Marcus And The Almighty

<% s.linksPre = [ { label: 'Prologue', passageName: 'Prologue' } ]; %> # Prologue Marcus White stepped into the softly lit café, his heart tapping a nervous rhythm against his ribs. He was a striking figure with tousled sable hair and eyes that held the depth of an ocean storm, yet all these sharp features escaped his own notice. Clad in a crisp white shirt that complemented his lean frame, he could have easily been mistaken for a man accustomed to the admiring glances that followed him. But Marcus was far from perceptive about the effect he had on others. He moved through the café with a self-conscious grace, each step carrying him closer to a corner booth where Jenna—a girl with whom he had recently connected through a dating app—was waiting. Her presence was like a beacon, her azure gaze igniting when she saw him approach. "Hey, Marcus," Jenna greeted with an easy smile that seemed to pull at the tense corners of his lips. "Hi, Jenna," he returned, slipping into the seat opposite her. The scent of her perfume enveloped him—a blend of wildflowers and something distinctly like fresh rain. "Sorry if I'm a bit late." She shook her head, dismissing his concern. "Not at all. I've been enjoying my latte and the anticipation." Something playful danced in her eyes as she spoke, suggesting secrets left untold. As they settled into conversation about trivial daily matters, Marcus couldn't help but let his love for hypnosis slip into their exchange. The topic eased out of him with an enthusiasm that betrayed his otherwise timid disposition. "I find it fascinating," he explained earnestly, "the way you can use hypnosis to connect with someone on a deeper level. To help them relax or uncover parts of themselves they might not even be aware of." Jenna listened with rapt attention, her lips parting slightly as though she were considering his words more deeply than he expected anyone would. "I've never been hypnotized before," she ventured cautiously, twirling a strand of her sandy hair around her finger. Marcus's pulse fluttered at the opportunity presented. "Would you like to try it sometime? It's completely safe—I mean, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable." It was clear in Jenna's eyes—the curiosity that flickered there—that she entertained the idea. "Maybe," she replied, leaving a space filled with silent intrigue between them. Despite these moments where Marcus felt almost at ease sharing his passion for hypnosis, there remained an underlying disquietude—a thread of history where women had mysteriously retreated from his life without explanation. But maybe this was the one. Marcus's fingers traced the ceramic edge of his coffee mug, a barrier against the rising urge within him. The steam from his drink mingled with the ambient aroma of roasted beans and cinnamon, a comforting blanket that did little to soothe his racing thoughts. Across from him, Jenna leaned forward, her elbows on the table, bringing them into an intimate orbit amidst the café's gentle hum. Jenna's smile was patient, a soft glow in the dim light. His gaze locked with hers as he struggled with the internal battle, the taut line between his desire to share his world of hypnosis and the crushing weight of social etiquette. He imagined guiding her through a trance, their minds intertwining like serpents in a sensual dance. Yet, he recoiled at the thought of prying eyes and whispered judgments. The shifting expressions on Marcus's face didn't escape Jenna's notice. Her intuition, sharp as a hawk's sight, discerned the unspoken wishes that danced behind his eyes—an eagerness to reveal hidden depths, countered by a fear that restrained him. "You seem... divided," she observed, her voice laced with empathy like warm honey. "It's okay. We can take our time. I'm not going anywhere." He swallowed hard, words jostling for release. "Thank you," he finally breathed out, finding solace in her understanding gaze. His heart decelerated slightly as invisible chains loosened around it. Their conversation meandered through less turbulent waters then—discussing favorite books and shared laughter over benign anecdotes. As their date neared its inevitable close, Jenna felt an undeniable attraction to this enigmatic man. They rose together, leaving behind the murmur of the café for the crisp evening air that swept past them in playful gusts. Underneath a dome of twilight sky, they exchanged parting words dipped in mutual anticipation for future encounters. "Goodnight, Jenna," Marcus said with a gentle firmness that resonated more confidently than he felt. "Goodnight," she replied, her figure receding into shadows punctuated by streetlights as she strolled away. As Jenna navigated her way home through streets bathed in amber hues from lampposts dotting her path, her mind replayed fragments of their conversation. Hypnosis—Marcus had stirred a hushed fascination within her about this mysterious practice. The deeper implications lingered on her lips like residue from an untasted fruit. She promised herself to explore more once she reached the sanctuary of her apartment—a digital dive into a rabbit hole that beckoned seductively with each step she took towards home. Jenna twisted the key and pushed open the door to her apartment, the familiar creaking hinge welcoming her into the solitude of her small sanctuary. A slinky figure with fur as black as the night outside darted around her ankles, announcing its presence with an impatient mewl. She smiled and reached down to stroke the sleek body of Ash, her feline companion who had awaited her return with the patience typical of his species. "Hey there, trouble," she cooed, slipping off her shoes and padding across the cool hardwood floor. She tossed her keys into a bowl by the entrance and headed straight for the cupboard where Ash's food was stored. The sound of kibble cascading into a bowl echoed through the kitchen, sending Ash into a frenzied ballet of excitement around her feet. Satisfied that her cat's immediate needs were tended to, Jenna sank into the plush embrace of her couch, clicking on the TV remote. The screen flickered to life with vivid colors as a documentary about the vastness of ocean life began to unfold before her eyes. Yet even as she watched, her mind drifted back to Marcus, to their conversation and the intriguing topic that lingered between them like an unsolved riddle. After a short while, she unconsciously reached for her phone and ran her thumb over the chilly glass screen to open up a web browser. The word "hypnosis" found its way into the search bar—its presence there less a conscious decision than a reflection of Jenna's unacknowledged yearning for knowledge. With each article she skimmed, videos she glimpsed at, forums she perused—the allure of what Marcus had shared grew stronger. Perspectives ranged from clinical applications to stage performances, but it was the intimate power of mind control that quickened her pulse—an echo of their conversation that now fanned curiosity into a flame. Ash interrupted this digital descent with another plaintive cry, this time by the door—a signal that indoor pleasures had been exhausted and nocturnal adventures beckoned. With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, Jenna rose from her seat and unlatched the door to grant him passage into the moonlit world beyond. Watching Ash's shadow dissolve into darkness, Jenna felt a stirring inside—a call to mystery akin to the one which had drawn out her cat. Prompted by a budding resolve coated with a hint of rebelliousness against conventional wisdom, she decided it was time to experience hypnosis firsthand—even if only through self-administered attempts. She dimmed the lights in her apartment until only soft amber glows remained from scattered lamps. Jenna positioned herself comfortably in an armchair—one that cradled her body like an embrace from an old friend. Jenna's fingertips brushed the mouse as she scrolled through the search results, her gaze landing on a title swathed in promise: "Guided Self-Hypnosis for Deep Relaxation." The thumbnail exuded calmness—a fading horizon where sea and sky melted into each other. She clicked with purpose, scanning the description and user comments for any hint of deception. Her scrutiny found nothing unexpected. With a nod of approval to herself, Jenna clicked play. A soothing voice, velvet and unhurried, filled the room, instructing her to find a point of focus. On the television screen, the deep blue realm of the ocean unfurled in gentle motions. Jenna fixed her attention on the sound of the waves crashing against each other. The commentary from the documentary faded into a distant murmur as she focused all her senses on the soothing sound of the ocean, its waves ebbing and flowing in a mesmerizing rhythm. The hypnotic guide's voice slipped into her consciousness like silk over skin, wrapping around her thoughts. It spoke of descent, of relaxation that beckoned her further away from waking concerns. Jenna surrendered to its flow—an auditory current coaxing her toward inner depths. Lids heavy as anchors, Jenna allowed them to flutter shut at the guide's behest. Her breathing synced with an unseen tide; with each breath out, tension dissolved into the ether like sea foam. Ambiance from the documentary caressed her ears—the hush of water kissing sand, whispers of unseen creatures below the surface—threads weaving through her trance. The video gradually reached its conclusion; the voice faded with meticulous slowness until it went silent. But Jenna remained submerged in tranquility, adrift on the sound of the ocean. Jenna drifted on the cusp of consciousness, where the veiled boundaries of reality and imagination blended in harmonious disarray. Out of nowhere, the documentary was interrupted by a barrage of advertisements. They disrupted the peaceful flow of the program like stones being thrown across a calm lake; they were noticed briefly and then forgotten, leaving behind only fleeting ripples. Her mind, like a feather caught in a gentle breeze, floated above the mundane enticements of household cleaners and fast-food deals, until a different timbre of voice spun a more compelling spiral. It was deep, resonant—striking chords within her subconscious with unexpected authority. She didn't see his face or the cheap graphics that accompanied his sermon; she only heard his words, infused with conviction. <img src="https://www.mentalmystique.com/assets/hypnotv.jpg" class="right" /> "The signs," he intoned, each syllable wrapping around Jenna's thoughts like tendrils of smoke, "they are out there, waiting for you to find them. You must seek them out! For in them, you will discover your purpose. And when you find it, you will dedicate your lives to serving the Almighty." The preacher's voice carried an undercurrent of something more persuasive than mere speech—a vibrational lullaby that seemed to command rather than merely suggest. It seeped into Jenna's receptive mind, planting seeds wrapped in heavenly aspirations. ... ... ... An abrasive noise shattered the tranquility. A blaring jingle for a local car dealership assaulted the hush with its jarring volume, yanking Jenna from the depths of her tranquility. Her eyelids snapped open, heart thumped against her chest as if resisting the sudden return to full awareness. Disoriented by the abrupt transition, Jenna felt an unusual clarity wash over her as she sat up straighter in her armchair. She reached for the remote control and muted the blaring voices urging viewers to take advantage of unbeatable prices. Her breath steadied as she processed this rude awakening—a mingling sensation between relief at escaping an unwelcome intrusion and a mild disappointment at being so rudely severed from her peaceful repose. With movements languid but deliberate, Jenna powered off the television altogether and sat in silence for several moments. The glow from scattered lamps cast soft shadows that seemed to offer comfort after the harsh disturbance. Inwardly resolving to not let an ill-timed commercial spoil her evening any further, she decided it was time for rest—realizing not how late it had grown but how heavy her limbs felt after delving into unfamiliar territory. As she prepared for bed, Jenna's thoughts remained curiously absent from any recollection of post-hypnotic messages or divine callings—her mind instead filled with anticipation for another meeting with Marcus where she could share this new exploratory step into hypnosis with him. --- --- Marcus's car purrs quietly in the dimly lit parking lot, the dashboard lights casting an ambient glow over Jenna as she fidgets in her seat. She pulls a crystal pendulum from her pocket, its facets reflecting the dash lights like tiny stars. "I've been looking into hypnosis since our talk," Jenna begins with an unsteady but earnest excitement in her voice. "And I think I can do it. I can hypnotize you." Marcus tilts his head with a mixture of skepticism and amusement, "Oh really? And what makes you believe that?" Smiling nervously, Jenna holds the pendulum before Marcus's eyes. "Just follow the crystal with your eyes and listen to me." Her fingers tremble slightly as she attempts to steady the pendulum's swing. "Your eyes are getting heavy," she says, struggling to weave a cadence into her voice that isn't quite there. Marcus's gaze lingers on the pendulum, his expression one of indulgence rather than submission. He watches the crystal sway, light catching its edges and scattering across the car interior in a dance of luminance. Jenna clears her throat, attempting to sound authoritative. "With every swing, you feel more relaxed," she murmurs, the words trembling less now. "Your muscles are loosening, releasing all tension." He shifts in his seat, not out of compliance but to offer a comfortable smile. "Jenna, it's a lovely crystal, really, but..." Marcus trails off, his skepticism a gentle cloud between them. Undeterred, she continues, her voice striving for that velvety quality she remembers from the guide. "You're becoming more and more focused on my voice... letting everything else fade away." She bites her lip momentarily before pressing on. "Just listen and breathe with me... deeply in," Jenna inhales demonstratively, hoping her own breaths might lend some depth to her faltering control. "Settling my mind sounds good after a long day," Marcus concedes with a nod. He doesn't break eye contact; instead he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on Jenna's face rather than the pendulum. "But I think it's your confidence that needs to swing up a bit." With a determined pout on her lips, Jenna tries another tactic. "Okay then—imagine a staircase winding down before you... with each number I count down from ten to one, you'll take another step down... deeper into relaxation." Marcus watches her effort, an indulgent smile on his lips. "Jenna, you look like you're more likely to hypnotize yourself at this rate." Jenna lets out an exasperated giggle and lowers the pendulum. Her cheeks flush with a blend of frustration and embarrassment. "Okay, Mr. Expert," she huffs, "show me how it's done then!" "Watch closely," he says, taking the pendulum from her hand with deft fingers. Marcus raises it before her eyes—the crystal now dances rhythmically across her vision. Marcus's eyes lock with Jenna's, a warm and reassuring presence that seems to beckon her to trust in the journey ahead. The pendulum sways before her as a gentle metronome of focus, each movement an invitation to let go. "Notice how it catches the light," Marcus suggests, voice soft and hypnotic. "See the way it dances—a slow, languid rhythm that mirrors your own breath." Jenna's gaze is drawn into the shimmering depths of the crystal, her attention narrowing until all that exists for her is the rhythmic sway and Marcus's guiding words. The ambient light fragments into rainbow prisms around the edges of her vision, captivating her further. "Each swing brings you deeper," he continues, his voice a thread weaving through her consciousness. "Feel your body sink into the seat—secure, grounded, comfortable." Jenna complies without intention, her muscles yielding to the weight of relaxation pulling her down gently like gravity drawing leaves to the forest floor. "Good," Marcus encourages as he observes Jenna's compliance, noting the subtle slackening of her posture. "Let every exhale release a little more tension from your body." Her chest rises and falls with his promptings, breaths deepening as though she swims in a tranquil sea of tranquility. "Now," he intones with deliberate pause, "as I count down from five, you'll feel even calmer, even more focused on my voice." He watches for a sign of her readiness—the slightest droop of eyelids or softened facial expression—and finds it. "Five... each number is a step down... deeper..." The car is silent except for Marcus's voice and Jenna's measured breathing as she begins to disconnect from the buzz of stray thoughts. "Four... feel yourself drifting... like falling leaves making their descent to the ground." With each number Marcus draws out, Jenna feels an inward pull as if descending a staircase made not of stone but of cloud—soft underfoot and leading down into serene depths only hinted at by dreams. "Relax, Jenna," Marcus murmurs, his tone steady and smooth as glass. "Focus on the crystal...feel yourself relaxing more with each breath you take...each number I count." The world outside fades into insignificance for Jenna as she watches the pendulum sway. Her breathing deepens — Marcus's voice guides her mind like a ship on calm seas. "Three..." he intones, and Jenna feels her thoughts begin to drift. "Two..." The lights from the dashboard dance behind her eyelids. "One..." Warmth spreads through her body; she succumbs to the gentle wave of tranquility washing over her. As if listening to a distant lullaby, Jenna closes her eyes, nodding ever so slightly. "Good," Marcus whispers. "Now imagine your desire for me growing stronger...feel it soaring within you. Do you understand?" "Yes," comes Jenna's breathy affirmation, wrapped in a velvety fog of compliance. Marcus snaps his fingers — a crisp sound that seems to echo in the confined space of the car. <img src="https://www.mentalmystique.com/assets/hypnocar.jpg" class="left" /> For a moment, there is only silence. Then Jenna looks at him, her gaze alight with an unmistakable hunger. She leans forward eagerly and their lips collide in yearning fervor. But as they are about to go further into their passion, a flicker of movement outside catches Jenna's eye—a piece of graffiti on a nearby wall: "Answer His Call." The words ripple through Jenna's mind like divine intervention—her post-hypnotic suggestion igniting within her consciousness. Marcus looks on incredulously as Jenna opens the door and sprints away. Marcus's pulse quickens, his breaths sharp in the quiet of the night as he watches Jenna's figure grow distant. His mind races with questions, frustrations boiling to the surface like a tempest within. It's happening again, one of his girlfriends has stormed off out of nowhere. When will it ever stop? With determination fueling his muscles, Marcus pushes the car door open and steps onto the cool sidewalk. He sprints after Jenna, shoes smacking against concrete as he chases her shadow. His heart pounds against his ribcage, not just from exertion but also from the sheer desperation clawing at his insides. He keeps her silhouette in sight, a beacon in the murky sea of his confusion, until she slips around a bend and vanishes momentarily. Panic knifes through him and for a second he falters in his pursuit, losing precious time. Focus, Marcus, don't lose her now! He recovers quickly and picks up Jenna's trail again; the echo of her footsteps whispers to him from around the bend. As he rounds the corner, a grand church rises before him, its stern exterior standing tall against the bright blue sky. The old stone walls bear marks of past wounds, but they have been restored to their original glory and stand with solemn strength. Jenna stands in front of the heavy wooden doors, her hand raised to knock. As she does so, the doors open slowly, revealing a great hall filled with light and peace, and a neatly dressed gentleman. The man who greets Jenna is cut from cloth befitting reverence—a suit that speaks of stature, a hairstyle that commands respect. Marcus can feel the veneer of authority emanating from him even at this distance. Jenna's words float on the breeze with chilling fervor as she expresses a desire to serve what she believes is a higher calling. The man's smile reveals nothing and everything at once as he proclaims himself 'the Almighty,' welcoming Jenna into his fold with open arms. As he casts a fleeting glance over his shoulder—a twitch of paranoia—Marcus recoils behind the building's edge, breath held tight in his lungs like a captured bird. Through the heavy silence left by Jenna's departure and the man's vigilant gaze, Marcus hears the door close with a resonant finality that chills him more than the night air ever could. There’s no mistaking it—the gravity of what just happened wraps around Marcus’s mind like chains. The absurdity... ‘The Almighty’? A cult? What had been ignited within Jenna to pursue such madness? Everything cascades inside him—anger at being left behind again, worry for Jenna’s safety, confusion at this twisted turn of events. He needs to think...plan...but first he has to understand what power has ensnared her so completely that it tore her away mid-embrace. As Jenna disappears behind those archaic doors, one thing sits heavy on Marcus's heart: he must find out what lies within that church...before it consumes her entirely. <img src="https://www.mentalmystique.com/assets/hypnochurch.jpg" class="landscape" />

> This story contains age-restricted materials such as explicit depictions of sexual activity and sexual imagery. **By continuing, you affirm that you are at least 18 years of age or the age of majority in the jurisdiction you are accessing this story from and you consent to viewing sexually explicit content.** > > Additionally, this story involves hypnokink which can easily incorporate sexually or mentally manipulative scenes. **By continuing, you also acknowledge that ultimately you have control of your own mind and are knowledgeable enough on Risk Aware Consensual Kink to proceed with _informed and explicit_ consent.** [[I have read the above disclaimer and affirm that I am 18 or older, and you have my explicit consent.->Prologue01]]