Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in.  Not at all.  That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem.  Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right.  This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was.  He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had!  He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins.  Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it.

Clark was a quintessential “A-Type” personality; cocky, self-will driven to the MAX, and only at home within his own skin when there was an imminent disaster, or some righteous indignation of some sort brewing in his head.  It showed in his youthfully handsome face too, as the only facial lines set between his eyes from furrowing his brows nearly nonstop his entire life.  At 220 pounds, and with his muscular frame , full head of light brown hair and boyish good looks, he looked like he could have been the high school quarterback-turned business man in his late 30’s.  In fact; Clark was 45.  At his moment, however, he looked his age due to the anger he was experiencing.  He was PISSED to the max.  Pissed that the woman whose unique services he had hired and PAID to teach him aplomb in how to handle life’s peaks and valleys was a charlatan, in his opinion.  His EXPERT opinion.  His all-knowing opinion.  The ONLY opinion that mattered – to him.

“Hypnotic siren my ASS!”  Clark growled aloud as he sat alone in his business study/den at his home in Miami, Florida.  His “lair,” where he like to dream up all of his assaults on the world, his enemies, those who wouldn’t do what the Hell he SAID, and exactly HOW he wanted the to do it!  His hazel/green eyes flashed as he read the letter from the woman he had me on-line through her web site ad, and whom he had contracted in an effort to use hypnosis in an attempt to curb his adrenaline-inspired way of looking at, and dealing with, life.  He had undergone her on-line recording to the world of hypnotic “therapy” (which was not particularly in expensive), and had undergone several telephone sessions with the “Goddess Marquesa” woman.  All he felt he had gleaned from this expensive foray into the world of “Hypnotic Doms” was an uneasy feeling that he needed… wanted… HAD to have something more, but could not for the life of him ascertain what that something was.  So, as the controlling male spirit he was, he had DEMANDED a full and immediate refund of his money from Mistress Marquesa, Goddess Marquesa, or by God he would SUE her pretty, sexy little ass!

Mistress Marquesa was much more than pretty, with her riveting and deeply compelling green eyes – eyes that many a man had lost his soul looking into, and her beautiful blonde hair, which was itself unusual for a “Fem-Dom,” since most sport dark “power” tresses.  Then, too, was her femininely lithe and curvaceous figure; a figure that was featured, on any given night, in millions of men’s dreams!  Their romantic drams.  Their lustful dreams.  Their WET dreams!  Still, with all these glorious female attributes,  it was Still he sweetly, powerfully feminine voice combined with her magnificently complex man-manipulating skill of mind control which were her real stock and trade,  It was that very trade which Clark had decided to end when he determined that he wasn’t at all satisfied with the speed and progress with which Goddess Marquesa was performing his mental reshaping.  She had just responded to his demand for a refund in what was her usual brief and concise manner; an email that merely informed Clark that he could have his investment back… but only if she was to deliver it to him in person, and it would be HIM that would have to come to HER!

Clark banged the keys on his computer with five more times more force than was required to execute the response to her letter.  “Dear Ms Tress,” he began, mocking her title and taking a jab at her beautiful blonde hair, which she had previously told him she would alternatively wear up in a bun or down on her shoulders.  “I plan to be on the East Coast of Florida this coming week, and I will ABSOLUTELY stop in to see you while I am there.  I expect a date and time from you promptly, informing me of what day and what time I may pick up my money, in full, which I have invested in YOUR fruitless program of personality alteration through hypnosis.”  With this “Nastygram” done, Clark thought for a moment and then decided, “Marquesa needs a heavy hand to keep her conception of reality… realistic!”  He grinned a mean smile, then clicked “send” on the overly harsh and sarcastic email.  It was a matter of a couple of days before he had his reply, which consisted of a date and a time they would meet, and The Goddess Marquesa’s home address.  Mistress Marquesa had curiously made no reference to the tone he had set in his “get tough” email, which one would think was rather unusual for a Fem-Dom who was quite unaccustomed to allowing men to speak to her in such a manner.  She actually even went on to suggest that they go out for drinks and dinner that evening as a consolation for her failure as his therapist!  “Fine, I’ll consider that…” growled Clark, “… if she’s buying!”  he mentally added with his best, “I sure showed her !” smile.  He reread her short reply and copied down the information she had given him as to their meeting place and time, and then shut down his computer.  “She sure too her sweet time,”  he thought as he prepared for his morning departure from M.I.A. for  P.I.E.

Part of Clark’s preparation was a trip to Dadeland Mall in Kendall that same afternoon.  Clark had a girlfriend out on the Gulf Coast, he remembered, and he decided to buy her a gift.  Parking his company car in front of Burdines, he strolled in and walked directly to the Christian Dior cosmetics counter, where he selected a gorgeous gold tube encased beautiful red lipstick from their exclusive “Dioriphic” line of makeup.  It was a $22 lipstick, but Clark didn’t give a thought to the high price or to not buying it.  Not for a moment.  He just wondered how he knew what would make the exact perfect gift for Mary, or had he just really lucked out and found what he vaguely knew he was looking for all along right away?  “No matter.”  He shrugged, and he left for home.

It was morning before he knew it, and the Super Shuttle put Clark at the airport fully an hour early, and in time for a cup of coffee and the morning Miami Herald.  He was still wearing that wry smile on his face he had first grinned when he had read Mistress Marquesa’s email detailing having dinner with him, as he boarded the commuter flight to Tampa.  He was going to enjoy making her squirm a bit, and admit that her “superiority” was but a ruse.  That men were, are, and always will be the masters of this world.  He even thought he would cram it down her throat (so to speak) that the hyper-anxious way that he approached living wasn’t really the problem he initially thought it was at all when he had first sought her help.  Maybe that was just the way men are, so that they can “stay on top of things.”  Everything.  It was the way THIS man was, anyway, and it was the way he was going to STAY damn it!

The public attacks he had lived with for so long returned and wiped that smile off his face about ten minutes into the flight.  It was terrible, and the feeling of anxiety;  that something was horribly wrong, was overwhelming.  Clark looked to his right from his window seat he had pirated away from its rightful owner, the woman who was now seated to the aisle side, and saw that she was napping.  Clark decided that he would probably feel better if he checked the condition of the little article he had bought at Burdines for Mary.  He had done that before and it had helped his anxiety then, and it seemed to have been instrumental in helping him drift off to sleep.  As a matter of fact, he had slept with the pretty little lipstick in his hand that night!  He removed the square gift box from his pocket and read the top of the box lid.  “013” was all it said for the color of the lipstick he had bought for his cyber-sweetie.  Clark removed the tube from the confines of its little box and nervously looked about again before admiring the beauty of the gold ribbed tube.  Its metallic blue stripes banded beautifully around the ridges at the center of the tube of a woman’s lip color, giving it a look of fine jewelry.  This sophistication was belied by the lipstick’s obscenely “sex-toy” shaped and appearing bulbous end caps of shiny gold.  Their perfect, super smooth, and semispherical shape looked like they were designed to especially massage a woman’s sex and even penetrate her!  It was terrifying for a man to buy, look at, or even hold such a feminine article, but Clark popped the cap even in the midst of his masculine-meets-feminine fright!   The red head of the lipstick beckoned him as he spied it hiding deep inside the tube, like the cervix-eye-view of a hard cock invading a woman’s vagina.  Putting the tube beneath his nose, Clark sniffed and inhaled the sweet scent of  the deliciously scented cosmetic.  “Ah, only a woman would think to be so sexy, so hot, so as to perfume her lips AND paint them this bright eye-catching red,” thought Clark, as the scent made him woozy and peaceful, and as he drifted off to sleep.  His cock throbbing noticeably, to anyone who happened to look, in his pants.

It seemed only moments had passed when Clark awoke to find himself over the beautiful central Gulf Coast of Florida.  The plane was getting ready to land, and he noticed with great embarrassment that the pretty stewardess who was leaning over they passenger he had argued out of her window seat was now looking at the lipstick he held in his hand!  She had stopped her prelanding checks of passenger’s seat belts and seat positions to tell him that the plane was going to land, and that he would need to upright his seat.  Having said this, Clark was mortified by the appearance of a rapidly spreading smile on her face.  “Is that a lipstick you are holding?  Why, it is simply LOVELY!  I’m sure that will make some young woman VERY happy!  It’s a gift… Isn’t it?”  she asked, with a very gregarious smile.  Clark nearly choked in horror at the humiliation of being asked if the lipstick were a gift.  What the hell did she think, that it was his?  As several heads turned to look at the gentleman with the pretty tube of lipstick in his hand, he was barely able to blurt out, “Yes… It’s…  for my girlfriend… I was just…” when he suddenly stopped in the middle of the sentence and gazed at the talkative woman’s pretty lips.  She had painted them red earlier that day, judging by how they were now stained.  Bright, pure red.  How pretty they must have been when her lipstick was fresh and her lips glossy and red, though Clark as he totally lost track of his thoughts.  He merely responded with a mechanical “Yes” to the stewardess’s instructions to him, and complying immediately with her request to put his seat back in the upright position.  She had walked back to her seat and buckled in before Clark realized that the lipstick was still in his hand and people were staring.  He quickly returned it to it’s little “lucky 013” (he thought sarcastically) box, as that all too familiar frown returned to his face, furrowing his brow once again.

It was barely twenty minutes later when the plane had already landed, taxied to the terminal, and he found himself now disembarking.  As Clark made the line to exit the plane, he looked up and saw his stewardess face-to-face again.  She stopped and reapplied her lipstick sometime between when she spoke to him and now, and looked absolutely radiant.

“That lip color lights up her pretty face like a Christmas tree!”  Clark thought, as he brazenly glared at her glossy mouth.  “Please fly with us again!’ She happily told him as she reached out and took his hand with her small, warm one, almost losing it completely in his large manly grasp.  “Yes… I will,” Clark said, suddenly glassy-eyed as he gazed momentarily into her blue eyes, then for a much longer time at her carefully painted mouth:  her beautiful mouth, glistening with lots of sweet red lipstick.  A mouth that directed him to fly with her airline again.  Clark wondered if her lips were scented as prettily as they looked, and if they were as indescribably wonderful to kiss as they appeared to be.  He would have done anything to find out at that very moment, and done anything those lips told him to do. Anything.

“Still a little glassy-eyed from your in-flight snooze there, eh chum?  Where are you trying to go?”  asked the gate person as Clark stepped into the terminal.  “I, uh, need to change my tickets:  Where are the ticket counters?”  The male attendant pointed the way, and Clark went to the counter of the airline he had booked his return flight on, which was different than the one he had just used to get there.  It had cost more to do it that way, but it was the only flight fitting his schedule needs .  That suddenly didn’t seem at all important now, and he cashed in his ticket for a rerouting of his return trip on the original airline.

Hailing a taxi , Clark made the trip to his hotel, where he had time to shower and freshen up.  He knew he didn’t need to, but he shaved again anyway, just to “Wow” Marquesa with his clean shaven good looks.  Next, he put on his best business suit with matching pants, and a colorful silk tie with a gold collar tie clasp.  He put a sparing splash of Dior’s “Fahrenheit” on his face, running his now cleanly scented hands through the salt-and-pepper hair on the sides, and the light brown hair on the top of his head.    He grinned at himself in the mirror, looking into his own hazel eyes as he pondered just who was going to be in control at THIS meeting Ms Marquesa was about to have!  Dropping Mary’s gift into his pocket, and slipping on a shiny black pair of SAS loafers, he headed out the door for his “date.”

The taxi had him at Mistress Marquesa’s address in 20 minutes flat, and Clarke thanked the cabbie with a generous tip.  A stock tip.  The cabbie was not half as amused as Clark was by the cruel and arrogant humor, but Clark was still chuckling as he knocked on Mistress Marquesa’s door.  She had a bell button, but he always liked the macho acting out of a good knuckle banging against a heavy wood door and the personal space invasion it performed on the occupant.  His smile took on a hard edge as the door opened without a word spoken by that occupant, and he found himself stepping in behind the beautiful blonde woman who paid his door banging no mind at all.  She shot him a stern and businesslike glance, however, as she instructed him to follow her into the house.  In route to her room, she informed Clark the was either early, or she was late, but – either way:   She needed to finish getting ready.  Clark followed the shapely woman as her body wriggled and swayed seductively beneath the thin black gossamer of fabric she wore.  It was much more than an elegant looking black dress evolved into evening attire.  It had an air of power, of potent sexuality, of kinkiness about it that Clark couldn’t put his finger on exactly, since he was not much versed on this genre of the sexual scene at all.  He proved this with his shameless eyeing of her bottom as he stayed in tow behind her, admitting it every step of the way, and in all of its lush feminine glory.  “Draped and wrapped so tightly and beautifully  as it was, what man wouldn’t gawk?” he thought, as the shiny black heeled boots click-clicked down the hard floored hallway.  They entered her lovely bedroom, where she motioned for him to be seated in a chair she had set beside her makeup table.  He sat first, arrogant creature that he was, and she glided down softly into her makeup chair ignoring his rudeness.

“So, we finally meet.” Said the beautiful woman with the full bun of blonde hair worn up on her head, as she picked her makeup sponge back up and returned to stroking on the cool feeling special liquid foundation she used to prepare her face for her most dramatic “night time date” effect.  Clark looked at her, admiring how pretty she looked without the benefit of cosmetics.  What he didn’t know, foolish male that he was, was that she had already applied a subtle coat of a half dozen different makeup articles just before he arrived, just to give that “no-makeup” makeup effect!  He was vaguely anxious to see her face fully adorned with whatever cosmetics a real live Fem-Dom wears on a date with a client, but broke that train of thought as his intellect got the better of him.  “You know, we don’t HAVE to go out, Madam M.”  he said, feigning little emotion.  That was an act of self-preservation that he didn’t recognize for what it was, and was his male mind’s last attempt to warn him of the debacle that was soon to come.

“I am not a “Madam,” Mr “Man!”  I am a Goddess.  A female Dominatrix, A hypnotherapist.  A “Mistress” perhaps,, but definitely NOT a “Madam.”  And I am… a woman.”  Clark sneered and angrily blurted out, “I’ll buy whatever you say, “Goddess”, but I have a problem with the hypnotist part of your self description, and you know it!”  The beautiful woman in black deflected the comment by the angry man with a wry smile, and continued:  “We we can simply agree on the “woman part, can’t we?  I mean, as you can see by what I am doing now:  how much more female practice can a woman possibly engage in, other than applying her lovely makeup?  How much more soothingly narcotic in an exquisitely sexual and feminine way can you imagine ANYTHING to be than this?”  That beautiful Marquesa woman had somehow switched her liquid makeup sponge for a soft powder puff without his noticing, and was dabbing it into her big compact of face powder.  She had looked away from his eyes and back into her mirror when he realized this, but he thought nothing of the momentary lapse in awareness and memory… She was smiling coyly, almost as if she were having fun toying with someone.  She was.

Clark shook his head slightly and returned to watching Mistress Marquesa doing her face as she seemed to disappear into a cloud of sweetly scented powder, only to emerge flawlessly complexioned and ready for her truly colorful cosmetic applications once the powder puff had worked its magic.  Clark was a little annoyed at how he felt himself responding to this woman before him, and suddenly threw out a anxious, “I… I just need to get my refund, Madam… Mistress… whatever.  We can do that now, and I can be on my way and you can go out or go about your business:  I don’t care.  We don’t need to…” but he suddenly stopped short, in mid sentence, as the lovely woman turned to face him and looked deeply into his eyes.  She had her eye shadow brush in her red tipped fingers now, and she already had it loaded up with the smoky colored powder destined to adorn her eyelids.  “Clark, dear:  we are GOING to dinner together, and that is that, do you understand?”  she asked as she appeared to use his eyes as a mirror to apply her makeup.  She continued staring deep into Clark’s eyes as she began stroking the shimmering and deep hued eye color on to her carefully prepared and powdered eyelids.  Over and over, the dainty little soft tipped swab sensuously stroked her delicate skin; starting at the corner near the bridge of her nose, arcing out to, and even slightly beyond the very corner of her eyes where her flawlessly and provocatively arched eyebrows ended, giving her eyes a dramatic cat-like effect.  “There… there… that’s better.  You seem quieter now, my darling man.  Much quieter, and that is good.  There is peace in a woman’s eyes, is there not?”  Not waiting for the spell bound man to answer, Marquesa continued: “Yes, peace.  Peace and surrender.  Surrender to the strength of a man’s attraction to a woman, a beautiful woman.  You are in full control of your masculine desire, your desire for me, as you stare deeply into my eyes, aren’t you, my sweet?”  Marquesa didn’t wait for the now glassy-eyed man to respond.  “Keep looking into my eyes and you will find peace… the peace we spoke of on the telephone.  I know, you can’t remember, but you will, my sweet, you will, and very soon.  Soon you will find the answers to life you have been looking for, that you came to me seeking.  Very, very soon…”

Clark was totally mute, his lips parted, his breathing shallow and fast, but rapidly slowing.  Mistress Marquesa outstretched one long and red finger nailed hand and lightly stroked his pants once, where she had thought she saw movement indicating his cock was hardening and throbbing.  It was, and she smiled as her soft, warm hand ever so lightly stroked his cock once more, just to ensure the effect she was having on him was what she desired.  His cock pulsed and throbbed upwards, causing his pants to jump as her hand retreated, as if it were slapping back the feminine touch which had come and disturbed it’s slumber.  Goddess Marquesa (and now it was clear she was, indeed, a Goddess) chuckled softly, with a sweetly feminine laugh, as she returned her attention to her makeup mirror.  She continued to speak to him and look into his eyes through use of the mirror’s reflection.  “I want you now, my angry little Clark darling, to just watch my face as I apply my makeup.  Pay special attention to my eyes… my beautiful, magnetic, green woman’s eyes.  It is for you, you know, for man’s benefit, that we do this… this making up of our faces.  Tonight it is just for you, though, my pet.  I want to look lovely, for you.  Look.  To look.  Lovely.  Look at me.  Just for you.  Look how lovely.  Look… Look… Look”  The now whispering witch now had lulled her male victim into a light trance as she began applying her dark black liquid eyeliner.  She had already lined under her eyes with her pencil, and now she slowly traced a tiny, tiny little brush along her lash line, beginning where she had begun with her eye shadow, leaving a thick black line of icy cool eyeliner which instantly dried to a matte streak.  The effect was that her eyes immediately became irresistible magnets for Clark’s, or ANY man’s eyes, for that matter, but it were Clark’s which were now held fast and trapped by this hypnotic vision of womanhood looking at him in the mirror!

Marquesa smiled and her now lightly hypnotized prey, and gently instructed him to pick up her cosmetics clutch from her vanity.  Clark did so, and set it in his lap.  “Good… very good:  There is no need for you to be frightened of a woman’s makeup: it won’t hurt you!”  Marquesa taunted.  “I want you to hand me that little black tube; the long thin one.  That’s it… it is my mascara… for my eyelashes; to make them longer, lusher, more hypnotic – for YOU!”  Clark’s heart raced as he was forced to assist in his own domination by this mesmerizing beauty.  He rummaged in the stuffed full of woman’s cosmetics kit, looking for her mascara wand, as instructed.  When he had finished touching countless little feminine tubes and compacts, he was dripping with sweat from the tension, the fear.  It was such a relief to finally find his tormentor’s mascara and to hand it to her… to be done going through a woman’s makeup kit.  Marquesa smiled broadly, fixing Clark ever deeper with her beautifully painted and lined eyes.  This was going to be LOTS of fun, she thought, as she resumed her hypnotic induction on the helpless man before her.

“I want you to continue to look into my eyes, Clark.”  Said the ravishing Marquesa.  She now once again turned to face him, this time with a long tube in her picturesquely beautiful hands,  With a twist and a “pop” she removed her mascara wand and leaned forward so that her face was only about a foot and a half from his.  Once again appearing to use his eyes as her makeup mirror, she began making feathery strokes at her already lush lashes.  Marquesa’s head was tilted slightly back, her lips provocatively parted as she made her lashes even longer, thicker, darker with every little dab and poke at them with her magic wand.  She placed the mascara tube in Clark’s hand – forcibly – and instructed him to hold it for her, returning after doing each coat on an eye’s lashes to load up the wand with cosmetic again.  With a push, and an in-and-out motion which was accompanied by the same “schlocka schlocka” sound that a penis makes as it works in and out of a vagina, the wand would reappear with a ‘POP!’  ready to paint again.  All the while, through three full coats of mascara on each set of lashes, she continued to purr and coo at her now entranced prey.  “Yes… yes… that’s it, my darling!  Doesn’t it just feel so wonderful, so lovely to let go, to stop thinking?  How can you possibly resist the sight of a pretty woman putting on her makeup?  Don’t I look lovely; soft… feminine as I powder, paint and primp for you?  How could you possibly be frightened?  I think a man misses so much in life, not being able to enjoy the things that a woman sometimes takes for granted:  the feel of a soft makeup sponge on her face… soothing and stroking… making all your cares float away with every soft, cool swipe.  The gentle caress of a powder puff on your cheek, with it’s precious cargo of perfumed face powder to make you feel and look so pretty.  And this…”

Mistress Marquesa picked up her blush compact from the kit in Clark’s lap, clicked it open, and removed a small brush.  She set the compact in Clark’s hand, as she had done with the mascara.  Swiping the broad little brush several times over the square of pressed blush powder, she passed in under his nose.  “All of our makeup, a woman’s makeup, is perfumed, Clark!  We love to smell pretty, and smell pretty things!  Putting on makeup is such a soothing, gratifying, fulfilling experience for a woman!  Can you smell the perfume in my blush?”  Clark answered her question with a soft, “Yes… pretty…”  and she rewarded him with a “Good boy!”  before swiping the brush slowly, at first, over the apple of her cheeks, the progressively faster, almost as if she were angry.  Clark’s eyes followed her cosmetic application closely, and he seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open, more and more, as her pace of application quickened and the soft brush dusted he high cheekbones faster and faster.  The Goddess Marquesa was now smiling slyly, ominously, and had lowered her now hypnotically painted eyelids half way as she gazed at her male prey, assessing the state of his entrancement.  He was hers now, and it was time to take the headstrong male down:  down all the way into total hypnotic submission!

“Keep looking into my eyes, Clark:  You can’t look away, you must NOT look away!”  Several times she worked the brush into the lovely colored and scented cosmetic and then applied it to her prettily tinted cheeks, all the while glowering at Clark.  “See my cheek color growing deeper… deeper… deeper… redder and redder, making my face harder and harder not to gaze at in awe and fascination?  With every stroke, my face takes on more and more feminine power.  Yes, my sweet, sweet man:  you understand now, don’t you?  Mmmmmmm!  How lovely, how safe, how secure you feel in the presence of a pretty woman as she paints her face.  How you love to gaze and relax, more and more relaxed, peaceful, with every stroke of the brush, a puff, a wand… So soothing, so relaxing, so pleasant, and yet so exciting!  Keep staring into my eyes Clark, dear.  Deeper.  Deeper into my eyes, my pretty painted eyes.  Deeper.  Deeper.  Sleep now… Sleep… Sleep… Deep deep sleep, but you can’t close your eyes!  You are so deeply asleep, listening only to my voice and looking as deeply as you can into my eyes.  Deeper into sleep, my dear boy.  Deeper and deeper into sweet, sweet sleep.  You cannot resist me, my love.  You cannot look away from my eyes nor resist my voice.  My sweet siren’s voice, the voice you have dreamed of.  The voice you long to obey, without question.”  Marquesa had begun to stroke Clark’s face with her hands deepening his trance, her hands wandering all about his face and forehead, his neck and hair.  Clark’s eyes faltered in their gaze, lost focus, and began to close.  Marquesa immediately caught that, and responded: “Not yet, my pet, not yet:  You cannot close your eyes yet!  I want you to continue staring into my eyes and tell me why you are here.”

Clark was lost in those huge green mesmerizing eyes, his conscious mind was now clicked completely off.  “I… I am here on business, and to get my money back… from you…”  He said slowly.  Mistress Marquesa smiled as she set her blush brush back in its case and took the case from Clark’s hand, closing it with a snap that made his cock bounce in his slacks again, and setting it back into her little makeup kit.  “Clark:  What business do you have in Tampa?”  the Goddess cooed.  “Isn’t it true you just asked for a week off from work and flew up here just to see me?”  Marquesa smiled broadly.  Clark looked stunned, and answered, “I… I… “  as he frowned, trying to remember what business he had in Tampa.  He had never had business there before.  Goddess Marquesa saved him from his hypnotized agony:  “Clark, you are here because I willed you to be here.  You are very strong willed, a man who is used to getting his way, OR ELSE, aren’t you?”  “Yes…” answered Clark.  “Yes what, Clark, darling?  Yes Mistress?  No… I want you to call me Goddess.  Yes GODDESS!  That is how I want you to address me from this point on, do you understand me, my little makeup boy?”  Goddess Marquesa continued with her piercing gaze into the hypnotized man’s eyes.  “Yes Goddess Marquesa.”  Clark obediently replied, his eyelids impossibly heavy with the desire to sleep, and the command to keep them open his Mistress gave him was the only thing keeping them from closing.  “Clark, I do believe you understand how to address me now, and I think we are clear on why you are here.  You are here because I summoned you to me, through my hypnotic control of you.  I have been hypnotizing you, at will, since you first contacted me and listened to my recordings.  You belong to me, my love, entirely to me.  You don’t want a refund of any money, any more than I want to give it to you, do you understand?  This is not about money, none of this is:  it is about power.  A woman’s rightful power over the weaker sex:  MEN!”  Clark shuddered.  He was trapped.  Totally.  Her words were feeding directly into the deepest centers of his mind, programming him to her specifications and liking.  She was a witch, and she had him under her spell.

“Clark, dear, I believe you brought me… a gift?”  smiled the beautifully made up and incredibly hypnotic-eyed woman.  “I… I have a gift… for my girlfriend, Mary.”  Said Clark as he tried to brace himself to resist her demanding his Mary’s gift from him.  “Clark, dear… where does Mary live?”  smiled the Goddess Marquesa, her made up and powdered lips wanting only for the application of a woman’s lipstick to be the finishing touch on her spell.  “She lives on… the West Coast, Goddess.”  Replied Clark as he fought hard to maintain some control over where this conversation was going.  “Clark:  Your girlfriend lives on the west coast alright.  OF FLORIDA!”  The gorgeously beautiful Goddess in the hypnotic makeup threw her head back and laughed wickedly as she saw the shock in Clark’s face.  “You bought that lipstick because I TOLD you to, my little hypno-slave, my little makeup lover!”  Clark desperately want to be able to look away from this mesmerizing beauty’s face now, but he could not.  No matter how hard he tried, she held him with her gaze as she reached up and undid the clasp holding her golden locks of silky hair, which promptly spilled about her shoulders and framed her face in a liquid and most fetching way.  Reaching on to her vanity, she picked up a flagon of her favorite (her ONLY perfume for this occasion) and sprayed it into her soft tresses, her neck, her breasts, the cool droplets of mesmerizingly heady and potent scent raining down on her soft white skin.  “Clark, I want you to show me MY gift now.  RIGHT now.”  The perfumed Goddess demanded curtly and with a sexy sneer.  Cl;ark obeyed, never letting his eyes leave hers as he removed the lipstick from his pocket, then from it’s box.  “Show it to me, my love!”  commanded the lovely woman still holding her perfume bottle in her hand, as if ready to apply more at any moment, or as it were a weapon to be sprayed at an unruly male.  “Show me MY new Dior lipstick!”  Marquesa now had the slight sound of adrenaline-induced excitement in her voice.  Her free hand dropped to her panties, which she easily found under her skirt, and pinched, then massaged her swollen, blood engorged mound.  Her panties were drenched with her sexual excitement, the musky scent of her pheromones taking their toll on her already lost little captive male.

Clark removed the cap from the lipstick and swiveled up the red phallic-shaped cosmetic at their eye level, for both of them to see.  “Mmmm, how pretty, and I just KNOW it is delightfully perfumed, my pet:  smell it for me.  Smell my lipstick and tell me how lovely it is!  Is it as lovely as this?” she asked as she playfully sprayed her captive and very, very deeply mesmerized man with her sexy and VERY feminine perfume mist before recapping the bottle and setting it back down on her vanity.  “Yes… I want you to sniff my pretty new lipstick for me.”  Clark shuddered, tried to resist, yet the lipstick made its way to under his nose by his own hand anyway.  He sniffed it and immediately felt dizzy from sheer sexuality intoxicating nature of a man sniffing an entrancingly perfumed (and it was) woman’s lipstick.  “Oh, God, Goddess… it is so… beautiful!  I… I want to…”  “And you will, my love; you will get to taste it – and maybe not in the way you might think!”  a gloating Marquesa said, as she threw her wickedly beautiful head back, blonde hair spilling down her back, and laughed.

“I want you to… watch me as I apply my lipstick, my love.  You cannot take your eyes off my mouth… you MUST watch as my lips become perfume scented, glossy and red with the lovely lipstick YOU have brought to me!  Clark, darling, when I am done applying this lipstick, I am going to give YOU a gift.  A gift I have never given any other client.  I am going to let you taste my lipstick, just like you have dreamed of ever since I put that thought in your mind while hypnotizing you over the phone.  I am going to let you feel, taste and smell the lipstick that has kept your fears at bay, your anxiety under control:  the lipstick you have curled up with and cradled as if it were… a woman,  As if it were… ME!  I know, because I MADE you do that!  I have hypnotized you over the telephone and used my lipstick to control you, to keep you near to me, to enslave you to my will from afar!”  Goddess Marquesa laughed naughtily as she paused in this moment of her glory before continuing.  “Clark, I am going to kiss you on your mouth.  When I do, you are going to have an orgasm.  You may masturbate now, but you will not be able to cum until I kiss you, do you understand, my sweet pet?”  Clark answered immediately:  “Yes Goddess… I will… cum when you kiss me.”

The spellbound man removed his fully erect and throbbing cock from his pants, and his new owner saw that her pet had precum oozing from his cock slit already, in preparation for lubricating its was into the vagina it was never going to see.  He was her pet, and pets don’t fuck their owners.  NONE of Goddess Marquesa’s clients ever got to do that, but they DID get to cum all over themselves for her amusement.  “That’s it… cooed the Goddess, as she wrapped her soft, warm hand around his and showed him by demonstration how hard he was to grip his own cock, how quickly to milk it, and how long his pumping strokes would be.  After she had him going, masturbating himself as he sat in the chair facing her at her makeup table, his precum oozing down his cock and hand onto his best trousers, she released his hand and began painting her lips with the incredible lipstick.  She began with her upper lip, as she stared deep into his eyes.  From dead center up to the Cupid’s Bow’s arches, the “kissing spot” a man aimed for when kissing a woman’s mouth, then on out in a sensuous sweeping arc to the far corners of her wickedly sexy mouth.  Over and over she went, applying far more lipstick than she needed to for the totally devastating effect she was shooting for.  Clark was the one who would be “shooting for” that effect, as he continued madly pumping his cock, groaning in ecstatic agony, his orgasm being super humanly held at bay by her hypnotic suggestion that he would not be able to cum until she kissed him… Her lipsticking  maddeningly continued, as she started at the left corner of her lower lip now, sweeping all the way out her mouth’s outermost edges and across its entire lush expanse, then reversing direction once the red head of the gorgeous lipstick reached the far corner, only to glide back to its starting point, but this time floating on a rick coating of bright red lipstick.  Her lips looked matte red for an instant, before exploding into a fragrant man-magnet of glossy red color as the cosmetic melted from the heat of her mouth, taking on a molten fire appearance with the heat of her lust fueled by her rabid desire to possess this man.

The Goddess Marquesa was smiling broadly as she put the finishing touches on her lipstick, using her lips reflection in the deeply hypnotized man’s eyes as her mirror.   It was time for his big surprise, the clincher that would ensure this man would be her willing and obedient little hypno slave for ever.  “I’ll bet he never saw THIS one coming when he got on that plane!”  she thought, as she pressed her heavily painted lips slowly together and then let them drift back apart, evenly distributing her lipstick all over her mouth for the hypnotized man’s benefit.  The Goddess was now furiously masturbating herself, her fingers buried deep in her swollen and drenched labial lips as she completed her hypnotic incantation on this man she had chosen to be her special pet just because of his great male arrogance and, “I am superior to women, to EVERYONE” attitude.

Her voice shook with adrenaline at her own approaching orgasm as she once again commanded her slave, “Clark, when I kiss you, which will be just as soon as I finish this final instruction to you, you will cum… and… you will fall in love with me!  Yes!  That is what I want: I want you to fall deeply, helplessly in love with me:  deeper in love than you have ever been before… as deep as possibly imaginable!  Clark, darling:  YOU WILL BE MY LOVE SLAVE… FOREVER!  KISS ME… KISS ME… NOW!”  the beautiful hypno-dominatrix commanded of her man-toy!

Clark was crying, tears running down his cheeks.  His life, as he knew it was over.  His mind was doing, in these thirty-some-odd minutes, a complete 180 degree reversal of direction.  Of being.  He was no longer the one that would be calling the shots.  No longer doing the “find ‘em, feel ‘em, fuck ‘em, leave ‘em” selfish playboy lifestyle with the ladies.  He knew he was going to fall ever so maddenly and deeply in love with the very woman who he thought he had hired to work for him, the very woman who now tormented him to the brink of insanity.  He had bee teetering on orgasm now for the last five minutes, and hot semen was flowing freely,, in pulsing eruptions, from his tortured, throbbing cock as he milked it in the way his Goddess had shown him with her blessed hand.  Goddess Marquesa’s lush red lips filled his mind as they approached his.  He heard his own groaning, his crying as her red-red oh-so red mouth paused mere millimeters from his lips.  The perfume from the molten hot lipstick on her waiting mouth filled his head… and then it happened.  Suddenly.  Without warning.  Triggered by the onslaught of her orgasm, Goddess Marquesa’s mouth suddenly pressed forward into his, and he tasted the sweet bitterness of a woman’s lipstick; HER lipstick, just as he had dreamed of every night since he first spoke to her on the telephone.  He remembered now, for an instant, then it was as if time itself had stopped and the universe had exploded – the universe he once commanded.  He heard his Mistress groaning, SCREAMING loudly, as she responded to her ultimate power over him… as well as her own marauding fingers as they worked on her spasming wet sex… by having an orgasm… an orgasm just as he was now suddenly allowed to have!

Clark knew he was “home,” as he kissed those red hot painted lips.  His pain, his anger were gone.  Control was no longer important or relevant, and he didn’t have it even if it was anyway.  His orgasm rocked him as he came all over his $600 suit, spilling spurt after spurt of steaming hot and musky-scented semen all over his shirt, jacket and slacks.  One projectile spurt actually hit his lower jaw and tie as his Mistress sucked the semen from his body with her kiss.  His screams were muffled by the lips of his Mistress, his Goddess: the woman he loved more than life itself.  The woman he suddenly loved deeper than he ever imagined possible to love a woman.  She was all he would ever again be able to think about in life:  pleasing her and making her happy, making her proud of her little Clarkie.  He adored the feeling of her hot staining lipstick all over his mouth, her various perfumed cosmetics creating a cacophony of delightfully feminine sensual experiences and feelings within his mind, making him fall that much deeper in love with her at every sniff… and with every spurt.  He was hers now, and he knew it.  And he would offer little resistance to whatever her plans for him were, and he knew she had plans.  As the last of his semen pulsed from his throbbing cock and onto his hand and clothing, he saw the face of his Goddess, flushed and panting, backing slowly away from his.  The last thing he heard of knew before the darkness overtook him was Goddess Marquesa’s now husky sounding voice as she spoke the words he longed to hear more than any others in the universe: “You may close your eyes now, Clark.  Close your eyes and sleep.  Sleep for me.  Deep, deep restful sleep, until I instruct you to do otherwise, you will sleep…



The end?  Of part #1, anyway! *S* Mistress: do you like?  Approve?  I worked on it all weekend!  It… made me very hot and longing to be hypnotized by you!  Soon!

Love, Clark S.