sub-by-day

[sub-by-day]

I'm really new around here but I've heard you do snippets? And I was wondering if you could do one where the hero becomes hypnotized by the villain? (sorry if it sounds weird...)

Their eyes met.

The hero had never noticed how beautiful the villain's eyes were before; acid green and almost luminous, as if they contained their own light source or constellation. The hero's hand lowered, from where it had been about to punch. How could they possibly punch someone with eyes like that? How could they have thought that someone so lovely could possibly be bad?

Wait.

"It's alright," the villain murmured. "You're alright, poppet. Just relax."

The hero tried to blink, but they couldn't. They couldn't look away either. A helpless sort of sound caught in their throat.

"My pretty poppet." The villain smiled, still holding their gaze. "I love that you still insist on struggling every time, even when it won't change the outcome. This is nothing that we haven't done before, is it?"

The memories flooded back. Every time they met the villain's eyes, every time they said that...word. Poppet. The things the hero would do. The new mask they would don. The new monster they had been tracking across the city. Ruthless. Bloody. Them. It had been them, all along, dancing across the strings twitched by this villain's hands.

The distress faded almost as soon as it flared, leaving behind a calm that their unhypnotized self would mistake for coldness. The hero didn't feel cold. They simply felt purposeful.

The tension eased from the hero's shoulders.

The villain gave their orders.

They did it all again in a week's time.

---

The hero squeezed their eyes shut, breathing ragged.

"Oh, poppet. Are you going to fight me blind?" The villain asked.

Poppet. Pretty poppet picked a pick-axe up. Why did the piper tell the perfect poppet to pick the pick-axe up. Pecked and popped and pushed and pulled and puppeted please.

The villain clenched their fists, still in a fighting stance, and thought they might try. They felt the villain's lackeys - their puppets - circling the warehouse around them. The hero knew they could take them...with their eyes open.

But even with their eyes closed, the words still tangled and swirled inside them, tugged at them. They weren't under though. They weren't enthralled, not so long as they didn't look.

"You're a hypnotist, that's what you do." The hero's voice sounded raspy even to their own ears. "But you told me your power was something else, didn't you, while I was under? You used me."

It was all starting to make a terrible sense. The way it felt like there were whole leagues of villains to fight, how dates and numbers and actions couldn't seem to add up right. How they would wake up, and know what they had done that day, until they pressed too hard on the details and came up black.

"I never came to you," the villain said. "You were trying to kill me. You're still trying to kill me. Stay away and maybe you'd all be safe."

"While you use your powers to get whatever you want from people, without consequence? I don't think so."

"It must be a terrible burden, to live with what you have done," the villain said. "I could take that away too. I could wipe you clean."

"You're the reason I have blood on my hands in the first place!" The hero felt, more than heard, the first of the villain's lackeys attack. They dodged, stumbling a step, and the whistle in the air was the only warning. The next blow caught them in the ribs. They doubled over, one hand steadying themselves on the floor.

The next minute was a blur of breaking bone, of elbows and fists and feet. The hero felt bodies drop around them, eerily devoid of any sounds of pain. Then they felt their arms wrestled behind their back and their knees smack against the floor as they were forced to kneel. They felt the villain take hold of their chin and tilt their head up, gently gently, wiping a bead of blood from the hero's split lip.

The hero ached to look. Looking felt like it would make them less vulnerable, less exposed, even when they knew the opposite was true.

"Poppet." The villain sighed. "I'm a hypnotist, not a telepath. I can only suggest. Influence. I don't choose who is susceptible. You did what you did yourself."

"No."

"All that power you have, all that rage and revenge inside of you. You stick so carefully to your little rules because there is such darkness inside of you. Is that why you always struggle so hard?"

"No." The hero's eyes snapped open, to glare, on instinct.

Their eyes met.

The hero had never noticed how beautiful the villain's eyes were before; acid green and almost luminous, as if they contained their own light source or constellation. It was easy to get lost in those eyes, indeed it was a pleasure to drown in them. Bottomless, beautiful, green. Almost sad. Were they sad? Scared.

The hero went slack against the arms holding them. They swayed on the spot, a serpent charmed and raw and dripping venom.

"Pretty soon, pretty poppet," the villain said, "you won't need me to become yourself at all. I am merely your gateway drug. Now, go. Don't you have work to do?"

[sub-by-day]

Just gonna jump in here to note that the point in the OP about side-eyeing files that contain suggestions to contact the creator is a good one. I don’t think it’s a sign of being evil / a predator, just like I don’t think having no or not-thorough-enough content warnings is one, but it’s still not great imo.

EDIT: also might as well link my post about what content warnings should include, and those standards are higher than pretty much anyone keeps to, but that doesn’t mean I think the vast majority of scripts/files are evil or immoral for not being as exacting as this. It just means I think we should all be better about it than we are.

Unethical Files, Content Warnings, and Dubious Consent

Let’s talk about files for a bit. Free files are very prevalent, and they’re commonly how people start into the hypnosis community because it’s really easy to just download some and listen. The problem with this is that many (most?) free files are unethical files created by predators. Sadly, this leads to lots of abuse and bad experiences within the community, and frequently discussion ends up circling around content warnings rather than the contents of the files themselves.

To combat this, let’s talk about it.

Content Warnings Don’t Make Files Ethical or Safe

Content warnings aren’t the be all end all of determining if a file is safe or ethical. How the file is set up, what suggestions it gives, whether it gives you safeties or outs–these are what go into determining if the file is safe and ethical.

Content Warnings Give a False Sense of Safety

Most predators will put content warnings on their files. It’s a tactic. It makes you feel safer. They told you what you were getting into, so you must want it, right? Wrong. Content warnings without safeties make files less safe. Telling you what you were getting into is a way of convincing you that you want what the files are pushing when the suggestions start taking hold. “If I didn’t want this, why did I start listening?” can be a very common thought process when red flags start showing up. This thought process alone should be a red flag.

Remember: “But the file has content warnings!” is distracting from what the file itself is.

A Lack of Safeties Is Unethical and Unsafe

Most content creators don’t direct you to a safeties file first and foremost. Most don’t even create them. This is unethical and unsafe. It means you have zero protection against anything happening in the file, beyond the defenses your mind will muster.

This is especially dangerous with predators. Many predators start you with softer files. Some obedience, some trance, some suggestion, but it probably all feel safe and normal and nice. It’s not until later files that the trap will close, and by that time you’re already in under their influence and less able to resist. Not having safeties means when you get to that point, you’re more likely to be affected by the malicious suggestions.

Listening to Files Is Not Consenting to What Happens in the Files

If I say “let’s have sex”, you agree, and I proceed to do something you didn’t want, did you consent to it? No. You didn’t. Consenting to sex was not consenting to anything that happened during sex.

This applies to files as well. Just because you chose to listen to it doesn’t mean you consented to what it does to you. In most cases, files are going to have things you don’t want at first. This could come in any form. Suggestions to message the creator, suggestions of addiction, suggestions of mindless obedience. What matters is that initial feeling of “I don’t want this.” Listen to that feeling. Stop listening to the file. (Don’t listen to the file in the first place, but if you’re already at that point, stop.) If you’re currently listening to files that initially you didn’t like or didn’t like suggestions in, stop. The more you listen, the more power they’ll have over you.

Suggestions You Don’t Have Control Over Are Unethical and Unsafe

Most free files will simply push suggestions on you. “You want this; you’ll do this” etc. This isn’t giving you an out. This isn’t letting YOU decide whether you want that to happen or not and when you want that to happen. Not giving you that out is unethical and unsafe. The only reason to not give you an out is to prey on you. This is especially applicable to obedience and addiction suggestions, but it applies to all suggestions, no matter how small. The smartest predators will use those tiny, innocuous suggestions to slowly, carefully condition you without you having any awareness of what’s happening.

Contacting a Content Creator After Listening to Their Files Is Dubious Consent

Following on what I’ve discussed above, when you began listening to the creator’s files, you didn’t have safeties. Even if you did, you’ve been conditioned to the suggestions in their files. Especially if the files contain brainwashing tracks. Many of these files have suggestions to contact the creator. You might not at first, but as you listen time and time again and the suggestions and conditioning take hold, you might decide to. At this point your mind is already compromised. You’re filled up with their suggestions and triggers, so you’re much more likely to go along with what they suggest.

You might think “I’ve had this happen, but it was fine!” It wasn’t. If a creator doesn’t give you safeties before listening to their files and directs you to them in their files, they are a predator. Any pretense of kindness, friendliness, or otherwise was an act to make you feel safe until they’d worked their way into your mind enough to do whatever they wished. Think back to those times and ask yourself “did they respect my wishes?” If you can think of a single thing you didn’t want that they pushed on you, then you have your answer. They’re a predator. If you can think of a single time you didn’t want something but couldn’t stop it, you have your answer. They’re a predator.

This can be incredibly insidious, as you’ll question yourself. “I contacted them, so didn’t I want it?” No. You contacted them because their files directed you to. You were following their suggestions, their plan, and walking directly into their trap. Trust your instincts. Don’t question your judgment. Get out ASAP.

[sub-by-day]

when can we get a big group of bimbos together and have a bimbo party where everyone can wear their hottest, most elaborate, least street-safe bimbo uniforms and we can just fucking party together like spin good beats, have cuddle puddles, tease each other’s praise kinks, hypnotize each other to be even better bimbos. and like of course the himbos and thembos et.al are welcome to join in this pile of giggly dumb hedonism, in fact one whole side of the room is full of racks of outfits and stunning items, lingerie, harnesses, fuzzy vests, pleaser heels. whoever can stop giggling long enough to have a steady hand usually staffs the elaborate vanity, ready to help you spice up your eye makeup.

and like in the large room next door there’s just this room full of less bimbo-y types, men & butches and tops of all kinds, folks of reputation & community, chilling in a curated sex space with couches and mattresses and safer sex supplies.

and like the tops are just chilling here having a little drink and shooting the shit and having a good time, spinning beats of their own. of course they adore when a gaggle of bimbos wanders their way, ready as they are for negotiations as well as gangbangs as well as cuddles. a bimbo might drop in to serve drinks or be eye candy. she might gogo for them. she might sit on someone’s lap to share a joint. she might suck a few dicks and get her fix of cum to keep her energized for a night of dancing. she might get fucked so hard in all of her holes over and over that she passes out on a cutie’s chest. she might get her bubble popped and her brain blanked by an expert mind fucker. she might just hang out and cockwarm for her bro.

and cause this dream of a party is fantasy anyway we can just say that the evening’s party favors are three doses of a special blend that feels giggly, trippy, foggy, & sooooo lovely & puts the body in an markedly-elevated state of arousal for several hours. here are your three deep pink gelcaps. guests are advised to take one dose only. that is, unless they desire to truly learn what their inner bimbo truly desires?

how many do you take?

[sub-by-day]

We need to get some sense into the hypno-bimbo-kink space.

Too fucking many of these blogs are without flash warnings, disclaimers and statements that make the difference between fantasy and reality clear.

We do not promote or accept the grooming of minors.

We do not condone or accept abusive behaviors.

We laugh about people who think every submissive should submit to them.

We are consenting adults indulging in a kink. That’s okay as long as it doesn’t negatively impact our daily lives or anyone else.

If talking to a certain person or using certain files seems to be harmful to your mental health, cut all ties with it.

If you like the idea of being a blank-minded fuckdoll (or at disposal of one), that’s something that should be indulged in & enjoyed for finite periods of time.

You are NOT born to serve men. Can you feel like you are and pretend you are in a kinky setting and sexual situation? Absolutely.

Should you walk around in the world with that mindset? Absofuckinglutely NOT. This mindset will end up in abuse, self-neglect and self harm if extended over your entire life.

Play. Safe.

[sub-by-day]

all of this! and hypnosis doesn’t have to involve lack of thought or even less thought, which might help - maybe look at mantras, or hypnosis that’s more focus and less relaxation?

but also: TALK TO A THERAPIST ABOUT IT

there are definitely things you can do to try to make hypnosis work better for you, but telling a professional “hey my intrusive thoughts get worse when I try any guided meditation sort of deal” is both innocuous and probably much more useful than asking strangers on the internet about it!

like I’m not saying you shouldn’t ask this or anything, I just want to make sure that you aren’t only asking this here and not talking to someone irl. I definitely relate - I haven’t ever had too much in the way of intrusive thoughts, but I do have high depression/stress times when I have at least audio and sometimes visual input running in the background at all times in addition to whatever I’m focusing on or my brain starts having the space to Feel Things and it avoids that at all costs. sometimes during those times I can dive so deep into hypnosis that that itself becomes the avoidance mechanism (which is not necessarily healthy either), sometimes I just can’t focus on it and need to go back to doing three things at once.

ANYWAY tl;dr if you’re not talking to a therapist about this please do that too!!!

i love watching files on youtube/tumblr, but ive noticed that the deeper i go, the more my intrusive thoughts start acting up, and i wont be able to drop further and end up coming out of it. it’s like my intrusive thoughts wait for me to be relaxed so they can hurt me more. are there any things i can do to calm my thoughts?

It's definitely hard to relax and focus when that happens!

For Me, I usually tell My subjects that their thoughts are quieting and entering the background. Sometimes it's easier to focus on quieting the thoughts than getting rid of them. You could also try actively listening to every word the hypnotist says/reading every word on the screen, like read it "out loud" in your head to try and drown the intrusive thoughts out.

That might help them quiet while also reinforcing the file!

[sub-by-day]

Ella Enchanting Linktree

I finally made a link tree! Access all of my stories, audios, presentation notes, ways to support me, and other fun things here! 

Also- I would be grateful if you would share/reblog!

[sub-by-day]

The Fireplace

“It’s just lovely,” I said, turning toward her. She’d just given me the tour of her new place; I’d seen the pictures she’d posted, but they really didn’t do it justice. The difference between seeing it through a lens on a screen and seeing it in person really was vast.

Of course, I could say the same for her. We’d been friends - real friends, the kind whose number you call more than your own family - for ages. Two years of being stuck on video calls were two too many, and seeing her that morning was part relief and part elation.

A friend of mine lost his smell for a few years and said when he got it back, it was “like smelling in 3-D.” Take long enough away from something, and you see it (or smell it, as it were) in a different light.

I pondered that as I pondered her - our friendship had been through a few waves of being something more than “just friends,” so the occasional lingering look wasn’t so out of line, but my eyes caught hers and we both grinned a bit.

“It really is good to see you,” she said. “I mean, see you for real, anyway.”

The levity was a graceful way to break the moment, and as we walked back down the upstairs hallway, a gust of early winter breeze blew outside and a hint of the crisp air seeped in.

“It’s beautiful, but the building is 100 years old,” she said. “Drafty is just part of the charm of life by the water.”

I could hear the waves crashing outside and remembered how envious I was that she had the world’s best white noise machine built in. As we passed her bedroom, she stopped.

“I forgot to show you the best part!”

She took my arm and guided me into the room.

“I’d been waiting for the right moment to officially make use of the house’s best feature… drum roll, please.”

I did my best tapping on the doorframe, and she strode to the wall and flipped a switch by the door… the “foomf” noise caught my eye and the fireplace in the wall sprung to life.

I’d not even noticed it as we went through her bedroom before - it was the back side of the fireplace in the living room, but I’d been too taken by the tour guide to really pay attention to that detail. Now that it was on, though, I watched the way the flames danced and leapt among the fake logs.

“It’s great, right?” She was beaming. I’d missed that smile.

“It’s perfect,” I replied, looking back at the flame. “How long does it take to heat the room?”

“You know, I’ve never checked. It’s just now cold enough to really need it.” I noticed out of the corner of my eye she was looking at me instead of the fire.

“I like the way the flames seem to move around,” she said. “It’s built to match an actual flame, where the pattern is really unpredictable.”

I nodded and kept looking.

“There are even little hot spots where the wood begins to glow with the heat. It takes a while for that to happen, but it’s really nice when it does.”

I thought I saw a corner of a log start to glow, but I wasn’t sure.

“I find the warmth really moves up by body as the air heats up. It’s slow. Steady. I watch the way the smaller flames flare up here and there, adding little bits to the radiant heat. It’s just fascinating, isn’t it?”

I nodded, still looking for the glow she’d mentioned, but getting distracted by the smaller flames.

“That cozy warmth, and the flames, the way it glows and flickers… and it’s perfect with the bed right here.”

I’d forgotten where I was. Her voice was warm and comfortable and I was so focused I had really started to tune things out. It sounded so much better in person.

“Keep watching the flames. You’ll see it.” She said it more directly, but still with that warmth. I was aware, tangentially, that she’d moved right beside me - her voice sounded closer; it felt closer.

“See? Right there,” she said, and my eyes followed her finger, pointing at the fireplace, but as soon as my focus shifted, she raised the finger right toward my face.

“That’s it. Perfect. You are so good at this. You’re such a good boy.”

I felt myself shudder at that phrase. She felt it, too, taking advantage of the moment to press her hand to my forehead.

“Drop. Now.”

My knees buckled as she lowered me back to the bed. It’s trite, but it really did feel as if the world was falling away. My body — tense after years of All Of The Bad — was desperate to melt. My mind, just as tense, was desperate to yield.

“Such a good boy,” she said with a gentle chuckle that said she was even caught a bit off guard at how easily I’d relented. But of all the things I’d gained from the isolation from this part of my life, the strongest was the sense that I’d never take a chance for granted again.

As I felt myself slide on to the bed more fully, I could still feel the warmth from the fireplace warming my feet.

As she moved herself over and above me, I could feel her body, warming my torso.

As she leaned close and whispered, “What are we going to do with you?” I could feel her voice, warming my mind.

As I felt her breath on my face, my body yearned to lean up and kiss her deeply, but my mind, and her words, held me perfectly still.

“Whatever you ask, and nothing more, ma’am.”

“Such a good boy.”

[sub-by-day]

Addendum: it is possible not to be an abusive partner despite checking off boxes on some of these lists, but be VERY CAREFUL about looking at something and going “yeah, X does that, but not in an abusive way it’s fine” or anything like that. Abuse can be hard to recognize and harder to accept, and if your brain gets an excuse to just dismiss the problem it will absolutely do that. So if your partner checks off one of these boxes, even if you think it’s not abusive, try to sit with it for a while and seriously think about whether it’s really as harmless as you think.

Checklists are inherently imperfect

Lately, I have seen - and reblogged, and made - a number of kink-related checklists. Those are things like "10 signs of an abusive Dom" or "List of red flags for an abusive relationship" and other posts in that vein. I just want to take a second and acknowledge that, as useful as those can often be, the short-hand nature of what's required never encompasses the wide variety of relationships and people in the world.

Is it possible to be an abusive Dom or abusive partner and do none of those things? Yes, generally.

Is it possible to not be an abusive partner or Dom and do some of those things? Yes, generally.

Understand that while reading them. They necessarily come from a limited perspective, and life is a complicated mess. Sometimes, events will fall outside of their scope, and that's okay. Being right sometimes and wrong others is okay. If what you say is still useful and does more good than it does harm, then it is still good. It may not stay there forever and society may move past where your statement remains good/helpful... but if so, then that's good too. It means we have all grown, collectively, to be in a better place.

So, they aren't wrong to put out there and I'm not going to stop doing it, but I also acknowledge that there are inherent flaws to doing it that way.

[sub-by-day]

Friendly Reminder for Novice Hypnotic Subjects

As I’ve recently seen someone claiming otherwise:

* Depth of trance is interesting and is fun but not going deeper for someone is not a thing to feel guilty about

* Depth of trance is not the most important element in accepting types of suggestion. Nor does everyone find the same amount of difficulty in the same types of suggestion.

* Sometimes a type of suggestion is just something you don’t process easily/have a way to process you haven’t discovered which runs contrary to the way they suggest it/aren’t quite ready to trust them with/think about in such a way it’s more difficult and - and this is crucial - that’s OK.

* There is no set of hard and fast rules for how people process suggestions. There is no set of hard and fast rules for how people experience trance. There is no set of hard and fast rules for any of this shit. People who say otherwise probably are not trying to mislead you, but they are definitely working from untested and unproven assumptions.

[sub-by-day]

OH YEAH THIS IS MY SHIT RIGHT HERE

A Night With the God of the City

Cities have their own gods.

We don’t give them names. Naming our gods was for an older time, a time of superstition that we all believe we outgrew when we gave up on the cycles of the harvest and the surveying of stars for the comforts of cappuccinos, bodegas, and rent-controlled co-ops. But we still pray to them nonetheless, every time we look for a gap in traffic or ask that light to stay yellow a little bit longer or walk down the sidewalk at night in a part of town where the streetlamps flicker ominously on the verge of death. We have our little rituals to placate the gods of cities, to propitiate them and beg their favor, and if it seems like they don’t listen then perhaps it’s not that they don’t exist. Perhaps it’s just that we don’t worship them enough.

Perhaps they need sacrifices.

The woman handcuffed to the rusty chain link fence doesn’t know she’s a sacrifice. She doesn’t know much of anything, not after the drugs have left her limbs slack and her eyes heavy and her mind floating in a sea of euphoria that makes struggle on any level a virtual impossibility. She’s loosely aware that she’s naked, her warm brown skin exposed to the afternoon sun as she hangs spread-eagled from her bonds and waits for whatever fate comes to her. She understands, in an instinctive sense, that this is some kind of a cult thing–the people who hung her up here behaved with too much reverence and ceremony for even the most strung-out not to understand. We’re all hard-wired to recognize the worship of gods, whether we believe in them or not. Whether we know who they are or not. Because we might not know them… but they know us.

If she’s lucky, this god might be merciful. The nameless gods of cities sometimes are, despite decades of paranoia directed at them by the distant and fearful acolytes of the suburbs who visit but never stay. She has nothing of value but her body, after all, and the vagaries of fate might leave her blessed with disinterest from those who know a sacrifice when they see one even if they could never put a word to the sacred violence they inflict. She might rest there all day and all night, hallucinating a communion with a vast and terrible shadow that strides the alleys and stares down from the skyscrapers and communicates with its followers through a thousand thousand neon lights. Most of those that the city gods spare become its followers, their minds opened to the true will of the urban deity by their experience. If she comes through this intact, she will become a priestess of asphalt and metal.

And if not… well, there are degrees of sacrifice. She might slip through the evening in a drugged haze, little knowing what happens to her and accepting everything as the will of a god she can scarcely comprehend. She might sleep and wake and sleep and wake, and return home grateful that she suffered only indignity for her time staked out to the gods of the cities. Or she might… well. It might be peaceful, at least. Or it might not.

Because cities have gods. And those gods are not kind.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

[sub-by-day]

jukebox, and I say with the utmost fondness, fuck you so much xD

Agreement

Ami couldn’t stop staring into the darkness. It was as if it simply swallowed up every stray particle of light that came her way, leaving her eyes so completely and totally accustomed to the blacker-than-blackness that greeted her gaze that she couldn’t even imagine illumination anymore. She didn’t know if she was blinking or not; her eyelids felt like they were fluttering and drooping, but there was no difference between the world of utter shadow that greeted her when they slipped shut and when they struggled, desperately and ineffectually, to open. Her optic nerves were simply shutting down from lack of stimulus, taking her mind along with it.

She knew there was a person with her in the room; she could feel fingers caressing her nudity, groping and squeezing her body. But the latex suit they wore blended in perfectly with the impossibly deep shadows of the room, absorbing every last bit of luminescence until Ami’s eyes tricked her and she couldn’t pick them out from the black background they walked past. The only sign they even existed was when she saw them cover her skin with a silhouette of pure darkness, brushing her with caresses that kept her dazed and disoriented and helpless. She knew there must be light coming into the room from somewhere–she could see her own tawny flesh, at least when her stare wasn’t captivated by the perfect darkness that drew her ever deeper. But she didn’t know where it was coming from. Everywhere she looked, she saw only void.

The absence of visual stimuli numbed her brain, leaving her progressively more vacant and empty and desperate to be filled. It was as though the absolute blackness was leaking down through her eyes into her mind, her very soul, deadening Ami’s will and making her increasingly helpless to think her own thoughts anymore. When she felt the invisibly dark cock brushing against her lips, she opened wide for it simply to feel something concrete and tangible–she didn’t know whether it was flesh behind the sheath of latex, or a silicone strap-on, and she didn’t care. The shaft was real inside her mouth. She could center herself on it. She could anchor her mind to it. When it popped out, leaving her alone, she almost cried.

She knew she couldn’t take much more of this. Ami could sense her mind teetering on a precipice of utter subjugation, the sheer void around her leaving her unmoored to the point of total personality collapse. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice almost sounding as if it too was absorbed by the endless darkness, “please, I’ll do anything. Please, use my cunt, use my mouth, use my ass, I… I’ll be yours forever, I promise.” Her cheeks burned furiously at the depths to which she’d sunk, but she couldn’t stop herself from babbling out desperate pleas of submission and obedience. “Please, just t-tell me who you want me to be. Tell me what you want me to do. I, I’ll do anything, just command me. Just please tell me what I have to do. Please. Please tell me. Please.”

And she heard it. The voice in the darkness. Her new owner. Her salvation. The command that would tether her soul back to her body. Ami nodded gratefully as she heard, “By accepting this brainwashing you confirm that you are not Anish Kapoor, you are in no way affiliated with Anish Kapoor, and you are not being fucked into obedience on behalf of Anish Kapoor or an associate of Anish Kapoor….”

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

[sub-by-day]

@domme-by-starlight has a few mixed in among the inductions. Others I can remember right now are @writtenbynath @sex-obsessed-lesbian @ellaenchanting uhh definitely other people I’m forgetting… check out @consensualhypnofics for some ideas as well. But also, y’know, https://readonlymind.com exists. And has many of those people collected on it (not including domme by starlight, which I should maybe fix sometime..) plus lots of others! Other people I follow with content on there include sleepingirl, GleefulAbandon, and HypnoHarlequin (though that last I read less for the sexiness and more just because it’s great). And I second all the recommendations above!

Do you have any good blogs for hypnokink stories? I'd be fine with minicomics/comics/smut, etc, but I really like porn with plot, and you always reblig really good ones.

@jukeboxemcsa obviously! He is the grandmaster. Also, @hypnopum is good, and since my brain is not cooperating... Folks, care to add to this?

[sub-by-day]

they got that they/them þussy

[sub-by-day]

You’re not a bad sub if:

Edging isn’t for you.

Denial isn’t for you.

Pain isn’t for you.

Anal isn’t for you.

Oral isn’t for you.

You’re also not a bad sub if you need to safeword, if your limits are different today, if you have chronic conditions or mental health struggles that limit you more than you’d like.

There’s so many posts that talk about the “ways to be a good sub” and honestly there is no one way and it’s okay to do what’s right for you. You’re not a bad sub at all.

[sub-by-day]

It’s All I Wanted

Oh, hey! I still have a tumblr, and I’m still alive! I woke up very hypno-horny yesterday, and it had not stopped by this morning. I wrote this on Twitter and really like it, so I thought I’d post it here. I miss this place.

Not to be thirsty on main, but all I’m asking is for someone to kiss me into trance and leave me unable to think about anything but their pleasure. IS THAT SO MUCH?

It could start with an innocent peck on the cheek and wiping away a lipstick smudge that gets me all flustered. Obviously the being flustered leads to you gently (but pointedly) turning my face and making me meet your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you say, and it’s somewhere in between an invitation and an order, not that I need much encouragement. I lean in, and you pull me forward, just enough that the kiss is deep and warm. “That felt so good, didn’t it? You’ve wanted that for a while.”

I become all the more flustered that it was that obvious, and you notice immediately. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, but it’s sweet that you are. I’ve known for a while. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think.”

The thought of you knowing this whole time hits me from so many different angles. I feel my body shudder slightly. “Sweet boy. Kiss me again.” You pull me in, you hold me close. Our lips part slightly this time.

“It makes me feel so good to kiss you,” you say. “And you’ve thought about making me feel good, haven’t you?” At this point, my mind registers the way your tone has shifted, but it doesn’t change my response, a small head nod. “Good boy.”

You pull me in again and the world starts to fade - there may be other things than you, but I couldn’t care less about them. My body is moving of its own accord now and I hold you close as we kiss, every part of me awake but also surrendering. “Good boy,” you say, and I melt.

“You’re making me so happy, you know. It feels good to know that, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I reply, mustering all the strength I have.

“Miss?” you intone. I know.

“Yes, miss,” I reply.

A quick peck of positive reinforcement tells my brain and body I’ve done what was expected.

“It’s just like you imagined, isn’t it? When you make me feel good, I can make you feel good.”

My eyes widen and get unfocused without notice.

“What a good boy. Were you thinking of how to please me?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Every kiss makes that stronger, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, miss.”

My mind is overflowing with images; images of me giving you pleasure, anticipating your needs and wants, knowing the reward will be so, so good. You see it on my face.

“Another kiss now.”

My body responds instantly. I realize that you didn’t pull me in this time, but your words felt even stronger than your arms. I’m acting, but purely out of a desire to please you.

Every kiss sends me deeper into focus on you. On your needs; your desires.

It’s all I wanted.

[sub-by-day]

*SLAMS REBLOG SO HARD*

It’s not your gender, it’s you

A lot of orgasm denial is linked to misogyny or misandry. And don’t get me won’t, if that’s your kink, I’m not judging it. Roll with it if it gets you and your partner off. Or, as the case may be, one of you anyway. But “Girls never come” or “Boys don’t come” doesn’t do it for me.

I don’t want to tell a girl that she can’t orgasm because she’s a girl. No, I’d rather make sure she knows other girls come all the time. Let her know that she’s special, because while most girls orgasm every day, I’ve chosen her to suffer and be denied. “Every girl comes except you. Do you know why? Because you’re mine.”

[sub-by-day]

The Puppet And The Puppeteer

In the end, it was a fairly simple bit of hypnotic suggestion—despite all the months Lloyd had spent struggling to figure out how to do it.  He gathered his props—wooden marionette frame without strings on it, and of course the pocketwatch he used to send Timoti into hypnosis.  He didn’t need the pocketwatch anymore—all he needed was two fingers in the middle of his handsome sub’s forehead—but he enjoyed watching Timoti’s eyes go back and forth.  It was all part of Lloyd’s sexuality.  The fluttering eyelashes, the mouth sagging open.  If it hadn’t been before, it would have been the moment he saw how well Timoti reacted to hypnosis.

Timoti invariably blacked out and didn’t remember deep trances.  That was the key to this.

Lloyd took Timoti deep, then showed him the marionette frame.  “You see this?”

The slurred word was probably an affirmative.

“When I say, ‘puppet mode,’ you will be in puppet mode.  In puppet mode, you can only move when I am moving this.”  Lloyd demostrated.  Timoti’s eyes followed drunkenly.  “Puppet mode will last until I say, ‘End puppet mode.’”  Timoti’s eyes were drooping closed again.  “Eyes open, love.”

And then there was the tricky bit.  “When you are in puppet mode, you will move the way you want to.  But you will be certain that I’m controlling you with this.  Your conscious mind will feel that I control all your movements in puppet mode, by moving this.”  Lloyd moved the marionette frame again.

Timoti’s eyes followed.

Lloyd installed various safeties.  He had the sneaking suspicion that Timoti’s subconscious would let Lloyd do anything he wanted, which was thrilling, a bolt directly to the groin, but came with a corresponding panic about responsibilities.  And then he woke Timoti up.

Timoti blinked.  “So, are we—“ he started.

“Puppet mode,” Lloyd said.

Timoti’s expression froze.

Lloyd let him stay frozen like that, holding the marionette frame still, and then started moving it.

Timoti stretched out his arms, jerkily, like a marionette, and seemed to be testing how his limbs would move.  “God,” he said.  “My god.  How are you—“

Lloyd stopped moving, just to see what would happen.

Timoti froze again.

Another twitch of the frame, and he started talking again.  “You’ve got me—every bit of my body is completely under your—you’re even making me say this!”

“Well, of course, love,” Lloyd bluffed.  “I’m basically acting out a scene with myself, aren’t I?  Your brain is only along as a passenger.”  He watched Timoti’s hand jerk slowly down to his trousers.  “Absolutely helpless.  And now I’m going to make you say how I think that makes you feel.”

“God, I want you so bad.”

“I wonder how you actually feel,” Lloyd mused, knowing perfectly well that Timoti was speaking his mind—more uninhibited than usual, probably.  “I’m probably right.  I’m pretty good at knowing what you want.  What you need.”  Lloyd waited until Timoti had undone the zipper and had his hand on his cock before stopping the marionette frame again.

He could tell from the small, involuntary motion of Timoti’s throat that he wanted to whimper.  Couldn’t.  Entirely controlled.

Lloyd could tell that his own breathing was fast.  This was as hot to watch as it was fascinating.  “My very own puppet,” he mused, and twitched the marionette frame.  Timoti’s hand went up and down his shaft, hard, and then stopped again as Lloyd stopped moving his hand.

Lloyd played with him for a moment more that way, stopping and starting, wondering what the jerky, marionette-like motions were doing to Timoti’s erection—whether it felt like a stranger’s hand.  From the look of Timoti’s cock, the uncoordinated motions of the handjob weren’t a problem in the slightest.

Or maybe that was just the situation.  Lloyd had been the one who wanted to have a puppet, but that didn’t mean Timoti wasn’t enthusiastic.

“I could do this all night,” Lloyd said.  “I could make you do this all night.  God, you’re so hot like this.  But I think it’s time to stop playing with your cock, don’t you think?”

Timoti nodded jerkily.  It looked for all the world as if Lloyd had forced him to do it.  Perhaps he had.  What was control, really?  If someone thought you controlled every motion, did you?

“What do you think I’m going to make you do next?”  Lloyd continued to wag the marionette frame back and forth.

Timoti got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards Lloyd, eyes flicking from the marionette frame to Lloyd’s trousers and back.  He couldn’t look away from the frame for long, Lloyd realized, or he couldn’t move.  He had to know it was moving.

That might make a difference in logistics.  Lloyd would have to hold the frame where Timoti could see it as Timoti sucked his cock.

In a moment.  Lloyd stopped moving the frame and Timoti froze, one knee in the air.

“You know where I’m going with this,” Lloyd said sweetly.  “But I’m going to make you wait a little bit.  I know how hungry you get for my cock, and it wouldn’t do to just give it to you.”

“Please,” Timoti said hoarsely.  “Please let me suck.”

“I think that’s exactly what you would have said if you could say things on your own,” Lloyd said.  “Don’t worry.  I’m going to make you suck my cock.  Or should that be jerk myself off, with your face?  After all, you’re just a thing right now, aren’t you?”

Timoti nodded.  A jerk of his head up, a jerk of his head down.

Lloyd hadn’t actually planned the marionette-like motion.  That was all Timoti, imagining new things into the scene they had planned together.  Lloyd wondered how it would feel, with Timoti’s mouth on his cock, moving in fits and starts rather than its usual smooth, skillful motion.

It might take him longer to come.  But it might be almost better that way.  Stretch it out a little.

He moved the marionette frame again, and Timoti jolted into motion again.

This time, Lloyd didn’t stop moving the frame.

My buymeacoffee link!  Right now, I’m donating anything I get to a Black Lives Matter related fund.