The Massage
As a healer, Yohan possessed the ability to activate or enhance specific bodily functions in a subject. He might, for instance, awaken and amplify regenerative power and apply it to healing.
The method he used to place Eileen under hypnosis was simply another application of that same gift.
He would drive a subject’s cognitive and perceptual faculties to extreme heights, flooding them with far more information than they could process, and thereby temporarily shut consciousness down.
Snapping his fingers before their eyes was useful precisely because it produced, in a single instant, just the right quantity of auditory and visual data: the ever-shifting position of the fingers, the intricate play of the joints, the vibration of the surrounding air, the soft crack of friction, and more.
Even after consciousness had collapsed, those over-activated senses continued to drink in every external stimulus with exquisite sensitivity. A simple whisper, a light touch—anything registered with startling force.
In that state he would swing a pendulum or a coin to gather the remaining attention, then murmur words that kept the mind from rising again. That, in broad outline, was how the hypnosis worked.
Of course the outline was only the skeleton. In practice a few more intricate applications of his power were woven through the process, yet even Yohan performed those half by instinct; he could never have explained them cleanly to anyone else.
Merely hearing of it, one would recognize a formidable talent—one that could make him an outstanding supporter far beyond the role of healer. Yet outwardly Yohan pretended his only gift was the enhancement of regenerative power. He was not the sort who enjoyed being noticed more than necessary.
“Don’t let your gaze wander. Focus on my voice. Follow the voice and your heart will grow endlessly calm. Little by little… sinking deeper…”
As always, Yohan whispered the phrases that would drive Eileen into a complete trance.
There were no fixed lines. What mattered was making the subject feel so comfortable that waking seemed undesirable, and he simply invented suitable words on the spot.
“Eileen, how do you feel?”
“Comfortable… and good…”
“That’s right. Right now you feel wonderfully comfortable and good. You don’t want to wake from this. Even keeping a thought going feels hard and bothersome, doesn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“You don’t have to do anything bothersome. There’s no one here to scold you or hurry you. I’ll do the thinking for you. Just entrust your body and your mind completely, and rest.”
“Ahh…”
He kept his voice carefully free of emotion, offering the right words and simple questions in turn.
He repeated the cycle until Eileen’s hypnotic depth was sufficient.
The human mind does not divide itself into neat stages, so judging the proper depth is never easy. One can only infer it roughly from the movement of the pupils, the degree of bodily relaxation, and a host of other small reactions.
By the judgment of someone who ranked among the experts, Eileen’s present state was exactly right.
Her pupils were slack and unfocused. Her body had gone completely limp; her lips hung open in a vacant little O. All of it confirmed his assessment.
Convinced her trance was deep enough, Yohan shifted into a gentler tone and asked,
“Eileen, do you remember the massage you were receiving just a moment ago?”
“Yeees…”
“Do you remember who gave you that massage?”
“Yohan… Teacher…”
“That’s right. You received a massage from Teacher Yohan. How was the massage he gave you? Was there anything you didn’t like?”
“No… It felt… good…”
“I’m glad it felt good.”
Under Yohan’s guidance Eileen answered exactly as he intended, never once suspecting she was sinking deeper into the mire.
He adjusted the concentration of the incense drifting through the room and continued.
“Then… wouldn’t you like to try an even nicer massage?”
“Even… nicer…?”
“Yes. A better massage. Wouldn’t you like to try it once?”
Eileen blinked slowly, then gave a dull little nod.
“…Yes. I… want to try it.”
“Good. But do you remember what Teacher said earlier? To give a proper, thorough massage, the clothes have to come off.”
“Clothes…?”
“Otherwise I can’t massage you properly. It’s not such a big deal, is it? Taking off a few clothes—what could go wrong?”
“Is that… so…?”
“Of course it is. And you already know Teacher would never do anything unkind to you, don’t you?”
“Ah… that’s right… Someone I can trust… someone I can rely on…”
“And what else?”
“He would never… do anything that could hurt me… I have to understand him completely…”
“You remember well.”
Yohan gently stroked Eileen’s hair. Praised by her trustworthy teacher, she broke into a soft, bashful smile.
Everyone carries a need for recognition. When hypnotic depth increases, psychological defenses thin and that need grows sharper. Praise is accepted without suspicion or resistance.
Keep offering the right praise long enough and, eventually, even when she was awake she would live or die by a single word of his approval—and do anything he asked.
That, however, was work for later. Right now another task demanded his attention. He lifted his hand from her hair and went on.
“Eileen, if you want to enjoy the massage, you absolutely must take your clothes off. If you keep them on, it will feel terribly stuffy and uncomfortable.”
“Stuffy… and uncomfortable…?”
“That foreign material wrapped around your skin… You don’t feel even the slightest discomfort? It’s heavy as if soaked with water, and it squeezes you tight.”
“Mmm…”
Eileen frowned and twisted her body.
Yohan leaned close to her ear and whispered, soft and relentless.
“Your skin itches as if something filthy is touching it, and your whole body feels constricted. The itch is driving you mad. It’s as stifling as a prisoner’s uniform. Being naked, just as you were born, is natural and good. You have to get these clothes off right now. Why have you been wearing something like this all this time…?”
“Ah—ahh…!”
Eileen shuddered violently, as though hives had erupted across her skin. The moan that escaped her sounded like a scream torn from a nightmare. The way she clawed at her clothes was almost pitiful.
Under that mercilessly persistent whispering she finally began trying to undress.
“How—how do I take them off…?”
“Calm down. Just do as I teach you and it will come off easily. First the outer top, then unbutton the shirt one by one. After that, slip your legs free of the skirt… Not difficult, is it?”
“….”
“Underwear too. That’s right. You’re doing well.”
He coached her step by step, as though coaxing a child. Part of him wanted simply to strip her himself, but having another person remove her clothes still raised too high a barrier. Letting her do it herself was the wiser path.
The moment the stifling garments fell away, Yohan stroked her hair again the way he had before. The anxious trembling in her body gradually subsided.
He took his time admiring her figure. The panties remained, but those too would come off soon enough. Even when the bra had come off she had shown far less resistance than before.
“You’ve worked hard wearing something so awful all this time. It must have been difficult.”
“Yeees…”
“Now it’s time for the massage that will make you feel good. Lie down on the bed over there. Not on your stomach—on your back, properly. Hands resting on the bed, back stretched straight.”
“….”
Eileen obeyed. She herself did not notice how the position made her breasts stand out prominently.
Yohan studied those breasts for a quiet moment, then brought over a bottle of oil and began pouring it across her body.
He cupped a little of the cool oil in his palm, warmed it with his own body heat, and let it flow over her skin. Eileen gave a small shiver at the unfamiliar sensation, yet showed no violent reaction.
“Is it cold?”
“It feels good…”
“May I have you spread the oil on your chest yourself? I’ll pour it; you rub it in evenly.”
“Yeees…”
As Yohan dribbled oil little by little, Eileen began kneading her own breasts, spreading the slick liquid with slow, absorbed motions.
She had no idea how she looked, utterly intent on fondling her own chest.
Yohan watched for a moment, then set his hands to work on her body.
“Ah—ahh…”
“I didn’t massage your legs properly earlier, did I? I’ll start with the thigh muscles.”
“Nngh… Ah, ah…”
Eileen offered her legs without the slightest defense, still absorbed in kneading her own breasts.
A lovely flush rose beneath her pure white skin, turning it a warm, inviting red.
Schlick… schlick… schlick…
The wet, sticky sounds of oil and flesh filled the room as her hands worked her breasts.
Yohan continued massaging the inner thighs, inching ever closer to her sex. The instant his fingers brushed a spot very near the crotch, Eileen forgot her breasts entirely, clamped her thighs shut, and jerked her hips.
“Ah—no. Not there—no…”
“I’m sorry. I must have touched it by accident. I’ll massage somewhere else now, so please let go.”
“No… ah, no…”
“How about this, then?”
Even as she protested, her thighs gradually loosened. Yohan slipped his hand free and moved to her lower abdomen, pressing experimentally just below the navel.
“Nnh—ah, ahh…?! Hahk…!”
Her reaction was sharp, yet there was no sign of waking. Watching her carefully, Yohan grew bolder and began massaging the area around her womb in earnest.
He pressed firmly on the lower belly above the pubic bone, then swept upward as though coaxing the little room inside. Soft circular motions, the same sequence repeated again and again.
“Ah—hwaaah…”
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeees… so good… press-press… womb press-press… good…”
Judging by her responses alone, one might have thought the womb itself was an erogenous zone. Some people certainly enjoyed this sort of thing, but Yohan had never seen anyone react as violently as Eileen.
The sight of her kneading her own breasts while her womb was massaged, hips trembling, was utterly captivating.
Yohan kept his composure and spoke in a deliberately casual voice.
“It feels good, doesn’t it? This.”
“Yes… so good… too much…”
“Exactly what feels good?”
“The massage…”
“And who is giving you the massage right now?”
“Yohan… Teacher…”
“So the massage you receive from Teacher Yohan feels good.”
“Yeees…”
“Eileen. Can you explain what a massage is? What exactly is Teacher doing right now?”
“Massage… rubbing… all over the body…”
“That’s right. A massage is rubbing the body. And how does Teacher’s massage feel?”
“It feels… good…”
“Then you like it when Teacher rubs your body. Is that correct?”
“Ah…?”