cncclub

[cncclub]

When writing stories I cannot seem to rid myself of the unfortunate habit of having one person do nasty things to another person. In this particular story the nasty thing that one person does to another is far, far nastier than would appear at first sight. I therefore invite you, when it is all over, to sit back and allow your imagination to explore and relish all the things that took place when you were not looking.

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From left to right, lovely leggy lass goes from confident posing to utter mindlessness courtesy of hypnosis.

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the heat of reading   

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[cncclub]

Spirals don’t hypnotise people. Hypnotists do.    If I could give one piece of advice to budding and beginning ‘Tists, it would be this; try it yourself.  If you have a cool spiral with flashy words or maybe a clever block of text or anything else.. try it.  Read it yourself. Look at the spiral.  And ask yourself afterwards;

Were you hypnotised? No? Well, as much as you might not want to hear it, there’s your answer.  If it did nothing for you, chances are it does nothing for anyone else either. Spirals can be a wonderful tool in the hands of a competent Tist.  I would say they often have naturally hypnotic properties; the endlessness of them, the way that your attention seems to get slowly wrangled into the slow grind of the twists and turns. Spirals work.  

They certainly do something, don’t they? When you find yourself looking into the epicentre of one and every few moments you notice your train of thought is just.. gone? That’s what a spiral does. That’s it doing its job. Spirals tend to consume attention, they can be a blackhole for thoughts. But were you hypnotised? Well.. not really, right? There was a passing sense that you could have been.. you moved into and gradually out of some vacant moment of vulnerability in your consciousness. But no more. The slow, bumpless, frictionless, opposite-of-abruptness common to most spirals is a de-facto relaxing dimension and so of course, spirals are wonderful tools of hypnosis.

But just like a hammer is a wonderful tool, it’s not going to build any houses on it’s own.  A pen is a wonderful tool but no pen ever wrote a novel on its own. A spiral isn’t going to hypnotise anyone on its own.. it just helps you get the job done.   And this should go without saying but, they are wonderful tools when your subject can hear you.  It doesn’t make much sense to give a subject impossible instructions like ‘look at the spiral and look at my words’.   So learn how to use the spiral. Speak to your subject as they sink into it.  As their attention is funnelling down the sinkhole of a spiral, use your words to gently guide which holes you it to flow down into.    

[cncclub]

[cncclub]

Nine seconds of "WTF I feel amazing!"

📸: @didideepens

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[cncclub]

Sometimes it's nice to have a nice quiet night in.

[cncclub]

If you’re ever embarrassed by your kinks, just try to keep this in mind:

You’re trapped.

You’ll always want this.

It’ll probably get worse over time.

Your pussy isn’t lying to you.

This is who you really are 💕

[cncclub]

[cncclub]

Omegle is gone. There's an electronic vacuum in the space it used to fill. The news filled me with something of a sadness and anger. Like every piece of the internet I grew up with, it's gone now. A footnote for some textbook written in years to come or a line of evidence in a court case. Maybe it's because omegle was always the Big Bad Wolf of the internet. Strangers, traffickers, junkies, pedophiles, perverts, and the dark web etc. all using this anonymous platform to do unspeakable things. I guess the news articles about the musicians who collaborated, the friendships created and the communities it facilitates don't give enough sensation for the headlines. While it's impossible to remove the bad from the good about this website, there's something to be missed about an ability to connect with someone with no advertisements, no sign ups, no data collection. Just the human desire to talk to someone else, to not be so alone. Nowadays I use omegle a lot for kink, but I used it for some time when I was very lonely. When I wanted someone impartial or just anyone online at 4am to distract me. It's a shame it's gone, and an even larger shame that to get that same experience you'd need to jump through hoops or enter in card details. Or put a camera on. Ironically I was using this very website yesterday, no more expecting its sudden departure than I expected the sun not to rise. Just a staple of internet culture. If I had known it was the last time I would use it, would I have behaved differently? It's just a silly website, but it will be missed.

[cncclub]

Tumblr, Kink and Speaking

'The last crone got burnt up More than eight decades back With the love-hot herb, the talking cat, But the children are better for it, The cow milks cream an inch thick.'

Sylvia Plath, The Times Are Tidy

Tumblr is an odd place.

Or at least the interpretation of it that I have taken, an interpretation shared by those I follow here. It is to interpret Tumblr as a place for your shadow. The non-public facing self.

In my public-facing life I have to write, I have to maintain a reputation for myself and for my institution. Obviously, and reasonably, this constrains what you can and can't say significantly.

Your age will determine the extent to which you remember this but the internet used to be a primarily anonymous place. The whole thing was strange, unmoderated, space for the geekier subsection of the propulation.

And it was populated with handles, nicks, and usernames.

The Dawn of Facebook and heralded the age of LinkedIn Internet - a professional space, where you are expected to represent yourself as though everything you say may be brought up at your next interview or performance review.

Because it might.

@x-xsleepingrose wrote something beautiful recently about the loss of Omegle because Omegle, while relatively new, was a spiritual relic of that earlier internet era, characterised by anonymity, freedom, and chaos.

Everything I have said so far is reasonable, it is singing to something that everyone recognises, something everyone loves and knows is being more and more encroached upon, more and more threatened. Something that is quietly, and all for good and sensible reasons, being bit by bit taken away.

And what I have said is catnip for for puritans and idealogues.

I can hear them already, infesting my imagination with absurd accusations; 'are you suggesting we leave predators run free on the internet?', 'don't you care about young people being preyed upon?'. All grotesque, obscenely egoistic self-flattering questions.

The Spanish Inquisition is a meme but it was also a real organisation where real people charged innocent people with absurd, imagined crimes and tortured them no matter how they answered.

And they did it with the full confidence and comfort of an assumed moral superiority.

Here, I can say what I like.

I can talk about things that turn me on, I can share fantasies, as well as political opinions. I can share my words, my thoughts, myself and it is only in feeling that freedom as I do here that it becomes painfully obvious, by contrast, how less of that there is in the rest of my life.

I don't have an ending. I don't have an argument.

I am just speaking, here, because I can.

[cncclub]

Feeling the Call

Stoker’s (1897) Dracula didn’t just introduce the quintessential and prototypical ‘vampire’ that reincarnates again and again in modern media, it also laid a foundation for many erotic hypnosis via ‘enchantment’ stories and fantasies since.  If you’re familiar with the text, you’ll recall that Dracula’s power over Mina Starker was the very inversion of physical overpowering; Mina was not a victim of being in any way forcefully taken.  She comes to him.  It is not explained, or really explainable, how he achieves this immense and intensely felt power she feels.  She seems to hear his voice though he isn’t present or near.  She finds her mind and dreams come back to him, over and over.  The more she tries to divert them, the more they haunt her, denying relief.  Most of all, she is moved by her intuition, an unspoken infatuation, a desire not consciously endorsed.  She does not and could never let herself say, even in her own mind, the things she knows.  She simply moves to him, for him and she feels it. Without thought, without consideration.  She finds herself doing what she must to invite him in. She goes to her window … she clicks it open.  She lets him in.  There’s something in the Dracula/ Mina Starker dynamic which is so persistent because it speaks to our own relationship with our own subconscious wants and desires.   Everyone here, everyone reading this has wrestled with their desires.  Those things your conscious mind, your rational and reasonable thoughts abhor, and yet.. that you can’t help but come toward.  You, dear reader, know with uncomfortable, breath-seizing certainty, what I am talking about and perhaps, even, who I am speaking to.  The reason Dracula is particularly hypnotic (besides the pseudo-hypnotic things he does) is because hypnosis is the thing that engages most directly with that depth in us, that side of ourselves that takes and moves and speaks outside the will or wish of our more sensible side. There is an undeniable pleasure in hearing that voice, knowing it’s right, and watching yourself ignore it.  I am writing to you now, reader, to give that side of you permission.  It is, after all, what you are here to do… 

So come now. 

You see the window… open it…

[cncclub]

[cncclub]

Repurposed

"I can't take this anymore. I can't. I can't keep this up. I'm so tired. It feels so good it hurts. Over and over and over, I can't stop cumming. I'm trapped. I can't stop. He won't let me stop. I have to endure this, but I can't. I have to, but I can't. I can't. Please, please let it stop. PLEASE!!!"

****************

I sat on his floor, my fingers slamming the thick dildo deep into my sore, overworked pussy. The marble beneath me was soaked in my juices and sweat dripped off my skin as I climaxed over and over and over. The EIU attached to my temple glowed red as I continued to follow his programming. My ex-boyfriend sat in his chair, a smirk on his face as I fucked myself into oblivion.

It was supposed to help people. The Experience Integration Unit was going to be world changing. Wearers could upload a practical experience, such as changing a tire, or doing CPR, and anyone else with an EIU could download the file, storing it inside the device until they needed it. When they did need it, the EIU could help guide the user through the process. It was supposed to help people. Save lives. During the download of a file, it was blue. When using an experience, red. Standby was white.

I invented it.

God, I wish I hadn't. I wish I hadn't shown my then-boyfriend the control interface. I was just trying to show him how it worked. To get his help modulating the signal strength. I trusted him. I loved him. I was so stupid. I never thought he'd make a copy. I never thought he'd clone my upload datastream. It never occurred to me.

When we broke up, it never crossed my mind that I'd given him the key to breaking me. But I had. He had recorded me looking in the mirror and seeing the EID glowing white. He uploaded that experience, so I always saw it was white. It never was, after that moment. He recorded everything.

My own sex drive betrayed me. He recorded me using my favorite toy. I'd always had a healthy libido, and now, newly single, I ended up betraying myself. The moment that experience uploaded to his cloned drive, he used it against me, loading the experience and keeping it locked on repeat. The signal modulation was supposed to have limiters. To guide, not control. To assist, not direct. Limiters that he programmed into the EID. Limiters that he disabled. That was this morning.

I haven't been able to stop fucking myself. Almost the whole day has gone by. I'm so sore. So tired. I'm so oversensitive, it hurts so good. He says he'll release me. He says he can make it stop. Only, I have to do something for him first. He's sitting there watching. Waiting. Waiting for me to break. To give in.

His deal was simple. He'd let me stop cumming if I sucked him. All I had to do was crawl over, open my mouth, and give him a blowjob. I used to love sucking him. I felt so powerful, giving him that pleasure. All I had to do was do something I already enjoyed.

I could stop cumming. He'd let me stop and rest. But I knew... this hell he's trapped me in would only get worse. Because that experience would upload too. I can't stop long enough to reach my control interface. I can't turn the EID off. The second he stops this program, he'll start recording that one. Uploading it. With the limiters disabled, he could force me to suck him off whever he chose.

But then... How much longer before he tortures me like this again? How much longer before he makes me fuck him? How much longer before he finally makes me take him in ways I'd never have agreed to before? How much longer until I am controlled all day long by this evil, broken, twisted piece of repurposed machinery? How much longer until he has everthing he needs to turn me into a toy?

I can only whimper and moan, my sore abs flexing with another monstrous climax. My throbbing, aching body and overused pussy are being used against me. I look up at him, begging and pleading as I fuck myself into exhaustion. I look up and see his thick, waiting shaft, throbbing, enjoying the show.

How much longer until I break, until I give in? How much longer until I give him everything he needs?

How much longer before he repurposes me too?

[cncclub]

When her mind latches on to something he casually put out there and now she can't un-think it and starts to develop an erotic interest in it. That's how you get under her skin. Now you can see her wonder about it; 'Was it casual? Just something she picked up on? Or purposeful - brilliantly part of his patient masterplan?' Let the mystery churn in her mind. It will keep her focused on you. Eager for more. Ring her bells, casually, but intensely hitting the spot of her hidden desires, and she will get taken deeper by you than any superficial man could do. Make her yours by getting her to make herself yours. It is your mind that she falls for. The 'someone stronger' she yearns for, is someone who understands all her needs, not just the erotic ones, and who knows how to give it to her in such a way that she feels your unwavering strength of mind in your response to all she throws at you. A strong woman needs to know you are capable of handling her right. And when she does find your soft strength over and over again, and when you can even fan her flames while at it, oh, will she surrender ever so sweetly to you.