"Mom, I'm home!" Lindsey called out as she closed the back door to her house behind her, groceries in hand. Silence was her reply.  "Mom?" she repeated after a minute or two of silence.  "That's odd," she said to no one but herself. Putting away the last of the food, she listened again, but heard nothing. "Must be out," she rationalized to herself.

Lindsey was now curious to see if her mother had left any sign or message as to where she went, or when. She first checked the garage - which still had the van in it, meaning her mother hadn't driven anywhere. The living room was also empty, as were the upstairs bedrooms.

That left the workroom, and Lindsey dreaded going in there. Not because of what was in there, but because of what she might find.  As a professional Magician and Assistant, the family business could be many things.

With nothing else to do, she mustered her courage and opened up the door leading into her mother's private area. "Mom?"

"Oh, there you are dear!"

Lindsey groaned, and covered her eyes in embarrassment.  "MOM!"

"Lindsey, don't just stand there. Help your mother out."

With a groan that could only come from being severely put upon, the younger woman uncovered her eyes.  Before her, her mother was in many pieces on the floor, the prop that had done this to her something she didn't recognize.  "What did you do?"

"Oh? This?" her mother said from her spot on the floor, "I think the bottom gave out, and I spilled out."

"Spilled out."  The repetition was filled with disbelief.  "That doesn't explain why you aren't wearing any clothes!"  She picked up the nearest piece, her mother's right leg, by the ankle.

"You know me," her mother replied as Lindsey tossed the leg into a nearby box then went for the next, her mother's arms.  "I wanted to see what happens without."

"So you can design a costume to match," Lindsey parroted as the two limbs joined the first in the open container off to one side.  Next was her mother's head. She picked it up, and frowned at her, causing her mother to stick out her tongue in good humour.  "Never heard of underwear?"  She tossed the head into the box, then found the next piece was her mother's body.

"Sure," her mother said from inside the box. "But it's just you and me, so it's not like it's needed."

Lindsey dumped the torso in, then spotted the last leg off to one side. "You're embarrassing, you know that?"

"Why? Did you bring a boy home?" her mother asked. "Because if you did, you know you can use any of my toys."

"MOM!"

"What? You're 19. It's only natural."  The leg joined the rest, and Lindsey closed the box then sat on the lid. "Just give your body over to him to enjoy as he sees fit. That'll get him interested."  Under her, Lindsey felt the lid lift, then fall back down.

"Not until you put some clothes on," Lindsey ignored the sexual jibe from her mother.  It was typical of her.

The box under her shook for a moment, then her mother spoke up, a bit more muffled. "Done."

Lindsey stood up, and her mother lifted the lid to stand herself.  Lindsey's eye twitched.  Her mother was dressed like an Inuit, massive parka and all.  "God, be that way," she complained one last time, then walked out in a huff.

"Supper is going to be early!" her mother called out after her.

"I'll be out!" Lindsey retorted, heading for the back door again. "I'll be home late!"

She didn't hear her mother's last words.

*  *  *

The Play Box had no fixed address. It existed. You could get to it by following directions, but there was no way you could point to it on a map and say, 'it is here'. It operated as a 'private recreation facility', which meant you were either invited, or paid for the pleasure.

Rumor had it, among the patrons, that the Play Box started life as a house of prostitution that catered to their demographic before being taken over by the current proprieter, who had overhauled the entire operation from top to bottom.  But Lindsey didn't particularly care.  She went to the Play Box beacuse of certain advantages it offered her.  Namely, those who partook in the experience of the Play Box were bound to being anonymous. The magic of the place, which one had to agree too in order to enter, ensured that no one could identify anyone else. Any names used were pseudonyms, and unable to be tracked back to a specific person.

Finding the entrance beside a book shop in a small strip mall, Lindsey stepped in and found herself alone, as was usual. Even if two people entered through the same door at the same time, they would always be apart at this point. Nothing stopped them from making pre-arrangements to meet, but this was how it had to be.

The Concierge of the Play Box was an androgynous person, face covered in a white mask that disguised their voice and any possible identifying features. Lindsey subscribed to the theory that the the Concierge wasn't a person at all, but merely an aspect of the Play Box to help the guests. "Hello," it greeted her neutrally, offering a book and pen. "Please sign in."

Lindsey took the pen, and signed into the book. The date and time appeared next to it, and her signature became occluded.  "Is there anything interesting going on?" she asked.

The Concierge tilted their head. "Nothing that matches your requests directly."  One of the services of the Concierge was to allow the guests to make requests and be notified when the arrive of any events that meet their interests.

"Thanks." Lindsey said. Real or not, there was no sense in being rude. "Have a nice day."

"I will."  The Concierge bowed, and Lindsey headed for the only other exit.

The next room was a private room, where one could store things between visits, or while visiting.  The Play Box came with all manner of fun things already, and could produce more on demand. but that wasn't what she used the room for.  Lindsey stripped, hanging her clothes in the small closet, then pulling the domino mask off the front of it.  This was the crucial part. The only way to enter into the Box was to put on the mask, and the mask could not be removed while in the Box.  The thin black figure-eight band of cloth also assured that the wearer would not be recognized.  Once she put it on, she wouldn't even be able to identify herself in the provided mirror.

She applied it with no hesitation.

Stepping out of the change room, Lindsey appeared in one of the common areas of the Box. No one took note of her arrival.  She looked around, and saw many things.  To one side, a woman in a red dress was holding her head in one arm, chatting up a man who could look her in the cleavage and the eye at the same time.

To the other side, a long hallway led to various rooms, observation, performance, public and private. In front of her was a throng of people who were socializing, coming or going.

She went down the long hall, passing by other people. She paid them no mind, though she did notice that some saw her nude body, and gave her a visual inspection. There was no dress-code in the Play Box, only the mask. And she wasn't the only naked person, man or woman, present.

Reading the text on the doors as she passed them by, she finally found one that drew her interest. It was a public performance, so she slipped in, and closed the door behind her.

The room was dark, except for a central pillar of light.  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and once they did, she saw that the performance was someone dancing around seven blades set at various angles and heights. As she watched, the dancer slid their arm through one of the blades, and it stayed attached to the metal, gyrating with the dance.

Sliding through the small crowd, she spotted something else that drew her eye.

Turning away from the performance, Lindsey strolled up to the young man standing alone.  "Yo," she said as she got within an arms length. He hadn't seen her approach, and looked startled at her presence. "You're enjoying this, right?"

"Well, uh..." the young man tried to form a reply. "It's something, I guess."

"It's more than that," Lindsey said as she stepped that last bit up to him.  With one hand she cupped his groin, where his pants bulged. "I'm going to make you an offer," she whispered in his ear. "I want a little stress relief. You relieve me," she squeezed gently to make sure he knew what she wanted, "and then when you're done, you can do to me what you're imagining you're doing to the dancer," she tossed her head to indicate the person in the light.

"You sure?" the young man regained his courage quickly.

"You know this place," she leaned in tightly, pressing against him, "No one lies, and all promises are kept."

With one hand, he returned her grip. "I accept your proposal."

The two made their way out of the room, and quickly found an unoccupied private room.  True to her word, Lindsey needed to do something about the stress, and the young man was quite accommodating in her request.  Once they were done, she laid on some cushions, content in her bliss as the young man went about setting up her end of the bargain.

"It is done," he said far too soon, and not soon enough.  Lindsey stood up to see what he would have her do.  A single pole stood there, obviously for her to use.  Around it were a dozen sharp swords held at different angles and heights. Where in a normal performance dance, there was room to move around them, to prolong the expectation and payoff, there was no desire for that here.

She looked at it, and planned out her moves. She wasn't a professional dancer, but she could do in a pinch. An advantage to her chosen lifestyle.  "Need a bit more relaxation?" the man asked, interpreting her thoughtfulness as hesitation.

"Nope," Lindsey replied. "Just plotting."  She slipped between two upright swords, and grasped the centre pole.  Turning around, she leaned against it, raising one knee, and holding her arms over her head. It was a classic starting pose.

Lifting herself up, she swung out her legs, spreading them out to give the man a full view of what he already had detailed knowledge of.  Bringing down her left leg, she slid her ankle through a sword, letting her foot drop off.  She then repeated the action with her right, leaving her ankles as her lowest extremity.

She then swung her legs back under her and around the pole, holding it as tightly as she could between her thighs. This forced her to drop lower, her arms held behind her on the pole. She aimed for a blade, and her aim was perfect as she came to a halt right above it. She licked the gleaming edge, teasing it with her tongue before pulling herself back upright and around in a circle.

This time she leg her legs sail around, cutting through a high blade that was angled down.  She grinned as the lost the weight, her rotation speeding up even as she pulled herself in closer to avoid an unexpected cut.

She slid around the pole, pressing herself against it, the cool metal between her breasts and pressing up against her vivid womanhood.  Gasping from the effort, she gazed at the man, who was enjoying her private performance.  With just enough of her legs left to grip the pole, and the metal pressed up against her maidenhood, she climbed a little higher, then started to spin herself around. Once she built up enough momentum, she let go with her hands, and leaned back as far as she could, letting her arms drape below her and her head tilted back to expose her neck.

The move was perfect, and she felt the weight of her breasts be removed. If she looked down her body, she could see her abs straining to hold herself in this position, but there was still more to do.  She raised her arms, letting the full circle swing around the pole remove her arms just above her shoulders.

Normally, she would still be dancing, but the blades gave her no real choice to delay things.  Instead, she let herself swing around again and again. She was trapped by gravity, and the remaining sharp objects around her.

The next cut went through her chest - it would have bisected her breasts had they been attached to her still.  She said nothing as her upper chest and head flew through the air, a slight touch of magic making sure the trajectory was perfect.

A blade slammed through her chest, just under her throat, pinning her firmly even as she slid down, now able to watch the rest of the performance.

Her lower body and hips, free from conscious control, slipped from the pole and fell to the ground.  However, there was nothing in the way, and it hit the matting on the floor with a thump, ending her dismemberment dance.

"Bravo!" the young man said while clapping.  She could see his energy had returned.

"You know," she said despite not technically having lungs, and stabbed through the chest, "that was very tense. I think I need some more relaxation."  She licked her lips, hoping he would take the opportunity.

The man began to remove the blades around her, working his way inward until he reached her lower body.  "I see," he said and he leaned down and picked it up, ignoring all her other parts scattered about.  It was light in his hands, and he examined it closely.  "Yes I see. Much stress," he intoned with a horrifically fake Chinese accent. "I'll fix that for you right away!"

And he did.