Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Slut-in-the-box free porn video
In the cut throat world of stage magic, Scarlet was at the sharp end. Huge competition for gigs ensured that magicians guarded their own secrets jealously and envied any competitor whose act was more cutting edge than their own with a passion.
None were more jealous and envious than Francisco the Magnificent. He’d already gone to great lengths to conceal that he was really plain old Frank Potts, descended from a long line of slate miners. His rise to the pinnacle of his profession he owed to a combination of hard work and a flexible approach to allegedly supernatural property rights. He was also Scarlet’s employer.
This was why Scarlet now found herself backstage at the Palladium. There was a new kid on the block, shamelessly styling himself Harry Potts. It wasn’t so much his stage alias being flagrantly chosen to conjure up thoughts of the most famous name in wizardry, as the inadvertent use of Francisco’s real surname that enraged the self-styled magnificent one; that and Harry having muscled in on his hometown, with one sold out show under his belt, and two to come, and with an act to be genuinely envious of.
This was a challenge too far for Francisco the Magnificent, and the perfect situation in which to deploy Scarlet. Her job title was “second assistant”, but she never appeared on stage. Her job description might more accurately be given as “thaumaturgic espionage”. She gathered as much information on Francisco’s competitors as she could, and the magnificent one conjured ever more elaborate ways to upstage those who would knock him off his perch.
Harry Potts’ three-night stint at the Palladium provided the perfect opportunity to gather first-hand data. If Francisco’s expertise was no more than illusion, Scarlet had a shadowy past during which she’d acquired expert knowledge of all kinds of useful skills, from gaining illicit access to computer systems to more traditional forms of breaking and entering. In this instance she didn’t need to pick locks, because the assistant manager at the Palladium owed Francisco a favour.
Scarlet arrived so early in the morning that the man was still bleary eyed from sleep. She felt confident that Harry Potts and entourage wouldn’t appear until after lunch. The assistant manager gave her a master key, looking very shifty, and let her get on with it. Experience had taught Scarlet to travel without excess baggage. All the equipment she needed was stored in pocket-heavy cargo trousers, and in those and her army surplus sweater, the cleaners would take her for a stage hand. The real stage hands wouldn’t be in for a couple of hours yet, the assistant manager assured her.
It was far from the first time she’d done something like this, and she quickly checked the dressing rooms, particularly that of Harry Potts himself, finding material of only limited importance, but she would pass all of it on to Francisco regardless. He might see something in it that she didn’t.
It was the stage area that interested her the most. Harry was careless; almost everything was spread out as if no-one could be bothered to clear up after the show. She checked all the props; the handkerchiefs, the assortment of small boxes, the gloves, the decks of cards, the bouquet of feathers, the top hat, the squirty flowers used for comic relief. All of the props were examined and photographed, notes were made on their properties, just as last night she’d sat in the stands making detailed notes about the show, when no photography was allowed. The only props missing were the two white mice, three kittens and a tortoise; but if they’d still been there, Scarlet would have alerted the RSPCA.
Then she turned her attention to the larger boxes. They were both roughly the same height, about seven feet, but the one was of a traditional cast, made of solid, dark wood with a rounded top. It revealed nothing unexpected. It had sliding panels, a fake back, concealed cavities, and slits for poking nasty looking knives through while leaving the occupant of the box unscathed.
The second box was more interesting. It was white and occupied a floor space of roughly four by two and a half feet. The sides and back had holes in them, spaced irregularly, all of them roughly five inches in diameter. Though it was difficult to see exactly what was happening in the box when you were seated in the audience, large sections of the paying public could see well enough to be granted the illusion that whatever Harry put in that box disappeared before their very eyes – more often than not subsequently reappearing in the other box. At one point, Harry had packed the holed box with as many bouncing bikini babes as he could cram into it, making them “vanish” one by one.
Scarlet was optimistic about working out how the trick was done. If it wasn’t accomplished with the aid of mirrors, there was sure to be some contraption inside that gave the illusion that you were staring through the holes in the box when in fact you weren’t – or maybe even evidence of a more hi-tech solution.
The door to the box opened easily enough. She eyed the interior, searching for the box’s secrets. Apart from the large bolts in the floor, the interior was the same plain white as the exterior. Nevertheless, Scarlet felt sure there were secrets to discover. Seeing nothing with the naked eye that revealed any such secrets, she stepped inside. The most likely explanation was that whatever equipment Harry used with this box was stashed away for safe keeping in some location she hadn’t yet found. Nevertheless, she would satisfy herself that the box had no secrets to yield before she went in search of it. Sliding her fingers across the back panel, she heard a soft click behind her. Turning, she was surprised to see that the door had swung shut. It must be well oiled.
There was no latch on the inside, so she gave a push. The door stayed resolutely shut. Shit! This wasn’t good. She pushed again. Nothing; no give, no movement. She peered through one of the holes, seeing the collection of props she’d already examined. Most people’s instinct would be to cry out for help, but Scarlet had been in tighter scrapes than this. She wasn’t supposed to be here, and if she were found like this it would cause a major diplomatic incident in magic circles, possibly even a dual, wands at dawn and all that.
No, there had to be a way out. There always was. Magicians weren’t exempt from health and safety requirements. You couldn’t have a box it was impossible to escape from. She just had to channel her inner Houdini, but there really was no clue as to how she might effect an escape. Scarlet ran her fingers over every inch of the box, hoping to find the mechanism that would release her. When the box stayed resolutely shut, she forced herself to stay calm. This was the world of magic. There had to be a trick to this, there just had to be.
She began running her fingers round the rims of the holes. Nothing. Then she withdrew her fingers at the sound of footsteps. Double shit! She needed to stay calm, silent, and hope that whoever it was disappeared without inspecting the box.
She pushed back against one of the walls, making as sure as she could that no part of her body could be seen through the holes. The tactic seemed to work at first. She heard sounds of scraping and lifting, male voices discussing what to do and how to do it. She gathered that Harry had been dissatisfied with some aspects of the previous evening’s show and consigned the dialogue to memory. But then one of the voices said, “Hang on, the grope box is shut.”
There was a short pause, then the other man called out, “Anyone in there?”
Scarlet held her breath. It didn’t work. Footsteps moved in her direction. The voice made itself heard again. “Anyone there?” She jumped when the man knocked on the side of the box, steeling herself for the moment of discovery. Any moment now.
It came as a complete shock to her when the man’s hand appeared through one of the holes, followed by his arm. There was nothing she could do to stop it, to stop his hand from touching her shoulder. He fumbled a little, then his hand moved. “Over here, Ken!” Footsteps told her the other man was coming closer as the first man’s hand reached her breast and gave a good hard squeeze.
“Which of ‘em is it?” Ken said.
“Does it matter? Mad keen for it these sluts, ain’t they? Can’t keep ‘em away from the box.”
In spite of the fact that the man was giving her breast a good mauling, Scarlet felt that this was good. If the men weren’t interested in who she was, maybe she could get away with it. She would have to put up with the ignominy of being groped, but anything was preferable to compromising her mission.
She realised with a jolt what avoiding exposure may involve when a new hand appeared and began prodding at the front of her cargo trousers. She heard Ken’s voice. “Fucking hell, you’d think the tart would have the sense to wear something that made it a bit easier.”
Three hands in the box now; Ken pulling on the zip, the other man pulling her jumper up. Both her breasts were groped as Ken tried to get a hand inside her trousers. The first man gave a verdict. “She’s got great tits on her.”
“Reckon it could be Shirley?” Ken said. “She’s got fucking fantastic tits. The best.”
“Feels more like Ronnie,” the first man said.
A true professional in every sense, Scarlet ignored the urge to answer back. She was finding it difficult to believe that Harry Potts’ girls actually locked themselves into the box voluntarily, but she had experience enough to know that truth could be stranger than magic. For the moment her overriding concern was not to blow her cover. There was always a risk that the men would peer into the box, but until such times, she would just pray that luck was on her side. “Feels like she could do with buying some new underwear,” Ken said, sliding his fingers over the front of Scarlet’s knickers.
“I know what you mean,” the first man said, his hands moving from her breasts to her arms. “Take a step forward, doll. You want me to get this off you, don’t you?” She decided to treat this as a rhetorical question, stepping away from the wall, but remaining silent as she felt his fingers fumble, more than men’s fingers normally fumbled with women’s undergarments.
“Get your trousers and knickers down for me, slag,” Ken said.
In any other situation, Scarlet would have punched Ken in the face. That wasn’t an option right now. The only option, because it was her only hope of avoiding exposure, was to do as he said and wait for his hand to touch her down there, which was what he was after.
Her bra came off, the first man finally having worked it out. Fingers went for her nipples, closing on them, pulling. In spite of everything, Scarlet felt them harden. Ken’s fingers were sliding across her mound. “Nice trim,” he said. “But if Harry catches you without the full Brazilian, you’ll be for it.”
What was this? It was beginning to sound to her like Harry Potts ran a harem as much as a magic show.
Ken’s gravelly voice again. “Get your cunt up against a hole, love, where I can see it.”
Reminding herself that her one overarching aim must be to avoid exposure, Scarlet turned. Hands came away from her breasts, which she pushed up against the side of the box as she manoeuvred to satisfy Ken’s demand. “Nice,” the man said. It was humiliating, the way she’d been careless enough to put herself in this position, but as long as she managed to maintain her anonymity she would endure the way Ken’s finger prized her labia apart.
The finger went straight for her opening. Let him have his fun. She needed to work out how to get out of the box and focused her attention on running alternatives through her mind. There was nothing she could do to stop Ken molesting her, but she could work out how to get out of here once the two men were finished with her.
An exchange of words was followed by a change of fingers. Still Scarlet occupied her mind with solutions as to how to escape the box. She was brought back to the here and now by the sound of new footsteps. Shit! More people arriving. She’d never get out of here at this rate.
“Over here, lads!” Ken called out. “We’ve got a slut-in-the-box!”
“And she’s warming up nicely!” the other man called out.
Double shit! But perhaps it was for the best. The more the men thought she was game, the less danger there was of exposure. Was that not the case? She listened intently, as sure as she could be that there were three newcomers. There was an exchange of fingers, one of the newcomers taking over, no doubt. This one wasn’t content with feeling her, he wanted to explore the depths, pushing his digits into her. Hands appeared through holes to the sides of her, reaching round to squeeze her bum.
“You’ve gotta love these tarts, haven’t you?” a voice said. “Up for anything. Ain’t you, love?”
It dawned on Scarlet that she might not get away with remaining silent forever. “M-hm,” she grunted.
There was a laugh from outside. Fingers dug into her buttocks as the fingers moving in her vagina vanished. But then came a hard erection, which was rubbed against her labia, before pushing between them. Fingers appeared through a hole at head height. “Suck on ‘em!” came the command. “Taste your own cunt, slut.”
She needed to keep playing her part. As she adjusted her head to take the man’s fingers in her mouth, she reflected that at least he wasn’t asking her to suck on something else. That faint relief lasted all of ten seconds until, with the taste of her own pussy on her tongue, she saw an erect penis emerge through a hole to her left.
Shit! There really was no escape. She had to remain compliant. It was her only hope of getting out of here without being exposed as Francisco’s spy. What was expected of her was obvious, so she reached out to grab the hard rod to her left while continuing to suck on the fingers. Stiff meat toyed with her slit.
There was a part to be played, Scarlet realised. So far the men had been happy to assume that she was one of Harry Potts’ bouncing bikini babes, but if she appeared too reticent, the men might begin to suspect otherwise. So she sank to her haunches, grabbing the cock that had just prodded her pussy lips, wanking it and the erection she already held in her left hand. Whether she went left or right was of no consequence. She went to her right, plunging her lips over the hard rod.
There was a gasp from outside the box. “Fuck she’s keen!”
“Still reckon it’s Shirley?” a voice said. Scarlet recognized it as the first man from earlier.
“Could be Kim,” a voice said. “Proper little cum guzzler is our Kim.”
“Or Tracey,” someone else said.
Scarlet moved her head, knowing that the other man wanted attention too. Hands appeared through other holes. It felt like there were any number of hands, and she wasn’t sure how there could be so many, grabbing her arse, squeezing her breasts. The quickest way of bringing it all to an end was obvious; it was to make the men ejaculate as soon as she could.
It wouldn’t be the first time the line of duty had involved sex, but not being in control was new to her. On the other hand, working out how to satisfy these Neanderthals didn’t exactly tax her little grey cells. She moved her hands fast, sucking with intent. There was no point in dragging this out. There was a knock above the hole to the left. The man’s voice. “Milk it out on your tongue, you little cumslut. Then show me. You got that?”
“M-hm,” she answered with her mouth full of his rigid meat.
“It can’t be Kim,” Ken said. “She’d be begging for your load.”
The men laughed at this. Fucking arseholes! But she knew from experience that espionage put you in tricky situations, and was well versed in making the best of a bad job. She opened her mouth and wanked the stiff rod, making sure it rested on her tongue. Hands were still groping just about every part of her as the man came, his semen flooding onto her tongue, one spurt almost shooting straight down her throat.
Scarlet took care to put her face up to the hole in such a way that she only showed the man exactly what he wanted to see. “Now swallow,” he said. “Then show me again!”As a spy in the world of international magic, Scarlet was well practised at putting mind over matter, and her body obeyed her without a murmur of dissent, allowing the man’s goo to slide down her throat before she proved to him that she’d done as he said. Then she moved her mouth back to the other cock, but before she had time to start sucking again, there was a knock on the wall behind her. She turned her head, seeing a hand waving through a hole. “Get your cunt back here, doll.”
Whatever they wanted, whatever it took to avoid exposure. She pushed herself up, still holding on to the cock in front of her as she stepped back and bent over. Exploratory fingers opened her up. She bent over further still, taking the cock in her mouth as planned. The sooner they ejaculated, the better. To that end she sucked and wanked as hard and fast as she could. Fingers probed her pussy, other hands as eager as ever to grope her, especially her tits.
“Get your tight little cunt right back up against the hole!”
Once again there was no doubt in her mind as to what would happen. And it did. Keeping the cock in front of her in her mouth, she allowed the sharp penetration from behind. “There’s nowt better than a spitroasted slut-in-the-box, is there, lads?” someone said.
Laughter. She hated their laughs, the things they said, but anything was better than her cover being blown. She moved, thrusting back against the cock, pretending that being shafted from behind was exactly what she wanted. Faking wasn’t difficult, after all. She faked with her mouth too, shoving her lips down the cock in front of her, making out she adored doing what she was doing.
As long as the men kept quiet, it might even be possible to trick herself into thinking that. It wasn’t the first time she’d had two cocks in her at once, after all. She’d even thought she might like to repeat the experience, had just never thought…
“Fuck, that is one tight cunt!” the man behind her, on the other side of the wall, grunted.
“Don’t keep it all to yourself!” Ken’s voice.
Her vagina was momentarily emptied, but immediately her pussy was stretched out by another cock. She moved, doing her best to perform. Spying involved deception, and she could deceive. It was even easier to feign enthusiasm when the men couldn’t see her. The trouble was that her body was allowing itself to be deceived too. The hard banging was causing a similar banging to echo in the cramped box. The ribald savagery of the situation transmitted itself to her. She slid her lips off the cock in front and jerked her hand hard wiping the swollen bulb over her mouth and cheeks.
“Shit yeah!” the man gasped. Sperm was shooting out of him. She felt a jet go in her hair. That wasn’t good. “That’s some wicked cumslut in there.” She popped his cock back between her lips. The less mess there was the better. “And a filthy fucking cum guzzler,” the man added.
Whatever you say, she thought. In the interests of the mission she would swallow it all down like a filthy cum guzzler. As she did so, her attention was partially distracted by Ken pulling out of her. Seconds later she felt his seed strike her vulva as he grunted like an animal. Three down, only two to go. Her ordeal would soon be over.
Then she froze. It was the voice. She recognised it instantly. “Fetch me the wand!”
Harry Potts himself. Shit! She just stood there, feeling spunk dribbling down her cheek, over her labia. Whatever happened, he mustn’t see her, mustn’t hear her, mustn’t divine who she was. But having asked for his wand… Was he going to perform some magic trick? Perhaps the wand sent some remote control signal to the box. If he made it open she really would be done for.
Then she realised what kind of wand he meant. The suddenness of the vibrations made her give a little shriek. Shit! She needed to keep quiet. Hands were reaching in, grabbing bits of her, groping her, squeezing her, fingers digging into her sides and her tits.
A voice. “Open your mouth and stick it up against the hole!”
She had no choice. She did as she was told. It occurred to her that though the men had speculated about who was in the box, they didn’t really care. Harry Potts’ bikini babes were interchangeable, expendable. All the men cared about was that she had tits for them to squeeze and holes for them to play with.
The voice again: “You want a good throating, slut?”
“M-hm.”
“I bet you can’t wait for another nice thick load of cum to swallow, can you?”
“M-hm.”
There almost had to be some kind of magic to this, the way the man was able to drive his fat cock right the way in without her gagging. “You can really take it, can’t you, slut?” he exclaimed, fucking her face, reducing her to an oral cavity for him to use for his own satisfaction, just as he’d already used her vagina. She knew he had, because she could taste herself on him. He was the one who had taken her from behind earlier.
Hands continued groping her. They seemed to be everywhere. And behind her, Harry Potts rubbed the wand against her clit. Scarlet had faked plenty of orgasms, but never had she so actively tried to fake not having one. Because this was the awful truth, that the vibrating wand would force her to climax whether she wanted it to or not.
She didn’t know what she wanted, only that whatever happened, they mustn’t discover her identity, these bastards, who just used her, like they presumably used the other girls in Harry’s entourage. Her throat was ravaged mercilessly, hands mauled her all over. She tried to fight the sensations, but the wand’s vibrations were too strong. For the first time in her life she would have to fake not orgasming.
Relief came to her throat as the cock was removed. There was a command. “Shut your mouth!”
Scarlet’s fingers clutched at two of the holes. It was imperative that she hold herself steady. Thick, sticky seed was plastering her lips as the wand finally did for her. She was shaking, hating that her body refused to obey her, hating the noises at the back of her throat that suggested pleasure.
Her knees felt terribly weak, but she didn’t want to collapse in a heap. Respite was offered by Harry, though that wasn’t his intention. “Turn around, slut!”
Unsteadily, Scarlet turned. Instead of the wand, Harry’s erection was poking through the hole. What he expected of her was obvious, but it allowed her to relieve the trembling by getting down her knees. She didn’t bother wiping away the mass of stickiness on her lips, but just parted them to take Harry’s short, fat knob in her mouth.
This was it, she told herself, the finale. If she didn’t follow through everything would have been in vain. Using every oral skill she’d ever learned in the twenty or so years since she first fellated a man, she was determined to make it quick.
The odious man grunted on the other side of the wall. Scarlet moved her head fast, using her tongue to the best of her ability. “Good girl!” Harry Potts said, sounding like he was training one of his performing animals.
Then it happened. It took her by surprise. Just as she’d been at pains not to show signs of impending orgasm, Harry gave no indication that he was about to cum. He just was, suddenly; his short, fat cock offloading in her mouth. She swallowed quickly, feeling aggrieved that a bastard like Harry Potts could produce such a vast amount. She felt every last drop of it as it slid down her throat on its way to join the other loads in her belly.
Relief washed over her as Harry finally pulled back and she was alone in the box, with no hands, no male organs. But relief only lasted a moment, then the magician’s voice caused her blood to freeze.
“Give my regards to Frankie boy.”
Shit! The bastard had known all along. She’d let these odious pricks have their way with her to save a mission that was compromised to begin with. She immediately formed a good idea of who and how.
“If you ever need a job, I’m sure you look fantastic in a bikini. You’ve already passed the audition. You make one hell of a slut-in-the-box.”
There was laughter, mortifying laughter. Even as she heard the men troop off, Scarlet was pulling wet wipes from her cargo pants. She always travelled well prepared for any eventuality. Cleaning herself off as best she could, she told herself to get a grip. She may have been rumbled, but she still had information to report back to Francisco, even if it wasn’t the information she’d hoped to find.
She pulled on her clothes and tried the door. It remained obdurate. Once again, Scarlet worked her fingers all over the box, searching for the hidden catch that had to be there, the mechanism that would liberate her.
Twenty minutes later, she sat with her head in her hands. Her pride had taken a severe beating. How the hell could she have failed so monumentally at her task? More importantly, was she being kept here for the purpose of providing yet more pleasure? Well, if that was what it took to get out of here…
Then there was a soft click, and the door swung open as if by magic.
Jane
- 19.04.2022
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- Reluctance
