“I didn’t come here because I want you,” I lied.

Goddess Marquesa laughed. I wondered then if she could read my thoughts. That was silly. A woman who has inspired so much desire in so many men can read the signs. The air of lust must have been surrounding me so thickly that I fairly reeked of it, so that even someone with senses less attuned than hers could see it. But I was naïve and deeply in denial enough to believe that she must have some special sensitivity to pierce my disguise.

“I didn’t ask whether you wanted me, pet,” she replied in her silken voice, “I asked why you are interested in erotic hypnosis?”

“I don’t know.” This was true. Other than Goddess Marquesa herself, I didn’t know what had drawn me to that parlor to be hypnotized. “I’ve seen your advertisements on the internet and…I don’t know why I want you to hypnotize me, I only know that I want it…very much.”

“Fair enough. Are you single?”

I swallowed hard. “No. I’m engaged.”

“Does your fiancé know you’re here?”

A long pause. “No,” I admitted finally, lowering my eyes.

Goddess Marquesa smiled. She allowed this confession to linger in the air for a few moments. “You understand that once I put you under, I will guide you through an erotic fantasy?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, nodding.

“This fantasy can take any shape. I can have you make love to a famous actress or model…someone you once had a crush on…your fiancé. What is your fiancé’s name?”

“Michelle.”

“Shall I make Michelle the focus of your session?”

Another long pause. “No,” I rasped, voice strained.

“Who then?”

I looked at her. I had been attracted to the pictures and videos I had seen, but being in the same room was much more intense. She is not as tall or as young as Michelle, but something about her presence…her aura. Its effect was like that of a subtle drug. I did not feel “high” but “heightened.” All of my senses and (especially) my appetites were sharpened. I felt in that moment that food would taste better, music sound sweeter- though as I looked at her I desired to do nothing more desperately than place my lips against the sheer stocking clinging to her shapely thigh. “Make yourself the focus of the fantasy,” I blurted, in a tone more imperious than I intended, “I mean…please….let it be about you…”

Goddess Marquesa leaned forward and looked directly into my eyes. “You realize that there are risks?”

I laughed nervously. “What do you mean?”

“The feelings you develop for me may become very powerful. I can’t guarantee that it will not affect your other relationships…”

“I trust you not to try and steal me away from Michelle.”

She didn’t even laugh or roll her eyes at that remark, but just favored me with the kind of look you would give a boor who had just cracked a racist joke at a dinner party. I thought she might throw me out, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply ordered, “Undress.”

After a moment’s hesitation I obeyed. I lay naked on the couch as she put me under. When she called me out of trance an hour later there was an enormous pool of semen on my belly and a feeling of lassitude and contentment throughout all my limbs.

Despite how vigorously and copiously I had spent, as soon as my vision came back into focus, and I saw Goddess Marquesa sitting cross-legged before me, my cock became rock-hard again. “I’m sorry,” I sputtered, embarrassed.

“That’s all right, pet,” she soothed, handing me a hot towel to clean myself. Her manner conveyed a complete lack of surprise.

It had been one of the most deliciously cathartic experiences of my life, but still when I was dressed and on the threshold of departure I found her parting words, “See you again soon,” overconfident. What a fool I was.

I came back again the next week. And the next. And the next after that. After a month I could barely contain my eagerness to be on her couch again. She dominated my waking thoughts and my nighttime dreams. Each successive time she put me under I would awaken with the same feeling of exertion and relaxation, but with less and less sense of satiety. My desire for her grew beyond any bounds I had ever experienced. Finally, after our seventh session, I begged her, “Make love to me.”

“I’m not a prostitute,” she replied angrily.

“No…I didn’t mean it that way…I’m not asking you as a client…as a man…please, I want you so desperately…”

Her aspect softened somewhat. “I warned you,” she said. “You’re not my type, and even if you were…I have enough lovers to keep me occupied, I’m not looking for more.”

Without realizing it I had slid to my knees. Still naked from our session, I must have been a pathetic sight. I added to that impression by clasping my hands and whining, “Please….”

She surveyed me coolly with her luminous green eyes. After a few moments, she finally spoke, “There is one thing I could do for you…” I stiffened in happy expectation like a puppy offered a treat. “…I could spank you. That might amuse me.”

“Spank me?” I asked, crestfallen. “Why? Do you hate men?”

Goddess Marquesa laughed. “Please…what makes you representative of all men? I am the Marquesa de Sade. I enjoy it when someone…man or woman…offers their body to me that way. Can you blame me for finding it flattering?”

“But I’m not a masochist…why would I agree to that?”

“To have the chance to feel my touch. To please me.”

She sat silently after that, allowing the logic of the statement to sink in. Some deep recess of my mind took over. I couldn’t think rationally or coherently about my choice, all I could do was look into Goddess Marquesa’s eyes and let the feelings she inspired flow through me. After about a minute, without deliberately willing myself to do so, I turned and pitched forward onto my hands and knees, offering her my bare ass.

“I will continue until you ask me to stop,” she said, standing and taking position behind me, “Remember, once I stop you won’t feel my touch again until our next meeting.”

She thrashed me with considerable strength. I held out for as long as I could, but after ten strokes I had to beg her to stop. My mind was in turmoil, the desire to avoid the pain at war with the yearning to feel her hand against my skin.

We concluded every session the same way after that. My tolerance grew, so that finally she had to limit me to one-hundred blows, lest I allow the beating to go on until I passed out or she did real damage. Though my sensitivity to pain diminished, my desire for her did not. I found less and less satisfaction, even from longer and longer spankings.

Finally, as she must have anticipated, I arrived at our regular session frantic. “You lied to me,” I accused. “You said you wouldn’t, but you’ve made it so that I can’t be with Michelle.”

“What do you mean?” Goddess Marquesa asked.

“I can’t get an erection.”

Goddess Marquesa smiled ironically, her eyes focusing on the throbbing bulge in my trousers that I always experienced in her presence.

“I can’t get an erection for her,” I protested. “Hell, I can get an erection on my own anymore. The only time I am aroused is during our sessions…”

“And why does this mean I lied?”

“You must have done this to me…Some suggestion you implanted in our sessions…”

This accusation was answered with the same contemptuous look I had seen her wear before. This time she did not simply bore through me with her dazzling eyes, however. “Watch this,” she said. Rising from her chair, she crossed the parlor to where a flat screen TV and blu-ray machine were set up. Next to this system was a locked chest. Unlocking this chest with a key that she produced from a chain around her neck, she withdrew a sheathed disk and inserted it into the player. The screen sparked to life and I saw myself displayed, naked on Goddess Marquesa’s couch. It was a video of our first encounter.

“I tape all of my sessions against just this contingency with a nanny cam,” she remarked drily, pointing to the statue on an opposing shelf in which the camera was concealed. “Watch and learn.”

I did. It was eerie to view an experience that I only remembered through the haze of trance. But it was as the Goddess had said. She led me through a fantasy in which she and I made love, but there was no mention of Michelle.

“I can give you a copy of every session’s recording, if you still doubt my word,” Goddess Marquesa noted with wry irritation after the video had ended.

“No…no…I believe you I,” I stammered, my mouth agape. Collapsing onto the couch, I buried my face in my hands.

“I can help you,” she offered, her voice tinged with sympathy. “I can put you under and program you to respond to Michelle again…but there would have to be a condition.”

“What?” I asked hopefully.

“This would have to be our last session. There would be no point in reprogramming you otherwise…any help I gave you would eventually be undone as your feelings for me continued to deepen.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as she finished speaking. Again the moment was too powerful to allow for rational thought. I sat and stared open-mouthed at Goddess Marquesa as emotions thundered and crashed like giant waves against the inner walls of my mind.  For months I had suffered resentfully through spankings, pining for a place in Goddess Marquesa’s bed. Now, faced with the choice between being beaten by Goddess Marquesa and making love to anyone else, I saw no choice at all.

“What do you decide?” she asked.

My response was spontaneous, involuntary. Without fanfare I rose, let my pants drop, and fell to my hands and knees. Goddess Marquesa understood. “One,” she counted, bringing her hand down fiercely against my bare ass. “Two…”

Michelle is married to a plastic surgeon now and lives in Beverly Hills with her husband and their three kids. I wish her every happiness, and have almost no regrets. When I think back on Goddess Marquesa’s warning, my one apprehensive thought is that I might have heeded it.

There was never really any chance of that, though. She does not call herself “Goddess” lightly. Such beauty, charm, wisdom, and depth demand devotion and sacrifice. My one regret is that I don’t have more to offer Her. I have no special talents with which to serve Her, and no great funds of money other than what I pay for our weekly hypnosis sessions. But I can offer Her my torment. My body is a candle upon Her altar, I stand witness that even pain inflicted by Her sublime hand is a sweet blessing. Were I to live a thousand lifetimes, I couldn’t ask for any greater fulfillment than that.

The End