Eve looked down in confusion at the hand in her panties. “I, is that…?” It felt surprisingly difficult to form thoughts; her mind felt mushy, like she’d taken very strong medicine and it had made her all groggy. She didn’t remember taking any medications, but she also didn’t remember stripping down to her panties and letting a strange woman finger-bang her right out in the open. Anyone could see them… right? Her head felt too heavy to lift, but it didn’t feel like there was anyone around for miles. It was just the two of them, Eve and… and… her brain shifted gears again, uselessly trying to gain purchase in the soft mush of her thoughts. She didn’t know who was playing with her cunt. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know anything.
The other woman spoke, her smooth and mellifluous voice pouring into Eve’s ears and filling up her confused mind with certainty. “Ssh, ssh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s so hard to think, isn’t it?” Eve nodded, or tried to. It seemed so hard to lift her head up. “That’s right. Good girl. Your drowsy, dreamy mind doesn’t want to think anymore. You just want to relax into peace and pleasure, sink into obedience for me and let all those thoughts simply drift away into vacant, empty bliss for me. Don’t you?”
The tone of the question made it feel almost impossible for Eve to say anything but ‘yes’, but she still struggled to come to grips with it in her mind. “I…” She knew something was strange about all this, she was sure that she didn’t normally feel this confused and muzzy and empty-headed, but every time she tried to think she felt a finger rubbing her clit and it made her brain skip like a broken record. “I…” If she could just remember how she got here, she felt sure that she could connect the vague and distant memory of the smart, self-possessed woman she was with the mewling, whimpering puddle of bliss she felt like, but the finger rubbed away her memories right along with her thoughts right along with her resistance until all she could do was mumble, “y’s m’m.”
The reward for compliance was instant and powerful, the woman’s fingers sliding deep into Eve’s wet cunt as her voice cooed out, “Good girl, good good girl!” Eve felt the woman’s other hand tangle into Eve’s hair, guiding her mouth to suckle at the woman’s breasts. It felt so easy to lean into that softness and slip deeper into a drowsy haze of obedience, easy and intimately familiar. Eve realized that this was part of her training, but when she tried to follow that realization back to its source, her train of thought simply derailed into pleasure. That was part of her training too, she knew, but it was working too well for her to summon up any volition to struggle against it now.
“Deep and mindless,” the woman cooed, fucking Eve’s wet pussy so hard Eve could actually hear the fingers sliding in and out of the slick channel. “Obeying feels so much better than thinking. You don’t want to think. You only want to follow my commands like a good girl.” Eve couldn’t respond–her mouth was full of warm, soft nipple–but the other woman rocked her head gently back and forth in a lazy nod. Even knowing she was being made to agree didn’t stop the powerful feeling of acceptance from taking root in Eve’s sleepy brain; she was nodding along to every word, and nodding meant agreeing, so of course Eve wanted to stop thinking.
The orgasm that hit when she thought those words was so profound it was almost religious.
Eve couldn’t hide her moans of helpless pleasure, any more than she could hide the sudden gush of arousal in her already-soaked panties. The other woman almost purred with delight. “That’s my good girl,” she cooed, and Eve realized with a sigh of helpless, fatalistic pleasure that it was absolutely true.
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hypnosis
“I… I want to show you my pussy,” she repeats, kicking her panties off and spreading her legs to display her cunt. She smiles, but there’s a faintly worried undertone to it, like deep down she’s afraid that she doesn’t know how to stop. The pleasure coursing through her every time she obeys is so intense, so powerful that she doesn’t think she has a choice anymore. She can’t not be happy when she’s staring blankly into the distance and playing with her full, heavy tits for the man standing next to the couch. The joy is invading her brain, carrying her along with it. She’s being swept along by the force of it now. And she doesn’t know where it’s going to end.
He speaks again. She doesn’t hear him; her head is ringing with pleasure too loudly to notice speech. She feels like a tuning fork that’s been struck and touched to a hard surface, filled with a pure and constant vibration that resonates through every atom of her being. All she knows is that she responds easily and effortlessly, reciting the words, “I want to be fucked into obedience”, as if they came from her own head. They didn’t. Nothing in her head belongs to her anymore. She can’t even be upset about it. There’s no room for anger or fear in her brain–they’ve simply been pushed out.
She can sense the space where they were. There’s a quiet gap in her head that has the shape of terror–she can feel the edges where the understanding should go, the knowledge that yes, a stranger was waiting for her when she came home and yes, he told her to look into his eyes and feel her mind bending to his will, and yes, she hasn’t been able to resist doing anything he’s said no matter how lewd and lascivious and depraved. She can feel the echoes of fear as her brain tries to grapple with the fact that she’s doing things that should frighten her. But every time she tries to get a grip on it, it just… slides away. She should be afraid of that too, but…
She realizes that she’s disassociating, reducing herself to a passenger in her own consciousness as she stares at the ceiling and repeats, “I want to feel you inside my cunt.” She’s thinking less and less about less and less, her mind simply whiting out for longer and longer stretches as his fingers disappear inside her pussy and his words disappear inside her mind. How long has she been like this? What does the passage of time feel like anymore? The pleasure is making time stretch and distend like melting taffy, until she feels her mind sagging and softening into the gaps in her own awareness. She can’t stop staring. She can’t stop smiling.
“I want to s-stop thinking,” she groans, her hips rolling up into his thrusting fingers, and she knows that it’s becoming more and more true with every passing moment. The sliver of consciousness that’s aware of the manipulation of her thoughts and her will is attenuating more and more as he pours his power into her, the plastic blankness in her mind becoming less and less artificial and more her state of being. Her thoughts are seizing up, setting like gelatin until the blankness becomes who she is. Her head feels like it’s hollowing out like a doll, until she’s poseable and pliable and. And.
“I don’t need to think anymore,” she says, her eyes settling into a glassy, unfocused stare. Her smile freezes in perfect plastic bliss. And at last, she gives in and comes.
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in addition to my usual panoply of crawl-induced double-penetration and present-and-accounted-for bottom bitch ball-slurping (👼🏾), i’ve been resting comfortably in a slightly tidier fantasy.
i really enjoy being hypnotized to the point of losing speech (an easily achieved, lovely state) and then being forced to parrot my hypnotist in some way (a tragic hellscape). i’ve been imagining being quickly and inperceptibly put in that heady, silent place while socializing at some public funtion–a verbal trigger at a dinner or con mixer.
as other attendees chat with me, i suddenly become woefully boring, programmed to reply with only five strict responses. i am silently panicking with attempts to use my words and tone carefully, so as not to seem too strange… and all the while growing hornier and hornier, increasingly fractionated.
trina struggled, but Trina was too strong for her. she felt a surge of inexplicable terror as her other self grabbed both of her hands and easily pinned them down, smiling cruelly as She spread trina’s legs with Her knees and teased trina’s wet pussy with Her strap-on. “This can’t be happening,” trina moaned, “this can’t be happening this can’t be happening this can’t be happening–”
“Of course it’s not happening,” Trina said coldly, cutting her off with a deep, powerful thrust that slid all the way into trina’s cunt right up to the base. This close, trina could see the differences–the other her looked stronger, with better-defined muscles and slightly darker hair, but there was still so much of her about Her. “This is all in your mind. I’m the part of you that wants to be taken and brainwashed and fucked into mindless obedience, and you’re the part that’s resisting.” She pumped her hips, causing trina to wail in surprise as the dildo smacked her right on the clit. “Well. Trying to resist, anyway.”
Trina flipped her over effortlessly onto her stomach, continuing to pound her with the strap-on again and again as she struggled to crawl forward. trina’s limbs felt weak and rubbery, sapped of strength by the constant, intense pleasure of thrust after thrust that always seemed to find the exact spot that made her tingle hardest with arousal. It was like the other Trina knew exactly what made her helpless with pleasure–no, not like, trina realized. She did. She knew just how to fuck trina into compliance, into surrender, into blank and sleepy bliss. trina tried to push Trina off, but all it did was fuck her deeper.
“Puh-please,” trina moaned, “please, you can’t… I’ll fight, I can, I can fight you, I…” she managed to push herself forward, squirming free of Trina’s grasp and stumble-crawling across the blank, shadowy room that only existed in her head. In the real world, she knew, she was staring vacantly into space, absorbing her programming, going deeper into hypnosis… but in here, she was still free. she was just barely free. And if she could resist her other self, then…
Trina chuckled, giving her a three-step head start before lifting her to her feet and pushing her up against the wall. She pinned trina easily, ignoring her struggles with an almost casual amusement, and slid the strap-on back into trina’s wet pussy. trina was embarrassed to find herself leaning back onto it. “you can’t fight it,” she said. “Because deep down, you don’t want to. you want to be fucked mindless, you want to give up control and sink into endless pleasure, you want your cunt to make all the decisions for you. It’s why I’m so much stronger than you are. Because deep down… you want me to be.”
“No,” trina moaned, desperately wriggling as the other woman kept finding her clit over and over again. “No, i, i want to be free, i want to be… oh, fuck, oh GOD, i…” her eyes rolled back into her head as Trina’s strap-on thrust deep inside her, making her pussy gush down her legs as her climax hit. “Please, You… oh, fuck, please, You have to stop, i, i can’t think, i can’t… oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK i…”
“I think I’m done listening to you,” Trina said, strapping a ball-gag into trina’s mouth. “The words, at least. Feel free to keep moaning for me. Because whatever it is we’re doing outside right now, however they’re making us obey… in here, I am never going to stop fucking you.” As She pressed trina up against the wall, the weak and helpless woman knew that it was true.
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🔞
That would be me all day long.
This is the thing I want the most.
(Source: https://whoreswillbesluts.tumblr.com/)
Hypno-Short: Hysterical Literature-Entranced 2017 (Intention)
Standard“Intention,” she said suddenly with whispered intensity.
I felt the hair on my arms stand on end, and little tingles go down the back of my spine. That always seemed to happen when she spoke like that: with that tone of voice. We were lying down next to each other on the mezzanine floor, looking up at the painted ceiling of our college recital hall. It was a normal Friday afternoon, and we were killing time before our next period. I turned over on my side to look at her.
“What do you mean?” I asked coyly.
She positioned herself to face me. I could feel her warmth, just inches from me. She smiled and looked into my eyes with mischievous intensity. I had seen that look many times before. It started over a bottle of gin one night in her dorm room after her roommate had passed out on the floor. She had used that look and that voice as she told me that she fantasized endlessly about control, and that she was honing her skill as a hypnotist. I had volunteered to help her practice without a second thought. She was my friend, after all. I wanted to help her, and my curiosity was piqued.
“You’re so well trained. Even now. Even if you don’t realize it consciously, your whole body is tuned into me, reading my intention. You’re so wonderfully suggestible to me.”
There was that word again. Spoken like taffy: soporific, and sweet. I felt the corners of my vision soften, and her voice stick to the recesses of my mind. I wanted to resist. I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t been trained, and that I wasn’t suggestible, but the words couldn’t move past my lips. She was too compelling, and my body ached to let her words become my truth.
“Your truth is my intention,” she purred.
“My truth is your intention,” I answered in reflexive monotone.
“Such a good toy. Be my mirror.”
Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her hand. As she did so, I felt my hand lifting as though completely out of my control. As she lifted it higher, mine rose higher in tandem. Higher and higher until we respectively reached our own faces. I watched her caress her cheek seductively, and was helpless to stop my hand from doing the same. She brought her fingers back and forth over her lips and I felt my fingers mimic that motion. She walked her fingers around to the back of her head and grabbed a handful of hair before gently pulling. My eyes flickered as I did the same, but I maintained her gaze; her dutiful toy. She brought her hand back around, in a gentle sweeping motion and I followed. Up and up our faces simultaneously till I felt my fingers touch my forehead, right between my eyes. She blinked at me, her eyes growing heavier. I felt my eyes grow heavy too. She let her face relax, and I felt my jaw go slack. She slowly dragged her fingers down the bridge of her nose, and my fingers followed, taking my eyelids with them, and descending into a hypnotic trance.
“That’s my good toy,” she whispered, and took me gently into her arms.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice warm and gentle in her ears. The corners of her lips twitch for a moment in a very slight smile, before her expression once more becomes placid and blank. Her eyes don’t even glance in his direction. They’re entirely focused on the wind chimes, lost in the way the crystals gently turn in the slight breeze created by the fan.
“Empty,” she mumbles in a lazy monotone. Her mouth moves just enough to get the words out, and she slurs them with exhaustion, but he’s quite practiced at picking out the key sounds from a hypnotic subject’s dazed and dreamy speech. It helps that he placed the words in her head to begin with.
“And why do you feel empty?” he asks. He reaches out to pet her hair as he speaks, and he’s gratified to watch her body relax even further. Her shoulders slump into a drowsy sag, and her head wobbles ever so slightly on her neck. She’s so deep now that the only thing holding her upright is obedience. He can’t think of anything more erotic.
“Because you emptied me,” she says, her voice conveying nothing but a tranquil calm. If there were any thoughts she needed to think, anything important she had to tell him, she would say it, but they’ve spent many blissful hours over the last few months helping her let go of everything and relax. And this is the reward. He’s honestly not sure which of them is being rewarded, though.
“And you want this, don’t you?” He’s not really asking her; they spent hours of happy, waking conversations establishing exactly that before he even began putting her under, and many more discussions afterward checking in to make sure she was getting her needs met. No, he’s asking because it sounds so hot when she replies.
“Yes, Master,” she sighs out, the pleasure causing her eyelids to flutter for a moment before they return to the steady stare. “I want what you tell me to want.” She’s so wet he can smell her arousal, a heady musk that fills the room, but she’s too deep to move without his command. She told him she wanted to be a blank and mindless plaything, and he’s happy to oblige her right now. He has all sorts of ideas about how to give her the climax she’s too deep to tell him that she badly needs.
“So when I want you to be my empty girl…” he whispers, his voice husky with arousal. His cock is stiff in his trousers, he’s already getting undressed, but he holds back a little longer. Just long enough to tease her mindless mind the way she loves so much.
“When you tell me to be empty,” she says, as he spreads her legs wide, “then my will drains away. And I’m yours.” It’s as simple as that to her now. She’s everything she wants to be, everything he wants her to be. All he needs to do now is show her how much pleasure being his mindless toy can bring…and as he slides deep into her wet cunt, he feels sure that won’t be a problem.
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So I’m delighted to post this audio I voiced with my brand spanking new microphone (courtesy of travisthehypnotizedpuppy.) It was a test and I wanted to make it super-special.
The content is written by the brilliant and sexy as fuck hypno-sandwich. This is one of my favorites of his. I hope my performance does it justice.
I hope you enjoy it, and look forward to releasing more and more recordings. Keep on the look out for some long form recordings you can buy sometime in the future.
Tagging theleeallure, wellgnawed, switchette, hypnosubdude, enscenic, voxhypnotic, wildnutmeg for so many reasons.
Welcome to Night Vale and Phantom of the Opera both contain hypnotic inductions written into their scripts nearly literally word-for-word how I or people I know would use them and tbh I’d say this is a trend that should be adopted more in media, but I can’t see many other films/books/plays/podcasts accomplishing it with as much subtlety and finesse and quality as Phantom and Night Vale
I still remember sitting on the subway listening to Night Vale and having this fleeting moment of “this would be a really nice set-up for an induction, I wonder if they… Oh hey, YEP.”
I feel like good trance = good storytelling on some level.