The Devil’s Valentine Stage Show
Chapter 2
She walked forward on shaking legs, slow, like every step cost her something. The spotlight caught her red dress again, making the fabric shimmer. She stopped next to him, arms clasped in front of her, eyes wide and fixed on the floor.
Chuck’s mouth went dry. He wanted to stand. To shout. To do anything.
But he just sat there, hands clenched white-knuckled on the table, watching his fiancée stand under the lights, waiting for whatever came next.
The hypnotist turned to Katie, tilting his head like he was sizing up a new toy.
“You seem like a polite one, miss,” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I’m hoping we can be more cordial.”
He offered her the mic, holding it out flat on his gloved palm.
Katie’s eyes flicked to it, then back to his mask. She’d seen what happened to the others. No arguing. No running. She forced a smile, tight, fake, the corners of her mouth barely turning up and took the mic.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
She lifted it to her lips.
“I’m Katie Larsen. I’m twenty-three. And I’m here with my fiancé. We came on a Valentine’s date.”
A wave of loud “awwws” rolled through the room. Some guys whistled, others clapped like it was the sweetest thing they’d heard all night. Katie’s voice had that soft edge to it, gentle, almost shy and it made the whole crowd lean in a little.
The hypnotist raised his hands for silence.
“Looks like we have another lucky guy in the audience here.” He scanned the tables. “Please let us know where you are!”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Chuck felt his limbs loosen. The invisible weight that had kept him glued to his seat lifted, just enough. He shot to his feet.
“Hey!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Let her go! We’re not supposed to be here, we didn’t know what this was! Just let us leave, please—”
The hypnotist cut him off mid-sentence, not even turning fully. Just raised one hand in Chuck’s direction.
“Take a seat again.”
Chuck’s legs buckled before he could finish the plea. He dropped back into the seat hard, chair scraping. His mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only stare.
The hypnotist shook his head at the crowd, tsking like a disappointed teacher.
“Greedy, isn’t he?” he said into the mic. “Our humble patron from earlier was happy to share his wife for the greater good. But this one? Clinging to his pretty little fiancée like she’s his property. Selfish.”
He paused, letting it sink in.
“Does a douchebag like that deserve a lovely woman like Katie?”
The room answered with a resounding “NO!” loud, unified, some people banging on tables for emphasis.
Chuck’s heart slammed against his ribs. He looked up at the stage. Katie’s eyes were locked on him, wide, wet, tears spilling over her lashes. She reached one hand out toward him, fingers trembling, like she could bridge the distance if she just stretched far enough.
The hypnotist stepped in front of her. Covered her moist eyes with his gloved hand, gentle and firm.
“SLEEP!”
Katie’s head fell limp into his palm. Her body sagged forward, held up only by his grip and her own balance.
He leaned in close, lips right against her ear. Whispering. Chuck couldn’t hear the words, just saw Katie’s head shake. Small at first, then harder. No. No. No.
Chuck’s chest tightened. That was good. She was fighting. She was still in there. If she kept resisting, maybe he’d give up. Maybe they could walk out.
But the hypnotist didn’t stop. Kept whispering, low and steady. Katie’s shakes grew weaker. Slower. Until they faded into tiny twitches, then nothing. Her head started to nod, slow, reluctant, then surer. Once. Twice. More.
No. No no no.
Chuck wanted to scream it. Wanted to lunge. All he could do was sit there, fists balled so tight his nails dug into his palms, watching.
Finally the hypnotist pulled his hand away. Katie’s face was flushed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. He theatrically wiped it off with the back of his glove, flicking it toward the floor.
“That was one tough cookie to crack, folks,” he announced. The audience laughed. “But you know what they say about the fruit of labor, it’s always sweetest.”
He clapped his hands once, loud and sharp.
“Let us meet the new Katie!”
Katie’s eyes snapped open.
For a second she looked confused, blinked, glanced around the stage like she didn’t recognize it. Then her posture shifted. Shoulders back. Chin up. A smile spread across her face, not the timid one Chuck knew, but something confident, almost cocky.
The hypnotist stepped aside, gesturing to her like a game-show host.
“Who do we have here? Can you introduce yourself, young lady? Why are you here? Who are you here with?”
Katie raised the mic to her lips without hesitation.
“Sure, boss!” she said, voice bright and clear. “I’m Katie. I’m a good little slut who works as a waitress here at this fine establishment! I’m here to serve the guests in whatever they might need!”
She put heavy emphasis on “whatever,” dragging the word out slow. Then she licked her lips, deliberate, slow, eyes flicking over the crowd.
“Ummm… I’m not here with anyone?” She tilted her head, like the question was silly. “I’m here to work?”
The room erupted. Claps, whistles, shouts of approval. Someone near the back yelled, “Genius!” and the hypnotist gave a small, theatrical bow, soaking it in.
Chuck sat frozen, staring at the woman on stage who he knew to be his fiancée, but wasn’t. Not anymore.
The hypnotist tilted his head toward the audience, then back to Katie, still holding the mic.
“Are you sure, Katie?” he asked, voice smooth and teasing. He pointed one gloved finger straight at Chuck. “That man there claims to be your fiancé.”
Chuck’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he thought it might crack one. Katie’s eyes found him in the crowd, locked on for a split second. Then her face twisted. Lip curled. Nose wrinkled like she’d smelled something rotten.
“That fucking loser?” she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. She laughed, short, sharp, amused at the very idea. “He wishes he could come anywhere near pussy like me.”
The words hit Chuck like a slap. He felt the air leave his lungs. His fiancée, his Katie, was staring at him like he was trash. Laughing. The room hooted and clapped, egging her on. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe right.
The hypnotist chuckled into the mic. “Say, Katie… aren’t you a little overdressed for your job? I thought you were aware of the uniform.”
Chuck’s stomach dropped. He’d seen the waitress who seated them, Chloe, nothing but lingerie and a name tag. Was she a volunteer from some earlier show? Was this what happened to them? Kept here, changed, serving drinks and worse? No. He couldn’t let that happen to Katie. He couldn’t.
Katie laughed again, light and easy, like the question was silly. She nodded. “You’re right, boss.”
She grabbed the hem of her red cocktail dress with both hands and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion. The fabric glided across her skin as it came off. She tossed it aside without a second glance, letting it fall in a crumpled heap next to her bare feet.
Her body was right there under the lights. Toned from yoga, smooth skin glowing, the matching red lace lingerie hugging every curve. Bra barely containing her breasts, thong high on her hips, garters clipped to sheer stockings. The crowd lost it, whistles, cheers, some guys standing up to get a better look.
The hypnotist glanced at Chuck again. “Sorry you had to see that, friend,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m sure that was meant only for your eyes. Greedy again, aren’t we?”
Katie looked at the hypnotist, head tilted, confused for a second. Then her gaze dropped to her left hand. The platinum engagement ring caught the light, diamond flush-set, sparkling.
The hypnotist spotted it too. His smirk widened behind the mask.
“Katie,” he said gently, “haven’t you forgotten? Jewelry isn’t allowed on the job either.”
Her eyes went wide. Horrified. “Oh god! I’m so sorry, boss!”
She twisted the ring off her finger fast, like it burned her. Held it out to him in her open palm.
Chuck watched, chest tight, as she handed over the ring she’d worn every day for the last year. The one he’d saved for months to buy. The one she’d cried happy tears over when he slipped it on. Gone. Just like that.
The hypnotist took it between thumb and forefinger, turning it in the light.
“I surely can’t hold onto something so valuable,” he said. “What do you think we should do with it?”
Katie shrugged, casual. “Just throw it away?”
A burst of laughter came from the crowd.
He shook his head. “No, no. I know a place I can store it for now.” He looked at her. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”
Katie obeyed instantly. Mouth open wide, tongue flat and waiting.
The hypnotist placed the ring carefully on the center of her tongue. It sat there, diamond glinting against pink.
“Em!” he called.
Em bounced back onstage, tits still out, carrying two things: a paper name tag that read KATIE in bold black letters, just like the one on Chloe’s bra strap, and a short glass half-full of clear liquid, alcohol, if Chuck had to guess.
The hypnotist clipped the name tag to Katie’s bra strap while she stayed perfectly still, tongue out. Then he took the glass from Em.
He paused, glass halfway to her lips. “Em, did you stir this properly?”
Em put a hand to her mouth, theatrical. “Oops! No, sir! I couldn’t find a stirrer.”
The hypnotist mock-scolded her with a wagging finger. “You know how important stirring is. A well-made drink needs proper mixing.”
He turned to the crowd. “Right, folks?”
They roared in agreement.
Then, without hesitation, he reached down and unzipped his pants. Pulled out his cock, already hard, thick, precum beading at the tip.
Chuck’s whole body went cold. No. Surely not.
But he did. The hypnotist dipped the head of his cock into the glass, swirling it slowly, using it like a goddamn stirrer. The liquid clouded slightly. The crowd went insane, cheering, clapping, some people standing on chairs.
When he was satisfied, he lifted the glass to eye level, gave the audience a thumbs-up with his free hand. Didn’t bother tucking himself away.
He turned back to Katie. “Something to wash it all down.”
Katie took the glass from him happily. Closed her mouth around the ring on her tongue, swallowed once to get it positioned, then tipped the glass back like a shot. Drained it in three quick gulps. A small drop ran down her chin. She laughed when she finished, bright, pleased with herself, looking up at the hypnotist like a good girl waiting for praise.
The hypnotist laughed too, loud and rolling.
“At least she’ll know where to dig in if she needs that again.”
The room exploded. Wild cheers, whistles, tables banging.
Katie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still smiling, name tag swinging gently on her bra strap, ring gone somewhere inside her, body on display for anyone who wanted to look.
Chuck sat there, numb, staring at the woman who used to be his everything.
She didn’t even glance his way anymore.
The hypnotist looked at Katie, lips shiny, eyes bright with that new eager obedience.
“Katie,” he said, voice low and amused. “Why don’t you clean my cock with your tongue? Then zip me back up like a good girl.”
Katie didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, stuck her tongue out flat and ran it slow and deliberate down the full length of his shaft, base to tip, collecting the leftover precum and whatever else was there. She did it shamelessly, like it was something she loved doing, tongue working in long, wet strokes. Chuck stared, gut twisting.
He ed the night two years ago when they’d been fooling around after too much wine. He’d guided her head down gently, hopeful. She’d pulled back, cheeks red and said no, said it felt disrespectful, that she didn’t want to do something that made her feel like less than his equal. He’d dropped it immediately, never pushed again. Never even asked. And now here she was, licking another man’s dick in front of a room full of strangers like it was nothing.
She finished with a quick swirl around the head, then tucked him back into his pants with careful fingers. Zipped him up and stood up.
“All done, boss,” she said cheerfully. Her boobs bounced as she rose, half out of the bra she hadn’t bothered fixing.
The hypnotist grinned, spun her around by the hips, and brought his hand down hard on her ass. The smack echoed through the speakers. Katie yelped, then giggled.
“Get on with serving the guests,” he told her.
He turned to the audience, arms wide.
“They’re free to do whatever they want with Katie. She’s a pretty dedicated employee.”
Laughter rolled through the room. He paused, then looked straight at Chuck.
“With one exception, of course.” His voice dropped mock-serious. “You decided to be greedy with us, so we’ll be greedy with you.”
Chuck’s muscles locked. He wanted to launch himself at the stage, deck the bastard, grab Katie, drag her out. But his body wouldn’t move. Legs heavy, arms pinned to the table. All he could do was turn his head, track her as she sauntered off the stage in those heels, hips swaying, name tag swinging on her bra strap.
She walked straight to the first table near the edge, four guys in their thirties, already leaning forward, grinning. Chuck could just make out her voice over the low music.
“Hey boys,” she said, leaning in so her tits were right at eye level. “What can I get for you tonight?”
One of them spoke up quickly. “Can we get a group handjob? All of us.”
Katie’s smile widened. “Coming right up.”
She dropped to her knees on the carpet in the middle of their circle. The men stood, chairs scraping back, forming a loose ring around her. Zippers came down. Cocks came out, hard already.
Chuck tried to yell. “Katie—stop!”
His voice came out at normal volume, quiet, useless against the crowd noise. Just a plea that didn’t carry.
The hypnotist noticed anyway. He stepped to the front of the stage, voice cutting through the speakers.
“Hey, lover boy. We still have a show here. Eyes on stage.”
Chuck’s head snapped forward before he could fight it. His eyes locked on the hypnotist, vision tunneling. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t see what was happening at that table anymore, just hear the low murmurs, the occasional laugh, the wet sounds starting.
While Katie was his whole world, to these men she was just another woman for them to abuse. Another piece of entertainment. The realization hit him like ice water.
Almost compelled, he heard the next woman on stage speak up. The hypnotist had already beckoned her forward.
She was white, early twenties maybe, pixie cut black hair sharp around her ears, fit and petite, barely five-two, athletic build under a tight black top and jeans. Dark brown eyes wide with panic. She looked like someone who didn’t want to be there.
“I’m Zoe,” she said fast, voice cracking. “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything. I swear. I’ll forget I was even here.”
The hypnotist wagged one gloved finger slowly in front of her face, like scolding a child.
He leaned in closer to Zoe, wagging that gloved finger again, slow and deliberate.
“You’ll not tell anyone?” he said, voice dripping mock surprise. “Come on, Zoe. We know that’s not true.”
Zoe’s eyes widened, mouth opening to protest, but he kept going.
“How do you think you got solo tickets to our fine establishment so quickly? We heard all about your little podcast. We know you’re here to do an ‘expose’ on us.” He made air quotes with his fingers, the motion exaggerated for the crowd. “Well, as you can probably tell… we don’t care what a woman has to say here.”
Zoe swallowed hard. “I—I swear, I won’t—”
“Speaking of what women have to say,” he cut in, “I don’t think you should be capable of saying anything.”
“What do y—”
He moved fast. Covered her eyes with both hands. “Sleep!”
Zoe’s head dropped limp into his palms. Her body sagged forward, arms hanging loose. The audience chuckled, familiar now with the routine.
He bent close to her ear, whispering low and steady for maybe ten seconds. Chuck couldn’t hear the words, just saw Zoe’s head twitch once, then go still.
Right then Katie walked right in front of his table.
She was heading to another group on the far side, the same confident sway in her hips, heels clicking. But her chest was a mess. Thick white splotches of cum streaked across her red lace bra, some dripping slow down the curves of her tits, others already drying in sticky patches. Her fancy updo had come half undone, black hair falling in messy locks around her shoulders, a few strands plastered to her skin with sweat or worse. She didn’t glance at Chuck. Didn’t even slow down. Just kept walking, smiling like she was on her way to take drink orders.
He tried to turn his head to follow her. Couldn’t. His neck locked once she ed out of his peripheral vision. All he could do was stare straight ahead again.
A loud squawk yanked his attention back to the stage.
Zoe stood there naked now, jeans and top gone, skin bare under the lights. Her expression was derpy, vacant, mouth slack in a goofy half-smile. Her hands were balled into fists, tucked tight under her armpits like makeshift wings. She let out another high-pitched squeak, sharp, bird-like.
The hypnotist spread both arms wide, motioning to her like a ringmaster.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Meet Polly!”
Zoe flapped her “wings” once and screeched, “Meet Polly! Meet Polly!” Another parrot-like squeak followed, loud, ridiculous.
The crowd erupted in laughter, some clapping, others mimicking the sound back at her.
“You see,” the hypnotist continued, “Polly doesn’t care about any of that feminist stuff like before. She’s a good parrot who can only repeat what she hears… and eat sausages and chillies. Don’t you, Polly?”
Zoe squeaked again, sharp, excited. “Polly wants a sausage!”
The hypnotist laughed, gave her a little push toward the edge of the stage. “Off you go, birdie.”
She waddled forward, arms still flapping like wings, making little parrot hops with each step. The audience howled as she disappeared into the crowd, still squeaking “Polly! Polly!” every few feet.
Chuck sat there, stomach churning. Dear god. The man had made her think she was a parrot.
On stage the hypnotist dusted his hands like he’d just finished a simple trick. Behind him, the remaining two women shifted nervously, eyes darting, waiting for the next name to be called.
Chuck’s head stayed locked forward. He couldn’t look for Katie anymore. Couldn’t see where she’d gone, or what table she was kneeling at now. All he had was the sound of distant laughter from the floor, the occasional wet slap or groan, and The hypnotist’s voice rolling out again, calm as ever.
“Next participant, please.”
None of the remaining two women stepped up. They stood frozen in place, shoulders hunched, eyes darting between the stage floor and the crowd like they were hoping someone else would volunteer for them. The hypnotist let the silence hang for a beat, then laughed, low at first, then louder, rolling through the speakers.
“Shy now, are we?” he said.
He walked behind them, placed one gloved hand on each of their backs, and pushed them forward, with enough force that they stumbled a step toward the front of the stage. The spotlight caught them both square.
“Come on, ladies,” he said, voice bright again. “Introduce yourselves. Tell the nice people what you do for a living.”
The first woman, Indian, wavy dark hair falling past her shoulders, tall and pretty in a modest blouse and skirt, swallowed hard. She took the mic when he offered it, fingers trembling just enough to show.
“I’m Anahita,” she said quietly. “Anahita Farahani. I’m twenty-two. I’m training to be a therapist. I’m here studying in the US.”
The second woman stepped forward without waiting for the mic to be handed over. Fit, lean, long blonde ponytail, blue eyes sharp with anger. She wore tight leggings and a cropped top that showed off her toned stomach, clearly someone who lived in the gym. She seemed familiar.
“Delilah Kane,” she said, voice steady but edged. “Twenty-five. Fitness trainer and influencer.”
Chuck realised that’s where he knew her from, she was a pretty famous influencer, even Chuck followed her.
The hypnotist shook his head slowly, like a disappointed parent.
“Women these days,” he said to the crowd. “No imagination. Therapist. Fitness influencer.” He sighed theatrically. “Foolish occupations, really. So many options and they pick the same tired paths.”
He turned to Anahita first, leaning in close enough that she flinched.
“Anahita,” he said softly, “despite what everyone seems to think, there’s not a lot of money to be made in being a therapist. You know that, don’t you?”
Anahita’s mouth opened, then closed. She glanced at the audience, then back at him. Reluctant nod. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I… I know.”
He clapped his hands once, sharp and delighted.
“Perfect! Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I change your career ambitions a bit.”
“What? No! Pleas—”
He moved fast. Covered her eyes with both hands. “Sleep!”
Anahita’s head dropped forward. Her body went limp, swaying slightly where she stood.
The hypnotist turned to Delilah without missing a beat.
“And you, Delilah,” he said, tilting his head. “Do you like being just another skinny chick in an internet sea full of them? Posting the same poses, the same captions, chasing likes?”
Delilah’s jaw tightened. She stared at him, eyes hard.
“Just be done with it,” she said. “I know it doesn’t matter what I say.”
The hypnotist’s head snapped toward her. For the first time the mask didn’t hide the flash of irritation.
He slapped her with an open palm, quick and loud across her cheek.
The sound cracked through the room. Delilah’s head jerked to the side. A red mark bloomed instantly on her skin.
“No one,” he said, voice low and cold, “is allowed to ruin my flow.”
Before she could recover, he covered her eyes with both hands.
“Sleep!”
Delilah’s body sagged. Head to chest. Arms limp. She stood there beside Anahita, both asleep on their feet, breathing slow and even.
The crowd murmured, some shocked, some laughing nervously. The hypnotist straightened his suit jacket, smoothed his cape and turned back to the audience with that same charm as before.
“Two more to go,” he said lightly. “Let’s make them count.”