“No way,” James Castle asserted, arms crossed over his broad chest. “You’re not ready for a stunt that extreme yet.”

“But why not?” his apprentice demanded, pouty pink lips offering him a petulant frown. For the past year, the old, renovated warehouse had served as the stage magician’s workshop, the pervasive smell of old wood and leather so homey he could hardly imagine the days before he moved in. Yet he barely noticed, so utterly fixated on the tall, willowy blonde sitting on the leather couch before him, long bare legs tucked beneath her, the more feminine dimensions of her physique highlighted by the snug black leotard she wore. “I’ve done everything else you’ve ever challenged me on,” Miranda Bailey insisted, beautiful green eyes meeting his gaze. “Card tricks, sleight-of-hand, performing illusions, I’ve done it all, escapology included. You’ve trained me well, so why can’t I try it?”

“Miranda, the Houdini straitjacket trick is reserved for the experts for a reason, the fact that you might die chief among them,” said the magician. Truth be told, a part of him admired her eagerness, headstrong as it was. Miranda had worked as his assistant and apprentice for over six months now, and in all that time, she’d never failed to impress with her work ethic, her drive, and how quickly she picked up the tricks of the magician’s trade. One day, she would be a household name, another David Blaine or a Penn and Teller. Even so… “If I’m being frank here, your escapology skills aren’t that great, not to the point I’d feel confident you’d be able to free yourself while suspended upside down in a tank of water.”

A perfect eyebrow raised. “Oh?” Miranda inquired, skipping up from the couch and silently padding over to him on bare feet, the deliberate sway of her hips spurring his desire onward. “I sense a challenge in that,” she purred, tracing a finger along the strong cast of his jaw. “What are you suggesting?”

Breathing deeply, James tried to compose himself, a more difficult prospect in theory that it was in practice given Miranda’s pleasurable closeness. Like Nimue from the tales of King Arthur, she was both his student and lover, a state she’d proposed and he’d eagerly accepted, yet neither one of them took her tutelage any easier as a result. And when she puts her mind to something… James acknowledged, choosing his words carefully. “That you practice your escapology, and keep practicing until you’re sick of the very notion. Once I’m convinced you would be able to get out of that straitjacket at will, then we’ll see about practicing the trick itself.”

“That eager to see a pretty girl tied up, huh?”

“Something like that,” James answered, smiling. “Deal?”

Miranda was already moving, popping open one of the many storage trunks he used to carry his equipment to each show, and brandishing a straitjacket proudly. “Then get me in this already!”

Sighing, James did as he was bid, and Miranda gave a delighted shudder as the canvas restraint fitted about her, pulling her arms tight beneath her breasts and fitting snugly about her shoulders. Smoothly, James fitted and tightened each buckle into place, the garment becoming more inescapable with every passing moment, and Miranda uttered a gasp of pleasure as the crotchstrap was drawn tight. “You bastard,” she breathed, biting her lower lip. “You really know how to get a girl going, don’t you?”

Dexterous hands caressed her apex through the strap, and Miranda threw her head back, her lover’s breath warm and enticing in her ear. “Nothing but the best for you, my eager Nimue,” James answered, securing and double-checking the remaining buckles, and leaving the canvas hugging her frame like a second skin. From another chest of props, a pair of leather manacles secured her ankles, before the final piece of Miranda’s ensemble was revealed. “Open your mouth.”

“You’re no fun,” Miranda teased him, accepting the soft leather bit gag into her mouth. The buckle clicked fast, and she moaned as her lover’s hands ran over her helpless, shapely form. “Mmmpgghhhh…”

“You have three hours to escape, apprentice. And if you don’t manage it, well…” Miranda gave a delighted squeal as his hand traced the curve of her buttocks. “I’m sure you’ll find some way of convincing me to let you go…”