Hypno Revolution

I first opened erotic hypnotism listings last fall, but let them lie dormant for a while, because I didn't think they reflected me very accurately. Frankly, they were too bitchy.

So I rewrote them and started turning them on a couple of weeks ago now. If you're interested, check out the new look here: http://www.niteflirt.com/hypno+galiana

Since re-opening, I've had a few awesome successes.

The most dramatic has been with a caller who called me a good deal last fall, but seemed a bit frustrated, as if he wanted me to take him further in some direction that neither of us could exactly put our finger on. Somehow, the combination of the last six months of experience, my relaxing horse tranquilizers, and my reading further on NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) techniques managed to hit the spot. Before, he kept encouraging me to be "more dominating" and this time around, he's encouraging me to "do exactly whatever it was you did last time." Yay!

I've had a few role play calls, not looking for real hypnosis, which used to confuse me, so I would attempt full-length inductions and they would hang up on me. Now I recognize the signs more clearly, so I'm able to jump in and do a fake-mini-induction and then fulfill requests like "can you find out what the trigger word is that my girlfriend is using to get me to want to suck cock so I can stop it?" Suuuuuure. Oh look, if I say that trigger word, you talk about how much you love sucking cock, and the more I say it, the more you want it. What a shock!

The success that sexually frustrated me the most was the gentleman with the steady, smooth voice, who told me he just wanted to be tranced, and given mind-fuck post-hypnotic triggers, but didn't feel the need to have an orgasm. After 30 minutes of brainwashing and planting parlor-trick mild amnesia triggers, I brought him out and checked. Not only did the triggers work, but he was delighted. And wanted to serve me. In fact, wanted to do anything I wanted him to do, if only I would put him under again...

Ohhhh reeeeeally. Like, for example, what if I wanted to bring you to the edge of orgasm multiple times but not let you climax? Astonishingly, he agreed, and his groaning and pleading cemented the fact that yes, I have, indeed, developed a begging fetish. Holy. Crap.

I was a good hypnotist, though, you should be proud of me. When we approached the amount of time originally agreed upon, before I brought him out that last time, I suggested that he would feel fully satisfied, and he did. But me? Satisfied? No way - I needed a big fat vibrator and fresh batteries. Fuck.

Then tonight, someone called me for only the second time (the first was an introduction conversation), after having bought my hypnosis mp3 (this one here) and listened to it a few times. It is simple simple simple, with triggers for pleasure, and sure, a bit of suggestion that the sound of my voice is awesome, but nothing I'd call heavy duty hypnotic programming.

The sound of a man whimpering is just. so. luscious. Thankfully, he wanted a mix of hypnosis plus phone sex, so I got to get off with him. I might have let my NLP out to play a bit during the teasing portion of the conversation, and maybe he said afterward that he had not been aware that he had been begging to taste me, for me to fuck him, to be allowed to come. But oh, dear, sweet, delicious goodness, he had.

So how is this a "hypno revolution"? Or have I forgotten my blog title?

Don't be silly, I haven't forgotten. The revolution is this: I feel more integrated as a hypnotist now. I see hypnosis as a tool to be used in a much broader variety of settings. I see hypnotic techniques sneaking into my topping sessions. I see domination feeling comfortable in my hypnosis. It's like peanut butter and chocolate, but in a thousand flavors instead of just one.

Okay, ummm, that last sentence? Mmmmmaybe I need a snack after the powerful, rippling orgasm I enjoyed with that last caller, the man who whimpered...

Memory and Notes and Meds

Don't you trust me?

I wrote about how much I remembered vs how much I wrote in this blog post (Memory and Notes), but when I went on my horse tranquilizers mid-May (2.5 months already?), I wondered what the effect would be on my memory.

The other day I had a delightful call from a gent who has been keeping up with my blog (awwww, thank you!), and left me this feedback - I blame the typos on the ludicrously intense session he had just had with me:

"Im so glad your feeling better and I'm so so glad I got to talk to you. I would beg for you anytime if the day. Thank you again"

(side note: I shamelessly stole the idea to incorporate feedback into blog posts from Kiwi Candy, who I briefly mentored, but who now blows me out of the water and does pretty much everything better than I do. So out of mock petty jealousy over her success, now I'm stealing her good ideas. Good thing she thinks I'm cute, and I've shared at least seven callers with her, or she might get mad.)

I found with him, as I have been finding with callers lately, that my memory of past calls seems unaffected. Sure, I get a helpful boost from a specific in a note if I have one, like "a sensual hand job can beat penetration," which can give me lovely, naughty, teasing, ideas with just a slight twist of my wrist near the top of the stroke... oh wait, where was I? Oh right.

Even if I don't have great notes, or if I'm in a different room than my computer, as long as there was a connection, even if it's been six months or more, I can often remember plenty.

Examples: The guy who started the conversation wanting to be exposed? By his voice, I remembered how big that cock was, the first one he ever sucked, in a car in a parking lot just after the sun had set, even though I'd never written that down. The guy with the thick mob-underling accent who wanted to be told how to masturbate? I remembered to ask him if he had his vibrating egg and nipple clamps, which was in my notes, but my computer was rebooting when he called, so they were inaccessible.

And the guy above who left me that sweet feedback? I remembered that he liked his sensuality mixed with a splash of domination, so, armed with my new, deeper understanding of tease and long-term denial, I let all kinds of torturous thoughts plague him before he found out whether or not I would ever finish my countdown from 10 to... that magic number he was dying to hear, but not sure he'd get to...

Five Blowjob Night

The other night, I had five calls, and I realized after the last one, they were all about blowjobs. Deeeeelicious.

I just had to stop writing for a moment to go get a lollipop. I will clearly need something to suck on while writing this. Hooray for oral fixations!

The first call was a nice, slow guided masturbation, but he was in the mood to tease me through my clothes, dammit. He was gently talking smut in my ear while telling me how to stroke myself, and I started begging for him to touch me, fuck me, shove his cock in my mouth, anything more than this tormented non-touch, please... He was standing over me, enticing me, and eventually gave in to my pleadings and slid himself to the back of my throat as he allowed me to cum, which tipped him over the delicious edge as well.

I like begging so much more before I start begging, and later when I think about it, than I enjoy begging when I'm in the middle of it. Funny how that works.

The second caller has fantasies of using me as a whore, as impersonally as possible, just meeting in a hotel room, getting sucked off, and then tossing me on my way. He wanted to hear stories about times I'd given head when the guy couldn't have cared less about my pleasure, when he just used my mouth like a glory hole.

As it turns out, I have a few of those stories: college spring break when my friend brought home a random hookup and his friend, I got stuck with the friend, and I obliged him with oral sex so he'd let me go to sleep; the drunk boyfriend who fucked my face while I hung my head off the edge of the bed and then passed out; my husband and I completing our sex-in-every-room tour of the new townhome with an unreciprocated blow job on the back porch, loud enough to meet his "slurpy" preference, but quiet enough to hide from the people in the nearby pool.

You'd think that guy would be the type to hang up right away after coming, wouldn't you? But no, he's surprisingly cuddly and chatty afterward, and wants to know all about my life. Such an amusing juxtaposition.

The third caller was in a tender mood, and wanted "something languorous, luscious... like the most sensual fellatio you can imagine." So I covered his body with kisses and massaging caresses, worked my way to his cock, and then took my time, enjoying the heat, the scent, the taste, the feeling of the rhythm building, the pulsing of his flesh under my tongue, the intimacy of him looking down into my eyes as I swallowed him whole time after time.

He was slurring his words from sleep or alcohol when the call started, so his sleepy, satisfied "Mmmmm, g'night Galinana" was hardly a shock. So cute.

The fourth caller told me a story, of why he had hung up on me last time he had called: because I was describing a three-way I had with a couple in 2002, where both of us girls were going down on the guy, and the caller had been driving during our previous call, and had gotten turned on, so he had pulled over, in the middle of nowhere, to masturbate while I described it in vivid detail... and a cop pulled up! Yikes! He got his dick back in his pants and convinced the policeman he was napping on a multi-hour road trip, thankfully. But wow, yeah, that's a valid excuse to hang up suddenly!

So for this call, thankfully, he was not driving, and he wanted me to start the story over from scratch, and give every lascivious detail. Since that weekend I spent with that couple is one of my favorite erotic memories, I was happy to oblige.

Then the fifth and final caller of the night wanted me to rim him while jacking him off, but it morphed into him guiding my head with his hand in my hair, me deep-throating him, while I fucked his ass with my finger to the same rhythm. He said he shot clear up to his neck he came so hard. Awww. That made me so happy. Isn't that what every girl wants to hear?

Then I logged off and looked over my notes to make sure I hadn't left anything out, and realized I'd had an all-blowjob evening. My fingers were pruney from sucking on them so much, my husband was frustratingly out of town, and my panties, uncharacteristically still on my body at the end of the evening, were soaked.

Why, hello, there, favorite vibrators with fresh batteries lying by my bed. Do me a favor and help me out with a little fantasy I've been working on, would you? It involves me on my knees...

Tease and Long-Term Denial

I have a caller who has gotten me interested in a concept with many facets and many names: one piece is male chastity / male orgasm denial / tease and denial; a second piece is sack tapping / ball torture; a third piece is small penis humiliation.

Whew. It's a lot to take in.

Thankfully, he's a patient teacher. In fact, our conversations would frequently seem theoretical to an outsider: we would seem like two people rationally and calmly discussing the merits of a man not having an orgasm for days on end... weeks on end... months on end... maybe never. And how testicles feel when stretched or pulled or flicked or punched when they are full. And how some women feel that men with less than 7" of cock don't deserve to have full-release orgasms because they are physiologically unequipped to deliver the most satisfying kinds of orgasms to their women.

(Note: that's fantasy talk about a small penis: I've had ridiculous orgasms on tongues and fingers, and many women are incapable of having orgasms merely from penetration, no matter what the size. The reality is: if you want to make me come until I'm a quivering mess begging to be allowed to go to sleep, you can, even if your cock is tiny, doesn't get hard, or is missing altogether. I know there really are size queens who truly disagree, but I ain't one of them.)

Underneath that calm conversation, however, we both know that we are both deliciously turned on by the reality: he will get himself too aroused to hide it anymore, and then he will start begging to be allowed to release. And there, in that moment, for him, according to the rules of the game we play, the answer will always be no.

I owe a huge debt of thanks for the practically educational Male Chastity Blog, by Sarah, a married woman who calls the blog "Adventures of a liberated woman and her male chastity husband". Her well-written, well-reasoned blog posts, newsletters, and her book are all well worth your time if you're interested in a realistic, yet passionate, view into the lifestyle of male orgasm denial.

As Sarah recommended, we discussed the ground rules of our game first, and refined them along the way. The way we currently play is that he has to tell me, calmly and rationally, that he wants to be allowed to have an orgasm within the first 15 minutes of our phone call. Once we are in minute 16 with no agreement that he will climax that night, no matter what happens from them on, I will not allow him to climax.

And if he is allowed to have an orgasm, it will be a ruined orgasm / interrupted orgasm. He doesn't get a fully satisfying, squirting release unless we also negotiate some amount of money to change hands. So far, it's never been allowed. It's been over four months since his last full-release orgasm.

That's the dry version of our rules. The reality is blazingly more sexy once it gets going. Once he starts being irrational and I know he's getting turned on, I let myself start getting turned on... I'll even start masturbating a bit. I can hear his voice catch, his ability to find words fly out the window, and his frustration start to rise. When he starts calling me an evil bitch, I know he's dying to come.

I used to be such a sweet, nice, accommodating girl... who would have thought that after less than a year of phone sex, the thing that would tip me over the edge into a delicious, rippling orgasm would be hearing the ragged voice of a normally excruciatingly rational man begging, "Please, let me come," and my own answer, laughing at him, of, "You'll never come again." I would not have suspected how aroused that would make me.

After I climax, when he's still out of his mind with raging hormones, I tell him how good it feels to have that release, how satisfied I feel, how delicious it was. He usually tells me to go fuck myself, clarified with "I don't mean that as a negative"...

But he doesn't come. And he keeps calling back for more.

That's what lets me know that Sarah is right: he wants release, but he craves denial. Why? I dunno. I really don't get it at all. I don't understand what he gets from it. But I know it's working for both of us.

At this point, it's been 14 weeks and 2 days since he had his last ruined orgasm, and we don't have a date in mind for his next one. I feel a bit like a vampire, feeding off his sexual energy, fueling his flames, to get his heart pumping, so I can taste him, just a bit richer each time. Mmmmm. Deeeeeelicious.

Time Limits Vs The Six Hour Phone Call

In this post about time limits, I explained that some types of phone sex calls have the unfortunate tendency to accelerate my dizziness to the point where I have to draw a line and impose a time limit, especially calls where I do most of the talking, or where more than one orgasm per person is required.

Last night, I spent almost six hours with one caller, from 6:53 pm to 12:46 am. Because of the time he spent re-charging his account, and one unfortunate disconnect, it worked out to 346 minutes of billable time. Wow.

Now, if you would have asked me yesterday at 6:52, "What is your prediction for your stamina tonight? How long of a call could you take right now?" I would have guessed maybe 90 minutes. I never would have guessed 346. No way.

So how was 346 minutes possible?

A few factors caused the perfect conditions:
* I was well-rested
* He did most of the talking
* We were talking, not fucking


I was well-rested: He was my first call of the evening. I had enough sleep, I hadn't tried to do too many errands, and I had taken things at my own pace all day. It was a lovely day, in fact.

He did most of the talking: The way the conversation goes with this particular caller (nicknamed "The Wanker"): he shares his thoughts about wankers / losers / beta males, the psychology of sex, the insistent physiology of the cock, the emotional complexities of trading sexual energy for money, and the simultaneously pleasurable / tormenting activity of paying an attractive woman to talk with him about sex when he knows he won't actually be getting laid.

The words come tumbling out of his mouth. I almost have to interrupt him sometimes to interject with a thought. For every thing I say, he probably says five things. So I'm listening, paying attention, adding my perspective, and coming up with good questions, but if I need a mental break, I can take one and just let him go on auto-pilot for a minute or two. It's handy.

The difference between "I am almost always talking" and "I am almost always listening" is huge -- I can go way longer if my caller is doing most of the talking.

We were talking, not fucking: For almost the entire call, neither of us were heading toward an orgasm. He had just gotten his first-ever chastity cage over the weekend, and he'd been wearing it for about 52 hours when we started talking. When he hit 72 hours, it would be the longest he had ever gone in his life without masturbating to orgasm.

So the fascinating thing to him about the call was how much more aroused he could get without having to end the call because he had climaxed. So topics that normally would send him over the edge? Keep exploring those, and push hard, because he can't come.

Exploring the psychology of financial domination? Listening to graphic details about me and my lovers? Hearing about how a couple transitions from flirting to fucking? All of those were deliciously stimulating for him. And honestly, I got a huge rush of power and pleasure from hearing his breath catch in that way that usually means he's about to climax, but knowing that this time, I could keep on keeping on and just mess with his mind for all it was worth.

When I realized I was getting tired, finally, I dropped the double-bomb on him: would he be willing to pay me extra to masturbate while explicitly explaining to him what I was doing? He never could have done that without a chastity cage; he would have climaxed in five minutes. And the mind-fuck of asking him to pay extra for me to masturbate, knowing that it was included for other calls, was based on my knowledge of his hesitant interest in financial domination.

I made him come up with the dollar amount (which was a fairly vicious trick on my part, if I do say so myself), and then explained every detail of what I was doing and how it felt. It was a slow build, first with my fingers, then with my vibrator (which I called "the cock" to emphasize that he was not fucking me, but that I love being fucked).

When I came, hard, leaving me scrambled and breathless, he sounded like his brain had exploded instead of his balls. "There's just... there's no mistaking that sound, is there?" he finally managed to say, while I laughed at his obvious mind-melting level of frustrated arousal.

Dear Galiana, 
Remember how once upon a time, you thought you wouldn't be any good at financial domination, or humiliation, or tease and denial? You were wrong on all accounts. And just think: the world is still full of fun new things for you to learn that you love! All it takes is finding the right partner to do them with. Have fun!
Love, Galiana

Cartoon Pinup Galiana, Part II

As I explained in the first Cartoon Pinup Galiana blog post, a friend of mine asked a friend of his to do a cartoon pinup of me.

In addition to the spectacular me-alone picture, he also delivered this gem, in two views, for Mistress Galiana:

The uncensored view is here: http://psophotos.net/galianachance/cartoon/galiana02.jpg

The details are spectacular. The chair is rich-looking, the mischief in my eyes and smile are exactly how I feel when I'm topping sensually, my breasts are stunningly pretty, the negligee and stockings are fabulous, my sweet exposed pussy with a touch of a landing strip threatens to flow over onto his chin.

And my feet... rubbing allll over him. A foot fetishist's dream come true. From there, I can stuff my toes into his mouth, or let my soles slide langorously down his chest... Oh. My. What have we here?

You can find the uncensored version here: http://psophotos.net/galianachance/cartoon/galiana03.jpg

Not only are those strong arms restrained, either by ties or the delicious surrender of will, and not only is the chest gorgeous, and strong, but look what fun toy my feet have to play with there! A tied-up package, like a gift, strong and hard and aching just a touch.

I love that the rope is rose-colored, almost the same shade as the head of his cock. Seriously. Perfect.

The tension in that body... I want to do nothing and do everything, make him weep and make him sigh in pleasure, feel his skin and taste the sweat off his chest as he struggles not to come.

Thank you. I love it.

Sleep-Rate Experiment: Success!

Last night I had a fantastic long call - over two hours - on my sleep-rate (as explained here). I would have completely missed the call if I had just logged out for the night.

So I will continue the sleep-rate experiment for the foreseeable future, since my life allows for me to sleep later in the morning, or take a nap during the afternoon,  if I've been awake from about 4:45 am - 7:00 am. Considering I didn't get to sleep until about 1:00 am, it means my sleep pattern is now seriously unorthodox.

If I have something I'm resting up for, or if I'm starting to feel sleep-deprived, I'll take a night off and not think twice about it. Health first.

But if I am rested and don't have plans, I will probably be staying on almost 24/7 unless I figure out that it is a bad idea for me. For example, if I end up getting a lot of very short calls on my sleep-rate, it's not worth the interruption. But the ability to connect with The Wanker...

Last night, it was The Wanker who called me, complete with his scrumptious accent and love for long edging calls. Yum. It had been a while since we'd spoken, so it was extra-delightful to hear from him, and be able to toy him: stimulated enough to keep him refilling his account, but not quite enough to topple him over the edge. Our conversation about trying the Raise the Rate game got him, though, darn it.

(Raise the Rate is a financial domination phone sex game: in the middle of the conversation, the provider - who is the dominant partner - suddenly hangs up. The caller finds that the provider has raised the rate to continue the conversation. The game is to see how high his need will take him. There are fun little individual power-play variations, but that's the gist of it.)

The Wanker is not my only caller in Europe, and the timing would be better for them if I were available more often during US overnight hours.

It comes down to this: if I log out, there is a 0% chance of talking with me. However, if I stay logged in but raise my rate, then it's up to the caller to decide whether or not it is worth it to talk. As long as I am being realistic with myself about what dollar amount compensates me for sleep-interruption, we're all good.

Well, almost all good. The trickiest part of having a sleep-rate? What if I wake up and have to pee?

Welcome Back Indeed!

I had an awesome welcome back day after my three days off:

• I logged in to an email from a guy I talked with for the first time last week, which said "Sorry I hung up last night.  Listening to you being naughty caused an incapacitating orgasm on my end that I was unprepared for.  Thanks for one of the best calls ever." Who gets giddy every time she thinks of the phrase "incapacitating orgasm"? I do! 
• I had four nice long luxurious calls today: two with new friends and two with "old" friends (although I'm older than they are, and I've only been doing this for 3 months...), which were varied and original and fascinating.
• But one of the long calls (a new caller who said "I think I just found my new best friend!" Awwwww), got cut off at a near-critical moment of him teasing and edging me - darn it! Thankfully, about 5 minutes later, right about the time I was starting to calm down, but be a tiny bit disappointed about having been left hanging, another new caller wanted to hear me come hard and fast. Hooray for well-timed quickies!

It was a GREAT day. Thank you - I'm happy to be back! /blowkiss


P.S. I think I should start an opt-in email list along the lines of "I've been teased to the brink of sanity / had a crazy sexy dream / had too many calls cut off / etc, and need to come hard (which is much easier and more satisfying for me to do with a partner than to do alone). First guy to call and get me off with no teasing gets 3 minutes free." But that would just be crazy, right?

Dammit, Chance!

Dear Galiana's Inner Slut,

Pay attention, girlfriend. The next time someone wants you to tease and sensually dominate him for 45 minutes, DO NOT get distracted getting your damned rocks off and finish up at 35!

Just because he started begging at 20 minutes, and you know exactly how it feels to be in that position... you remember when someone saner was in charge of Galiana's body, and whoever that dumbass was said you could go for an hour of teasing without climaxing, and then 20 minutes in, once you're completely in charge, and thoroughly fuck-drunk, you were saying things like, "ohdeargod, there's no way, I'm not gonna make it" and begging to come as if your life depended on it. I know, sometimes you didn't make it.

But this is a BUSINESS, woman. Don't be weak. Don't get so sex-scrambled that the only thing you can think you want is to ride that cock till you both explode.

Stay on target. Stay. On. Target.

Would you ... fortheluva... quit licking the juices off your vibrator and listen to me?!?

Dammit, Chance!

Most sincerely,
Galiana's Inner Drill Sergeant

Teased Until Greedy

Well, tonight I seem to have lost my damn mind.

I had a series of calls... And you know what? Good for me - any problem that starts with "I had a series of calls" is a good problem to have.

But... I had a series of calls where the caller either wanted to be teased, wanted to tease me, or wanted to talk about sexy things. But did not want to have sex. Or wanted to, but didn't make it there before they came. Like 5 of them in a row.

When I was on the phone with the last one, I got an email from a switch saying he'd stick around a while to see if I got un-busy, but did I want to play tonight maybe? And did I want to top or sub or just be lazy and explore? I got off the call, read that email, and wrote him back immediately. And ... honestly... now I'm horribly embarrassed... BEGGED him to call me and top me and fuck the everliving shit out of me, PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE. I think what I actually said was, "Inner Slut is driving the bus and nobody else will even get close to the controls until she gets what she needs. Hard. Fast. Deep. And dirty."

Thankfully, he was still around. Thankfully, he was in the mood to indulge me. Thankfully, he fucked the everliving shit out of me indeed. After we were done, I had to log out for a while to catch my breath and recover.

I feel like maybe I should have paid him... /blush