Chapter 3 Wonderful Show and Tell
Gaslighter was my new name, though to Wonder Woman, to the street, and to law enforcement intelligence agencies I was known only as G. To Wonder Woman and law enforcement, I was an intelligence asset that risked life and limb to ferret out the worst of the crimes they could never hope to reach. To the street, I was G, the man to know, the untouchable one, the only major player too tough to muscle in on, but not hungry enough to push for more. What is funny is that having been stuck like this, a master telepath reduced to being able to make one suggestion to one target, at best every five minutes, I had become more dangerous than Maxwell Lord, my one time master, was when Wonder Woman killed him and left me stuck under this damned training lock old Maxi left me with.
You see, Max could afford to be big, to take Superman and make him his bitch right out in the open. Make him his club to beat the world with. I had to think smaller. I couldn’t reach out and crush anyone. I had to build inside the people I deal with a new reality, one block at a time. The thing is, when I do it, it is buried down so deep no one can question it. They KNOW it is true, so true if anything conflicts with it, they reject it. The more people I make the same suggestion to, the more they start to fill in the blanks to make it make sense. By the time I started to spread the word about me being a serious player in the shadows, organizations I didn’t know anything about already knew about me, and reached out to make sure we were cool. More people believed the legend I created than I ever touched. By now, everyone accepted it had always been so.
I took over a peeler bar from Fast Eddie Coltraine. I threw him under a bus called Wonder Woman for dealing fentanyl that was stacking bodies of dead addicts deep enough people couldn’t overlook it anymore. When he got nabbed, I suggested to the bank that they needed to offload his assets before Wonder Woman set the IRS hounds on them, and they agreed. The club was now called Wonderland, and it was the biggest, boldest honey trap you have ever seen. So big a trap, Wonder Woman herself had no idea that the whole three floor building existed only to trap her.
You don’t make a proud, smart, strong, and freaking magical woman like Wonder Woman your bitch in a day, and you don’t do it by force. She turned Maxwell Lords head all the way around when he defied her, so since I was his apprentice, powers under lock and key until my training was done when she killed him, I would never on my best day be as strong as he was when she killed him. I would not defy her. I would DEFILE her. Debase her, corrupt her, and she would thank me for it every step of the way. She had no idea killing Max neutered me, but guess what Wonder Whore? You have no idea you neutered me, so you can lick my balls to kiss it better.
The cops and street heroes are great at catching the disposable trash of organized crime, but there are so many cut outs, you will never get to the big labs that produce the stuff, the big name investment firms that launder the money. You can at best cut off disposable branches without ever touching the money tree. I ran Maxwell Lords intelligence network, and I knew where to start. Within weeks, everyone knew they always knew me, always trusted me, and knew for a fact they never told me anything that could incriminate them.
I fed Wonder Woman the good shit. I helped her close down entire networks, bag the big boys, grab the money. She just about levitated off the ground when I told her how many lives she saved. Sure, she didn’t ask, and I didn’t mention that the good heroin was now on the street under my control, and my shit was clean. I wasn’t greedy, I didn’t want a fast buck, I wanted an undetected buck. I didn’t want to own the market, I wanted to own the part of the market no one hated enough to go after. I got in with the safe injection people, got involved with the treatment programs. Dead addicts are bad for business.
Wonder Woman knew I was the reason she was cleaning up the killing drugs, and had no idea she was the hammer taking out my enemies, and building my rep.
She hated coming to visit me as Wonderland. She was the Defender of All Women, Champion of Virtue, and she was in costume meeting me in Wonderland a strip club she suspected was named after her.
She came in, a goddess that made our strippers look like potato sacks. She was sexier when she moved normally than my girls doing a full spready, but at the same time her eyes were like gunsights, like the eyes of an eagle in full dive. She was a living weapon and to be the focus of her gaze made your balls crawl up under your belly button trying to hide. She made my cock harden just walking in.
“Do we really have to meet here? I feel sullied just walking in here. The gaze of these men make me need to shower.” Wonder Woman asked as she came to my table at the back of Wonderland, sitting beside me in full view of everyone. She never suspected that the reason the never wondered how I dared play informant with her in uniform in the middle of my own club was because I suggested it wasn’t worth thinking about.
“Absolutely essential.” I told her. After all, how could I make her my Wonder Whore if she didn’t come to my club to get trained? “I am known here as a safe man to come to. In my club, the girls are safe. There are no drugs, There are no street pimps putting pressure on my girls to work for them. They make good money here, and nobody lays a finger on them. This gets me the kind of girls you can’t get at the clubs run by street thugs. The kind of people who come here are the ones away from the street. The ones who know things the police would die to know, and which the bosses would kill before anyone got into an interrogation room. They come here, and my girts make them feel safe, make them feel good, make them feel talkative. Then my girls, they talk to me, and I talk to you.” I used my power on myself before I began this game, I could not lie to Wonder Woman. She could use the lasso on me and hear the exact same answer to the questions I guided her into asking. Not my fault they aren’t what she should have asked.
“Really G, you don’t think it beneath me to be seen in a place like this?” Wonder Woman asked, looking like she would have blushed if she were weaker.
I pointed to my bait. It took me three weeks to set up, three weeks and a few nosebleeds and migraines as I pushed my power more often than I should. It isn’t enough to plant suggestions. You have to anchor them on something. Show them something then suggest what the learn and they will never question you. Show and Tell.
I pointed to a woman in an expensive business suit. A conservative looking woman, she made more in a year than my whole damned club cost, land included. She was sitting at a table with a dozen men, all her subordinates. At my signal, she got up on stage and began to strip. Her face was, if anything, more arrogant as she stripped then it was in the boardroom. Her juniors looked at her stripping for them not like wolves ready to pounce upon a rabbit, but like worshipers at a shrine. Don’t think that didn’t take a lot of work to set up. Not a single person was in here that I hadn’t already programed to react properly. This was a wonderful game of show and tell, for my Wonder Woman.
“You see that dame there? She is the senior VP in charge of currency trading over at Goldblum Winters and Yatz. Those boys she is stripping for are her team, her traders. Look at her. She knows she is getting seven figures base and more in bonuses because of their work. They make her look good, and they bust their balls doing it. She is their boss, she holds all the power in their relationship, kind of like you and me. That woman? She could make or break their careers with a single text. That gives her the power to be sexy for them. See, a weak woman, she would have to play ice maiden, have to play good girl, or she would worry they would stop respecting her.”
I could feel the pressure building in my temples as I pushed the suggestion into her. The woman was still in heels, thigh highs, bun and glasses, but now she was table dancing for each of her subordinates, riding their crotches, squeezing their faces between her tits, spanking her own ass in front of their adoring faces.
“She is strong enough to be sexy in front of them. Strong enough to reward them for helping her look good by being sexy for them. Only strong women dare to be sexy for men.” I let my power go. The suggestion was planted, she saw how the woman finished her last song, and sat on the table, spread her legs and spread her labia right in front of some poor overweight balding bastard who looked like he was about to pop an artery and die, then gestured imperiously for him to go fetch her a drink.
He fell on the way to the bar, crawled the rest of the way and ordered her a drink. By the time he got back, the executive being dressing and let the sweating man hold her drink as her subordinates now competed to help her dress.
Wonder Woman looked thoughtful, looking at the female executive, then looking back at me.
“I could never do that.” She said.
I took her lasso and wrapped it around my own wrist, binding myself to tell her only the truth.
“You are a thousand times stronger than her, and a thousand times sexier. If she can do it, you can do it. This club is a safe space for women. No man will touch them unless they ask. But I have some more important information to give you. In looking into the fentanyl ring, I came across some female traffickers who were using the same smuggling and distribution ring, did you want me to look into it for you? It shouldn’t be too risky for me.”
Every word I said was truth. After all, there would be no risk to me. Plus, those girls were working for the kind of pimps who left bodies in allies, who brought the cops down on everyone. I didn’t need that crap in my city. Besides, you didn’t need to kidnap women to find hookers, and you got a lot more money from healthy, happy, skilled hookers than broken drug addicted diseased kids. Honestly, scum these days give bad guys a bad name. I wouldn’t regret setting my little Wonder Bitch on them, they deserved what they got. Like I deserved what I was going to get.
We talked for half an hour, I was very clear about what I knew, what I suspected, and what I figured I could get safely. Not knowing I cheated, she was way to impressed with how brave I was. Every five minutes when I felt my power had restored I would slip another suggestion into the conversation.
Wonder Woman caught a guy walking past my booth to the bathroom looking down her cleavage so hard he walked into a pillar and complained “I hate it when little perverts like that look at my tits and ass.” She said.
I hit before she could finish the thought. “But you love me looking at your tits and ass.” I put a lot behind it. She gave no resistance at all. She was already convincing herself what a hero I was, and how bad she felt about not doing anything for me, so my suggestion just shaped what she was already thinking. Anchored it. Directed it.
She blushed. “Yes G, I do like it when it’s you.”
I got back on topic before she had a chance to think about that, got her all filled with fire about saving those poor smuggled girls from a fate worse than death, then when she got up to leave, I rushed the timing on my next suggestion enough that I would proably collapse for the next half a day.
I reached out and slapped her ass in front of the whole club. As I had primed them all to, they all cheered and wolf whistled, the girls even clapped.
As she turned to punch me through the back wall, I hit her with my last suggestion.
“You really love when I do that to you here in the club.”
She stopped, looking stunned as the suggestion slid home, the final brick in a construct I had been labouring all night to complete, and all month to set up. While she was confused and not sure what to do, I struck with my words, not my power.
“Go now Wonder Woman. I can only find those girls; it takes a Superheroine like you to save them!”
I shit you not, she reached out and stroked my cheek as she turned to run out. She glanced back to see me watching her ass when she ran, and smiled at me.
Show and Tell was over, my little honey was getting comfortable in the trap.
I am Gaslighter. I am not Maxwell Lord. I will never be the super villain I was supposed to be, but I will be the one to make Wonder Woman my bitch.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/10yr3sl/wonders_of_gaslighting_3_mf_2050_nc_mind_control