, severing her head from her shoulders!

Miraculously, her breathing quickly returned to normal. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Finella move behind me, with a second divider blade in her hand. It was obvious what was going to happen now, but that didn’t lessen the delicious anticipation.

I closed my eyes and waited.

First I heard a soft scrape. Then cold steel on the back of my neck. I resumed kissing Quinn. I wanted her to feel the moment of my beheading through my kiss just as I had done when she lost her head.

SLAM! In a fraction of a second, my neck was cleaved right through – skin, muscle, verterbrae, my windpipe, the lot. My body went numb, then all the sensation rushed back twice as powerfully as before.

“Argh!” I gasped, muffled by Quinn’s mouth on mine. “Oh my god!”

Quinn twisted my hair and kissed me harder.

“Fuck!”

My body was tense as a drawn bow. I wanted to arc like one, but all those straps and stocks wouldn’t let me. I wanted to bend and writhe, and stretch, and burst. The need to come was so strong I almost peed myself.

But despite all this I managed to keep one weather eye on Finella. She was back behind Quinn again, lining up the final sword.

Lining it up with the back of Quinn’s head!

I closed my eyes. As if in slow motion, I heard Quinn’s cry as the blade pierced the back of her skull. My tongue was so far inside her mouth that I felt the blade the instant it entered the back of her mouth. It stopped for nothing – not tongues, nor teeth, nor lips – penetrating into my own mouth less than a heartbeat later. It broke through the back of my mouth and clipped the base of my brain.

My world exploded. I came, harder than ever.

And passed out.





When I came to, it was to a grating sound. I opened my eyes.

My world was turning! No, not my world. Just my head.

I was still locked to Quinn, face to face, lips on lips, tongues and heads pinned together by that last transfixing blade.

I could see Finella’s arm reaching round to where the sword grip must project out the back of Quinn’s head rest. The magician was using it like a handle to spin our heads round together, like onions skewered on a kebab!

There must have been some sort of turn-table concealed in the joined neck stocks, I thought. Finella must have latched those together and undone catches holding them to the bench backs while I was spaced out from my climax.

The idea of being a Quinn-Cat kebab made me laugh inside, but I couldn’t deny there was more than a touch of craziness in that internal voice. Understandable, though, for this was a crazy situation. And if we really were about to swap heads, then it was about to get crazier.

The part of me that wasn’t on the verge of freaking out noted that the moment my head rotated off my neck, the sensations coming from my body attenuated sharply. Not cut off completely, mind you, but significantly lessened. And as my own head came closer to settling onto Quinn’s headless body I began to sense tingles and twitches from her body as if it was my own. And I had no doubt they were from her body because they felt... off. Alien. Or at least different, in subtle ways. It’s hard to describe, but it was like getting behind the wheel of a friend’s car and finding the controls were positioned slightly differently from your own car.

And adding to the odd feeling was the sideways tug from the sword skewering my head and mouth, as Finella used it to rotate me.

With a distinct clunk, the stocks completed their half turn. Being so close to Quinn – as well as having a sword projecting out my mouth! – I couldn’t look down much, but it was enough to prove to me that Quinn’s head was indeed now atop my severed neck.

Finella withdrew the topmost sword, making both Quinn and me gag briefly. Without further ado, Finella followed up by whipping the divider blades out from our necks too. The strangely different bodily sensations suddenly intensified.

“Try wiggling your right hand,” Quinn suggested, her voice a little hoarse.

I did as she suggested and was astonished to see a slender, red-nailed hand twitch, below me on my right, while my own hand, bearing the silver ring my sister had given me, stayed quite unmoving on the end of the arm now attached to Quinn’s head.

Finella withdrew the three remaining swords then cranked my half of the bench back so that Quinn and I were once again a good foot apart. Next, Finella undid the stocks around my neck and waist. She released Quinn’s arms too, though she left her (my?) torso and legs restrained.

“Why don’t you stand up now, Cat?” Finella suggested.

Very carefully, I lowered one foot to the ground then swung the other one over. I felt awkward. Gangly. As if my legs were half an inch too long, and I had to take care not to knee Quinn in the belly (in my belly!). But moments later I was upright. I wobbled slightly, reaching out for the bench back to steady myself.

I shook my head (which thankfully didn’t fall off). Then I ran a finger of my free hand round my neck. The join was seamless. I couldn’t feel the slightest line, nothing but the subtlest change in skin texture to indicate where my neck stopped and Quinn’s body started.

Wow!

Then I realised I was still naked! I gave out a strangled croak and flung my hands over my breasts and groin, wobbling again as I let go of the bench. Quinn laughed softly, much more used to nudity (or so I guessed). Finella, though, took pity on me a and draped a cape over me.

I relaxed.

“Well how was your first experience of real magic, Little Cat?” Finella asked.

I gaped like a stranded fish, unable to put into words the mass of novel sensations I’d been subjected to.

“Never mind that,” Quinn interrupted. “How was the sword bench? My sword bench.”

I managed a thumbs up. “Intense,” I said. “And, well, very intimate. The way we were squashed together like that. Not to mention the...” I flushed at the memory of our passionate kisses, more erotic even than the buzzing between my thighs and the press of her nipples on mine. “I don’t think there are many venues where you could use it.”

“Well, we actually do have one,” Finella countered. “Tomorrow evening. Starts at nine. Be there in the audience, so I can choose you. That way you’ll get your head swapped back round to your own body.”

“Um,” I began.

“Remember, you’re still under the temporary assistant contract until the 24 hours are up,” Finella reminded me. “So don’t think of bailing on us. You might just find yourself suffering a run of bad luck. Very bad luck.”

She smiled. “Not that I think you would run,” she added. “You do want your own body back, presumably.”

Quinn put on a mock scowl. “Are you saying there’s something wrong with mine, that she’d not prefer to keep it?”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure how to respond, until I realised Quinn was just teasing.

“No offence, Quinn,” I said. “As much as I’ll enjoy taking your body for a test drive I’d like my own one back sooner or later. I just feel more comfortable in it. It’s more me, if you know what I mean.”

Quinn grinned. “Ditto. But since we’ve only got 20 hours or so left of this swap, if you don’t mind I’d rather get on with taking advantage of you. Or me. Or, well, whatever. See you tomorrow!”

“Yes, see you tomorrow,” Finella said, waving me towards the door.

“What about my clothes?” I asked. Surely she didn’t expect me to go outside like this?

“Oh, they’re hanging in the cloakroom upstairs,” Finella replied. “Your purse too. You can keep the cloak to cover you until you get to them.”

It would look pretty odd, creeping up the stairs in a black cape that barely covered my arse, but then I was no stranger to doing the walk of shame. I smiled wryly and nodded.

“See you both tomorrow,” I said, and walked out.

The only reply was a low moan from Quinn. I felt phantom fingers easing up inside me. It seemed that we were linked now, each able to feel what the other was experiencing. And what I was feeling was that Quinn really was getting to grips with my body. I grinned. If I’d experience what she was doing to the body I’d left behind, then presumably she’d feel what I was doing to the body I now had on loan. And I had some toys back home, in a box under my bed, that we could really enjoy, together, in this linked state.

It promised to be an interesting night. And all because they’d needed a volunteer!







THE END