NO PART(S) OF THIS STORY, NOR THE WORK IN ITS ENTIRETY, MAY BE ALTERED, COPIED, EXCERPTED, STORED, TRANSMITTED, OR USED IN ANY OTHER WAY(S) BY ANY PERSON(S) WITHOUT THE EXPRESSED, WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE COPYRIGHT HOLDER.

Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to the lovely, loving, lovable, leggy, luxurious, lusty, lustful, and ratiocinative GODDESS MISTRESS MARQUESA DE SADE. It should not be read: by any minor; by any individual(s) ethically, legally, morally, religiously, or personally for any reason(s) prohibited or proscribed from doing so; by any person(s) uncomfortable with the subject of mind-control (in any of its forms) or the topic of feminine influence/control/domination/power/superiority/supremacy or both.

Only someone who has never had to run a business would be ignorant enough or stupid enough to believe it is a piece of cake to do so. Anyone who declares it is easy to attain and/or maintain success or prosperity or both is either a prevaricator or a jackanapes. Branston Bingumton, who was the founder, CEO, and CFO of his own outrageously booming conglomerate, knew both of these things to be true. He had the battle scars of high blood pressure, indigestion, insomnia, ulcers, and stress-engendered pulmonary difficulties to prove it.

Things were not all bad for Branston. A number of perks were concomitant with his considerable and conspicuous corporate career. A prestigious domicile and surrounding estate, luxury excursions and exotic vacations, high social standing and significant political influence were but a few of the boons he enjoyed to the hilt, and far beyond.

From Branston’s perspective, being a busy big businessman’s most blithesome, blissful benefit by far and away was anything in any way connected to those Lemurian, Atlantean, Avalon-esque isles of paradise and fantasy islands in an endless and eternal sea of storms or doldrums, also known as those few exceptionally beautiful babes, who worked for any of his companies. In the work world, Mr. Bingumton constantly craved, ceaselessly strove for, and savagely seized financial gain above all else. Nevertheless, his appalling avarice did not make him adverse to the attractiveness of certain women workers. (For some reason, he was only attracted to women hires for one of his many business ventures.) Federal, state, and local regulations regarding sexual harassment and the creation or continuance of a hostile working environment had made it more difficult and more dangerous for him to expressly express his erotic intentions in terms of his employees for whom he lusted. Nevertheless: if his ogling was unobtrusive and surreptitious; if the women he chose for more than voyeurism for some reason(s) would not (or could not) report his reprehensible rakishness; and if he never permitted his body’s bestial desires to dominate his penchant for self-preservation (and his proclivity for secrecy when such was necessary or salubrious or both), then there was a high probability that he would not be on the business end of any undesirable repercussions for his extracurricular activities.

The latest sex object of his desires was an immigrant named, Archangelolique Alvunroydecci. This tall, gracile, gorgeous, leggy, lithesome lassie hailed from a tiny, pastoral, picturesque, and ancient village nestled high in the Alpine region of northern Italy. She: had long, lustrous, luxurious, wavy, blonde hair; possessed a beatific countenance with huge, extraordinarily dark, expressive, piercingly penetrating eyes; according to her employer’s erotic imaginings owned a bowldaciously bardacious body (with a sylphine waist and classically womanly: full, firm bosoms; well-rounded, prominent hips; and a lovely and luscious buttocks) built for speed and sin; and spake in a richly Italian accented voice guaranteed to make Eartha Kitt, Tallulah Bankhead, Marlene Dietrich, and Mary Violet Leontyne Price sit up and take notice and green with envy. The sole reason Branston Bingumton ever gave heed to Archangelolique’s eyes was that doing so allowed him to let his puerile pupils “unintentionally” wander down her face and along her neck to the two tremendous, tempting titty treasure troves to which he yearned to lay claim and ceaseless seizure.

Most of the males in her work environment centered their attention upon her considerable comeliness–as often as they could feasibly do so, and each in his own way. Some mere males looked at her with leering, lupine lustfulness. Other men were awestruck by her amazing attractiveness. Still other grown-up boys vacillated betwixt these two camps. There were even a few timid souls who dared not fix their gaze upon her gorgeousness at all.

Archangelolique was a collegiate graduate student studying computer science and information systems design, development, implementation, and maintenance. Despite this, the tasks designated to her were primarily more along the lines of what an office assistant would be assigned. This state of affairs which woefully wasted her considerable talents was courtesy of Branston Bingumton himself. Had she toiled as part of the software development team or in the bowels of the headquarters company’s intranet management department, Mr. Bingumton would have had few opportunities to secretly gawk at her. As a member of the secretarial pool, he could easily and inconspicuously position her wherever he desired. This is precisely what he did.

Archangelolique was an exceptionally intelligent young lady. Despite this, however, there were those instances when anyone who did not know her well might conclude she was exceptionally naive. Being neither a citizen nor a longtime resident of the United States, certain colloquialisms, a few argots, some instances of idiomatic expressions, and several uniquely American customs were unknown to her. Once her boss got wind of this chink in her armour, he let no grass grow under his feet in laying his plans for his expected connubial (only so far as the physicality of the interactions was concerned) conquest.

From time to time, Branston would call Archangelolique into his private office. During one of these occasions, the palm and fingers of one of his hands “accidentally” brushed against her curvy buttocks while she was carrying out one of the work-related tasks he had given her. During this interchange, as happened in all their other interactions, his eyes were steadfastly fixed upon and surreptitiously followed her each and every movement.

As she was walking out the door, he called her back to ask her one final question. “Miss Alvunra, uh Archangelolique, would it be possible for you to work late this evening?”

“Is it necessary that I do so?” she inquired.

“Yes, it is. I have just scheduled a business dinner with a very important client. This businesswoman’s second language is English. She is not very comfortable when it comes to using it in important matters. Her mother tongue is Italian. You are the only person I know who can translate for us. Are you available?”

“Yes, Mr. Bingumton. Where shall we meet?”

“Since my guest is unfamiliar with this city, I thought it would be best to have a catered supper here–in the penthouse. This skyscraper is the most visible and well-known building in town. And besides, at night it does provide a magnificent view of the city.”

“When should I arrive?” she asked.

“I’d say about eight o’clock.”

“I shall be on time,” she assured him.

“Excellent.” He smiled broadly as he watched her arise from the chair, turn, and walk out the door.

Ms. Alvunroydecci returned to her desk. While checking her work-related email, she came across a message with a hidden sender’s address and which had the cryptic “‘CAVEAT EMPTOR'” subject line. The included English translation of the slightly flawed Italian text in the message body read, “Things aren’t always as they seem. This includes late night, impromptu business dinners.” She: studied the note; filed the document in a hidden, password-protected directory; and then leaned back in her comfy office chair; crossed her long, lovely legs; smiled broadly; and winked to herself. After a few minutes of restful repose, she continued her ongoing projects of monitoring, testing, and tuning-up the company’s intranet. She worked about half an hour past her usual quitting time. After leaving her job, she purchased several very important items. Then she went home and made her preparations for this evening.

Archangelolique was true to her word. In fact, she was several minutes early. She was tastefully attired in a flowing, form-fitting, conservative, black evening gown. Her hairstyle was much more casual than the one she utilized during business hours. Mr. Bingumton was very appreciative regarding the high heels she had elected to wear. He: greeted her cordially; thanked her profusely for her willingness to be his translator on such short notice; and motioned for her to sit down on the plush velvet sofa with some elegantly embroidered, sumptuous silk pillows strewn thereon.

The caterers promptly and expertly brought in and set up a multiple course meal for three persons. Soon after their departure, Branston politely excused himself in order to respond to a page he had just received. After several minutes had elapsed, he reentered the luxury suite’s well-appointed living room in which Archangelolique was beginning to relax.

“My client has just cancelled for this evening. I’m sorry I made you drive all the way out here for nothing.” He fell silent for several seconds. “Tell you what. Why don’t you just stay for a while and have dinner with me. It would be a crime against gastronomy to let all this excellent food just go to waste.”

“As you wish,” she said compliantly.

As he had intimated, this meal was exquisitely excellent down to the last and most minute detail. Although he did not imbibe, her boss had even gone so far as to make certain the caterer had provided several several wines specifically suited for each of the dinner’s courses.

Their dinner conversation was light and sparkling. Once they were done with dessert, she returned to the sofa and he took his place in an overstuffed armchair facing her.

“I hope you have enjoyed yourself this evening,” Branston began while watching her politely yawn and sumptuously stretch out her beautiful body, long legs, and Amazonian arms.

“Yes, sir, I have very much.”

“There’s no need for you to be so stiff and formal. I would really like it if you would relax and call me Branston. Even if its only just for tonight.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Branston,” she quickly corrected herself.

“Archangelolique, may I call you Archangelolique? I’m not even sure that I’ve been pronouncing your last name correctly. Is it Al-von-oy-decky?”

“It’s pronounced Al-voon-roy-day-chee,” she said.

He made a couple of unsuccessful attempts at reproducing her familial name’s proper pronunciation. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that right. Archangelolique I can handle.” He smiled at his own elocutive incompetence.

“Very well, Archangelolique it is,” she said compassionately.

He leaned back in his chair and dreamily looked at her. “You know, though my business dinner did fall through, one very good thing has come out of this evening?”

“That table is quite solid. How could the dinner possibly fall through it?” she asked.

“What I meant to say is, although my client wasn’t able to come and meet me, nevertheless, something good has happened tonight.”

“And what would that be?” Archangelolique inquired while raising her naturally and highly arched, thick, sculptured eyebrows.

“I’ve had the opportunity to spend some very pleasant quality time with one of my most charming employees.”

“Why thank you, sir. Excuse me, I mean Branston.”

“In fact, I would like to have many opportunities to really get to know you better.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are by far the most attractive woman I have ever met.”

“Excuse me, Branston, but is it not improper for people who work together to have any other kind of a relationship? Here you call it, how you say sexual harass-a-ment?”

“Why not at all. And besides, according to the Alien and Sedition Acts, legislative actions such as sexual harassment laws are only applicable when the plaintiff and defendant are both United States citizens.” He was fairly certain that her knowledge pool regarding the Byzantine-esque, labyrinthian-ish intricate nuances of U.S. law would not enable her to detect his legal and historical falsehood.

“I do not feel right about this.”

“And besides, your immigration status is dependent upon your continued employment. If your position with my company was to be terminated because of your insubordination, such a blot on your resume would make it very difficult for you to find another job anywhere else around these parts. I trust you take my meaning.”

Archangelolique stared at the Oriental rug-patterned carpeting for some moments. “I do. What do you want from me?”

“I just want us to be friends.” His eyes all but popped out of his head as they leered at her. He sovereignly swaggered over and nonchalantly sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I feel we can and should be very close friends.”

“I understand.” Archangelolique sensed that the clarion call of Branston Bingumton’s body’s double cream vanilla gelato would this man deny no longer. She was certain that it was his intent to now place his, alterable as pertaining to length and girth, biscotti log in the moist confines of this very sexy woman’s cozy, contractible cannoli shell. She turned her body so that her luxuriously long legs were now pointed in his direction. As she looked directly and deeply into his eyes, she slowly, serenely, and sensuously stretched out then crossed her shapely stems. “Have you ever made love to an authentic Italian woman? I do not mean a woman whose family once lived in Italy.”

“Why no. But I am always open to new pleasurable experiences.” He made no attempt to ameliorate or disguise his enthusiasm. Had he been a more audacious individual, drool would have been seen dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

“Then you are in for a treat. I grew up far, far out in the countryside. My family is very traditional. We like to keep alive the old customs and the old ways. When I was a little ‘bambina,’ I loved to listen to the old women in my village. They would sit and talk about all kinds of things. One of the things I learned from them, was the secret way in which only women from way, way back in the Italian countryside can please a man like no one else can even think to imagine.”

Branston mentally jumped for joy and thanked his lucky stars that he had hit the jackpot and found a pot of gold at each end of the rainbow bridge to Asgard. “What is the secret?” Bingumton asked expectantly and unabashedly.

“It is not something to be expressed properly in mere words. To truly understand our secret, it requires participation by the man as well as the wise woman.”

“I’m ready, willing, and able” he offered.

“Good. Now, are you willing to do whatever I say in order to receive the pleasure you desire?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” she queried.

“I am willing to do whatever you say.”

“You will do whatsoever I say, so that you can get what it is you deserve?”

“I will do whatever you ask of me,” he promised.

“That is good. Now, I want you should place your head in my lap.”

Miss Alvunroydecci leaned back on the sofa, uncrossed her legs, and tantalizingly slowly hiked up her ankle-length dress before he could quickly comply with her request. Once his head rested upon her stocking-clad thighs, Archangelolique utilized her long, limber fingers and her meticulously manicured, perfectly polished, long, and sharpened nails to massage and manipulate his massive frame. Varying amounts of tactile pressure did she use. Various patterns and lines in sundry directions did she deftly draw upon the surface of his skin. From time to time she would flick, pinch, or play with either or both of his nipples. There were occasions when one or both of her hands drew near to, or circled around, his lance of love or mountain oysters or both. While her handsome hands ministered to his body, she softly hummed, sweetly sang, or sensuously spoke to him in a language he assumed was Italian.

the smooth, silky, and sensitive tips of her fingers felt the increasing relaxation of his once muscular, now only massive body. Her enormous eyes beheld a glazed expression of vacant headed drowsiness coming over his countenance. Her ears heard his respiration becoming slower and deeper.

“Now for the next part of what you Americans call, how you say it, oh yes “foreplaying with you.” Tell me what you like most about my body?”

“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.”

“I see. That is good.”

She turned around to face him after seductively slithering out from under his upper torso. While doing so, she made sure she constantly cradled his head in one or both of her hands. Gently placed she his cranium down upon the cushion beneath it. Once his body was in full contact with the sofa, once more did her hands work their witchery upon him for a few moments. When she next turned her back to him, she was quite pleased to discover she could see every physical detail of him quite clearly in the room’s mirrored wall.

Now did Archangelolique Alvunroydecci slowly, seductively, sensuously, and suggestively swing her womanly hips and pronounced, pulchritudinous posterior from side to side. “Now, Branston, gaze upon the object of your desires. As my deliciously desirable derriere delightfully moves in front of your eyes. Let your eyes only see my hips swinging back and forth and back and forth and back and forth before your eyes. Let your ears drink in and only hear, I say hear only, the sound of my ‘bellissima voce.’ My vvoice and my movements are all that are of any importance to your mind and your senses. The only object of any importance to your eyes is my bewitchingly and beguilingly beautiful buttocks. All you desire to do and live for is to fasten and feast your eyes upon the slow and easy irresistible movements of my hips, my thighs, and my delightfully delightsome derriere. You can think of nothing you would rather do, than to watch my hips swing so smoothly before your sexy, salacious, and slightly sleepy eyes. Yes, my dear Branston, I can see that the energy you expend in focusing upon my movements and listening to my magical voice is beginning to make you relax, relax, relax. The more you center your attention upon my backside and my words, the more and more and more you find yourself relaxing, relaxing, and relaxing more and more. You are finding it impossible to resist the gentle waves of relaxation you feel gently flowing over your entire body. The more you try to focus upon my movements and my voice, or the more you struggle to resist the relaxation you feel, more and more and even more shall you relax, relax, relax. Although you are becoming more and more relaxed, you understand perfectly all that I say to you. No matter how relaxed you shall become, you shall be able to clearly understand all things I say to you.” When Archangelolique spake and moved her derriere, when it struck her fancy she raised, lowered, and in other ways manipulated the long, clinging cocktail dress she so wilily wore so witchingly well.

She suspended her speaking and her movement, to give herself a mental and physical respite. Then she turned around in order to evaluate her boss’s condition. The signs she surveyed were not unknown to her. She had done this sort of thing on a multitude of occasions. She suspected that she enjoyed this instance definitely more than most, and probably more than all, of the other times she had done such a thing. The Mediterranean, mature, matriarchal, magian ministers of matrilineally-managed mystical mysteries who had insinuatingly inculcated esoteric instruction and insidiously indoctrinated antiquarian, institutional gynecocratic governance into her would have been well pleased with their Junoesque, pulchritudinous protégé’s presence, presentation, and ploy.

She turned her compelling countenance toward her employer. “Branston, do you hear me?”

“Ya … ye … yeeeeeeesssssss,” he haltingly slurred at last.

“You feel much pleasure, do you not?” Archangelolique inquired. She held on to, emphasized, and purred out the single multisyllabic word in her most recent question.

“Yeeeeeeesssssss,” was Mr. Bingumton’s only audible answer.

“Do you desire to feel more pleasure from me?” the young lady asked. Her tone and manner were the essence of innocence.

“Yes.”

“For you to feel more pleasure, you must do whatever I tell you. If you want to experience even more and more pleasures, then you must do whatever I tell you to do. To feel even more pleasures and pleasures, then you must agree to do whatever I say for you to do. Do you want more pleasure? Are you ready, willing, and able to receive and enjoy even more pleasures?”

“Yes.”

“Do you agree to do whatever I say for you to do?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you agree to do?”

“I agree to do what you want me to do.”

“Is excellent. When you listen to me say, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI,'” what you feel at that moment will be even stronger than your feelings right now. Whenever you hear me say, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI,'” you will be relaxed more deeply and feel even more pleasure than you now do at this time. Though you hearing me say the words, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI'” will relax you more than you have ever been beforetime, you will be able to completely understand anything I say to you. No matter how relaxed and sleepy you become after hearing me say, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI,'” you will always hear and completely comprehend each thing and every thing I ever shall tell you. Tell me what occurrence will happen when you hear my voice say, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI?'””

“I will feel more pleasure and be more relaxed than I am right now.”

“What will you understand after I say to you, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI?'””

“Anything you say to me.”

“Branston, when you hear me clap my hands, you will return to your usual way of being. When you hear me clap my hands, you will think and feel as you always do. The last thing you will remember is that we are preparing ourselves for a time of great lovemaking. The only thought in your mind is that we are making preparations for a night of incredible and unbelievable erotic passionately.”

She resumed her position prior to her ensorcellingly soporific solo stage show and soliloquy. After softly stroking his torso for some moments and observing the definite departure of the last, lingering vestigial vestiges of either voluntary or autonomic resistance to the relaxation of which she had spoken, she loudly clapped her huge hands.

It took some time for Mr. Branston Bingumton’s eyes to open and properly focus. He had no idea why his eyes had been closed in the first place. All he could cogitate upon was how lucky he would soon be getting with this masterpiece of Italian young womanhood whose young Italian womanhood he was determined to master.

“So what happens now?” he asked. Though he had never felt quite so good, his only working head’s impatience was insistently beginning to buck up and rear its ugly head.

She slightly lowered her long, thick eyelashes and looked directly and dreamily and desirously into the very depths and centres of his eyes. “Now each of us must ask the other person a question which has not been asked before. It is our way of cleansing each and everyone of one’s nonmaterial palates for the powerful mental, psychological, spiritual, and physical pleasures which shall soon surely follow. It is an ancient tradition that the man must ask the first question”

Though he was in no wise either the progeny of Irish ancestry nor was he the spawn of any Hellenistic lineage, many would have sworn that Branston possessed a perfect clone of the Blarney Stone shorn from the earth, sculpted, sanded, smoothed, and cherishingly caressed by the halcyon hands of Calliope–the firstborn and fairest of voices amongst the nine mythic Muses. During this critical time, at this idyllic location, and in this propitious circumstance–when he most yearned for its presence and was needful of its manifestation–his Gargantuan and glorious gift for glibness proved itself to be temporarily false to, as it unexpectedly and inexplicably absented itself from, its master’s service. While stuttering and stammering he strenuously strove and strained to come up with one simple question to pose to her. “Do you have any bras?” He, whose tongue was as lauded as his financial resources were large, asked her this query and could say not one intelligible word more.

Mr. Branston Bingumton had no intention of being so vulgarly uncouth and crassly obvious. It was not that he possessed any aversion to being a pottymouth–when the time was right, of course. Still, had he gotten his druthers he never would have mentioned anything remotely associated with any exclusively feminine body parts or connected in the most ancillary, obscure, circumloquacious, or oblique fashion to sexuality. He always wanted to provide his lover(s) with an environment as conducive as possible for lovemaking. Intimidating a potential sexual conquest was frequently a boon to him. Antagonizing a possible trophy had never been to any degree beneficial.

“Yes, I do,” was Archangelolique’s only answer. Anyone studying her visage at this instant would have seen only an enigmatic, Mona Lisa-like smile.

“And what is your question for me?” he inquired.

“What is your opinion of” she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against a pillow resting atop the luxuriously comfortable sofa, “how you say it in English, I think is it” mesmerism?””

His incredulous, porcine snorts were followed posthaste by a series of hearty, contemptuous, knee-slapping, gut-busting guffaws. “Hip-no-sis! You must be joking. Hype-no-sis is more like it. I assumed that sort of unenlightened, uneducated, unsophisticated, unscientific, abracadabra-listic, alakazam-alism, hocus pocus stuff went out with the Dark Ages. Please tell me you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes or at least that you’re pulling my leg. They ought to rename it, “hypno-silliness.”” It took some time for him to contain his vociferous amusement concomitant with her query and his cleverness. The idea of this statuesque sweetie pulling his leg, or even better pulling on a smaller, more important, and now lengthening part of his body, was something he now looked forward to experiencing firsthand, hands-on, and for him hands-down.

“You are very confident that such a thing is impossible?”

“I’ve never seen any evidence to make me believe hypnosis is anything but chicanery or self-delusion or play acting.”

“I do not agree with you. I have seen some strange and frightening things. When I was a little ‘bambina,’ I sometimes heard the aged people whispering bits and pieces of stories about an ancient hermit living in a cave high in the mountains. They said this man would put the evil eye on anyone who displeased him or made him angry.” She visibly and audibly gulped and the color briefly faded from her rosy cheeks. She had to take several slow, deep breaths in order to steady her shakiness and calm herself. “I was so scared of him,” she said in a pleading, plaintive voice.

Had Bingumton’s carnal cravings not been on his mind, his patriarchal (only in the good sense of the word) propensity to be protective of her would have kicked in much more forcefully. “There is a rational, naturalistic, un-supernatural explanation for everything you were told and anything you may have seen or experienced. Let us say this hermit of a wizard did put some kind of a supposed hex on somebody. Let us also say that some bad thing did happen to the intended victim after the spell or jinx was cast. Whatever misfortune befell this individual could be only a coincidence. It might also have been a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“What you mean by this “self-fulfilling prophecy?”” she asked arching her eyebrows once again.

“Let us say, for the sake of discussion, that the allegedly accursed person somehow found out about the voodoo cast on him or her. The curse’s victim might panic and thus become more susceptible to accidents. This person’s belief in the hex’s power might cause this individual to contract some sort of a psychosomatic illness. That person’s own mind would cause the purportedly bewitched individual to become sick. The human mind is vast, powerful, and capable of many things. My point is that if something bad happens to someone who’s been cursed by a witch, that does not prove that the curse is the progenitor of the unwanted circumstance.”

“I see. But even if all you say is so, does any or all of that mean that hypnosis is not real?”

“Yes, it does.”

“I have heard or read somewhere that sometimes it is possible for a person to be placed into a trance after hearing some special word or phrase.”

“Boloney, balderdash, fiddle-faddle, and poppycock.”

“So nothing would ever happen to a person who heard someone, who was a hypnotist, say something like, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI?'””

His lips had started to form the first word of an answer which would remain eternally inaudible to everyone who could have heard his response. Miss Alvunroydecci watched the waves of relaxation overtax, overcome, overwhelm, and overpower the resistance of her boss’s body. On several occasions she clapped her hands and brought him back to his usual perceptions of external reality. Before he had any opportunity to fully settle down into his waking consciousness, once more would she say, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI.'” While gazing upon her employer undergoing the throes of having his consciousness metamorphosized into a seesaw, Archangelolique employed one or two of her formidable fists, either or both of her handsome hands, various numbers of her fascinating fingertips, and any number of her nails upon certain particularly tactilely sensitive spots. The tantalizing tides of pleasure he felt were being transmogrified into temptingly torrential tsunamis of sensual satisfaction. During his several journeys into his very pleasurable altered state of perception, she would utter such things as: “Deep sleep,” “Relax more and more,” “Sleep now,” and “Deep relaxation.” From time to time she would inadvertently use an Italian word or expression such as, “‘profondo dormire'” for its English counterpart.

A master chef for whom some species of soufflé is this artistic culinary craftsman’s signature ‘magnum opus’ knows that perfect timing is essential for this delicate and delightsomely delicious dish’s creation and presentation. Archangelolique Alvunroydecci sensed that the precisely perfect moment had arrived for her to perform the deeds which she had come to this private penthouse soiree to do. Now did this wily, witching woman laugh in a most mercilessly sinister and monumentally sovereign fashion. “Yes, mr. branston bingumton, now at long last your puerile panting for the potent pleasure of powerful passion has made you all Mine. So, mr. bingumton, there is no such thing as the power of hypnosis. Indeed, my infernal, infantile employer, you think to make Me nothing more than, as you would so vulgarly say it, “a pretty, little piece of ass.” We shall see. Oh yes indeed, now we shall all seeeeeee!” Once again did she send forth that laughter which augured nothing save infernal and eternal ill will for its odious, overbearing, obnoxious, overconfident, objectionable object. Had branston bingumton possessed the power of movement and had any foresight for his immediate and long-term future, he would have wasted no time and spared no expense in turning tail, taking to his heels, running out the door lickety-split, and heading headlong for the hills like a bat out of the hottest, horrific, hellish haunts in Hades to save his very life, or at least to salvage his sanity.

Once more did the commanding and consciousness commandeering Archangelolique Alvunroydecci alluringly arise and serenely stand before her beauty-bamboozled, Bacchanalian-befuddled boss. While she slid her long and lovely legs out from under him, this time she allowed his head to land on the sofa’s cushion upon which it came to rest with a muffled though definite thump. So deep was his entrancement that this slight jarring of his head did not disturb him in the slightest. This fact was not unnoticed by, and brought much satisfaction to, Archangelolique. It also elicited a throaty, girlish giggle from the only person who had any awareness of its taking place.

Brianston Bingumton hated his job more than he had ever despised anyone or anything. His work was interesting. He liked, or at least got along civilly, with everyone he worked with. It was being employed by his father that truly transformed his employment into travail–in the Biblical (specifically the King James Version) sense of the word.

Brianston was proud of his work on the Johnstone proposal. It was the most complex and taxing career-related project he had undertaken heretofore. He even had finished the task before the self-imposed deadline he had given his father for the task’s completion. After trying several phone numbers, he suspected Branston was probably at the penthouse. Something as important as the Johnston proposal must be hand-delivered, in-person, and as soon as possible. After feeding and petting his new puppy on the head, he hopped in his car and headed off on the lengthy drive to the glittering glass-and-steel office complex atop which the glamorously sumptuous penthouse stood like a precious prize amongst the crown jewels.

Ms. Alvunroydecci had almost constant cogitations concerning this specific circumstance ever since she’d discovered her employer’s lie regarding the fictitious, foreign, female client. Knowing how to secretly peruse even hidden data files and computer directories had finally paid off for her. She had suspected his subterfuge from the moment he asked her to be his late night translator. His lewdly lustful, cleverly concealed desires for her had not escaped her notice. It is all but impossible for someone to completely cover up a craving of such magnitude or duration or both. (His words and actions in the penthouse only served to validate her low opinion of this loathsome, libidinous, lecherous lout. His putrid, puerile pusillanimity particularly peeved her. He could, and should, simply have been a worthwhile man about it and: first of all, straightforwardly and preferably with classiness convey his desire for her and the strength of the same; and secondly, acknowledge that it was solely her sovereign right to reciprocate or not.) His willingness to attempt such a trick with her of manufacturing a nonexistent evening’s work in order to try to have his way with her had caused her to speculate. “In what other unethical, immoral, or illegal activities had he been involved or was he planning?” She came to the conclusion that knowing the answers to her supposition might be of great benefit to her.

And so it was that she had purchased and brought with her two video cameras and one tape recorder. (She had learned that no matter how good any technological tool was, it was always a good idea, whenever feasible or possible, to have a backup device available.) These three recording devices did she set up and activate before continuing her activities.

She elected to prime his pump a little more before getting down to the brass tacks and nuts-and-bolts of his interrogation, and what would follow in its wake. His immediate fate and far-off future would be vastly dependent upon and determined by his responses to her upcoming inquiries.

“branston, branston, do you hear Me?” It took him several tries to answer in the affirmative. “you have felt much pleasure from Me–is it not so?” Though it did not take him quite so long as before to answer, “Yes,” to Her inquiry, it was necessary for him to expend a considerable amount of effort to do so. “Do you like to have even more pleasure–such as this?” Archangelolique asked him. While posing this query, she: leaned forward seductively thus clearly bringing Her bountiful, beautiful bosoms into his banal, voyeuristic view; and thereafter slowly and sensuously stroked a portion of the region surrounding his penis and scrotum with Her fingernails. She heard him eagerly slur his acceptance of this proposal.

Miss Alvunroydecci straightened up and fell silent for some moments. This tactic was intended to further ignite his titillation, and perhaps to increase any anxiety he might be feeling. “you are a very rich and successful businessman. you know it is true that, as you say in America, “There is no such thing as a lunch that costs nothing.” To receive the pleasure you desire, you must do something in return. For you to get the pleasure you crave, then you must do something for Me. When you have obeyed Me, then did you get pleasure. Whenever you have done as I told you, then, and only then, have you gotten the pleasure you wanted. When you obey Me, you shall have pleasure. Whenever you shall obey what I tell you to do, then you shall be rewarded with great pleasure. Tell Me what will happen when you obey Me?”

“I will get pleasure.”

“you are right. When you obey, you get the pleasures. When you do what I say, then you have wonderful, great pleasures. What I want you do now is tell only the truth to me. What I want you to do is to answer any question I ask you with only the truthfulness. Tell Me what I want from you?”

“To tell you only the truth.”

“What will happen when you do what I say and tell Me only what is the truth?”

“I will get pleasure.”

“Excellent! Now have you had software put on any of your company’s computers which lets you know what the people who work for you are doing?”

“Yes.” There was a shrewd and self-satisfied smile on branston’s countenance.

“Have you had any other kinds of software or devices installed to keep track of your employees?”

The man began to giggle childishly. Yes. There are tiny, little, pinhole spy cameras in some of the computers.” His tone seemed to be conspiratorial and gleeful.

“Why did you have these little cameras installed?”

“So I could sneak a look at some of the most attractive women I’ve hired. I never would have hired any of them if they weren’t the prettiest.”

Now did She understand the reason for his happiness. “Do these cameras feed their data into a computer you use at work?”

“Yes. I can look at the women, or know what any of my workers are doing whenever i want to.”

“Have you done anything to keep any of your employees from finding out about your spying on them?”

“Yes. All the information and the programs i use is locked away in a secret, password-secured file folder.”

“Now, mr. bingumton, listen to what I say. Since you have told Me the truth, when you hear Me clap My hands, you will feel more pleasure. When you hear My hands clapping, you will get even stronger pleasure. you will not have all the pleasure you can feel, until i tell you so. you will not feel all the pleasures you can feel, until i tell you to do so.”

Over the next few minutes, She manipulated this masterful, menial man of means like a mindless marionette. She observed his body move, then squirm, and ultimately writhe in response to the sound of Her clapping Her humongous and handsome hands. His facial expressions and the sounds he made as a result of the pleasure he felt gave Her amusement to no end.

Once Archangelolique’s sense of humor was somewhat satiated, the time had come for Her to proceed with Her plans. “branston, when you tell Me all of your passwords, you will feel more pleasure than you have ever felt. When you tell to me your secret passwords, then and only then shall you feel so much beautiful and powerful pleasure. Tell Me your secret passwords?”

“”bingumton branston,” all in capitalized letters and no spaces anywhere.”

She would not even have to write it down. She smiled to Herself. This man’s satyriasis, simple-mindedness, and conceit would be his undoing–with a little assistance from A Wise, Wily, Witch of a Superior Specimen of Womanliness. “mr. branston, you know by now that you are in My power. you know, in each and every fibre of your being, that you are completely in My power and My control. you know you can not resist My spell I have cast upon you. you know, from the crown of your head down to the soles of your feet, that it is absolutely impossible for you to even try to resist Me, and the powerfulness of My magic spells. And now, My ‘schiavo’ My little slave, where are the keys to your private office?”

“In my pocket.”

While going through all of his coat, shirt, and trouser pockets, from time to time did She subtily stimulate his skin. Finding several sets of keys in his possession, She asked him about each one. She was quite pleased when She finally had the ring of keys She desired.

“Yes, My silly, little, pleasure-sodden slave, soon now you will go into a deep, deep sleeeeeeep. After I have clapped My hands, you will be your regular self. After you hear Me clap My hands, then you shall be your regular self. you will remember all that has happened to you this evening. you will perfectly recollect all that has happened to you this night. when you hear Me say the word “SLEEP,” you will become more tired and sleepy than ever before. When you shall hear Me, and only Me, say the word, “SLEEP,” then you shall become more sleepy than ever before. you will go into a deep and sound sleep, just for Me. your sleeeeeeep will be sooooooo deeeeeeep, that you will only awaken after I say your first and last name and the word “AWAKE.” The only thing that will arouse you from your deep, deeeeeeep sleeeeeeep courtesy of the powerful magic of the sleeping spell I have cast upon you is Me saying the words, “BRANSTON BINGUMTON, AWAKE.””

While She laughed at this pathetic fellow, She loudly clapped Her hands. As the realization of what had happened forcefully struck him down, She saw the expressions of bewilderment, horror, and rage play across his visage.

“You! fucking! bitch!!! You god! damned!! witch!!! What have you done to me?” Fiercely, and in unison, did he slam each of his huge hands down upon the thick, yielding cushions on which he was sprawled.

While She took several steps backward, Sorceress Alvunroydecci continued to mockingly laugh at Her enchantingly ensnared and indomitably imperiled employer. “you should learn to never speak to Me in such a way. I am a Witch. you have fallen under My spell. I have cast many a mighty and powerful magical spell upon you. you are now, and for so long as I will it, nothing more than My tiny, little, powerless puppet of a little slave ‘bambino’ in a man’s body. I am Mademoiselle Mistress Svengali, and you are My tasty, tactless Trilby toy. Yes, My teensy-weensy, teeny, tiny toy to play with at My leisure and for My pleasure.”

Seeing Her look at him with such obvious disrespect and contempt was bad enough. Hearing Her laugh at him with such disdain and derision was even worse. Having to listen to the words She spake was the worst of the three. Her expressing these thoughts wounded his pride. That there was abundant evidence that She might be correct stabbed his ego to the quick. Branston Bingumton sprang to his feet. Never before, in all his born days, had he ever been so infuriated. She just stood there serenely smiling and calmly watching him angrily stride toward Her. When he came within an arm’s length and reached out his humongous hands to seize and throttle Her lovely, luscious throat, all She did was say the one simple word, “SLEEP.”

Even if She had wanted or attempted to do so, This Titanic Temptress could not have prevented this venal, venereally-vamped varlet from landing hard upon the floor. Only the plush carpeting upon which he now lay motionless prevented him from undergoing any serious physical injury. Between times of giggling or laughing at him, several times did She give him the posthypnotic command to, “SLEEP.” She performed several experiments to determine the deepness of his depth of ensorcellment. Not one voluntary movement did he make during these tests. Not a single intelligible or even audible utterance did he issue. Her heart was pleased. Her mind was satisfied. Her smile was beaming and broad. She picked up his keys She had so recently confiscated, and after squatting down She tightly gave him a full-bodied full body embrace and passionately kissed him on the lips. his inability to react to these two suggestive gestures made it necessary for Her to hold Her sides for the greatness of Her merriment. Then She straightened Herself up to Her full and tremendous height, turned away from Her trapped target, and headed out the door to go downstairs to the corporate offices.

Possession of his password made it child’s play for Archangelolique to gain unrestricted access to all the data files and programs on branston’s computer that were of interest to Her. She wrinkled up Her nose in disgust as She reviewed the myriad expressions of his tawdry behavior. That he sneakily spied upon women was bad enough. That he used the work environment to do his dastardly deeds–apparently with neither any reservation or guilt–all but compelled Her to wretch. She decided that being the catalyst for the sickening feeling in the pit of Her stomach was just another trespass for which branston bingumton would not soon enough be paying. Before returning to Her thoroughly entranced toy and victim, the comely computer programmer installed a password-protected backdoor and concomitant program on his computer. These additions to his computer’s software would permit Her to monitor and, if necessary, direct what he did with the machine.

What would be an appropriate punishment for mr. branston bingumton? Ms. Alvunroydecci considered several possibilities. Some of them would require a significant amount of time to implement. A couple might be classified as illegal in certain jurisdictions. True, any of these rejected options was far less than he had gone out of his wayward way to deserve. Nevertheless still She sought to find the perfect means of payback.

Archangelolique recalled this evening’s interactions with Her employer. Now did She vividly remember what he found to be Her most physically appealing asset. “So, you are attracted to My behind, are you?” She said to Herself and the cosmos. This fact was the genesis of a couple of wickedly nasty notions. Her happiness at having come up with these conjoined twin ideas was only exceeded by Her gladness that no one else would ever know She was laughing and skipping and dancing a jig in that way.

When She reentered the penthouse, She placed his keys in one of his suit jacket’s pockets. To no one’s surprise, Her quarry was in the precise position and exact state in which She had left him. She remembered how enraged he had been before She cast him into the realm of Hypnos and Morpheus. His choler also caused the germination of a way to possibly torment him beyond all reason and measure. She sat down on the sofa, kicked off Her shoes, removed Her dress, and thrice loudly clapped Her hands before recalling the last trigger she had implanted in his obscene and obtusely moronic mentality. Only then did She call out, “BRANSTON BINGUMTON, AWAKE.”

For some moments he was quite groggy. Eventually each embarrassing and every excruciating detail of all that had happened to him came rushing back in an overpoweringly overwhelming deluge of horrible memories. The first thing his eyes fell upon and focused on was the leggy, lingerie-clad, captivating causal agency of all his most recent misfortunes–languorously reclining upon the sofa; luxuriously massaging Her breasts with Her skilful hands; lasciviously stretching out, and invitingly opening, Her legs in his direction; and lingeringly licking Her pouty, delicately (yet definitely) crimson-colored lips. Now was his insatiable infuriation equaled in size and strength by his desire for fornication. Indisputable evidence of each of these conflicting drives was displayed upon his countenance. She who was the sensuous, sagacious source of all his psychological turmoil could not have been more pleased.

Again did She coolly and cruelly convey Her contemptuous condescension by mockingly laughing at him. “Yes, My paralyzed prey, I am A Witch and you are a powerless pawn fallen under the feet of My siren spells. Though you are enraged, your yearning to touch Me, to make love to Me, to possess Me holds you fast. you can do nothing, save what I tell you to do.”

She permitted him to rise to his feet and take his first step forward. Then and only then She did deliver his bilingual, polysyllabic posthypnotic command, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI.'”

Seeing and hearing him drop like a lifeless stone gave This Troublingly Tempting, Tormenting Titaness a tremendous thrill of accomplishment. As the cunningly construed confines of Her hypnotic hold overtook him once more, his visage’s expression was an illicitly enjoyable elixir of abject terror, obsequious invocation, and stoical resignation. His face’s open declaration of what was coming to pass in his consciousness was a profound proof that She had masterminded Her master’s mastery. She gave considerable, serious heed to the indescribably intoxicating, infernally invigorating idea of making him several times go through the loop of Her rousing him to full consciousness and then plunging him down into the depthless depths of manipulative mesmeric distaff dominion. Only by the exercising of Her will did She move on to the implementation of Her previously laid plans.

She slowly sat up and slipped on Her stiletto shoes. Then She strode over and stood next to the dining room table. Before proceeding with his punishment, She removed Her posthypnotic suggestion concerning his response to the sound of Her clapping Her hands.

Now it was time for the piece de resistance of this evening’s entertainment. “mr. branston bingumton, I command you to open your eyes and then I want you to focus your eyes and your attention only on Me.” Her dictum was promptly heeded. “Now, branston bingumton, I order you to go over to the sofa and lie down on your back.” This command was also obeyed instantaneously. “branston, you know very well that it is not possible for you to resist Me and the powers of My magical spells. Until I tell you you can do so, you will not be able to move your arms, your legs, your feet, and your hands. Unless I give you My permission, you will not have the power to move your hands, your arms, your feet, or your legs. If you try to move any of these parts of your body, all of your body will become heavier and heavier. If you dare to try and disobey Me by moving any of your limbs without My permission, then all of your limbs and the rest of your body will become even heavier and heavier than they have ever been before this time. I will allow you to say whatever you wish. I give you My permission to say anything you desire. My words are the supernatural laws of nature in your heart and in your mind and in your body. It is impossible for you to resist My witchcraft, My wisdom, and My will.”

She turned away from him and centered Her attention on the dinner table and its accoutrements. Archangelolique picked out the premium bottles of wine, liqueurs, and spirits from amongst those branston had had delivered and those residing in the penthouse’s fully provisioned wet bar and miniature wine cellar. Each of these was tenderly placed inside Her very large handbag. Then She sumptuously snacked upon the priciest hors-d’oeuvres and sinfully sipped a snifter of the best of the brandies which She had not confiscated. All of these activities were performed to the dulcet tones of invectives and threatenings screamed at the top of his lungs by the bewitched, bothered, bewildered, besmirched, and beleaguered branston bingumton.

Now that Her stomach’s appetite for comestibles and libation was sumptuously satisfied, it was now time to satiate Her soul’s much larger appetite for justice, retribution, and vengeance. “branston, you will now be silent and listen only to the sound of My voice and My words which rule your world. Since you like so much to stare at My buttocks, I shall give you what you want most of all in your lifetime. I will give you the pleasure of having a good and close-up look at My derriere. Ah yes, but your lust shall come at a high price. Yes, indeed,” at this juncture did She once again issue some wicked and witching witch’s laughter, “you shall pay through the nose and oh so dearly in order to get that which you want sooooooo much. From the moment I stand up, your eyes will fasten on and remain focused upon My derriere. No matter where I move or what I do or what is happening to you, your greedy, little, lewdly lustful eyes shall always follow the movements of My buttocks. My ass and its bewitching beauty shall be the only thing on your mind. My pretty posterior shall be the only thought you can hold in your conscious mind. As you see My buttocks moving more and more, and especially when you watch My ass coming closer and closer to you, you shall experience stronger and stronger pleasure of the erotic kind. As you continue to keep staring in awe and fascination at my beautiful bum, then your feelings of passion will become more and more powerful. No matter how strong your sensual feelings become, you will not be able to move your hands and arms from your sides. Though the passion for masturbation shall certainly and surely become stronger and stronger, as well as more and more powerful, you will not be able to give yourself the pleasure of releasing your pent-up passion. Your erotic passion shall build and build like the pressure beneath the volcanic mountain Vesuvius. Yes, the power beneath the volcano Vesuvius grew and grew and grew, before the explosive eruption which consumed Herculaneum and Pompeii. In like manner shall the irresistible erotic ecstasy of your potently powerful passion consume your body, your heart, and your mind. If you foolishly dare decide to try to resist My magical powers, what you feel in your body will become even stronger and even much more powerful and far, far more irresistible than anything and everything you have ever earlier experienced.” Once more did Archangelolique Alvunroydecci send forth that sinister laughter. This wily, willowy witch’s wickedly witching laughter both fervently flummoxed this foul fellow with fascinating fantasies and furiously fully filled him with fiendishly ferocious fears.

She arose from the table and commenced Her myriads of malevolently mesmerizing, menial man manipulating movements about the chamber. Now being so long, limber, and lovely could be expertly and exquisitely utilized in a deliciously, deliriously, and diabolically delightsome fashion. She moved Her body in many ways, to many places, and at many speeds. Her knowledge pool and aptitude with respect to yoga, ballet, and gymnastics was brought to bear in a teasingly tormenting, tantalizingly torturous manner. There were times when This Young Woman moved toward him. There were instances when She positioned Her physicality as far away from him as She could be without exiting this room. At some moments She stood stock straight and then dauntingly and dazzlingly did She display Her statuesque self or Her sinuous silhouette. At other points in time She cunningly contorted Her full, feminine frame into one of multitudinous positions. Once or twice She sprawled Herself prostrate and thus did She cause to come into being a fleeting facsimile of a salacious snow angel upon the thick, plush carpeting. In one instance She stood still and erect upon Her huge, handsome hands. No matter where She was, and irrespective of how She moved–as often as possible She did everything within Her power to present Her posterior to his ever ensorcelled eyes.

Yea, verily indeed, and even so did it most surely and with absolute certainty come to pass, that each and every word within all of the hypnotic commandments which She spake unto him did prove to ring tantalizingly and ultimately terrifyingly true. With the passing of each second in which his eyes and his conscious self remained firmly focused and fixedly fixated upon Her rhapsodically transfixing and robust rear end, the sensual and sexual sensations he felt most surely and certainly became even more and more powerful, and were increasingly stronger and stronger still. There was an increasingly diminishing in size portion of himself which was instinctively aware that the more consumed by erotic passion he became, the less powerful he would always be in all of his interactions with Archangelolique Alvunroydecci. During these sparse and sporadic moments of self-protective clarity, he did try to resist what was happening to him with every ounce of emotional resolve and each iota of masculine, mental muscle he could muster. All of his efforts to extricate himself from the enticing erotic entrancement in which This Leggy, luscious, luxurious Witch had expertly and exquisitely entangled him proved themselves to be absolutely to no avail. The more he attempted to not think about Her backside, the more was his mentality masticated, masterminded, and mastered by nothing else save salacious speculations so far as Her beguilingly bewitching bottom was concerned. He also discovered that yielding up himself to such constant carnal cravings neither in any wise caused them to cease, nor did doing so to any extent lessen their magnitude or multitude. Eventually, he came to realize he was insidiously and interminably enmeshed inside inescapable imprisonment.

The deepness of Branston Bingumton’s sexual stimulation and the degree of his profound powerlessness were not known solely to him. Archangelolique acutely perceived and accurately interpreted his facial expressions and bodily movements. By far, the most revelatory augur of what was happening to him was what came out from betwixt his lips. There were instances when he whined for release from the hypnotic hold in which This Witch witchingly held him fast. There were moments when he begged Her to have mercy upon him. There were times when he pleaded to experience even the smallest shred of sensual satisfaction. He moaned. He groveled. He promised Her anything under the sun, even if it was not in his power or province to give. There was one thing, however, which this man did not do. Not a solitary syllable of a single threat was heard to escape across his lips.

Miss Alvunroydecci’s last actions before speaking to him once more were by far and away the most devious and devilish of them all. First, She came over and stood next to the sofa on which Branston lay. Secondly, She positioned Her backside directly in his line of sight. Third, She put one of Her hands on the sofa and placed the other upon his chest. Finally, at sundry speeds and to various heights, She did lower Her buttocks over and raise Her bottom above his countenance. (As She tantalizingly tormented and torturously teased him in this manner, several sinister, sadistic suggestions slithered into and stayed within Her consciousness. She elected not to heed the time-honored maxim, “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”) During the last execution of this maneuvre, She held Her ass not more than a hair’s breadth or two away from his face. As She did so, his pleading with Her rose to a feverishly fervent fever pitch.

She straightened up to Her full height, spun on Her wicked stiletto heels, and glared down at Her bossy, pathetic peon. “I command you to stand up and walk to the centre of the room.” After the execution of Her order, She sat down, stretched out Her shapely stems, and spoke to him once more. “Turn around and look deep into My eyes.” Once he had done Her bidding, for several moments all She did was increase the intensity of Her gaze. “mr. bingumton, as you and your consciousness continue to helplessly and powerlessly fall deeper and deeper into the depthless depths of My dark eyes, you are becoming more and more certain that you are Mine to command. The irresistible and absolute awareness that you must obey Me in all things continues to grow and grow and grow and ceaselessly seize your sniveling, sordid soul. you also know, with absolute assurance, that while you are under My magic spells, all things I say unto you are entirely true. Whenever I have cast upon you any of my many multitudes of magical spells, or at any time when I shall place you under one of My myriads of antiquarian enchantments, each and every word I shall tell you is absolutely and eternally accurate. When you do obey Me, then shall you feel great pleasure. Whenever you obey any of My commandments, then you shall feel great and powerful pleasures of the fleshly lustfulness. Now you will tell Me if you always believe that a woman’s buttocks is always her most physically attractive possession?”

“No.”

“Very well. Whenever you shall see that which visually most attracts you to a particular woman, then you shall be completely certain that you should treat this woman with the utmost respect and courtesy. At any time when you ever see whatever it is which most attracts you to a particular woman, then you shall surely realize that you should always be respectful to this woman. This shall occur, no matter what it is that you find attractive about any woman. The knowledge that you should always treat any woman you find appealing with all the courtesy you can muster up shall pervade your consciousness and permeate your mentality. This shall surely come to pass, whenever you shall look upon whatever it is that makes any specific woman attractive to you. Now, I command you to tell Me what will occur whenever, at any time, you are privileged to set your gaze upon what you believe to be most attractive about a specific woman?”

“i will be sure that i should always treat her well.”

“That is correct. And now, branston bingumton, you have gotten great pleasure from looking at My ass. Now the time has come for Me to take My pleasures from yours. Take off every stitch in time of your clothing.” The expressions on his face manifested the final fleeting and failing flakes of this fellow’s resistance to Her feminine and mesmeric powers. The erection of his penis and his ultimate obedience to Her dictum surely showed he was only Her servile slave to sensuality. “Crawl over to Me and then silently lie on your stomach at My feet.” A couple of minutes after his completion of his task, She deigned to let him hear Her voice once again. “And now, My puppet, I shall soon touch your buttocks in a vast variety of ways. Whenever you feel Me touch your backside in any way, you shall feel some pleasure. When I shall touch your ass in any way, no matter what physical sensation you shall feel you will also feel pleasure. you will not move from your place on the floor, until you have been granted My permission to do so. No matter what is happening to you, you shall not move away from the place where you lay unless you shall hear Me tell you to move. If you should even attempt to try to move away from Me, your body shall become heavier and heavier and yet heavier still. If you dare to try and move from Me, you will find that you are completely powerless against the mystical mightiness of My magical enchantments.”

In Harry S. Miller’s song, “The Cat Came Back,” the owner of a particular cat tries to dispose of it in many ways. Each plan to get rid of the pesky pussy ends in abject failure. As is stated in the song’s chorus, “The cat came back …” Big business baron branston bingumton’s current situation was somewhat akin to that of the aforementioned song’s indestructible, boomerang-esque, bad penny-ish, albatross-ian feline. No matter what She did to his ass cheeks, he never ceased to ask, beg, and plead for more. There simply is no way to gauge which of these two persons was more surprised by this turn of events. Archangelolique had not given him any posthypnotic command concerning any of his verbal responses to the things to which She subjected Her subject. Before these occurrences, bingumton would have vociferously and everlastingly denied to one and all that he possessed any liking for anything even remotely associated with sadomasochism.

There were a plethora of sensations to which This Witch exposed his exposed backside. There were instances when either or both of Her shoetips, Her shoe’s soles, or the stiletto heels on Her shoes skillfully She did apply to his seat of powerlessness. There were times when She smote, caressed, slapped, tickled, scratched, massaged, pinched, stroked, kneaded, soothed, or clawed the chubby cheeks of his bare buttocks. On one or two occasions This Titanic Temptress stood towering atop this man’s tenderized tushie. She transmogrified his custom-tailored tuxedo shirt into a quasi-mitten and sinisterly utilized its material to send his psyche soaring beyond the sensual stratosphere. Even his pants and his suspenders were made into two surprisingly suitable substitutes for a Dominatrix’s whip. Getting his ass kicked courtesy of the lengthy legs of this statuesque, sexy secretary was an experience branston bingumton was not denied. Her only pang of regret stemmed from Her failure to bring Her cigar lighter.

Archangelolique was not silent during the adroit administration of this corporal correction. At times She did giggle or laugh at him. There were instances when She excoriated or belittled him. She told him he was not even up to the level of being designated as thoroughly useless. She informed him he was grossly unfit to be considered good enough to be less than worthless. She let him know in no uncertain terms that even at the pinnacle of his potency and prowess, he could not even provide the most insignificant iota of sensual satisfaction to the most sexually starved and erotically inexperienced virgin–due to his minutely minuscule, mere, mundane, misbegotten manhood. (She referred to it as a “manhoodwinking.”) She vociferously and magniloquently declared unto him that his only good points were that he was puerile, pusillanimous, pestiferous, and pathetic. None of these insulting remarks did lessen his ardor in any wise. No matter how much She verbally castigated him, he continuously beseeched Her not to terminate his physical castigation.

branston bingumton liked sex. Actually, when it came to the enjoyment of carnal knowledge, he possessed or (more to the point and far closer to the mark) he was the possession of satyrical cupidity. Though his desire for eroticism was vast indeed, he was interested solely in the basic, common garden variety expressions of lovemaking. It was true that his appetite for vanilla sex in the missionary position was Gargantuan and ravenous. It was also the case that the aforementioned flavor of passion was the only one he would eat. And yet, here he was. The tenacious tycoon lay prostrate at the feet of one of the Secretaries in one of the many companies he kept tightly grasped in his financial fist. All manner of downright bizarre and just plain freaky activities had been performed upon his bare backside. Due to This Woman, he had experienced sensory sensations which were far beyond the pale of anything he had ever known. She had elicited the ignition inside him of emotions of such scope and strength as he had never felt before. Heretofore, he had been absolutely certain he possessed neither any affinity nor even the slightest sliver of any yearning for such things. Inexplicably, he was pleading for what he had always known he would never want. To this man, this was the most surprising fact of all.

Above all else, Brianston Bingumton was a pragmatic realist. He did not dwell under any illusion that his position in his biological father’s conglomerate was due to his progenitor’s devotion, fidelity, respect for the young man’s capabilities, or even familial nepotism. Brianston was fully aware that Branston had hired his firstborn solely because it would have been an exceedingly grievous blow to his egregiously exaggerated self-image for this youthful bearer of the Bingumton name to work for anyone else. Brianston was completely cognizant concerning his absentee father’s yearning and necessity to manufacture and manipulate the older man’s persona’s public perception. His most recent and long overdue promotion, along with a set of keys to the penthouse residing in Brianston’s pocket were meretriciously conferred upon him by his male parental unit during an annual board of directors and stockholders meeting.

As he rode up in the elevator, Brianston looked at the keys now in his left hand. Tonight, he was glad he had this gold-plated symbol of Branston’s attempts to construct a utopia of Potemkin villages. The junior executive planned to unlock the door, hand Mr. Bingumton the completed project, and as quickly as possible Brianston would take his leave. If he was truly fortunate, his boss would be occupied and his son could simply deposit the work on the dining room table. It always made his day, whenever he could avoid any direct interaction with his mother’s ex-husband.

There are some commonly utilized phrases which after subjection to even infinitesimal and cursory scrutinizing are revealed to be nothing save examples of oxymoronic absurdities. Let us look at the phrase “New and improved.” If an item is “new,” then when and how could any improvement(s) have been made to it? If some object is “improved,” does that not imply that there must have been a preexisting version of said object? Since this is the case, then how can the current exemplar of the aforementioned object be new? Still another example is the supposedly sage advice to “Expect the unexpected.” If one can “expect” a particular possibility, how then can the existence of said possibility be unexpected? If some thing is “unexpected,” then how can someone expect said unexpected item to exist?

Suppose Brianston Bingumton could have carried out the self-contradictory maxim so recently run through the process of ‘reductio ad absurdum.’ Doing so, neither in any wise nor to any degree, would have begun to come close to preparing his mind to even speculate upon the possibility of grappling with what his eyes beheld after he opened the penthouse’s front door. His mom’s first husband was lying naked and prostrate on the floor. The most powerful businessman, financier, and political wheeler-dealer in these parts was obsequiously beseeching a woman Brianston recognized as a secretary from the linchpin in his failure as a father’s corporate assets to do all manner of kinky things to him. The door keys fell from one hand and his attaché case was dropped by the other. His hands reached forth for any source of support as he swooned against the door frame. The lips of the son scarcely could frame the queries racing through his thoughts. The voice of Brianston Bingumton was audible only to himself as he asked, “What?” … “How?” … “Why?”

Archangelolique instinctively and rapidly took command of the situation. She turned Her gaze to and focused Her penetrating eyes upon the new arrival. “Why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable?” She inquired invitingly. She beckoned for him to come over and sit down beside Her.

Brianston remained rooted to the place where he stood. His facial expressions revealed the inner conflict caused by several contrasting emotions striving for supremacy in and over his psyche’s state of being. Never had Archangelolique witnessed a human being’s eyelids stretch in such a manner as his did, while She gazed upon his countenance. The handsome young man’s eyeballs seemed to be seeking to search out and settle upon even the slightest source of soothing, salubrious solace.

Signora Alvunroydecci took note of the physical resemblance between the new arrival and the slave languishing at Her feet. Her next several actions were: stepping upon and across bewitched, beleaguered branston bingumton’s body; serenely, and a little coquettishly, coming over to where Brianston statuesquely stood stock-still; and taking physical possession of the two artifacts laying on the carpet which no longer held his interest, or even activated his awareness. After She returned and sat down on the sofa, She examined the briefcase but did not peruse its contents. (branston peacefully moaned in rhapsodic rapture’s resplendent realm. Brianston’s eyes now followed Her every movement.) While scrutinizing the surface of the case, She noticed that the monogram’s calligraphied lettering and the coat of arms She espied were identical to the ones the hapless, helpless, hypnotized, high-powered head honcho ostentatiously and ubiquitously utilized.

She walked over and gingerly placed the case and the keys on the dining room table. Then She returned to Her place, and resumed Her beguiling body’s previous position, on the sofa. Then, She turned Her attention to and Her eyes upon the scrumptious, stupefied specimen still standing in and staring from the doorway. Once again She did beckon to Brianston. This time She gently patted a damask-covered pillow beside Her indicating where She desired him to seat himself. Yet, still he would not move. She perceived that now his eyes were fixed upon his prone, pixilated, paralyzed parent. She thought about Her own parents and flashed back to a particular time in Her wonderful childhood. Ms. Alvunroydecci recalled an instance when She was somewhat anxious about performing a particular gymnastics routine for the first time, with Her father and mother looking on. This reminiscence gave Her an idea.

Her focus was turned upon Her slave. “branston, do you hear Me?”

“Yes,” he slurred.

“Once again you shall hear and obey My commands. Soon I shall bring you out of your irresistible, inescapable enchantments. After I have done this, you shall be able to see and hear all that is going on around you. Once I awaken you, you shall think and feel and act and perceive as you normally do. When you shall hear Me clap My hands three times, there are certain things which you shall do immediately and without a single word or question. When I shall clap My hands thrice, I want you to get up and go into the first bathroom you see. Once you have entered the water-closet, then you will go to the toilet, open the commode if it is closed, get down on your hands and knees, and stare into the water you see until I shall speak to you again. Do you understand your instructions?”

The mesmerized marionette of a mustachioed, macho man of means audibly gave his assent and compliantly nodded his head. The next sound he heard was Archangelolique saying three words unto him, “BRANSTON BINGUMTON, AWAKE.”

After he was permitted to come to himself, the executive took stock of his physical condition. he could move each of his arms. The legs of mr. branston bingumton were completely under his control. Never before had he ever been so grateful for the glorious gift of voluntary movement. he considered turning over and sitting up. The sensations beneath the base of his spine compelled him to take an alternate course of action. he pushed himself up on his forearms and took a look around the room.

The jubilation mr. bingumton felt due to his recently reinstated physical freedom, did nothing to ameliorate the horror he experienced once he had visual confirmation of a third party’s presence. Realizing that this newly arrived personage was his firstborn son brought little, if any, relief regarding the tumult raging in the older man’s inner being. How could he possible explain to his first wife’s son what the young executive had just seen or heard or both? An even more repulsively horrific and horrifyingly terrifying query bombarded and besieged branston bingumton’s consciousness. If what had happened to him this night became grist for the mill of cocktail party chatter or water cooler gossip or both, how could this totally sans habiliments rugged individualist, porcine-craniumed porker within a carrier bag show his facelift in public??

As a starving and dehydrated pet pleadingly looks to its owner’s hand for sustenance, in like manner did this strong willed, willfully ‘ignis fatuus’ father figurehead, headache gaze up into the face of the male ‘homo sapiens’ he had frequently and fervently disappointed most of all. “i beg you, keep this our little secret. Please?!!!”

The next sound to be heard in this palatial penthouse was The Exquisite, Exotic, International Beauty clapping Her hands three times. Without another word, without hearing his son’s answer to the most pivotal query his father had ever put to him (or anyone else so far as the questioner was concerned), without a moment’s hesitation, and apparently without a second thought in his head–the headstrong headman in the headquarters of many a business venture arose and ventured forth from the room. Seemingly in a zombie-esque stupor, Brianston, now only able to utilize a pronounced and ponderously shuffling gait, followed in his parent’s footsteps. It was imperative for him to find out what would become of the old man. The younger Bingumton witnessed the elder family member heed every instruction given him by this slinky siren of a worshipful woman.

After several minutes, the younger Bingumton returned. Ever since he saw his mom’s ex-husband leave his place at the feet of the woman in charge, Brianston’s thoughts had been mercilessly and tantalizingly consumed by a conundrum of a Gordian Knot. branston bingumton’s perennial and powerful proclivity for remarkable recalcitrance, especially where the only other concerned party was a member of the fair sex, was not esoterically unveiled in a darkened corner of a hidden room in a sealed off wing of an abandoned lair. Yet, now he had obeyed this woman as though he was nothing more than the most rudimentary robot. At first Brianston assumed he had fallen prey to a fleeting fata morgana. Now that he was sure and certain that such was not the case, certain questions vexingly imprisoned his cognitive faculties. What had she done to this obstreperous plutocrat? How had she acquired the acumen to seamlessly seize such strong influence? What might she do to Branston with the power she now wielded? Did his father’s fate foretell the son’s future?

Because he had much to contemplate, when Brianston reentered the living room he unwittingly walked straight into the probing, penetrating, evocative, and inviting gaze of Archangelolique’s eyes. He simply stood there approximately one stride inside the doorway his femininely fascinated father had exited. The young man felt like, and seemed to all the world to be, an orphaned and abandoned hatchling whose only choices were either to lock horns with the subjugating snaky stare of the supreme serpent deity or face the formidable fangs of the phantasmagoric feline pharaoh’s everlastingly and entrancingly enfeebling eyes.

Once again did Miss Alvunroydecci take command of the proceedings. “Come here to Me,” She said while gently gesticulating at him for the third time. For the second time She patted a spot next to Her to indicate the proper place for him to sit.

Brianston Bingumton’s desire to be near this amazing amazon was profoundly powerful. That this was the case did not, to any degree, ameliorate or eliminate his sense that it was needful for him to protect himself from this pulchritudinous personage’s profound powerfulness. To this end once he finally arrived at the sofa, he sat as far away from Archangelolique as he could manage while still remaining on this expensive article of furniture. Perhaps it was the potency and pervasiveness of the persuasive power he knew She wielded over his father? Perchance it was Her raw, awe-inspiring animal attractiveness? It might have sprung from his desire to respect the bounds of Her comfort zone and not violate Her personal space? Maybe it was his natural timidity when it came to directly interacting with any woman who was in any way substantial?

For several moments, these two souls simply sat there silently staring at one another. Archangelolique sensed She was in the authoritative position. She also was keenly aware of Brianston’s reluctance to directly interact with Her. She knew it would be up to Her to find a solution to this impasse.

In response to an ineffably inscrutable instance of inspiration, Ms. Alvunroydecci gave him a sweet and sincere smile. It did the trick. Though his wariness was not altogether vanquished, the Bingumton son was considerably more relaxed and comfortable with Archangelolique from that moment onward.

He marshaled his courage and spake to Her. “What did You do to, I mean how did You get him to do that?”

The willowy, wise, witching woman was well aware that giving him a smattering of knowledge concerning the source of Her powers would not in any ways make him immune to their effectiveness. For as of yet, no man upon whom She had focused Her feminine forcefulness had been able to emasculate or evade Her overt or insidious influence. Therefore, She did at this time give forth a hearty and throaty chuckle. “I have told your father that I have been taught in the ancient ways of how to please a man. I also told him I am a witch. All I have said to him was the truth. It was very easy for Me to fascinate him and then to make him obey My every command.”

Brianston slightly tensed upon hearing Her words. He had to swallow hard before he could speak again. “I am glad you were not deceived by his unscrupulous ruse of pretending to have an Italian-speaking client.”

Archangelolique had a flash of insight. “Are you the one who sent Me the anonymous email warning Me about mr. bingumton’s trickery?”

“Yes, I am.”

She regarded him inquiringly. “Tell Me why you chose to secretly stand against your father?”

“branston bingumton is my father in only the biological sense of the word. When I was about seven years old, he left my mother and me to have a fling with one of his secretaries. Before he deserted the family, my parents didn’t know I often heard them screaming about his many extramarital flirtations. To him, they were nothing more than dilly-dallying dalliances. That horny whore hound dog didn’t know, or didn’t care, how much his affairs hurt me and my mom. The only times he ever did anything for either of us was when it made him look good or it soothed his guilty conscience–what’s left of it. The only reason I work for him, is because he would have made it impossible for me to find any kind of job anywhere else around here. I owe him nothing!” At this juncture, he loudly, and temporarily painfully, slammed his fist into his palm. “I used to hate the women he had his fun with. When I was little, I thought they were all home wrecking strumpet, bitches. Some of them probably were exactly what I thought they were. As I grew up, I heard rumors about what my mom’s rotten first husband was like. Now I feel sorry for any woman who was ever involved with him. I’ve sent sympathy cards to as many of them as I could find.”

Out of the corner of Her eye She saw Brianston Bingumton’s body undergo an anatomical alteration. This change could certify that he found Her quite physically fetching. The transformation She observed might be an indication that he was intrigued by the idea of fascinatingly falling under an irresistible enchantress’s enticing ensorcellment. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that what She had seen was not connected to Her at all. Her actions with respect to his future were inextricably bound up with correctly ascertaining the progenitor(s) of what She had witnessed so recently.

This quarry, who She intended to interrogate, to analyze, and perhaps to spellbindingly subjugate, simply pseudo-stoically, ‘sans’ ‘sang-froid,’ and silently sat so near, and yet so far from Her. Archangelolique came to the conclusion that it would be far more prudent for Her to examine him in a roundabout and circumspect manner.

“Besides Myself, have you ever met anyone from Italy?”

“No, I have not.”

“I have noticed that some American men are very different from most Italian men.”

“In what way?” he asked Her.

“Almost all Italian men are extremely straightforward in their romantic interactions with women they find attractive. It is not uncommon for a pinch on the woman’s behind to be such a man’s first salvo in the time-honored game of flirtation and dance of seduction.”

“I could never do something so brazen and boldfaced.”

“And why not?” She inquired.

“It would not be right for me to treat a woman who interested me in such a brutish manner. If I did so, I would be acting as if her ‘raison-d’etre’ was to service my carnal desires. It simply would not be right for me to do so.”

“I believe every woman likes to know that someone in whom she is interested finds her physically appealing. It is even so with me.”

The optimistic part of himself all but jumped for joy right out of his socks and skin at the prospect that Archangelolique was attracted to him. The killjoy portion of his mentality mockingly chided him unmercifully for daring to even entertain such a patently preposterous possibility. According to this latter part of his consciousness, “There was no good reason for this paragon of pulchritude and power to condescend to give him the time of day.” The rational side of his nature also pointed out that Brianston lacked the money and influence branston wielded. The nonemotional side of his being also reminded him that the chances of his ever even coming close to attaining what his male parent currently possessed were at best slim and none.

Brianston elected to compliment Archangelolique. If She was favorably disposed toward him, it would be up to Her to reveal such. If his reasonable side was correct in its conclusions, then he would not have made a complete and utter fool of himself by asininely acting like he was up to Her level. Giving forth a little accurate flattery, which was not sponsored by any presumption, was by far the safest course of action.

“I know of no words which would accurately express how strikingly beautiful you are.”

From the moment Ms. Alvunroydecci became adroitly adept in the science, craft, and art of doing so, She had always adored playing with the minds or hearts or both of various sorts of males. She especially enjoyed those men who instinctively seemed to sense the profound powers of Her fascinating femininity and only could respond thereto by cautiously expressing their irresistible attraction to Her. Brianston Bingumton’s shyness struck a resonant chord with Her. True, She would never allow him to forget She was The Mistress of his mentality and his manhood. Nevertheless, She had no desire to ever inflict upon brianston the kind of tremendous terror that worthless branston had brought down upon his own head.

It was meet, fitting, and proper for Her to indulge Her predilection for mischievousness. To do so, She reached out one hand and tenderly teased him with the tantalizing touch of Her nails. Seeing the expressions of surprise, anxiety, and pleasure play across his face made Her yearn to giggle. Knowing the precariousness of his state of being prodded Her to refrain from yielding to this desire.

As She continued to caress him, She asked him a question. “You like?”

“Ye, … ye, … yes,” he finally managed to fumblingly tell Her with some effort.

“Now, lay your head in My lap.”

She was pleased to see that his obedience to this command occurred more rapidly than he had carried out any of Her orders at any other time. Still, as She stared into the depths of his eyes, She noticed that there remained what was seemingly a smoldering spark of reluctance. If such was in fact the case, this circumstance was not foreign to Her. She speculatively deduced that this man perceived himself as a newborn baby bunny inescapably held fast in the clutches of, and inexorably at the mercy of, the world’s greatest, hungriest, and most proficient predator.

She started to stroke him once more, before She posed Her next query. “Does falling under My spell fascinate you?”

“Yes,” Brianston answered.

“Does being in My power frighten you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Since She had broached the subject, there were two things he wanted to know. “Why do You want to control me? What will You do to me?”

This man’s fears were not unknown to Her. brianston bingumton had warned Her against branston’s banal deceit. She knew the man whose head and heart lay in Her hands was a good man. For this reason, She would be completely truthful with him. “It excites Me to be in control. It thrills Me when someone has fallen under the control of My magic spell. Some people I control because they are wicked and must be punished.” At this juncture, Archangelolique gestured in the general direction of the current residence of the pleasure-sodden stooping stupe She and brianston worked for. “I cast My spells upon other people, because they are much pleasing to Me.” She softly patted brianston’s cheek.

brianston could feel his anxiety dissipating from his heart and departing from his soul. Though he had never participated in any BDSM activities, he did possess a tiny knowledge pool pertaining to the stimulating subject of sensual subjugation. Here was A Woman: who was powerful enough to manipulate and masticate him; yet evolved enough to refrain from utilizing Her considerable capabilities to inflict injury on an inexperienced innocent. Surely, he concluded, She was worthy of obeisance and obedience. The focus of his attention and his body’s built-in optical equipment was directed directly into the depths of Archangelolique’s dark, daunting, yet delightsome eyes. “What is Your desire, my Mistress?”

Though his response did not surprise Her, it did please Her much. She was especially happy to know that he elected to direct his inner man to Her face, rather than upon Her beautiful body. Apparently, brianston did not allow his attraction to Her attractiveness to make him act as if She was nothing more than aesthetically attractive. Now the formal mesmerizing of this man by mysteriously matriarchal, mellifluous means could commence in earnest.

At this time, She started utilizing Her handsome hands to soothe, stimulate, tease, and tantalize him. She also centered Her gaze into the depths of his eyes. Although direct eye contact was Her primary objective, in Her visual field’s periphery She never lost sight of his body’s responses to Her tactile temptation.

Now Mistress Archangelolique Alvunroydecci would initiate the formal mesmeric induction of Her boy toy, brianston bingumton, by speaking to him concerning his future. “I shall tell you of your future, My dear. I shall tell you now what shall become of you.” She had noticed he wore no engagement or wedding ring. Her palms, hands, fists, fingertips, and fingernails continued to play with, pixilate, and pacify his supine self in a myriad of wonderfully witching ways. “you shall be Mine. you shall be Mine to play with. you shall be mine to enjoy everlastingly. My dealings with he who is not worthy of having you for a son shall be to control his wickedness and to punish him for what he has done. My relationship with you exists because you sought to help Me, because you respect Me as much as you desire Me, because you please Me, and because I shall give to you powerful pleasures more than you have ever known or can ever even imagine.”

At this point, She picked up one of his hands and gently caressed, then lightly kissed it. An indescribable thrill raced throughout his body, captivated his heart, consumed his mind, and completely consummated all three of these things. Once again were his eyelids stretched to monumental proportions. Though his lips moved on several occasions, not one sound would his voice utter.

Once more did Archangelolique wisely wind him in Her well woven witching words. “Yes, My mesmerized ‘marionetta’ My puppet, you have pleased Me and shall please Me even more and more. I shall give you pleasure and pleasures beyond pleasures. you shall call Me, “‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA.'” Yes, My precious pet, you and you alone shall call Me, “‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA.'””

“Mistress Archangelolique Alvunroydecci, what do those words mean?”

“In English these words are meaning, “SORCERESS, GODDESS, LADY, MISTRESS, QUEEN.” Yes, My dear one, you shall call Me the Italian words for, “SORCERESS, GODDESS, LADY, MISTRESS, QUEEN.”” She pointed again toward the place where branston bingumton was bound by Her hypnotic powers. “he who is not worthy of spawning a son such as you shall never speak to Me in My mother tongue. That privilege I give to you, My pet, to only you and you alone. For you shall know Me as, “‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA.'””

“SORCERESS, GODDESS, LADY, MISTRESS, QUEEN,” brianston began to mumble. “Yes, Mistress Archangelolique, You are all of these and much more. “‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA.'” he began repeating these five Italian words over and over again. It was as though they were his one and only mantra and sole pathway to Nirvana.

After listening to him recite these five titles of feminine authority and power for some moments, She joined with him in intoning this captivating chant. Once they had said these words in unison for a couple of minutes, She lightly brushed his lips with the palm of one hand, utilized the five fascinating fingers on this hand to play with his beard, and employed the fingernails on said hand to tenderly and teasingly tickle his throat. She took note that he looked so adorable as he squirmed with delirious delight under the mesmerizing ministration of Her tantalizing touch.

Then spake She to him once again. “you want and will continue to gaze into My eyes. you know beyond knowledge that it is good and right for you to just relax and keep looking into the depths of My everlastingly entrancing eyes. Now, hush, My pretty pet and puppet, for I shall soon speak to you of what is to be. Our eyes are the windows to our immortal souls. Our eyes can show to others what is in our souls. you want to let Me enter your soul. you need to let Me inside your soul. you know you must let Me enter, inside, engage, and entrance your soul which is surely subject to My certainly subjugating spells of sophisticated siren sorceries. Stare into My eyes, My darling. Stare and gaze into the centres of My eyes most ‘bellissimo’ most beautiful. Look deeper and deeper into My eyes and let Me see the loveliness living in your sweet, sincere soul. There are words which I shall say to you. Whenever you hear Me say these words, you will then be completely under My power. When you hear Me, and Me alone, say these words, then you shall automatically and instantaneously fall under the power of My magic spells I have cast upon you. Now all you can see are My irresistible eyes. All you want to stare upon are My lovely eyes. My very pretty eyes with their long and lovely lashes shall surely soothe and certainly seize the centre of your soul.” At this point, Mistress Alvunroydecci yawned deeply and stretched out Her arms. “you have had a long and tiring day, My pet. This day has brought into your life changes most wondrous and awesome and surprising and monumental. Handling such sweeping changes can make a person use up a great deal of energy. My pet is sooooooo tired and sooooooo relaxed and sooooooo very sleepy. I can see in your eyes that you are so, so sleepy. My pet would like nothing better than to relax upon My long legs and just sleep, sleep, sleep for Me. My ‘marionetta’ My marionette is so sleepy that when I softly stroke your face with My fingertips and My hair, then your eyes shall close and you will sweetly sleep in the power of My mysterious magical spells. When My pet feels My fascinating fingertips and My hypnotizing hair teasingly tantalize and touch your strong and handsome face, then your eyes shall close, your body shall relax, and you will sleep, sleep, sleeeeeeep.”

After uttering this final word, She wound one hand’s fingertips in Her hair and gently stroked his face. The captivating caress of those silken strands upon his skin felt like one’s soul was being brushed by the downy feathers in an angel’s wings. As She had predicted, nay instructed, no suggested, no commanded his eyes did close down, his body did completely relax, and brianston bingumton was Hers to do with as She would. Now did mesmerizing Mistress Archangelolique Alvunroydecci irresistibly and everlastingly install two hypnotic triggers in his head. The first of these was, “‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA.'” After repeating this trigger phrase several times, on several occasions She swiftly led him through the following sequence of events. She: fully awakened him from his state of inescapable entrancement; repeated his trigger phrase only a second or two after his return to his conscious state of being; and as he reentered his state of soothing hypnotic slumber, She reinforced the ideas that he was Hers, he could not resist Her hypnotic powers, and She would give him a multitude of pleasures in a myriad of ways at many times. The second unalterable and unbreakable trigger She did give to brianston bingumton was, “IRRESISTIBLE ‘IPNOSI’.” In like manner did She anchor this posthypnotic, hypnosis-inducing trigger in his conscious mentality and his subconscious mind. She: told him he would vividly remember everything that had happened to him this night; fully returned him to his waking conscious state of mind; embraced him and gave to him a long and passionate kiss; and sent Her protective pet and willing slave on his way home.

Before his reluctant departure, there was one question which brianston bingumton had to ask Her. “”‘MAGA, DEA, DONNA, SIGNORA, REGINA'” Archangelolique, what will You do with branston bingumton?”

“I have not yet decided his fate. Whatever I shall do to him, it will be far less than he deserves.”

“Mistress, You are correct. i am sure Your fertile mind shall come up with something appropriate for him.”

Archangelolique began to giggle. “you said My mind was fertile. That word “fertile” has given Me a wonderfully wicked idea. Because of and thanks to you, now I know what I shall do to him.” She gave brianston a mischievous wink. “My pretty, precious pet, would you like to stay and watch?”

The idea appealed to brianston. “No thank You, Mistress, I think it is time for me to leave.” For the first time, he actually and truly saw the recording devices She had brought. He gestured in the vicinity of one of them. “If it pleases my Mistress, You can show me the repercussions of his reprehensible actions at a more convenient time and in a better place.”

“The time for this treat shall be arranged. There is something else you should know. Though you now shall leave, know that you shall never leave Me.”

“i shall stay with You for so long as You want me.” he collected his belongings, bowed to Her, continentally kissed Her hand, and slowly walked backwards out the penthouse door.

She lay in her bed and reviewed her recent experiences. Though She was much more than overqualified for the position of secretary, She had been hired to be such. Her boss presumed he could treat her like a brainless, beautiful bum-bearing boob. Now, thanks to her wiliness, wiles, wisdom, and witcheries Archangelolique Alvunroydecci was, for so long as she desired to be such, ‘Secretarius Uber Omnibus Inter Alia.’

The End.