WARNING! The following story contains explicit depictions of sexual acts. It may also describe non-consensual activity or other illegal activities. If you are under-age, offended by such material or if this kind of material is illegal where you live then DO NOT READ THIS!! julian975@yahoo.com /~julian ==== Elevator (F/?, magic) Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 1996-2000 All rights reserved. The doors of the elevator slid noiselessly shut, sealing Shelly within her own private mirrored chamber - one that would carry her gently down twenty-three floors. The trip took seventeen seconds exactly if it did not need to stop. As it began to move she listened carefully to the faint swish of air rushing past, willing the elevator to keep going. At the end of a hectic day, with over an hours travel by public transport ahead of her, this ride was a greatly coveted moment of solitude. Leaning back against the mirrored wall she watched the floor indicator with apprehension. Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen. Her hopes were growing. Then... a subtle change in speed... a perceptible slowing. She sighed inwardly at the thought of losing her privacy. Though it only lasted a very short time, it was all the more precious because of it. It slowed further and stopped. "Funny," she thought idly, realising that the floor indicator was not showing a number. She waited for the doors to open and reveal the usual collection of business suits but seconds passed and the doors did not open. "Hmmm, not funny," she thought. Shelly waited. And waited. She tried the open button. Nothing. She tried several of the floor buttons, even the alarm button. Still nothing. She leaned against the back wall with a nervous sigh and considered panic as a possible option. "Of course, the phone," she thought, mentally kicking herself. At that same moment she was distracted by something brushing the front of her blouse. It was subtle like a leaf falling and acting purely on reflex she moved to brush it away. Suddenly her wrist was caught in a powerful grip. She stared in disbelief at her own arm, yet in spite of the undeniable pressure there was nothing and no one there to cause it. Before she had time to truly comprehend this, her wrist was pushed back against the mirrored wall. Confused and near panic, Shelly reached for the phone with her free hand only to have the same thing happen again. She now had both arms pinned against the wall. She stood motionless against the back wall of the elevator, staring at her reflection in the mirrored doors. She looked silly - wide eyed in shock with her arms held back and her feet planted wide for balance. She didn't feel very much like laughing however. She felt more hands, this time closing firmly around her ankles to completely immobilise her. She thought about screaming for help, but if someone answered her, what would she say? There was a touch at the front of her blouse. She looked down, watching with detached fascination as the top button magically undid itself. The thin material of her blouse was tugged lightly apart until it strained at the next button. The process then repeated itself, button after button, until her blouse was gaping open, though still tucked in. Shelly observed herself from different angles in the various mirrors. She had to admit that she no longer looked silly. Her breasts, encased in their small lace bra, rose and fell with her breathing. It was actually quite a sexy sight, though she was a little dismayed to feel her nipples hardening beneath the white lace. As if cued by her thoughts, invisible hands began to stroke her covered breasts. Before long other hands began to caress her legs, slowly making their way upwards to the hem of her skirt. Shelly's gasps and sighs echoed in the confined space as countless more hands moved in to join the others. She was soon overwhelmed by the many sensations as they stroked her beneath her arms, over her calves, along her inner thighs, and circled her nipples. She cried out in guilty pleasure as a hand moved up to caress her through her thin lace panties. Suddenly her eyes flew open wide in disbelief, though it was not as a result of the unseen hands. The elevator had started to move again! It was slower than normal but it was definitely moving. Even the floor indicator had started to work again. Shelly struggled in panic but her wrists and ankles were still held firmly. The other hands relentlessly followed her writhing body, cupping and squeezing and stroking. She had become so incredibly aroused that she wasn't quite sure what frightened her more. Was it the thought that the hands would not stop before the doors finally opened, or that they would stop? She stared in horror at the floor indicator as the elevator steadily descended. Twelve, eleven, ten. A finger slipped under the elastic of her panties and pulled the material aside. Nine, eight. Other fingers began to stroke the lips of her sex, avoiding her clitoris. Seven, six, five. Her nipples were firmly squeezed and rolled, whilst below, fingers delicately separated her labia and softly explored her wetness. Four, three, two. Shelly was almost hysterical, bordering on the fringe of a climax that she both feared and craved. One. Simultaneously, two fingers were forced inside her as others finally stroked her clitoris. Ground. Shelly cried out and thrashed as she experienced the most intense orgasm of her life. The bell rang clearly, the elevator slowed to a stop, and suddenly the hands released her. Shelly opened her eyes and caught a last glimpse of herself as the mirrored doors opened. She was flushed and panting, her blouse open and her hair sticking to her brow, as she trembled and gasped in the throes of a beautiful orgasm. ==== Copyright (c) Julian Renard, 1996 All rights reserved. Permission is granted for this work to be archived or redistributed in electronic form as long as this notice is included and no modifications whatsoever are made. It may not be distributed in printed form or for profit without the author's prior written consent. julian975@yahoo.com /~julian