The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Happy Halloween, everyone, and welcome to the Fall Deeper,” Miss Scarlett grinned. I could hear the smile in her Southern accent. The spotlights converged on her, and the glitter on her white shirt sparkled in the light. “Now, forgive me for stating the obvious, but I do need some volunteers.”

The crowd’s response was overwhelming. I’m sure everyone there recognized her. Among hypno-fans, Miss Scarlett was a celebrity, if not a legend. Nearly half the audience rose from their seats, clamoring to get up on stage.

“What’s with everybody?” Zelasha whispered in my ear.

“This hypnotist’s famous.”

“You’ve heard of her?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know she was gonna be here tonight?”

“No idea.”

“Now, I’m going to make a special request,” the Southern hypnotist added. “I’d like couples only tonight. Trust me—you won’t be disappointed.”

A number of people grumbled and sat down again. I looked around, amused, seeing a few individuals proposition their neighbors so that they’d have a partner. Several couples were making their way onto the stage.

Zelasha’s hand slid into mine. “Wanna go up?”

Stunned, I looked over at my girlfriend. Her lapis lazuli eyes shone, and her crooked smile was full of mischief. She gave my hand a gentle tug.

My heart started thudding, Zelasha was suggesting we volunteer to be hypnotized by Miss Scarlett. She wanted to do it, in person, together.

“Um, all right.” I swallowed in an attempt to get my heart out of my throat. We stood up in unison, and walked towards the stage, holding hands. This is never going to work, I thought. I’m way too nervous to go under, and the hypnotist will make me sit down again!

This was the largest group of volunteers I’d ever seen at a stage show; about thirty people had been accepted. There were two seats left over, but they were at opposite ends of the stage.

Zelasha turned to me. “Mind if I go?” she whispered.

“You sure?” I said, but then saw the pleading look in her eyes.

She nodded.

“Go,” I told her. I sat down on the nearest chair, and my eyes followed my girlfriend as she darted across the stage. The lengths of silver silk swished around her hips and her legs, flattering her curves. With a feminine flounce, she sat down in the last chair. I took the one nearby.

“Thank you, thank you.” Miss Scarlett was nodding slowly, welcoming the volunteers. Stanley had exited stage left, and the house began to play some chords from Enigma. “Now all my volunteers, look at me, keep your eyes on me... and as you focus on my voice, it’s time to use your imaginations.”

Miss Scarlett’s voice took on that lulling, soothing tone she used in her mp3’s. “Everyone hold your hands a foot apart, like this,” the hypnotist continued, demonstrating. “Now, imagine that your hands are covered in glue, a really sticky, really messy, really goopy glue.” She wiggled her fingers. “Now press your hands together. Press them tight. Good job, everyone... now keep on pressing them together, imagine that they’re really stuck, stuck so hard. Press them firmly, stuck hard, stuck tight....”

Zelasha and the other volunteers obeyed Miss Scarlett’s suggestions to the letter. Some hands were shaking with intensity. My girlfriend’s were clasped, but she was looking bemusedly at the hypnotist; a fellow near her was staring at his own hands. I’d seen this induction method before in other shows, and doubted that it would work on me. I was so nervous about being on stage with Miss Scarlett that I had to concentrate to stop my hands from shaking! Dutifully, I pressed them together.

“Feel that glue oozing between your fingers,” Miss Scarlett was saying softly. “Feel it squishing. Imagine it so sticky, your hands pressed tightly together... focusing on your hands as you listen to my words... listening to my voice, becoming more and more focused... the more you listen to my voice, the more focused you become... the more focused you become, the more you hear my voice... hands pressed so tightly together, focusing.”

Many of the volunteers’ arms were shaking now, but I had eyes only for Zelasha. I felt like I was in another world. I’d discovered Miss Scarlett’s web page several years ago, but I’d never seen her perform before. Having listened to several of her mp3’s, I’d daydreamed about being hypnotized by her several times.

The lovely hypnotist was amazingly charismatic. Miss Scarlett’s voice was sensual and soothing, just on the borderline between soulful and seductive... and my girlfriend was the sexiest woman I’d ever met. I thought for a moment that I should be jealous, watching Miss Scarlett hypnotize her... but this was something else. I was watching the glamorous hypnodomme put my girlfriend in a trance. I could picture myself in the place of either one, and got to watch both at the same time.

I shifted around in my chair. Maybe I would have enjoyed the show more from the audience than from on stage!

“So very focused now, as your eyes begin to relax,” Miss Scarlett was saying. “Your hands stuck so tightly together now, glued so tight you cannot pull them apart, stuck with sticky glue... the more you press the more stuck they become... the more you listen the more stuck they get... and now the more stuck they become the heavier your eyelids get.”

Zelasha looked from her hands to Miss Scarlett, and back again. I tried to imagine that I was somewhere other than on stage, that I was in a calm, quiet place. Finally I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the hypnodomme’s lovely voice. Lord, that woman could talk: she had a soothing resonance that seemed to slide into my thoughts and weave its way into my head. Maybe I really can go under, I thought, and shivered. Pity there’s a draft in here.

“Heavier and heavier, more and more focused,” the Southern hypnotist purred. “You can’t help it, the more you focus the heavier your eyelids get, and the harder you press the more you focus. It’s so easy, so safe, so warm, so comfortable.”

I opened my eyes and glanced over at my girlfriend. Her eyes were just starting to blink. I remembered the dozen times I’d sat next to her, whispering intently, and watched those gorgeous green eyes flutter closed. A chill ran down my spine. It took some concentration to prevent my member from waking up and straining in my pants.

“Your eyelids are getting droopy,” Miss Scarlett went on slyly. “Droopier and droopier, too heavy to keep open, so very, very heavy... focusing completely on my voice now, listening to my voice, hearing it outside you and within you. Your eyes are closing. You can’t help it, you can’t stop it, your eyes closing so tightly... and when they close you can hear nothing but my voice, listen to nothing but my words.”

Zelasha’s eyes closed. Some heads were nodding; a few people had gone limp. I closed my eyes again, playing along. Miss Scarlett will probably ask me to step down in a few minutes, I thought.

“Your eyes are so heavy, eyes too heavy to keep open, you’re falling asleep. It’s so easy to fall asleep to my voice, so easy to relax completely; it takes no effort at all... and as I count down, you feel sleepier and sleepier with each number... five, it’s so easy to let go, no cares, no worries, nothing troubling you at all. Four, eyelids drooping, closing easily. Three, breathing regularly and deeply, focused completely on the sound of my voice. Two, you can hear only my voice as you fall into a deep sleep... one, sleep, so sleepy, sleep.

“You’re deeply asleep now, deeply asleep,” the hypnodomme urged. “Deep asleep, so relaxed... feeling your hands go loose and limp, your shoulders relaxed and loose, your whole body completely limp.”

I breathed, and let myself relax. Breathe in, breathe out, stay calm. I kept my eyes closed, and stopped listening to the hypnotist’s words.

After a while, I heard Miss Scarlett speaking again. “And when you wake up, you will take on the identity of your costume; you will be whomever you’ve dressed up to be. And if you’re not wearing a costume, you will be your favorite halloween monster. When anyone tells you what kind of monster they are, you will see that it is true. You will not hurt anyone, though—this is a safe haven where no one can be hurt. So, on the count of three, you will open your eyes and sit up... but you will be your favorite Halloween monster. If you’re not in costume, think about what kind of monster you love. Think about what kind of costume you would like to wear. Now, picture yourself in those clothes, in that costume. Imagine yourself as that monster; now become that monster. On three, you will open your eyes, and you have been transformed into your costume. One, two, three.”

I opened my eyes and looked around. Everyone else was waking up, acting like they were shaking off sleep. One person sat up rigidly; another one grunted like an animal, provoking laughter from the audience. Someone else howled.

Oh, what on earth had possessed me to volunteer? My mouth was dry, and I was dreadfully thirsty. Where was my lover?

There she was. Zelasha was looking around pensively, then our eyes met. She grinned at me, a feral, sexy smile full of desire. The only thing I wanted was to slink off with her for a private romp. I didn’t want to ruin the poor hypnotist’s show, though. Was there a way to sneak out of here?

Miss Scarlett grinned at the audience, then strutted over to the person who’d growled. It was a middle-aged man with a bushy brown beard; he was wearing a white suit. “And what kind of monster are you?” she asked.

“A werewolf!” he replied, to more laughter. What a goof, I thought. The man was heavy-set, and his ears seemed to point at the end. Maybe he actually was a lycanthrope! Of course, if he was, he deserved as good as he got for volunteering that information in public. Two hundred years ago, he would have been burned at the stake.

“I have been roaming these hills for thirty years,” the white-suited man explained into the microphone.

I looked out over the audience. There were several nice specimens in there, I saw... healthy ones, full of life and vigor... hmm. Maybe later, Zelasha and I could...

Then my lover stood up, and started tiptoeing across the stage.

I leaned forward, trying to read her expression. Miss Scarlett must have caught her movement out of the corner of her eye. “Hold that thought,” the performer said to the werewolf, then hurried after Zelasha. Somehow—despite her high heels—the hypnotist managed to catch up with my lover as she moved along the wall behind the row of chairs.

“Where are you off to, miss?” she asked, pointing the microphone in Zelasha’s direction.

“I’m thirsty,” Zelasha told her. She was using The Voice—that delicious, seductive tone my lover used whenever she felt sexy—and I felt an involuntary stirring below the belt. What in heaven’s name was she thinking?

Miss Scarlett looked at the audience and shrugged with her eyes before turning back to Zelasha. “Can’t it wait until after the show?”

My girlfriend shook her head and whispered into the microphone. “No. I’m so thirsty, I can’t describe how thirsty I am. I want to bite my boyfriend.”

There were whoops and cheers. I had that wonderful, melting sensation in my chest that you get whenever your significant other does something particularly sweet. Lord, I loved her.

“And you would be a...?” Miss Scarlett asked.

“Vampire, of course,” Zelasha said in a low voice.

Everyone in the club laughed, including me. Oh well, the cat’s out of the bag, I thought.

“All right then!” Miss Scarlett grinned. She glanced where my lover had been sitting, but the next chair over was occupied by a woman focused on combing her hair with her fingers. “Where’s the lucky guy?” the hypnotist asked. “I need the boyfriend right about now.”

Shaking my head in resignation, I stood up. There was more laughter. Miss Scarlett took my lover’s arm, and escorted her towards the center of the stage. I went to join them; Zelasha stood there waiting for me, a hand on her hip. She was watching me, with a scheming look in her seductive green eyes. She took my hand as I stepped up to her.

“Now, what did you have in mind?” Miss Scarlett asked her.

While the hypnotist was speaking, Zelasha had mouthed “I missed you” to me. Now she glanced at Miss Scarlett. “Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” she said conspiratorially, then put both her hands on my shoulders. This was so bizarre—we were on a stage, for crying out loud—but what else could I do but play along?

“Look into my eyes, Nikolai,” Zelasha said intently, using The Voice. “Look deeeeeeeep into my eyes.... you cannot resist me.”

I went with it, gazing into her eyes, and had the the oddest feeling of falling. It was like we were meeting for the first time, and I somehow knew—before we’d even spoken—that this was the woman I was going to marry.

Although we’d played with hypnosis, my lover never before had used her eyes. That was a pity—Zelasha’s lapis lazuli orbs were one of her best features. I’d had no doubt she could use them to great effect if she chose, but she never did. To be seduced by her eyes had always been my secret dream.

“Look into my eyes, my love,” Zelasha repeated. The microphone caught her voice, and it echoed around the club. There was a new quality about her eyes that I’d never seen before, a wonderful, compelling lust.

“I’m not in the habit of taking orders,” I said slowly.

“You will from me,” she said, all smiles. “You are under my spell. You cannot deny me anything. Tell me, Nikolai.”

Our gazes were locked, and she was so lovely, so intense. I found myself fulfilling her request—and not only because her eyes were beautiful. Zelasha was the woman I loved.

“I cannot deny you,” I conceded.

“That’s right,” my lover continued, grinning widely. “You are in my power. Now tip your head back, and give yourself to me... you can’t resist me.”

I blinked my eyes, tipped my head back... and Zelasha pulled me to her, moving her hands from my shoulders to my waist. She stepped up, and began kissing my neck.

The audience cheered. Her kisses felt wonderful, even when she started giving me a hickey. I was shivering—and then her fangs slid in. Oh lord, oh lord... it was such exquisite, delightful pain... but this was natural and normal, I realized, we’d done this dozens of times. Her vampire kisses felt so intimate and so sensual as Zelasha took a few quick sips of my blood.

After a moment of bliss, my lover pulled back, and planted a big wet one on my lips. I kissed back, and took her hand.

“Thank you!” Miss Scarlett said, to more applause. “Everyone move over one chair to your left,” she added, addressing the volunteers. As one, they obliged. Holding hands, Zelasha and I walked to the two seats now vacant, and sat down together.

Miss Scarlett proceeded to interview a ghost about walking through walls, a mummy about how he’d been Pharaoh of Egypt, and the werewolf about his preference for raw steak.

Zelasha squeezed my hand. “It’s been so long, I can barely remember what solid food tastes like,” she murmured quietly.

I nodded. “Hearing that mummy talk makes me feel young.”

She kissed my cheek. “I can’t wait until this is over,” she confided. “I want to hunt.”

“I know how you feel,” I told her. Thirst was whispering in my stomach again, and I knew I’d need to feed soon. My lover smiled at me. I admired her pale skin, the angular lines of chin, nose and ear, her flawlessly arranged golden hair, and the soft, delicious flesh of her neck. She was so kissable, so luscious. Surely a quick bite wouldn’t hurt, and after that public display earlier she certainly couldn’t complain...

“Listen to my voice,” I whispered in her ear. Zelasha stiffened. “You’re feeling submissive, aroused, sensual,” I told her.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “Yes.”

“Surrender to me, darling,” I told her, nipping on her earlobe.

My lover shuddered, and looked away, shyly. “Don’t resist,” I urged, and nudged her face towards mine. I caught her with my gaze, and her lips parted, her face going blank.

Her green spheres stared rapturously into my own. “My... love...” she began, gasping for breath.

“You can’t fight me,” I murmured, and as she shook her head in agreement I I kissed her cheek. “You want me,” I continued.

“Yes, my love,” Zelasha gasped, her eyes fixed helplessly on my own.

“You want me to taste you...” I murmured, and I kissed my way down her jaw, then onto her throat.

“Yes... please, please taste me,” she said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice.

“It looks like those two are at it again,” Miss Scarlett said, and everyone laughed. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon us; but I was long past caring. Relishing the sweet taste of sweat and perfume, I slid my fangs into her neck and took a quick drink. Her blood was so coppery, so sinfully good. Zelasha was moaning in ecstasy by the time I was finished.

“And now, my volunteers,” Miss Scarlett was saying, “Sleeeeeep...”

I opened my eyes again to the sound of laughter. “I’m speaking only to the gentleman I’m touching now,” Miss Scarlett was saying. Her hand was resting lightly on the werewolf’s shoulder. “On the count of three, you will wake up, and you will know I’ve hypnotized you to become Britney Spears. You are still a werewolf, and you know I’ve hypnotized you into thinking you’re Britney Spears. One, two, three.”

The man sat up and opened his eyes. About half the people on stage also stirred, including my lover. Zelasha looped her arm through mine.

“Nikolai,” she said, “who’s Britney Spears?”

I sighed. “Be glad you don’t know.”

The werewolf stood up, and howled at the top of his lungs. Everyone laughed, and then the obnoxious rhythm of “Toxic” filled the room.

Zelasha looked at me in disgust. “What is that terrible noise?”

“I think it’s a number one hit,” I groaned.

“Music was so much better when Nora Bayes was still alive,” my lover sighed, and laid her head on my shoulder.

Then the werewolf began to sing.

“A guy like you should wear a warning!” he howled, spinning around. The audience began laughing, and soon the volunteers joined in as well. The big lycanthrope undulated, running his hands up and down his sides, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t you know that you’re toxic!” he caterwauled. He was atrociously off key, and everyone was holding their sides.

The werewolf threw his suit coat into the audience, and its members whooped and hollered. I was laughing so hard I had to remind myself to breathe; tears of mirth were trickling down Zelasha’s face. Swaying his hips back and forth and touching his navel, the werewolf spun around the stage. “With a taste of poison paradise I’m addicted to yoooooooou!” he wailed.

After a few moments of this, a laughing Miss Scarlett approached the singer, and placed a finger on his chest. With a gentle pressure, she pushed the werewolf back into his seat. The bearded man puckered his lips, but Miss Scarlett managed to command him back to sleep amidst her laughter.

“It’s so nice performing in front of hypnofetish crowds,” Miss Scarlett told the audience with a grin. “Everyone is so compliant!” A number of people clapped. “Usually, half the audience goes under too,” the hypnotist added, “but at least they don’t complain about missing the show!”

More laughter.

“This is so much fun,” the hypnotist told the audience with a smile. “Actually, one of the first times I ever hypnotized someone was on Halloween.”

Miss Scarlett took the hand of a woman dressed as Cleopatra, and pulled her to her feet. The woman smiled expectantly at her. “Now, Cleopatra,” said the hypnodomme, capturing her with her eyes, “on the count of three, you will become hypnotized, and you will believe that you are Usher.”

For the last musical number, Miss Scarlett turned the ghost (a tall black man) into Ashlee Simpson, provoking more laughter. Finally, she turned towards us, and commanded us all to sleep.

“Talking to the men on stage, only to the men,” Miss Scarlett purred, “When you wake up, you will feel very dominant, very dominant. You will follow all the instructions you’ve been given. And now I’m talking to the women...”

The hypnotist snapped her fingers, and I opened my eyes. Zelasha sat up and stretched.

Miss Scarlett walked over to us. “So you’re both vampires?” the hypnotist asked in her delicious accent.

Zelasha nodded. “Why else would we be married?”

“How old are you?” the hypnotist asked me.

“Over two hundred,” I said softly.

“Wow,” Miss Scarlett said, deadpanning. “What’s your earliest memory?”

“Sleeping in my crib?” I said honestly, and everyone laughed.

The Southerner grinned. “No, no... what was your life like when you became a vampire?”

“Oooooh. It was cold!” I explained. “For months we resisted Napoleon’s advance... mile upon mile of tundra... and then winter came, and we cut his supply lines. Frozen and starving, he and his army limped back to Paris.”

“And how old are you?” Miss Scarlett asked, turning to my companion.

Zelasha smiled at the hypnotist, sizing her up. Uh-oh... I knew that look.

“You know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” my lover countered.

The hypnotist gestured to the audience. “Well, under the circumstances...”

Zelasha looked at Miss Scarlett, and licked her lips. I slid my hand around hers and closed my fingers tightly. You don’t want to go and eat the star performer, I thought at her.

My companion shook her head, but she smiled flirtatiously at the hypnodomme and her lapis lazuli eyes caught the light. “Nine hundred fifty-one,” the finally admitted.

Miss Scarlett laughed. “You like younger men?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Zelasha told her. “It took me eight hundred years to find my equal.”

Everyone laughed.

“How did you two meet?” Miss Scarlett asked.

“Believe it or not,” I said, “It was at Dracula’s castle in Romania.”

Zelasha nodded. “It was the night tour. We hit it off at once.”

I laughed. “You tried to entrance me,” I reminded my lover.

“And then I fell for your eyes,” she admitted.

“What was it like?” the Southern hypnodomme inquired.

I stood up, and offered Zelasha my hand. She took it, grinning, and rose. We both looked out over the audience, imagining ourselves in Eastern Europe.

“It went something like this,” I said, and cleared my throat. “I am truly blessed to meet such a lovely damsel tonight,” I told my companion.

Zelasha looped her arm through mine, smiling. “You speak English!”

I nodded. “My Romanian does leave aught to be desired—but I do understand there is considerable debate on whether Dracula actually lived here.”

“He didn’t,” Zelasha said primly, “but this castle has quite a heritage.”

“You speak as one who has been here before,” I said.

My lover nodded, remembering. “Many wondrous things have happened here,” she said, “but I have never seen one so delicious as you before.” She turned towards me. “Look into my eyes, young one. Look deep into my eyes. Feel me.”

I crossed my arms and looked at her, full of confidence. Zelasha’s lapis lazuli eyes started blinking.

“Surrender to me, surrender,” she was saying. “Don’t resist me... don’t... your eyes are getting... eyes... getting... what... what are you doing to me?”

I took her hands.

“You... you... your eyes,” Zelasha was saying, staring at me. “You... you are so handsome... I want to... to kiss you...”

I drew her to me and kissed her soundly, and everyone laughed. Some of the men cheered; I ignored it.

My arms went around her waist, and Zelasha fell back. She might have toppled over if not for my support. Her face relaxed, and her green eyes locked onto my own. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Zelasha,” she said, staring at me, lost in my eyes. “Yours?”

“Nikolai.”

She smiled briefly, lost in me. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me,” she admitted, “and I can’t believe I love it. It’s so easy to surrender to you... I can’t believe I... gave in to you.”

I grinned. “Why did you submit to me so easily?”

“Because I want you,” she said helplessly.

“And you’re falling?” I prompted.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered. “I’m falling for you.” I kissed her again, and she responded fervently.

“Very romantic,” Miss Scarlett said. I kissed my lover on the cheek, breaking the spell; her face lit up in a smile, and we both bowed.

As we sat down again, Miss Scarlett interviewed a Martian and her translator—a genie—about their sex life. Afterwards came a rather graphic story of two zombies trying to please each other while their body parts fell off.

“And now, my volunteers,” the hypnotist commanded, “sleeeeeeep...”

“And now, the tables have turned,” came Miss Scarlett’s voice. “Talking to the men on stage, only to the men... you are feeling very submissive to your partner, very submissive. And to all the women...”

I opened my eyes, and shook my head to clear it. Why did I ever agree to this? I turned to my lover, who was just opening her wonderful green eyes. She straightened in her chair, then laid her head on my shoulder.

Miss Scarlett walked over to Cleopatra, and helped her rise from her seat. “So how did you deal with werewolves in ancient Egypt?” the hypnotist asked.

“All Egyptians knew their place before the queen, including werewolves,” the woman said imperiously.

The man in the white suit howled, to scattered giggles.

“Enough!” Cleopatra declared, and stared at her husband. “Shapeshift!” she commanded with a quick hand gesture.

The werewolf’s eyes bulged in an expression that was almost comedic in its horror—it was like watching a cartoon. With a yelp, the man fell from his chair onto all fours. It could have been the light or a trick of my imagination, but it seemed that his beard grew longer, his hands hairier, and his teeth larger. “Awooooooooooooo!” cried the man.

As the audience cackled in delight, Cleopatra picked up her purse and flung it across the stage. Stiffening her arm and pointing her finger, she commanded, “Fetch!”

The werewolf nodded, and—tongue lolling—pranced over to the purse, picked it up in his teeth, and crawled back, dropping it on the floor in front of his wife.

“Good boy!” Cleopatra proclaimed, patting his head. The werewolf rose up onto his knees, smiling. “Shake!” she ordered. He extended his hand, but when she took it his body began to tremble violently, and the audience cheered. His wife managed to pull her hand away, and commanded: “Roll over!”

Instantly, the werewolf threw himself on the floor and rolled. “Play dead!” the wife ordered, and the man lay flat on his back, arms and legs splayed out.

“Now show us how a werewolf pleases his queen,” Cleopatra said, sitting down and clasping her hands behind her head. “Remove your shirt!”

With an agility belying his size, the bearded man flipped over, knelt before the queen, and peeled off his shirt.

“Undo your belt!” his wife continued.

Nodding and lolling his tongue, the man did so.

“Take off your pants!”

The man unzipped them, and they fell to his knees, revealing a pair of white boxers. He began to stand.

As the audience howled in laughter, Miss Scarlett put her hand on the queen’s head. “Sleeeeeep,” the raven-haired hypnotist purred, and the werewolf’s wife slumped over, eyes closed.

“And you, my fine furred friend,” the Southerner said, turning to the werewolf, “go fetch your shirt.”

He nodded, but forgot that his pants were around his ankles, and fell over. To more amusement from the audience, he crawled towards his shirt.

Miss Scarlett made her way to another couple in their mid-twenties. He was thin, with short, curly auburn hair, and wore jeans and a tee shirt. She was Asian, with hair down to her shoulders; she wore glasses and a long white coat.

“And what kind of creature are you?” Miss Scarlett asked.

“I’m not a creature—I’m a scientist!” the woman replied with a touch of indignation.

“And your husband?”

The young man stood up and saluted. “I’m a captain!” he proclaimed.

His wife looked up at him. “No you’re not, you’re a bird,” she said matter-of factly.

The change of expression on the young man’s face was comical. He went from proud and confident to quick and staring. His head darted this way and that, eyes bright. In a moment, he hopped up onto his chair, flapped his arms, and began to whistle.

“You’ll have to forgive him, he’s hypnotized,” the Asian woman said as the audience laughed.

“Really?” Miss Scarlett grinned.

His wife nodded. “I’m running an experiment on how he acts when I tell him he’s different kinds of animals. He’s my guinea pig.”

The audience laughed, and the young woman looked confused—until she glanced at her husband. He’d sat down again, scrunched up his arms and legs, and was wiggling his nose.

“Heh heh,” she said, and pretended to make notations on a clipboard. “You see, he takes me a bit literally.”

“May I try?” Miss Scarlett asked.

“Please, be my guest!” the Asian woman said, and turned to her husband. “You’re a gorilla.”

“Whooo hooo hee haaa!” the man said, and started lumbering around the stage. Zelasha and I exchanged grins.

“How are you enjoying the show?” Miss Scarlett asked him.

“Hoo hoo hee hee—it’s fine!” the husband replied.

“Do you think you’re hypnotized?” the dark-haired Southerner asked.

He shook his head. “Hypnotized? Hoo hee ha ha—that’s ridiculous! Anyone have a banana?”

“Are you sure?” Miss Scarlett purred.

“Hee hoo ha—yes!” said the young man.

“Sleep.”

His body relaxed, his eyes snapped shut, and he collapsed onto the stage floor.

The audience loved it. Even I couldn’t deny that it was fascinating to watch Miss Scarlett control someone that way.

“They’re kind of cute,” Zelasha said in my ear. “Maybe we can eat them later?” I grinned, and squeezed my lover’s hand.

“Watch this—it’s funny,” the mad scientist was saying. She knelt beside him and whispered in her husband’s ear.

“In a moment you’ll awaken,” Miss Scarlett said, playing along, “and have no idea you’ve just fallen asleep. Wake.”

The man sat up, stood, and then started hopping around the stage with his legs together.

Miss Scarlett grinned, and chased after him. “Are you sure you’re not hypnotized?” she asked.

“’Course I’m not hypnotized,” the man said, doing a passable approximation of an Australian accent.

“Great! Sleep.”

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the man froze; his eyes snapped shut, and his head nodded.

The Asian woman grinned and sat down, crossing her legs.

“Return to your seat,” the hypnotist whispered. He opened his eyes and did so, walking with his arms outstretched in front of him like a sleepwalker.

“And how about our vampire couple?” Miss Scarlett said, turning to us.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said. Zelasha elbowed me in the ribs.

“I’m sorry, but you two are so much fun,” the dark-eyed hypnotist said. “So what does it feel like, being submissive?” she asked me.

I rolled my eyes. “I am not submissive.”

Zelasha touched my hand. “Fall to your knees before me,” she said primly, and snapped her fingers.

I was moving my body before I even realized that my lover had spoken. In a flash, I was out of my seat and kneeling before her.

I gazed up at her. Zelasha was a queen, a goddess; I was the luckiest man on earth to be with her. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. She was the perfect woman, whose word was my law; the love of my life, whose will I had to obey.

“Who am I to you?” Zelasha asked.

I stared up at her perfect face and said the only words I could think of. “You are my mistress,” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

Zelasha leaned forward. “I want you to worship me,” she said, and snapped her fingers again.

“Yes, my mistress,” I said, and began to kiss her leg.

“Countess,” my lover corrected with a grin.

“Of course, my Countess,” I echoed. I cast my eyes down in shame—how foolish of me—and began kissing my way up her leg to her knees, then onto her lap. The silver silk of her dress was smooth and sensual under my lips.

“Tell me how beautiful I am,” Zelasha said with another finger snap.

“You are the loveliest woman on earth, my Countess,” I said, taking her hand and kissing my way up her arm. “Your skin is like porcelain in its perfection, yet is as soft as velvet.” I had reached her elbow. “Your eyes are like gemstones, a joining of emerald and sapphire that nature cannot achieve, but you have perfected it. Your lips are as soft as satin; no artist could capture the perfect angles of thy face.” I kissed my lover from her shoulder to her neck. “Your throat... ohhhh your throat... the taste...”

“I think we get the picture,” Miss Scarlett said from behind me.

“But I must worship her,” I breathed. I craved Zelasha’s touch, her taste, her flesh.

Zelasha squirmed happily under my attentions. “Talk to Miss Scarlett, my love.”

Of course, she was right. Zelasha was so courteous, so intelligent, so polite; she had so many wise ideas. We were up on stage, and we couldn’t ruin the poor woman’s show. I turned to the hypnotist.

“Still think you’re not submissive?” the Southerner asked.

I shook my head. “I am submissive to my Countess,” I said earnestly. “She is the only one worthy of my obedience, the queen who merits my devotion, the goddess who deserves all praise. I have no choice but to worship her, and could not stop myself even if I wanted to. I knew on the day we’d met that she deserves it. I was hers from the moment she’d smiled at me, from the instant that we discovered we were comfortable touching each other. And she’s continued to earn it every day since, with the way she looks at me and the way she believes in herself.” There was some noise in the background, but I ignored it.

“See, isn’t that what all men should think?” Miss Scarlett asked the audience, to universal applause.

The raven-haired hypnodomme turned to the volunteers again. “Listen to my voice, everyone,” she said. “My voice is inside your mind... now sleep.”

“And to my volunteers: you will only have vague memories of what happened on stage tonight, and you will not remember anything humiliating. You had a wonderful time performing, a fantastic time. All hypnotic suggestions are canceled; you will wake up, completely out of hypnosis, feeling wide awake and refreshed, having had the time of your life. One, awaking from hypnosis, two, starting to stir, three, eyes opening, four, feeling refreshed and alert, five, wide awake.

“Thank you all! Happy Halloween!” Miss Scarlett said with a smile, and bowed. The audience cheered, and the volunteers began to stand up and stretch.

Zelasha and I made our way off the stage. “I’d never been hypnotized by a woman before,” my girlfriend admitted to me. “That was something.” Her expression suddenly filled with mischief. “Do you want to go backstage and thank her?”

I felt an odd, inexplicable sense of deja vu. “No thanks,” I said.

Zelasha looked disappointed for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s probably just as well—I need to go to the bathroom. Meet you back here in five?”

“You bet,” I said. As my girlfriend disappeared into the crowd, I made my way towards the bar.

“Nick?” came a voice from behind me.