Cleopatra, London Erotic Hypnosis Blog

Did you hear the one about the trainee hypnotist, Helmut Kichmeier, 27, who placed himself in a deep hypnotic trance, using self hypnosis while gazing into a mirror?

His wife found him staring intently at the mirror and had to seek the advice of the trance “victims” tutor who brought him back to full awareness. He had allegedly been in trance for five hours when discovered.

And the question this will raise is the whole idea of being trapped in hypnosis.  Like if the hypnotist drops dead in the middle of the session.  I actually watched an episode of Murder She Wrote where a hypnotist got murdered in a room full of tranced subjects, who sat there, gazing impassively during the murder and were still sitting there oblivious when the police broke into the room.   They made it sound like a crisis because they could only be awakened by the person that had put them in hypnosis in the first place – who lay rigid with rigour mortis.  But they had a recording of his (it would be an mp3 if written today), and this was played for the room of subjects who came out of trance promptly on hearing his wake up call.

At some point, the body has to wake up.  I suspect that if that guy had remained in trance for five hours, it was because he wanted to be.   I’ve occasionally left subjects in trance and gone off to change outfits, or get a drink; once I even disappeared to tweet on twitter during a hypnosis session.   Once in a while, I’ve come back to find the subject bleary eyed and awake.  But most times, they are still there in trance, where I left them, because I’ve structured the suggestions that way, that the silence of my absence makes them go deeper.

Sometimes I’ll tell their subconscious mind that I leave it up to them to decide when to wake up.  They come back after a few minutes.  One guy showed no signs of stirring, he was clearly enjoying it too much.  So I had to wade back in and drag him kicking and screaming (metaphorically) back to the land of the awake.

If there had been an emergency, a house fire, or attackers breaking in and threatening Helmut’s safety, he would have come out of the trance.  This is what we are taught in hypnosis and what appears to be true.  The subconscious mind is there to protect you and places that as top priority.  Unless the desire for danger is greater than the desire for safety.

If one hour of hypnosis is eqivalent to four hours of deep sleep, then Helmut Kichmeier must have been on a mega high when he woke up.  I wonder if he’s going to be using self hypnosis in front of a mirror again, any time soon.  It won’t surprise me if he does.

Cleopatra, UK Queen of Erotic Hypnosis

My recordings for sale at Clips4sale

I was asked an interesting question by a client as she prepares for a few sessions to enhance her feminization experience. What, you may be asking, does enhancing a feminization experience entail?

Well, on a wider level, it could mean working on the girly mannerisms, the feminine walk, sitting just right, the vanity about appearance, the confidence to walk into a lingerie shop and pick and match the panties of one’s choice. Even (more…)

When I first started offering erotic hypnosis, I avoided the obvious, the colour of my skin, and avoided labelling myself as a black hypnotist or ebony hypnotist.  My skill as a hypnotist was what I wanted, and still want, subjects to be lulled by.  That I’m an attractive black female is hardly here, nor there, although if you’re looking for a hypnotist who is reasonably gentle on the eye, I’d like to think I fit the bill.

But sometimes race and back-ground matters.   And the impending launch of a web site devoted solely to the adoration of black dommes raised eye-brows.   It’s the Black Femdom Society .

The botton line is, many, many submissives (white, Asian, oriental, whatever) seek out domination by a black mistress.  They are fascinated by us.  They expect us to be naturally cruel, and maybe there’s a bit of dipping one’s head in the lion’s den – submit oneself to a person who may have good cause to be out for revenge.   It’s almost like a cult following.  Creating such a society may sound controversial at face value, but it is merely a response to a need that has no malice or discrimination, no intention to hurt or exclude.  It’s aim is to be embraced by those that seek and tremble at the knees of so many of the object of their desires gathered in one place.  Almost in the same way a hypnofetish is overwhelmed when surrounded by several hypnodommes.

As a result, within the Black Femdom Society, there will be a mix of people of all races by virtue of the fact that the subs will come from all backgrounds; they’ll think they’ve died and gone to black mistress heaven.  If it were purely a black affair, there wouldn’t be enough traffic to the site to even justify the hosting fees.  I can count on one hand the number of black subs I’ve had serve me and I’ve never had a live hypnosis session with black subject either.  Maybe submitting to someone that reminds them of their mother or sisters and the deep cultural ramifications is too close to home for them and thus has no appeal.  Or they really don’t want to show their vulnerability to one of “their own”.  Or statistically, there just aren’t that many of them around.

It would come as a shock to many that just as there is an under-ground movement of devotees to the erotic hypnosis fetish, there is an underground group of predominantly black subs, male and female, who’s kink is to submit themselves to slave role-play.  By slave role play, I mean re-enacting the kind of taboo scenarios abolished with the slave trade.  Can you imagine the kind of gauntlet they would have to run, even amongst their fellow black kinksters, over this?

There was a recent thread on Fetlife where a black dom was up in arms about the number of black female submissives specifying in their profiles that they were only interested in serving white masters.  The expertise and commitment to the life-style of white doms was the most commonly cited reason why black female submissives prefer to submit to a white master.  There is almost certainly as healthy a demand for a White Masters Society as there is one for a Black FemDomme Society, judging by the number of black female subs that will not session with a fellow black.

And many a white submissive female is attracted to a skilled and genuine black master (if i were submissive, I’d definitely be curious about serving a black master).  Please note that I distinguish between the actual life style black masters and the oafish clowns that just see an opportunity for pussy on tap and to pleasure their base desire to abuse a woman sexually but under the misappropiated legitimacy of domination.  These will have no commitment to learning how to dominate her mind as well as her body and can quite easily maim or kill an all too trusting and naive sub my misusing some of the BDSM equipment that is out there.  Domination of a woman solely for physical gratification already has another name: marriage.  Why repeat this when out to play?  Or maybe, also for these black ladies, submitting to a fellow black man is too close to home, or a reminder of an abusive and non-erotic real life setting they had to witness when younger.

I can easily see a business case not just for a Black Femdomme Society, but a White Master Society as well as a Black Master’s Society without the usual knee jerk reaction that should be reserved for the genuinely repulsive gestures of racial intimidation and discrimination.  A White Domme Society would not be controversial if it were set up in demand to submissives of colour for a white master.  I think its when a group is set up by its own type for its own type (like the Klu Klux Khan) that allegations of racial prejudice and exclusion become valid.

Cleopatra, UK Queen of Erotic Hypnosis

Buy my erotic hypnosis videos at Clips4sale

It’s always fun to follow up the intensity of a hypnosis session with spontaneous triggering and spending time with the subject afterwards isn’t always possible, nor practical.  We both have lives to get on with.  But that’s why I offer the opportunity to take me out for a meal, breakfast, lunch, dinner, even shopping, so I can unleash a post hypnotic trigger when you least expect it.

If you buy one of my latest series of erotic hypnosis video recordings, entitled Scott, Strawberries and Pleasure, you’ll see towards the end, where I plant suggestions in Scott for triggers I later use on him while we’re out eating at Hooters, (Houston – Spring, TX).

Hooters as a lunch venue came up as a joke but I loved the idea.  But I gave him two post hypnotic suggestions:  one, each time he saw me running my tongue along the edge of my glass, he’d feel a tongue rimming him (the genteel practice of running a tongue gently, and sometimes not so gently, along the contoured ridges of an anus).  Second, each time he saw me licking any kind of sauce of a knife, or sliding the knife in and out of my mouth, he’d feel … well, do I really need to draw you a diagram?

Later, when I realised the Hooter’s restaurant provided knives with sharp serrated edges, I came to regret that suggestion!

I compounded these two triggers by saying that he’d be especially turned on by all the busty waitresses at Hooters.  And the arousal now would be so unbearable that he’d just have to go and excuse himself to go to the bathroom to do relieve himself.

If he’s reading this, he will understand, now, why he couldn’t sit still that afternoon at Hooters; why he kept on pointing out the waitresses to me with his tongue hanging out as he drooled over their assets; and why he made two visits to the rest-room in less than an hour.  On the way back home, he confessed what he’d got up to during those rest-room visits (not realising I already knew).  But I do have a way of making people confess to things.

My one regret is that I didn’t have the camera to capture his predicament at Hooters.

He bought me a Hooter’s t-shirt that I may model for readers if at least ten of you ask me nicely to do so.  A bit of hypnosis wearing a tight fitting Hooter’s t-shirt?  What next?  Cleopatra in a very, very, wet T-shirt?

Buy the full video clip at my Clips4sale store here: http://www.clips4sale.com/store/30616

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!

I see erotic hypnosis opportunities in almost everything nowadays. And I took one look at the bath-tub in the lovely Central London hotel that I am staying in, and I could see a an extended kodak moment. It really would have been a great setting for an erotic hypnosis video, me naked beneath a deluge of soapy white bubbles, teasing glimpses of my dark glistening skin merging dreamily with my words as I guide you into a sleepy trance.

But alas, the lovely bathroom in the lovely Central London hotel that I am staying in has a slight snag. I sorted out the lighting, the angle, got bubble bath soap which promises to smell fragrantly of mango and orange blossom. I even have Haagen-Daz Strawberry and Cheese cake ice-cream to put me the best seductive mood.

But there’s something I can’t do anything about. It’s a hissing sound in the bathroom, probably the air vent. I’ve hunted high and low to see where I can switch this off. There’s normally a switch, but none here. I rang reception to ask if there was an option to turn it off, but the phone rang forever and I lost my nerve and hung up. What reason would I give for wanting the bathroom to be completely silent?

So, I’ll be relaxing easily in the warm water and bubbles, rolling the ice-cream around on my tongue. But the camera won’t be on.

And this isn’t me teasing you; not by a long shot!

To buy my videos or mp3s, please contact me directly. The shopping cart I was using imploded during their last upgrade and the developers don’t want to know. I’ll post a full warning about their lack of support later.

Cleopatra, London Based Queen of Erotic Hypnosis

My first United States Erotic Hypnosis visit is taking shape.  I initially published a wish-list of Cities I was prepared to visit.  But based on enquiries received so far, the following Cities are on my provisional itinerary.

Dallas

Houston

Chicago

Indianapolis

New York

These are the popular ones getting mentioned where those of you that would like to experience a live erotic hypnosis session are based, or prepared to travel to.  Only a certain number of fixed and confirmed bookings for a particular US City will lead to it being a permanent stop on my itinerary.  So some of the above could drop off and others can still be added.

During these visits I’ll be offering one on one erotic hypnosis sessions with each of you.  Some of you I’ve met already in person when you visited the UK. For others our contact has been via web cam or phone and we feel almost as if we know each other.

I could bring my sexy outfits with me from London, but I think part of the purpose of being in the US is to see what new, hot exotic and fetish pieces I can add to my wardrobe.   I especially love PVC, satin and silk.

These sessions are private, and as with all my sessions, nothing will be filmed, captured, or recorded without prior mutual agreement. If you want to record your session, then please discuss this with me prior to the meeting as terms and conditions apply.

The rate for a one hour session is $250 with each additional hour being $150.  (You didn’t think I’d be charging pound sterling while in the United States, did you?  Couples can attend but a premium applies.  And you will have to take your newly implanted post hypnotic triggers for pleasure away with you … you can’t test them out on my hotel bed!

I did have an enquiry from Edmonton (Canada ((did you know there’s an Edmonton in London, too))  and I do promise to do a separate Canada visit, based on requests, later in the year or early next year.

That’s all for now.

Cleopatra, Queen of Erotic Hypnosis

Focus your gently closing eyes on my crystal ...

After four hours of erotic hypnosis, including some work to help my subject combat work related stress with some hypnotherapy stress relief, it was time to go out to dinner.   As he lived abroad, he had, up till now, contented himself with web cam hypnosis sessions.  Now at last, he had experienced the real thing.  Was the dreamy look that glazed his eyes over dinner due to jet lag, or was this just what happens when your subconscious mind suddenly delivers an extremely pleasant memory?

I refrained from triggering him over dinner at a local Italian restaurant – bless him, he’d been concerned that the restaurant was far from going to be the lavish and expensive treat he wanted to shower on him, but I’d assured him, and he’d agreed, that the quality of the food and the company were far more important.  He did however dig his heels in when I playfully suggested we go to the local Nando’s chicken store.

We walked back to my place for some fresh air.  I’d promised him a ride home.  He’s been extremely supportive as a subject and it was very easy to see him as both friend and client, while knowing he would never try and take advantage as many do.

Parked outside his hotel, he was undoing his seat belt when I reached across and began to massage his scalp.  His eye lids slid down and he slumped in the seat, his lips parted slightly.  As this was possibly the last time I’d be seeing him, I really wanted him to leave with some very positive suggestions.  When I counted him back to full awareness, he sighed deeply.  Less than three months ago, he’d considered himself impossible to hypnotise.  Now, he considered himself the luckiest man, able to let go and sink into deep trance now.

“Cleopatra,” his voice was husky as if he’d been asleep for hours, and not in trance for two minutes, “could you come upstairs with me to my room and do that again,”

Actually, that was a lovely idea.  We scrutinised the parking restrictions of the area to confirm I could leave my car there and entered his hotel as he led the way to his room.

I did a quick tour of his suite while he hastily whipped off his trousers, keeping his underpants on.  He had nothing left to hide from me.  He lay flat on his back in anticipation and I kicked off my shoes and lay beside him.  Explaining that I’d let myself out of the room when I was done.

And then I hypnotised him again, a combination of a two step post hypnotic re-induction and the irresistible trigger of my fingers massaging his scalp. The first step of the re-induction reminds him how much of a struggle it is for him to think about too many things at once, and why it is better to just focus on how good it feels to relax and let go.  The second drops him into deep trance.

I whispered more positive suggestions, throwing in a few erotic suggestions for immediately he woke up.   In the fading light, I could make out the bulge of his cock through his under-pants.  It was tempting to bring him to yet another hypnotic orgasm climax as he lay there helpless.

But instead I planted a gentle kiss on his fore-head and slipped out quietly, with only his subconscious mind knowing when it would be time for him to wake up.

I guarantee you that a lot of things were happening in the privacy behind thousands of hotel room doors across London last night.

But none, bar none, of those encounters would have been as deeply erotic and long lasting as what this over-seas visitor experienced with me.

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.