Girl on the Net

I am super-excited to welcome Jenby (@JenetalTorture) back – author of September’s incredible guest blog about impact play, and getting spanked with one’s own book. Today’s topic? Erotic hypnosis: the act of putting someone under and controlling their mind for kinky play purposes. I have to admit my ignorance on this topic – although I’ve read about erotic hypnosis before, my knowledge on hypnosis in general is limited to one hilarious live show where I got to watch my sister doing weird shit while ‘under’, and one absurdly expensive and entirely unsuccessful session where I paid someone to hypnotise me in the hope it would make me quit smoking. Spoiler: it did not. So I’m delighted to have Jenby back to give a peek into what it’s like to get hypnotised for the first time…

Change my mind – an erotic hypnosis story

Not for the first time this distinctly unsociable teetotaller has found herself in a pub. Before me is an arrow pointing to a well-lit room on my left. Above it are the words ‘Amateur Psychology Group’.

Hypnotists clearly have a sense of humour.

I suspect I’ll do well here.

Even so, I’m nervous. For years I’ve found the notion of erotic hypnosis incredibly hot, but despite my manifold fantasies I still don’t really know what it is, how it works, or even if it’s real.

I enter. The munch is already in full swing. Unusually for a munch it includes a presentation, practical demo and time set aside to pair off and play. The presentation quickly gets side-tracked by debate about consent, which is understandable. In most discussion about sex, kinky or otherwise, consent is a clear-cut thing, but with erotic hypnosis – a discipline which supposedly hinges on controlling another’s thoughts and actions from within their own mind – consent becomes something of a mutable issue, and many of the hypnotists have differing views on best practice. Does one, for instance, indulge a sub’s fantasy of having their memory of a scene erased?

The demo is similarly intriguing. Watching people being put under is not at all what I expected; in some cases it happens so suddenly it’s hard to believe the subjects aren’t playing up to the audience. One tist notes that ‘floppers’ are a perennial issue and he’s always ready to catch should people fall. As an extra protective measure he likes to check in by asking if they’re feeling ‘strong and stable’, whereupon he confesses they usually snap out of trance and glare at him for making them think of Theresa May in their happy place.

Erotic hypnosis: my first time under

Time to pair off. I’m now as sceptical as ever. I’m also convinced that even if there were something in it, it would take many, many sessions for me to come close to shutting off my overactive brain, no matter how wet I got at the thought of becoming a mindless plaything…

Nevertheless, for science!

My partner L sits down opposite me, takes hold of my hand and begins to induct me. This is when I discover a simple truism: if you want to be hypnotised, you are easy to hypnotise.

In seconds my vision blurs and I slump onto L’s shoulder. However, I find myself fully lucid, half-thinking I’d only fallen forward because that’s what I’d seen the other subjects do and I wanted to ‘get it right’. I’m fully cognisant of my surroundings without even a flavour of the trancey headspace I’d been anticipating, and I briefly panic, worrying that I’m going to have to tell L their induction hasn’t worked. But before I can do anything, they straighten me up and gently extend my left arm.

Then, having told me to keep it there, they ask me to try to move it.

That’s when things get interesting. At first I’m scared to try, not sure which scenario would be worse: doing it and realising my kinky fantasy really is just that, or failing and having to deal with the mental ramifications of not being in control of my own body.

I try.

I fail.

I’d been briefed that if a subject is genuinely distressed during erotic hypnosis, they’re always able to shake themselves out of trance and let their tist know about it. I can’t speak to that. All I know is that in that room, feeling relaxed and safe and in full view of many eminently lovely people, no part of me could move that arm. No fibre of my being could resist doing what my tist asked of me.

And my god it was hot.

I was only under a few seconds, but the feeling that I’d legitimately lost all bodily autonomy was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. All the helplessness of a dead arm but still able to feel every touch, every breeze. More than that, it was as though I could have stayed there indefinitely without ever growing tired. The perfect posable puppet.

L brought me out of trance and asked how I was doing. In truth I was doing better than I had in a while. The floodgates had opened on a world of kinky possibilities. I wanted to be put under again, to experience all of the fun new things my brain could have done to it, but unfortunately I had places to be. So I thanked L, made my excuses, and left.

As I walked out through the deserted pub I felt poleaxed by how quickly someone relatively new to induction was able to put me under, what a mundane physical procedure it was, and how complete their control had been. And all they’d needed of me was my curiosity, consent, and a relaxed frame of mind.

I briefly toyed with heading back upstairs and asking L to remove any knowledge or recollection of where I needed to be that evening, so I’d see no reason not to stay and get tranced again, but my overactive brain stepped in, and I thought better of it.

Pesky thoughts.