The words Meredith heard next were the most erotic that she had ever experienced.

“Why don’t we take this to your place?” Mistress Susan murmured. The sentence was a clear suggestion masquerading as a choice. It slipped into the hypnotized woman’s mind with such inevitability that it was as if she’d been waiting all her life to hear it.

The power of trance enveloped Meredith’s body, every nerve ending humming. She already knew what was going to happen.

As she stared into the hypnodomme’s eyes, the ground swayed beneath her, and she tipped forward, eyes wide, arms windmilling. For a split second, Meredith believed she might crash face-first into the floor. But Mistress Susan’s arm shot out, coiling around her waist. “Steady,” Mistress Susan said. 

Meredith pressed into her. Her mind hung suspended like a crystal on a string. This was all she had ever wanted and yet…

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” she muttered.

“Plans change. There are so many more ways to let go that I’d love to show you. What do you say?”

The answer was yes. It could only be yes. Meredith didn’t even realize she had already said the words out loud.

“Lead the way then, my pet,” Mistress Susan commanded.

Meredith complied. The first day of KNOT wasn’t over yet, but Dominic could take care of everything. Pleasing the woman who had gently taken over her thoughts was all that mattered now.

Mistress Susan’s right hand lingered at her neck, a subtle but unwavering pressure propelling her forward. As they stepped onto the street, she said, “You’re doing very well.” A small phrase, so simple, yet it struck Meredith with the force of an approval she’d never known she wanted, let alone needed.

Outside, the rain had just stopped, leaving the city looking freshly washed. Water pooled on the sidewalk, catching the traffic lights - red, yellow, green - in wobbly reflections. The cold air hit Meredith's legs through her tights, making her shiver, but Susan's body next to hers gave off heat like a radiator. She felt oddly exposed, as if everyone could see right through her clothes, but when she glanced around, nobody was paying any attention. They walked together through the damp evening, Susan's hand resting on the small of her back, guiding her forward with gentle pressure.

“You’re not driving in this state,” the hypnodomme declared.

The subway entrance gaped open before them like a mouth, steps slick with moisture, walls papered with flyers advertising avant-garde shows and missing pets. Meredith paused at the top, suddenly recalling countless identical journeys, innumerable daybreaks when she'd drifted down these same stairs, just another faceless commuter in the rush. “Down,” Mistress Susan commanded, and Meredith's body responded automatically, carrying her into the ceramic-lined depths below the city.

The arrival of the train was announced by a thunderclap of wind, a rattling crescendo that seemed to erase all other noise. In the glass of the subway doors, Meredith saw the reflection of herself and Susan side by side. She looked smaller, frailer, somehow younger. As for Mistress Susan, she looked ancient in the way a priestess or a queen is ancient, a channel for a force greater than herself. When the doors opened, the hypnodomme shepherded her inside, choosing a corner seat where Meredith could be bracketed by the wall and her body.

In the lurch and roar of the train, Mistress Susan’s hand found hers and squeezed. Then, with a subtle twist, she repositioned their fingers so that Meredith’s palm was up, hers down, a gesture of unmistakable dominance. “That’s right,” Mistress Susan whispered. “Do as I say, and follow me gladly.”

Between stations, Susan gave Meredith simple, unarguable tasks. “Look at me,” Susan said, each time with a new inflection, sometimes a caress, sometimes a command. “Breathe in.” “Count to ten.” “Close your eyes and listen only to my voice.” Each instruction felt like a rung on a ladder, and Meredith climbed, or descended, or both. At one point, Mistress Susan told her to “Hold still and don’t blink,” and for two whole stops, Meredith felt herself transformed into an object, an artwork, a specimen, a thing to be held and studied.

Their arrival at Meredith’s apartment building was a stumble through the fog. She didn’t even remember the walk from the train. At her own door, Meredith fumbled with her keys, and Susan took them from her, unlocking the door without a word. For the briefest instant, Meredith wondered how Susan knew which key it was, then realized the question didn’t matter at all.

The apartment was small but carefully organized, each object in its proper place. Mistress Susan walked a slow circuit around the living room, touching nothing but seeing everything. Meredith waited on the threshold, unsure whether she should follow or kneel or simply stand and breathe.

Mistress Susan finished her inspection and, without looking back, snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp, almost painful in the hush. Meredith dropped to her knees instantly, hands flat on her thighs, eyes cast down. She realized she’d performed the motion without a conscious thought, only the muscle memory of obedience, newly grafted into her nervous system.

Mistress Susan moved behind her, placed a hand on Meredith’s shoulder, and pressed down gently, reinforcing the lesson and reminding her of her place. Leaning in, she whispered, “Now we’re going to see just how deep you can go.” 

And in the hush that followed, Meredith nodded happily, without a care in the world.