#real hypnosis

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[willgringo]

You can rest here for a bit and relax...

[sirsparhawk]

Real hypnosis, real trance.

So you're a hypno k1nkster. You like all those text suggestions, which you sense in some way may be hypnosis, while you wonder about the difference between hypnosis and conditioning. "Am I just imagining?" you may ask, am I just pretending myself into trance. Well the answer is most likely a bit of yes, a bit of maybe and a bit of no, not really, not the way one can experience the interactive reality of the trance relationship. When you sit with a hypnotist, in a class or in a therapy session, perhaps even on a stage, there is a conversation happening beyond conscious awareness, where your uncosncious is invited to respond, to listen to the voiice, to wonder along the path you are being lead down, to jump into the rabbit hole and discover your own adventures in wonderfyl land. Though it is often different whan you step into the room. "Greetings, tell me what you are here for today." <go on message me and tell me what you want or need.> Then you are invited to select the position you feel most comfortable in. Perhaps close your eyes, because you can when you listen, then you are taken through an induction, there's many many different ways, it's way more fun than just a file. When you're in the trance, you may experience something like a dream, anywhere from a semi conscious awareness, to a really deep sleep, here the work is done, suggestions, stories, the experience you need, the voice guiding you through the journey you need to have. When in IRL classes many people are surprised, when you build experience, you don't necessarilly see things as fully and completely real, nor hear or feel, while one can learn this, it is usually a sense of imagining someone over there, or hearing the sounds, or feeling the touch there now. You can learn to sense every word is real, while uncosncious minds often need setup and situation where it's entirely okay to have the experience as real. The girl opened the door and stepped into the office. It was a comfortable room, not quite what she imagined, just a room in a normal house, with that comfy trance chair over there, the comfy trance couch there, it wasn't a bedroom, it is definitely an office. Certificates on the wall, a desk and a number of books. "Hello Cindy, it's been a while, how are things going?" "Hello Sir, yes it's been a while and it's nice to be here again. I've been thinking about visiting you for a while. But I've been busy lots of assignments and exams." "Good girl, I know you work hard, doing all the things that make up your life. It's dlightfyl to see you, thank you unconscious for all that you do to keep this flowing so naturally." "Thank you," she said blushing. "What are you here for today?"

[sirsparhawk]

Water and Breath (Part1)

Water and Breath (Part 1).

He knew her, it didn’t take long, he didn’t know her all, just enough a few buttons. Though he knew in time, he would discover many more, more than most others. Not all, never all, for always there would be new ones. Sometimes ones even he created.

At first she didn’t like the phone so he sent her recordings, interesting stories or just seemingly random ramblings, the everyday things of his life, like her’s different and curious in that mutual sharing of interest. Those everyday items and activities, the discovery part of knowing the person.

Pictures and videos swapped, ideas and other stories. Slowly he pieced the puzzle together, different things and those things that got that, “WOW! OMG!” response. Her mind, those things open to Him, the first days became months, still they hadn’t met. Soon though… He planned and built, a project of curiosity and deviant creativity. Not the least of which was the opportunity afforded by major house renovations.

The bathroom appeared normal, like any other bathroom, a spa bath, vanity, shower and toilet. What most people didn’t notice was the reinforced loops in the ceiling, just right for hanging plants - or tieing girls to. The handles in the wall, the reinforced towel rails, the convenient height and placement of things. The invisible sound proofing, the invisible secret compartment.

Then the other rooms in the house, other concealed anchors for restraints, the loft and the rooms in the lower level. The back shed, still incomplete, yet with many opportunities that promised more fun.

The pool. Well, there was time to play with that too.

The conversations evolved over time, stories exchanged - shared with others, evolving. Those little secret things that are shared, naturally and unconsciously in developing friendships. Connections like threads of a cable each tiny new thread adding to the strength and the length, the girth of that span.

Living by the beach also afforded other opportunities.

It didn’t take long to build up the possibilities for the scene.

Their personal context began to form patterns; the patterns of comfort and trust, the roller coaster of life and the smooth calm of the still lake. Different waves like seasons and the yacht anchored in the protection of a lee shore. At times the wheel of the rat race stretched reality like a rubber band at the limit, then she found herself on His leash, at His feet; at that Command she floated down, every muscle relaxing, “nadu.”

“yes Master,” the softest reply, her response inside the reality of the unspoken thank you.

While their conversations were often typed something else was occurring, the ability to sense what the other was thinking, to anticipate responses, to shift the path into a new route, then to lead it to the desired destination.

Eventually a work engagement brought her to his city. She knew he would find out, she wanted him to. She craved him to. She feared him to. She needed him to. She knew he would. She knew some part of her would. She sensed all of her would, willingly.

The weeks moved on, she didn’t tell him. Then the travel arrangements were confirmed, the times, the dates, the flights, her accommodation. Minutes away from his usual travel path; he would go right past her, often. They would likely see each other in the street, at lunch or somewhere else. Not certainly, yet with high possibility. Somehow she sensed unconsciously, they would meet. He would find out.

She didn’t want to tell him, yet she knew, the very fact of hiding things from him would reveal something, the gaps in the patterns, the omissions, the shifts of topic. “Damn him,” she muttered to herself with a smile, that loving it-hating it sense of internal conflict, like humiliation at his feet, her heart a glow smooth and shiny at the thought, each beat a comfortable reminder, as she muttered again in those tones, just for him, “yes Master.”

With the very uttering of those tones, the submitting of this to him, the submitting to her own nature, everything seemed so right in that single breath, muscles relaxed, the sense of calm certainty, “yes Master.”

She made the call, predictably he was excited and she caught the excitement, it really didn’t take much, she feared he wouldn’t be excited, yet knew he would. “good girl for telling Master,” hearing those words she swooned again and swore, “damn him and his buttons!” still blushing as the tingles touched her. Then she asked herself, “If I’m like this in text, what is he going to be able to do to me in person.” That delicious shiver of fear-excitement-anticipation crashed through her body like a wave onto the rocks. Breath held involuntarily, unconsciously, she feel that rush, like a drug, like walking from the snow into a heated room in the middle of winter, like feet - then body into the hot bath.

The phone rang and it was her project leader, “can you move up the delivery on the next due diligence report?”

“I’ll need to check into that first,” she responded knowing full well she could, but not wanting her to get things too easily.

A few hours later she rang back, “It’s going to take a few late nights, but I can do it,” she told him in uncertain tones.

“Ok, I’ll make it worth your while, how does a long weekend for your trip sound? I’ll give you a couple of extra days unscheduled while you’re there.”

Her heart raced, the heat between her thighs almost exploded, she stammered, “yes, I might be able to make that work.”

“Would three extra days make it a certainty?”

Pausing for a moment, the excitement overwhelming, holding her breath about to respond.

“Four days?”

A gasp that she hoped sounded like a sigh, then, “yes I can do it for the four extra days.”

The call finished and she let out a spontaneous natural wild primal yell, “yipeeeeeeeeeeee!!!” Body afire laughing and bouncing around her home, “yes Master - four days!!!” she heard herself saying.

Calming down, breathing and sitting at her desk she asked herself, “what the fuck was that? I’ll have to remember that next time I get asked for something urgent.”

The she shook her head in denial, “NO, I’m not that excited. Am I?” The answering heated buzz and tingle answered that.

Her rule was never to give anyone on-line her phone number, she used it for work and had it on all the time, once she had and accidentally sent her location. That ended in disaster, she shuddered at the thought, “Never again.”

So being the resourceful, professional, dutiful subbie, she decided to upgrade her phone and get a prepaid sim for the old one. “It’s Master’s birthday soon,” she justified it to herself, maybe this will please him. Warmly she realised, of all the things he made her do, the things he pushed her to do, this type of limit he respected. Her space, her time, her work, her public life, her personal privacy and things that kept her hidden, safe, anonymous.

The new phone in her hand, the old one now set-up, she messaged him her number. Almost instantly, his response, “good girl, I knew you would when you were ready. This pleases Me well.”

Her thighs trembled, those phrases made her body do things that couldn't be natural. “Fuck,” she said, then the realization hit her, like another wave, “His Voice.” That same quivering anxiety-excitement-overwhelming consumed her, “he will hear me too,” again she felt herself say, as though someone else spoke, “His Voice. His touch.”

Somehow she avoided the phone, he had a rule about calls, text first, get confirmation, he applied the same rule to her.

The plane landed, she turned her phone on, “Landed safely Master,” she texted.

“Good girl, I’m at arrivals.” He replied.

Again panic, then something took over, like automation, an unconscious automation, she collected her luggage and walked through the gate, everything like a dream. Each breath, each movement, she didn’t look around for him as her phone rang. Then a man with red hair stepped up to her, “greetings little snowflake.”

She felt herself slide to her knees head bowed. Thankfully he took her hands and lifted her to walking again, “good girl, you know you are so pleasing.” Still drifting she could only nod and walk forward, like a robot.

The traffic was slow, yet he said it was good traffic for this city. After about an hour of driving and listening to him, sometimes answering with a short, “yes,” or a brief answer, she almost drifted off to sleep, almost or did, she didn’t remember. Though that often happened with Master.

Then he slowed and turned into a drive, one she recognised from his pictures, his home. Something didn’t seem right, yet she was too confused and overwhelmed, yet in this strange place of unusual calm.

“It’s ok my wife is out on a family thing for a few days. We have the place to ourselves.” He reversed the car and turned it around in the driveway.

Suddenly she became aware of the intense pressure in her bladder, “ohh fuck I haven’t peed since home.”

He looked at her in shock, “that’s like all day!”

Her face turned bright red, she felt the pressure, she couldn't move.

He saw her predicament and ran around the car opening the door, she said, “I can’t move, or..” she left it unsaid, she hadn't peed herself since before she went to school. The impossibility of the situation washed away all anxiety as embarrassment and confusion mixed with the urgent desperation of the situation.

The man looked at the girl, somewhere the titles just disappeared, this girl needed help. He didn’t know if this was something she was into or not. It wasn't something he did either. The just taking action he reached in and lifted her out of the car, carrying her over the path to the front door he went to reach for his house key. Realizing he couldn't without putting her down, he said, “I have to put you down to open the door.”

Dropping one hand he held her steady.

The change in pressure too much she felt the flood happen, the tears and the humiliation, just like a schoolgirl in class, something shifted, she was sobbing wet with the scent of pee all over her, stockings and shoes covered in her own liquid. The anxiety she felt consumed her then disappeared as a deep profound release occurred. Kneeling in her own pee, she watched him open the door, adrift in something she didn’t understand, adult-girl-teen she seemed to float somewhere else then she felt the tug into her own senses, the feeling and the scent the relief and the excitement, the joy and the tears, the world expanding into the universe then through all time, then snapping back into completely being herself, every sense alive again, “ohhh, no.” she finally spoke.

He stood watching her, the entire event, “poor girl,” he thought to himself. Gently he lowered himself and just held her, rocking as she processed this.

“It’s OK little pet, Master has you.” Then again he lifted her still dripping form and carried her through the first room into a small en-suite. Sitting her on the open toilet seat he returned to the car and brought her luggage in.

She felt herself being carried and then being seated, she didn’t move the tears still flowing the unreality of this dream, “I just peed myself,” the embarrassment, the shock, the strange memory flooding back, in a classroom on a seat the scent of pee, the puddle, the laughter of the children, the rage on the teacher's face. The fear the root of all her anxiety, “now I know, now he…..” another wave of tears, the scent of pee, “he’ll hate me, he’ll send me away, he’ll…” all her imaginings her fears welled up and crushed her, sobbing broken, empty.

The sound of the front door opening, then him walking in, seeing her, scenting her, knowing what she did. The sound of her bag being put down, then the door closing and a whooshing sound like a hose. Mortified she realised what he was doing.

Then another memory cascaded through her, teenage years, in the classroom, in her uniform, the feeling of bladder full, aching, in the middle of a test, everyone writing, the teacher refusing to let her go to the toilet, the, the, the, “flood,” she heard herself say as again she let go, as the warmth pooled around her, flowed down her legs, under-though her tights in the memory, in reality now.

Another wave of confusion, embarrassment, anxiety, tears, the release of pressure.

He walked in and touched her, still wet, still dirty, he touched her shoulder and put his arms around her, “It’s ok.” He didn’t know what was happening, there was no meaning only the girl and the situation, her responses, her reality, in His care. Yet he sensed, aside from an accident anyone could have at any age, there was something more, something profound happening. He heard her murmurs and whimpers, tears, sobbing. He saw her shudders, and another stream of pee another wave of tears.

Simply he held her rocking her, until she relaxed. Like a child the adult sat there, almost catatonic. The concept of Master was still there, yet on another level the girl was in his care. Here and now she was vulnerable, open to anything or everything he might choose to do. Somewhere He imagined for a moment, taking her, then shook his head, that didn’t seem right, the very thought of doing that in this situation seemed worse than violence.

Leaving her for a moment he went outside again and returned with a plastic chair, this he put in the shower enclosure. Then speaking softly and gently he reassured her as he lifted her from the toilet onto the chair in the shower. Then he stripped the clothes from her and had her naked. Gently He washed her still speaking, “it’s ok little one, everything will be all right, Master has you little snowflake.” Taking his own clothes off he stepped into the shower with her, the first time he met her, the first time they were naked together. His cock throbbed and swelled to a half erection, touching her he felt a thrill and a heated rage.

With a growl deep and menacing, “Who?” He asked, then his voice softening, gently, warm, caressing, “who did this to you snowflake? what happened?” breathing again he realised that wouldn't help her. So he again repeated the words of comfort, “Master has you, it will all be OK.” Holding her onto the chair he reached towards the shower, just out of reach. The girl began to slide to the floor. He needed both hands to keep her semi-conscious on the chair.

Lifting her gently to the floor he let her slide into laying on the ground, he couldn't wash her like that. So leaving her there again he went and grabbed a few lengths of rope. Returning he began by wrapping and tying lengths of rope around her wrists and ankles, then one under her shoulders. Again lifting the smallish woman, his girl, into the chair he tied her in place. Stepping back he smiled and spoke to the disoriented girl, “you know I planned to tie you to the chair like this, but I thought you would be aware, awake attending consciously,not in this state,” sighing and in a confusion of care, pity, rage and that curious place of responsible Dominant.

Then turning the shower on he adjusted the temperature, to a warm without being hot. Gently he washed her first rinsing her, then with soap.

She began to process consciously again feeling the ropes, the first thing she remembered was home, for a moment being in her own shower, then the plane trip, the car, the driveway. Opening her eyes, she first saw the water, then felt it, the ropes and the chair, then Him naked, just like she imagined, “what the fuck?” she said struggling, anger burning like a flame, “how did I get here, what are you doing?”

The shock, the roped the chair, the water, “ohhh,” she moaned as the reality struck her and her pussy and clitty erupted in fire, suddenly all there was was the arousal, the intense urgency, the incredible throbbing, the fear, the emotions. The scent of pee the anxiety, the confusion, the reality, bound, in water, helpless, in His Control, so aroused, so intense, right at the edge, about to explode, needing, craving, His Command, she begged and whimpered, lost inside, “please Master, please Master, may I cum?”

He watched again while he washed her, hosing her like a pet needing a bath, then seeing her eyes open he stepped back, the shower still on her as there wasn't enough room in the enclosure to do anything else. Naked almost touching her, He saw the return of awareness, the opening of her eyes the transition from wonder, confusion, to rage and anger, to intense arousal. He watched careful at this point not to touch her, letting her find her own place, her own sense of reality again.

“Please Master this slut needs to cum, this girl needs release, this girl begs, please Master.”

He listened to her words, just like she typed at times, then here she was, like this. Bemused and amused he spoke with the comfortable certain tones of compelling Command, “CUMMM!!!!!”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” she screamed as her body thrashed, the chair wobbled. He reached out to steady her, seeing her eyes closed as another convulsion ripped through her body, arms and legs trembling, straining against the ropes, twisting the light chair. He leant forward and held the chair in place, keeping her safe, at that moment she opened her eyes and they looked deep together as yet another quake matched her scream again, “ahhhhhhh.” Breathless her breathing stopped as the quaking continued. Then nothing, emptiness claimed her.

He saw her calm, her muscles relax, her breathing start again. He checked carefully, yes convulsions, yet not those of epilepsy, just those of pleasure. Again he rinsed her before a first towel dry, then untied, he held her, drying her again.

Gently he carried her to the nearest bed, not the one he had planned, the one he shared with his wife. Propriety no longer an issue, he slid into bed with her and held her.

Closing his eyes too, he murmured, “little snowflake I only planned dinner for tonight.” Deeply he sighed again sleeping with her in his arms, “of mice and men.” The quotation seemed strange to him in the moment.

She felt the warmth and curled unconscious in his arms, like a new born, helpless. Nothing and everything, his grasp on her reality, her link to everything. She felt herself breathe in a strange place of dreams.

To be continued.

[sirsparhawk]

if you're interested in real hypnosis - take a listen to this. Very nice Ericksonian patterns and process oriented trance.

[sirsparhawk]

The search - hypno seeking.

There are many people who want hypnosis, who are intensely curious about trance - especially beyond the trope and pulp content that is prolific in hypno communities. We're not even going to talk about the difference between text, voice, video and IRL. While as a hypnotist, it is interesting to stand in front of a class and watch them all drop, sometimes one at a time, other times all at once. So too public trance, occasional or playful here and there, group trance or a hookup conversational encounter. Then there is the delight in connecting with someone who one can really enjoy, where the journey is far more than a simple drop or relaxation/escape session of many different descriptions. What is it you want? How do you know when you have found what you need?

[sirsparhawk]

Hypno reality check.

Go on, watch the spirals, read the stories - drop, trance, down, down, down, sleep now...... edge, edge, edge! Pulp hypno is everywhere! You can pocketwatch and ride the spiral slide like a waterpark into the ankle deep pool. Now step into your fantasy fully and completely, welcome and thank your unconscious for al that she does, all that she is you. Knowing it's delightfyl and wonderfuul to really enjoy a deep or deeper tracne experience. While you know - there is a significant difference, between dancing alone in secret in your own room, dancing on an empty dance floor as everyone else watches, dancing with some stranger - different movements as they watch everyone else around you. Then dancing in someone's arms, held and guided, taught each move, each step, keeping yo in time and in the balance and flow of the music.

What happens when you're taught to swim in the deep pool, or the ocean. When you can dive in deeper than you imagine, beyond what you think is possible as your uncosncious is offered the opportunity and the adventure to journey with you as one in an entirely new way. Smile as you being to imagine that and thank your unconscious for the signals you know you need to attend to. Though you may discover the dreams about the trance you want to have are more than just a few words on the screen, trance now, dream now, in the adventure that is the gift from your own unconscious potential.

Immersion is what all games are about - what happens when you immerse yourself int he reality of life?

[sirsparhawk]

Conversation - uncosnciously.

After a while, you may begin to notice, that with excellent training, every conversation includes the uncosncious. Milton Erickson is reported to say, "Hypnosis is just the communication of ideas." When you discover all the dimensions of this your world has already changed, for you can see and sense in so many ways the patterns of uncosncious revealed. What if someone could touch your unconscious in all the ways you need to be touched?