Chapter 1
She cupped her firm young breasts, making their jutting, ruby nipples peep above the neckline of the low-cut black silk dress. There was a smile on her lovely young face, long blonde tresses framing it, as she offered herself to her lover. She lay back completely on the couch and her skirt rode up, up-exposing a pair of gleaming, white, rounded thighs. She began to wriggle her asscheeks and the skirt rose to her navel, exposing gossamer see-through panties. The curves of her young, rounded tits half-exposed and thighs beginning a slow, rhythmic grind, were an open invitation to rape.
"Doc, it's really working on her," the fat, sweating man exclaimed, licking his lips. "Why don't I fuck her on the couch right now?"
The professional looking "Doc" restrained him sharply.
"No screwing until I tell you, Krobutt. She's got to go into deeper trance-do you want to spoil everything?"
Krobutt's mouth hung open and hump-lust shone in his small eyes as he watched the girl on the couch. But, he held his impatient cock in check as Dr. Mark Kirby, the suave, handsome hypnotist had ordered.
The girl's thighs continued to writhe with sensuous passion; suddenly, she parted them and braced her asscheeks with her hands. She moaned with passion as if her invisible lover had thrust his cock into her. Her squirming buttocks began to shimmer through the thin panties in the throes of culmination. Her belly and then her cunt began to twitch in unmistakable "come" ecstasy, and she gasped, "Bob! Bob, that was a wonderful fuck!"
Jake Krobutt looked on in amazement. What manner of magic had this Dr. Mark Kirby worked on this frigid chick he'd been trying to screw for so long? Here they were in this hotel room, twenty-one stories above downtown San Francisco and this babe was acting as if she were alone in bed, screwing with a boyfriend called Bob. He was impatient to fuck her lush blonde beauty ... Doc Kirby had promised him he'd make her lose her mental blocks about him. That after this treatment, she'd be a real hot, frigging doll to him always.
"I'm going to make her go more deeply into trance, so we can root out this fixation she's got on this jerk, Bob, and substitute your image instead," the suave hypnotist explained. The aroused Jake Krobutt nodded agreement as Kirby intoned to the girl on the couch.
"The sea is a still, deep blue," the hypnotist suggested. "The sky is a deeper blue. The sun is hot-hot-hot-. It burns down on your body. It makes you feel wonderfully alive, tremendously vital. As you lie there in the sand, you feel an urge to live, to experience all the new physical sensations that are stirring within you."
The girl smiled faintly. The eyes under her closed lids rolled upward. Her wide mouth opened slightly and the tip of her tongue appeared and sensuously caressed her lips.
The hypnotist observed these deepening trance-symptoms with marked satisfaction. He put a sharper tone into his voice as he said, "You will rest now, and imagine warm, wonderful things happening to you-within you. You will let your mind dwell on the fact that inhibitions are not necessary here on things a woman should feel, the things you were born to feel. The delightful things-like men's stiff pricks in your cunt. You will let your mind dwell on thoughts of this nature, exciting thoughts, and you will hear no voices until I speak the word, happiness again. Remember that. You will hear no voice until I speak the word happiness again."
The hypnotist had been leaning forward in the chair beside the couch. Now he sat back and relaxed and lit a cigarette.
The eyes of the other man in the room, fat, middle-aged, bald-headed, were glued on the girl. Her smile had broadened, become more sensuous. She opened her mouth and her tongue came out lazily as though searching for a contact. She ran her palms over her tits in a circular motion. Her body stretched and twisted and her hands went down her body. She raised her knees and lifted her ass. She ran her palms along the outer side of her legs.
"The trance is now quite deep," the hypnotist said.
Krobutt stared in wonder. "Do you mean she can't hear you talking? She can't hear what we have to say?"
The hypnotist was not interested in the lewd, uninhibited hump-actions of the girl. He drew deeply on his cigarette and blew a meditative cloud of smoke into her face.
"Yes and no," he said. "Her senses are registering what we say, of course. And the memory of our words will always remain in her subconscious. But her conscious mind is obeying my order. It isn't listening. That's about the only way I can put it."
"It's-fantastic," the fat man said. "I've heard that no one can be hypnotized against their will, but...."
"That's quite correct. They can't."
"But Melia certainly doesn't want to lie there and make a spectacle of herself."
The handsome hypnotist smiled at his client. "You mean her inhibitions, in normal state, would not let her. There's a world of difference. It's entirely true that a person cannot be hypnotized against his will. He must cooperate in achieving the trance because a trance is actually self-imposed. Nor will a patient do anything under a trance, any basic thing, against which his subconscious rebels."
"Then how-?"
"This patient," the hypnotist said, "would not dream of acting in this manner in a hotel room before witnesses. But, if she thinks she's alone, or on a deserted beach, that's a different proposition. She had to cooperate to the extent of allowing me to place her on the beach, in a trance, and so now the objections of her subconscious have been met. She is doing exactly what she would not object to doing if the conditions were real. So far as she is concerned, they are real."
"The possibilities are boundless!"
"After a manner of speaking."
"Could I learn to...."
"To be a hypnotist? Possibly, but I don't think you are tempera mentally suited to be a very good one." He allowed his contempt for the fat man to show through.
"In the first place, conditioning a woman for screwing purposes is a very low form of enterprise; and it's hardly a worthy reason for learning an ancient and honorable art."
The fat man raised his eyes from the girl to flash an angry look at the hypnotist. "You took my money without quibbling about it. You seem able to compromise your own principles without any trouble."
"The situation was not the same. I accepted a case."
The fat man was angry now. "Words do not change things, Mr. Kirby-"
"Doctor Kirby, if you please."
"Doctor Mark Kirby" the fat man elaborated sarcastically. "You yourself are doing exactly what...."
Kirby jerked an impatient hand and glanced down to where the girl had moaned slightly and removed her lacy panties. The fat man turned his eyes in that direction and stared fascinated as she dropped the article of clothing to the floor and continued caressing of her legs, and then her blonde bush-hair.
"This girl, you told me, consented to be your mistress. This was a relationship you agreed on jointly and is none of my business. You told me she had some moral blocks and unless they were removed, the relationship would fail. I am merely removing those blocks."
The fat man said, "But damn it, man! You've got no right to insult...."
It was characteristic of Kirby, a mark of his control over people-that he always kept opponents and patients off-balance-to the extent now of not allowing the fat man even to finish a statement.
"You're quite right. I'm sorry. But if you wish this therapy to reach a satisfactory conclusion, you'd better let me get back to the patient."
The fat man scowled and subsided. This wasn't too difficult because he was witnessing something new, something that belonged in a fantasy, not in a downtown hotel room in the middle of the day.
Mark Kirby leaned close to the girl and looked into her face.
"Is she coming out of the trance?" the fat man asked. "No, but her mind has gone back to the original concept."
This had been the basis upon which the girl had been persuaded to cooperate, hypnotic conditioning against the cigarette habit. Once she had agreed to enter a trance under this subterfuge, Mark Kirby had gotten her trust and deftly switched over to breaking her subconscious blocks against fucking for the fat man.
The fat man pulled his eyes away from the girl's hands and her cunt-manipulations that had resulted from Kirby's last instructions. He looked at her face. She wore an expression of distance, as though the inside of her mouth had turned sour.
To all appearances, she was smoking a cigarette and objecting to it.
"Maybe you'd better get her mind back to-"
Kirby motioned for silence. He continued to peer at the girl's face with a puzzled look. "Please be quiet. She had taken command of the trance. She is going of her own volition." He continued to stare. "She is regressing," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"Going back into her own life, reliving some experience."
There was silence now, as they watched. Obviously it was not a cigarette she had in her mouth. It was something else.
Her dress had worked up on her body until the skirt was now rolled and wadded high on her waist. Her eyelids flickered but did not open.
Kirby seemed ever more deeply puzzled. He made no effort to interfere, even when the girl twisted around and came up on her knees. Then she slid off the couch and kneeled beside it as though in prayer.
"No! No!" she muttered, in revulsion. "No! No!"
Now, her head twisted oddly. It seemed somehow locked into the upwardly tilted position, as though in a vise and there was fear and disgust in her face even though her eyes remained closed.
The fat man seemed incapable of movement. His eyes darted to Kirby's face as though checking it to see if this performance frightened the hypnotist. Then they went back to the girl.
She seemed to be trying to struggle. And with nothing to struggle against, the effect was weird. Her mouth opened and again she protested: "No! No! I won't! Don't make me suck your prick!"
"Hadn't you better bring her out of it?" Krobutt asked.
Again Kirby gestured impatiently. He was the dedicated practitioner studying a phenomenon for its own value.
As the girl's mouth had opened to protest, she'd suddenly appeared to be choking. Her protests were now gargles deep in her throat and her larynx worked convulsively. She fought phantoms as she knelt there beside the lounge. Phantoms pushed her forward and down. Her eyes opened wide. Then that form of imaginary resistance appeared to abate and the girl surrender.
That was the incredible appearance she gave; one of surrending to nothing; accepting defeat from the phantoms with which she'd been engaged in battle.
Now, with her eyes tightly closed, she seemed to regress even further.
The girl had achieved a kind of rhythm in whatever she thought she was doing. It gave every appearance of the regression having taken her back to babyhood; to a time when she had been bottle-fed-or maybe she was sucking on a man's penis.
"I think she needs air," Kirby said impatiently. "Open a window."
"Don't you think you ought to-?"
"I said, open a window," Kirby snapped without taking his eyes off the girl.
The fat man got up from his chair and crossed the room. He lifted the window without taking his eyes off the spectacle at the couch.
Kirby was watching the girl more intently than ever. "Has she gone back to babyhood?" he muttered.
The girl's eyes opened wide as though some surprise had been introduced into her nightmare. She gulped convulsively. There was sickness and a trace of fear in her face.
"Disgust," Kirby muttered. "A baby isn't disgusted with its food-" He was puzzled-talking to himself-oblivious now of the fat man's presence.
The girl got up from her knees. She moved in a circle with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes had opened and they remained so. She looked dazedly around the room and saw the door to the bath.
She took two or three staggering steps in that direction and hesitated as though confused.
Her skirt had not dropped, its folds having become entangled in her belt and the fat man was watching, totally bemused by the spectacle of the naked girl's blonde bush-hair and cunt as she was staggering around the room in a trance.
Kirby was on his feet. "I'll bring her out of it," he said decisively.
"For God's sake, hurry," the anxious Jake Krobutt muttered.
The girl froze. Her eyes, even though they were open, seemed to go through the process again, reopen as though they were the eyes of a sleep-walker awakening.
Conscious terror took over now. She looked wildly around the room.
And before Kirby or Krobutt could move, she turned and dived head first out the twenty-first floor window.
The fat man screamed a high, gargled scream but Kirby reacted differently. He was not a man to panic. His eyes narrowed, his lips formed into a stiff, straight line. He looked swiftly around the room for anything that would later prove his presence on the scene. He found nothing and snatched up his hat and started for the door.
The fat man came alive. He squealed rather than screamed, in wordless fear and anger, as he lunged at Kirby. He caught the fleeing hypnotist by his coat-tail and jerked him backward. He found some words:
"You ain't leaving me here, you louse."
Kirby turned, jerked his coat from the fat man's grip, and hit him. His blow was hard and deep, into the solar-plexus.
The fat's man's eyes bulged and his mouth flew open. He went to his knees and tilted forward, his forehead banging the floor.
Kirby cupped him smartly at the base of the skull and he rolled over on his side. Then he kicked the man in the jaw and saw him go limp.
Turning toward the door, Kirby stopped again as another idea struck him. He hadn't much time to think because a scream or two of horror had already come up from the street.
He went to his knees, turned the unconscious Krobutt over on his back, and inflicted several long, hard scratches into the flesh of his face.
Then he left the room and hurried down the hall toward the nearest exit sign.
It was these few moments upon which his destiny hinged. And he was lucky. No heads came into view. No one looked out to inquire as to what had happened.
A matter of ten seconds, and Dr. Mark Kirby had vanished from the twenty-first floor of the hotel to arrive casually, a couple of minutes later, on the fourteenth floor. There he took an elevator to the lobby and left by the side entrance, thus avoiding the necessity of passing the smashed and broken body on the sidewalk in front of the main entrance.
As he left, he wondered if the girl had killed anyone else as she struck the cement. He hoped not....
An hour later, he had checked out of his own hotel and was on the way to the airport. As he moved toward the ramp to board his plane, he bought a copy of an extra at the newstand and, settled comfortable in his seat, he read the story:
"DANCER DIES IN PLUNGE" Semi-Nude Beauty Hurtles From Window of Local Businessman's Hotel Room.
Mystery surrounded the tragic death, today, of Melia Vonner, a dancer who had been appearing currently in local discotheques.
Sensational developments were promised when it was discovered that the room from which Miss Vonner jumped or was pushed, was registered to J. Krobutt, a prominent real estate dealer of this city.
While details are yet to be revealed, it is known that Jake Krobutt, 45, widower, had been seen lately in several night spots. Also, he had been seen publicly with the Vonner girl.
Found in the room on the twenty-first floor of the Taynton Hotel where Miss Vonner was placed by the discovered of her bag and gloves, Krobutt first stated that she accidentally feel from the window after it was opened to provide more air.
Krobutt claimed another man was present at the time, a Dr. Mark Kirby, stating that Kirby was a hypnotic therapist and was treating Miss Vonner for mental disturbances.
However, Krobutt was vague as to where the mysterious Dr. Kirby lived or had offices. Only Krobutt was seen entering the hotel and police are inclined to doubt the existence of Kirby, at least at this early stage of the investigation.
Krobutt refused to talk further on the advice of his counsel. He is being held as a material witness. The police say the charge will probably be homicide because of the fact that deep scratches were found on Krobutt's face and there are evidence of a struggle...."
The hypnotist folded the paper and looked back through the cabin window at the scene of his near disaster. It was fast-vanishing-a cluster of toy-sized buildings below and rearward of the jet. He took a deep breath and assessed the factors of his good luck.
First, the police would find no trace of Dr. Mark Kirby in the city. He was registered at no hotel. He got no mail. He acquired no bills. It was amazing, the protection to be found in names. Dr. Mark Kirby was only one of many that the hypnotist had used in his shady business. It would never be used again.
A second point in his favor was that Jake Krobutt had no personal friends or acquaintances who could vouch for the fact that Krobutt had been consulting with a hypnotist. The contact had been confidential to the point of complete secrecy. Kirby had never been seen with Krobutt except by the girl who was now beyond giving testimony.
Third, Kirby had no friends or acquaintances in the city. He had stayed completely alone.
So, to all intents and purposes, Dr. Kirby did not exist.
Kirby's good fortune had not been the result of caution founded on any expectation of violence. He deeply regretted the girl's death. It was just that he'd learned caution as a way of life-as common sense in a profession that could generate many forms of trouble because of its nature.
More than once, he had saved himself, had escaped sticky situations because of his native caution and his passion for anonymity.
And it was obvious that he had again saved himself. He ran over the details again, searching for possible flaws. He found none and characteristically dismissed the matter from his mind....
To turn to a more interesting area. The girl patient with whom he had made a mistake.
His mistake was quite obvious and it was a source of shame. He had misjudged the depths of the Vonner girl's trance. He had allowed her to seek her own trance-level. He had not paid any attention to the obvious signs of agitation in the girl. These lapses were inexcusable, and he sternly set about analyzing his errors.
The sensuous display of her tits and naked cunt had been quite normal in that it reflected only uninhibited release as a result of his suggestions. The girl wanted and had a capacity for uninhibited hump-relationships. That was obvious. And it was no surprise to the hypnotist. He had seen women turn in these directions before. Once, when badly in need of money, he had worked before a select audience-an extremely high-priced audience. Ten men paid two hundred dollars apiece to see him cause two girls to put on an incredible exhibition of the power of hypnotism. A totally uninhibited Lesbian demonstration, after which they became, at his suggestion, four-legged animals who performed animal functions such as shitting and pissing on each other's faces without a sign of inhibited restraint.
But the Vonner girl. Where had she turned from catering to hidden desires? From that to colliding with a true painful past incident in her life that brought her out of the trance with her in chaos?
She had experienced a release as a result of her own thoughts. Thus, she functioned in a fantasy under controlled conditions, something that the hypnotist considered good therapy. Inevitably, if he'd been allowed to continue the treatments, he would have brought the girl to a point where she could have given Krobutt a complete hump-relationship.
Nothing wrong with that, he told himself firmly. It was what Krobutt had paid him to do and the girl would have profited from it also.
But the other. He should have been suspicious when she got off the couch and knelt beside it. Her expression, her obvious revulsion. He should have known that she was reliving a cock-sucking experience forced upon her at some earlier time. If he had stepped in quickly and reasumed control, he could have led her away from the experience and have profited from what she had revealed to him.
No doubt it had been that experience at the hands of someone that had set up the blocks that plagued her later. With that knowledge he could reconditioned her, eliminated her revulsion to cock-sucking and swallowing sperm and put her through the same experience, in relation to Krobutt, and the man would have been elated with the frigging results that would have been attained.
The jet took a sharp dip that brought the hypnotist back to the place and time. Quickly, he summed up. He'd learned again that you can never let up for a moment when a patient is in trance. You can't tell when a plunge into some painful early experience can precipitate danger.
He recorded the reeducation into his mental note book and went on to the next item of business. Where was he going? What could he do?
He shrugged. What else but follow his destiny as he had always followed? Stay alert and await whatever advantages fate threw his way. His plane was headed for Boston. That had been from pure chance. It had been the first plane out. But was it an omen?
You try to be a scientist of sorts, he thought, so let's forget this omen business and think logically. Right now, it would be best if he lost himself, and where better to lose oneself than in the biggest town of all. He decided that when the big jet got to Logan Airport in Boston, he'd transfer to a shuttle plane and go on to Kennedy. New York had more of almost anything you could name and he hoped that would include patients for his hypnotic brand of therapy.
He mentally began to build up his Manhattan identity. He would be Dr. Ralph Ramey, late of his own midwest clinic. He was coming to the big town for the opportunity to give the benefits of his hypnotic psychology to more patients and to do original research and study.
"Goodbye Dr. Mark Kirby Hello, Dr. Ralph Ramey," he said to himself. He smiled at the attractive stewardess, ordered a drink and settled back to enjoy the luxuries of the first-class cabin.