Nerdtimes

So I’ve been trying to come up with a list of hypnosis/brainwashing triggers from various movies, books, video games and media that I think are sexy, and would love for someone to utilize in the future.

(This is a work in progress.)

(This is also extremely dorky.)

Seeing the Queen of Diamonds playing card
“Would you kindly…”
“There are three flowers in a vase…”
“Would you like a treatment?”
“Be seeing you.” (And then making an ok sign with your hand around your eye)
Eating a peach

Try and guess what each one is from! There are things, but this list is only stuff I find sexy (the song “Relax” doesn’t count because Zoolander is a stupid movie) or that aren’t ubiquitous at this point (like pocketwatches and “look into my eyes”).

I’m also open to any suggestion (nurrrrrrr) of sexy triggers to add to this list!

Noir Fetish

I’m going to digress from hypnosis a little bit and write about something else I find irrisistable: noir*.

Lately, I’ve been preoccupied with watching as many noir classics as possible (The Big Sleep, Casablanca, Gilda, Vertigo, etc (and yes, I know I NEED to see The Maltese Falcon, but it’s not instant watch and it’s far down on my queue)). I’ve realized that something about noir resonates with me in a specifically erotic way. I know that noir as a genre implies a certain amount of only slightly veiled eroticism, sometimes in the dialogue (there is a fantastic example of this in The Big Sleep where Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart banter about “playing horses” (tee hee)), and sometimes in the women themselves, which I’ll get to in a bit.

As far as the veiled eroticism goes, I know I’ve always found sexy things to be more sexy when they’re slightly hidden. Much as I looooove the boobies, I find a revealing dress on a woman to be a lot more erotic. I like being teased, and when there’s an implication as opposed to an outright reveal, that’s far more tantalizing because it exercises my imagination. And with the tease, naturally, there’s denial. In most of the films thus far, once the lovers come together, that’s it, film’s over. Or one dies. Or leaves on a plane, after crying a single, perfect tear (how does Ingrid Bergman DO that?!). The buildup, where they hate each other, or want each other, or are torn between the square-jawed private eye and their husband is terribly exciting.

I think this relates to why the 40s aesthetic has become majorly fetishized. Think about it. For example: why are garter belts automatically sexy? They’re a pain in the ass to get on, and totally unecessary, but an essential part of lingerie or “fetish” wear. But they’re one more step between you and a nude lady that you get to fuck, and therefore end your boner/the film. They’re undergarments that were once as common as anything, but now are purposefully donned as a tease.

Now: the women. Specifically: the Femme Fatale.

I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way

I’ve always had it bad for femme fatales in a BIG way. The slinky dress, the cigarette**, the throaty voice, all those little signifiers just KILL me.

T&D obviously plays a big role in this archetype, as she uses her IRRISISTABLE sexuality to seduce men, but withholds anything overt in order to CONTROL them to her own, dangerous ends. Dingdingdingding! At it’s core, this is along the same lines as mind control and D/s and all that great stuff that turns my crank. So before ever even watching an actual noir film, this kind of character has always been the kind of person I desire.

Watching all these films now, however, I find myself torn between my desire of the femme fatale and identifying with her, which is slightly confusing to me, and the reason why I’m writing this out in the first place. After watching Gilda today, I think I’ve hit upon it. Femme Fatales are strong, sexually aware women, who, by the end of the film, go totally gaga for the swarthy PI and thus loses all her power to him (usually in a kiss of unbridled passion contrasted with soft lighting and soaring strings). And there’s something really hot about that too.

I’ve lately been mentally grappling with my sexual fantasies of submission and control and how they fit into my everyday personality. When I go to public BDSM parties, I get all naked and sassy, and I take great offense to anyone who would dare treat me like a submissive, even though that’s what drew me to the scene in the first place. I’m not saying I want to FIND THE DOMINANT WHO WILL TAME ME GOOD AND PROPER AND OH HOW I WILL SWOON IN HIS EMBRACE, because that’s just silly, but that I think power over someone is a lot sexier when the person you’re controlling is incredibly powerful in their own right. More often than not, the femme fatale falls for the leading man because they are intellectual equals, and she falls because he’s the only one who can keep up with her. Ultimately, what I want from D/s, is a person with whom I share an equal relationship, who takes all power from me as a sexual act (the “end of the film”, as it were). I want the femme fatale, and I want to BE the femme fatale at the same time. And that idea is kind of cool.

I’ve always used the creative works of others to tease out my own identity. My sexuality isn’t just chemistry, but a blend of all the films and TV shows I’ve seen and the books and comics I’ve read. It’s funny that watching film noir now makes me realize things about myself that have always been there, but have been difficult to put into words until now. I guess that’s what being a sex nerd is all about.

*NERDY CAVEAT: I am aware that the term “noir” is overused as hell, and only applies to a certain kind of film with a very specific visual language, plot structure and character types, and that all other movies are just “made in the 40s” or “crime thrillers” blurr bla bloo, but for the sake of simplicity, I am just going to say noir and I’m fairly certain you’ll get it. Also, any observation I make is drawn from speculation based off the handful of films I’ve seen or a cursory Wikipedia search.

**Smoking is totally gross, guys.

Wowee!

Jack is a lovely friend of mine and an excellent sex blogger.

One night he and Wendy Blackheart hypnotized me and beat my ass silly.

This is that story.

Fuuuuunnn times.

Meeting people based on mutual interests that relate to boners

Yesterday was my very first “hypnosis munch”.

From what I understand, there is a very small but tight-knit hypnosis scene in New England. This is fantastic. I totally want to meet all of them. I’m jealous that there are so many and they are so terribly organized. A few weeks ago, I received an email from the lovely and gracious Miss Mephki, who lives in Boston and is part of the hypnoscene up there, and she expressed interest in meeting the New York hypnoscene. My first thought was, “oh dear… I think it’s just me.” But that’s not quite true. There are a handful of hypnotists living around here, who I’ve gone to parties with, and met and talked to and played with. I’m sure there are plenty I have yet to meet. It’s just rare for all of us to be in the same room together.

I’m also one of the two outspoken hypno enthusiasts I’m aware of who is female and is a bottom (subject? I never settled on a good term for “someone who prefers to get hypnotized). And I am outspoken ad nauseum.

Which is a strange thing if you think about it.

Meeting new people in a fetish sort of context is still odd to me. In “vanilla” (for lack of a better term) interactions, upon first meeting people, it would be difficult to drop into conversation the specifics of what, exactly, turns me on. What gets me wet. You go to a class on the first day, you don’t tell people “Hi, I’m new here, my name is Bob and hypnosis gives me an erection.” You have to earn the trust of say, a close friend, and after a long time of friendship you confess in one drunken night at 3 am that you have this kooky fetish. But at a munch situation, especially one for a fetish as specific as this, you meet someone new, you shake their hand, and already you know exactly what gets them hard. And they know what gets you wet. And there’s a weird vulnerability that comes with that. And a freedom, as well.

I think one of the reasons why I’ve felt so exhilarated and at home in the kink scene for the past year and a half since I jumped headfirst into it is this bypassing of the long building up of trust (or just copious amounts of booze, whichever). Before I came out (as it were) I was TERRIFIED of my fetish. I was ashamed of my very D/s, bisexual hypnosis fantasies. The boyfriend I had knew I enjoyed being tied to headboards and a certain degree of dirty talk, but it took years before I finally worked up the courage to tell him that I thought the hottest thing ever would be if he swung a watch in front of my eyes. He said no, and after a disastrous breakup, I decided that dammit, I WAS going to get hypnotized, so I entered the BDSM scene.

One of the reasons, I think, why I’m so outspoken about this particular fetish of mine (I have others, big surprise!), is because I can be now. When this is the first thing a person knows about me, before I even shake their hand or learn there name, then that fretting about whether I’m a weirdo or a pervert is rendered unnecessary. It helps that the hand I’m shaking is usually attached to another weirdo pervert. I need to talk about hypnosis all the time, and I need everyone on this goddamn planet (except my parents) to know about my hypnofetish because the more outspoken about it I am, the less scary it is. If I’m an open book, than I’ve got nothing worth hiding (which relates to how I feel about exhibitionism, but that’s for a different post). And I’m starting to open up to people about other, more deeply hidden things, which is both exhilarating and comforting. Also, holy crap, hypnosis is kind of the coolest thing ever and I’m a big nerd.

The hypnomunch was then an interesting, and rather new experience, as it was definitely the most specific sort of fetish gathering I’ve been to. This was by far the largest group of hypnofetishists I’ve ever seen in the same place (about 10). I met some new people, connected with friends I haven’t seen in a long time, saw some people I’d rather not have seen; lots of awkward conversation was had as well as some excellent discussion. And we all knew exactly what got each other hard. And they all knew exactly what got me wet. Because I told them all, of course.

From Outer Space

So hi. I’m reactivating this blog.

Hope all you crazy kids RSSed this, or I’m blogging to dead air.

A change:
I’m no longer going by Rik. I mostly came out with that because I couldn’t think of anything else at the time, and it was a shortening of another internet handle I go by.
I shall henceforth (henceforth!) be known as Trilby. Because it’s a literary reference, and I thought that maybe if I used a literary reference I would seem smarter to all of you on the internet. Also it just sounds perky. And it’s a pretty snazzy hat.

The reference is to the book entitled Trilby, which is a book that is ostensibly about a lady, named Trilby, who is seduced and destroyed by an eeeviiilll hypnotist (in actuality it is about three guys who are British and living in Paris and THEY LOVE ART OH HOW THEY LOVE IT which was a disappointment, but I digress).

I’ve also decided I sort of want the aim of this to be more of my personal musings on BDSM and sexuality and my own experiences with both subjects, and not strictly about hypnosis and hypnofetishism. But hey, hypnosis is still my most favorite thing ever, so there will still be plenty of that.

I’m still in New York. I’m still alive. Still kinky as hell.

This is a clearing the cobwebs post. Hello again, everyone.

This week, in sexy Mind Control

So when I read things with mind control in them, it’s really more the actions of the things going on that I kink off of, not the people (or robots) involved. Case in point, page 3 of the FANTASTIC Automata story over at Penny Arcade.

The way Carl says “Help” and is visibly shaking in that last panel kills me.

Also, the story itself is just plain excellent. Hard boiled robot noir? Oh yes please.

Caaaaaake

In case any of your are wondering what kinky things I do when I’m not being hypnotized, I think my lovely friend Wendy Blackheart’s post about TES-Fest is a pretty good writeup.

Oh my goodness that was so much fun!

The cake idea originated from this ad that I saw in Japan for Haagen-dasz:

I mean look at that! Objectification, sensory deprevation, a dash of sensuality, and CAKE!

Who doesn’t love cake?

Wendy saw that I had added “being fed cake while on your knees and blindfolded” to my fetlife fetishes, and decided to try that. And decided to try that with me. And then we did it again at TES-fest! I would re-summarize, but I think her description of events are best.

And then there was the time she smashed a banana creme pie in my face……..

(Oh, and Wendy? I think according to Dan Savage, we did, in fact, have sex.)

I think we could be friends!

Hello person who found this blog by searching for “kaa the snake fetish”!

I hope you found what you were looking for!

In defense of Bimboification

Armchair self-psychoanalyzing ahead. It’s 3:18 AM.

So the subject of bimboification has been coming up in conversation recently with members of my kinky social group. We often spend time making fun of what we think of as ridiculous fetishes: infantilism, furries, Gor (oh my god Gor), etc. And then someone brought up how ridiculous bimboification is.

Simply put: bimboification is the process of turning a bottom or a submissive in a D/s relationship into a bimbo. A girl who’s vapid. Stupid. Giggly. An airhead. A slut.

Now when this was put under the scorn of my friends, I cringed a little. “Oh no,” I thought. “That’s… that’s sort of what I’m into.”

Sort of. Not quite. But almost.

On a personal level, the idea of “bimbo” doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t really want to giggle, I’m extremely satisfied with my moderately sized tits, I would look awful as a blonde.
But being made to be stupid and slutty? Oh dear god, that’s just fantastic.

I think “sex zombie” is a better term.

I’m always interested in the psychological significance of kinks. I haven’t really gotten into why I’m super into hypnosis on this blog yet, but I have a lot of ideas. And I’ve definitely thought about this particular one. Why does the idea of having my brain wiped away get me so hot?

On one hand, it’s definitely an objectification thing. In the right context (with a respectful partner, or a whole roomful of people I know and trust), I adore being objectified sexually. It’s terribly validating. I was a late bloomer sexually, and didn’t really come into my own until I hit college. I was a huge nerd in high school with the usual set of self-esteem and body-image issues that plague girls at that age. Getting attention as a sexual object is gratifying in that it assures me that I am sexual and I am desirable on a very basic level.

What gets me about bimboification (or sexzombieification or whatever), however, is the intelligence thing. Being a big ol’ nerd led me in the past to cultivate confidence in my mind over my body. Sure, I wasn’t dating the high school quarterback (or anyone), but hey, I was smarter than those stupid blonde bitches who made fun of me, right? And that’s what counted, right?
I’m a smart person. I KNOW I’m a smart person. I’m proud of my intelligence almost to a fault, but having my mind wiped by hypnosis is intensely satisfying because then I don’t have to try. I don’t have to prove myself as a worthwhile person. I’m a sexual object and nothing more, and it’s terribly thrilling. To be asked simple questions and not know the answer, and to be driven mad by desire at the same time? It gives me a freedom that I can’t achieve in my normal state of mind.

So I understand the blonde, giggly, doll thing. Like my affinity for swinging watches and spirals, it’s just another set of symbols that go with the fetish. And symbols carry a lot of power.

Sticky Lost Kitty

Ok ok ok ok ok. I have to wake up in 3 hours (3 HOURS!) but I had to dash off a quick post because I DID SO MUCH HYPNOSIS TONIGHT at a friend’s play party. This will be done quick and dirty, so forgive me if it’s all disjointedly written.

Most of it was done by my lovely friend CB. He’s hypnotized me before, and we always have a great time of it. He’s terribly creative, as you will see.

So he got me with a surprise induction on the couch during conversation, and put me under fairly quickly. He then left me with a trance trigger just for the night that he took great advantage of.

THINGS THAT HAPPENED:
Whenever I was asked a question to which the answer was “yes”, I would instead say “FUCK ME!” loudly and cheerfully. I did not know this was happening. I think I confused some people. He revealed what was going on after a while, much to my embarrassment.

He made me think I had lost my vagina. No seriously. I went around the party asking people if they’d seen my vagina, and freaking out BECAUSE OH MY GOD I LOST MY FREAKING VAGINA. Mostly people were either puzzled, or knew exactly what was going on and played along. When I approached my good friend Wendy Blackheart (who had smashed me with banana cream pie earlier in the night (don’t ask)), she announced to the whole room: “HEY EVERYONE, RIK HAS LOST HER VAGINA!” I was totally serious, my friends were utterly unhelpful, and I spazzed as soon as I was made to remember what was going on.

I was made to hypnotize my friend Magdalene. This was my first time actually hypnotizing someone else out loud, and I was super nervous. But here was the trick: everything I told her, I would do myself. It gets kind of fuzzy here, but I remember leading her through a very very basic induction; progressive relaxation, going down the staircase, etc. I then found myself waking myself up (!!) from a very very lovely trance, quite confused. Apparently I’m pretty good at it, so that’s cool! Another friend, who’s also a hypnotist, also went along with my induction, and it put him under, too! I’m super proud of myself.

He turned me into a kitty!! It was wonderful! I’ve always wanted to do this. Everyone pet me, and I apparently went after the O-Ring on my friend’s collar. Ooooh I want to do it again, it was so fun.

Magdalene then decided that she wanted a hand at hypnotizing me. So she did, and wrote something on my back. I went around asking people what it was, until it occurred to me to look in a mirror. As soon as I did, I had a very surprising, and very strong orgasm, so much so that I was basically a shaking puddle on the floor.

What a wonderful night. Now for 3! Hours! of sleep!