Item: Chatting online or on the phone is either conducive to or a mild form of trance.
Item: I am good at entering trance.
Item: Literary images have huge impact for me.
Here’s what happened, ten days ago.
I entered a chat room. I shan’t use actual websites or actual online nicknames, here. We’ll say I went to a chat room called “hypnosucker”, where I hoped to talk with people about hypnosis, watch them talk about hypnosis, and get more of a clue about what I’m getting into.
In hypnosucker, I met two people, Schill and Predator. Predator was pretty quiet, but Schill was fun to play with. He and I passed some time talking about nothing much, being pleasant and witty at each other. Guest431 entered the room. Guest431 left the room. Guest 431 entered the room. Guest 431 left the room.
ossian: People do come and go quickly here ( a misquote from Alice in Wonderland )
Schill: Makes you wonder, if you could just be in the right place when they’re going in and out….
ossian: You’d have to eat some of the right mushroom to adjust your height, or it could be painful. Aim is important.
And we went on a bit, scandalizing Carroll for a couple more lines. Suddenly Predator started talking.
Predator: Come quickly. Maybe they are late.
Predator: Tick tock tick dates can’t wait ticks can’t stick
Predator: tock tick ossian knows what I’m tocking about, don’t you ossian?
Predator: Hurrying so fast to not fall behind just to stay in place can’t stop to tock
And more like that, just nonsequitering herself for lines and lines…
…and I did know just what she was tocking about….
…and felt a familiar feeling of disorientation….
…I remember thinking “well, you bitch” and then wasn’t thinking much at all as the disorientation stopped, but the disassociation increased, and Lewis Carroll’s true prophet, Predator, guided me right down a rabbit hole. I saw the tea party come and go as I fell. Then I don’t really remember much. At the same time, I was utterly sure that I wasn’t very far gone, never went very under…but can’t remember what happened.
I remember coming back. I remember Predator telling me that I would be entirely comfortable or content or something or another…I think.
When I was back, I was enthusiastic. That. That was an amazing display of judging your target, finding perfect timing, choosing the perfect approach, and then a consummate bit of performance art, drawing from Alice on the fly to tumble my mind. Amazing.
I was also astonished that this could happen without my active agreement. That is, I know I agreed tacitly or I wouldn’t have gone, but I hadn’t offered myself up as a subject, hadn’t talked about hypnotism at all, wasn’t flirting…I was blindsided and taken down and that was that.
So why was I so comfortable with this?
I wasn’t troubled at all over the incident. I wasn’t concerned that it might happen again. I even went back to that chat room, where Predator was displeased with me for reasons I still don’t know, but suspect that I didn’t approach her in correct Domme-sub format. After that, I still wanted to go back and chat some more.
Why was I so comfortable with this?
Had I just discovered a new kink, with such power in my psyche that I needed a fix, no matter the cost? Then why wasn’t I exercising that elsewhere on the web? And —
–why was I so comfortable with this?
I approached a perfectly wonderful person known to the WWW as Lady Julia, a hypnoDomme who truly is a Lady. I hadn’t played with any of her files, but liked her group for the communications. She is very pleasant, very gentle, very dedicated to the notion that even a Domme/sub relationship is a relationship first, and loving relationships should act like loving relationships regardless of flavor. So I explained my experience, and asked her if she knew or knew of Predator, and was I chasing after someone toxic?
She didn’t answer directly. Instead she asked me, “If I told you I’d just met someone in a bar, and was thinking about taking him home to sleep with, wouldn’t you tell me that I was moving a bit fast? That I didn’t know him that well? That I might be endangering myself?”
And, for the next hour, I was treated to the clicks and rumbles of my brain starting to fire up again. My critical faculty, a very overused part of my brain, was utterly off-line for nearly two days.
Let’s take the barroom analogy again. If I met someone in a bar, and, without previous interaction, they ran their hands under my clothing and probed intimate parts of me, even if it felt good…do I really want to associate with this person, let alone offer greater intimacies?
How does that fit in with being married, and keeping my marriage non-toxic?
Now, I don’t know that Predator suggested anything to me. But I do know that Predator runs a hypnotic-Domination website, at heavy rates. She doesn’t ask for customers. She asks for slaves to pay tribute. I might have been the victim of a heavy-handed marketing technique, I might just be weak-willed for this sort of thing and she was coincidentally in the business, or I might simply be a freak that needs to be abused by strangers.
I will say that, ten days later, I want nothing to do with Predator again. I don’t want to be taken down by another stranger. I’ve taken steps to recognize it in the future, to recognize when it has already happened, and only chat with Shannon babysitting me (I nod a lot, vacantly, when receiving suggestions, so it should be fairly obvious).