Affected By The Gas, Part 20: Blue Flash, White Light

I was in the back room just behind the bar in my place. Seated in the conservatory itself were twenty of the hottest supermodels and other apex women on Earth. They had paid for a lengthy retreat, to practice yoga, detox and destress from the rigours of their jetsetting lives.

Outside, Cassie was serving the clients drinks. Alison had just joined her.

In the back room, I opened a small cabinet at eye height, and looked at the gasmask and the small knob. All I had to do would be to turn that knob, and I could flood the room with an anaesthetic gas which would knock out all of those women.

I closed the cabinet, and instead opened a drawer. Inside were two small keychain flashlights. I touched the little buttons. A circle of blue light shone against the wall from one of them. The other shone a red light. All I needed for today were these. Straightening out, I checked out my suit - Italian silk, don't you know - and, clutching the tiny keychain lights in my hand, entered the conservatory.

*

'What are you going to do now?' Cassie asked. They had just returned to the bar with emptied bottles.

'I'm just going to talk to the clients,' I said, turning the blue keychain light on Cassie. A few seconds later, Cassie giggled for a moment and composed herself, smiling. 'I'm going to get some feedback from them on your session.' A flash of blue light on Alison's face, and she giggled.

'How are you both feeling?'

Cassie adjusted her clothes and blushed, as Alison fanned her face. 'Good,' they both said. Of course they would feel good - that blue light had triggered the release of a flood of dopamine, oxytocin, phenylethylamine and serotonin in their bodies. Right now, they were feeling very good. Very good, and very aroused.

I flashed the light in their faces a second time to trigger a further release and their glow deepened. I watched them adjust their clothes, loosening their tops. And with that, I went among the other women.

The first woman I bumped into was Miss Pia, the Korean. 'How's your drink?'

She smiled and raised her glass. 'Very nice, thank you.' A blue flash across her face, and her smile grew a little wider as a giggle escaped her perfect lips. Her face, too, began to glow with hormonal arousal. She relaxed, lounging back in her chair, letting her body sprawl out a little in front of me. She glanced at me, and I pressed the blue flash again, just to see her arousal and her amatory response deepen.

I moved on. Maurita Alpert and Tabby D'Arcangelo were closest.

Five minutes later, every woman in the room had been given a couple of blue flashes, and now felt very warm, very uninhibited. There was much loosening of tops, relaxed lounging and longing looks cast at me. They could not see the blue light, because I'd programmed them to ignore it.

'Let's have some music,' I said, loudly. The women chorused their agreement. I crossed to the bar, and went over to the entertainment console. I had a Pied Piper sound file cued up, ready to play; one press of the button, and it began.

Pretty soon, the murmurs began to change to sighs, and moans. Bodies writhed slowly as hands slid down to caress breasts, legs. Short skirts began to ride up, and blouse buttons popped open. I looked across the room at Cassie and Alison, who were also being affected by the pied piper.

Time for the second keychain light, the white one. A little white flash of light in Alison's face, and her writhing and caressing changed. She removed her top. Alison did the same when I flashed the little white light in her face. I started going around all the women, flashing white light into their faces. Each flash of light prompted them to remove one item of clothing.

A few more blue light flashes in their faces, and they were lost in arousal; a few more flashes of white light, and the women were surrounded by clothes, wearing only their panties. The one called Magdalene moaned, gazing at me as I flashed the white keychain light in her eyes. A moment later, she slid off her panties and sat back in her chair, naked, her legs spread apart, her fingers vigorously rubbing.

I watched them as they lounged about, masturbating, unheeding of where they were, who they were and what they had been doing. They were almost ready for the next phase, and as soon as the music file wound down and they had their orgasms, the next phase would begin.

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Affected, Part 19: Group Session

'And now you can relax, before we move to the last pose of this session.'

I had the study window open, so I could observe the yoga class taking place out on the terrace. Twenty rich, pretty women doing various excruciating poses on tatami mats under the warm summer sunshine. Blue skies, fluffy clouds, tanned bodies, tight leotards.

Cassie was leading the class, looking gorgeous in her own little unitard, her body lithe and flexible as she guided her class through its moves. Her voice was clear as a bell. 'We will now move into the last pose for today, the basic savasana, the corpse pose. Lie flat, arms at your sides, legs and arms a little apart ... and just breathe.'

The cooling-down exercises were coming to a close. Pretty soon, the ladies would be wrapping up the session.

I looked at the camera feeds of the yoga session. I'd been recording the whole thing. I record every session. Cassie watches for training purposes. When the class began to break up, I stopped recording. Tonight, I would edit everything, adding some soothing mood music and posting it online. It was a nice little earner for her, on top of the fees she was receiving for the classes.

My place is big, and it's good to have a little extra cash in to help with the running costs. The yoga classes were my idea, and Cassie loved the idea of gaining accreditation and becoming a yoga instructor, so I paid for an intensive course and got her a certificate. I have Alison doing shiatsu and reiki classes in the evenings, and twice yearly writer's retreats in May and November, headlined by Dr Anita Kennedy, who's eager to do these courses for people. She, too, gets a nice fee for her troubles.

Everybody has a good time at my place, and my chosen ones go home with fatter purses, so everybody's happy.

Presently, I heard the chatter as the women entered the house and made their way along the corridor towards the changing rooms in the back. Almost time for me to take them to the next phase of the day's activities. On the monitor, I followed their progress as they entered the changing room, and turned off the monitors to allow them to change in private. Cassie, too. I may keep her and Alison, and my other chosen ones, close to me, but the only ties are those of loyalty, not compulsion, and they have plenty of privacy. I make sure that they are aware of this.

It was almost time. I'd set up the sound system in the conservatory, along with refreshments for the clients once they'd changed. It was a hot summer's day, so they were wearing light clothing as they filed into the conservatory, to see me standing behind the bar, cracking open the first bottle of champagne, wearing a light coloured suit and a happy smile.

I greeted the clients, whose names were a roster of the current stars du jour of Vogue, Tatler and Forbes - Maurita Alpert, of the shipping line; Raven Anand-apte, Playboy model; Nancee Applebome, Siana Badian and Tiphanie Bello, Premier league soccer WAGs; property heiresses Julita Castagna, Brooke Catsouphes, Tabby D'arcangelo, Demetria Dautzenberg and Lauryn Efron; Tv presenter Magda Flynn-bedrosian; the Sybille Glendinning of the whisky franchise; former Miss Austria Magdalene Hergenroether-Lowri; Pia Jong Kao, the ex-wife of the South Korean Ambassador; Indira Koestler, the number three ladies' tennis seed, tipped for the favourite at this year's Wimbledon; and Consuela Mannes, Elena Pagliaricci, Vanda Petrie and Dita van Verthe, all up-and-coming Victoria's Secret models. They sat down in the comfy chairs which were scattered about the conservatory, and I poured their drinks while Cassie served.

On coming back to the bar for the third tray, Cassie took me to one side. 'Did you see Miss Pia dip her fingernail into the drink?'

'Yes,' I replied.

'She told me that it was to check to see if you'd slipped her a roofie.'

I put on an expression of mild shock. 'Perish the thought. You know how much this crap costs?' whilst thinking 'Besides, I could just flood the room with gas afterwards, if I wanted to.'

I smiled. 'No, there is definitely nothing in their drinks. I can guarantee it. Keep serving, and just don't let them cotton on that I know. It'd be an insult to my hospitality, and they know it.'

Cassie nodded and went back into the fray with another tray full of drinks. I stood and watched as the women wound down and relaxed from their yoga session. They'd paid for ten sessions, at a very hefty price - one which included security and seclusion, free from paps and other pests. This was the sixth session, and what they did not know was that they had already been well programmed over the course of the last five sessions.

The first of those sessions were all fun, I should add; a little light hypnotic gas in the air vents to make them feel very sleepy, not enough to knock them out but enough to put them in a very warm, floaty mood, open to suggestions. A few triggers here and there, and they were all set up for the rest of the sessions. Everything else was just to reinforce the triggers and occasionally to deepen the trance experiences.

It was fun during that first day, listening to them chatting in the conservatory, minding my own business; then going into the little stock room in the back, slipping on a gas mask and turning on the little gas bottles connected to the air feed. Their conversations went quickly from animated chatter, anticipation of the first yoga session and ice breaking to yawns and slurred speech and, ultimately to silence. Then back into the room, gas mask on, to put a MP3 and bluetooth speaker in the middle of the room to broadcast instructions.

Some reinforcers, a convincer - twenty beautiful women slowly raised their arms into the air at the same time, which was fun to see - and the activation of a couple of pleasure triggers to reinforce the feelings of wanting to stay on for the rest of the course.

That first session, twenty of the hottest women on the Earth writhed and moaned in sexual arousal as I watched. And today, I was going to do something else to them; something just as pleasurable.

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The Tease

This spiral from tumblr is a wicked one.

Even before this spiral takes you into a trance, it will do for you what it did for the group I tested it on - make you lose your inhibitions, and your clothes.

Powerful Spirals

As powerful as the spirals I've posted to date have been, the ones I am going to post from this week on are going to get even stronger.

I've been testing a few of them live on my tablet, in the place where I volunteer. So far, they have been intensely powerful, some of them drawing three women away from their conversation halfway across the room, twenty feet away, to gaze blank at the screen awaiting instructions.

One of the spirals I have scheduled, and I'm not going to tell you when it's going live, has had a consistent effect every time it's displayed. Even before the trance takes hold in the subjects, the design always seems to compel them to remove their clothes. I've had to cut them off before they get into trance because if I let them see the spiral for the full duration, they would be naked before they reach a trance state. It is that powerful.

So just keep an eye out each week for the weekly spirals. They are only going to get more compelling from now on.

Audacious Experiments, 1

Experiment one.

To several entranced clients, I sent a copy of a video link to a clip from an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

The clip was of the sequence "Data Learns To Dance," from season 4 episode 11, "Data's Day." Dr Beverley Crusher, the redhead (played by Gates McFadden) was teaching Data (Brent Spiner, the pallid android in yellow) to dance.

This is the clip:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlWmIhYADRM

Here's the clip itself:-


These selected clients saw a sequence which was not on the script. I asked them to report on what they saw. Everybody reported the same thing, exactly as instructed.

In the movie you see, Data and Crusher perform a very entertaining tap routine, followed by a ballroom-style dance number. In the movie the clients see, erotic music begins to play and Beverley begins a rather steamy, sensual dance as Data stands and watches.

As the music continues, Dr Crusher removes her clothes and continues to dance, now naked. She tells Data to remove his clothes, which he does - revealing that he was gold all the way down. Now naked, she begins stroking his erect android penis until interrupted by Sickbay.

Dr Crusher breaks off and lights up another cigarette before answering Sickbay; she then leaves the holodeck smoking, and still naked.

The sequence ends with Data summoning a new dance partner, who happens to be a naked Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis, not credited in this scene). The newcomer continued to dance erotically in front of Data as the sexually arousing music resumes.

I'm going to be practicing using this suggestion with other clients, to see how they respond to little deviations from the script when they are watching TV. Perhaps people believe things more readily if they see them on some sort of a screen than if they see them right in front of them.

Affected (Part 13): Cassie and Alison

Cassie:

So Alison sat sprawled in front of me, heavily dosed by the gas I'd sprayed in her face. Out cold. I was wearing the gas mask and nothing else.

The room was full of the gas - some sort of hypnotic agent. It hadn't put Alison to sleep; only left her in a state like a really intense hypnotic trance. So the headphones from the MP3 were feeding her some sort of instructions, I guess, because every now and then she'd say "yes" out of nowhere, in this really weird kind of whisper. The timer had pinged, and I'd opened the window to let out all of the gas so it was safe for me to take off the mask and sit down in front of her and have a smoke.

I had an idea. I took off the headphones and listened to what the voice was saying. Something about being underground. Reminded me of a weird dream I'd had, not long before I'd invited the guy to go out on a date with me. I turned off the MP3, sat down and finished my cigarette. Alison remained where she was, head resting against the back of the chair, mouth open, completely relaxed.

'Alison,' I said. 'Can you hear me?'

'Yes,' Alison said, in that odd whisper.

'I have more instructions for you. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'I'm going to wake you up in a minute, but first there is something I'd like you to do. Stand up for me.'

Alison began to move. Opening her eyes, she looked at me; and with slow, deliberate movements, she got up onto her feet, staring at me, blank-eyed.

'Do you want more instructions?'

'Yes,' she replied.

'Answer this. What do you think about smoking?'

'I don't like it. It's a filthy habit.'

I picked up the cigarette pack and showed it to her. 'These are okay. You can smoke these. Do you understand?'

Alison frowned for a moment, but then nodded. 'Yes.'

'Remove your top.'

I watched Alison slowly peel off her top, feeling a rush of heat spreading from between my legs. Alison had a lacy bra on underneath.

'Put your top back on.'

Alison rebuttoned her blouse, and continued to stand facing me.

'How did that make you feel?'

'Hot.'

'How do I make you feel right now?'

'Hot.'

I realised that I was naked in front of her, and the blush threatened to spread down to my navel. 'When I wake you up, you'll feel perfectly normal. It will be perfectly normal to see me being naked in front of you. You will remember that I've been naked in front of you before for years. It's the most normal thing in the world.'

'Normal.'

'Also, you're happy to see me smoking in front of you. Watching me smoke makes you feel happy.'

'Happy.'

'Very very happy.'

'Very very happy,' whispered Alison.

'You want to join in, don't you?'

'Yes,' Alison replied. 'Want to smoke with you.'

'That's very good.' My heart was hammering. 'Now put on the MP3 and sit back. You can finish the whole file in peace. And when it's finished, put the MP3 back on the table and wake up. You won't remember anything about the gas, me wearing the gas mask or anything. Nothing at all.'

'I'll remember nothing.'

Alison popped the MP3 back on her ears and sat back down. I got up to go and make a cup of tea. I think I had another five, six minutes before the MP3 was through and Alison would return to consciousness. Just enough time for a cup of tea. I had time. I could call that guy back any time. Time for some fun with Alison first.

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This is the part that follows Part 12. Part 14 to follow, when Alison wakes up from her trance.

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Affected, Part 6 - The Next Phase

I watch Cassie as she goes into the kitchen. I left her a surprise: a picture, a holding trigger, to keep her in place in the kitchen for a few minutes while I get the gas bottle out of her bedroom and set up more webcams in the living room.

In the kitchen, I see her gazing at the picture, transfixed.

'Unconscious mind, talk to me.'

'Yes.' Cassie's voice is a faint hiss, lacking inflection.

'You look worried. Why is your conscious mind worried?'

'I worry that you are going to come in here and hurt me.'

'I understand. I'm going to remove the picture in a moment, and when I do, your conscious mind will come back about a minute after that and you'll do what you were going to do.'

'Make a cup of tea.'

'Yes. Oh, one more instruction. When you return to the living room, your conscious mind won't see me. To your conscious mind, I won't be there. You will be the only person in the living room until I speak.'

'Yes.'

I take the picture out of the kitchen with me and leave Cassie to come back into the room on her own. In the living room, I sit on the sofa. I hear the clink of mugs, the clatter of a spoon, water going into the kettle. Time for me to go into action. I get up from the sofa. There is a pause in the kitchen. I head for the bathroom.

When I emerge, I hear the kettle boiling.

'Do you want sugar and milk in your tea?'

'Actually, mind if I come back in a couple of minutes? I've just got to get something from my flat. Won't be a second.'

I slam the door and wander back into the living room. Cassie comes in, with one mug and a resigned expression. She comes in wearing a T shirt she'd put on in the kitchen. I watch her slip off the T shirt and sit on the sofa, topless again. She looks for the TV remote on the coffee table. It isn't there. I've left my MP3 there instead, set to play one track - a Pied Piper track.

Cassie puts the MP3 on. In a moment the music will kick in, and so will the Pied Piper instruction. Cassie sits, listening; a moment later, I watch her get to her feet, and the dance begins. She pulls down her jeans and dances naked.

The music will not stop for her, and Cassie will not be able to turn off the MP3, turn down the volume or do anything else but dance naked. The cameras record her dance from three different angles. She is getting really turned on by the music and begins to masturbate.

I pop Cassie's cigarettes and lighter on the table in front of her; she lights one up and continues to dance, smoking. This Pied Piper won't take long; it finishes when she comes.

As I watch, she goes from dancing to just masturbating. Her breaths grow rapid and shallow as her climax approaches; and then the moment comes, and she climbs onto the sofa to orgasm.

And after the orgasm, Cassie sighs as she returns to trance. Her body relaxes; her eyes close. Time to move in again.

'Did you enjoy that orgasm?'

'Yes.'

'Do you want more and better orgasms?'

'Lots more.'

'Then I can help you. But in order to do that, here are your instructions. Are you ready?'

Cassie's eyes are closed. She grins. 'Oh, yes.'

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Affected, Part 5 - Pizza and Pied Pipers

Cassie:-

I've no idea why I'm doing this; drinking wine and eating pizza in my place, topless, wearing only a pair of jeans, with the guy next door who I hardly know.

I feed him a slice of stuffed crust. 'I don't know you from Adam.'

He chuckles. 'I don't know you either,' he says with his mouth full. Rude.

So we sit and talk for a time about what I'm studying at uni. I tell him that I'm into Literature, and that my thesis is all about Agency and women; in fact, the paper is titled Agency and Women in Literature. A bit boring, but that's academia for you.

So he asks me about what I mean about agency. I tell him that I'm referring to the sociological and philosophical concepts of agency, as compared to the agency theory of business involving conflict resolution between principals and agents - the principal-agent problem. What I've been studying is the literature where the author clearly shows that the female protagonists are showing the capacity to act in the world, rather than be acted upon.

'Sort of like rolling initiative in a roleplaying game,' he says.

I like this man. He makes me laugh.

So I tell him that the point of what I'm on about - women in literature actually seizing control of the situation, rather than being acted upon, taking a stand, engaging with the society in the story instead of being some wallflower from a Bronte sisters period novel, and god I am getting so turned on by this for some reason. As I look at him, I note that his eyes haven't glazed over, he hasn't feigned boredom or attempted to change the topic or mansplain to me. He's been genuinely interested in me.

Or maybe my boobs. I suspect he's been staring at my boobs all night long. Why I've not made a move to cover them up is beyond me. It's like I want to, but every time I think of getting up to reach for a T shirt or my blouse, I forget what I was doing and sit back down again.

'I need a cup of tea,' I tell him. I really do need a cup of tea. Pizza makes me thirsty. I swipe a T shirt from the clothes horse next to the washing machine in the kitchen and put it on while I wait, barefoot on the cold linoleum, for the kettle to boil. I feel stuffed full of pizza, thirsty and so horny.

I hear him get up from the sofa in the living room. I keep expecting him to come into the kitchen and do something. A few minutes later, there's a flush. I feel relieved.

'Do you want sugar and milk in your tea?'

'Actually, mind if I come back in a couple of minutes? I've just got to get something from my flat. Won't be a second.'

I hear the door slam. I sigh. Well, that's the mood killed. I go into the living room alone, with one mug of tea, and sit down to watch the TV.

There's a MP3 on the table. Must be his. Out of curiosity, I slip the headphones on and press play. At first there's nothing.

Then the music fades in, some sort of samba track, just percussion. It seems to be going on in an endless loop, a sort of tribal drum piece, very driving. I get up to take the empty mug to the kitchen, but instead I find myself dancing in the middle of the living room and my T shirt's already on the floor and I have no idea when I took it off again. It might have been before I even sat down and picked up the MP3. I feel hot again, really horny, and I pull down my jeans and step out of them so I can dance naked.

As I'm dancing, I imagine me and him in bed together, afire with lust, me and him moving together, me pulling him deep inside me, our bodies hot and hard and humping, and my hands are touching my breasts and sneaking down towards my thighs.

God, I want to fuck, right now, so much.

My cigarettes and lighter are on the table in front of me. I light up and continue to dance, naked, smoking, my hips just grinding as the music plays. It's just going on forever and I'm daydreaming of fucking everywhere - here, in the corridor outside, in the uni library, me spread across a table in the Student's Union bar with him pounding me from behind and everyone standing around cheering, oh god I want to do that.

The music reaches a climax, and so do I. My body is shaking, and I have to lie down on the sofa to finish the job because my knees are giving way, and when I do come, the pleasure just shoots through my whole body and I am arching in the sofa, my breath catching. I let out a moan, and collapse gently into the sofa again, and my eyes close and I just drift.

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Opening Moves

The first moves are always the most delicate time with new clients. I have to be at my most diplomatic when they first make contact with me.

How do I describe what I do to a nervous new client, whose head is often filled with wild preconceptions about what I would do with her (or him) once they submit their minds to me? I mean, "Your Space Is Sacred" sounds cool, but do I really honour this pledge in real life? Is the temptation to have the client dance naked on the table sometimes too great?

Initial reassurances have to count. I can't imagine or predict what you might do if I told you that, by reading Going Underground or The White Room, you may well already have been in a deep trance. If you react negatively to the revelation, imagine how you could react to, say, Johnny Depp walking in to your room, sitting in front of you and having a nice chat.

Imagine how you'd react if, while texting me, there is a knock on the door and it's Katy Perry, dressed in nothing but a fluffy dressing gown. Or Stoya, the porn actress.

Or that hot girl next door whom you fancy something rotten, dressed in the flimsiest-looking see-through negligee you have ever seen.

I'm not the only hypnotist who uses sense play to toy with your senses. Other hypnotists do something similar - but, being people from the Kinkosphere, they can't resist making their experiences degrading - invisible creepy hands in the dark or in the shower, whiplashes without source, invisible handcuffs and rope. The usual.

So when I start on you, my clients, and toy with your senses, you know what I do?

I drop a flower on your lap. I give you a box of chocolates. If you're big enough to handle those - and those chocolates taste delicious - I drop the next big thing into the room at your feet.

One of these.


Trust me, you can never feel creeped out with a stiff lungful of N₂O to make you feel like you're visiting a circus.

What then? Is there a "then?"

Of course there is.

I've been telling people about this, but so far only my clients are aware of this - during our sessions, things can get more than a little bit weird.

Consider this. This evening, as I was working out what to say in this blog, a first-time client sitting in a Starbucks saw something incredible - Johnny Depp and Serena Williams: yes, he of the being hot and generally being number one in many people's fantasies, and she of the racket and the grunting, entering the coffee shop.

Naked.

As my new client watched, they looked around, decided it wasn't worth it and took off down the street, still naked ... and of course, nobody so much as blinked an eye.

Which they wouldn't, it being San Francisco and all.

So how can I actually explain this to you, my new clients, knowing the wild ride that is about to come and knowing how much it will freak you out knowing that you'll see and hear and sense these things, even knowing that they are illusions?

Well, now you know where the diplomacy comes in. And why I need it. Because, unlike Derren Brown - who does this sort of thing for a living - I'm just doing this thing for the kicks.

And the growing cult of followers, sure, but mostly for the kicks.

So it pays to be diplomatic, and cool, and to remember the first thing I learned, and to accept that some of you are going to laugh and scoff and walk away; some of you are going to act really scared and run away; some of you are going to get turned on and embarrassed, and even some of you are going to denounce me publicly.

And I have to accept that, despite everything ... some of you are going to stay.

And to you who stay, all I can say is "Hi, folks. Buckle up, pay attention, and keep calm. You are in for one hell of a weird ride."

Welcome to Hypnotic Erotic.

Abrupt Cutoff

I sometimes get cut off by a session in mid-flow. Sometimes, it's the ISP - but sometimes, it's the client who, despite wanting a trance, suddenly gets cold feet and quits.

I just had one session end abruptly earlier today.

After a basic trancing and implantation of a trigger, I set up emails with the unconscious mind. Sending emails to that address was basically a way of communicating with the unconscious without the conscious mind knowing about it.

Yes, that really is as Manchurian Candidate as it sounds.

The one problem was that neither of us could get together at the same time for any period. But then the client finally visited her folks', and I managed to get online on time for the two of us to finally chat.

It was while her conscious mind was chatting to me about the weather and the like that I sprang the instructions to her, via a very cooperative unconscious mind which was almost a second personality inside her.

Her unconscious mind suggested that she take a bath. I told her to do so; her conscious mind told me that she had suddenly decided to take a bath.

Next, while she had lain in the tub for a few minutes, I told her unconscious to follow my orders, seize control of her body from her conscious mind, and get up out of the bath and step onto the landing, then stand there while her unconscious awaited another instruction from me.

The conscious mind then emailed me wondering why she'd suddenly felt this urge to get up out of the bath and wander naked onto the landing of her parents' house - also, why she had wanted to go into their bath in the first place.

But the real fun came with the next instructions. Her unconscious was then told to take her body downstairs into the living room, sit on the sofa and begin touching herself.

And that is what her conscious mind went and did.

Now bear in mind that she is naked, dripping wet, sitting on the sofa of her folks', masturbating while her parents are outside, in the garden.

As she was about to come, I relocated her into the kitchen - where her conscious mind texted me to say that she couldn't stop playing with herself, and desperately needed release.

Which I gave her.

And now this is the frustrating bit - I instructed her to go back to the bath, slip into the waters, then return to a deep trance and wake up in five minutes, with no memory of how she got back into the bath from the kitchens.

Since this afternoon just gone, I have heard nothing. Nothing at all. So frustrating.

And I only hope it's something technological, like her mobile phone falling into the bath and drowning or something, rather than something like her getting cold feet.

I have such good clients these days. Amazing, compliant, so much into hypnotic restraints and the whole being-controlled-by-emails thing. I hope I haven't lost this one; she is one of the best clients I have had since 2011.

Edit: No sign of her. If I don't hear from her on Monday, she goes into the Dormant List on Tuesday.

Edit: She's returned. I've since had a brilliant second session.

In The Presence Of The Master - A Dream

I'd like to describe a dream I'd recently had.

I found myself in a street at night full of people - young men and women. At a glance, I could compel them to do my bidding. So I made young women chase after young men, and gay men and lesbians find appropriate romance.

Then I had another idea. Summoning every couple I'd entranced to my side, surrounding myself with young, sexually-aroused couples, I commanded them to follow me. I knew of a place nearby where they could indulge their carnal passions freely.

I seem to have a lot of abandoned buildings, mostly hotels, in my dreams. This one had a vestibule, a lobby with a reception desk, and a room with a massive oval jacuzzi which, against all probability, still had running water and electricity, and a transparent dome overhead the same shape as the jacuzzi below.

I led the six couples into the jacuzzi room, past a little kitchen off to one side of the corridor, and told the couples to disrobe and enter the pool.

Then, before I could disrobe, I heard someone at the glass double doors of the front entrance, knocking, asking to come in. It was Mum and Dad, with one of Mum's brothers and his wife (Aunt-in-law?).

I ushered them into the kitchen area, and asked them to settle down and pour themselves a cuppa while I went into the back room to explain to the guests that they might have to leave. I hadn't taken two steps into the jacuzzi room when I realised that Mum and the in-law had followed me.

And they were standing right behind me when they caught the sight of six couples, in the jacuzzi, all stark naked, standing up "in the presence of the Master," as one of the young men said.

Erotic Commands

What would you consider an erotic post-hypnotic suggestion? Undressing in public? Masturbation? A spontaneous orgasm triggered by an email without a subject heading, and just the one word - JOY - in the main body?

A news article I read once, a few years ago, described how a pretty lady once walked into a college fraternity house, disrobed and masturbated naked on the sofa for a number of minutes while bewildered frat boys looked on. She never once stopped listening to her mobile phone. Presumably, the voice on the far end was directing her.

I have created erotic triggers for sexual behaviour among many clients (all willing). Those triggers can come from anywhere. A scrap of cloth of a particular colour; a sound; a scent or smell; a word; an image; an audio file; an email.

So I have to ask: what do you want?