Mixed fight with magical skills, 140 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), partially CFNM, no blood.

“This act is naff,” the magician’s glamorous assistant complained to him.

“Oh, really?” he replied sarcastically, “pray do tell me what’s wrong with it.”

“Well, you call it ‘Magic Moments’ and you introduce it with Perry Como singing that song. Okay, that’s nice enough, but the audience would be expecting the appearance of a suave man, say in dinner jacket with bow tie. Instead, they get a clap of thunder (which is me, rattling a sheet of metal offstage), a flash of lightning, and you appear as a cross between Batman and a surfer. Then you call yourself Merlin.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he protested, “Everyone knows he was the wizard from the Tales of King Arthur.”

“Yes, yes, but he wouldn’t be introduced by Perry-bloody-Como! On top of all that, you call me Guinevere.”

“Why not? She’s from the Legend, too.”

“Yes, but she was the Queen, King Arthur’s wife. She would have looked down her nose at Merlin. And she certainly wouldn’t be flashing smiles at the audience, giving them an occasional glimpse of leg and cleavage.

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let me have a 10-minute solo spell - no pun intended – within the act.”

“Yes, but if I’m the wizard, what are you going to come on as? The witch?”

“Yeah, that’s a point. But I know all the stuff. I can con an audience just as well as you.”

“I don’t ‘con an audience’, as you put it,” Merlin replied loftily. “I provide them with an illusion –”

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, making him jump. “I can be Louise the Illusionist!”

“Never,” he insisted.

“Go on, let me have a go. I’ve learnt loads of tricks and I’d love a try. They’re just as good as your tricks. I tell you what. Let’s have a magic battle on the beach. If I win, Louise the Illusionist will get 10 minutes as her own act. If you win, it carries on the same.”

“Agreed.”

*****

Merlin grudgingly acknowledged to himself that Louise may be a nagging busybody, but she was the most glamorous of glamorous assistants. Standing there in her stiletto- heeled boots and her glossy silver-grey leotard, he could see why it was her looks rather than his “magic” that enthralled audiences. Her large bosom wobbled very slightly every time she made a move (which you can be sure she did), as did her wonderfully curved bottom. It was just a pity she was so argumentative. Very well, my dear, try your arguments out on this …

A pink cloud, with the strength of a gale, nearly knocked her over. But she steadied, it disintegrated, and she responded with pink streamers, which turned into blue hoops. Merlin tried to ward them off, but they coiled themselves around his outstretched arms. Inside subsequent hoops there were patterns which thumped his hands.

The trick had him on the back foot – literally – but as soon as it dissolved, he sent streaks of static electricity, which resembled forked lightning, to her. Her shiny boots and leotard seemed to conduct the electricity, and she was engulfed in hundreds of little shocks. She thought the hideous crackling would never end.

When it did, and with her body still stinging from it all, Merlin hurled a firebomb at her (which turned out to be cold and damp). But she fell for the illusion and expected to be horribly burnt, only to end up feeling as if she had caught some spray from an incoming wave.

In return, she fired a wiry, twisting rod at him. It zigzagged around his legs then up his body. Its spinning made him feel dizzy and disorientated him, even though he had not been going round with it. Such is the power of make believe.

Louise leapt into the air, perhaps to deliver another torment at him. But we’ll never know, because she was met with an array of streamers, that resembled those fired from party poppers. They entangled themselves around her, so that she fell backwards onto the sand after landing from her jump – even though they had gone by that time.

Instead, she looked up to see Merlin holding some fireball in his right hand. He waited for her to get up, then hurled it at her. She expected to be hit by a burning thing the size of a football; instead flames licked at her. Indeed, they had rather the feel of being licked by a dog to the skin, yet she still felt burnt.

Merlin definitely had the advantage at the moment, and it was time for Louise to unleash what she considered to be her most powerful trick. She kicked the sand, and he was engulfed in clammy, sticky black ink, whose force knocked him over. When it evaporated, it left no trace of itself on him – just took his clothes with it.

“Oops,” conceded Louise, “that was supposed to make your hair fall out. I think I need to practice that one a bit more.”

“Where are my fucking clothes?” an indignant Merlin demanded.

“How should I know?” she answered back. There was nothing in the instructions about knowing where to find your hair so I could stick it back on, so why would I know where your clothes have gone? It’s bloody good as it is, though!” she finished gloatingly, relishing the fact that Merlin was naked on his back, while she stood over him like a triumphant Amazon.

This was the moment the “magic battle” went up a level. Previously, the tricks had had no lasting physical effect on the person targeted; now it was a case of “Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it …”

While Louise was prematurely celebrating victory, and with Merlin still supine, he jerked his hand and she appeared to be swallowed up by smoke. When this dissipated, she was in some bubble. While she was still working out how to burst it, Merlin appeared to dive through a burning disk before disappearing.

She hit on the 2-foot laser trick to burst the bubble. (The 2-foot laser was controversial in the theatre because, while it was a fire risk, it could thrill an audience by vanishing any object within 2 feet of it being fired.) The bubble disappeared as quickly as a child’s blown from a cheap bottle of bubble mix, and Louise dived through Merlin’s burning disk.

She emerged into some dream-like avenue of columns, such as the Greeks or the Romans would have built. She walked along it, failing to see Merlin who was hiding behind one of the columns. When she was a few steps in front of him, he “zapped” her with a stunner and she was briefly paralysed, before dropping down to the floor.

The stunner was a powerful trick, and it temporarily drained her of all strength. Merlin was delighted. He was still angry about losing his clothes and didn’t believe her story that it was a mistake. Now it was payback time! He towered over her, gloating, and she leaned back against the floor on her elbows, playing for time for her strength to return.

“I’ll tell you what’s really magical about you,” he leered down at her, “your arse, and I’m going to grab myself two lovely handfuls of it before I – ah, SHIT!”

“You forgot about my magical foot, and the awful curse it can hurl at your balls,” Louise answered, while an elegant, polished stiletto-heeled lady’s boot did such damage to his naked manhood.

She got up, having recovered from the stunner. Their positions were reversed, and she now stood over him, relishing the superiority just as much as he had done.

“Well, come on, what’s the matter?” she jeered. “Has the great Merlin met his match?”

“Never!” he jumped up and enveloped her in a yellow-green smoke. Like the pink cloud earlier, it had the force of a gale and forced her body backwards (while temporarily making her look yellow-green).

When it evaporated, Louise kept him at bay with some sticky green substance. He knew it would glue itself to him and last for days once it made contact with him, so he kept well back until it disappeared. Then he fired choking, dark smoke at her. She leapt high over it, deliberately landing around his neck in a flying head scissor. In truth, she had run out of manufactured, gimmicky tricks and it was time to turn to the tried and tested natural ones.

Merlin staggered and stumbled with this weight around his neck. She caught the muffled words, “Not fair” from him as he tottered about. “Not fair”, after what he had been about to do to her without her consent? (Of course, he would say she “started it” by making his clothes vanish.)

Merlin wasn’t a wrestler, and he did very well to stay upright for so a long time. But she brought him down by swinging irregularly, going one way when she made him expect the other. He landed painfully on his back with Louise above him, her thighs latched around his neck in a classic head scissor.

Merlin had never endured a head scissor before. He considered all forms of fighting to be clumsy, savage stuff, not the sort of thing an inventive, sophisticated conjurer would lower himself to. Mind you, if anyone had given him the idea of a sexy woman clamping her thighs around his neck, his perverted mind would have jumped at the chance. Oh yes, the idea was heavenly! A woman’s strong, tapering thighs trapping his head between them would have given him many a fantasy.

But in practice, when it meant you were choking and struggling to breathe, the sexual allure evaporated as quickly as one of those tricks they had just been hurling at each other. So, although his eyes were fixed along her flat stomach towards the twin delights of her breasts, the sight gave him no pleasure because he felt he was being strangled. Their duel had certainly gone up another level.

Louise sat on his face, holding his wrists, and looked down at him. “So, a 10-minute solo appearance, then?” she demanded.

“This was a supposed to be a magic contest, not a fight!” Merlin protested.

“Yes, well it’s become a fight. One that you’ve lost,” she crowed.

“A 10-minute appearance, then?” she repeated, “then I’ll let you go.”

“Okay,” Merlin conceded.

“Yesssssss!” Louise celebrated while still sitting on his face.

She stood up, and remembering how he had recently been about to ravish her, made him lick her boot. In the space of about 20 minutes, the glamorous assistant had turned into the dominatrix - and she relished it!