#amnesia play

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"Back with us?" Niamh smiled down at him, something amused in her gaze.

Idris nodded. He knew the idea for today's scene. Or he thought he did. He'd been pushing Niamh for months to be meaner to him in the suggestions she'd give him while under. Perhaps today they'd finally go into the more extreme ideas he'd had.

"Are you sure? You're not too far out of it are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, I feel fine," Idris said, all of a sudden feeling worried.

Niamh's brow scrunched up slightly. "I might have been a little intense while you were under. Can you count to ten for me, so I know you're lucid enough to continue?"

Sitting up and trying to project a bit less of the airs of a deeply relaxed, mesmerised subject, Idris did so. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." Then he noticed Niamh's reaction.

Her face had lost its worried pallor, her mouth struggling to keep in her giggles. He should have known. This was part of the scene.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Nothing," Niamh tittered.

"No, it's something, what was the trigger?" Idris asked, mentally going through everything he could think of. He had all his clothes on, he wasn't aroused (yet), he wasn't even doing anything odd with his hands.

Niamh took a drink then placed the glass back down on the coffee table. This seemed to calm her down. "Just, try to count to ten again."

Okay, that narrowed it down. Was he missing any of the numbers? "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." Niamh turned her head to hide her laughter. It didn't help, Idris still heard her snorts.

"One two three five six seven eight nine ten!"

Niamh kept laughing.

"Nothing's wrong! Are you trying to trick me?"

Niamh turned back around, wiping her eyes. "I think I already have," she said around her spasms. "Try this, hold your hands out and count your fingers."

Idris did so. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten. Eleven." He stared, dumbfounded, at his hands like he'd never seen them before. "One two three five six seven eight nine ten." He didn't get an extra finger. He just had one left over after counting to ten. "How did you do that? Am I counting one twice?"

"How about this. I'm going to count the numbers you say on my fingers."

"One." She held up her thumb. As if he was doing a good job.

"Two." Index finger.

"Three." Middle finger. If he was capable of disrespecting her at this point, he'd love to show her that one.

"Five." She held up her ring finger and Idris finally felt like something was up. "Wait, there's five fingers on one hand. You should have all your fingers up."

"And how many fingers do I have up right now?"

This was the moment he worked it out. Later, he'd be so embarrassed that it took him this long to figure out the trick. "Umm... it's not five fingers."

"It is not."

"It's more than 3 fingers."

"Yes it is. Do you know the word for that?"

"...nope." He was infuriated. There's a number between 3 and 5. He just couldn't think of the word for it.

He couldn't think of the English word for it.

"Un deux trois quatre cinq, quatre!"

Niamh looked genuinely surprised. "That’s impressive, darling! I didn't think you'd bypass the suggestion like that."

"One two three quatre five six seven eight nine ten! Quatre fingers!" Idris felt a well of pride rise in him. That's right! He is smart! An innovator!

"I guess I'll just have to erase that one too..." Niamh said and dragged her hand over his eyes, triggering him back down into trance again.

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses for the second time. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"We've done this before," he said, groggily.

"We have. Count to ten for me."

"Noooo..." Idris said, nuzzling further into Niamh's lap.

She snapped her fingers a few times, saying "Up, up up! More energy now." It wasn't said in the tone of the order it was.

Idris sat up, coming face to face with his hypnotist. Feeling suddenly very awake was weird when he was still blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Count to ten for me."

"One two three five seven eight- wait, there's a number between 3 and 5."

"There is."

Idris whispered the french under his breath. "Un deux trois cinq sept huit... trois cinq. Noooo, Niamh, nooo!"

"You don't get that number. In English or French."

"Well, jokes on you, French isn't the only language I can count in. 四!"

"And I'll take that one too. Sleep for me," Niamh whispered in his ear, gripping his jaw to angle to side of his head towards her and dragging her other hand over his eyes and dropping him down down do w n...

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses for the third time. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"Count to ten for me."

"One two three... أربعة five seven eight ten."

"What language is that?" Niamh asked, thoroughly amused.

"Arabic. Started learning it recently. It's slow though, I hate having to read cursive." Idris grimaced, his already broken brain remembering the pain of deciphering joined letters.

Niamh petted his hair. "It's nice, sounds pretty in your mouth. I almost feel bad for taking that one too."

"Please don't."

Idris watched a moment of concern pass over Niamh's face. "Real talk, do you want me to stop?"

"No. I like you being mean like this. Kind of want you to be meaner."

"How so?"

"I know you're making me forget things. I want you to make me forget more. Make me dumber and hotter for you. Wanna stop being able to tell what you're doing to me." Idris didn't know if his arousal was part of the "Real talk" trigger, or if he actually got off on being forced to explain his mind but the longer he begged, the more squirmy he became.

Niamh petted his hair some more and Idris remembered some of the kittenspace scenes they'd had recently. He let out a happy trill as he leaned into the touch.

"Okay, sweet boy, what you're going to do is count your fingers again. In English please."

Idris raised his hands again. He didn't want to look away from his hypnotist's face but he needed to to count. It couldn't be helped.

"One two three five," he grimaced, knowing he was missing a number, "seven eight ten." There were 3 fingers left over. The knowledge that he was missing more went straight to the pleasure pooling in his stomach. He looked up at his hypnotist, not sure if he wanted to beg for an explanation or for worse treatment.

"I'm going to put you into trance again, sweet boy. Are you okay with that?"

Idris nodded enthusiastically. Niamh dragged her hand over his eyes again and he relaxed back down into trance.

----

Idris blinked his eyes open, coming back to his senses. He didn't know how many times this was now. His head was in Niamh's lap and he turned to look up at her.

"How many fingers am I holding up, darling?"

Niamh was holding fingers up.

"Those are fingers."

Niamh smiled encouragingly. "And how many of them are there?"

The question didn't make sense to Idris. "You're holding up fingers."

"That’s right. Can you count them?"

Idris knew the answer to that question.

"No."

"No?"

"No, I can't count them." Idris felt the warmth of the correct answer wash over him.

His hypnotist put her fingers down. "And why can't you count my fingers?"

"Because I have no numbers."

You'd only find out after I playfully stick one on your hand, the design and sensation instantly dropping you into a deeply pliant, deeply suggestible, deeply entranced state.

Peeling it off would wake you up, of course. But I do wonder what would happen if I added a second, or even a third sticker. Would your mind just stop entirely? Would you become unable to do anything other than what you were commanded to?

Would you even notice that it happened at all, with how mindless I've made you?

Whenever I am with @daja-the-hypnokitten for an event we do a bunch of fun amnesia shenanigans. The "I have a trigger I can't remember!" thing from the second chapter of Belladonna/Madison is inspired by real play that we've done.

Madison laughed to herself and mused the cute girl’s red hair. “I know, precious, I know. Do you remember what I put in your head?” Bella sat up and gave a thoughtful look, “Hmm… You gave me an amnesia trigger…” Madison nodded, “Mhmm… that’s right. Go on…?” “And every time I remember that I have an amnesia trigger I am supposed to say that I have an amnesia trigger and forget that I have an amnesia trigger!” she proudly proclaimed, before blinking back in confusion and looking around. “Wait, what?” Madison couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter, “Oh precious.” “Whaaaaat?!” Bella cried out in a huff of frustration, “What’s funny?” Madison quelled another burst of laughter, “You’ll remember later, s– precious, I promise.” Madison held the other woman close against her and planted a kiss on the top of her head, “Gosh I am so smitten.”

Part of the safety we have in this kind of play is to do our best to make sure everything is remembered. Given our disorder and all our memory is pretty crappy and it's important that we keep our journal updated with an accurate and chronological account of everything that happened. We tend to update the journal multiple times a day even while on vacation. Especially, while on vacation, even.

That way we remember the time we spent even if part of that remembering is remembering when we forget and forgetting to remember when we need to forget to remember.

So typically Daja will have me able to remember things shrouded in amnesia triggers while writing the journal and forget again the moment we stop writing. That way I can be a good girl and not think about the things that Miss has asked me not to think about until I'm allowed to think about them <3

I wonder though. if she's able to make me remember things while writing. Can she make me forget things while writing too?

In a realistic sense that means "and after mentioning the scene we just finished I want you to write 'Miss told me to write that I am a good girl and that I am loved and it's important to write that in my journal so every time I read it I can see that I am loved and by writing this I am obeying and being a good girl and it's okay to forget that I wrote this until I reread it after the vacation'

Buuuuut

In a fantasy 'this is unethical and don't actually do it but it's fun to talk about' kind of waaaaaaay?

Wouldn't it be fun to write about things that didn't happen. Like while writing a real account of the weekend that will eventually replace actual recollection as the Truth of what happened during that weekend? A form of rewriting reality but doing so by abusing the unreliability of memory?

Like again? That's super edge play and would need heavy negotiation and stuff--

But it's a fun idea, right?

Maybe like a suggestion to write the real journal and then write a fake journal which tells a fantastic and hyperbolic version of reality? Hmm--

Your world fades. Falling. Deeply. So lovingly into a state of bliss. You feel your mind start to lose focus, listening to them so completely.

They start to speak to you, but you don't hear the words, that's your subconscious' place. All you need to do is feel warm, fuzzy, and relaxed. You don't care if your head lolls to one side, and you begin to drool. You're too relaxed to care, too relaxed to pay attention to their voice in your ears. Everything feels so... perfect. You'd never want to trade this for the world...

After some time. It could have been minutes. Hours. Days. You couldn't tell, you couldn't care. You were too deep to. You stir. Waking up. "Hello again, precious toy" their words arerefreshing to hear again, to understand. A soft grin spreads across their face as you stare up at them, blushing.

"I... I didn't think it would work that well.." you stammer, wiping the drool from your mouth. Your body still feels lethargic, but more managable.

"Like I said, sometimes all you need is a little practise~" their eyes shone with a knowing looks, but you were puzzled.

"What do you mean by that? It's my first time ever being hypnotised. I couldn't 'practise' what i haven't done..." you don't even pay attention as you automatically add a tally to your arm.

"Oh? Maybe you must have forgotten..." The grin goes from a soft, slightly mischevious smile, so a full-on manic grin. "Let's go again."