I’ve been using hypnosis since the mid-’90s, for both business and pleasure. It’s something that I’m infintely fascinated by. I like to read the book, see the film, wear the kaftan, and experience it from every possible angle. The thing is, being a Domme, I was always the hypnotist, so there was one angle I never had the opportunity to experience hypnosis from… until last year, when I went to a stage hypnosis night in a pub so that I could try being on the receiving end for the first time since my teens. Ladies and gents, I yearned to switch – YES, SWITCH – at least briefly. I wanted to experiment with hypno-switching in a relatively safe, public, vanilla environment. It wasn’t exactly hardcore hypno-submission, but it was the closest I was prepared to get. The chap was very good, and I dearly wished to be manipulated into dancing about on stage with a mop and miming to bad ’70s pop music (much like most boybands) with everyone else… but I found myself getting distracted. Without really meaning to, I was mentally picking out bits of his inductions, deepeners and general methodology and comparing and contrasting them with my own. I was analysing my own reactions and the reactions of those around me. As a result, I didn’t go into a particularly suggestible state at all. This was my fault entirely. After all, the hypnotist really was very good. I was amazed, after the show, when speaking to the other people who had been up on stage. Some had no memory of any of it. They’d had exactly the same treatment as I’d had, at exactly the same time, but their experience of it was completely different. The hypnotist hadn’t even given any suggestion to forget, yet their own assumptions and the powerful myths about hypnosis had caused them to convince themselves into a state of amnesia. It was marvellous. I think that it is possible to hypnotise anyone, given the right technique for the right person, but there will always be stubborn bastards like me who respond best to a smack round the head.