New Release: Evil Hypnotist: Good Boy Training

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Heya, sweeties, this past weekend I released a new file in my Evil Hypnotist series. This series focuses on one of the classic mind control fantasies: you have an embarrassing problem and seek out a hypnotist looking for help. She’s professional and comforting and you willingly let her into your mind. Then she reveals her true colors, humiliates you, and twists you even further until you’re her devoted toy.

Good Boy Training specifically focuses on making men feel like submissive, inferior pets around women. Particularly any woman who calls them a “good boy”. In just a few listens, you won’t be able to help that growing submissive urge, and we both know that’s for the best!

For more like this, check out the rest of the series!

Evil Hypnotist: Beta Male (~24 min, T/m)
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Evil Hypnotist: Cock Sucker (~25 min, T/m)
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Evil Hypnotist: Masturbation Addict (~23 min, T/gn)
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Evil Hypnotist: Small Dick Loser (~28 min, T/m)
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Word of the Week Respair

Respair (n.), English all the way down. Also rare and usually considered obsolete. This word was not my idea. Rather, credit goes to a tweet that went flying by on my timeline a few days ago. I’m sorry I don’t remember your name.

A fun thing about language is that it can be fairly modular. Which is something authors and poets have exploited since time immemorial. And so it is with respair. Despair is a word that comes to us from the French through the Latin. It’s origin is in the word esperer: to hope. The de- prefix was added to indicate a situation where one was without hope. Somehow, in English, hope took a different route to get here, but we kept despair.

However, a historian in the 1400s needed a way to talk about a return to hope after a period of despair: a coming out of the darkness. And he looked at the word, chopped off the de- and added a re-. The re- prefix has always had a sense of going back (thus returning, receding, etc.), and so with it he created respair. The return of hope.

As far as I can tell, the word never really caught on. But I like it. Nice to have a word at hand for when things do finally get better. Because we can hope they will.

Word of the Week: Vignette

Vignette (adj.) comes to English from the French (where it is spelled the same). It first started showing up in the 1750s and remains in moderate use today. I picked this word because I wrote one earlier this week. In that context, a vignette is a short written sketch providing a slice of a character or scene. But that wasn’t its earliest usage.

The most literal meaning is “little vines” and it was originally used to refer to the ornamentation at the edge of pages that often (but not always) took the forms of vine-like patterns. These designs were often used to fill blanks spaces in books and to some extent persist today.

The word was then adapted to similar elements in architecture and design. Rarely it was even applied to literal vines on trellises, balconies, columns, etc.

At some point, around century after it entered the lexicon, the meaning shifted. It’s unclear why. Photos of the head and shoulders, especially those with the edges trailing away softly, began to be referred to as vignettes and eventually so did short passages of characterization and description in text. Vignettes began to refer to brief scenes by which you would study a small piece of a character or story apart from the main plot of the work. Folk etymology may suggest that this usage became popular as these short pieces were adornment and embellishment upon the body of the work, much like their graphical predecessors. However, that’s just supposition.

Regardless, I’m going to be using the term vignette to refer to short, evocative pieces from my life. Little slices for our enjoyment to get a better taste of me.


I opened the door and stepped out to the porch. The Louisiana summer evening hit me like a physical force and I turned to look back in at the party and the laughter. She was walking towards me and I couldn’t help but smile as I held the door for her. If I looked oppressed by the heat, she looked like she could thrive in it. Funny that, even though we were both born and bred in the South, she takes to it a lot more natural than me.

“You good to drive?” She checked as she went up on her toes to kiss my cheek. My arms automatically wrapped around her and pulled her close, as I kissed her back on the forehead.

“Yup. You know me.” I said with a grin, already feeling the slight tinge of a headache from when the third margarita had told me I’d reached my cut off point a couple hours ago.

“They’re gonna make fun of you for leaving early,” she said, with a teasing little grin as she stood on the toes of my boots to put my lips in easy reach.

I lifted her chin and looked her right in the eyes: “And what about you? You know that you only have to say the word and I would stay.”

“Sap,” she said and kissed me again, short and quick, “And nah. Can’t leave your clients disappointed.”

I smirked, “I mean, I didn’t explicitly say that I was gonna go put on the red light…”

“I know. But I also know your schedule.” she said as she hugged me tight. “Thank you for staying for as long as you did.”

I rested my head on top of her head and ruffled her hair with my free hand and took in the scent of her. “Of course, they’re your friends. I know things like this mean a lot to you.” She just hugged me tighter.

Eventually she let go and stepped back. “Okay. Go be mean to boys and make money and have fun.”

I laughed a little and smiled at just how lucky I was. “Always.” I said and stepped down from the porch and into the evening to do just that.

Word of the Week: Sisyphean

Sisyphean (adj.) comes to English through the Greek, and unlike last week’s word we know exactly where it comes from. It came into use in the mid 1600s (which honestly seems late) and is fairly rare in current use.

Sisyphus was, simply put, a cheating bastard. And he was good at it. Good enough to cheat death twice. After sufficiently pissing off the gods, either Hades or Thanatos (sources vary) was sent to drag Sisyphus to the underworld and bind him in a chair as eternal punishment. This was special treatment, as usually Hermes was sent to retrieve the souls of the dead. Hermes, psychopomp with elements of a trickster, would likely not have fallen for Sisyphus’ plan.

Sisyphus asked the god to show him how the chair worked. And, somehow not anticipating what was to come, the very embodiment of death and/or the underworld sat in the chair and was bound. This led to nothing being able to die,  and the world becoming a rather unpleasant place. This was obviously an untenable situation, and eventually the gods conspired to make sure their brethren was released. Which once again meant Sisyphus was staring death in the face.

Before dying, Sisyphus gave instructions that his body should be desecrated after his death. And, on arriving to the underworld, he told Persephone such a sob story about how horribly his body had been treated. She was so moved that she let the smug little bastard go back to the world of the living to see to his affairs. Of course, Sisyphus had no intention of returning. Eventually, Hermes caught up with him and dragged him back down beneath the earth, but Sisyphus had enough time in the intervening period to be awful to his family and to basically make a nuisance of himself.

Once he was finally in the underworld for good, Sisyphus was tasked with rolling a boulder to the top of a hill. A hill which, upon reaching the top, the boulder would immediately roll down the other side. And this is where the word gets the meaning it carries today: something resembling fruitless toil towards an unreachable goal.