General Markov grimaced as he watched the team of special operations analysts file into the conference room. He had suspected that this meeting would be a waste of his time, and everything about the appearance of this team confirmed him in that belief. Though they wore military uniform, nothing about them looked soldierly. They were old, out of shape, and poorly outfitted. The leader of the team, a balding man with a scruffy mustache who looked like he might be an accountant when he was not on active duty, had pinned his insignia to his shirt collar incorrectly.

            “Thank you for taking this meeting with us, General,” began the nebbish who led the keystone cops outfit as he and his subordinates took seats around the conference table. “I am Colonel Grodsky, head of Unit 69. We are a special division of Army Intelligence, dedicated to the development of experimental weapons and tactics.”

            “Yes, yes,” General Markov grunted, broadcasting impatience. “Get on with your report. A war is going on, gentleman, and as you know our side is not doing well. I have to get back to monitoring conditions at the front.”

            Grodsky cleared his throat nervously and picked up a remote control device placed in the middle of the conference table. “All right, General,” the colonel complied. “I will skip the preliminaries and show you the secret weapon my team has been developing.” Aiming the remote control at a large monitor situated along the long wall of the conference room, he called up an image on the screen. It was of a blond woman with luminescent green eyes and a curvaceous figure. She was shown full-body, seated in a basic office chair, but dressed for the bedroom. Her magnificent tits and legs were scantily covered in lacy black lingerie, stockings, and garters. Her shoes were 6” black patent-leather stilettos.

            General Markov’s face registered surprise. “Is this some kind of joke?” he barked. “I don’t want to see pictures of your wives or girlfriends. Show me the weapon you say can turn the tide of this war.”

            “She is…that is to say, this is the weapon,” Grodsky stuttered. “This woman is an American erotic hypnotist named Goddess Marquesa. After extensive analysis, my team has determined that she is the sexiest woman on earth.”

            The General fought to contain his anger. His hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned bright red. “Do you mean to tell me,” he seethed, his rage obvious from his tone, “that you called me away from the battlefield in order to share some sexual fetish of yours?”

            “No…please….,” Grodsky protested. “I assure you that my team and I have conducted ourselves with the utmost seriousness of purpose. At first we were simply searching the internet for any form of psychological warfare weapon that could be used to disorient the enemy or break their morale. Only after many months, and upon collecting reams of data, did we determine that the unique sexual charisma of Goddess Marquesa was our best chance of developing an effective weapon. Even then we did not dare to bring this plan to you. We first had special commando units capture Goddess Marquesa and bring her here so that we might conduct carefully controlled experiments.”

            “What sort of experiments?” the General asked, his voice still registering frustration, but now mixed with a hint of curiosity.

            Grodsky pressed buttons on the remote control. The image on the monitor changed to that of a man. He was huge, towering well over six feet, and broad-shouldered. His sandy brown hair was worn in a severely short military hair cut. He was clad in fatigue uniform pants and combat boots, his shirtless torso was finely chiseled with bulging muscles and criss-crossed by battle scars.

            “This is Igor Ivanovich,” Grodsky explained. “He is a thrice-decorated combat veteran and one of the deadliest soldiers in the special forces regiment. He has killed seven men in hand-to-hand combat, two of them with his bare fists. He was the first test subject that we employed in our experiments with Goddess Marquesa.”

            Grodsky pressed a button on the remote control, and a video began to play on the monitor:

            Godess Marquesa was shown sitting in the same chair from the original still photograph, wearing the same sexy lingerie. She had a magazine in her hands and was glancing at it half-attentively. The sound of a door opening drew her attention. Igor Ivanovich walked on screen, dressed as he had been in the still photo first displayed by Grodsky.

            “Nice scars, Lurch,” the Goddess declared in English.

             Ivanovich was obviously confused. “Who are you?” he asked, his English accented but clearly intelligible.

            “I might ask you the same thing,” Goddess Marquesa answered, “if I didn’t have other more pressing questions. Like: where am I? Why have I been kidnapped?”

            “Kidnapped?” Ivanovich echoed.

            “Yes, kidnapped,” the Goddess repeated. “Someone slipped a mickey in My drink one night, and when I woke up I was locked in this room. You aren’t very bright, are you? Are you the one in charge of this funhouse?”

            “No,” Ivanovich replied. “I am a soldier. I was told only that there is a very dangerous enemy in this room. That I should kill or subdue this enemy if I can.”

            Goddess Marquesa raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh!” she interjected. “It seems like a lot of trouble to kidnap Me just to feed Me to a brute like you. But…if you are a soldier then I suppose orders are orders….”

            Ivanovich stepped forward hesitantly, his whole posture conveying disorientation and indecision.

            “What’s wrong?” Goddess Marquesa asked.

            “You…you are a woman, and…” Ivanovich murmured.

            “And?” the Goddess prompted.

            “…and you are…b-b-beautiful,” Ivanovich concluded.

            “Yes I am quite beautiful, aren’t I?” the Goddess asked rhetorically. “That’s all right. You don’t have to kill Me right away. You can look at Me for a little while.”

            The Goddess stood, thrusting her breasts forward and extending her right leg to give Ivanovich a fuller view of her gorgeous figure. She smiled seductively and traced a line down the side of her right breast with her exquisitely manicured fingernail, slowly circling the mound of her nipple that pressed through the lacy fabric of her brassiere.

            Ivanovich froze. A bulge began to rise in the crotch of his uniform pants. His eyes went wide.

            “You like looking at Me…” the Goddess intoned, her voice rhythmic and melodious, “You can feel yourself relaxing…easing into a sweet meditation on My body…My body…so luscious…so gorgeous….looking at Me makes you feel sleepy…sleepy…”

            Grodsky hit a button and the scene flashed forward. On the screen Ivanovich was on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him in a gesture of entreaty. Goddess Marquesa was standing directly in front of the kneeling Ivanovich, a triumphant smile on her beautiful face.

            “PLEEEAASE, Goddess!” Ivanovich wailed. “Please let me touch You! I’ll do anything…ANYTHING you say! I can’t stand it! I must touch you! You are TOO BEAUTIFUL!!! PLEASE!!!”

            Grodsky hit another button. The scene jumped forward again. Now Ivanovich was on his hands and knees, his pants pulled down around his ankles. Goddess Marquesa stood behind him, bent over slightly as she jammed something into his ass. As she worked the object in and out of Ivanovich’s anus, he grunted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His eyes rolled back into his head, his muscles trembled like jello.

            “Tell Me how much you like it, shitstain!” the Goddess commanded.

            “Oh yes, Goddess!” Ivanovich moaned. “It feels so good. Please don’t stop! Fuck me! Fuck me hard, please!”

            A few seconds later he began to orgasm spasmodically, jets of cum pulsing from his cock as foam flowed from his mouth and covered his chin.

            “Stop!” General Markov commanded.

            Grodsky hit a button, pausing the playback.

            “Was Ivanovich drugged?” the General asked.

            “No,” Grodsky replied.

            “Did she hit him with some sort of device? Employ some special martial art hold?”

            “No,” Grodsky insisted. “She used only her own sex appeal and hypnotic power. We provided her with no special tools.”

            “Where did she get the dildo that she was fucking him with?” the General asked.

            Grodsky pointed to the still image on the video monitor. “If you look carefully you can see the chair that she had been sitting in off to one side of the screen. She ordered Ivanovich to brake the leg off of the chair and lubricate it with his own spit, and he obeyed.”

            “Surely this is some kind of fluke!” General Markov barked. “This Ivanovich was a strong brute, but weak-willed.”

            Grodsky hit a button on the remote. A montage of scenes played on the video screen:

              In the first, another enormous soldier was kneeling at Goddess Marquesa’s feet, pleading to be allowed to suck her toes. In the next scene that same soldier was lying on the floor, sobbing hot tears as he stroked his cock, while Goddess Marquesa stood over his prone form triumphantly, jamming her bare foot into his eager mouth.

            In the next scene another battle-scarred soldier had been tied to the end of a cot by his own shoelaces. Tears streamed down his face as he begged Goddess Marquesa to continue spanking his bare ass.

            In the next scene a different soldier was on his knees behind Goddess Marquesa, who had clearly just finished using the toilet. “Clean Me!” the Goddess commanded, prompting the man to jam his face into the crack of her ass and begin licking greedily.

            In the next scene a soldier was lying across Goddess Marquesa’s lap, begging to be thrashed with his own belt.

            In the next scene a soldier was cleaning the soles of Goddess Marquesa’s bare feet with his tongue.

            In the next scene a naked soldier bucked and convulsed from lack of air as the Goddess sat on his face, his stiffly erect cock showing that he was in paradise even as he began to pass out from asphyxiation.

            Grodsky paused the playback again. “All of these soldiers were ordered to kill or subdue Goddess Marquesa if they could. None of them were able to resist falling under her sexual control. This next soldier was not given specific orders about Goddess Marquesa. He was simply told that he would be put into a cell with another prisoner for one night, and that if he had an orgasm before morning he would be shot. This is what happened at 3:00 AM that night.”

            Grodsky hit the button to start the playback again. The video showed a dark room. Goddess Marquesa was lying on a cot, asleep, her face turned toward the wall. The soldier was awake, kneeling in the middle of the room, staring at Goddess Marquesa’s ass, trembling. His cock was rigidly erect, he was clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Finally, his will broke.

            “Oh, Goddess! Goddess!” he moaned, taking his cock in his right hand and beginning to stroke.

            Grodsky hit the button to pause playback. “We told that man’s family that he had died heroically at the front.”

            General Markov coughed, conveying a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The room was silent for a few moments. Finally, the General said, “You have shown that this Goddess Marquesa has real power. But how do we weaponize it? Can she be controlled?”

            The members of Unit 69 shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

            “Ah, yes…” Grodsky said. “That is a problem. We did give considerable thought to how we might control Goddess Marquesa. In fact, we were too focused on that question…you see….we should have been more concerned with preventing Her from taking control of us.”

            “What?” blurted General Markov. “What do you mean?”

            The door to the conference room opened, and from directly outside a bewitching feminine voice declared, “What he means, General, is that they are not in control anymore, I am.”

            Goddess Marquesa walked into the room, wearing the same seductive lingerie that she had worn in the video.

            “What kind of game is this?” the General demanded.

            “It’s no game,” Grodsky replied. “After spending so much time looking at and listening to Goddess Marquesa, all of us have fallen hopelessly in love with Her.  Soon, you will be one of us too…one of Her slaves…”

            The soft, rumpled members of Unit 69 moved with startling speed and aggression. They sprang from their chairs and grabbed both General Markov and his bodyguard, pinning them prone to the top of the conference table.

“Look, Goddess! You were right!” Grodsky shouted, pointing to the enormous bulge in General Markov’s pants. “Showing the General that footage has worked as you said it would. Even now, he cannot resist being aroused by Your presence.”

            “How dare you lay your hands on me!” the General screamed. “You will all be shot for this!”

            “Oh, behave yourself,” Goddess Marquesa purred. “Once you have put the army at my disposal and I have become Queen of this country, these men will be heroes. Now, general…listen to My Voice….you feel yourself becoming sleepy…so relaxed….your eyelids are getting heavy…”

The End