O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

The Secrets of Dr. Mabuse (mm hypno asfr)

by Wersgor

Munich, Germany: July 1921

The huge Bengal tiger was poised in the crouch that precedes an attack, its deadly fangs exposed, muscles gathered to leap upon its prey. It was an illusion --- this tiger would never move again. It merely stood upon its pedestal as it always did, a decoration in the luxurious private office of Dr. Mabuse.

Mabuse, hypnotic therapist to the rich and famous, sat behind his big mahogany desk, perusing the morning paper. It would only be a matter of days before one of his patients made the headlines; the young man was an idiot, of course, but if he continued to follow the plan that the doctor had laid out --- and Mabuse knew he would --- he would soon be in a position to start repaying some favors.

There was a tentative knock on the door, and a moment later Erich, his private secretary for the past two weeks, hesitantly stuck his head in. "I beg your pardon, Herr Doktor. There is a gentleman asking to see you --- a Herr Rimmer. He has no appointment."

Mabuse smiled. "I am expecting Herr Rimmer. Please show him in."

Erich looked slightly surprised. "As you wish, Herr Doktor."

A moment later a tall, expensively-dressed young man strode in. Mabuse took in the wavy blonde hair, mannequin-perfect features, and athletic, hard-muscled body --- no surprise that Hans Rimmer was one of the hottest stars at the Uco-Film Studio. Judging by his arrogant, aggressive body language and posture, he obviously knew it, too.

Rimmer, in turn, eyed the psychiatrist warily, sizing him up. His expression suggested that he had expected to find a much older man, a stereotyped professor, not a handsome, well-built fellow in his forties. His eyes narrowed as they looked into Mabuse's, which were as dark as his slicked-down hair and as cold as a day in midwinter. Rimmer nodded curtly, without any attempt at a polite introduction.

"Please sit down, Herr Rimmer," said the doctor, gesturing to the large, soft chair facing his desk. "How may I be of service?" His voice was deep, smooth, surprisingly melodious.

The young man sat stiffly. "I assume you know who I am."

"I am familiar with the name," Mabuse replied calmly. "Though not with your work, I am afraid."

Rimmer's eyebrows rose in slighted annoyance. "My new film, Venus and Adonis, has been playing at the Ufa-Palast am Zoo for over a month."

"I have little leisure for recreation," replied the psychiatrist. "My patients consume most of my time."

The film star frowned. "I have heard rumors that it is you who consume your patients," he said coldly.

Mabuse looked amused. "Hypnotic therapy, though trendy, is still a controversial practice. I am not a man with time to waste on verbal games, Herr Rimmer. Please come to the point."

Rimmer glared. "Very well," he snapped. "The point is that I wish you to stop treating my fiancee, Fraulein Frieda Beck. She does not require your services. She has me to look after her interests."

"And --- ?" Mabuse asked pointedly, waiting.

Rimmer flushed. "And I believe that you are doing her more harm than good. Of late her attitude toward me has seemed different, strained --- as if she were having doubts. While, when she speaks of you --- To be blunt, Herr Doktor, if I were positive that your interest is more than professional, I would be here to challenge you to a duel."

To his surprise, the therapist smiled. "In that case, the choice of weapons would be mine. But I will be quite frank with you, sir. Fraulein Beck has indeed been having second thoughts about your engagement. It is largely of this that I have spoken to her."

"You admit it!" exclaimed the actor.

"Why would I not? Fraulein Beck has been deeply concerned about both your safety and her own. You cannot deny that you have a history of driving while drunk. There have been several accidents, in one of which you both came close to serious harm."

Rimmer's handsome face reddened. "I can look after myself, thank you very much! And it is no one's affair but my own!"

Mabuse spread his hands. "Exactly! This is what I have been telling Fraulein Beck. It is natural that she should worry for you, but you are a man --- her man --- and she must give you her trust and respect, without condition. It has been something of a challenge, but I believe that I have finally convinced her to accept this."

Hans sat back, stunned. "You mean she came to you for help because she had doubts?"

"She loves you very much, Herr Rimmer. To find herself uncertain was causing her tremendous psychological strain. I hope that, in my small way, I have helped."

Hans looked uncomfortable, though still not fully at ease. "Perhaps I have misjudged you, doctor. If so, I apologize. I have recently made Fraulein Beck the chief beneficiary in my will, and she is, of course, very wealthy from her own film career. I am naturally concerned that no one take advantage of her."

"As you should be. A woman must have a master, a man whom she obeys in all things. It is one of the basic pillars of our society, but too many women today have begun to lose their way. Fraulein Beck was beginning to lose hers, but she is now on the proper path, and I am sure I can rely on you to keep her upon it."

Hans grinned in spite of himself. "She was a wild one when we first worked together. She has a fire, an energy, that drew me like a magnet. But lately she has seemed so much quieter, almost subdued... I still wonder if your mesmerism may have had something to do with that."

Mabuse smiled charmingly. "Well, it is an academic question, since at our next appointment I shall tell her that her treatment is over. She has learned to accept her true relationship to you, and my work is done." He steepled his hands over the desk, and went on thoughtfully, in that deep, persuasive voice: "It is surprising how people fail to realize that all society is built on such relationships. Are we not all of us servants or masters? From the moment of our birth, we begin taking orders and letting people tell us what to think and what to do --- parents, teachers, doctors, courts, policemen, politicians, preachers, advertisers. An endless parade of voices telling us, 'This is what you must think. This is what you must feel. These are the rules that you must obey'. It is amazing that men like you and I retain our ability to make our own decisions, when the voices are forever telling us, 'Obey. Obey. Obey.' But where would civilization be without them? The strong must guide those who are weaker, who cannot make the right decisions for themselves. People like you and I, my friend, men of superior will, must forever remind them to obey... obey... obey... It is the natural order of things, in the world of men as in the world of nature."

"Nature?" echoed Hans. The doctor's tangent was a bit confusing, yet he wanted to hear more.

"All nature consists of one species dominating another, my dear Hans. I may call you Hans? Take the tiger, Hans, who stands here in my office. In his own domain he was the master, yet he now belongs to me. Because I am a man, with a superior human mind, and I am stronger."

"Because you had a rifle," Hans pointed out. "He would not have sat still to be stuffed while he was alive."

"But it was a superior human mind that created the rifle. It is man's will to dominate that has built our human civilization. The will is all, my dear Hans, and I am not talking about mesmerism or parlor tricks. Those are merely a manifestation of something far stronger and greater, something that is a power unto itself. You have never had to mesmerize your Frieda, yet she knows that she must obey you. The stronger will commands, and the weaker must obey. It is a power beyond words or actions, a power almost mystical in nature --- the stronger will commands, and the weaker must obey. You and I are two such wills, my friend, one perhaps stronger than the other, but both strong, forceful, powerful. I see that in you as I see it in myself. You are a man not to be trifled with --- firm, unyielding, immovable in your will. No man can move you from the position you hold. That is why you are a man to be respected. You will not be moved by argument. You will not be moved by persuasion. You will not be moved by force. You will not be moved by anything. You are rock-solid in your convictions --- a man of superior will who lets nothing affect you. You will not change your position no matter what. I know you are already well aware of this. It is hardly surprising that this awareness arouses you, since it merely serves to demonstrate your true and total masculinity. You know that nothing I can say will move you, that nothing I or anyone can do will change your position, and that knowledge makes you harder and harder..."

 

Erich looked up from his paperwork as the door to the doctor's office opened slightly. "Could you come in for a moment, Erich?" Mabuse asked.

The secretary obeyed. The visitor, Hans Rimmer, was still seated facing the desk. After a moment, Erich realized that Rimmer was utterly still, not reacting to his entrance at all --- not even blinking . "Herr Rimmer?" he asked, puzzled. No answer. "Herr Rimmer?" he repeated, touching his arm. He was shocked to find it rigid as stone.

Erich turned to Dr. Mabuse, who was watching his reaction with clinical interest. "He's dead!" he exclaimed in horror. "Rigor mortis --- but no, it's too soon..." He drew himself up, his expression abruptly becoming stern. "Dr. Mabuse, I arrest --- "

"Report, lieutnant!" snapped his employer.

Erich's eyes glazed over, his face becoming blank and expressionless. He stood at attention. "Lieutnant Erich Holf reporting, sir," he said tonelessly.

"Status of investigation?" demanded Mabuse.

"My undercover assignment has been successful, sir. I procured employment as private secretary to a man whom I suspected of being the criminal that our office has been seeking. In the course of two weeks I have had several long, private conversations with this man, and have extracted much information without arousing his suspicions. I believe that we can find sufficient evidence to convict him on charges of extortion, counterfeiting, and espionage."

Mabuse looked smug. "And why have you not reported this man to State Attorney von Wenk, or anyone else in your department?"

"You ordered me not to do so until you gave the word, sir. You are my commanding officer. I must obey you in all things."

Mabuse smiled. "Your wait is almost over, lieutnant. After tonight, your assignment will be completed." He gestured toward the immobile Hans. "Carry Herr Rimmer to the cellar; you know the room I mean."

With no change in his blank expression, the policeman lifted the actor's statue-like form from the chair and cradled it in his arms. He walked out to the reception room and down a wide hallway to the cellar door, where he started down the stairs. Hans' head bumped against the wall a few times, but he showed no reaction, not even the twitch of an eyelid.

Dr. Mabuse followed close behind, shaking his head in resignation. "I fear that you have won our little duel, my friend Hans --- even though it was I who chose the weapons. You remain stubbornly unmoved by any outside force; I would not dream of opposing your superior will, even if I could. It is obvious to me now that you will never change your position, no matter how much time goes by. You were right about Frieda, of course; her film career has prospered under my guidance, and she is properly grateful. She recently changed her will to leave her entire fortune at my disposal. Of course, I'm sure she will live for many years to come --- she is young and healthy and full of life. Unless the loss of a loved one should break her heart.

"You would want that, wouldn't you, Hans? As the man around whom her entire life revolves, I think you would be quite offended if Frieda could actually live without you. It is your right as her master to expect such commitment. Young Erich understands that. He once gave his loyalty to a mere system of rules and regulations, but he has now learned the power of the superior will. And he has made the supreme commitment to serve it."

They had reached the rear end of the cellar, where Mabuse unlocked the door to another room. Six men and three women were already inside, but none of them reacted as the doctor and his secretary entered. The boxer remained in his fighting pose, powerful arms raised to jab at a nonexistent opponent. The exotic dancer remained standing with her arms and breasts thrust out, a come-hither look frozen on her lovely face. A man who had been a captain of industry sat with arms folded, a look of stubborn determination in his staring eyes. They, and the six others, all had just three things in common: They were utterly motionless. They were totally naked. And they were coated, to various degrees, with cellar dust.

"Welcome to our very private club, my dear Hans," said Mabuse cordially. "It is reserved for very special people --- people, like you and I, who possess an exceptionally strong will. The weak-willed, you see, present no challenge to me; they are boring and disposable. But the truly strong, ah! They are to be treasured for their special qualities. Their unique force of will, when properly harnessed and directed, can even prolong their lives indefinitely, slowing every vital function, giving them near-immortality through the sheer power of mind over matter. Perhaps, like Poe's Monsieur Valdemar, they will even defy death itself. This is the great secret you are now privileged to share, my friend, as one of the elite few who will ever know of this room's existence. I know that I can rely on you not to breathe a word."

Mabuse turned to his slave. "Remove Herr Rimmer's clothing. Don't worry about tearing it, for it won't be needed again. But be careful not to lose his wallet or any other papers. You will need them later, when I send you on a little drive."

Erich ripped the suit from Hans' rigid figure, destroying the fine French fabric that had cost him 600 marks. The trousers caused a momentary delay, getting snagged on the actors' nine-inch cock, which stood up and out immovably. Mabuse eyed it with cool appreciation. "I will entrust you with another secret, Hans, and this one is truly personal. I am utterly unconcerned with the normal codes of sexual behavior. Male or female, it really makes no difference to me; even appearance means little. Although," he added, reaching out to stroke Hans' broad shoulder, " the fact that you are a true Adonis, in life as on the screen, is a pleasant bonus. No, all that really matters is that I seek out the very strongest minds --- those that will refuse to budge a single muscle to submit to my pleasure."

Erich pulled off Hans' second shoe, leaving the celebrity totally and gorgeously nude. His body, as perfectly muscled as a Greek sculpture, lay on the floor as stiff as one, arms and legs sticking up in his petrified sitting position.

"You have beaten me, Hans," said Mabuse, stripping off his own suit and placing it neatly in Erich's outstretched arms. "I know that no matter what I do, you will never give the slightest response. Yours is clearly the superior will; I salute you."

He lowered himself to the floor and mounted his newest statue, pressing his lips to the rigid mouth, kissing and licking the perfect, chiseled face. Hans simply stared unblinkingly, seeing and feeling all, but refusing to show the slightest reaction. He knew that nothing Mabuse did could make him move or speak. His was the superior will.

Mabuse moved his lips down the center of the hairy chest and flat stomach, groping passionately, not caring when his nails clawed the skin and drew blood. Hans felt the stinging pain, but showed no sign. When Mabuse reached the upright cock, he took it in his mouth hungrily, sliding his mouth back and forth again and again, not sparing the teeth. Hans felt the organ, frozen in a permanent state of arousal, pulsing with the pressure of orgasm; but it remained petrified. As much as he wanted to cum, Mabuse couldn't make him!

Finally tiring of this teasing, Mabuse lifted Hans and roughly rolled him over, exposing his butt. With a snarling laugh, he rammed himself into the stiff crack, fucking him over and over, shoving his helpless toy so forcefully that Hans' head banged against the leg of the businessman's chair. Naturally, Hans refused to react. The businessman remained with his arms crossed, obviously unimpressed. Erich simply stood with Mabuse's clothes in his arms, his emptied mind waiting for instructions.

At last Mabuse rose shakily, his breathing hard and ragged. He looked down at Hans for a moment, savoring his power. This strong-willed, famous, powerful man was no longer truly a person --- just another object in his collection. He kicked him and watched him rock stiffly in place.

"I must go, Hans; I have patients to see. But I will return another time, though I'm sure I will find you as indomitable as ever. And in honor of that, I entrust you with a final secret."

Squatting down to put his lips to Hans' ear, he whispered, "The tiger is not stuffed."

 

The following day's paper was full of scandal: film star Hans Rimmer had apparently at last fulfilled the fears of his adoring fans, drunkenly smashing his new Bugatti into a wall sometime after midnight. The expensive Italian car was a total wreck, the driver's body mangled beyond recognition; if not for the identification found in his pocket, he might have been anyone. The scandal was doubled by the fact that Rimmer's fiancee and frequent co-star, Frieda Beck, had committed suicide shortly after hearing the news. Mystery surrounded the disposition of both their fortunes, which Fraulein Beck was said to have willed to an unspecified close friend.

On page two, an unrelated article reported that the National Socialist German Workers' Party had chosen a new chairman, a young man named Adolf Hitler. It had apparently been something of a coup; although he had joined less than two years before, the Austrian immigrant had already won the devotion of so many followers that he had threatened to leave and start his own rival party unless given the title. Political observers were baffled, wondering how on earth this loud, obnoxious little man could command such blind obedience from so many.

But then, he had learned from the master.

END

NOTE: Readers wishing to see more of the diabolical Mabuse can find him in the classic German silent movies, "Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler" and "Dr. Mabuse, King of Crime" (really a two-part miniseries), and in the talking-picture sequel, "The Testament of Dr. Mabuse". The original Mabuse novel by Norbert Jacques is long out-of-print in English, but to this day the doctor's name is a byword in Germany for ruthless, manipulative crime.

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