The cardboard box was bent on one corner, its brown surface dusty from what seemed like a long journey. Amy held it at arm’s length, her fingers tracing the shipping label with Rebecca’s name printed in bold black letters. Another package. Another impulse purchase from her girlfriend, who treated online shopping like a competitive sport.
She dropped the box on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, her curiosity daring it to dig deeper. For just an instant, she considered slicing open the packing tape, peering inside to see what Rebecca had ordered this time. A handbag? Another set of decorative throw pillows? Some obscure kitchen gadgets they did not need?
But no. Rebecca would want to open it herself and reveal her latest acquisition with that excited little squeal she always made. Amy respected that, even if she found the constant consumption quite exhausting. She turned away, leaving the package untouched, waiting for Rebecca’s return.
Her right knee throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, a constant reminder of the complicated orthopedic surgery that had kept her homebound. Four months of physical therapy, of careful movements and exercises that were tedious but essential.
The upcoming return to her design firm loomed like a gray cloud, filling her with a low-grade anxiety that buzzed just beneath her skin. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet rhythms of home - the midday sunlight sliding across her living room floor, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the occasional chirp of birds outside her window… Work meant fluorescent lights and drawn out conversations that would drain her newly rebuilt strength.
Dr. Martinez had assured her she was ready. “Cleared for full duty,” he’d said during her last appointment, marking something on her chart. However, “ready” was a complicated word in this context. Her body might cooperate, but her mind was a different landscape - tentative, wounded, uncertain of its old capabilities.
She limped to the refrigerator, pulling out a cold pack and pressing it against her surgical scar. The thought of navigating the open-plan office, of explaining her reduced mobility to colleagues who had only seen her through video calls, made her stomach tense. Her team had been supportive during her medical leave, but she knew the unspoken undercurrents, the project redistributions, the subtle shifts in her professional standing. It was going to be a hot mess, and she only liked those between the sheets.
She dragged herself to the sofa and turned on her laptop to check her work email. Sixty-seven unread messages. Sixty-seven tiny reminders that her recovery bubble was about to burst.
Rebecca’s package sat unopened, a silent sentinel on the kitchen counter. Amy sighed, knowing that her return to work would require more energy than she possessed. Her world had shrunk these past months - doctor’s appointments, therapy sessions, and quiet afternoons watching daytime television. Reentry would not be easy.
She closed the laptop without reading anything and turned on the TV to watch the first thing that came on. The drone of a cooking show faded into background noise as Amy’s eyes grew heavy. 

* * *

She must have dozed off, because the next sound she heard was the familiar click of the front door and Rebecca’s heels as she marched inside.
“Hey, babe,” Rebecca called out, dropping her leather work bag on the entryway chair. Her tailored blazer was slightly askew, and her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. “You’re not going to believe the day I’ve had.”
Amy shifted on the sofa, her knee protesting the movement. “Welcome home. There’s a package for you on the kitchen counter.”
Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, what did I order this time?”
“You tell me, but I’m sure it’s another useless trinket…” Amy muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Hey,” Rebecca said, mock-offended, already tearing into the cardboard box with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. “My purchases keep our home interesting.”
“If you say so…”
Amy watched her with a mix of fond exasperation and lingering anxiety about her impending return to work. The package’s contents would be a momentary distraction from the weight of her professional uncertainties, but for now, she was content to let Rebecca’s excitement fill the room.
“Oh, it’s this thing!” Rebecca exclaimed, smiling. “I was wondering when it was going to show up.”
“What is it?” Amy asked, cocking her head to the side to get a better view.
Rebecca pulled out an object that seemed to shimmer and twist even as it remained still. Unlike a traditional lava lamp, this piece had a mesmerizing crystalline structure that spiraled inward with delicate, almost mathematical precision. Thin threads of iridescent blue and silver wound through its core, creating an optical illusion that made Amy blink twice.
“What in the world is that?” Amy asked, her previous fatigue momentarily forgotten.
“It’s a kinetic sculpture,” Rebecca explained, turning the object so light caught its surface. “I found it on this weird artisan website. The artist claims it responds to different energy frequencies. Watch.”
She placed the object on the coffee table, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, almost imperceptibly, the spirals began to shift. Not like liquid movement, but like something alive - conscious, even. The blue and silver threads pulsed with an internal rhythm that didn’t quite match any external sound.
Amy’s injured knee throbbed again, but her attention was captured by the strange artifact. Something about its movement felt both ancient and modern, like a piece of technology from a civilization not yet discovered.
“How do you even stumble upon something like this?” she murmured, leaning forward.
“It’s a gift…” Rebecca shrugged, reaching for the object again. “It’s impressive to look at, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Amy replied.
“Do you want to see something cool?” Rebecca asked, her fingers dancing around the crystalline object.
“I suppose,” she muttered, not taking her eyes off the fluid form.
Rebecca’s smile widened. “It’s not just a sculpture. Dr. Chen - the woman who created it - says it has potential for guided meditation. Or hypnosis.”
The last word hung in the air between them. The object’s luminescent threads continued their mesmerizing dance, reflecting off Amy’s surprised pupils.
“Hypnosis?” Amy repeated. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Shall we try it on?”
“I don’t know…” she started, then trailed off, watching the delicate spirals twist and refract light.
“Come on,” Rebecca coaxed. “Just for a minute.”
After a moment of reluctance, Amy nodded. “Fine. Show me… if you know what you’re doing, that is.”
Rebecca was already adjusting the sculpture to suit her purposes when she said, “Let’s find out.”
Rebecca dimmed the living room lights, positioning the sculpture between them. It continued to weave intricate patterns that defied logic, and Amy became even more intrigued.
A familiar skepticism crept into Amy’s muscles. The last time she’d attempted hypnosis, during a brutal stretch of sleepless nights two years ago, the experience had been nothing more than an expensive hour of sitting quietly while a therapist droned on about relaxation techniques. Her mind had remained alert, refusing to surrender to any suggested state of calm.
Now, watching Rebecca manipulate this crystalline artifact, the same familiar skepticism returned - a protective wall of disbelief that had always prevented her from surrendering to alternative therapeutic techniques.
“Just watch the light,” Rebecca murmured.
The sculpture’s internal threads continued to move, the patterns it created becoming more intense. Yet her mind resisted, just as it had during that previous hypnosis session. She remembered how she acted then, analyzing the movement, critiquing the technique, staying outside the intended experience.
Her knee throbbed once more, a grounding sensation that kept her anchored to reality. This wasn’t going to work.
But then something changed.
A thread of silver caught the light in a way that disrupted her analytical thinking. Her eyes softened. The pain in her knee seemed to recede, just slightly.
Rebecca’s voice continued, now sounding distant and yet close. “I know you’ve been worried about returning to work, but now it’s not the time for that. Focus on what’s close to you: the light, my voice, how happy we are together. Forget what is troubling you for a moment and allow yourself to drift. Do it, my love. Do it for me.”
If Rebecca’s words had a shape, it would be the same as those silver threads pulling at Amy’s consciousness. Her analytical mind - the part of her that constructed elaborate defenses against anything that didn’t feel right - began to soften.
Amy’s breathing slowed down. Her muscles, which had been coiled tight with professional anxiety and surgical recovery tension, began to unwind. The crystalline sculpture’s threads moved in perfect synchronization with her exhales, creating an enchanting dance that whispered secrets just beyond comprehension.
Rebecca’s voice continued, a low melodic undertone that wound through the room like smoke. “You’re safe. You’re healing. Everything is as it should be.”
The pain in Amy’s knee, that constant companion of her recovery, started to feel distant. Not gone but transformed. No longer a sharp reminder of limitation, but something else. Something malleable. Something that could be negotiated with, rather than battled against.
The silver and blue threads continued their hypnotic weave, drawing Amy deeper into a state between wakefulness and dream. She was aware enough to recognize what was happening, yet drifting far beyond her usual tight-wound perimeter of control.
Somewhere in the periphery of her consciousness, a door was opening, and she couldn’t wait to see what was inside.
Amy found herself suspended in a liminal space - not quite asleep, not quite awake, but somewhere in between. She closed her eyes the moment Rebecca told her to do so and melted away on the sofa.
A series of fragmented images began to flicker behind her closed eyelids. Her design firm’s conference room, but warped - walls breathing, chairs floating. Dr. Martinez’s face morphing into geometric shapes. Her knee, no longer a source of pain, but a landscape of healing light. Each vision dissolved almost as quickly as it formed, leaving behind a residue of calm that settled into her muscles like warm honey.
Rebecca’s voice threaded through these images, soft yet precise. “You’re more than your injury. More than your work. You’re my darling, the love of my life, and you deserve all the happiness in the world. You deserve pleasure, and I want to give it to you. Let me please you, Amy. Fall for me.”
Amy’s body was weightless, in between consciousness and something deeper. Rebecca’s words seemed to bypass her ears and sink into her bloodstream, each syllable a gentle command that dissolved her resistance. Amy’s eyes remained closed, her breathing synchronized with the crystalline sculpture’s mesmerizing rhythm.
“I’m going to please you now, and you’re going to let me,” Rebecca whispered. “Don’t worry about anything else except the sensations I’ll give you. The reality you need and deserve is yours if you do as I say. Stand up.”
Amy’s legs moved without conscious thought, rising from the sofa. Her injured knee - typically stiff and painful - didn’t hurt this time. She followed Rebecca’s voice, her steps precise and automatic, unquestioning.
The bedroom door opened. Soft light filtered through sheer curtains. Rebecca’s hand rested on Amy’s back, guiding her forward. Every touch was electrified, and every suggestion an absolute truth.
“Sit,” Rebecca murmured.
Amy complied, settling onto the edge of their king-sized bed. Her mind was quiet, receptive. Whatever Rebecca wanted, whatever Rebecca suggested - it was perfect. It was right. There was no room for doubt, no space for resistance.
The crystalline sculpture’s energy seemed to follow them, its ethereal threads of silver and blue continuing their hypnotic dance just beyond their perception.
Rebecca rubbed Amy’s inner thigh. “Lie back,” she whispered, her voice a soft command that Amy’s trance-like state immediately absorbed.
Amy fell backward, arms to the side as Rebecca pushed her skirt upward, revealing soft skin that trembled with anticipation. Her lips brushed against Amy’s pink panties, each kiss a gentle promise of the pleasure to come.
“There’s no pain,” Rebecca murmured, her tongue making the first exquisite contact. “Only pleasure.”
Her tongue moved with deliberate, expert strokes, exploring and caressing in a rhythm that matched Amy’s ragged breathing. Every time her girlfriend pushed a little deeper, she would unravel a little further, transforming her previous physical limitations into pure, surrendering bliss.
Amy’s body arched, her muscles responding to Rebecca’s expert ministrations, her mind still suspended in that delicate space between conscious thought and pure sensation. The pain of her surgery, the anxiety of returning to work - all of it dissolved under Rebecca’s attentive touch.
“This is going to be the most incredible moment of your life,” Rebecca whispered. “Give in to me. To us.”
Rebecca’s tongue moved with increasing intensity, making Amy’s muscles quiver. Each precise moment was designed to heighten the desire to surrender without overwhelming her. Her fingers gripped Amy’s legs, holding her in place as waves of pleasure began cascading through her body.
“You’re mine, Amy. All mine. This is my gift to you today.”
Amy’s breath caught - a soft, trembling intake that dissolved into a low moan as Rebecca’s tongue found its perfect rhythm. The hypnotic state amplified the physical connection; every nerve ending electrified and responsive. Her hips trembled in response to Rebecca’s loving and seductive control.
The orgasm built slowly, then suddenly - a tsunami of sensation that crashed through her entire body. Amy’s back arched, her fingers gripping the bedsheets, a wordless cry escaping her lips as the ecstasy exploded through every pore of her body. Rebecca continued her precise, deliberate movements, extending the climax until Amy was trembling, overwhelmed.
“See?” Rebecca said, falling onto the bed next to her. “The greatest pleasure of your life. There’s only this, Amy. Only us. Rest now and enjoy this. I love you.”
The warmth of Rebecca’s body beside her, the soft cotton sheets, and the lingering waves of pleasure pulled Amy into a deep, peaceful sleep. Her breathing softened, muscles relaxed, and the earlier tension dissolved for good.

* * *

When consciousness returned, sunlight was slanting differently across the bedroom. She stretched, her body light and refreshed. Her knee didn’t ache. Her mind was also clear, unburdened. The hypnotic experience had transformed her from the inside out.
“Wow,” she murmured, turning to Rebecca. “That was amazing!”
Rebecca smiled and kissed her beloved’s forehead while caressing her legs.. “How are you feeling?”
“Incredible. Renewed, somehow.” Amy sat up and noticed the crystalline sculpture on their bedside table. Its threads were still pulsing but more subtly now, almost like relaxed breathing, the calm after the ecstasy. “That thing is extraordinary… and so are you.”
“I guess you don’t regret my purchase then,” Rebecca giggled.
“I only regret it didn’t happen sooner. God, please tell me we can do it again.”
“Of course we can, but first we've got to eat.”
“Didn’t you eat already?” Amy smirked, her slender fingers playing with Rebecca’s hair.
“Real food, baby.” Rebecca got up from bed and grabbed her smartphone. “Does Italian sound good?”
“It sounds perfect,” Amy replied, stretching herself. She followed her lover out of the bedroom and returned to her laptop to catch up on what she had missed.
There was a new work-related email, the sixty-eighth one. One more and her thoughts would go dirty again.
Her first instinct was tension, but it never came true. Instead, she was calm. The anxiety about returning to work was no longer a weight, more like a challenge she was prepared to meet.
“Everything will be okay,” she told herself, and for the first time in ages, she believed it. Free from all doubts, she opened the message, excited to see what was coming next.

The End