Cleopatra, London Erotic Hypnosis Blog

I’ve always thought that I wouldn’t be susceptible to hypnosis. Do You ever find that people like me are actually susceptible?

This is the kind of question I am frequently asked.  So it made sense to put it together as a blog entry.

Every one is susceptible to hypnosis, some more than most.   Of course, if you determined in your mind that you would not be affected by something, then you would have some degree of success in resisting what you are determined to resist.   I say some degree, because I’ve had subjects who fought the urge during an induction to close their eyes, so strongly that they had a tear streaming down from the corner of one or both eyes from the exertion of refusing to respond to the urge to blink.  What kind of (more…)

Today I received the kind of email/application/CV that arrives in my inbox from time to time.   The type from so called submissive guys convinced I’ve gone through the considerable expense of professional hypnosis training to be the best hypnotist that I can possibly be, just for my own sexual kicks.

I’ve cut and pasted what he had to say, without, of course, anything that identifies him.  No one deserves to be outed for being a self-serving delusionist.  I’m going to comment on each of his generous offers one by one.

1] All forms of body worship from your divine feet upwards to wherever you require.

My Thoughts: You don’t say!  I can see myself spending all day sprawled across luxury cushions while he wears his hypnotized tongue out to prove how well I have hypnotized him, right?  This kind of stuff happens in the movies, comics, one’s imagination and short stories written by, erm, other men, typically.   It’s always the first thing they imagine a hypnotist may do.  Or a dominatrix. Perhaps an insatiable nymphomaniac would drool at this offer.  Not me.  I’d probably be lying there, legs wide open, running spread-sheet formulas through my mind and wondering why, oh why, some men drown the surrounding beddings with saliva during cunnilingus.

2] All oral services whether massaging your clit and pussy to orgasm with my tongue or rimming for your pleasure or any other use of my tongue you may require.

My Thoughts:  At this point I should have progressed from drooling to swooning.  And we women complain that men are pigs in bed?  What a generalisation.   Well, the fact of the matter is that I have my sexual needs taken care of adequately, and then some.  Funny how men always assume that oral sex is the way to make a woman’s knees buckle.   The only response to such an offer is to roll my eyes heaven-wards.  He goes on to say:

3] My pussy arse is available for your pleasure with a strap-on. I have not been opened up for long and so still have limited capacity.

My Thoughts: Pussy arse?  Well, at least he’s helped me with my linguistic dilemma of what to call a man’s butt after feminising him!  I shall use that phrase in future, thank you very much.

But once again, a man dictating/suggesting to me that it must be pleasurable for me to stick anything up his rectal orifice.    My pleasure has never, and will never, involve inserting anything up anyone’s butt hole.  To try and convince me that I am getting anything out of it, and should be grateful, is laughable.  My g-spot isn’t buried up his arse (sometimes, I’m as clueless as the men trying to figure out where it’s buried, but that’s another blog).  So why should I get anything out of screwing it?  Besides, there wouldn’t be enough antiseptic wet wipes to disinfect my pocket watch afterwards.

4] Toilet duties as required. I am fully trained as the ladies toilet to be used directly with full cleaning services afterwards.

My Thoughts: Again, where is the pleasure in that?  I want to get out of any toilet I’m in as soon as possible after commiting my personal offences against the environment there.  And I want to clean myself properly, you know, with good old fashioned Andrex luxury quilted toilet paper, with a Kandoo wipe for that extra feel good factor.  Am I the only one that feels queazy at the thought of positioning myself in order to feel a tongue “cleaning me out”?  I can imagine the panic and revulsion if his tongue went from back passage to front passage in the process, exposing me to the risk of infections from the bacteria sensible women go to great lengths to ensure do not cross borders.  (Yes, I’m uptight, but I wouldn’t have it any other way).

These submissive guys always trumpet their toilet duties as if the’ve saved the best till last.  If people have a mutual taste (pun intended) for such activity, then why haven’t they figured out a less offensive way to attract each other?  I don’t need that kind of vulgarity in my inbox.  Each to their own, but do keep it to yourself.  Or accept that you won’t even get an acknowledgement of the email from me.  Like this guy did not.

And this is what subs do best.  They dictate to the so-called domina what will give her pleasure.  They don’t ask.  They insist, presume, assume.   Probably the earliest manifestation of topping from the bottom, where the submissive male is actually a mysoginist that enjoys playing on the intelligence of the domme and getting her to do his bidding – but pretending it’s all for her.  It’s like the man that gives his girlfriend a power drill set for Christmas. Who is the present really for?

But maybe this is really what he thinks a dominant woman wants, and he never imagined how pointless all his offers are to me.  Why offer all this to a total stranger about whom you know nothing?  If we’d bumped into each other on a scat fetish forum, then it would make sense that he was offering me his toilet duty skills.

Now maybe, well, actually, definitely,  this man would have got my attention if he’d been offering what any lady really wants.  To be pampered and spoilt with wining and dining at top restaurants.  Lots and lots of tangible gifts: Jimmy Choos; diamond rings, week-end spa breaks, and first class travel to exotic locations topping up my vitamin D with the sun-shine and showing off my bikinis although I know I can’t swim .  This guy didn’t even offer to spoil me with boxes of chocolate.  And how about deal breaker -  a standing order straight to my bank account every month?

True selfless service is giving, even when it hurts. Not passing your fantasies off through the trojan horse of suggesion as the desires of another person.  This might work on someone weak-willed.  I should be insulted that he even tried to pull this one on me. This is erotic narcissism at its best (the sub, I mean, not me, for a change!).

Cleopatra, London Queen of Erotic Hypnosis

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Hindsight is a great tool if you can remember what has already happened.  If you can’t then you are doomed to repeat it.  Especially under the influence of erotic hypnosis.  From what I recall of the live in person hypnosis session referred to below, that took place a few months ago, there were no suggestions of amnesia.  But he was, by his own admission, so deeply conditioned to submit to me before we actually got to meet face to face, that it comes as no (more…)

I’ve been taken for a mug twice recently, and it won’t be happening again.    In the UK, a mug is an easily led fool. I put my hands up in the air.  I fit the description. But not any more.

Amongst the options I give people for payment for my web cam sessions via yahoo and skype, are Amazon Gift Certificates.

Let me tell you a thing about Amazon Gift Certificates. You purchase one and you get an instant order confirmation. But this doesn’t mean that the recipient, in this case me, has received it.

(more…)

Last night, after a visit to Papadeaux’s in Houston – Spring, and a sumptuous meal of char-broiled catfish and dirty rice, things seemed quite brighter than they had been about six hours earlier when I had sat in yet another US hotel with this time, not one, but two subjects that failed to show up.

Later on that same night, using erotic hypnosis in the Jacuzzi (a delicate balancing act of ensuring that your trance partner neither drowns nor hits his head against the edge of the Jacuzzi and suffer concussion), I realised that I’d learnt all I needed to know about how to organise trips to the United States in order to give those fascinated by me a real chance of real erotic hypnosis. This truly was a “suck it and see” exercise.  And I sucked hard enough, and long enough, to know whether I liked the taste or not.

But nobody came.  Okay, that’s not quite true.  Either way.  But not enough to continue this kind of tour in the way I set out to do it.

Six hours earlier, the strain of being away from home for three weeks and living out of two over-weight suitcases and between time zones had been getting to me.  I was convinced that I’d be concentrating my energies on creating erotic hypnosis mp3s and erotic hypnosis videos, like 99 out of 100 hypnodommes do.  My willingness to offer face to face erotic hypnosis makes me stand out.  But on days like yesterday, I do wonder if it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

Yesterday, I knew I’d had enough of flying from US city to city, never sure who was actually going to turn up, simply because they wouldn’t pay the required deposit.  I now appreciate the truth: anyone that cannot pay a $100 deposit in advance, knows better than anyone that he is probably not going to turn up at all.  So, with future visits, anywhere in the world, I’ll be targeting one city at once so I am not away from my own home comforts for longer than one week. I will also only accept full payment in advance.

I heard it all during this trip.  From the ones that lost interest once they realised that anal conditioning did not include a hands-on strap-on interlude from my good self.  To the one that, an hour before the session itself, announced that he no longer wanted a two hour session, just a one hour session.  I promptly withdrew my offer of an extra (on the house) hour for lunch and would have withdrawn my offer of making the journey to meet him at his home to hypnotize him – but for the fact being a wheel-chair user meant that the journey across Houston would actually have been quite an exhausting challenge for him.  I look back now and actually admire the fact that he had been prepared to travel to see me by Houston public transport.  It exhausted me making the journey and I was being driven in an air-conditioned car.

It did transpire later that he had misunderstood the whole concept of paying a deposit.  He thought that the deposit was in addition to the agreed fee.  Others seemed to have similar mental blocks to comprehending the need to pay a deposit to secure and confirm their bookings.  One guy wrote saying he thought my fee for the session was the $100 deposit!!! Do people like him have any concept of the costs of travel and a decent hotel?  Would he have been happy to find me in a hotel ridden with fleas and paper thin walls?  Even a decent custom erotic hypnosis mp3 will leave very little change out of $100.  What was he thinking?

So for now, I’m hanging up my pvc and corsets, and spending the rest of the trip producing the kind of erotic hypnosis downloads that I sense the average Joe is better accustomed to.  Thanks to the kindness of an excellent hypnotic subject in Houston, I have some new material (and he has a memento of the mind-blowing four hours that he spent in the company of a female erotic hypnotist.

And should I decide to tour in future, it will be different.  There won’t be a deposit.  Nope.  That confuses people.  Instead, people can pay in advance. The early bird’s will pay the promotional US rate of $250 for the hour.  The slackers can pay my standard £250 for the hour (yes, I did mean to put the UK sterling sign there … it was not a typo).

I, and the Foot Fetish Hypnosis community, suffered a calamity yesterday as I was preparing to leave Los Angeles.  An almost irreparable loss in the shape of a chipped toe nail.

Now, this is not just any toe nail.  Oh no.   This is the nail of the big toe on my right foot.  And not just any old big toe nail on any old right foot.  This was a specially adorned toe-nail, one of a set of ten, encrusted with a spiral of crystal like diamonds on a deep wine coloured gel background on the waiting to be kissed feet of an erotic hypnotist.  Designed to mesmerise and a wonderful conversational hypnosis ice-breaker.   I showed them off at Brian David Phillip’s Walkabout Trance and Erotic Hypnosis Weekend at Redondo Beach, Los Angeles last weekend.

So, fast forward a couple of days later, and how did this erotic calamity happen?  I was preparing for my flight to Dallas, the next leg of my one to one erotic hypnosis tour.  I have a gizmo for weighing my suitcases to ensure I am within the pitiful 23 kg weight allowance permitted per suitcase when flying.  For some reason, I am always at least four kg over the limit at check-in.  Per suitcase.  So I bought this as a solution.

Sadly, the gizmo does not promise to do the actual packing.  How can any airline with a heart expect anyone to pack three laptops, audio recording equipment, pvc outfits, a swim suit (although I cannot swim, I look hot pretending I’m about to dive in), wigs, English marmalade, a pair of scissors, a 20 foot long LAN cable (for those retarded hotels that think WI-FI in guest rooms is a luxury), a Nova Pro 100 Light Sound Mind Machine kit with head phones and microphone, one pocket watch, one large hypnotic crystal, two anatomically correct male and female dolls for voodoo erotic hypnosis, a camcorder, a tripod, panties, bras (very big bras), more panties (okay, yes, big panties – you just have to love a woman that admits to owning big panties), one paper back book on Power Persuasion and another, hard back book, on how to split the human mind into two, then proceed to fuck about with the poor dumb-struck  soul (okay, that last bit was my take on what to do next after splitting the right brain from the left brain), a pair of denim hot pants (also big, butt guys agree here that size never matters once I have them on), make-up I never remember nor have the time to use (neither does it matter once you are hypnotised, and I always aim to hypnotise you as quickly as possible so I can get on to the fun parts – although an unhurried induction is as good as unhurried foreplay, yes?), one set of nipple clamps (much to small for my extra large nipples ((they do say that everything is big in Texas but things seem bigger since I landed)) , but to test the pain threshold, or lack thereof, of hypnotised subjects for anaesthesia ( that is what I would have told US customs if I’d been stopped at the border, anyway), a packet of custard creams, three dozen condoms, in as many sizes and flavours (a female hypnotist can live in hope, yes?), a 100 ml bottle of lube (a little goes a long, long way, yes?) and a one foot long usb to firewire cable – all within a meagre allowance of 23 kg?  And that is just one suitcase out of my allowance of two. Can you even begin to imagine what I packed in the second suitcase?

So, you can see how part of my logistics and careful planning is to be able to weigh my luggage in advance to avoid the trauma and humiliation of having to open it up  with the above contents within full glare of hundreds of strangers waiting impatiently on the check-in queue behind me, while I try to figure out, in retrospect, what should be left behind.

It goes without saying that lifting the suitcases to weigh them with my gizmo is quite an effort that requires two hands and the correct posture.  And it was during this weight-lifting effort, while attempting to determine the weight of one of the suitcases, that the upwards motion of lifting it up off the ground, had the undesired effect of taking the tip of my toe nail with it.  I practically heard the crystals flying around the room, drowned out only by my howls of anguish.

My expression of grief was not just for the pain associated with swiftly removing a toe nail without an anaesthetic.  It was more for the foot fetishists that these nails had been lovingly designed to seduce.  Men with a foot fetish have been enslaved by much less. So, coupling the effects of the glistening stones on my toe nails, along with the sound of my voice and my words, the unsuspecting were meant to be dropping at my feet to worship them, no less.

So now, in between sessions in Dallas or Houston, I shall be on the look out for a manicurist who is at least half as gifted as my regular manicurist in Purley Way, Croydon and see if she can repair my toe-nail.  And make it seem as if I’ve never lifted a suitcase in my life.

Frankly, if I were as clairvoyant as I am hypnotic, I would have anticipated the false economy of a damaged pedicure and opted to pay the excess baggage at the airport instead!

The erotic hypnosis video that I almost didn’t make has turned out to be a turning point for me, leaving me shaken, stirred, aroused, and an unsuspecting victim of self-hypnosis.

I am a crap hypnotic subject.   I’ve always said it.   But if what I just did in the bathroom could get to me, I believe it can get to anybody. (more…)

This is a unique opportunity for my admirers in the United States to experience an in person, live, face to face erotic hypnosis session.  Just you, me, behind closed doors.  And your mind struggling to remember afterwards which parts were real, and which imagined.   Your dreams, for many moons to come, taking you on erotic journeys in which I continue to tease and satisfy you.  Just remembering that lovely British Accent that that made all your fantasies come true at once. (more…)

There’s a programme called The Moment of Truth that shows here in the UK but is from America.  Where brave people risk all to confess to the excruciating truth of their deepest darkest secrets, with the lure of a big money prize.

But what about if the urge to tell the truth and confess all is due to a post hypnotic trigger and mind control tactics?   This is the fear of some that keeps them as far away from a hypnotist as possible**.  And you can be sure that when an erotic hypnotist gives you her hypnotic truth serum, the secrets you spill will be deeply sensual.

Just the other day I did this via a web cam hypnosis session.  A post hypnotic trigger would make it impossible for the subject to hold on to secrets he had never told any one before.

So, when he opened his eyes, I asked him what was his biggest secret.  I smiled as his lips faltered.  He so wanted to obey me, yet the magnitude of what he had to express kept him back on a conscious level.  I reached for my bottle of water, took a long, slow slip, and repeated the question.

Mind control’s a bitch.  Without further prompting, the truth tumbled out.  He spoke in a low, almost toneless voice, spilling secrets he had never, ever shared with any one.  And every so often, I’d watch him sigh with the relief that confession can bring, as he was powerless to resist his strong desire to submit.

And afterwards, he shook his head with a combination of awe and horror.  And for the next week or so, he beseeched me in his emails to remind me what he’d said.  He knew he’d confessed to things.  But he wasn’t sure what he’d divulged and what he may have just about have been able to hold on to.  If anything.

And I kept the secrets of that day to myself enjoying his anguish.   What had I heard?  What did I now know?

But the truth is, I heard nothing.  I know nothing.  For just as he had begun to confess, the sound of the web cam session became inexplicably distorted.  I’d sat there straining to hear what he was saying.  But no joy.

Which actually made it all the funnier later on when he fretted about it.

So, as he’s reading this, he’ll be relieved to know, his secrets are safe.  For now.

** Please note, I performed this truth experiment with his full prior consent.  You cannot be forced to do any thing or say anything against your will during hypnosis.  If it were otherwise, I’d be driving a top of the range Mercedes Benz and living in mansion.  If someone tries to hypnotise you into doing something that you really do not want to do, this breach of trust will almost certainly interrupt the trance process.

Thank God for my subconscious alarm clock.   I had a pre-arranged web cam erotic hypnosis session with a new subject in Saudi Arabia.  The session was to be at 4.30 am GMT (UK, London time).  I set my alarm to wake me up at 4 am.   It was my phone alarm, the phone itself set to silent so I wouldn’t be disturbed by phone calls or text messages. The problem is, if the phone was to have its way, I would not be disturbed by the alarm either! (more…)