The dice falls, spins, rolls and rests. A five.

A five shows I have to go and get Jillian and do what I have to. It could have so easily been a three, but it bounced strange as I dropped the cube. I saw a three flash for a moment but it landed with five facing up.

That's fate. That's what the gods of the cube decided.

And the rules of the gods are simple. How it lands is what happens - though Jillian will never know how close it was to being one of the others. Three? Oh yes, Diana. She'll never know that it might have been her. Until of course I roll a three.

As I go over to where Jillian lives I think, as I often do, that these girls don't even know they are on the cube. So they won't know that their number came up. They don't even know I rolled the cube tonight. They wouldn't understand the alignment of signs that told me to roll the cube.

Of course there will have to be a new number five after this. Perhaps ten year-old Theresa will slot in. She was going to be last month's number two - after Lindy - but I gave that to Brady. Such power! Such responsibility for a thirteen year old!

I ring the bell at Jillian's house. Her mother answers it, invites me in unhesitatingly. Would she do that if she knew why I was here? Would she do that if she knew a five had fallen?

Not any other number. Not a three, for then I would be at another house and another child, but a five. Her daughter's number. The number I gave to Jillian Comisky.

The woman is surprised to have a caller at this time and, as she has no personal timepiece, glances at the clock on the wall to tell her it is almost nine. 'My, such a late hour,' she comments but does not refuse me entry.

I am polite of course, as a thirteen year old girl should be to relative strangers. Jillian's father, sat before the flickering image box, asks me what I'm doing out so late. He glances at his watch, pondering why I visit with his daughter at this hour. Mr Comisky isn't angry or suspicious, only casual. Trying, I guess, to be friendly in his own way. But he has signs of weakness, which I will use.

However I hesitate to answer, unsure of the time it is. Without knowing it is late - you understand a magician like me cannot have a timepiece on her person, as time is beyond me - I don't know what to say.

Yes I do know what to say, I realize. 'My mom said I could come over. Providing I'm quick.' Yes, I'll be as quick as I can, I promise myself.

'Mr Comisky,' I say, stepping towards him. 'My mom gave me this. I flash the medallion at him, letting it glint in the artificial light from the flickering image box he has been staring at. Waves of power mixing, the negative of the box, the positive of the energy sealed in the medallion. I am so fortunate, to be in an age of uncontrolled energies that I can harvest. It was so much harder before unrestrained electromagnetic waves filled the world.

'Uh, it's very nice, um...' He struggles to remember my name. But then he doesn't know it. He just accepts I am Jillian's friend at that's enough. I can see his eyes staring at my medallion, or more correctly at my emerging breasts. Larger than his daughter's. I know - by his unconscious signals - that he sneaks a look at her body when she is in the bath, so he can see her small bumps, her faintly haired sex. He masturbates over the idea of taking his daughter sexually, perhaps even tied down so he can take his time. He doesn't see any shared pleasures from sex.

That always amuses me in this time, that so many families do not understand the joys of incest. A crime in this era? How foolish of them. But I am not here to educate them. I am here to do something to their daughter, on behalf of the gods of the cube.

You do not know that gods control the cube? You do not know we are governed, directed by the roll of a dice? Ah, that is a destiny which even we magicians cannot avoid.

Mr Comisky has his eyes very much fixed on my emerging bust. I even make them swell a little by moving my shoulders back, arching my back to make them profile better. It has, of course, been like this for the past 320 years. Or perhaps 330... it does not matter. I am, as most magicians are, a creation of the art of timeholding. I chose thirteen as it is the age when most sexual urges surface, both in children and in adults watching them.

The tender age of curious innocence and sexual urges.

Mr Comisky, who masturbates over thoughts of his daughter tied to a bed with her legs apart and unable to stop him having sex, has urges that need to be indulged. Well, anything can be arranged. As they say, be careful what you wish for.

'Mr Comisky,' I say as I have his full attention. I say the commands, which I will not tell you here. Think of the mayhem and fun you could have if you knew the seventeen words of command!

He stares at me and shows me he understands. For a moment, I lift my skirt and show him I wear no pants. His jaw drops in amazement, but he cannot lunge at me. I laugh gently.

Jillian, diverted from her homework, skips down the stairs, just as I finish with her father. She looks glad of the interruption to her work, though she has that residual glow from watching television while she was supposed to be studying for her history test. Ah, history! I could tell her what really happened at Valley Forge when I was there, but she wouldn't listen. It isn't in the books that way.

She smiles at me, as most of them do, but I guess she doesn't know me that well. I'm just another kid in her class. A friend, she calls me. But all youngsters these days so easily use the word friend. They really should be more careful.

But she will know me, soon enough. This one, my five, will know what I am. What I want.

I take her hand, hold Jillian's hand lightly. Touching really, this touch of mine. It isn't affection - as every magician knows. It is to seal the contact. Draw them in. Tiehand, one of the elders called it. How true! I smile at the child's parents, wondering why they spend the time they do in front of that flickering box picture, making their brains align with the nameless pulses. The Nonsens we call them.

I cannot understand this age. Or rather the people of this age. They live warm, comfortable, mostly healthy. No plague. No starvation. But no enquiring minds, no ambition to be better. When I was younger you had to keep an enquiring mind, when you weren't trying to stay alive. But now, they just don't know -

Let me stop there. I've made these points before and no one listens. I'm told I should be glad that they are so taken with the Nonsens, those mind-reducing pulses that fill their lives. Ah, if only they knew, but they don't. However it makes my task easier, their daughters more pliable. Useable.

I take Jillian and lead her out into the cool night air, not letting go of her hand. She looks at me. Innocent, wide eyed. She is smaller than me by a couple of inches, but then I am not really 13. More like 483. But who's counting, as they say these in these days?

'I like you Jilly,' I say.

Jillian blushes, not just because I use her family pet name for her, but that I should be so open. But then, in her mind I see an urge for lesbian contact with other girls. Not because she is completely so, but because she wants to explore other female bodies to compare them to herself. And as I say, my bust is larger, more enticing than her best friend Tina. Tiny Tina, the boys will tease her as the child's bust refuses to develop. Of course I could help her... if she asked nicely.

But Jilly is my task tonight.

'Where are we going?' my friend asks. I have not let go of her hand as it is soft and warm, and I like to feel possessive.

'To a quiet place,' I say honestly, 'where I can tie you up and your father will rape you.'

Jilly stops and stares at me. They always do this: like they almost can't believe it. 'W-will I be alright?' she asks.

'Apart from being bound, whipped, gagged and ultimately pregnant, I would think so.' I laugh gently. 'Come, don't be frightened. In my experience you will enjoy it.'

Jillian blinks nervously. For a mere second she looks as if she might retreat, that the spell hasn't worked. But it does. Almost as if the child is not clever enough to absorb so much so quickly. Ah yes, another problem of these times: children used to be so much quicker in accepting their fate.

We walk along the street. I am still holding Jilly's hand, and she is gripping it tightly. Possibly through nerves, or excitement. Or the thought of her father's cock spearing her.

'Will you use me?' she asks.

Use you? I laugh. It is a delicious phrase, so rich in possibilities. 'Of course I will use you. And I know you want to play with my tits. Before your father arrives. So you can.'

'Promise?' asks Jilly.

'Promise,' I confirm, and give her soft warm hand a little squeeze of affection.

Before long we arrive at the place this will happen. An abandoned industrial building, quiet and cold and dank. I lead the child in, allowing her stumble over discarded items. She does not have the night-vision I have and it amuses me when she falls and clutches her leg. Even in this light I can see the gleam of blood on her shin.

'It hurts,' she wails, sniffing back the tears.

'Yes,' I agree. 'But we have to get you stripped and bound.'

I help Jilly up and lead her to the place where there is an old mattress. It smells of human piss but it will be fine for the child. At my direction she removes her clothes, shivering as she does so.

'Aren't you going to undress?' Jilly asks as she stands in just her pants. Pale lemon, with white lace. Cute, though the lace is a poor machine imitation of what I used to see on the countesses and princesses of Europe some 200 years ago. Now that was lace.

'Only my top, when you are naked,' I tell her. Jilly nods and sheds her pants. 'I will need those, to gag you with,' I tell her. 'Please put them on the floor by the mattress.'

The girl does as she is told. Abruptly she asks: 'My father, when he gets here. Will he want to tie me up?'

'Probably. But I was going to save him the time and trouble. He will do it to you at home later. Many times.'

The girl nods, absorbing the information. 'You said something about me being whipped.'

'Yes. A whipping will do you good. Your father will whip your belly and thighs and tits, small though they are.' I nod at them, indicating that I have seen her small mounds and measured them. 'But I will whip your back and rear. Your butt as you call it.'

Jilly looks unhappy. She clings to herself, like it will save her. 'I've never been whipped before,' she says quietly.

'A first time for everything,' I tell her, selecting a length of old rope from the pile by the mattress. I put several knots in it and she watches me. Then I say to her: 'Once whipped, you will crave it more.'

'But it will hurt.'

'Yes. And you will like to be hurt. It is what I want for you.'

There. I said it. What I want. I could pretend this was some game of chance, or destiny. But it is all my desire.

'How do I stand, when you whip me?' asks the girl. She has turned her bare, pale back to me. I can see her spine, her ribs and clearly, her perfect little butt.

'As you are. Arms up, hands on your head. You will not break position as I whip you.'

'Will I scream?' The girl asks over her shoulder, the little light catching her wide eyes. Terror? Curiosity? Excitement? Who knows...

Well, I do. It is all three, I know. The excitement will, as pleasure, consume her but she will never lose that grip of terror. I imagine in several years time she will go looking for men to whip her. Or women, if she wants to trade her nakedness and helplessness for examining their breasts. I believe she will be attracted to those women whose size is 44DD or larger. Cushioning, fondling and caressing their large boobs as someone - another woman or the woman's husband - lashes her back.

She will even suck their nipples as the lash bites. Gently, so as not to alarm the woman she is pleasuring with her tongue.

Jilly is standing as I wish and I remove my top. She watches, over her shoulder, trying to see as much as she can. I slip out of my bra and allow my firm, well rounded tits hang free. With the knotted rope I will use to beat Jilly, I caress them, making my nipples hard. So she can see they are on offer, for a limited time.

'Look away and bite your lip,' I tell her. I don't mind her screaming, but it will be good to see her bite her lip and blood on her chin. I also know that will help arouse her father when he arrives. Mr Comisky has a thing for vampires, watching that strange "Buffy" television series. He will think his daughter is some savage creature, to be used and punished.

I stand on the balls of my feet, perfectly balanced. With a firm swing of my arm - through much practice - I land the first blow on Jilly's back. A mark appears instantly between her shoulder blades. She half screams, a muted loud gasp as she feels for the first time what it is like to be struck like this. She will know it well, in the years ahead. But it is the shock of the first that always I enjoy, their almost stunned reaction.

As I usually do I lower my hand. 'That is the first of twelve. Would you like me to do this quickly, or slowly?'

'I d-don't know,' she confesses between sobs. 'My f-father... y-you said he was coming. W-will it be... s-soon?'

'Soon enough. But we have time to draw this out or get it over with quickly.'

'P-please, what do you advise?'

'It depends on how I feel. I may want to make you suffer slowly.'

Jilly nods. She knows she has no say in this.

'But I will do it quickly, and then you can feel my tits.' I smile. She is eager for me, I know.

'T-thankyou,' she says and bites her lip again. Hard.

I complete the rest of her alloted total inside two minutes. I have whipped people faster, and slower. Tonight I feel she will enjoy it more if it is quicker, and when I finish her beating I can see her back is vivid with whip marks, larger bruises where the knots have hit her tender skin. I tell her turn and face me, so I can see her tears and the blood trickling down her chin.

'There, that wasn't so bad, was it?' I lift the knotted rope and use it to caress her tender mounds now, and she shivers.

Jilly is confused and unsure what to say as the rope rubs her small but hard nipples. She struggles with her feelings, her pain. I put the knotted rope to her cunt and rub it there, on the lips of her sex. She gasps and eases her legs apart.

I stop and she looks at me startled. 'No, Jillian, pleasure from a whip comes from its pain. You do not need to have a whip excite you like that.'

Blinking away the tears the child nods. 'My back hurts,' she says.

'Yes. I meant it to. Your father will want to whip you harder. You will be gagged when he does so.'

Jilly looks lost but nods. 'May I take my hands off my head?'

'Of course. You may feel my breasts.' I toss the knotted rope down where her father will find it.

Jilly steps to me, her hands out. She touches my firm tits and recoils slightly. Not because they aren't beautiful - they are - but because even though she may have dreamed of this moment the reality is a shock. I invite her to feel me again, and she does, uncertain but with growing confidence. her hands roam my breasts, cautiously at first and then eagerly.

She asks if she can kiss me as she plays with my bust but I shake my head. I want to tell her that in later life she will be kissing many females as she toys with them, but now is not the time to either kiss me or learn of her future. I stop her handling me after a few minutes.

'Your father will be here soon to rape you,' I say. 'So we must get you bound on the mattress.'

Jilly accepts it and lies down on the bed, following my instructions to spread her arms and legs wide. She looks so fragile and vulnerable, lying on the stinking mattress. She has a slight body and gravity renders what little breast shape she has flat. She lies unmoving, both wondering what I am going to do and wondering how she will be after her father finds her.

I pick up some rope and kneel down to tie her wrists to an iron bolt head in the floor nearby. 'Will my dad hurt me?' she asks apprehensively.

'I would think so. You are his daughter, but he has a lust for you.' I glance at the faint fuzz of hair round her open sex and smile. If he had masturbated so eagerly over the idea of seeing this, the reality will be too much for him. I know what most men want.

'I've never been raped before,' says the girl timidly. 'What will it be like?'

I busy myself tying down her other wrist. 'It will be brutal. He will reveal his erection and lie on you quickly, which will make you feel as if you are being crushed. He is a heavy man,' I say in a matter-of-fact voice. 'Then he will plunge himself into you without preparation or your stimulus. You will have no juices flowing, so you will be dry. It will hurt you, to be so fucked, which is why I will gag you. It helps.' I smile at her and she bravely tries to smile back.

Jilly thanks me. I continue as I attend to her ankles, tying them in turn to more iron work in the floor. 'Unfortunately, like most fathers who rape their daughters, he will be consumed with a guilt. He will blame you, and seize the knotted rope to beat you.' I pause and study her anxious face. 'Again the gag will help, but he will seek to savage your breasts and hips. Your belly, as he fears you will be pregnant.'

'Will I be?'

'I will not say,' I tell her with a smile. 'A short while ago your father was, I believe, masturbating over some photos of you as a child. Before he climaxed, your mother called him to go out and look for you. He will soon find his way here and will still be somewhat aroused. His cock will be very hard, as soon as he sees you spread wide like this.' I reach up and stroke Jilly's soft hair and then I pick up discarded pants and roll them into a ball. I hold them over her face before I continue: 'He will rape you Jilly and then beat you with the rope. He will see the blood on your face, from where you bit yourself, and be aroused.'

The girl nods her understanding at what will happen. She opens for me to stuff her pants into her mouth. I have some adhesive tape nearby and I seal her mouth. I kiss her gagged lips gently and tell her she is ready. Ready to be hurt.

I get up and walk into the shadows, from where I can observe Jilly's father arrive and use his daughter. I watch the child lying spread open, waiting. The cool night air hardens her nipples, sends shivers through her.

In a few minutes the man arrives, flustered and frustrated. He sees his daughter almost at once and, giving a quick look round to determine he is not being watched (he is, but is unaware of me) barely hesitates to remove his pants and free his dick. He climbs on the child, who groans into her gag at the weight of the man. Mr Comisky fucks his daughter hard, brutally, adding to her discomfort by calling her a whore and a slut.

He comes quickly, as all aroused men do like this, and climbs off his daughter. She is crying and there is blood between her legs, mixing with his semen seeping out of the child's vagina. I watch as the man experiences guilt and anger and pick up the knotted rope. He proceeds, as I predicted, to beat his already hurt daughter, whipping her belly, small tits and her thighs. he even lands one or two blows against the child's sore cunt, making her scream into her gag.

Tears roll from Jilly's eyes to the already damp mattress she is bound on. Tears, blood, semen... all it would take now was the man to piss on her to fully initiate the child into her future of raw sex and bondage.

Bondage. The word always makes me smile. Years ago it didn't have a name like that. It was binding. I bind, she is bound, they have bonds. Or in many places, it had no name because it wasn't special. it was just done, as part of sex. Many a young female across the world expected to be bound when fucked, beaten when pleasured.

I watch a little longer, knowing the man plans to pull her gag out and introduce the child to having a penis in her mouth, discover the taste of the man's seed. I smile, and slip away through the shadows. Behind me, I hear him say that he loves her and she must forgive him.

She will, on pain of more tortures. That is why I believe she will be driven to seek consolation in large breasted women. Women, she will reason are kind, men cruel. She will believe this even when a women chooses to beat her, or bind her painfully. Jilly will see it as love.

In a short while the man will rape his daughter again, beat her once more, console her before releasing her. It gives me a little time to get to Jillian's house, before Mr Comisky and his daughter arrive home.

The house is peaceful, for now. I knock and Mrs Comisky answers, relieved to see me as if she trusts me. I step inside, and decide I will have her hurt her son, who sits on the stairs watching me. Not knowing. The nine year old has a dice in his hand, from a game. He drops it and it bounces down the stairs to land at my feet.

I hold my breath as I see it spinning, falling, the light glancing off its facets. It lands and rolls and rests by my foot.

The face shows a six.

I look at Mrs Comisky and she smiles. I know in this moment that I was naive, for all my experience, all my hundreds of years doing what I want to girls and women, even boys.

She smiles with that look that tells me she too worships the gods of the cube. I nod, for she knows what I know. More, because she is greater than me.

It will not be the boy on the stairs who will be bound and beaten and fucked, as I had planned.

It is me who will suffer. I put my hands behind my back, cursing within that I did not notice before she wears an amulet inscribed with six faces of a dice. And of course, she wore no timepiece when I called and does not now.

The boy, watching, asks: 'Can I fuck her ass after you, mommy?'

'Yes,' says the magician mother. 'But we will bind her and beat her first. Your father will want to enjoy her too, in all three holes. Now that this one has shown him the way he must act in future.'

I look at Mrs Comisky, noting her breasts are much larger than I recalled before, that she has that aura of centuries. 'May I ask, will Jilly bind and torture me as well?'

The magician mother laughs. 'No. Jilly and you will be our playthings. Toys. Bound together. The dice says it is so and we always obey the law of six, however the cube falls.'

I nod as she removes my medallion, saying I will not need it now, and I open for the gag she will have me wear.

Until the dice says otherwise.