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Tony Mallon lay on his back, in a little hidden glade known only to himself, bathed in dappled sunlight, washed by a zephyr breeze... all that was left after the wind had penetrated his retreat... and he groaned.
He was all alone and not just on this Saturday afternoon. He was always alone; he had always been alone. Here he was approaching middle age - if not old age - and he had never had a girl friend. Nobody had ever wanted to share a life with him. What was it about him that always failed to bring that special look to a girl's face which marked the man of her choice? The man for whom she would do anything, go anywhere, follow him to the ends of the earth?
Instead of lying here all alone, he could have been lying with Mandy beside him. Perhaps after all he should have asked her. Fool. Fool. Fool. There never could have been a better chance. Why did he pass it up? He was already two and a half weeks past his sixteenth birthday and Mandy had come to live next door only four weeks ago.
She was such a glorious package and she had dropped right into his lap. Gorgeous in every sense; a body to die for; a face out of this world with such a complexion and framed by that beautiful forest of gleaming red-brown hair; an easy-going character and, so it seemed from their few brief encounters, with a most worthy well-informed mind lurking somewhere behind those unfathomable eyes.
New to the district, right next door and without friends she should have been an easy capture yet... he had hesitated. What was the matter with Tony Mallon? Was he truly afraid of refusal? Did he fear that everyone would know that he had tried - and been turned down? Yeah; he had to admit that he was shy but... why? Deep down however, he knew with ever-increasing certainty that he was always afraid in the presence of a woman. Why? He didn't know. That he was cursed, he did know. But why... ? Why was he so gauche? Why was it he could never think of anything to say? From where did that third foot always spring?
Frustration resurrected his old problem - he was hungry. What he needed now was an ice cream. A damn great bowl of ice cream. A mixture of every kind of ice-cream. "If only," he cried aloud. "I was one of those wizard fellahs; just wave my hand and ... abbagrabbabras cadabra... " He made a fancy but graceful gesture with his left hand that carved a hole in the air before him... and froze.
Never had he been more startled; his left hand stayed where it was up in the air, his mouth stayed open on that last syllable of 'cadabra', his eyes grew steadily wider and wider, his breathing stopped for what seemed like a lifetime. There sitting on his chest, with a few wafer biscuits and a spoon, was the biggest bowl of ice cream he had ever beheld.
Slowly, even apprehensively, he took it in both hands... and it was COLD! Carefully he sat up; like little Jack Horner he stuck in a finger and tasted - yes it was definitely ice cream and a darn good one to boot.
He was in the woods, hidden away in a small clearing that could be approached only by an animal tunnel through dense undergrowth, miles from any shop or freezer. So... just where the hell had this come from? Magic? True he had waved his hand in that fanciful manner and made a wish but ... come on !
Easy to prove of course. Do it again. But what to wish for? Oh, yes; what about one of his favourite fantasies? "I wish I had a full set of manacles... in solid gold... hands and feet ... complete with collar, waist-belt with wrist clamps, chastity-belt... and, yeah , gold bras. Abbagrabbabras cadabra." Hardly had he finished the gesture than, with a loud musical jangling... more like a crash really... he had at his feet a heap of gold-coloured restraints.
Not at all surprising perhaps that it took him several moments to recover his equilibrium. After all it's not everyday that an ordinary - if ageing - fellah discovers that he is a magician? While he contemplated the vista of a new world which this could open for him, he unwittingly consumed the ice cream. Given that he had these powers then... what exactly could he achieve with them? To his eternal credit, that for which most would have jumped - the creation of a great wealth, simply didn't occur to him.
But then, perhaps it was not so much to his credit. Build up a fortune and most of the world's most beautiful women throw themselves at you... n'est ce pa ? But sadly, as his eyes fell upon that heap of manacles before him, Tony's mind fell into a line of reasoning that said it would now be easy to capture... to enslave... the women of his choice. Not Mandy, of course, she was precious and he couldn't afford to... no would certainly not wish to... estrange her. But ... ?
What, for example, of that six-strong clique of snooty girls at school, the ones he called the sextuplets ? He'd lost count of the number of times they had humiliated and mocked him. Kidnapping was out but suppose he inveigled them into coming to him, dressing themselves appropriately and then incarcerating themselves ?
The sextuplet slaves? Enslaved sextuplets? Bound in sixes? No, not good; doesn't come off the tongue. Six snotty slaves in severe servitude? Definite possibilities there. Yes, very definite possibilities but he couldn't quite see how he could go about it. He didn't want to strand himself with a string of captives which either he had to keep for life or let them go when perhaps they had become aware of his identity? Well, how about doing it in easy numbers? One step at a time? Learn as we go.
"Bring me," he said, " er... that toffee-nosed leader Rachel... blindfolded gagged and hogtied. Abbagrabbabras cadabra."
To his immediate delight he was presented with a female form quite severely hogtied with her eyes bandaged and something tied through her mouth. She struggled furiously and rolled around on the grass as though her very life depended on escape. He enjoyed her for a few moments, listening to the muffled, perhaps desperate, sounds she was making, and then moved closer. DISASTER !
This wasn't Rachel ... no doubt at all to love-sick eyes ... it was Mandy ! What had he got wrong? He definitely had said Rachel but, very probably, he was thinking Mandy. Just to think about that girl next door could give him a hard but, seeing her helpless like this... all his... ? He turned to run but almost at once stopped and came back. Mandy couldn't be left here. Nobody would ever find her in this secret clearing.
"Undo that. Undo it. Put Mandy back. Turn her loose. Abbagrabbabras cadabra." Mandy had gone. Disappeared. Then a horrible thought struck him: What if I had got it wrong again?
Mandy might be struggling anywhere. He had no reason at all to know whether she was safe, unbound, ungagged and with sight restored or maybe languishing somewhere under a woodland bush. A real amateur like him, one cock-up already to his name, could have got almost anything wrong and he didn't know how to check it out!
Then what had happened to Rachel? He was a long way from liking that girl but he wouldn't leave her in a fix; humiliation - yes but, in danger? Best try again. This time he kept his mind totally focussed on Rachel and summoned her with his magic. Why did Life have to be so unkind to Tony? He received six struggling and mmmphing bundles and, dreadful to relate, they were all naked. He hadn't actually seen female flesh in the pink before and he was devastated. He tried frantically to clothe them but they shed their ropes in favour of six sets of the chains he had called up previously and they were linked together - not in a coffle - but in a haggle! Indeed two of the hobble chains were threaded through D-rings on two of the collars - that's impossible !
Tony was in despair; how the hell did one undo such a mess. How in heck did it happen? He watched his hand as he went through that magic gesture - and then, for the first time, he realised that he had no idea because he had never looked before when he made the signal. He could have changed it in some subtle way but, then again, he may not have done so? It seemed that all his efforts were getting scrambled and, whatever the cause, he was more likely to make matters ever worse than to improve them. He was now afraid to try and abolish the six unfortunate girls in their struggling heap because he had no idea what may befall them.
"Anthony. What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"I'm trying to sort this ruddy mess. What does it... ! Who the heck are you?"
He turned toward his questioner to find a grey-haired possibly middle-aged woman looking at him rather severely. "I can't say that I approve of your manners any more than I can approve your treatment of girls. Did you obtain their permission before you... er... did that to them? Whatever it is that you are doing?
"ME ? I haven't done anything to them. I'm trying to stop it. But how did you get here? This is my private place... I'm the only one who knows about it."
"Oh, I see. That's why you thought you could get away with multiple kidnap is it?"
"Multiple kidn... ? What the hell are you talking about... "
"Anthony! I cannot have you using such language... and especially to me. Now... you will remain silent."
Tony's inclination was to indulge in that pastime known to him as 'blowing one's top' but he found that his voice would not function, his mouth would not open, his vocal chords seemed no longer to belong to him.
"That's better," she said. "They do say that little boys should be seen but not heard... and I must say that there are times when I approve. Now; you may speak in answer when I address you but... otherwise... you will maintain this respectful silence."
It dawned on Tony, as he watched her face with its air of righteous indignation, that she must have been a very pretty woman when young. Take away those dowdy clothes and he would bet that, even now underneath...
"Anthony! STOP THAT!"
That did indeed stop him. Did she read his mind? "Of course, I can't expect you to recognise me when you have never consciously seen me - and you would not have seen me in this guise anyway. You are in danger, I fear, of becoming a pervert. Now clean your mind, boy. I am your godmother... in fact I am your fairy Godmother... "
She may have silenced him but she couldn't stop his thoughts! "I thought Fairy Godmothers were small and beautiful and sweet and... ";
"They are! Er... well... umm... they are?" but , fortunately Tony's attention had gone back to his haggled-coffle; as each girl tried to gain her feet, she upset the others and the whole heap travelled about the clearing like some ungainly amoeba accompanied by weird clanging noises as those metallic bras clashed together.
"I was right to use disguise. " Then aloud: "It was not your magic that you have been misusing but mine - by proxy. I gave you that for your birthday but I see that you cannot be trusted with such a gift. Magic should be used to help and protect people; all you have done with it is to abuse and seek revenge. I could have forgiven you, had you sought wealth but... to abuse these girls in such a vindictive manner!"
Her next words shocked me: "You like bondage, boy?"
"Well... er... not exactly... but... but... "
"There you go again. Lies. I know about your collection of bondage magazines although," and her voice softened a little, " I must allow that you do not indulge in those fantasies where women are subjugated and humiliated. I suppose the male ego was ever the same. Have you even thought about the sheer weight of those golden... er... er... things you conjured up? Gold is extremely heavy. Put those on a girl and she wouldn't be able to move. But you shall receive a lesson and I intend to indulge you in your bondage."
She waved both hands about her in gestures that seemed to encompass the entire clearing. The confused bundle of bound female flesh disappeared; the heap of golden fetters disappeared; most of Tony's clothes disappeared; the small tree-branch just above her head erupted into flame. She made an impatient gesture in its direction and the fire disappeared to leave but a wisp of smoke. "There," she said crossly. "You see what happens when you make me angry? All my spells are going awry."
"Now!" She swung her arm around her head in the manner of a cowboy about to throw a rope and launched the imaginary thing at Tony. Then she disappeared. Now Tony lay on the ground tightly bound in a handcuff hogtie; he wasn't gagged but he still couldn't speak. Not even an 'mmphh'!
How long he lay there struggling he was never able to say; suffice it that he made absolutely no headway against the irons. Indeed, although he had never owned a pair, he knew only too well that escape from handcuffs properly applied was a job strictly for a professional escapologist. He began to worry - if he failed to get free, he might lie in this secret clearing for many months because no one was going to find him. Should he worry? After all , if indeed she were his fairy godmother then she couldn't allow harm to come his way? But who believed in Fairies... let alone Fairy Godmothers? As the man said: 'Balderdash, Piffle and Poppycock' . But then... where did that get him?
He rolled around seeking desperately for the keys she must have left. Perhaps because of his bondage he couldn't spot them? Perhaps they weren't there after all? Perhaps she intended to return and release him? On the other hand ... perhaps ?
"Tony! How on earth... what are... ? Holy cow... are you crazy? I thought I'd been stupid getting myself trapped but... to do it in a spot like this... ?"
There was no mistaking that voice. Of all the humiliating cringe-making... Mandy.
"Damn lucky I did that Alice-in-Wonderland thing; I saw a bunny disappearing into a big hole and thought it would be fun to follow. Little did I know? Where are your keys?" She started to feel down his pockets with the most alarming results between his legs. "Oh, here. Must have fallen out . Not surprising the way you were throwing yourself about." She unlocked the hogtie and gently, if painfully, helped him to straighten his legs. Mandy sat on the grass beside him and drew his head on to her lap: "Are you OK? Or did you leave your tongue with the cat again?"
Her touch went through him like an electric shock and... he could speak again. Red-faced: "Guess you must think me several kinds of an ass... ?"
"No. Why should I? I do the same thing. In fact I just now got myself stuck in a rope tie. Should know better by now but, you see, I left the knife behind. Getting too cocky, I suppose. Luckily one of my knots slipped... dunno why but it's as well it did. Although it held out long enough for... " and she fell to giggling.
"You mean... you like bondage too?"
"And how. But it'd be a lot safer, and more fun too, if we could do it together. What d'you think?"
"I've always been afraid to talk about it. Great idea. How about you take the rest of these cuffs off, please?"
"As George Bernard Shaw once wrote - Not Bloody Likely - in a place like this... ? Oh, no. You're mine buster and for the duration."