The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Pulling up to the Spiral hotel while revving his engine, and exiting his sports car quickly, Nelson Peters didn’t even bother looking at the valet attendant that took his key as he impatiently waited for his ticket so he could enter the exclusive hotel. Shooting the attendant a sharp glare, his expressive “one scratch and you’re dead” was read loud and clear as he practically stormed into the hotel. At five-foot-eleven with a strong, lean build Nelson was a former MMA fighter whose career was cut short due to scandal, but found success in promotion and representing other fighters, his biggest prospect being Bruiser Kline out of Oklahoma City.

Everyone was down on Bruiser after his stunning loss in the last tournament, but Nelson kept propping him up, building his ego for the next big chance to show how successful he could be. Needless to say, when Nelson received an ominous call saying he’d found new management, the former rep went ballistic, doing everything he could to win back Bruiser, and perhaps beat the hell out of whoever was stupid enough to poach him.

Around the time Bruiser announced his move, Nelson received a call from the poacher, surprisingly a woman named Dawn Atwood answered. Apparently she was a lawyer armed with a very sexy voice; Nelson assuming she was the new rep’s pretty assistant called in order to disarm him did not go unnoticed by Dawn, who was happy to invite him to a “neutral” location to discuss the transition details. The tall man bypassed everyone as he headed up to one of the executive suites where Dawn and Bruiser were supposed to be. All the looks Bruiser received as he made his way up seemed partly out of fear, but he swore some were smiling at his ascent into the Spiral.

Banging on the door, announcing his arrival in the loudest of ways, it wasn’t long before the door opened, and the woman with the sexy voice opened it, smiling and very happy to see Nelson.

“Mr. Peters, welcome! Please, come in.”

Dawn hospitable tone confused the man as much as her appearance turned him on. Stepping into the suite, Nelson took in Dawn’s form to the exclusion of anything else. She wore a long, black dress with white, stylish squares lining the lining of her exposed cleavage and thin waistline. Her skin was lightly tanned and femininely-lithe, visible from her cleavage, her long arms, exposed shoulder, and her sexy leg through the slit in her dress. Her black high heels showed off the arch of her foot well enough that a man never interested with feet before found himself staring at it. All of the anger and bravado Nelson was ready to unleash stalled at the sight of Dawn’s warm, attractive greeting. Behind her facade was a sharp, cutting mind and intention used to serve the Spiral, as well as her own occasionally-sadistic appetites.

Instead of ushering him further inside, she stood where she was, not bothering to hide her assets, happy to let him stay distracted. “I must thank you for coming to see me so promptly; I always appreciate that in a business associate. But I do apologize for the lack of appearance in the client at-hand, muscle-bound men are so hard to keep track of these days...” Dawn’s words trailed off into laughter, as her trigger set off Bruiser who stood behind the door, quickly moving forward to grasp Nelson from behind. Taller, with more muscle mass, and suggestively ignoring any pain his former manager could inflict, Bruiser made sure Nelson wasn’t going anywhere. Large biceps gripped smaller arms into submission, and Bruiser’s other hand covered a mouthful of Nelson’s protests and cursings as his new manager and Mistress approached Nelson with her still-warm smile.

“And I must apologize for such an ironic trigger to kick things off. Muscle-bound must sound so contrite...” Dawn grinned, knowing the additional use of the trigger only made Bruiser’s grip of Nelson even stronger, while Dawn began making an even stronger impression by waving her index finger back and forth for Nelson to follow, letting her voice drop to a seductive octave.

“Because to those whose muscles are bound the most, they would be wondering how they became bound in the first place. Which muscles feel the most bounded? The arms? Legs? Shoulders? Hips? Feet? Heavy eyelid muscles under sleepy eyes?“

Red lips forming a warm smile turned evil and hot as she noted how weak his protests grew with his breathing slowing in-time with the metronomic pattern her finger drew, and the purposeful words shaping an induction funneling dwindling thoughts into what Dawn wanted.

“All of it must feel like similar to what Bruiser was to you, a muscle bound extension of yourself, using his strength to further your own, meaning his strength was not his own, his muscles bound to you as they are to me, as my will guides his muscles to hold, to manipulate, to bind. Muscles bound to a voice and will, drawn to their order and instruction, must feel so right, so desirable, as a bound muscle becomes malleable and agreeable with the voice caressing it, as muscles are bound and conform to a will stronger than any, too strong to resist, bound to me as I speak about the muscles that are bound to me, even the ones of a weakening mind that find the only strength they have to allow them to think comes from the voice that gives you the only thoughts you can think...“

Nelson couldn’t understand why his self awareness helplessly traveled over his body, driven by Dawn’s words. And as he ended up in his own mind, it became harder and harder to think a thought that wasn’t from Dawn’s words, until he couldn’t tell the difference between Dawn’s words and his own thoughts.

“Why does a bound muscle start to feel soft? How long ago did the muscles of your brain conform to the binding of soft words and superior wills that wills your muscles bound, until you become muscle bound, because you want...you need to be muscle bound...“

Bruiser barely needed strength to hold up the rapid-deflating man falling quickly under the lawyer-true hypnotists spell, so beset with true hypnotism energies that he’d started to drool on Bruiser’s hand. She continued to wag her hypnotic finger at him, symbolically informing him how much of a bad idea it was to make empty, annoying threats to an already perturbed woman of her abilities. Legally and hypnotically, he stood no chance against her, only allowed approach her due to the dual defeat she’d suffered the day before.

“And to be muscle bound...all you need to do...is sleep!“

The wagging finger snapped in-front of his face, and Bruiser felt the need to want to sleep for Mistress Dawn, but maintained his stature as confinement and obedient.

“What good boys you are, so owned and controlled by your obvious superior. Now slave-Nelson and slave-Bruiser, here’s what you will do for me...”

It was sometime later when Dawn stepped out of the suite in a confident stride, with two naked MMA slaves crawling behind her to keep up like eager, wounded dogs. For her amusement, both men had wrestled and fought each other for her amusement. The winner would be allowed to masturbate in honor of Mistress Dawn’s glory, while the other would have his ego personally demolished as she crouched her whole weight on top of him; knowing Bruiser was the better fighter between the two, she eventually watched her bigger boy edge hard for her while she stood of Nelson’s chest, heels digging into rock-hard abs, using her finger, words and weight to take his self-worth and breath away.

Strewn with black eyes, broken noses, and other injuries, the pair trailed behind Dawn, barely making it to the elevator to reach the top floor, where an important meeting was scheduled.

Camilla and Dazzle were talking amongst each other, waiting for the other members of the meeting to show, when Dawn opened the door to the room, a satiated smile shaping her demeanor as her wrestling slaves crawled behind her. The other Spiral members’ eyes were for once drawn to the slaves rather than the mistress they dutifully followed. Evidence of their fighting and keeping up with Dawn on hands and knees made the two smile brightly.

“I recognize one of your horses. But the other...” Camilla began and then questioned.

“My horse’s former manager, who thought it okay to waste the time of a busy woman, and speak harshly to an already-upset true hypnotist. Vexed as I am, breaking him in should be a nice consolation prize; his training is already going swimmingly, isn’t it slave,” Dawn asked, raising her leg to place her sandal and heel on top of Nelson’s head, bearing the added pain to keep his new owner elevated.

“Yes, Mistress Dawn,” he said in distressed ecstasy.

“Good boy,” she told him, kicking his head away roughly as she took a seat, and her slaves prostrated themselves near her chair like well-trained pups. She thought about using them both as dual ottoman foot rests, but checking the time, she set that time aside.

“No time for service, stand next to the wall behind me and await for further instruction from any woman present in this room. Now!” She commanded harshly. All of the women laughed at the distressing sounds they made, convinced most of it was being denied the opportunity to serve further.

“Yeah, that would cheer me up too,” Dazzle replied, admiring Dawn’s work. “So glad to know your beautiful, over-worked ass still knows how to have fun every now and again.”

“Head counsel for the Spiral as is keeps a woman busy, keeping this institution’s reputation clean legally,” Dawn replied evenly, not trying to mention all the work she has to clean up, even from the rare mistakes effective ladies like Camilla and Dazzle make on occasion.

“At least head counsel still knows how to get head,” Camilla commented, eliciting one more good laugh, unknowing of it eliciting one from a considerable distance. Across the street from the Spiral hotel, from a vantage point slightly higher than the windows of the women’s meeting room on the roof of the Boise Centre building, Royce watched the early attendants of the meeting through a magnified scope with a smirk. His position allowed him to see some of what Dawn had done to the two fighters prior, all the way to their walk to the meeting. Though they were out of sight, on their hands and knees and below the window line, the Karate master laughed to himself at how the men struggled internally beyond their control, their documented arrogance getting them in more trouble than they could’ve ever conceived. Noting Camilla and Dazzle in the meeting room and their discussion through long-range audio equipment, he knew the head of the meeting had yet to show. As the door opened and the Spiral employees all stood to welcome the next group entering, Royce paid close attention to what had to be a high-ranking leader in their organization.

The first to enter was a woman with flawless-looking olive skin and long dark hair flowing down past her shoulders. She had a few decadent pieces of jewelry on, including a diamond pendant hanging atop the cleavage window from her long, fitting forest one shoulder gown. Her face was supermodel gorgeous, with meticulous make-up including dark green eye shadow to match her dress, and naked-color lipstick that made her smiling lips shiny. Even before anyone verbally greeted her, Royce could tell she had to be one of the high mistresses spoken about with so much gravitas.

“Good afternoon High Mistress Liliana,” Camilla spoke, she and everyone else giving a small bow of respect to the true hypnotist exuding a presence Royce could feel from well outside the building. He wondered on his own what the difference was supposed to be between a regular mistress and a High Mistress, if it was anything analogous to a corporal versus a general, or perhaps based solely on the amount of true hypnotist power; the way he’d seen their world work so far, he leaned towards the latter. Noticing how Liliana moved, sat down and gestured in any way with grace told him she was cultured, trained, and confident in every thing she did and mastered. And something about her muscle tone, particularly in the exposed leg up the slit of her dress made, plus how she took each step regardless of footwear led him to to believe she was also some kind of proficient fighter.

“...Capoeira?” Royce guessed to himself, believing her features telling of South America matched with mastering a Brazilian dance-style of fighting. Royce’s smile grew as it was personally nice to see someone use a lesser-known art like Capoeira to fight with.

It took him that long to take his eyes from the elite true hypnotist to bring his attention to the bodyguard in the suit that stood nearby, only to freeze in recognition of a past acquaintance.

“Jack?!?”

Liliana’s Thrall Jack, formerly known to Royce as Army Ranger Jack Weeks, stood by Liliana’s side having barely aged in more than the decade since they last crossed paths. Their history in the service was a sordid one; Jack being a Ranger and Royce being black-ops, the two occasionally met in the field, one made to assist the other in cooperation, despite the secretive nature of their organizations, especially Royce’s. Jack’s experience taught him never to trust black-ops or any agents working so clandestine; he didn’t trust Royce, but even he had to admit that Royce was nakedly more about the the mission and the skill required for the action over the orders and motives of his superiors. Watching Royce do his duty, forgoing weapons and quick kills for martial arts expertise, and knowing men only made it to black-ops if they were either loyal to any orders given, or just that proficient, Jack was constantly impressed at how Royce was the latter.

Unfortunately, a mission in Libya put them very much at odds, and a decision was made by Royce’s superiors that Jack needed to be dealt with by any means necessary. Jack caught wind of it, but not Royce’s refusal to act on it, and it turned into a vicious fight with Jack firing the opening shots from a sniper rifle; tactics plus anger kept both men from discussing things, and things carried on from Royce closing the distance and avoiding gunfire to a close-quarters battle that showed the proficiency of both men. It ended with an explosion both managed to walk away from, and the pair hadn’t seen each other since. Knowing each man made it out alive, Royce and Jack kept tabs on one another, especially once both had become mercenaries, knowing there’d be even less holding them back if they met again. Once Jack had dropped off the radar completely, Royce assumed he was KIA or abruptly quit, which didn’t sound at all like him.

Seeing him alive and well, and obviously under a high mistress’s spell, his disappearance after all this time made sense, even if Royce’s emotions made less sense the longer he stared at his former rival.

“Welcome High Mistress Liliana,” the trio said in unison, receiving a considerate nod from them as she took the fanciest seat at the table intended for either her or any woman of her stature.

“Thank you ladies,” she greeted them cordially. “This will have to be a short meeting as the slate is quite full today. What is the status from our contacts in New York?”

“Things are going as expected so far,” Camilla informed Liliana. “There have been a few opening salvos delivered, nothing truly substantial. Victoria is said to have delivered a minor blow to a former ally of her who’s sided with Creel, with Goddess Donna’s help.”

“Praise ‘Goddess’ for that,” Liliana joked, thinking to herself how cathartic it was to take down an almost celebrity-upstart down several pegs, and put her to good use for the good of Boise and Liliana personally.

“Indeed,” Camilla laughed. “So far, the few skirmishes don’t really constitute a war, but there are bigger battles to come.”

Royce’s ears perked up at the sound of a True Hypnotism war occurring in New York, at the very least making a mental note to avoid that part of the country once he left Boise for a good while.

“And speaking of, we will have more assets ready to send soon?”

“We’ve reached out to those willing to fight for us,” Dazzle reported, looking at what probably was an itinerary or list of true hypnotists besides whomever was already stationed, Royce figured.

“The prime candidates are being appraised now of the situation eastward, and seem more than ready to join our efforts, whether by their own volition or not. But most would be motivated enough to see a male hypnotist unidentifiable as either ‘male’ or ‘hypnotist.’”

Liliana nodded at that, very satisfied to hear that free will was a very limited factor in gaining cooperation for such an important effort in the national struggle for power. Thinking that Liliana might be at the head of Boise side, whoever Creel was at the head of the other, and that by-in-large, True Hypnotism was an endeavor almost exclusive to women, and few appreciated any man encroaching upon that.

“All of that sounds very promising, hopefully there will be more good news to hear from from New York,” Liliana smiled. “And speaking of anger-inducing men, it seems evident that your ‘horse’ did less than satisfactory, Dawn” the Brazilian hypnotist gestured towards the fit slaves against the wall, wearing blank faces and several bruises.

“Yes,” Dawn replied trying to hide her obvious scorn, leaving it for the glance she gave her MMA slaves. “Apparently his evaluation was grossly-overstated, but I’ll find some way for him to make up the difference; he’s already brought me another male desperately needing that female correction.”

“More gladiator matches in their future?” Dazzle asked, admiring their physique compared to most slaves she dealt with.

“Maybe I can make money selling tickets, after the tournament of course.”

“Tournament?” Royce asked aloud.

“How many other women have placed bets,” Liliana asked out of curiosity.

“Just a few more I believe; most aren’t paying attention to that. Though I imagine the ones that are...spicing things up, shall we say,” Camilla added, giving Dawn a knowing glance towards the lawyer’s beaming “guilty as charged” smile.

“Who even beat your horse?” Liliana asked.

“Some rogue element, a spectator with some obvious skill,” Dawn commented.

“Anything to do with this new, rumored male going around?” Liliana questioned Camilla and Dazzle, the latter of which momentarily hesitated, wondering if they were the same man.

“We’re not sure,” Dazzle lied, making Royce pay close attention to Dazzle and Liliana’s expressions. “There is a possibility.”

“This one seems to have a name too, something idiotic. What is it?”

“I think it’s...Mr. Impervious?”

Gasping and scoffing almost in the same instance, the spying Karate master, momentarily flared with anger.

“Mr. Impervious? What kind of a name is that?” Liliana asked, on the verge of laughing.

“A name that might get some twins in trouble...” Royce told himself, remembering Marty May suggestively dubbing him Impervious before he left their company in Oklahoma City. His eyes narrowed at the thought of Maggie most likely being the one to add the Mr. part, like an annoying little sister paining a bullseye on her brother’s back. If he ever ran into them again, he’d have to think of some way of paying them back.

“Rumor has it that the man is rather on the resistant side, even to true hypnotism,” Camilla commented, avoiding a glance from Dazzle showing displeasure in breaking a secret.

“Is that so?” Liliana said, her face notably on the verge of frowning, which made most of the room nervous.

“So it’s been said,” Camilla’s diplomatic tone tried keeping Liliana’s anger at bay. “I don’t know how much stock to put into though.”

“Well, joke or no, it’s not a good idea to let such a man run around town flaunting insolence,” Liliana spoke evenly. “I must leave now, but let’s reconvene at 1:30 sharp in the dungeon on this floor to discuss this so-called impervious man; better to get our creative juices flowing with doling out some tortuous treatment house slaves will be begging for. And Jack, see what you can find out about this impervious in the mean time.”

Jack nodded to his owner as the meeting adjourned itself with Liliana rising to exit. Jack trailing behind dutifully, leaving the remaining figures to talk amongst themselves.

Learning that he was as known that even elite True Hypnotists knew about him made him question if his stay in Boise needed to be cut drastically-short. He thought he’d have days to gather intel, but there were too many potentially-compromising encounters he’d had already. And what kept him safe also made things more high risk as long as he stuck around. Through his scope, he tried studying everyone’s face a body-language; between the subordinates speaking half-truths, and their boss thinking dismissively about his unpleasantly-gifted handle, there might be some leeway in what he could get away with for possibly one more day. Dazzle, Camilla, and Dawn might go after him on their own, and thus far, he seemed confident that he could defend or evade them without much issue.

Shifting his gaze over to the stoic Jack, Royce wondered if Liliana would consider sending Jack in to take care of him if Mr. Impervious became more of a perceived threat. Royce both welcomed the idea, and wondered if in the entirely of his being missing from the mercenary world, Jack could’ve been brainwashed enough that he wouldn’t even remember who Royce was, robbing their reunion of significant fire.

It was at that point that his wrist watch beeped, letting him know his surveillance time was up. He lingered on for a few more moments, noting the meeting across the street was coming to an end, before he packed up his equipment and made his way down the service stairwell of the Boise Centre to where the tournament was supposed to continue. Timing plus the vantage point allowed him to keep Royce’s engagements back-to-back with little time wasted.

On his way down the stairs to the common area, ringing sounded off, making him stop on the stairs. It didn’t sound like his smartphone, and cautiously checking his bag, he found a burner phone hidden among the contents. Quickly checking his surroundings for surprise attack or for the sound alerting someone, he moved back to the roof, in case moving downstairs was towards a trap laying in wait for him. Standing near the roof access door, checking the phone out, he took the call and backed away from the phone in-case of explosion. Waiting a minute, nothing occurred except for a man’s voice speaking, patiently waiting for a response.

After a few minutes of waiting, he moved to press the speakerphone option, and kept back, hearing the man clearly.

“Are you there?” The voice said calmly.

“Who are you?” Royce asked.

“You met with an associate of mine yesterday. A Dr. Rupert.”

“You’re AHA?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you would be?”

“Dr. Philip Hong.”

“A doctor in what?”

“Neurology, among other disciplines.”

The AHA scientist allowed Royce a few more moments of silence to take in the contents of the unexpected call so far, knowing the mercenary was already analyzing his current situation, weighing whether it was time to hang up the phone and re-assess the situation, or continue to get more information out of the doctor willing to give it; he prepared for both, but was pleased to hear his voice rather than the dial tone moments later.

“I’m guessing your associate slipped this phone into my bag upon my exit.”

“She did at some point. Granted, there are easier ways of tracking persons of interest to the AHA; you received a phone as we are more interested in communication rather than tracking you.”

“Communicating what?”

“Well, it’s not very often the AHA has the luck of running across an Obstructed such as yourself.”

“A what?”

“An Obstructed, a term we hold for unique persons that have a natural and unique insulation to the energies emitted by true hypnotists; the term is honestly as rare as the people who can be defined by it, in our organization, and the true hypnotism communities.”

Mentally going over all the notes he’d taken since he started his independent investigation, “Obstructed” was one word he hadn’t come across. With all the true hypnotists he surveilled in Boise, not even the ones that could identify him used that word, confirming the rarity Dr. Hong spoke of.

“Does it surprise you that there’s a term for it?” The doctor asks, obvious tones of curiosity in his voice.

“It does,” Royce admitted. “And how many zeroes need to be added to .01 to give an accurate number of what part of the population?”

“Enough that it makes counting redundant, but it also makes you a person of considerable interest to us.”

“Interests in what exactly?”

“By all accounts, you’re a fairly smart man, Lawrence,” Dr. Hong smiled at Royce’s alias. “I’m sure you could arrive at some educated guesses on the use an Obstructed could be to an group calling themselves Anti-Hypnotist Alliance.”

Dozens of reasons were cycling through the fighter’s head as he spoke, but reading Dr. Hong made it hard to land on whatever motives he had, even among the likeliest possibilities.

“And assuming your name is Lawrence, perhaps I should call you Mr. Impervious, if you really are the one brazenly running around Boise, looking into the hidden underworld that seems to be the True Hypnotism community. Interesting name you’ve chosen for yourself by the way, shows confidence, or arrogance, or the love of living dangerously.”

“Lawrence is fine,” Royce said, not yet wanting to even cop to how he received the ridiculous name, and everything that’d come with it.

“I hope he is, and will be, if he keeps this up. Most ladies like those you’ve been watching don’t take too kindly to the thought of resistant. Or really thoughts for that matter.”

It suddenly struck him that he was forgetting something; Royce looked around and finally to his watch, and realized he was officially late for his fight.

“We’ll see,” he tried telling Dr. Hong cryptically, while quietly rushing himself down the stairs, grabbing the gifted phone.

“And as it sounds like you’ve got something pressing to deal with; feel free to reach out to me later. Things as they are, you might need a friend on your side in this.”

The dial tone clicked, and the tardy fighter was left to ponder the strangely-useful communication while running down the stairs to get to his fight.

Wei Chang at the small arena area, awaiting for his opponent in a deep, meditative state. An accomplished, world-renowned Jeet Kun Do master at 26, Wei was a lean, muscular fighter at five foot nine, with black, greasy spiky hair and a thin ponytail in the back. Modeled almost completely after his hero Bruce Lee, he had several of the legend’s infamous clothes, including the yellow outfit Wei was saving for winning the finals he totally expected to reach. At that moment he was in his old Chinese black Kung-Fu attire; his fans might’ve complained about that, if they were allowed to be present.

The arena was a small area filled with a few onlookers and cameras, more fitting for a preliminary test of some kind. Wei might’ve complained about that if he wasn’t so deep in meditation, something he rarely did in public or visibly before a fight. In this case, it made him sharper, focused on the fight, theorizing all the outcomes based on previous fights he’d one. But also, meditation allowed him to think back to before he stepped out, ready for his match.

Back in his dressing room, he was posing and doing small fight katas, psyching himself up for his inevitable win, when a woman stepped in unannounced. Wei was about to complain, until the thought of it and speech was halted, colliding against a shockingly-beautiful woman in a one-shoulder, dark green dress. She was already smiling, deeply at how stunned her appearance left him. It took him a few moments to recover, but he was quick to flash her a trademark movie-star smile.

“And who might you be, lovely lady,” he spoke English with a noticeable Chinese accent.

“They call me Liliana. You can call me High Mistress Liliana,” the Brazilian true hypnotist flashed an even-more fabulous smile.

“High Mistress,” he questioned, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, I am, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Liliana took a step forward towards him before giving him a dominant pose with her hands on her hips, her feet separated, letting one leg slip out of the slit in her dress, giving him a disarming smirk.

“You must be high on something,” he thought to himself, even as he noticed the toned, flawless skin on display. Experienced eyes told him she was not only a looker, but very athletic as well, someone who knew how to use their body well.

“How many I help you, High Mistress Liliana?”

Her smirk flashed to a lewd smile as he obediently, consciously uttered her proper title, knowing the self-absorbed fighter was usually concerned about only about his own glory, before beholding hers.

“I’m just here to tell you how big a fan I am of yours; you must be the best Jeet Kun Do fighter in the world, practically unbeaten.”

Liliana took another step, letting her seductive aura flow over him with ease as she stroked his ego.

“Always nice to meet another fan,” he watched her legs as she moved very close to him.

“And as an accomplished fighter myself, I thought I could offer some tips about your opponent.”

Two questions about Liliana came to his forefront, how Liliana could be a fighter, and how a fighter like Wei Chang would need tips against anyone; not trying to run the vibe she was overwhelmingly giving, he settled on the more polite one.

“Tips? Appreciative as I am of any attention of yours Li-High Mistress Liliana,” he corrected himself, knowing it would please her and keep things positive, “most fighters are much too predictable against me. I don’t think tips are needed this time.”

“You’d be surprised...” Liliana stopped at arms-length in-front of Wei, letting her deep red polished nail of her index finger touch the material of his cloth, “...how much a tip could be needed.” Feeling the buttons playfully toyed with, circled as if it were erogenous zones, Wei had wished he’d gone shirtless for his first fight, and considered ripping it off just for the beauty before him. Wishes transformed all on their own as that nail shined in the overhead light, drawing his attention to it.

“Because no opponent should be underestimated, Wei. Power is relative, and comes in all forms. A foot...a fist...a mind...even a fingertip.” Liliana’s red fingertip trailed upwards as she spoke, as the timber of her voice trailed downwards, to the hypnotic lilt so many previous subs have heard before. “Relatively, just this little fingertip of mine could level an opponent with ease, power is that...subjective. As you follow it, it’s power proves too powerful against some of your thoughts of power. As your eyes focus on the deep, bright red, shining against the light and into your eyes, your focus falls to the fingertip, and not the many thoughts it has defeated.“

Liliana let the red tip barely caress the hairs of his throat and chin, giving him a phantom desire to be touched before the red nail hung directly in his face. Her other fingers hung below, as she reflexively thought of inducing with a butterfly induction, but his watering brown eyes were so fixed on the index finger’s red, she allowed its captivation to continue.

“You simply can’t look away from it, you simply can’t deny it’s power. The relative power of my finger tip is greater than the whole of your thoughts, as your mind surrenders to my words.”

“S-surren...d....” Wei tried to protest in vain, until a lithe fingertip rested on his lips, the index finger of her free hand emitting true hypnotism energy on his lips the way her swaying finger emitted the same energies into his eyesight, and the way her words slowly became the only thoughts he could think.

“Yes, you’ve already surrendered Wei. It was so simple to give in. You were so simple, simply no match for the fingertip that deeply, deeply hypnotizes you. As simple as the pleasures of surrender. Can’t you feel it, Wei, how easily you give in? How weak you feel just from my fingertip? If you are so weak, than my fingertip is so strong, so impossible to beat; impossible to resist. So you won’t resist, because obedience to me feels too good. You must surrender, and obey, because you’ve never felt better...“

The true hypnotist crooned to the rapidly-fading fighter, letting her smile turn wicked as that finger moved to touch the space between his eyes. His eyes crossed, the space behind them delirious with suggestive pleasure, until she snapped loudly in his face, and his eyes shut quickly.

“You are obedient to me now, Wei,” she whispered in his ear, “you are an obedient slave to High Mistress Liliana, and you will always address me as such. Do you understand?”

“Obey....High..Mistress...Liliana,” he found himself sleepily helpless to recite.

“Good boy,” she regarded the fighter standing up with a nodded head, satisfying his new owner. She laughed aloud at the thought of the other bets made by those at the spiral; it wasn’t her intention to give any of the nearby tournament much consideration, but with some spare time, Liliana decided to sporadically throw her own horse into the race. Maybe due to the similarities Wei’s known style could have with Jing-Mei’s fighting, but Liliana bet on him as the most likely to win, even knowing who he’d face soon was mysteriously-considerable. Giggling came up abruptly as she thought about the possibility that another unknown True Hypnotist had already gotten to him, and if he won, Liliana would win whatever prize was warranted.

“And if they complain, I could give them tips on how to really win too,” she thought, leaning in to give Wei some helpful incentive for his next fight, including suggestions that would help him channel his power like even he couldn’t imagine.

The sound of a door rushing open broke Wei’s deep, meditative, trance state, patiently waiting for his opponent, his target. Focused eyes found Royce walking in, trying not to look rushed and perspired, walking in his white gi and black belt, as standard as any other black belted Karate master in the world; Wei had beaten many of those in his time and in his youth, but he knew there was something more to this one. As he rose to his feet, he paid attention to everything he could about Royce before they started, his limbs, his muscles, the way he walked, his breathing, everything.

As he paid attention to it, he had to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head momentarily as he thought of Liliana and her finger tip touching and controlling all those aspects of him. She whispered to each of those parts in his meditation, strengthening him for the fight to come, much like experienced true hypnotists who were seasoned martial artists themselves, enhancing their own skills. And if he won, if he could be a good boy that pleased the high mistress, all that energy would flow into his cock. The mere possibility of cumming for Liliana would’ve driven him wildly-erect if she hadn’t commanded it suppressed.

Royce got his breathing in order as he paid attention to Wei Chang. Like most fighters, Royce knew Wei was the second-coming of Bruce Lee, down to his mannerisms and battle crys. Seeing many of his fights and hearing all the reputed stories, there was slight worry that he could be more than Royce was used to handling. He expected a lot of trash-talking and bravado as he entered the arena late, waving down a nervous-looking Simon who was afraid the fighter wouldn’t show; Wei never gave him the satisfaction. To his brown eyes, Royce saw Wei looking at him the way a tiger looks at a cornered meal, his body language saying everything his mouth didn’t need to. There was only calm and focus as they both stepped up to the matted fight area.

The referee was going over words both already had heard dozens of times, both more focused on continuing to size the other up. In the middle of their bowing, he wondered if this change in demeanor was anything like with Bruiser. Surveying the arena outskirts a bit, Royce looked for a possible influencer as Wei inched closer, twisting his body to launch a frontal kick Royce blocked, followed by a punch, another kick, and a roundhouse kick in quick succession.

This was faster than the already-ridiculously fast Wei Chang was used to delivering, and only his honed reflexes kept him safe. An extended fist moved to hit Royce who’d ducked to sweep Wei off his feet; Wei smartly and without frustration used the momentum to gain his footing and extend another fist that turned into an elbow into Royce’s abdomen, toppling the darker fighter.

The rules being the fight was over once one conceded or was knocked out, Royce took his time on the ground, watching Wei and noting his skill boost. Rising to his feet, fist clenched tightly, he waited to see if Wei would rush to put him back down again swiftly, ready with a counterattack. Having the strategy to work defensively against an aggressive fighter, Royce changed things only the fly, moving to throw combination punches to the head and abdomen that connected past Wei’s blocking, also landing kicks after feints, and an elbow to his chest that nearly made the Jeet Kun Do master stumble over.

Both suffering blows, the fighters continued to go at each other, Wei especially surprised and excited to find a Karate master that could easily match his tempo, and match virtually blow for blow. Letting his style become more unorthodox, Wei launched a few round kicks that seemed forward, making Royce back up. For the third kick, Royce abruptly stopped and roughly caught Wei’s foot between a compressing elbow and knee, making the aggressor stumble back on his only uninjured foot.

Anger cut through the meditation as Wei lashed out with a punch that Royce easily caught and kept, sweeping his feet so Royce could bend the punching arm back in a very uncomfortable hold. Before he could scream in agony, Wei kicked himself out of the hold and rolled back, one foot and one arm clearly injured. Royce stood ready for his next attack, but seeing Wei having trouble catching his breath, his balled fists loosened, looking to the ref to see if that counted as a win.

“No, not yet!” Wei yelled with rage, drawing effort into a proper stance through the pain. He smirked as he readied a technique he saved for when he really wanted to show of, or for desperate measures. Taking a few steps forward, he flew off of his good foot, landed his hurting one against Royce’s chest to let the other foot deliver a solid kick that clearly knocked Royce back, almost off the matting.

Wei finally screamed a glorious battle cry while he performed that, a sound that cut through the pain Royce felt in his head, as he quickly recovered to, rising to strike at his bad leg, followed by a flurry of critical hits that ended with a strong roundhouse to the face that made Wei twist in the air and hit the ground unconscious.

The audience that was there to witness it all gasped in shock as Royce finished the supposedly-better fighter off, covered only with a light perspiration over his features, looking almost unbothered by the whole fight. The sounds of the referee, Simon announcing, or the crowd was wholly ignored as he walked off to his appropriate room, inwardly excited, reflecting on the best fight he’d had in years. Normally, he would’ve gracefully taken the congratulations and moved on to be a spectator for the next fights, but Royce thought it prudent to get some private time and assess his next move. Regardless of the tournament, he knew he was working a mission simultaneously, and couldn’t let the fight as a whole blind him from that. Closing the door in the waiting room they set aside for him, he took some time to himself, breathing, looking at the bag that contained the burner phone.

Still unsure of whether Dr. Hong was some unknown foe or an eventual ally, he was at least a useful resource for the time being, and that had enough value to make Royce quietly leave his room, and find a remote place to talk in-private while the rest of the tournament continued.

“Lawrence, it’s a pleasant surprise to hear back from you so soon,” Dr. Hong answered the phone on his end, honestly taken aback that the Obstructed contact would get back to him so soon. Royce noted that in his voice, keeping his unemotional and unattached, as he quietly exited the Boise Centre from the vacant service entrance. He muted the phone to not give any audible cues to exactly where he was, unmuting after he checked his car for signs of tampering and entered.

“Nice of you to program several numbers into this. All AHA contacts?” He noticed the directory of numbers programmed in before calling, identifying the one Dr. Hong used to call him.

“We are here to help, particularly someone in your position.”

“I can’t say for certain that I have a position in all this.”

“Unfortunately that’s not true anymore Lawrence. Try as you might to avoid them or stay neutral and out of True Hypnotism affairs, you’re on their radar now; alarms tend to get sounded when an Obstructed is found out, and those go up the chain of their commands to those with power we have yet to quantify fully. To think you’re in a completely safe position would be a mistake.”

“And your solution is to join forces with you?”

“Out of the dwindling options you have that involve keeping your free will, I might call it the most viable solution now. Even a mercenary like yourself could do well with a resources like ours.”

“Like what resources?”

“For one thing, you could have more insight into what makes you an Obstructed.”

“There’s a science to it?” Royce asked with slight earnest in his voice. The bridge he imagined himself on top of continued to keep him relatively safe, but Dr. Hong’s question lead him to ponder the bridge altogether, if something like it could be man-made or as natural as mountains, or what the bridge was constructed with.

“Not an exact science, but we’re continuously closing in on provable theories.”

“Like visualizing it?”

“With a good-enough imagination, yes. Some Obstructed I’ve met with are very good at visualizing, and have described various projections of withstanding true hypnotism. Some have even said visualizing helps with the resistance.”

“How?”

“The best explanation thus far for that is that the visualization helps set a mental pathway to victory, like seeing yourself unaffected by hypnotic influence, bringing all your faculties in-sync with making the goal happen. Non-Obstructed could use this as a momentary defense against a weak hypnotist, but their minds don’t already have a solidified defense like yours.”

“It’s not like a bridge where everything they use against you passes over you?”

“Bridges have been visualized, but piecing together all the details of what Obstructed visualizing and effectiveness, I’d say the most effective is looking at your inner defense as a huge impregnable dam, a wall uniquely-powerful enough to withstand their powers and reserve your own thoughts.”

It wasn’t hard at all for Royce’s imagination to shift from the bridge he stood on to the top of a Hoover Dam-sized wall, with stronger foundations and thick barriers. All the forces trying to break the dam have come in waves not nearly high enough to touch him, until the hypnotist gave up and their energies receded.

“If you find yourself truly tested going forward, I would be thinking about your own dam, staving their powers off.”

“How strong will it need to be if it’s an already-uphill battle for the average true hypnotist?”

“As I mentioned earlier, you’ll eventually attract the stronger than average hypnotist. And if the rumors concerning Mr. Impervious continue to circulate like they have through the normal channels, it’s really not advised that you continue to remain in Boise; it won’t be long before they have you in their cross hairs. I seriously implore you to come in with us.”

“The offer is still appreciated,” Royce continued his cautious, neutral streak.

“And will be taken under advisement?” Dr. Hong finished the polite phrasing.

“It will.”

Royce sensed the quiet frustration on the other end of the line; the doctor’s friendly sales pitch was good, using the easy-going tone of a confidant to urge action and movement that benefited the salesman. If he bothered to ask what Hong’s true motivation for recruiting him was, he could tote the AHA’s party line of undoing the damages True Hypnotists left in their wake, or hiring him as an elite mercenary to further those same ideals for the right price; it really didn’t matter what he’d say aloud, he knew there were omissions that could seriously come back to bite him later if he readily agreed.

“Give me another day to decide; I need to see where my head is on this.”

The sigh on the other end sounded hopeful, belying the confident tone the AHA doctor kept throughout.

“Keep it safe in the meantime, and try to lay low while you do so,” Hong advised before the call ended, not wanting to push his request too far. Royce ended the call, leaning his seat back and giving a deep sigh, rather surprised that such a friendly call left him worried, despite already having made his decision.

It wasn’t that Dr. Hong couldn’t be a trustworthy individual, or that the AHA was lying about their intentions, but the feeling he got from them felt deeply reminiscent to past interactions with rebel factions from his military game. Some could spin rousing narratives, talking about the oppressive current establishment, looking to uproot them and eventually fill that power vacuum with their own brand of rule, often crueler than what came before. To Royce, the AHA utilizing the same resources, hypnotists, maybe witches and mentalists too, as the True Hypnotism community meant it was inevitable that they’d turn out the same way, just worse.

Though he had to admit, narrowing things down to his situation instead of painting with broad strokes of black-and-white, all-good and all-bad was the smartest pitch. The May sisters proved that the True Hypnotists weren’t all bad, and he’d yet to see the depths of how bad the AHA could be. But Hong certainly wasn’t lying about where he stood; if it wasn’t for the meeting he needed to be present for at the Spiral, he probably would’ve left immediately after the Wei Chang fight.

Checking his watch, Royce saw that he had forty-five minutes before the topical meeting was supposed to happen; he spent the first fifteen minutes studying a map of the city streets leading to highways, and the blueprints of the Spiral hotel, readying himself for the riskiest mission he’d given himself yet.

Parking his car in an adjacent garage from the true hypnotist hotel, Royce entered the building wearing faded grey jumpsuit and cap, looking very close to the kinds the Serial’s delivery service often used. The unassuming delivery man moved around the truck scheduled for a liquor drop-off. Helping to carry a case of expensive wine into the basement kitchen area, he slipped out of the ruse and his outfit into the maintenance area where he could change clothes. What the regular maintenance men on the premises looked like was a mystery to him, but he managed to look convincing enough as a lowly staff member, even carrying a pen and clipboard to prove his importance and belonging.

Before departing from the maintenance area, he crouched nearly the loud machinery nearby, closing his eyes and letting his deep visualizing go over the Spiral schematics. If security was lax in a seemingly posh hotel, there’d be dozens of ways to get to an ideal listening position. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be as simple with the space set up for dungeons were probably windowless and deeper inside the structure. And besides that, well-organized and probably ruthless leaders like Liliana or Arthur Winston meant the usual points of entry would trigger some alarm. From the room he readied himself in, even the access panels around required codes to get into; most government buildings or military installations in the world didn’t go that far, but it impressed him.

And once he left, he had to know where he was going; a lost-looking individual would draw unwanted attention for sure. Taking a deep breath, he decided on a risky course of action that rated better than others.

Moving deeper into the Spiral area, he kept his head down to his clipboard, peripherally watching people he passed by, all of which were blank-looking sentries and guards. Royce’s steps were slow and deliberate, waiting to pass by the right person; his dark skin tone meant most possibilities were out of the question, but in one of the emptier corridors bereft of security cameras, he found someone close enough in color, using the clipboard to strike the hypno-goon in the throat, and deliver a separate blow to the back of his neck, rendering the guard unconscious. Royce dragged the man a nearby broom closet he was hoping to use to temporarily dispose of the man. Inside the closet, he quickly switched their clothes, taking all his equipment, including gun and access cards, and emerged as a suited hypno-guard himself.

Maintaining a stoic expression, he used the access card to enter the elevator, using it again to push the button for the floor below where the meeting was to be held. The screen on near the elevator’s button panel had eye-catching colors and patterns moving slowly, surrounding the information of the current floor, and the floor to be accessed. After Royce selected his floor and the door closed, he immediately noticed the lights of the elevator car dimming and the screen’s designs shifting gradually into a full-blown spiral.

It took a lot for Royce not to tense up and panic, and even more to stay affected, simply staring at the spiral, and the words pouring through the intercom like melodic elevator music.

“Simply watch the spiral now, slave. Let it catch your attention, let it capture your attention, let yourself go to the spiral, as you listen to my voice,” the voice of Elle Woods practically echoed in the car, obviously meant to keep the goons enslaved when accessing certain floors, or maybe any new floors of the spiral; ever-impressed with their security measures, Royce continued to pretend to be the tranced guard he’d knocked out.

“The longer you watch, the more you have no will. Having no will means you must watch. You must watch the spiral, you must obey the spiral. You must serve the Spiral.”

For long seconds the seductive intonation grew commanding yet sensuous, speaking of relaxation as the the mantra continued simultaneously.

“You feel so relaxed, so helpless, so weak, seeking the strength of your superiors, the strength of women. You can be weak and relaxed as we are strong and firm, controlling your mind that needs to be controlled. You belong to us...you obey us. Relax deeper into my voice, and the truths I speak.“

“You must watch the spiral, you must obey the spiral. You must serve the Spiral.”

Royce tried to figure out if the voice meant the swirling pattern or the hotel itself, speaking in low, empty tones “watch....obey....s-serve....”

The program itself lasted a full minute before the dimmed lights returned to normal and the car began ascending upwards. While feigning deeper blankness, for the first time, Royce felt the True Hypnotism energy lightly cascade around him, aware of it more than any other time. It was hard to describe how it felt, just surprised that he could be aware of it.

“Maybe due to constant exposure over the last few days,” he reasoned, noting he could identify it while still being immune to the effects. Guessing the voice was recorded, he wondered if that made a difference, or how much he’d feel if the woman were really there to attempt to take his mind.

Once he reached the right floor, he slowly exited the car, noting through dull-ish eyes his surroundings. He passed by several doors with several armed goons, and some passing by him in the halls. The way they carried themselves told him the Spiral had been recruiting experienced soldiers rather than thugs looking for work, thankful that he could match their posture. Along a busy hallway, several goons were moving as a few nicely-dressed women were walking in Royce’s direction. All of them noting the feminine presence, all the men stood against the way automatically, and Royce quickly followed suit.

Royce stood against the wall, staring forward and unblinking as the women chose that time to inspect the servile men. One was a lovely-looking brunette wore a light-blue silk blouse and a short navy skirt, her strappy black stiletto sandals clicking commandingly against the floor, showing off black finger and toe nail polish on each hand and foot. The other, a shorter hazel-eyed brunette with dark brown hair was sexy and curvy, wearing a white blouse and long multicolored skirt along with flat brown sandals. Her finger and toenails were silver, and she wore amethyst earrings along with lots of silver jewelry including rings, bracelets and anklets.

Royce had seen each before around the Spiral from a distance, but didn’t know their importance as top mentalist and high witch of the Spiral establishment.

The taller woman especially looked over the men, as if scanning them.

“Sense anything good, or off, Jessica?” The high witch Gemma asked her colleague.

“Hmmm,” the mentalist replied softly, walking within an inch of the first man lined up. Focusing her eyes, she let the normal flashes of light extend to a continuous stream, controlling every man she made even a quick second’s worth of gazing, including Royce. He had to wonder if he would be sensed or found out somehow by the woman’s unknown powers, before their gazes met and he felt drenched in her influence; it was stronger than the last time, noting Jessica as a stronger mentalist than Dazzle was, feeling the mental noise in his head quiet as her will took over. His own voice didn’t completely die out, noting that as before, he would come back to himself soon.

Taking a sharp breath from the momentary strain from a stream of exposed mentalism, Jessica quickly recovered to speak. “I feel like a song, something quick...and childish. Boys, sing I’m a little teapot...in perfect unison,” she crooned threateningly.

Royce and the rest started singing in-sync, singing with little-kid versions of their own voices, enthusiastically pleasing their owners who looked on with glee, Jessica herself using a finger to conduct her concert. In the middle of his singing, Royce felt himself dry of Jessica’s influence quickly, but his voice lapsed as his own will reasserted, sounding a little off compared to the rest as he came back to himself. The women laughing to themselves noticed, and Jessica quickly silenced the group and eyed who’d ruined the song even slightly.

“Someone is a naughty boy, failing to obey and please.”

“Such a pity, I was so enjoying that,” Gemma smirked, feigning disappointment, but surprised any of the normal goons would screw-up a song in their honor.

“Who was it, I wonder...” the mentalist viciously eyed each man like a drill instructor, scanning the faces of the singer at fault.

She stopped at Royce to look at his far-away stare but stoic jaw, trying to envision nothing but blankness and recalling the commands from the elevator while keeping himself from gulping.

Quickly, Jessica reached down and grabbed the hard cock of the man standing next to Royce, who somehow stayed stoic and didn’t flinch. She stroked the balls of the man while emitting mental flashes into his eyes, making him moan and stare helplessly.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” she moved to face the man wincing at the excess pressure in his already-hard cock. It hurt enough where he was unable to speak in his defense that it wasn’t him. “I think you’ll find yourself wanting to please me very, very much later on, practicing carrying a tune with Goddess knows what in your mouth and asshole.”

“Yes Mistress Jessica,” he moaned hard after she released his genitalia.

“Carry on boys,” Jessica and Gemma strode off. “Next time someone else gets it wrong, you all suffer,”

“Yes Mistress Jessica,” was the final unison Royce thankfully matched that time, waiting for the other men to move before he moved on, entering a large, dark room that was just above the dungeon where the meeting would be scheduled. Before trying to set up anything, he leaned against the closed door, allowing himself to experience a moment of exasperated panic he couldn’t before, controlling it with deep breaths before he could get into position.

Surprise came to him as he realized how big the room was, with matted floors and a tall ceiling he might need a ladder to reach for his recording equipment, and at the sound of feet rushing at him from the darkness. Someone launched a flying kick at Royce that he quickly ducked out of the way of. The kick hit the door hard and he rolled away, crouched and alertly ready for the next attack. In the very dim, windowless lighting, he could make out his attacker, Wei Chang.

“What the—” Royce whispered. The injuries sustained from that fight were still visible, and he looked like Royce’s last blow might’ve been a concussive one, but that didn’t stop the Jeet Kun Do master from coming at him with weakened but insistent fervor. Seeing the front kick coming, Royce moved to get behind him to keep him in a choke-hold until he was no longer a threat. Halfway into rendering him unconsciousness, the lights of the room came on, blinding the Karate spy unexpected as more fighters came to Wei’s aid. From multiple directions and a tight grip to his left arm, several blows were delivered to his torso and thighs, stunning him as a strong front kick knocked him back and stole the wind out of him for a few moments.

Eyesight adjusting to the light as quickly as he could force it, he noticed the other attackers as all the other fighters from the tournament. They loomed over him from a distance, staring with expressions eerily similar to Wei’s before.

“Great, an army of fighting drones,” he whispered to himself, noting more of the background details of the room. Behind the fighters off in the distance was the tournament organizer and announcer Simon, kneeling and oblivious next to his owner High Mistress Liliana. A knowing smirk across her beautiful face, she leaned against the doorway, arms folded, obviously enjoying the fight she’d probably orchestrated; something was definitely planned as she dressed into something more fight-appropriate with a red bandeau top covering her significant breasts, and matching loose-fitting pants, her long hair tied in a ponytail. Her beautiful bare feet looked freshly-pedicured with black toe-nail polish, though there were obvious signs of slight callous revealing she used them to kick vigorously.

“High Mistress Liliana, I presume,” the downed fighter ignored the immediate threats and acknowledged the woman at the other end.

“You presume correctly, Mr. Impervious,” speaking his unclaimed title like a joke, believing it would rile him up a little, surprised to see him almost laugh at his name the same way.

“A Mistress of Capoeira too, I further presume,” Royce added. “Or is that too humble a title?” The lack of sarcasm in his slightly-strained voice surprised the Brazilian True Hypnotist.

“You think flattery will get you anywhere after sneaking into my hotel unannounced?“

“The way things are looking now, I suspect I would’ve eventually been invited here; an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“You have no idea.”

“And yet I suspect you’re going to give me some idea, soon.“

Liliana allowed herself to laugh at the statement that almost had her repeating herself.

“My thrall was right about you; you are rather special.”

“Welcome back, Royce,” Another voice from behind intoned, the familiar sound making him turn around. Similar to his Mistress, Jack stood against the door indented with Wei’s kick earlier, next to another hypno goon looking like the rest from the hallway, holding similar surveillance equipment that Royce used; he was dressed in the same business attire, but looking livelier than before, as lively as the last time either former solider had verbally jousted.

“If it isn’t the devil I know, the one not worth Jack shit.”

“I see you two really do have a sordid history,” Liliana spoke, enjoying the banter while casually closing the distance and standing around the hypnotized fighters acting on her orders.

“And I wonder how much of what you’ve heard is peculiarly one-sided.”

“As a faithful servant of mine, Jack held nothing back, even his own faults. But my faithful servant continues to surprise me, even years later. Once I asked him to look into this Mr. Impervious once the rumors reached Boise, I’ve never seen him have such an emotional reaction eliciting initiative, that so much of his old self wanted to resurface with dealing with you. Allowing it to come to surface in service of my will, he’s had so much fun toying with you, a puppet for my puppet.”

Royce allowed himself a few quiet moments as he started putting things together. Them waiting for him meant they were expecting him, which meant they were on to him much longer than he thought.

“That’s right, you’ve had a chaperon for most of your time in Boise, watching you while you were watching us,” Jack patted the hypno-goon standing next to him on the shoulder, as if he were a protegee trained to spy on the spying Royce for most of his trip. He couldn’t place the blank man’s face from memory, which was smart as he would’ve noticed Jack, but not someone using his tactics. “It’s a dangerous city to stalk around unintended, too many apex predators would eat you alive.”

“How nice of you to care, but what does that kindness cost? Your amusement?” The surrounded fighter directed his question to the High Mistress.

“Among other things,” Liliana answered.

“Was it you that pushed me into that fight with that asshole, Bruiser?” Royce asked Jack.

“Of course it was; I hoped round 2 would seem more thrilling, and you marginally proved me right. After all these years, I thought you’d be a much better fighter by now.”

For a man that was slow to anger and used to brushing it off quickly to keep a cool and collected head, Royce couldn’t remember the last time someone left him seething; the former-MIA Jack managed to strike that match, firing him up in all the right places. Through slow breathing, his muscles barely tensed up, ready to strike from behind, but it was enough all the fighters near him immediately took a ready stance to stop him. Liliana watched Royce consider his options, targets all around him, with everyone waiting for him to make his next move.

To the surprise of everyone but Jack, Royce casually rose to his feet, stretching a little, eyeing all the assembled fighters from the tournament. Picking out all of their fighting styles, and assuming they were all given hypno-enhancements, he moved closer to where they stood, taking one step forward, waiting for them to move the rest of the way towards him. Stepping back from them, Liliana rose her hand to loudly snap her fingers to trigger her fighters, softly intoning “fight.”

A silent rush of men quickly struck out at Royce who began prioritizing fighting one at a time from the group, starting with the champion boxer as he mimicked his stance before delivering a low kick to his kneecap to stun and get behind him. The Tae Kwan Do fighter with long-reaching legs tried to strike Royce from behind the boxer, only to have is foot firmly grabbed and pulled forward so Royce could slam the two heads together.

“And here I thought you solely did Karate,” Liliana commented.

“One style isn’t really limited to one style,” Royce philosophized like his old masters used to.

A kick from the Kung-Fu fighter struck Royce in the head, making him roll away from the pair he meant to finish off, moving him to the wrestler who readily clotheslined him to the ground. He picked him up, intending to hold him up so others could treat him like a punching bag. As the Kung-Fu master tried to launch another devastating kick, Royce twisted himself in the bigger wrestler’s grip, bending back to run his feet upwards to lock his feet around the wrestler’s neck while locking his hands.

A foot pressed against the neck, threatening to break his windpipe, the wrestler hesitated and Royce took the advantage to swing the oxygen-depraved man to the ground. Royce untangled himself on the ground and got up looking dizzy and disorientated while still keeping his hands up; he surprised everyone watching him, especially the Kung-Fu master when started attacking with drunken boxer techniques, riddling him with unorthodox hits to the face, throat, and chest before knocking him out and assuming a normal Karate stance again.

“So what made you choose Capoeira? Exposed to it in Brazil?” Royce asked the high mistress he didn’t even look at, knowing she was close enough to hear.

“It’s a very useful, underappreciated style,” she commented, circling the area where Royce took on her programmed fighters.

“Even more underappreciated than Karate somehow; everyone thinks mine is too bland,” Royce sighed as he went in to strike one of the other fighters, only to feel a slight sting as Liliana flipped near where Royce stood. A blindsighting aerial kick stopped him mid-advancement against one of the other fighters, making him wince and roll back defensively as she gracefully landed near one of her other fighters.

“Maybe you should pay more attention to the fighting at hand,” she admonished, smirking.

He stared at the Capoeira fighter in slight disbelief, then smiled respectfully at the impressive attack. “I can multitask, as your slave will tell you; and I can only assume you’ll be the final boss in whatever kind of test this is.”

“That would imply that it is possible to defeat me; nice to know you also come equipped with a good sense of humor.” Liliana gave him a predatory smile as she continued to circle his prey, silently acknowledging that he was sizing her up too.

Clearly keeping Liliana’s position in her peripheral vision, Royce went on the offensive with the rest of the standing fighters, keeping each strategically segmented and separated as he handily knocked them unconscious one at a time. When the last two standing, Wei and the weakened wrestler, came at him simultaneously from two sides, Royce leapt toward the wrestler to hit him hard in the knee, making him sink to that injured joint with a scream; the noise was silenced as Royce’s feet climbed the bigger man, kicked off his face, and used the momentum to deliver a flying arch kick to strike Wei in the head, taking it all the way to the ground as Royce landed.

Scanning the room for any more tournament fighters, heightened awareness told him the last two potential threats were Liliana and Jack.

“Any more prize-fighters, or is it just us now?” Royce controlled his breathing, not letting the rush of adrenaline make him too proactive, and not bothering to look at the two whom were totally focused on him. Options were sparse as deep into the hotel’s infrastructure, he knew there were no easy exits. Running for it was the biggest risk and yet his best chance out of there. But the opportunistic fighter in him dared ask the rest of him why not face these two significant fighters right where they stand. It seemed like everything was setup for him to arrive, to face down chosen opponents, including the masterminds that tricked him here.

Looking down at the piles of fighters strewn about the room, the high mistress scoffed. “World’s supposedly greatest fighters, taken out by an unknown. Pitiful.”

“They were no slouches,” Royce admitted. “Were all of them hypnotized to be more focused fighters?”

“They were,” Liliana confirmed.

“I wonder if that took the edge off of their fighting; what they gained in focus, they might’ve lost in creativity and adaptability,” Royce reasoned, making her consider his input from fighting them first-hand.

“Don’t sell yourself short. They were made better with their focused minds; you were just...better,” she smiled at him, her tone both complimentary and challenging, offering him a chance to see where he stood against a high mistress in combat.

When it came to resting on a decision, curiosity of Liliana’s endgame, and the urge to fight, won out.

“So, who’s next?” He asked, looking squarely at Jack.

“Ladies first, as the saying goes,” Liliana spoke with an edge of anger, upset that Royce would turn his back on her. Performing the same aerial move again, Liliana leapt and noticed as soon as she left the ground that Royce had moved, ready to deliver a critical blow once she landed. Whether or not she was ready for it, Jack acted in swift defense of his mistress, knowing what Royce was capable of.

Trying to come up behind the dark-skinned fighter, Jack saw too late the way Royce’s feet moved, the trap he set meant for the Thrall instead, as Royce pushed back off his feet into Jack with a flying elbow, and a hard punch to his jaw. Liliana’s landing was less graceful as the action she anticipated was several feet away, striking her protector. Classifying Jack as more of a killer trained to end things quickly instead of testing endurance and attrition like many martial artists, Royce made sure his former friend couldn’t strike from behind.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Liliana’s tone grew icy, staring daggers at Royce. “You are fighting me now.”

“And as someone that’s arguably known Jack longer than you, I know he wouldn’t dare miss this opportunity, even if he has orders from you to stand down.”

“He told me you were exceptional, not suicidal.”

“That all depends on your strategy and style,” Royce told her as she lashed out with a few kicks she easily countered with her own legs and body movements. And as she applied her own in retaliation, she noticed how much enjoyment he got out of deflecting all her warm-up style kicks like she did his.

“You’re an exceptional fighter yourself, High Mistress Liliana. How much fun did you have when you beat Jack in combat?”

“As you’ll learn soon, it really wasn’t the contest he thought it would be.”

“Your looks probably disarmed him before anything else. If he saw me on the other hand, could you handle a raging bull with razor sharp horns?”

He feinted a few attacks her way before launching real ones, all of which she knew was coming, pushing him back as she grew more assertive in her attacks. One big spin kick meant for Royce’s torso only hit air as he was close enough to sweep kick Jack and deliver a strike to his dominant arm in a pressure point, just enough to make it numb.

An angered Liliana swept Royce off his feet with her dancing momentum, and flipped upwardly to land her knee into his abdomen, in which he reactively rolled out of the way to avoid.

“In case I didn’t tell you before, I owed him everything I just gave him.”

For the first time in a long time, Liliana cracked her knuckles.

“And the payment for that now comes due.”

Royce smiled at that, shaking his body’s tension loose.

“Let’s see what I owe,” a tone reflecting resilience and acceptance came to Liliana’s ears almost as fast as her attacks came to Royce. No longer holding back, she used the more unorthodox nature of Capoeira and her incredible body control to shut Royce’s fight down quickly. Every attack he threw she caught and launched into several iron grips, using the pressure of her toned arms or legs to immobilize, striking him in his vulnerable sides. Rolling in a ball towards him, she caught his leg an a very compromising hold, easily in a position to break his leg. With an enthusiastic smile, hearing Royce groan in pain, she let his leg go short of breaking it, striking his throat with a punch and leaping up hit him in the head with a jump kick while avoiding a weakened counter-punch.

Staggering back to regain balance, Royce knew she’d probably seen enough of his style to see the holes in his defenses, all the while admiring abilities he’d never seen any fighters before Liliana manage.

Knowing he was on the ropes, she strutted towards Royce seductively, throwing his expectations off like she did Jack many years ago, prolonging it with a few dance moves that evaded every laughable attack he threw, highlighting the flawless skin and almost hypnotic movements. She was readying herself for the spin kick that rendered Jack unconscious, ultimately leading to his enthrallment. Gathering the needed momentum, she spun and let her leg fly out, only to be caught by his deflecting one, twisting it to bring her down and keep her leg locked, buying himself time.

Unfortunately for him, he had to kick with the almost-broken leg, using his uninjured leg to keep balanced. Holding hers captive became very painful as he fought against her unbelievable strength. She smirked at him as she broke out of his hold and raised her leg to strike him in his bad leg, before rolling him on the ground to close in, stopping the motion only to bring him close enough to kick him harshly in the face, knocking him unconscious.

It was hours later before Royce regained consciousness again. His head throbbed in pain, probably from Liliana’s last few harsh kicks. The radiating pain in his head and leg were felt long before the rest of his limbs, letting him know he was vertically restrained, probably against a wall. As his eyes caught on to the dim lighting, he saw manacles, walls of torturous toys, and what looked like racks made for holding bodies; he wanted to laugh at the probable fact that he’d been moved to the very dungeon the fake meeting about him was to be held.

The first sight of a figure that cleared from the blurriness was Liliana’s, greeting is awakening with a smile and standing high-kick. Exhausted groaning rung in the space between them for long seconds before he had the courage to speak.

“It was...ouch,” he winced as his jaw seized from the pain. “It was an honor to fight you and discover how amazing you are, High Mistress Liliana.”

A smug smile on her face, she walked up to him, amber eyes looking deep into his brown ones.

“There will be significant pain coming to you in the near future, and probably beyond. But it was impressive to see one of the better male fighters I’ve ever seen in action, and an honor to acquire and add them to my arsenal.”

“I appreciate the compliment, and honestly...” he nearly spat blood out of his mouth, but decided to swallow it, lest he incur any more of Liliana’s wrath from perceived disrespect. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t just try to hire me.”

Tossing her perfect strands of hair back in laughter, she walked towards her entourage of spiral employees behind her, including Dazzle, Camilla, Jessica, Elle, Gemma, and Jack that looked like a seething nature was trying to seep through mindlessness.

“In case you haven’t learned yet about the women in the True Hypnotism community, your superiors, we respect male abilities, not their autonomy. Very soon, you’ll come to understand, and even love that about us.”

“I understand that fact very much already.”

“I’m sure you do, but loving that fact is a requirement to learn, especially for your future objectives to come.”

“Future objectives?”

“Do you know what’s going on in New York currently when it comes to True Hypnotism?” Jessica asked.

“Some kind of war going on?”

“A Hypnosis war,” Camilla informed. “Our community versus the pathetic Master’s one?”

“There’s a master in True Hypnotism? I thought it was exclusively women.”

“It should be,” Liliana corrected, “But there are some that are asserting too much what they believe is power now, something that should be taken care of quickly.”

“If this Master is so pathetic, why do you call engaging with him a war,” Royce wanted to ask, questioning the logic but knowing the answer. “And I’m to be a useful tool in this war fighting for you, with my skills and...abilities I guess?”

“Yes you are. Our little exclusive tournament was a nice little ruse to bring skilled fighters like you to us, recruitment as it were for the war. You’re the best assembly of pawns in this tiresome chess game we could’ve asked for.” Liliana approached him to playfully grip his pained nose, before applying a hard slap to his jaw that echoed in the large dungeon.

“The prime candidates?” the dark-skinned man questioned from the information he garnered from Liliana’s meeting at the spiral.

“Quite so. But to your credit Royce, you’ve shown yourself to be such a stellar prime candidate that sending you as one individual agent is more tactically-sound; the way you’ve operated in Boise, you’d do wonders for us in New York as our asset. The other fighters can be called upon to join the fight if necessary, but I’ll let you prove your worth to us first.” Gripping his chin with her slapping hand, the sting of her slap felt punctuated as her hot breath crossed his skin and sunk into his ear. “But of course, not before a little...playtime.”

“Excuse me, High Mistress, but one question before we get to the good stuff,” Dazzle asked respectfully. “How is this man able to resist like he has been? Even mentalism doesn’t work like it should.”

Liliana sighed, looking at the collection of women as pupils that lacked the education and experience she had.

“Thank for bringing up a point I think is worth learning for the sake of the Spiral. Royce here is what you’d call an ‘Obstructed,’ a word rarely used for a phenomenon rarely seen. Very few men on the planet possess it, but it allows them to fight the powered influences we herald. The explanation for why remains a mystery, but as hard as it is to find one, it’s never been a huge issue. I’ve had the displeasure of meeting one years ago, learning about their insolent kind.”

“What did you do when that Obstructed resisted? Beat him into submission like Royce?”

Looking at Royce as she spoke, eyes laser-focused on his, her eyebrow raised at the question, before turning to Dazzle.

“Who says he resisted me?”

Dazzle and Royce looked puzzled at Liliana’s response.

“It’s not unlike conductivity and electricity; given a strong-current, electricity can travel through even wood. And even a weak conduit like the mind of an Obstructed can still feel a powerful-enough energy, too powerful to resist...”

Maintaining her hard stare at Royce, he saw her amber eyes began to glow brightly, feeling the strongest True Hypnotism will press upon his yet. He pressed his head back as her energy flowing into him, against him was palpable. From his constructed dam visualization, he watched Liliana’s flood of energy reach his barrier, crashing hard against it. It wasn’t hard enough to break the foundations, but the impact shook them.

Everything outside of her gaze was blinded as the light took over, unrelenting, showing why Liliana was a High Mistress of True Hypnotism compared to the women once visible behind her.

“I know you can see me Royce, and see only me. I know you can hear me, and hear only me. I know you can follow me...and obey only me.” Lilian’s soft voice was carried along with the flood of her power, caressing his ears the same way it caressed his visualized barrier walls. “There is no looking away, there is no other sounds. There is nothing else but what my eyes and my voice give to you. So blind without my eyes, falling on deaf ears to the idea of other sounds. Allow me to guide you, allow me to rebuild you into something better. Just let yourself relax, and give in to what makes you helpless. Feel my power flooding into you, pooling down at your feet, rising up your calves, your legs, the rest of your body eagerly anticipating feeling my power.“

The more Liliana spoke, the more the waves of her visualized energy lapped against his barriers, until her glowing eyes changed colors, to a deep green, and a haunting golden color, and back to her hypnotic amber. Cycling through the colors slowly, her eyes timed the effect with her words, carrying Royce along. Deep inside, a worried Royce watched as each color brought a higher wave, overlapping the first, making the waters climb his dam walls, higher and higher. More than any previous encounter, he could feel her the inevitability of her words, even as the flowing energies pressed onto the wall, as if wanting to merge with it.

“My power climbs up your body, overwhelming your senses, controlling your sense of control now. The deeper you look, the more you can’t think to look away. You can’t think...you just stare deeper. You want to stare deeper. You want to listen very carefully, to every word I say.“

The waters climbed, higher and higher; Royce’s POV in the visualization stood at the top of it, watching the mesmerizing colors close in to his feet. Fear, and a strange sense of excitement filled him as he imagine the waters touching him, and surrendering the fight.

The sudden, wayward idea of fighting got him to move his head in the middle of staring, to shake his head free of her power, to attempt to close his eyes and internalize himself.

“Oh, you poor, deluded fool, no one can resist me. Cease trying now. The more you surrender, the better it feels. Pleasure calls to you, fills you with my power. Let it wash over you, and feel better than you ever have in my control.” Liliana poured more of her power into him, using much more than she expected to. She was silently impressed with how much harder he was to entrance than Beth, any other true hypnotist, or the past Obstructed before him. More than her own sense of the breadth of her power, her ego and not being shown up in-front of the women under her leadership pushed her to end him quickly.

In the growing connection between them, Royce was surprised that she felt a sense of her desperation amongst the energy and reactive tingles of pleasure becoming more noticeable. Knowing desperation would turn to forcing herself deeper into him, he felt something change as the walls of his defense began changing, the make-up of the material morphing into something else, something...softer. If a more aware Royce could call it anything, it felt sponge-like, willing to act like a sponge as it began absorbing Liliana’s colors, letting his dam and her energy become one. The more they merged, the more the waters that flooded against him receded.

Liliana smiled evilly, feeling her power finally grasp hold of something, pushing on her advantage as she filled up the space she was occupying quickly.

“That’s good, slave. Just as you should be, letting go to me, feeling no energy but mine, no will power, but mine, no sense of self but what I assign to you, no sense of pleasure except the arousing desire to please me.”

The noticeable strain in his facial muscles finally relaxed, his jaw grew loose as lips parted more and more. The colors filled and reflected in his glassy eyes. Only her true hypnotism and the chains against his body held him up.

Mr. Impervious had finally encountered a force that made him previous and permeable.

“You obey me now, slave. Don’t you? Tell your mistress you obey. Now!”

“I....o...o-obey,” A voice sounding eerily like his intoned.

Liliana slapped him hard, forcing his gaze back to the glowing colors.

“Whom do you obey, slave? Who am I to you?”

“You’re...m-my mistress...I...obey...you.”

“There’s a proper Spiral slave, finally learning your place in life; no more filthy resistance to speak of.”

The crowd behind her was profoundly impressed by the power both Mistress and her new slave showcased. Each knew none stood a real chance against the same onslaught Liliana gave Royce, and how Royce managed to stay as obstinate as he was in Boise.

“Now, before we inform you on how you will please us and defend our interests nationally, I think you’ll show us how much you love to serve and suffer for us first. Dazzle, I believe your initial encounter grants you the first crack at breaking this mare in,” Liliana offered gracefully to the giddy mentalist.

“It would be the greatest pleasure I’ve had in a while to...draw first blood, as it were,” Dazzle kneed him hard in his solar plexus, making it hard to breathe, slapping him hard enough to draw blood before giving a healthy dose of mentalism to his eyes, adding to the control established by Liliana.

It’d been days later since Royce finished the tournament and his surveillance tour of the true hypnotists in Boise. It was the hardest mission and tournament he’d ever gotten himself into, as it left him with so many bruises and aches; he hadn’t felt that bad since he’d been tortured under temporary enemy capture. As he rested up and closed out his business in the city, he realized the True Hypnotism world was bigger than he expected, and meant a great deal to the stability of the world they occupied.

His car exactly where he left it, he drove it back to the hotel he stayed at, getting ready to pack his belongings to head east. Gathering all his notes, he sat on his bed and reflected upon everything he’d learned.

He respected what the May sisters introduced him to, but everything he saw that the women of the Spiral hotel showed him, especially High Mistress Liliana in their wisdom, their use of power, even their beguiling attractiveness, meant they were a force worth protecting, and fantasizing about as often as he could. Learning of a Johnathan Creel in New York, an abhorrent Master who seemed the antithesis of all the goodness female True Hypnotists stood for fueled him with a sense of purpose, alongside what the surging fantasies of watching powerful women from afar did to his imagination.

Thinking about the beauty of each woman, and exposing his surprisingly-submissive, naked self to their whims, he grew hard, his pants tenting. It was all too easy to begin disrobing as the dreamy image took over, placing them all above him, as he worshiped all of their feet with his lips, taking spankings and other punishments from behind. As he sucked on their delicious pussies, he was flogged or fucked from behind, their punishments only making him more eager to please the woman at his front.

And amidst all of them, glances toward Liliana at her throne took his breath away, and made him a mindless puppet when she descended from her throne to stand above him. Her presence made him cower in fear, begging to serve, teased, taunted and tortured in whatever way pleased her, she kicked and teased him with her feet several times over, before placing her feet to his lips, and wordlessly watching his lips climb from her toes, all the way up to the pussy he needed, like he never needed anything else before.

Sweating profusely on the bed, he found himself naked, stroking himself hard, but unable to cum, to release himself, until...until...he resolved himself, shook himself free of the fantasy to shower and dress.

He had a flight to New York to catch, to hopefully rendezvous with the Spiral’s allies to be of any help he could to defeat this terrible Master Creel, and everything he stood for, for those he stood against, he thought to himself for some reason.

Standing in the ticket check out like at the Boise airport, for a connecting flight out to NY, he felt an errant thought of the dam he’d thought of days ago. He wasn’t sure why the visualization came up, but feeling what felt like a very strong influence, urging him onto the plain, he felt some of it start to weaken, to dissipate like the waters before had receded.

So lost in thought, the woman taking tickets nearly had to wave her hand in-front of him to get his attention.

“Sir, you’re boarding to go to New York, yes?” She asked, making sure his thoughtless self was even in the right place.

“Y-yes...yes I am,” Royce responded, handing her his ticket, and boarding the plane to his next mission.