The following is a transcript of an interview recorded by one of our correspondents, Carter Smith. The subject is Goddess Marquesa, an erotic hypnotist.
CS: Thank you for taking this interview with me today.
GM: That is quite all right. I have read your journal for many years; I was surprised that you would take an interest in my work. Read more…
“Tell me what brought you here,” Goddess Marquesa said. I shuffled nervously in my seat and took a sip of the drink she had poured for me, my throat suddenly dry.
“I want…I yearn to experience genuine slavery,” I answered.
She smiled, her green eyes flashing a mixture of amusement and understanding. “Yes, I can sense that,” she replied. “But why me? We have never met, never spoken. This seems rather impulsive. I am very flattered, of course, but this is a serious step to take on a whim…” Read more…
There is no narrative without memory, and so for me the story begins when I woke up on the floor, curled up naked on the carpet at the foot of my queen-size bed. It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. Drool had dried on the corner of my mouth and still soaked part of the shag under my cheek. I was disoriented for several minutes, as one sometimes is upon awakening in a strange hotel room on vacation. The fact that I was seeing my own bedroom from a completely new angle deepened my sense of dislocation: creating the queasy clash of the familiar and the unfamiliar in the same glance.
Shakily I rose to my feet and looked about. Late morning sun streamed in through my un-shaded window. By its light I could see the outline of a figure in my bed. As my eyes focused I could see it was a woman. My mind was just beginning to process how beautiful she was when, without stirring or opening her eyes, she spoke. Read more…
“I didn’t come here because I want you,” I lied.
Goddess Marquesa laughed. I wondered then if she could read my thoughts. That was silly. A woman who has inspired so much desire in so many men can read the signs. The air of lust must have been surrounding me so thickly that I fairly reeked of it, so that even someone with senses less attuned than hers could see it. But I was naïve and deeply in denial enough to believe that she must have some special sensitivity to pierce my disguise. Read more…
Lana looked down at young Dan kneeling, subserviently, before her, helplessly captured by her beauty and sensuality. Her mind flashed back to the hypnosis stories she had read earlier in the day and wondered if Big Dan’s constant rereading of them might make him susceptible to mesmerism, even if attempted by a novice, such as herself. “In for a dime, in for a dollar “, she thought, as she grabbed the boy by the hair and kissed him roughly. She felt him weaken in her arms. “Get into the closet, and stand there … you may masturbate if the urge hits you but stay in the closet and stay silent. Do you understand . Slave Boy ?” Read more…
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