“Madame Magda—Reader and Adviser” the carved wood sign read. It hung over the entrance to a door at a modest home in a residential area of a large city. Bob Cunningham looked around and again questioned the wisdom of his two friends who had advised him to see Magda. Over lunch he had told a couple of his friends that he had read about burglaries at art studios in town. Since he owned one of the larger galleries in the city he wanted to take more security precautions to protect his property. Both friends, also gallery owners, instead suggested that he visit Magda. They told him that she could tell, just by talking to him, if he needed more protection. Bob didn’t go in for mumbo-jumbo stuff like fortune tellers but his friends were so insistent that he agreed to see her just to placate them.

As he knocked on the ornate door he was pleasantly surprised at the beauty of the young woman who greeted him. He had expected an old hag but before him stood a lovely young, dark-haired sensuous girl. Although dressed in traditional gypsy attire, her slim, taut figure couldn’t be concealed by the flowing skirt. Her large, firm breasts were displayed—temptingly— by the low-cut peasant blouse she wore. Tied around her lovely head, binding her gorgeous long black silken hair, was a beautiful brightly colored gypsy scarf. Her eyes were dark, deep and hauntingly beautiful. Her complexion, dark and smooth, was flawless while her full red lips curled up into a slight smile that seemed to beckon him closer as he stared, open mouthed, at her astounding beauty.

“You were expecting someone else, Mr. Cunningham?”

“Well, uh, I expected . . . .”

“I know, I know,” she laughed, “an old voodoo witch. Everyone is surprised when they see me. My mother and her mother before he were gifted seers. I inherited the talent. It came out early in me so I went on my own two years ago when I was barely twenty. But, as your friends told you, I am very good at what I do. Oh, by the way, that’s how I knew your name. Your friends called me and told me you were coming over. Not nearly as mysterious as you thought, eh?”

“No. I guess not,” he replied. “As you know, I think, my concern is the safety of my paintings. I was told you could, in some way, assess my risk.”

She looked straight into his eyes and replied, “Indeed, Mr. Cunningham, I can—and believe it or not—I use a crystal ball. Just walk over to that table and have a seat and we’ll get started.”

He walked to the table as instructed and sat down on the straight-backed wooden chair. He looked at the large, clear, pale blue crystal orb in the center of the table with great skepticism.

Magda spoke, as if reading his mind. “Well, Mr, Cunningham, it only costs twenty dollars so you’ve lost very little if this doesn’t work. And gained much if it does. Shall we proceed?”

“Okay.”

“Place the twenty dollars on the table next to the crystal and we will start.”

Cunningham fished around in his pocket, removed a bill and placed it right next to the crystal ball. Almost as if on a signal, the room lights dimmed and a strange wavering light from below illuminated the crystal, throwing a blue glow on Magda’s lovely face. The light seemed to pulse, as if it were a heart made of light. Regularly. Slowly. Softly. Magda began to speak.

“Just stare into the crystal, Mr. Cunningham. It soothes, it calms, it relaxes . . . just stare. You feel yourself getting drowsy. Don’t fight it. Give in to it because you do want to sleep. You do need to rest. Just fix your eyes on the crystal.

“Empty your mind of every other thought. Strange isn’t it, how the light is reflected? Little specks of blue light that move and move. It’s as if they are drawing you in . . . deeper and deeper . . . it does no good to resist . . . just listen to my voice . . . you trust me . . . you know that if you follow my instructions you will be at rest . . . you do want to obey, you know you must obey me . . . obey me. Obey Me.”

He was falling under Her power. Somewhere n the back of his mind he knew he was being hypnotized and thought he should right it but Her voice was so soothing, so compelling, so comforting.

“My voice rules your mind. My voice rules your very soul . . . you have no desire to resist My commands. You want to obey My every command. I control you. Do you understand?” He nodded, still staring blankly at the crystal and listening to her soft, compelling voice.

“You belong to Me, mr. cunningham . . . you agree that’s true, don’t you?”

Again he nodded, transfixed as he was by Her commands.

“Now, tell Me the truth. you cannot lie to Me. Tell Me about the alarm system at your gallery. How does it work? What are the codes? Tell Me!”

Unable to lie to Magda, he told Her all the answers She requested: the locations of the alarms, the codes, the switches—just as instructed. Magda took notes as he told Her the secret hiding place of each jewel, each fine carving, all the things that were not on display. After She had learned everything She needed, She commanded him to be silent.

“Now give Me the key to your gallery and you may leave,” She ordered him. “Remember one more thing: you will forget what happened here today but if ever I need you again, I have only to say the words ‘you are Magda’s slave’ and you will again me under My power. Do you understand and agree?”

“Yes,” he answered, “Under Your wonderful, soothing power.”

“Now, go!”

With that, Cunningham got up and walked out of the room and onto the street. Regaining his senses after a few blocks, he was very confused and couldn’t remember where he was going.

Several weeks had passed when one night after he got home he realized that he had left his briefcase, with some work he needed to do in it, on his desk at the gallery. Jumping into his car, he sped quickly downtown, avoiding the cops and pushing every signal . . . red meant slow, yellow meant go . . . and green meant speed it up.

As he jumped out of the driver’s seat he immediately knew something was wrong. The front door was open! Inside he could see a darkly dressed figure prowling around, shining a flashlight along the paintings on the walls.

“Damn it, why haven’t the alarms gone off?” he wondered as he removed the 9mm automatic pistol from the glove box of the car. As he sneaked into the gallery to confront the thief he noticed that the door had not been jimmied, but instead, opened with a key.

Entering the gallery, he turned on the bright display lights, momentarily blinding the intruder and shouted, “Hands up asshole. I’ve got a gun and I’ll use it.” The dark-clad figure turned toward him—hands raised, showing no resistance.

“Now let me take a look at you. Take off the cap.”

As the burglar pulled off the cap, shimmering black silken hair fell about Her lovely shoulders. It was Magda!

“Stay calm, Mr. Cunningham, don’t shoot. I’ll do what you say,” She whispered.

“I don’t understand,” he said, “What’s going on?”

“Well,” She said as Her dark eyes pierced his, “I’m responsible for all the gallery burglaries. When gallery owners come to Me for a reading I get them to tell Me about their most valuable pieces and how to get them. They tell their friends in the business about Me and soon everyone is visiting Me—and providing Me with information. Pretty slick, huh?”

Amazed, he stared at Her. The tight fitting black outfit accentuated Her fabulously sexy, feminine figure. But Her burglarizing his business and Her sudden, blatant confession certainly were not feminine in any sense.

“Why would anyone tell you how to get in and how did you find out about my gallery,” he asked.

“Oh! Did I forget to mention that I compelled everyone to tell Me—including you!:

“How? You aren’t that big! And why had no one told the police about you after they were robbed?”

“Simple. They were under My hypnotic influence. I’m a hypnotist and an expert one!”

“Well, how interesting. Let’s see if you can put the cops under a spell. I’m calling them now!”

She smiled sensuously and said, “No you’re not.”

“And why not?” he asked.

“Because you are Magda’s slave!” His eyes widened. “Yes, under your wonderful divine power.” Her post-hypnotic suggestion was activated. “Very good! you are under My power. Isn’t that gun getting heavy? So heavy you can’t hold it in your hand. So heavy you can hold it no longer. Too heavy for you . . . drop it!”

The gun landed nosily on the wooden floor of the gallery.

“Now I think you should show Me proper respect by kneeling before Me!”

Falling to his knees, he was unable to resist Her orders.

“Look at Me!”

Gazing at the raven-haired beauty before him, even in this entranced state he was affected by Her erotic good looks and sexual presence. The dark outfit, the black leather boots, Her smoldering eyes—it all aroused a fetish deep within him. In his mind he knew that even if he wasn’t in a hypnotic trance this woman would be able to control him just by using Her looks, and Her irresistible feminine powers.

“Do you see that I am a fabulously beautiful, infinitely deserving female? Remember, you can not lie to Me?”

“Oh yes, Magda, I think You are the most beautiful woman I have even seen, in person or otherwise.”

“Address Me as Mistress Magda, My little slave boy!”

“Yes, Mistress Magda.”

“I came here to rob you as I had the others but it occurs to Me that if I controlled a gallery Myself, I could resell all the stolen paintings at a greater profit than selling the goods to ‘fences.’ you have a reputation for honesty in the art world so you could help Me get the very best prices.”

Cunningham continued to gaze at the black-clad gypsy as instructed as She continued: “But the only problem is that sometime the hypnosis wears off. I will have to control you by other means, but that too might be amusing. Down on the floor, slave boy. Crawl to your Mistress. Crawl . . . that’s it.”

Cunningham threw himself to the floor and began crawling on his stomach toward Magda. Inch by inch he crawled closer to the gypsy beauty.

“The closer you get to Me the more you realize you love Me, bobby boy. The closer you get the more excited you get. The closer you get, the more you understand that you must love, worship and obey Me. I am more than your Mistress. I am your destiny. I am your Goddess!”

As he grew closer his cock grew harder and harder. He was excited by Her nearness. He was in love with Her. He had to belong to Her. He was fascinated, fixated, obsessed with this dark-haired dominatrix. She continued to give him orders designed to overpower his will to resist; to penetrate his sub-conscious, enslave him, make him totally surrender to Her.

“I sense you have a fetish for black clothing and boots. A fetish that involves serving powerful women. Isn’t that right?”

Still crawling, he grunted in agreement.

“Now you may lick My boots.”

Looking at the high black boots, slave bobby realized he did indeed want to lick Her boots. First he shined the tops with his tongue and then as She lifted each foot he kissed and licked the soles and heels, removing the dirt and grime from the left boot, then the right.

“Good little boy. Now you may remove them.” Magda sat on a long bench in the center of the gallery and offered Her boots to the submissive cunningham. As instructed, he removed both boots—as lovingly and gently as could. “Now worship My lovely dominating feet,” She instructed him. Obeying, bob licked, nibbled and sucked Her feet. he removed Her stockings and sucked each toe as if it were a large nipple. “Good boy. now you may remove My clothing—gently.”

First cunningham lifted Her black sweater over Her head and stared openly at Her firm, dark breasts. “Don’t touch, slave boy,” She admonished. Then he knelt before Her and removed the dark trousers and black lacy panties, leaving Her beautifully, totally, stunningly naked to his view.

“Gaze at this lavishingly stunning body, slave boy. I am your Goddess! This body owns you. you would do anything to touch, to kiss, to worship, this perfect body, is that not true?”

The kneeling slave nodded, “Oh yes, Mistress Magda, you are so exciting—a vision of loveliness. Please allow me to be near You to worship and to serve You . . . please let me be Your slave . . . forever . . . Mistress, Goddess Magda . . . please.”

“When I count three you will awaken from My hypnotic spell, but deep in your mind you know it was not only hypnosis that controlled you but My infinite beauty and My feminine power. When I awaken you, you may say and do anything you desire but remember the phrase that will activate your trance so that at anytime I wish, I may capture your will.”

“Yes Goddess. The phrase is ‘you are Magda’s slave.’ But Mistress, i am Your slave, even without such a command. i love you!”

Magda and touched his cheeks as he knelt in front of Her. Her erotic power, Her feminine wiles, Her hypnotic skills, Her beauty and Her sensuality had enslaved cunningham. he would comply with Her every wish. She smiled. “One—My little slave—two— your Goddess is releasing you—three—you are awake. you may do and say what you desire.”

Freed from Her hypnotic control, cunningham at once got up from his knees and stood—but then he found he could not walk away. he just stood and stared, drinking in the sight of the lovely Magda’s naked beauty before him. he knew She had tried to rob him, he knew he should call the police—but he couldn’t. Instead he pulled off his clothes to stand naked before this dark beauty. he stared at Her perfect face and sexy body. he drank in Her olive complexion, Her sensual lips, Her commanding, all-knowing eyes. Again he fell to his knees. He crawled to Her and kissed Her feet.

“i am Yours, Mistress Magda. i love You. Do with me what You will. i will do anything You desire of me.”

“Well slave boy, I knew you would. We will love together and everyone will think we have a normal relationship, but when we are alone you will serve Me and worship Me as you are doing now. you will do as I say in everything. In our home and in our business, this gallery. you will sign an agreement making Me the controlling partner in all your interests. Understand?”

“If that is Your desire.”

She continued, “And we will sell all the items I have gotten from the other galleries and I will get all the money from them.”

The love-struck slave embraced her legs. “Yes, my Mistress.”

She cupped his face in Her hands. “Now stand before me and take your cock in your hands.”

As he stood, She slowly, gracefully walked in a circle around him. Fascinated, he followed Her with his eyes—Her body, Her every movement exciting him, filling him with wild lust, an insatiable desire to serve and be used.

“Stroke for Me!” She ordered. The slave started pulling on his engorged cock. As She got behind him She slapped his ass, hard! Again and again She used Her open hand to smack his bare cheeks until they glowed red.

“Keep stroking that cock!”

Pulling on his cock, he savored these moment near his Goddess, excited by Her closeness, loving each slap.

“Now cum, slave boy, cum!”

As his load spewed onto the floor he collapsed in a heap before his new owner. he knew his life had changed for the better. Now instead of worrying about business, and investments, and appointments, he only had one goal in life. A goal he would fulfill to his utmost capabilities. he would serve his Goddess.

She spoke, “you are Magda’s slave.”

Her words were music to his ears as he nodded in agreement—confirming the complete happiness and security of his new life.