Finding Amusement

"Slave, I am your ..."

"Oh no, not again," he thought.  "i hoped this time would be different.  Yes, yes i know." he retreated deeper into his gloomy pensiveness.  he seemed to know what She would say and do before She spake the syllables or made the movements. "You are the great, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, omniscient, irresistible, yadda-yadda-yadda bla-bla-bla etc (insert Elected Title of Feminine Authority and this one's name--which in a majority of instances is a 'nom de plume'--here) and i am the lowly and unworthy slave.  i've heard it all before."  His disappointment was profound.  He considered his options as she continued speaking.   Ending this quickly was the best alternative.

"Stop.  Enough!"  His tone and manner were certain, and they brook neither argument nor even any discussion.  He rose quickly from his kneeling position.  "This just isn't going to work."  he removed the hood, folded it neatly, and handed it to Her.

She counted the money he placed in Her hand and looked at him quizzically.  "The session had just begun and this is more than we had agreed upon."

"Mistress Titanaconda, You deserve to be paid for Your time and inconvenience."  he deferentially bowed his head.  "i hope the other submissives, servants, or slaves aren't as much trouble as i am."

"I do not understand what you want."

"That's not the problem," he replied dejectedly.  "The fault lies not in my stars, or in this case my Mistress, it lies in myself."  his shoulders slumped as he turned to depart.

She stared at the door after he closed it.  "At least he's generous," she muttered, placing her fee and a sizable tribute in her wallet.

Reclining comfortably in his favorite chair, smoking a delightful cigar, and gazing into the bright and crackling fire George Walderson took stock of his life.  He had worked in several different fields after university graduation.  No job satisfied his restless nature.  He thrived on the unknown, the unexpected, or a good challenge.  The tomes in his library and the music in his collection evidenced George's eclectic interests.  He was creative, good at solving problems, and had honed his people evaluation instincts to a rapier's fine edge.  His grasp of higher mathematics left much to be desired.  Building things was not one of George's strong suits.  He knew and freely acknowledged many parts of himself.

He started his consulting firm over two decades ago.  True to his nature the company solved problems in various arenas.  Someone would come to him with a need or request.  George created a project team by hiring people with the requisite knowledge or talent or both.  The team created, implemented, and when necessary maintained the solution.  His business was a smashing success.  There was no other way for George to afford this handsome home and his potpourri of pleasurable passions.

Several years ago something began to go awry.  George's corporation remained profitable.  This was due primarily to the members of the various project teams he assembled and oversaw.  His creative spark, however, began to wane.  Business success ceased to be enough.

George's delving into BDSM was spawned by his need for change.  He thoroughly and voraciously researched the subject.  His initial experiences satisfied his wanderlust.  He hoped its satiation would be permanent.  Alas, it was not.

He knew a gloomy cocoon was enveloping his soul.  The disastrous encounter with Mistress Titanaconda was merely its latest strand.  It was not Her fault.  He had done the right thing by telling Her thus.  He forlornly stared into the dying flames.  He wondered if for him there was nothing new under the sun?

An idea worked its way through the cold, lugubrious psychological fog into his consciousness.  "People say you can find just about anything on the Internet."  The fire blazed slightly when he placed the cigar's remnant in the ornately handmade fireplace.  George trudged off to commence the Web searches.

Anna Conway and Andrayalexis Smythe had been friends since high school.  One thing which had drawn them together was that neither matched the commonly held perception of herself. Anna fit the French and English definitions of "petite."  She, nevertheless, relished and excelled in all her athletic endeavors.  Her love of physicality was an impetus to her pleasurable and lucrative career as a dominatrix.  Her surprising strength, her formidable forcefulness, and when necessary her 'fantastique' ferocity compensated for her lack of height and size.  Andrayalexis was usually called "The amazon."  Her stature and build fit the stereotype.  She, however, preferred cerebral pursuits to working up a sweat.

"What is it," Anna said watching Andrayalexis moving her legs?

"Your chairs are not very comfortable."

"They would be if you were not head of the Lollipop Guild," Anna said with a good-natured smirk.

"I've had appetizers larger than you," Andrayalexis responded.  She reached across the table and tapped her friend on the head.

"I assume shrimp cocktail."

"Game, set, and match," the giantess conceded.

"A sports reference from the ivory tower set," Anna quipped.

"Tower is something you will never experience," Andrayalexis retorted.

Anna scowled, stuck out her tongue, and clenched both hands.  Andrayalexis placed one of her palms over both of her companion's fists.  Each attempted to intimidate the other by firmly fixing the other woman with an increasingly intense expression in her eyes.  After about half a minute they simultaneously burst out laughing.

The statuesque lady took a sip of her tea.  "Anna, we've had a spa day and you bought some fetish ware along with several items whose purpose I do not wish to know."  She massaged her shoulder remembering the heavy bags she'd carried in from the car.  "Will you tell me why you wanted to talk?"

"It's about a would-be client.  We were getting into our first session and out of nowhere he called a halt."  The domina sighed.  "This has never happened to me before."

"What did he say?" Ms. Smythe inquired.

"He said, "This isn't going to work.""

"Did he proffer any explanation?"

"He said," Anna rubbed her temple.  "He told me, "The fault lies not in my stars, or in this case my Mistress, it lies in myself."  You're the shrink.  What's your analysis?"

"I am a Psychiatrist and a Certified Clinical Hypnotherapist.  You are the shrink.  Correction Shrinkie," she said with a playful wink.

"I will have you know I am vertically challenged."

"Everyone knows that."

"My fortunate submissives and slaves do not.  Correction, to them it is of no consequence, or should I say it is of little importance to their happiness and devotion to little old Me, Myself, and I.  Would you like testimonials or affidavits?"

"Not presently.  Back to the subject, what was his attitude?"

"He wasn't angry.  He was disappointed.  He seemed like a drowning yachtsman who finds a hole in his only life raft.  He left before I could say much of anything.  After he left, I thought I should have given him your number.  Do you think you can help?"

"I'm not certain." Smythe leaned her head on her interlaced fingers and closed her eyelids. "What makes you believe I could be of any assistance to one of Your clients?"

"He almost seemed to be searching for something different.  You are a hypnotist.  You have helped people overcome many barriers.  You also have a vivid imagination."

"He was looking for a dominatrix. I am not a dominant woman.  I know nothing about BDSM."

"You could be and you could learn."

"Are you going to start that again?"

"Yes.  You know how persistent I am.  It would expand your business and personal horizons."

"Inordinately, almost inhumanly, stubborn is what you are.  That is my clinical opinion.  Turning to the rest of what you said.  Absolutely not.  And by the way, that joke's too easy."

"Don't try to change the subject.  I'm familiar with that trick.  Some of my clients have tried it. Those who have, only tried it once."

"Aren't there dominant female hypnotists?"

"Yes there are.  There are erotic female hypnotists of all sizes, shapes, ages, backgrounds, and flavors. I don't know any of them personally."

"I'm sure everyone looking for that sort of thing is well taken care of."

"But you would be so good at it.  You have the psychological and hypnotic training and experience.  You know how to handle many kinds of people.  You've been physically imposing since you were fifteen."

"Actually, since I was eight.  You didn't know me then.  Oh, and leave my personal life out of this."

"That is not your problem. Your problem is you've been leaving your personal life out of this.  More accurately, you have been leaving yourself out of a personal life."

"You are the only person I would let get away with such talk."

"That's because you could never catch me."

"In your minute, minuscule, Lilliputian, electron microscopic, subatomic dreams.  Now, back to this client.  How did he first contact You?"

"He sent me an email.  I have his Web address, a phone number, and his name."  Anna arose, found the information, and handed her friend a single neatly written page.

Andrayalexis finished her tea, glanced at the note, and placed it in her handbag.  "I can't promise anything.  But, I will give it some thought."

"If you take on this case--which you and I know you should, do I get a referral fee?" Anna asked with an assumed aura of avariciousness.

"When you can slam dunk."

"Two sports references from you in one day," Anna said in mock surprise.  "Whoop, whoop, whoop ..."  She was lifted off the ground and embraced.  "Hey, remember I get nosebleeds."

"How would you know?  Even those shoes of yours don't lift you this much."  Ms. Smythe gently lowered her partner in crime.  "I'll let you know if anything transpires."

Dr. Smythe studied Anna's note while sitting in front of her computer in a large, comfortable, custom-designed office chair.  She stared at the man's email address.  "Why did he select "EdDemmingvagus," as a screenname?" she pondered.  The last five letters seemed familiar.  She searched her memory.  Nothing.  She retrieved and thumbed through a volume of her medical encyclopedia.  "Eureka, the vagus nerve," she exclaimed.  She mentally noted its etymology and turned on her PC.  One by one she typed several first names starting with "ed" along with "demming" into her favorite search engine.  After perusing several articles on Edward Demming she shutdown the machine and rested her chin on her long fingers.

The doctor contemplated her findings and the data provided by her erotically dominant friend.  She recalled a saying she had come across some time ago, "Every creation reveals some aspect(s) of its creator.  The trick is to ferret out what the creation reveals about its creator."  His screenname was no exception.  (In her never-ending quest for self-improvement, spawned by her insatiable hunger and thirst for knowledge, the far more than statuesque, sagacious psychiatrist had stumbled across a very useful formula for deciphering human nature and the motivations for a particular person's specific, volitional behavior. "Sufficient Accurate Data Plus Error-free Processing Equals Right Conclusion."  SADPEPERC was this analytical tool's acronym.  She loved such things.  She had determined that if she ever located its creator, she would thank that person greatly.)  She considered its two parts.  "Edward Demming" relocated to a foreign culture to find what his homeland could, or would, not provide him.  Vagus means "to wander."  From these facts she drew several conclusions.  This man was intelligent, well-read, a problem solver, dissatisfied with his status quo, and willing to do what was necessary to find what he sought.  Both parts of his screenname alluded to traveling.  To her this double emphasis indicated the depth of his need and desire.  Her favorite, diminutive Domina's perception of him was accurate.  Her best friend's information showed he possessed a high level of self-awareness and a strong unwillingness to blame external entities or forces for his personal disquiet.  This man was definitely worth getting to know.

George scrolled through the entries in his latest erotica-related web search.  The word "hypnosis" caught his attention.  "This is something I have not yet considered," he mumbled.  He mused for some time.  "What have I got to lose?" he thoughtfully asked himself.  He tentatively typed in that intriguing word and began sifting through the multitude of matches.

He checked all types of hypnosis websites for several weeks.  He placed informational sites in a "favorites list" subfolder for further study--if such became desirable or necessary or both.  A few of the erotic sites were somewhat intriguing.  He immersed himself in each website's content.  None of them quite meshed with his personality or preferences or both.  This path also seemed to be a dreary dead-end.  Still, he kept searching.

The words, "The Hypnotic Silken Web of Soforia the Enchantress," came up on his screen.  Somehow, he soon found himself looking at the contents of Soforia's Recordings page.  He was unable to decide which of Her voice samples he wanted to hear first.  He downloaded each audio file he found anywhere on Her Website and burned every one of them onto a CD.  Immediately thereafter, he settled comfortably in his chair, placed a pair of high-quality stereo headphones on his head after plugging them into his computer, and caused his system to play all the tracks on the newly created CD.  A slow, sensuous, soft, soothing, soporific, sexy, spellbindingly mesmerising voice, unlike any woman's voice he had ever heard, entered his ears and his mind and his consciousness and his soul.

He yawned, stretched, and rolled his eyes several times.  It took several moments for him to recollect where he was and what he had been doing.  Something seemed different.  Something had happened.  He tried hard to remember what it was.  To his conscious mind nothing would come.  He had to go to the bathroom and disburthen himself.  He looked down.  "What was?" he thought.  Now he knew.  Her name was Soforia.  Her voice was.  Who was She?  How had She compelled him to?  He had to find out.  He had to know! now!!!

He plunged headlong into Her silken Internet website with unrestrained fervor.  He followed each link.  To each of Her inductions and spells he submitted himself on multiple occasions. He noted, and subsequently purchased, every book and CD She recommended which was not in his personal library or music collection.  He scoured and scrutinized every testimonial pertaining to Her.  He virtually memorized any story in which She appeared.  He bought multiple copies of Soforia's recordings.  He dedicated his talents to digging out every, legally accessible, tidbit of information concerning Soforia the Enchantress.

"Why! does! She! have! to! live! so! damned! far! away?"  With each word he angrily and painfully slammed his fist into his palm.  "What kind of cruel and twisted joke was the universe playing on him?" he thought broodingly.  Still, he ultimately realized two good things had come out of this.  First, he had Her recordings. They would forever be a boon.  Second, he now knew what he had lacked and unknowingly sought for so long.  A geographically desirable partner, of Soforia the Enchantress's type and hopefully of (or at least near) Her caliber, with whom he could experience and explore the arenas of erotic sensual hypnosis and psychological and physical female domination.  George's interactions with Mistress Titanaconda and his indelible experience with the potent power persuasively purveyed through the seductive sound of Soforia's siren's voice showed him his real interest lay in knowing a woman who was more skilled in the territory of psychological domination than in the crude confines of simplistic physical control.  His next task was locating the woman--if there was such a woman to be found in his vicinity.

His next step was to check out all of the female hypnotists in his part of the country.  There was one disappointing outcome he did not wish to face.  His nature and reality compelled him to embrace it.  None of the available mesmerists might mesh exactly with what he sought.  It would be an awful thing if his search for a compatible erotic hypnotist became nought save another fruitless quest into the quagmire-esque quarters of the quixotic.  George's dread due to this dismal danger did not prevent his persistent pursuit of the precious prize.

Dr. Smythe wanted to help this man she had begun the process of getting to know.  She believed her mesmeric skills were up to the challenge.  She knew nothing of the world of BDSM.  She needed an experienced instructor.

"This is Mistress Titanaconda.  You will completely surrender your self only and eternally to Me."

"All in good time, perhaps. For now, I need Your expertise," Andrayalexis responded.

"Sports or BDSM?"

"Your favorite pastime and livelihood."

The Teeny Tiny Terrorizer knew there was only one reason Her conspicuous 'companera' would want any knowledge appertaining to alternative erotica.  Now was a stupendous smile definitely displayed upon Mistress Titanaconda's cute, little countenance.  "Ah, my friend, at last you have seen the lurid light of truth.  Yes, indeed, come and fulfill your fiendishly feminine destiny.  Come here to me and fully embrace the terrible and pleasurable power of the distaff-dominated dark side!" Her words were spoken menacingly.  She laughed with maniacal glee.

"I hear and obey, my Empress.  What shall be my new name, Darth Amazon?"

"Only among the ranks of the Sith Sisterhood.  For public consumption you shall be known as, Mistress Cigargantua."

"What is Thy bidding, my elvish Empress?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I think we have had enough "STAR WARS" allusions for one day.  What I need from you is a crash course in BDSM."

""Ask, and it shall be given you."  When and where will your lessons begin?"

"The place, your dungeon.  A location I had always assumed I would never go.  The time, as soon as possible."

"One never knows what strange, wondrous, and unforeseen twists and turns fate, Providence, destiny, or the power of the dark side of the force has in store.  So shall it be, My Junoesque protégé."

"I thank You, Professor Pain."

The latest phase of Dr. Smythe's extensive and endless education began in earnest.  Mistress Titanaconda had obtained some of Her subjects' permission to show video recordings of selected portions of some of their sessions.  Andrayalexis was made privy to these.  The psychiatrist quickly realized the enormous range of desires within that part of erotica called BDSM.  She developed a far greater appreciation for the perceptiveness, endurance, creativity, attention to detail, and talents of the dinky Dominatrix she knew so well and cared for so very, very much.

Hands-on training was the next step in the psychiatrist's metamorphosis into A Hypnotic Dominatrix.  It was one thing to see someone employ, and other people's responses to the skilled use of, various types of restraining devices, kinds of implements used to stimulate sensations of pleasure or pain or both, and items intended to induce multitudinous degrees of sensory deprivation.  Handling any and all of her friend's "tiny trifling trinkets" (as Anna affectionately called them) was a far more intimate and intense matter.  Mistress Titanaconda was more than willing to be the guinea pig upon whom the giantess could learn to hone her craft in the various aspects of the arena of physical erotic domination.  Unbeknownst to Dr. Smythe, while she was learning the tricks of her friend's trade, one of the teacher's longtime and deeply rooted fantasies was being fulfilled to the letter.  This was another instance of their everlasting and intimate friendship's being a win-win situation.

Andrayalexis was a very quick study possessing an almost eidetic memory.  Both of these cerebral capacities were stretched to the breaking point under Mistress Titanaconda's intimidatingly strict tutelage.  The breadth and precision of Her instructions was all but inhuman and inhumane.  None of her teachers, throughout the entirety of her matriculations, ever compelled the psychiatrist to work so diligently.

Andrayalexis had always wondered if Anna had ever paid much heed to the collegiate psychology courses the Dominatrix had taken?  (The gorgeous giantess smiled when she recalled some of the frustrating moments during her tutoring sessions with her superhumanly stubborn, pixilating, pixyish, pixie playmate.)  While watching the videos of some of Mistress Titanaconda's sessions, the psychiatrist particularly noted the strength of her Friend's "interpersonal intelligence".  (Dr. Smythe was a firm believer in Harvard psychologist Howard Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences.  To keep track of the current components in the set of several intelligences, Dr. Smythe used the acronym, "BICTBOKILLOMMINS".  BICTBOKILLOMMINS was the abbreviation and mnemotechnical device for, "Basic Intelligence Components or Types are: Bodily or Kinesthetic; Interpersonal; Linguistic; Logical or Mathematical; Musical; Intrapersonal; Naturalist; and Spatial.")  The domina's ability to decipher subtle cues given by some of Her clients and Her capacity to draw forth the deep desires of  a reluctant or shy or unexpressive submissive were amazing to behold.  The way Anna molded Herself to precisely mesh with the individuals o'er whom She exercised unquestioned and unquestionable dominion was far more than wondrous.  The psychiatrist came to realize she too had been correctly diagnosed by Mistress Titanaconda.  The doctor had always plunged headlong into each challenge she accepted.  She loved every minute of meeting the trials and tribulations of her best friend's grueling guidance into the regions of alternative erotica.  That was why Anna Conway had pressed her friend so vigorously during the titaness's training sessions.

Dr. Smythe now was certain that the minuscule Mistress Titanaconda would be a premier therapist of any kind and hypnotherapist in particular.  There was only one Gordian Knot to unravel.  How to convince her friend that the doctor's conclusion concerning the dainty Domina was valid?  Anna had a very sharp mind.  She, nevertheless, had always been far more interested in physical pursuits than in cerebral endeavors.  The psychiatrist was aware that attempting to use evidence, logic, or emotion would only meet with dismal failure.  Andrayalexis had employed them all.  Mistress Titanaconda had one stock reply, "I just don't want to do that."  The Domme's determination was a significant contributor to her unparalleled standing in the BDSM arena.  Anna's resolve to not branch out into the realms of psychology and hypnosis inhibited her prospects for the acquisition of greater powers of persuasion and limited her opportunities for future financial gain. Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe knew this to be true.  There must be a way to change her friend's mind.  The doctor's love for Mistress Titanaconda and her certainty that she was correct were the only things which kept this dimly flickering hope alive.

The doctor elected to familiarize herself with the expressions of hypnoerotica available on the Web.  She read mind-control stories of various types.  She observed, but decided not to participate in, several online forums dealing with the topic of the erotic aspects of hypnosis.  She scoured websites of the major, and some minor, players in the Internet erotic hypnosis grab-bag.  One of the sites she carefully examined was The Hypnotic Silken Web of Soforia the Enchantress. Andrayalexis made a memo on her appointment calendar to write a thank-you note to the bewitchingly blue-eyed Mistress of Deep Hypnotic Sleepiness.

Dr. Smythe's next task was purchasing the requisite clothes, devices, and other paraphernalia to become a properly outfitted dominatrix.  Due to her close friendship with Mistress Titanaconda, the psychiatrist was well acquainted with the establishments she needed to visit.  The dainty Domina couldn't possibly carry all the things she had bought over the years.  Having a giantess as one's closest friend yielded some distinct advantages.  After entering each store, Andrayalexis confidently strode up to the first salesperson she encountered and presented her list of desired items.  The reaction was almost always the same.  Each of them was taken aback that someone they had never met in the local BDSM scene was so exacting about what she wanted.  Many more experienced members of their clientele were not so knowledgeable as the purposeful woman who towered over virtually everyone she met.  More than once she was asked if she was a newly arrived Professional Domme?  Not on only one occasion did someone fervently beseech her to be accepted as a submissive in training.

Everything was in readiness.  Only one issue remained to be resolved.  How would she introduce herself into the life of the only client Mistress Titanaconda had been unable to surround inside and squeeze within the cunningly captivating, charmingly crushing coils of sensuous servitude to Her controlling Self?

George was an exceptionally, and some might reasonably conclude excessively, private individual.  Only with great reluctance did he reveal to anyone his deeper emotions or his desire and need for physical intimacy in various, and in the narrow minds of many prudish persons bizarre, forms.  Any personal information touching on these spheres was divulged only on a need to know basis.  For personal and pragmatic (with respect to his business) reasons, safeguards were implemented to shield his real identity.  Only one phone line was ever used to make or receive any calls pertaining to his interest in BDSM or hypnosis.  In most of his interactions in these two arenas, he used the name Edward Demming.  He had revealed his real name to Mistress Titanaconda, only after they had corresponded for some time and She had signed a nondisclosure form.

He was as meticulous, in his search for a compatible erotic hypnoteuse or hypnodomme, as he was in any task to which he ascribed any significance.  His thoroughness and his yearning for anonymity were manifested in his investigations.  He prepared a set of questions which was posed to each woman with whom he talked or corresponded. Where and when had she been trained?  Did she have any certifications(s)?  How much experience did she have as a hypnotist?  Would she provide him any reference(s)?  Did she have any specific area(s) of expertise or interest with respect to hypnosis?  If "Yes" was her response to this query, she was asked to list the arena(s).  If she mentioned hypnoerotica or hypnotic domination, there was a supplemental set of questions.  Did she categorize herself as a hypnodomme or an erotic hypnoteuse?  Why did she use the title she chose?  What factor, or factors, strongly influenced her decision to take up erotic hypnosis?  Besides hypnosis, what else interested her so far as BDSM was concerned?  How much experience did she have in taking the dominant role in alternative erotic relationships?  What factor(s) or motivation(s) influenced, prompted, or compelled her to become an erotic dominant?  (Mr. Walderson's studies had shown him that the three elemental impetuses for someone's election to become a sensual dominant were: recreation, remuneration, and retaliation. Those at the top of his list were Superior Women who enjoyed being in charge and who took pleasure in the happiness a voluntarily submissive person found by relinquishing some degree of determination for a proscribed period of time.  If there was no better available option, George conjectured he could satisfactorily deal with a female dominant mesmerist whose primary motivation was her financial gain.  Under no circumstances would he ever willingly yield himself to a female whose interest in domination was spawned by a desire and/or need for vengeance or catharsis or both.)  Anyone who refused to answer his questions, who was overly hesitant to do so, displayed a penchant for excessive egotism or extreme nitpickiness or both, or from whom he, for any reason(s), got odd vibes was summarily rejected and unceremoniously informed of his decision.  The Edward Demming moniker was used, until a sufficient level of comfort and trust had been established with the particular female hypnotist.

Andrayalexis picked up her office phone after the third ring.  "Hello, this is Dr. Smythe.  How may I help you?"  She immediately recognized his name.  She had prepared for the eventuality of his contacting her.  At one time, she had considered leading their conversation or correspondence to the subject of erotic hypnosis.  She concluded it would be better if she did not do so.  His response to her bringing up this subject might be to ask her why she had done so?  Her answer to this query might lead to the revelation that the doctor possessed prior knowledge of who he was and what he sought.  This information, in turn, could be the prelude to him finding out the source of her very personal data about him.  She did not know to what extent he guarded his privacy in such intimate matters.  He may well have become highly incensed by Mistress Titanaconda's discussing his desire for domination with someone who was a stranger to him. Wisdom suggested it was best to let him broach this matter in some way.

As their lengthy conversation progressed, the psychiatrist noted all of his questions were standard fare. She was beginning to think her assumption about his identity was incorrect. There was no good reason to believe the name Edward Demming could only belong to the restless man who had been Mistress Titanaconda's one-time potential plaything and submissive.

"Do you have any specialties so far as hypnosis is concerned?"

She'd been waiting for this very query.  "Yes, along with my therapeutic practice, I am also an erotic hypnotist."

"How much experience do you have with this genre of mesmerism?"

Dr. Smythe (along with all other competent psychological and/or hypnotic practitioners, knowledgeable clients, and members of the general populace) was keenly aware of the necessity of honesty in the psychotherapeutic or hypnotherapeutic relationship.  Neither of these processes could attain its full effectiveness, if the client was deliberately deceitful or even not forthcoming concerning pertinent information.  The Amazonian analyst, psychiatrist, and hypnotherapist assigned many of the same requirements to herself as she did to those who sought her professional expertise.  She knew of no reason why she should not hold her fledgling career in erotic mesmerism to the same excellent standard of care as her more traditional vocations.  "If you and I establish a mutually entertaining erotic hypnotic relationship, you will be my first erotic hypnosis client."

"I thank you for your honesty, doctor.  Sometimes a neophyte in a particular endeavor will gild that individual's amount of experience or exaggerate the level of their proficiency.  I am very glad to know you have elected to not participate in such adolescent chicanery or puerile subterfuge."  He asked her the other queries he had prepared with respect to BDSM and erotic mesmerism.  He felt comfortable with this woman.  Still, he would check out the references she'd provided before making his final decision.  He told the doctor he would be getting back to her and cordially brought their introductory conversation to a close.

* * * * *

Dr. Smythe passed all of George's exhaustive examinations with flying colors.  He knew what he must do first whenever he next spoke to her.

The telephone was ringing as Dr. Smythe strode into the office portion of her home.  The sun was bright and the gentle breezes were unusually nippy for this time of year.  She recognized Edward Demming's voice after the first couple of syllables in his introductory statement.

"Hello, Dr. Smythe.  If you can fit me into your very busy schedule, I would like to have a consultatory appointment with you and perhaps our initial hypnosis session.  Before you give me your answer, there is something I must tell you.  Edward Demming is not my real name.  I use this 'nom de plume' only in my fledgling dealings or cursory interactions with anyone in the hypnoerotic or BDSM realms.  If you are amenable to meeting with me, I will tell you my real name when I arrive.  Are these conditions acceptable to you?"

"I appreciate your candor and respect your desire for anonymity.  Divulging your true identity once we meet in-person is acceptable."

George's relief was clearly etched on his brow.  "I am happy my little deception has not turned you against me."

They consulted their appointment calendars, discussed some possible dates, and settled upon a mutually agreeable time for their first face-to-face meeting.

Despite the interference of several outrageously humongous traffic jams and one exceptionally long train, George was on-time for his meeting with Dr. Smythe.  He was glad her office was a part of her home.  Not having to go to some office building or some dungeon naughtily nestled in a nonresidential district made him feel more comfortable about opening up to this woman in an arena as intimate as erotic hypnosis might turn out to be.  The only overtly personal touches to his traditional charcoal-grey business ensemble were related to his most expensive and first acquired vice.

George took several deep breaths while standing before the ingress to her home.  Now that his meeting with Dr. Smythe was at hand, all his feelings concerning this encounter, and its theoretical ramifications, had risen to the surface of his consciousness.  His yearning to experience something unique, exotic, and exciting had not diminished.  That this desire was still strong did not in any wise assuage the acute anxiety he now perceived.  Up to this point, all of his excursions, encounters, and relationships in the alternative erotica arena had focused primarily on their concomitant physicality.  If some sort of a connexion was forged betwixt himself and this psychiatrist and erotic hypnoteuse, its nature and substance and scope would be far more psychological than any of his walks on the wild side had been heretofore.  It could lead to the revelation of some portions of his being whose existence was even unknown to himself.  He was between a rock and a hard place, trapped in a strait betwixt two, and hemmed in by the devil and the deep blue sea.  The openness and closeness for which he sought were the catalysts of the practically paralyzing perturbation from which he longed to immediately escape.

The voice of self-preservation inside him advised that George Walderson turn tail and head for the hills like a bat out of Gehenna.  His conscience reminded him he had scheduled an appointment with Dr. Smythe.  His yearning for true intimacy said unto him that if he refused to keep this appointment, he might never know what wonderfully tremendous treasures he had forsaken.  The voice of reason told him that any future forays into the realm of hypnoerotica would be at least as frightening as was this present one.  George's internal arbiter and referee was hard pressed to the limit to make a decision.  After a couple more deep breaths, he stretched forth his hand and expectantly and nervously placed his perspiring palm on the doorbell's button.

He was taken aback when his eyes came to rest upon her for the first time.  He had interacted with more than his fair share of dominant women.  None of these encounters nor any of these dominatrixes had in any wise adequately prepared him for the graceful, Gargantuan, Goddesslike vision of ladylike loveliness which opened the door in front of him, graciously introduced herself to him, intensely focused her eyes upon him, and extended her unusually large and exceptionally feminine hand to the now quite flummoxed George Walderson.  In vain did he attempt to stifle any visible expressions of his astonishment regarding her appearance.  This situation did not improve for him as they walked into and seated themselves in the doctor's cozily personal and comfortably professional office.  (Watching her bewitchingly babelicious bubble buttocks seductively sway as those full and feminine hips unnervingly undulated in front of him did not provide this partially pixilated man with any peace of mind.)  There was the greatness of her humongous height; the shapeliness of her luxuriantly long legs; the voluptuousness of her firm, ripe, bodacious breasts; the color of her long, luculent locks; the expressiveness of her captivating countenance; the fullness of her beguilingly bee-stung, lovely lips; and the depthlessness of her evanescently, yet eternally entrancing, Elizabeth Taylor-esque eyes.  Anyone who has experienced the annoying frustration and absolute futility of trying to think of nothing during a meditation session would be well-acquainted with this exceptional man's predicament.  When he tried not to gape at any of the sources of her pulchritude, he was inevitably drawn more powerfully to one of them. The more he attempted to suppress his reactions to her alluring and awesome attractiveness, the more absurdly obvious they became.

Mr. Walderson was chagrined at his behavior.  He was looking at this statuesque psychiatrist in the same way he had looked at girls when he was a puerile pubescent teenager.  "Dr. Smythe, I beg your pardon for staring at you as I have.  It's just that I wasn't expecting you to look the way you do."

Andrayalexis smiled broadly and reassuringly.  "I understand.  For most of my life I have been significantly taller than most of my female peers.  When they first see me, many people are surprised by my height.  Some individuals are even intimidated by it."

Only the good doctor knew the primary reason for the large smile displayed upon her visage.  She was wearing a form-fitting business suit.  Her clothing was conservative enough to be perceived as purely professional.  When the heady, headstrong, head-turning head-shrinker moved in certain ways, her expensive, hand tailored suit subtly yet coquettishly revealed the presence of her persuasively pervasive pulchritude.  The femininely man-trapping and fetchingly manipulative paradoxical ponderings--along with the concomitant emotional turmoil--she intended to illicitly elicit in this mere male's mind was in full force.  So far, things were going wonderfully and according to the plan massaged in the monumental mentality of this mesmerising, mammoth matriarch.

She informed him it was her standard policy to make audio and video recordings of the entirety of her interactions with any therapeutic client or erotic hypnotic subject.  He let her know that this longstanding practice posed no problems for him.

Once the recording devices were activated, she began to probe his inner world.  "Now, Mr. Demming, do you have any expectations or preconceptions concerning mesmerism in general or erotic hypnosis in particular?"

"Before I answer your query, there is something I should tell you.  As I have told you Edward Demming is my pseudonym.  My actual name is George Walderson.  I use my 'nom de plume' during my cursory or initial dealings with anyone in the alternative erotica world. For you to fully understand my desires regarding erotic mesmerism, I believe I should let you know why I became involved in BDSM in the first place.  Several years ago, I realized I was beginning to feel the first symptoms of boredom and burnout in my career.  I wanted to find something new, anything that was different and that would give my creative juices a boost.  I hoped BDSM would do the trick.  For a while it did.  Now I realize what I truly wanted was to find a dominant woman who was skilled at creating, and desirous of having, a relationship featuring the emotional and mental aspects of dominance-and-submission.  Physical restraint and punishment just simply aren't enough anymore.  Erotic mesmerism is perhaps my last hope."

"There are two sayings which will play a significant role so far as what you may receive from the hypnosis experience is concerned.  First, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."  Second, as is said in the computer world, "Garbage in, garbage out."  A subject who, for whatever reason, is closed off from the possibility of participating in new experiences will get little or nothing out of being mesmerized.  Trust is another essential component in mesmerism.  The degree to which the hypnotist is trusted by the client, will profoundly influence what can be accomplished in hypnosis.  The intelligence and imaginativeness of both hypnoteuse and subject are also important.  I was a psychiatrist long before I began delving into erotic hypnosis.  My studies and practice have shown me that the human mind is an almost endless expanse of wonders and possibilities.  Exploring this limitless and fascinating realm is one of the things I live for, Mr. Walderson."

"Yours is the kind of attitude I have been searching for.  I hope I shall be a good hypnotic subject."

She regarded him intensely.  His eye movements, facial expression, and body language showed the degree of his sincerity and the level of his focus upon her.  "That you earnestly desire to be a good hypnotic subject is an indication that you probably shall be such."

During Dr. Smythe's time of visual data collection concerning her current client, she took note of the cigar cutter he had in his shirt pocket.  "It seems you and I share a delightfully enjoyable pastime besides erotic hypnosis."

"What would that be, doctor?"

"Cigars.  Would you like to smoke one before we begin your mesmerism session?"

"That would be wonderful.  If you wish, I will go outside to do so."

"That will not be necessary. I find watching someone revel in the satisfaction that only comes from savoring a fine cigar, almost as pleasurable as smoking that cigar myself."

Andrayalexis was pleased by the craftsmanship displayed in: the ashtray; dual-bladed, stainless steel cutter; and multi-jet, odor-free, butane lighter he drew from his custom-designed attaché case.  She committed to memory the brand name and classification of his selected cigar.  While he smoked, she joyously permitted the pleasantly pungent, faintly fruity, thoughtfully textured, and subtly sweet aromatic aura of this cunningly cured, charismatically crafted cigar to powerfully permeate her olfactory sense.  She surmised that Mr. George Walderson was possessed of an exquisitely developed palate.  She hoped this predilection toward refinement in the tobacco he desired was applicable in alternate arenas.

After finishing his excellent smoke, his gaze casually swept the room and his mind clinically scrutinized each item he saw.  He observed an ornate wooden box on a table near her desk. He gestured in the direction of the object of his curiosity.  "If you don't mind my asking, what is that?"

She flipped the latches and raised the lid of the shallow, rectangular chest.  Once it was fully opened, two halves of a backgammon board were revealed.  "I love to play all sorts of games."

George quickly came to understand that he was presently in the presence of an intoxicating individual who effortlessly exuded exceptional elegance.  His correct conclusion was deftly drawn from the exquisite workmanship displayed in: the mother-of-pearl inlaid board; the Carrara marble or obsidian game pieces; the hand carved dice; and the ribbed, hand stitched, aniline dyed, full top grain, ostrich skin leather throwing cups possessing dice trip out edges.  "Backgammon has always been one of my favorites."

"Excellent!  Are you up to playing with me?"

The most obvious assumption was that her query was no more than a simple challenge to play a game classified as a member of the subcategory of board games called racing games.  George was in the presence of a skilled psychiatrist.  Her question could be a tactical, psychoanalytically therapeutic tool designed to penetrate and peruse his mind, and draw forth from thence a revelatory piece of personal data.  This information or its import or both might well be heretofore unknown to Mr. Walderson.  He sat staring into the ensorcellingly enormous and enormously entrancing eyes of an erotic hypnoteuse.  Her question might be intended as the precursor to a mesmeric induction.  He was dealing with a dominatrix.  The purpose of Her inquisitory statement could be to ascertain his willingness to be submissive and the degree of his submissiveness.

A saying flashed into his mind. "Frequently assumptions lead to errors."  Education and Experience had shown him the significance of this minuscule maxim.  He had no guarantee that any action stemming from any of his very plausible assumptions would be correct.

He decided to give her an answer which was as open-ended as her question was baiting.  "That remains to be seen."

She motioned for him to sit across from her.  Perceptively engaging in some kind of game, sport, or contest can be an excellent means of divining the character traits and personality characteristics of one's opponent.  Taking part in such entertainment activity can also reveal one's personality proclivities and character makeup.  The way these two persons played backgammon did both of these.  (As their skirmish progressed, the monumental mesmerist observed George's steadfast focus on her fingers as she rolled the dice or moved either, or both, of her hands over the board while plotting her current move.)  Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe and Mr. George Walderson were exceptionally logical.  Neither of them displayed the slightest aversion to taking a calculated risk.  Each of them was more than willing to exercise subterfuge and to go for the jugular when the appropriate opportunity presented itself.

Each player's momentum ebbed and flowed and each combatant's advantage waxed and waned in their evenly matched contest.  As their match continued, from time to time the sexy psychiatrist would deeply yawn and languorously stretch out one or both of her astounding arms or her luxurious legs or both.  On one of such occasions she utilized the tip of one stiletto-heeled shoe to tantalizingly toy with and sensuously stimulate both of his ankles.  George's involuntary response to this subtle sensory stimulation did not escape her knowing notice.

"Oh, pardon me," Dr. Smythe said while putting the finishing touches on a pronounced yawn. "Focusing on a tight game intensely arouses my mind and sometimes deeply relaxes my body.  One of the things I've learned is that focused concentration can be easily intermingled with and then thereafter smoothly and swiftly transformed into a glorious gateway to deep, deep relaxation."  While she uttered this discourse, she absentmindedly began to rhythmically move her dominant hand.  Any observer of this scene would have seen the room's subdued, ambient lighting softly shimmering off the psychiatrist's masterfully manicured, glamourously glossy, perfectly polished nails.  "Deep relaxation is such a salubriously soothing and soporifically satisfying state of charismagically captivated consciousness.  Don't you agree?"  Spake She Her statement's syllables with subtle slowness.

"Yes, I do, doctor."

"Yes, it does feel sooooooo good to sit back, relax, and take a nice, relaxing respite from the hectic humdrum of one's stressful schedule."  Once more did she yawn and casually she stretched out her long legs.  george's eyes were always engrossed in perceiving Mistress Andrayalexis's each and every inveigling movement. "It feels so good when I just let the rest of the world softly slip away. Yes, indeed.  It always feels sooooooo wonderful to just take a little time and allow all of my cares and concerns to be softly and sweetly and swiftly subjugated by the oh so sumptuous satisfaction of sonorous, soothing serenity."  At this juncture it took several seconds and required the expenditure of some considerable effort for her to finally suppress another yawn.  "There is one simple strategy I employ on sundry occasions in order to achieve the soothing state of deep, deep relaxation of which I speak.  All I do is mentally slide myself into the most sensorially beautiful and wonderfully tranquilizing space I can imagine.  Once I have arrived, each of my physical senses pleasurably perceives the perfectly pristine and rapturously rhapsodic beauty it encounters.  Every one of my several senses initially revels in, then relishes, and subsequently surrenders to the joy of sweetly and swiftly succumbing to this halcyon habitation's ineffably exquisite and exotic loveliness.  Once my mind, my heart, and my senses have been bathed in beauty, my psychological palate is precisely prepared to experience the ever-increasing depths of deep relaxation.  To reach this oh so sought after state of deep, deep relaxation, I imagine myself in the most comfortable position I can imagine.  Then I slowly count up from one to twelve.  One, I can feel a slight, pleasurably tingling, and yet peacefully soothing sensation at the crown of my head.  Two, this feeling of wonderful relaxation is now softly, swiftly, sensuously, and sweetly spreading over my head and face.  Three, now this slightly soporific stimulation is moving down my neck.  Four, and with this number the silky caress of this marvelously magical spell is moving over and around my shoulders and then throughout my breast and breasts.  I can also feel it in the joints and muscles of my upper back.  Five, now I can feel this tide of relaxation flowing over my upper arms.  Six, when I say this number, the gentle waves of peaceful tranquility can be felt moving across my elbows and in my lower arms, in both my hands, and in the entirety of each one of my fascinatingly feminine fingers and femininely fascinating fingertips.  Seven, now the inexorable and inexhaustible relaxation is smoothly sliding over my stomach and along my ribcage.  It is also surreptitiously slithering down the lower section of my spine and all the joints, ligaments, nerves, tendons, and muscles at the bottom of my back.  Eight, the irrepressible and irresistible stream of soothingly sleepy restfulness now envelops My womanly waist, My hypnotising hips, and My deliciously delightful derriere.  Nine, now my thighs are the rapturous recipients of this unstoppable and unbelievable river of deep, deep relaxation.  Ten, now my knees can feel the restful and rejuvenating relaxation I desire.  Eleven, my calves and the lower reaches of my long and lovely legs can feel all tension becoming swiftly subjugated to such wonderful calm and soothing quietude.  Twelve, at last: both of my ankles; my fascinatingly fetching, feminine feet; and my ten tantalizingly tempting toes are being powerfully and pleasantly and pleasurably permeated by the soporific, soothing spells of deep, deep relaxation's siren songs and soothingly sublime, subjugating spells.  As I continue to focus on these fascinating feelings of deep, deep, relaxation, the soothing, subtle, and sensuously seductive strength of the rapturous relaxation I feel continues to increase exponentially and everlastingly.  Now, although I am so very relaxed, I am not asleep.  I remain conscious of what is transpiring around me.  Though I am sooooooo deeeeeeeply relaxed, I am well able to respond to anything of importance in my environment.  Nevertheless, it does feel sooooooo good to linger in this soporific and soothing state on the border betwixt total wakefulness and completely sleepy resting in peaceful sleepiness, sleeeeeeepiness, sleepy, sleeeeeeepy, sleeeeeeep."

While reciting her relaxation regimen, Dr. Smythe varied her inflection, cadence, and volume.  She also subtly stressed those words whose sounds tended to evoke a tranquilizing atmosphere.  As she expounded her tale to Mr. Walderson, the psychiatrist kept up the movement of her hand.  While She spake, as was his custom, George's eyes had tenaciously tracked the surreptitiously swinging, deviously deliberate, oscillating movements of the good doctor's dominant hand.  As she talked about the relaxation of one of her body parts, she unobtrusively tensed that part of herself, then afterwards allowed that part of her body to, apparently autonomically, go slack.

With her penetrating eyes she watched her client for several moments.  His eyelids fluttered as he continued to involuntarily struggle against, yet fall further and further into, a state of deep, deep relaxation.  Her indirect induction of her first erotic hypnosis client was a masterstroke of genius, and had gone off without a hitch.  While she led him down, from time to time she had yawned.  As she spake to him concerning her relaxation technique, her bodily movements seemed to indicate she was apparently struggling in vain against an all-consuming tide of wakeful drowsiness.  By seeming to naturally and unconsciously and inevitably succumb to the physical manifestations springing from the desire to relax herself, she had skillfully combined the power of suggestion with the power exerted by a sighted person's primary sense over the primary portion of said person's consciousness.  (Her successful strategy was expressed in the saying, "Monkey see, monkey do.")  While deftly guiding him into his trance state, she noted that his body's actions were in sync with what she was saying and with what he saw her doing.

The time had arrived for this haunting hypnoteuse to begin in earnest his instructions in the intoxicating intricacies, intimidating intimacies, and invigorating inevitability of female supremacy and feminine superiority.  "george walderson, can you hear me?"

"Yes," was his mumbled and slightly slurred response.

"Tell Me how you feel at this moment?"

"I have never felt this way before. It's odd.  It feels really good."

"Very good.  From time to time would you like to feel even better than you do at this moment?"

"Yes."  His second answer was quicker and somewhat more enthusiastic than his first reply.

"Excellent!  george walderson, listen only to My bewitchingly beautiful voice of absolute accuracy and total truthfulness.  As you continue your delightfully delirious descent into deep, deep mesmerizing mesmerism, you find that My thoughts and your thoughts are the same.  Know that everything I tell you is certainly and completely correct. Whenever you obey Me, you shall feel better than you have ever felt.  Be certain and know that each and every time you display your obedience to Me, you will feel oh so very, very good.  You shall always feel sooooooo goooooood when you obey Me, because you know that your obedience to Me pleases Me.  Pleasing Me will always and forever give you more pleasure than you can possibly imagine and conceive of receiving.  Tell Me what will occur whenever you obey Me?"

"I will feel better than ever before."

"Very good, george, My precious pet.  I shall now tell you a secret.  This is a very special and extremely important secret.  This secret will forever be your hypnotic trigger phrase.  The secret I shall soon speak solely to you is your everlasting and unbreakable Hypnotic trigger phrase.  Whenever you hear Me say the phrase, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME," then you will return to this wonderful and miraculous place of deep, deep relaxation.  No matter where you are and in spite of whatever you are doing, when you hear Me--and only Me--say the phrase, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME," you will easily and peacefully and instantaneously return without fail to this realm of deeply hypnotic and mesmerizingly sleepy rest.  You can not resist the irresistible power of your powerfully irresistible, irresistibly mesmerizing, mesmerizingly hypnotic trigger phrase, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME."  What will take place whenever you hear Me say the words, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME?""

"I will immediately become deeply hypnotized."

"you are correct.  Soon I shall count down from five to one.  After I have said the number "one," you shall be fully in your regular and conscious mind.  Five, when you have returned to your waking consciousness, you shall have no conscious memory of ever being hypnotized by Me.  In your usual state of awareness, you will be certain you have never been hypnotized or mesmerized by Me.  Four, during each moment you are in any kind of deliberately directed hypnosis induced by me, more and more still and yet still more My thoughts will become your thoughts, My womanly words shall be perceived by you as your own wonderful words, and My irresistible instructions shall be believed by you to be your internal instructions.  You are certain that what I have told you shall surely come to pass.  For My velvety and vampish voice of satin and steel is most assuredly the voice of total truthfulness.  My thoughts shall be your thoughts, My words shall become your words, and My instructions to you are actually your instructions which you know you are only hearing My voice giving onto thee.  Three, with each number you are becoming more and more aware of all the sensory stimuli surrounding you.  your subconscious mind shall unconsciously and unalterably remember that whenever you hear Me, and only Me, say these eight ever entrancing, everlastingly essential, and eternally enticing words, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME," you will easily and rapidly and peacefully succumb to the oh so sooooooothing sorceries of My sensuously seductive mesmeric and hypnotic spell.  Two, you know it shall always feel so good whenever you show forth your obedience to Me.  You can be certain that this is so, for My voice is the voice of what is true.  You will always feel more and more pleasure each time you obey Me, Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe.  When I say this last number, you will be fully awake, fully alert, and feeling absolutely wonderful.  After I have said the last number, you will remember that we are playing backgammon and you have inexplicably dozed off for a few moments.  The number I now say unto thee is, "ONE.""

As George emerged back into his conscious state of mind, twice did the mind-bending mesmerist speak his first name.  For some reason it took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what he had been doing.  Never before had he been predisposed to taking catnaps (or naps of any kind) in an unfamiliar place.  A quizzical expression was plaistered on his gentle, intelligent, and handsomely virile countenance for several seconds.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said contritely.  "Please forgive me.  I don't know what's come over me. It's not like me to just doze off in the middle of a game."  For some reason, George Walderson found it necessary to blink for several moments in order to clear his thoughtful consciousness and pensive mentality.

Andrayalexis possessed a powerful predisposition for impishness.  This seasoned mesmerist was not about to fritter away this golden goose of an opportunity to masterfully meddle with this man.  "As a psychiatrist, I can truthfully tell you that body language often unveils much of what is resident within one's unconsciously subconscious mind.  Perhaps your little snooze is an indicator that you do not think of me as a stimulating person or a worthwhile opponent?"

"Oh no, absolutely not, I know it isn't either of those things.  I simply can not explain what just happened to me.  I do know that whatever is wrong with me is in no way a reflection on any of your capabilities nor on your companionship.  I hope you will find it in your heart to pardon my unintentional rudeness?"

"I accept your apology. Nevertheless, what you did is a little disconcerting and" an almost imperceptible, pouty expression flashed over her visage, "deflating to my ego."

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he offered.

Her little bit of mischief had worked out better than she had expected.  Dr. Smythe elected to stretch out this little game just a tad longer.  She placed her chin in her hands, slightly lowered her eyelids, and serenely contemplated her next move and his impending, impenetrably imprisoning doom of delightsome delicacies.

At long last Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe raised her head and looked him squarely in the eye.  "Why, yes there is.  It would make me very happy if you would do two harmless, little tasks for me."

"It doesn't matter what they are.  I will do anything you ask."

Dr. Smythe's inner superior woman was giddy with gregarious gleefulness.  Three sayings, "Be careful what you ask for, you may have to live with it," "'Caveat emptor'," and "Things aren't always as they seem" flashed through her massive mind.  "First, I just want you to gaze deep into my eyes."  He promptly obeyed her charge.  From George's point of view (in two senses of the phrase) if her second request was as pleasurable as was the first, then his getting the lead out so far as his performance of the latter request was concerned would be a lead pipe cinch.  Second, what I would really like you to do for me is," she paused for several seconds to draw the focus of his attention even more intensely to her words, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME.""

His response to his mesmeric trigger phrase was instantaneous and profound.  Even Dr. Smythe was somewhat taken aback by the rapidity of his descent into deep, deep hypnosis.  While his conscious self gently plummeted into unconsciousness and his subconscious psyche came to the foreground, the hypnotic psychiatrist pondered some possibilities so far as the next phase of his training was concerned.  She decided upon an amusing means of conditioning his mind, heart, and body to the concepts of female superiority, feminine supremacy, and superior womanly influence and control and domination and, if things worked out really well, inspiration.

"Now, george walderson, listen to My wise and witching words of womanly wisdom.  As you descend deeper and deeper into deep, deep mesmerizing hypnosis, you will find that you shall hear only My velvety voice of complete correctness and total truth.  Any other sensory stimulus you perceive will only enable you to focus even more and more of your attention only upon the stimulating and soothing sound of My soporific and siren's voice.  you know that you need to obey Me.  you also know that you desire to obey Me.  you know that you must obey Me.  you know you will always obey Me.  It feels so good whenever you do as I wish.  It will always feel sooooooo good whenever you do as I desire.  The more you submit to My suggestions and obey My orders and comply with My commandments, the good feelings you receive will become stronger and even stronger and yet even stronger still.  Each time you accept My suggestion, obey My instruction, and carry out My command you will discover that you feel better than you have ever felt before.  Tell Me what will take place each time you do as I command you?"

"I will feel better than ever before," george replied.

"you are doing oh sooooooo well.  Mistress Andrayalexis is well pleased with Her submissive slave.  Now for your next instruction.  Whenever you hear Me clap My hands, you will say, "Yes, Mistress Andrayalexis."  When you hear Me clap My hands, then you shall immediately without fail say, "Yes, Mistress Andrayalexis."  When this occurs, you will not think anything is out of the ordinary.  When you hear Me clap My hands, and thereafter you shall say, "Yes, Mistress Andrayalexis," you will not even be aware of what you have just said.  When I snap My fingers, you will once again be conscious and be unaware that you have ever been hypnotized by Me.  After I snap My fingers, you will return to your normal state of being and will believe you have not been hypnotized at all.  Nevertheless, your subconscious mind will perfectly perform each posthypnotic suggestion I have given you or which I shall ever adroitly administer to you, My delightful darling."

The doctor took several sips of cold water before continuing with this session.  After she snapped her fingers, mr. walderson was fully alert and in his usual frame of mind.

They continued their backgammon contest.  From time to time, the hypnoteuse clapped her hands.  When the mood struck her fancy, she did so in some sort of sequence.  On every occasion he immediately and perfectly responded to her commands.  There were several instances when she asked him why he had said, "Yes, Mistress Andrayalexis?"  Each time he was absolutely oblivious to ever having done as she reported.  George was certain he had never said such a thing.  He began to wonder privately about this psychological professional's memory or grasp on reality or both.

Dr. Smythe had always been intrigued with, and was an early proponent of, psychologist Dr. Francine Shapiro's brainchild--EMDR, AKA Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Andrayalexis was well-acquainted with the intricacies of treating such conditions as PostTraumatic Stress Disorder with the EMDR therapeutic modality.  Bilaterally engaging the two hemispheres of an individual's cerebrum with a benign visual, auditory, or tactile stimulus while the properly trained and perceptive psychotherapeutic counselor compassionately and sagaciously guided the client through the sometimes extraordinarily stressful, yet imperative, and ultimately salubrious process of revisiting a personally traumatic event and reexperiencing the emotions associated therewith had proven itself to be a boon to numerous persons.  (The ever-inquisitive psychiatrist had recently become an EMDRIA (EMDR International Association) Certified Therapist.  She also pondered the possibility of the efficacy of utilizing an olfactory or a gustatory stimulus in the EMDR treatment regimen.)  After electing to become a professional facilitator of erotic hypnosis, Dr. Smythe hoped Her adaption of EMDR would be a useful tool for the accomplishment of two goals. First, the reduction or elimination of any apprehension a subbie might feel with respect to embracing the truthfulness of the supremacy of superior women or with some aspect of the B&D relationship or both.  Second, increasing the submissive's feelings of trust, adoration, devotion, obedience, and so forth regarding the Hypnotic Dominatrix with whom the subbie interacted.  There was no time like the present moment to ascertain the soundness of Her theory.

She spake his trigger phrase, and spied his swift and sore surrender to Her sophisticated, siren spell's sovereignty.  She removed the posthypnotic suggestions concerning his reactions to the sound of Her clapped hands and Her snapped fingers.  "And now, george My pet, once more the only sound of any importance in the entirety of your earthly existence is the sensuous and soothing and seductive sound of My most magically mystical, voluptuously velvety voice of satin, chiffon, and stainless steel and spider's webs of witching womanly wickedness wisely worshipped by worthwhile fellows.  After you have awakened from your present session under the hypnotic powers of My mesmerically ensorceling, siren spells, you and I shall discuss the parameters of your submissive relationship with Mistress Andrayalexis Smythe.  Once you have been brought back to your usual state of mind and frame of reference, then you and your Mesmerizing Mistress shall speak candidly concerning the type of relationship we shall have.  While we are holding our conversation on this subject, you will always track the horizontal movement of My hand.  During our discussion of the course of our future interactions, you shall never allow your eyes to stray from keeping track of the side-to-side oscillating motion of My hand.  Tell Me what you will do as we are talking about our relationship's parameters?"

"my eyes will always follow the movements of your beautiful and sexy hand."

Mistress Andrayalexis blushed slightly as She continued issuing his instructions.  "Now shall I count up from one to five.  When I say the number five, you will be fully awake, completely conscious, and you will carry out all of My commandments to you to the letter and spirit of My laws.  One, only your subconscious mind will remember that you have been hypnotically mesmerized by Me.  your unconscious self will always obey all of My suggestions, My instructions, My commandments, and My commands.  Two, while we are conversing about our hypnoerotic dominance relationship, your eyes will ceaselessly follow the horizontal movements of My hand.  your unconsciously subconscious self shall always remember that My will is so much stronger and vastly superior to your weak, wizened, and worthlessly worthless will.  Three, you are becoming more and more aware of your surroundings.  your eyes feel as if they have been bathed in beautiful, crystal clear, mountain spring mineral water.  Four, now you are able to move and interact with the world around you.  And now, with the last number you will be fully conscious and fully capable of acting as you wish to do.  All of your senses, faculties, and capabilities are now functioning normally.  Yes, My pet, now I say unto you the number five."

george walderson deeply yawned, languorously stretched, and slowly swiveled his head clockwise and thereafter counterclockwise for several revolutions in each direction.  If the subject which was soon to be on the table had not possessed such 'gravitas' Mistress Andrayalexis would have queried and needled him regarding these behaviours. While each individual placed that person's respective cards on the table with respect to their budding Superior Woman as Erotically Dominant Hypnotic Mistress relationship, She casually, yet constantly, moved one of Her huge, handsome hands horizontally across his field of vision.  As he had been mesmerically instructed, his eyes never lost track of that oscillating hand's location.

Once this frank, lively, thorough, thoughtful, and thought-provoking tête-à-tête terminated, he moved around the table and bowed then knelt before Her.  "Mistress Andrayalexis, though it is something I desire and something I know I need, I was extremely reticent about opening up my soul to anyone else and surrendering myself to You.  You may not believe this, but just before i rang Your doorbell, i was so afraid of what might happen that i was gravely tempted to call the whole thing off, turn tail, and head for the hills.  In fact, before we had this most recent conversation, i was still quite nervous about the whole thing.  i'm not sure how it happened, but all of my anxieties seem to have been allayed.  i am very glad i did not give in to my now proven to be baseless concerns.  Your competence and character have made me realize that You are far more than worthy of my devoted, unfeigned, unabashed, and unrestrained submission to You."

"I am very glad to hear that our interactions have enabled you to process and work through any fears you had about submitting and surrendering yourself to Me.  Mistress Andrayalexis Smythe is quite satisfied with your progress.  For the present!"

Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe graciously granted george walderson's respectfully requested permission to kiss Her hands.  After they had scheduled their next rendezvous, he joyously, yet regretfully, took his leave of Her.  After his departure, Mistress Andrayalexis mentally reviewed all of the proceedings during their first encounter.  This man was a very responsive hypnotic subject.  Her first known submissive was, as the augurs unveiled before their first face-to-face meeting indicated, meticulously and scrupulously honest, even concerning his own problems, quirks, and shortcomings.  His reaction to Her institution of EMDR gave Her tangible, though subjective and limited in scope, evidence that this therapeutic treatment was quite useful in arenas beyond the pale of some trauma spawned by katharsis-generated abreaction. Now The Psychiatrist speculated on the, perhaps even exponential, effectiveness of combining the power of posthypnotic suggestion with the efficacy of Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing? mr. george walderson had been a boon to his Mistress Mesmerist even outside the realm of hypnoerotic submission.  "Who knows what may take place in our future engagements," She said cautiously and hopefully.

Dr. Smythe was pleasantly surprised by the rapidity with which she achieved far more notoriety, success, and financial remuneration as an erotic hypnoteuse than she could ever have imagined or expected.  She had initially assumed her excursions in this arena would only be an incidental, ancillary adjunct to the prestigious practice of her more traditional trade.  She therefore elected not to advertise this secondary vocation.  It came to pass however that word of mouth about her, nevertheless, gave her considerable talents a deservedly distinguished reputation in the realm of the ribald and risqué.  From time to time she found unsolicited laudatory postings concerning--among other things--her creativity, competence, character, compassion, and perceptiveness in erotic hypnosis-related forums and chat groups.  Due to the volume of email she received regarding erotic mesmerism in all of its flavors and BDSM of the Female Dominant genre, she was compelled to setup an electronic mail account specifically to handle this side of her business.  After coming across the memo She had made to Herself, Mistress Andrayalexis at long last composed and conveyed that laudatory thank-you email to Soforia the Enchantress.  The handwritten message appreciatively extolled the aid and inspiration The Latter had unknowingly given The Former, Formidable 'Femme Fatale'.

Dr. Smythe cared very much for each of her psychotherapeutic clients and hypnotherapeutic subjects.  She found that such was also the case for Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe's hypnoerotic submissives.  All the talents she had meticulously developed to facilitate traditional counseling, could be brought to bear in Her Hypnodom-and-subbie interactions and relationships.

In most circumstances, Mr. Walderson did not possess any fondness for the unexpected.  Order, precision, and predictability were the respective cornerstone, keystone, and linchpin of his existence.  his dealings with Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe were a series of notoriously notable and exultantly embraced exceptions.  The potent powers of Her pervasively persuasive personality, the monumental magic of Her mysteriously mellifluous mesmerisms, and the captivating capriciousness of Her cunningly construed creativity salubriously, symbiotically synthesized to put a spring in his step and a scintillating sparkle in his mere male's mind's eye. She was exceptionally excellent in the confines of physical domination.  Far more important and much more pleasurable to george, was Her uncanny, unorthodox, and almost preternatural grasp of knowing how to play with someone's psyche in just the right way at exactly just the correct moment.  She perfectly balanced the stability mr. walderson needed with the spontaneous unpredictability She taught him to come to crave.  Due to Her incomparable influence, coquettish control, and divine domination his zest for life, work, and everything else had returned with a delightfully delirious vengeance.

It is at best a problematical sticky wicket and at worst an unforgivable deadly and mortal sin, for a therapist or counselor of any stripe to engage in any sort of a romantic relationship with any current client.  Knowing of this stricture's existence does not in any wise guarantee that said knowledge will guard one from becoming enmeshed in the aforementioned situation.  Such was the case for Dr. Smythe.  Though she fought with all her mental might and exerted her considerable will to the uttermost, nevertheless, there was a particularly special place in her heart for George Walderson.

Dr. Smythe had always been, and been known to be, a hardheaded, hard-nosed, nose to the grindstone, no-nonsense, sensible, shoulder to the wheel, feet planted firmly on the ground, grounded in reality type of individual.  From her perspective, there was simply no good reason to give much heed to groundless, highly suspect, speculative at best, and most certainly as unscientific and nonacademic as one can possibly get concepts such as serendipity, synchronicity, and the Threefold Law of Reciprocity.  Anything which smacked of the slightest hint of the smell of anything mystical was promptly, thoroughly, and unceremoniously dismissed out of hand, and was thenceforth cast out of sight and out of mind.

As she reviewed the circumstances surrounding her flowering career as an Erotic Hypnodominatrix, now Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe had reason to question Her close-mindedness concerning anything beyond the confines of the purely naturalistic 'Weltanschauung'.  Had Anna Conway not been her best friend, Andrayalexis would not have known where to turn when she required exemplary instruction in the fine facets of the alluring artistry of BDSM.  If Mistress Titanaconda had been a Hypnotic Goddess, then She might have been The Superior Female Supremacist george earnestly and, until fairly recently, unknowingly sought.  Were it not for Mistress Titanaconda's thorough training, Mistress Andrayalexis Smythe would not have been in a position to be the Hypnodomme george walderson wanted and needed. Had She not met George, her life would not be nearly so rich, particularly personally speaking, as it had evidently and exuberantly become.

Dr. Smythe employed every trick in the tome in her attempts to suppress or squelch her feelings for George Walderson.  She told herself that these feelings only existed because he was her first erotic hypnosis client.  (This reminded her of the many times she had dealt with parents trying to successfully navigate the tempestuous, tumultuous throes of their child's first love affair.)  She conjectured that whatever was occurring inside of her would pass--given enough time or distractions or both. She told Herself how unprofessional, how wrong, and how wicked was this sort of thing.  There were a multitude of things she told herself about this situation.  There were a number of things she did to keep her mind off of Her first submissive.  None of them did her any good--as far as ameliorating Her amorous affections for this fine fellow was concerned.

There was only one way to properly resolve this conundrum.  Andrayalexis was aware that it must be done quickly.  There were a myriad of instances when she reached for the telephone or headed for her computer.  She came to accept that what needed to be done should be done in person.

Usually, George was a very cautious driver.  He had never received a citation for speeding, or carrying out any other unsafe driving maneuvre.  Whenever he was traveling to an appointment with Mistress Andrayalexis, however, he had to force himself to only focus upon the minutia concomitant with operating a motorized conveyance. This was his only successful strategy for preventing himself from becoming a lead foot.  Today was no different in this regard from any other day.

he arrived several minutes early for his sublime, salubrious submission session.  Wondering what pleasures and surprises She had in store for him this time occupied his thoughts--while this giddy gentleman was waiting in his car, fidgeting with his hands, and staring at his watch.  When the moment for their meeting arrived, a big grin was on his countenance as he first ran and then skipped to Her door.  That several passersby gawked warily at him did not concern this subbie in the least.

Despite the sensual and erotic nature of their interactions, Mistress Smythe had always conducted Herself in a highly professional and circumspect manner.  It seemed to george that today She was even more businesslike than usual.  Although he did not understand why, this subtle alteration in Her demeanor distressed and disturbed him to the very depths of the bowels of his quick.

Once they were seated across from each other, Andrayalexis took charge of their dealings.  "There is no easy way for me to tell you what I am about to say."  She took a couple of deep breaths and consumed nearly the entire glass of water sitting at her side.  "I can no longer be your Mistress or Hypnotherapist."

The look on his countenance evidently expressed his inner man's instantaneous teleportation to a simultaneous residence on the precipitous pinnacle of perplexity and in a dwellingplace on the stygian nadir of despair.  "Mistress Andrayalexis, i mean Dr. Smythe but why?"  An even more horrible idea flashed in his mind.  "What have i done to cause this?" he inquired.  He was already beginning to reproach himself for his reprehensible words or repugnant activities or both.

"You haven't done anything," She reassured him.  She turned Her dejected gaze to the floor. "It simply isn't right for a romantic relationship to exist between any kind of  therapist and a client or betwixt a professional Hypnodom and one of Her submissive slaves."

All other emotions and thoughts were swiftly swept away by a torrential tidal wave of astonishment.  The man arose and took two or three halting steps in Her direction.  Now all he was capable of doing was fixedly staring slack-jawed in Her generalized vicinity. So far as his inner man was concerned, he had been metamorphosized into a jaw-dropping, knee-knocking, and scared of his own shadow shadow of his regular self.  The psychiatrist did not ever recall seeing any human being's eyes ever becoming quite so large.  "Are you some kind of a Witch or are You a telepath?"

"What are you talking about?" she questioned incredulously.

Now his expression was changed to a scowl.  "I don't like having my emotions played with.  I want you to tell  me how you knew I was in love with you?"  He had never used such a tone as this with Her before this momentous moment of terrifying truthfulness.

Now it was time for the Seasoned, Skilled Psychiatrist and Mind-blowing Mesmeric Dominatrix to be super-bowled overturned head over heels by one of reality's recent revelations.  The self-protective portion of her being, fearing that She might be rejected for some reason, compelled Her to solely discuss George Walderson's opening up of his heart to Mistress Andrayalexis.  The honorable side of Her nature demanded that She divulge the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the entire and total truth.  This part of Her self had a nagging and nasty habit of ceaselessly prompting or cattle prodding its Mesmerizing Mistress to refuse to succumb to her baser, instinctual drives and take the high and risky road of doing the right thing.

Now she downed the contents of the water glass he had not yet touched.  "When I was speaking about the impropriety of a psychological professional or prodomme having a love affair with a client or slave, I was only talking about My feelings for you."

Mr. george walderson all but mindlessly flopped backwards down into his seat.  There are those all too rare and exquisitely miraculous instances in a person's existence, when no word ever utterable in any mortal being's tongue nor any action conceived by any less than divinely perfect personage can dare to approach the pathway leading to the portico before the threshold in front of the foyer of the antechamber outside of the receiving room of correctly expressing that which is being thought or felt or perceived.  As they gazed into each other's visages, Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe and mr. george walderson experienced one such transfixing, transmutational, transcendental, symbiotic, simultaneous, earthshattering epiphany.

It took some time and a bit of doing for them to hammer out the details of their relationship.  Each of them was breaking new ground while blazing a trail leading to a horizon towards which neither of them had ever ventured.  To aid in this relationship's maturation and longevity, each person was willing to make certain sacrifices for which their partner refused to ask.

Andrayalexis's and George's respective friends and family members noticed the changes for the better this love match wrought upon its participants.  Anna Conway was particularly glad for what was happening to, and for, Andrayalexis.  This joy sprang from two motivations. First and foremost, she cared very deeply and passionately for the giantess she had grown to love beginning in girlhood.  Secondly, it gave Mistress Titanaconda innumerable opportunities to delicately, and not so subtly, needle Her phenomenal protégé.

* * * * *

This evening Andrayalexis and george covertly flirted with each other while sitting in the comfortable and acoustically sound collegiate auditorium.  Both of them loved classical music. She noticed his frown as he read the program.

"What is wrong?" she inquired empathetically.

"The finale is Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture."

"I've loved that piece ever since I was a little girl."

"You were never little."  He brushed his shoe tip up and down her ankle.

"I owe you one."

"George, be very afraid," he quipped.

"Why don't you care for that wonderful selection?"

"It's all those cannons and bells.  In my humble opinion it's all but cacophonous and most assuredly overkill."

"You might change your mind, if you gave it a chance."

"I think not.  Once I make up my mind about a piece of music the die is cast and it is carved in stone."

"So nothing could persuade you to change your mind?"

"Unequivocally and absolutely nothing!"

"How powerful, forceful, and determined you are.  Take Me, big boy, take Me now!"

He wondered how she would respond if he did so?  He pondered if there was sufficient room for him to carry out this fantasy?  Never before did he so regret being so inept at higher mathematics or any subject highly dependent thereupon.  Fortunately, the orchestra started tuning up.  "What a relief," he thought!

Dr. Smythe did not possess a poker face.  On several occasions, she had to turn her visage away from her companion's view.  Her thoughts concerning what would soon come to pass were just too delicious, delightful, devious, and devilish to ignore or entirely imprison.  This was one of the few times she wished an excellent orchestra was going to play a lesser number of selections.  She could feel anticipation welling up within her.  She only hoped it did not subconsciously show.

She was keenly cognizant of how fervently he adored any manner or degree of physical contact with her.  At the commencement of the penultimate piece's final movement, she casually draped her arm around his shoulders.  Several minutes later, her hand started playing with his earlobe, then caressing his neck, and finally massaging his shoulder. George thoroughly relished every second of what this ravishing Renaissance woman was doing to him.  In addition to luxuriating in Her loveliness, there was one other reason why his massive male ego was definitely more than satisfied.  He had taken note of most of the other heterosexual couples in the concert hall.  He saw how often and how longingly a significant number of the other men gazed at and centered their attention upon his Dazzling Date, Heart stopping Hypnoteuse, Marvelous Mistress, and Leggy, Ladylike Love Interest.  He also saw the smolderingly seething stares the women in these unions gave their muttonheaded men folk.  He knew right well that these hapless, helpless horn dogs all too soon for their liking would be spending a significant quantity of quality time on the business end of a cold shoulder out in the cold in their respective doghouses.

While many in the audience were filing out for intermission, Andrayalexis leaned close to her unsuspecting quarry.  He loved to smell her perfume.  This aroma was one he failed to recognize.  He asked her what this new fragrance was?  She was very pleased he was paying such close attention to such things.  She was also glad he was not one of those men who was embarrassed or ashamed to admit not knowing about some subject.  These good feelings did not dissuade her from her deviously diabolical, distaff dominating purpose.  "This perfume is" and she whispered eight ensorcelling, wonderful words in his expectant ear.  Those eight inveigling words which had so profoundly changed their lives for the better.  "Now, My obstinate, little boy-toy, you hear only Me.  So, My pet, you refuse to even consider changing your recalcitrant and ridiculous opinion about the 1812 Overture?  We shall see, My dear.  Soon, we shall all see!"  She laughed at him.  She laughed at what would soon come to fruition.  She laughed at the potent power She possessed to perplex him. "My voice of truth is fascinatingly filling and overwhelmingly overpowering your macho male mind which is all too frequently all too stubbornly set in your ways.  you need to obey Me.  you yearn to obey Me.  you know you must obey Me.  you will obey Me because you know you love Me and love to obey Me.  From now on, whenever you hear the sound of a cannon during the 1812 Overture's final movement, you will surely become more and more aroused. With each cannonlike sound you hear during the final movement of the 1812 Overture,  you shall become more erotically stimulated.  The harder you seek to deny or resist or suppress this feverishly fermenting and fervent feeling, the more intense it will become.  you will only be able to release this arousal when I give you permission or when you are home alone.  your subconscious mind will unconsciously and completely remember and without fail it shall faithfully execute your instructions.  your conscious self will be aware of nought which I have spoken to you.  When you feel Me touch both of your earlobes, you will awaken from your deep, deep hypnotic trance and perfectly obey all of My compelling commandments.  My thoughts are your truths.  My words are your world.  My instructions are your institutions."  While Her soothingly spellbinding, voluptuously vivid voice programmed his mind, She deftly utilized Her formidable fingertips and fascinating fingernails to make his body Her puppeteer's passionate and pleasing plaything.  Possessing such powerful and prodigious hands yielded some definite advantages.

She saw his glowering expression as audience members started returning to their seats.  "You really dislike the 1812 Overture so much?"

"Yes, I do," George said insistently and instinctually.

"And you will not change your mind?"

"No."

"Not even for Little, Lovable Me?"

"Not even for tiny, little, minute, minuscule, innocent, loving, lovable, and lovely You."

"Nothing I can say could persuade you to even consider changing your attitude?"

"Not one, solo, single, sole, singular, solitary, and unary thing."

"I thought you were more broadminded."

"On many subjects, yes.  On this piece of music, no."

"Why are you so stubborn, My pet?"

"I know what I like.  This selection is not on my list of favorites."

The psychiatrist sighed with seeming resignation.  "I give up."

"That is wise."

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as the night's final selection was extraordinarily executed to the uttermost.  Her only regret was the absence of a spy camera and transmitter linked to a video recorder.  The expressions playing across his countenance were beyond priceless.  He, initially, manifested disgust and stoic resignation.  Then there was inexplicable arousal.  There was confusion, more moments of arousal, contemplation, more arousals, more confusion, and even more times of arousal.  He made various attempts to suppress his changing expressions.  The panoply was wonderful to behold.  Particularly, when one was its undetected creatrix.  She was very glad he also lacked a poker face.

She considered allowing him to experience an immediate release for his ever-increasing, pent up sexual tension.  She elected not to do so.  The sound he would have made would have disturbed some people's enjoyment of the finale.  And besides, the longer she made him wait--the more bewildered he would become.  She concluded that this state of affairs was a very good thing.

Several weeks after the concert, during one of their phone conversations, she immediately recognized the piece of music she heard playing in the background.  The desire to mess with his mind, just a little bit, was too strong to ignore or resist.  The opportunity to have some fun was too good to pass up.

"What piece of music is that?" she said with feigned innocence.  She was overjoyed this was not a video phone call.

George pondered his options.  He thought about shutting off the music.  She had heard the piece.  She would want to know why the music had stopped?  There might be other questions.  He suspected some of them would be queries he did not wish to answer.  Lying was the next thing that came to mind.  He was aware of her prodigious knowledge base regarding classical music.  Attempted prevarication would only be a dismal failure.  He could change the subject.  He was also keenly cognizant of her dogged determination.  he suspected She would not let this topic of a sleeping dog lie down and go to sleeping soundly.  Honesty was the sole acceptable course of action--for it was the only one left to him.

"It's the 1812 Overture," he mumbled into the receiver.

She restrained a giggle with great difficulty.  "Please, speak up a little bit, darling.  I didn't quite catch your answer."

"It's the 1812 Overture."  This time he spoke clearly.

"Did you say the 1812 Overture?"

"Yes, I did."

"Whose?"

"Mistress, You know very well whose it is.  Don't be a smart-aleck, You smart-ass."  (Immediately after it left his lips, he regretted uttering that last word.  Not because it was not what he truly thought.  It was not because She did not deserve to be called such at this time.  What spawned his regret was that using that term made him consider Her cheeks when he called Her that name.  Yes, he could only think about Her cheeks.  He was fantasizing about each and every muscle and sinew and nerve and millimeter of soft, smooth skin sumptuously composing the firm, full, round, and ripe cheeks of Her delightfully delicious derriere.)

Dr. Smythe had always longed to be an actress.  During her school days, her height made it difficult for her to ever be cast in a romantic lead.  Everyone who knew her intimately marveled at her comic genius.  She would not let this chance to flex her thespian muscles slip her grasp.  After several seconds of silence, she began to make barely audible sobbing noises into the phone.

George was concerned. "What's happened?"

She sniffled a couple of times. "Nothing," she responded.

"What's wrong?"

"I said,"  she sniffled two or three more times, "nothing is wrong."

"Mistress, i know better than that.  Please, Honey, won't you tell me what it is?"

The next minute's silence was broken only by a couple of Her sniffles.  "I am very angry with you."

"Why?  What have i done?"

She stamped her left foot on the hardwood floor.  "you know very well what you've done."

George was perplexed.  he tried to think of anything he might have done that would upset Her to this degree.  He could think of nothing.  he knew better than to verbalize this conclusion. There was only one way for him to divine why She was so peeved.  "I really have no idea, Dear.  Please, i beg You, tell me what is wrong, Mistress?"

"you've lied to Me."

"i have never lied to You."

"Didn't you tell Me, in no uncertain terms, that you loathed Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture?"

"Yes, I said that."

"And now I find you listening to it.  you have been keeping secrets from Me.  I assumed our relationship was built on an unshakable foundation of respect, trust, and honesty.  What else have you been hiding from Me?"

"I have not hidden anything from You."

"How can I ever count on you or trust you again?  If someone will lie about something as trivial and insignificant like this, he will fabricate or prevaricate about who knows what?  What is your real name?  Have you been married before?  How many children do you really have?  Have you ever been a man trapped in a woman's body?"

He had an answer for her last query.  Fortunately, no one ever heard him utter it.  "i have always been truthful with You."  He tried to speak in a reassuring manner.  "i swear You have my solemn word."

"What good is a liar's word of honor?"

"I have never lied to You about anything."

Again she was silent.  "I'll forgive you this once.  But don't ever let it happen again.  Not! ever! again!"  Her last three words were stressed with a pointed ness which could not be ignored or denied.

"i will never lie to You again."

"So you admit you lied before?"

"i have never lied, and will never lie, to You about anything, in any way, and at any time."

"I want the answer to one simple question.  Why are you listening to the 1812 Overture--a piece of music you say you have always hated?"

"i had always hated it.  I don't hate it any more.  i am listening to it because i now enjoy it."  He silently pleaded with the Heavens that she not ask him what made this music so pleasurable?  he implored the universe for this with all his might.

She considered asking the very question he dreaded.  She thought that might be going overboard, just a little bit, even for her.  "So you have changed your mind?"

"Yes."

"Then, I was right?  you should have listened to Me and just given it a chance."

"Yes, You were right.  I should have listened to You.  i should have given the 1812 Overture a fair hearing."

"When were you going to tell Me about your change of heart?"

"I wasn't.  I mean, i don't know."

"And if I hadn't caught you in your little fib, I would never have known."

"I did not fib."

"Do you still deny it?"

"I haven't done anything wrong."

She seriously considered taking him through this tangled and torturous loop of logic once more.  She was fairly certain she could not do so without cracking herself up.  After some thought, she selected another tactic to tenderly torment him.  "Just like a typical man."  She sneered and extruded her tongue.

"What does that mean?"

"you know very well what I mean."

"No I don't.  Please, explain Yourself?"

"you find it easy to tell a woman that she's wrong.  But you almost always refuse to let her know that she is right."

"That's because women know they are always right.  So, there's no need for us to tell any of you what you already know to be true."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."  She sighed after another time of silence.  "Well, at least you aren't as close-minded as you used to be.  And I am glad you now like the piece.  There is one more thing I'd like to say."

"What is it?"

""RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME.""  She waited for several seconds.  "Just let yourself easily and peacefully fall deeper and deeper under the pervasive and persuasive powers of My halcyon, hypnotic spell."  She crossed her very long and so shapely legs and waited silently, until she heard his breathing become slower and deeper.  She was well aware of how much he adored her gorgeous gams.  She would use this fixation point of attraction, and her wicked sense of humor, to tantalizingly torment him to distraction and meddle with the mettle of all his humors.  "Now, My pet, I want you to feel your legs with your hands.  When you touch your legs, I command you to only think about actually feeling My legs.  Yes, as you touch your legs, the only thought in your mind will be of My bewitching, beguiling, beautiful, bedeviling legs.  you know you are completely in My power.  Any other thoughts you may have will only compel you to focus more and more of your attention upon My long, lovely, lethean, luxurious legs.  you know you desire to obey Me.  you are always and awesomely aware of your need and your yearning and your longing to obey only Me.  Any other sound you may hear or sight you may see or any other possible distraction in your tiny little piece of reality will only help you devote more and even more and even more still of your consciousness to My soft, smooth, silky, shapely, sexy, and sensuously seductive stems.  The harder you try to resist the desire to concentrate upon My lovely, lovely legs, the more you will only be able to think about My long and lovely and love spell casting, bewitchingly hypnotic legs.  you know you ought to obey Me.  you know you must obey Me.  you know you will obey only Me and Me alone and only Me.  The more your mind dwells on My legs, the more aroused you will become.  you will not be able to release this ever-increasing arousal and always impending preoccupation with cumming at My mesmerising command, until I give you permission to do so. As your arousal becomes stronger, you will beg Me for My permission to cum. you will plead with Me to allow you to have release.  you are My pet, My puppet, My plaything, and My possession.  As you perceive yourself touching my legs, you will tell Me how much you adore Me.  you can not resist My will.  you will not resist My will.  you are My specimen.  you know you are My very special specimen.  you are My servant.  you are aware you shall always serve Me.  you are My subject.  you are My subjected subject subjected to My subjecting subjugation.  you are My slave.  you are enticingly and entrancingly enslaved to your enigmatic and ensorcelling enslavement to Mistress Dr. Andrayalexis Smythe."

The psychiatrist listened to his compliance with her dictums.  Now she had a wicked idea.  How long could she compel him to prattle on in service to her and in subjection to her masterful mesmeric mind manipulations?  "GEORGE WALDERSON, GEORGE WALDERSON, GEORGE WALDERSON."  He fell silent in response to one of the posthypnotic suggestions she had given him some time ago.  "Listen to Me, My pet.  When you hear Me snap My fingers, you will tell Me everything you love about Me and how much you adore each of these items.  you will also beg Me to allow you to cum.  you will tell Me what you love about Me and how much you adore each of the items you love about Me.  you will plead with Me to permit you to have the climax you desire so much.  you will continue to talk about these two subjects, until you hear Me say your entire name.  you will not stop talking about the two topics I have mentioned to you, until you hear Me first say your given name and lastly say your familial name.  Tell Me what will happen after you hear Me snap My fingers?"

"i will tell You about each thing i love about You.  i will beg You to let me have an orgasm."

She wisely and wickedly laughed at Her publicly powerful, privately powerless prey.  "When will you cease talking about these things, My perennially powerless puppet of a little slave boy-toy?"

"Whenever i hear You say my name."

"I am so proud of you.  You are doing very, very well."  The towering, trickish hypnoteuse snapped her fingers, listened to him for several minutes, switched on a tape recorder, laid down the telephone receiver atop the recorder, and went off to do some errands.

One-and-one-half hours later, she returned to check in on her pulchritude-pixilated property.  When she picked up the phone, she heard him praising her to the heavens and begging her leave for an orgasm.  The power she wielded caused her to blush, smile, and contemplate.

She elected to give him that for which he besought her.  "George Walderson, you will listen to Me." He fell speechless immediately after hearing his last name's final syllable escape her ruby-tinted, lovely, and luscious lips.  "Everything I say to you is absolutely true.  you know that every word you hear Me utter, while you are in My hypnotic thralldom, is the unadulterated, unvarnished truth.  From this moment onward when ever you have an orgasm of any kind, you will think of Me.  When you have any kind of sexual release, you will associate that pleasure with Me.  And now, because you have been such a good, little boy, you shall receive a blessing from your titanic, tempting, tempestuous hypnotic Sex Goddess.  When you hear Me clap My hands, you will have the most wonderful, powerful, and pleasurable orgasmic release you have ever experienced.  When you hear the sound of My hands clapping, then and only then shall you cum for Me and have the best sexual experience you have ever had.  After you have cum, you will awaken from your trance and have no conscious memory of anything that occurred during your time today under My hypnotic spell.  After you have had your marvelous and magnificent and miraculous and magical and mystical sexual release, you shall return to your conscious state of mind and you will consciously remember nothing which took place after you heard Me use your trigger, "RELAX AND GO INTO DEEP HYPNOSIS FOR ME" today.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," he mumbled softly.

"Very good."  The striking, scintillating, and seductive social scientist and psychotherapist clapped her hands, heard George Walderson give voice to a sound she'd never heard from any other man, and smiled to herself as he returned to his regular state of awareness.

They concluded their little chat. Before doing so, She once more returned him to deep hypnosis and removed all of his temporary triggers.  He was pleased she had forgiven him.  He still knew he had committed no trespass against her.

Several days later he was listening to that music again.  It was amazing, and somewhat eerie, that something he had detested for so long was now so desirable.  A tiny voice in the back of his mind posed one simple and nagging question, "Why?" When he devoted some cogitation to the query, he soon came to realize he had no acceptable answer to this conundrum.  He searched his memory to recall when his feelings about this piece began their metamorphosis.  It was the concert he had attended with Andrayalexis.  Now another question rapidly and repeatedly reared its head.  "Why did that concert make a difference?"  No reasonable explanation presented itself.

He was about to simply accept and enjoy the present situation.  He had an apocalypse.  It wasn't the orchestra. It was not that concert at all.  Several other peculiar happenings were now made crystal clear.  "You lovely, long-legged, troublemaking, irresistible, mind molding, witch-crafty, witching witch of witcheries."

He picked up the phone, dialed her number, heard it ring thrice, and hung up.  No, a mere confrontational telephone call, email, or face-to-face conversation was not nearly good enough.  Besides, he was keenly aware Dr. Smythe could discombooberate and discomboobleate (These two American English words caused him to fantasize about two things which were extremely exciting and interminably important to him.) him any time he heard her voluptuous voice.  He knew there must be something far better.  He would make her pay.  He would deliver the next salvo in this battle of wits.  Now, this! was! war!

He was at work.  Someone he was talking to made an offhanded remark about being a "copycat."  He had an inspiration.  "Yes," he said and loudly clapped his hands after springing to his feet.  He saw his unwitting savior regard him with quizzical skepticism.  "Relax, I haven't lost my mind.  At least, not yet.  You've just given me the solution to a minor, little problem I adore very much."

"I'm glad I could help."

"Not nearly so glad as I am. Nor so glad as I intend to be."

This person would receive a bonus with their next paycheck.  In his opinion, such helpfulness, even if it was unintentional, should be properly and promptly rewarded.

Once George got home, he set his mind to work.  Getting comfortable and smoking one of his favorite cigars usually stimulated his creative and cognitive faculties.  The right piece of music was necessary for his plan to succeed.  He had a thought.  No. Considering what the lovable Dr. Smythe had done, the 1812 Overture was definitely out of the question.  "Classical music" and "copycat" were uppermost in his mind.  Surely, there must be a way to.  Then he remembered.  He laughed loudly and often.  This composer was the perfect candidate.  He played out the scenario of a future date with Andrayalexis in his mind.  He would do this right.  The first step was the acquisition of the proper piece of music.  He hoped it was extant.  He logged onto his Internet Service Provider and searched for the desired web page.  He carefully scrutinized this bizarre musical genius's list of compositions.  This composer had a selection that was perfect for this occasion of pleasurable payback.  George immediately ordered the CD.  Mr. Walderson gleefully rubbed his hands together.  His vengeance would be scrumptiously delicious.  He was certain he would thoroughly relish the final drop of the last dregs of this heady elixir of getting even Stephen.

At last that very special evening, he had so anxiously anticipated and carefully crafted, came to pass.  The candles were alight.  He had prepared some of her favorite dishes.  The flowers were gorgeous.  The CD was ready.  Some cigars she adored were near at hand in his brand spanking new custom-made humidor.  The only item not present was the physically and mentally monumental, emotionally and captivatingly colossal, frequently fascinating, and fetchingly feminine femme fatale and vivacious, voluptuous victim of honor.

While in his bedroom, he saw and heard the good doctor draw near and come in range of his domain.  His advanced surveillance system was advantageous in a myriad of ways.  He pressed a button which unlocked and opened his front door.  He relished her hesitation and the slightly puzzled look on her usually perceptive and serenely confident countenance.  He was much pleased with and very aroused by what she had chosen to wear.  He often encouraged her to dress in attire which flattered her figure.  This ensemble definitely did just the trick.  He forced himself to focus on his plan.  If the good doctor had been telepathic or precognitive, she would have chosen that outfit.  Only seeing her move in that attire in certain ways might have dissuaded him from his dark purpose of exquisitely and exactingly executing relentlessly regimented retribution.  He heard and saw the front door swing shut after she had broken the infrared beam.  It was just another little trick designed to slightly and delicately rattle her powerful and orderly mind.  Step one was completed.

As was expected by both participating parties, their convivial conversation was wide-ranging, urbane, and in-depth.  Both thoroughly relished the excellent dinner, the well-chosen wines, and the premium cigars.  While they lingered over trifle (one of George's favorite desserts and his 'specialite da la maison') and freshly brewed Irish coffee, he reminded her he had a surprise in store.  He initially mentioned it when she had agreed to come to his home for dinner.  She had tried, to no avail, to cajole, pry, or inveigle from him the nature of this surprise.  (She reckoned it would have been unfair to utilize the one means of obtaining this data which had the highest probability of succeeding.)  After they were comfortably seated on the sofa, he informed her the time had arrived.  He pressed a button on one of the several remote controls scattered across his marble coffee table.  The music filled the room.

This was assuredly unlike any classical music she had ever heard.  At times it seemed very familiar.  Yet, the familiar passages were not encompassed by what she expected.  She noticed the profound power this selection had on her companion.  He was more overtly amorous than usual.  She did not mind his attention.  Still, it was just a smidgen out of character.  She was unsure which was more curious the music or his behavior.  At certain points his romantic ardor fervently increased.  She wondered why this music affected him so?

She could stand it no longer.  She dreamily looked at him.  "George, dear, I do not recognize this composition.  What piece of music is this?"

He arose, straddled h