General Disclaimers: While it features no ‘on-screen’ sexual activity or explicit adult situations, this hypnofetish story does contain examples of fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters. If you are under the age of consent in your community, are disturbed by such concepts, or want hot wet thrusting monkey-sex in your on-line pornography, then for goshsakes stop reading now!

Permission granted to re-post for free to any electronic medium, as long as no one's being charged to view it, and this disclaimer and e-mail address ( are not removed. It would also be nice if you told me you were posting it.

Copyright Voyer, 2005.

Specific Disclaimers: If you haven't, you'll want to read part six first.

Mary woke up.

She was sitting in her car, her hands wrapped around the steering wheel’s familiar shape. Blinking, she peered at the windshield, which was dusty and splattered with bug remains; she vaguely remembered that she had meant to go to the carwash this week, but somehow the days were just flickering past. She peered through the windshield, and discovered that the was parked in front of the Hayestown Tuneworld branch; the enormous neon sign was unmistakable, particularly with dusk slowly creeping in.

She felt strange and empty. Prying her hand free, she floated it and looked at the Light. It was there, barely, flickering weakly.


Mary let out a sigh of release.

It was the Light.

And as always, it helped her. In this case, helped her to remember.

Of course. She had driven over here to see Teresa about getting some music, some real music. As she opened the car door, she reached for her purse, which was sitting on the passenger seat beside her.

She paused with her hand curled into a surprised claw.

Her big old purse. Squatting there, looking about the same way as Mary felt.

And leaning against it was a white plastic sack with the Tuneworld logo printed on the side. Mary pulled the door shut and flicked open the sack with a careful finger. Inside, along with a sales receipt, there was a CD case, the cover of which featured most prominently the swirly word MOZART and a gray-haired man in a tuxedo.. a conductor.. waving a baton. Mary pulled out the CD and examined it more closely. The (relatively) fine print revealed the disc had been put out by the city symphony.

She rubbed at her temple. Had she gone in and bought this? She thought back. She remembered the drive over here, going up to the door of the store, going in, the clerk with the fateful of metal, and then...

Everything gradually went green with the Light, and when it cleared, she was sitting back here in the car, holding the steering wheel.

A chill crawled in the pit of her stomach, and the CD felt like a lump of lead in her hands. This was bad. This was wrong. She had to..

The door to Tuneworld opened, and a figure stepped out. Oddly half-familiar. After a moment, Mary realized it was Teresa, wearing her dark purple coat and carrying her own purse. Those hadn’t changed, it was something else... The two women’s eyes met. Teresa opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it with a snap, made a sharp turn, and marched off down the street.

The expression on her face..

The way she was walking..

Those were what had changed.

Mary bit at her lip.

What was going on?

What could she possibly do?

She closed her eyes and blew out another calming breath.

She flipped her eyes open.

She would go home. Going home always made her feel better, always made all the problems go away.

But what if this time it doesn’t?!?

She glared at the thought. She would make them go away.

She started up the car. Then she fished around in her purse and found her trusty Swiss Army knife, a present from.. she had to pause and try to remember.. another boyfriend.. the one before Frank..

Jimmy.. hadn’t his name been Jimmy?

She couldn’t remember what his face looked like.

He’d been tall, with dark hair.

She flipped open one of the blades, and with a practiced slash, she cut through the CD’s packaging, extracted the disc and stuck it in her car’s player.

Music swelled.

The thought went away. All the thoughts and problems went away in a quick cool flush.

She drove home, and halfway down the block from the apartment’s parking lot, the calmness and the peace returned once again, as she knew they would, stronger and deeper than ever. It was like she was driving straight downhill into a vast green pool.

The Light shone brightly again, and once she was safely parked she floated her hand and bathed her mind in it.

Bright and beautiful again.

Deeper and deeper.

Everything was fine. Everything was perfect. She was only mildly surprised to discover that even when she silenced the CD and extracted it from the player, the Music ran on in an endless loop inside her head,

over and

over and


She smiled and hummed along as she gathered up her things and got out of her car. Her eyes ran along the row of the other vehicles. Krish’s car. Brannigan’s fussy little compact. The gaudy gold monstrosity owned by that idiot Sutter.

And in one of the visitor slots, a familiar silver coupe.

Angelita’s car.

Mary walked down the sidewalk and looked inside. It was empty.

She scanned the parking lot and the apartment grounds. No one in sight, except a jumpsuited maintenance worker finishing up a last bit of weed whacking off in a far corner.

She went into the building, casting glances over her shoulder.

There was no sign of Angelita at the mailboxes, or the security door.

Mary started up towards her apartment. It wasn’t possible to truly get worried here at home, but still.. there was the tiniest tap tap tap of concern on the back of her skull, working away like one of those woodpeckers she used to see in the trees behind her uncle’s farm. Could something have happened to Angelita this morning, even before she got to her car? It was hard to imagine Angelita coming to physical harm; during one of their clubhops together, Mary had witnessed the other woman flatten an overly-amorous drunk with one punch. Still..

She reached the landing below hers, only to encounter a new obstacle. A thought. She slammed into it as if it was a physical barrier stretched across the corridor.

Mr. Krish.

She had pushed aside her meeting with Skinny, but now it came rushing back to her. She wondered again if Mr. Krish had any friends. If he was lonely.

She also remembered that he’d come up that time to complain.. no, upbraid her.. about her music.

Her old music.

He’d certainly been right about that. Whatever had she been thinking, listening to that garbage? She flushed a little, remembering her undignified and small-minded response.

On the other hand, what if...

She opened the firedoor and stared down the hall.

His car was here, he must be home.

Should she go talk to him?

What would she say? What did she want to say?

She walked slowly and carefully to the proper door, hesitated another long moment, then raised her fist to tap on the wood. In performing this last action, she brought the Light up into view.

Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

She stared into it.

Should I do this?

The answer came back with a sharp, decisive click.


She dropped her hand, turned, and went back to the staircase.

Her apartment.

She unloaded her purse onto the waiting table with a small grunt of relief, hung up her coat, put her empty salad container on the counter, walked directly into the bedroom and got out of the rest of her work clothes. The sense of relief... it was like stripping off stinking lice-infested rags. She reached to take the blue nightie off its hanger, but then saw what was hanging next to it.

The white nightie. Like the breakfast tray, she hadn’t gotten much use out of it lately.

But now...

How could she have overlooked it before?

She slipped into it and modeled in the mirror, swirling the soft semi-translucent material around her legs. Yes. Very nice indeed. Just the thing to wear when..

Important people come to visit.

She returned to the living room, found the Mozart CD, and put it on the stereo, set to infinite play. The Music stopped spinning inside her head, which, to be honest, was something of a relief.

Only then did she look to see if her slave had completed her assigned tasks for the day, before going off to work and make money.

It appeared Rebecca had. Now standing in one corner of the living room, blocking one of her sets of shelves, was a.. Mary had certainly been known to slug back the cocktails in her time, but even with Rebecca around, she wasn’t an expert on ‘behind the counter’ drinking terminology. She supposed it was called a portable bar.

It was bigger than she had been expecting, made of metal, roughly the shape but definitely not the size of a shoe box. Bottles of liqueurs stood waiting in their niches, along with the various strainers and stirrers and such. Rebecca must have a struggle getting it into the freight elevator in the back of the building and down the hallways.

The whole thing was probably pretty heavy, too; Mary could see the tracks the wide rubbery wheels had left in the carpet as Rebecca had pushed it into place. A hefty-looking power cord snaked out of one side of the unit, and into an outlet on the wall.

Mary circled it.

It was ugly.

It would do for the moment, as a stopgap measure, but she would have to get something better. More tasteful. Made of wood. For when important people came to visit.

She sighed resignedly. She guessed that would be expensive.

She was going to have to work harder, and make more money. As was Rebecca. And Angelita.


There was a knock at the door.

Mary padded over and answered it.


Mary blinked.

“Angelita. Did you ever make it out of the building this morning?”

Angelita looked at her quizzically. She was wearing her spandex gym uniform, and carrying her coat slung over one arm.

“Of course I did, Mary. I left the building, drove to work and made money. Oh, thanks again for the lunch!” She held up her own salad container and shook it to indicate its current status, which was empty. “It was great!”

“You’re welcome.” Mary’s eyes narrowed. She was not going to allow herself to become distracted. “If you went to work and made money, why was your car sitting in the parking lot when I got home?”

“Oh, that.” Angelita flapped her hand. “The crush wasn’t nearly as bad today at the gym, so I was able to get off a couple of hours early. So I came home, and ran a few errands.”

“Oh. OK!” Mary was relieved there was a sensible straightforward explanation that cleared everything up. She stepped aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” Angelita did so, and repeated Mary’s actions of a few moments before. Purse. Coat. Container. Bedroom.

Mary went into the kitchen, and looked in the refrigerator. Rebecca had performed her other functions; she had gone to the supermarket and bought eggs and bread, along with various other basics. Enough to tide them over until...

Mary considered.

It occurred to her that she really needed to go talk to Clover.

Angelita emerged from the bedroom in her nightie, again fluffing her hair into position. She stopped and listened to the Music, swaying her hips to the beat, which was an impressive achievement, really.

“That’s really nice. You went to see Teresa?”

“Of course. I-” A thought buzzed across Mary’s mind and she brushed it away. “She sold me the CD. It’s the city symphony.” She stifled a yawn. “Well, now we just need to wait for my slave to arrive, along with-”

“Your what?”

“My slave. Rebecca.”

Angelita stared.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Angelita. You know Rebecca is my slave. She always has been.”

“Uh.. No she hasn’t! Mary, something is horribly wrong! You’re babbling! And just now...” Angelita broke off and stared into space, rubbing at her temple, even as her hips continued to follow the Music.. “..when I was running my errands, I..”

Mary was becoming annoyed. She floated the Light and shined it into Angelita’s brain, speaking sternly.

“Angelita. Rebecca is my utterly obedient slave. You know this. You have always known it. You have no problem with it. You will tell no one about it.”

Angelita swayed, her eyes empty and filled with the Light.

Mary smiled. The power was in her arm again, buzzing.

“Say it, Angelita.”

“Rebecca is your utterly obedient slave. I know this. I have always known it. I have no problem with it. I will tell no one about it.”

The words buzzed out of Mary’s mouth.

“And in a sense.. she is your slave as well.. she will obey any order you give her, as long as it doesn’t contradict one of mine.”

“Yess Mary...”

“And while you are not my slave.. as such.. you will follow all of my instructions. I am your.. superior.”

“You are my superior.”

The Light lowered itself. Angelita continued to sway, her eyes glassy.

Mary snapped her fingers, and Angelita jerked awake.

“Any problems, Angelita?”

“Oh no, Mary. Of course not.” A pause. “Well. None that I am aware of. Is something wrong?”

“No. Everything’s fine. Now would you please go wash up those salad containers?”


Angelita padded into the kitchen and set to work.

Mary inserted herself into her chair, and found the TV remote. She hit the power, followed immediately by the mute button. She obviously couldn’t interrupt the Music, but she wanted to check the news and see if the world was coming to an end or anything, and she could do that with the sound off.

She wanted to be well-informed, in case anyone important ever wanted to have a discussion with her about current events.

Her stomach growled. Mary looked down at it and sighed, and supposed she had better eat something.


“Yes, Mary?”

“After you’re done there, why don’t you get that packaged lasagna out of the freezer, and cook it in the microwave?”


Mary sighed again, and wiggled her behind. The chair just wasn’t comfortable anymore. Like she suddenly no longer fit in it.

Angelita cooked the lasagna, and put out two place-settings on the counter, along with a pitcher of water and various other accompaniments. They were halfway through eating when the intercom speaker buzzed. Mary slid off her bar-chair and answered it.


“Mary? It’s me. Teresa.”

“Teresa. Come on up.”

Mary punched open the security door, then walked over to her own door. Angelita rose from her place came to stand with her superior.

“It’s too bad my slave can’t be here for this.”

“Yes, Mary.”

Ah well.

A short time later there was a knock on the door, and Mary opened it.

Teresa was carrying a large bag in either hand, and looking far more frazzled and harassed than Mary had ever seen her.

She even looked scared.

“Teresa. Come on in.”

Teresa stumbled into the room, and didn’t even seem to register Angelita’s presence.

“Mary! Oh, God! What’s happening to me? I.. I didn’t want to come here. Ever since you came to see me at the store.. there’s this.. this voice inside my head, and it’s making me do things! I packed an overnight bag, and got all this music, and.. and.. canceled my..”

The Light floated itself.

Both pieces of the Light; the one attached to Angelita’s finger came up as well, behind Teresa’s head, just as it had with Rebecca. This time it went unerringly to the correct spot.


“It’s all right, Teresa. Everything is all right. Now it’s time to sleep. Sleep...”

The bags fell from Teresa’s hands, and her chin dropped down onto her chest.

They stripped off her coat, laid her on the couch and went to bed.

miss hobhouse and miss gomez Opened their eyes.

“we Hear and we Obey.”

Continued in Part Eight

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