Mistress Marquesa had jumped at the chance to judge the contestants in “Strictly come Trancing.” She was briefed that the show would be about hypnotists competing to help couples solve their relationship problems.

When She actually got onto the set, She felt like taking Her wicked, jet black stilettos and exercising Her luxuriously long and lusciously shapely, irresistibly well-toned and truly hypnotic legs by as painfully for them as possible drop kicking into everlasting damnations everyone responsible for this travesty, sham, and mockery masquerading as entertainment designed to help people in need.  She also reproved Herself for not investigating this affair as much as She could and should have. In Her self-evaluation, being exceptionally busy was no excuse for not doing all Her homework.

For a start ,almost all the hypnotists were male. The females were kicked off the show early by the studio audience and those watching. Soon Mistress Marquesa realised that this was not a show to help people. In fact it was the worst sort of scraping the lowest dregs from beneath the bottom of the barrel of scum reality TV crassly and solely intended to publicly humiliate the innocents shamelessly manipulated into being its often despairing cannon fodder and sadly all too desperate human guinea pigs. It was deceptively abusing a beautiful therapeutic art to create the 21st century version of the mediaeval stocks in Europe. Or worse the old dungeons where people with mental health problems were put [supposedly to be treated, but actually] to be tortured, humiliated, or left to rot often screaming in unimaginable and unbearable agonies. Worse than this, the audience’s attitude was that of people gathered to gawk at a modern day public hanging now that the bear baiting contests and gladiatorial fights to the death had whetted their insatiable appetites for bloodthirsty amusements.

A couple of the male hypnotists were good guys. Like the females, they were kicked off. By the time Marquesa turned up, three judges had resigned. Once She knew the thoroughly rigged score in this cruel game, Marquesa felt She should have seen what was coming. But, for whatever reason(s), The Emerald-Eyed Mistress had not.

She was on a panel of judges with the women who were responsible for two quite compelling female stage hypnotist shows. Marquesa was billed as:

“The Hypnodomme with a halo” and “The Merciful Mistress.”

Next to her was Stephanie Berceuse, the captivating female chanteuse with the calming English voice. There were also three singers and dancers the “Honey-bye Harem” famed for their sweet, soothing harmonies and other ensorcelling entrancements.

One of the last two contestants was “Goddess Venus-Virosa” AKA the “Hypnotic Hitwoman”

When this scavenger-contestant swooped down and struck her venom-vomiting claws into her victim couple’s most sensitive vitals, she misused a large crystal to mesmerize one hapless man whilst whispering “Stupid, little, weak boy wants to go to sleeeeeep; Weak, little, stupid boy wants to sleeeep so deeeeeeeeeeep; Watch the swinging crystal, the mesmerizing rock; from this day forward you’ll have a shrivelled cock!”

The man painfully fell into trance as this evil “goddess” said to his wife: “You wanted him controlled, I have completely emasculated him for you ha ha ha ha!”

Marquesa grimaced. All the judges gave her no points. But the jackal-esque baying of the studio audience filled with maniacally laughing hyenas combined with a phone poll gave this unhealthy, vicious creature a healthy vote.

But the next one, a miserable {and in all likelihood misbegotten} male chauvinist pig of the lowest order, was even worse. Marquesa not only knew him by his unsavory reputation, She knew his past.

He flounced upon the stage like a demented creation of Alistair Crowley. His spangled, long, Victorian coat reflected the light. He wore a jewelled top hat and had a ridiculous looking “Bandit” like moustache. As he entered he raised a huge pocket watch attached to a waistcoat above tight “Ball-busting trousers. From his belt two tiny torches lit up his Diamante spangled crotch which looked as if it had a massive German sausage inside. He flicked his crotch teasingly at the cameras as he leapt upon the stage…

He was Raymondo “EL COJONE GRANDE” Omnimesmero “The most powerful and omnipotent male hypnotist on earth, weak men crumble before his almighty will, women swoon over his seething machismo , no woman can , or indeed dare, resist his hypnotic power.”

At least this was his own propaganda. He had unceremoniously sacked his entire advertising team for advising against it.

“Oh no!” said Mistress Marquesa to Stephanie. “Putting that jumped up jerk in here is like puttin’ a rabid hyena in a sheepfold of lambs.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I’ve heard of him” said Stephanie. “He was invited to one of my parties after my New York concert. He makes a bee line for what he sees as weak men, You know. Four men had to have psychiatric evaluations afterwards. It stayed off the news, word on the street was he had some hypnotic hold over a major executive on one of the key cable networks” she continued..

“They say he has a private Boeing jet simply labelled “CAJONE GRANDE.” They even say that, like world war 2 fighter pilots had the number of “Kills” lined up on their fuselage, he has something like 500 pairs of boobs with a cross through them on his jets fuselage to signify the women he is supposed to have seduced. He’s like one of those sinister new eastern dictators who want massive statues erected to them everywhere. Word has it that there’s a 200 foot statue of him in the approach to his home featuring him with an illuminated erected male organ 30 feet long with a nighttime light display that enhances granite giant size testicles , floodlit with the one word “CAJONE” beamed up above them, the locals objected but after a meeting between him and the town council, which resulted in the entire town council doing a conga through their own streets naked to that Latin tune with the chorus “Tequila” except they were chanting “CAJONE” all objections ceased. He had hypnotized them all”

“Stephy, My dear ” said Mistress Marquesa, “I know more about this dastardly, demonic detritus than you ever could. That’s why I know we have to change what is happening in this freak show before decent people get damaged……..” she broke off as “IL CAJONE GRANDE” beckoned his first victim with a chilling leather glove on his long bony hand.

“IL COJONE GRANDE” made his way to a slim, young man with an eager looking, even younger wife with a startled expression on her face.

“You! you leetle worrrrrm, you are my prey , my veectim. Theee mousey in theeee, cat’s paws in CAJONES veeeesion. Watch the watch, you leetle worrrrm . Watch eeeet sweeeng baaaack and forrrth as I grab your weak face and force you to follow theee watch back and forth, back and forth. You feel like theeee feest of a pry-zzuh fighteer hazzz struck you downa foray thee counting. And you are so weak beeforray my powerrr. Back and forth swings my watchay overpowers yora pay-thetic self. You arrree stunned , stunned, and stupido. You feel lika my male power anda potencies hazuh punched yourrra puny face into unconsciousness. Clozzzza your eyes, you deeesgusting, weak, pathetic, skeeeeny excacusse of a mannnna.”

Mistress Marquesa shook Her regal, compassionate, sexy, knowing, intuitive head whose beautiful face dominated by Her signature Emerald Eyes was framed with and enhanced by luscious, lustrous, luxurious blonde locks. “What a cliché” She murmured. “What sort of a put on voice is that?”

The startled and overwhelmed young man fell senseless at the Winklepicker shoes “CAJONE GRANDE” wore.

“Worsheeeep my feeet, leeetle piece of scummmma . Worrrsheeep my feeet.”

The poor, young man began trying to suck them spotlessly clean.

“Nowwwwa, you leeetle piece of trasssshhhha, be an animal and try and leeeeek yourrr assss. Leeek your asss! Eeeef you do not manage to leeeek your puuutrid assss, your deeeeek and cajones weeeel turn to gangrene and you weeeell be in agony, agony!”

“Il CAJONE GRANDE ” then turned to the mans seemingly frozen solid, wide-eyed wife.

“See what a leeeetle piece of trassssha you have married. Sooona heees balls weeel turrrn to dust. So watcha my watch, you seeeeelly woman . Sleeeeep and you weeell be mine. I amma manna enuffa to take-uh you away from theees pathetic excuse for a maaaaaannna!!”

Marquesa saw the woman´s face start to go slack and the bride’s eyes beginning to dim. This perilous situation prompted Her decision to act.

“Intermission, floor manager, intermission. Stop!! the VT.”

Mistress Marquesa got what She wanted. Immediately thereafter, She whispered commands to Her female heroines who would help Her do much more than save this day.

The floor manager was gently captured and locked in a cupboard. Marquesa and the silken clad singers rushed the stage shouting to the cameraman.

“Turn on the delay and focus over here on the stage in ten minutes.”

Marquesa turned to “CAJONE” “We need to talk . Sit down here.”

Initially, he looked like he would protest. But he knew Marquesa. So this persuaded him to obey Her command-laced suggestion and he sat near the stage.

“Ladeezzz and gen’lemen I am Mistress Marquesa!!!” She began, “the most famous but GENTLE Lady hypnotist and Hypnotic Dominatrix on earth.”

“Can We have five female volunteers to take Our places. We are changing the format of this show right now!”

Volunteers came forward. Marquesa, taking complete command of the floor said….

“Now My friends, and potential pets, we are gonna turn the tables. This is all part of the show. So remember, you will watch and listen carefully. You folk out there, become as attentive as the studio audience is carefully focusing all their attention on where I’m leading you too.” She made sure She included the TV audience who had tuned in.

Stephanie Berceause came on stage with the three dancing sisters in rippling satin gowns. The music began and these gowns swayed back and forth, back and forth like pacifying oceans beneath tranquillizing skies overflowing with liquidly languid, silken delights for the eyes, minds, and bodies of all who beheld them soothingly swaying sumptuously and ever sooooooo sinuously.

“Now audience” said Victoria, one of Marquesa´s co-judges and a raven-haired English hypno queen in her own right. “Don’t you remember the Jungle book and the ensorcelling song of captivating Kaaa the spellbinding serpent? This is a hypnosis show. And to show us how relaxing a sweet song shall be, our darling singer Stephanie Berceuse will softly sing Kaaa’s mesmerizing melody shall easily ease you effortlessly into increasingly soothing relaxations. Remember to “Trussssst in me” and all your wonderful female hypno goddesses.”

Stephanie’s lead voice was easily the most soothing and gentle refrain anyone had ever heard. The dazzling dancers’ silk-satin gowns wafted back and forth to the music.

While everyone else’s attention and all the cameras were focused elsewhere, Marquesa knowingly directed Her penetrating and perceptive Emerald Eyes solely upon “CAJONE” To ensure no one would interfere or look at what was not their affair, Mistress Marquesa positioned Her beautiful body so that if they turned in Her direction She would block the cameras view.

Mistress Marquesa lowered the volume of Her low-pitched voice so that only the man She centered Her attention on could understand Her well-chosen words.

“Now, My man, you are not really what you seem. Are you?”

“Whattta doo you mean ? Who are you? the geeeentle dominnna.  Harrrgh harghhhhh!!!! such a fraud!”

” No, my friend,” said Marquesa, “I genuinely have a rapturously relaxing rapport with My clients locally at the Marina or on the phone or on the web. In contrast, you simply seek to only stun and overpower unsuspecting people. No matter how much anyone believes they know about Me, I want and choose to lull with lascivious, eternal love.

“You are not what you seem, ARE! YOU? WHY DO YOU HATE YOUR OWN SEX SSSSSSSOOOOOOO?”

“CAJONE” looked Marquesa in the eye……

“I haytuh weak mennnna. They deservvva to be stunned and that geeeves me theee chance to beee top of theee heap.”

“But you don’t really believe that. Do you? You are not really what you seem. You are Hank Smith. Poor boy, your mother was killed by a speeding, drunk driver when you were very young. Your Dad became a bullying asshole. He blamed you because she was driving you home when she was killed. That day, she saw how tired you were, she reached out to caress you, and that damned drunk ran into your car. You saw her die. And your Dad always blamed you. Didn’t he, My poor angel?”

“CAJONES” eyes fluttered at this point. No-one had ever spoken to him like this. He was especially overwhelmed that immensely irresistible Mistress Marquesa [Whose indomitable intensity might appear mercilessly menacing and fiendishly ferocious to the unaware observer] was the voluptuous, blonde, satin sheathed angel who now looked at him sssooo caringly.

“Your Dad beat you and blamed you. You couldn’t defend yourself or escape him. And so, you turned your fear and rage and other negative, imprisoning emotions in the only way that has worked for you until now, My pet. You have sought revenge on the male sex ever since. You stun them and take their wives. To you, their wives are like your lost mommy. They are so kind , so gentle, so available only for you. All you truly want is genuine gentleness. You just don’t know how to honorably get that sincerely gentle touch. Do you, My poor, misguided, little boy.

“Look at Stephanie and her sweet, satin darlings. They are softly hypnotizing their audience, darling. They start with the “Kaaa” song. But soon they progress to “Golden Slumbers” and “Rock-A-Bye-Baby”. Gentle childhood songs soothing you as well, My sweet. Watch the dresses sway back and forth, back and forth. The best part of you wants to let all that anger go–don’t you, My sleeeeeeepier darling? You know all that poison isn’t good for you. You want to feel as good as a loved and loving, little child again. As the silk-satin dresses sway My goooooood, little boy to a new and beautiful dreamlAND”

“So hurt” said “CAJONE”. “Don’t want to be this way. He made me like this. Just want to sleeeeep. Marquesa, I’m so sorrry. Please make me sleeeeeep?”

“As you know, people respond to tragedies in many ways. Sometimes, when a person cannot do anything with or to whoever or whatever actually hurt them, they may lash out at anyone or anything they can easily affect.

“You saw your father grieve after your mother was killed. The one who crashed into your car was never found. Your broken father wanted his wife alive more than anything else. He only thought of the woman he had lost forever as his wife.

“In his sorrow, his hurting mind and heart believed you were the cause of all his agonies. Most likely, he did this because you were the only person involved in this horror that he could vent his torments on. His grief compelled him to think of you as the cause of all his pain.

“He didn’t consciously realize you were grieving as well. He did not understand that his son needed his father. The only thing the hurting and unfortunately hurtful man you grew up with knew how to do, was strike back at the one whose very existence reminded him of the worst catastrophe in his life.”

His eyes were childlike as they closed. His mind drank in the truthfulness of Marquesa’s wise words. His deeply scarred and even more scared heart began feeling the full gamut of emotions he had not properly felt and worked through. He acknowledged the fact that for all these years, he had abused so many. Now he started to comprehend that, like his father before him [literally and figuratively], his abusive attitudes and behaviours were the harmful spawn of not responding correctly to his emotional wounds.

Marquesa moved fast. She opened his pants and carefully brought out the German sausage he had concealed there just for effect. She gently removed his Bandito moustache. Without inflicting any pain in any dimension, She peeled off his hair-piece revealing he was nearly completely bald.

She turned and looked at Her fellow-female hypno-commandos. They had put the audience completely to sleeep. Marquesa sighed and urged the phone voting to start just after the new judges spontaneously backed Her for the prize.

The phone vote endorsed Marquesa overwhelmingly–after all , they had just seen Her Hypnotizing Highness in impromptu, astoundingly alluring action. Many of those who voted, and a number of them who could not muster up the strength to do so, were far more than eyewitnesses of the hypnotic prowess of the Worthwhile Women who had snatched beguiling blissfulness from the vulgar chitterlings of what would otherwise have remained a deplorable display of the most wretched refuse the boob tube all too frequently offers up in dumbing down the all too passive-minded viewers.

The Floor Manager and Assistant were let out of the broom cupboard to proclaim Mistress Marquesa the winner.

In Her acceptance speech, Marquesa , The hypnotic Heroine said…

“This is a victory for therapeutic hypnosis and sweet, gentle dominance–not the vile playground of degenerate hypnotism in any of its unscrupulous guises. … My new assistant,” She gestured to the man that was once the horror called “IL CAJONE GRANDE” … “My new assistant will start a charity group to remedy the victims of bullying hypnosis. I love ya all. Even if you don’t or can’t come see me in LA soon, darlin’s, I encourage you to seek out a competent, high-quality hypnotist, hypnoteuse, Male Hypnotic Dominant, or Hypnotic Dominatrix who resonates with who you are, what you desire, and how you really work.”

Later that night she encountered Hank (EX IL CAJONE GRANDE) in his dressing room. He was staring into space.

After making sure the door was locked, Mistress Marquesa loudly snapped Her fascinatingly feminine fingertips and commanded him to look at Her. After watching Hank’s compliance, In spellbinding silence She cleverly cast Her overwhelmingly overpowering, occult orbs of entrancingly ensorcelling emerald evanescent enchantments upon him. She held his gaze and his mind’s eye until Her imaginativeness and intuition informed Her the time had come to increase his enthralling.

“Come to MEEEEEEE!!!” The Mighty Mistress ordered.

Without a word, Hank did Her bidding. Without Her in any way directing him to do so, he slithered on the floor like an inchworm until he reached Her fascinating feet.

“Rise to your hands and feet, My pet” Mistress Marquesa commanded.

After finishing his task, Mistress Marquesa’s soft and smooth, firm and forceful fingers caressed his head and neck.

While She did this, a devilishly delightful fantasy popped into Her immensely experienced inner self. She did not recall ever doing this before. Instinctively, She knew it would be such fun.

She ordered him to return to his chair. After he’d seated himself, with a precocious peal of girlish giggling, Monumentally Mesmerizing Mistress Marquesa jumped into his lap and cheerily exclaimed, “HI dear one”

She softly dangled a diamond pendant before him. His fascinations were amplified by Her beguiling bauble, and Her sheer, satin attire. Most of all, he was awestruck, allured, and aroused by Her coquettishly compelling closeness.

“Now, darling, now we are alone together at last. And I know that sausage thing was just a cover. Why can’t you accept that a Really Worthwhile Woman like Me wants to sample the goods of the real hank smith that I knew over many years. Never mind the big testicle you used to be. I’d like a sight of your ballistic missile crystal clearly elongating thanks to MEEEEEEE!”

END