Smith looked at the woman seated across from him. She was blonde, with piercing green eyes. Magnificent legs sheathed in black silk and crossed alluringly in plain view. Full breasts displayed to enticing effect by a tight satin dress that matched her eyes. Her posture was confident and her demeanor serene, despite how he must look after so many beatings. She looked back at him with an enigmatic smile that projected confidence and calm.
“Who are you?” asked Smith.
“I am Goddess Marquesa,” she replied in a steady, richly captivating voice.
“Well, ‘Goddess’,” snorted Smith, unable to contain his humor at the absurdity of the situation, “do you realize that I am a federal agent? That simply by being here you have made yourself accessory to kidnapping and a host of other felonies?”
Goddess Marquesa chuckled softly. “All work has its risks, pet. Our hosts are paying me very well for the ones I am taking now.”
“Our ‘hosts’ are drug dealers and murderers. You seem too decent a person to become involved with such scum.”
“That is sweet of you to say, pet. But the money of scum is just as green as anyone else’s, and they have lots of it, sorry to say.”
Smith leaned forward in his chair, one of two in the room to which he had been dragged by two of Estaban’s goons, his first departure from the cell in which he had sweated out the last few days. As he moved the shackles on his wrists and ankles sent a metallic rattle echoing through the bare chamber. He had heard a heavy bolt slide behind the single entry door to the room once his handlers had deposited him in front of his counterpart. Even restrained, overcoming the blonde would be easy, but the chances of escape once that was done seemed slim.
Stalling for time, Smith said, “You won’t live to spend your money, Miss…”
“I’m sorry….Goddess Marquesa. Esteban won’t let you leave here now that you have seen me.”
“Time will tell…”
Goddess Marquesa’s reply was cut short by the crackle of an intercom speaker sparking to life. “Get on with it…” a faintly accented voice ordered impatiently. “You said you could control his mind…let’s see you do it.”
“Control my mind?” asked Smith incredulously. “You must be kidding.”
Goddess Marquesa leaned in and captured Smith’s gaze in the vortex of her emerald eyes. Her smile widened.
“Mind control is much easier than you might imagine,” she purred, her voice possessing an almost tactile quality that made the hairs on the back of Smith’s neck stand up. “It only requires one to understand the art of suggestion. The easiest way to control someone’s mind is to take advantage of the mind’s own reflexes. For example, if I tell you to think of the word ‘rhino’” you do. A picture fills your head- four legs, a tail, a single horn- for a brief moment I have controlled your mind.”
Smith laughed. “OK, you made me think of a rhino. But what good does that do you…or Estaban.”
Goddess Marquesa minced in feigned abashment. “You’re right, of course. The ‘rhino’ reflex doesn’t allow me to establish sustained control of your thoughts. The image arises and passes away very quickly. But there are other, more complex reflexes one may manipulate. For example….” Marquesa paused. She leaned back and flexed her legs, drawing Smith’s attention to their exquisite curves. Her back arched subtly, seeming to make her breasts float into the center of his vision. “I can see that you find me very attractive.”
Smith shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He sensed that he should take his eyes off her but was unable to master the urge to look. “So?” he asked, his voice betraying a slight hint of nervousness. “I find many…”
“So,” declared Goddess Marquesa, abruptly cutting Smith off mid-sentence, “when I suggest that you imagine making love to me, you can’t help but do it.”
Smith opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound emerged.
“As soon as the words leave my lips the images fill your head. Your arms enfolding me…my legs wrapped around you…our mouths pressed hungrily against one-another…my scent filling your lungs…my taste flooding your mouth…”
Smith’s mouth drooped open. His breathing became shallow and rapid. His eyes opened wide, his pupils dilated.
“And it is not just your mind,” Marquesa continued, “I’ve taken control of your body too. I can feel your eyes travelling up and down my curves. I can see your lips and jaw twitch as you imagine sucking on my nipples, your cock straining against the fabric of your pants.”
Smith gasped. He felt pre-cum ooze forth and stain his boxers.
“Your desire is the lever I use to pry your mind open, leaving you exposed like  a clam without its shell. Now that I am inside you find yourself focusing more and more on the sound of my voice. You can’t help feeling more and more relaxed…All of the tension and vital energy bottled up within is flowing down, down into your cock and toward me. Release it all…relax totally…You feel no fear or pain, only that you want me and that you are completely at ease….Say it…”
“I want you,” Smith intoned, his voice distant, “and I am completely at ease.”
“I want you, and I am completely at ease.”
“That’s a good boy. Close your eyes now.”
Smith’s eyes slowly shut.
“I am going to count to three. At each count you will tell me that you are my pet. After three I will snap my fingers, and you will awaken feeling refreshed. Nothing will have changed, except that you will be filled with the irresistible urge to obey my every command. Do you understand?”
“Yes Goddess Marquesa,” the Goddess corrected.
“Yes Goddess Marquesa.”
“Good. One.”
“I am your pet, Goddess Marquesa.”
“I am your pet, Goddess Marquesa.”
“I am your pet, Goddess Marquesa.”
The Goddess snapped her fingers. Smith’s eyes opened, expressing confusion.
“What happened?” he asked. “I was….I was imagining…being…with you…and then…”
“I have taken control of your mind,” replied Goddess Marquesa nonchalantly. “From now on you won’t be able to refuse my commands.”
Smith screwed up his face in an expression of disbelief. “My eye. Prove it.”
Goddess Marquesa smiled once more. “Oh Estaban,” she cried, raising her voice so as to be clearly heard over the microphone that was eavesdropping on the room.
“Yes?” asked the same slightly accented voice heard before.
“Take the keys to Mr. Smith’s shackles and put them in your mouth. Then get on all fours and bring them in here like a good doggie.”
A scuffling noise could be heard over the intercom, followed by a silence broken only when the door to the room opened, revealing a tan, well-built man in an expensive silk suit on his hands and knees, a set of keys held in his mouth. Estaban crawled into the room, his rump shaking as if he meant to wag his tail in joy. He was followed in by the two goons that had deposited Smith in his chair.
“Were you boys listening over the intercom just now?” asked Goddess Marquesa.
“Yes,” replied the nearest henchman.
“Good. Go to sleep, both of you,” ordered Marquesa. At her words both goons fell unconscious.
“Good boy, Estaban!” Goddess Marquesa cried, summoning the “doggie” with a slap on her thigh. “Come bring mommy the keys!”
Estaban did as he was ordered, depositing the keys at Goddess Marquesa’s feet. She picked them up and used them to unlock Smith’s shackles. As Smith stood she removed his leg chain. This she wrapped around Estaban’s neck, threading it through the ankle shackle and locking it in place to form an impromptu collar and leash. When this was done, she offered the end of the leash to Smith.
“Here’s your man,” she said, “take him in. You can use your arm chain to tie his two goons together.”
Smith whistled in appreciation. “You had me fooled, Goddess,” he said. “I was sure you were Estaban’s girl. For a minute I even thought that you really had taken control of my mind.”
Goddess Marquesa stepped back, a wry smile on her face. “Heel, boy,” she said.
Smith fell to all fours, panting. Marquesa patted him on the head and cooed affectionately as he nuzzled against her calf. After a minute or so she straightened and said, “That’s enough puppy love. On your feet, Agent Smith. Be a man again.”
Smith stood, his look one of bewilderment. “What did you do to me?” he asked.
“I made you mine, just like Estaban and his thugs. All at once, actually.”
“Undo it. Set me free.”
Goddess Marquesa laughed. “Fat chance. I’m not a criminal, but I’m no saint either. It’s not every day that I get the chance to enslave a federal agent. Besides, even if I undid my conditioning, you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking of me. Men who have had a taste of my power always fall helplessly in love with me. Within a month, six weeks at the most, you would come crawling to my door begging for me. At least this way you will have me in your head permanently, where I can control your impulses.”
“But…but…” Smith stammered.
“There is no ‘but’,” declared Goddess Marquesa, extending her hand. “Now thank me properly, pet.”
“For what?” asked Smith.
“For everything.”
For almost a minute Smith stood mutely defiant, trembling with the effort of resisting her command. Finally his will broke and he bent in devotion over her hand, murmuring repeatedly between passionate yet tender kisses: “Thank you….thank you, Goddess….oh thank you…thank you for defeating Estaban…thank you for saving me…”
As he pressed his lips to her skin and her scent engulfed him, Smith realized what he was most grateful for: “Thank you for making me your pet.”