BDSM Library - Story: Abracadabra!, Chapter: Chapter 5 Cymbelline

Chapter 5: High Time, Cymbelline

He was dreaming; that much Gregg was certain of. Dreams were rarely relaxing these days. They had taken on strange abstract look with kaleidoscopic sets of colours and shapes that seemed to twist his mind with their looping, pulsing, dissolving flows. Occasionally he would find himself confronted with some individual or other but, in his dreams, none had spoken to him. Until now.

He was in a long corridor, white and cool but with a clear sense of heat beyond its walls. The stonework was pierced, decorative. Bas-relief carvings line the walls, elaborate scenes featuring improbable sexual antics featured at every turn.

At the far end of the corridor he saw two figures both dressed in Indian costume. One, the man, beckoned him. The other, the woman stood quietly beside him.

From beside them another two figures emerged. To their left Dr Strange, looking just as Steve Ditko had imagined him, stood square on to the corridor, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows raised in scepticism as Gregg approached. To their right, Mandrake, top hat in hand, stared down the corridor in silent thought.

“Swami?” Gregg was convinced that that was who his dream host was.

The man nodded, acknowledging Gregg’s question.

Gregg went closer until the Swami held up his hand to stop. “The question is, Gillstrom, what are you going to do about the girl, Samantha? Disrespect has been shown. She has failed to know her place as a handmaiden, as dasa.”

Gregg realised at once the Swami was right. He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten her insults and the way that she had ignored him. Sam needed to be shown the error of her ways; to be convinced of the power of the Swami. He was about to thank the Swami for his guidance when Strange lifted up his hands sending two shimmering globes of light along the corridor towards Gregg. As they passed him the walls of the corridor dissolved with a soft hissing noise and he was laying, sweat soaked, in his own bed.

He rolled over with a groan. These night time excursions were proving to be exhausting. He got up in search of a drink and almost fell back into bed. He went to put the glass down on the table beside his bed and, as he did so, knocked a magazine to the floor. He picked it up and it fell open at the pictures of the bound and gagged cheerleader. He had a very good idea of what to do next.

***** ***** ****** ******

Samantha Wallace was in a hurry. She had, she reckoned, about twenty minutes to get back to her room from class, change, and then get over to the gym. She hadn’t found it easy to persuade them to let her try out for the cheerleading team but in the end they’d given in and said she could have a chance. She still had the uniform that she’d been leant when she’d first discussed it, before she’d decided to waste all that time with that looser, Gilstrom.

The last thing Sam wanted to see as she got back to her room was Gregg in the corridor outside. “I’ve got no time,” she said, as she went to rush past him. “I’ve got a chance to try out for the cheer leading team. I can’t stop.”

“I thought we might have a talk,” Gregg said.

Sam was having none of it. “I don’t think so, even if I had the time. Why don’t you do what you magicians are supposed to be so good at – just disappear!”

Gregg clenched his teeth for a moment but then regained his calm. Sam was opening the door to her room. “I wanted to show you this,” he said, turning the ruby over in his hand so that it caught the sunlight shining in through the large window beside him.

“I’m not interest... oh, that’s .. that...” Sam stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes captivated by the jewel. As Gregg turned it in the light he could see at once, from the glazed look in her eyes and the way her mouth dropped open slackly, that she was under its power.

“Why don’t we go inside?” he said.

“Of course, yes, if you like,” Sam replied compliantly, all thoughts about her try-out for the cheerleaders gone.

Gregg smiled at her obedience; the hypnotic power of the jewel was only too evident. He sat down in her armchair without waiting to be asked. She stood silently in the centre of the room, hands by her sides waiting for his instructions. Gregg looked at her appraisingly. She had a good body, even if the sweater and jeans she was wearing didn’t really show it off.

“You need to change, I think,” he said. “Why don’t you undress. And just for my amusement, do it nice and slowly.”

Samantha’s hand went to the buckle of her belt almost without hesitation. Gregg enjoyed her instant submission. The look on her face was blank. She stared ahead of her at the wall opposite. As she lowered her trousers around her ankles there was perhaps something deep inside her that questioned her actions. A look of dismay crossed her face momentarily as though she could not entirely believe what she was doing.

Her sweater and tee-shirt followed her trousers, socks and trainers onto the floor. Gregg enjoyed the prospect of her standing, quite still, dressed only in her bra and panties, for a few minutes. Sam’s obedient stillness was impressive but Gregg could also see the resistance inside her, the sense of a tightening spring somewhere in her psyche that was fighting the way was behaving. “Why don’t you put on your uniform?” he said, in an attempt to defuse the growing restlessness inside her.

“Yes, Swami,” she replied, going to a drawer and taking out the short, flared, yellow and blue skirt and the identically coloured sweat top. She put them on. Her demeanour became a little more relaxed as she dressed. Gregg was concerned that the effects of the jewel seemed to lessen as the subject was asked to do more difficult things. Reinforcement was needed.

He’d intended to leave her here, instructed to remain, until the effects wore off but he now felt that this might not achieve his objective of keeping her from the try-out.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the power of the Swami came to his aid. The cord of Sam’s telephone unplugged itself from the wall and snaked magically across the floor to wind itself around Sam’s ankles. Surprised by tightness of the cable around her legs, Sam started but did not try to resist. Gregg, seeing what was needed walked across to her, lifted her up and laid her down again on the couch. He drew her arms behind her back slowly. As he did so more cables arrived, one threading itself around her wrists, another pulling her elbows together, a third cinching her knees and thighs tightly. Her socks slithered up onto the couch from the floor and made their way to her head. Gregg had only to stroke the side of her face to have her open her mouth to accept the gag as the socks crammed pushed themselves inside. Finally a scarf arrived, winding itself around her face, knotting itself behind her head to keep the socks wadded in place. Gregg stood back, amused and amazed; delighted by the way in which the Swami’s power seemed to have recreated one of his favourite pictures from the magazine he had found in the basket.

The sight of her, trussed and helpless on the couch reawakened in Gregg the feelings of lustful compulsion that were so familiar to him. This though wasn’t the time, he said to himself, choking back the desire to push her short skirt up over her waist and tear his way into her panties. He swallowed and calmed himself. It was too risky here, and now.

“There,” he said quietly to his captive. “You can stay there now.”

While Sam had seemed resistant to being compelled to do something that she had not wanted to do, she was not trying to escape from her bonds. No doubt that will come later, Gregg thought, but it was clear that she would be staying here in her room until well after the try-out was over. Gregg patted Sam fondly on the head, as you might a pet dog, and left her.

All characters fictitious

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