I took a deep breath as I looked at the remains of the outfit on the stool in front of me. My second show as lead assistant was going really well. I felt a lot more confident just being on stage so I was sure I was fulfilling my role as distracting eye candy during the close up magic part of the show even better this time. I certainly enjoyed it more.  Maybe I was even admitting to myself that I was an exhibitionist somewhere deep down.

 

Or even a slut! The little black dress I had worn for the first half was revealing enough. The scoop back was right down to the top of my butt, the front plunged way down to my navel and the short length meant that plenty of people had caught a glimpse of the matching thong beneath. Combined with thigh high boots, I loved it. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did.

 

For a moment I found myself wondering what predicament Lisa had got her self into this time to mean that I was needed on stage. I still felt like a rank amateur in comparison to her, but I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be in that deep. Or did I ?

 

Time was getting away and so I returned my attention to my second outfit of the evening. The bottom half was daring enough. It was a bikini bottom in a way, or thong. But it was made of an astonishingly brief triangle of a sort of shiny metal mesh. An alarmingly open weave mesh at that. With the sides and back a simple fine metal chain. It didn’t really cover anything , more obscured things a little. I could imagine it focusing attention on my never regions even more than if I was simply nude, as people tried to decide exactly what was on show.

 

It was the top part of the ensemble that was giving me real cause for concern though. Rather than a bikini top as such Matt had left out two shiny spirals of metal, gently dished, that were clearly meant to cup my breasts. That was daring enough. But rather than having some thread or even chain to support them each had a small but fierce looking spring loaded clamp behind the small hub covering each nipple in the centre. In effect my “top“ would be held in place by a pair of nipple clamps!

 

The flashing light warned me that it was make your mind up time. I did wonder about just going out topless ( not to mention borderline bottomless ) but for reasons I suspect I will never be able to explain I found myself fitting the bizarre items, wincing as the surprisingly strong metal jaws bit into my tender flesh. My heart was pounding when I glanced in the mirror to check my hair then padded barefoot onto the stage, every step causing a joggle which produced an alarming sensation in my chest. Was it pleasure or pain ?

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome back on stage the lovely QUINN! “

 

I blinked in the bright lights then took a cautious bow, but it seemed the little teeth were more than up to the job or preserving the tattered remains of my modesty.

 

“For tonight’s finale, Quinn will be participating in the most dangerous stunt ever, the underwater escape!”

Now I am sure that Lisa would have taken this news with a confident professional smile. I am pretty certain however that my face had “what the!! “ written all over it though. The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. A couple of stage hands pushed on a sort of fish tank on steroids. Cylindrical, maybe three metres tall and a metre across, it was already full of water and clearly heavy. The dolly it was set on had large wheels, presumably for ease of pushing as well as to show you could see right under the prop. Meanwhile Matt had plucked a rather good looking guy from the audience and before I knew it the trick was beginning, regardless of my not having a clue what to do.

 

I was already breathing hard by the time the volunteer had been asked to kneel and lock a heavy metal cuff around each ankle. He seemed nice as well as hot and I was very aware of the proximity of his face to my partly covered middle. For some reason this was adding to the thrill, not helped when Matt had me open my legs wide so a heavy metal bar could be locked between them. I shuffled round self consciously, displaying my bare back to the audience while Matt and his new helper fitted one of the heavy cuffs to left arm just above the elbow. It was a tight fit, but it didn’t prepare me for how tight it would be once my arms were forced together painfully behind my back to allow the second elbow cuff to fit. The handcuffs round my wrists seemed almost superfluous. A final chain was pulled tight around my waist having been threaded around the handcuffs locking my wrists into the small of my back pushing my caged breasts high and forward.

 

“…..so the tank is totally sealed with no flaps or holes even just ankle sized ones as you may have seen on tv. This is the real deal!”

I hadn’t really been listening to Matt until I saw the stage hands struggle on stage with a solid metal disc that was clearly the lid to the trick. I could see what he meant, usually the lid as such also acted as stocks for the hapless victims ankles ( and I suspect the hid the secret to the trick) but this was clearly very solid and anyway my ankles had already been shackled. In no time the disc was set down beside me and whilst the props guys fastened chains from a winch up in the lighting rig to it on each side Matt had his helper grasp me around the waist and lift me onto the lid. I flushed as his strong arms locked tightly around my bare waist. Why was helplessness so intoxicating?

 

Once again the guys head was bobbing between my splayed legs as Matt supervised his locking the spreader bar to the lid with short lengths of chain and heavy padlocks. The finishing touches to my impending doom were a length of silver ribbon to tie my hair back into a tight pony tail and spiteful little clip which popped onto my nose. Now it hit me. This was really happening, the clip was obviously to stop water getting up my nose, which meant I was really going into that water. I wanted to scream stop, to yell that I had no idea what I was meant to do. But for some reason I didn’t .

 

Before I could even think about wondering why not, a pair of strong arms clamped around my waist and lifted me just as a clanking signalled the crane beginning to lift the lid of my watery prison. Soon I was laying back into my helper’s chest, his arms tightly under my more of less bare breasts as my legs were lifted parallel to the stage then higher. His grip slid to my shoulders and then my head as  my legs went higher and then I lost his strong embrace as I was left to swing upside down higher and higher above the stage.

 

If you asked me before hand I would have said that hanging upside down 40 feet or more above a solid wooden stage would have been terrifying. Being unable to put my hands out to break a fall should have made it worse. But as I alternated my gaze between the dimly visible audience edging forward as one on their tiered seats to the blue grey body of water being lined up beneath me I realised that in fact I was excited. I could feel every pair of eyes in the house locked onto me, drinking in my barely covered curves, pondering my fate. Perhaps some were marvelling at my bravery, or wishing they could trade places. All I did know is that once again I was helpless, on display and loving it!

 

 As always with Matt there was little in the way of padding or messing about, so it was scant seconds later that I began to descend towards the water filled tube. I didn’t need to be told to take a deep breath, which made me realise how hard I had been breathing already. I knew that I would use less of the precious air in my lungs if I kept calm, but I was feeling about as far as calm as is humanly possible. I could feel my hair rest on the surface of the water and took one last huge gulp of air then closed my eyes as I was lowered into the tank. I had to use every last ounce of self control not to gasp and gulp again . I had resigned myself to trusting in the magic, having no idea how I was supposed to escape. I had accepted being near naked to titillate as well as thrill. But I just hadn’t expected the water to be so damn cold. I fought to hang on to my lungful of air as I slid down into the blue tinted light of the tube and felt another jolt as the chill caused an additional twang through my throbbing nipples. Soon my feet had been covered and I felt the lid settle on the glass cylinder. Although I was sure there was no way I could push back against it with the hands locked behind me and my head easily three feet from the bottom of the tank Matt and his new helper spent several precious seconds locking me in place.

 

I tried to keep calm after the shock of the cold water. I could see Matt pacing outside, presumably doing the traditional bit where he explained how long I may be able to hold my breath. I couldn’t see a stopwatch or any other cliché. More importantly there was no sign of any curtain or blind that would hide my struggles and of course the method of my final escape.

 

Soon I actually was struggling. I can’t say how much time had passed before I could no longer resist the urge to fight my bonds but it wasn’t long. As the pressure in my lungs increased I found myself wriggling and bucking. The cuffs on my wrists and elbows bit deeper. I could see an impression of the front rows of the audience and found myself hoping they were at the edge of their seats, enjoying the show , my show.

 

I paused for a second, to take stock. It was clear that escape was every bit as impossible as it appeared. My lungs were starting to burn. My heart was racing. My nipples were throbbing, betraying a degree of excitement totally at odds to my predicament.

 

I can’t tell you how long I was upside down in the water tank. Time follows different rules when you are on the edge, full of adrenaline and arousal. To me it could have been anywhere between 30 seconds and 30 minutes. I suspect in truth I was in the spotlight in the tank for just a couple of minutes. I could tell time was getting short, it was getting harder to overcome the instinct to take a gulp, to ease the pressure in my lungs , even though it was just water I could inhale. Still I wasn’t scared . Anxious maybe, excited, but ultimately sure that I was safe.

 

And then it all went warm and white. A euphoric feeling. Like I was being massaged all over by thousands of skilled hands. I closed my eyes to the blinding white light and let the pleasure wash over me. It was the most intense most perfect feeling. Then as soon it had begun it stopped…

 

I stifled a moan of frustration. I felt like it had been falling , spinning. I felt unsteady on my legs. At which point it dawned on me that I was standing, and indeed breathing.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the amazing QUINN”.

 

I guess it was a reflex to take a bow as I tried to gather my wits. Certainly the crowd were going wild, on their feet cheering and clapping. Somehow I was stood at the far side of the stage, 10 yards from the now empty tank. I bowed again, realising that I was now dressed in black latex body suit. It was skin tight , unzipped at the front to my navel and shone with a liquid sheen. I was dry and my hair was loose and felt as if it had been styled. The boots were high with killer heels. Clearly the outfit wasn’t hiding under my previous get up and I guessed it could take half an hour to change into , not 90 seconds in a water tank. I tried to smile a winning smile and not appear as shocked as the crowd as the curtain fell.

 

Afterwards in the bar I heard how the tank had begun to froth as if boiling then there was a flash and I had appeared stage left. I don’t think anyone believed me when I told them I had no idea how it was done.