The Magic Box

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

As Bill drove through the darkened streets of late evening, Elizabeth lay back naked and exposed in the bucket seat, caressing her flesh idly. She contemplated giving herself an orgasm on the way there—in fact, she was so excited that she was sure she could have taken two or maybe three—but she decided instead merely to tease herself, to keep herself warm and flushed and tingling, expectant before whatever perversion which her dear husband would give her tonight.

Smirking and sly-eyed, she spread her bare thighs wide, prodding herself absently in the smelly nest below her sweating belly. It was strangely exciting to be exposed like that, nude and gleaming before the eyes of any who might chance to glance their way. Once at a stoplight, they pulled up next to a semi truck, and despite the tint of their windows, the illumination must have been just right for him to see down inside, because when the driver looked over, his jaw dropped. Smirking, she ran her middle finger deliberately through her watering cunt, put the smelly thing before her flushed face, and licked it savoringly clean beneath the stranger’s wide-eyed gaze. Then the light changed, and Bill accelerated away, toward Kyle’s workshop.

There were ten or twelve other cars parked in the semi-darkened alley but no other people visible. Back at home, of course, the couple had gotten into their vehicle through the attached garage, but here there was no such equivalent—they simply had to park out in the open, and Bill, grandly casual, made no effort whatsoever to go near the entrance. He simply cut the ignition when they were still a good twenty or thirty yards from the drab, rust-streaked back door, and Elizabeth felt his sly, sidelong gaze upon her as her nervous eyes took in the seemingly endless stretch of gritty asphalt across which she would be paraded. She thought they were fairly well hidden in the rear of this ill-traveled, semi-industrial area, but between those old buildings the parking lot was so wide and empty… Could people driving by in the street beyond get a glimpse of them down the alley? She bit her lip.

There was nothing to do but go forward, though. Shivering faintly in her nakedness and in her confused excitation, she took Bill’s hand and allowed herself to be led, naked and exposed, across the great open space of pavement and then into the building. It was a long way, but though her gaze darted around uneasily, Bill did not hurry. Trying to keep up her nerve, she raised her chin and strode resolutely on, hips rolling regal and slow. Despite her anxiety, her n*****s were crinkled up tight and achingly expectant.

Inside, the place was wide and spottily lit, a warehouse that their magician friend used for storage, for practicing his various acts, and for developing new tricks and mechanisms for deception. Still Elizabeth saw no one.

“Where…where is everyone?” she asked quietly, hoping that she did not sound disappointed.

Bill tried not to smile. “When a devoted wife has decided to take a truly anonymous gangbang,” he said mildly, “it is best to keep her guessing.”

She pursed her lips and made no reply, but only eyed him sideways as he led her through a maze of piled crates, racks of costumes, and various implements of stagecraft. Finally they came to a curtained-off area tucked away in a corner. She hesitated, but, smiling urbanely, he led her onward. “Enter, my sweet,” he said, holding aside the curtain.

Inside was an enigmatic black cube perhaps ten feet on a side. Upon each of its four walls was set a narrow, close-fitting door with a knob of red porcelain. Bill chose one door as if he knew what he was doing and ushered her in.

The room inside was surprisingly small, wide but very short, upholstered in black velvet and lit only with small bulbs recessed into the corners of the ceiling. What was most noticeable among these oddities, however, was a small arched space cut low into the wall which they faced, below which projected a short, narrow slab of black-enameled metal topped with a red, pillow-like cushion.

Elizabeth looked questioningly, but Bill merely worked a recessed crank that raised the entire wall forward on oiled tracks. The partition seemed comparatively lightweight, yet as it rose, she could see that it was surprisingly well soundproofed. In fact, as she looked more closely, she saw that it was not merely one wall that had slid up—it was a series of walls, interconnected like dividers in a box of old-fashioned incandescent light bulbs or glass Christmas ornaments, sharing a common ceiling that also rose up. In the dim illumination she saw that these dividers, each cut back vertically over the middle of the room, and then cut back still further with an arch of one size or another along the bottom of the highest point of the vertical relief, had crisscrossed a cot-like couch upholstered in heavy crimson brocade shot through with gold thread.

The elegantly worked couch stood atop a base whose details were obscured by the combined effects of its ebon color and the shadows at the foot of the half-lit chamber. She almost fancied that the thing might have drawers in the side of the nearly featureless base, but perhaps that was just her imagination, merely a subliminal suggestion brought about by the object’s vague resemblance to a doctor’s examination table. And yet even if there were drawers, she asked herself swiftly, what would they contain? Surely not latex gloves and hospital gowns and gauze. No, here there would be a blindfold and handcuffs to hold the writhing victim helpless and uncertain, a ball gag to stifle her screams of comingled humiliation and fierce feral pleasure? Maybe massage oils, or even a big squeeze-tube of gooey anal lubricant? Perhaps n****e clamps and little flails or whips to torture her vulnerable bare body in any way the wickedly inventive mind of man might desire? Yes, even a host of wildly varied s*x toys—dildos in sizes from small to gargantuan and in texture from smooth to ribbed to nubby, and controllable-speed vibrators that would make the poor thing respond whether she wanted to or not?

Elizabeth swallowed. But no, such thoughts were crazy, she told herself. She was just letting her mind run away with her. The only thing she could be sure of was that the deeply shadowed base of the couch was constructed of some darkly polished black material, sturdy-looking, and wide enough that when the lower vertical portion’s inner walls of the chamber were rolled down, they would have mated smoothly against its sides. A little guiltily, then, she raised her eyes to examine the top of the inky-colored pedestal.

The couch was mounted in the very center of the strange, mysterious cube, whose four outer walls still stood motionless about them despite the raising of the inner partitions. The outline of the thing was vaguely anthropomorphic, being narrowest in the central part, perhaps just wide enough for the occupant to have placed her arms at her sides, and then, perhaps almost as much from esthetic grounds as functional ones, swelling wider where the hips would lie. It was narrower still at the rounded head, and short there, too, such that the built-in vestigial pillow probably would not extend past the occipital of the skull that rested upon it. The opposite end of the cot-like apparatus was very narrow indeed, and as Elizabeth looked more closely, it appeared that that part was divided lengthwise, with the brocaded red cushion under each leg then being split horizontally as well. She puzzled for a moment, but finally it dawned upon her that perhaps the contraption might be jointed and hinged, with leg rests that could be opened wide and manipulated upon some skeletal mechanism beneath, much like a gynecologist’s chair.

Oh, but that couldn’t be, the naked woman tried to chide herself. Why, who would even imagine such a…such a silly thing? she thought, blushing guiltily. If the lower regions of the couch truly were movable—which she did not know, she added mentally—surely the design was simply for ordinary comfort. Yes, that must have been it, she assured herself dutifully, trying to ignore the restless anticipatory moisture at the top of her thighs, and the inexplicable erectness of her bare bosoms, even though the room was not really cool at all. Right about where the ankles of the reclining occupant would lie, each elegantly brocaded leg rest bore restraining straps of heavy russet leather that could be cinched snug about some still-uncertain victim’s helpless bare ankles…

Eyes wide, Elizabeth looked at her husband, scarcely daring to let her too-imaginative mind think all the crazy things it was trying to tell her…

“Yes, my pet,” Bill said solemnly with a sweep of his hand. “For you.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, but despite her vague hesitation, she was acutely aware that her n*****s were thick and engorged, and as her sticky thighs moved apart, she could smell herself, warm and salty and ready. She took Bill’s hand, and at his gentle instigation she climbed wordlessly up onto the red couch, then stretched herself supple and bare along its heavy crimson cushions, gazing up toward the bottom of the walls which now hung above her.

“Clever, eh?” said Bill slyly. Slowly, very slowly, he began to work the wheel that lowered the walls down upon her. One would descend, she saw now, across her waist, another—one with a smaller cut-out—across her throat, another one lengthways between these two. The walls, which in turn were covered by a ceiling of featureless black velvet, rolled gradually down.

“You see?” came her husband’s voice. “Only a magician like Kyle could have created a device like this, I think—after your naughty mind suggested the idea, of course,” he added. She kept her uncertain eyes on the quietly descending partitions, but she could sense the faint smile, half indulgent and half awed, that lurked at the corners of Bill’s lips.

“Here,” he continued softly, “one willing woman is laid out and pinned down. In this specially fitted intimate restraint, she is held gently, securely, and yet firmly…so there can be no doubt about her true place.” Poor Elizabeth’s n*****s were so stiff that they hurt, and she was embarrassingly wet between the split portals of hairy, thickened pink beneath her trembling belly. She knew Bill could see it—could smell it—and she heard him lick his lips, perhaps without even realizing he did it.

“Within this soundproofed black velvet chamber,” Bill reminded her hypnotically, standing just past the top of her head as he cranked the walls inexorably down, “there are no candy and flowers, no politeness and stale little social formulas, no please and thank you, no hesitance, no conscience, no remorse, only smooth pale flesh available for anything—anything—a man might desire.” Despite his seeming composure, the breath Bill took was ragged, but he tried to keep his voice steady as he continued, “Prepared, displayed, and held fast, the subject thus finds herself in a true magic box, discreetly partitioned so that her every gleaming inch can be enjoyed by four different men at once, anonymously—one chamber for her disembodied head, two rooms each with one of her hands and a breast…and one for regions lower.”

Elizabeth whimpered faintly, deeply aroused. Oh, how she wanted to masturbate! Her husband had always been a smooth talker, and sometimes he could just thrill her so… She almost thought to reach down, to rub herself a little more in her fishy curls, simply to keep a good buzz going in the pit of her belly—why, surely he wouldn’t mind, she told herself with incongruous reasonableness—but the walls were almost all the way down, and suddenly she was blocked from reaching below the waist. She bit her lip, off-balance and secretly frustrated and wildly expectant all at once.

Suddenly, despite the already dim illumination, as the partitions of the magic box dropped into securing grooves in the floor, Bill reached forward without a word and fastened some sort of blindfold upon her. It was like an old-fashioned costume-party mask, but the fit was very snug, her eyes completely shielded by blacked-out goggles beneath what seemed like folds of glossy midnight silk. Confused and sightless, she started to reach up to examine the thing, but her hands merely bumped uselessly against the partition that rose between her shoulders and ears. Fighting an unsettling twinge of panic, she felt around, finding another partition running between the walls at neck and waist—why, she could not even cross her arms or bring her hands together!