Diary of a Ditz-Or How I Learned To Stop “Thinking”

I have heard so many times how a hypno subject would love to experience forgetfulness or amnesia but has never had the knack for it or the know how.
I thought you all might find the following expose to be particularly well explained and well written.

Diary Of A Ditz–
Or How I Learned How To Stop Thinking And Love My Goddess.

It’s a strange, strange thing indeed to pen a memoir about forgetting. An account of the unaccounted-for would barely fill a page, or so you might imagine. In fact, though, the richness of the experience is nearly too much for words, even though I can neither recall what drained from my skull, nor relate how it happened.

Oh, sure, I remember driving to see my Goddess, having flown in the night before. I remember parking the car and ringing the bell, and greeting the dog and sitting down. I remember Goddess’s smile as she assessed me, and her casual suggestion I look at something she wanted me to see. And I looked.

What I saw I can’t remember. What she said is gone too. What remains are sensations because, I suppose, that’s what you’re left with from such a powerful encounter–such an encounter with power.

What began as a thrumming feeling at the base of my neck and across my eye-sockets became a throbbing–a kind of pulse-rate of consciousness–like the impulses on which thoughts and feelings ride, but stripped of those things. Primal. At first it competes with thinking, and compels your immediate attention, as if to say, “Notice me!” So you drop what you’re thinking, first about the past, then the future then, finally, even the moment itself. You only hear the thrumming.

Then you feel the throbbing. It’s unlike any feeling you’ve ever felt. The most intensely sexual sensation, uncorrupted by doubts or expectations or taboo.

And then, any thought you have, about what’s being done to you, only returns your thoughts to the throbbing. You know you’re being taken. Yet instead of triggering further thoughts, of safety, of flight, of self-preservation, the throbbing elbows in and transmutes them. You begin associating being taken, being used, being helplessly brainwashed, with that throbbing, pulsing intoxicating drug. Each thought brings more thoughts of surrender, because each thought is rewarded by the throbbing. Each thought brings pleasure; then each thought becomes pleasure, until no thoughts remain, only the pleasure of surrender.

It’s been months, far too long, since my last session. I have never remembered a thing about Goddess entrancing me. I will never forget how she entrances me still.

slave m
[Slave m visits Me from New York City as often as he can. We have known each other for many years.]

Celebrate Labor Day weekend. Relax and enjoy!