Message-ID: <19395eli$9901290427@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/19395.txt>
From: see@below.for.e-mail (Dimitri M)
Subject: (Dimitri) Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter 8/? [1/3] m/f, m/ff - Starring Carmen Elektra, Jenny McCarthy and Jenna Elfman
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: Text/Plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <78n1lt$o7d$1@newsource.ihug.co.nz>
The Internet does not exist in the physical world, and hence
is not subject to the laws of any country... however, your country
and/or state does have laws, and your computer does fall under the
jurisdiction of those laws. Therefore, if it is illegal in your
country and/or state to view pornography, then it is illegal for you
to read this story and I will accept no responsibility if you do so...
Get it? Got it? Good.
If you like this story and would like to see more, or make
a compliment or even constructive criticism, then send your
e-mails to - dimitri_resides@hotmail.com
If you want to pick up some of my other stories, but are
terrified to ask me for them, you can go to the following URL's,
none of which are mine (I'm an author, not a webmaster!) :
1 : ftp://asstr.org/pub/Authors/Dimitri
2 : http://come.to/dimitri
3 : www.eroticstories.com
4 : www.sexysites.com/sexymodels/storycol.html
5 : http://www.angelfire.com/tx/TvArcive/
6 : http://www.cjspalace.fsn.net (*)
7 : http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/vanthal/63/archive.htm (*)
8 : http://www.mindspring.com/~alara/ajer/magneto.html (*)
9 : http://members.tripod.com/~sneal_ (*)
10 : http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Hills/2506/foepage/ (*)
11 : http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/7560/RoguesErotica.html (*)
(*) At least one of my stories can be found here.
If you've read all previous chapters, skip this next section :
The Celebrity Hypnotist is an unknown celebrity with the ability
to hypnotize others. For over a decade he has been involved with an
Organization that obtains power and prestige via sex, using it both as
reward and blackmail against high-powered individuals in government
and entertainment. The CH has kept his identity hidden, but recently
was blackmailed himself by a young psychotic named Bart Rice who forced
The CH into taking him along on Assignments. At the end of the last
chapter, The CH removed Bart from the scene and took control of his life
once again, being instrumental in the 'crowning' of a new Head of The
Organization (the last Head was killed in a murder/suicide, you may have
seen it in the news last year), the new Head being Kevin Spacey (who has
made appearances in previous chapters) over Lisa Kudrow, who was trying
to manipulate The CH.
A New York City Detective named Rob Anderson came across evidence
of The Organization, linking it to Gary Cole (whose exploits are recounted
in The Celebrity Rapist, available upon request) and coming close to
blowing the whole thing wide open. He is killed by his partner, Dave
Hollaway, who then attempts to rape Gillian Anderson in an effort to shut
her up from exposing her part in Gary Cole's exploits. He fails and ends
up in custody, turning states evidence and being murdered when The D.A
joins the Organization. Donovan Prescott, a struggling, independent
lawyer and friend of Rob's, suspects that The D.A has joined The
Organization and prepares to gather evidence on the mysterious group.
Meanwhile, The CH has become concerned over a recent discovery
in regards to Bart.
Read on to find out what...
----------------------------------
Celebrity Hypnotist Chapter Eight.
----------------------------------
Part 1/3
Control.
The Illusion Of Control.
I had always assumed I had the former, whereas the great unwashed,
the people of this great land of ours, had the latter.
Maybe I had been wrong.
For the first six months of 1998, control had been slipping
away from me. Then, I had taken it back, burning off the leech that
had attached itself to me and making myself the center of attention at
The Organization. It had been me who put the new Head into his seat.
But maybe I hadn't been controlling those events, maybe I just
thought I had been.
I'd ordered Bart removed from the scene. I could have had him
killed, but I wasn't bloodthirsty.
So I just wrecked his hands and feet and ordered his tongue cut
out and throat crushed.
But, only a week ago, when I went to wish Bart a Happy New Year
and tell him about my latest exploits, the nurse, Maria something,
had mentioned injuries to his groin.
Not wanting to arouse suspicion by showing my ignorance of this
fact, I used a prepared keyword I'd implanted in the minds of all the
floor staff and put her instantly into a trance.
"Explain what you meant about his groin," I commanded.
Bart was staring at me from the bed, but from my position at the
door I was too far away for him to hear what we were talking about.
She told me what they'd done to his groin (they being the two
operatives I'd hypnotized to do my dirty work for them, although the
staff believed he'd been set upon by an East L.A gang) leaving me totally
shocked and horrified.
What I'd ordered done had been for my own protection, to keep
him from communicating in any way with anybody from the outside world.
But doing that to his groin! It was just sick, sick and hateful.
Perhaps it was just overzealousness on their part? I thought, But
then again, perhaps someone (Kevin Spacey or Lisa Kudrow were
good candidates) had gotten to them and adjusted their conditioning or
just out and out told them to do these extra things.
The best way to find out was to find these guys, re-hypnotize
them and dredge the info from their testosterone-filled brains.
But they were gone, I couldn't find them anywhere within either
The New York or Los Angeles branches of The Organization (the two branches
I was most closely associated with). With a little careful pushing I
was able to discover they'd been moved to the Chicago branch (I'd never
worked for The Chicago branch before).
This was more than coincidence.
Who had done this? Why had they done it? Bart was nothing to either
Kevin or Lisa, the only threat he might have posed to The Organization had
been ended by me, there was no need to step in and further mutilate the
poor bastard.
I'd already refused several meetings with Lisa, preferring to
spend my time (and show to the other Big Shots in The Organization that
I had trust in my pick for The Head) with Kevin. I had a feeling that
Kevin wasn't behind this, but I had to be careful, he was a
shifty character, he knew my true identity, something I'd kept from
everyone who thought they knew who I really was.
From the very beginning of my association with The Organization,
nearly eleven years ago now, I'd used a mix of subliminal images and my
hypnotic programming to make members of The Organization
extremely susceptible to my hypnosis. Back then it had been easy to
keep track of it all, everytime I met another member of The Organization
I'd put them into a trance and re-strengthen the programming. The result
was that everybody in The Organization thought I was somebody I actually
wasn't. Our techies (with access to more advanced technology than the
public would see for ten years) usually placed a CGI of somebody else's
face and identifiable birthmarks over my own face and body (standard
operating procedure for all my fellow film-makers at The Organization).
These were then sent out to our Clients who would never be able to tell
the difference, the originals were sent along with the final copies to
The Archives. But, unlike every other film-maker for The Organization,
my originals went to my own private collection, while copies
were adjusted by the hypnotized techs (who'd forget they'd done this
immediately after doing it) so that another celebrity was placed over
my originals.
This was my insurance policy. It was damn hard to cover all the
bases, it required a lot of work and I had to constantly check that what
I had ordered was still being done. But it was better than some bum
coming across The Archives and finding a bigger scoop than Woodward and
Bernstein could have ever dreamed of.
Sometimes a little paranoia was healthy.
I was getting ready to call up Lisa and set a meeting between
us, try and figure out if she was behind Bart's disfigurement, when the
phone rang. I picked it up and found myself engaging in meaningless
small talk with my agent, who told me something that made me forget all
about Lisa and Kevin and Bart and all that other good bullshit.
They wanted me to do a guest-spot on Dharma and Greg.
-
Donovan Prescott sighed as he looked through the folder on the
Sanchez case.
He'd taken it without any doubts in his mind that he couldn't
lose. The woman - Rosa Sanchez - had an adopted, 11 month old daughter
named Kimberly, Kimberly's birth-mother - Gina Hollis - was a junkie
and three time loser who'd just finished a stretch in jail for possession
of illegal narcotics.
Gina wanted Kimberly back, not out of any love for her daughter,
but because if she had Kimberly she became eligible for financial support
from the Government. Supplementing that with her legal income as a
waitress and her illegal income as a hooker, she'd be able to keep up
a very expensive heroin habit.
That wasn't conjecture, the police had supplied Donovan with
tapes from wire-taps on a known dealer. In these tapes Gina not only
told the dealer that this was her plan, but referred to her daughter
several times as not only a little, sniveling bitch, but also as a
squawling, annoying chain around her neck.
"Plus," muttered Donovan,"Kimberly was born addicted to heroin,
she had to go through withdrawal symptoms almost from the time she was
a day old."
Rosa Sanchez had had Kimberly since she was three months old,
she'd been the only mother the little baby had ever had. She was not
exactly rich, couldn't even be put comfortably in the definition of
middle-class, but she was certainly not a low class, heroin addicted
whore with no feelings for the child.
But Donovan was going to lose the case.
Gina's lawyer, a smart-ass bitch straight out of Harvard, had
for some reason taken this case pro-bono and effectively destroyed any
argument or tactics he could have taken before the first day of the case,
even before her opening statement. She'd somehow managed to convince the
judge not to include the tapes Gina had made, she'd somehow gotten Gina's
record of abuse - both to her daughter and to herself - as well as her
criminal record, to be kept out of the case.
He managed to make thinly veiled references to all of
that throughout the case, many of which had been objected to strenuously
by Gina's lawyer, who was making him look like the novice. Still, the
jury at least had the idea that there was a reason that Gina hadn't been
around the first year of her daughters life. Still, without actual
facts, they couldn't make a ruling based on an idea of what Gina had done,
and that made it look likely that the whore would get her lifeline back.
"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his forehead and wishing he'd not
told Janet, his secretary, to go home. He could sure use someone to
bounce some ideas for his closing statement.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come," he muttered.
The door opened and he lifted his head to see Calvin Hunter walking
through it.
Calvin Hunter, the name always struck him as something from one
of those Boys Annuals he used to read as a child (his father had spent
some time in Britain and brought him back a huge pile). The kind of
guy who wondered about the Jungles of Africa in khaki shorts with a giant
machete and rugged good looks, looked upon in awe by the natives who
saw him as a Demi-God.
Well, Calvin had the rugged good looks at least, but you wouldn't
catch him dead in either Khaki or in Africa. He had never been out of
the greater New York area and he had no great urges to do so, in fact if
he had his way, he'd never leave the actual city.
"Calvin," he said with a strained smile,"Sorry man, I'm a little
busy right now..."
Calvin shook his head, his quick, good natured smile made it
impossible to be angry with him for any length of time.
"You are gonna want to hear this, my friend," he said, still
smiling. Donovan noticed that he was holding a rolled up folder in his
hand,"I think I may have found a link to Rob's death."
-
I looked through the script, chuckling in amusement, but not at
the gags.
"This is perfect," I laughed,"If I didn't know better, I'd say
this was one of my own scripts!"
I always prepared my own scripts on assignment for The
Organization, if it was a sitcom spoof then I wrote out a prepared script
for the actors. This one was setup so perfectly for me that I wouldn't
even need to do that.
I picked up the phone, rang my agent and told them to confirm
that I was happy to be on the show.
-
After going to the set early and preparing the castmembers and
members of the set, I moved out to location. If everything went as
planned they would show up there, all ready to go
As always, I'd hypnotized the cast and set members and ordered
their subconscious to take everything that happened as a matter of course,
and to store it in their short term memory. That night, or maybe a little
later that week, they would dream of what had happened and lose the
memory. Any trace amounts that survived would be thought of as a dream.
After the crew was finished, the cast was next, I had to keep the
actors portraying the parents, sister and friend away from the main set.
Once their part in the script was done, they'd 'go to lunch' as they would
think of it, and not return to the set for a couple of hours.
Happily, my scenes would be on location, not on set, and I'd be
away from an audience. Although the Home Improvement fiasco was far behind
me, I didn't like to tempt fate.
The star of the show (the one I was interested in, at least) was
Jenna Elfman. I hypnotized her, implanted the key parts of what I wanted
her to do, happily, with the script as it was, I'd get a chance
to strengthen these hypnotic suggestions later on.
As soon as these early scenes ended, the other actors would all
decide to go to lunch while Jenna and the bare minimum required crew would
moved out onto location, where I would be waiting to play my part.
-
"You have to keep my part in this quiet," said Calvin,"I took
it as a freelance."
Donovan nodded, Calvin worked as an Investigator for a prestigious
New York Law Firm. Part of his contract was that he worked for them
alone, but he occasionally took freelance work for extra cash.
"This lady," said Calvin,"She's been having dreams, real strange
dreams where a guy comes into her house and screws her brains out. She
says that it's weird because it starts off as kind of mutual lust, but
then this stranger takes over and it kind of becomes against her will...
except she still wants it."
"Maybe she has masochistic tendencies coming out in the dreams?"
remarked Donovan.
"Definitely not this lady," replied Calvin,"The thing is, she
can't see this guys face, no matter how hard she tries his face is always
in shadows, or blurred, or she just misses it slightly."
"So what's the problem? It's just a dream, right?"
"That's what she thinks, but she's a firm believer in the truth
behind dreams and she wanted to make sure nothing had happened to her
that she'd repressed."
Donovan sighed,"Is she a celebrity?"
"Yeah," replied Calvin,"She came to me on the quiet and asked me
to try and check it out, surreptitious like."
"And what did you find?"
"At first, nothing, nada, zip, zero."
"And later?"
"I got her old security tapes, got a contact of mine to check
through them."
"Wait, wait," muttered Donovan,"She still had her old security
tapes?"
"Yeah, this is the weird thing," laughed Calvin,"Apparently her
security guard got in a car accident about a year ago and had to leave the
job, and he never got around to wiping the tapes... or so it seemed."
Donovan motioned for him to continue, intrigued.
"My tape guy tells me that the dates on the tapes I gave him have
been doctored, that they're actually from another day. He went so far as
to go back and check weather reports for the day the tapes were supposed
to be for."
"And?"
"On the day the tapes were supposedly made, it was supposed to be
fine, sunny weather, but on the tapes the weather is overcast."
"Shit, so something did happen to her?"
"Yeah, and then we hit paydirt!"
Donovan looked up, hopeful, and he was not to be disappointed.
"The tape guy, Alan, he's a perfectionist, he looked through some
of the earlier tapes I'd given him and found one from early in the morning
that wasn't doctored, although he says it would have been if this Security
Guard wasn't in an accident."
"Can we get hold of this guard?" asked Donovan,"Subpeona him?"
"I don't think he was in on it," said Calvin,"At least not in any
way he knew off, based on what my clients told me, I think she
was hypnotized and this guy probably was too... I bet he didn't even know
he'd doctored the tapes."
Donovan remembered something that Dave Hollaway had said in his
confession, but said nothing.
"He found an image in the reflection of a car window out on the
street," said Calvin,"He blew it up, enhanced the image and got a picture
of my client's mystery visitor."
Calvin opened the folder and took out a picture, scanned from this
Alan's computer.
Donovan looked at it with wide eyes, remembering what Dave had
said about this Organization of his.
"They got guys working on celebrity woman all over America and even
about the world," Dave had said, he'd laughed,"Their number one guy is
a fucking hypnotist of all things! The chicks he fucks don't even know
they've been fucked!"
He'd leaned back in his chair and smiled.
"And that's it?" The D.A. had asked.
"Sure is," Dave had replied,"This Organization runs
right throughout this country and......."
Donovan shook his head clear, looked at the picture of the man
who could well be this 'Celebrity Hypnotist.'
"Is that who I think it is?" he asked.
Calvin smiled.
"You bet your ass it is."
-
The car pulled up and I smiled in my hood.
I was wearing the traditional, white robes of a druid, a large
hood pulled over my head. It was part of the joke that no one would see
my face, and that I would be a mysterious figure, at the end of the scene
I was supposed to disappear mysteriously, and after Jenna left, exclaiming
at my weird powers, then I would walk out from behind the tree
and apologize for having to take a leak, then wonder where she'd gone.
We'd never get that far.
I had my back against a tree and I was sweating in the hot sun,
but I was loving this, I couldn't wait for what was going to happen.
The crew were all far off where their shadows wouldn't fall over
the filmed grass or ourselves, when the car pulled up I lifted my head
in the hood.
"Wow," laughed Jenna, the scene had begun,"Are you Zoltar?" she
asked me.
"Yes," I replied in a raspy, low voice,"But you can call me Bill."
She giggled and I felt my cock - already erect in expectation -
get even harder, she was so fucking sexy!
She sat down, crossing her legs and staring into my dark hood,
she could see my eyes, which was important, but as we were being filmed
from the side nobody else would see my face.
"Tell me," I said,"Why have you come?"
"I had a dream a couple of nights ago," she said,"I was in a park
looking at The Golden Gate Bridge, then I nearly fell over the side and
my husband, Greg, caught me," she smiled and sighed happily, the character
of Dharma was deeply in love with Greg,"I woke up and was staring at him,
so happy just to be with him and he woke up, asked me what was going on
and I just said, you'll always be there for me, won't you mudman? then
went back to sleep."
"Ahhhhhh," I said,"Mudman."
"Yeah," she said, crinkling her nose and grinning,"What's that all
about?"
"You and your husband are linked souls," I said,"For a long time
you have been joined, seeking each other... in your last incarnation you
knew him only as Mudman."
"Wow," she said,"Mudman? I still don't get it, didn't he have a
name?"
"If you would like," I said,"I can take you back to your past
life."
"Sure!" she said, like I'd offered to take her down to
the supermarket to get some milk.
My hands reached up and took her by the side of the head, her
eyes locked with mine and I whispered the keyword to place her back in
the trance I'd had her in earlier. That done, I began speaking, both
for the benefit of the camera as well as to reinforce the
hypnotic conditioning already instilled in her subconscious.
Soon we were ready to go.
I removed the hood and robes (once the cameras were turned off)
and got into the new costume, brought with the crew. I put on the long
haired wig and flowing beard, put on the flowery, open necked shirt and
some white, puffy pants.
When I took the films to be processed by the techies, it would
be easy to remove my features considering only my nose and eyes were
visible.
We'd had the ground dug up and buckets of water thrown over it,
creating a large section of mud. We trampled about in it, then left it
during the first scene, sun had hardened it somewhat and created the
impression that the ground had been churned up by constant movement.
The crew pitched a small tent over the mud, the tent was large
enough to fit about three people without showing the grass a little further
out, and I sat in the middle of the tent (which was well lit, considering
that the tent was missing one side to allow the camera's in) head down
and trying to be unobtrusive. I had my own, small fibre optic cameras,
placed about the tent, unseen and leading out to monitors which recorded
the action.
"Okay," said the Director,"Cue the music."
Jimi Hendrix playing the national anthem started up.
"Action," said the Director, and the scene began.
The flap to the tent opened and Jenna stepped in.
"Oh hey," she said,"Mind if I step in?"
"No, that's fine," I said.
She walked in and I felt my heard skip a beat, she had a large
flower slid behind her ear, her hair was brushed back and straight, face
clear of makeup but glowing with excitement. She wore a white dress which
came just down between her knees and hips, low cut to show off a great
deal of cleavage.
"Isn't this so cool!" she laughed,"Who would have thought Woodstock
would be so big?"
"Not me," I muttered.
She didn't notice my bad mood, instead she spread her arms and
grinned, breathing in deeply.
"You can smell the atmosphere!"
"That's not the atmosphere," I returned.
"Listen to Jimi go," she said,"He's so good!"
"He won't go anywhere if all he can play is The National Anthem,"
I replied,"In thirty years no one will remember him."
"Geez," she said, still smiling,"What's wrong with you?"
I looked up.
"This whole thing really isn't my scene," I said,"Even this hair
is not me."
"Then why do you have it?" she asked,"Why are you here?"
I grinned,"Heh, rebelling against my father I guess."
She laughed,"That's so cool! You grew your hair longer than mine
just to piss off your dad!"
I chuckled slightly.
"It's such a cliché!" she laughed,"Wow, I never met a cliché
before!"
Her laughter and joy were infectious, I didn't have to act amused
or happy, she made me that way.
"Shut up," I said with a grin.
"No, you shut up!" she laughed.
"No you shut up!" I returned, teeth flashing bright beneath my
beard.
She leaped down on me unexpectedly (well, she'd been conditioned
to do it, but you know what I mean) and forced my back into the mud, she
straddled me and grinned happily.
"Say give and I'll get off."
I chuckled,"Guess I'll say anything but, then."
"Ooooh," she laughed,"That's the worst come-on I've ever heard."
It can't have been that bad, because she didn't move.
"So," she said, tickling me,"You don't like Jimi, huh?"
"Stop! Stop!" I laughed,"Jimi's the greatest!"
She giggled happily, then squawked in surprise as she was spun
about and our positions were reversed, the back of her white dress was
now pressed firmly into the mud.
"Say give and I'll get off!" I laughed, echoing her.
"Guess I'll say anything but, then," she replied.
Suddenly our smiles disappeared, replaced by the serious look
that seemingly occurred before every t.v or movie kiss. I leaned forward
and tentatively kissed her... and then she lifted her head up and shoved
her tongue down my throat.
My eyes opened wide and she pulled away, an incredibly cute (and
erotic!) look on her face.
"Wow," I said.
"Wow," she repeated, giggling, lying in the mud with me on top
of her,"You like that, huh?"
I laughed,"I've never met anyone like you before in my life!"
She giggled,"How about these?"
She reached up, grabbed the shoulders of her dress and pulled
it down over her large, firm breasts, revealing small, pink nipples.
"Hufffh," I gasped.
"Guess not, huh?" she giggled, then frowned at me, yet still with
that happy glint in her eyes,"Well? Aren't you going to do something
about my boys? They're a little cold out here!"
I tentatively, hesitantly lowered my mouth towards her right
breast, tasting it with my lips gently.
"Oh fuck," she muttered as if in disgust,"Do I have to
do everything around here."
She pushed her chest up and suddenly my mouth was engulfing her
titflesh, sucking the pink, erect nipple in between my lips.
"Now that's more like it," she laughed, stretching her arms over
her head and spreading her legs out, unconsciously making mud-angels as
I sucked on her nipple.
This was working out better than I could have ever expected.
End Part 1/3
Compliments, Criticisms and/or Requests to :
dimitri_resides@hotmail.com
--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>