NO PART (S) OF THIS STORY, NOR THE WORK IN ITS ENTIRETY, MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM or TRANSMITTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESSED WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE COPYRIGHT HOLDER.

Author’s note:  This work is humbly and reverently dedicated to the wonderful, all encompassing, and other numerous laudatory expressions LADY KRYSTAL MESMER.  This story should not be read by any minor nor anyone disturbed by, or uncomfortable with, hypnotic mind control or female supremacy or both.

SYNOPSIS:  A fledgling operatic singer gets more than he bargained for.

Lady Krystal Mesmer’s mischievous and expressive green eyes gazed at the e-mail.  It read:

RENOWNED LADY KRYSTAL MESMER:

I have been a captivated member of YOUR marvelous “En-Tranced” club for several months.  My mesmeric training by YOUR “Hypnotic Happiness” CD has been a series of indescribably pleasurable experiences.  I have further conditioned myself to hypnosis by surrendering to YOUR “Special Spiral Experiment” induction as often as I can do so.

My foremost yearning is to become an operatic singer.  I, however, have always been plagued by overwhelming performance anxiety.  Under no circumstances can I sing before an audience of any size.

Do YOU believe hypnosis could enable me to surmount this barrier?  If so, I humbly beseech YOU to grant me the honor and privilege of receiving a live hypnosis session!  I will meet YOU at any time YOUR busy schedule permits.

YOUR delightedly devoted and respectfully grateful servant,

Gioacchino Caruso

“This may be promising,” she thought.  She logged into her club’s customer database files, then pulled up and examined his records.  The data revealed he had been truthful and had never bounced a check.  “No problems so far,” she concluded.  “Nevertheless, he is a man,” she reminded herself.  She sent her reply, switched off the computer, yawned, slowly stretched, and rubbed the back of her neck with her elegantly manicured right hand.  “I could use a good massage,” she said and opened one of her rolodexes.

Several sunbeams sought to penetrate the thick drippy morning fog.  Lady Mesmer responded to her door chimes.  The gentleman was in his mid-twenties, tall, powerfully built, and immaculately dressed.

“Good morning, I am Gioacchino Caruso.  It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Lady Krystal Mesmer.”  He bowed smartly and extended his hand.

“Very well mannered,” Krystal mused.  This was a good sign.  “follow me, please.”  Her throaty voice caressed his ears and other body parts.

She led him to a comfortable armchair and gracefully sat down across from him.  The room was large, well furnished, and softly lit.  Baroque music played in the background.  Her perfume’s exotic enticingly feminine aroma insinuatingly suffused the air.

“Maestro Caruso, please tell me in your own words why you have come to see me and how you believe I may help you,” she asked?

Gioacchino shifted anxiously.  “Lady Mesmer, I am far from being a Maestro,” he responded.

She studied her visitor.  Everything about him was meticulous.  Each word and movement was well chosen.  His strong Italian accent did not interfere with his exceptional diction.  She noted he avoided her gaze.  There was something in his eyes.  Though not yet desperate, his expression was pleading and inquisitive.  Her latest guest had no pompous delusions of grandeur.  This was another fortuitous omen.  “A promising potential pet,” Krystal speculated.

“As I explained in my initial e-mail, I wish, more than anything else, to sing opera.  This has been my desire for as long as I can remember.  From the moment I first listened to such glorious singing and music something stirred in my body, heart, and soul.  I need you to understand how intrinsic this is to me.  I must contribute to such beauty!  No other alternative will suffice.”

She noted the intensity with which he spoke also registered on his countenance.

“What is impeding your attainment of this goal,” Krystal asked?

“Unbearable stage fright.  I cannot sing in front of an audience.  I have no problem with rehearsals.  It is a different matter when I am on stage.”

“What do you believe is the cause of your oppressive anxiety,” she inquired sympathetically?

“It is as if I can feel the patrons expectations.  They have come to immerse themselves and luxuriate in the glory of opera.  I believe they deserve nothing less than perfection.  It would be a crime against music if my performance detracted from the audience’s experience.”  He slowly took in and exhaled several deep breaths.  “Every attempt to overcome my paralyzing fear has been an excruciatingly horrible disappointment.  Can you hypnotize me?  Do you think it would help?  Please please,” he pleaded!  He spread his hands in a supplicating manner and then  placed his chin in his palms.

For several moments Lady Mesmer did not speak.  Her intuition told her much.  Gioacchino Caruso’s passions were profoundly felt.  His strength flowed from more than his physique.  He was not a man to burden others with his problems.  His openness showed the degree of trust he would willingly surrender to her keeping.

“Hypnosis can help relieve anxiety and bolster one’s confidence.  I, however, cannot hypnotize you.  You must understand and believe hypnosis is a cooperative process.  I am often able to guide someone into a deep state of relaxation and heightened suggestibility.  The real work, however, must come from within you.” Krystal gently instructed.  “The bottom line is all hypnosis is self-hypnosis.”

Caruso nodded his head.  As they discussed hypnosis, Lady Mesmer noticed his eyes scanning the room several times.  “What are you searching for,” she inquired?

“I have not seen any watches, pendants, or crystals.”

“Frequently, such objects are used in inductions.  They, however, are not mandatory.”  Krystal saw the incredulity on his face as he raised his eyebrows.  “Virtually any object the subject finds appealing can be a hypnotic focus.  The client’s relaxation, concentration, imagination, and trust are essential for successful hypnosis.  Please make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

While they talked Krystal was aware that, on several occasions, his eyes had come to rest upon her legs, feet, and shoes.  After he had settled in his chair, she slipped off her shoes, slowly and sensuously crossed her lovely legs, and extended one of her beautifully pedicured feet to Gioacchino.

“Now focus all of your attention on a specific part of my foot.”  Krystal saw his eyes fall on her big toe.  She slowly began moving her foot from side to side

“I adore an excellent pedicure.”  Her soft compelling voice filled his ears, and began to subtly yet inexorably overwhelm his mind.  “My pedicurist told me this particular polish possesses some fascinating properties.  One of them is its ability to change from one color to another.  Just watch my pretty toenail swing back and forth; back and forth; back and forth.  Having someone minister to my perfectly shaped and sexy feet is so stimulating and soooooo relaxing.  I especially love the soft lovely sheen.  Notice how the light flickers off my pretty toenails.  Such a soothing and sensuous spiral of soft shades.Now focus more of your attention on my lovely toes.  Notice how the light seems to spin slowly, slowly, so very slowly.”

She Who Must Be Obeyed noticed Caruso’s eyelids begin fluttering.

“Feel yourself gently sinking into a beeeeeeeutiful and comfortable place of deeeeeeep reeeeeeelaxaaaaaaation.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lady Mesmer noticed Gioacchino’s broad shoulders slightly sag.

“Now as I count down from three to one, you will feel more and more relaxed and become even more and more deeply hypnotized.  Three, going one thousand times more deeply into trance for me.  Two, your eyelids are becoming so heavy that it is almost impossible to keep your tired and sleepy eyes open any longer.  Finally, one you are now one million times more hypnotized than before.  Your eyes tightly closing and gently locking shut.”

Caruso’s breathing became slower and deeper.  His body slumped slightly forward.  Krystal watched as the remaining vestiges of Gioacchino’s will melted away.  She slowly arose and strode out of the chamber.

Gioacchino Caruso had never taken part in an in-person hypnotic induction.  He had gleaned his ideas on the subject from depictions in books, the cinema, television programs, and various websites.  He knew not how to reconcile his current experiences with his preconceptions.  On several occasions he heard Lady Mesmer speak to him from a seemingly distant place.  Her beautiful melodious voice was slow in cadence, low in pitch, and paradoxically soporific and arousing.  Sometimes he felt completely aware of his surroundings.  At other times he seemed to be sliding toward or resting in an almost ethereal realm.  The only constants in his mind were a sparkling rhythmically moving toenail and a voice unlike any he had ever heard.

“Now as I count up from one to three, you will awaken from your trance.  One, coming back from your quiet sleepy place.  Two, your eyes beginning to open and you are becoming more and more aware of the world around you.  Three, your eyes completely open.  You are now fully awake, totally alert, able to move, and feeling absolutely marvelous.”

Caruso stretched contentedly.  He had never felt so wonderful.  Even a full night’s rest did not refresh him as much as whatever magic she had worked upon him.

As he looked around the room, he noticed something was different.  Gioacchino did not remember seeing the small, wooden, antique table now positioned in front of him.  Nor did he recall the ornately designed crystal candleholder.  A tall spiraling candle’s enticing aroma filled his nostrils while casting an emerald glow throughout the room.

Krystal began to speak before he could give voice to his observations or questions.

“Now, I want you to focus all of your attention upon the beeeeeeautiful candle you see in front of you.  I adore any opportunity I have to simply relax and harmlessly gaze into the center of a candle’s soft soothing flame.  I find this type of candle especially fascinating.  Notice how its flame softly flickers over and over over and over.  You hear only my voice.Any other sound you may hear only compels you to devote more of yourself to my enchanting siren voice.  All that is important in your world is my soft, soothing, sexy, silken voice and the wonderful candle ever burning before you.  See how it so easily captures your attention as your eyes focus more and more upon the magical candle’s mesmerizing emerald light.  See the candle burn in a circular pattern.  And as your tired sleeeeeeepy eyes follow the flames slow and easy movement, a feeling of deep relaxation surrounds and gently caresses your entire body.  Like the long and lovely manicured nails of a beautiful, irresistible, hypnotic, superior woman stroking your skin in that oh so purrrrrrrfect way.”

Krystal slowly took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and soporifically exhaled.  She watched his eyes blink several times as Gioacchino’s body involuntarily fought in vain to resist the drowsiness and concomitant mesmerism pervading his psyche.  He was oblivious to her wide knowing smile.

“Good.  Very good.  You are doing so very well.  I am so proud of you.  As I count down from three to one you will comfortably fall deeper and deeper into hypnosis for me.  Three, your tired sleepy eyes becoming heavier and heavier and starting to close down.  Two, going ten thousand times further into a deep deep relaxing trance.  And finally one, unable to resist hypnosis any longer.  Your eyes are completely closed and impossible to open  Now you are only hearing my voice.  My lovely, sexy, and commanding voice is all you can hear, all that you want, all that you need, and all that is important to you.”

His respiration slowed and his breaths deepened.  His facial expression and body language were familiar to her.  “He has gone deeper than many of my clients do during their initial hypnotic session,” she thought.  She interlaced her slender fingers and gazed at her palms.  “That trigger will do nicely,” she concluded.

“Whenever you hear me say the phrase, “KRYSTAL’S SLEEPY, GOOD, LITTLE BOY,” you will easily and peacefully fall more deeply into hypnotic trance than you have ever gone.  No matter where you are, or what you are doing, the sound of my beautiful compelling, and commanding voice uttering the words, “KRYSTAL’S SLEEPY, GOOD, LITTLE BOY,” will always easily and peacefully guide your mind, heart, and body into a wonderful state of deep deep hypnosis for me.  Nod your head three times if you understand.”

He complied with her request.

“Before I guide you out of your trance, tell me what will occur when you hear me say, “KRYSTAL’S SLEEPY, GOOD, LITTLE BOY”?”

“I will go deeper into hypnosis than I have ever gone before,” Caruso answered.

“Excellent,” said Lady Mesmer.  She proceeded to test and deepen his trigger’s hold several times.  “After you awaken, you will have no conscious knowledge of the trigger deep inside your mind.  Only your subconscious will remember what you must do when you hear me say that special phrase, “KRYSTAL’S sleepy, good, little boy.”  As I count from one to three you will return to your conscious state of mind.  One, your heavy eyes slowly starting to open.  Two, becoming more alert and aware of your surroundings.  Your conscious self only remembering how completely relaxing and marvelously stimulating it feels to be hypnotized by me.  Three, totally awake, feeling very refreshed, and more wonderful than ever.”

“How do you feel Mr. Caruso,” Krystal asked?

After rolling his eyes several times, he stretched his neck, torso, and limbs.  “I feel exceptionally good.  I know not what you did.  Nor am I aware how you accomplished this.  Lady Krystal Mesmer, saying you are a credit to your profession exceedingly understates the obvious.  Indeed, you are a wonder of the age!”  He arose from his chair, strode over to her, gave her a deep respectful bow, and reverently caressed each of her lovely hands with his lips.

“Mr. Caruso, you are spoiling me!”  Krystal coyly blushed.

“I do not believe you could ever become spoiled in any way, at any time, or for any reason.” he responded smoothly.

He put on his jacket, turned to Lady Mesmer, and said, “I very much wish to schedule a follow-up hypnosis session with you at the earliest mutually agreeable time.”

After arrangements were finalized, she shook his hand and led him to the door.

“For our next session, I want you to bring a CD copy of the music for the aria you most enjoy singing and two copies of the accompanying libretto.”

“I shall do so,” he answered.

While walking to his car, Gioacchino noticed the morning’s fog had been driven away by the bright warm sun.

Gioacchino pulled into the parking space near her home.  He waited eagerly for his second, face to face, encounter with Lady Mesmer.  Punctuality was one of his strong suits.  This, however, was something more.  From the moment of the first session’s conclusion, he had been completely unable to disentangle his heart, mind, and soul from this blonde, brilliant, extraordinary woman or her mesmeric abilities or both.  His gaze never departed from his wristwatch.  When the appointed time arrived, he picked up the items she had requested and forced himself to merely walk to her door.

They exchanged pleasantries and partook some refreshments.  While they did so, Krystal obtained Gioacchino’s permission for two session-related requests:  to touch him in a nonthreatening and noninvasive manner; and to have him simulate his sensory perceptions and mental states during an operatic performance.  She warned him of the possible ensuing discomfort before he hesitatingly assented to the latter.  He handed her the items she had asked for, and gave her his favorite aria’s requisite track number.  She put the librettos on a small table and rose to place the compact disc in her state-of-the-art sound system.  Before gliding completely out of the room, she casually looked over her shoulder and uttered five words to her guest.  She familiarized herself with the aria’s beginning.  When she returned and regally seated herself, as she expected, he was deep under hypnosis.

“Gioacchino, soon you will hear the prelude to your favorite aria.  Once you hear it you will stand up, you will know you are onstage, and are waiting to sing.  You will tell me, in as much detail as you can, about everything you see, whatever you hear, anything your body feels, and each thought in your mind.  Tell me what will happen once the music commences?”

“I will precisely describe each thought I have and every sight, sound, and bodily sensation I perceive.”

“Good.  Very good.  I will now count from one to three.  After you awaken your eyes will be completely open and you will be able to perceive yourself and your surroundings.  You, nevertheless, will remain completely hypnotized.  You will carry out my instructions.  No matter what you feel, your attention and your body will be captured by my silky, soothing, and mesmerizing voice.  Tell me what will happen after I have counted from one to three?”  Her voice was sweet, yet, constraining.

He groggily complied.

“One, becoming aware of your environment.  Two, your eyes beginning to open and feeling as if they have been gently washed in cool crystal clear water.  Three, your eyes totally open, you are fully alert, and you remain completely hypnotized.”

She pressed several buttons on a remote control.  The orchestra’s glorious sound filled the room.  He stood up when the exquisite strains met his ears.

“The music is so glorious.  I shall be a part of it.  I am unworthy of such.”  His gaze darted about the room again and again.  “Their eyes, the eyes, eyes in front of me, behind me they are everywhere.  Pounding in my chest.  Eyes their eyes everywhere I look anywhere I turn.  Perfection perfection I know what they want from me.  The eyes the the perfection, I know what they want of me.  Eyes, they judge me, eyes eyes.  It is, I can, hard to breathe.  The eyes, they see me their eyes, see through me the their eyes see inside me I am I can not.  My stomach churns, the pain.  Eyes, please their eyes, someone help me the eyes anyone save me from.  Make it stop.  Make it stop!  Make it! Stop!  Make! It! Stop!”  His visage and body manifested the rising tsunami of terror welling up within his soul.  His arms flailed in vain to drive away the thickening cloud of swarming phantoms.  “Run run,” he screamed!  He spun away to flee some dreadful doom.

A serene, beautiful, familiar, and compassionate voice penetrated his horrors and pulled at his consciousness by calling his name.  “Gioacchino Gioacchino, I am Lady Krystal Mesmer.  All is well.  Nothing will harm you.  Only focus on my voice,” she said in a tranquilizing way.  “You are not standing before an audience.  You are alone with me in my private office.  There is nothing for you to fear.”  Her relaxing words and tone began to calm him.  “Return to your chair and rest,” she said empathetically.  You are KRYSTAL’S sleepy, good, little boy,” she softly declared after he had taken his seat.

While Caruso rested in deep hypnosis Lady Mesmer analyzed what she had just observed.  Evidently what most terrified him was seeing anyone’s eyes focus on him when he performed.  The visual realm, apparently, more profoundly influenced his mind than any or all other external or internal sensory perceptions.  This gave her an inspiration.  She would use his propensity for literal visualization to help him conquer his phobia.

She seated herself beside him and began to speak.  “Gioacchino, I want you to picture in your mind a ring of beautiful and powerful white light.  This ring is large enough to encompass your body.  Imagine this wonderful ring rising out of Mother Earth and surrounding your feet.  This ring has magical and mystical properties.  It is able to consume any fear or anxiety you feel.  Now see this marvelous ring moving up your body to your ankles.  Watch it move up your legs to your knees.  See it move along your thighs and come to your waist.  See it consuming every fear or any anxiety at all.  This magnificent ring is far more powerful than any of your fears it encounters.  Now the ring is passing over your stomach, back, rib cage, and arms.  Now see it move over your heart, lungs, and chest.  See the ring pass your shoulders, move up your throat, and your neck.  Finally, see it surround your head and face.  When the wonderful and beautiful ring of white light reaches this point, all of your performance anxiety has been burned away by this wondrous ring of white light.  Your mind will automatically summon this ring of white light if you are ever afraid when you must sing.  It will always help you defeat any harmful fear.”

Several times she brought him out of trance, sent him back under hypnosis, and guided his mind through the ring’s journey along his body.  With one, or both, of her soft lovely hands she touched each part of his form over which the ring was situated.  During this procedure she ignored his manhood’s reactions to her exceptional feminine power.  She would properly mesmerize his highly active second brain at the appropriate time.

“I want you to imagine a ring of bright red light.  It is as large as the white ring you have experienced.  The red ring also possesses magical and mystical powers.  It is composed of cosmic fire and ignites your passion for music and all good things.  Like its companion it rises out of Mother Earth to help you.”  As she had done with the white ring so she now did with the red one.

“See in your mind’s eye another ring of light.  It is as large, as powerful, and as magical and mystical as its two companions.  It is the same color as my lustrous emerald eyes.  It is made up of life energy.  Its power strengthens you.  It enables you to sing at your highest potential.”  In his mind she firmly implanted the green ring and its travels along his body

“Gioacchino, listen carefully and follow my instructions.  Your subconscious mind will automatically call forth the three rings of beautiful light and mystical power if you are ever afraid when you are to sing before an audience of any size.  The white ring will banish your fears.  The red ring will enflame your passion for music.  The green ring will empower you to sing.  Know that they will always come to your aid.”

Krystal brought him completely out of trance.  They scheduled their next session before he left her.  He felt she had begun to break the shackles of fear which had constrained him for so long.  Coming to her wasone of the best things he had ever done.  “She is a blessing,” he said repeatedly.

He was customarily punctual for his next session.  After they were seated, Krystal explained that she wanted him to sing his favorite aria for her.  He reluctantly acquiesced.  He stood to sing.  She started the music.  His countenance and body language signified his old tormentor was welling up inside him.  But wait, something was different.  The fear was being challenged, then halted, and subsequently dissipated.  He could scarcely believe the tranquility pervading him.  He could sing for an audience.  He felt numb.  His first few notes were halting.  What was this feeling coming over him?  It was.  Could it be?  Yes, it was passion.  Its tiny spark grew larger, hotter, and stronger.  He felt his strength increase as he continued singing.  He finished a song.  While someone was looking at him, he actually completed an aria.

She applauded his effort and triumph.  “Excellent excellent bravo,” she said encouragingly!

“I have never felt so alive, so liberated, and so exuberant.”

She had him repeat the exercise several times.  He performed better with each run-through.  She told him she thought it was time for his acid test.  He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“I hope I am ready for this,” said Caruso after opening his eyes.

“I believe you are,” she said confidently.

She employed his five-word trigger.  She thereafter used other techniques to guide him deeper into the hypnotic state than he had previously gone.

“Soon, I shall count up from one to three.  After the number three your eyes will open completely, you will awaken, and be fully alert.  When you hear the prelude of your favorite aria begin, you will be onstage in front of a packed audience.  Every seat is filled and people are standing in the aisles.  You will tell me everything you see, hear, and feel.”  Nod your head and say, “Yes,” if you understand.”

He did so.

“One, beginning to come back from your peaceful sleepy place in deep hypnosis.  Two, your eyes starting to open and you are becoming more aware of your surroundings.  And finally three, your eyes completely open and you are totally alert.”

He heard the musical strains commence.  He arose from his comfortable chair.  He began to speak.  “I hear the music.  It is so wonderful to my ears.”  Several times his head moved from side to side.  His panic began manifesting.  “I see the eyes.  The eyes, they are all around me.  The eyes are searching! Inside! Me!”  His gaze fell to the floor.  “What do I see?  A beautiful circle of white light.  It is rising around me.  A blanket of calmness.  I feel it.  Now a ring of fire.  It is so hot.  It invigorates my joy.  Look at that.  A green light.  I feel powerful and vibrant.  It is so pretty.  I see the eyes.  They want me.  I feel no fear.  It is my time to sing.  I shall please them.”  The aria’s glorious words and melody poured forth from his lips.

She had him repeat this exercise again and again.  His experiences with the second exercise were like his performances during the first one.  She quickly guided his mind to its fully conscious state.

She requested, and was gratefully granted, permission to record his performance.  When the recording was completed, he swept her into a passionate embrace.  She gently massaged his temples, which barely placated his exuberance.  They scheduled another session during which she would teach him some self-hypnosis techniques he wished to use to achieve deep relaxation.

Krystal often listened to Gioacchino’s recording during the weeks prior to their next session.  He had a good voice.  Yet, there was something lacking in his performance.  She could not put her finger on what was missing.  His diction was excellent.  The notes he sang were rich and clear.  She remembered he never needed to look at the words while he sang.  Still, without knowing how she knew, something within her was keenly aware his voice was not all it could or should be.  This internal conflict caused her to question her feminine intuition.

One day, for reasons she did not comprehend, she slowed her frenetic pace and watched some children play.  Their carefree attitude brought some familiar poetry to her mind.  “Backward, turn backward, O time, in thy flight, Make me a child again just for tonight.”  An inspiration flickered in the depths of her mind.  She remembered something a friend once told her.  “One who desires inspiration or wisdom can find it in many things: if the seeker is open to receiving it or the searcher is willing to expend the mental energy to find it.”  The Universe had provided once more.  When she got home, she researched male vocal music in European countries throughout the last several centuries.

To begin the next session, they discussed some of the possible benefits and limitations of self-hypnosis.  She imparted the information he sought.  She noted his prodigious faculty for memorization was not restricted to the musical realm.  He practiced the auto-induction skills he had learned from her.  She was impressed by his rapid mastery of the subject.

Afterwards, Lady Mesmer told him of an experiment she wished to try.  She informed him she wanted to hypnotically regress him.  She explained the concept of regressive hypnosis.  She was a great boon to him.  For this reason, along with his insatiable curiosity, he assented heartily.  He also agreed she could make audio and video recordings of all the proceedings.

He rapidly responded to her using his trigger.  Once he had settled into deep hypnosis, she began his instructions.

“Soon, I will regress you to a previous time in your life.  No matter what age you believe you are, you will have complete access to all of your present abilities and every piece of knowledge you currently possess.  I will now count from one to three.  After the number three you will be fully alert yet, remain completely hypnotized.  You will do whatever I ask of you.  You will assuredly, and unquestioningly know, whatever I tell you is the absolute truth.  For my thoughts are your thoughts.  And my will is your will.  After the number three you will be twenty years old.  One, beginning to awaken.  Two, your eyes gently opening and you are becoming more aware of your surroundings.  And finally three, fully awake now, you are twenty years old, and you will do what

She asked him to sing after he awoke.  He did so.  His voice sounded the same.

Again she placed him in deep trance.  This time she regressed him to age sixteen.  She woke him and had him sing n.  For a third time she awakened him and had him sing for her.  She could scarcely believe her ears.  Never had she heard such a voice.  It was it was unearthly, indescribable, and unimaginably beautiful.  This voice possessed his normal basso profundo voice’s power and clarity.  Its most astounding feature was a range of pitches no female or other male singer could ever hope to duplicate.  This voice could even do coloratura soprano.  Her hunch had been right.  She almost kicked herself for having doubted her higher consciousness.

She guided him into a deep trance state.  She pondered the alternatives.  She could tell him what she now knew.  Any male operatic singer would be thrilled with such knowledge.  The last man with a voice even close to what Gioacchino had just manifested died decades ago.  It was possible Caruso would be unable to access this voice when he was not hypnotized.  Such a setback might mitigate or reverse his considerable progress.  She could not tell him of her discovery.  His voice was serviceable.  With it, his seemingly eidetic memory, and his determination his prospects for moderate success were good.  The question remained, had she the right to withhold what she had learned about him?

“Decisions decisions,” she thought.  She rubbed her temples.  Two sayings flowed into her musings: “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” and, “With great power comes great responsibility.”  This situation showed being in charge often involved far more than merely giving suggestions or issuing commands.  Any choice she made, as with many things in this mortal realm, might lead to some desirable or unwanted consequence(s).  She sighed deeply.  She selected her path.  She would tell and show him everything.  It was his life.  It would be his decision.

She positioned the two recordings to the places she desired.  She brought him up to consciousness.  She told him she had something for him to hear.  His curiosity was stimulated.  He listened intently to the audio recording.

When the recording concluded he sprang to his feet.  “Please please Lady Mesmer, you must tell me the truth.  By all that is good and beautiful, is what I have just heard the product of some technological trick?  Is there in fact a living person who possesses a voice such as this?  Do you know who this person is?  Where can he be found?  Will you tell me his name?  I must go and hear him for myself!”

She held up her hands to halt his barrage of queries.  She started the video.  “Soon all your questions will be answered,” she said.

He waited impatiently as the video continued.  His eyes widened in wonder.  His jaw dropped in disbelief.  When the recording ended he sat motionless.  He vaguely heard Krystal call to him several times.

“This can not be.  I have never sung like this.  Yet, I have heard and seen it for myself.  I must believe what my eyes and ears tell me.  Can I sing in this manner in front of an actual audience?”

“I do not know,” she began.  “My uncertainty on this issue was why I seriously considered not revealing the experiment’s results.  You have made great strides.  I did not wish to jeopardize your operatic career by burdening you with such a grave possible disappointment.”

“I appreciate your concern.”  He rested his chin in his hands and contemplatively closed his eyes.  After some time he straightened up and looked at her.  “I am willing to take the risk.  I will in no way hold you responsible for whatever the outcome may be.  How shall we proceed?”

She placed him in deep hypnosis to give his subconscious mind its instructions.  “Whenever you must sing you will see three words in your mind’s eye.  The words are, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  When you see these three words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO,” your voice will have your normal singing voice’s power and lower range.  It will also possess the dexterity and upper range you had when you were thirteen.  Tell me what will happen when you must sing for anyone?”

“I will see in my mind the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  When I see those words my voice will be the glorious one I have heard today.”

“Good.  Very good.  You are doing so very well.  I am so proud of you.  I shall now count up quickly from one to three.  After I reach three you will be fully conscious.  One, quickly coming up out of deep hypnosis.  Two, your tired heavy eyes peacefully opening.  Three, you are completely alert, totally aware of the world around you, and feeling absolutely wonderful.”

She had him sing for her several times.  That glorious voice effortlessly came forth on each occasion.  It was difficult to discern which of them was more pleased with the results.

Lady Krystal Mesmer watched Gioacchino Caruso’s career with interest.  Even she could scarcely believe the rapidity of his assent to the heights of operatic celebrity status.  After accomplishing this, he branched out into, and was equally successful in, other musical genres.  Sold-out performances, CD’s, videos, and print or electronic media interviews came in a seemingly endless stream.  Sometimes, she wondered what he would do for an encore?

Even an erotically dominant, adroitly hypnotic, economically successful, and unquestionably superior woman needs some physical relaxation or mental downtime or both.  Kicking off her high heels, stretching out on the sofa, and clicking through the myriad TV channels gave her highly active mind a rare chance to wind down.  A face she recognized was presented onscreen.  She turned up the sound.

“I am Nina Coue-Erickson.  I have the great pleasure of talking to a rising superstar in the world of opera.  His name is Gioacchino Caruso.”

“I thank you for having me on your program,” Gioacchino said.

“Please, tell us what influences led you into the world of opera?”

“My earliest and fondest memories include the beauty of orchestral music.  I adore it in all of its forms.  However opera has always appealed to me more than any other musical genre.  Hearing the human voice developed to its highest level stirs the depths of my soul.  I have always known that I must somehow participate in such majesty and excellence.”

“Many opera aficionados describe your voice as supernatural or other worldly.  Would you care to comment on these accolades?”

“I consider my voice a gift and a charge.  It is a gift of nature.  It is a charge, for I believe I have been destined to use it to bring  praise to the world’s great composers of the past and present.  It is my mission to sing alongside the many excellent singers and musicians who create the operatic experience.  It is my responsibility to sing in service to the audience members who love or wish to learn to adore opera.”

“Maestro Caruso, you sing with power and confidence usually found only in veteran performers.  Would you tell us what impetuses have contributed to your commanding stage presence?”

“For many years I have dedicated myself to learning and mastering my chosen craft.  I have not allowed any secondary objectives to interfere with my pursuit of this goal.  It is easy for me to memorize librettos and musical scores.  These factors are the sole, and only, roots of my confidence and any greatness I have achieved.”

“You are a great man, Maestro Caruso.  Your magnificent and mesmerizing voice has made you a celebrity within and beyond the arena of your first love.  What, if anything, do you hope to accomplish with your meteoric rise to public prominence?”

“I hope my success will inspire many young persons to appreciate, nay fall eternally in love with, any one of the arts.  It would be wonderful indeed if, due to what influence I possess, some young people dedicated themselves to music in any of its forms.  Of course, I would prefer it if children, adolescents, and teenagers came to know the many wonders of classical music, in general, and specifically opera.”

“When I started my television career, I was often extremely anxious before I had to be on camera.  The only thing that relieved my nervousness was relaxing with some self-hypnosis tapes I had received as a gift.  Did you feel any apprehension before your first public performance?”

“Prior to any performance, I focus all of my attention upon the task at hand.  My memorization of librettos is excellent.  I have great confidence in the voice I have painstakingly nurtured for so long.  I am absolutely certain I can give each audience what they have come for.  Fear has never been an impediment to my singing.  I have never needed any vulgar, mundane, and unscientific pseudopsychological crutch or unproven and useless hocus pocus like mesmerism.  Though, I suppose some people may foolishly feel they have been helped by hypnosis.”  He sneered as he uttered his last word.

Lady Mesmer was much displeased.  She frowned disapprovingly as she continued listening.  She remembered the man who had pleaded for her aid, who could not perform before an audience of one, and whose unaltered voice would not have stratospherically catapulted him into the ranks of operatic or musical stardom.  “The great Maestro Caruso is it?”  She scowled with disgust.  “The vainglorious Maestro Concetto! Is far more apropos.”  Her frown revealed the depth of her disappointment with her most celebrated client.  She recalled a saying found on a website she especially enjoyed:

class=”MsoNormal”> A man is like a fine wine.
He starts out raw as grapes,
And it’s a woman’s job to stomp him,
And keep him in the dark,
Until he matures into something
She’d like to have dinner with.

“Even the best of men must be instructed properly by the right teacher,” she thought.  The professor’s identity was obvious.  The only question was what form should his matriculations take?

Her first idea was to return him to his former state by removing all of her hypnotic programming.  She could strip his mind of all the implanted defense systems.  His long-dormant terrors would at some point return with a long pent up vengeance.  The results would assuredly disprove Maestro Gioacchino Caruso’s many

She came to a decision.  Her selected course of action would communicate the lessons she intended her wayward submissive to learn.  She dialed his number and left her message.

“Hello, this is Lady Krystal Mesmer.  How can I assist you?”

“This is Gioacchino Caruso.”

“Yes, Maestro Caruso.  I have followed your astounding career with great interest.  Congratulations on your astronomical success.”

“Thank you, Lady Mesmer.  I know you are an exceptionally busy woman.  Nevertheless, if you have any spare time.  What I mean to say is, I must, it is absolutely imperative that I see you as soon as possible.”

“Has something happened?  Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong or amiss.  However it is of supreme necessity that I see you, as soon as it is convenient for you.”

“Can you tell me why it is so important for you to come and see me?”

He scratched hared on his countenance.  “All I know is I must! Be hypnotized by you!”

“I would be glad to mesmerize you over the phone.  My submissive male clients, submissive female clients, and superior women in training protégés often tell me how good I am at that sort of thing.”

“No!  No!  No!  That will not do.  I must be hypnotized by you in person.  I beg you.  I implore you.  We must meet face to face for this hypnosis session.  I beseech you on my knees!”  He knelt down on his floor.

“Such all-consuming passion from KRYSTAL’S SLEEPY, GOOD, LITTLE BOY.”  She paused for several seconds.  She concluded an answering machine was a wonderful tool in the hypnotic training of ungrateful, obstinate, and disrespectful males.  “Gioacchino, say yes if you can understand me.”

“Yes.”

“Know that what I shall tell you is the absolute truth.  My words are your words.  My thoughts are your thoughts.  My instructions are your instructions that your subconscious mind is giving to yourself.  You desire to always follow my instructions.  For my will is stronger than your will.  And my instru  ctions are what you are asking of yourself.  When you carry out my instructions you will feel so so good.  The more you please me, the more pleasure you will feel.  You want to please me.  For you know that pleasing me always gives you pleasure.  Your obedience to me gives me pleasure and brings you pleasure.  What do you want to do, my pet?”

“I want to obey you.”

“What happens when you obey me, my dear boy?”

“Obeying you will bring me pleasure.”

“Very good.  You are doing so very well.  I am so proud of you.  Now, when you hear me snap my fingers, you will tell me how much you desire to come and be hypnotized by me in person.  As you talk about your yearning, your passion, and your lust to be mesmerized by me in person: they will grow and become even hotter, stronger, more powerful, and completely irresistible.  Like a wild animal released from a cage and running unstoppably to its one and only lifelong mate.  When you hear me clap my hands, you will no longer speak.  Do you understand your instructions?”

“Yes.

“Excellent.”

She snapped her fingers, and his floodgates opened wide.  She clapped her hands about thirty seconds later.  He stopped in the midst of a sentence.  After several moments, she snapped her fingers again.  Once more his torrent of longing gushed forth.  Two or three minutes later she clapped her hands.  He halted amid a word’s syllables.  The enticingly befuddling and devilishly prankish hypnoteuse smiled wickedly, snapped her slender fingers, and laid down the receiver.

Several hours later her errands were accomplished.  While walking through her home, she noticed a telephone was off the hook.  She reached to hang it up and heard a familiar voice pleading for a chance to come and see her.

“Successful mind manipulation is so addictive and so stimulating,” she thought.  Her powerful mischievous streak was almost out of control.  She had to restrain some of her impulses.  She was virtually certain she would have further opportunities to manipulate her scrumptiously delectable Italian mannequin.  She clapped her hands.  He fell silent.

“My dear Gioacchino Caruso, listen to the soothing, seductive, and stimulating sound of my mesmerizing, sensuous, ensorcelling, and siren voice.  Now, as I count down from three to one, you will awaken from your state of deep hypnosis feeling more relaxed and wonderful than you have ever felt before.  You will only remember that you wish to come and see me more than anything else in the world.  Only the direst emergency will prevent you from coming to me and having a more marvelous hypnosis session than you have ever experienced.  Do you understand your instructions, my pet?  Say yes if you do.”

With extreme difficulty he slowly complied.

“Three, beginning to come out of your deep deep hypnotic trance.  Two, your eyes beginning to open.  You are becoming more and more aware of the world around you.  One, beginning to move and fully awake for me now.”

“Gioacchino, I have consulted my schedule.  I am available on Thursday morning at 10 A.M.”

“I shall be,” he abruptly paused, “there.”

She heard him rise from the floor.  “Is something amiss,” she asked empathetically?

“I do not recall getting down on my knees.  Nor do I know why I did so.”

“Perhaps you were searching for something during our harmless little conversation,” she offered.

“Uh, yes,” he said hesitatingly.  That must be it.  Until Thursday.  Thank you, Lady Mesmer.”

“Until Thursday, Maestro Caruso.”

“The reeducation of Maestro Caruso has commenced,” she said after hanging up the phone.  The thought made her smile broadly.  She started humming the song “SCHOOL DAYS.”  After humming the notes for the line, “Taught at the end of a hickory stick,” she went to one of her computers and began a web search for any interesting BDSM devices, furniture, or habiliments not in her treasure chests of fetish goodies.

Starting with his second session, he had always been increasingly eager as the time for his latest hypnosis experience neared.  What he felt this time was far more intense than mere desire.  Waiting to be mesmerized by Lady Mesmer was almost painful.  He was virtually hypnotized from the moment he sat down in that familiar chair.  Even Krystal marveled at how quickly he plummeted deeper into mesmeric trance than he had ever gone.

 

“Gioacchino, I want you to listen very carefully to your instructions.  You will do whatever I ask of you.  For my thoughts are your thoughts.  And my will is stronger than your will.  From now on, when you are rehearsing any song, you will no longer see the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  While you are practicing any song, you will no longer see the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO,” in your mind’s eye.  The harder you try to recall these words, while you are practicing, the deeper into your subconscious they will slide.  Nothing you do will enable you to remember the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO,” whenever you are rehearsing.  Tell me what will take place when you practice any song?”

 

“I will not remember the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”

“Excellent.  I will soon guide you quickly out of your trance by counting from one to three.  After you awaken you will no longer start speaking when I snap my fingers.  Nor will you stop talking when you hear me clap my hands.  Remember, you will not be affected in any way when I clap my hands or snap my fingers.  You will have no conscious knowledge of any commands I have given you today.  Your subconscious mind, however, will remember them and execute each one without fail.  Do you understand?

“Yes,” he mumbled and lethargically nodded his head.

“Very good.  Three, beginning to become more and more aware of the world around you.  Two, your heavy sleepy eyes starting to open.  Your conscious mind completely unable to remember what has taken place in this hypnosis session.  One, you are completely alert, totally awake, feeling marvelously refreshed, and more wonderful than you have ever felt after spending time in deep deep hypnosis.”

He stretched and moved contentedly.  “This has been the best time I have ever had in hypnosis.  I have never felt so satisfied.”

“It is all about pleasure,” she softly purred.

He looked down at his palms and turned his eyes to her face.  “I still do not know why my desire to be mesmerized by you was so overpowering in recent days.”

“That answer may come to you.”

“I hope you are right.”  He thanked her for her time, complimented her profusely on her skill, bowed respectfully, and reluctantly departed.

She answered the call after the third ring.  She immediately recognized the frantic panic-stricken voice in her ear.

“It is terrible!  Something is wrong!  I do not understand what has happened!”  He sobbed plaintively.

“What has occurred,” Krystal inquire

“I was practicing for an upcoming concert tour.  My voice it is gone.”

“I can hear you quite clearly.”

“That is not what I mean.  It is my singing voice.”

“You can no longer sing?”

“I can still sing.  However, my voice has reverted to what it was before I came to you.  I can no longer hit the high notes.  My exquisite range has vanished.  How could this happen?  What am I to do?  Can you help me?  Does this mean your posthypnotic suggestions are wearing off?  The terrors, I used to feel before performing, will they return?”  He cried like a frightened child.

Her heart ached as she listened to him.  She seriously considered terminating her disciplinary actions.  With great difficulty she checked her compassionately maternal proclivities.

“I shall send you two items I hope will aid you.  I can not make any guarantees as to their efficacy.”

“Thank you,” he said repeatedly.

Never had waiting for his mail to arrive meant so much to him.  At long last Lady Mesmer’s parcel finally came.  He opened it.  She had sent him a video.  He played it ASAP.  It was only his interview with Nina Coue-Erickson.  He was perplexed.  Why would she send him this?  He returned to her package, and found a DVD.  The disc’s solo clip was the interviewer’s fifth question and his answer thereto.  What was the meaning of this?  After some concentrated contemplation he slowly began to comprehend.  “No! no! no!”  He screamed in justifiable fury.

She recognized his number and allowed her answering machine to take the call.  “How could you do this to me?  You have destroyed me.  You evil bitch!”  She walked away as he issued a string of expletives and a stream of invectives.

He was enraged!  How could she do such a reprehensible thing to him?  He was furious!  How dare this meddlesome, manipulative, merciless, vindictive, and emerald-eyed witch, possessing the voice and feminine je ne sais quoi he could not exorcise from himself, interfere with his livelihood.  His wrath and pride were kindled beyond measure!  Why would she ruin his life by destroying what he most loved?

What should his retaliation be?  He could think of nothing else.  Idea, upon plan, upon scheme raced through, tumbled within, and became twisted together inside his mind.  He savored each one and considered its merits.  His anger was approached, equaled, surpassed, and ultimately consumed by frustration.  Even simple rest was difficult to obtain.  No consideration was good enough.  Eating was barely a concern.  There was always something wrong with each proposal.  Nothing in his world brought him any pleasure.  No vengeance he could wreak and no punishment he might bring down upon her lovely head could ever be sufficient to pay her back for her crimes against him.  No, that she had committed against the musical world and the artistic spirit.  Nay, that she had maliciously executed against the Universe, the muses, and all that had ever been, all that was, and all that would ever be good, and right, and beautiful!

Regardless of its size, the power of every ocean wave or tide is eventually spent.  So it was with his anger’s vehemence and, ultimately, its existence.  He recalled a quotation of Winston Churchill, “Never have so many owed so much to so few.”  This prodded him to acknowledge how much she had done for him.  Grudgingly, at first, he remembered he had never given her the credit she was due.  Where would he be had she not provided his mind with the necessary implements to overcome his paralyzing terror?  Would his normal voice have gotten him the acclaim, and all the perks that came with it, he had received and so enjoyed?  Suppose he had greatly aided someone who thereafter chose to publicly disdain his efforts and castigate the tool he had used to help this person.  How would he have responded to such an unappreciative and unworthy individual?  The force of his rage was dwarfed, eviscerated, and consumed by the vastness of his guilt.

What course of action should he take?  He often reached for one of his phones or headed for his PC.  No.  No paltry phone call, e-mail, letter, or other communication would do.  No flowers or other minuscule token would be a gift worthy of the woman, nay superior lady, who had enabled him to become all he now was.  He devoted all of his cognitive faculties to one task.  He, somehow, must atone for the egregious trespasses he had committed against her.

“Eureka,” he shouted!  He jumped for joy and clapped with glee.  At last he had come up with a gift he deemed worthy of, “THE WOMAN” and “THE ONLY HYPNOTEUSE.”  Now he faced another dilemma.  How would he present it to her?  The direct approach.  He penitently recalled the last message he left on her machine.  He cursed himself as he sorrowfully remembered each vile thing he had said to her.  He hoped she had erased the message before she heard most of his vulgar utterances.  His trespass offering and olive branch might be misinterpreted as an all too obvious bribe.  He had to admit he did want her to restore his voice.  How could h

Lady Krystal Mesmer immensely enjoyed her daily life.  Still, even some parts of her existence occasionally became somewhat monotonous.  Dealing with the mail rarely yielded any pleasurable surprises

The calligraphy on the box was gorgeous and exceptionally intricate.  She did not recognize the sender’s name or address.  The first item she extracted was a letter written in the same beautiful style.  It read:

MOST MAGNIFICENT and MAGNANIMOUS LADY KRYSTAL MESMER:

I am unknown to you.  You nevertheless have had a profound and beneficial impact upon me.  For this reason, I wish to give YOU an all-expenses paid vacation to The Eternal City and anywhere else in Italy your heart desires to venture.  Please do me the great honor of accepting this humble token of the inestimable esteem in which i hold YOU.  YOU need only call the number below to inform me of YOUR acceptance, the hotel at which YOU would like to reside, the date on which YOU wish to leave, the airline YOU have selected, and the airport from which YOU will depart
Obediently YOURS,

Enrico Rossini

She checked her client files, computerized business and personal address books, and hardcopy rolodexes for the sender’s name.  There was no match.  She returned to the letter.  She considered its closing.  “It only references obedience,” she thought.  Why does his closing exclusively deal with that subject?  Why is it so important to him that I perceive him as obedient?  She contemplatively gazed into a nearby mirror.  A hunch slipped into her awareness.  “A mirror image,” she thought.  “Perhaps that’s it,” she speculated?  She went through her recent interactions with male slaves, male submissives, female submissives, female protégés, and all exclusively therapeutic clients.  She noted some possible senders.  She turned her enchanting and irresistible emerald pools of pleasurable power to the handwritten communication.  She made note of the sender’s name’s cultural roots.  She repeated her previous searches.  She went through her current and deleted e-mail.  From all these sources she culled a list of all names she found which might be Italian in origin.

Four questions came to her mind:  First, which person on her list was the sender?  Second, why was this person sending her a gift?  Third, why did this individual send it using a pseudonym?  Fourth, why did this being choose this nom de plume?

She decided to tackle her last question.  She entered her list of actual names and the alias into several search engines.  These queries revealed no pertinent information.  Next, she combined each of the actual first names on her list with the pseudonym’s last name.  She then combined the nom de plume’s given name with all the family names on her list.  She ran all of these names through her favorite search engine.  Two names yielded a significant number of hits.  Each man had a strong connection to opera.  Her first and final questions were answered definitively.

Now that she knew the sender’s identity, she turned her mind to her unanswered queries.  She sought to ascertain the motive behind his gift.  She reviewed their history.  She recalled his last message.  She tried to perceive things from his point of view.  From his perspective, she had completely and permanently disabled the voice which meant so much to him.  So far as he knew, she was the only person who could reanimate what he wanted most.  In his imagination, confiscating his voice was, perchance, only the beginning.  The dams constricting his performance-related terrors were her creation and subject to her command.  She could choose to remove them at any time.  She might have done so already.  He had no way of knowing what she had done.  Nor could he augur what was or would be in her mind.

Two plausible elemental explanations for Caruso’s latest action presented themselves: he was attempting to buy her favor; or he was genuinely repentant.  For the first time she listened to all of his last words to her.  Suppose he was offering her a bribe in ex

nmchange for his signature voice.  The trip was intended to make her favorably disposed to her, allegedly, unknown admirer.  Considering what he had called her, Caruso might expect her to reject his present out of hand, if she immediately knew its actual origin.  Peradventure his sole desire was to repair the breach he had made in their relationship.  Knowing his actual identity might prod her to suspect his motive in sending her such a lavish present.  It was possible that both motivations could be at work.  In this case, knowing Caruso was her benefactor might lead her to believe his yearning to regain his performing voice was stronger than his desire to make amends.

One means of absolutely determining his reason(s) for the gift was readily available.  She could deftly extract the desired information from his mesmerized mind.  Her awareness of this capability gave her much satisfaction.  Knowing she could do so, surreptitiously, felt positively orgasmic.

She made her decision.  She reined in her innate and frequently rewarding feminine curiosity.  She would allow him this minuscule measure of liberty.  On this single occasion, she could countenance his masculine desire and need for some degree of freedom (though it was only an illusion) from her full and feminine forces.  She would let him reveal himself at the time and place of his choosing.  She would permit his motive(s) to remain incognito until after his revelation to her.

She returned to the box.  Among the items she discovered were:  several exhaustive travel guides for Rome or other parts of Italy; brochures from upscale hotels throughout the country; one paper and one electronic English-to-Italian dictionary-phrase book; information from several airlines with flights to Rome; the addresses and telephone numbers for several branches of the passport office; and several platinum credit cards with which she could purchase her luggage, video and still cameras, concomitant recording media, and any other necessary, or desired, items for her excursion.

She checked her schedule.  She made her decisions concerning her departure time and date, the airline and airport she would use, and the lodgings she desired.  She telephoned the indicated number and left the requested information.

At last the time of her vacation’s commencement arrived.  All of her responsibilities had been satisfied.  A superior woman keeps her word and does not shirk her duties.  Her packing was finished.  She responded to her intercom.  The handsome well-dressed man courteously informed her that he had been sent to chauffeur her to the airport and assist her to her flight.  This was a very pleasant surprise.  Bef?d diverse manners.  A superior woman rarely, if ever, passes up an opportunity to exercise her abilities or take delight in her pleasures.

She immensely enjoyed her plane trip.  Mesmeric pacification and posthypnotic attitude adjustment of that slightly inebriated, exceptionally overbearing, obnoxiously puerile, vulgarly vociferous, and ignorantly overconfident male chauvinist afforded her an unexpected opportunity to demonstrate her finely honed skills.  This antiquated narrow-minded male was so cocksure she could never mesmerize him.  One day Randy James might understand and, hopefully, acknowledge: certainty is neither evidence nor proof of accuracy; and the size of a person’s heart, mind, and will were of far more significance than the size of an individual’s body or possessions.  Her Successful nullification of this annoying man won her the appreciation, applause, and respect of passengers and airline personnel alike.  Several intriguing people, of each sex, asked her to consider taking them on as clients.  Only two of them solely wanted her therapeutic proficiency.  She accepted contact information from all interested parties.  A superior woman does not necessarily neglect her livelihood while taking some well-earned time off for rejuvenation.

“Bon journo, Lady Krystal Mesmer.  I am your humble servant, Vitorio Mussolini.”  He noticed her raise, and quickly lower, her eyebrows when he spoke his family name.  “In answer to your unspoken query, Il Duce was a disgraced, and thankfully distant, relative.”  He fell silent for several seconds.  “It is my most enjoyable honor, duty, and pleasure to serve you in any possible way while you are on holiday.  I am charged by my employer, Enrico Rossini, to take care of you and attend to your comfort at all times.  Your slightest whim or need shall be my command.  I will endeavor to give you satisfaction to the best of my abilities.”

“I thank you very much.”  She gave him an approving smile and wink.

His performance exceeded the graciousness of his words.  He collected her baggage, whisked her through customs, escorted her to the limousine, and expertly drove her to the five-star hotel she had selected.  After they entered her luxury suite, he unpacked her things according to her directions.  KRYSTAL’S every request was performed immediately and perfectly.  As Vitorio learned more about her, he anticipated her desires and needs.  This he did with almost unearthly precision.  He was a seemingly bottomless wealth of useful information.  Being the beneficiary of his competence and willingness to please was an absolute delight.  KRYSTAL’S manservant made her stay almost magical.

One day, as was his custom, Mussolini was translating a newspaper for Lady Mesmer.  He read an article about an upcoming concert series featuring Maestro Caruso.  The announcement indicated these were his first performances after an uncharacteristically long and unexpectedly extended hiatus.  The first concert would be a fund-raising benefit for several noteworthy charities.  She asked her right-hand man to see if he could procure her a ticket for the opening night’s extravaganza.

“I shall attend to it at once,” he responded.  He bowed respectfully and hesitantly departed her enthralling presence.

“Hello,” said the familiar voice.

“This is Vitorio Mussolini.  As you hoped, she wishes to attend your opening night’s performance.”

“Very good, my old friend.  I have purchased her a box for each concert.”

“I shall inform Lady Krystal Mesmer of the good news.”

The opera house was filled to overflowing.  Several venues set up for closed circuit TV reception were also packed to the rafters.  KRYSTAL’S elegant attire was tastefully coquettish.  At her insistence Vitorio escorted her.  He was an excellent companion.  “If only I could take him home with me,” she thought.  She devoted some serious cogitation to the obstacles involved in such a venture.  “Even a superior woman can not have everything,” she fretfully and privately acknowledged.

The gala benefit concert, and all that came with it, surpassed everyone’s expectations or imaginings.  Caruso’s voice was never better.  Each one who listened to him that night was firmly convinced that such a rapturous experience was well worth whatever it had cost him, or her, in money, time, or preparation.  The money each charity received was beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.

This evening, some of Gioacchino’s mannerisms were inexplicably quirky.  He looked a bit agitated when he came out.  His restless eyes scanned the audience several times.  At length, his gaze lingered upon a very appealing, well-dressed, and emerald-eyed blonde occupying one of the front row center locations.  He seemed to be searching her lovely face for some sign of recognition.  Perhaps reassurance was what he sought.  He apparently found none.  During the first song, in which his voice moved into its upper range, his first few notes were halting.  As that marvelous sound continued to fill everyone’s ears, the look on his face was, or appeared to be, one of surprise.  One who did not know better might have erroneously believed he did not expect to hear that voice which was so familiar to everyone.  How could such a thing be?  Why would he be astonished by what everyone else took for granted?  As he continued singing, his customary confidence rose to a new zenith.  His passion for music was tangible to all.  His last encore was by far his best effort.

Two days later, Vitorio told Lady Mesmer that Maestro Caruso had requested to see her.  When she assented, she was informed that he was downstairs awaiting her.  Vitorio ushered him in and swiftly returned to his other duties.

“It is a great honor for me to meet such a celebrated personage as you, Maestro Caruso,” she said while flashing him a knowing smile.

He sheepishly looked at her while avoiding her intense, intoxicating emerald orbs.  “I assume you are aware that I gave you this holiday.”

“I have known for some time.  Why did you attempt to conceal your identity?”

The room fell silent.  He looked down at his shoes for some moments.

“Oh no, my dear, this will not do.”  From her lovely and luscious lips came five familiar words which caressed his ears, echoed in his consciousness, bewitched his mind, ensnared his heart, and pacified his soul.  She tantalizingly stroked his shoulders, arms, and hands with her sensuous fingertips or her dangerously seductive and harmlessly beautiful nails.  “Yes, my pet, you are falling so quickly and easily.  Deeper! Under my spell.  Deeper! Under my control!  Deeper! under! My power!  Deeper! Under! my! will!  Deeper, yes deeper, and deeper still.  My! will! is! stronger! than! your will.  Good.  Very good.  You are doing so very well.  I am so pleased with you.  Now, dear boy, I shall soon ask you some questions.  You will answer me truthfully.  You will hide nothing from me.  All of your secrets are safe with me.  You know you can trust me.  You know you can trust Lady Mesmer.  You know you can trust your loving friend your harmless little Krystal!  Why did you send me such a wonderful gift?”  She returned to her chair, femininely folded her hands, and slowly crossed her shapely l

“I wanted to apologize.  I wanted to show my gratitude.  I wanted you to know how sorry I was for what I had done.”

“Why did you attempt to conceal your identity?”

“I did not want you to decline the gift out of hand.  If you knew it was mine, you would have suspected my motives.  You might believe all I wanted was that you return my voice you drew out of me.”

“Was that all you really wanted?”

Tears fell from his eyes.  “no, no, no!  I know I was wrong.  You must! believe me.  I treated you shamefully.  I know this.  I should have given you the credit you deserve.  I owe you everything.  It was unworthy of me to demean your craft.”

“Why did you publicly disparage hypnosis?”

“I did not want anybody to know.  I was ashamed to admit how much I needed you.  My pride made me ungrateful.  I know I have done a bad thing.  I am so very sorry.  Believe me please please!”  He silently sobbed for some time.

Krystal felt his contriteness was genuine.  She arose, wiped his face with her handkerchief, and resumed her former position.  “From the first moment you met me, you have always avoided looking directly into my eyes.  Why have you done this?”

“Your eyes are so beautiful.  They have a power.  They overwhelm me.  I know they can see inside me.  They can look in my depths, into my mind, into my very soul.  I beg you, do not compel me to look into them.  I am afraid.”

“Be calm, my dear.  Know that I shall never hurt you.  I am your harmless little Krystal.”  She softly patted his cheek.  She was convinced he had learned his lesson.  For some time she had contemplated her response to such a circumstance.  Only one reward would do.  She felt the time was right.  “Listen to my words.  My voice is the only thing in your world.  Soon I shall give you a wondrous gift.  Know, with total certainty, what I now tell you is the absolute truth.  Whenever you sing, in your mind’s eye you will see the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  When you sing, no matter where you are, you will always see the words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  These words will be written indelibly in your mind.  The great power of your subconscious mind will never allow anyone’s hypnotic suggestion to take from you those three words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  Your magnificent subconscious mind will not even allow me to alter in any way or remove from your mind the deeply implanted words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO.”  The words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO,” shall remain in your subconscious mind forever.  What do you now know to be totally true?”

“The words, “KRYSTAL’S PETIT MESMERCASTRATO,” will stay unchanged in my subconscious mind for all time.”

“Excellent.  Soon I will count up from one to three and quickly guide you out of your deep deep hypnosis.  After you awaken, you will remember everything that has happened during all of your times in hypnosis.  One, you are becoming more and more aware of your environment.  Two, your eyes are beginning to open.  Three, you are fully conscious and feeling more marvelous than you have ever felt after a time in hypnosis.”

“May I ask you a question,” he said after coming out of his trance state?

“Yes.”

“Why did you not remove my singing voice altogether?  I would have done thus were our places reversed.”

“Why did I return your voice to its former state when you rehearsed?”

“To teach me humility and gratitude.”

“Proper discipline or correction need not include harsh or destructive treatment.  Nor should it be spawned by the teacher’s desire for retribution.”

He fell at her lovely and sexy feet.  He kissed her strong feminine hands with passion and thankfulness.  “Lady Krystal Mesmer, you are truly compassionate and exceptionally wise.”  For some moments he simply stared into her emerald eyes.

Standing at her door he made one more statement.  “All that time on my knees telling you how much I had to be hypnotized by you in person.  Something tells me you were not even there to listen to most of it.”  He stuck out his tongue, quickly closed her door, and ran laughing to the elevator.

She thought for a while.  KRYSTAL’S sleepy good little boy would find a very interesting and unexpectedly effective message on his private phone’s answering machine.  Her mischievous, irresistible, emerald eyes twinkled.  A broad, irrepressible, and devilish grin was on her lovely lips.  Her sense of justice was satisfied.  Her powerful sense of humor was equally satiated.  He would learn (as had many others) there was no escape from her.  She stretched out on her marvelously comfortable queen size bed, deeply relaxed fascinating mind and sexy body, and purred contentedly.

This was her last night abroad.  For some time, she was keenly aware that Vitorio Mussolini wanted to say something to her.  Now she held Gioacchino’s secrets.  Vitorio’s would be hers as well.  She summoned him to her.  He told her all, after some gentle and reassuring persuasion.  He declared he had studied her website’s content from the time his lifelong friend Gioacchino hired him to be her servant.  He lauded her hypnotic prowess.  He admitted it was his deepest desire to have a hypnosis session with her Ladyship.  He acknowledged it was inappropriate and unprofessional for him to even consider making such a request.  He begged her forgiveness for his intruding on her vacation time.  She informed him he was a boon to her.  She told him how much she appreciated his thoroughness and admired his ability.  She prompted him to focus his attention on her lovely feet and sexy toes.  She gave him an experience he would remember throughout all his future incarnations.  Perhaps it would rema

Krystal settled down in her first-class seat while the rest of the passengers boarded.  She thought she recognized the corpulent man waddling laboriously along the aisle.  His look of unmitigated abject horror, once he saw her, confirmed her suspicions.  The terror in his eyes stirred her combative juices and so many others as well.  She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips with predatory delight.  Never was she so glad to see someone she so despised.

He looked at that face.  He remembered those irresistible eyes.  His mind recoiled in horror.  “No! no! no! please! no,” it shrieked again and again.  He searched in vain.  The plane was full.  He had an assigned window seat.  It was next to her, next to that striking blonde Delilah with those gorgeous emerald eyes, next to that ensorcelling feminine menace.

Krystal believed there was only one thing wrong with being away from home for so long.  The snail mail and e-mail tends to pile up.  So it was for her now.  “Even a superior member of the Sisterhood has her trials and tribulations,” she thought.  A large box caught her eyes.  She whimsically decided to save it for last.  “Delayed gratification can be such fun,” she reminded herself.

After several days she had caught up with her paperwork and other trivial duties.  “And now, for that box,” she said.  The box was large, rectangular, and made of plywood.  The address labels were handwritten in beautifully done calligraphy.  The sender’s name and address were her own.  Her feminine curiosity was stimulated.  Inside she found a DVD and a second plywood box

She comfortably seated herself and placed the disc in one of her players.  The DVD’s first clip prominently showed the Italian flag.  At first, the flag was upside down.  Later, it was turned right side up by a pair of exquisitely manicured and lovely female hands.  The second clip showed a male show dog being trained and subsequently put through his paces by a woman.  The third audio video segment was Gioacchino’s interview with Nina Coue-Erickson.  The next thing Krystal viewed was Nina interviewing Caruso a second time.

“Hello, this is Nina Coue-Erickson.  During my broadcasting career I have interviewed hundreds of people.  Among these have been dozens of celebrities and other prominent persons.  Few, if any, of them have attained their success as quickly as the man who is with me today.  His monumental impact on the musical world cannot be denied.  He is Gioacchino Caruso.”

“Ms Coue-Erickson, I wish to thank you for graciously agreeing to have me on your extremely popular and deservedly well-respected program once again.”

“Please, call me Nina.”

“As you wish.”

“Maestro Caruso, what are some of your future endeavors?”

“Before I answer your query, I wish to make a much needed correction.  In English you have a saying, “Give credit where credit is due.”  Until this moment, I have been grossly remiss in doing so.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is another saying, “Behind every great man is a great woman.”  I repentantly and gratefully offer long overdue praise to the most wonderful woman I have ever known.  Without her assistance and influence I would not have accomplished all that I have professionally achieved.  She is Lady Krystal Mesmer.”

“How has she enabled you to obtain your goals?”

“Lady Krystal Mesmer is a well respected, world renowned, peculiarly perceptive, particularly adept, and extremely compassionate certified clinical hypnotherapist.”

Nina’s mouth opened wide and her eyebrows raised in disbelief.  “You! sought the aid of a hypnotist.

“Indeed I did.  Your incredulity is understandable.  I belittled the idea of hypnosis during your first interview with me.  I profusely and publicly apologize for my arrogant, ungrateful, hypocritical, pusillanimous, self-aggrandizing, disdainful, and  disgraceful words, actions, and demeanor.  I apologize primarily to Lady Krystal Mesmer and secondarily to all other practitioners of her salubrious art.”

“Why did you go to see her?”

“Before Lady Krystal Mesmer began working with me, I was absolutely incapacitated by chronic, pernicious, and overwhelming performance anxiety.  I could not sing before any audience.  All of my attempts to lessen or eradicate my paralyzing phobia were abysmal failures.  Lady Krystal Mesmer’s exceptionally skilled hypnosis treatments were the only successful means of combating my fear.  No mere words can ever do her justice concerning what she has done for me.  I suspect there are many others who can say the same.”

“You speak of her in very glowing terms.”

which is as it should be.  Lady Krystal Mesmer implanted in my mind the necessary tools to successfully enervate my debilitating stage fright.  In addition, it was she who brought out of me the marvelous singing voice which has brought me so much acclaim and all of the delightful things which have come with it.”

“Some individuals might have forever suppressed your last admission.  After all who, besides the two of you, would ever know?”

“The untrained Gioacchino Caruso would have done precisely that.  An astute man is aware of his shortcomings.  An evolving man acknowledges his faults.  A great man strives to eliminate them.  Perhaps my lauding of Lady Krystal Mesmer is my first step along the path of true greatness.  I owe her more than I can possibly put into words.  I can never adequately compensate her for all she has done for me.  Everyone I have ever worked with owes her a large debt of gratitude.  Each person who has received any enjoyment from anything I have ever sung is everlastingly indebted to her.  Rarely have so many owed so much to one human being.  Among other things, Lady Krystal Mesmer is: an imaginative and expert hypnotist; a fascinating and superior woma

She turned her attention to the second plywood box.  It contained a large framed painting.  It showed Gioacchino kneeling alone on an empty stage.  His face was tilted heavenward.  His hands were held in a supplicating position before him.  Upon closer inspection, her astute emerald eyes noticed his hands were cuffed and a collar was on his neck.  A large tag hung from the collar which bore the words, “Gioacchino Caruso, AKA Enrico Rossini, THE ETERNALLY ADORING, DEVOTED, GRATEFUL, and WORSHIPFUL CLIENT, SERVANT, SUBMISSIVE, and SLAVE TO, and THE EXCLUSIVE PROPERTY OF, THE LADY KRYSTAL MESMER.”  Silver chains ran from the handcuffs and collar to a leash suspended in the air.  An awesome throne floated above him.  Reclining regally and comfortably upon it was Lady Krystal Mesmer.  A lovely swirl cat’s-eye opal pendant hung over her heart.  The nails on her right hand seemed to sparkle.  On this hand she displayed an elegant ring bearing a magnificent emerald.  In this hand she held a polished brass candlestick in which a long, spiraling, and verdant candle burned.  One foot rested on the footstool.  Her beautiful legs were crossed and the other foot seemed to sway.  The leash’s handle hung from this foot’s ankle.  On the footstool’s front a phrase was written in gold characters:  “LADY! KRYSTAL! MESMER! THE! TENTH!, THE! OMNIBUS! AND! THE! MOST! SUPREME! MUSE!”

Lady Krystal Mesmer clapped her hands.  “Bravisimo!  Magnifico!”  Now it was time for Maestro Gioacchino Caruso to experience, savor, and perpetually hunger for the multitudinous sensuous delights and erotic pleasures she could and would arouse, stimulate, and bring forth.  Her mischievous, sensuous, irresistible, entrancing, and ensorcelling emerald eyes sparkled passionately.  ASAP his second brain would be lovingly and inescapably nestled in the palm of her elegantly manicured, lovely, sexy, and bewitchingly talented right hand.  She gracefully stretched and reached for her phone.  As had so many before him, Maestro Gioacchino Caruso would learn pleasure (even more than their perceptiveness) was the true power of harmless little KRYSTAL’S emerald eyes.

THE END.