"So, what say you?" the vision asked as her visitor stared at her with very open eyes and a slightly agape mouth. The corner of his lips moved to almost shape a smile, but something in him kept it from fully-forming.

She was a hypnodomme whom he contacted for a live session, a fan of her audios and lucky that she was within driving distance for him. Even though she was in another state, he didn't mind going the extra mile, or 50 miles, for his fetish. It was a brave move for him to make, as he always wanted a live session but usually lacked the courage or sometimes the money to try. This time he took a chance, and was filled with an even mixture of excitement and fear.

Both those emotions rose equally at the sight of her. He knew no photos of herself she could put online would match her striking live self, but he was still shocked at how beautiful she turned out to be. Her face had calm, tempting expression, a practiced one he figured for the numerous positive feedback her live sessions received. What struck him even harder was how she dressed for the occasion - all leather corset, pants and boots. A dream for anyone who was into erotic hypnosis and bsdm.

His fear came from the fact that he wasn't into bsdm at all. What she wore, while sexy, triggered images of uncomfortable bondage and pain at the hands of a crop, like the long one she used to tap the stiletto of her boot. And it wasn't that he expected her to do all the things he feared in their session, or end up in some pre-arranged dungeon located somewhere else on her property, but he didn't know how to politely tell her that this style diminished some of his interest. He wanted to find a sound-proof room and scream at himself for saying "anything's alright with me" prematurely when asked about preferences or limits.

"You know, your face says a lot already, but not everything it says is clear. Don't forget you still have a mouth and a voice you can use. For now."

She giggled at the last line, trying to sound teasing and playing. He laughed along with her, but hoped she wasn't being literal.

"It..." he tried to start. "It's hard to put into words how..."

He kept his words in-check, ready to swallow whatever he needed to to not have this be an issue between them. However, the combination of his words and his shifting expression allowed her to put it together enough to know what he maybe truly wanted to say.

"I guess you expected me to come in wearing something else."

"Yeah...I think I was expecting like a t-shirt and jeans. I hope that's not uncomfortable for you to wear, with this summer heat and all."

"I guess something's got you distracted enough to not even notice the AC running. And it's running for you, as I know how hot I am making you."

"I'm sure that's how it works on some level, like me being hot under the collar. But you're the one who's hot."

"I think it might be more me producing heat in others as a domme, but either way, I'm quite comfortable in this. The way you can't take your eyes off it, I'm glad you have something to settle your attention on; easy comfort comes over most people that way, I've found."

The hypnotist simply stood in her pose, watching the weight of her words come over her subject and get him to relax his body, and recline into the couch cushions. Knowing what he had expected before coming here, she decided to take a slower approach with him. While she did like to take the preferences of her clients into consideration, it never prevented her from doing things her way. She planned on changing something, and it wouldn't be her attire.

"I think it was last year when I had a sub come visit me; he was big on leather, and of course, really enjoyed a dominant woman gussied up in it. He didn't have any expectations when he arrived, but I could tell his day was already made, not a word spoken between us yet. After I had said several words, I'd made his year, in his words. Since then, it's become nearly my favorite attire to wear for a live session."

"I can see why; it looks amazing on you."

"Thank you."

"Hope you don't mind the curiosity, but what are your favorites?"

"In the past, I had a really flashy stage hypnotist costume that I got a kick out of wearing, and a lot of clothes I have or that have been tributed to me make for a convincing hypnotherapist."

"I love those looks."

"Yeah, me too. But leather always comes with its own special features."

"It does?" he asked without thinking.

"Can't you see?" she asked teasingly.

"Some of the light from outside, the sunlight or sunlight brightly reflecting off of things outside, makes the leather shine a bit. The leather lover noticed it before I did, and he always called the look 'black diamonds.' I've had to use that name since then because I love how it sounded. Especially around my leggings and boots, his gaze just got drawn in more and more by every curve. Like the colorful facets of a diamond lit up by sunlight, his eyes roamed all over my legs, from my thighs, over my knee, down the calf, noting how even the zipper carried a bit of glimmer to it."

"Once he got to my ankle and feet, he'd revealed an undisclosed fetish to me. He got so fixated, so happily lost in the sight and shine off my feet that I was reluctant for a while to have him look away from it. Well, I did have him get on his knees, to make it easier on his neck for having to look down for so long. I asked him to verbalize how he felt, and he spoke of how he felt he belonged there, with me over him, longing to touch, to kiss, to please me. But he found just how content he was to stare at me."

The young man found it hard to picture that scenario of a different client in-front of her, throwing himself at her feet; the black diamonds were ultimately easier to focus on, and that's what he decided to follow. Lines and waves of white light against a soothing black color, trailing up and down her legs. Her pose accentuated the light over several places, so much so that he occasionally lost place over if he looked up or down the path of her legs while she spoke.

"I'm sorry, I just love telling that story. It helps some relax while they're with me. It puts some at ease while it gives others some nice focus. Which did it give you?"

He felt both, and couldn't tell which was stronger between the listless in his body or the focus of his consciousness. Both made him feel good as he wondered when she was going to start the session.

"It's ok, you don't have to answer. As long as you feel comfortable, nothing else matters."

After a while, he could understand the desire to kneel, as to give his own neck a rest. And while he didn't necessarily have a foot fetish, watching her gloved hand tap that crop against the heel over and over kept his attention, more than he could explain.

"Do you like the crop?"

"It's...yeah..nice."

"Trust me, it's perfectly ok; my feelings won't be hurt if you say what you really want to about it. Be honest."

"Well, I mean it looks beautiful, but I'm afraid of how they're used."

"Don't like pain?"

"No really, no."

"What if I told you they had other specific uses?"

"Like what?" he asked out loud and in his own mind.

"Often times, symbolism. I mean, you've probably seen crops used to inflict great pain, maybe scare someone, and condition horses, or people. Right?"

"Yes."

"And that lends to a bit of intimidation, saying without saying that you're at the mercy of the crop holder."

"That's true too."

"But what have I been using this crop for?"

"Nothing, yet."

"Not 'nothing,' actually. Posing like this, tapping it against my heel, it's kind of a subconscious habit of mine. It's like I'm creating a tempo for a song I'm singing, but my audience is a bit complicated, yet not. It's you, and yet, it's more what's in you - your subconscious mind. I do occasionally love intimidating people with it for fun, but even more than that, I love the feel of it, and the sound of it, that gentle tap that reminds me it can do more than make a sharp, slapping noise. It lets me know I'm in-charge, in the softest of ways, certainly an unexpected advantage to its design."

He truly did wonder if she was going to just stand there all day and keep doing what she was doing. It was still easy to focus on, and he trusted her in saying she enjoyed it. He enjoyed it too as he got used to the rhythm like she had.

"You ever have one of those moments when you're bored, maybe waiting on someone to do something you need, and you make a similar motion yourself, where you're foot or your fingers give themselves something to do to pass the time. Tapping, for example. Tapping over a surface that makes a sound, or even against yourself, like a finger on the opposite hand?"

He nodded gently, remembering how he used to tap his own hand as a kid when he was bored.

"I wish I knew how and why it works so well, and while I'm certainly not bored now, it's just easier to focus on the things we enjoy when this happens, like each tap is a step in our own minds toward more pleasing thoughts. Pleasurable things you want to be doing, pleasurable things you will be doing later, whatever strikes your fancy. It doesn't have to be just me either. You hear the light taps of my crop; you can use them as well."

He wanted to thank her for the use of something he was already using.

"Using your imagination, think about what if your finger tapping your hand wasn't really your finger, but my crop?"

He hesitated for a moment as his mind tried adapting to the change.

"The exact same sound, feeling the tap of what seems like a leather gloved-finger. And don't forget, it's my leather, my pleasure I'm sharing with you. The leather crop taps you like the seconds on a clock, but even slower, maybe matching the pulse of your heartbeat, the tempo of my voice, slowing down time for both of us, prolonging our session so it becomes even more memorable."

"The taps are felt anywhere you want them to be, the top or palm of your hand, an arm, a leg, your chest, the tip of your nose, a temple of your forehead - wherever it can feel the best. Do you feel my crop now?"

The way he breathed 'yes' topped one of the reason she loved her abilities and profession, to hear in-person when someone became inevitably set on the path to total obedience to her.

"Does my crop feel good?"

"Y-yes."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Don't stop, please," he almost whimpered.

"Imagine a future session with me, much simpler in nature than this, where I simply lay you down on that couch, and you are bombarded by the pleasure of my crop. Unlimited tapping against your body, over and over again, step by step to a place you want to be, a feeling you need to feel. It almost fully ensures that there will be a future session with me. Would you like another live session with me in the future?"

"Yes, please."

"I'm so happy to hear that, as happy as we are to hear the tapping. All those gentle taps accumulate a lot of pleasure the more I do it; any part of the body that feels becomes such an erogenous zone for a long time after I'm done tapping. And maybe if the impact of those taps grew in strength, they could feel better. Whatever you felt before or imagined feeling, might feel completely different to when I'm done with you."

He wouldn't know what a stronger tap would feel like that day, but the possibilities for the future opened up many new chances to see how he'd take to it.

"All this time looking down at the taps and my feet, I hope you're neck isn't sore. I should've offered this to you some time ago, but I guess I'd gotten lost in my little spiel. Would you like to kneel at my feet, to make more comfortable for you to focus?"

It hadn't even occurred to him that his neck could be sore from staring for so long, but now he felt a need to correct his posture and knew a good way to.

"Please let me kneel before you."

"You may do so then. In fact, if it helps you, you can go even further down than that. Slip onto your belly if you wish, if it's ideal for staring at me that way."

His smile was of genuine bliss by the time he was flat on the floor, now raising his head to look up at the crop and the heel. The gloss off her leather matched the quality of his eyes as he look up at her in awe.

"Do you see anything but the black diamonds?"

"No."

"Do you feel anything but the touch of my crop?"

"No."

"Do you hear anything but my voice?"

"No."

"Would you like to kiss me in thanks for all these wonderful feelings?"

"Yesss," his voice trailed off in pleasure.

She stopped the tapping of her crop and used it to guide the back of his head to the shiniest part of her boot. She didn't worry about the tapping rhythm being interrupted when she stopped, as it still echoed in his and her heads. He kissed the leather, and discovered a new fetish deep within himself.

She smiled happily down at her new long-term client. He might not have been by the look of his face when she came in to greet him. She'd overestimated how many guys like that look, apparently, but she still overcame any problems he could give her. It was funny to think of how he probably expected something much more vanilla and conventional for a first session, with pocket watches, metronomes, or spirals to do him in. He still got those things in a way. Her legs didn't spiral, but didn't need to with their shiny sheen. The crop swung and made the sound of a metronome, subverting any expectation of what she had in mind.

"I know you had your heart set on something a bit different today. But don't worry, I think you'll like your new settings more, in time."