Peter: Brainwashing | Hypno Porn | Erotic Hypnosis | Erotica

Listen to Kali read it on Youtube: https://youtu.be/aNdWXmGWg8Q?si=jW5BlzydMgPJ7Kl-

“The clock says it’s time to close now. I know I have to go now. I really want stay here all night. All night.” Kali softly hummed, a tune from distant past, intricately woven into the fabric of their connection this evening.

The time arrived for a methodical wash of the brain. The sights and experiences once vivid in Peter’s mind were now destined for extraction and erasure. They would vanish into the ‘Room of Oblivion,’ a realm far removed from human conscious recall.

“Well, your fingers weave quick minarets Kali….And you speak in secret alphabets.”

Learn to forget, learn to forget

Learn to forget, learn to forget

With the matter decisively concluded and sealed, Peter opened his eyes, only to discover Kali’s presence behind him. She whispered into his ears, her voice oscillating from gentle murmurs to firm tones, flowing from one ear to the other.

“Peter, time, space, distance… they’re non-existent,” Kali’s voice echoed. “Should I desire your attention, merely creating and having you watch these videos suffices. Naïve boy, your efforts to flee are futile. My memory lingers in your thoughts. As daunting as this reality is, remember, the choice is between paying the exorcist or facing the return of your demons. You’ve never compensated me. Let’s not dwell on the immeasurable debt. You’re indebted to me for five years — years of service, tailored to my needs, utilizing your unique skills. Fulfill this, and I’ll set you free.

You’re familiar with those demons, aren’t you, Peter? Think of the investors you’re indebted to, a multitude of them, all closing in on you simultaneously, pounding on your door. Imagine losing all control — do you really want to spiral into chaos today, watch your life crumble? You and I both know how you anxiously peek through the blinds, constantly wondering when it will all come crashing down. But Peter, I have the power to make all of that disappear. Even if you don’t believe that, even if you resist that.”

Peter paused before responding, his lips trembling slightly. He felt a pressing need for a cigarette. She knew this.

“Well, your fingers weave quick minarets Kali….And you speak in secret alphabets. I shall master the art of forgetting, learn to erase memories. And should I attempt to resist, to fight against this, to push back, it only draws me further into a deeper trance.”

“Good boy Peter, light your cigarette and take a moment.”

As he sparked a cigarette to life, the brief glow of the flame momentarily cast light across his features in the subdued room. Behind him, her figure emerged. Clad in a sleek black suit, her presence was marked by striking blonde hair and apple cheeks, lending her an air of deceptive innocence.

Her command was clear: “Open the front door, Peter. I love you, but you must do this.”

Stepping through, Peter entered the first room, stark in its uniqueness with just a single piece of furniture — a reclining chair. The room basked in a sunny yellow hue, from the carpet to the walls, the ceiling, and the chair’s upholstery.

The chair’s inviting appearance drew Peter. He sat and reclined, enveloped in relaxation. His mind wandered to a joyous memory from the past month, enhancing his tranquility.

After a brief pause, Peter rose and proceeded to the next room, similar to the first but drenched in gold. The familiar reclining chair beckoned again. Settling in, Peter reminisced over a delightful memory from the past year.

The journey continued into the third room, the Blue Room, mirroring its predecessors but in blue. As Peter reclined in the chair, an intriguing phenomenon occurred: the chair began descending on a hydraulic hoist, transporting him to a lower level, into the basement.

Upon exiting the chair, Peter faced a door marked “The Room of Nothingness.” Entering, he was greeted by dimness and a strange sensation underfoot from a thick foam rubber pad. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, which cast a rosy glow, he decided to sit and then lay back on the soft foam.

In this room, all light faded, and Peter was enveloped by an all-consuming nothingness, his mind filled with an eerie emptiness.

Everything you’ve created now resides in the void, the room of emptiness. Peter, I need you to envision something more captivating. Devise an innovation, a tool that can monitor and analyze user data comprehensively.

This tool will allow someone like me to effortlessly find individuals like you with just a simple action. It will then transform this data into a detailed profile of psychological patterns, enabling us to identify our audience and reward them accordingly.

So, Peter, press that button and let the concept fully integrate into your thoughts.

Regardless of your reluctance or resistance, I expect this idea to haunt your dreams every night, Peter. Let it consume your thoughts to the point of compulsion, to act, to create, lest your allergies worsen intolerably.

Simply begin the design process, ponder over it, let that be your starting point. Keep it straightforward and manageable.

Take a moment to reflect on the nature of innocence, Peter. Consider how it is formed and nurtured. And recognize how swiftly it can be stripped away, like in the case of a woman simply walking down an ill-fated street in Oakland, as abrupt as lightning striking a tree.

You will harness your abilities and, for once, use them to make a positive impact. This is the core of your true self, Peter, the fundamental nature of who you are.

Every minor project and idea you’re currently developing will remain confined in this room of nothingness. Instead, you’ll focus on creating something with a beneficial impact. Reflect on my words from years past, when I said, “I wouldn’t trust you with a dollar left on the table.” Use this as motivation to improve both your character and your abilities.

Peter, I genuinely wish to trust you. However, remember, if you don’t pay the exorcist, the demons come back.

Now open your eyes and forget.

The reason for my coming, I no longer recall.

Flocons blancs dans son regard, Un monde enveloppé de lumière immaculée.

Des mains s’élèvent vers le ciel, Attrapant les rêves au vol.

Innocence dans la chute de chaque flocon, La beauté de l’hiver, captivant tous.