First to relax, first to finish
One particular drink-laced evening in Poblacion, my high school friends and I huddled around a table at a rooftop bar and discussed our sex toy experiences. Three of us—myself included—had our fair share of stories and favorite products. So many, in fact, that we created a Facebook Messenger chat group to swap recommendations and links. For those who had reservations when it came to sex toys or were too afraid to have them found, one of my friends raised an interesting proposition: the hands-free orgasm.
Yes, apparently it’s possible to trigger an orgasm without any physical contact—which, yeah, kind of blew my mind. As someone who has been largely dependent on her own hands or her little bullet vibrator in the last couple of years, thinking about getting off without getting touched was intriguing to say the least.
And so, like any curious soul would, I set off to do my research. It turns out erotic hypnosis is the key to going hands-free—and while it sounds a little scary, some promised it had an even more breathtaking, heart-racing intensity than actual sex, which…hey, I’m definitely down for.
Curious, excited even, I waited for a weekend when my parents and roommate would be conveniently occupied all day long. I threw away all regard for our house rule against closed doors and combed through the YouTube search results affiliated with the search terms “hands-free orgasm” and “erotic hypnosis.” Hoping the crowd would lead me to the best find, I ended up choosing the one that was both most popular and least intimidating and, most importantly, the ones that weren’t entitled things like Good Girls Get Reprogrammed and Trance to a Naturally Weak Slut.
Fan on, shorts off, I laid in bed waiting for a mysterious stranger’s voice to take me away.
The video in question—after flashing a number of warnings and reminders that viewer discretion is advised—kicks off with the sudden entrance of white noise and a trippy hypnotic spiral. This visual would be on loop for the entirety of the video, not that there’s really much time to keep your eyes open when the mystery man starts his prompts.
“I'm going to put you in a trance,
and it's going to be a pleasurable experience.”
I’ve seen a number of hypnosis videos in the past, and I’ve found that they all begin with a relaxing lead-in—otherwise known as a deepener—to get the subject into the right state of mind. This video was no different: the first few minutes are dedicated to lifting tension off the body and tunnelling focus towards the speaker’s voice, which was low and husky and, to my surprise, not all that intimidating. This deepening process makes use of a couple of interesting images. The first was a soothing blue light sweeping over my body. At this point, things were just getting started and my mind was still wandering, so I may or may not have found myself trying not to think about the alien abduction scenes in Chicken Little.
A little later, I’m prompted to imagine myself making a gradual descent on a descending escalator. The mystery man starts to count backwards from 10 as I travel down, with each number taking me “deeper and deeper into trance.” He takes his time counting down and uses the same words over and over, reminding me how safe, how calm, how relaxed I am. At this point, I find myself thinking about how I’m calm but definitely not completely relaxed like he convinces me I should be.
Do I need more deepeners? Should I start over?
I’m supposed to let myself reach a new level of relaxation as I close in on the end of the escalator. I choose not to start over. Instead, I will myself to shake off my thoughts, approaching the foot of the escalator and letting myself ride the wave of the man’s voice without overthinking. I remember myself musing about how it feels like I’m sinking into a pool of quicksand or an ultra-soft memory foam mattress.
“Every time you hear the word ‘sleep,'
you will fall deeper and deeper in a trance.
Ten times deeper and, as you go deeper,
the more aroused you become.”
When he reaches the end of the countdown and utters the number one, I step off the escalator and approach a “very special bed” he asks me to imagine. I’m told that climbing into this bed will instantly put me into a deep, hypnotic sleep—and I don’t know if it’s the lazy person in me, but the image goes a long way in helping me unwind. Mystery man tells me that I can, or should, return to this state of pure relaxation whenever he snaps his fingers and murmurs the word “sleep,” which sounded fine and doable.
Up until this point, all was fine and dandy really—up until the voice of a woman, throaty and swathed in audio reverb filters, started responding to his instructions with a desperate-sounding “Yes, master.”
I almost hit pause—mostly out of surprise and partially because I’m not exactly the kind of gal to call my partner master even in the heat of roleplay. But hey, this was a fresh experience, so I trudged on, even when things got a little weird and he started saying the word “pussy” a little too much.
“Do you understand, good girl?”
There’s a noticeable shift in tone after that and things easily get more explicit. From vague descriptions of sensations I’m supposed to feel, the mental images become more graphic. He introduces new words, new prompts that go hand-in-hand with things I’m supposed to imagine. Fingers here, tingling there, a tongue there, at this particular tempo—all dictated with a newfound confidence. Mystery man begins to gain a personality, unabashed about the things he’d like to do and chuckling at the control he has.
“Does that feel good?” he asks, sometime between a verbal rub-off and eat-out. And at the risk of sounding like a total snooze, it was…alright at best.
It’s hard to pinpoint why erotic hypnosis didn’t work for me. For the record, it’s not like the attempt was completely futile: while I didn’t come when the mystery man finally gave me the cue to around 20 minutes in, there was definitely pressure building in my belly. As I so eloquently explained to a friend who asked about my experience, I didn’t get there but I got somewhere for sure. My senses were heightened. When I allowed myself to relax, it did feel like my body was under some sort of trance, but not deep enough to overlook the cringe-inducing, hiccupy moans in the background or fully reap the benefits of the things I was being made to imagine.
Perhaps it’s a matter of hypnosis simply not being effective on everyone. Cartoons and magic shows will tell us that people can get hypnotized by staring at a black and white spiral or having a pendant dangled before their eyes, but it’s not nearly that simple. Studies have found that we have varying levels of hypnotizability, with one study from Stanford University School of Medicine pinpointing the differentiating factor.
I’d like nothing more than to reach across my screen and find the person who makes all these hypnosis videos to tell him, solemnly, “It’s not you, it’s me.” I’m sure he’s made plenty of other women wet themselves (case in point: this lady who had a very good time), but I found my mind constantly moving faster than his prompts. When he’d tell me to imagine something, I’d run with the thought, only for him to take me back to a certain action or feeling that I’d already mentally moved past. This constant rewind-and-play made me snap out of things—which might be another reason why I wasn’t all that turned on even when I supposedly had someone’s fingers and tongue right there. Perhaps that’s what gets me riled up with sexting or dirty talk: that my mind can move at its own pace and I’m free to imagine things (and then do a little touching and feeling, of course). I like having the liberty of imagining scenarios at my own pace, whether excruciatingly slow or as fast as it takes me to finish. I’ve always been pretty firm in my likes and dislikes, and I guess sex isn’t an exception to that.
It’s all extremely preferential in the end, as sex should be. Erotic hypnosis and the hands-free orgasms it promises just aren’t for everybody, but giving YouTube’s pool of hypnosis videos a shot might be worth it if you’re looking for an interesting alternative to good ol’ Pornhub. For now, though, the latter (and real-life, touchy-feely action) is where my preferences lie.
Art Matthew Fetalver