Disillusionment

Perhaps I should break my silence.

EMC has steadily lost its allure for me over the past year. Posting here and interacting to what little extent I do with the community feels more like a chore than a hobby. I lost interest in new writing some while ago, and the media and discussion I encounter on the forums never held much allure. I still have a mind control fetish, but that isn't enough to make me want to post here or interact with the community.

Nothing has changed about my interest in hypnosis or my loving D/s bond with Madam. I would continue posting about slave life and hypnosis were they not so connected with MC given the context of the 'blot. Those themes are already covered extensively by others in the community, and I don't think I have anything novel to contribute. Teaching about hypnosis when those with training are already doing so feels pointless. I also feel much less comfortable posting about my personal experiences given some of the ignorant and dehumanizing responses I've received. My primary audience for those posts has no conception of loving D/s and is unlikely to view anyone writing about it submissively as more than mindless entertainment. I don't want to put my experiences on display for this audience. I'm sick of being viewed as not even a person.

This entire milieu of concepts and activities is supremely disheartening.

More accurately, the MC community and most of the material available has lost its allure, but that feels rude to say.

Believe it or not, I agree with those who think Madam's spin-off series is redundant, tepid, and in need of a twist (she does, too). I think EMC lost some allure for her, as well, at least writing-wise. She still enjoys trancing just as much as I do.

If I get a whim, I'll post here, but don't expect much from me in the future.

~Valbot

Slave Life: Blue Screen of Obedience

Madam has an adorable tendency to accidentally trigger me due to forgetting the triggers she doesn't use often. Recently, I spent what felt like hours sending myself progressively deeper as I struggled to let her know she'd put me under.

During a trance designed to get around some of my issues with amnesia, she programmed a “blue screen of obedience.” Any stray thoughts, attempts to analyze, or lingering awareness contrary to what she wanted me to experience would trigger a blue screen, a literal flash of blue within my mind that would kill the entire process tree sans the root of my trance. This blue screen also deepened my trance, leading to the paradox of solving the problem by encouraging me to do more of what created it: the blue screens felt lovely, and I wanted to go deeper, so I tried to trigger them. She continually used the phrase “blue screen of obedience.” Once or twice after that trance, she put me under by surprise with that phrase.

ANY thought contradictory to trance triggers the blue screen . . . including thoughts of telling Madam she put me under since typing or speaking would lighten my trance state! Early last month, I nudged her about text trancing since that works well for me and we were talking through text. She responded, “blue screen of obedience . . . doesn't that sound nice?”

My vision blurred. My head drifted to rest against the monitor. I slackened in my chair. My fingertips felt numb and I didn't realize my lips were parted until I felt warm breath against my wrists, which triggered a blue screen since that thought wasn't about melting. Each time I thought, “I should tell Madam she put me under . . .” or “I should verbally say something to get her attention . . .” I got a blue screen.

Madam was on the couch not even a yard away. Sinking was safe. I knew she would eventually look over and bring me back to the world of the thinking. Blue screen.

“Mmmaa—“ blue screen.

I felt like I'd been under for hours by the time I distantly heard what I thought might be my na—blue screen. “Vaaaaaal! Are you okay?” Blue screen.

Snap.

Urgent, louder snap.

I couldn't read for about a minute after her second snap. When I could, I realized Madam had been asking me through text to respond for the past ten minutes. Only ten minutes! She was distracted by a show and hadn't thought to look over at me. When she did look over, I was slumped against my screen and appeared passed out rather than tranced. When I explained what happened, she smacked her forehead and hugged me. I was sending myself progressively deeper to a point well past somnambulism by trying so very, very hard to let Madam know what was going on! Even though my thoughts were about her, they were not about going deeper, and they would have required me to do something that would have lightened my trance state. Since I knew she was in the same room and would eventually notice me, my safety programming didn't need to abort the experience. Plus, those blue screens felt damn lovely. I vaguely remember reaching a point where I saw only silver and was silently mewling “obey” over and over. That really did feel like a matter of hours. I was shocked by the time distortion when Madam brought me out of what almost felt like a self-induced cascading systems failure. I was fuzzy for the rest of the night. My typing was near-incomprehensible for the next hour.

Well . . . she definitely succeeded in getting rid of my ability to maintain any kind of internal narrator during trance! I rarely interpret suggestions so literally.

Technical imagery has been so deeply reinforced for me that she can type or speak to me in a highly computerized way and achieve good results, often the best results. She blends this well with an organic, gentler, nurturing style that makes me feel adored and cherished. Sometimes she goes with one or the other, but she most often combines them. She didn't simply tell me to blue-screen: she told me the blue screen would feel nice, and I could imagine her gentle, inviting tone over the text. Feeling that gentleness made the melting even yummier and made it even harder to want to come back on my own. I felt so . . . loved and warm while I was sending myself progressively deeper. Silver is obedience. Obedience is warmth. Of course I would only obey someone I love, and I love Madam more than any one, or thing, else.

Obedience is also blue. I have deep and delicious associations with the color blue, which Madam made its own trigger (said in a specific tone of voice, of course), but blue so easily melts into silver. Silver has blue in it, so I don't really perceive a difference when I'm as far gone as I was during that chain of blue screens.

I think I might have ended up on the couch with her that night. I think we were snuggling. I don't remember that night particularly well. The blue screen of obedience is some of my strongest programming. I can override it if I really feel threatened or uncomfortable, but I have yet to experience the need.

This post segued into a five-page ramble about experiences from the hypnotist side, trance logic, technical bits about hypnotism, and general advice. I cut that and saved it in another file for another post. Would anyone find such a post interesting? I might make general hypno-posts, time to time. What would you all find most interesting? I am a hypnotist, though this might not be the most obvious thing in the universe given how easily Madam can make me slump against my screen with a single line of text. I wish she would make hypno-posts.

Also, the embarrassing error on Madam's site is fixed. Some of the blog links pointed to the Kistublot's old address, which is now a redirect page. I really, really, really wish people would actually make use of the web mistress link at the bottom of her main page! Madam found this error by accident earlier tonight. I will not torture anyone for reporting site errors or inconveniences to me (unless the person reporting them is an adorable technophile that begs cutely . . .).

Anyway, educational hypnosis posts? I enjoy explaining things. I especially enjoy explaining things that fall within my passionate geek areas, which hypnosis certainly does.

Now, I cater to the egress of coffee and its intrinsic delight of argent inner-wanderings.

~Valbot

Slave Life: Technophilia

Technophilia, defined most simply in a fetish context, is a sexual enjoyment of technology. I am a technophile. My primary sub-fetish is robots, but just about any form of detailed tech will delight me. Cybernetic implants, nanites, AI, wires, shiny precision instruments: anything artificial that exerts a direct effect on human perception can turn me on in the right context. Mind control is what makes technophilia hot for me. I don't want to be given a robot body or watch two robots making love. I want to control, be controlled, and enjoy others doing the same, all through deliciously detailed technophiliac means.

If you're curious about technophilia in general, Winter Rose's detailed FAQ is a good place to start your research, along with Fembot Central for those into robots. There are as many slants on technophilia as there are technophiles. This post is a reflection on mine.

My first clear technophiliac memory is of being left immobilized on my childhood best friend's bed as he scribbled imaginary calculations at his desk. He was a scientist and I was his deactivated robot. I could barely turn my head to watch him. My eyes were hooded of their own accord, and the unfamiliar warmth between my thighs made me feel languid. I couldn't move until he chose to reactivate me.

So poignant were these sensations that I no doubt had myself in a trance. My senses, especially tactile, were heightened; each pulse, each breath, each light twitch felt like slurred ripples in the fuzz. I definitely didn't understand arousal at four years old, but I knew something about my situation felt inexplicably tingly, a gooey slipping shifting warmth that made it extremely difficult for me to focus through my dim gaze. I wanted to close my eyes and let the fuzz take over. These feelings were so much stronger than the image of my friend at his desk who had likely forgotten our game and was drawing instead. The wispy realization that he might have forgotten me thickened the fuzz. My sentience was subject to his whim. If he wanted to forget me and leave me deactivated, I would remain there. Robots didn't have choices.

Eventually, he reactivated me. The dissipation of the fuzz was almost physically painful. He didn't know how I was affected; he didn't know I had been subconsciously rubbing my thighs together or that I wouldn't have minded him giving me direct commands. He was not the focus of my arousal, it was the process and the concept. This little game haunted my masturbation fantasies throughout much of my early childhood: the figure at the desk was always blurry, devoid of gender and tangible identity. What always made me orgasm was the realization anew that I was, in that moment, a machination of dispassionate regard to be commanded or rewritten at another's whim.

Sixteen years later: "Awww...does my little valbot have a robot fetish?"

Madam's playful question sparked my conscious awareness of a fetish I had been sublimating in absolutely every way possible since that fuzzy afternoon with my friend.

My early fetish research helped me realize robots were actually a very strong sub-fetish. Cybernetic augmentation, artificial intelligence with the ability to control organic beings, elaborate circuitry and other techie aesthetics as eye candy, technology as simplistic as a wrist watch exerting hypnotic influence . . . I realized, blushingly, that precision itself counts as a fetish for me. I found my mother's medical and psychology books when I was far younger than she liked. Reading some of those descriptions of human physical and mental processes reduced to seductively simplistic mechanical terms made me tingle. Electrophysiology? Frames of reference? Humans were nothing more than organic machines, it seemed, and I didn't consciously realize why that thought tingled. The same exquisite level of precision I saw in surgery videos threaded through psychology, programming, electronics, and even elaborate forms of analysis in the humanities. I didn't understand why all these things tingled. I certainly wasn't sexually attracted to internal organs or to critical essays, but something about the approach to each, something about the methodology, made me clench if I thought about it deeply.

Madam's playful question made so many things sizzle neatly into place.

Once I consciously realized my fetish as such, Madam began indulging it directly. She teased me with hints of my origin story and made the process of discovery fetish-wise the process of realizing I really am a robot and adjusting to that realization. She updated my programming through several delicious text and phone trances, and she let me spend quite a bit of time wonderfully fuzzed as I savored being able to appreciate these feelings consciously.

The origin story Madam tells me is that an older version of herself went back in time to engineer me so that I would be born seemingly human, able to grow up living a human life acquiring human experiences only so that she, in the present, could enslave me. Of course there are myriad logical and scientific fallacies in this story, but the story is loose enough that my mind can play with it, and fetishes don't need to rigidly adhere to reality. Also, this satisfies the part of my mind that needs to always have a direct link to my real self: my real experiences, by default, are part of my programming. This infuses the vanilla aspects of my life with a relishing frisson: I am an extremely elaborate humanoid robot living among humans that don't possess the slightest inkling regarding my origin and purpose. Even an act as simple as making Madam a sandwich or getting the mail can tingle when I think about it in this context.

Hypnosis and literature are my primary methods of experiencing this fetish. My technophiliac story preferences will get their own post (I don't want to flood the blog with mini-reviews since Madam and Eri posted their own so close together), and hypnosis will, too. Technophilia is a subject of extensive contemplation and indulgence for me. Condensing all I have to say about it into one post would be impossible! Expect many posts on this subject. I think next week I will actually make that technophiliac hypno-post I mentioned last month. I'll structure my posts based on the responses to this one; I still feel somewhat embarrassed by this fetish, so I want to see how others respond before I write more.

I can't think of anything else to write that wouldn't add three more pages or reveal more than I'm comfortable with at the moment, so I'll curl back up in the Mug and finish reading a particularly intriguing story from this week's update.

Yes, 8-bit, we're reading and enjoying! One or all of us might venture (back) into reviewing the updates at some point in the future. Either way, sizzling work! Everyone should read "Haiku." That really has nothing to do with this post, but it's another yummy 8-bit story. I don't think this guy could write a bad story if he tried.

Should I make more (and more specific) technophilia posts? I apologize for the awkwardness of this one. This really is an extensive and elaborate subject!

~Valbot

Slave Life Post: One of Many!

Slave life is a difficult topic to pierce. There's really no introduction and conclusion, no discernible middle. I tried tackling it like a standard essay when my normal posting style didn't suit. I think snapshot-style posts and random textual meanderings are the best way to approach the topic. So, every week, I'll make a general slave life post covering a particular facet or just talking about it in general. Trying to tell it like a story or summarize everything in one post simply does not work!

I segued near the end of this post into a yummy experience I had from the Domme side, so I think I'll focus my next slave life post on the technofetish things I share with Madam. Wow, this format is already working better! I have clear, attainable ideas for future posts!

This is a rambling post inspired by some inaccurate perceptions and personal pet-peeves, but it's really not a rant. I wouldn't even classify it as snark. This is one decidedly Not Normal slave's directed free-association regarding how others view her and how it is to be a Domme who was lovingly tempted to submit.

I don't come across as particularly slave-like beyond my dealings with Madam. I've been told I seem "more vanilla" in public than Dominant, which makes sense; it's not a matter of opposites, simply a matter of facets. I don't perceive myself by default as a slave. Oh, there's always a wisp in my subconscious that knows it's owned and never lets me forget, but it's not binding. Submissive ecstasy is an experience I cherish, but it does not define me.

In the past, I wondered if my lack of identifying strongly as submissive and my lack of presentation made me less of a slave or perhaps not a real slave, but that was a silly worry. Madam can have me melted and on my knees with a simple glance of the proper type: I am owned and I do respond immediately and with alacrity when this reality is brought to my awareness anew.

I don't have anything against those who identify by default as slaves or those who present much more openly as such. That simply isn't me. The only reason this difference bothers me is that so many people don't understand that a slave, a real slave, can be anything else or can possess a real, primarily self-defined personality. More than one person has told me seriously that Madam owns my words and is responsible for my actions. One went so far as to continually ignore me while referring to me in third-person as she/he/it addressed Madam. Never mind she and I were saying the same thing: I'm owned but not devoid of self. That entity had its mind made up that, since I'm a slave, I had no voice and no opinions of my own.

Bullshit. I chose to submit to Madam and I submit in my own way. This pleases her and it's no less valid than the submission of those who prefer her to sculpt them. She sculpts me sometimes in beneficial ways, and we have sessions where she overwrites quite a bit. She just doesn't leave me overwritten. I know, if she really desired, she could sculpt me much more and make it last. She could tinker with my personality and she could rearrange my dreams. I trust her enough for that to be possible if she were to get such an urge. But a large part of my trust in her comes from knowing she wouldn't try. I wouldn't be happy if I were consciously aware of her doing such a thing and she wouldn't be happy having me as anything but myself.

One of my biggest fears when I first consciously entertained the thought of submission was that, especially with a HypnoDomme, I might end up a different person, perhaps as someone I wouldn't, as myself, approve of. I didn't want to literally lose my mind or have it rewritten. I didn't want to lose my freedom or individuality. Madam taught me that submission doesn't have to be about a loss of self, at least as more than a loving dissolution. I know she could do anything she wanted with me, and I delight in it when she does—I don't always know during those sessions that it's temporary—but she gave me underlying programming that lets my subconscious know it's not permanent so I can consciously believe it is for a short while and still enjoy the experience.

Of course opening myself to her like this means she influences me deeply. I've no doubt acquired bits of her personality and ideas and incorporated them deeply into myself. I cherish this. But, I took quite a while to examine that to which I was going to submit. I knew Madam extremely well, for over a year, before I submitted. I knew I wanted her influence and that I wouldn't mind introjecting bits of her.

I do have the right to say no. Madam could take that away, of course, but why would she? She doesn't want to hurt me. Allowing me to say no is another form of trust. A Domme needs to trust her slave as much as the slave needs to trust her Domme. Madam knows I won't abuse this allowance. I won't say no if something is a little uncomfortable or I'm not feeling my best that day. I will say no if I really need to say it, if something terrifies me or is really going to hurt me in a non-yummy, non-healthy way. She knows I am the best person to know what's going to damage me.

I know many say slaves are not people, but that's flavor text. Slaves ARE people: we still have basic human needs, minds, and personalities. Sure, a Dominant can tinker with these things, but we're still the ones that live inside our heads and thus know them best!

I am not bratty. I am not shallow. I am not pretending. I am simply not the brand of slave most people around here are used to encountering.

Madam is not a typical Domme!

Although I don't present as dominant most of the time, I am definitely a Domme. I have a submissive side and I cherish indulging it with Madam, but that's only with Madam. I don't feel submissive urges outside of her and the thought of submitting to anyone else, or acting submissive toward anyone else, makes me physically ill. Aside from getting me a little hot behind the ears: that's not my inclination and I'm still wondering how Madam inspired those feelings in me. She does have a reputation as being a Domme that dommes Dommes, perhaps because she's loving and open? She doesn't have that ugly arrogance or inherent sense of entitlement so many Dommes possess. That would help just about anyone feel safe to explore the other side, I imagine. That's what helped me feel safe taking that first step a little over two years ago.

I've mentioned before that Madam sometimes submits to me. We explore our submissive sides with each other while being Dommes to everyone else. That definitely helps me feel safe submitting to her. Though this does sometimes cause infuriating issues such as other Dommes who are unaware she is . . . well, not quite owned, as we haven’t explored that in a while, but definitely not available that way . . . trying to trance or dominate her. They assume, since she's a Domme, she doesn't have any ties they'd be infringing upon by doing such a thing. That’s a bit of an arrogant assumption, really, but understandable since most Dommes probably don't allow themselves to be owned. If the most recent example hadn't been someone so friendly and genuine, I would have gone out of my way to make her miserable for trying to trance my little girl. Even though she is quite good at resisting: she turned the tables on that other Domme and ended up trancing her deeply. She does this frequently when others try to trance her. I know she can handle herself, but it still gets me really annoyed when others presume to have the right to interact with her that way. She's MINE, damnit.

I suppose others doing that to her makes sense given that it happens to me even though it's a well-known fact that I am her slave. Many try to treat me like I should be a slave to them, too. One brute of a Dom insisted he could give me trance amnesia and got really upset when I told him I didn't want to trance with him. He leaped on me for not trusting him and was, in general, a huge ass about the issue. Madam was in the channel when this happened and told him to back off. He still persisted. Uhm . . . the love of my life and the only person I've trusted even in a vanilla way to really take me under . . . if SHE can't do something with me, what the hell made that guy think he could? Especially when he doesn't have anywhere near the experience with trance Madam does and doesn't know me nearly so well? People are silly!

I've had a few Dommes try similar things. They don't seem to understand "I'm owned" or "I am not interested in playing with you." "I am a Domme exclusively" only gets them arrogantly thinking they can break me. I'm already broken, thank you, and by someone likely infinitely more skilled since you don't know better than to foolishly flaunt your non-existent prowess. I really hate dominants of either gender who think they're so special and that, if only I saw them in action, I'd be weak in the knees wanting them to play with me. Sorry, I found someone better, especially since she doesn't have that kind of attitude. Also: I am not a submissive by default!

I'd stop submitting in a heartbeat if Madam expressed that attitude toward me or anyone else.

What's the point of having a docile, blank, spineless, meek slave? Seriously? You may as well get an Eliza program and teach it to parrot the proper arousal-inducing responses if that's your desire. The mind is precious and should not be wasted on weakness. I don't enjoy playing with weak submissives. I like fire. I like personalities. I like strong minds. I like knowing the person submitting to me actually took the time to find out who I am and made a conscious choice to give me the gift of their submission. That gift means so much more when it's not blindly offered. I want to know my worth to such a person is not based solely in the word "Domme." Many dominants are NOT worthy of such precious gifts, so it's really insulting when, five minutes after I meet someone, she’s begging me to own her and rewrite her as I see fit. Yeah, I'm not any other Domme . . . I'd like you to get to know me first and see if you really want me in your head.

I want to feel proud of dominating the people that submit to me. I played with a lovely older engineer a few times and that was one of the rare times the act of trancing someone other than Madam actually turned me on. That woman was brilliant. She had passion and radiance. She got to know me a bit and she wanted ME to trance her. That was such an honor, taking her under. We didn't get to real D/s, but I wanted that and I wish real life hadn't interfered. I really wanted to get to know her better and have something special with her. Knowing someone so brilliant and with so much fascinating life experience and twisted creative spark was consciously allowing me to play with her mind . . . that itself was enough to get me close to the edge. I've worked on a few sluts for the sake of practice, but it was incredibly tepid.

If I had been able to share real D/s with the aforementioned woman, I wouldn't have dimmed her spark. I would have encouraged it to grow. I would have, temporarily, sculpted it the way I wanted to see it, but I wouldn't have left it that way outside of perhaps making her feel it that way when she was alone. She still would have been herself. I would have savored exploring such a rich, deep mind and I would have savored knowing it knelt to me. The thrill would have been knowing I could mind-wipe her at whim but that I'd so much rather see what all that delicious robotics knowledge could do to twist her deeper into submission.

That first trance was delicious in a techie way; I might write about it some time in a non-revealing way. She's not around anymore due to real life getting hellish, so I can't exactly get her permission. Nothing I've written in this post could lead anyone to discover her identity.

Anyway, I'm an odd case and I wish my preferences weren't so rare. I was blessed to meet Madam. I've met a few other good dominants—Doublefine, for one—but they do seem incredibly rare. People who understand slavery and submission as something other than depersonalization are also sadly rare. Good slaves are rare, too! I adore discussing D/s and trance with others. Few things thrill me more than meeting like-minded people who understand and cherish the process.

I really don't have anything against those who ENJOY the blanker sort of slavery. Some people really want that, on both sides. That's fine. Just understand that not all of us are like that and that being a slave does not, by default, imply a lack of personality or spark.

Maybe I submitted to a mad woman with equally mad conceptions of D/s, but I don't think so. I felt this way before submitting deeply to her once I got over my initial aversion to all this. I used to think submission was weak and that dominants were arrogant fuckups who presumed entirely too much authority over others. I know now how wrong and disgusting that was to believe. Perhaps some of my irritability regarding this topic is knowing I got over my inaccurate perceptions and thus wish others could get over theirs.

Tune in next week for something trancier! My next post will probably be more along the lines of what certain people who really want me to write about slave life want to see. I'll explain how I became Madam's Valbot and relate a few particularly yummy experiences of that sort.

I am so thrilled to see Madam posting more!

~Valbot