I Have An Idea Ch 12

They discussed it at length. Amy explained what hypnosis really was, not the myth, not the media portrayal, but what it really was, and what it really was surprised him. It was watching TV. It was driving along deep in thought. It was daydreaming, being relaxed but also focused on one idea.

Amy had the gift of making him feel more and more comfortable with the idea, comfortable enough that he volunteered to try a few exercises, just to get a sense of what it might feel like.

She led him through several experiments. She said it was to get an idea about what kind of thinker he was. He held up his arms and listened to her suggest that his hands were attracted to one another and would slowly come together and touch. Was he a physical thinker? She had him close her eyes and just listen to her voice as she recited certain words in an exaggerated lazy way. Was he an aural thinker? She did quite a few more exercises, including an imagery test, where he relaxed back on the couch and imagined the ideas she described, stairs leading down, elevators descending, and so on. How well could he see the images? Did he see colors? Did he imagine only what she describe or did he add details?

By the time she was done, he felt like he'd had an hour long massage. His body was loose and pleasantly limp, warm and nice, and he found himself smiling as he opened his eyes.

She smiled back at him. "You did really well."

He couldn't help but pleased at the compliment. "Well, you made it very easy."

She leaned forward and clasped her hands. "So, tell me what you think."

He shrugged. "It's nothing. It's easy."

"Nothing to be nervous about."

He shook his head and sat up, blinking his eyes, stretching. "No. It was great actually. I feel great."

"That's great. And it might please you to know you are extremely suggestible."

His brow furrowed a little; he chuckled. "That's supposed to be a compliment, right?"

She laughed, and at once Jim saw the giggly little girl she had once been. "It is, actually. I don't mean to suggest you're easily fooled. Far from it. I think though that you're eager for this to work, and it probably doesn't hurt that Ella has been hypnotizing you for months now."

Jim's eyebrows raised. "She has?"

Amy smiled. "She doesn't know she has, but yes. She's been guiding you into a deeply submissive state for awhile now. That state makes you open to her desires, to her suggestions, and you've gained a lot of pleasure from it. She and you both mentioned conditioning, which is a very hypnotic landscape on which to play."

He shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, I guess I can see the similarities. But anyway, this was great, and . . . you know . . . I'm ready if you are."

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, his eyes shifting. "Yes. You know . . . to be hypnotized. I'm good with it. I'd like to do it, if you're still up for it."

The smile that broke out on her face was contagious. "That's great, Jim. So are you ready then?"

He nodded again and settled back into the couch. "Whenever you are."

She snapped her fingers and said, "Sleep, Jim, sleep."

He collapsed in on himself, his body and mind suddenly too heavy to do anything.

They talked for awhile. A short time. A long time. No, a short time. They talked. After an endless few minutes, Jim opened his eyes, feeling lazy and good. He saw Ella sitting beside Amy, smiling. She turned to her new friend and remarked, "That is amazing! You have to teach me how to do that."

Amy nodded, smiling. "That's why you're here."

Ella smiled back. "I can't wait to try."

Jim blinked, staring at them, feeling like his mind was wide open. He heard their voices, their words, but couldn't seem to follow the conversation.

Amy sat back in the chair. "Why not now?"

Ella giggled. "Really?"

Amy giggled back. "Of course."

Ella stared at him, her smile so wide it swallowed her face. She was beautiful, Jim noticed, more beautiful than ever. She snapped her fingers at him. "Sleep, Jim, sleep."

It was Amy's voice he heard as he sank. "He's getting better at it. Pretty soon. . . ."

His body felt like a lead weight. It took him awhile to get his head back together, his thoughts were heavy and soupy. It was like waking from a coma. He blinked his eyes, stretched and noticed the smiles on the girls' faces. He laughed and rubbed his face. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

Amy spoke first. "You did very well."

Ella was all smiles and blushes. She turned to Amy. "So, when do we continue?"

It occurred to Jim that he was being ignored again, which was fine, because he was still trying to make his brain work.

"Well, I'd like to take the week. He'll probably be ready much sooner, but let's take our time. We should enjoy this."

Ella nodded whole-heartedly. "Of course. Let's be thorough."

Amy turned her eyes back to Jim. "Now, before I go, I did want to suggest a few things."

Jim wondered if she hadn't done enough suggesting for one afternoon, but nodded agreeably.

She addressed the two of them, the happy couple. "First, I promised I wouldn't do therapy, but it's a part of me and I feel I should address a few things."

Ella sat by Jim, shoulder to shoulder. His hand reached out for hers and interlaced fingers lovingly. "Okay," Ella replied for them both.

"Your relationship is pretty healthy. So, that's good, but it could be better. You've mentioned the discussions you have, but they seem to be entirely focused on the kink. I'd like to suggest if you're getting married, you expand that. During these discussions, take the time to venture out into other areas of your life. Where will you live? Who will pay the bills? Do you want children? These are all things that will come to pass maybe sooner, maybe later, but it will make that time much easier if you both know each other's positions."

Ella tightened her grip on Jim's hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze. She nodded, appearing thoughtful and somber. "Okay. You're right."

Amy smiled in her friendly, ever helpful manner. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Most couples don't have those discussions until it's too late. Now, regarding your kink. You've both been very responsible, and the discussions you've had prove that, but you've mentioned a few things that concern me. I'd like to make sure you consider safety your top priority."

The lovers exchanged a concerned glance. Again, Ella spoke for them. "I thought we had."

Amy shook her head. "Safewords are a good idea. And since you've engaged in some mild bondage, safe signals are even better. That doesn't alleviate you, Ella, of the responsibility of keeping you both safe though. When submissives experience extremely deep subspace, they may not have the presence of mind to use those safewords."

Ella frowned. "I see. I'm not sure I knew that."

Amy continued. "Also, sleeping while he's tied is a big no-no, especially if you ever choose to use a gag of some sort. If he's tied, you should remain in the room. You can use a baby monitor otherwise, but make sure you stay tuned and make sure he's capable of signalling you if he has trouble breathing or is experiencing unhealthy pain. Don't leave him tied for hours and hours and unless you use padded cuffs. Rope can tighten and cut off his circulation. If he experiences tingling or his fingers are cold, you need to release him."

Ella nodded. "So, honestly, I have a lot to learn."

Amy agreed, but added. "You both do. Jim is not exempt. He absolutely must promise to use safe signals and to tell you when the pain is potentially damaging or just too much. Do you understand that?"

Jim nodded. "It's hard because I like suffering for her."

Amy addressed him directly. "Suffering is one thing. Damaged nerves is another. How do you think it will make your Mistress feel to know she's responsible for something like that? It doesn't matter if it's not her fault. She loves you and she will feel an enormous amount of guilt. And, if that doesn't make an impact on you, think of it this way. If you really get hurt, I can practically guarantee that your playtime will be over. She'll never trust you again. Part of loving your Mistress is loving yourself, keeping yourself healthy and happy for her."

He sagged against Ella, nodding. "Yeah. I hadn't thought of it like that."

Amy stood and Ella patted Jim's leg. "Get her coat."

He hopped up and collected her coat and purse from the foyer, noting their quiet, conspiratorial voices starting up again behind him. When Amy was ready, he helped her into her coat and handed her purse over. She thanked him with her smile, but did not voice it.

She knew, didn't she? She knew he didn't want to be thanked. He wanted her to accept his service without thought. He was more impressed with her than ever.

Ella's voice snapped him from his reverie. "Be a good boy and thank our friend."

With utter sincerity, Jim said, "Thank you, Amy, for taking the time to visit with us and help us. It's Ella's decision, of course, but if she ever asks my opinion, I'd love for you to have dinner with us sometime."

Amy smiled, gave Ella a hug and was out the door.

Ella and Jim stood, sheepishly staring at each other.

After a long silence, Jim said, "Having ideas again?"

Ella's smile was wicked. "Wait and see."

* * *

He laid the papers carefully on the coffee table, set the dinner table and re-heated the leftovers. He was in the middle of making a small salad when the phone rang. For the next twenty minutes, he engaged in a frustrating conversation with the florist about arrangements he thought had been clear. Ella had chosen everything, but it was his job to ensure she got what she wanted. Suffering for his Mistress had never felt so real.

He kept an eye on the parking lot and hurried into position the moment he spotted her car. She had insisted he kneel on a cushion by the front door because the hard tiles were bad for his knees. He was prepared to take the pain for her, of course, but he hadn't gotten two words out before her eyes shut him down. She had made her decision. There was no argument.

She sighed, threw her keys in the bowl and petted his head as she passed. "How's my future slaveboy today?"

He felt the grin that broke out across his face. He couldn't help it. He was in love. "Better now, Mistress."

She giggled and dropped her suit jacket on the floor for him to collect. "Aww, sweet, but I'm starving."

"The salads are ready, Mistress, but the chicken is still being warmed up." She didn't like the microwave, she'd decided. Although, he had plenty of memories of her not minding it when she had done the cooking. Now, she preferred the crispy nature of the food when re-heated in the oven. Microwaves make things soggy, she told him.

As he collected her heels and dropped clothes, she settled on the couch and at once leaned forward, spotting the papers on the coffee table. "What's this?"

He hung her suit jacket and skirt and put them with the other items he had set aside for the dry cleaners. It was a quick chore, and he hurried back to kneel before her. "That's . . . that's the contract you wanted me to look over, Mistress."

He watched as she crossed her legs and leaned forward over them. She hadn't yet removed her hose and the shine of the dark nylons made him lick his lips like a hungry wolf. She stretched out a long, lean arm and lazily turned a page. His eyes fell on her hand, so small and delicate. It was astonishing how tiny they were in comparison to his, yet with a snap of her slender fingers he was hers. "I notice you marked it up quite a bit."

His mouth went dry. "I . . . I was closing the loopholes and doing what you asked, Mistress."

Her eyes met his. There was no humor or happiness in them. He shuddered involuntarily. "And you crossed out the things you disagreed with like I told you?"

He nodded nervously. "Yes, Mistress."

"Did you say," she wondered with the first traces of a grin, "that you were closing loopholes?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She let out a soft laugh. "You're doing it to yourself, you know. If you close all the loopholes, then you really will have no place to run, no excuses."

"I know, Mistress." He felt a tremor in his knees.

"But it's not really about loopholes. It's about the intent of--"

She paused. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she read, then flipped up and began again as she re-examined the contract. "Jim . . . some of the parts I expected you to cross out, you didn't."

"I didn't?" It was news to him that she had expected him to cross out anything.

"It's a negotiation, Honey. I told you that. This is your last chance before the wedding. Once we get married and we sign this. . . . Honey, I'm not kidding with this. I'm very serious. I will absolutely hold you to what we've agreed to."

He thought he should probably re-examine the contract a second time."Mistress, I'll consider it more carefully."

She studied him for awhile, then returned to reading the contract. "Wine. Red."

He scurried to obey.

"Jim!" she called. He rushed back, still holding the bottle and the corkscrew. "What's this about joint accounts you added?"

"I, uh--"

Her eyes flipped up and leveled him. "Well?" He felt small and weak.

"I . . . I added it for safety reasons."

She pressed her lips together until they were pale. "So, you don't want to sign over your paycheck to me. That's going too far for you. I expected you might cross it out, but you just changed it."

"Mistress . . . I don't want to sign over my paycheck to you. It makes me nervous. It scares the--" He re-considered his words; Mistress didn't like profanity. "It scares me, and having only one account only in your name is not safe. If you get hurt or go to the hospital, I won't be able to pay bills or take care of you. It's a negotiation like you said, so I offered a compromise."

She blinked. A very soft smile appeared on her face. "I see. So, a joint account make sense, but I'm asking you to re-consider your paycheck. I think if you're my slave, you shouldn't be allowed to make buying decisions."

He took a deep breath. "I added it in the margin here. I would have to ask for every major buying decision."

"For every buying decision, I think," Ella corrected. "No matter how small."

"Mistress--" Jim used his 'be reasonable' voice. She hadn't heard that tone for a long time. "Even a cup of coffee? Do you want me to phone you or text you for every tiny decision?"

Her eyes shifted. Her leg bounced. She crossed her arms. "That would be bothersome. I guess we could set a money amount."

He opened his mouth to suggest an amount, but figured anything he suggested would be too high. In a negotiation, it's best to--

But this was his Mistress, the woman of his dreams. He wanted--

What did he really want?

It killed him when the solution appeared in his mind. She'd been using his own desire and that of his cock against him for months. Now his brain was joining suit, conspiring against him in her favor. Begrudgingly, he offered, "What about an allowance?"

She smiled at that, a big smile, a big, happy "gotcha" smile. "I LIKE that. Yes. Hmm, I like that quite a bit." She pointed to a space before her foot and snapped her fingers.

He ran to her and dropped, setting the bottle of wine and corkscrew on the coffee table. His heart was in his throat again, and there were ecstatic butterflies churning in the pit of his stomach. His face was hot; he could feel his own pulse in his cheeks. She'd zapped him again. He couldn't blame the hypnosis; she'd created this response long before Amy had come into their lives.

She reached out and caressed his burning cheek with her hand, sending him spiraling into heaven. His breath quickened; his lips parted; his eyes glazed over. She could see it in his face: love, devotion, adoration. With the softest whisper, she continued to condition his obedience with pleasure, "Good boy."

She was rewarding him for having given himself away, for helping her dominate him far beyond the bedroom into a very personal part of his life. "How much though? Twenty a week?"

Jim's eyes bulged. "Twenty?! Mistress . . . I spend more than that on one lunch!"

She sat up straight and glared at him. "Slave. Did you just yell at me?"

His throat bobbed as he shook his head, croaking out, "No, Mistress. Sorry."

She ran her finger down the length of his nose and suggested with a soft tone, "I was open to negotiating, but you just sealed the deal. Twenty dollars a week until I say otherwise. If you need more, you will need my permission . . . and a very good explanation."

There were further negotiations. He did sometimes entertain clients. Their slave life should not impact his job they both agreed. She cautioned him on the wriggle room of his corporate credit card, cautioned him on using it to defy the "intent" of their agreement.

When the phone rang, she gave Jim permission to answer it and sat at the dinner table to enjoy the salad he'd prepared. After a polite greeting, Jim offered her the phone. "It's Mrs. Owens."

Ella dabbed at her lips, wet her throat with some water and took the phone. "Amy? Hi. Wonderful, how are you? Uh huh. Yes. Oh, we have. It's going well, I think. We just started. Yes. Oh, no, that's no problem. Now is as good a time as any. Okay."

She handed the phone back to Jim. "It's time for your treatment."

Jim studied the phone as if it were a foreign object. "Treatment?"

Minutes later, Ella noticed he was sacked out on the couch. His body was completely limp, his cheeks heavy, his eyes closed. Only one arm had the energy to keep the phone pressed to his ear. He sat quietly for a long time, repeating the word "yes" every now and then, each time softer than the last.

Then it was all done, and he was stretching and handing the phone back to Ella. He served her leftovers and wine and put her salad dish in the dishwasher. Ella spoke to Amy on the phone, enjoying the fact that Jim could certainly overhear their conversation, but was not allowed to acknowledge it. "So? How's he doing?"

Amy, cheerful as always, exclaimed, "Wonderful. He may be the best subject I've ever had. I think that's due in no small part to all the conditioning and obedience training you've put him through. It doesn't hurt either that he's head over heels in love with you. He has a very deep desire to please you. If I didn't know better, I'd identify him as a natural submissive."

Ella tensed a little. "Why do you say 'if you didn't know better'?"

Amy replied. "Natural submissives tend to know they're submissive at a very young age. From what you told me, Jim did not identify as submissive when you first met."

"True, I guess. So, how do we know if it's working?" Ella smiled with glittering eyes over at her fiancé. She knew he was listening. He was trying to hide his smile.

"Oh," Amy giggled, "it's working. Don't worry. I set up little tests and he's passing them with flying colors. I'd like to reinforce the suggestions every day this week like we discussed. I'd say he'll be ready by Saturday at the latest. Until then, don't pursue it. Now, are you practicing the exercises I gave you?"

Ella nodded and propped her legs up on the empty chair where Jim used to sit, before she removed the privilege of dining with her. It was all about easing his transition to slavery. Slaves don't sit at the table with their betters, after all. That fact had Jim swooning and moaning for days, which caused her to giggle uncontrollably. "Oh, of course. I try to do it two or three times a day."

"Good. Would you mind giving it a try now, just so I can get an idea of how he's responding?"

Ella grinned. Jim caught it out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help turning to meet her with a "what?" expression on his face. Quietly and insistently, she snapped her fingers and said, "Sleep, Jim, sleep."