A little ramblesmut for @ablnk1 cuz they’re a bruh who helped me buy pretty trancy lights! CW: hypnotic language, control, pleasure, second-person trancy bullshit, “good slut”. This is like 60% story, 40% induction, and you’re welcome to get trancy as you read it if you like, but there’s no awakener or anything, so take care of yourself.
Well if you’re ready to begin, just look into my eyes. And before you say anything, yes, I know you’re a visual subject—I noticed the way your eyes ticked up and to the left when I asked you to imagine the best sex you’d ever had, that’s one of the big tells. But also, it’s bold of you to imagine that there’s any piece of you that that I wouldn’t notice. Anything you could hide from me.
Right now I can see the way your cheeks are beginning to flush with arousal at the tone of my voice and the easy way I’m reading you. That little almost-gasp as your lips part, as that focus on my eyes starts to drag you under. Do you understand what’s happening yet, slut?
I. See. Right. Through. You.
And you can’t look away, can you? You’re helpless to tear your gaze away from my eyes, even as I’m looking into the core of you, noticing every little weakness that I can use against you. It’s a funny kind of circular logic: you’re trapped because you can’t look away, but can’t look away because you know you’re trapped. Nothing to do but watch; nothing to do but listen.
When a visual-type subject looks a bit off into space when they try to summon a mental image, that’s one of the tells, because the eyes track the thoughts, see? As they visualize, their thoughts go somewhere abstract outside of themselves, and the eyes follow, and thus it follows that if the eyes follow the thoughts, and your eyes follow my eyes, and your mind follows my words as it fixes your eyes to mine…
Well, all of your thoughts must be concentrated. Right. Here.
You knew it was true the moment I said it, didn’t you? That all of your thoughts, your focus, your awareness, your will-power, are distilled into your gaze, and your gaze is locked on my eyes, so all that power is mine. Your gaze is drawn to me because I am powerful, because I hold that power. And that’s the reason you can’t look away.
Not that you’d want to. The other lovely part of my eyes being so powerful, of them ensnaring you so well, is that they’re very nice to look at. Comfortable, enticing. So easy to get lost in them, isn’t it? To watch all the different ways the light glances off them, to see the way they search you, to lazily wonder what new thing they’ve just seen that I can exploit…
And if your eyes are following your thoughts, and I control your thoughts, then I can tell you that allllll of your thoughts and your conscious awareness right now is concentrated on the tip of my finger here, and your eyes follow. Your eyes now, glued to my fingertip as it traces lines in the air.
Every single atom of your concentration, right here. Imagine paying such close attention that you can read every whorl of my fingerprint. Imagine what it would feel like on your body. Just that one fingertip, because it has all of your concentration, would feel like pure pleasure. I bet you would feel contact from every dip and whorl of my fingertip magnified a thousand times, like a supernova. Know, just know, deep in your bones, how amazing it will feel when this lazy fingertip stops ensnaring your eyes and starts caressing your body.
And even as that knowledge builds, even as your skin sings in anticipation, your eyes follow my finger.
Because your eyes follow your thoughts.
And I’ve captured your thoughts. Right. Here.
As my finger gets closer, as it becomes harder and harder to keep your eyes focused on it, that focus can grow, and so can that need.
And if, in a moment, when I finally touch your forehead, your eyes roll up as they desperately try to follow this finger, well.
That’s your eyes, searching in your mind for your own thoughts.
And the way that they’ll flutter and stutter all rolled up like that, with only the whites showing, like a human glitch?
That’s because their search is fruitless. There’s not a thought left in your head, is there?
That’s what I thought. Good slut.
And because your eyes follow your thoughts, and your eyes follow my finger, then your eyes will roll blankly back in your head, where there’s not a single thought to be found, because I hold your thoughts, and your focus, and your pleasure; because there’s nothing you need to know except how good a single touch of my finger can feel, how that pleasure can rock and spasm through your whole body from just that slightest bit of contact.
There’s no need to think, even if you could: you know happens when you keep following and your eyes roll back and your body explodes from that pleasure
when I push right in here in the center of your forehead
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