The Arch of Mastery

I looked at the advert with undisguised contempt. A load of hokum. I knew how these supposed mind control acts worked. Smoke, mirrors and subjects planted in the audience. It was all trickery to fool the public and the gullible fools took it in.

Well not any more. As investigative reporter on the local rag I felt it my duty to expose the fraud when she came to town. Mind you when I say investigative reporter, that was more of an aspiration than reality. Reality was more like junior Jack, or should I say Jill, of all trades reporter; but I had ambition and high power investigations were a part of that ambition.

You might think this a bit presumptuous for a mere girl, but let me tell you, I might be only five foot three in my stocking feet but I've a pretty determined character and I don't take no for an answer.

Pretty, dark, vivacious - these are some of the words used to describe me. You might add to that sexy and curvaceous, but who am I to boast.

My ambition required me to make a name for myself and this Master character looked like the person who could do it for me. Show her up for the fraud she was and I'd really make a name for myself.

First part of plan: go and see the act playing in another town. First surprise – the Master of Your Mind was a woman. About forty-ish, tall with thick auburn hair and steely grey eyes. It was typical of that type of act - supposed mind reading, supposed analysis of character by looking at people. All of it old hat and a load of rubbish - but it was the culmination of the act that really interested me. She called it 'The Arch of Mastery'. It was quite simple really. A 'volunteer' from the audience came up on stage, and after a few questions they had to walk through the arch and when they came through their mind was supposed to be under the control of ‘The Master’. To demonstrate this she made fools of them by getting them to recite silly rhymes and do silly things. It was all supposed to be the power of suggestion, the weaker mind bending to her indomitable will. I saw through it at once of course. The volunteer would be a plant. Somebody in on the act. So simple it was laughable, but so easy for me to show it up for the fraud it was.

I knew what to do. I would write an article in the paper showing how the act was a fraud. I would explain exactly what tricks were used. Then we'd see exactly what sort of mind control she was capable of.

The article was, if I may say so myself, pretty good and when I took it to our esteemed Lord High and Mighty, the editor, she was actually pleased with it. It would boost the circulation of her rag, even I could see that.

What I didn't see was that it would get me confronting The Master on local radio, but when the offer of a face to face confrontation with her came, no way was I going to turn it down.

I was rather nervous though, unlike The Master who sat down opposite me with an imposing swagger. She was bigger than she appeared on stage and did have a certain presence that was almost palpable. She looked at me with her steely grey eyes and I found myself a bit mesmerised by that stare.

I made a pretty good case though. I mean I'm not one to be faced down that easy.

"So you don't believe in mind control?" she looked directly at me, a slight sneer in her voice.

"No way," I said, "clever trickery to fool the gullible."

"Young lady," she said shaking her head in supposed disbelief, "you've no idea of my powers.”

“I know this – you’d never get my mind under control.”

“You think so. I tell you what. If I had you up on that stage I could make you do anything. I could even make you strip naked."

What a cheap trick to get a cheap laugh.

"Dream on," I said. I thought she was the sort that would like to see girls naked.

"Well," she smiled slightly, "there's one way you can prove it."

I looked at her trying to fathom out what she meant.

"You come on the show. You volunteer. If I you get off the stage with your clothes on you win. But then of course you won't."

"No way!" I said. I wasn't going to make a fool of myself on her stupid show.

"Well, there you are," she said, "too frightened of my powers. If you really believed what you said, you'd jump at the chance."

She thought she he had me there. She thought I'd back down, and if I backed down I'd be totally discredited. That’s what she wanted of course. Put out some stupid challenge that I’d never accept and then declare herself vindicated. Well I wasn’t going to fall for that one. And she was a fraud, so where was the risk.

"When I said 'No way'," I corrected myself, "I meant there was no way you could do it. Of course I'll come on the show. And I’ll tell you something! If you can get me naked I'll go down on all fours and bark like a dog.... And you can cover me in treacle," I added for good measure.

I thought that was rather good. A bit of bravado. That would show her I wasn't afraid of her and her silly tricks. I’d got her good and proper now. Think she could out bluff me did she with her silly mind games!

Of course the show was a sell-out. The paper made certain of that - splashing the story all over the front page. Nothing like a suggestion of nudity to excite the public. All newspapermen know that! Lord High and Mighty even had the temerity to suggest that I pose in the altogether for the front page.

Dream on, Fatso, I thought, but I did pose in my swimsuit. Well, I do have rather a good figure, and there's no such thing as bad publicity.

As the day of the show got nearer, I started to get more and more concerned. What if I did end up on stage barking like a dog with no clothes on? And covered in treacle! It would be just like the woman to make me do it. I knew her sort. They love to show their power. It would be too humiliating for words and I began to regret my bravado. But why should I? I told myself not to be so stupid. It was all just a big act and I'd show her up for the fraud she was.

But then come the big day I couldn't help but be nervous. And when I stood up there on the stage my legs were shaking like a jelly. Me, who was so self assured, so assertive, shaking like a jelly. What had got into me?

Well one thing that had got to me was that there prominently displayed on a table was a dog collar and lead, and next to them a big bucket of dark black sticky treacle.

It was all mind games of course. She was implying that both would be used by the end of the show. All meant to soften me up, make me even more nervous than I already was. But all the same I cursed my stupid bravado that had left me vulnerable to a trick like that.

The Master turned her steely grey eyes on me. Her gaze did hold a certain reptilian fascination. Unlike me she was totally in control of herself .

"Good evening Sasha," she said, addressing me for the first time by my given name, "Feeling brave? Only the brave dare risk the Arch of Mastery."

I tried to pull myself together.

"All a cheap trick," I tried to say, but I was aware that my voice came out in a kind of nervous croak.

"Ah, a little nervous I see."

"Get on with it," I croaked again.

But she wasn’t going to be rushed.

“You think all this is a fraud then.”

“Of course.”

“Why are you so nervous then. Is it not because you feel the power of the arch taking control already?”

“Just get on with it.”

The arch was set in the centre of the stage facing the audience. I could see it was a cheap plywood mock-up decorated with pretend mystic and occult signs.

"Behold!" The Master intoned in the standard introduction to her act, and I must say she had a good act. Her voice did resound with authority, "Behold, the ancient Arch of Mastery, brought here from ancient Egypt where it had lain untouched for centuries in the tomb of the great mystic Amen-Hotep, she who first discovered the art of controlling the minds of others, and built this arch to focus the psychic powers on he, or she, who should pass through it."

What a load of rot! The ancient Egyptians didn't have plywood. Still I couldn't help but feel a little quiver of apprehension as I was led round the back of the arch so that I would walk through it toward the audience. Load of rot, I tried to tell myself, but it didn't stop my legs shaking like a jelly as I walked through, and it didn't stop my heart pounding, and it didn't stop me feeling a little bit dizzy. Stupid mind games, that's all it is, I told myself.

I stepped out of the arch and looked nervously round. I might still be shaking but I was sure nobody was in control of my mind. Now to show The Master up for the fraudster she was!

Then she came over to me and whispered in my ear. Words that seemed to penetrate deep into my mind. Words which shook me to the core.

"I know your guilty little secret."

My new found confidence collapsed. She knew! She knew! How could she know? I was so careful. I was sure nobody knew.

"I know your little secret, and if you don't do exactly as I say everybody in the world will know," her voice spat with venom.

She must have had spies on me, have hacked my computer, have... I didn't know what! How had she found out?

At least now I knew how the trick was done. How she was so confident. No Arch of Mastery, no ancient Egyptians, simple plain blackmail.

I felt myself go weak at the knees at the sudden realisation that she had me, had me exactly where she wanted. I couldn't let the secret get out, I would do anything to keep it secret and she knew it.

"Now Sasha. You will do as I command won't you?" she pronounced.

I hesitated, then "Yes". The audience, who had never really expected this, gasped.

"You must address me as Master."

"Yes Master"

I had no choice. The secret couldn't come out.

"Then give us a little twirl Sasha," said The Master with a sneering grin. She was toying with me and there was nothing I could do about it. The audience were still waiting for me to denounce him, to say her vaunted mind control was rubbish. But of course I couldn't.

"Yes Master."

A gasp came out of the auditorium as I did a little twirl at her command. They thought her mind control was really working.

And I could see them thinking something else. Would she really make me take all my clothes off? I knew that because I was thinking exactly the same thing.

My heart was racing ten to the dozen. Could I bear the humiliation if she made me do it? But then the secret. I just couldn't let it come out.

"Very nice," said The Master sneering, "but I think the audience are expecting a bit more. Why don't you show them your panties? I'm sure they'd like that."

What could I do? I was totally in her power.

"Yes Master."

I lifted up my skirt. A bigger gasp from the audience. They thought her mind control really worked - I'd never have done that if she hadn't been in control.

And it was a rare sight for the audience, not only were my panties on display - high cut, silk, lacy panties (in another act of bravado I'd put on my sexiest undies confident that nobody would see them) - but also my stocking tops and suspenders. I always wear stockings and suspenders. I think they're really sexy.

"Lovely panties Sasha," said The Master, "doesn't she look lovely," she turned to the audience who were agape with expectation.

"In fact they are so nice I think we'll let them see all your lovely lingerie. Take your skirt and blouse off Sasha. Let's see those sexy undies."

Oh no! I went bright red. It wasn't as if she was really in control of my mind. I was suffering a public humiliation and I could see she was after revenge. She was going to make the most of it. But what could I do. I couldn't let the secret get out.

"Yes Master"

Blouse and skirt off I was standing in my bra and panties, my suspender belt and my stockings, and the audience reaction had turned from amazement to laughter. There is nothing more humiliating than being laughed at in your undies.

"Little twirl in your undies Sasha," and she had me twirling and strutting in high heels and panties round the stage while the audience roared with laughter.

Then she twanged one of my suspenders, "Lets give the audience a treat. I think we'll have these off Sasha."

"Yes Master"

And I took off my suspender belt and rolled down each stocking so that I stood there in my bra and panties.

The audience fell silent and I trembled. Was she really going to go further? Oh yes she was. And I knew now she was going to go all the way.

"I think they came to see a bit more than that Sasha. Take off your bra and throw it to the audience."

I looked at her shaking with embarrassment and mouthed the word 'Please', but she just mouthed back 'Secret'. And I just knew that whatever happened it mustn’t get out.

"Yes Master"

I unhooked my bra and my full breasts spilled out. It's not as if I'm not proud of my breasts. They are big and firm and round and all mine. I've even been on topless beaches, but being shamed like this in front of an audience. It was something different. I'd been made to display them. They could see everything. My nipples standing out hard and firm. Everything!

The Master looked at me again. She wasn't finished yet.

"Turn around Sasha," she said.

"Yes Master"

I turned my back to the audience.

"I will now demonstrate how deep the control of the mind goes. And remember, Sasha is a sceptic who said she could never be made to do this, "Pull your panties down Sasha. Slowly now."

I didn't even stop to think. Having gone this far I was going to have to go all the way. Do whatever she said. I'd already been totally humiliated; I couldn't bear both the humiliation and the secret getting out.

"Yes Master"

To howls of laughter from the audience I pulled my panties down to reveal my bare bottom, leaving them under instruction at 'half mast' half way down my thighs. If I had felt humiliated before it was nothing to wearing nothing but a pair of panties at half mast.

The audience roared their approval. They had paid in the hope of seeing me stripped and they were getting their money's worth.

I knew what was coming next. I had boasted that if she could get me stripped I would go down on all fours and bark like a dog. She picked up the dog collar and I stood meekly, panties half down, while she put it round my neck and fastened on the lead.

"Down girl," she said.

"Yes Master"

I went down on my hands and knees and to cheers from the audience she led me across the stage on the lead, my panties slowly working their way down till, to a great cheer, they came off completely.

"Good girl," said, "bark for the ladies and gentlemen. You're not allowed to talk now. You can only bark."

"Woof, woof," I barked.

"Come on girl," she said tugging on the lead, and we set off across the stage and back. Finally and to my eternal shame she pulled me to face the arch again so that my bottom faced the audience. Crawling back through the arch on hands and knees there was no way I could keep my legs together. I knew what would be visible from behind and I burned with humiliation.

As I crawled consumed with shame back through the arch, I cursed that wretched secret. The one that had to be kept. The one that... The one that what? What secret did I have? I didn't have any secrets. I'd never done anything to be ashamed of. What had I been thinking of stripping naked to hide a non-existent secret? It was as if by passing back through the arch the scales fell from my eyes completely. I'd been tricked, as if in a dream I'd thought I had a secret to hide, and I had no such thing.

I looked up. I'd been led round to face the audience again. I'd tell them now. I'd explain how it was a fraud. How I'd been tricked.

I opened my mouth, "Woof woof!"

I tried again "woof woof," no matter how hard I tried all I could say was "woof woof" and every time I did the audience howled with laughter.

I tried to stand up, but I couldn't get up off my hands and knees. It was if I was tied to the floor.

"Woof woof," I yelped ever more helplessly.

Suddenly another howl of laughter sprang up from the audience. I looked round. The treacle! I'd forgotten about the treacle.

"Woof woof," I tried to scamper away on all fours but my lead had been tied to the table leg.

I felt the warm treacle poured over my back and work its way down between the cheeks of my bottom, dripping down and running off my breasts, then over my head and down my face.

When I was thoroughly coated in black sticky goo she unfastened the collar.

"Woof woof," I said, "woof woof woof"

The audience were beside themselves with laughter.

He looked at me with a smile of triumph.

"Right, you can get up now," she said.

Suddenly I found I could stand. I stood there in front of the audience, stark naked and more treacle was poured over my head. It ran through my hair and over my face. It ran in rivulets down my big bare breasts that I was so proud of and dripped off my rock hard nipples. It coursed down my stomach and matted the hairs covering my vagina. My vagina that was on view to the audience. I hastily tried to hide it with my hands. It was total humiliation, and the audience were loving it.

I looked around. All my clothes had been treacled as well so I couldn't put them on.

I turned to the audience. I had to explain. Tell them how I'd been tricked. Standing there, covered in black sticky mess, trying in vain to hide my nipples and my vagina, I opened my mouth to speak.

"I've got a secret," I said, "woof woof!”.

I tried to speak again, "Woof woof."

And then I remembered. I'd been stripped naked and covered with treacle. I was supposed to be down on all fours barking. I went down again and started licking my master's leg. That would keep the secret safe. I couldn't remember what the secret was, but I knew I had to keep it safe.

"Is everything all right?"

As the audience filed out (with one last look back) I looked up at the sound of a man's voice. It was Lord High and Mighty my editor. He mustn't get to know the secret! I had to keep it safe.

"Woof woof," I started licking his leg.

"Quick Ryan," he said, "get the pictures!"

It was Ryan Jones our news photographer. Oh no! They were going to put me in the paper. Stark naked! And covered in treacle.

"Woof woof. Woof woof!" I tried to object but no words came out.

"What's happened?" Lord High and Mighty didn't seem too worried.

"She said publicly that if she got stripped and covered in treacle she'd behave like a dog. And for some reason her mind is still making her do that," my master explained.

"Woof woof," I nodded.

"What can we do about it?"

"Wash the treacle off and get her dressed."

She disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a large red cylinder.

"Water fire extinguisher," she said, "this should clean her up nicely."

Suddenly a jet of freezing cold water hit me.

"Woof woof!!!!!"

It was as if a million cold icicles were bouncing off my bare skin. It was bad enough on my sides, bad enough on my bum, but my poor boobies got the full blast.

"There's still some on her..." Lord High and Mighty seemed somewhat reticent about describing exactly where.

"I see what you mean.."

An icy blast between my legs explained exactly what he had meant.

"Woof woof woof!!!!!!"

If an icy blast on my boobies had been bad, an icy blast up the junction (to put it politely) was something else.

My poor vagina had been coated and the covering hairs matted with treacle, and it all had to be blasted off!

"Woof woof!!!!!!!!"

And it had trickled down between the cheeks of my bottom.

"Woof woof woof!!!!!!!!!!!!"

At last I was washed and bright pink with the spray.

"What now?"

"We need to get her dressed."

"But her clothes are covered in treacle."

"In that case I suggest we take her back to her flat. Do you want to go back to your flat Sasha?"

"Woof woof," I nodded my head. My master would see that my secret was safe if she took me back to the flat.

"Come on girl," she slapped my bright pink bottom, "Off we go!"

Then followed what must be the most embarrassing time of my whole life as I crawled pink and naked out the theatre and down the street to Lord High and Mighty's car. I was completely bare and I could feel the cold wind on my big titties, on my bottom, on my recently sprayed vagina, whose pink lips must have been clearly visible from behind. I was desperate to stand up, to explain, to run, but I couldn't. If I did the secret would get out. If only I could remember what the secret was!

"Woof woof!"

I climbed into the car and we drove to my flat. My key was extracted from my treacly pocket and we went in.

A pair of my panties was found and pulled on. Immediately I felt a sense of relief. And when my bra was put on I was able to stand up.

"There you are," said my master, "home safe and sound. You can forget all about it now."

"Thank you!" I almost wept with relief as I ushered my reluctant editor out. They'd gone and the secret was safe. If only I could remember what it was.

****

GIRL STRIPPED NAKED AND COVERED IN TREACLE!

I stared at the headline in the next morning paper! What a humiliating thing to happen to a girl. What a laugh! I wondered who it could be! Then I saw 'Photos pages 2, 3 and. 4'.

I turned to page two to look. I really wanted to know who it was.