The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The darkness of midnight covered the area around the beautiful, three-story, ivory mansion quite well. The pristine property resided on the outskirts of Oklahoma City, owned by the Spencers, one of the city’s oldest, richest families. And despite the value of the property and everything in it, the mansion seemed quite light on security, according to the black-clad figure scaling their way to the third floor with a simple rope and grappling hook. Climbing up to the top balcony, the man dressed like a ninja leapt over the stone railing onto the marble balcony, creeping up to the door. Beneath the black cloth was an infamous mercenary known as Royce Schaefer. 37 year old, six-foot, dark-skinned from a mix of African American and Persian descent, with a lean, muscular build, ruggedly-handsome features and intelligent, almost-lustrous brown eyes, his qualities often drew the attention of of many. Some were drawn to his epitomizing tall, dark, and handsome, and others with keener observation to Royce’s extensively military service, and intensive martial arts experience, the latter of which garnering the most infamy as possibly one of the best fighters known in certain circles.

Earlier that evening, he’d attended a tournament at a private MMA fight club, putting up a decent fight every match, hiding the fact that he could easily topple all his opponents in their caged arena; part of his infamy in martial arts stemmed from his favoring Karate over most other styles; he’d unofficially mastered several other styles since his teenage years, but he primarily favored Karate as it was the style often looked down upon by those practicing other disciplines. It pleased him to no end to beat his peers with an “inferior” or “rudimentary” art, upending every attempt to grapple, hurt, and embarrass Royce. The crowd was certainly impressed when he let his truer prowess show itself, though less than half were pleased to see him win as most bet against him up to a certain point. And besides pacing a few choice bets on his own behalf, he kept himself busy with an unexpected mercenary job he was conducting merely hours later.

Picking the lock to open the terrace doors, Royce let himself into the office, looking around for his target that was supposed to be well-hidden. Up on the wall was Maxwell Spencer, the still-living head of the family. The dark figure shook his head, annoyed at how grandiose the portrait of the wealthy man was, and amused at how easy it was to accurately guess the safe was right behind it. Finding the right button alongside it, the portrait opened like a door with the frame staying still, revealing his target. The safe itself was impressive, definitely built to be uncrackable; “it would take tools I might need to import or customize myself to get this open,” he thought to himself as he put a gloved hand to the combination dial, numerical access helpfully granted by his client. He spun the dial in several directions, loving the ease of this job, the sound of not needing any tools to complete his task very satisfying. He stopped at the last number, sighing.

“Sorry boys, you don’t get the last number for free,” a calm, unworried voice regarded more figures dressed in black behind Royce. Beneath his mask, he smiled at how stealthy they thought they were being, mentally giving them a high mark for effort, and a low one for execution.

“What’s it cost,” the lead man asked in a thick local accent, not at all bothering to hide his potentially-identifiable voice. He stepped up to attempt looking imposing, putting his fist into his palm to crack knuckles loudly. “A few broken bones? No need for that when you were doing so well, ninja-man.”

“And you, not so much.” Royce finally turned around to see the new burglars, four of them dressed like average burglars in head-to-toe back with ski masks.

“This safe is going to need more than one dedicated safe-cracker, a boxer, and a few MMA types,” the Karate practitioner quickly, accurately sized up the individual traits and fighting inclinations of each man, making them look amongst themselves in total surprise.

“If that’s true, then you can consider yourself number five. Open that safe and we won’t have to mess up your nice Halloween costume. We might even leave you a small cut of the proceeds, enough for a cab ride home...or to pay for the ambulance if you keep us waiting.”

Royce’s response to that was to simply stand in-front of the safe, arms crossed, waiting for them to make good on their word. The lead man tried to feign a laugh before lunging out with a sucker punch; it was caught easily in the ninja’s hand, and pulled forward so Royce could slam his knee hard into the man’s stomach. Heaving, he tried head-butting him, only to feel the his attacker move and almost clothes-line him to the floor; Royce gave a light punch to this throat for good measure, incapacitating him while his friends finally joined it. The two MMA fighters had slightly better odds, throwing out expert punches and kicks, all easily evaded and blocked though. When the biggest one tried to tackle and slam him into the wall, Royce used the tackling arm to flip into a reversal, feet pushing off the wall to break his nose with a solid knee to the face. The smaller MMA fighter was stunned that his bigger friend went down, circling Royce to look for a new opening; he tried concealing his smile as the safe cracker swung a crowbar from the tool bag at the back of Royce’s head. Royce didn’t bother concealing his smile after he caught it from behind, took it from the surprised, weakened grip to hit the MMA on the side of the head with, and then the head of the safe cracker; they weren’t face-breaking hits, but enough to leave lasting bruises for a good, long while.

He sighed, surveying the mess of beatings he’d left on the floor, walking to the safe to finally unlock it. Upon opening, Royce found it filled with various items like CDs, flash drives, documents, stacks of cash, some or all of which the thieves behind him were looking for. Only concerned with one item, he pulled it from the safe and slipped it into one of his outfit’s pockets, but turning abruptly at the sound of applause.

Royce turned, assuming a practiced readied stance meant for fight or flight, neither of which seemed appropriate for the strange sight that greeted him across the room. In all of the adrenaline-filled commotion, somehow he’d missed a new pair walking into the the study, Maxwell Spencer himself, and a young lady who was doing the clapping. Maxwell was a fairly-fit older man in his 60s, dressed well in a tailored grey suit; sporting salt-and-pepper hair and a clean-shaven face, he looked exactly like the painted portrait in his office, except for the peculiarly-blank expression. The lady particularly stood out moreso, five-feet-eight in three inch heels, straight auburn hair hanging down past her shoulders, smooth, creamy Caucasian skin, and a gorgeous, youthful face with golden-amber eyes somehow shining in the dim light. The 25 year old woman wore a frilly, light-brown top that showed off her midriff, while her same-colored skirt flowed down just above her knees. Clapping, manicured hands were adorned in several expensive-looking rings, as expensive as the pieces hanging from her necklace, her bracelets on her wrists and ankles.

“Stay here while I address the nice man,” the woman spoke to Maxwell like a servant, and to Royce’s total surprise, he reacted more like an automaton than a human servant. “Yes Mistress Maggie.“

Maggie May strolled across the room, stepping upon one of the beaten men, wishing one was closer to Royce so she could use them as a stool to meet the standing fighter’s confused gaze.

“As you probably heard from my sub over there, I’m Mistress Maggie. Who might you be?”

She extended a hand outward to greet. Silent and umoving, Royce’s gaze merely looked down at her hand, then at her almost twinkling eyes, seemingly up to something just like everyone else that stepped in that room this evening. But unlike the men looking to take the man’s possessions, this woman one-upped them by taking the man somehow, treating him like just another object in the safe or strewn about the room. When Royce wasn’t looking at her, he was noticing how statues-like Maxwell was, only lightly breathing, staring at nothing, as if waiting to be commanded something by his mistress.

“Ah, a shy one, on top of being an excellent fighter and helpful male, swiftly taking out the competition I wasn’t expecting tonight,” she smiled down at the other men she might’ve had to contend with if not for the man at the open safe. “Wondering what I did to my generous friend over there?” Maggie brought her extended hand back to place on her hip, near her purse, looking ready to reach for something inside it. “I guess I have time to show...” Maggie smiled, noticing the ninja’s tensing, slowly and gracefully producing a pocket watch from her purse.

“Are you kidding?” Royce thought to himself.

“And I have time to show off this beautiful watch, the watch my friend found himself quite fascinated by, quite relaxing...it can be so relaxing to just pay attention to time sometimes, maybe letting time pass you by, passing by your eyes going back and forth....back and forth...back and forth...so easy to follow time...yet so easy to let time pass...swinging back and forth....following time...getting lost in time...relaxing in time...in time with the sound of my voice...“

Maggie’s voice smoothly became a soothing, engaging cadence that caught Royce’s attention, much to the satisfaction of Maggie. She grinned silently as she saw his eyes dutifully follow the watch like Maxwell did earlier that evening.

“The sound of my voice is so relaxing to listen to...listening is as easy as following...following is as easy as listening....listening to my voice...following the watch...you don’t have time for anything else...you don’t want to give your time to anything else...time only for relaxation...for my watch...for the sound of my voice...it makes you want to focus more, relax more....feeling yourself getting heavier....heavier and sleepier, with each breath...with each word I speak...“

Royce’s mind was having trouble following everything that was happening, as Maggie weaved her spell over the confused ninja.

“Those eyelids are so heavy...they just want to close...the more you listen...the heavier they get...why don’t you just cl—”

In an instant, a hand reached out like a striking cobra to stop the watch’s arch, making Maggie’s voice catch in her throat, as she stared into Royce’s eyes that never lost their clarity or confused look.

“No thank you,” he simply said in a clear, polite voice, shocking the hypnotist in how unaffected he seemed.

Maggie took a step back as if face-to-face with something supernatural; she could easily feel the True Hypnotist energy from years of practice and mercenary jobs flow from her watch and her essence towards Royce. Against men and women of all kinds, even against other dueling true hypnotists, her skill never failed to make an impact. Until now. Royce seemed to get a little scared at how afraid she’d become of him, or something he’d done. He’d made a few dangerous men look that scared in the past, especially after showing why he was so hard to beat in a fight, but scaring a hypnotist by not falling into her little parlor tricks was a new one. The surety she had that it should’ve worked made him look at Maxwell, and then question deeply inside if there was some real power she had that should’ve worked on him, but didn’t.

Maggie was startled by the sound of someone new walking in the room, she turned to see her twin sister, Martha, or Marty as she preferred, walking into the room. They were identical in many ways, and yet as a true hypnotist herself, Marty often meant to set herself apart from her sister, comparatively a tomboy of sorts, often in suits and long sleeved or panted outfits compared to Maggie’s love of skirts, sexy blouses, and midriff. That evening, Marty wore a sleek, v-neck business suit of the same light-brown color her sister wore and black sandals on her feet showing off shimmering toe rings on each foot. Her auburn hair was shorter and cropped, shaping an equally-pretty face that often wore a much more mature, unimpressed expression. She often only smiled when she drew attention to the almond-shaped amber pendant reaching down to her considerable cleavage, exuding true hypnotism energies at will, even stronger than her younger sister currently could.

“What’s taking so long, Margaret?” Marty chided like a disappointed mother. The pile of unconscious bodies on the ground could’ve been explanation enough, but with all the kung-fu mastery each sister utilized, she figured Maggie had several ways to make quick work of them.

Maggie looked around to find the ninja vanished from sight. “Oh my god, he...I...I mean he didn’t...how could he....”

“Yes, yes Margaret, you took down an old flirt and some random thugs. Bravo,” Marty sarcastically remarked. “Can you finally finish what we came to do?”

“But...but he...how the hell did—”

“Sibling Harmony,” Marty intoned, annoyed, activating a trigger the younger sister was never consciously aware of. Maggie suddenly went silent and still, imitating Maxwell still trapped in the constructed maze of the May sisters’ will powers. She sighed in general annoyance, but also felt the pleasurable charge of dominating her sister, and a hypnotist nearly as powerful as she was; the latter fact made her decidedly horny and hypocritical as she decided to take some time to herself in the middle of their assignment to indulge in sexual gratification.

“Maxwell, slowly walk towards me, and find yourself needing to worship my pussy,” Marty said as she walked to his office seat, unzipping her pants herself instead of letting slow, fumbling fingers take up any more time.

“With every step, the need grows,” she told him seductively, eyeing the protruding bulge in his pants.

“And grows,” his erection tented, straining against the seams.

“And grows,” she giggled as his walk speed belied the suggestion to walk slow, needier than ever to have her delicious pussy to taste.

“Worship and obey, slave,” she told him before gripping his salt-and-pepper hair. She wrapped her legs around his head, enjoying his subconscious years of experience with courting and pleasing women as a passionate gentleman. Bisexual like her sister, Marty enjoyed the efforts of both men and women under her, and uncharacteristically squealed in delight at a man that needed no instruction on how to give good head. Taking cues from her breathing, he mindlessly worked her to multiple orgasms very quickly before she told him to stop.

“That’s it, good slave,” she breathed, stroking his hear and giving his head a playful pat, letting him lick the juices around her thighs clean before ordering him to zip up.

Seeing his cock still rock-hard, she smirked as she leaned forward in his seat to draw his attention to her the deep-amber pendant resting between her creamy breasts.

“Now Maxwell, feel that arousal, all that hot arousal in your cock, and feel that energy moving, moving away from your cock, letting it soften with every work, as that intoxicating sexual energy moves from your cock, all the way to your brain, the brain owned by the May sisters.”

The phenomenon going on his body strangely but dutifully followed his sexual energies moving upwards.

“And the more that energy seeps into your brain, the more it gets trapped there. And the more it gets trapped there, the more it puts you deeper...and deeper...and deeper into our control. Feel that power...as you obey our commands.“

Though he might’ve deserved a reward for being such a good pussy-licker, she didn’t want attention drawn to a stain on his expensive pants, just in-case, so she propagated his denied orgasm with alternate pleasure, before straightening her hair and getting back to her sister, intoning the trigger again for effect.

“Good little sister, Sibling Harmony is what you want. To comply, to remember your place, deep under my power and obedient. You will cease exploring the depths of your true hypnotism powers, and finally get on with our plan. You will forget whatever is making you babble on and looking to please and impress your older, wiser, better-looking sister Marty. Do you understand?“

“Yes Marty, I will please you...” the once-soothsaying sister intoned without passion.

Maggie silently retrieved all the goods from the safe, disregarding the fact that she never opened it herself. Marty quietly woke each man to show them her pendant and cleavage, programming them to get caught by the police once they awoke, soon to be charged for the crimes they almost committed. Maxwell Spencer immediately after was given suggestions to ensure he would attest to the same later on, believing he’d caught them in the act.

Hidden in the shadows of the room behind some furniture, Royce remained silently waited for the sisters to finish and leave, before he could exit the Spencer estate the same way he came in, leaving with one prevailing question in his head.

“What the hell is ‘true’ hypnotism?“

Acting as their faithful chauffeur for the evening, Maxwell Spencer drove the May sisters deeper into the city limits in one of the several black SUVs on the property. The trip was silent as everyone in the car was in good spirits, looking forward for to Maggie and Marty enacting the second phase of their plan, to meet up with the client who hired them—Tanner Spencer, the wayward son and heir to the Spencer fortune, and all-around sleazeball, opportunist, and fitness nut. Both sisters lamented how he had his father’s handsome looks, offset by the lecherous vibe off of him and supplanting confidence for charm, all of which aided in his entrepreneurial skills of running the Fight or Flighty, a gentleman’s club and MMA arena on the same, connected property.

Rather than taking in the illuminated sights of the night lights and buildings, both sisters sat cross-legged in their seats, shoes off and meditating, building their own essences. It was a technique taught to them from their true hypnotism teachings learned from their time at Lady Elizabeth’s Hypnotism Academy. Orphaned at young ages, the pair fought tooth and nail to stay together, no matter when or how social services or the adoption system tried to separate them. Very head-strong and willful, they caught the eye of Lady Elizabeth herself, who brought them both into her school. While the average rate of tuition meant that only the daughters of the exceptionally-wealthy could typically attend, a charitable exception was made for the May sisters. Such charity was something some of their classmates never let them forget, but it also made them work hard enough to become among the most effective and independent graduates the school had ever produced. Though already accomplished and effective mercenary true hypnotists, Marty thought it prudent of both of them to continue raising their own abilities rather than being content their rather elite upbringing, especially for striking out on their own, and walking into an out-numbering den of lions.

Arriving at the club, the three exited the SUV and left it to the valet, as they entered the high-class establishment. Maxwell Spencer in glasses and a trench coat wasn’t recognized as he wasn’t the type to be a patron to such places, while the sisters garnered all the attention, with Maggie giving some of it back with sly looks, and Marty totally ignoring them, focused on the mission. More than a few eyes drew away from the exotic dancers and scantily-clad waitresses, focused on the May’s confident struts as they headed towards the office; even a few ladies on stage eyed them with interest. Deeper into the club, and in the pathway to the MMA part of Fight or Flighty, the trio reached Tanner’s most-concealed office, the corridor halfway point between both establishments. Tanner was surprised to see the three walk in, including his father who he’d never seen not focused, or incredibly passive-looking.

The interior of Tanner’s office was sparsely-decorated for entertaining, only a portion had comfortable, velvet furniture, while a bigger section was dedicated to Tanner’s own workout and martial arts studio, and his desk was surrounded by a sea of monitors, surveying his club and different computer displays. The muscular, six-foot-two man stood to greet his guests. Maggie whispered to Maxwell and pointed to the couch, and the older man sat and waited like an eager puppy, just waiting to hear his mistress’ voice again.

Tanner’s pale blue eyes could hardly fathom seeing his father so surrendered to anyone else, let alone a woman; out of their estranged relationship, their uncouth opinion of women was nearly identical, where Tanner literally thought of them as more employees, including the May sisters that approached the bigger man, unafraid.

Stepping up to his seated father and waving a hand in-front of his blank face over and over, the son couldn’t help but laugh at his father’s disposition. “If dad is like that now, I assume the goods are well in-hand,” Tanner said, eyes still darting between the women and his father.

“As agreed upon,” Marty stated calmly.

“And yet, it seems you’re shy a few agreed upon items,” his eyes strolled down to their empty, well-manicured hands.

“Well it seemed quite prudent of us to adjust measures considerably, just as you did when you sent those goons to intercept us at the mansion. Was it that you didn’t trust us, or was back-stabbing your original intent?

“Call it an insurance policy. You girls being able to do everything you claim, including making my hard-ass father into a simpering weakling, it makes a guy want to make sure he’s not their next target.”

Neither sister looked scared; Maggie looked rather flirtatiously at Tanner, trying to throw him off-balance, while Marty stood with hands on her hips, waiting for Tanner to make some kind of ill-advised move. “Had you simply stuck to your word on this transaction, you would not be targeted in the first place. But now that we know what your word is worth, you’ll soon find that our words are worth a great deal more. Priceless you might say, as you begin to lose track of unimportant things...” Marty lowered her tone to the same tenor dozens of slaves before him had heard.

“Oh please, don’t tell just me. Tell them as well,” Tanner interrupted with a grin, going back to his desk to point to one of the monitors. The camera at the entrance showed the group knocked out at the mansion, accompanied by police officers who looked to be working together, probably heading towards Tanner’s office. Calculating eyes looked at the smile the junior Spencer wore, followed by the gorilla-sized bouncers ready to physically deal with them.

“Skilled ladies like yourselves deserves a full audience, and that audience thoroughly showing our appreciation,” he crossed his arms in satisfaction as the hotter-headed Maggie immediately assumed a fighting stance.

“Wouldn’t even consider that, cutie,” Tanner laughed at Maggie. “All of your hypno-bullshit and faux-fighting won’t save you from all the muscle and guns coming your way. Best to do this peacefully, for your sakes.”

Marty turned her head to look at Tanner with a sneer. “You do realize that your goons won’t make it in time to save you from me,” the true hypnotist planted her feet gently, ready to pounce on the fighter seemingly not worried about anything. Maggie was the first to act, launching herself at the bigger man, sharply striking his thigh muscle with the heel of her shoe; the man knelt in pain lunging at him along with the other guard before she could perform a snap kick to the face. Marty dashed towards Tanner, who pulled a dart gun from behind to shoot Marty; he got a shot off and Marty easily evaded the dart, knocking the gun out of his hand. Knowing he was an infamous MMA fighter himself, Marty set her stance firm in place as he did his own. She smiled, knowing his style, and knowing his footwork was lacking compared to fighters of her caliber. She let her hands flicker out towards his face, fists undulating to finger snaps, the sound hitting him harder with confusion, while her kicks to the shins and kneecaps kept him rooted, unable to move from where he stood as her hands swiftly turned to fluttering fingers, drawing his attention. Knowing many reinforcements were coming, Marty thought it important to get the ringleader on her side as soon as possible, to talk his men down, or force him to join their side in the fight.

It was a sound plan that seemed to be working, except for the sounds of distress coming from her sister’s direction. Marty gasped as she saw the dart that missed her hand hit Maggie in the lower back; she was still faring decently against them, but she knew whatever was in the dart wasn’t done slowing the younger sibling down to a helpless state. Maggie was about to land a critical blow to one of goon’s faces, but it hit him with half-strength, and he regained ground, moving to kick a weakened Maggie almost too disorientated to block. Crouched on the floor defensively, unsuccessfully trying to shake the effects of the anesthetic off, she saw the men she’d attacked standing taller, looming over her. She didn’t need to look at them to sneer at their confident, probably lecherous smiles, especially from the sounds of more men coming to Tanner’s aid.

A short distance from the open door of the office, the sight of the earlier burglars and cops rushing forward made both sisters wince as Marty went to Maggie to help guard her sister from what was coming. No one expected the group to stop as a still black-clad figure caught up with them. One of the cops tried to turn with his gun, but yelped in pain as his hand was struck with his own nightstick. Royce grabbed the gun and immediately struck the wrists of the two other cops, evading the bewildered robbers and picking up the other guns. Successfully dashing through the group, Royce stood closest to the office, looking into it and seeing the May sisters watching his actions, followed by looking forward at the cops. He smiled at them especially as he dismantled the guns right in-front of them. Gun barrels, handles, and the small parts inside fell to the floor, shocking everyone that heard the sound.

“Anyone know how to put these guns back together?” He asked like a teacher expecting an answer. Everyone in and out of the office remained speechless.

“Nobody?” Royce asked as if disappointed. “I guess you’ll need this then,” tossing the nightstick back to the cop he’d stolen it from, the cop winced as he caught it with his dominant, albeit damaged hand; the sound of pain was Royce’s cue to deliver a kick to the same hand, followed by another to the face that made him stumble face-first to the closest wall. The two other cops already had their sticks out, and Royce had fun evading all of their swings, grasping the arm of them, using the momentum to put him in the path of another swung stick. A broken nose from the hard strike made the one cop fall unceremoniously, as Royce quickly finished off the last with quick, tactical strikes to the throat, solar plexus, and knee. He knelt in agony, perfectly level for Royce’s knee to break the last officer’s nose too.

Looking toward the robbers who couldn’t believe it, Royce wondered if the too-stunned-to-move burglars were even worth it. Royce had to shift defensively as someone dashed past him; in a blur of furious flurry, Marty had moved to finish off the rest of the group. Royce was impressed, staring wide-eyed at how each man, though already subdued, got a critical strike to the head and legs that looked like she was working out some severe anger. Once finished, she looked in his direction sternly.

“Would you be one of Tanner’s goons too?” Marty asked the question almost hopeful, loving the idea of taking on someone that could more than put up a good fight.

“Definitely not,” Royce said calmly. “And even if I was, not sure it’d be worth it right now; hard to think of anything more dangerous than a kung-fu master in heels, as these assholes just learned.“

She gave a small smile in his direction, and strolled past him towards the room, everyone else but Tanner on the ground and unconscious. Tanner shook off what Marty did to him, but her keen eyes could see he still wasn’t 100 percent, and much easier to finish off than even he realized.

He looked at all his assets downed, while his opponents only lost one. There seem to be more shock in his eyes at Royce’s face in the distance.

“You...you son of a bitch. You were in the tournament earlier, that Karate asshole.”

“Yeah...made it to 4th place. But I’m guessing most of those robbers were 1st-3rd place; they certainly didn’t fight like it back at the mansion.”

That raised Marty’s eyebrow in the exchange.

“I don’t suppose you’d put up a better fight,” Royce said, knowing he probably wouldn’t have held back in the tournament if Tanner would be his final opponent.

“You’d suppose right,” Tanner said threateningly. Royce didn’t move, knowing he didn’t have to as Marty launched a snap kick to his balls before Tanner’s fist could reach anybody. He yelled in obvious pain, all the adrenaline build-up trying to keep him upright, rising from the humiliation. Any effort to go for another assault was clamped down as his hair was gripped, and bringing his gaze to the fluttering fingers again.

“That’s right, Tanner. The fight is over, you knew it from the first moment you saw me,” she uttered, pressing on how he obviously lusted for both sisters, but especially Marty as she seemed like even more of a challenge and woman to be put in her place. But the more she talked, the more he found her place to be above him, dictating iron-clad terms.

“That’s why there’s no more fight in you now, that’s why you won’t fight anymore. It’s why you follow my fingertips as they dance before your eyes, because there is no fighting, as your muscles are too relaxed to do anything. You’re too heavy to move, to weak to resist. Misguided pain turns to guided pleasure as you follow my fingers, and listen to my voice. Relax, and let go...no other thoughts, no other choices.....just listen....just obey...“

Royce watched raptly, exposed to true hypnotism for the second time, though indirectly, watching the man he figured would have some steely will fell into the woman’s words and hand movements as if they were everything to him. His vague notion of what hypnosis was meant that the kind of control she was lording over him would take complete silence, a totally relaxed environment, and techniques like you might find in the Manchurian Candidate. The true hypnotist prevailed in-spite of all his disproven notions, making his mind race about it. Once she was finished, Tanner fell to the ground, beginning to kiss her heels. She turned her attention to Royce who merely stood still and watched, giving him a brief smile before she kicked Tanner in the face without looking, casually breaking his nose too.

“Wasn’t expecting any male help tonight, but your assistance is appreciated,” Marty stated in warmer tone.

“Likewise. Honestly wanted Spencer Jr. for myself, but seemed like you weren’t done with him yet.”

“Oh, I’m not nearly done with him yet. But I do wonder what you had in-mind with him.”

“Not much; figured he might be in my way of what my client wanted.”

“Your client?”

“Is your sister going to be okay?” Royce changed the subject, noticing Maggie stirring on the floor, thinking she was still in-danger.

Marty rushed to her side, as Royce walked, behind, making sure none of the other men were going to wake up anytime soon.

“Ughhh...w-what happened?” Maggie was helped to the couch of Tanner’s office.

“We got a little in over our heads.”

“Again,” the younger sister laughed. “And still came out on top.”

“Well, we had help this time,” Marty gestured in Royce’s direction. Maggie’s eyes slowly came over the dark figure standing nearby, vision clearing to show his face. It was familiar for some reason, and she tried hard to figure out why she knew that face. Closing her eyes to meditate, she touched on something making her forget, gradually forcing her will to let her memories flow unobstructed again. Inside, she found evidence of her sister’s control, a suggestion loosely established, something that would’ve worn off soon anyway, but the freed memory made Maggie look at Royce with heightened confusion.

“You....” Maggie regarded him in an uneven tone.

His knowledge of True Hypnotism, sparse as it was, was slowly becoming compartmentalized in his head. He learned that practitioners of it could deeply, very quickly affect those that didn’t know, definitely men and maybe women too. He learned that True Hypnotists could affect one another, but perhaps knowledge of it could protect one practitioner from the effects of another, and that for some reason, whatever the practiced failed against him.

“What about him?” Marty questioned.

“He’s the one that did those robbers in,” she stood up, getting her bearings back quickly. “He resisted me.” The last sentence got an eyebrow raise out of the older sister, who would’ve regarded the statement as a joke, except for putting things together how scared she seemed before she was triggered, especially at the prospect of someone possibly immune to what made them exceptional forces amongst normals.

“Is that right?” she asked the question, looking squarely at Royce.

“I...guess I can resist a swinging watch...?” As touchy a subject as his resistance seemed to a True Hypnotist, he tried not to let any sign of gloating enter into his tone.

“Well, tell me if you can resist this...” Marty took slow steps towards Royce, a casual strut to not force him into a fight or flight position, but with body language exuding curiosity.

Both Royce and Marty were purely curious about if the resistance would work a second time, as her hands drew attention to the pendant from which she brandished invisible hypnotic energies.

“Just watch the pendant, still, shimmering, fascinating. Because maybe a swinging watch is no match, for a sparkling pendant. Maybe you’re curiosity leads you, to this sparkling pendant. A place where you can stare, feel relaxed, feel rewarded for good deeds, feel the need to keep looking, and keep listening to me. It feels so good to listen. It will feel so good to continue to listen....“

Though starting gently, Marty’s power was out in full-force within seconds, drawing on her strongest and most commonly-used true hypnotism tool. She appreciated his focused and confusion on her pendant, and probably the cleavage behind it, believing she would succeed where her sister failed.

“Continue to listen, continue to stare, as I guide you towards relaxation, where your muscles can relax, and let go. My voice becomes a guide, transporting you t—“

Almost immediately, his head turned effortlessly in another direction, looking contemplative all of a sudden, as if her wording prompted a thought she didn’t expect him to be capable of producing. He checked his watch, and his look of concern grew.

“Sorry, as interesting as that was, I remember there’s still something I’ve got to finish.” Royce turned to begin to leave, yet stopped in his tracks, staring at the still-stunned May sisters, and then over to the unconscious Tanner.

“Can you get him to do anything? Like literally anything?”

“Uhh...pretty much anything. Why?”

Royce looked at Marty and smiled.

Deeper into the Fight or Flighty, a call was sent out to a few guards. It sounded like Tanner’s voice speaking to them, though oddly monotoned. Regardless, a few men guarding a few rooms went in and began shoving the scantily-dressed women in them away, shuffling them through the corridors away from public view of the strip club or the fighting cages, towards the boss’s office. They ranged from ages 17 to mid 20s, trafficked women smuggled into Tanner Spencer’s business to provide entertainment and whatever else could be forced upon them. The girls eventually arrived, entering the office to find a bunch of men standing against the wall stoically like dolls, and even stranger their owner and trafficker standing in-between twins. The guards never saw Royce’s precision strikes coming, as the women stood in the middle of the room, beyond puzzled.

“Welcome ladies,” Maggie spoke, smiling at their shocked, yet dwindling fear. “I’m here to inform you that your ‘employer’ is no longer a factor for you.”

Not all of the words seem to register with them, as they looked confused amongst one another, whispering amongst themselves what seemed like Russian.

Before Maggie could continue or recall Russian phrasings to better help explain things, Royce spoke up in fluent Russian, translating exactly what was said to them. One of the girls looked his way, and ran in his direction. She hugged him, and he gave a small hug back, producing what he’d stolen from Maxwell Spencer’s safe—all of their passports.

He looked up at both May sisters’ confusion.

“My client,” he clarified in English.

“Good job,” Marty told him in Russian.

“Maybe not good enough,” Maggie said in English, vaguely recognizing words from her past language studies, noting how having Tanner in the room left them in fear of even taking a step in the direction of the exit. “This asshole might’ve broken their spirits to a pretty bad point.”

“And your solution?” Marty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Being a bit devilish to their devil,” Maggie smiled evilly as she walked up to Tanner to smack him hard over his cheek, land a hard kick to his solar plexus, and an even harder one to his groin. He doubled over in obvious pain, still under control, but allowed to react as anyone in pain would. Maggie decided to take no chances and show him her pocket watch as he knelt on the ground, ready to further her revenge.

“That’s a good little bitch, already following my watch without even being told to. Because you can’t resist it...you can’t fight it....you don’t want to fight it...“

Maggie turned her naughty grin towards the Russian girls, stunned at their first-ever exposure to True Hypnotism. Off to the side, Royce saw their looks and totally sympathized internally.

“You just want to watch the watch...you just want to obey the May sisters...in a moment, when I snap my fingers, your mind will be consciously awakened, but your body will be totally under our command, unable to move unless ordered to. You will be conscious, and totally obedient and enslaved to the will of all women now. Do you understand?“

“Yes...Maggie...”

“Yes Mistress Maggie,” she corrected him with a hard slap to the face.

“Yes Mistress Maggie,” he obediently replied.

Maggie snapped her fingers loudly in his face, and watched his awareness slowly come back.

“Wha...what the....oh you little bitch! I’m go—”

“Silence,” she harshly told him, and his words caught in his throat, moving his lips, but unable to produce a sound. Anger turned into palpable fear in an instant over his face, knowing how trapped he was under Maggie’s control.

“Stand up, and pull your pants down.” He obeyed with little to know physical resistance, perspiring at the loss of control and bleak future.

“Feeling humiliated? Good, because being humiliated turns you on now. As your humiliation grows, so does your pathetic excuse for a penis. More and more....or actually, literally little by little,” she laughed at him, watching his dick spring to life against his wishes, exposed to all those he thought he had control over.

Once Tanner was as erect as he could ever remember being, Maggie kicked him in the kneecap hard, sending him back to the floor.

“Now think about my glorious pussy, the one thing you just have to have in life Tanner, hiding behind my shorts,” she rubbed her pants provocatively. “But the one thing you’ll never see or have, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting it...badly. That will not stop you from masturbating to it...right now!” she commanded, cackling at the kneeling, injured man, jerking off and staring squarely at Maggie’s covered crotch.

“Ooh, it’s so good, so hot, so wet, and you can’t have it...at all,” she pouted and teased as tears rolled down his face. “But do you know what would feel just as good? Kissing those Russian girls shoes. Slowly crawl to them with while still masturbating, crawl like the worm you are and kiss their shoes. Feel that be the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known.”

Raging against his helpless self, Tanner screamed at his manhood and brain as he awkwardly crawled towards the girls like a creature from a horror film, scaring them with the desperate look on his face. Sensing how traumatizing everything could be for them, Marty stopped him half way and snapped her fingers in his face. ”Sleep!” Tanner collapsed, and Maggie pouted at the show being stopped, though smiling inwardly at how she might inspire some of the women she scared to seek this kind of power out themselves eventually.

It wasn’t long before a tip given to the state police and FBI, well above the Spencer’s normal bribing range, arrived at the Fight and Flighty, finding all of Tanner’s men having gotten into some kind of collective brawl, beating themselves bloody and willing to squeal about all their illegal doings, even things that would lead back to Maxwell Spencer, and a safe full of incriminating evidence to hurt both generations of the prominent family. Unbeknownst to the authorities though, a sizable amount of the family fortune was sent away to a private bank account, soon to be used for the benefit of all the trafficked and rescued girls.

Avoiding the commotion altogether, Royce, Marty, and Maggie escaped with all the rescued women in a van to a private loft kept for the May sisters for any jobs in Oklahoma City. While the women were all squared away in several rooms after being fed, allowed to bathe, change clothes, and sleep, Royce had learned that Tanner hired the May sisters to get at the treasurer trove known as his father’s safe, and was prepared to double-cross them as soon as their contract was complete, unaware of their plans to uncover the rumors of women being trafficked there after securing their own spoils. And they learned that Royce was a bit of an enigmatic, nomadic figure, only been in-town to genuinely participate in the tournament, deciding to treat it as a fun excursion instead of a serious undertaking, unwilling to show to a infamous man like Tanner Spencer how skilled he really was.

Tanner treated all of his fighters to the trafficked girls, and though he declined the one pressed upon him tried to play her part. Correctly guessing she was Russian based on his travels and experiences, they talked rather than played. When he asked about her conditions in this place, she spoke in her native tongue what was really going on. Hearing all the unjust plight they’d been through, knowing escaping all of it required passports kept in a place even owner had trouble consistently accessing, Royce considered himself hired for a small mercenary mission, which lead him to the mansion, and his first run-in with the May sisters.

“Happy to hear our goals ended up being so aligned, Royce.” Maggie admitted.

“Same here. One kung-fu master in heels is scary enough to contend with, let alone two,” Royce admitted with a smile.

“Maybe one and a half,” Marty joked, moving her head to avoid her sister’s swatting hand.

“But what were you using? Traditional Karate?” Maggie asked after missing.

“Pretty much.”

“All the styles in the world, and you pick the most basic one.”

Royce sighed at how the one constant across the globe, even with other karate masters, is how basic karate is regarded as a fighting style.

“Basic doesn’t equal ineffective.”

“As you’ve so effectively proven,” Marty complimented, receiving a gentle bow for it.

“Where did you all learn...” Royce wondered the best way to phrase the question he couldn’t help but ask. “All of your abilities?“

The trio knew what he was really asking, prompting glances between Maggie and Marty.

“I hope you don’t mind answering our questions first, mainly what do you know of True Hypnotism, and how are you able to resist it like you can?”

Without preamble, he automatically answered, “Nothing other than what I’ve seen with you two tonight, and I honestly don’t know.” The answer didn’t satisfy the two, and yet they could tell he was telling the truth.

“Before tonight, never knew there’d be a fake hypnosis. I’ve seen trance states achieved a few ways, even with the tropey stuff like watches and pendants you two use, but nothing at achieved the total control you took. And if someone asked me, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed the ‘fake’ would be what I knew as opposed to your....I guess a super-charged version of the widely-known thing.“

The sisters looked at one another, laughing to themselves a bit in how he described it, before Marty gave her explanation.

“Neither are really fake in a sense; trance, as you probably know, comes in many forms, and many depths. What makes True Hypnotism ‘truer’ is purely the depth the practice goes, for the hypnotist and especially the subject. If you understand the concept of ki or personal energy from martial arts, it’s very akin to that, but just using those energies to impose suggestibility upon others. Most normals would probably call what we do witchcraft, even if that really isn’t it.”

Through the appreciation of helpful comparative elements, Marty’s wording piqued Royce’s attention even more as he tried envisioning her depiction.

“Assuming I’m a ‘normal’ as you put it, it sure looked bewitching to me what you two did, as if no one could resist you,” he laughed at the wording they unintentionally had for him, successfully hiding the intrigued feelings behind his amused expression.

“Is everyone without your power considered a ‘normal’ in your circles?”

“Or peasants, or ungifted, depending on the hypnotist” Maggie explained, triggering some reminiscing for the sisters of their old academy days, when the nicest words lobbied at them were “upstart.”

“And since you did resist us,” Maggie continued almost sorely, “I’m not sure you’re a normal by our standards now. You’re...something else.” Despite straddling the line between dead-pan serious and playful jab, the smile on her face told Royce where her comment really fell.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re not welcome for your insolent resistance,” she chided him.

“Maybe I’m just hard-headed. Or instead of normal, I guess to be weird like you.”

In mock aghast, she swung a slapping hand at his head again. He didn’t avoid it, instead steeled his head to take the slap while barely moving at all, never letting the almost smug smile slip from his face. He tried not to laugh, and instead turned to Marty.

“Is this what I’ve been missing from being an only child?”

“Hey, she’s for sale if you want her,” Marty joked.

Maggie glared at Marty before turning back to the man next to her. “Or we could forcefully adopt you, make you the brother I’d mercilessly torment.”

“Oh please sister-Marty, save me from our evil baby-sister Maggie,” Royce pleaded in his own fearful-mocking tone. More laughter and evil glaring ensued.

“Easy with those evil stares, sister-Maggie; save the powerful stuff for better candidates. You could always make Terrible Tanner a tormented older brother, constantly on his knees and writhing in fear of you all day.”

The evil glare for Royce turned into a evil smile, staring off into space and fully engrossed in the idea, wondering if it wasn’t worth making it into a reality in the future. “When you’re gifted, you’re gifted,” Maggie stated with pride.

“And when you’re modest...well, you’d have to be modest,” Royce retorted, smiling at Marty’s giggle while also avoiding a playful swat from Maggie.

“Modesty is overrated, it doesn’t win battles or contests regularly or anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” Royce commented to the younger martial artist, noting a particular look in her eye. Gracefully rising from her seat, she stepped out into the nearest open space, swiftly taking a practiced kung-fu stance.

“I’m ready to be surprised, but I sincerely hope that you’re ready to be,” a predatory smile shaped taunting words, calling the older fighter to a direct challenge.

Turning to see Marty simply shrug her shoulders, Royce got up, deciding to momentarily humor his play-sister.

She threw a few mild strikes to this head, all of which he either blocked or slipped out of the way rather easily. Somewhere in the light flurry, she’d switched to kicks; the sharp-looking heels put him on a more stringent defense, not letting himself get cut by any of her quick kicks to the face or chest. A feint high kick tricked him enough to let a lower one catch him in his shin, making him wince in pain momentarily as she took the opportunity to swiftly move behind him, lightly gripping his neck while letting her golden time piece fall in front of his eyes, gingerly swinging it back and forth.

“That’s very good, your eyes have easily found what they’re supposed to, easily, automatically fixed on the watch going back and forth...back and forth...back and forth. So easy to follow, so easy to listen. It doesn’t matter what you think about it, just follow it like you do my voice. True hypnotism is real. Imagine how many eyes followed my watch to pleasant, painless peace, just like yours is doing now...“

Maggie’s induction was swift and soft against his ear, while a silent signal she’d sent to Marty moved her sister forward, confidently striding towards him at a slow pace, letting the color of her suit frame the gold watch, both sisters using their combined energies to see if they could finally get past Royce’s perplexing mental defenses.

“Just like you’re doing now, because it can be hard to choose. To be chosen to choose what to watch, or to have a penchant for a pendant...” Where Maggie’s intonation was eager and laced with cheerful seduction, Marty’s was smoother, octaves lower reaching for a throaty seduction. Their dual induction was like a fusion of pop and smooth jazz that inconceivably worked well together, leaving Royce lost in wonderment yet again as the sisters continued working in-tandem.

“Back and forth...back and forth...the soft arc to follow...“

“Choosing being chosen, chosen to choose...no matter how hard it is to follow...“

The May sisters let their patented Twinduction flow as natural as if they were acting as one; despite the balking and arguing they always managed to engage in as sisters, neither ever shied away from playing to their strengths, especially when it came to working together to take down any target of their choosing, turning him into a shared slave to the will of the May siblings.

“Back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...” Maggie kept intoning, keeping hold of his body to while gently rocking him in the spoken direction.

“But the beauty of being chosen is you don’t have to choose...when all you have to do is...sleep!” In a single coordinated effort, Maggie let go of him as Marty took Royce in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder, whispering softly to deep his trance. The sisters smiled at one another, until the sound of Royce clearing his dry throat made them both pause.

“Are you really under?” Marty whispered, hoping to hear a softly droned “yes.”

“Don’t think so,” Royce whispered back clearly not in the state they were hoping for. He lifted his head up, looking contemplative instead of perturbed.

“Interesting double-team, I like that tactic.”

Marty sighed, backing away from the standing, resistant subject.

“I like it when it works, personally. Did you feel anything from that?“

Royce thought to himself what was going on in his head while sandwiched between the pair, and gave an honest answer. “It was like, listening to a compelling speech, or in this case, a duet. I was interested in where all of it was going, and it was easy to imagine how someone could fall to it. But for me... I just don’t know why it didn’t. Maybe I felt the...true hypnotism energies from you two, but the desired effect isn’t there.” Though most of his answer was forthright, some perspective was held back.

Blessed with a vivid and creative imagination, Royce often created scenarios in his head that allowed different possibilities to play out for strategizing, anticipating, and even trying out unorthodox tactics that got him out of tricky situations. In this case, he tried imagining a symbolic example of what was supposed to transpire in trance versus what did. He imagined being under their spells would be like drowning down a river made up of their energies, and yet his perspective was actually from a bridge, looking down at their energies passing him by. The river itself looked clear, and actually attractive, worth diving into, even if the currents were under their control and not his. But each time they tried, assuming their energies could be felt by him, their influence or a possible inclination towards it was simply above him, out of reach. Their reactions to him that whatever gave him a bridge while everyone else sank was pretty unique, wondering why it was there for him.

Royce spoke almost solemnly, sorry to disappoint the valiant effort, as both women looked confused and crestfallen, before a different thought popped in his head.

“If it worked, what were you going to do with me?”

The question shook them from their own thoughts, and Maggie didn’t miss a beat.

“What should be happening, which is you cowering in fear over the power of your superior sister Maggie!”

The hands-on-her-hips claim brought smiles back to everyone’s faces.

“Well, if you can’t beat them mentally...” Royce took his stance between them, insisting on a two-on-one battle.

Marty smiled as Maggie lashed out with another, making Royce duck so Marty to get on top of him to strike at his head. Feeling the additional weight, Royce immediately took Marty with him onto the ground to escape her attack, leaving her unceremoniously on the ground for a moment.

Recovering quickly, Marty fumed a little. “Are you going to play defense all night?”

Royce smiled his own devious smile. “I was trying to not play devious older brother who loves tormenting even more. But when you put it like that...” Royce performed what looked like a stumble towards Maggie, but used the momentum to swing her around, letting her go in the direction of Marty. The pair bumped into each other before Royce attacked withe feint kicks at their heads and torsos; each was quick and confusing the women could only block on instinct rather than predict who was being attacked at any given time. A few of his kicks could’ve easily connected with their faces, but he made sure his feet stayed mere inches from connecting. Just before Maggie could catch his foot, he retracted and swung around to the ground to sweep her off her feet. He caught her in his arms, risking hits to his back from Marty as he let Maggie fall softly to the floor.

As Marty and Royce exchanged front punches and blocks, Maggie returned the favor, quickly sweeping Royce by his feet. Fast reflexes got him to land so his feet swept Marty to the ground. He nearly got up, but stayed down sensing a flying kick from Maggie’s direction, who sailed over them. Flipping over Marty, Royce launched his fist where Maggie’s face was going to be, who turned to put her elbow close to his face. The hand at the back of his head was pivoted between Marty’s heel and platform, holding it back from striking him in the head. All of them held that stance for several seconds, until Royce dove out of the way of more attacks. Everyone was in different stances ready for the next attack, until Royce broke his to bow in respect to his opponents.

“Thanks for not going easy on your big brother.”

Marty followed by a pouty Maggie responded in-kind. “Thanks for not being a push-over, big brother,” Marty responded.

“So...,” Royce rubbed his still-hurting shin, giving Maggie the finger as she stuck her tongue out at him. “Since we’re all mercenaries in the same city, I should probably move on, just to make sure a future client’s wishes don’t overlap with your next one,” Royce told them, making sure to state his next move clearly as to not invite further conflict, faux or otherwise. As it was nice teaming up for a change, and how refreshing it was to find more mercs seemingly warm-blooded rather than cold, uncaring ones, he was a bit apprehensive about learning more of their unusual abilities first-hand, or learning what else they would my try with him that might work. Fascinated as they were with him, and as much as they didn’t hate the brother/sister angle, he could sense the undercurrent of wanting to experiment further with him, and didn’t feel like being any kind of short or long-term guinea pig. Fortune bid him enough that he felt the rescued Russian women would all be in good hands, with whatever network and help the sisters could give them.

“Should we ever meet again, if we are ever on opposing ends, we’ll try and go easy on you,” Maggie lied openly.

“And since we might owe you a bit for your assistance earlier,” she looked at her sister, knowing she’d argue that point. They were effective in the true hypnotist and mercenary world, but still had a lot to learn, and less overconfident steps to take, including asking for help. “If you ever need some help, don’t be afraid to look us up. And hopefully you won’t mind us asking for another favor if need be.”

The older “siblings” both found pieces of paper to write down contact numbers for either, just in-case.

“Certainly,” Royce got up, accepting the common terms of extending olive branches in their rarified professions.

“If you’re leaving town right away, you might consider Boise as a next destination,” Maggie told the rising man.

“What’s in Boise?”

“Lately, plenty of mercenary work, and another tournament coming up soon, in a few weeks I think. Better than the MMA trash we beat; some highly-skilled guys most likely.”

“If you’re as good as you seem to be, you might place better than fourth this time,” Marty wheedled at him. Normally, Royce would’ve taken that as an invitation to spar, but he was certainly afraid to lose to the likes of them, fearing what they’d do to him after losing consciousness more than if he lost it.

“Heh, I’ll think about it,” Royce told them with a tepid smile, walking away to the loft’s elevator.

“Oh hey, you ought to think of a sweet code-name for yourself for when you get to Boise.”

Royce turned to look at the too-excited Maggie, in-fear for the first time that evening.

“No thanks, Maggie.”

“What about Resist-boy?”

“No.”

“Withstander?”

“No.”

“...Insomniac?”

“Really, no thank you.“

“C’mon, with your ability, your name is going to get around, might as well be from someone who cares,” Maggie pointed out, and Marty was smiling too much to help her sister reconsider.

“Marty, can you please reign her in from this?” Royce almost pleaded.

“Sure thing...Impervious.“

An even stare went to Marty who just smiled back, before Royce got on the elevator to act like nothing else was said past their good-byes.

“Hmmm, Impervious isn’t bad. But I’ve got the best one,” Maggie grinned.

“Which is...?”

“Mr. Impervious.“

Marty slowly grinned evilly herself. “Ooh, he’ll hate that if that sticks.”

“What are evil sisters for?” Maggie said as she watched Royce leave the loft, off to some other adventure.

“See you later, Mr. Impervious.”