The doorbell rang. Goddess Marquesa sighed. Since injuring her foot, she had been largely housebound, and even common chores like answering the door posed a challenge. Whoever it was had better be on important business. With painful effort, she rose.

            Standing on the front step the Goddess found an attractive brunette. The visitor was tall, late 30’s or early 40’s, wearing a prim pastel lavender skirt suit. Clasped tightly to her breast, bound in black leather with gilt lettering across the cover, was the Holy Bible, held so that the title would be visible to whoever answered the door.

            “Have you heard the Good News today?” said the woman cheerily, her face lit by an implausibly wide smile.

            The Goddess laughed ruefully. “I must be on a lucky streak,” she noted sardonically.

            The stranger furrowed her brow in confusion at this remark, but looking at the cast on the Goddess’s foot she caught its meaning. “You’re hurt,” she said with an exaggerated frown. “I’m so sorry. If you would allow me to talk to you briefly, I would be very happy to help you with any task you like.”

            A perverse impulse seized the Goddess. Perhaps out of boredom, perhaps out of curiosity, she said, “All right…come in.”

            Goddess Marquesa led the visitor into her living room and offered her a seat. “Can I offer you anything?” she asked halfheartedly, resigned to being hospitable.

            “Oh, no thank you,” replied the brunette. Seating herself on the offered sofa, she waited for Goddess Marquesa.

            Sitting on a divan opposite the visitor, the Goddess asked, “What is your name?”

            “I’m Christine,” she replied, “My husband and I are co-pastors of the Light of God Church just a few miles away.”

            “I see,” noted Goddess Marquesa. “And what are you offering me today, Christine?”

            “Why, salvation of course,” said Christine matter-of-factly.

            The Goddess laughed. “That sounds expensive.”

            Christine’s face brightened at this offhand remark, an inadvertent but perfect prompt. “Oh, but that is the miraculous thing,” she began, “it is free. Absolutely free. In fact, no amount of money could buy it.  It is ours just for the asking. Tell me, friend,” continued Christine, warming to her theme, “what is your name?”

            “Goddess Marquesa,” came the reply.

            Christine stopped short. The warm smile on her face vanished. “Goddess?” she asked, her tone one of dismay.

            “Yes,” responded the Goddess coolly.

            “Is that a joke?” asked Christine, unable to keep a harsh edge from her voice.

            “Not to those that worship me.”

            “Worship?” All of Christine’s good humor had vanished. Her tone and expression broadcast an awareness that she had entered deep waters.

            “Yes. I’m an erotic hypnotist, you see.” As Goddess Marquesa gave this explanation, she crossed her magnificent legs toward Christine, and leaned back on the divan so that the full shape of her breasts were displayed to her guest. “I sexually enslave men. Women too.”

            “Why?” asked Christine, her mind struggling to grasp what she had just heard.

            “For money. For my amusement.”

            A pause ensued. Christine was stricken momentarily mute. Her mouth moved, but she could not find words to utter. Finally, she said, “That is awful…Sinful…The Bible says…”

            “I know what the Bible says,” interrupted Goddess Marquesa. “From what I can tell, I would be very much at home in its pages. Lilith….Eve….Delilah…Bathsheba….Jezebel…Salome…” As the Goddess intoned this list, she flexed her free leg so that her injured foot bobbed gently up and down. As she did so, Christine’s eyes were drawn magnetically to the Goddess’s cast, and followed Goddess Marquesa’s foot in its rhythmic motion. “All women like me who made slaves of men…There is one thing that the Bible and I agree upon. We women are powerful. Very powerful. It only takes a woman who is in touch with that power to harness it, to unleash it. Have you used your power on your husband, Christine? Is he your slave?”

            “No…” replied Christine, her voice slurred, her eyes focused on the Goddess’s gently bobbing leg. “I’m a good wife. The Bible says….”

            “The Bible says that we come from dust, and to dust we shall return. We women wield all the power of Mother Earth. Our bodies are the source. The alpha and the omega. Nothing can resist our spell…”

            “I’m sorry,” said Christine, shaking her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. “I’m suddenly feeling rather strange. Perhaps I should leave.”

            “You don’t want to leave.”

            “No?” The word was soft, pleading. Tinged with surrender.

            “No, Christine. I have used my power on you. You can feel it, can’t you?”

            “Yes…” Christine’s voice was dreamy, detached.

            “You feel very relaxed. Very comfortable. All the tension is easing from your body and mind. You are totally focused on my voice. And my body. It is very beautiful, yes?”

            “Yesss….” Christine’s eyelids were half-closed, but she continued to gaze transfixed at the Goddess’s leg.

            “Your eyes travel over my legs…my hips…my breasts…my lips….”

            Christine’s gaze moved in response to the Goddess’s command.

            “Your nipples are becoming erect. You feel a slickness between your legs. You can’t resist, Christine. Looking at me excites you too much. You need to touch yourself. Do so now. Stroke yourself gently. Stroke yourself for me.”

            Christine obeyed. She reached down between her thighs and rubbed with her right hand, staring hungrily at Goddess’ Marquesa’s body the whole while. After a few minutes she began to tremble, the muscles in her arms and legs went taught. Losing her balance, she fell from the sofa to the carpet, but her hand stayed firmly between her thighs and her gaze remained fixed on Goddess Marquesa. Her body convulsing uncontrollably, she wriggled toward the Goddess, straining to make contact with the object of her desire. Finally she succeeded in placing her lips against the Goddess’s foot.

            “Ah…..aah…..Aaaaarggggh!!!” A primal scream of satisfaction emerged from Christine’s throat as she came at the Goddess’s feet. Her back arched, her body bucked and rocked in ecstasy. Finally the tremors of passion subsided, and Christine lay contentedly still.

            “Very good, pet,” purred Goddess Marquesa. “You respond to my power very nicely. Now be a good girl and go walk my dog. You’ll find his leash on a hook next to the door.”

            “Yes, Goddess…” replied Christine, her tone a mixture of gratitude and pure delight….




Some weeks later, the doorbell rang. Almost healed, the Goddess answered the door with little trouble. On the stoop she found Christine, looking very fetching in a black leather jacket and matching mini-skirt.

            “Darling pet,” said the Goddess brightly, “How nice to see you.”

            “How are you feeling?” asked Christine.

            “Much better, my cast comes off tomorrow,” replied Goddess Marquesa. Looking down, she asked, “Who is this you’ve brought with you?”

            Christine gestured toward the man accompanying her. Dressed in a dour blue suit, he would have looked every inch the conservative pastor, except that he was on his hands and knees. Around his neck was a collar, which was fastened to a leash held in Christine’s right hand. “This is my husband,” Christine explained. “I’ve conditioned him as you suggested. Enslaving him was just as easy as you said it would be.”

            “Good girl,” said the Goddess approvingly.

            “Don’t be rude, Fred,” said Christine, jerking the chain she held, “kiss the Goddess’s feet.”

            “Yes, darling,” replied the man on all fours, stooping to obey Christine’s command.

            When Fred was done making his obeisance, the Goddess stepped aside to allow Christine to enter. Before accepting the Goddess’s invitation, she reached down and unlatched the leash from her husband’s collar. Throwing the leash down in front of the kneeling man, Christine stepped into the Goddess’s abode.

            “Be a good boy, Fred, and walk the Goddess’s dog,” ordered Christine. As she did so, she knelt down before Goddess Marquesa’s irresistible legs, her eyes wide with yearning. “Take your time. The Goddess and I have some spiritual matters to attend to….”