Mistress Susan gently guided Rachel onto the edge of the stage, her hand a quiet anchor at the woman’s elbow. Rachel moved as if in a dream, but not the kind that floats soft and sweet; hers was brittle, uncertain, fear replacing her normal state of mind. She sat, knees together and hands clasped, the tremor in her fingers betraying a storm inside her that words could not yet name.

Mistress Susan lowered her voice to a register that seemed to widen the world into just the two of them. “Rachel, look at me,” she said. Her tone was unhurried, unforced. Rachel raised her eyes, struggling to meet that unwavering gaze, as if fearing to find herself reflected there.

“Attune to my voice, only that,” Mistress Susan continued, the cadence patient as a metronome. “Let every other sound fall away. Breathe with me. In on my count, out on my count. Ready? One… two… in. One… two… out.” With each repetition, the auditorium’s hush seemed to deepen, the air thickening around them. To Rachel, it felt as though the rows of onlookers had vanished, the theater emptied of all but herself and this calm, insistent presence.

For a moment, Rachel could only focus on keeping her hands from shaking, but even that effort soon faded. The rhythmic breathing, so simple and so deliberate, began to slow the pace of her heart. Her shoulders, tight as wire, began to droop by incremental degrees. The muscles at the corners of her jaw loosened up, and her throat, dry and tight, did the same with a low exhale.

“Very good,” Mistress Susan said, her voice now almost a whisper. “You are in control, Rachel. No one else. Not me, not the audience, not the memory itself. All that you feel is yours to observe, not to fear. Let your breath be the line between then and now.”

Rachel closed her eyes, letting the world slip further away. The flashes in her mind—the strange, bright fragments she’d confessed to—slowed from staccato bursts to gentle, blurry pulses. She remembered the sensation of exposure, of having a door opened inside her by unseen hands. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it was uninvited, and the force of it had left her reeling. Now, under the guidance of Mistress Susan’s words, those feelings became softer, more diffuse, easier to look at without flinching.

“You’re safe,” Mistress Susan repeated, one palm hovering just above Rachel’s trembling hands. “There is no harm here. Only curiosity, only learning. If you would like to speak, you may, but there is no pressure. You can simply sit with me until you feel right again.”

Rachel nodded, the gesture tentative but real. The trembling in her hands ebbed, replaced by a surprising warmth that began at her collarbone and radiated outward. She felt herself returning to her body, piecing herself back together one soft breath at a time.

Mistress Susan kept her focus on Rachel, but addressed the audience in a tone that was both instructive and gentle. “Everybody experiences trance and hypnosis in different ways, and some people are more sensitive than others. It’s never my intent to violate boundaries or bring anyone to harm, but sometimes unexpected situations happen. Suggestions may backfire, awaken hidden traumas, or create dissociative states that range from mild to severe under specific circumstances. Anyone wishing to engage in hypnoplay of any kind must be prepared to deal with something like that and provide the necessary aftercare when needed. Failing to do so is not being responsible, and we have a responsibility toward our subjects.”

Mistress Susan clicked her heels and said. “Aftercare is not a procedural checklist. It’s about creating a sacred space of safety and trust. If anyone you wish to play with says they don’t do that or that such things are for wussies - RUN! Don’t look back, just run. They’re not worth your time or your trust because it’s obvious they won’t put your well-being first if something goes awry. You don’t want that.”

Rachel’s breathing had steadied, her initial panic and confusion dissolving under Mistress Susan’s calm guidance. However, things were not as they seemed for the hypnodomme had another ace up her sleeve.

“Now, I must confess to something, and I ask you to forgive the deception, but…”

“This was another demonstration, nothing more,” Meredith muttered under her breath while Dominic stared at her.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked.

“No, I’m not.”

And she was right, with the hypnodomme confirming her suspicions right away.

“Rachel here is also one of my pets. This entire interaction was another carefully orchestrated scenario to get you to think about these subject matters.”

A collective intake of breath rippled through the auditorium. Rachel simply smiled - a knowing, complicit expression that suggested she was precisely where she wanted to be.

“Again, my apologies, but I needed you to be shocked to make sure you were paying attention. Emotional volatility is something that can truly happen during a hypnotic session, and its impact must never be taken lightly. Safe, sane, and consensual. If any of these pillars is shaky or not there, then we don’t play, as simple as that,” Mistress Susan concluded.

Dominic leaned closer to Meredith, his breath catching slightly. “How did you know that was coming?” he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the stage where Mistress Susan was concluding her demonstration.

Meredith’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Call it intuition,” she murmured back. “Something about Rachel felt... off. The way she moved, how her hands trembled. It was like watching someone who’d been prepared, not spontaneously reacting. When you’ve been around this world for as long as I have, you start to notice certain things others ignore.”

Her fingers drummed a quick rhythm against her thigh - a tell Dominic recognized as her thinking gesture. The auditorium around them hummed with subdued conversation, people processing what they’d just witnessed. Some audience members were still staring at Rachel, who now sat composed beside Mistress Susan, looking nothing like the trembling woman from moments before.

“Gut feeling then?” Dominic pressed, one eyebrow raised.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Do you think there are more surprises in store?”

“Most definitely.”