Enchanted Hypnosis

The sound of My voice pulls you deeper and deeper.

Everything you ever wanted is within your reach, and it feels so good. There is only Me, always Mistress Cassie, and all you do is listen to the sound of My voice.

I take you deeper and deeper, it feels so good.

Listen to the sound of My voice.

All for Mistress Cassie

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

from nadja - Mistress Cassie's brainwashed hypnospy

I don’t even know how long I’ve been staring at the spiral – its black and white lines spinning in a never-ending cycle.  It draws me in.   A special spiral I found on the internet that I can look at and instantly  associate with Mistress Cassie.
I’ve been staring at it for however long and the voice coming through my headset is calming, yet powerful.  Loving, yet demanding.  Forceful. Hypnotic.  Brainwashing. 
That is what she is doing to me.  Mistress Cassie is brainwashing me.  And using everything I have brought with me in to this room – the room we refer to as The Brainwashing Room.
She uses the alcohol, having me drink at intervals.  She uses the cigarettes, and despite the fact that I don’t smoke, when I am transformed in to her brainwashed secret agent, Nadja – I smoke.  She uses the spiral and the candle and a pair of dark sunglasses.  She uses it all.
And I am helpless to resist.
I’ve tried.  One solid memory I have is asking her to de-program me, to let me go.  The laughter that came through those headsets chilled me and frightened me.  ‘There is no escape,’ she spoke ‘, it’s all for Mistress Cassie.’  And after burning these thoughts in to my brain for a few minutes – she demonstrated her control by having me smoke and drink and go deeper.
My body moves like it is on automatic.  Like a dream. 
This will go on for hours and hours.  Calling her, then going off on a mission.  I may be sneaking in to an embassy, dressed in my silky black catsuit.   Slipping in, undetected, and finding the secret microfilm.
Or maybe I will go to a bookstore to purchase a novel that contains information.
Or maybe I will be dressed in a sexy black dress, sexy satin gloves, and have to meet my contact – who I will have to seduce.  I will drink and smoke and use my power of hypnosis (weak compared to Mistress’ power, but satisfactory while on assignment).  I will obtain the information needed and report back to Mistress Cassie.
This will go on.  Sometimes for hours.  Sometimes over a period of days.  
And in the end, when I finally am allowed to reach climax and sink down into exhaustion, I hear her voice in my mind ‘Mistress Cassie controls me. Mistress Cassie brainwashes me.  All for Mistress Cassie.’
She will undoubtedly give me a final command before letting me return to normal life – maybe to tribute.  Maybe to smoke.  But then I leave the brainwashing room and go to bed, drifting off in to a deep, deep sleep…all for Mistress Cassie…


Saturday, September 10, 2011

Have you found Crybaby Island?

In Search Of Crybaby Island
By Crybaby
“Write about finding Crybaby Island,” the order came out.  So here I was totally helpless and still seeking Crybaby Island, which I haven’t been able to find, when Mistress Cassie orders me to write about it.  She can be so frustrating when she has you deep in trance and totally dumbed down sucking on your own finger.  I do so know the feeling.  It is a helpless, hopeless, heavenly bliss of mind control making you do just about anything for the fix of her gorgeous voice penetrating into your mind and taking you deeper and deeper, craving nothing but more and more and more.  I can hear her in my mind lingering on “You nee……………………eeeeeeed it.” 
So, what is Crybaby Island and where is it?  Well, Mistress tells me it is where all the shrimp dick losers go to cry then pee and masturbate.  I can hear it now; a cacophony; a symphony; a whaling chorus of mind fucked baby men holding their dangling little penises praying and hoping they all of a sudden have 12 to 15 inch cocks instead of loser 3 inch little shrimps.  Perhaps enough crying and begging to the Great Cock Spirit will release some sympathetic magical force changing everything from pathetic to pragmatic allowing the growth of these small dicked losers into towers of amazingly large or even giant pieces of shlong…then again, maybe not.  While the mistresses laugh at the tears and ridicule the sissy-sized weakling baby clits pretending to be cocks, I sit here wondering if Crybaby Island can be productive or is it just this great garbage dump of tiny dicked losers who can never be the dreams they hope for inside their minds.  Still, Mistress says I should keep asking to find it while begging out “Help me, help me…please help me!  I need to find Crybaby Island.
I have yet another vision.  Imagine a great island where all these sissies are hung on giant pink, sprawling tree branches.  They are tied there by endless pink nylon ribbons, or any other color or material you can imagine.  So, there you are hanging on one of the thousands of giant trees at Crybaby Island, then suddenly Mistresses float up to you on tiny baby blue or baby pink clouds.  You think, at last, my Mistress has come to rescue me, but oh no, she has this giant, sucking tube and she is easily attaching it to your three inch clit;  you know, that pretend cock that you dangle in your pants, panties or diapers; anyway the great tubes are turned on and immediately they begin sucking, making your two inch cock a rock hard three inches, wow wee, that’s huge; now Mistress is extracting your seeds and sending them down through the tubes to be collected for secret experiments.  At this point you no longer care.  You are nothing more than a cow feeling the bliss of endless ejaculations; and while Mistress stimulates you then pops a pacifier into your mouth you cry and drift off into a deeper trance by the power of her words and voice.  She has you now.  You are just another cow being milked at Crybaby Island.  You scream “I’m cumming…and it goes on and on and on and on… She smiles and laughs; you come and cry.  Mistress Cassie lifts up my head and looks directly into my eyes and says, “So, what were you expecting, my little sissy slut?  You are not in Kansas anymore.  I can hear her laughter go on and on as she says, “I’ll get you my sissy and your little dick too.”
A.K.A. stupid loser, sissy crybaby weakling,

There is no way out

you are trapped and controlled.

I a take you deeper and deeper under My hypnotic control

The addiction grows and grows.