The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This is where it all begins.

Taking a deep breath, the young dark-skinned man stepped forward, opening the door, stepping inside the small but posh upscale spa and massage parlor. Glancing around, he noted the tasteful decor, fitting for a high-profile location. He’d done a bit of preliminary work, checking around on the various massage parlors in and around the area, and concluded that The White Lotus Spa and Massage was the best of the group. And, considering the prices he had found listed on their website, their clientele would definitely have to be among the wealthy and influential of the area.

All of which had led him to choose this location as his own.

“Oh! Hello, there,” a lovely young raven-haired woman greeted him, approaching the front counter. “How can I help you this morning?” she asked pleasantly.

The man grinned in return, giving her a dazzling smile. “Good morning... Tricia,” he added, reading her name from her nametag. “I believe I have a nine A.M. appointment with a Ms. Freemont. She should be expecting me.”

Tricia glanced down at her computer, tapping a few keys. “Your name?”

“Zebediah. Zebediah Clark.”

Tricia smiled, nodding as she tapped a few keystrokes again. “Ah, yes, here we are. You’re actually a few minutes early,” she stated, nodding to the clock on the wall. “But you’re Ms. Freemont’s first appointment, so I’ll go ahead and buzz you in.”

The man nodded, bowing slightly. “Thank you very much, Tricia.”

The receptionist let out a soft sigh as the man-made his way back through the hallway. Unable to help herself, she gave him a once-over as he walked past, very much liking what she saw. Zebediah was tall, easily six foot in an inch, with short-cropped black hair, with a thin, clean-cut goatee, clear milk-chocolate colored skin, deep brown eyes, and a dazzling smile. He had a solid build to him, with definition to his chest and arms, signaling that he was likely active or worked out, but with a lean frame instead of a muscular kind of bulk. And he was dressed casually, with a simple light grey button Polo shirt, and black casual slacks, with black Oxford dress shoes. As the door closed behind him, she found herself hoping that his meeting with her boss went well and that she would get to see him around on a more regular basis.

Heidi Freemont glanced up as her door opened. The middle-aged blonde was seated comfortably at her desk, perusing her company’s finances, mentally contemplating the month’s profit margins, and considering how much of that profit was going to go into her bank account and how much would be put back into the business. As the sole owner of The Lotus, she was more concerned with her bank account than the business’ growth, content to continue tending to her shortlist of wealthy clients rather than increasing and bringing in more revenue. Not that she wasn’t fully capable of expanding her business in this thriving market—she was merely too lazy. Her staff was pretty self-sufficient, capable of handling things, with Tricia able to handle the day-to-day operations, leaving her with little more to do than handling the finances and making executive decisions. Things were at that perfect level—big enough to turn a substantial profit every month, yet small enough that the amount of work provided to keep things going was minimal.

As her new prospective employee stepped inside, Heidi found herself wondering idly if adding another masseur to her staff was truly worth the effort. “Ah, hello Mr. Clark,” she greeted him, standing up, extending a hand. “I’m Heidi Freemont. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed,” Zeb replied, taking her hand, shaking it briskly. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Heidi nodded, eyebrow raised slightly. “That is an interesting accent. Is that... British?” she asked, hazarding a guess.

Zeb chuckled softly. “You have a good ear. It’s actually Haitian. My family is originally from there. I’m third generation, pretty much Americanized, but I was raised by my grandmother, so any lingering accent I have likely comes from her.”

“Yes, of course,” Heidi remarked, dismissively, already having moved on mentally. “Before we continue, however, I have a few questions about the resume you submitted,” she said, holding up the paper he had faxed to her office. “Your degrees and certifications at the schools listed here are easy enough to follow, but your earlier education is a bit more unclear. Your elementary and high school are not listed. Where did you attend?”

“Actually, I was homeschooled for a majority of my life,” Zeb answered simply.

“Home... schooled?” Heidi repeated, a frown creasing her face.

“Indeed,” he confirmed with a nod. “I received my education at home under my grandmother and a number of tutors. So, no, I did not graduate from high school. However, I managed to ace the required placements tests for University attendance by a wide enough margin that I was able to continue my education.”

“I see,” she remarked, looking through the resume again. “And, I noticed, the degrees and certifications you received were likewise through home study, submitted online?”

“Correct,” he answered, calm and composed despite the manager’s increasingly dismissive tone.

Heidi let out a deep sigh. “I must say, Mr. Clark, you have a supremely impressive list of references here on your resume for someone who never even attended a single class,” she commented, glancing down at the paperwork she’d received earlier, “as well as a... truly unbelievable list of specialties listed here.” She raised an eyebrow again. “According to this, you are an expert in... Swedish massage, Deep tissue massage, Sports massage, Shiatsu, Reflexology...” she sighed, shaking her head. “Frankly, Mr. Clark, from my experience, it is rather presumptuous to claim to be an ‘expert’ in something without several years of practice and experience. Typically, it takes several decades to be rated as an expert in any of those disciplines, let alone ALL of them—”

“What can I say?” Zeb cut in, giving her that disarming smile again. “I am a quick study.”

“Mr. Clark,” Heidi said shortly, “Let me be frank. I do not appreciate having my time wasted. It is obvious to me that you are NOT the type of employee that I wish to work here at The Lotus.” She gestured to the door. “If you would please see yourself out, I have other actual prospective employees to consider...”

Zeb stood for a brief moment as if considering. “Ms. Freemont, am I correct in assuming that you believe the claims to my skill and prowess are less than factual?”

“Yes, Mr. Clark,” Heidi replied, clearly irritated. “That is precisely what I am saying!”

“And, what if I were to prove it?”

“What?” she said, glancing up again, as he walked over to the side of her desk. “What do you mean by ‘prove it’?”

“I mean,” Zeb repeated, pulling a chair over to sit down in, while reaching down to grasp one of Heidi’s legs, lifting her sandal-covered foot into his lap, “what if I can prove my ability? I am proposing that I demonstrate my technique by giving you a simple foot massage.” He took a moment to assess the older woman’s foot. He had a rather strong foot fetish, a real weakness for attractive well-cared-for feet, especially of a beautiful tone and shapely woman. Sadly, Heidi’s feet, while not bad, were somewhat lacking in care, with faded and chipped nail polish, and rough and dry areas on the sides of her heels.

“This is my proposal,” he continued. “If I can give you the most incredible foot massage you have ever experienced, you agree to hire me, no questions asked. But if I fail to meet or exceed your high expectations, I agree to leave here and never both you again.” He smirked. “What do you have to lose? At worst, you get a free foot rub out of it.”

Heidi chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I’ll take that bet,” she said, kicking off her sandals, placing her other foot in his lap as well. “But if you think a simple foot rub is going to make me change my mind, you’re dreaming.” She reclined back in her chair, crossing her arms at her chest. “This had better be one hell of a foot rub.”

“Oh, believe me, Ms. Freemont,” Zeb replied, brown eyes flashing a dark amber color, “it will absolutely blow your mind.”

The moment his fingers caressed her soles, Heidi let out a gasp. Her eyes widened in surprise, only to lower to half slits as he began pressing into her flesh. “Oohhhhh.... fuuuccckkk,” she hissed, head going back in obvious pleasure. The man’s fingers were pure magic, somehow zeroing in on every spot of tension or pain in her feet, rubbing and kneading them into pure relaxed bliss. Each time he came across a sore spot, a momentary jolt of sensation flared through her, a feeling somewhere between pain and pleasure, that shot straight up from her soles through to her center, leaving a hot wet feeling that settled deep between her legs. Her eyes fluttered, and she relaxed, leaning back into her recliner, a soft moan escaping from her lips.

Zebediah merely smiled, continuing his massage. “I take it that you’re enjoying the sensations?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s quite interesting, really. The human foot has more than seven thousand different nerve endings, all concentrated in the sole. And those nerve endings connect to various other organs and tissues all about the body. Meaning... that if you are aware of them and precise enough in your ministrations, you can effectively stimulate and manipulate different areas of the human body, simply by activating those various nerve clusters.” His eyes flashed again. “It’s a rather rudimentary kind of mind control.”

Heidi’s only response was a deep moan, a near gurgle of sound issuing forth without thought of meaning behind it. Indeed, her thoughts were moving incredibly slow, and scattered, her mind feeling floaty as if she were about to drift off into a deep sleep at any moment. She was vaguely aware that Zeb was talking to her... clearly hearing his words, but unable to process them, merely letting them flow down deep into her subconscious, to decipher at some later moment.

“But of course, there are simpler ways of controlling someone,” Zeb continued content with his one-sided conversation. “Hypnosis is a remarkably easy way to take control of someone. And, again, if one is knowledgeable and precise, it is an easy manner to guide and manipulate the person’s mind in whatever manner they desire. All that is required is for the subject to relax... to let themselves simply rest and relax... let their mind drift... awash in the pleasant sensations... of say, the relaxing restful, pleasurable sensation of having your feet rubbed... and stroked... and caressed... just like... this...”

A soft gentle shudder ran through the entranced blonde, her body falling limp as her head lolled to the side. Her toes curled then spread, then curled again, as practiced fingers worked and stroked the sensitive nerve endings therein, sending focused pulses of pleasure through the hapless spa owner, making her body, and thus her mind, dance to his nefarious tune.

“That’s it... drifting deeper and deeper now,” Zeb intoned, his thumbs moving in a circular motion along the top of her foot as his fingers continued to stroke and stimulate her soles. “Sinking deeper.. deeper... into trance... into a deep.... hypnotic... sleep!” he stated firmly, nodding in satisfaction as her eyes slammed closed and her head slumped forward. Smirking, he lowered her feet back down, reaching over to grab the small bottle of sanitizer from Heidi’s desk, cleaning his hands. “Well, my dear, I did promise you that this experience would be ‘mind-blowing’.”

Moments later, Heidi knelt naked on the floor of her office, her mind a calm and serene blank. Her eyes were open but vacant, as she answered each one of her Master’s questions. “We have a regular roster of clients that come by for pre-scheduled massages and spa treatments,” she replied. “A few years back, a famous celebrity came by for a massage and was impressed enough to mention it to her friends, and since then, we’ve been getting high-end clientele.”

Zeb nodded. This was precisely what he’d been looking for. “What do you typically charge for your services, and what specifically do you offer?”

“We offer the basic package, with standard massage, manicure, and pedicure, for three hundred dollars,” she replied. “Then, there is the deluxe package, which covers mani-pedi, steam bath, seaweed wrap, as well as aromatherapy massage, which generally runs up to five hundred dollars.” Zeb nodded again. A bit pricey, but reasonable considering the facilities and the kind of clients that would indulge in such a thing. “Finally, there is the supreme package, which includes the deluxe package, but adds a mud bath treatment, exfoliating scrub, as well as Swedish or Shiatsu massage, as preferred.”

“And how much does that package usually run?”

“The Supreme package runs at one thousand dollars.”

“And how often do your patrons ask for the Supreme package?” he asked, curious.

“We get a number of walk-ins and a few middle class, well-to-do clients now and again that favor the basic package,” Heidi stated, “but most of our returning customers ask specifically for the Supreme.”

“That’s good news,” Zeb thought aloud, his mind whirling. The setup was perfect for how he wished to work. “All right. Listen closely. You are going to hire me as your newest masseur. Further, you are going to add a new high-tier choice to your menu, the ‘Ultimate’ package. This will be a special service offered to only your most exceptional clients, for a flat fee of five thousand dollars. This will include a mani-pedi, plus any of the other spa services the client wishes, along with an hour-long massage done personally by me. These sessions will be by appointment only, scheduled in advance,” he added. While tending to and enslaving a number of rich wealthy young women was a rather high priority, he didn’t wish to lock himself into a time commitment when he had other things that needed doing. “Do you understand, Heidi?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied blankly. “I understand. I will make the changes as you requested.”

“Excellent,” Zeb replied. He glanced down at the middle-aged woman again, appraising her. She was not bad for a woman of her age, but not spectacular either. Her blonde hair had come from a bottle, the dark brown roots showing slightly, as well as that of her rather unkempt bush. Her body was also in fair shape, trim with very little fat, but also little muscle tone. Heidi Fairmont was a woman who ate well, took care of her figure, but was ultimately too lazy to put in any real work. At least, without it being forced upon her.

“All right, Heidi. From now on, you are going to add an exercise regiment to your weekly schedule. You will find the closest gym to wherever you live and join, and begin working to shape up and tone your body. Work on firming up your thighs, calves, arms, and abdomen. And remember—you are merely looking to firm and tone your body, not add slabs of muscle. You are in good shape as you are, you merely wish to make good ‘better’.”

He paused, considering. To be fair, a lot of his suggested changes were more for his own aesthetic rather than for the woman’s own wellbeing. His natural tendency to dominate prickled slightly, urging him to do more, to twist the woman’s mind like a spring, to turn her into his devoted slave, to command her to crawl over to him and BEG to suck his cock, for him to fuck her absolutely fucking raw—

With an effort he pushed such thoughts aside, settling for a more benign compulsion instead. “Finally, my dear, from now on you will feel an intense and irresistible need to take care of your feet. You will have them regularly pedicured, scrubbed, and softened until they are utterly flawless. You will keep your toenails professionally polished and painted, and decorated with toe rings. Most of all, you will enjoy any attention that your feet draw from others, finding excuses to show them off. And, having your feet pampered, caressed, or worshipped, will fill you with incredible pleasure.”

Heidi sighed softly, toes flexing and wiggling, as his commands took hold within her. Indeed, her Master’s attention on them at the moment felt absolutely wonderful, like a tongue slowly gently working along her clit. She was also acutely aware of their condition, the urge to get up immediately and order her staff to clean and pedicure her needy and neglected peds was nearly unbearable. Only her Master’s command to kneel in place and answer his questions kept her in place.

Satisfied, Zeb began wrapping things up, commanding Heidi to get dressed again and return to her chair. He added in the usual—that she would not remember being hypnotized, or anything that had occurred while she was under, but would keep all of his commands buried deep within her mind and act on them accordingly. “Lastly,” he stated as she sat back down in her recliner, “whenever you hear me, and only me, say ‘Bottle Blond Bliss’, you will fall immediately back into this hypnotized state once again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master, I understand completely.”

“Very good. Now then,” he murmured, sitting back down in his own chair, placing her feet back in his lap, “it’s time to awaken on the count of three. One, two, three!” he said snapping his fingers.

Heidi blinked, eyes fluttering briefly, as her brain reset and awareness returned, thoughts frozen and locked away suddenly returning to the surface. “Huh? Wha... ooooohhhhh,” she moaned deeply, as a residual burst of pleasure swept through her. Zeb hid a smirk, the suggestion he’d placed in her mind working perfectly. “Ooooohhh fuuucck... oh my gaawwdd,” she sighed, wavering, as her body slowly calmed back down again. “What... what the... fuck... was that?” she managed, looking up at him in wonder.

“That, Ms. Freemont, is what I can do with my hands,” he stated, wiggling his fingers idly, “when I am in the mood to do so.” Sitting up, he looked her in the eye. “I promised you a foot massage that would blow your mind. Tell me, did I succeed?”

Despite herself, Heidi chuckled. “Oh yes,” she murmured softly, withdrawing her feet back down, rubbing her bare soles idly against the carpet. Louder, she repeated herself. “Yes, you did very much. In fact... I’d very much like to hire you, Mr. Clark. When can you start?”

Zebediah Clark was a True Hypnotist. Far from the standard run-of-the-mill hypnotherapist, or fair performer, True Hypnotists were individuals blessed with a special ability... an innate power within them that allowed them to entrance and control those around them. Whereas a typical hypnotist could place a person into a trance and make them bark or quack like a duck, there were definite limits. Simple hypnosis couldn’t compel a person to act against their true nature and make them do something they were absolutely opposed to. True Hypnosis, however, was far more potent, able to compel a person to do literally ANYTHING that the hypnotist commanded them to, whether the subject wished it or not.

As it would be expected, having such an overwhelming power would tend to make its wielder supremely confident to the point of arrogance. And why not? Given the ability to bend anyone’s will to your own, to be able to act without fear of consequence, such a mindset becomes natural. And, as the saying goes, if power corrupts, then absolute power corrupts absolutely. Indeed, for those blessed with the power and abilities of True Hypnotism, the only obstacle they faced were their peers, other True Hypnotists. Therein was the rub; in a world with multiple beings with mind control powers, dominant personalities, and few if any restrictions, it was inevitable that those powerful beings would clash with one another for supremacy.

The history and origins of True Hypnotism were long and lost to time, spanning back thousands of years. While a few books and artifacts from ancient times had turned up in modern days, much of that knowledge was lost. Still, it can be assumed, from those in the know, that most if not all of the major world conflicts throughout the ages were most likely caused by clashes with a True Hypnotist. When one has great power, and the ability to accumulate wealth, fame, and prestige, they often find that instead of feeling happiness, they most often feel only the urge to accumulate more. Most times, by taking it from those around them. Which, of course, lead to conflict, and war. Luckily for the uninitiated, in nearly every case, those with power who had become tyrants, were almost always removed by the very masses they sought to control and dominate.

For that was the hardest lesson to learn. That powerful or not, no one was invincible. And, overconfidence and failure often went hand in hand. The cliche was most often true—pride cometh before the fall. And few were as prideful and arrogant as True Hypnotists.

These were the thoughts circulating in the back of Zebediah’s mind as he sat on a bench in the middle of Ann Morrison Park, watching the people playing and talking amongst themselves. He found himself wondering what they were thinking, where they were going. He felt curious about their lives... wondering about their childhood, their day-to-day routines, and how they differed from his own. A wry smile creased his lips as he noticed a young boy walking with his parents and older sister, heading over to the jungle gym. A wistful sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment he wondered idly what his life might have been like were it not for that fatal car accident that had taken away his family.

Hmmm. I was about his age when we were all in that car crash, he mused silently. Everyone died but me... somehow, I was thrown clear and managed to survive without a scratch. But I wonder... would I have been just like these people here if my family had lived? Just another normal mundane person living out his life blissfully unaware of the deeper darkness that exists in this world? He sighed inwardly, closing his eyes. He hated when his thoughts turned maudlin, and he began dwelling on the past. True, his childhood had been... difficult, to say the least, being raised by his grandmother. Gram Gram Ophelie, a powerful True Hypnotist in her own right, had taken him in and raised him, though it was less child-rearing, and more training him to become a True Hypnotist capable of surpassing her and taking on her legacy.

Hmph. Not that I’d ever been given a choice in the matter, he thought dimly, a bit of lingering resentment towards his Gram Gram flaring up again. In truth, he wasn’t really sure HOW he felt about the way he’d been raised. He’d been five years old when his family had died, and the memories of his time before coming to live with his grandmother were few and far between. So besides realizing that how he’d been raised was unusual, he had no real basis for comparison. And despite his strict, regimented upbringing by an admittedly cruel, strict, and domineering patriarch, she had, on occasion, expressed her actual love and concern for him. Those expressions were, of course, few and far between... but Zeb had come away with a sense that the old woman actually cared for him. Even if she had a very poor way of showing it.

The sound of loud barking caught his attention, breaking him out of his dark thoughts. Eyes still closed, he ‘glanced out’ around the area, sensing and scanning the abundant life around him, his trained senses differentiating them and processing them instantly. In his Mind’s Eye, he saw the various people and animals around him, as well as the plants, trees, and grass. Part of his great grandmother’s training had been in learning to ‘see’ spirits... or rather, to sense and view the life energies given off by everything that existed. He’d actually proved quite adept at it, able to easily discern the heavier, denser energies given off by people and animals well enough to tell individual people from each other just by their auras.

It was one of the few instances in which Gram Gram had—reluctantly—admitted that his own talents surpassed her own.

At the moment, his Sight showed a very large dog—a Great Dane by the look of it—approaching him rapidly. And from the sound and state of his aura, the big dog was not in a friendly mood. Sighing inwardly, he opened his eyes, narrowing them as the large black-furred canine came near, barking loudly, his ears up and back, plainly agitated and annoyed. Lifting a hand, Zeb focused his energy briefly, chanting softly under his breath. “Leniret spiritum tuum,” he commanded, brown eyes flashing briefly as he released the cantrip.

The dog drew to a halt, head going up, as if confused, before approaching slowly, his tail wagging now. Zeb chuckled softly as the dog sniffed, then began licking his outstretched hand.

“MAAAAXXX!” a female voice shouted. Glancing up, Zeb spotted the shouter, a young dark-haired woman sprinted towards them. She was dressed in a navy blue and white jogging suit and sneakers, with her shoulder-length mahogany-colored hair tied up in a ponytail. She was also, Zeb noted with interest, carrying what appeared to be a dog leash in her hands. The look of concern on her face changed to one of pure shock and disbelief as she slowed to a stop a few feet away. “Oh, wow,” she murmured, shaking her head, before turning to face the dark-skinned man properly. “Oh! Oh my god! Are you okay?” she asked, peering over at him. “I am so so sorry! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no, not at all,” Zeb replied, grinning, “though you might want to keep a closer watch on this rascal,” he added, scratching the Dane behind his ear, making his leg thump idly. “You know... leash laws and all that.”

“I know, I know,” she replied shaking her head. “I’m soooo sorry! I had him on his leash, though, see?” she stated, holding up the frayed and broken length of cord in her hands. Indeed, a glance down showed the other end still attached to Max’s collar. The poor woman sighed, visibly sagging in place. “The darn fella is just so strong,” she lamented, “and so strong-willed! I’m really just thankful that he didn’t hurt you. He’s a good boy, honest, he’s... just not exactly good around strangers yet.”

“Oh? And have you had him long?” Zeb asked, frowning slightly. While he was obviously fine, he was a bit concerned that she had brought an untrained and unruly dog to a public park. Had he gone after someone else, another stranger or those parents with their kids that had passed by earlier, things might have ended much differently.

“I’ve only had him for about two weeks now,” the woman admitted sheepishly. “I’m actually part of the Boise Animal Rescue Association, as a ‘Foster mom’.” She sighed gently, reaching over to pet Max, who turned to her, nuzzling into her hand. “This whole thing is totally MY fault for letting him get away from me. Maxie here really IS a good boy... he just had a rough childhood. His previous owner abused him and he ended up pretty antisocial, especially around men... at least until he gets to know them.” She shook her head ruefully. “Which is why I am so amazed you were able to calm him down.”

“It’s just a matter of letting him know who’s boss,” Zeb replied smoothly. “Incidentally, Miss—”

“Oh! Sorry, how rude of me,” the woman cut in, extending a hand. “The name’s Patricia Jamison, but you can call me Patty.”

Zeb grinned, taking her hand, shaking it warmly. With an effort, he resisted his natural reflex to impart hypnotic energy through the touch, rendering it a simple handshake. “Zebediah Clark,” he replied, “but you may call me Zeb.” He released her hand. “So, Patty,” he continued, “as I was about to ask, are you sure you are able to handle Max here by yourself? I may be overstepping my bounds by saying so, but he is a rather large dog, and you are a, ahem... rather small young woman.”

Patty merely chuckled. “Well, considering that my letting him get loose almost got you mauled, I’d say you haven’t overstepped at all. And, truthfully, when I agreed to foster a two-year-old dog rescued from a bad situation, I didn’t know they’d be sticking me with a two hundred pound behemoth!” She sighed softly, patting Max’s head again. “But... I think I can handle it. He’s a good boy, and he’s had a rough time. All he needs is some love and understanding, and a chance to prove to everyone what he’s made of.”

Yes, I can certainly relate to that, Zeb thought to himself silently. Still, he had to admit to being a bit impressed with Ms. Jamison. He imagined most people in her situation would view such a situation as needlessly troublesome, would have likely traded the big dog back, and requested a smaller and easier one to care for. Instead, Patty looked at it merely as a challenge, one that she was eager to take head-on. Moreover, she’d apologized for him breaking away from her, shifting the blame to herself instead of the dog. Considering the kind of trouble she would have been in if Zeb had decided to make it an issue and involve the police, that showed quite a bit of character.

Physically, Patty was quite attractive. Young, she was in her early twenties, having just recently graduated and entered the workforce. Standing around five foot five, five-six at the most, with a slender shapely form, nice and toned no doubt for running or jogging, she had a small but perky chest, with her c-cups nicely contained and held in a sports bra, the edges of which were just visibly through her blouse. She had green eyes that sparkled when she smiled, which it seemed was quite often. All in all, she was beautiful, friendly, spunky, and kind... exactly the kind of person Zeb was attracted to, the kind of woman that would make a perfect first slave.

And yet... he hadn’t hypnotized her.

There was just something about her... her personality and spirit, that drew him, yet made him reconsider simply stealing away her will and making her his own. Instead, despite having only recently made her acquaintance, he found himself thinking of her as a friend.

“Oh, man, is it really this late?” Patty said during a lull in the conversation, glancing at her watch. “I should really get going,” she stated with a sigh. “I need to run by the post office and drop off some packages before they close, then swing by the grocery store—ugh, and a bunch of other errands!” She gave him a wry grin. “I didn’t expect to run into a charming handsome man here in the park today. You’ve totally thrown me off my schedule.”

Zeb smirked back, laughing. “Blame Max, not me. He’s the one that brought us together after all!” He sighed. “Still, it is too bad you have to rush off. I was really enjoying talking to you.”

“Same here,” Patty replied. “But you know... I try and bring Max here for ‘walkies’ every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday about this time. So, well... if you happened to be around, I’m sure we’re bound to run into each other again.”

“I’ll have to make a note of it and time my walks through the park accordingly,” Zeb answered, standing up with her. “Do you need any help getting him back to your vehicle?”

“Nah, I think I’m good,” Patty answered, giving the retied and knotted leash an experimental tug. “Yeah. That should be okay to lead him back to the truck, especially now that he’s calmed down.” She glanced at Zeb sidelong. “Incidentally, you’ve got to show me how you managed that.”

Zeb raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Perhaps the next time we meet, I’ll do just that.”

The main hub of the True Hypnotist scene of Idaho was centered in the city of Boise. For some reason, an abnormally large number of hypnotists seemed to reside or visit the city, leading to the development and creation of various gathering sites, special sites that catered to the True Hypnotist community. A few days ago, the newest, and truly, the largest and most spectacular of them, The Spiral, had officially opened, with welcome invitations to all well-known hypnotists in the city and surrounding areas. The owner, Arthur Winston, had even held a special tournament, a contest among hypnotists, along with ranking and prizes for the winners to commemorate the occasion. Watching a live stream of the current quarterfinals of the double-elimination battle, Zeb tried not to let it bother him that HE had not been invited. He was new in town, after all, and practically unknown.

Huh. Not that I’d actually care to be competing against most of these hypnodommes, he thought in appreciation, watching as a Mistress Francesca narrowly defeated an equally skilled Mistress Nayana, just before a tiny, energetic Lady Casey took down her opponent, a hypnodomme with electric purple hair named Mistress Angelique. He couldn’t help u admire their skill and focus, as well as their determination. Despite having trained most of his life as a True Hypnotist himself, his only interactions with another hypnotist had been with his Great Grandmother. Seeing other hypnodommes using their talents this way had been both inspiring and a bit jarring. Pushing aside his lunch of steamed rice and fish, he made his way across to his bedroom, wondering idly how he would stack up against them.

It’s a good question. I really have no idea how good of a hypnotist I actually am, he mused to himself, stripping out of his clothes, changing into his usual lounging attire—a plain white sleeveless T-shirt, and a pair of loose black sweatpants. On one hand, I had the advantage of being trained by a powerful hypnodomme, he considered. A definite bonus, as he was well aware that many, possibly MOST True Hypnotists were self-taught, not discovering their abilities until later in life, usually having to figure out how best to utilize them through simple trial and error. Of course, Gram Gram did admit that her training was a bit... unorthodox, compared to most.

That was also quite true. Gram Gram was blind. His elderly mentor had, unfortunately, lost her sight several decades ago, and though she continued to function perfectly well without the use of her eyes, most of her training had reflected that deficit. It was she that had taught him to ‘see’ the unseen, sensing and viewing the auras of living beings with his mind rather than his eyes. Indeed, his primary use of his hypnotic powers was in touch inductions, channeling his aura into his hands, and feet, pushing his will through contact with his subject, to place them in a hypnotic trance. All of which were highly advanced techniques, according to his Gram Gram.

And yet, it was the more rudimentary methods, using a pendulum or pocket watch, that he had the most trouble with.

Emerging from the bedroom, he moved to the center of his living room, letting out a deep soft sigh. The room, like most of his apartment, was bare, with only the most basic of living essentials within. Not that he much cared—he had rented the small one-bedroom and bath unit for the month, just long enough for him to get established. Nampa was quiet and peaceful, but too far removed from the big city for his tastes. And Zeb was meant for bigger and better things.

Still, this would do for now. Closing his eyes, he invoked a self-hypnotic trance, focusing his mind, and slowing and steadying his heart rate. Opening them again, he settled into a fighting stance, bringing his arms up, hands open. Letting his mind relax, he shifted, allowing his body to move into the first position, more muscle memory than actual will guiding him. Slowly, move by move, motion by motion, he ran through the kata he had been taught for the past twenty years, each stance and form near perfect, as his mind focused more on the words of his teacher, Shari Mizhari, Gram Gram’s slave, fight instructor, and personal bodyguard. Good. Very good, he could almost hear her say, as if she were standing behind him now, appraising his form. Remember your footwork! her voice grated sharply as he shifted slightly, his foot missing the mark by half a centimeter. Almost perfect is NOT perfect! You must BE perfect, boy! the retort stung.

Gratefully, there was no stinging blow to the back of his thigh from a well-worn reed at his tiny misstep. That was one part of the ritual that he did NOT miss. Still, working through his kata, slowly increasing his speed as he went, he couldn’t help but miss interacting with Shari. The fifty-year-old Israeli fighter was just as sharp these days as she’d been the day he’d first been delivered into her care.

Not to mention that she was an absolute firecracker in bed.

Zeb grunted, increasing his speed again, his arms and legs nearly a blur of motion now, picturing Shari sparring with him, striking at him, lashing out with brutal punches and kicks, blows that could shatter wood and break bones if they landed solidly. A true master of several different martial arts, she had trained him in Krav Maga, Brazilian jujitsu, and Wing Chun, all of which she had helped him mold into his own unique highly defensive style, no doubt anticipating the type of lifestyle he would be leading in later years. Like everything else about him, his fighting style was unorthodox, something that would likely leave many an opponent confused and at a loss... preferably up to the point in which he had taken them down. At least, that was the idea. Zeb’s training was stellar, and he was confident in his ability, but in practical experience, he had technically only fought against Shari... and his Gram Gram.

An experience that had, at the time, greatly lowered his confidence, until Shari took him aside to praise the fact that he had actually managed to land a blow against her at all.

“Tchhhaaah!” he grunted, freezing in place as he hit his last form, holding it for a moment, allowing himself to relax and calm down once again. Ending his battle trance, he panted softly, taking stock in himself. His body and clothes were covered in sweat, and he stood in a small wet puddle on the hardwood floor. His heart rate was up, naturally, but only a little, the vigorous workout not having stressed his body overly much. Satisfied, he stretched a bit, working his muscles a bit, before heading down the hallway to his bathroom. A shave and shower were definitely in order,.. and then, perhaps, a bit of fun on the town...

“And here you are,” the bartender stated, handing over a glass of Scotch. “One ‘Rusty Nail’, served neat. Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” Zeb replied with a smile, passing over a fifty-dollar bill, taking a sip, and nodding. “Please, keep the change,” he replied dismissively, turning to glance around at the room’s inhabitants. The Craft Lounge had been a wonderful find, a nice stylish bar in the center of town, far from a hole-in-the-wall dive one would expect from the location. And despite being the middle of the week, it was still pretty lively. Zeb sat in his seat people watching, wondering if any of them might make a useful servant... when out of the blue, he felt it. Blinking in surprise, he closed his eyes, extending his senses, scanning the area just to confirm. Sure enough, among all the pale mundane spirits, sat one whose light shine like a bonfire.

“Could it really be?” he wondered aloud. “And here of all places?” Taking another deep drink, he grabbed his glass and made his way across the room, weaving his way skillfully through the patrons standing and talking, arriving at a table in the far back of the room.

Three young attractive women were seated at the table, each dressed for a night out on the town. All three were blonde-haired, the one in the center a pale platinum blonde compared to the other two’s more traditionally golden blonde locks. The one the far right was dressed in a navy blue sleeveless dress with white trim, seemingly held in place by her D-cup breasts, slitted down the sides to show her rich creamy thighs, though considering that the entire dress didn’t even reach her knees, it seemed a bit of overkill. The tallest of the three, she sported a muscular build, giving her a rather butch look, despite the feminine clothes. She wore a small black leather choker around her neck as well... a clear sign of ownership if one was aware of its meaning. Finally, her feet were clad in a pair of high-heeled sandals, showing off her French-tipped pedicure.

The girl on the far left was clad in an equally short charcoal gray blouse and skirt ensemble, complete with a matching jacket, leaving most of her arms and chest covered, yet, with the jacket open, it exposed the valley between her own heavy breasts, as well as her navel, and the ruby belly button piercing therein. Like her friend she too wore a small leather choker around her neck. Her long legs were revealed beneath the table, with small slender feet clad in cork-wedged sandals, allowing her scarlet-tipped toes to breathe.

Finally, the woman in the center, the one that Zeb had tagged as the True Hypnotist, was dressed in a shiny shimmering silver dress, a separate piece for the blouse consisting of little more than a wraparound bra, and a second part that hugged the waist, and wrapped around to cover the upper thighs as well. She wore a large and expensive diamond necklace, with a brilliant blue sapphire attacked, as well as sapphire rings on her fingers. Finally, her lovely bare feet were clad in a pair of silver strappy sandals, her toenails painted metallic silver to match her clothing.

All three paused in the middle of their conversation as Zeb approached their table, taking a moment to appraise him as well. After his workout and shower, he’d dressed up as well, in a dark grey Tom Ford suit with a jet black shirt underneath. He wore a pair of stylish black Oxfords on his feet, and while not generally one for jewelry. he’d slipped on a pair of platinum rings on the middle fingers of both hands.

Despite looking at his best, the women appeared unimpressed. “Uh,” he said awkwardly, not sure how to proceed. When interacting with other True Hypnotists, remember to be polite, his grandmother’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. Show proper respect where it is due. Taking a breath, he gave them a smile. “Hello, ladies. Pardon me for interrupting. I was wondering if I might converse with you—”

“Sorry, no,” the platinum blonde replied curtly. “Not interested.” With that, the three turned away and began talking amongst themselves again.

Taken aback, Zeb nevertheless tried again. “My apologies,” he said, once again gaining their attention. “I perhaps did not explain myself very well. I am not attempting to come on to you—”

“Good,” the blonde on the left side remarked with a smirk, “’cause you’d be wasting your time. Shannon’s not a fan of the ‘cock’, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yeah, homeboy,” the blonde on the right side snarked, grinning viciously, “why don’t go somewhere else... maybe find some ‘fly sistahs’ to go and harass instead?”

Zeb blinked, his eyes narrowing. He was pretty sure he’d just been insulted with overtly racial remarks. All the while, the woman in the center, the one in charge, made no move to rebuke her friend in any way, acting completely uninterested. Under normal circumstances, he would have responded to such an insult in kind, taking great delight in straightening out the offender. But... he still had hopes of making meaningful contact with the hypnodomme. Taking a steadying breath, he tried one more time.

“I think there is some mistake,” he said quietly, staring directly at the silver-clad woman. “I wished to speak to you because I know what you are.” That at least got her attention. “You and I,” he said, awkwardly, wondering how best to state the obvious, “we are... kindred spirits.” The woman’s frown deepened. “I am new to the area, and I merely wished to make contact—”

“Listen here, dawg,” the blonde on the right growled, standing up, getting into his face, “we already told you to fuck off! You’ve got about five seconds to scram, or the only contact you’re going to have is my foot with your ass!”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s proverbial back. Zebediah felt his temper flare-up, and he imagined his Gram Gram’s voice speaking to him again. Remember to be polite and show respect where it is due. But most importantly, never fail to assert yourself! A True Hypnotist does not cow before anyone. If someone fails to show you the respect that you deserve, then teach them to respect you!

Fed up, Zeb turned and stared the woman directly in the eye. “Excuse me, I was not speaking to you,” he stated in obvious derision. “I was talking to your superior. If you possess half a brain in your head, you will sit down, shut up, and allow the grown-ups to converse unimpeded.”

The woman’s jaw dropped in surprise at being spoken to that way, before twisting up in obvious fury. “You son of a bitch!” she yelled, loudly. grabbing his arm, rearing back to deliver a punch, “now you’re gonna get it—”

Before she could carry through with her threat, however, Zeb reacted. Twisting his arm, he brought his wrist up, grabbing the woman’s arm. Aura-infused fingers pressed lightly but firmly into her arm, finding and stimulating certain nerve clusters in rapid succession as if typing on a keyboard. The woman let out a startled gasp, eyes widening briefly in shock, before fluttering, and slamming closed. Pulling his arm back from her limp grasp, Zeb released her, allowing the entranced girl to slump back down into her seat once again.

“Aaahh! What the fuck?!?” the leftmost blonde yelled, getting to her feet as well. Growling, she pulled a knife from her pocket, holding it was a practiced grip, the silver blade glinting ominously in the ambient light. “What the HELL did you do to Riley?” she demanded, gesturing with the blade.

Inching back out of range, Zeb wasn’t prepared to have a physical altercation with an armed opponent, particularly in an open crowded place such as this. Instead, he tapped into his magical reserves, pointing a hand at the knife-wielder. “Labuntur in altum somnos,” he intoned, eyes flashing amber for a moment as he released the cantrip. The woman’s eyes widened imperceptibly, before slamming closed, as she stood there, wavering in place, asleep on her feet.

Unfortunately, all of this commotion had attracted a bit of attention. A large masculine hand clamped down on his left shoulder from behind. “Hey, pal, you’re coming with me,” the bouncer, a large beefy man growled, pulling Zeb back towards him. Zeb, however, was still in battle mode, reacting to the touch instinctively, leaning into the man’s pull as he turned, lashing out with a sharp elbow to the solar plexus, following with a sharp punch to the man’s sternum. Gasping, the bouncer staggered back, the air leaving his lungs from the impact, leaving him dazed and stunned.

“Just relax, and let yourself breathe,” Zeb murmured softly, taking full advantage of the man’s state, pressing his fingers flat against his chest. “Let the pain fade... replaced with a warm... relaxing... sleepy feeling... yes... let it sweep through you... as you breathe in... slowly... gently... breathing out the pain... your will and energy flowing with it... leaving only relaxing... restful... obedience...” The man blinked, eyes fluttering, unable to muster any resistance as his body relaxed, his mind following suit. “That’s it... relaxing... drifting... deeper and deeper... sleep!” he commanded, drawing back, his attention already turning back to the remaining blonde, the True Hypnotist of the group.

Shannon, for her part, gaped in total shock. This man, this stranger, had just disabled both of her slaves in a matter of seconds, one with some kind of incantation, and the other with just a touch! And then, again, taking down the bouncer with a rapid induction in just as many seconds. “Fuck! Hannah too? Wha... was that... magic?” she hissed, standing up as well. “Are you some kind of male witch? A warlock or something?”

Zeb smiled wryly. “Not precisely. I am a Hypnotist, like you,” he stated directly, causing her eyes to narrow, “I just happen to have a small gift for magic as well. nothing major, just a few cantrips here and there, but I find its not about the strength of one’s gifts, more in how one utilizes them.”

“Shit!” Shannon growled, grasping the necklace from around her neck. She hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t even guessed that this man could be a threat. Normally, she was alert and aware, always on the lookout for potential slaves... and potential rivals. But she’d had a good day today, had scored a real windfall with her last mercenary job, and had taken Riley and Hannah for a night out to celebrate. She’d lowered her guard... and now it seemed she was about to pay the price.

“Fuck, that,” she grunted, holding up her sapphire blue necklace, channeling her own hypnotic power. “I won’t let you take me without a fight! Now... stare at the stone,” she commanded, causing the necklace to sway, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. “Watch the stone and relax, allow yourself to relax,” she began, a smirk forming on her lips as she noticed his eyes locking onto the stone. tracking it as it moved. “It feels so nice to watch it swing.. so relaxing... so soothing—”

“Adhuc quasi lapis,” Zeb intoned, gesturing again with his left hand. The smug confident look on Shannon’s face faded, her facial muscles tightening in panic before locking into place, as her entire body stiffened. Her panic continued to grow as she found her limbs refusing to obey her, her entire body frozen and paralyzed. Zeb let out a sigh, shaking his head briefly before reaching out and snatching her necklace from her fingers.

“That was very good,” he stated, taking a moment to look over her focus. The diamond and sapphire encrusted necklace was well made and expensive, definitely a powerful induction tool. And her technique had been solid as well; he’d definitely felt the effects. It was why he’d decided not to attempt to face her, hypnotist to hypnotist, choosing instead to use another magical cantrip to freeze her in place. “Very good,” he repeated, holding the necklace up before Shannon’s face. “I’m pretty sure that if you’d continued your induction, I would have gone under rather quickly. Sadly, my own pendulum skills are rather mediocre in comparison. It’s why I much prefer direct contact-based hypnosis.” He gave her a smile, one lacking in any warmth or compassion, as the focus began to swing before the helpless woman’s eyes. “But, perhaps this is an opportunity for me to get in some practice.. and improve my technique a bit…”

Shannon gasped slightly, sitting up. For a moment she was confused, wondering where she was, or what was happening until the sights and sound reminded her: The bar. A night on the town. Drinks with her girls. And then... an interruption by some strange man. Who turned out to be a hypnotist-warlock. Who was now seated across from her at her table, drinking a glass of whiskey.

Shit.

She had been hypnotized! She’d challenged the man to a duel and lost. And she could feel it, feel his presence within her mind, foreign commands that he had placed there to keep her calm and composed, and under his control. Since first gaining her abilities and learning about the True Hypnotist community, it had been her greatest fear to someday be captured and enslaved by some arrogant man, turned into his obedient slave, and used as a toy for his sexual pleasure. She’d studied and trained and honed her skill for years, just to prevent this exact scenario from happening. And yet... here she was. Worse still, she was completely alone. Hannah and Riley remained at her sides, but both were completely entranced, staring ahead blankly at nothing. And the bouncer who had stepped in earlier was now back at his post by the door, his memory no doubt erased, likely instructed to ignore any further outbursts.

Feeling tears welling up inside her, however, she forced them back. She forced her expression into as bland and emotionless a stare as she could manage, looking her captor directly in the face. “Well,” she said after a moment. “It looks like you won. So... what now?”

Zeb took a moment to drain the last of his Rusty Nail, sighing in pleasure. “Oh, damn... that is good,” he murmured, grinning. “Please, feel free to have a drink yourself,” he said, gesturing to the glass in front of her. “I took the liberty of ordering you a refill while you were out.”

Shannon frowned, looking at the drink askance, then back at him. “I see. So... is that a command?” she asked. “You’re ordering me to drink with you?”

Zeb blinked. “What? No... no of course not. I am merely trying to have a conversation with you, as I said from the beginning. And I thought you might like a drink.” He shrugged. “Drink it or not... it makes no difference to me.”

“In that case, I’ll pass,” she replied, pushing the glass aside. “So... to repeat my earlier question... what now?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“I mean... what do you plan to do with me?” Shannon asked, wincing slightly. Her initial reaction was to shout, to yell the question at him... but the command in her mind—stay quiet and civil, and speak respectfully—muted it to a slightly annoyed tone. “You have me completely hypnotized and at your mercy now,” she pointed out. “So... what are you planning to do to me?”

Zeb sighed wearily. “I said it before when I first approached you and your friends. All I wanted was to have a conversation with you. I just... wanted to talk.” Shannon blinked. “Is that really so difficult to believe? You are a fellow hypnotist... a kindred spirit. I am new to this area... and while I’ve been a hypnotist for a while, the only other one I’ve ever interacted with is my mentor... my great grandmother. I was hoping to learn more about you, and the hypnotist scene in the area... maybe be introduced to others in the community.”

“So... you don’t plan to turn me into your obedient sex slave?” she asked, stunned. In response, he chuckled.

“I think attempting to brainwash you into obedience would be counterproductive to forming a friendship with you, don’t you think?” he quipped. “Besides which, I seem to recall your lady friend... Hannah was it? She mentioned that you were a lesbian.” He shrugged. “While I am fairly confident that I could, eventually, alter your sexual orientation, it would take far more time and effort that I would care to put into acquiring a sex slave.” Shannon glanced at him, eyebrows raised in question. He sighed. “Look. Obviously, we got off on the wrong foot. And while the way you and your girls responded to me was clearly disrespectful towards a fellow Hypnotist, I will accept part of the blame for not expressing myself clearly in the beginning. So, how about this?”

Before she could react, Zeb reached out and took her by the wrist, pressing his thumb against the back of her hand. “Release the Kraken,” he quipped, giving her a wry grin before she snatched her hand back.

“Release the... what? What are you...” she asked before blinking in surprise. “Wait... you... did you just...?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, nodding. “That trigger just removed all of the suggestions I placed in your mind earlier. You are now completely free of my influence.” He gestured to a waitress, who approached, replacing his empty glass with a full one and walking off. “I would like us to start over from the beginning. And we couldn’t very well do that if you felt threatened or constrained by being under my control. Now we are both on equal footing again.” He took a long drink. “You’re free to get up and leave if you want. Or, if your feelings are hurt, you could challenge me to another duel. But, I am hoping that we could just have a friendly chat now.”

Shannon stared at him for a long moment... then laughed out loud, shaking her head ruefully. “Damn. And here I thought I’d seen and heard it all,” she muttered. “Heh, for a True Hypnotist, and a man, you’re not that bad of a guy. You know what? I think I will have that drink with you now,” she said, taking her glass, and holding it up to his, clinking them together. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mistress Shannon Lang.”

“And I am Master Zebediah Clark,” he replied in return. “But please, call me ‘Zeb’.”

Things went swimmingly after that. Shannon turned out to be quite knowledgeable of the local scene, having grown up and lived in the area her entire life. She shared a bit of her history, from her childhood growing up, to her awkward years in high school, to her burgeoning sexuality, and to learning about her abilities as a hypnotist. “It was in my freshman year of college,” she related, gesturing with her half-empty glass. “It was just after the Thanksgiving break, and we were about to go for finals for the semester. I was in the SUB, just trying to unwind, when I saw this totally dynamite babe walk by. I mean... she was so fucking hot,” she said, sighing wistfully. “I’d seen her around campus a few times, just in passing, but had never gotten a real close-up look at her before. She was a natural redhead,” she added, taking a quick drink. “And I have me a real weakness for redheads. Anywho, she walked by and went into the bathroom... so I said, ‘what the heck’, and followed her in, wanting to try my luck. I’d been having a pretty good run of luck since getting to college, hooking up with a lot of women without much effort, but it wasn’t until Shelley that I realized the truth.”

“Really?” Zeb asked, intrigued by her story. “What happened?”

“Well, we started talking... I was just being my usual charming self... and then, out of the blue I looked her square in the eyes and told her, ‘Let’s go back to my place and fuck’. She kinda stiffened, blushed really deep. but said okay. Half an hour later, we were in my bed back in the dorm, her between my legs working her tongue like a fucking dynamo, and me screaming like a goddamn banshee from cumming my brains out. After reciprocating, we snuggled a bit, and I was just starting to drift off when I noticed she was crying.”

“Crying?”

Shannon nodded. “Yeah, I was confused and concerned, thought maybe I’d been too rough on her or something, so I asked her what was wrong. And she says, ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t know why I did this. I’m not gay!’ Needless to say, I was a bit upset. I mean, was she about to flip out on me or something, and say I’d raped her? Pissed, I rolled over and asked her point-blank why she’d come back to my room if she was fucking hetero.” She took a long drink, finishing the glass. “So she turns back to me, and, serious as a heart attack, answers, ‘Because you told me to’.” She placed her fingers at her temples and wiggled them, making a whoosh sound. “Talk about mind blown. Turns out, I’d been low-key hypnotizing all of the hot girls I’d seduced into my bed. A bit of experimenting and searching, and I figured out that I was a True Hypnotist.”

Zeb nodded, listening avidly as she described how she had come to test out and perfect her abilities. When the conversation shifted, he told her about himself, about being raised and trained by his great-grandmother, growing up in her mansion filled with brainwashed slaves. “When I think about it now, as an adult, I know that it was strange, and definitely not normal,” he admitted, “but at the time, I really didn’t know what to think. I mean, when you’re a child, you pretty much accept whatever the grown-ups tell you. You don’t know any better until you find out differently for yourself.”

“I see. So, was your grandmother pretty strong?” Shannon asked, curious. “I mean, she owned a mansion in Sun Valley and had her own stable of slaves. That takes either a lot of careful planning or some serious talent to pull off. You’d think some other local hypnotist would target a helpless, blind, little old raising a kid all by herself.”

Zeb chuckled. “She may have been sightless, but she was far from helpless.” He paused, considering. “Now that I think on it, there was an incident that happened when I was six years old. I was speaking with Gram Gram in the living room about something... math I think? Yes... she was instructing me about algebra, how it was actually useful in the real world. And in the middle of speaking, she just paused and frowned. She let out this sigh, as if she were irritated about something, then just barked out loudly, ‘Well, are you going to come in or not? It is rude to stand there and hide in the shadows. Come in, already!’. And a moment later, a tall man dressed in black stepped inside, coming in through the patio door.”

Zeb shook his head. “I was surprised. He was dressed up like a ninja, a totally black skintight costume with his face completely covered and only his eyes showing. But instead of a sword or ninja stars, he was carrying a gun. When I noticed that, I got scared, but Gram Gram just tsked at me. ‘Relax, child. Everything is fine. Just stand there and watch.’ she told me.” He smirked, remembering. “It was actually kind of surreal. The man just stood there calmly while Gram Gram questioned him. ‘What did you come here for?’ she asked. ‘I was hired to kill you’, he answered. ‘Who hired you?’ she asked. ‘A man named Donovan Foust’ he answered. ‘How much did he pay you?’ she asked. ‘Two hundred and fifty-thousand dollars,’ he answered back. ‘Half before, and half after the job was done.’”

Shannon blinked at that. “A quarter of a million dollars? To kill a little old lady? Damn...did she have some kind of secret treasure buried on her property or what?”

Zeb chuckled. “Something like that. At any rate, Gram Gram laughed at the man, telling him that if he’d been smart, he should have done his research. If he’d known who he was targeting, he should have asked for an entire million. And all the while, I’m just standing there, stunned. I’m only six years old, so a lot of this is going over my head, but I understand enough to know that this man with the gun was sent here to kill Gram Gram... but instead, he was just standing there talking to her, answering her questions. And then, finally, when she is done talking, the man just takes the gun, points it at his own head, and pulls the trigger.”

Shannon blinked, gaping at that. “Wait... what the hell? He... just killed himself?” she asked, confused. “Why?”

Zeb let out a deep sigh, then turned to face her. “Because my Gram Gram wanted him to. She didn’t tell him, didn’t command it, at least not in words. Hell, she didn’t even gesture at him, or anything. When she was done asking him questions, she just turned her head away and looked back at me. A second later—BANG!” He shuddered slightly, despite himself. “It was the first time I’d ever seen something like that. I started to cry... but Gram Gram told me to quiet down. ‘Don’t be afraid of something like this’, she told me. ‘When you are powerful, there will always be others that will covet that power. If you want to survive you have to learn to be strong.’ Then she pointed at the body bleeding on her hardwood floor. ‘That man died because he was weak. He came here because he thought I was weak.’ She smiled at that, a wicked baring of teeth, like a wolf. ‘He was wrong. So remember that, Zebediah. In this world, only the strong rule. You must make yourself strong and powerful, or others will dominate you, and do whatever they want to you.’”

“Fuck me,” Shannon murmured, shaking her head. “Sounds like your Gram Gram was one seriously hardcore lady.” She frowned, pondering that strange ability she’d demonstrated as well. Simply overriding a person’s will with their sheer presence, without hypnosis, or a verbal command? Such an ability would have to be the stuff of fantasy, surely. Yet, the way Zeb described it, in such detail... she wouldn’t bring herself to doubt him. Besides which, she reasoned, the man himself has some very unusual talents of his own. That touch-hypnosis thing? I’ve crossed a hypnotist that used something similar, but not to that extreme.

“At any rate,” Zeb finished, “that’s mostly why I moved here. Gram Gram decided that I was ready to be out on my own, to go out and make a name for myself. I’m actually interested in trying my hand as a ‘Hypnotist for Hire’... taking on mercenary contracts. But,” he said sheepishly, “I actually have no idea how to go about it. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Shannon replied, reaching for her purse, digging out a small card, handing it over to him. “I’m a bit of a mercenary myself, though I’m pretty much semi-retired now. My last job netted me enough that I’m considering quitting, just sitting back and enjoying the fruits of my labors. Also, you should be aware, this big-time ‘high roller’ names Arthur Winston is on the lookout for new talent. He owns that new club downtown that just opened, The Spiral?” She finished her drink, then sighed, pushing aside the glass. “If you make a big enough name for yourself as a merc I’m sure he’ll approach you with an offer as well.”

Zeb frowned slightly. “I see. So he only deals with hypnotists he finds worthy... those worth his time?”

“To be honest.... yes,” Mistress Shannon replied bluntly. “And that’s something to keep in mind. True Hypnotists from all over the world visit this city. You’re pretty damn impressive,” she informed him, “but believe me when I tell you there are others out there that make you and I seem like a couple of toddlers in comparison.”

Zeb merely nodded. That much he was acutely aware of. In terms of knowledge and skill, he was perhaps one of the best-trained hypnotists in the country, if Gram Gram’s assessment was accurate. He knew dozens and dozens of methods, skills, and abilities that even hypnotists that had trained for decades could barely dream of, let alone master. Alas, knowledge was not akin to power, at least not in his case. In terms of spiritual, or hypnotic, power, he was sadly on the lower end. And it was a simple truth in this world, that knowledge and skill could only take you so far. For True Hypnotists, might made right... and on the average, women possessed far more raw hypnotic power than any man.

Of course, that didn’t mean Zeb was simply content to accept his fate as one of the low ranked on the bottom. Technically speaking, Mistress Shannon’s hypnotic aura was stronger than his own, yet he’d beaten her. Any True Hypnotist can defeat any other True Hypnotist, his Gram Gram had told him once. It all depends on the situation. The strongest doesn’t always win... and the weakest doesn’t always lose. You don’t have much in the way of talent, boy, she’d told him frankly, but you have other gifts. Use them and that clever mind of yours... and you’ll do well enough.

“Here,” Shannon tossed him a card, which he nimbly caught. “Call that number on the back of the card and ask for ‘Gene’. He’s been looking for a skilled hypnotist for a number of jobs he has listed. He’s a good guy, he’ll hook you up, and help you get your foot in the door.”

Zeb nodded, pocketing the card. “Thank you. That’s just what I was hoping for.” He smiled. “Well, Mistress Shannon, I must say, despite the rather rocky start, I am very glad to have bumped into you.”

“Same here, Master Zebediah,” she replied with a nod before sighing. “I should really wake Riley and Hannah and head back out of here.” Her expression darkened. “And I think I will have a talk with them about showing proper respect to potential hypnotists in the future,” she added ruefully. “Seriously, Zeb, I am honestly sorry for dismissing you out of hand that way, earlier. Other hypnodommes I know would not have been quite so understanding.”

“Of course. Think nothing of it,” Zeb answered easily, standing up to take his leave. “It was a simple misunderstanding, as much my fault as yours.”

While far from a relaxing time, his visit to the bar had been quite productive. He’d made contact with another member of the Hypnotist community, had been given the 4-1-1 on the Boise scene... and he’d even received an introduction to the mercenary hypnotist underground. So many goals were accomplished, and on his very first day in town. Yes... this was it, truly the beginning of his journey. He was set to finally step out of his Gram Gram’s shadow and make a name for himself... to prove to her and himself that he could be every bit the force among the True Hypnotist community that she had been. And perhaps, to even surpass her.

Yes. This was the start of his journey. And this is where it would all begin.