Friday, July 19, 2013

The hypnotized heart

As an evil mad scientist, I'd be nowhere without my kinky lab assistants. They are eager collaborators in my erotic hypno research. You should thank them for their sacrifices on your behalf.

Lately, I've been working with them on hypnotic control over body functions. I don't know about others' experiences, but it seems easiest to control orgasms, then throat and anus. Getting the pussy to open hungrily on its own with no insertion is challenging, but achievable.

Lillith, one of my assistants, especially loves the messy bits. Her body pees, poops, vomits and squirts on command. She cheerfully reports how many towels she's sleeping on, or how many pads she's gone through at work. (She has a high-powered, highly visible job, adding to the fun.)

She has wondered for some time whether I could control her even more fundamentally -- by directing her pulse and blood pressure. So she got her hands on a simple blood pressure and pulse monitor.

We set up the protocol a few days ago. Lillith would lie down (on towels of course), wear the wristband monitor and hold her phone. So she could read my instructions, read the monitor and text me back.

After a baseline measurement, I would tell her to feel in turn physical pain, then physical pleasure, then emotional pleasure, then emotional pain. (I enhanced each sensation with a few words directed just to her subconscious.) She'd report the results for each. Then I'd give her subconscious a few more surreptitious instructions, and see how Lillith's body reacted to those as well.  

I may as well just show you the data. These readings were all about two minutes apart.

"Lying comfortably": 108 over 62, pulse 72.

"Now I'll make it hurt" (she felt her pussy stretching painfully): 121 over 66, pulse 93.

"Now the same sensation, only pleasurable": 110 over 62, pulse 106.

"Now happy thoughts": 103 over 60, pulse 77.

"Now painful thoughts": 87 over 56, pulse 75.

"Now bring it back to normal": 101 over 61, pulse 68.

I then told her subconscious to drive her blood pressure up to 120 or so: 116 over 62, pulse 76.

I then told her subconscious to bring her pulse down as slow as was safe: 83 over 51, pulse 54. She was almost too sleepy to report.

Then I told Lillith to bring it back up to 106 again. It took her several tries, but she managed 105 over 63.

So let's look at those numbers. 

Her pulse, normally 72, rose as high as 106 for great pleasure, and as low as 54 when told to slow down.Her systolic pressure, normally a healthy 108, was pushed as high as 121 for great pain (still not bad) and as low as 83. Her diastolic pressure didn't budge much (except for the super-slow pulse). 

And she clearly has both conscious and subconscious ways of managing her blood pressure, at least when I'm there to provide a guide.

This roller-coaster ride took all of 20 minutes. She was wide awake and trance-free for the whole experience.

What did we learn? We now know that my hypnotic effects are not just skin deep. Her whole body shares in the experiences. I now know I can inflict intense hypnotic pain, or pleasure, without straining her heart, and that I can even send her off to sleep if I want. It all goes into the toybag to be used whenever the mood strikes.

And that ping you just heard? Another lab assistant, asking to try it next.

Monday, April 8, 2013

The transformation

Three weeks ago, she called herself asexual. Today she masturbates at least daily. Three weeks ago, she avoided dressing well in public for fear that people would think her a slut. Today, she enjoys the looks she gets at the gym. 

Three weeks ago, she was Shannon the highly inhibited psychotherapist. Today, she is Sabrina, the therapist who makes a point of telling her clients to consider their sexual health.

Shannon, a fan of this blog for some time, had gotten in touch with me, with issues that standard therapy hadn't touched, decades of challenges to her sexual self-esteem. Her uncle had molested and belittled her at age 3. Her mother had punished her for every slight step in the direction of romance or sexual expression, whether at age 8, 12 or 17. High school boyfriends had bragged about her as a conquest. She'd made a few bad relationship choices as an adult. 

Meanwhile, just under the surface, she hid a part of herself she called Sabrina. Sabrina was all the things Shannon was not -- sexually comfortable, but also organized, efficient, brave and unashamed. Shannon wanted all those things. Could I help?

It turned out that many of my Global Suggestion methods, especially those enlisting her subconscious mind, helped to turn down the negatives and turn up the positives. 

It was a team effort. 

Sabrina helped Shannon buy sex toys. Then, when Shannon tried to use them, and her mother's voice scolded her, her subconscious showed her how to mock her mother's interruptions. Meanwhile, I was helping Shannon feel her own body again -- first with the pain of clothespins, then with a well of pleasure that I located in her lower back. She could share the energetic pleasure with others by touching them... and refill the well by touching herself with her toys.

We also discovered that she had a conscious entity on board that was repeating her dear uncle's comments in her ear. I persuaded Amanda to become her inner cheerleader instead. 

All these helped, but I was nervous. I knew that for Easter Shannon was going to spend a long weekend with her family, a set of people who routinely triggered her worst behaviors and worst thoughts about herself. I expected a setback.

But, surprise, the night before the trip, Shannon said that she was just too tired of feeling guilty and anxious all the time. What she really wanted was to take a vacation of a different sort.

"I want a place where I can rest and heal. I want a place where I don't have to be responsible for daily projects and organizing and future planning." She decided it was her turn to hibernate, preferably on a warm beach somewhere. And that Sabrina was perfectly capable of managing things.

When would she want to go? "Tonight, when I sleep. I need to say goodbye to my cat."

So now Sabrina is in charge. She checks in on Shannon from time to time, but mostly is out in the world, exploring and enjoying her new life. Her laundry is done. The house is clean. She works out reliably. Her colleagues have noticed her new energy. 

And whenever she feels out of sorts, out of balance, she pulls out her toys and re-centers herself with a good solid orgasm. 

Saturday, March 23, 2013

A professional, with a personal request

Store clerk: "Yes, may I help you?"

Young professional woman, holding up package of tiny clothespins decorated with red ladybugs: "Can you tell me whether these are as tight as regular clothespins?"

Store clerk, staring: "You weren't planning to use those on clothes, were you?"

No, of course not. Shannon was planning to use them on her breasts.

The previous night, Shannon had worn six ordinary wood clothespins, at my suggestion. They were intense, she reported, equal parts painful and arousing. But now she wanted a change -- for something more attractive. And the ladybugs did the trick. Next day, she wore 31 of them, for a telephone meeting that she ran from home. She thinks no one noticed.

Shannon is a longtime reader of this blog, who finally built up the nerve to order a few of my recordings and then asked me for more training.

What particularly interests me about Shannon:  She's a psychotherapist, and a hypnotherapist, with a busy practice. But she sees in BDSM hypnosis new opportunities for sexual healing that ordinary psychotherapy cannot touch, and she wants to find out. With herself as test subject.  I'm happy to explore this too.

As it turns out, the clothespins were just the start of an intense week for Shannon.

In the course of our hypnotically tackling and resolving one issue she's had since she was 3, these things occurred: She found herself standing naked on her balcony, in the middle of the night (for how long she does not recall); tied up and taken by an anonymous lover who left her squirting on her bed; kneeling in someone else's bathroom, holding her breath as her arousal grew toward orgasm;  curled up as a kitten at the end of her own bed for the night; and giving a public presentation one evening with the aforementioned clothespins on her nipples, just concealed by her professional clothes.

Shannon has a lot of remaining sexual inhibitions, and a lot of work ahead of her. (Example: She is just now buying her first sex toys.) But by the time she's done, I expect that she will be shame-free, fully in charge of her own sexuality.

Watch out. Next time a clerk asks her about her plans for the pretty clothespins, Shannon just might show her.