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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This story is dedicated to THE VIVACIOUS, VALUABLE, VOLUPTUOUS LADY KRYSTAL MESMER.  It should not be read by any minor.  It should not be read by anyone who is ethically, legally, morally, religiously, or personally {for any reason(s)} prohibited or proscribed from doing so.  It should not be read by anyone who is fearful of, or uncomfortable with, the subject of feminine influence/control/domination/superiority/supremacy/inspiration or the topic of mind control in any of its forms or both.

CHAPTER #1

I’ve always gotten my way and found some means to get practically everyone I met to give me whatever I wanted.  My daddykins was the first one who was never able to say “No” to me about anything I desired.  I suppose mommy’s passing away when I was little has a lot to do with this.  After she wasn’t with us any more, anything I asked my daddy for, he’d move heaven and earth and then some to see to it my dreams came true.  Maybe it was his depression about mom being gone.  Perhaps he wanted to make it all up to me because I grew up without a mother.  I’m certain being amazingly successful and incredibly wealthy probably has something to do with how my dad lavishes attention and goodies on me.  Whatever his motivations, it was like my slightest wish was Papa Dearie’s command.  He has never resisted me–not even once in his life.

Mainly because of mom’s stunning attractiveness and grandmother on dad’s side’s capability to enthrall no matter her age, dad said I’d blossom into a ravishing beauty when I hit puberty.  His promise was a ‘mondo’ understatement of how blessed I was.  Not only did I gain more height than all but the tallest men’s basketball players, I sprouted the shapeliest, firmest, strongest legs that went on for parsecs covered in flawless skin oh so soft and silky smooth.  To top it off the scales, I was graced with all inter-universal wars combined doomsday arsenals of a super-sized bombshell’s hourglass figure that stopped traffic and turned my pick of the studliest men’s and some of the sexiest women’s hearts and gonads head over heels in irresistible lust for me. My bedeviling body is topped off by an archangelic face {possessing the largest, most penetrating, wide-set, deepest, almond-shaped eyes [one violet and an emerald one]} that could make the Madonna and the Mona Lisa shroud their Gorgon-esque mugs with gunny sacks. My Patrician, Romanesque head is crowned by nearly knee-length, thick, luxurious hair blacker than a night raven’s wing at the witching hour.  Hey!  I’ve never had to tell not even one of all those hard bodies to get so hot and bothered as they keep staring at me that way as long as they can whenever they’re so lucky to leer at me.

I suppose I’ve got that teacher who made us read Trilby and translate it into Mandarin to thank for arousing my fascination with hypnotism.  After reading about Svengali’s overpowering influence, it got me conjecturing.  What is hypnosis really all about?  Once I mastered it, could I exercise simply irresistible control akin to what Svengali did?

The publicly available libraries in these parts were my first treasure trove filled with priceless knowledge nuggets on mesmerism.  After that, the internet was my next smorgasbord fit for feasting on hypnotism facts, concepts, induction types, scripts, history, theories, and more.

I was blown away when I stumbled across this hypnoerotica world.  I couldn’t believe it.  Websites, message boards, chat groups, pictures, videos, fiction, true stories, audios, how-tos, classes, seminars, scripts, webcasts, and people who sensually entrance other folks for fun, profit, kicks {literally and/or figuratively}, and some who it sure seemed like they only wanted to do it to get back at someone who screwed them over royally in a past incarnation or whatever the heck it was they were so ticked off about to the umpteenth power and degree.

Among the many bits of wisdom his words and deeds bestowed on me, my father always showed and told me, “Honey, never waste anything.  You never know how important or useful it may turn out to be”.  With his example and maxim guiding and inspiring me, I learned what I could glean from each hypnosis site I immersed myself in, every hypnotism-related item I downloaded or got in the mail, and anyone in the know about mesmerizing who’d let me in on whatever they were willing to show me about the ropes of any genre of entrancing.  There were all too many posers who turned out to be all hot air-filled fluff, stuff, and idiotic nonsense signifying the nothingness they were totally devoid of substance.  As I learned more, I figured out how to spot and jettison the ‘poseurs.’  There were even a few instances when I got something from a couple of those fakers that actually turned out to be quite valuable.  Maybe I can’t make a silk purse out of a boar’s ear, but that doesn’t prevent me from doing my best to work up a nice, little pigskin pocketbook out of one.

As my infatuation with entrancing people grew, I realized getting my subjects to center their attention where I wanted them to focus was paramount.  A couple of Seinfeld episodes I watched during those months really stuck with me.  There was the one where Kramer banged up his left arm while crashing George’s car because as Cosmo was driving, he and Jerry got so dazzled while they were ogling tall, beautiful, freewheeling, free-swinging O’Henry candy bar heiress Sue Ellen Mischke striding confidently and conspicuously out and about wearing for her top under her black blazer a bra spite-filled Elaine sent her boyfriend-bewitching Lex Luthor as a gift.  Then there was the one when Jerry was dating this gorgeous woman Nicki, who was so simply irresistible any man who saw her would do whatever she wanted him to.  After mulling them over, what I deduced from those shows was if you can find something someone finds really appealing, no matter what it is or why they’re animal magnetized to and by it, hypnotically captivating them becomes much easier and far more likely to happen even quicker.  I also realized even a show that was touted as being about nothing could be extremely insightful when you do the spadework of thinking about it the right way.

My first time inducing somebody was more of a serendipitous lark than anything else.  During one early evening study session, a couple of my girlfriends and I took a little break and started chatting about this and that.  One of them had noticed me reading a hypnosis book some time ago.  She rarely, if ever, passed up a chance to needle me, so she bet me I couldn’t hypnotize her.  I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.  But she and I knew full well I never back down from a challenge.

I suggested she make herself comfortable, and she obeyed me.  I told her for hypnosis to really work, she’d have to cooperate with me.  She promised she would.  Recollecting what was revealed in those two Seinfeld episodes, I started manipulating one of my prettiest pendants I knew she liked and I told her to focus her eyes on it.  Her eyeballs locked down on it like a starving person dives into their favorite meal.  Then she watched me start swinging the pendant back and forth, back and forth.  As I kept tabs on her eyes tracking the pendant’s movements, I reminded her of what a long day she’d had and how really tired she must be feeling.  Sooner than I hoped she began yawning.  I told her yawning was alright and that she shouldn’t fight it.  A little later, after chatting her up some more, I mentioned how drowsier-looking her eyes and her facial expressions were.  She tried to answer me, but all she could do was sort of mumble out something I couldn’t quite make out.  Then I slipped in some suggestions that she’d feel really good if she let her eyelids close completely and just listen to me.  I saw her eyes finally flutter closed and stay that way for about half a minute or so.

My Laotian-Greco bosom pal, who sported a knockout rack for her height and body’s size and shapeliness, was a bit of a trickster and she had some thespian acumen to boot.  I didn’t put it past her to try faking it.  I reviewed bits and smidgens of some of those depth of trance tests I read about or I’d seen performed.  I had to make up one for her on the spot.  It had to be something she could and would easily do, but something she couldn’t fake so easily.  I recalled her saying something about how smelling chrysanthemums made her feel really good.  So I gave her the suggestion that whenever she heard me snap my fingers, she’d believe she was smelling gardens filled with the most aromatic chrysanthemums in the world.  I repeated the suggestion a few times, and I had her repeat it once or twice to hopefully get it to stick in her mind.  Then I told her she’d follow that suggestion, but not remember I gave it to her until I said her name three times in a row.  After that, I did the kind of wake up I’d seen a whole bunch of stage hypnotists do.

After her eyes opened, she went on like nothing was different and so did I.  While she was gabbing about something, I nonchalantly snapped my fingers.  Then she got this really pleased look on her face and she sniffed a couple of times.  She asked the two of us where the chrysanthemums were.  I told her there weren’t any of those flowers around here.  She gave me the strangest look and went back to what she was talking about.  A little later, I snapped my fingers several times.  The look she gave me was like someone who’d got really buzzed or was heading for a truly grate O or both.  In spite of me assuring her there weren’t any chrysanthemums hereabouts, she confidently insisted there had to be chrysanthemums somewhere around here.  Before she’d believe there weren’t any chrysanthemums nearby, the three of us had to look through the whole house and everywhere in the front and back yards too.

Now she was truly confused.  I told her I’d mesmerized her and she was in my power.  She giggled, scrunched up her perky nose, and snorted derisively at me.  Big mistake.  I started snapping my fingers at her.  The more I did it, the more pleasure swept through her body and overpowered her consciousness.  {If I’d only turned on one of my videocams.}  She sort of realized the connection between me snapping my fingertips and what she was feeling.  She asked me to stop, but I slowly licked my lips and stuck out my very long tongue at her and kept right on snapping her out of her mind.  She went down on her hands and knees, looked up at me pleadingly and beseeched me to release her from my control.  I snapped my fingers a few more times.  She promised she’d do whatever I wanted.  Since I liked her a lot, I didn’t take her up on that offer–not then.

After she’d calmed down to almost normalcy, I said she should look deep into my eyes.  After she did what I told her, I progressively relaxed her whole body from head to toes.  I removed the suggestion about what she’d feel when she heard me snap my fingers.  I recalled how antsy she said she got before an audition or when she was gonna perform.  So I posthypnotically suggested that whenever she wanted or needed to relax and feel tranquil and calmed down, she’d feel exquisite each time she even thought about chrysanthemums or their appealing fragrance.  {Just because I thoroughly enjoyed messing with her braininess didn’t mean I wasn’t going to help her out whenever I could.}  Then I brought her out of trance and said her name three times.  When all her memories flooded her mind, the look she gave me was something else.  She playfully, and a little reverently, called me a sorceress and swore up and down I’d cast a spell on her.  She also wanted to know if I could use my magical powers of persuasion on anyone else?

TO BE CONTINUED…

***  end of CHAPTER #1  —–