Message-ID: <17666eli$9811302014@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: ~master~ Subject: The Silver Ring by mesmer Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3657749C.BF4B99F6@coastnet.net.au> The Silver Ring Hypnosis/Mind-Control "THE SILVER RING" - by Mesmer (C) Chapter I This is a story about a ring. To be more precise, a silver ring, which had in its centre, on the facing side to the eyes, a deep coloured, blue encrusted jewel, which appeared to have just grown upward and out of the depths of the body of the ring to be exactly where it lay. To anyone looking closely at the beautiful jewel set deeply into the thick, silver band, the blue colour of the jewel appeared to deepen the more the longer it was stared at, with light swirls of a lighter blue seemingly passing across the face of the flawless stone like continuous and wispy lighter blue clouds, while the background deepened even more without changing to a totally black-blue colour. Around the thick, silver band of the unusual and quite beautiful ring were engraved hieroglyphics of strange and unusual character, depicting in that strange language the history of the ring since its inception, many thousands of years earlier, yet no previous wearer of the silver ring had ever had the knowledge necessary to understand the meaning of the many different hieroglyphic characters, and so were unable to withdraw from the ring its secrets of the ages. Knowledge of its age had been established by one previous wearer by carbon-dating and spectroscope methods as being older than the known length of the history of the world as it had always known to have been. But that had been as all that could be discovered. The strange, yet beautiful silver ring had never given of its secrets to any of its wearers to date and waited patiently, gathering layer upon layer of dust and dirt, only a few inches beneath the soil in which in lay, still encircling the skeletal remains of the right index finger of its last unfortunate wearer. The silver ring had owned many wearers over the countless centuries of its existence, but none of those wearers had ever owned the sliver ring, for it had only one owner, of surreal and intangible existence, yet real nevertheless. Other hands could only wear it with pride and amazement, but could never own it. It belonged to one owner only, its original creator, the essence of whom lay within the density and the very texture of the substance of its physical existence ... and alive ... waiting for its next wearer to arrive in the fullness of time, as they always did. * "Jesus!" Peter hissed between his teeth in a long hissing sound. He stood rooted to the spot. He had stopped digging with the fork in the area he had planned for his new garden as a surprise for his wife because of the sight of something white. He stared at what could only be the skeleton of a human hand lying just beneath the surface of the brown dirt in which he had been turning over in readiness for flower seeds to be planted. Slowly, he sank to his knees beside the small, open area of earth and partially turned soil, his eyes never leaving the bony hand for a single moment. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck was standing straight up and his entire skin prickled. He reached down with the hand spade and dug away at the dirt around the skeletal hand until the whole bone structure of the hand could be easily seen. After digging and clearing a little more soil away he hissed once more through his teeth. The skeletal hand ran down to a skeletal wrist. Peter sensed that were he to continue digging the skeleton would develop into the full skeleton of a man or woman. His attention was then drawn to an object on the index finger of the bony hand. He bent forward and blew quickly in three successive, strong breaths, lifting the dust and encrusted dirt from the object's surface. It was a ring. He stared at it for several minutes without moving. Then, for no reason he could have explained to himself, Peter looked suspiciously around him from left to right and then left again, almost as if he expected someone to be watching what he was about to do. Then he reached forward and gingerly and carefully took hold of the ring between his finger and thumb and slowly lifted it upward and away from the finger around which it had been lying. Peter sat back on his haunches, then transferred the ring to his left hand while he quickly filled in the hole with the dirt he had previously removed, all thoughts of his planned garden for his wife long gone from his mind as he re-buried the hand beneath the soil and surface of the back-yard of his rented house in the suburbs. He didn't know what the skeleton in his back yard was doing there, nor how long it had been there, and he didn't want to. He had enough troubles as it was. He patted down the soil until it was firm and then stood up and went inside the house to wash the ring under the tap. After cleaning the surface of the ring with an old toothbrush Peter then dried it on a soft cloth and walked through tot he lounge and sat down heavily, his mind still wondering as to the fate of the owner of the skeletal hand. He was captivated by the blue jewel in the ring's setting. It was a deep blue, with streaks of lighter blue across the face of the stone. He turned the ring over and over in his fingers, studying it closely, peering without understanding the strange markings around the band on the outside. None of them made any sense to him. He wondered then how old the ring was. It looked brand new, especially after he had just cleaned it. It literally sparkled in his fingers as he held it up close to his eyes and stared at it closely, his mind trying to imagine what the history of the ring and its own had been. * Peter French was basically a good guy. He was forty nine years of age and had been married twenty five years to the woman he had loved all that time. Of course he had wondered about other women and what it would be like to be with them, but that was as far as his mind had ever taken the thoughts, simply because he loved her dearly. They had two children, a son and a daughter, aged fifteen and twelve respectively. He was liked by everyone at his place of employment as a journalist at the local paper where he wrote a weekly column about the strengths of the modern day society in which everyone lived. Peter basically kept to himself. When he wasn't working he was writing as a hobby adventure books, but had never had one published. They had all come back with the customary rejection slips attached to them. His remaining free time he spent with his wife and children and he enjoyed his life and was content, for he had never had the inclination to contemplate any other life to live, other than they way he had always lived, at least for the past twenty five years. Before that was simply too long ago to remember now. Peter never objected to anyone and mostly kept his private thoughts to himself. If someone was annoying him he would walk away rather than stand and argue, even if he was right, preferring his peace of mind to arguments or heated discussions and bad friends. Now, as he sat on the lounge chair studying the silver ring he slowly slipped it down onto his right index finger. He didn't consciously choose that finger. The fingers and thumb of his other hand just seemed to put it there, and smoothly slid it all the way down. For some reason he then smiled. The beautiful silver ring fitted his index finger perfectly and comfortably, as if it had been made especially for him. At first it had seemed a little tight, but strangely, by the time he had slid the silver band to the bottom of his finger it became a precise fit. Peter held out his hand in front of him, displaying the ring in various hand poses. Then he peered closely at the strange writings around the band itself. He noticed his eyes left staring at the blue jewel in the ring's centre with some difficulty. The jewel was very relaxing on the eyes, the more he looked at it, but imagine and look for similarities as he might, Peter could make no sense or meaning whatsoever out of the unknown writing around the band. Then suddenly, he felt a wave of heavy relaxation wash over him from head to toe. He closed his eyes, wondering what he'd done that day to make him feel so tired. And then he sank unresistingly into the deepest sleep: one from which he would awake feeling more rested than he had ever been in his life before from any sleep, natural or alcohol- induced. The more Peter slept on throughout that long afternoon in July, the more deeply and the more peacefully he slept, his mind and body relaxing so completely as to almost be hovering just above the surface of his own death, such was the slowness of his respiration and heartbeat. And that was the way his wife found him after she had come home from shopping and had put the groceries away. She had not even noticed him until she had gone into the lounge room, after making a coffee, to relax and sit down for a while. For a few moments after noticing him and smiling softly with the love she had in her heart for him his wife couldn't help but notice the slowness of his breathing. She studied the almost imperceptible rise and fall of h is chest for several minutes before slowly but surely becoming a little alarmed. She rose from the chair with her anxiety mounting, knowing in her mind that although her husband was reasonably fit for a man of his age, anything was possible. She sat down on the lounge beside him and held her ear close to his nose and mouth. He slept with his lips slightly parted. She could only just feel the soft warmth of his breath and relaxed a little of the tension in her chest, sinking down more comfortably into the soft velvet of the expensive lounge that was her pride and joy. She knew her husband had worked very late the previous evening on his latest book and was probably just dead tired. Peter's wife rose then, dismissing any thoughts of alarm as silly and uncalled for, walked to her chair and picked up her coffee, then walked through to the kitchen to prepare her family's evening meal, deciding to let her obviously tired husband sleep on the lounge which he often did when working late on one of his books. Before commencing her dinner preparations she went to the closet and fetched a thick blanket which she loving tucked around him up to the chin. Then she bent down and kissed him goodnight on the forehead, turning the lights out in the room and telling their two children to be quiet as their father was sleeping in the lounge room. When his family awoke in the morning they found Peter still deeply asleep and in the same position they had seen him when they had kissed him goodnight the night before. His wife checked him again, listening closely to his breathing and once again felt the warm softness, as light as a baby's breath on her cheek. She straightened up and looked down at her sleeping husband, a slight frown of concern crossing her brow as she did so. She had seen him sleep long before and so, was still not all that worried. After all, he had been keeping several late nights of late - not just the one previously. Concluding her thoughts in that manner she once again relaxed a little and decided to leave him undisturbed until he awoke by himself, which she was sure he would do naturally, sometime later on that morning. She wrote him a sort, but loving and humorous note after getting the children off to school and placed it on the cushion beside where he slept on peacefully. Then she kissed him goodbye and left for her part-time job in the city as an accounts clerk. And all the while Peter slept deeply and restfully on, undisturbed by his wife's short- lived anxieties and humorous note beside him. He knew nothing, thought nothing, and realised nothing. His mind was almost to the depth of flat-line on a cerebral scale were it to have been measured at that time. His body remained completely flaccid in every muscle and every nerve had almost ceased sensing as every molecule of energy his brain produced was used internally to regenerate and rejuvenate, renew and refresh every core of his mind and body. * When Peter's wife arrived home at three in the afternoon she found her husband in exactly the same position she had left him. He hadn't moved a muscle since she'd left for work that morning. He had been sleeping for just under twenty four hours and now she was worried. Again she bent and checked his breathing. Then she checked his pulse. It was barely perceptible, but there, nevertheless. And nevertheless, although she had relaxed a little after checking his vital signs, she still could not help a feeling of strange alarm that began to creep slowly and coldly upward along her spine. She decided to play it safe and called the doctor, just to be sure. The doctor came within the hour and left within fifteen minutes, reassuring Peter's wife and children that all was well, and that it was just Peter's body taking a well-deserved rest, and that it was not unusual for people to do so who kept late nights continually and deprived their mind and body of much-needed sleep. The doctor left all feeling much relieved, although Peter's wife still carried the frown on her brow that had formed before she had called the doctor in the first place. Again for the second time in two days Peter's wife tucked up the blanket around his neck and kissed him goodnight, and along with her children went to bed early that night. Sleep, however, was a long time coming to her as she tossed and turned on the edge for almost an hour before exhaustion finally closed her eyelids gently down for her. * Peter's eyes opened slowly at five the following morning. They blinked, but did not see for several minutes. When they did finally focus they simply and slowly closed again and he slept deeply for another hour, waking again at six, one hour later exactly. Again it took several minutes for his vision to clear and be able to focus on anything to discern a shape or colour. He stretched and yawned several times, feeling his muscles and sinews stretch in a way he had not felt since his early twenties when he had super fit. He felt very good and very relaxed. He felt strong within himself. In fact, when he thought about it for a few minutes he had never felt better than he did right at that precise moment. He looked around him, noticing immediately the time on his watch. Then he stood up and walked slowly forward a few steps when suddenly he was overcome with a total dizziness that left him grasping for anything he could grab as he sank to his knees. His hands found only the emptiness of the cool morning air as his knees felt the soft firmness of the carpet on the floor. Then, just as suddenly the dizziness left him, and it left him feeling absolutely empowered. His thoughts soared nowhere and everywhere at once. His strength seemed to flow through him as he rose effortlessly to his feet, his knee injury not felt for the first time in rising for years. Peter's sight seemed clearer and more acute, as did his senses. Peter looked slowly around the room as if seeing it for the first time, his gaze moving slowly, lingering here and there before finally returning to his immediate front. He sucked a huge breath of air deeply into his lungs and held it for a few seconds before exhaling outward in a loud whoosh. He felt amazingly healthy as a smile began to spread across his face. He looked at the doorway to his home and decided to get the morning paper. Outside in the crisp early morning air he felt even more alive than he did inside the house. He breathed the biting chill deeply and smiled as the cold jet of steam left his mouth as he exhaled. Peter spotted the paper and walk over to it, picking it up. Then he turned back toward the house and walked up the front steps and inside. Once inside he closed the door and walked slowly back to the lounge in which he had unknowingly spent so much time sleeping so deeply and so peacefully. Taking the wrapper off the paper he leafed through the first few pages quickly when suddenly he stopped, his eyes rivetted on the date and day at the top right corner of the page - Thursday. July 5th. Peter looked again and again at the date and the day, his mind not believing what his eyes told him in black and white print in front of his face. His mind raced that it couldn't be possible: that it must be some kind of joke or mistake on the part of the paper. He looked around at the paper wrack in the corner of the room where all the old papers were kept. Quickly he rose and walked over to it, bending down and lifting out the top paper. He glanced instantly at the date and day on the front page - Wednesday. July 4th. Peter turned slowly and carried both papers back to the lounge and sat down heavily into it, his wide-eyed gaze staring first at the date and day of one, then the other until finally, defeated for the moment he placed both papers carefully down on the lounge cushion beside him. The realisation that he had slept for almost two days hit his mind and consciousness like a smack in the face. He closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly from side to side. His thoughts roamed and raced, and then stilled finally, retrieving nothing but insanity as he fought to come to grips with his missing time. Where was his wife and children? Why had they not wakened him? What was happening? What had happened? He sank back deeply into the cushions, his mind and consciousness sinking fast from sheer mental effort at trying to sort things out. Then slowly, everything in his conscious mind began to first turn to grey, and then to black as sleep took him deeply once more into its waiting arms. And again did Peter sleep on the edge of death for yet another hour before awakening just as slowly for the third time that morning. When he awoke again Peter's mind was strangely clear. He didn't know why he had slept so long, but he somehow felt that it had been meant to be. Of the time lost in sleeping Peter put it down to his mind and body's need for rest, and thought no more of it. Once again he felt strong within himself, both in mind and body. And he actually felt younger, as if his long sleep had somehow rejuvenated him from the inside out, in mind and in body. When his family realised he was awake they swarmed over him, telling him how long he'd slept and asking him how he felt. All of them had a concerned look on their faces and in their eyes. He laughed good-naturedly and calmed their fears and concerns, particularly those of his wife's, who seemed relieved just to have her husband back among the living. She quickly hurried the kids off to school, then sat down opposite her husband who was woofing down his breakfast as if it was the last meal he would ever have. His wife smiled, then chuckled at the ravenous look on her husband's face, studying him in silence while he ate. There seemed something different about him as her gaze roamed over his face and features. He almost looked a little younger somehow, and straighter in the way he sat in the chair. Nevertheless, she wasn't worried any longer. Her husband was back with her and he looked as fit as a fiddle. She leaned over and kissed him goodbye, then rose and went off to work in a much happier frame of mind than she had been in for the past fort eight hours. Peter finished his breakfast, went quickly to the kitchen and made himself the same again, then ate that down just as quickly. Feeling satisfied in the stomach he then took a long hot and cold shower, alternating the temperature to extremes, and left the shower feeling reborn. His whole mind and body literally tingled all over. It was he was drying himself off that he happened to glance down and notice the wide silver band on his right index finger. He studied it for a moment, then forgot about it as he hung the towel back on the rack and walked through to the bedroom and got dressed, somehow optimistic and confident about his life and happiness in every way, although he didn't know why. * It had been three weeks since Peter had found the silver ring. His wife and co-workers had noticed it and had commented on its beauty, and then had said no more about it. He told his wife the truth about finding it in the backyard, omitting the part about it being attached to a skeleton of unknown origin., on the basis of what she didn't know wouldn't worry her, and she was a worrier. Peter's inner sense of vitality, health and mental well-being grew rapidly from day to day. His love life with his wife had gone from making love once or twice a week to once or twice each and every day, sometimes more. His wife had mentioned it in the afterglow of their love-making one morning when he had woken early and had penetrated her while she had been sleeping. She had opened her eyes to the fullness of him in mind and body and had quickly been taken to the dizzy heights of unusually intense morning rapture and bliss. Peter had responded to her question by telling her she was bringing out the animal in him. She had seemed to accept that and had questioned no more. His wife was, however, strangely aware that she seemed to more fulfilled with their love-making, more than she had ever been. In fact, she was actually aware consciously of being more filled with his length and girth than she could ever remember being. However, she was happy, and that was the main thing, such that she quickly became used to the new and improving feel of her husband and thought no more about the matter. Peter too had become aware of his new sensuality, and, upon inspecting himself one day after showering alone, was sure his physical length and girth had actually increased in physical size and proportion. He figured it might have something to do with his age, but he was not complaining, and neither was his wife, and that was the main thing. She was well- satisfied on a daily basis and had no objections so far. He, on the other hand had been having a never-ending stream of thoughts about other women, even while making love to his wife. He had become aware on that morning alone when he had been far away in thoughts of making love to various nationalities of women while he had been thrusting steadily between the warm, morning thighs of his wife. He had stroked steadily and very strongly and repeatedly while she had writhed beneath him through her peak, and he had continued to do so until her soft and gentle moans of discomfort had brought his senses back to the present. Whereupon he had let go and had driven her home in right-royal fashion, firing her passion and lustfulness once again to tip her off the mountain of her pleasure's peak. He had then left her lying breathless, sweating, and exhausted on their bed while he had risen from between her limp thighs and showered, all the while noticing his semi-hardness had remained throughout his bathing, as had his thoughts of taking other women in similar fashion. One and a half hours later he kissed his wife goodbye at the door. She looked tired but happy, winking at him and calling him her stud as she closed the door behind her. Peter himself had been impressed by his own performance that morning. He was also becoming more and more aware that he seemed and felt like his mind and body were actually going through some kind of change, although for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Peter had been relaxing in his favourite lounge chair for about an hour after his wife had left for work, reading a magazine, when the doorbell rang. He rose and walked slowly to the door, opening it to greet whoever was there with a smile already on his face before the door had even opened. It was a woman in her mid to late thirties, dressed in a long, thin and loose floral cotton dress. She carried a small brief-case in her right hand and a magazine in her left. She greeted Peter's wide, warm smile with one of her own, showing even, white teeth and a pink tongue as her lips parted. "Good morning!" she said brightly. "I wonder if I could ask you for a few minutes of your time to complete a survey we're doing for the local school in relation to a pedestrian crossing for the children in Nathan street?" Peter had always had a pet hate for door-knockers, but for some reason he found himself agreeing, smiling and asking the woman inside. She followed him through to the lounge room and settled down into the comfortable velvet chair he had offered her with a gesture of his arm as he sat down opposite him. "Can I get you a coffee, or a cold drink?" Peter asked politely with a slight smile still on his face. "Thank you, no." she answered smiling back at him. "I've only just had breakfast." "So, how can I help you?" he asked her, settling down more deeply and comfortably into his chair. As he did so he noticed her glancing several times at his right hand. He looked down and saw the ring immediately. When he looked up again she was still looking in the same direction, straight at his right hand. She still had not answered him. ""How can I help you with your survey?" he asked again in a slightly more firmer tone of voice. She seemed to come back to the present from wherever she'd been and smiled, apologising immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm conducting research on ... on behalf of our school parents and ... parents and teacher's committee." she said haltingly at times. "We feel it's ... ahh ... we feel that it's only a matter of .. a matter of time before a child gets hit by a car .. for no ... errr .. for no good reason." Peter could see the woman had for some reason become self-conscious. She was stammering and losing her thread of thought every few seconds. Her face seemed flushed, and her gaze kept returning to his right hand, or the silver ring that was on it. "Are you alright?" he asked sincerely. "I'm fine ... I'm...." she began and then stopped, her eyes seeming to glaze and become distant. Then she shook her head quickly from side to side as if trying to clear the cobwebs away. She couldn't believe what was happening to her and understood it even less. She felt embarrassed and humiliated in front of this stranger, like a schoolgirl trying out on her first sales pitch. "I will have that glass of cold water, if you don't mind." she finished with. Peter rose quickly and went to the kitchen, returning with a chilled glass of cold water. The woman was smiling and embarrassed when he handed her the glass, apologising for her behaviour, saying she didn't know why she had lost her train of thought like that. Peter thought that maybe she was pregnant and didn't know it. He sat back down, studying the woman closely as she drank the whole glass of water down in one long, continuous swallow. When she finished she lowered the glass and sighed. "That was just what I needed. " she said with a another sigh. "Thank you." "You're welcome." he smiled warmly back at her, feeling sorry for her embarrassment over the matter. "Now, what would you like me to do to help your cause?" Peter noticed her gaze had returned to his right hand before he had even finished speaking, and once again her eyes seemed to cloud over and take on a distant and far away look about them. "Miss?" he said. No reply. "Miss?" he said again. Her eyes seemed glazed and her lips were slightly parted as she continued to stare at his right hand. He glanced down at the ring, noticing instantly the slight movement across the face of the jewel. He looked closer. It was as if there were lighter coloured blue clouds moving from left to right across the darker blue face of the surface of the jewel itself. Apart from feeling very relaxed Peter felt nothing at all from looking at the face of the jewel. He looked up at the woman again. She just sat there, leaning slightly forward in her seat, her lips parted a little and her eyes and gaze fixed solidly onto the face of the jewel in his silver ring. "I think I'll get another glass of cold water." he said, concerned for the woman and began to rise form his chair. "Yes." the woman suddenly said clearly. "Another glass of cold water." He returned with the water and handed it to her. She sat there unmoving, her eyes once again quickly finding his ring to fixate upon. "Drink this." he said, moving the glass closer to her face. "Yes. Drink this." she repeated, reaching up and taking the glass without shifting her gaze from the silver ring. He watched her drink it down and then just hold the glass in her hand, still staring at his silver ring. "I'll take that now." he said, reaching for the glass. "Yes. You take this now." she repeated almost word for word, handing him the empty glass. He took it back to the kitchen sink and then returned to the lounge. The woman remained as he had left her - eyes fixed on his right hand, lips slightly parted. She was still leaning forward slightly in her chair. Peter thought the woman seemed mesmerised or hypnotised somehow. Her expression seemed vacant as was her eyes. Her posture seemed relaxed, but there was definitely something wrong with her, and he had absolutely no idea what it could be. He sat back down in his own chair, watching her eyes following his right hand as he did so. He wondered then if he should call the doctor, thinking maybe she was about to have a fit or something sinister and dangerous like that. "Why don't you just relax?" he suggested to her. "While I think of how I can help you." "Yes." she said immediately. "I'll relax and you think about helping me." Then amazed, Peter watched as she settled back in the chair and visibly relaxed completely. Her shoulders sagged deeply. Her arms fell limply on her lap and her legs stretched out in front of her, the full and loose cotton dress hanging like a sheet between them as she did so. Peter twigged instantly then to what seemed to be happening, strange as it might seem to him. The woman was repeating everything he said to her back to him, literally word for word. Not only that, she seemed to be doing exactly what he told her to do. First getting the water, then drinking the water, then taking the glass. And now relaxing and telling him to think about helping her, which was exactly what he had said earlier to her. He studied her face and eyes closely. Her gaze was fixed on his silver ring. Her face was relaxed and calm, and her breathing was gentle. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, still unsure of what was going on with her. "Yes. I am feeling okay." she answered immediately, continuing to just sit there. Peter decided for some reason to test her. "It's hot in here. Isn't it?" he stated and waited. "Yes. It's hot in here." she replied. He let the breath he had not known he'd been holding out slowly between his teeth in a long, hissing sound. She had repeated exactly what he'd said. "It's cold in here." he said. "Yes. It's cold in here." she repeated like a robot, but sounding sincere in her tone as if she really felt the cold. He looked closely at her arms and was absolutely amazed to see the goose bumps on both her forearms. Peter sat back even more in his chair and studied the woman and her strange and unusual behaviour. Then his gaze quickly moved down to the silver ring on his finger. He covered it with his left hand so she couldn't see it, but there was no change in the woman's appearance or manner that he could visibly ascertain. It must have something to do with his ring, he thought, as his gaze remained fixed on her face and eyes, although he wondered as he thought that why nothing had changed when he had covered it with his left hand. She was behaving as if she were a slave or something, he concluded finally, not knowing what else to think about the strange goings-on. Peter thought about that for a few seconds. A slave. Now that was an interesting thought. Then he shook it out of his head, more concerned with what the hell he was going to do with her to get her back to being normal. Then he had an idea. A longshot, but worth a try. "You feel like your old self now." he said to her. "Yes." she answered immediately. "I feel like my old self now." Then she sat up straight in her chair and blinked quickly several times. Her hands came up to rub her temples and then she focussed directly on his eyes. Then she smiled. "I was wondering if you could help us with our research survey." she said. "It's about getting a pedestrian crossing for the children on the dangerous corner at Nathan street." Peter was speechless. It seemed as if she remembered nothing of what had happened since she'd come into his house. Her face and colour had returned to normal and she sat normally in the chair the way he would have expected her to. Now she sat and waited for him to answer her. Her lips had parted in a polite smile, and her hands lightly clasped the magazine or leaflet she had been holding all the time in her right hand. He smiled warmly back at her. "I'd be happy to." he told her. "Do I have to sign a petition or something?" The woman beamed. He noticed only now that she was rather attractive in her own way. "Thank you very much." she said gratefully. "It's a pity there weren't more like you." Then she handed him the leaflet she had been holding. He opened it up to see a list of signatures half-filling the page. He signed it quickly with the pen she had been holding out for him and then handed both pen and leaflet back to her. "Thank you very much." she repeated as she readied to stand. "Would you like another glass of cold water?" he asked her, just to make sure she felt good about going on her way. "Another? ....er.. huh?" she said immediately, her eyebrows raised in question and her gaze directly on his own. Then, "Yes. Another glass of cold water." she continued, and with that she relaxed her weight back into the depths of her chair, her eyes and gaze once again taking on a far-away look. Peter leaned back more into his chair, not comprehending in the slightest what the hell was happening in his lounge room with the woman. She had seemed fully awake, but as soon as he had suggested something she had agreed with, and had accepted fully his suggestion, without question and seemingly without doubt. His brow furrowed as his thoughts deepened. Then Peter's eyes suddenly and slowly narrowed as his thoughts took on a different nature entirely. "It is very hot in here." was all he said. "Yes. It is very hot in here." she answered immediately. "It's incredibly hot in here." he stated again with more emphasis. "Yes. It's incredibly hot in here." she repeated instantly. Astounded, Peter then saw the tiny beads of filmy perspiration forming rapidly over her forehead and upper lip. Her breathing also deepened as if she now seemed to want more oxygen for each breath she was taking than she had been receiving before he had said that. "Heat makes your clothes feel sticky." he said. "Yes." she replied. "Heat makes my clothes feel sticky." Peter then watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pulling the loose cotton dress away from her neck in a fanning action attempt to keep cool. His pulse surged a little as his thoughts continued along the vein they had somehow chosen. "Much cooler with your clothes off." he stated. "Yes. Much cooler with my clothes off." the woman repeated. Peter watched expecting the woman to stand up and take off her dress, but she did nothing of the sort. She just sat there sweating more and more by the passing minute. He decided to take a punt. His heart thumped against his ribs. "Take all your clothes off now." he told her. "Yes. Take all my clothes off now." she repeated word for word. Stunned, Peter then watched as the woman rose slowly to her feet. She stepped out of her shoes, revealing her purple-coloured toenails to his gaze. Her hands then came up to reach behind her back and undo the bow between her shoulder blades. She then slipped each shoulder of the cotton dress away and let the dress slip down over her hips to fall into a heap around her ankles. Then she stepped aside from it. She then reached behind her back to release the bra strap and dropped the bra to the floor with the dress. Her fingers quickly slipped under the sides of her blue cotton panties and slipped them too down over her hips, stepping out of them as she had her dress and shoes. Peter's eyes were open wide in amazement as he sat staring at the woman's nakedness. Her breasts were full and jutting. No children as yet, obviously, Peter thought as his gaze dropped to her thighs. The dark, lush thatch of curly, soft-looking down of pubic hair captured his gaze instantly. He hardened immediately, feeling the blood pulsing rapidly to where his unconscious mind had directed it to go. He adjusted himself, feeling himself harden again instantly at his own touch. His next suggestion to her formed before he knew he had done it. "You really feel like masturbating to a very intense orgasm." he stated. "Yes." the nude woman replied immediately. "I really feel like masturbating to a very intense orgasm." Nothing happened. She stood there loose, limp, and very naked, but did nothing. Her arms hung as if dead at her sides. "Masturbate now." he said. "With feeling." "Yes." she answered."Masturbate now ... with feeling." Peter just sat back and smiled, wondering what else he could do. And then he grinned widely, unbelievingly, as he watched in anticipation while the naked woman's gentle fingers began in deadly earnest to search with feeling, the centre of her own downy softness, and the instant flowering of her own special jewel. End Chapter I ~~ to be continued~~ HYPNOSIS-MIND-CONTROL "THE SILVER RING ..........." ( by Mesmer) (C) Chapter II More than two weeks had passed since the woman had called at his house seeking his support for her petition. Peter had not taken advantage of her physically, but had enjoyed himself immensely watching her pleasuring herself to the point of near exhaustion while she stood naked before him. He had thought of it, and had nearly succumbed at one point when the woman had reached a highly intensified state in her orgasmic rapture. Somehow, he had managed to restrain himself, preferring instead to pass on the dizzy heights of the passion and raw lust rampant between his thighs and in his mind to his wife that evening, which he did, pleasuring himself and her until they were both speechless from his superhuman effort. Peter knew by now that there was something strange and unusual about his silver ring. It had a power of some, but not over others. He had tried it out on the guys at work, but with no effect. Yet every woman who became aware of the ring's presence fell under its hypnotising power almost immediately, with complete amnesia for everything that was said or done before fixing their gaze on the mesmerising blue jewel. He had only tried small tests of the ring's power with the women from work, as well as his wife and daughter, attempting to gain more and more knowledge first-hand from his efforts about the ring's powers and exactly what he could do with it. To date, all Peter had discovered was that its power only seemed to affect females, and then only in varying degrees. Each and every one of the females, including his own daughter seemed different in their responsiveness to his suggestions. Peter visited the library in search of the meaning of the characters around the ring's band, even enlisting a local university student who majored in ancient languages to help. His name was bill. He was a friend of one of his wife friends. They had met at an afternoon party hosted by the group's wives association in their fund-raising efforts. He liked Bill, but so far no new information had come to light that would explain the meaning of the symbols surrounding the silver band, either from Bill, or from the extensive research he had carried out at the library. Of course he had not let on to Bill about the power the ring seemed to have over the female gender, only the strange writing around the band. Bill had been enthusiastic, but luckless to date with his efforts. Then one day Peter received a call from Bill asking him to meet at the university that evening. Bill wanted to introduce him to someone who might be able to help in the deciphering of the hieroglyphics on his ring. Peter readily agreed and looked forward to the meeting. Maybe now he would find out something about the ring's history after all. * The person Bill introduced him to was his main university professors, Professor Ruth King, an expert in medieval and ancient languages and symbolic communication in all forms known to man. Ruth King was in her late thirties, an unattractive, nondescript woman who seemed very friendly, and, who turned out to seem to Peter to be very knowledgeable on the subject of languages and communication. Bill's teacher had a nice figure, tall and solid, Peter noticed as he listened attentively throughout her initial talk. Peter wondered how different her personality would be if her facial looks would have been a little more appealing to the eye. Bill's teacher seemed very enthusiastic and keen to question Peter about how he came by the ring, yet when questioned back at some points in their conversation Professor Ruth King became suddenly vague and evasive, tending to laugh off his questions as those posed by a laymen who couldn't have understood her answer, even if she had given him one. Then strangely, Ruth King asked Bill if he would mind if she spoke to Peter alone from that point onward, thanking him profusely for bringing the matter of the ring's existence to her attention, an act that would not go unnoticed when it came to end of term assessments. Bill was caught obviously by surprise at his professor's request, but quickly agreed when she mentioned the end of term assessment carrot. They were in the professor's office, a distinguished turnout, Peter thought, as he looked around admiringly at the mahogany desk and wall shelves housing hundreds of books in varying states of condition. When he heard the professor's door to the office shut as Bill left he returned his gaze to her as she sat in her chair behind her desk, staring intently at him. He smiled politely. She did also. Then she leaned back in her leather chair, interlocking her fingers behind her head. She breathed deeply and sighed as she shifted her gaze to the copies Bill had sketched of the characters on the silver ring that had been placed on her desk earlier when she and Bill had first talked of the matter. As yet, the professor had not seen and had not asked to see the ring itself. Peter couldn't help noticing the fullness of the professor's breasts as she stretched her shoulders backward with the interlocking of her fingers. When Peter looked at her face again he felt acutely embarrassed to find her looking directly into his eyes with a half-smile on her face. He had been caught, obviously staring at her breasts. He knew it, and she obviously knew it too. Peter felt like a little boy who had been sent to the Principal's office for being naughty, but Ruth King chose to ignore where she knew he had been staring so imaginatively only moments before. Then she leaned slowly forward, her gaze never leaving his for an instant. Her chin rested on her doubled over hands as her elbows supported their weight on her desk top. Her lips were slightly parted and she was drawing breath to speak. Peter waited, suddenly captivated by the fact that her whole action had seemed to be precise and deliberate, almost as if intending her action to be perceived in slow motion. "Could you tell me again how you came by the ring, Mr French?" she asked when she had finished taking her long, shallow breath. Her question annoyed Peter. He had never had much time for academics in the past and her question was not endearing him to change his original attitude about them. "Professor, I..." he began, but she cut him off immediately. "Please." she said. "Call me Ruth. There are no students here with us now." Peter smiled politely and accepted her offer, suggesting she do the same. "Why have you not asked to see the ring?" Peter asked her, deciding to satisfy his curiosity about the fact. "All in good time, Peter. All in good time." she answered, fobbing off his question. "For the moment I'm more interested in how it came into your possession. And what, if any, have been your experiences with it." Now what the hell did she know about that? Peter wondered. She must know something about the ring's history, he concluded, but he wasn't going to give up his secrets for nothing in exchange. "Listen Ruth." he began seriously. "I didn't come here for games, and I can leave just as quickly as I came in. All the same to me. I told you how I came by the ring. I found it. As simple as that. Now you tell me what you know, or out the door I'll go, and that'll be that. The choice is yours, but let's not waste each other's time. Okay with you?" The professor had been caught off-guard by Peter's directness, but recovered quickly, smiling a little while she quickly regrouped her mental defences. She took a deep breath and sighed, letting it out slowly. "Okay." he listened to her say finally, as she smiled a defeated smile that Peter did not believe for an instant. He felt strongly that something was amiss here, but he didn't for the life of him know what it was. All the while the ring on Peter's finger remained hidden from view of the professor's sight as his right hand rested lightly on his thigh. "At first," she began, "I was puzzled by the characters and symbols Bill brought to my attention. He didn't tell me they had come from a ring at first. They interested me greatly, simply because I had never seen anything like them, and I've been studying this area all my life. After I had run a check of matching individual characters and symbols for singular identification through the world university computer data base I had to know more about where they came from. I questioned Bill and he told me he was helping out a friend and said that he'd sketched them from your ring." Peter sat in silence while she took a deep breath and then continued without giving him the chance to get a word in. "The characters and symbols do have a history, at least as far as the data base goes, although it isn't all that much. It's what the data base doesn't say that interests me greatly. The data base told of a person who owned the ring in the early sixties. He was a professor as well, or to be more correct as far as his qualifications went, he was an accredited university scientist with a lifetime tenure at his university. The data base didn't say where or how he had come by the ring, only what he had discovered about it, and that, as it was reported, was only discovered by accident. He disappeared suddenly one summer and was never seen or heard from again. An investigation was held, but found nothing. When his things and his office were later researched by the university security they found many files and computer data bases of his works and especially about the ring, and, the effect it had on people. But, that was that. He had originally photographed and enlarged the characters and symbols and transferred them to computer, as well as all of his documentation on the experiments he had carried out using the ring As a source of some kind of power." Peter watched as she finished and drew a deep breath, waiting and expecting her to continue, but she didn't. Once again she leaned back in her chair and interlocked her fingers behind her head. Once again Peter's attention was immediately drawn to her breasts, only this time, for some reason, he wasn't bothered by the thought of her knowing he was looking at them. When he'd satisfied his imagination's imaginary inspection of the fullness and shape he looked up, only to notice immediately that this time, it was she who was blushing at his obviousness. He said nothing by way of an apology, drawing breath of his own to speak. Although his mouth opened, he said nothing for a few seconds. And then he did. "Does anyone else know we are here talking, or that the ring has re-surfaced again?" he asked, watching her eyes very carefully. "No." she smiled. "Only you and I, and Bill of course." She was lying and Peter knew it. Without warning, nor knowing of his unconscious choice to even do it he flashed the silver ring quickly up from his lap and leaned forward, holding it a few inches away from the professor's face. She jerked backward against the wall behind her chair, but her eyes never left the ring for an instant. "No!" she cried out sharply as she turned her head away from the ring, only to have it slowly return itself once more to the front. "Please! Don't!" she begged, but Peter held the ring closer, directly an inch from the tip of her nose. He watched as her eyes crossed while trying to fight to look away, yet trying at the same time to focus intently on the blue jewel. "You! ... have! ... no! ... idea!" she cried hesitatingly as she continued to struggle internally with herself in a desperate attempt and effort to avert her gaze, but it was no use. Although her cheeks presented themselves in turn to the jewel of the ring face-on, her gaze never left the already changing scenery happening on the face of the blue jewel in the silver band. Then Peter watched as her facial tension began to drain away. Her gaze glazed slightly and she flushed upward from her open-neck expensive designer shirt. Then her eyes took on a vacant look as she sighed and then relaxed back into her chair. All in all it took about three minutes, Peter thought as he became aware of his racing pulse. He rose from his chair and walked around to her, sitting himself down on the top of her desk. He glanced down at the sketches, noting the striking similarity to those on his ring. An exact likeness. He'd just never seen them blown up pictorially before. Then he leaned forward very close to the mesmerised professor, inhaling deeply the scent of her musk, and feeling himself thicken at the same time with the onset of the familiar stirring in his loins. "Who else knows about this?" he demanded of the now-subdued professor. No response. She just sat there staring at the changing face of the jewel in the very centre of her vision. "You will tell me now who else knows the ring has re-surfaced." he said, rephrasing his question to her. "I will tell you now who else knows the ring has resurfaced." she repeated immediately. Peter smiled, waiting, his heart thumping against his rib cage. "The data base clerk at university central knows the ring has resurfaced. He told a government man the ring has resurfaced. The government is coming here now at eight- thirty." Peter glanced quickly at his watch. Seven-thirty five. He looked quickly back at the entranced woman as her mouth opened to continue speaking. "The Dean of this university knows the ring has resurfaced and is coming with the government man tonight at eight-thirty." she finished. "You will tell me now, where are all the floppy discs on the ring's history?" he told the stunned professor. "And you will not repeat any more statements back to me. You will just do as you are told without question and without delay. Now, tell me where they are." he added. "They are in my safe in the wall." the professor said slowly. "Get them now, and all other documentation and proof that the ring has resurfaced." he told her. Peter moved sideways to allow her to move past him as she rose from her chair and walked to the central wall of her office. She moved a picture aside and then opened a small wall safe, removing a small package from within. Then she locked the safe and straightened the picture. She turned and walked back to where he sat on the top of her desk. "Give me the package." he ordered her. She handed him the package as she stared directly ahead, no longer looking at the ring, seemingly deeply in some kind of trance with her eyes wide open. "Tell me if anybody else know my name?" he asked her. "No." she answered. "Only myself at this stage." "Tell me why the government man is interested in the ring." he commanded her. "Something to do with the disappearance of the owner on the disk." she replied. "Tell me what else you personally know about the ring that has any significance." h e ordered her, and her immediate answer nearly floored him. "It can kill people." she said without a hint of emotion or credulity. "Tell me how it kills people." Peter asked when the had recovered his thoughts from her last answer. "I don't know." she said. "Tell me what else you know." he commanded her again. "It has a strange and immediate power over women." she replied. Then added. "And it has to change the wearer somehow before it can have an affect on men." "Tell me what you mean by that." "I don't know the meaning or the reason." she answered. "That's why I'm so interested." "Tell me how old the ring is." "Older then we can measure. At least as old as civilisation itself. This one anyway." she told him. Peter sat back and collected his thoughts. He didn't have much time. "You will remove every single piece of clothing you have on, and, you will do it now!" he ordered her. The professor quickly removed all her clothing, dropping it into an untidy pile on the floor beside her ankles. Peter watched as the fullness of her breasts became truly known to him. When released from their bindings of the bra they sagged downward from the weight of themselves. They were truly a size and a half. Her figure was plump, Peter noticed, as he watched every move she made, as well as looking at his watch repeatedly. And she had the bushiest thatch of lush, curly black pubic hair he had ever seen on a woman, not that he had seen that many in the flesh. Then, for no special reason. He followed a hunch. Peter's loins hardened like concrete. He felt like drilling her just for being an academic he didn't like, but he didn't have the time or the inclination. "Tell me the truth about your sexual preferences." he told her. "I am a lesbian dominatrix." she answered, her arms hanging loosely by her sides. He smiled to himself. He had been right. But time was running out, Peter knew. He had to move quickly to avoid detection. They might be early. He just couldn't take the chance on playing around with the lesbian professor any longer. "You will close the door after I leave. Then you will lie back down spread-eagled on the floor here, facing the door. You will masturbate yourself with much feeling and intensity before and after I leave, but you will not be able to achieve your climax until the door opens once again and you see another man or men walk through and look down at you. Do you understand?" he ordered her. "Yes." she answered. "You will also forget and remove for all time from your conscious and unconscious memory, all knowledge about the ring, its history and its existence. You will not have ever heard of it and know nothing of it, even if placed under a lie-detector test, because you now believe with your heart and soul that you have forgotten everything you have ever known or discovered about it. Is that clear?" he finished. "Yes." she said simply. "I'm leaving now. Tell me the back way out of the university and to the car park. Then, lie down and begin to quickly and passionately frig yourself." he ordered her. She did. Then Peter watched as the naked lesbian professor lay on her back on the floor and spread her legs wide. Her hands rapidly began sliding between her thighs. One hand began to penetrate deeply in and out of her black, bushy centre while the other began rapidly circling impatiently around the top of her crease where her own jewel of personal pleasure lay so well-hidden beneath its dense, fur-covered and bushy jungle of protection. Another quick glance at his watch told him it was time to quickly leave. He did so, quietly closing the door behind him. Peter smiled to himself as he ran quickly but quietly along the series of corridors and hallways she had told him about in order to get out to the car park unnoticed. He wished he could have been here to see the look on their faces when they opened the door and saw her lying there, spread-eagled and stark naked, frigging herself like crazy, and to then, while captivated by the overall scene of her, have her explode her unleashed passion in their faces literally as she completed her sexual release into the still, humid air of the night-time university corridors of advanced education within seconds of them opening her door. * As Peter wove unnoticed out into the evening traffic he thought of Bill. Peter figured now that he was the only one, apart from Bill, who knew of the ring's existence. But supposedly the ring did not have any power over men unless the wearer changed somehow. He shook his head from side to side as he drove, glancing often at the package on the passenger seat of his car that the professor had retrieved from her safe, and, when clear of the mainstream traffic, floored the accelerator of his car, hurrying to get home to discover its contents. He had to find out if there was a way to erase Bill's memory of the ring, as he believed he had done with Bill's lesbian professor. Again he smiled at the thought of what the two men had waiting for them when they opened the professor's office door. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his car. Eight-thirty. He grinned widely, picturing it in detail as he sped onward toward his home and the opening of the package that kept demanding his attention. * Waiting until his family had all gone to sleep, which had involved another super-human sexual performance on his part that had taken his wife's rapture and ecstasy to the point of almost fainting from exhaustion and sheer, exquisite raw, sensual pleasure, Peter crept out of bed leaving her naked, limp and lifeless in a dreamless sleep as if dead. He quickly made his way down to the lounge room and to where he had hidden the package behind some books in the bookshelf after he had arrived home earlier in the evening. He opened the bound package of floppy discs and documents, reading first the documents. When he had finished them he walked to his computer and switched it on, inserting the first of four small, black floppy discs inside. It was more than and hour and a half later by the time he had finished. He sat in his chair as if he'd been stunned. To achieve what he wanted in relation to the control of men he would have to give up who he was for all time. The documents said little about ring itself, more along the lines of the professor and his habits and qualifications. But the discs documented the professor's own notes and experiments, some ending the death of the people he was experimenting with. Somewhere along the way the professor had documented he was changing in his basic essence, but the notes did not elaborate in great detail. They described changing loyalties and increasing effectiveness in the power of the ring. More toward the end of the last disc did the professor's notes detail the extent of the change he believed himself to have been and at the time, was still going through. Of the professor's original personality there was none visible, and, only with the control of mind-enhancing drugs was he able to keep up the diary notes regarding the person he once was. He also stated he had no regrets of the change in him, citing the rewards were all worth whatever he would have believed he'd lost, had he been thinking in the manner he once had. And then the notes had ended. Everything else on the disc had belonged to another person's own opinions. The writer went on to document the investigation into the professor's sudden disappearance and the views of the police at the time. Then the matter was closed and the investigation was shut down. And the notes ended at that. Peter sat for a long time, until after midnight, wondering how the whole process started in the giving up of one's self. He knew he had to silence Bill, less the government people find out his identity. He did not want to give up possession of the ring before he knew exactly what he could do with it. He didn't ask for it to come into his life and he sure as hell wasn't going to give it up easily, or without at least a fight. He raised his right hand and began to closely study the face of the blue jewel, while at the same time rubbing the fingers of his left hand absent-mindedly over the characters around the bend. Suddenly, as he continued to look at the dull face of the blue jewel it began to deepen. Lighter blue clouds began to drift across the face from left to right as the background colour of the jewel continued to deepen in its basic essence. The more Peter stared deeply into the blue jewel the more lost he was becoming to what he was actually doing. He as aware he was falling under its spell, but he had no desire to look away or otherwise try to stop what was happening to him right at that point in time. He felt strange, as if he was falling into the very centre of the ring, even though he was well aware of the chair beneath his buttocks and thighs and the room about him. His mind felt like it was floating inside the jewel itself. His body seemed to be floating just above the chair, no longer feeling the firmness of the material support beneath him. Then suddenly, without warning, he sensed himself falling very quickly, inside the blue jewel itself. Down, down, down he fell. Tumbling head over heels. He was disoriented and felt nauseous. Everything was turning and spinning. Everything was black. Yet throughout the experience, frightening though it was to him in every sense imaginable, something felt very right about it. As if it was what he had been expecting. Then just as suddenly the falling and spinning sensation stopped. He became aware of himself standing, yet he could not feel the ground. He quickly glanced left and right. Everything was a blue-coloured dark, tinged all around with a dim light, but look for it as he did, he could not identify the source of the light. His attention was draw instantly and suddenly then to a figure standing less than ten feet from him and to the front. Peter wondered how he could not have seen the figure before when he was searching for the source of the light. Peter was scared out of his wits, yet a part of him seemed to remain in complete control as the figure moved slightly. He couldn't make out a face, but from the shape and height of the person he deemed it to be a man. "Your choice is this moment in your time." a voice suddenly boomed inside his head, neither male nor female in sound. It echoed throughout his brain, yet he did not shift from the spot on which he stood. "Choose this moment in your time, and all that it entails, in faith without doubt, and belief without question. You choose, or, you do not. State your answer now. Choose life, or choose...mediocrity." Peter suddenly became aware in the very essence of his being that he now faced the most awesome and frightening decision of his life. But somehow, and for some reason he already felt and knew in the heart of his mental turmoil and terror that his decision had already been made, and by him. He had chosen ... life. "So shall it be, as you have chosen." the voice boomed in his temples. "And so shall you live, as you have chosen." End Chapter II (to be continued) *** -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----