The massive, ultramodern, upscale auditorium was jam-packed to the nose bleed seats and standing room only for the premier of what would hopefully be the premier play, “Idyllic Intrigues and Odylic Odysseys”.  In the front row sat two distinguished gentlemen who knew not each other.  Unbeknownst to each other, these fine fellows were fellow travelers on the seductively sensual safari of fascination with femininity’s forcefulness.  Neither did either of them possess the minutest droplet of knowledge of how similar and yet dissimilar were these subbies uniquely individualized relationships with the one and only hypnotizingly hedonistic Mistress Shangri-SZelda.

Seeing #2 of Her favorite submissives sitting so close together with both being unbelievably unaware of how close these very differing playboys to all other women and play toys for Her amusements truly were, gave Her a wonderfully wicked series of sensations.  {In his own way, each one was sooooooo deliciously devoted to passionately pleasuring their mutual Mistress.}  It was like bewitchingly being The Captivating Cat Goddess Who everlastingly repeated the satisfying cycle of simultaneously swallowing Her two tantalized canaries.  And all the while Her wily wiles keeping both becharmed birdies blissfully and blessedly oblivious of each other’s existence.  This ohhhhhhh! so goooooood feeling helped melt away Her opening night’s jitters.  The brobdingnagian bunch of butterflies busily buzzing in Her stomach verily vanished into the nothingness left over from a wax voodoo doll of a mindless, moth-eaten, meretricious minx named Angelique after the irresistible onslaught of the fearsome firestorm about to cloudburst over her empty-headed empty heartlessness.

The play’s central scene was about various individuals attitudes about, perceptions of, and experiences in and/or with a stage hypnosis show.  How the hypnotism show’s participants interacted with and affected each other and other persons thereafter was the bulk of the play.  Had Mistress Shangri-SZelda been given more leeway concerning what was on the page, what was on the stage would have expertly and exquisitely explored a hypnotherapeutic relationship and perhaps someone’s interactions(s) with a Hypnotic Dominatrix as well.  But alas, it was not to be.

To her incalculably pivotal role, Angelique naively exerted and exercised all the incomparable incompetence, astounding awkwardness, and anti-gravitas she could amass for all the audience to behold.  The hypnotic stage show’s induction sequence was incredibly effective in spite of the snooze festival sex kittenishly, lowdown, lowbrow, limited leading lady.  The thespians who portrayed the hypnotic subjects genuinely looked and acted as if they were all deeply mesmerised.  The surprisingly statuesque, superbly splendiferous woman amongst them truly made and stole the show.

Mistress Shangri-SZelda’s eye-catching stature was entrancingly enhanced by Her splendidly eye-popping shoes.  Their platform soles were just slightly short of being cartoonish in height.  The even taller stiletto heels were just a tad mismatched with regard to their lengths.  Whenever She walked, Her hips sensually swayed in that mesmerizingly memorable Marilyn Monroe-esque manner.  Her fascinating footwear’s perforated, serpentine snake skin tongues licked up Her shins stopping just below her kneecaps.  The vamp on each shoe vampishly exposed Her perfectly pedicured, prettily painted toenails.  Each shoe’s sole see-through strap started from the vamp’s outer edge and spiraled around the long and shapely leg wisely wielding that shoe.  A bright, shiny buckle near the tip of each shoe’s tongue held the coquettishly coiling strap in place.  The snakish straps slithering snakily along Her seductive stems were sparsely, yet scintillatingly studded with rhinestones, crystals, and glittering beads.  Whenever She walked or placed either of Her feet on the floor, a sound was sent forth somewhat similar to a tap dancer’s shoes.

There were times during the performance when, if you happened to be looking there, you might have thought you saw something somewhat shiny sticking out from the toe of one or both of Mistress Shangri-SZelda’s shoes.  If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn it looked like the pointed end of a long and slender knife.  If you caught a glimpse of either or both of these objects, it almost looked like the light fell headlong into the tip(s) of Her shoe(s).  And if the leg above that shoe was moving, then it seemed as if the light flowed around Her leg like an eye-catching, prismatically luminescent spiral radiating a rainbow of colours.

***({[See these scintillatingly sinister shoes in your more mesmerized mind’s eyes.  Stroke yourself as a sign of your devotion to these shoes.  Behold, as the lust-filled love spell casting light flashes and sparkles from them in ever-changing, eternally enticing, everlastingly ensorcelling ways.  Pleasure yourself faster now.  See one of these wicked wonders wantonly wielded by That Woman you know you can not resist.  Now stroke yourself even more vigorously as you imagine you are now kneeling at the feet of The Woman of Women Who wears these shoes.  Obeying Mistress Marquesa brings pleasures.  Obeying Mistress Marquesa is pleasure!!!“`  See Her in all Her gorgeous glories.  Now worship these shoes and The Woman Who your horny hungers and immersed imagination tell you is wearing them.  Do it!  Do it right now!  Do it, because I command you to do as I say.  That’s right!  It is sooooooo right for you to be My pup-pet, My plaything, and My sensual slave boy toy.  Good!!!“`***)}]

Shangri-SZelda’s form-fitting, exceptionally elegant evening gown was topped off by a flaring hemline halting about one or two inches above Her knees.  Her tea dress’s teasingly tasteful two slits showed off more than you expected and revealed not nearly as much as you yearned to see.  Her dazzling dinner dress’s matchless material femininely flowed with and arrestingly accentuated even Her slightest gesture whenever she nonchalantly or calculatingly moved either or both of Her gorgeous gams in any way.  Her opera-length, velveteen, silk-fingered gauntlets *from which Her long, bedazzling nails emerged* and exotically patterned, fishnet hosiery bestowed the finishing touch of classiness coupled coyly with carnality upon Her ensorcelling ensemble.

In the hypnosis stage show’s induction inception sequence, Angelique used a large, shiny pocket watch to capture and hold her subjects’ attention.  Much of the time she was onstage, the insufferably incorrigible  ingénue’s opposite fixedly fastened her vacuously vacant, empty eyes on her wristwatch.  Thanks to some computer technologically savvy backstage personnel, on her watch’s face were displayed her lines.  Knowing how crucial her role was, unlike slug-like *in several senses of the word* Angelique, any actual actress at the very least would have attempted to commit her prominent part to memory.

Due to the deplorably dismal dearth of depth in its speaker, the induction Mistress Shangri-SZelda wrote was as simplistically simpleminded as it could possibly be.  It had statements about noticing and focusing on the bodily sensations caused by one’s breathing.  There were suggestions about deepening relaxation.  For the fixation point, She wrote that they should focus even more of their attention upon the glittering, flickering object that did things like catch, captivate, and cast a siren’s spell upon their eyes.  She also mentioned how drowsy and tired they felt.

Shangri-SZelda noticed how truly deeply mesmerized some of the other actors and many of the spectators were.  For Her part, She simulated the typical facial expressions, body movements, and postures someone entering deep trance might exhibit.

The play was a smash from the first night it ran.  Many in the audience were absolutely amazed by the immense effects wrought on them by what they had heard and seen.  Even a majority of the performers were taken aback by the power of what they had produced.

Of all the cast members, Mistress Shangri-SZelda by far garnered the most attention.  Although She had very few words, Her performance was praised again and again.  Those who clustered around and lined up behind them to speak with Her frequently kept their eyes fixed on Her shoes.  Shangri-SZelda complimented the other actors and the play’s writers for the greatness of the performance.

Angelique simply could not believe what had happened.  Ever since she knew what this play was about, she had coveted the lead role almost as much as she’d pretended to have the hots for the married, rich fogy who sponsored this production.  Hardly anyone congratulated her on her performance.  She could not understand why everybody was talking to that giantess she’d encouraged her lover to kick out of the lead role.  (Whining, withholding, and a bang up blow job as make up sex certainly turned the tricks with the right, desperate old codger.  As long as she could be the cutesy, young piece of ass these old farts would do anything for, she didn’t have to worry about being anything but hard to get and easy when it counted most.)  The director hadn’t wanted to make the switch.  But he knew what side his bread was buttered on–not to mentioned who owned the bread, the butter, and the knife–and that was that.  That oversized, older woman didn’t even say much in the play.  So why were so many people trying to talk to her?  Even her lover was edging over in that glamazon’s direction.  If Angelique wasn’t careful, she might get booted out completely in more ways than one.  Maybe she’d been too careful about the things she’d let her boyfriend do?  Maybe telling him how good he was would get him on her side?

Angelique craved Shangri-SZelda’s spectacular shoes.  The half-baked has-been had to have those simply marvelous shoes.  She did everything in her powerlessness to obtain those unforgettable shoes.  None of the stores she went to could give her what she yearned for most of all.  Each boutique she dragged her half-hearted, second thoughtful lover into could not satisfy her request.  No matter what she did or promised, she could not lay her greedy paws on that prize footwear.

Angelique was especially irritating when she could not get her way.  No one came to know how true this was more than he who now regretted beyond the highest heaven of heavens he’d never given in to his second childhood’s childishly middle-aged crisis-caused desire to fiddle around with this ditzy, difficult, nightmarish, baby faced, obviously silicone-salvaged living doll who had now outlived her usefulness of an albatross dragging him haplessly, helplessly, and hopelessly into the nethermost agonies of the endlessly bottomless abyss.

Although She knew it not, Mistress Shangri-SZelda had deftly delivered Her coup de grâce on graceless Angelique as gracefully as the deathblow could be dealt.  In this battle of wits, She’d unanimously outwitted Her witlessly half-witted adversary.

Air headed Angelique couldn’t remember ever being so frustrated before.  Why was it so hard to find one rotten pair of shoes like the ones she wanted more than anything?  If being the star was not going to give her the attention she wanted, then she’d let that big woman do all the work.  Unfortunately, the director wouldn’t let her back out of the lead role now.  Even her boyfriend refused to help her.  And after she’d done all those dirty things to him in bed FIVE!!! times in a week.  No wonder she felt like leftover shit.  She couldn’t have her shoes.  She couldn’t get out of all this work for being the star.  Her life sucked a big turd.  Maybe it was time to get that tattoo?

* * * * *

his eyes were more transfixed than usual.  Usually, he was compulsively unable to take his eyes off Mistress Shangri-SZelda’s shoes.  Tonight this animal attraction was even stronger still.

“Yes, My mesmerized man thing, your captivated cock compels you to keep staring at My swinging shoe.  you Are such a big businessman.  you can get and do whatever you desire.  you certainly are very powerful.  In fact, you have all the power to do nothing but keep gazing upon My smoothly swaying sinister stiletto shoe.  you yearn to, you need to, and we know you must continue staring at Mistress Shangri-SZelda’s magically magnificent shoe.”  Watching him succumbing, surrendering, and submitting to Her sensuous spells always made this Big Bosomed and *BIGGER BRAINED* Witching Witch of a Wonder-filled Woman luxuriously laugh ever so wickedly.  But this time was and would be an extra-especially thrilling treat for all parties.

“Staying spellbound and staring at My shoe.  These shoes are something special.  These shoes you made only for Me.  This soothingly swinging stiletto shoe is Mine.  you, My pleasure pet, are Mine.  As this sumptuously swaying shoe is Mine, so to you are all and always will be My play toy.”

The flashing light was for Her eyes only.  Only Mistress Shangri-SZelda heard those one-of-a-kind door chimes.  She arose and looked down upon Her ensorcelled playmate.  “Mistress Shangri-SZelda says, “Sleep now, until I return.””  As he tried with all his might to always do, he instantly obeyed Her command.

She ceased sultrily swinging one of those splendid shoes wickedly worn on both of Her femininely amazonian feet.  She smiled with self-assured satisfaction at the entrancing effectiveness on men and women of masterfully manipulating Her favorite footwear by Her man trapping Amazon’s shapely stems.  Then, Shangri-SZelda utilized the longest lady’s legs he had ever seen to stride seductively to Her front door.

When Mistress Shangri-SZelda opened Her door, she saw phinehas j. storch standing before Her with head bowed and eyes gazing worshipfully downward.  Wordlessly, She snapped Her fingers and pointed to the ground.  he silently dropped to his hands and knees.  Without a word Shangri-SZelda pointed at him, pointed to Herself, and placed Her hands on Her head.  Not uttering a sound he placed his hands atop his head and crawled after She Who could command his unquestionable, unquestioning, strict obedience without opening Her lusciously lustrous, lovely lips.  as he slowly and compliantly moved behind Her, phinehas heard Her laughing merrily.

Once storch was entirely inside Her passionate parlour of provocative pleasures, he heard Her say, “Awake! My slave.”  The man lying on the floor and the other man still only on his knees stared at each other.  There was that momentous moment of recognition.  Then came that instance of mutual enlightenment.  Before either of Her toy boys could fully form one of their multitudes of questions, both of them heard Her say 3 wantonly witching words.  *”MISTRESS SHANGRI-SZELDA’S EYES.”*

Coaxed, co-opted, and compelled by Mistress Shangri-SZelda’s soothingly stimulating suggestions, each monumental man deliriously descended deeply down into the definitely deepening depths of depthless hypnosis.  As their ensorcelling entrancement increased, the Mistress made ready.  She selected, clipped, lit, and relished the fine flavor of one of Her favorite cigars.  Each mesmerized man had independently given Her exquisite examples of this beguiling blend.  As She enjoyed the arousing aroma, She reviewed Her copious notes on both of Her tantalized toys.  Each gentleman had a fantasy about watching Her mesmerically manipulate another man.  Both of them yearned to know how it would feel to have Her toy with them while another enchanted individual was wordlessly and motionlessly watching Her work Her wonderful wiles.

“I’ve always craved to play with two of My very pleasing pleasure pets at the same time.”

The smoke stimulated Shangri-SZelda’s sense of smell.  The spellbinding scenarios She surmised made Her laugh wantonly, wickedly, and wonderfully.

THE END.
ENCOMIASTIC EPILOGUE:
This story was largely inspired by  several kinds of shoes possessed by THE ONE AND ONLY MYSTERIOUSLY MIND-BLOWING, MAGICALLY MESMERISING, MERCILESS, MERCIFUL MISTRESS MARQUESA.  Thank YOU for showing those sinister stiletto shoes to me–as only YOU could.  They tantalisingly taught me much.  Of course, YOU have inspiringly taught & will teach and inspire me even much more.  Spending those several spellbinding me to THEE even more so hours of that ensorcelling evening with YOU was more wonderful than any and all ‘fantastique’ fantasies about YOU can ever be.  Here-here’s to YOU compellingly continuing what YOU bewitchingly began in enticing earnest ASAP.

Other impetuses for this story include: an incident from the career of legendary stage and screen star Tallulah Bankhead; a line from (the unfortunately) late Jim Croce’s song, “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”; and the “Tennessee Tuxedo” cartoons.  Hypnoerotic literature and/or fantasies and/or reality can be spawned & spurred [figuratively or literally or both] by many things.

you know how much you feel your needs to yield to your yearnings to tell MERCILESSLY MERCIFUL, SCIENTIFICALLY MAGICAL GODDESS MISTRESS MARQUESA DE SADE how much more SHE spawns and spurs your hypnotically hedonistic fantasies.  The greatest and most important of these is to make your dreams become the reality of *SUCCUMBING! SURRENDERING! & SUBMITTING!* solely to the sublimely salacious, subliminally salutiferous, solo sovereignty of HER HEDONISTICALLY HYPNOTIC HIGHNESS.