3 Sex trafficked. It's all fun and games 'til someone loses an eye...

The psychology experiment

by LydiaSalia

Tags: #cw:gore #cw:noncon #cw:protagonist_death #D/s #dom:male #f/f #m/f #multiple_partners #sub:female #bondage #dom:female #humiliation #sadomasochism

Addendum 8/21/2021: This is story has been updated and enhanced. It is one of, if not, my best work.

My name is Lydia Salia (not my real name). I’m a real life hypnodomme. I have written many stories for the hypnofetish community. Most of my stories are at least partially true, based on my life. I do often embellish my stories for entertainment’s sake. Julie Adams is a good friend and fellow hypnotist. She is featured in many of my stories and has authored a few stories herself. She is a certified hypnotherapist whereas I am more of a street-smart hypnotist. I have opened Julie’s eyes to the world of erotic hypnosis, and I think it excites her, although her puritan ways keep her from fully embracing the pleasure that controlling someone and being controlled can bring. Yes, I sometimes like being submissive. I think it goes with the territory.  Some people in the hypnofetish community have bestowed me with the title of master hypnotist. I excel at shock inductions, covert inductions, all manner of inductions. Except I hate traditional long inductions. Its not necessary if you know how to read and work your subject.

If you hear exaggerations, even outright lies, repeated often enough, you will start to believe them. That is a fact, and how all of us can be manipulated by social media, the news or unscrupulous acquaintances. It’s called the ‘Illusory truth effect’. Google it. Some girls are recruited into sex trafficking by promises of fame and fortune. “You are so beautiful. Imagine how many men will be watching you as you pleasure yourself.” I myself could have easily become a victim of sex trafficking. At 18 I was covertly hypnotized and began ‘obedience’ trainining. Fortunately, I escaped before my owner (yes owner) could ‘formally’ traffic me. I touch on this time in my life in Confessions of a Hypnodomme, chapter Trials and tribulations of Lydia's formative years.


Trafficked is a work of fiction that explores the dark, real world of human sex trafficking.

My name is Lydia. I’m a hypnodomme and I’m pretty good at it.  I cut my teeth hypnotizing fellow students in my English lit study group. That is where I met Alfred and Karen my first semester at Stanford. They both turned out to be excellent subjects and helped me hone my skills. Karen lacked self confidence in math and Alfred with girls. I was able to help both of them. Karen now loves math and is a math major. Alfred has no shortage of hot dates. Self-improvement suggestions helped them maximize their potential. Karen had come to my rescue one dark night after I was drugged by my professor and sodomized. She knew something was wrong (I was crying), just not how bad. She told me she would take care of me when I was most vulnerable, and I needed a friend. And she had kissed me. Tenderly. I couldn’t, shouldn’t read anything into it. I had rebuked her, and I felt bad. But, in the back of my mind I wondered. She had a bit of a girl crush on me, but that was probably from an innocent suggestion I had given her while she had been hypnotized. We saw each other on campus from time to time but had drifted apart and had different social circles. Karen was hanging with the nerds. I was more with the Wickens and Supernatural fans. It was not until 2nd semester of our junior year, after the holidays, that we decided to have a formal girl date.

We were at a local hangout near the campus called the Rose and Crown. They served an assortment of craft beers and I offered to buy us a round of drinks. The bartender seemed to pay an inordinate amount of attention to Karen as he poured our pitcher. No wonder. She had long blonde hair, perfect skin and a figure to die for. While she usually dressed in unflattering baggy jeans or a hoodie, tonight she was wearing skintight jeans and plunging neck tie front top. It wouldn’t take much for one of the girls to get loose. I thought to myself, the math nerds would cum in their pants if she wore that to class. She was developing more self confidence in her looks. Two years earlier, she was a mousy freshman and didn’t wear makeup. What a transition. I wondered if any of my suggestions had helped. We got our beer and found a secluded, quiet table. Karen shared how happy she was to have me for a friend, and I said likewise. We talked about the recent holidays shared with our folks and siblings and then, just as we started on our second beer, a cocky local sauntered up to us and asked us, “Do you girls know the difference between sex and salad? I shrugged, “No, tell me.” He put his arm on my shoulder, leaned in and said, “Well then will you join me for a salad?”

I thought that was pretty clever. Maybe a little corny, but funny. So, I decided to one up him. “I’m sorry, I only eat meat.” Oops, did I just set myself up?

“You like meat do ya? I’ve got a foot long here that tastes pretty good.” He motioned to the front of his jeans.

Oh boy, I thought.

Time to build him up for the fall. “You’re funny”, I complemented him. “I’ll consider your offer if you’ll do a little experiment with me. You see, I’m a psychology student at Stanford and I’m doing a study on vivid imagination and suggestibility.”

“Imagine that” he said as he looked us up and down.

I think he was imagining how he would get both of us naked.

“What kind of work do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a programmer at Apricot Technologies. I’m the Python guy”.

“Python”... I had heard of that. It was for beginner programmers as I understood it, so maybe he wasn’t their star developer. Average intelligence I figured.

Then he removed any doubt, “Python is what the ladies call my foot long. My little hotdog... well my little dog when he’s not barking, has also been called the one-eyed spitting cobra by the ladies.", he laughed heartily.

“Well, if your python wants my kitty, then you have to take part in my experiment. It’s all part of my research project. I would be so grateful if you would allow me.”

“Ok. What do I have to do?”

“First, this will be quick. Have you had a lot of beer tonight? Can you hold your pee for a little while? I will need your undivided attention for the next 15 minutes.”

“I can hold it.”

“Perfect. What is your name?”


“Ok Stephen. Do you think you can muster the deep concentration needed to fire up your imagination? I need you operating on all cylinders.”

“Roger that.”

“Ok Stephen, I want you to take this serious and pay close attention to me. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes mam.”

“I want you to imagine, as hard as you can.”

I looked over at Karen. Her wry smile told me she was in for whatever mental joke I was about to unleash. That and the fact that she put her hand on mine. Or was that something more? No mind, I would worry about that later.

I stood up to face Stephen and took his right hand in mine. “Imagine as hard as you can that you are standing in glue. This is the strongest glue you have ever encountered.”

He started to grin. “Stephen! You either take this seriously and pay close attention or we can end our little friendship right now.”

“I’m sorry. I will.”

If readers wish to experience the power of suggestion, then just read along paying close attention to my words.

“First, take a deep breath in. As you exhale feel all the stress and worry of your day exit your body. Deep relaxing breath in, stale air and stress out. A wave of pure, wonderful relaxation descends over you. It feels good, doesn’t it? Now focus carefully on my words. Your feet are solidly glued to the floor. You could feel the glue when you stepped into it and now you feel it hardening and absolutely locking your feet to the floor. And not only that, but your lower legs are encased in heavy cement blocks. Iron shackles around your ankles are bolted firmly to the floor. In your mind’s eye you can see this clearly, can’t you?”

“Uh.. yes.”

“Describe to me what you see and feel in your mind’s eye.” I commanded.

“I feel my feet glued to the floor and big solid cement blocks weighing my feet down. And shackles around my ankles bolted to the floor. It almost seems like the real deal.”

“It doesn’t seem like the real deal. It is the real deal. Stephen, feel this in your being, in your very soul. This is real. Know that your feet are absolutely locked to the floor!”

I can see him thinking about what I just said.

“Very good. You are doing very well. I am so pleased with you. Now there is no way in hell you can move with all the weight of the cement blocks, the glue and the fact that your feet are bolted to the floor. Nor will you be allowed to move until I release you. They are locked down until I release them. I want you to try and lift either foot, but it will be impossible.”

He smirked, “I don’t think so.” His conscious brain said ‘lift foot’. His subconscious mind intercepted the message and said, ‘no’. His foot barely budged.

If your feet feel glued to the floor then you have entered a light waking trance. Wake up now! Feet back to normal. Additional suggestions used during this story will not affect you.


“Oh my god. That is amazing! How did you do that?”

I stood up, took his hand in mine and looked him directly in the eyes and said, “I have induced a light hypnotic trance in you. If I wish, I can take you very deep right now. Would you like to see?”

He looked the slightest bit nervous. “I… I’m not sure.”

“Take a deep breath Stephen.” He complied.

I observed no resistance. He would soon be mine.

“Feel yourself becoming very relaxed, deeply relaxed, everything feels so heavy, so relaxed. You almost feel like you could fall over if not for the fact that your feet are locked in place. Take another deep breath for me Stephen.” He complied.

“Good Stephen. I am so proud of you.”

“Now you feel a wave of sleepiness falling over you like a cloud. It is like an anesthetic fog, a drug filling your lungs as you inhale. Take a deep breath now.”

“Good, you can feel the effects. It will soon be impossible to keep your eyes open. The moment your eyes close, you will be deeply asleep. You must close them. They are so heavy, so sleepy.”

Stephen was barely hanging on. I was holding his right hand in mine like a handshake. I had slowly been lowering his arm as I told him he was heavy and drowsy.

“Stephen, are you ready?”

“Ready for wh ?".... DEEP SLEEP NOW!” while I simultaneously dropped his arm and pulled him into my chest.

He was out cold.

This is called the Erickson handshake. It is a form of rapid induction. Sometimes referred to as a shock induction.


“You are so deeply asleep, and you love this feeling. You love being hypnotized by me. You feel so good. You feel wonderful—better than you have ever felt. Tell me, how do you feel?”

“I feel wonderful.”

“Good boy” I said. 

I’m communicating with his subconscious which responds best to childlike praise.

“Now Stephen for the final part of the experiment. If you pass this, I will be so very pleased with you.”

“Do you have to pee yet?”


“I imagine it’s getting really hard to hold it in, isn’t it?”


“Your bladder is about to burst. You won’t be able to hold it much longer. No matter how hard you try to stop it, your bladder will contract down hard and you will completely empty your bladder within the next 60 or so seconds. So I am going to wake you up so you can race to the bathroom. On the count of 5, awake, feeling wonderful and so appreciative of me for giving you this experience.

1,2, feeling great, 3,4 waking up refreshed and invigorated, 5 fully awake.”

I motioned for Karen to stand and we headed to the bar. “Excuse me girls, but I gotta drain the lizard... bad.”

“We are going to pay our bar tab and then maybe we can hook up some other time, but not tonight. You did very well. You have an excellent imagination.”

He looked disappointed. “I do appreciate you letting me participate in your little experiment” he called after us.

I looked at Karen and said, “Get ready. This should be fun.”

“Anyone ever tell you, you’re an evil little bitch?” she smiled.

“Hey, I can’t hold it any longer” he yelled across the room. That was probably a mistake as various bar patrons turned to see what he was talking about. “I can’t move my feet. Wait. Help!”

We turned back to observe him. He was trying so hard to lift one foot, then the other, but they just seemed hopelessly glued to the floor. Finally, he resigned himself to his situation. He looked so forlorn... just standing there accepting his fate. His jeans turned from light dry blue to wet dark blue over 30 seconds. “Man, that’s a lot of pee” quipped Karen.

I looked at Karen sheepishly, “Oops, I guess I forgot to release him. Sorry.”

I yelled across the room, “Stephen. You could have walked to the bathroom if you had really wanted to. You can lift your feet now. They are completely back to normal.”

He tested the muscles... lifting his right foot and then his left. He made a quick dash for the men’s room, no doubt to try his best to clean up.

“He’ll think it was his fault that he didn’t make the effort to free his feet.”

“You are a bad girl”, Karen laughed.

Karen suggested we go back to her dorm room for a few more drinks and to listen to some indie music she’d gotten from a friend. That sounded like a good idea.

Karen’s dorm room was on the same floor as mine. We didn’t see a lot of each other. She was a math major which required quite a commitment of time. My major was no slouch either, but, to be honest, it wasn’t nearly as hard as math. I was very proud of her.

She put on the music and handed me a beer. Then she lit some incense. It was so relaxing.

Then Karen caught be a bit off guard. I had a light buzz, so my inhibitions were somewhat muted. Karen sat down next to me, took my hand and looked directly, deeply into my eyes. “If it wasn’t for you Lydia, I would not be pursuing my true passion. I love the beauty of math. It is so pure. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Then tears welled up in her eyes. I was deeply moved. I used the back of my fingers to wipe the tears away. As I did so, Karen leaned into me, hesitated millimeters from my lips, then she kissed me. I pulled back from her. The look in her eyes was almost mournful. I leaned back into her and returned the kiss ardently. I was not a lesbian. I was sexually attracted to girls and guys, so I guess that makes me bi.  I had never been with a girl though. Karen was a beautiful soul and I did love her. I surprised myself as I found myself becoming aroused. What started as tender, gentle kisses soon escalated. They became passionate, inflamed, consuming. I began to fumble with the buttons on Karen’s blouse as she did the same to me. We giggled like schoolgirls and soon were lying naked on her bed. Karen pushed me back on the bed and began exploring my nipples. It was so erotic. I could feel my nipples harden as they became erect. Karen teased them in her mouth before circling my areola with her tongue. First the right breast, then the left. I was squirming, the pleasure infusing me and cascading to my lady bits. Karen reached down with her hand and tested the waters.

“You are so wet!” Then she touched herself. “Oh my god. I am soaking too.”

Karen lowered herself between my legs and gently separated my labia while she deftly kissed and licked them. Then she inhaled deeply and told me my ‘sex’ was like perfume. She began to probe my slit with her tongue and insert it deeper. I struggled to keep from closing my legs against her head. The sensation was overpowering. I grabbed her head and held it against me as she tongued me more vigorously. I could feel my orgasm building.

“Oh god... oh god..., You’re going to make me cum. Eeeeeewww. “I’m cumming!... I’m cumming... I’m cumming...”

Thankfully she knew when to disengage. I was so sensitive now, I wouldn’t have been able to stand any more. I laughed out loud. “Fuck. That was so awesome.”

She looked up with a coy smile. Her face was lathered in my juices.

I said matter of factly, “Your turn”. She willingly obliged and spread her legs. I had never done this so I figured I would just repeat what I had just learned. She was a good teacher because it was not very long before she had her own loud orgasm.

We laid next to each other and I turned on my side, my head resting on my hand while I studied her. “You wore that outfit tonight to seduce me, didn’t you?”

“Maybe” she smiled.

I asked her with all seriousness, “What did we just do?”

“We had a little innocent fun, nothing more,” she said.

My subconscious speaking, I suddenly blurted out “I prefer dick.”

She laughed. “So do I. But you’ll do in a pinch.” She leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “First and last time, I promise.”

We both agreed that it was our first bisexual experience and maybe our last. I liked Karen too much as a friend to allow this to come between us. I bid her goodnight and headed off to my room for bed

Human sex trafficking is an international problem in scope and rapidly growing. Organized crime has discovered that sex trafficking is more lucrative than selling drugs. Since human trafficking is often a crime that is hidden in plain sight, it is important to be aware of its warning signs.

Trafficked persons are not always hidden in dark rooms, away from the public eye. They are transported from one place to another often-using public transportation. Since they suffer injury and harm, they require medical care at hospitals and domestic violence shelters. Since they seek relationships with people of the same religious, ethnic and cultural groups, they attend places of worship and go to community centers.

To be able to assist, we need to know what to look for. A combination of any of the following indicators could signal the presence of suspicious activity and possible sex trafficking.

A trafficked person may...

Have injuries or signs of physical abuse.

Appear malnourished.

Seem disoriented and not know where she is.

Have few personal possessions and always wear the same clothes regardless of the weather or circumstances.

Not have identification documents.

Avoid eye contact and appear hesitant to talk to strangers.

Be fearful of authority figures, especially law enforcement.

Rarely be allowed to come and go independently and may be accompanied by someone who controls their every movement.

Work excessively long hours.

I wrote this story to bring attention to the problem. What better way than an entertaining story?  If you enjoyed it, please consider donating to a cause that I believe in. Help rescue these girls from human traffickers. AIM (Agape International Missions) is a good organization. https://aimfree.org/

They have the highest rating on charity navigator. https://www.charitynavigator.org/index.cfm?bay=search.summary&orgid=16103

Please donate generously and know that you are helping to do God’s work.

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