The following is an email from a fan posted with permission.
Work and Illness has, sadly, gotten the better of me for much of February. I wanted so badly to continue onto part three of the Entranced meeting story I have been working on for you. The story will continue very soon, but I wanted to share some thoughts, some observations with you.
When I first ran across your audio last year, I really had no idea what to expect. Your voice is so light and musical, and oh so relaxing. Your audio files were a pleasant distraction, but not something I listened to daily.
Then, something happened…
I listened to a loop file of yours, a counting file. It looped three and a half times and ended. Without even thinking about it, I modified the file so it could be looped endlessly. You and I were chatting at the time, and I emailed it to you. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I felt compelled to work for you, on your behalf, modifying something that I would begin to listen to a few times a week - and then daily. I can’t qualify the impact of this file on me, but it is reasonable to assume it was having at least a nominal impact on my thinking.
Weeks later, it dawned on me… I had asked for your permission to do work for you on something that would make me feel weaker and more submissive to you. It hit me like a hammer. That’s when I realized I needed a routine, and you had released your bimbo fractionation file. I would listen to your deep and dumb arousal file and the bimbo fractionation file each night. Some nights, I would have a bit more time, and I would loop them a couple of times.
One saturday morning, I had a chance to sleep in, and I immediately thought of starting my day with your audio on a loop. I either fell into a deep trance or fell asleep listening to the audio loop. I came out of it a couple of hours later, and I felt so strange. My head was so cloudy, and I was having trouble sorting my thoughts. I remember that I was trying to remember what I needed to do that day, and I couldn’t remember. It was like having a word on the tip of your tongue, yet unable to recall it. However, something else strange was going on. As I came out of trance or woke up or whatever, my mouth was dry and hanging open. I didn’t understand that until later.
I often thought back to that morning, and I used it as inspiration when thinking of the story I was writing for you. At one point, you told me to imagine what would happen during that first meeting in person, if we did meet at the conference in Chicago. At the time, I imagined that meeting, being awestruck to be speaking with you, excited to be able to talk to you and most likely, nervous and a bit submissive to be so near you.
Fast forward to mid-February. I had been so busy, it was maddening, but I carved out enough time to listen to loop of your audio each night. Then you released your lessons in being a dumb slut audio, and finally I realized what happened that Saturday morning, just a few weeks prior.
I don’t think that file is a hypnosis file. In part, I believe that because I can remember the file, and I can remember how I felt while listening to it. I listened to it and sunk into its power. I can still remember your voice in that file…
Dumb sluts suck…
I was lying there, listening, and at that moment, my mouth opened. I started to shake, and a part of me wanted to shut off the file, pull the plug on it, snap out of it, run away…but I couldn’t.
Dumb sluts need to count again…
I found myself muttering softly, repeating each line you spoke. I couldn’t hear my own voice through the headphones, but I could feel the words reverberate out of me.
The other day, I found myself asking, “Please… please… please…?” over and over. Then, I found myself on my knees, and without a thought, the mantra you installed came to my lips.
Am I dumb slut? I don’t really know. I don’t feel so different. However, I remember that sensation so profoundly, of kneeling before you, expressing to you who and what I am. In that moment, I was… I knew I was, and there was nothing I could do about it.
This whole time, I felt safe behind a screen of fantasy and imagination. We can talk and share ideas and stories, but they’re just fantasies, right? Everything is alright because my thoughts and fantasies and secrets and desires are safe, right? None of this is real, my brain isn’t really being changed, right?
So what would happen if I was before you, meeting you in person for the first time? I don’t really know - I don’t think I would have a great deal of influence on events. I can imagine an interrogation chair, this came to me in a dream, where you take away my free will, my consent, my secrets.
This email is soooo long, I must apologize for it. I will spare you a recap of dreams I’ve had these past couple of months, for the sake of brevity. I truly hope you are doing alright and school is off to a good start. I wrote this email initially a few days ago, but I saw your candid video and wanted to let you be able to process everything. I know things are hectic for you, right now.
Please take care of yourself, and let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you. I am completely at your disposal.
Then, something happened…
I listened to a loop file of yours, a counting file. It looped three and a half times and ended. Without even thinking about it, I modified the file so it could be looped endlessly. You and I were chatting at the time, and I emailed it to you. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I felt compelled to work for you, on your behalf, modifying something that I would begin to listen to a few times a week - and then daily. I can’t qualify the impact of this file on me, but it is reasonable to assume it was having at least a nominal impact on my thinking.
Weeks later, it dawned on me… I had asked for your permission to do work for you on something that would make me feel weaker and more submissive to you. It hit me like a hammer. That’s when I realized I needed a routine, and you had released your bimbo fractionation file. I would listen to your deep and dumb arousal file and the bimbo fractionation file each night. Some nights, I would have a bit more time, and I would loop them a couple of times.
One saturday morning, I had a chance to sleep in, and I immediately thought of starting my day with your audio on a loop. I either fell into a deep trance or fell asleep listening to the audio loop. I came out of it a couple of hours later, and I felt so strange. My head was so cloudy, and I was having trouble sorting my thoughts. I remember that I was trying to remember what I needed to do that day, and I couldn’t remember. It was like having a word on the tip of your tongue, yet unable to recall it. However, something else strange was going on. As I came out of trance or woke up or whatever, my mouth was dry and hanging open. I didn’t understand that until later.
I often thought back to that morning, and I used it as inspiration when thinking of the story I was writing for you. At one point, you told me to imagine what would happen during that first meeting in person, if we did meet at the conference in Chicago. At the time, I imagined that meeting, being awestruck to be speaking with you, excited to be able to talk to you and most likely, nervous and a bit submissive to be so near you.
Fast forward to mid-February. I had been so busy, it was maddening, but I carved out enough time to listen to loop of your audio each night. Then you released your lessons in being a dumb slut audio, and finally I realized what happened that Saturday morning, just a few weeks prior.
I don’t think that file is a hypnosis file. In part, I believe that because I can remember the file, and I can remember how I felt while listening to it. I listened to it and sunk into its power. I can still remember your voice in that file…
Dumb sluts suck…
I was lying there, listening, and at that moment, my mouth opened. I started to shake, and a part of me wanted to shut off the file, pull the plug on it, snap out of it, run away…but I couldn’t.
Dumb sluts need to count again…
I found myself muttering softly, repeating each line you spoke. I couldn’t hear my own voice through the headphones, but I could feel the words reverberate out of me.
The other day, I found myself asking, “Please… please… please…?” over and over. Then, I found myself on my knees, and without a thought, the mantra you installed came to my lips.
Am I dumb slut? I don’t really know. I don’t feel so different. However, I remember that sensation so profoundly, of kneeling before you, expressing to you who and what I am. In that moment, I was… I knew I was, and there was nothing I could do about it.
This whole time, I felt safe behind a screen of fantasy and imagination. We can talk and share ideas and stories, but they’re just fantasies, right? Everything is alright because my thoughts and fantasies and secrets and desires are safe, right? None of this is real, my brain isn’t really being changed, right?
So what would happen if I was before you, meeting you in person for the first time? I don’t really know - I don’t think I would have a great deal of influence on events. I can imagine an interrogation chair, this came to me in a dream, where you take away my free will, my consent, my secrets.
This email is soooo long, I must apologize for it. I will spare you a recap of dreams I’ve had these past couple of months, for the sake of brevity. I truly hope you are doing alright and school is off to a good start. I wrote this email initially a few days ago, but I saw your candid video and wanted to let you be able to process everything. I know things are hectic for you, right now.
Please take care of yourself, and let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you. I am completely at your disposal.
-Anonymous
No comments:
Post a Comment