Erotic

I only had a short dream, but it was a hot one.

I was in a house, a visitor who'd popped in to see some friends. We'd been talking about the new building going up at the end of the road, and what it meant for the man of the house. It was a new laboratory, and - as the friend was a scientist - he had applied for, and obtained, an interview for a job in advance of the lab going live. The next door neighbour's wife had dropped in for a chat and to talk about the lab, too.

The institute was looking into behavioural sciences, psychology and similar fields of study. Human behaviour was its business.

And I had brought along a sample of that business - a subliminal sound file, which I'd set up to play in my holdall. I'd turned it on whilst we'd been talking, and the holdall was sitting there between us, broadcasting subliminal signals throughout the whole house.

It was having an effect. Both the neighbour and my friend were clearly feeling strong sexual arousal and attraction towards one another. I heard sounds from upstairs, and went out into the corridor.

At the top of the stairs was my friend's wife, a woman with short blonde hair. She was waiting for me, naked, a huge smile on her face.

Alphabet of Temptation - a Poem

It begins with that first heavy breath
The soft grunt from deep down
Where the desire stirs
Deep inside
Responding to that first caress
You thought it'd start with a kiss
But it began long before
With that glance that lingered
On your eyes far too
Long to be comfortable
That hooked you
Drew you in
Filled you with anticipation
Turned the switches on inside ready for
That caress that sets off the
Avalanche of oxytocin
Floods your bloodstream making
You get so hot all over
Sensitised skin tingles under the
Fingertip brush strokes against the
Side of your neck and bare shoulder
Drawing out the blood
Feel it racing through your
Body is responding in ways
You had not imagined
Cascade of fire
Alphabet of desire
Expressed in moans and gasps
As the caressing finger moves
From neck and shoulder
Down the bare arm
Tingling skin
Joined by another finger on
The other side
Slowly descending
Stroking your body
Brush strokes of passion
Heating up the blood the
Hormones the nerve endings of
Pleasure courses throughout you
As your body responds
Breathing deeper
Face flushing
Lips yearning for a kiss that may never
Come now
Or when the fingers move to
Touch your breasts underneath
Both hands now working the
Soft tissues underneath with
Fingertip touches
And the words escape you
Without conscious control
Go lower
Put your hands down there
Obeying the hands slide down
Your sides to your hips
Linger on the hips before they
Go down between your thighs
Parting your knees
No resistance as the fingers
Slide up inside your thighs
To come to rest there
Right there
You shudder as the desire
The oxytocin tide
The waves of pleasure
Come now
And you hear the question
Do I go on?

Plans

Cassie's stories are still going to continue in this blog. I've had a major contract handed to me, which will require my full, intensive attention for the next five days.

However, rest assured, Cassie and Alison are still set for more mindblowing fun. How does a shower scene strike you? That is what's next for Cassie and Alison.

I'm also working on a separate story with Pat - remember Pat, of the recent video posts where she tried to read out my hypnotic blog pages? Her. She and I will be roleplaying a little scenario together. I've worked out some things for her to do over the next few days. Expect to see some interesting activities as Pat investigates what appears to be a costumed supervillain, name of "Subliminal."

All these are to come on Hypnotic Erotic. Watch for them.

Sotto Voce 2: Another Success

As I've stated in a previous post, I occasionally experiment with a technique I call Sotto Voce: throwing my voice subliminally to change a person's mood or get them to do something you want.

Tonight, it was on a bus coming home. I was listening to two students - a man and a woman - a short distance behind me, discussing food. On the road home, I began whispering "Sex ... sex ... talk about sex ... you want to talk about sex ... nothing but sex ..." and kept it up, gently whispering into the air, letting the sound carry into the compartment, reflected off the front window, subliminally buried in the noises of the engine and the rattling of the bus as it encountered bumps and potholes in the road.

We weren't even a third of the way home when the male student stopped talking about food. He said "The kind of food we like to eat is always an important part of my relationships."

That was it. Something clicked. The man and the woman stopped talking about food, and began talking about the relationships they had had and were currently involved in.

Chalk up another success to Sotto Voce.

Subliminals - A Fantasy

The use of subliminals in erotic mind control fiction must rank alongside that of mythical, wondrous Hypnotic Aphrodisiac Gas and sex attractant pheromones in terms of the mystical properties ascribed to them, as compared to the mundane, somewhat more miserable actuality.

In a work of erotic mind control fiction, the protagonist discovers the wonders of subliminals, particularly their use in audio recordings to alter people's moods. Creating a mixtape or CD with essentially the same tracks used in the target office's regular CD, only blended with an inaudible subliminal track designed either to arouse sexual desire and suppress inhibitions, or promote trances and suggestibility among the targeted workforce.

As readers of this blog, I'll assume you have some familiarity with this fantasy. Stop me if you haven't heard this before.

The fantasy begins with the scene - a busy, happy office, or maybe a hospital. Hospitals and hotels are good for this, because they both have lots of beds.

The office happens to contain a lot of pretty women (for the girls, the building happens to house a lot of hot men too), but nobody seems to be interested in anything more than work. Whatever that work is.

Then the infiltrator arrives. He takes a briefcase with him to the room where they house the machines that play the incidental music that is piped throughout every room of the office, from the freight garage round the back to the elevators, right into the toilet cubicles in the unisex toilets.

In previous years, the music came on cassettes - nowadays they come on CDs or, for the most advanced and Cyberpunk of you, as sublim signals directly hardwired into MP3 files uploaded wirelessly from a smartphone directly into the system. The infiltrator then makes his way off the premises while the music plays. And in this fantasy the subliminals have a profound effect far greater than the actuality.

The effect takes about an hour to settle in and manifest. Things start happening about lunchtime, as a gentle bass jazzy track plays, a light, grooving track that gets people thinking things. Hot things. One of the secretaries, Maria, decides it's too hot, and slips off her jacket, shucking off her shoes and sitting cross legged, her short skirt riding high to expose her bare legs. The typing pool girls are giggling - they just can't seem to stop talking about sex. The talk about sex is getting them seriously turned on. Simon the photocopy boy, overhearing their conversations, is seriously getting turned on too as the music turns a bit more upbeat and a little driving and aggressive, something bouncy, and half the workforce feel like getting up and dancing, thrusting their hips, but restrain their urges, limiting them to just tapping their feet under their desks.

By the close of lunchtime, as the music has shifted to the first track featuring nothing but percussion polyrhythms, something grooving with marimbas and shakers, the dress code has considerably relaxed. Most of the men are wandering around with no ties and their shirts open to the waist. Fortunately in this fantasy they all hit the gym, have fantastic bodies and regularly wax themselves. And fortunately for this fantasy, the workforce has just the right mix of gay and straight people to keep everybody in the audience happy.

The women, too, are loosening their clothing beyond what is considered the norm for proper business practice. Maria, who slipped off her jacket before lunch has also removed her blouse, and she is sitting on the edge of her desk, legs crossed, wearing only stockings, short skirt and a bra. And she's not alone. The office staff are going commando in style, sneaking off to the bogs to remove their panties and bras, coming back and leaving their underwear on their desks. They're still wearing their work clothes, at least for now [Recommended: Cut and Run].

In an hour, the effects of the sublims are even more pronounced; the track has changed to something more erotic, heavy on the tumba and conga, with cowbells and marimbas, slow and overtly sexual. Maria has removed her bra and gone topless, and is now wearing only her skirt and stockings in front of the whole office. Other office workers, male and female, are responding in kind rather than with outrage, stripping off their work clothes. On cue, with the change of a track to a new piece of music, something that is really pounding the libidos, all heavy, driving polyrhythms with tumbas and congas, all of the clothes come off and the work place just became really interesting, with lots of bare flesh on display, in obvious sexual arousal [Recommended: Whimsy Groove].

The music, too, has changed from the usual program, and nobody can remember when or how it changed. It's something driving, now, aggressive, sexual, not even pretending to be office music any more. The tune comes back to one of the earlier tracks that made them want to dance last time - this time, they know what to do and everyone gets up to dance. And as the tempo speeds up towards the end of the track people are virtually on top of each other, bodies dancing so close that they are practically touching, and certainly close enough to touch; but they are not touching, because something in the music is keeping them from actually doing the deed, no matter how great the desire [Recommended: Tafi Maradi No Voice].

They're all dancing away to the music that's playing and nobody notices the infiltrator come in because as he enters the piece, the music track's changed again and the secretary and Simon the photocopy guy, naked, are dancing slowly in the centre of a circle of other naked workers, slowly clapping as Simon goes down slowly on Maria [Recommended: Slow Heat].

Then the tune shifts yet again, and the circle breaks up as everybody gets into it, dancing naked in twos and threes, pairing off and lying down to couple on the floor or pressed up against rocking file cabinets or against the wall, heaving and gasping naked couples in a mad orgy of flesh. Two women, Maria and one of the women from the typing pool who couldn't stop talking about sex, approach the infiltrator dancing, reaching out for him ... [Recommended: Untitled African Rhythm]

Well, I see you haven't stopped me. Maybe you never heard this one before. Or maybe it never got told to you so musically ... :)

Originally, this story came with links to tracks available on Kevin McLeod's Incompetech site. The links were broken, but the tracks are still there, and I've now posted links to download those tracks from the site to play on your MP3. If these links also evaporate, let me know ASAP.

Now put on the music that turns you on and have it playing in the background while reading this story. It'll have the same effect, believe me. ;)