Trance Magic

A couple of weeks ago, I told Unity, henceforth known as mum, that I would never ask her to trance me. She has so many people touching and tearing at her, wanting a little piece of her time, that I have decided that, other than letting her know that I was online, I was not going to tear at her time.

I’m doing my best to keep this promise.

See, so many people want her time and want her to trance, that she has barely any time for her own needs. On Christmas Eve, while I was broadcasting on the Whip, she had no less than 12 people leash themselves to her. The count was 15 people, and one pony – 16 avatars. She became the star of the Collective’s Christmas Tree.


I had told mum that I needed some downtime a couple of weeks ago. Before I even got a chance to tell her that it wasn’t her problem to deal with, but Spitfire’s, she had me set up for a trance. I put on the special song that gets past my defences and had it on repeat for 15 times in my broadcaster.

This was in text, so I wasn’t able to reply to her like I should have been, if it had been done in voice. Words fade and light becomes too bright when I slip into trance, or subspace, or orgasmic bliss. I’m not that lucky to have mum’s words in my ears. So I fought diving deep into the trance in order to follow her guide.

I felt lighter when she was done.

By then, my song had just started the 13th repeat. I was shocked. I didn’t think that amount of time had passed.

It had.

I handed the trance to Spitfire as I was instructed to. Maybe it will help Spitfire in trancing me in the future.


Spitfire put me in my place earlier this week. I was in a conditioning and in induced state when she came back from breakfast and put her foot down.

“I am your Owner,” she said. “I will make the decision about whether or not I need mindquiet, not you.  If you can’t accept that, this isn’t going to work.”

She’s right.  Yes, I had suggested, again, that Spitfire slip into her 8391 persona and sleep, after a hard and stressful day’s work. She had decided not to, and went to bed without it. I felt as if I had been slapped across the face and didn’t want to be near her for a while. I went straight to bed.

Yes, there were tears.


A couple of days ago, my real life was Spitfire’s hands and I squeeked wonderfully for Spitfire. She also got the tea I sent her and has been enjoying the Earl Grey. Time for more Earl Grey to send to her. Thankfully, I have access to all sorts of flavours.


There were more tears two days ago. My real life adoptive mother, Kitty, who is on Second Life, and is most of the reason why my inventory is a mess, lost her sister. The woman had epilepsy and was severely mentally handicapped, and living in a home. She stopped taking her meds. That was Thursday.

Saturday, she was gone, and Kitty’s grief, and relief, overwhelmed me. I can’t even be there to help her stand up. I can be there for my kids though. They’re another buncha issues, the main one is that relationships I’ve had online before Spitfire have ended badly, so one of my kids is refusing to have anything to do with Spitfire. Can’t blame my kid for that.

I can, however, blame assholes who worm their way into my life and no matter what I do to try to appease them, it’s never enough.

Do I appease Spitfire? If I stopped right now, would she be happy with everything I’ve done for her, with her, and cause of her?

I’m crying again, even as I’m trying to manage the insanity in SL. New members, others asking questions…I’m overwhelmed. At least I’m in Spitfire’s arms for a bit.


Spitfire struck when the iron was hot a couple of days ago as well. She dove into a trance with me when I was receptive to one. It’s too early for the triggers she put in to work. That’s going to have to be repeated. Or variants.

We did a double Whip broadcast for CFNM mansion. Spitfire was DJing, and I was connected to her via Discord, and she broadcasted both our voices. It was epically giggly fun.

I was at the Galleria that night, preparing to DJ when mum got into my inbox and asked for my status as a DJ. “Funny you should mention that,” I replied, and gave her a T-minus time. I started playing about 5 minutes later, and officially 20 minutes later.

I went for the crazy Christmas Eve songs, and was doing the funny fat man watch. I even got my real life to play the part of Kinky Claus, and laughed till I hurt something cause of the response I got.

I need downtime. Serious downtime. Between a teenager who thinks she knows everything, everything I do for the collective, everything I do for Spitfire, and everything else… I need to turn off for a while.


I know when it comes to trancing, visual is bad for me. It can give me harsh headaches and more. There’s also something in my mind, almost akin to a firewall, that any trance I do needs to get past. The best way so far? Audio.

I was 14 when I was first ever involved with hypnosis. It was not consensual. How can a 14 year old consent when she’s ordered to do it by her school principal, home room teacher, and counselor?

Since then, there’s been a firewall. Sometimes it works too well. When some of the other ‘tists in the galleria are doing their thing, it’s as if the words are greyed out. In order for me to see the words, it has to be someone I trust, and even then, it only works right then and there, and not on re-reads – the words grey out.

So, audio seems to be the only way to do it. And it has to slip in past my defences, via a mask of some sort, including physical orgasms.

This is going to be a puzzle that needs figuring out. I can self-trance, but getting me to bubblehead and float?

That’s the problem.

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