Dojo Discipline
Part One
Lewis was running late for class.
Back when he’d been a student, this hadn’t been untypical; his time management was usually pretty shot, and graduating and getting a job—no, not just a job, a professional career, thank you so much—hadn’t really helped. He was usually in the office after he was supposed to be but, at least, before his first appointment. Being late for his own appointments was more irritating, but carried less of a risk; it happened quite a lot.
The class he was late for was one of his few opportunities to blow off steam; judo lessons.
Lewis was confident he had a natural aptitude for judo; certainly he enjoyed the practice bouts toward the end of the lessons, especially if he was drawn against one of the female students. He was a little less keen on the form drills, but as he’d told his ex a dozen times or more before they split up, being a natural he didn’t need to drill his form, and sometimes it might look a little off but it was plenty effective.
There were no parking spaces free outside the dojo when he got there, so he parked outside the pet store just down the street and scurried into the building. He was in the training room, changed and ready, about ten minutes after class was due to start, which he didn’t think was too bad considering he should’ve left the office about twenty minutes earlier than he did.
All the same, he was favoured with a disapproving look from Miss Li, the instructor. Then rest of the students in the lesson were already some way into their drill, and as Li had been up close and personal with Carmen, correcting her stance, she’d been perfectly positioned to see the door open and watch Lewis slip in.
After the look of scorn she simply shook her head and went back to reviewing everyone’s drill. Lewis found an empty spot and fell in, cheeks burning slightly. He stuck to his relaxed ideas about form, and by the time Miss Li reached him he was starting to enjoy himself. Part of that was that he’d developed a fun little fantasy for himself about throwing Shauna, Miss Li’s star pupil, flat on her ass later, watching the shame burn red in her cheeks.
He could practically hear the thud of body on crashmat. His lips had already set into the smile he’d wear once he’d done it. And then Miss Li arrived. Her sigh was quiet and he didn’t think he was meant to have heard it, but that was even worse. He looked up at her, his own cheeks burning.
“Your foot placement is usually a little better than this, Lewis,” she said quietly. “Stand like that and try that throw, and you’d better hope whoever you’re fighting doesn’t have much weight to them. Otherwise you’re going to end up driving yourself face-first into the ground.”
It was probably good advice, and she was certainly more experienced than him, but it still didn’t go down well. He ducked his head and mumbled an acknowledgement, hoping that the examination would be over.
Of course, he was hardly likely to be that lucky, was he?
“All I really ask for is a little dedication and discipline,” Miss Li continued, and her voice was gentle and full of a sympathy it was hard not to resent. “You fill a space in this class, Lewis. If you’re not going to be serious about improvement—“
“I am,” he protested, and at the time he said it, he meant it.
“Then why aren’t we both seeing your improvement?”
God, the woman was frustrating. The question was frustrating, too. Not just frustrating but deeply uncomfortable. “I…”
“Maybe you need external encouragement,” she said. “A deadline?”
Lewis twitched. Deadlines were fine, he would have told you, but he might not have believed it while he was saying it. Certainly they reminded him of all the worst aspects of college. He was better with time to prepare.
“Maybe not, then,” and Lewis burned a little more to realise how easily she read him. “What would get you to try? I mean really try.”
His mouth open, he groped for any useful response. “A bet,” he heard himself say, and wondered that he dared.
The idea had come to him all at once, sudden and clear and exciting. He was still surprised at himself that he had the courage to try it.
“What kind of bet?”
Lewis swallowed. “We both have a forfeit,” he said. “I succeed, you forfeit. You succeed, I do.”
Miss Li smiled. “Are you trying to embarrass me?” she asked.
“No. Just… you asked what would get me to try.”
“Well, that’s good,” Miss Li said. “I’m not easy to embarrass. What would my forfeit be?”
“You wouldn’t tell me yours,” Lewis pointed out. Which was a gamble, but he thought he had a pretty good chance of being correct—and Miss Li smiled and fractionally nodded her head.
“Alright,” she said, and she raised her voice loudly enough for all of the students to hear it. “At the end of the lesson, you and I will spar quickly. If you can throw me, and if you can throw me with good form, you get your forfeit.”
Lewis winced slightly. Well. Now it was official.
“If you can’t, though, then the forfeit runs in the other direction. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, Miss Li.”
He fell silent, focusing on the way Shauna was doing everything. As the teacher’s pet, he grudgingly admitted, she had to know what was going on.
He had no idea how pleased Miss Li was to have finally found a way to motivate him.
The lesson seemed to go much more quickly than usual. Lewis even found himself enjoying it more, although there was a churning nervousness he was sat on. After Miss Li spoke about humiliation in forfeits, he’d realised that was the way her mind was tending. He was pretty confident she was more than creative enough to make it something startling.
He had to throw her. He had to have perfect form.
Oddly, he had no worries at all that she might renege on the bet, that she might use her comments about form to deny him unfairly. If he made the throw correctly, she’d go through with her end of the deal. That was fine.
When the lesson came to its end, though, he paused, looking around the group. To be embarrassed in front of them…
“Right,” Miss Li said briskly. “I know all of you want to see this, but I don’t think that’s the right choice here. If you aren’t Lewis or myself, clear out now please.”
There was a moment of silent hesitation, which she broke by adding “Do you think you’d want to be watched by everyone if this was the challenge?” Over the next few seconds, everyone started to turn and drift away toward the big double doors.
Lewis collected his thoughts. Standing opposite Miss Li, he realised as he usually didn’t just how much better she was than her class.
Left to his own devices, he suddenly realised, in a fair fight, he’d lose.
How could he make it unfair without her realising?
In the end he settled on timing. He broke the silence. “Do I have more than one attempt?”
She smiled thinly. “I’ll give you two,” she said. “How about that?”
“It’ll have to be good enough, won’t it?”
But he smiled as he said it, and bowed. They closed together.
Lewis intentionally messed up the first throw. He stumbled on his step in, let her see his hipcheck coming. Not that she wouldn’t have anyway, but it was easy for her. She shifted her own wait and almost seemed to roll around his body, catching his arm on the way. His stumble became the momentum for her throw, and he ended up flat on his back, the air knocked out of him.
Miss Li didn’t gloat. Didn’t crow. She smiled gently, holding out her hand. “I’d usually critique,” she said. “But there was only one error you made there and I know you know what it was.”
Lewis nodded. It hadn’t been an error, but he was happy to let her have it if it helped put her at ease.
They circled on the mat, and Lewis came in, but this time he pulled up short, forcing a frustrated expression onto his face, before they even made contact.
“Do you need a minute?” Miss Li asked, solicitously. Lewis looked away, head down as if embarrassed. In reality he was watching her shadow on the mat, and waiting, his feet planted with perfect form, his body above the waist held rigid, fists clenched, looking for all the world like he was lost to his own anger.
She took a step forward and reached out her arm toward him, the tutor’s instinct to check on the welfare of the student uppermost.
Lewis threw her.
It seemed to be over in an instant, as if he only experienced it afterwards. At the time it was all action, fluidity and pace; only once it was done did he feel the shifts in his stance, the change of balance, the sudden, brief weight being borne across him, even the sudden strain to muscles which weren’t really used to successful throws.
The throw was perfect, his stance excellent, and Miss Li landed square on her back, a perfect fall just as well executed as the throw. Lewis was still over-extended, the motion having sent his centre of balance too far off to recover, and he stumbled a couple of steps forward before dropping to one knee, steadying himself with one hand.
He caught his breath and stayed quiet, just waiting. He didn’t think having tricked her would be enough to make her revoke her deal, but it was just about possible at least…
“Interesting tactics there,” she said as she picked herself up, and on hearing the amusement in her voice Lewis immediately relaxed. “As much as you won the contest, I can’t imagine you’re proud of yourself right now, are you?”
He kept his back to her so she couldn’t see the grin on his face. All the same… as delighted as he was to have his win, he wasn’t exactly proud, no. He straightened up and shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting to be set such a tall challenge,” he said, and hoped she’d take it as flattery.
“No? Well, I suppose not,” she said. “If you stayed that kind of motivated, though, Lewis, we could really see good progress.” A beat. “Especially if the same motivation applied to your fitness regimen.”
Lewis almost saw red at that. But, he reminded himself, he wasn’t entirely happy with how… well…
He’d have liked to describe his belly as ‘pudgy’ but honestly it was pretty round. He knew he was overweight and he wasn’t exactly happy about it. But working long hours, hearing terrible things from his clients, some nights you didn’t have the motivation to go to the gym. Some nights you stopped off on the way home and bought a cheap microwave pizza.
“Maybe,” was what he said in the end. He got his expression under control and turned around to face her.
“So,” Miss Li said, “have you decided on the forfeit.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“You’re going to be hypnotised.”
“…What?”
“I think it came up when I started learning,” Lewis said. “I’m a certified therapist. I do plenty of different techniques, but one of them’s hypnosis.” He paused. Now was the bit to try to sell it. “And I think I can help you.”
There was a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. He was banking on her knowing something about hypnotherapy, but not enough to realise how far-fetched his claims were.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “But only once, and only because you won. I’m not going to start going to you for therapy or anything.”
“Totally reasonable,” Lewis said. “Are you ready?”
“…You mean… now?”
He’d actually prefer to get showered and changed first, but he kind of wanted to see her tranced face grow slack still in her gi. If he changed first, so would she. And besides, the faster he acted, the more chance she’d still be off-balance mentally if not physically.
They sat opposite one another, about four feet apart, on the practice matting, Lewis cross-legged, Miss Li kneeling, thighs together, back ramrod-straight, hands clasped in her lap.
“What do I need to know?” she asked.
“Honestly? Not much. Do you meditate at all?”
She smiled lopsidedly. “I may be Chinese and a martial arts tutor, Lewis, but I’m not an ethnic stereotype.”
He took it in stride. “Well, fine,” he said. “I was just going to say, it’s a lot like when meditation works. I think the main thing is, try not to worry too much about is it happening, and given it’s a forfeit, don’t try to stop it happening.”
She nodded, her expression somehow grave. She had committed to this. Lewis would have to guess it was the way she approached everything.
He extended his hand, one finger raised, and lined it up with her nose, so she would be able to watch it easily without moving her head. “Begin by focusing on my finger,” he said. “Yes?”
She nodded again, very slightly. She was already looking at his fingertip, and doing so with what seemed to be an air of determination. Lewis was immediately reminded of the patients who were too eager to be hypnotised, so eager that they got in their own way.
“When you were a kid,” he said, “did you ever play the game where you try to make someone feel like you’re scratching their nose without actually touching them?”
Miss Li’s head inclined again, just a fraction. Lewis smiled and flexed his finger slightly. Just enough to five the impression that he might be stroking a nose, if he were close enough to do so.
“Maybe you can already feel that,” Lewis said. “Just because I’ve put the idea back into your head. A little tingle, just between your eyebrows.” There was another fractional nod. Lewis loved to catch people in loops of agreement. At work he steered clear of anything that would affect someone’s ability to consent before introducing the idea of trance, but this was a different model. For one thing, this was a forfeit.
“That’s good. That’s really good—it means you’re a great subject. If you had any concerns this wouldn’t work, you can let those go.” He smiled, warm and open. “Just relax. Don’t worry.”
He continued to stroke his finger up and down. “And that tingling sensation, it’s growing stronger.” She didn’t nod at this, but her nose wrinkled slightly; suddenly it was clear that she did indeed feel the sensation, that she felt it as he described.
All was going perfectly according to his plan. “Not just stronger… it’s spreading. It’s a tingly, fuzzy wave, soaking forward through you, from the front of your head to the back.” He left her head to process that for a few moments. “Every stroke sends another wave washing against you. Every wave washes further in. And just like at the beach, in the end, everything’s touched by the water.” Lewis was practically purring now.
“In the end, that tingly, fuzzy sensation will seep through your whole head.”
He started to stroke now more deliberately, in longer lines, knowing Miss Li’s head would interpret that as bigger, stronger waves. Whatever pace she was imagining the waves would take to completely engulf her, this change would speed things up. She’d do it to herself and she wouldn’t even realise.
“And the fuzzier things are, the trickier it is to make thoughts happen. But that’s OK, because there’s no reason to. In meditation, you clear your mind. In hypnosis, your mind is cleared for you.
“You’re not thinking, Miss Li, and you didn’t even notice. Couldn’t notice. Noticing would need you to think. You actually have to take my word for it that you’re not thinking.” Lewis let that idea settle in deep now. He wasn’t sure how long ago she’d stopped noticing her own thoughts—whether he’d caused it by saying it, or whether he’d just pointed it out. The different ways that people reacted to hypnotic trance were difficult to predict.
“It’s OK, though. It feels good to be in trance. And not thinking is fine when you can just take someone’s word for what you want to know.” He smiled gently. “That’s true, you know. Just nod your head.”
Miss Li did. Even without thinking, the action would convince her more deeply of his truth. And then she’d take his word for much more…
Just so long as he had the time.
“You really enjoy this, Miss Li,” he said. “When you get home tonight, you’re going to realise you feel better after being hypnotised than you ever do after a lesson. You’ll keep thinking about this floaty, fuzzy strangeness. And you’ll realise, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, that you want it. You crave it.
“You couldn’t exactly ask me to hypnotise you every day. But any time I offer, you’ll want to accept. Nod your head.”
Miss Li nodded, eyes vacant, face slack, a thin tendril of drool starting to form from the V of her lower lip. It jumped lower with the motion of the nod.
Lewis stopped stroking. He slid forward on the mat, watching her eyes for any sign of a shift—but there wasn’t any shift. Her expression remained exactly the same; the only thing that changed was her saliva touching the cuffs of her gi folded in her lap.
Gently, he moved her hands aside, let them flop down until the backs of her fingers rested against the mat on which she knelt, beside her feet.
He teased the ends of her black belt open and parted them gently, then opened her gi up until it hung free, exposing most of her midriff and the sensible grey lycra of her sports bra.
Lewis waited a moment, making up his mind, and then left to fetch his phone.
He snapped a photo of Miss Li in this same helpless, defenceless, open exposure, and then moved forward again. Gently, not wanting to give her enough stimulus for her to wake, he pulled the cups of her bra down. They sat awkwardly under her breasts, but the awkward multiple folds propped them up, gave them a balcony for better display. They were barely a handful, but perfectly shaped and firm; exactly the body Lewis had imagined many times, when idly thinking about her. On display, though, especially topped by that wonderful glassy, glazed expression, they were even better.
They were better, he realised, because they belonged to him now. Miss Li just didn’t know it yet.
He raised his phone to take another picture.
It would have looked odd if he’d showed up for the lesson the next day. He never did. All the same, he wanted to check things were working. Instead of going straight home, he went out of his way to grab a burrito from the Mexican place sat catty-corner to the dojo, so he could be hanging around outside when the lesson finished and nobody would think it odd.
He was leaning against his car, idly scrolling on his phone, when he saw her emerge a half hour after the class had left. The last bit of his burrito was cold, but he’d needed to keep up the image. And he’d parked near enough to her car that she couldn’t help but notice him.
“Lewis?”
She came closer. “Lewis, I thought you were going to try for healthy eating after our talk last night.”
He looked up and smiled. “Oh hey, Miss Li! I was hoping I’d run into you, actually.”
Her stance shifted. It wasn’t exactly defensive, but she clearly felt a little uncertain now. On the back foot.
Was she suspicious of him? Did she wonder why he’d chosen hypnosis as his forfeit? They’d left the previous night all smiles, and he’d given her head a direction to take its thoughts, but the subconscious was often a rebel…
“And, ah, why might that be?” she asked.
“Well…” He paused. Glanced back to his phone, and shrugged, putting it away. He was holding off on the answer, he hoped, long enough to make it look like it wasn’t important. If he didn’t place any emphasis on it, she might downplay his interest. And considering he was waiting outside her place of work, he needed it downplayed.
“I was wondering if you wanted to be hypnotised again.”
There were a lot of expressions to read on her face. Excitement. Surprise. Caution. Maybe a little fear? Which made sense; he was trying to play down how interested he was in continuing her hypnotic conditioning, but there were a lot of clues. Some part of her might know, or understand.
Fortunately, that part of her was overwhelmed by her pre-existing hypnotic conditioning. Even before the conflicting responses cancelled out and she had a clearer expression again, she’d said “I’d like that. Of course. Sure!”
A very clear acceptance, so clear and affirmative she might be too embarrassed to walk it back.
“That’s great,” Lewis smiled. “Now?”
She could hardly say no. He saw the desire to do just that briefly cross her face before her expression smoothed out again, and she said “Sure.” She’d already booked herself in, effectively.
“Well… shall we go back inside?”
He didn’t want to suggest either of their homes. That might give Miss Li’s suspicions, whatever they were, enough room to breathe that she balked at the idea. Invasion of privacy triggered some primal instincts. But she nodded, after just a moment; she turned around and they made their way back into the dojo, which Miss Li had to unlock in order to do.
Her eyes unfocused quickly as he held his finger aloft. The two of them were standing; Miss Li was huddled in on herself somewhat, clearly uncertain about any of this, but still there, still ready to be hypnotised. But then, how could she not be? Lewis wasn’t completely confident in the instruction he’d given her, but he’d seen enough to know that the basic structure he’d put in place was there.
Miss Li wanted to be hypnotised. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She wanted to be in trance. That was the rule taking pride of place in her head. And built on that foundation was something a little different; more of a guideline.
Anyone could see she was eager for trance. It didn’t require much insight, not if you could see the expression she’d adopted once he began to stroke the air. She was clearly full of anticipation. What Lewis needed was for her to want to be changed in trance. To be more willing to accept suggestions that took her beyond just trance.
He moved his hand closer, keeping his eyes on hers, watching the shifts in focus and movement. He was watching for the moment when her eyes stopped tracking his finger and instead started to predict its movement. If you weren’t watching for it, it would be all but impossible to notice, but the trick is at the core of many showy physical inductions used in stage shows.
Lewis set aside any thoughts of how his colleagues at the office might react if they knew he was using this induction, let alone indulging in hypnosis for his own pleasures. He honestly wasn’t sure which would shock them more.
As he saw Miss Li’s eyes make the switch from tracking to anticipating, he smirked. He gave it a moment longer, then swept his fingers downward and brought his hand down. He watched her eyes widen in a moment of confusion before they swept down after her finger and her head lolled forward.
“It’s easy to come back to trance,” Lewis said. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“It feels good to be in trance,” he continued. “Just that, on its own, is enough. Isn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“You’ll find that listening to my voice feels so good. Just hearing me talk while you’re in trance feels so good, and so appropriate. People in deep trance are fantastic listeners. Have you noticed?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t any hesitation to the tone that time. She was in the right space to agree, and she knew it was true. If she were moving—Miss Li was unusually still in trance, almost as still and stiff as a mannequin; Lewis figured it had something to do with her training, the degree of body control she’d worked on until it was instinctive—he was sure she’d had nodded.
“Would you like me to tell you why people in trance are such good listeners?”
“Yes.”
“In trance, you understand, instinctively, something we forget when awake. In trance you understand that the words you hear are more important than your own thoughts.” Lewis gave it a couple of moments, trying to ready the momentary flickers of thought on her face. Was that resistance? Uncertainty? Or was she just trying to find this idea into her head?
The idea itself would be a chance to prime her for more, once accepted. But… “Do you understand?”
“Yes…”
Lewis relaxed, but only a fraction. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
A marginal pause. “If you say so.”
“I say so.”
“It’s true.”
That was definitely better… He made a mental note to touch on this regularly.
“The words you hear in trance become thoughts that matter more than your own,” he said. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Your thoughts are guidelines. These thoughts are rules. And you’re not a rulebreaker, are you, Miss Li?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I’m not a rulebreaker.”
“You obey these rules.”
There was a moment of quiet again, as the thought hung there. Then she seemed to grasp what was expected of her there. “I obey these rules.”
“The rules in your mind cannot be broken.”
“The rules in my mind…”
Lewis waited, but Miss Li had come to a dead halt. Perhaps he’d pushed too far, but she didn’t seem to be stirring. “You wouldn’t be in trance if you didn’t trust me,” h told her, which was not entirely true, but if she believed it then it might as well be, at least for her. “Right?”
“Yeees…” A dubious concession, but still a concession.
“You trust me.”
“I… trust you.” That came a little more easily.
“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”
Her answer was so quiet he couldn’t make it out. Her voice was usually surprisingly clear and audible for someone under hypnotic trance. “You tricked me into being hypnotised,” she said quietly.
“And you love being hypnotised,” he said, forcing a tone of tired patience into his voice. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“I love being hypnotised.”
“Before I hypnotised you, would you have agreed to be hypnotised any other way?”
Miss Li was quiet for long enough that Lewis was just starting to worry she wasn’t going to answer at all before, very softly, she said “no.”
“You had no idea how much you love being hypnotised, did you?”
“No.”
“But I did. You know that now.”
Another pause. “Yes.”
“And I did what was right for you by tricking you, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“So that’s no reason not to trust me, hmm?”
“No.”
“You trust me.”
“I trust you.” Her voice sounded lighter, if a monotone can be said to lift.
“If I give you rules you worry about, it’s only because I know they’ll be right for you. Just like being hypnotised is.” He didn’t see anything in the microchanges in her expression to worry him. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Your rules will turn out for the best.”
“My rules will turn out for the best,” she agreed slowly, and if there had been a lightness to her voice before there was a tone of surprise now.
“You trust me to make good rules.”
“I trust you to make good rules.”
“When my rules go against your own thoughts, that’s a good thing.”
Silence. He let it stretch out, waiting for her to answer and accept, but eventually had to acknowledge that it wasn’t happening. “I was right about you loving to be hypnotised. I’ll be right with my rules. We’ve already agreed that. Right?”
“Yes.”
“So if I make a rule that goes against your own opinion, it just makes sense that your opinion was wrong. Right?”
“Right.”
Lewis was absolutely certain that just a few minutes earlier, she’d have dug in and fought against that suggestion. The worst she was doing now was not accepting them immediately.
“So if my rules go against your thoughts, that’s a good thing. It corrects you.”
“It corrects me.”
With that agreement in hand he went back to the earlier point. “When my rules go against your own thoughts, that’s a good thing.”
“When your rules go against my own thoughts, that’s a good thing.”
“You’re even more ready to follow my rules when you disagree.” It was the next logical step, but Lewis wasn’t at all sure it wouldn’t be a bridge too far.
“I’m even more ready to follow your rules when I disagree.”
He was grinning now, very happy her eyes were closed and she couldn’t see his reactions. That was the point it had been most important to him that she accept. Working with his patients, he was always careful to build up reinforcements for their ability to resist and go against suggestions if they did more harm than good. With Miss Li it was essential that she accept most easily the suggestions she should find hardest to choke down.
He moved forward and brushed away the trail of saliva drooling down from her parted lips. She might have wondered how that had happened otherwise.
Her skin was so soft, her lips warm and yielding to the touch. Lewis studied her empty, glassy expression for a moment. The only thoughts in her mind at that time, he knew, were the rules the two of them had just built.
He dipped his head and kissed her yielding, unresisting lips. His tongue explored her mouth briefly; flickered against her teeth, brushed the tip of her own tongue. Miss Li didn’t respond in any way, but that was OK. That was fine, actually.
He had plenty of time to work on that now, and when she kissed him back with the full intent to make him happy, he’d remember that moment and glory in how far she’d come.
The next week they settled down back on the mats in the dojo after the lesson was complete. Miss Li returned to her knees, although the blue-and-red leggings and baggy grey hoodie she was wearing meant it was far from a duplicate of their previous sessions. Lewis settled into a sort of sideways sprawl rather than risk crossed legs in clothing less baggy than his gi, propped up on one arm.
Miss Li’s expression made it clear she considered this lazy and undisciplined, two words she attached to him so often he could hear them just in the way her eyes flicked down to the elbow and away.
“So,” he said. “I know this is a bit of an unusual thing to do.” He figured, why not give her a little more her mind could use to make up plausible justifications for this. “I thought if you want my help with hypnosis, maybe I can get your help with my form and such?”
“You mean class?” Miss Li was back to smiling; amused, gentle, even polite.
“Private help,” he said. He raised his free hand and reached out, holding his finger out just half an inch from her face, close enough her eyes crossed as she looked at it. He began to stroke, gently, without touching her.
Lewis didn’t say a word. He watched, and wondered exactly how far gone she already was; how much her imprinted need to be hypnotised would push her toward trance without him needing to speak.
Miss Li watched him closely. In her turn, she didn’t speak either; didn’t even respond to his offer. He watched her gaze as it went from puzzled to curious to focused to, finally, unfocused; he watched her mouth go from a thin line, her lips pressed together, to slack emptiness. And all of it without a single word spoken.
“That’s very good,” he said quietly. “You do enjoy the idea of being hypnotised by me.” He waited; the two words he’d added to this version were important. Her head needed time to take hold of them and make them mean something.
“You enjoy the act of being hypnotised by me,” he went on. A structure like this, he thought, you build with detail after detail…
“You enjoy being hypnotised for me,” Lewis said, adding another tier to the new understanding Miss Li was receiving. “Being hypnotised for me is a high priority. Are you single, Miss Li?”
“No.”
“Married?”
“No.”
“Living together or dating?”
“Dating.”
It amazed him how little hesitation she had in answering him. The power he sometimes felt while exercising hypnosis could be giddying. This was one of those times.
“Okay,” he said. “But from now on, if the choice is spending time with your boyfriend or being hypnotised by me, you’ll be coming to me. Understand?”
“Yes,” she acknowledged. There had been a little more hesitation, but the agreement sounded just as firm.
“That’s good,” Lewis said, and grinned. “When I’m hypnotising you, I’m in charge. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“You will pay me the same respect you expect from your class.”
“Yes,” she agreed again. Then, after a moment, “Yes, Master Lewis.”
There wasn’t quite the emphasis on ‘Master’ that Lewis probably most wanted, but it was still pretty good. He had to wonder how that might sound when she was conscious, when her voice was infused with emotion and opinion and he wasn’t trying to interpret how she felt just from the cadence of her speech.
He figured it was going to sound pretty good.
“You don’t know much about hypnosis, do you?” he asked.
“No,” she agreed.
“You’re not going to read up on it,” he instructed. “You’ll believe what I tell you about it.” He half-smiled, remembering the way she’d dismissed meditation. She didn’t have much awareness of the odder practices out there. He was going to use that.
“Yes.”
“You have this idea that hypnosis improves the subject. And you want to improve.” Silence there, just putting the idea out for her.
“Yes.”
“But I’m in charge when I hypnotise you, right?”
“Yes, Master Lewis.”
“So the way you improve is according to my judgement?”
“Yes, Master Lewis.”
Interesting… she was reverting to use of his title now they were looking more firmly at him being in charge. The little mental rules people gave themselves were always fascinating.
“It makes sense, then, if I select the ways you improve.”
There was quite a long pause then, and Lewis actually feared that he’d lost her. But then, to his delight, she parrotted “Yes, Master Lewis.”
Each acceptance he’d pushed her toward, each admission, left him with a firmer foundation for future success. Really, he should stop there, be content with a good night’s work. He’d tested her willingness to return to hypnosis for him. He’d seen that she could go under without so much as a word to guide her, if nudged correctly. He’d planted some extra suggestions that would pay off during future encounters.
But it was just too tempting to push boundaries…
“Have you heard of contact hypnosis?”
“No.”
“Stand up.”
“Yes, Master Lewis.” She rose smoothly to one knee, then upright. Her hands rested by her sides, her expression still absent. Lewis rose himself, looking her over. The leggings showed off the soft curves of her muscular thighs more clearly than he’d had a chance to see from her before. It was just a shame that that big, baggy hoodie came down far enough to hide her butt from view. The amount Miss Li worked at her fitness, that had to be quite the peach.
“Contact hypnosis is tremendously effective,” he told her. “You’ve been placed in trance twice now, each time with the sensation of a finger against your forehead. But I wasn’t even touching you, was I?”
“No,” she acknowledged.
“So you can imagine just how powerful it would be for me to hypnotise you by touch.”
“Yes.” Hesitant again, but, Lewis thought, not because it worried her; just because she wasn’t sure what touch hypnosis would be like. Which was perfect as he moved closer.
“Adopt a basic stance,” he directed her. Smoothly, unhesitatingly, and clearly without any thoughts of her own to interrupt, she fell into a ready stance, turned for her left hip to face him, her left foot forward and poised on her toes, her right foot firmly planted to the rear; her right hand down just above her waist, arm bent, left hand raised and forward for defence.
Miss Li had spent hundreds of hours in stances like this. Probably thousands, Lewis had to figure. She could hold the pose effortlessly for quite some time, and with one leg partially extended, her hoodie had risen slightly up the thigh.
“Very good, Miss Li,” he said, adopting a voice close to the one she used with her students. “Hold your pose there.”
“Yes, Master Lewis.”
“When touched, but unable to touch or act for yourself,” Lewis said, “you feel an extreme sense of focus on the touch. That same fuzzy, wonderful tingle you receive when hypnotised originates from the same spot, with whatever other natural responses your body has.” Another pause for this to be absorbed. “You therefore receive great pleasure from contact hypnosis. Don’t you?”
“Yes, Master Lewis.”
The odd awkwardness to her drone response was almost gone now. He stepped closer, slipping a hand under her hoodie. Her skin was lushly soft and delightfully warm; she held her stance as he stroked up and down her side, as he reached up to find her breasts still in their sports bra, as he squeezed…
But throughout, her eyelids flickered. Those barely-parted lips parted further, her expression slack and empty even as her body rigidly maintained its form. He slide two fingers inside the tight, supportive bra, found her nipple, and tugged as best he could against the fabric.
He heard Miss Li moan, a needy, hungry sound. Her natural responses had been readier to follow with him than he could have imagined.
His other hand found a buttock, squeezed, then he let go to step back and spank her. The panting that had followed her moan became an excited squeak, even as her gaze remained empty and unfocused.
“You really like contact hypnosis,” he purred, grinning broadly, his face just inches from her own. Miss Li showed no discomfort at being crowded. Far from it; someone just seeing her expression at that moment would have automatically assumed she was still blissed out after a proper, satisfying orgasm—and he hadn’t even pushed her to one yet.
“Yes, Master Lewis.” He’d barely even realised he was making it an order; it had escaped his lips so instinctively he’d had to fight his own instincts not to make it a question. But knowing it had… oh, he was going to be able to work wonders with this woman. It was only a matter of time.
His lower hand crept around and instead of groping her buttocks, he cupped her crotch, fingers between her thighs and thumb braced against them. The mound of Venus—the part of his palm connected to the thumb—rested against her tight leggings, just above the top of her pussy lips.
With his fingers he gripped and ground his palm against her, watching her reactions and feeling her excitement. She couldn’t react, couldn’t move, but she so clearly wanted to squirm and blush.
Yet she had better discipline than that.
By the time Miss Li left the dojo the front of her leggings carried the widespread stain of her excitement. Her conscious mind was allowed to notice its existence, but had no idea of its cause.
Not yet.