All Things Hypno

Hypnotips #1 ✨

This is a good representantation (a bit exaggerated), about how you can feel and enjoy a deep trance.

Sometimes you just need to explore and find the right place to let yourself go and submit to the experience.

But submit in a right and secure way, you don't have do silly things as share personal things of you. No, the only thing that you have to do is feel and enjoy being represented as this simple and basic gif.

Because the idea of being one of these girls affected or involved by images, words or anything that caught your attention is sexy. Extremely sexy.

Later, when you will come back to your center and conscious, you’ll always have the option of blaming it on stress, exhaustion, the hypnotist who pushed you, or anything else.

Go BLANK MY GIRL 🎀💕🍌..

A Voice on the Wind

Amelia's hand froze halfway to her mouth, the spoonful of yogurt trembling. A deep, resonant voice filled her small apartment, emanating from the television where a commercial for luxury sedans was playing. It was him. Francis. The voice was smoother now, more polished, but it was unmistakably the same baritone that used to murmur in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

A familiar heat bloomed between her thighs, sudden and overwhelming. Her breath hitched. Damn him. Even after two years, the conditioning held. "Whenever you hear my voice, you'll get wet and horny," he'd said during one of their hypnosis sessions, his voice weaving through her consciousness like silk. "Your body will remember me, want me, need me."

She squeezed her legs together, trying to quell the throbbing that had begun. This was the third time this week. First it was the radio on her way to work; a voiceover for some investment firm. Then yesterday, her phone had autoplayed an ad for a new smartphone while she was scrolling through social media. And now this.

Amelia stood abruptly, turning off the TV. The silence didn't help; the voice echoed in her mind. She needed to get ready for work, but the arousal was already clouding her thoughts. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning between her legs. Her reflection showed flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. She looked exactly how she felt: turned on and miserable.

The bus ride was torture. As if summoned by her thoughts, another commercial played on the bus's radio system: this time for a chain of coffee shops. Francis's voice describing the "rich, bold flavor" of their new blend made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. She could feel her panties growing damp, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her bra. An elderly woman beside her gave her a concerned look, and Amelia forced a smile, gripping the pole tighter to keep her hands from wandering.

At work, she tried to lose herself in spreadsheets and emails, but the arousal lingered like a fog. Every time she thought she'd finally shaken it, a memory would surface. Francis's hands on her hips, his voice in her ear, the way he'd look at her with those intense eyes as he counted her down into trance. Her body responded each time, a traitorous wave of pleasure that made her bite her lip to keep from moaning.

By lunchtime, she was desperate. She locked herself in a stall in the women's restroom, her hand slipping beneath her skirt before she could stop herself. The touch sent a jolt through her body. She was soaking wet. Her fingers found her clit, already swollen and sensitive. She rubbed in quick circles, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't him.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. She ignored it at first, lost in the haze of need, but it kept buzzing. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled it out. A text from her friend Jen: "Did you see that Francis is doing voice acting now? He's everywhere!"

Amelia's thumb hovered over Francis's name in her contacts. She hadn't spoken to him since the breakup, had sworn she never would. But the temptation was overwhelming. She could call him and hear his voice directly. His real voice. Maybe that would break the spell.

Or maybe it would make her come undone right here in this bathroom stall.

Before she could lose her nerve, she typed a simple message: "Heard you on the radio today. You sound good."

The reply came almost instantly. "Amelia? Long time. How are you?"

Just seeing his name on her screen sent another pulse of arousal through her. Her fingers returned to her clit, rubbing more insistently now.

"Fine," she typed back, her other hand still working between her legs. "Just... busy."

"I've missed you," came the next message. "I think about you sometimes."

Amelia's breath caught. Her hips bucked against her hand. She was close now, so close.

"Remember how you used to go under for me?" he sent. "How good it felt to just let go and obey?"

That did it. The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body shaking with the force of it. She had to bite her lip hard to keep from crying out. When it was over, she sagged against the stall door, panting.

Her phone buzzed again. "I could make you feel that way again, Amelia. Better than before. I've been practicing."

Amelia stared at the message, her post-orgasmic haze slowly clearing. What was she doing? This was exactly why she'd left him. His control, the way he could manipulate her mind and body with just a few words. It wasn't healthy. But God, it had felt good. No one else had ever made her feel like that.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she typed, her fingers trembling.

"Your body seems to think otherwise," he replied. "I know you, Amelia. I know what you need. And more importantly, I know what hearing my voice all day must be doing to you. How desperate did you need to get before you reached out to me?"

She did need it. That was the problem. She needed his voice, his touch, his control. She needed to be taken deep and fucked away until nothing remained but pleasure and obedience and his perfect voice.

Before she could stop herself, she sent: "Can we talk?"

"My place, tonight at 8," came the immediate reply. "I'll be waiting."

Amelia leaned her head against the stall door, a mix of relief and dread washing over her. She knew she was making a mistake, knew she was walking right back into the trap she'd barely escaped. But as another wave of arousal washed over her at the thought of seeing him again, she also knew she couldn't stay away. His voice had already claimed her again, and this time, she wasn't sure she wanted to break free.

This story was originally requested on my old blog by @ottopilott under the following ask: a person is frustrated and annoyed that their former hypnotist has found work as a (commercial voiceover actor | one of the new TikTok voices), leading to unwanted and unpredictable bouts of horniness over (personal injury lawyers | handmade wood furniture | Greek food | 30% of the funny videos on the Internet). (If you do this, I thought it would be fun to let you pick gender and orientation and some of the details)

Tyrone leaned back in his bed, trying to keep his eyes awake as he scrolled through his phone. He barely noticed Tina jump into bed next to him until her soft hand slithered to his prick.

“Aww, baby, I’m sorry, but…YAWN…I don’t think I have the energy tonight…mmm…”

“Someone has energy,” Tina winked as Tyrone’s prize cock pumped up to a full erection under Tina’s skillful fingers. “But don’t worry, big guy. I know you’ve been working so hard. So how about a nice, slow handjob? Just relax…”

Before Tyrone could protest, Tina brushed her other hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he let out a long, resigned sigh. It had been a long day of work, and Tina’s hand felt so wonderful on his cock, moving up and down…up and down…

“up and down…up and down…that feels so nice, doesn’t it Ty?” Tina cooed. She cuddled closer to her boyfriend, her warm tits pressing into his arm.

“Up and down…nothing to do, nowhere to go. Just relax…up and down…up and down…your cock is getting so hard…so stiff and needy…you don’t want to do anything right now except just relaaaax and enjoy my hand going up…and down…”

She never imagined her first meeting like that.

Sure, she did edge a lot, read every story and listened to so many files that her mind was used to being tranced.

Or better, the combination between pleasure and sinking became second nature to her.

Conditioning herself to certain events and scenarios.

To certain voices and triggers.

Only that she couldnt consciously remember them.

They all sank into her mind in one or the other edging session where she just kept edging and her memories are a blur.

But being so vulnerable like that?

It should have scared her.

A small and quiet voice in her mind was screaming at her to stop, to leave.

As that was always an option.

She knew that.

The voice in her mind knew that, begging her to take that step.

But it was drowned out by his voice and the pleasure that rapidly building up inside her body.

Just being with him made her more aroused than ever before.

Just like that, when he gave her an order, she obeyed.

Just like she conditioned and bainwashd herself to do it.

It was with a maliciously simple motivation that Melinda decided to hypnotize and brainwash and fully subjugate her roommate's consciousness--she liked making out with her boyfriend, but Braeden got hard and horny so quickly that he was never in the mood for any kind of real foreplay. And Braeden was so stubborn and strong-willed that it was literally easier to trick Stephanie into following the motion of a swinging pendant and lull her mind into a deep trance than it was to get Melinda's lover to wait five goddamn minutes to get his dick sucked. Melinda felt a tiny bit guilty about that, naturally, but the guilt always went away when she and Braeden started kissing to the tune of Braeden's cock going in and out of Steph's accommodating throat.

It wasn't like it did any harm or anything--Steph had her HPV shots, and her natural susceptibility to suggestions meant that she didn't even remember getting used like a fleshlight to get that first climax out of the way so that Braeden could calm down a little and pay attention to pleasuring his lover. Stephanie usually got him off within about ten minutes while Melinda and Braeden were indulging in some heavy petting on the couch, and then she just knelt there idly masturbating for the rest of the evening, and anyway it wasn't like she had much of a social life she was being deprived of in the first place. She was kind of a third wheel around the apartment ever since Melinda and Braeden started dating, and this just made it easier. Honestly, Melinda was kind of doing Steph a favor.

Several favors, when Melinda really thought about it. She was training Stephanie's throat, which was going to make both her and some future boyfriend very happy--already the occasional coughs and splutters had smoothed out into a steady 'gluk gluk gluk' the whole blowjob long, even after only a couple of weeks of training, and Steph's suckdoll persona swallowed Braeden's biggest loads without spilling a drop. And she was helping to drain all that sexual tension Stephanie was carrying around with her all the time; the first time Melinda hypnotized her, Stephanie drowsily confessed that she had never so much as played with herself before. Cumming her brains out to a hot sex show was helping her feel less stressed everywhere else in her life.

And if all that wasn't enough, well… not that women needed to be hetero-flexible these days to keep a guy happy, or anything, but it always helped get that last little oomph out of a man's cock if you were willing to do a threesome, and Melinda was making sure that Stephanie had that extra little kink in her sexuality to make her the perfect girlfriend for some future lover. When Steph licked the jizz out of Melinda's pussy and it suddenly made an exhausted Braeden decide he could go one more round, Melinda felt the satisfaction of a job well done along with the massive climax she got out of totally controlling her roommate's hypnotized brain, and that last deep-dicking was the best part of the whole night. And certainly Stephanie wasn't complaining, not with her head so blissfully empty and her cunt so overwhelmed with ecstasy. It was a win-win situation, really… even if Melinda was doing most of the winning these days.

"Say, Emily, did you know that we've been hypnotizing you?" The very instant Emily tried to engage with the question, she found her eyes rolling back in her head as the memories of trance wrapped around her suddenly sleepy mind and brought her back to the moment she dropped for Kathleen so vividly that all the strength went out of her limbs and she went floppy and limp with exhaustion. She felt Jean's arms go around her as she sagged to the floor, cushioning her fall and bringing her to rest a bit more comfortably, but she couldn't really think about what her friend's confident expectation of Emily's utter boneless collapse actually meant because she was too busy sinking deeper and deeper into peace and pleasure.

"That's a good girl," Kathleen cooed, leaning in and giving Emily a kiss on her vacantly parted lips before reaching under the limp young woman's skirt and caressing her soft pink pussy lips. Emily remembered only in that moment just how often she'd been forgetting to wear panties lately, and she felt an overwhelming surge of arousal both at the notion of obeying the hidden command lurking away in the back of her mind and at the idea of hiding it in the first place. Emily always felt better the more she obeyed, and she'd been feeling so good lately that it was no surprise Kathleen's fingers came away slick to the touch. Jean began playing with Emily's nipples through her shirt, and that simply added on to the pile-up of ecstasy in Emily's befuddled brain.

"You want this so much, don't you?" Kathleen panted between kisses, her breath warm and gentle against Emily's mouth. "You want to be our good girl, you want to cum your brains out for us, you want to obey more and more every single day." Emily was too busy moaning to talk, the weak and kittenish whimpers the closest she could get to expressing her feelings, but she knew it was all true--she'd been hypnotized into agreeing with it, but the hypnosis only worked because it found a seed of deep and potent submission all the way down at the very bottom of her sense of self and so whatever resistance she might have tried to summon up simply found no purchase. Emily enjoyed being a lesbian slut for two of the hottest women on campus. That wasn't something her subconscious was interested in fighting.

"Good girl, deeper and deeper," Jean purred softly, as Kathleen arranged her body to conceal a bit of what she was doing under Emily's skirt. To anyone casually glancing in their direction, it would just be a group of friends hanging out in an atmosphere of amiable intimacy between classes, and the spot Emily had unthinkingly allowed herself to be steered to was secluded enough that they wouldn't get anything more than casual attention… which meant she was going to lie here for hours, limp and insensate and plummeting into endless fathoms of pleasure, while her friends hypnotized her and brainwashed her and made her ever more completely theirs. Just the concept made Emily's pussy clench tightly around Kathleen's intruding fingers… and even though she was too relaxed to make a big display of her climax, Emily could tell from the knowing chuckles of her secret lovers that she wasn't hiding her ecstasy from them.

Internal Affairs #1: The Rookie

By the third week, Lydia’s revulsion turned to arousal. By the third month, she struggled to remember the assignment at all.

I am a cop, Lydia reminds herself before rolling her hips forward, sliding down the john’s cock until it’s pressed deep up inside her pussy. A soft moan staggers from her lips.

Again, I am a cop. 

Hips roll, cock deep, soft moan. I am a cop. Repeating until the john is satisfied.

This is all just a part of establishing a cover. Nobody will believe Lydia’s work if she doesn’t do the work. And if she has to do the work, why can’t she enjoy it too?

I am a cop.

But Lydia isn’t a cop, even if it had once been her dream to be one. When she was eleven, two officers from the Romero Police Department visited her class. The man looked like any other cop on television: wide shoulders, short cropped hair, 'fuck your civil rights' walk. The boys in her class stared at the gun on his hip with morbid fascination.

But it was the female cop who Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off of. She didn’t look like any cop Lydia had ever imagined. She was tall, with healthy, bronze skin and glossy, black hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her most striking feature was a pair of amber eyes which flashed gold when the light caught them at the right angle. She might have looked more like a Barbie than a cop, but she intimidated the hell out of her colleague. The man would turn to her before answering one of the kids’ questions, searching for permission. For all his swagger, she was the one in charge. Lydia had never seen a woman wield power like that before.

Though Lydia didn’t end up at the police academy after high school, she never strayed far from the law. She enrolled in Carpenter State University’s criminal justice program with the intention of becoming a lawyer. In the end, though, studying law was less of a path to a future, and more of a strange, meandering way back to her old dream.

I am a

“...mindless whore,” the john says.

Lydia stares down into his eyes. His face twists between pained expressions as he fights back the inevitable orgasm. Lydia isn’t cheap. Every john wants it to count.

“Is that how you like it?” Lydia responds playfully. “Young, dumb, blonde bimbos without a thought in their heads?”

The john grunts back a weary, “Yeah!”

“I’m a mindless whore,” Lydia bites her lip. “My mind is just a wet hole aching to be filled by its Master’s cock.”

“Fuck!” the john gasps. “Say it again.”

“I’m a mindless whore.”

“Again!” he pleads.

“I’m a mindless whore!”

“Again!”

I am a mindless whore.

Lydia had been applying to law schools when her professor approached her with a strange opportunity.

Lydia,

I was hoping you could set some time aside in your calendar to meet with a friend of mine from RPD. I think you’ll find it educational. If you’re interested, shoot me over some dates and I’ll set up the meeting.

Best,

Dr. Bloom

She met Lieutenant Keyes a week later in Dr. Bloom’s office. After a brief introduction, Dr. Bloom excused himself, and suddenly Lydia found herself alone with the most intimidating woman she had ever met.

Lieutenant Barbara Keyes was a fifteen year veteran of the Carpenter State Police Department. She had followed a similar path into law enforcement as Lydia, studying law first before working her way into the department. She had the sophistication of a legal scholar but the commanding authority of a seasoned cop. 

When Lydia referred to her as ‘Lieutenant Keyes,’ she raised her hand and said, “Call me Barbara." Barbara wanted the meeting to feel informal, but her tone was so authoritative, her face so unreadable, that Lydia couldn’t help but feel a little like she was being interrogated.

Lydia studied Barbara as she spoke. Late-thirties to early-forties, no ring on her finger. Too beautiful to be a spinster, more likely divorced. Married to the job, Lydia assumed. One detail stood out above the rest, though. She had beautiful, golden eyes.

“Charlie tells me you’re his best student," Barbara said.

“Best,” Lydia laughed. “I don’t know about best—”

“I do,” Barbara said quickly. “I’ve known Charlie a long time. I trust his judgment.”

A nervous laugh escaped from Lydia’s throat. “Is this a job interview?” she joked.

“I work in IAD,” Barbara said, unshaken by Lydia’s candor. “Do you know what that is, Lydia?”

“Internal Affairs?” Lydia asked. “I didn’t think Romero would have a large enough force—”

“Unfortunately, I find myself in the position of trusting absolutely no one in the Romero Police Department, which means I sometimes have to look in unorthodox places for recruits.”

“Like Carpenter State,” Lydia said.

“That’s correct.” Barbara nodded. “I’m also the deputy director of the RPD sex work task force. We've had some good success around the neighborhoods surrounding Carpenter State, but River City remains frustratingly impenetrable.”

“I don’t follow,” Lydia shook her head.

“I need young, female cops,” Barbara continued. “But more specifically: young, female cops who don’t look like cops.”

Barbara was right. It was unorthodox, even downright unethical. But it was hard for Lydia not to admire the risk she was taking. Lydia understood the rationale: her own dream of becoming a cop came to an abrupt end in high school after a highly public police corruption case upended the Romero Police Department. It may have shaken Lydia’s faith in the law, but at her core, she still believed in justice.

If anyone else had asked her to go undercover as an inexperienced, unqualified, secret cop? Lydia wouldn’t have just turned them down, she would have blown the fucking whistle. But Barbara was different. The moment Lydia looked into her golden eyes, she knew that she would accept anything that was asked of her.

“But why me?” Lydia asked.

“You’re the top of your class, I’ve read your papers, you have a good sense for the theory. Charlie vouches for you, but honestly, above everything else? You have the look.” Barbara’s expression softened into a surprisingly warm smile. “You are a cop.”

I am a mindless whore.

Lydia always cums at the same time as her johns. That’s what makes her one of the most popular whores in River City. She’s been trained that way. She’s been trained that way because it makes her a good cop. A good cop is a good whore. But Lydia always seems to forget about the assignment when she’s on top of one of her johns, bracing herself against the headboard as she cries out from the most powerful orgasm she has ever experienced. No boyfriend can satisfy her this way, sex is just better with a john.

They leave the money on the small table by the door and before they exit, Lydia always offers something to keep them thinking about her.

“Your cock felt so good,” she’ll sigh, dreamy eyes selling the illusion that this fuck was anything more than a transaction. “Maybe next time I’ll even let you cum inside my pussy.”

“You would do that?” the john smiles.

“Well…” Lydia presses her index finger to her chin. “I’d have to charge an extra five grand. Secret menu, you know? High premium for the risky stuff. But the risk is worth it for my favorite client.”

They never have that kind of money, but goddamn they would fuck anyone over to get it.

Lydia continues tirelessly through the night. Fucking, sucking, even occasionally holding a john as he weeps into her chest. She doesn’t stop until she sees the pale blue light of the morning sky through the hotel room’s yellowing curtains. She rinses off in the shower, collects the evening’s take into a fat envelope, then flips through her phone’s camera roll. 

The johns blur together until they become one universal face. She has no memory of them, only the pictures in her phone. She insists on snapping a photo of every john’s ID before taking them to the hotel. Most johns are skittish about the practice, but they buy her excuse when she explains, “For my security.”

A whore will do a lot more with a john she’s comfortable with.

Lydia’s work hasn’t led to any busts yet, but she’s building a strong case for Barbara. She suspects that many of her johns are cops. Given Barbara’s role at IAD, it’s safe to assume that she wants to trap one of their own.

Lydia never recognizes the faces after the johns leave. She can’t remember their names either. Even as she reads the names on the cards, some mental block prevents her from processing them. They’re all just ‘john’ to her. The blue-eyed john, the brown-eyed john, the john with the scar next to his lip. Lydia selects the photos from her roll, half a dozen for the night, and she forwards them in an email before deleting them from her phone forever.

Why did she do that? The details of her night’s work are better off with someone who understands it. There’s no reason to burden herself with that knowledge anymore.

Before she can finish dressing, the phone in the room rings. She hesitates, but the mechanical trill of the old fashioned landline phone draws her into it. 

Something is wrong, she thinks. I shouldn’t answer this.

She lifts the receiver from its cradle and presses it to her ear.

I am a cop.

“Good morning, Lydia,” the voice on the line says.

“Good morning,” she repeats.

I am a

“I trust the evening was productive.”

“Yes…” she breathes.

I am

“And the IDs?”

“I forwarded them to your email,” she says.

“Good. And the night’s take?”

I

“Twenty-four grand.”

I am a mindless whore.

“That’s very good,” the voice replies. “You know where to drop it off.”

Lydia is a mindless whore, one of the best in River City. She can’t fight that truth no matter how much she repeats the lie that she’s a cop. Being a mindless whore just feels too damn good.

“Tell me what you are, Lydia,” the voice commands her.

Some fresh proofediting. I was surprised by how sloppy the original prose was.

No significant plot changes, but I did add a line that clarifies that Barbara is the cop who visited Lydia's classroom when she was a kid. My original intent was for Barbara to simply remind Lydia of that cop, but it felt needlessly inefficient to have two different law enforcement characters who serve the same purpose for Lydia.

You are further proof that some people are better off as brainwashed hypnotic drones.

Some are particularly entertaining, funny, beautiful and complaint hypnotic drones 😉

Mmm thank you bull 🥰💋💋💋💋

“You’ve had a long day, my love. Let me choose the movie tonight. I'm sure you'll love it.”

She barely had time to nod before the screen flickered to life. At first it looked like any ordinary movie: soft music, gentle colors... But then the image shifted subtly.

During a scene transition, a slow, elegant spiral began to turn in the center of the screen. Black and gold, velvet-smooth, pulling inward with alluring grace. Delicate patterns bloomed and faded along its edges like smoke and starlight. The music deepened, low and pulsing, wrapping around her ears.

“Look at it,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, right beside her ear. “Just watch the spiral for me. You don’t have to think. You don’t have to choose. I’ve already chosen everything for you tonight.”

The spiral turned lazily, drawing her gaze deeper with every spin. It felt alive, breathing, pulsing, inviting her in. Colors bled softly at the edges: deep crimson, midnight blue, warm amber that reminded her of his eyes when he looked at her like she was the only thing in his world.

“You’re already sinking, aren’t you?” His fingers brushed lightly along her arm. “I can see it in your face. That soft little flutter in your eyelids. The way your body is starting going limp against me. Good girl. Just keep watching. Let the spiral pull you exactly where I want you.”

The spiral spun faster now, yet somehow slower at the same time — a delicious contradiction that made her mind slip. Thoughts that tried to form simply unraveled, turning into warm, silky threads that the spiral wound tighter and tighter around itself.

“My voice is part of it now,” he whispered, lips grazing her temple. “Every word I speak slides right into that beautiful, emptying mind of yours. You feel it, don’t you? How safe it feels to let go. How right it feels when I take control. You’ve fought so hard to keep your little independence… but deep down you’ve always known it belongs to me.”

The spiral’s center seemed to open like an abyss of velvet darkness, inviting her to fall. The room around her faded. The couch, the walls, even the feeling of her own body grew distant and dreamy. Only the spiral remained — and his voice, rich and impossibly close.

“Deeper now, my love. Let yourself drift. Let yourself dissolve into it. Every turn strips away another layer of resistance. Every pulse melts your will a little more. You’re becoming so soft for me… so open… so perfectly obedient.”

His hand slid up to cradle the back of her neck, thumb stroking gently, anchoring her even as she floated away.

“You see how easy this is? I choose the movie. I choose what you watch. I choose what you feel. And right now I choose for you to sink… deeper… and deeper… into my control. As I choose what you follow and and crave for. My desires. My rules. My love.”

The spiral filled the entire screen now, pulsing in time with her slowing heartbeat. Her lips parted slightly, breath shallow and even. Her body felt heavy, warm, and utterly relaxed against his side.

“That’s it… just like that. No more fighting. No more pretending you have a choice. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And every time the spiral turns, that truth sinks deeper into your core.”

He leaned in, with his voice sounding like the only thoughts in her emptying mind: