"See what I mean...with the hemline?

Standing in-front of Francis Allen, Judge Kowalski's on-call dressmaker, wearing what hoped to be her party dress, Kelli pointed out the hemline to express the comfort issue she brought up.

"See what I mean...with the hemline that's almost invisible as you barely follow it over the smooth material, feeling like silk to the touch, to the sound with my finger pointing it out."

In preparing for their most lucrative client, Francis allowed time for emergency alterations the day before the party. The morning of, he received the totally-unexpected emergency call, speaking of urgent need from a strangely-monotone plea.

"If you follow where my finger leads, you'll see what I mean...about comfort. The longer you look, the more you will...see what I mean...."

Requests like making emergency fittings for party plus ones, no matter how special guests were to the favored clients, were such an annoying burden, even with the compensation. The rushed timetable and annoyance seemed more like a background issue, far behind Francis as the finger towed the line of his attention, utterly hooked by the uniquely-decorated fingernail.

"See what I mean, about comfort. See what I mean, about following. It's instinctual, no need to give it any thought. Just...see what I mean."

The black-and-white alternating spiral seemed animated in the finger's movement, all too easy to follow. The dressmaker thought and hoped he saw what she meant; after speaking so long about the fitting that seemed perfect already, the repetitious plea of "see what I mean" took tailored eyes past supposed-perfection, and even past the material Kelli had been tracing as that fingernail hung in the space of his face, spinning like he could almost see the spiral spin.

"See what I mean, because all I mean for you is to see. And obey."

The fixating nail floated above his eye line, until it touched the crown of his forehead. Eyeballs threatening to roll back into their sockets until they received a reprieve of the nail tracing down all the way to the bridge of his nose, bringing his eyes and eyelids down with him as he fell softly for Kelli to catch him.

"Good boy Francis, such a wonderful tailor. It feels so good to be tailored to my instruction. The pleasure you get from following my designs, the growing need to continue to follow; you DO see what I mean after all," Kelli laughed, looking over to Rose Kowalski and her assistant Patrice who sat in their underwear, comfortable and smiling at the sight of Kelli hypnotizing another person, feeling their own perpetual trance deepen as they witnessed. They smiled all throughout the tailor's initial concerns about the suggested dress changes that went along with their slightly-altered personalities. The dressmaker thought they were intoxicated and ordering new dresses based on horny inclinations. Kelli being the "sober" one, she volunteered to get a more conservative dress ready, explaining the change in motivations effectively, until it was clear his female clients knew best.

"Just look at your other favorite clients over there sitting quietly, excited, waiting for your tailoring genius to reflect what they feel. Look at their beautiful bodies, their contented, jubilant faces, their grins growing lusty." Francis could see exactly what Kelli was talking about as her words dictated the judge and assistant's appearances. "They are women powered by their own beauty, radiating sensuality and magnetism. They're practically attracted to themselves," Kelli gestured with her spiral nail outwardly, and the women seem to take the suggested hint as their breathing grew deeper, and they started to look upon one another with hungry lust, slowly touching and embracing one another. "They want, they need dresses that help them radiate their sensuality. And so do you."

***

Inside the shop, the only noises present were Kelli's hypnotic crooning, sounds Rose and Patrice's moaning and French-kissing, and the dressmakers erection that started under Kelli's trancing, and screamed at the pornographic sight his customers were creating as if just for him, if his erection could make a sound.

Outside the shop, at a supposedly-hidden vantage point in the back of an inconspicuous black-tinted SUV, there were a few pairs of eyes watching the scene in the back of the shop. Both pairs needed binoculars to gleam at the target they were tasked with keeping a close eye on. Both young, ambitious men under Richie McClung, they never expected the perks of a rather pervy showcase of two women so into one another. Kelli was already a looker, especially when she was engaging her own targets with that interested, seductive, happily-controlling look. But seeing her direct two women who had to be coerced with something huge to find sexy company in one another left each gang-affiliated watcher in their own private fantasy, drooling and with bulges neither would confirm and do whatever they could to deny, whenever they had the capability of looking away. 

Such was the plan effectively, as Detective Saffron quietly opened the front passenger door, taser guns in both hands. Sally smiled at how lost they looked, savoring the feeling she hoped to be rewarded for privately later. Quietly, removed the handguns from their holsters, belts, and even the glove compartment before knocking them upside their heads hard. They both cursed and reached for their weapons to retaliate, only to find the undercover officer leaning against the door, holding their guns on them.

"Hey fellas, sorry for the intrusion, but you're getting new marching orders from a leading lady, and we do know what's best for naughty boys," she smiled at the shocked mobsters, throwing in a bit of sexual language subtly added to her personality after a great deal of time under Kelli's influence.

"Now-"

"You mean this leading lady?" A voice interrupted from behind Sally. 

***

From Ned Ryburn's vantage point, he was pleased to see things were going well. From the second floor of an empty office building across from the dressmaker's shop, Ned could see inside the shop, and down to the car that was also watching. Alternating between watching both proved somewhat difficult; he knew the plan very well, and trusted Sally and his Mistress to play their parts as he would his. Between them, he knew Kelli would have a much easier time with her task, but once he saw Sally step into the car, he believed her sneak attack would be wholly successful, and used the excuse of looking back to Kelli to make sure she was still safe. He had to laugh to himself, reminded of the fact that Kelli was often the most predatory person in any room she walked into.

The young hypnotist certainly proved it as the two women made out, and the male dressmaker drooled at the sight while Kelli observed them all. Looking to where she knew Ned was stationed, she gave him a wink, and he felt himself sinking towards wanting to be exactly where the dressmaker was. But instead of being turned on by the lovely lesbian sight before him, Kelli hypnotizing was the hottest thing he could capably conceive; it didn't matter that it was a known, suggested byproduct of Kelli's constant trances anymore, powerful, sincere arousal was the most automatic reaction he could have, and it only grew harder as he let himself imagine that he was in that room, and she directly fixated on his mind like he would her words. 

The fantasy surging through him nearly caused him to drop his binoculars, and he righted himself to concentrate and look towards Sally in the car. Unfortunately, he found Tara Cunningham had shown up out of nowhere, and was pointing at her in a weird way. Her presence alone spelled trouble, and he would've been quick to act, if not for the feel of the barrel of a gun to his back. As his heightened senses sharpened, Ned more specifically identified it as the barrel of a silencer, meaning he could disappear without a trace if the assailant wanted. Hands up and stark still, curiosity overrode fear as Ned dared to turn his head to the side to identify the gunman.

"Darby," he sighed angrily, noting Richie's main hitman last seen at the stadium the day before, and a former cop.

"Ryburn," Darby replied back with a smile. The two knew each other strictly by reputation, Roland Darby overstepping every official and invisible line cops established for themselves until he finally found his true calling as a mob enforcer. Ned on the other hand, was a clever, diligent, honorable, cop, but always went for the hard routes, the long shots, and even treated once small fishes like Kelli Kennedy with priority. 

The fact that Ned wasn't dead yet told him that Darby was either waiting for something, or was ordered to take him alive.

"How's the private sector treating you?"

"Better than being a public servant, that's for sure," Darby laughed. "You should've made the career change years ago.

"Better a public servant than a mobster's bitch."

"You're one to talk, being a petty thief's bitch," Darby threw back at him, not letting Ryburn goad him. "But like any random bitch or hooker on the block, making more in a month than cops could on any given year should put things into perspective. And when the highly-paid bitch has you at gunpoint, it's pretty easy to know which is the right side to be on."

"So what? You're recruiting me?"

"As if you would, and like I'd let some competition take a paycheck. No, you should just enjoy breathing while you can, until my generous employer figures out what he wants to do with you."

Stepping a few feet away with the gun still ready to shoot, Darby guided his prisoner out of the office building, to his car in the alley nearby. Once Ned took a seat, the ex-cop knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun, and gingerly drove towards the next phase of his boss's plan.

***

The drive up to the judge's house was worse than expected; Rick Porter, the unofficial treasurer of Judge Kowalski's campaign arrived at the mansion, wondering what the big emergency was. He was finally enjoying one of his rare work-free Sundays, hanging out with friends at a sports bar, when he got the call from Patrice. His boss was insistent that he come as soon as possible, even during her big fundraising party; the timing alone told him how dire the circumstances might be, even if it was devoid of further explanation, or the kind of emotion he'd expect from his boss during a potential crisis, despite the insistence. With sounds of the party starting in the background, he could only assume Patrice was trying to seem calm for all the patrons.

Leaving the bar and rushing home to get his laptop case and into a thankfully-unwrinkled tuxedo, he drove well-past the speed limit to arrive around gathered cars. Parking a distance away instead of trying to bother with valet, he ran down the street before people could see him casually walking into the party. Thankfully no doorman was present he'd have to give a long-winded explanation to, so he could slip in and look for his boss. Nothing seemed out of place around, but he was surprised Patrice hadn't stopped him on-site yet from some perched place. Eventually, he spotted her, but had a hard time believing it was Patrice. 

She was as pretty as usual as she was at most functions, with subtle make-up and her hair in a fancy up-do, but the dress was what made her stand-out. Exactly like the sparkling champagne she was holding, her dress was the same color, long and shimmering. Just like other pairs of eyes surrounding her, he stared intoxicated at how form-fitting it was, showing off curves she usually tried to be modest about. And how the dress showed off her cleavage was something classy yet outdid some wardrobe choices of the sexual fantasies Rick had starring himself and Patrice; the hemline stopped just below showing the nipples of her moderate-sized breasts, as the straps crossed and was covered in thin mesh, balancing a razor-thin line between suggesting and showing. She was talking and regarding with the grace of a rich, philanthropist's wife, without a care in the world, happily to let everyone around her stare and even fantasize. 

It was in the middle of Rick's unceremonial, across-the-room staring that a firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him to face a different direction. Eyes and senses quickly adjusted to the change of staring at a different young woman. There was a beautiful, smiling face behind brown, nerdy-looking glasses and light make-up. Peripheral vision barely had to look down to notice her beautiful dress with the spiral-jeweled broach off on one shoulder was more conservative, covering almost to her ankles in brown velvet. Even her silk gloves were a light brown, matching curly hair done up in a back bun.

She laughed lightly while turning her face from one side to the other, as if making sure no one else was looking for either of them. Turning to face him, her smile shrunk halfway to a more serious demeanor.

"Rick Porter, treasurer for Judge Kowalski's campaign, right?"

"W-who are you?" he asked concerned, and even more confused.

"Kelli Danvers, IRS."

"Excuse me? Don't-"

"You're not excused Mr. Porter, none of you are until we get certain matters resolved. But right now, you're going to pretend that we're old friends. As of right now, I might be the only friend you have anyway."

Kelli talked like what he'd expected of an agent, but she still acted liked they really were old friends catching up, maybe more the way her gloved hand lingered on his arm.

"Last I looked, IRS don't conduct stings like this."

"And last I looked, judges weren't involved in such extreme corruption that such preamble was needed, so you're just going to have to cooperate now," Kelli smiled inwardly.

"By doing what?"

"By telling me whatever you can tell me about irregularities of campaign donations you've noticed lately, or of any donor that would give you any cause for concern now. But don't look or even be concerned as I talk. Don't just act like we're trusted friends, embody that fact for now. In fact,"

Out of the brown purse hanging from her elbow, she produced a thin, round golden object. Rick easily mistook it for an oversized pocket watch, until she clicked the crown open, and it opened up to reveal a powdering pad and mirror inside. He was impressed by the interesting accessory kit, just like how smooth the compact's surface was, seeing a flash of himself and golden, reflective light when it opened, and again when she closed it, each time with a satisfying, fastening snap.

"I'm going to keep doing my make-up in like this, in a rhythmic fashion, and you're going to watch attentively, pretending to look to see if my make up is off. We'll blend in with the mundane actions of the passerbys, and you'll do this if you're seeking any kind of immunity," Kelli spoke while laughing in her thoughts of the irony.

"Because I have a target or two in-mind," she snapped the case open again, seeing another flash of light and himself before he could see Kelli's almost twinkling eyes behind the glasses, looking around, then directly at Rick's. 

"And you'll soon tell me if they are the targets I should have in-mind or not," and she snapped it back to flash light followed by her whole face, a little less stoic, probably happy about whatever surveillance plan she had going well.

"Because what's on your mind, is what should be in-mind," another snap, flash, and reflection of himself as he stared at her eyes over the case.

"And what's in-mind is what's on your mind," and another reflection, flash, and snap, revealing her face looking more focused on him.

"What I have in-mind is how valuable your mind is." Snap. Flash. Reflection. Kelli's eyes.

"Worth valuated in gold for how important what is in-mind." Reflection. Flash. Snap. Kelli's face, looking slightly pleased.

"Weighed in gold like burdensome thoughts falling away." Snap. Flash. Reflection. Kelli's eyes.

"Smooth like gold, like an unburdened mind, something very in-mind." Reflection. Flash. Snap. Kelli's face, looking rather pleased.

At some point since talking with Kelli, Rick might've wondered where the time had gone if he could be concerned with anything but the ruse he subjected himself to, where the rhythm of Kelli's sentences, and the opening and closing of her golden compact, grew somehow more rhythmic. Between every assuring explanation, every snap contained a reflection and a flash of light without fail, until just the sound gave his senses the impression of gentle golden light in his eyes, and his expression naturally growing more pacified as Kelli's grew more satisfied.

"Gold is what you have in-mind, Rick." Snap. Kelli's eyes.

"Golden light is what you have in-mind," Snap. Kelli's smile.

"Silenced thoughts worth gold what you have in-mind." Snap. Kelli's eyes.

"Spoken suggestions worth gold making up what you have in-mind." Snap. Kelli's grin.

"Your golden self, smooth, polished, reflecting thoughts in-mind." Snap. Kelli's eyes.

"Kelli owns gold, makes you smooth, polished, reflective of thoughts I put in your mind." Snap. Kelli's smirk.

"One extra opening for you. Not needed, but I know you have pleasing me in-mind." Snap. Kelli's eyes.

"But as far as the IRS is concerned, considering is case closed..." she snapped the case close to Rick's face, "is what we both have in-mind," Kelli giggled.

Slipping the make-up compact back in her purse, she pulled out a lighter that was also in it, momentarily toying with flicking it open like she would've loved to with the case. Thinking about improving her skills further later, she guided Rick to the next phase of her plan.

***

"You look very nice tonight, Rose," Bart Sunder commented. He expected his voice to falter as he paid Judge Kowalski the compliment, as out of character the almost revealing dress was, but his libido kept his speech smooth and sincere.

"Thank you very much, Bart. You're looking quite dapper yourself," Rose practically purred back.

The older man, with greying hair circling a bald top, wished he'd worn a toupee, despite everyone knowing what he looked like, just for the sake of impressing the provocatively-dressed, slightly more bubbly than usual judge he gave hearty donations to. Conversing amongst the other principal donors and herself, Bart could silently see in the faces of his wealthy peers that he wasn't the only one to notice the change. 

The first assumption they all had was copious amounts of alcohol being consumed prior to the party, except whatever it really was seemed different, and infectious as her assistant Patrice wasn't that far off with near-identical attire and affect. All the donors being self-proclaimed distinguished gentleman certainly didn't mind their looks tonight, even with their wives conversing in the same room. The alcohol explanation made sense with having to preside over a big part of a known gangster's case soon.

Rose herself seemed oblivious to the concerns they didn't voice yet, at least not out in public. She seemed to be floating on air, giving the surrounding men fantasies of what could happen on cloud nine.

"I hope you all are enjoying yourselves tonight."

"We are," Bart replied, the group's unofficial spokesman, as he had been for these kind of parties in the past. "It seems like you are...too," still looking for the right word but unable to think of anything, he left it at that, especially as his eyes glanced at the mesh-covered cleft during his pause.

"I'm glad the prospect of tomorrow's events aren't getting you down. Being a judge for a dangerous, influential criminal, but you look like you just one the lottery," one of the other men commented.

"With friends like you, who says I didn't," she chuckled as the men all chuckled with her witty retort. "I'm not worried about tomorrow; I'll see the case as presented, and decide fairly as I always do."

"Which is why you have such generous friends, Rose. Or dare I say, flexible friends" Bart laughed, keeping the general interaction friendly while emphasizing the last few words, hoping to spark recognition in the judge. It was noticed with a small flash of something in her eyes and a slight shoulder sag, Bart noticed with small satisfaction. It was still strange to him though how it seemed to accentuate the mood already there.

"Happy to hear that, the concerned man remarked, "but...perhaps...it would be nice if this wasn't a problem going forward tomorrow." The grouping of Rose and the donors was seated a ways away from the other guests and serving staff, mostly out of earshot of anyone wanting to listen in to what merely seemed like small talk.

"By that I mean," the man struggled to find the right words to say it, but ended up bluntly whispering "if you could find a ruling in-favor of this McClung, that would make us all worry less."

Rose's smile didn't completely disappear as she responded "is that so?"

"It is, we don't need t-"

"What he means is," Bart interjected, thinking more diplomatically "we hope that McClung, with a reputation like he has, doesn't make any attempts, putting very important things at risk." Without saying it, his words pointed to her life, and their obvious, lucrative investment in her. None of them would want to get into a bargaining war with Richie McClung, even if they could outspend buying off what looked to be a very respectable judge in the public eye.

"Right, and maybe we don't need to be discussing anything pertinent out here instead of your study like usual."

"Gentlemen," Rose calmly began to state, "we're out here because the study is currently being checked out. Because there has been a rumor going around that Mr. McClung has an intervention plan with me in-mind. Not on my life, but on the generous funds."

Speaking timely, Rose glanced in the direction of her study to see Patrice nodding to her boss, indicating that the study was ready.

"And given such a rumor, things will be going a little differently tonight, starting with each donor and transaction being discussed one at a time, and with a specialist brought in to make sure the funds are securely where they need to be. And since there is cause for concern, I would suggest the most concerned among us be the first," she eyed concerned whisperer moments ago. Rose gracefully stood and moved towards her study as Patrice moved to join the party, speaking with more of the donor's wives and checking on the catering. 

The elegantly-dressed judge sat in her chair, across from the first donor, and didn't have to wait long before two more people joined them, Rick Porter and Kelli Danvers.

Rick introduced Kelli, explaining his role as treasurer, and  Kelli's as the specialist for the evening's fund-handling. After briefly speaking, he was happy to let the nerdy-looking stunner speak.

"Now I'm sure you're a little nervous, and that is completely understandable. It would be nice if this was an open-and-shut case like normal, " Kelli paused as if on cue to hear the slight sound of a gasp from Rick off in the corner, everyone but Kelli missing the sight of his eyes rolling back in brief, abject pleasure.

"But these are not normal circumstances, and it gets rather confusing knowing what to do, or where things need to go; one miscalculation could end up putting your donated money in jeopardy. Just one miscalculation, leading to a second, and a third, and a forth, and so on. But how many moves could be made before you even notice what's happening?"

As Kelli continued to introduce and explain the process, Rose arched herself forward in her chair, inching towards a clearer look at her cleavage, and how tight the dress pressed against her breasts.

"How much of your money could go forth to where it belongs? How much could go forth to where it doesn't? Could you lose a third, or more as second after second ticked by? What is a third of a third to those who would take as much as possible? Could you go forth out into that risky territory, counting seconds and steps as the number of steps taken cross too many seconds to count, looking ahead with a keen, mental third eye into the valley you're going forth into."

A single finger drew a line down the cleft of Rose's breast, a path followed strangely, dutifully by the donors glazing eyes, never noticing how glazed Rose's eyes grew as velvet-gloved fingers drew circles on the judge's temples, loving being trances, loving seeing someone else be mesmerized by Kelli's trance. 

"You don't need a miscalculation steering you away from the correct path; you need a helpful guide, a MissCalculation, that knows exactly where seconds, steps, sounds, and cents belong. Because you have the good sense to know where your dollars and cents are spent, spent from the effort of decisions, decisions better left to a specialist who won't miss, MissCalulation knows where money belongs, belongs to MissCalculation..."

Kelli happily, easily breezed through the anadiplosis induction as she watched the trio waver and sink into deeper levels of their current trances, acquiring fund and banking information through an aroused Rick who could keep his penmanship accurate as the rest of his body shivered in trance.

"MissCalculation is a source of trust. You can trust MissCalculation with anything of value, thoughts about funding, thoughts about investments, and the value of letting someone else do the thinking for you. Because if you invest your money and mind into MissCalculation's control, I guarantee the returns, the rewards will be very...bountiful."

Kelli helpfully stroked Rose's breast as well, making the nipples harder with just her touch. It wasn't long before the next donor was brought in to be convinced of needing MissCalculation's dazzling acumen. And with every donor that entered the study to discuss donating, one returned to the main party with triggers of how bountiful Kelli's advice was, extending even to the sight of Rose's or Patrice's breasts, and her common use of the word with every person she talked to.

"Bountiful feels so good doesn't it? It's why you're here, it's why you're listening so intently, so carefully. Following my words, my will, leads to the bountiful, to ample rewards, lavish luxuries, and plentiful pleasures. So within your wanting grasp, needing to gently grab hold. You hold on to the bountiful as the bountiful has its hold on you, while I hold mind and money for you. Let your mind be on other things, dreaming of more success, dreams that leave you passionate, stimulated, motivated. Succumbing to the riches bestowed upon you, suckling on the bountiful teet of Goddess of good fortune, your path determined as surely as you'd choose it. And the only choice you have...is to listen."

The party being an exuberant but small affair, it was easy to use fun instant inductions on the wait staff, making it fun to serve and be oblivious to the strange lives rich people lead. Such made it even easier to corner the other guests, specifically wives excusing themselves to powder rooms, where Kelli could use shock inductions with Patrice's helpless assistance. With Kelli's lips at their ears, the hypnotist's body close to theirs, and their hands grasping at Patrice's impressive bust, their bound minds felt blind to everything but a strong lust laying dormant beneath the surface after awakening with no conscious memory. That lust slowly bubbled up to the surface with ever invocation of the word Patrice didn't realize she was using over and over in normal conversation.

"Bountiful means to listen. Bountiful means you have no choice. Bountiful means you have no thoughts. Bountiful means you only have my thoughts. Bountiful means you only hear my voice. Bountiful means you can't help but feel wonderful."

With every individual meeting in the study, one more voice added to the growing choir, indirectly singing Kelli's praises as the party resoundly echoed the word that made them mindless.

"Bountiful means there is no miscalculation in the words or numbers I speak. Bountiful means there is only MissCalculation's words. Bountiful means you can trust MissCalculation's words to add up correctly. Bountiful means trusting, and obeying, the helpful commands MissCalculation gives, that makes you helpless. Bountiful means MissCalculation speaks, and you obey."

It wasn't long before all had consulted with MissCalculation, with the exception of Bart Sunder. He patiently waited for his turn, unworried as he knew he was the most important, most prioritized contribution. It started to worry him why his wife was starting to use the word bountiful as much as all the other "drunken" patrons, and how it even got him to pay more acute attention to Patrice sauntering around the room, looking for excuses to touch or draw attention to the cleavage. Marcella Sunder noticed his worry, and gently pulled him aside, away from onlookers who would've seen her giving her husband a deep tongue kiss. Quietly, she admitted the word was being said so much, it was starting to affect her too, making her rather horny, "asking" her husband for some relief while pushing buttons she knew would help get her way. Their quickie in the nearest closet was as hot and heavy as it was quick and quiet; the constant use of "bountiful" didn't seem to bother any of them as it only heightened her libido, and eagerness to please. Lowering his wife's dress to suck on her tits, his mouth was too busy to protest as she hissed it with every thrust.

Once he finished satiating his still-horny wife, promising her more relief later, he returned to the party just in time to be finally called in. Walking into the study relaxed, the back of Judge Kowalski's chair was facing him, but the judge wasn't sitting in it. Rather, Rose and been resigned, or assigend to standing next to it like a automaton, practically blank with with a trance of contentment on her face, more visible the closer Bart stepped into the room. Stopping in the middle of the study, trying to compute what was happening, he heard the door behind him close and lock, seeing Judge Kowalski's recognized treasurer looking just as still and content, standing next to the door as if guarding it.

"What the hell is going on here" he asked plainly confused and worried.

"Bartholomew Sunder, Warden of the Maypoint Youthful Offender Facility," the words practically echoed in the enclosed space with equal parts intrigue and scorn as the chair turned, revealing to Bart the treasury specialist seated in it.

A serious gaze turned suddenly relaxed, as she switched to a calmer, almost chipper voice. "Please, have a seat Warden Sunder. I'll explain everything."

A cold lump in Bart's throat caught, as the specialist spoke. That voice, that face, the way she called him "Warden," brought back long-forgotten memories.

"...Miss...Kennedy?"

Kelli's smile deepened as a predatory glint shone behind the glasses.

"Nice to know that after all these years, I've made such a memorable impression."

Taking a step forward, considering sitting down in the seat facing the desk, Bart tepidly replied "And I see you've made quite the impression on my flexible friend here." Carefully watching Rose's face, he saw a slight facial shift that only sunk back into the content state before it, evidence of it deepening with a growing, wanton smile.

"In all honestly, as far as this room, really, who hasn't made a memorable impression?" Kelli leaned back in the high-chair, eyes looking up to reflect on what was. "Rick by the door there, managed the money. The lovely Rose here," she gestured toward the judge, trying not to let her expression sour, "passed down 'fair' sentences. And you, Bart..." she leaned forward, staring hard "...you're the mastermind behind so many lives impressed upon."

"When lives are in need of it, of course. And it's so sad to see efforts towards rehabilitation go unappreciated."

Kelli's eyes narrowed, feeling an even stronger version of apprehensive anger, surprisingly stronger than what she felt with Rose, to keep at bay. It was so tempting to let emotions rage and bury the warden in them somehow. Discarding wit and speaking honestly, she let some of her naked thoughts be spoken.

"If you only knew the effort it took, to hold back, to not annihilate you the moment I saw you in this picture," Kelli took of the photo of him and Rose standing in-front of Maypoint. "Or the moment I saw you arrive tonight, or the chances I could've had to get to you after escaping the hell you put me through at Maypoint. I don't know about rehabilitation, but I can certainly admit that you're getting a much more measured response than what you could've gotten years ago."

"Well, hearing the kind of teen you were, you were bound to grow up some time. Too bad it wasn't soon enough to realize that the kind of things you're attempting tonight, are considerably-worse crimes."

"Worse than bribery, corruption, and unlawful sentencing?"

"Things that are tough to prove simply taken on the word of a common criminal, a genuine seditionist and menace to society."

"From one, perhaps. But I'm sure if the authorities took a closer look at the practices of Maypoint, I'm sure I'd have much to learn from you in-terms of law-breaking."

"I doubt the guards would say anything. And many potential youthful offenders times zero credibility is still zero in multiplication. You did pass math before becoming a guest at Maypoint, right?"

"Not when the multiple stories of mistreatment add up, framing sentences passed down against them as predictably harsh, and painting your facility as hell, and you as the devil," Kelli commented, then smiled devilishly at her former tormentor all of a sudden.

"Is that why you're here? To wreak havoc, your sense of vengeance on a lawfu-"

"How does it feel, knowing it's coming," Kelli interjected.

"What...the authorities?"

"...you know what 'it' means." Kelli just looked at him, smiling. Pulling at each finger, she carefully removed the velvet gloves from her hand, silently symbolizing how the gloves were off as she came around the desk, closing in on the taller man, step-by-step. "You know what 'it' means all too well. 'It' fascinated you since the moment we met, when you called me to your office to marvel at what got me in-trouble, to lay down your sense of the law, and to see me literally unaffected by it."

Bart remembered that day well, remembered Kelli being one of her favorite Maypoint inmates, the kind resembling wild horses that with time and rather sadistic patience, could be molded into something better. And Kelli's unique brand of mischief intrigued him, just like her current presence did, despite the fear.

"Because why would I be affected? All the punishments, the deprivations, all those attempts to break my spirit, only to find...it, indomitable. Much more the reverse in-fact, as several of your staff found the more considerable power within it. As did you..."

It was hell trying to contend with a delinquent girl who gave just as good as she got in the psychological warfare game. When guards were silently afraid to have to contend with her, when other attempts weren't working to bring her to compliance, he started looking at why she was so formidable, which his began his descent into learning about...

"'It' is quite the phenomenon, isn't it? From one side, or the other. Once it fascinates you, it truly fascinates you. Giving, receiving, it honestly makes little difference once it weaves its magic. It's why you were so eager to have a conversation with me one day, after three weeks of unprovoked isolation assignment. Left stirring in one's own thoughts for so long, the mind begs to seek the company of outside thoughts to absorb, as of course, you knew."

The way her finger pointed to her own head kept his attention, leaving only to gesture one way or another, highlighting the strange nail on her index finger every time she said...

"It was so wonderful to converse with someone else, to be conversed with. The happiness on your face was infectious as I shared it, listening to you calmly, smoothly drone on about behaviors to a mind starving for attention. I absorbed it well, just as you did."

The more Kelli closed the distance to Bart, the more the nail was a fixed magnet for his eyes.

"The more you said, the more I agreed, until the more I realized something you might not have noticed - how much you were missing my attention. We shared happiness and eagerness to interact with one another, to share thoughts. It truly was a special moment, as you learned what I know, the influence it has over you."

It was hard to stay fixed on that nail as it traced a sharp line on his skin, up the bridge of his nose, to the crown of his forehead where his eyes had to roll back to follow, before being commanded

"Sleep!"

Uncaring about his physical well being, she let him fall to the floor. He fortunately missed hitting the chairs or anything else on the way down, and found himself being snapped back to "Sleep!" after the impact of falling woke him up some. Kelli's voice followed him into the void, inserting him so deep into his mind that it would take a devastating force to wake him up.

"Agh!" Bart yelped as he felt a heel kick him hard in the testicles. The pain woke him as expected, but Kelli's magnetic spiral nail immediately drew him back down. 

Another kick woke him to be given a commanded opportunity to go deeper.

And another.

And another.

The next time Bart reached some kind of consciousness, he was back in the chair facing the desk, naked, with Rose's naked body atop his. The only sensations sharp enough to register was the arousal of a strained penis writing in pain from several kicks and stomps to his balls, made even worse as he got closer and closer to cumming. He couldn't fight the pain or the situation as he was too dipped in a haze of sex to do anything else but mindlessly pump. Kelli's nail appeared between them, resting on Rose's bare breast. Faithful eyes following the circled nipple, his mouth descended upon it, revving up Rose's own sex. 

The pairs beautiful screams were a symphony of frustration. Bart felt kicked in the balls with every thrust, leading him to a ruined orgasm, while Rose was deep into her second day of not being able to cum despite being constantly horny for Kelli's words and control; Kelli laughed as their was no relief in sight for either. 

"I honestly didn't know what I was going to do with you once I had you, once I had any of you," Kelli admitted openly, reminded of the original motivation of her plan being here, as well as the developed plan after. "But I knew whatever it would be, it would be so, sooo hot..." Touching the spiral nail to each forehead, heat launched like a flamethrower to their bodies flowed downward, exploding as he painfully ejaculated, in-tears from a perverse expression of satisfaction. Letting her devilish side laugh softly, Kelli pulled back as flashes of light came over the still-engaged couple; Rick was taking pictures of their exchange, as Kelli had commanded them. 

Exiting the study, she found the main party room a little quieter than she left it, hearing every other word said or whispered bountiful. Smiling at the subtly-programmed room, she was able to usher one or a few people at a time into the study, encouraging them to act on arousing, bountiful suggestions by the time they arrived, inspired by Rose and Bart at the center. Eventually, the party hall was emptied and all the affluent party-goers turned Rose's study into a musky den of hypnotized sex, with Rick getting a close-up of every participant on several camera phones. 

When Rick had taken enough pictures, and made all the donation arrangements for election funds (and more) to be moved and routed several times to a private account of Kelli's choosing, Rick crawled after the hypnotist exiting the musk-filled study to offer what she desired from his knees. Checking her appearance in her compact without looking at him, she smirked "I told you this would be an open-and-shut case."

Already deep in-trance, he sank to the floor, deeper than before. Snapping her fingers as she stepped over him, he came hard in his pants, left with a large stain to clean, and a few suggestions to be utilized for Kelli in the future if needed. Leaving him just outside the study, Kelli smiled as she was greeted by Sally who'd entered the house. Silently nodding to Kelli, Sally informed the hypnotist that her orders were carried out. And a timely chime on her phone notified her of a message from Ned, at 11:30pm on the dot as she'd planned. "All clear" it read, as the two women headed for the kitchen exit, the space empty due to the serving staff joining the orgy. She opened the door, shocked to find Tara Cunningham waiting for her, with Roland Darby right behind her.

"All clear," the blonde spoke tauntingly. Kelli's first instinct was to step back and get her slave ready to run, only quickly end up Sally's arms behind her. It was lucky the submissive was there to catch her, as the hypnotist suddenly felt a surge of lethargy was over her. Noticing she was being held with one hand, a head turn revealed she'd backed into a needle with the plunger pushed all the way down. 

"You looked very tired, Mistress," Sally spoke with the reverence she'd had since her first deep trance. "I want to please you and help you sleep."

The sincerity in the controlled cop's voice belied the betrayal Kelli felt. She didn't know what it was filled with, only looking up in fear as she was laid on the floor, to look up at Sally and Richie's henchmen whom she was completely at the mercy of. If there would be any mercy to be given.