Mistress Marquesa’s Disclaimer:

THIS STORY IS TOTALLY A WORK OF FICTION AND FANTASY. It is best suited for someone who enjoys exploring the crueler, edgier aspects in the vast spectrum of erotic hypnosis and/or BDSM interactions or relationships. Mistress Marquesa is The HypnoDomme mentioned in the story. HOWEVER, NONE OF THE SELFISH AND/OR SADISTIC ACTIONS, THOUGHTS, AND FEELINGS IN THIS FANTASY IN ANY WAY DEPICT WHO I AM AND WHAT I WILL DO WITH, TO, AND FOR ANY OF MY pets.
Anyone who has personally experienced succumbing, surrendering, and submitting to My will knows each and every sensuously satisfying session with Me IS ALL ABOUT *MUTUAL* ENJOYMENT.

If this story is your cup of teasing you tantalizingly, then enjoy reading it.
“Please… Please Mistress Marquesa… .”

Reclining on her chaise lounge, the Magnificent Mistress Marquesa considered the broken boy who bowed down before her.  He was another of her conquests.  A vice president at a well known technology firm, he had fallen under her spell after he happened upon her website late one evening so many months ago.  Her emerald eyes, her seductive voice…  He had fallen prey to her as so many others had before him.  Like so many addictions, his had begun slowly.  A downloaded recording,  a conversation over the telephone, their first meeting…  Though he did not know it, his life as he had known it was over the first time he clicked his mouse.

Marquesa considered his fate.  He had emptied his bank account months ago.  His 401k had followed soon after.  Now, the leather attaché case beside her contained the cash from the sale of his home.  She had instructed him to bring more this month, the tribute she demanded from him if he was to be permitted the honor of her attention.  Sadly (for him), the often-mentioned real estate bubble had burst in recent months.  This affected Marquesa not at all since her varied holdings were spread around the globe, but for this poor little one it had completed his downfall.  He had nothing left to offer her and Marquesa’s busy life left no time for those who could not pay their own way.  She sighed, knowing that if she saw him again it would probably be on a street corner as he begged for spare change from passersby.  Of course, her limousine would not even slow down as it passed.

Before Marquesa could speak the trigger which would deepen his hypnotic state and allow her to complete his programming, erasing his memory of his old life and turning him into a sad little beggar, he looked up at her pleadingly and offered what little he had left:

“Please, Marquesa…  Let me sell my car for you.  It’s the only thing I have left”

Marquesa hesitated.  She remembered how proud he had been of his silver BMW roadster convertible.  She’d permitted him to take her shopping in it back before his credit cards had been maxed out.  It was a beautiful car.  His plea moved her.  Marquesa knew that her hypnotic power had made him yearn to give her everything.  Still, his plea seemed so earnest, so heartfelt that she decided to be merciful.

Marquesa took his chin in her hand, “That won’t be necessary, Myyy Pet.  You’ll be leaving the keys here.  I’ll permit you to mail me the title.”

He began to weep, “Thank you, Marquesa!  Oh thank you so much!”

Marquesa shook her head, “Don’t thank me yet, boy.  You realize, of course, that your failure can’t go unpunished.”

He nodded, lowering his eyes with appropriate humility, “Please do as you will with me.”

Marquesa laughed, “I always do.”

She spoke his trigger and immediately his eyes, normally alive and bright, became vacant.  He stared unblinkingly forward.  She had implanted the trigger long ago in their first hypnotic session by phone and now, after many months, it’s effect was stronger than ever.  She had him rise and bade him stand with his back in the corner.  He complied immediately, standing ramrod straight and staring mindlessly into the distance.  Marquesa rose from her seat and looked her prey up and down, deciding what sort of torment she would condemn him to.

“Listen very carefully, My darling.  You hear only my voice.  Only my voice.  You cannot see, you cannot move, you cannot make a sound… There is only my voice…  Only my voice.”

He was sealed within himself now.  Blind, deaf and dumb.

“And now, My Beautiful Little Beggar, I shall count from 10 down to 1.  From 10 down to 1.  As I count downward you will feel more and more pain throughout your body.  More and more pain.  It will increase and increase.  When I reach 1 the pain will end.  It will end.  But you will always remember how painful it is to fail me.  Failure is pain.  Displeasing me is pain.  If you understand you may say so now.”

“I understand, Mistress,” he whispered.

“Excellent!  In that case…  Ten.”

She watched for a reaction from his body and was pleased to see that there was not one.  The non-existent pain would surge through his helpless form, but her control would keep him still and silent.


The Glamorous Goddess walked away from her victim, taking the attaché case filled with cash.  She placed it in the wall safe in her office and then returned to him.  He remained as he had been, suffering silently.

“Eight.  Seven.”

Marquesa detected the slightest of trimmers in his lip.  She could only imagine the agony his mind was creating for him.  After this, she knew he would never dare to fail her again.


Marquesa poured a glass of wine and returned to her chair, stretching her long and lovely legs out before her.  She took a magazine from the table beside her and idly thumbed through it, relaxing as her plaything’s torture continued.


Finishing her wine, Marquesa rose.  It was getting late and she had an eventful evening planned.  Another of her pets, this one not yet destitute, would be coming by shortly to escort her for an evening on the town.  They would take her new BMW she decided.  Laughing, Marquesa walked down the hallway toward her bedroom suite to bathe and dress for the evening.

“Four,” she called over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

Marquesa relaxed in her bath for a long while, then spent most of an hour selecting her attire for the evening.  Eventually, when everything was to her liking, the Beguiling Beauty emerged.  He was still there, of course.  Perspiration covered his forehead.  She lightly ran her hand down his arm and felt him trembling beneath her touch.

“Three…  Almost there, Little Boy,” she teased.

Marquesa opened her mahogany humidor and selected one of the excellent Cuban cigars inside…  A gift from another of her possessions.  She hadn’t visited Havana in a number of months.  Perhaps she would have El Presidente send the jet for her again.  Marquesa blew a cloud of thick white smoke into his face.  Tears fell from his dry, unblinking eyes.  Marquesa leaned close to him and whispered in his ear.


Even the Magnificent Mesmerist’s powers of control were insufficient to keep him silent as the agony surged through him.  A low groan emerged from his lips.  Tears of a different sort coursed down his cheeks.

“Hold out your hand,” Marquesa ordered.  He did so, though his hand trembled.  She tapped her cigar, dropping the ashes into his hand.  Even as a pauper he still had a few uses.

The doorbell rang.  Marquesa took a last puff from her cigar and then extinguished it in his hand.  Consumed by the pain within his mind, the burn went unnoticed.  Marquesa slipped on her mink and walked to the door.  Her escort, a handsome young investment banker, greeted her by kissing her hand.  As she was closing the door behind her, Marquesa realized that she had forgotten something.

“Wait here, Gorgeous,” she told her date and stepped back inside.

He was still standing in the corner, his burned hand still holding the crushed remnant of her cigar.  Marquesa smiled sweetly and kissed him gently on the cheek leaving the print of her lips.  She slipped her hand into his pocket and retrieved the keys to her BMW.  While her hand was there, she noticed that his trembling hand wasn’t the only movement of his otherwise still body.  Marquesa laughed delightedly.  Even as she tortured him without mercy, a kiss to his cheek was enough to make his body long for her.  The irony was so delicious.  In fact, it was too delicious for her to permit it to end so quickly.

“Sweet dreams, Toy.  Don’t wait up.”