The Devil’s Valentine Stage Show
Chapter 3
The hypnotist turned to Anahita first. She stood there asleep on her feet, head bowed, breathing slow. He stepped close, placed both gloved hands over her eyes again even though she was already under, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Low murmurs, Chuck couldn’t catch a word, just saw Anahita’s head give tiny nods, then bigger ones, like she was g off on every suggestion.
After a few seconds the hypnotist pulled back, satisfied. He nodded toward the back of the stage.
Em was already there, waiting. She reached up, grabbed a thick lever mounted on the wall, and yanked it down hard.
The same black cylindrical curtain dropped from the ceiling, fast, heavy velvet, falling around Anahita in one smooth motion and swallowing her completely. The audience went quiet for a beat, then started clapping in anticipation.
The hypnotist spread his arms wide, milking the moment.
“Ladies and gentlemen… meet Annie, the cheap American whore!”
A flash of white light burst from inside the curtain. Smoke machines hissed somewhere offstage. Then the curtain whisked back up into the rafters.
Chuck’s mouth dropped open.
The meek-looking Indian woman was barely recognizable. Her lush black wavy hair was now a cheap, brassy blonde, a bad dye job, roots still dark and obvious, ends fried and uneven like she’d done it herself in a motel sink. Her modest blouse and skirt were gone. In their place: a shiny silver tube top stretched tight over her tits, barely covering her nipples; matching silver thong riding high on her hips; big silver hoop earrings swinging with every move; and a black choker tight around her neck with a small metallic American flag pendant dead center. Her makeup was heavy, bright red lips, thick black eyeliner, fake lashes. She looked like a caricature of every bad porn stereotype rolled into one.
Annie giggled, high-pitched, bubbly and waved at the audience. “Hiii everyone!”
The hypnotist stepped up beside her, mic in hand.
“So, Annie,” he said, “what do you think of your job as a whore?”
Annie bounced on her toes once, tits jiggling under the tube top. When she spoke her voice had shifted, full valley-girl accent, nasal and bright.
“Oh my gawd, I looove it! Like, fucking for money is the best! Guys just pay me to spread my legs or suck them off or whatever, and I get cash? It’s, like, literally perfect. I’m so good at it too.”
The crowd laughed, some clapping.
The hypnotist tilted his head, tone mocking. “Ever thought about going to therapy to work on those sex addiction issues, Annie?”
Annie rolled her eyes hard, waved him off like he was being ridiculous.
“Therapy? Ew, that’s for losers.” She turned to the audience, hands on her hips. “Hey, anyone wanna fuck my sweet ass for a dollar?”
She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her thong, yanked it up hard, giving herself a deep wedgie that made the fabric disappear between her cheeks. She wiggled her ass at the crowd for emphasis.
The room hollered, whistles, shouts, guys banging on tables.
A man near the front stood up fast. “I got ten if you come here and fuck me right now!”
He didn’t wait for permission from the hypnotist or anyone else. Just started walking toward the aisle.
Annie squealed in delight. “Ten dollars? Deal!”
She hopped off the stage without a second thought, ass bouncing, giggling the whole way as she headed straight for the guy. The crowd parted for her, some reaching out to slap her ass or grope her tits as she ed. She didn’t mind. Just kept waving and blowing kisses like it was all part of the fun.
The hypnotist watched her go, then turned back to the stage with a shrug.
“Well,” he said into the mic, “looks like Annie’s already found her first customer.”
Laughter rippled through the room again.
Only Delilah was left now, still asleep, standing alone under the lights, red mark still visible on her cheek from the slap.
The hypnotist dusted his hands and stepped toward her.
Chuck was waiting, hoping, really, that Delilah would put up more of a fight. She’d already resisted the hypnotist once, talked back, taken a hit to the face without flinching. Maybe that defiance meant something. Maybe there was a limit to what this bastard could do. Maybe it wasn’t just words and snaps; maybe there was something supernatural at play here, some dark edge that only worked on people who were already weak or willing. If Delilah could resist, if she could stay herself even for a minute longer than the others, then maybe Katie still had a chance buried somewhere under all the suggestions.
His thoughts snapped apart when Katie walked right in front of his table again.
She looked worse than before. Hair no longer in loose strands, someone had gathered it up into a lazy, messy bun, the kind she wore when they were just lounging at home on a Sunday, no makeup, no plans, comfortable. Chuck was used to seeing it like that. Loved it, even. But outside? In public? She’d never let herself be caught dead with her hair looking that careless. Yet here she was, walking through a room full of strangers like it was nothing. There were streaks of cum in it, white, drying in clumps near the roots and tips, making the black strands stick together in places.
Her whole body was covered in splotches. Cum on her tits, her stomach, her thighs, some fresh and glistening, some already flaking off. She was completely naked now. No lingerie, no stockings, nothing. She carried a tray waitress-style, balanced on one palm, drinks clinking gently, moving with that same confident sway.
Chuck’s eyes dropped lower. Something was dangling out of her ass. One of the red bra straps, still attached to the ruined cup had been shoved inside her, the rest hanging out behind like a humiliating tail, swinging with every step she took.
“Katie,” he called out, voice cracking but audible.
She heard him. Turned. Gave him the bright customer-service smile she’d been flashing everyone else. Then her eyes focused, recognized him, and the smile twisted into pure disgust once more, lip curled, nose wrinkled, like he was something stuck to her shoe.
Before he could say anything else, a guy at the table right behind Chuck yelled, “Hey Katie! Come here and let me fuck your pussy, why don’t you.”
Katie’s face lit up again, professional, eager. “Right away, sir,” she said sweetly. “I’ll be with you shortly.”
She turned and kept walking, tray steady, bra-strap tail swaying, disappearing toward the side tables.
Chuck couldn’t follow her with his eyes. Couldn’t turn his head that far. The invisible grip yanked his gaze back forward.
On stage, Delilah was already naked and on all fours. Her long blonde ponytail had been yanked out, hair loose and wild around her shoulders now. She stayed perfectly still in position, ass up, head down, waiting.
The hypnotist circled her slowly, mic in hand.
“…folks, Dirty Lilah here will eat whatever you put in her face,” he was saying. “Your ass, your pussy, your dick, because she’s a good little piggy, aren’t you, Lilah?”
Delilah lifted her head just enough to look out at the crowd. Then she oinked, loud, wet, ridiculous. The room laughed.
Em walked out from the wings carrying what looked like a full apple pie, golden crust, steam still rising from the top vents.
The hypnotist took it from her, held it low in front of Delilah’s face.
She didn’t hesitate. Dove right in, face-first, hungry, no hands. Pie filling smeared across her cheeks, nose buried in the crust, bits of apple and cinnamon sticking to her lips and chin. She ate like she was starving, grunting and snuffling, not caring that half the pie was smashing against her skin.
“See, folks?” The hypnotist said, laughing. “What a pig.”
He grabbed the rest of the pie, what was left in the tin and smashed it hard against one of her ass cheeks. The crust cracked, filling oozed down her thigh. Delilah stayed on all fours but immediately started twisting, trying to reach around and lick it off her own ass, turning in clumsy circles, tongue out, chasing the mess like a dog after its tail.
The crowd roared.
The hypnotist gave her ass a light pat. “Off you go, piggy. Go find your own food.”
Delilah crawled forward, still on hands and knees, oinking softly as she headed for the ramp off the stage. Pie still smeared on her face and ass, hair hanging in sticky clumps. She disappeared into the audience the same way Annie had, already scanning for whatever “food” she could beg or steal.
The stage was empty now except for The hypnotist.
He spread his arms, cape flaring.
“And that, my friends,” he said, “concludes our volunteer portion of the evening.”
Chuck sat there, chest tight, staring at the spot where Katie had last walked past. The sounds from the floor kept going, moans, laughter, wet slaps, the occasional oink or parrot squeak drifting through the noise.
The hypnotist stood center stage, arms spread once more, cape settling around him like he owned the whole damn room.
“We have about twenty more minutes to go before we must return the participants and end the show, of course,” he announced. “So make the most of it!”
He laughed then snapped his fingers sharp.
“Em!”
His assistant bounced forward right away, tits still out, heels clicking. She dragged a simple wooden chair from the wings and positioned it dead center under the spotlight. The hypnotist sat down without ceremony, unzipped his pants again and shoved them down to his thighs. His cock sprang free, still hard, glistening from earlier.
Em didn’t wait for an order. She climbed onto his lap, straddled him facing forward, lined him up, and sank down slowly. His dick disappeared inside her pussy in one smooth motion. She started riding him immediately, hips rolling, ionate, like they were lovers who’d done this a hundred times. Her head tilted back, mouth open in a soft moan that carried through the speakers. The hypnotist gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm, but his eyes never left Chuck’s table.
Chuck stared back. His vision blurred at the edges, he was almost about to cry. The helplessness burned worse than anything so far.
The hypnotist’s gaze softened, just a fraction. He kept thrusting up into Em while he spoke, voice calm, almost kind.
“It’s okay, bud,” he said, looking straight at Chuck. “I think you’ve learned your lesson. I want us all to have fun here.”
Right then Annie sauntered up beside Chuck’s table. She was down to just the silver thong now, tube top gone, choker still tight around her neck, bad blonde hair messy and sticking to her sweat-damp skin. Cum streaks still visible on her thighs from whoever she’d been with earlier.
The hypnotist caught her eye over Em’s bouncing shoulder.
“Annie,” he called gently, “why don’t you go fuck my paralyzed friend there? He looks like he could use some company.”
Annie glanced at Chuck, then back at the hypnotist. “Sure thing, boss. But like, what about my payment?”
The hypnotist shrugged mid-thrust. “Take whatever you want from the purse on the table.”
Annie’s eyes lit up. She spotted Katie’s small clutch, red, matching the dress she’d stripped out of, sitting abandoned on the edge of Chuck’s table. She smirked.
“Yes, sir.”
She stepped in close. Reached down without asking and yanked Chuck’s pants open. Belt undone, zipper down, boxers shoved aside in seconds. His cock was already hard, traitorous, responding even when the rest of him screamed no. Annie pushed his chair back a foot to give herself room, then turned around, hooked her thong to the side, and sank her ass straight down onto him.
Chuck wanted to yell. Wanted to shove her off. He’d only ever been with Katie, five years, just her. This wasn’t him. He didn’t want this.
But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak above a whisper. All he could do was sit there helpless as Annie started riding, expertly rolling her hips in tight circles, clenching around him like she’d been paid by the minute. Despite everything, the pleasure hit hard and fast. Wet heat, pressure, the way she squeezed just right. He lasted 16 minutes, sixteen agonizing, shameful minutes, before he came inside her asshole, body jerking against the invisible restraints.
Annie lifted off him nonchalantly, like she’d just finished a quick errand. A thin trail of cum leaked from her as she stood. She reached into Katie’s purse, rummaged for a second, and pulled out a couple of hundred-dollar bills, probably from Katie’s emergency cash. She folded them once and patted Chuck lightly on the head with the money like he was a good boy who’d earned a treat.
“Thanks, sweetie,” she said, then sauntered off toward another table, cash tucked into her thong.
Chuck sat there, pants around his thighs, cum cooling on his skin, feeling violated in a way that went deeper than the physical. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could say.
About ten minutes later, movement on stage pulled his eyes back up.
Em slid off The hypnotist’s lap with a soft, satisfied sigh. He tucked himself away, zipped up, and stood. Straightened his suit. Clapped his hands once, loud, commanding.
“Alright, everyone,” he said into the mic. “Time for the show to end.”
He raised his voice, carrying over the low hum of the room.
“All participants, return to the stage!”
The audience started clapping, slow at first, then building, as the women began filtering back from the floor. Chuck’s heart hammered. He scanned the edges of the crowd, waiting to see Katie.
Delilah was the first to crawl back onto the stage. She moved slowly on all fours, body filthy, smeared with all kinds of fluids and food remnants. Streaks of pie filling dried on her cheeks and chin, cum spots on her back and thighs, something sticky clinging to her hair. Her stomach looked noticeably bloated; in just the short time she’d been gone she’d clearly stuffed herself silly. She stopped in the middle of the stage, head down, breathing heavily, and let out a soft oink without being prompted.
Zoe flapped in next, arms still tucked under her armpits like wings, making little hops and squeaks. Her pixie cut was frazzled, strands sticking out every which way like hands had grabbed and pulled it hard. She stood beside Delilah, tilting her head side to side, repeatedly squeaking in a hoarse voice.
Isabella followed, walking on shaky legs. She looked exhausted, muscles trembling under her skin, sweat shining on her body, hair matted. Her posture was slumped, shoulders rounded forward like she’d been bent over tables or poles for hours.
Annie came after, strutting like nothing had happened. Her silver thong was stuffed full of cash now, bills poking out the sides and waistband, overflowing so much a few twenties fluttered to the floor as she walked. She waved at the crowd, giggling, still in character.
The hypnotist waited, arms crossed, scanning the wings. Katie didn’t appear.
Chuck’s heart started racing. Where was she? The others had come back quick enough. Had something gone wrong? Had someone taken her somewhere private? The thought made his stomach twist.
The hypnotist raised his voice, loud enough to carry over the low chatter.
“ the rules, folks,” he said. “All women must be returned when the show is done.”
Right then Katie stumbled into view.
She stank, even from his table Chuck could smell it: sex, sweat, cheap cologne, the sharp tang of cum. She walked onto the stage slow, legs unsteady. Completely used. Naked except for the name tag still clipped to her hair, her bra was gone. Cum streaked her body in patches, some fresh, some drying. Her hair was a mess, bun half fallen out. And what really broke Chuck’s heart, someone had taken a black marker and drawn a crude, oversized penis right in the middle of her forehead, between her eyes, complete with spurting cum lines. It looked horrible on her cute face, the ink stark against her pale skin. The audience laughed when they saw it, pointing, some clapping like it was the punchline of the night.
The hypnotist chuckled into the mic. “Clearly this one’s been a favorite.”
The five women lined up, Delilah still on all fours, Zoe flapping occasionally, Isabella swaying on her feet, Annie counting her cash, Katie standing there dazed with that awful drawing on her face.
The hypnotist turned toward Mark, Emily’s husband, still seated a few tables over.
“A deal’s a deal,” he said. “You can choose one woman in exchange for Emily.”
Chuck’s heart dropped into his stomach. He stared at Mark, willing him not to point at Katie. Please not her. Anyone else.
Mark rubbed his chin, looking at the women slowly. Then he lifted his hand and pointed straight at Anahita, Annie.
“That one,” he said.
The hypnotist nodded once. “Commendable choice, sir.”
He motioned to Annie. “Step aside with my assistant, please.”
Annie shrugged, tucked the last of her bills into her thong, and followed Em to the side of the stage.
Chuck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief hit him hard, weak in the knees even though he couldn’t stand yet.
The hypnotist raised his hands.
“Another big round of applause for our participants!”
The room clapped, loud, enthusiastic. Chuck found his own hands moving, clapping along automatically, palms stinging.
A bigger curtain than the cylindrical ones dropped from the ceiling, thick red velvet this time, covering the four women completely. Chuck noticed a large embroidered symbol in gold thread on the front: “J.I.” He had no idea what it stood for, but it looked official, almost ceremonial.
The hypnotist motioned for Emily and Anahita to walk backstage. They obeyed without a word, disappearing behind the curtain.
He made a dramatic sweeping gesture with both arms.
The curtain rose.
Four women stood there now, dressed exactly as they’d been when they first walked in. Modest clothes, hair neat, no makeup smudges, no markings, no fluids. They looked confused, blinking, glancing around like they’d just woken up from a nap.
“You lot can go crazy sometimes,” The hypnotist said with a laugh. “Knowing ‘magic’ sure comes in handy.”
The audience kept clapping. He bowed to the women, deep, theatrical, then thanked them for their participation. They filed off the stage one by one, still dazed, heading toward the exits.
At the same moment the massive vault doors rumbled open behind the audience, bolts sliding back, cool air rushing in from the hallway.
Chuck felt the invisible hold on his body release. His arms, legs, voice, all his again. He stood fast, chair scraping loudly.
Katie reached their table right then. She looked exactly like she had before the show, red cocktail dress back on, hair in its fancy updo, no marker on her forehead, skin clean. But her eyes were wide, confused.
“Chuck?” she said, voice small. “Why do you look so worried? What happened?”
He grabbed her hand, tight, like she might vanish again and looked back at the stage.
The hypnotist was watching him. Those red lenses in the mask locked on Chuck’s face. Chuck couldn’t look away. Couldn’t blink. The eyes behind the mask felt like they were pulling him in, holding him there.
Katie shook his arm. “Chuck?”
The spell broke. He blinked hard, shook his head.
“We have to leave,” he said, voice rough. “Now.”
He pulled her toward the exit, fast, not looking back. The crowd was already moving, people standing, chatting, heading for the doors. Katie stumbled a little in her heels but kept up, squeezing his hand back.
They didn’t stop until they were in the elevator, doors closing behind them
As they got in their car, Katie turned to him in the enger seat, still smoothing her dress like nothing had happened.
“Chuck? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He started the engine, hands tight on the wheel. “I’m just… glad you’re back.”
“Back?” She frowned, tilting her head. “From what?”
He swallowed. “I’ll explain everything once we’re home. Promise.”
She studied his face for a second longer, then nodded slowly. “Okay. But you’re scaring me a little.”
The car pulled out of the hotel valet lane. Silence stretched between them, thick, uncomfortable. Chuck kept his eyes on the road, replaying every second of the show in his head, trying to convince himself it was over. That it had all been a nightmare he could wake up from.
Then Katie’s phone pinged.
She glanced down at the screen. Her breathing slowed, deep, deliberate inhales like she was steadying herself. Chuck glanced over.
“What is it?”
She didn’t answer. Just turned the phone so he could see.
Notification from Xander.
“Hey Katie, I’ve booked you for today. Here’s the address. Don’t be late for your job.”
The words slammed into Chuck’s mind.
Job.
Katie’s job.
It clicked, cold, obvious, inevitable. Of course, Katie had to do her job!
He didn’t say a word. Just turned the wheel toward the address in the message.
Sixteen minutes later they were parked outside Xander’s house, a nice place in the suburbs, lights on in the windows, curtains half drawn. Katie unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned over and kissed Chuck softly on the cheek.
“I love how ive you are,” she said quietly. “Most guys wouldn’t wait.”
Chuck forced a smile. “It’s my duty. I’ll be right here until you’re done.”
She smiled back, warm, genuine, the same smile she’d given him for five years. Then she stepped out of the car.
As she walked toward the entrance she reached down, grabbed the hem of her red cocktail dress, and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion. Folded it once, set it neatly on the low hedge beside the walkway like it was laundry she’d pick up later. She shook her head, letting her hair fall free from the updo, black strands tumbling loose around her shoulders. Giving it one quick toss to settle it.
Chuck watched her with a strange, hollow pride. Of course her uniform had to look good. She couldn’t show up messy.
She reached the door, struck a sexy pose, one hip cocked, hand on the frame, chest forward and rang the bell.
Xander opened it almost immediately. An easy grin spread from ear to ear the second he saw her.
Katie’s voice came out sultry, practiced. “You ordered a waitress for the evening, sir?”
Xander didn’t answer with words. Just reached out, cupped both her breasts through the lace bra she still wore, squeezed once, then pulled her inside by the waist. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Chuck sighed. It was a difficult job. Being there when people needed her. Katie needed all the she could get.
He pulled out his phone, thumbed open his usual apps, hoping to the time with something mindless. Jerk off to a hot model’s ass pics, maybe. Something normal.
A notification popped up from one of the influencers he followed, Delilah Kane. He’d always loved her gym body: tight abs, strong legs, the way she posed her ass in tight leggings. He tapped it.
Her latest post was an excited announcement. She was transitioning into a mukbang channel. Full-time. And she’d started an OnlyFans where she’d eat everything naked.
Chuck stared at the screen for a long second.
Crazy how people just go off the deep end like that.
Still, he clicked the link. Subscribed with the quick-tap payment he’d used before. And opened her page.
A new video thumbnail was loaded: Delilah smiling wide, face already smeared with something sticky, body bare, a massive plate of food in front of her.
Chuck pulled his cock out, already half-hard from the sight of the woman, it wasn’t going to be his proudedest wank.
But he had to the time somehow.