You're Taken Into the Wings

The women direct you insistently back towards the stage, up a flight of creaking metal stairs and onto a small catwalk. You _mmph _quizzically, the ball gag doesn't allow for much else, but the women carry on with their work silently.

One of the women attaches thick padded manacles tightly around your ankles, while the other gives a signal to a shadowy figure below, near a wide plate of levers, ropes, chains and pulleys. When the figure pulls one of the levers, the chain attached to your ankle restraints slowly recedes into the darkness above you.

Never a fan of heights, you struggle instinctively as the tightening chain lifts you into the air by your feet, and the two women maneuver you carefully over the catwalk railing. Their job completed, they return down the stairs and out of view.

The chain halts with a clank, leaving you hanging upside down, near the tall ceiling. You strain for a moment against the incredibly tight strait jacket, but the effort sends you swaying slightly, making you a little nauseous. Besides that, if you managed to struggle free from the manacles, you'd just come crashing down on the stage!

The curtain raises slowly as you're gently lowered down into view. The audience, hidden in the darkness of the theater, cheers and hollers as the stogie-smoking imp steps into a spotlight.

"Ladies and Gentleman," the imp bellows, "prepare yourselves for the thrilling, reality-warping, escapades of the Fun House's premiere amateur escapologist, Piper the Magnificent!"

Turning slowly, only a couple of feet above the stage now, you squint against the lights, and attempt to smile for the audience, but it just frees some of the spit from behind the big black gag. You're a little embarrassed as it runs slowly down your face and a few creatures in the audience chuckle.

The imp continues: "Piper will amaze you, by effortlessly escaping this impossible bondage in no more than 10 minutes ... or else!" You mewl anxiously at that last part.

The imp steps behind you, momentarily out of view. Still turning slowly, a number of hoots and whistles go up as your pale, thong-framed bubble butt comes into the audience's view and a large, candy-colored wheel comes into yours, the beaming imp beside it. The face of the wheel is broken into a multitude of radial segments, with writing on each. Your eyes go wide with terror as you read the segments:

"_Tickle ****, **** Raffle, Footjob, Spank-a-Rama, __Face Fuck?!!" _are just _some _of the unpleasant things emblazoned on the wheel! You start struggling like crazy, **** to escape the jacket.

"Oh! It looks like he's ready," the imp announces. "Start the timer!" He grabs the massive wheel with both hands and gives it a mighty spin ...