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Free new porn tubes. Mature facesitting pov. Teste De Fidelade Bradl. Sexy big cock xxx selfie. Top free black porn site. What does rated x mean. Tiny women with big breasts. Terms for same sex partners. Voleur Ma Fuck. Layla london nicole bexley. Watch Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years HOT ♨ Movies A few years ago I developed a keen interest in erotic and Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years hypnosis. Following detailed and extensive research, attendance at a number of specialist hypnosis courses, and endless hours of practice on willing and grateful subjects, I have decided that it is now time to add erotic and fetish hypnosis to my repertoire. What is hypnosis? In very simple terms fetish or erotic hypnosis is a hypnosis session, conducted by a trained hypnotist, who introduces or focuses on BDSM, fetish or erotic elements to create an enhanced and more immersive experience. Such a session will allow you to explore the process of being hypnotised in a safe, consensual environment. Using techniques I have learnt as part of my research, it is entirely possible for subjects to enjoy the full benefit of hypnosis during these shorter sessions. I usually allow at least two hours for a full hypnosis and play session. Hypnosis is the core activity I will explore with Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, however, it is also possible to incorporate additional fetishes to enhance the experience. For example, sensation play can create an added richness and intensity for the subject while they are in a trance state. Such a session will last around one hour. Please note, any hypnosis booking must be made in advance and I require an obligatory upfront deposit to secure it. In order to tailor your hypno session to your fetishes you will be asked to provide me with a description of the areas of BDSM you wish to explore and the type of hypnosis session you would like to try. You will sit in a comfortable chair more experienced player can be put in full bondage or mummified and listen to my mesmerising, hypnotic voice. With the aid of either a pendant or an induction spiral you will be put into trance the depth of the state of trance differs from individual to individual. Once you reach a state of trance you will be fed hypnotic suggestions and trigger words will be planted into your subconsciousness, while you experience a Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years learn more here based on your particular fetishes. I do need to mention at this stage, that not everyone enters a trance during their first hypnotic session. Watch PORN Videos Black couple HD.

Face makeup halloween adult ideas. With the aid of either a pendant or Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years induction spiral you will be put into trance the depth of the state of trance differs from individual to individual.

Once you reach a state of trance you will be fed hypnotic suggestions and trigger words will be planted into your subconsciousness, while you experience a hypnosis scenario based on your particular fetishes. I do need to mention at this stage, that not everyone enters a trance during their first hypnotic session.

For some subjects Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years can take two or three sessions to learn to fully let go and surrender to the new feelings they are experiencing. Hypnosis is very personal and each individual will react Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years it in a way that is unique to them, with some being less susceptible than others.

What I can guarantee is that during your first attempt at hypnosis you will have a rich and enjoyable experience, become more relaxed and find it far easier to Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years explore your kink. The trance state is induced. I will take you from a waking state to a trance state. The left side of the brain conscious will be pushed into abeyance and you will close your eyes to enable you to concentrate more deeply on feelings and images.

A light hypnotic state is achieved. You are given suggestions which increase the relaxed state already achieved during induction. I will introduce and implant the instructions that I want you to carry out when the hypnosis is complete. The suggestions will have been agreed with the you prior to the session starting. It is unknown whether Trudell was among Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, but one thing was clear: Though the occupation was officially finished, Trudell was just getting started.

His next fight would be with the FBI. They had no idea that the even greater danger lay in a deeper kind of power: They married in and often traveled and gave speeches together. Meanwhile, Trudell galvanized AIM through protests, most notably the campaign to reclaim Wounded Knee village from tribal chairman Richard Wilson, who was notorious for suppressing political opponents and failing to act in the best interests of the reservation.

But this time, he used it not to communicate to outsiders, but rather to organize disparate tribes. It worked. Calvary inwhich now had symbolic power. The FBI and federal marshals soon moved in. Click here were deadly. Inhe was arrested for assault after entering a reservation trading post to obtain food for senior residents. And on February 11,as part of a protest against the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he burned the U.

Edgar Hoover Building. She awoke to the smell of smoke and continue reading pounding on the door.

Sanny 6xxx Watch Sex Videos Xxx Ihtiyac. Once you reach a state of trance you will be fed hypnotic suggestions and trigger words will be planted into your subconsciousness, while you experience a hypnosis scenario based on your particular fetishes. I do need to mention at this stage, that not everyone enters a trance during their first hypnotic session. For some subjects it can take two or three sessions to learn to fully let go and surrender to the new feelings they are experiencing. Hypnosis is very personal and each individual will react to it in a way that is unique to them, with some being less susceptible than others. What I can guarantee is that during your first attempt at hypnosis you will have a rich and enjoyable experience, become more relaxed and find it far easier to fully explore your kink. The trance state is induced. I will take you from a waking state to a trance state. The left side of the brain conscious will be pushed into abeyance and you will close your eyes to enable you to concentrate more deeply on feelings and images. A light hypnotic state is achieved. You are given suggestions which increase the relaxed state already achieved during induction. I will introduce and implant the instructions that I want you to carry out when the hypnosis is complete. The suggestions will have been agreed with the you prior to the session starting. The state just before awakening. Mildew filled my nostrils and I coughed. I was mesmerized by the way God moved through her. The Secret Place of the Lord was the place we could dwell if we lived holy lives. In the Secret Place, God would whisper divine revelations to us and show us miracles. I dug my face harder into the floor — lying prostrate was how we humbled ourselves before the Lord. I sang, improvising a new melody to the Lord. I felt something release as I sang, something like the warmth of God. I kept singing and the tears started flowing, as they always did when I prayed long enough. They dripped off my face and darkened the carpet underneath. I was a homeschooled girl with only a smattering of friends. My best friend, Siena, lived just down the road from me, on the pine-speckled canyon seven dusty miles from town. I adored her, but Siena was a public-school jock by then and had way cooler friends than me. I was lonely, and this Pentecostal church had the only youth group in town. Not long after joining, I was all in. I prayed in my room for hours every day. I spoke in tongues and believed I was slaying demons as I prayed in my spiritual language. I threw out all of my secular music. I went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. I cut out my non-Christian friends. I signed a contract promising that I would protect my virginity for my wedding night. My parents were nominal Christians, but not churchgoers. I deserved parents who would guide me into the Things of the Lord. They told me that sin could be passed down for generations and that people born into a spiritual legacy — generations of people who were believers — had a leg up on people like me from heathen families. This came at just the right moment, developmentally speaking: I was leaving behind the childhood fantasy that my parents were perfect and coming to the realization that they were actually just winging this whole parenting thing, and that they sucked at it sometimes. This is a very normal realization for a child, but at the time, it felt irrevocable and huge. Jessa offered to be my spiritual mentor, and I excitedly agreed. I spent many hours in their living room, talking about my hopes and dreams. Jessa stroked her frizzy hair and told me all about the incredible destiny God had for me if I surrendered everything to Him. I clung to every word she said. I wanted to be just like her. You are demonic. We ate a meal of corn on the cob, cherries and grilled chicken, on a wooden picnic table a few yards from the water. I pushed the food on my plate around, sulking. I was thinking of ways I could convert them to my faith. Next to us, the river rushed constantly, filling the spaces between words. As the sun set, we played cards by lantern light. I wanted to mention this, but I thought that it would only stir up trouble. My heart hurt thinking about what my Jacob and Jessa were up to that night. I imagined them praying together, or worshipping around a bonfire, or dissecting passages of the Bible around the dinner table. I longed to be with them. I tried to comfort myself with reassurances that God was both all-powerful and all good and that human suffering was all part of His Plan. But for the first time since I joined the church, those answers came up short. Just 10 days after the fire, I left my hometown to go to a nearby Christian university. I spent that first semester in a fog, trying to make sense of my life. I remember lying on the top bunk in my new dorm room a few weeks into my college career, wondering if my faith made sense anymore, while my roommate used our dorm phone to talk to one of the boys who wanted to date her. I held still and listened. I watched Snow White on the inch TV screen that somebody had donated to me, under a fort of blankets and pillows on the floor. I allowed myself to be whisked away to a time before. A time before the altar calls, before the revivals, before the fire, before the fog. I hid for days in the fantasy of enchanted forests and fairy dust and singing fish, while my peers went to prayer meetings. I stopped trying to read the Bible. None of it made sense anymore. I called Jessa, hoping for a lifeline. I confided in her that God felt so far away. She asked me if I had been praying and reading the Bible enough. I told her that I often tried, but that it all felt so forced. She wore a scowl on her face, and my stomach filled with dread. The whites of his eyes swelled, and dark blotches of sweat stained his shirt. They told me I had the Spirit of Rebellion. They told me my heart was evil. I tried to push back, but they yelled and told me that God would abandon me if I continued to live in sin. I wish I could say I stood up for myself that night, that I ran out of the room and never came back, but the truth is I stayed. I stayed for what felt like hours, crying and letting them pray for my sins. I finally drove home in a blur, my body spent. I knew in that moment I had lost my faith. I moved on with my life without much talk about those fiery Jesus years, as if pretending they never happened made it so. It was years before I began to talk about my experiences in the church and process them for what they were: The more distance I had from the church, the more I could see how brainwashed I had been by fundamentalism. During my teenage years, I lived exactly how Jessa told me to — down to how I dressed and what music I listened to and what friends I was allowed to spend time with and how I spoke and how I approached the world. I believed that by following Jessa and Jacob, I was following God. They had the final word on salvation, eternal life and objective truth. They leveraged my normal human fear of death, and my desire for connection, as power over me. While it hurt at the time, I now look back at their cruelty with gratitude because it was the catalyst for me to claim my freedom. I ran into an old friend from youth group while visiting my parents for Christmas, and she asked me if I attended church. No, I said, quietly, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as we stood in the produce section of my childhood grocery store. I saw sadness in her eyes. I remembered what it was like to be in that world. For years, I believed that people who walked away from their faith would suffer eternally for it. I used to judge the backsliders, and now I was one. The words of my pastors that night so many years ago had been seared into my mind: You have the Spirit of Rebellion. Most of them come from those spiritual legacy families that I used to long for. Often, they are the first to break away from generations of religiously devout people. Some of them have been disowned by their parents, while some are constantly pressured by their family members to come back to the fold, complete with warnings of impending judgment. Compared to their journeys, I had it easy. My rebellion was church. M ichael Bates was caught off guard by a newspaper item he read in late July He and his parents, a retired couple residing in the seaside county of Essex in southeastern England, were being connected to the murder of Italian fashion icon Gianni Versace. Michael, then 44, is a stocky man with close-cropped hair and a tough demeanor. He runs a business harvesting cockles, an edible mollusk found in the North Sea near where he grew up. He squinted at the paper and continued to read. The newspaper laid out the puzzling circumstances of the case. On July 15, , Versace was leaving his opulent Miami Beach mansion when he was gunned down on his front steps by year-old Andrew Cunanan. Allegedly distraught that a rich benefactor had cut him off, Cunanan embarked on a kill rampage across four states, murdering four people before coming back to Miami and shooting Versace for seemingly no reason. When police finally tracked him down eight days later, Cunanan led them on a chase, broke into a houseboat, and shot himself. Reineck was a socialite who loved showing off his Sealand passport and was said to have diplomatic plates from Sealand on his car. Located in international waters and technically outside of the control of Britain, or any other nation, the country straddles a line between eccentric experiment and legal entity of uncertain definition. Formerly called Roughs Tower, Sealand was one of a series of naval forts built seven miles off the coast of southeastern England during the Second World War to shoot down Nazi warplanes. The British government left the forts to the elements following the end of the war, and in the mids a group of enterprising DJs moved in and set up illegal radio stations. The BBC had a monopoly on the airwaves at the time and pirate radio was the only way to get pop music to the masses. One day while taking the train to work, Roy had a moment in which he realized he was done with the 9-to-5 routine; instead, he wanted to enter the pirate radio fray. Roy decided to set up his station, Radio Essex, on Knock John, one of the naval forts. The forts were a hot commodity, and violent struggles for control of them sometimes broke out between competing stations. A decorated soldier who had once had a grenade explode in his face, Roy stepped up to the occasion and resolutely defended his fort. If ever there was a true buccaneer, it was Roy. His long-term intention was to turn the fort into some kind of lucrative enterprise, such as an international casino or independent television station. He declared Roughs Tower the Principality of Sealand on September 2, , and installed himself as prince and his wife Joan as princess. In , Michael and Roy Bates appeared in British court after firing across the bow of a Royal Navy vessel that got too close to the fort. The family elected to stay at the fort after the British government green-lit commercial radio and brought pirate radio to an end, and the Principality of Sealand quickly became the foremost micronation in the world, influencing people on every continent who now claim their bedroom, neighborhood or disputed territory as a country of their own. As they built up the reputation of the concrete-and-metal statelet, the family issued coins, stamps and other trappings of statehood, including passports. The Sealanders had issued around of them over the years, but only to trusted compatriots, and certainly not, Michael Bates was sure, to anyone who would commit cold-blooded murder. His head was spinning when he finished the article. O n April 4, , a trim, handsome year-old man named Francisco Trujillo Ruiz made a few adjustments to the odds and ends in his office at Paseo de la Castellana, a street in a fashionable part of Madrid, before sitting down to speak with a newspaper reporter. Trujillo Ruiz jumped up in surprise, and the officers promptly made their way around desks and chairs to where he was standing, boxing him in. He was under arrest, they announced, for allegedly selling more than 2 million gallons of diluted gasoline. Trujillo Ruiz was momentarily nonplussed, but as the police closed in, he pulled out a diplomatic passport and claimed immunity. The police had no right to be there, he said, as they were actually on territory belonging to another country — his office was the Sealandic consulate in Spain. The passport was superficially quite legit, with a rubber coating and foil-stamped seals, and it gave the officers some pause when considering how to handle the arrest. Far from being a diplomat, Trujillo Ruiz was one of the prime movers and shakers in a gang of scam artists operating throughout the world. At least 20 fake diplomatic passports, hundreds more blank passports, and 2, official documents were seized in the raids, as were two vehicles with Sealand diplomatic license plates that had been escorted through Madrid by Spanish police on more than one occasion. While the Versace incident in had alarmed them, the Bates family had been oblivious to the extent of the problem with Sealand passports. Michael scratched his chin. Sealand did have a website, but it was in its infancy. The site was how he had left it. He then searched around and turned up a Sealand site with a much more manageable domain name: Lo and behold, it was a website purporting to be the official mouthpiece of Sealand, and one could indeed buy a number of Sealandic documents. Spanish investigators unraveled the web and found that the scams associated with the fake Sealand paperwork involved more than 80 people from all over world. The scams were impressively wide-ranging: We knew nothing at all about it or the people involved. They intended to sell the arms to Sudan, which was under embargo by many governments of the world for being a terrorist state. How disgusting can you get? Trujillo Ruiz reportedly first learned about Sealand while working in Germany for a man named Friedbert Ley, who had launched his own Sealand fan website in and asked Trujillo Ruiz to set up a Spanish branch office of the Sealandic government. When confronted by investigators about the fake passports, Trujillo Ruiz conceded that they were made in Germany but said he had been appointed acting head of state by the royal family of Sealand and been given authorization to issue Sealandic passports. Roy Bates was of course fine. The Germans had once visited the younger Trujillo Ruiz in Spain, and they appeared to be a bad influence on him, the father said. I n the early s, Roy Bates had prepared to turn the fort into a much larger ministate with a group of Belgians and Germans who had offered to go into business with him. The Germans were led by Alexander Gottfried Achenbach, said to be a former diamond dealer who was planning on a quiet retirement raising rabbits in Belgium until the Sealand opportunity sucked him back in. Posted 1 week ago. Posted 3 months ago. Posted 5 months ago. Posted 8 months ago. Posted 10 months ago. I do all things in a safe sane manner I have over 20 years experience in hypnosis and mind control thru role-play and other methodologies. Erotic magna lesbian cartoons Erotic massage in fort worth texas Close up russian girl face Women that squirt and drink it Free voeyur erotic video. I never disappoint my fans, I strive to be the best time you have ever had. User Comments 5 Post a comment Comment: In order to post a comment you have to be logged in. Titanium at Solstice at Man that looks good. Sunflower at Bring that big fat pussy on down here and I'll lick it clean for her. TD at Bad M. Your videos are great. They are not fake. I can see that people are real. Reactions are real. And you know exactly what to highlight to emphasize the session. I always wish that you could live closer so that I could participate in one of your hypno sessions as a guest. I am a subject, and thought they were excellant and well worth the price. Thanks a lot. It's always a pleasure to see more and more of them being set up! The download is very simple and the quality is good. I hope to be able to see it more fluent when I get my new computer. Nevertheless, keep it up! Till then, greetings, Ralf". I don't think I've ever been so excited as when I watched your clips" -- Damon. Really liked the baby transformation -- getting him to wear diapers, suck on a pacifier, trying to eat baby food. MMmmmm Good Stuff! I bought one dvd and bunch of clips Keep up the great work. A few weeks ago I had the greatest session with a local hypnotist. I had corresponded with him by email after he had noticed my posting in a yahoo newsgroup about making a guy talk and act like a little baby while hypnotized. I discovered that he ran a great website http: Since he was local I set up a session with him in person. In our conversations beforehand, he asked me several questions and told me to bring "baby stuff" with me. So I loaded my backpack with disposable and cloth diapers, plastic pants, a baby bottle, a bib, a pacifier and a few other baby things I thought he might want to use with me, and I was on my way. As I drove to his place I ran through all kinds of possible scenarios in my mind. Our two hour session could take me to a level of submission I hadn't experienced before. When I arrived he greeted me at the door and the first thing I told him was that I was a little nervous. He had a very calming way about him and it wasn't long before we were seated and he was telling me all about hypnosis. He then asked me to show him what I had in my backpack. I was surprised how easy it was by that point to show him the contents of my backpack. By that time I had to pee so bad that I asked to use the restroom. When I returned my "baby stuff" was all laid out near the sofa and he asked me to stand in front of him. I had to look up into his eyes since he was slightly taller and his words and the deep color of his eyes soon had me feeling so relaxed. I felt very much like I was loosing any ability to resist his suggestions at all. He was so powerful. It was kinda like those cartoon hypnotists where you could see the lighting bolts from their eyes to yours. I felt him draining my will and relaxing me so quickly that I was soon in a trance. As I fell to the sofa the last of my resistance fell and I was deeply in trance. While I was somewhat aware of the noises in the background cars outside, etc. It was such a weird feeling because even though part of me knew I could resist, I really didn't want to and I'm not sure I could have if I tried. His first tests of me were fairly easy. He had me see and feel a balloon at the end of my hand, raising it higher and higher until it popped and my arm fell back on its own. He had me see a little flying elephant in my hand and pet it and wave bye bye to it. Then he started giving me key words to make me go deeper or do things like "freeze" or "unfreeze" my movement. And I'm not sure what he did but instead of my name being "Jim", all of a sudden I was calling myself "Baby Jim" and I was playing with a kids' toy..

Fire filled the house. It was too late to run. Tina, who was pregnant with a boy they intended to name Josiah Hawk, perished, as did all three of their young children — Ricardo Starr, Sunshine Karma and Eli Changing Sun. From the time that his mother died in to his first days on Alcatraz, Trudell had turned to language — orations, poetry, rhetoric — as an existential stabilizer, a spiritual compass. But this time was different. He had no Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, and he was left only with angry suspicions — suspicions that the FBI had caused the fire, suspicions that they were now on the hunt for him.

And if I can get through it, then maybe I would learn how to live again. He disappeared from the Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years scene and drove, crisscrossing America, alone in despair. T he voice of a chanting woman rings out.

Alexandra Wildfire the Hypno Domme

Another joins, deeper, complementing the first. A third now, creating a chorus whose song creates an image of the Great Plains of the American West, the mountains of South Dakota at first orange light.

Redtube tags Watch PORN Videos Spycamera Sex. His first tests of me were fairly easy. He had me see and feel a balloon at the end of my hand, raising it higher and higher until it popped and my arm fell back on its own. He had me see a little flying elephant in my hand and pet it and wave bye bye to it. Then he started giving me key words to make me go deeper or do things like "freeze" or "unfreeze" my movement. And I'm not sure what he did but instead of my name being "Jim", all of a sudden I was calling myself "Baby Jim" and I was playing with a kids' toy. He first used the "freeze" word while he had me singing my ABCs. By this point I already felt like I was just a little kid again. I'm not sure exactly what he said but then I felt myself getting younger. Each time he said a number and touched my forehead I seemed to lose another year. As he did, he asked me to write my name down on a note pad. Later he showed me how it got progressively less legible and it actually looked like a 4 yo, then 3 yo, then 2 yo was writing on the note pad. As he took me younger, he dressed me in a stripped t-shirt that I brought with me cause it looked really babyish. I could hear his words suggesting to me how a grown man should feel being dressed like a baby and how he had taken control from me. All I could respond with was the talk of a little 2 year old boy. By the time he took me to a one year old baby all I could do was gurgle and coo and goo goo and gaga and I was soon on my back on the sofa with my legs in the air, helplessly reliving my infancy. As I lay there he fixed a baby bottle full of water and gave it to me to drink. In my mind I could see that he had climbed into my crib. It was incredible. After he cleaned me up, he sat me up and tied the bib around my neck and proceeded to feed me baby food pureed squash which I dribbled and drooled down my face and bib. I looked into his eyes as he fed me and all I could see was "dada". After my meal, he had me get on the floor and crawl around like a little baby. I crawled to him and layed in his lap while he planted several suggestions deep into my subconscious that I didn't fully realize until many hours later. When he woke me I discovered that the pacifier in my mouth couldn't be removed. Try as I might, it was stuck there. I learned soon that it wouldn't come out until I had driven all the way home. He wanted to ensure that my desire to be seen as a baby by others was accomplished. I'm blushing still as I write this. We sat and talked for a few minutes As I more fully realized my situation was soon more than I could stand. I couldn't believe what was happening. We talked a little more and it was soon time for me to leave. When I stood to put my clothes back on I somehow knew that the potty pants had to stay on. What I didn't realize was they wouldn't come off until I got home. So I pulled my jeans on and collected my things, still with pacifier in my mouth, and went to leave. As I was putting on my coat I vaguely felt like I was supposed to be on my hands and knees but I told him that I guess my conscious mind knew what it wanted to do. Just then he told me my legs were getting weak and he touched me on the forehead and I collapsed to the floor, only able to crawl like a baby. He told me I had to crawl down the stairs and out the door. Only when I reached the outside would I be able to stand again. It was the most incredible feeling ever. I knew I shouldn't but also knew I had to. The risk of being seen that way suddenly didn't matter. When I stood up and finally got in my car I realized I had the long drive home in rush hour traffic with a baby's pacifier in my mouth. I blushed more than I thought possible. It was pretty amazing, especially when I pulled up next to a really hot guy at a red light. He was on his cell phone and he turned to look straight at me, nursing on my widdle pacifier. Sign up for our Newsletter. Send us a story tip. Become a Patron. Follow us. Fifty years ago, a left-wing radical planted bombs across New York, launching a desperate manhunt—and an explosive new strain of political extremism. T hroughout much of , Sam Melville, an unemployed year-old with an estranged wife and 5-year-old son, frequently sat at his desk in a squalid apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, contemplating how he could destroy America. Two years earlier, Melville had left behind a well-paying job as a draftsman, a spacious apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and his family. His father, a former member of the Communist Labor Party, whom Melville once greatly admired, had recently given up the socialist cause, remarried, and opened a hamburger stand in an upscale section of Long Island. Fearing that he might follow his father on a similar path led Melville down an existential rabbit hole. In and around his neighborhood that year, he took part in marches and sit-ins, but by , as his anger toward the government grew, he secretly set off a series of bombs across Manhattan. To many in the counterculture underground, he was their equivalent of a masked avenger. There was no way some doped-up college kid was making them. You can be all those things and still not want to blow up buildings. Yet in the flashpoint of just four months, Sam Melville and a small group of followers took the American radical left on a hard turn into armed struggle. Melville was one of the first to turn to this kind of violence, but the country would soon witness the kidnapping of Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army, the bombings of the Pentagon and NYPD headquarters by the Weather Underground, and more. What else would make a person act that way other than knowing they damaged their family? The one thing nobody can debate is the haphazard manner in which Sam Melville went about bombing Marine Midland. Though his intention was to destroy property and not people, he did not take into account the presence of an evening staff in the building when he set the device for a 10 p. When more than a dozen employees were taken to the hospital — all with minor injuries — it forced him to rethink his future plans of attack. Army and Selective Services inside. The device went off at 2 a. There were no injuries. Melville and his cell soon learned that damaging federal property could elicit a furious response. The next day, the FBI went to an apartment Melville had moved out of months earlier, and later they tracked him down at the apartment on East 4th Street where he and Alpert were living. He told them his name was David McCurdy — the pseudonym he had used to rent a nearby apartment where he had set up an explosives workshop — and denied knowing who Sam Melville was. Unfazed by this close call, the collective went to work plotting their most ambitious statement on American tyranny yet: Meanwhile, Melville opted for his version of laying low: Army facilities across the Midwest. Melville also participated in a guerilla warfare workshop in North Dakota, hosted by the black nationalist H. Rap Brown. Penned by Alpert again, the message ended with the declaration: From the inside, black people have been fighting a revolution for years. And finally, white Americans too are striking blows for liberation. Another blast was planned to follow at the Lexington Armory on 26th Street, with Melville delivering the bomb himself with help from George Demmerle, a newer member Melville had befriended on the Lower East Side. Demmerle, an overly rambunctious radical who not only was a member of the Crazies but also held rank as the only Caucasian member of the Black Panthers, greatly impressed Melville. Had they found his bomb factory? He had to mobilize. The revolution was in full swing. N ot long after the explosive on Centre Street, Demmerle and Melville made their way uptown, to 26th Street. The plan was to chuck the timed bombs onto the large Army trucks parked in front of the 69th Regiment Armory, knowing they would later be brought inside the building. But as Melville approached, he noticed something different than the numerous times they had cased the building. Figuring the action would have to wait for another day, Melville was just about to turn away when he was bombarded from all angles by FBI agents pointing pistols and ordering him to freeze. George Demmerle. Just like Melville, Demmerle was a man who had left his wife and child looking for purpose in life, but instead of becoming a self-appointed revolutionary, he found it as a low-level mole for the government, beginning in But to Melville, Demmerle was just another comrade in the struggle. How the hell am I going to get out of jail, jackass? A month after his outburst in court, Melville pulled another act of desperation. After racing down two flights of stairs, he was apprehended. On May 8, , Melville pled guilty to three charges: He was sentenced to a consecutive run of 31 years. Hughey ended up serving two years, while Alpert absconded. While harbored by members of the Weather Underground, she circulated the feminist manifesto Mother Right to much praise and criticism from the radical left, before surrendering in There, abusive guards were the norm, as were ludicrously sparse rations such as a single bar of soap every other month and one roll of toilet paper given out only once a month. The lone bright spot for Melville was finding prisoners to connect with from the Black Panthers and a likeminded Puerto Rican civil rights group called the Young Lords. Over the course of the next year, Melville sent out a storm of letters decrying the conditions at Attica to lawyers, outside supporters and the New York Commissioner of Corrections, Russell Oswald, while also publishing a handmade newsletter distributed to prisoners on the sly called The Iced Pig. For many both inside and outside of prison walls, this new awareness of incarceration conditions came from George Jackson, the San Quentin inmate who authored the best-selling book Soledad Brother. When word got out that Jackson had been shot dead during a bungled uprising on August 21, , it set off a brooding fury in Attica. In an act of solidarity, Melville led a multiracial phalanx of prisoners wearing black armbands into the mess hall for a very solemn hunger strike. One guard was singled out for a beating so bad he died a few days later. Over the next four days, negotiations were volleyed in and out of the prison walls by journalists, senators and the well-known civil rights lawyer William Kunstler. At the end of the sudden and bloody debacle, nine guards and 29 inmates were dead, with Melville reportedly being one of the first to get picked off. Legend says Melville was in mid-throw of a Molotov cocktail when he was gunned down. As much as that would make for a great dramatic ending to this made-for-TV story, evidence brought up in a civil suit during the s revealed this to be a mistruth, as no such item was found near his body. For an almost year stretch starting in , a group that initially called themselves the Sam Melville Unit carried out a series of bank robberies and bombings across the Eastern Seaboard and the Midwest. Last year, former New York City Police commissioner Bernard Kerik summoned the name of the Melville-inspired group when arguing that the left-wing protest group Antifa should be considered a domestic terrorist group. Arching back in his chair to lend further significance to his statement, he puffs on his cigar and continues. While other girls my age were sneaking off with boys and getting drunk, I was becoming a zealot—and trying to convert my parents. O n a summer Thursday evening, shortly after my 16th birthday, my face was pressed into the maroon carpet again. Mildew filled my nostrils and I coughed. I was mesmerized by the way God moved through her. The Secret Place of the Lord was the place we could dwell if we lived holy lives. In the Secret Place, God would whisper divine revelations to us and show us miracles. I dug my face harder into the floor — lying prostrate was how we humbled ourselves before the Lord. I sang, improvising a new melody to the Lord. I felt something release as I sang, something like the warmth of God. I kept singing and the tears started flowing, as they always did when I prayed long enough. They dripped off my face and darkened the carpet underneath. I was a homeschooled girl with only a smattering of friends. My best friend, Siena, lived just down the road from me, on the pine-speckled canyon seven dusty miles from town. I adored her, but Siena was a public-school jock by then and had way cooler friends than me. I was lonely, and this Pentecostal church had the only youth group in town. Not long after joining, I was all in. I prayed in my room for hours every day. I spoke in tongues and believed I was slaying demons as I prayed in my spiritual language. I threw out all of my secular music. I went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. I cut out my non-Christian friends. I signed a contract promising that I would protect my virginity for my wedding night. My parents were nominal Christians, but not churchgoers. I deserved parents who would guide me into the Things of the Lord. They told me that sin could be passed down for generations and that people born into a spiritual legacy — generations of people who were believers — had a leg up on people like me from heathen families. This came at just the right moment, developmentally speaking: I was leaving behind the childhood fantasy that my parents were perfect and coming to the realization that they were actually just winging this whole parenting thing, and that they sucked at it sometimes. This is a very normal realization for a child, but at the time, it felt irrevocable and huge. Jessa offered to be my spiritual mentor, and I excitedly agreed. I spent many hours in their living room, talking about my hopes and dreams. Jessa stroked her frizzy hair and told me all about the incredible destiny God had for me if I surrendered everything to Him. I clung to every word she said. I wanted to be just like her. You are demonic. We ate a meal of corn on the cob, cherries and grilled chicken, on a wooden picnic table a few yards from the water. I pushed the food on my plate around, sulking. I was thinking of ways I could convert them to my faith. Next to us, the river rushed constantly, filling the spaces between words. As the sun set, we played cards by lantern light. I wanted to mention this, but I thought that it would only stir up trouble. My heart hurt thinking about what my Jacob and Jessa were up to that night. I imagined them praying together, or worshipping around a bonfire, or dissecting passages of the Bible around the dinner table. I longed to be with them. I tried to comfort myself with reassurances that God was both all-powerful and all good and that human suffering was all part of His Plan. But for the first time since I joined the church, those answers came up short. Just 10 days after the fire, I left my hometown to go to a nearby Christian university. I spent that first semester in a fog, trying to make sense of my life. I remember lying on the top bunk in my new dorm room a few weeks into my college career, wondering if my faith made sense anymore, while my roommate used our dorm phone to talk to one of the boys who wanted to date her. I held still and listened. I watched Snow White on the inch TV screen that somebody had donated to me, under a fort of blankets and pillows on the floor. I allowed myself to be whisked away to a time before. A time before the altar calls, before the revivals, before the fire, before the fog. I hid for days in the fantasy of enchanted forests and fairy dust and singing fish, while my peers went to prayer meetings. I stopped trying to read the Bible. None of it made sense anymore. I called Jessa, hoping for a lifeline. I confided in her that God felt so far away. She asked me if I had been praying and reading the Bible enough. I told her that I often tried, but that it all felt so forced. She wore a scowl on her face, and my stomach filled with dread. The whites of his eyes swelled, and dark blotches of sweat stained his shirt. They told me I had the Spirit of Rebellion. They told me my heart was evil. I tried to push back, but they yelled and told me that God would abandon me if I continued to live in sin. I wish I could say I stood up for myself that night, that I ran out of the room and never came back, but the truth is I stayed. I stayed for what felt like hours, crying and letting them pray for my sins. I finally drove home in a blur, my body spent. I knew in that moment I had lost my faith. I moved on with my life without much talk about those fiery Jesus years, as if pretending they never happened made it so. It was years before I began to talk about my experiences in the church and process them for what they were: The more distance I had from the church, the more I could see how brainwashed I had been by fundamentalism. During my teenage years, I lived exactly how Jessa told me to — down to how I dressed and what music I listened to and what friends I was allowed to spend time with and how I spoke and how I approached the world. I can create a different aspect of your personality and alter-ego so to speak that will only appear on command thru agreed upon triggers. If you are trained to be a slave, he has to role-play being "normal" at other times, around family, friends and co-workers, etc. All that needs to be done, can be done remotely thru web cam, chat, IM, phone, or in-person ;. I will not make you do anything you do not wish to do we will agree on what you need to accomplish I prefer web cam sessions with speakers If you want to begin the ultimate in training get back to me I am ready are you? Please send photos so we can begin your transformation. Ask me anything Submit a post. A subject can achieve different levels of trance: Hypnosis can be used to enhance a wide variety of session scenarios and role-plays. I have found the following to be particularly pleasurable and effective:. The material on this website is sexually explicit, and is of an adult nature. Access is made available only to those who accept the terms of the following agreement:. To enter the site, accepting the terms of this agreement click on the Enter button below. Otherwise select Exit. Alexandra Wildfire the Hypno Domme. I offer three main forms of fetish hypnosis during my sessions: Rates and bookings: How can hypnosis be used in a BDSM session? To enhance and enrich obedience training and to facilitate mental reprogramming. To implant and condition desired sexual and erotic responses. Chubby tits cleavage. Kerr pumps sulphur ok. Sex Dating. All models on www. All galleries and links are provided by 3rd parties. We have no control over the content of these pages. We take no responsibility for the content on any website which we link to, please use your own discretion while surfing the porn links. Video porno d galilea. Depth of penetration following hysterctomy. Jewel staite upskirt. Pantyhose foot in crotch..

Their voices carry pain but build toward hope. Produced by Jackson Browne and entitled Tribal Voiceit was the product of years of grieving, mourning, and, eventually, finding the words for his pain, for his hope. He wrote much of it while on the road in the early s, a cigarette between his fingers, a cup of coffee by his side, and a journal on his lap, during a period when he made very few public appearances. The lyrics on Tribal Voice reflect that nomadic lifestyle — dynamic, alive, quaking with power — and they at once inspire us to move Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years read more, while also attuning us to the earth, to our connection with the earth.

Few heard the album at the time of its release, but those who did — including Bob Dylan — praised it for its brilliance, and for its urgency about raising American political consciousness. But the Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years of tragedy in Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years s, including the death of his wife and children, remained deeply with him, and he would never return to the central activist role he once held — perhaps one of the reasons that, of all of the activists of the late 20th century, he is one of the least known to us today.

Connected to life and all living. If there was anything that was eternally human, Trudell believed it was our infinite web of connections. Despite the wars, violence and oppression he witnessed in America, it was his narrative.

He stuck to it. On December 8,Trudell posted a final message on his Facebook page. Celebrate Love. Celebrate Life. Death, for Trudell, was not the end. It was nothing more and nothing less than a ride … a journey back to his origins — the collective human origins he forever encouraged us to remember — of Mother Earth. His voice, one hopes, will continue to drift in swells across the San Francisco Bay, spreading throughout the nation, where it deserves, as urgently today as ever, our embrace.

She was imprisoned for murdering her husband, then escaped and assumed a new identity.

Perfectassporn Watch XXX Movies Siliguri sex. He then asked me to show him what I had in my backpack. I was surprised how easy it was by that point to show him the contents of my backpack. By that time I had to pee so bad that I asked to use the restroom. When I returned my "baby stuff" was all laid out near the sofa and he asked me to stand in front of him. I had to look up into his eyes since he was slightly taller and his words and the deep color of his eyes soon had me feeling so relaxed. I felt very much like I was loosing any ability to resist his suggestions at all. He was so powerful. It was kinda like those cartoon hypnotists where you could see the lighting bolts from their eyes to yours. I felt him draining my will and relaxing me so quickly that I was soon in a trance. As I fell to the sofa the last of my resistance fell and I was deeply in trance. While I was somewhat aware of the noises in the background cars outside, etc. It was such a weird feeling because even though part of me knew I could resist, I really didn't want to and I'm not sure I could have if I tried. His first tests of me were fairly easy. He had me see and feel a balloon at the end of my hand, raising it higher and higher until it popped and my arm fell back on its own. He had me see a little flying elephant in my hand and pet it and wave bye bye to it. Then he started giving me key words to make me go deeper or do things like "freeze" or "unfreeze" my movement. And I'm not sure what he did but instead of my name being "Jim", all of a sudden I was calling myself "Baby Jim" and I was playing with a kids' toy. He first used the "freeze" word while he had me singing my ABCs. By this point I already felt like I was just a little kid again. I'm not sure exactly what he said but then I felt myself getting younger. Each time he said a number and touched my forehead I seemed to lose another year. As he did, he asked me to write my name down on a note pad. Later he showed me how it got progressively less legible and it actually looked like a 4 yo, then 3 yo, then 2 yo was writing on the note pad. As he took me younger, he dressed me in a stripped t-shirt that I brought with me cause it looked really babyish. I could hear his words suggesting to me how a grown man should feel being dressed like a baby and how he had taken control from me. All I could respond with was the talk of a little 2 year old boy. By the time he took me to a one year old baby all I could do was gurgle and coo and goo goo and gaga and I was soon on my back on the sofa with my legs in the air, helplessly reliving my infancy. As I lay there he fixed a baby bottle full of water and gave it to me to drink. In my mind I could see that he had climbed into my crib. It was incredible. After he cleaned me up, he sat me up and tied the bib around my neck and proceeded to feed me baby food pureed squash which I dribbled and drooled down my face and bib. I looked into his eyes as he fed me and all I could see was "dada". After my meal, he had me get on the floor and crawl around like a little baby. I crawled to him and layed in his lap while he planted several suggestions deep into my subconscious that I didn't fully realize until many hours later. When he woke me I discovered that the pacifier in my mouth couldn't be removed. Try as I might, it was stuck there. I learned soon that it wouldn't come out until I had driven all the way home. He wanted to ensure that my desire to be seen as a baby by others was accomplished. I'm blushing still as I write this. We sat and talked for a few minutes As I more fully realized my situation was soon more than I could stand. I couldn't believe what was happening. We talked a little more and it was soon time for me to leave. When I stood to put my clothes back on I somehow knew that the potty pants had to stay on. What I didn't realize was they wouldn't come off until I got home. The suggestions will have been agreed with the you prior to the session starting. The state just before awakening. At this stage, when you know the session is about to end, you are very receptive to suggestion hyper-suggestible. Trance is a state in which the mind concentrates on immediate thoughts only and disregards all surrounding stimuli. The state of trance produces three things: A subject can achieve different levels of trance: Hypnosis can be used to enhance a wide variety of session scenarios and role-plays. I have found the following to be particularly pleasurable and effective:. The material on this website is sexually explicit, and is of an adult nature. Access is made available only to those who accept the terms of the following agreement:. To enter the site, accepting the terms of this agreement click on the Enter button below. Otherwise select Exit. Alexandra Wildfire the Hypno Domme. I was a homeschooled girl with only a smattering of friends. My best friend, Siena, lived just down the road from me, on the pine-speckled canyon seven dusty miles from town. I adored her, but Siena was a public-school jock by then and had way cooler friends than me. I was lonely, and this Pentecostal church had the only youth group in town. Not long after joining, I was all in. I prayed in my room for hours every day. I spoke in tongues and believed I was slaying demons as I prayed in my spiritual language. I threw out all of my secular music. I went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. I cut out my non-Christian friends. I signed a contract promising that I would protect my virginity for my wedding night. My parents were nominal Christians, but not churchgoers. I deserved parents who would guide me into the Things of the Lord. They told me that sin could be passed down for generations and that people born into a spiritual legacy — generations of people who were believers — had a leg up on people like me from heathen families. This came at just the right moment, developmentally speaking: I was leaving behind the childhood fantasy that my parents were perfect and coming to the realization that they were actually just winging this whole parenting thing, and that they sucked at it sometimes. This is a very normal realization for a child, but at the time, it felt irrevocable and huge. Jessa offered to be my spiritual mentor, and I excitedly agreed. I spent many hours in their living room, talking about my hopes and dreams. Jessa stroked her frizzy hair and told me all about the incredible destiny God had for me if I surrendered everything to Him. I clung to every word she said. I wanted to be just like her. You are demonic. We ate a meal of corn on the cob, cherries and grilled chicken, on a wooden picnic table a few yards from the water. I pushed the food on my plate around, sulking. I was thinking of ways I could convert them to my faith. Next to us, the river rushed constantly, filling the spaces between words. As the sun set, we played cards by lantern light. I wanted to mention this, but I thought that it would only stir up trouble. My heart hurt thinking about what my Jacob and Jessa were up to that night. I imagined them praying together, or worshipping around a bonfire, or dissecting passages of the Bible around the dinner table. I longed to be with them. I tried to comfort myself with reassurances that God was both all-powerful and all good and that human suffering was all part of His Plan. But for the first time since I joined the church, those answers came up short. Just 10 days after the fire, I left my hometown to go to a nearby Christian university. I spent that first semester in a fog, trying to make sense of my life. I remember lying on the top bunk in my new dorm room a few weeks into my college career, wondering if my faith made sense anymore, while my roommate used our dorm phone to talk to one of the boys who wanted to date her. I held still and listened. I watched Snow White on the inch TV screen that somebody had donated to me, under a fort of blankets and pillows on the floor. I allowed myself to be whisked away to a time before. A time before the altar calls, before the revivals, before the fire, before the fog. I hid for days in the fantasy of enchanted forests and fairy dust and singing fish, while my peers went to prayer meetings. I stopped trying to read the Bible. None of it made sense anymore. I called Jessa, hoping for a lifeline. I confided in her that God felt so far away. She asked me if I had been praying and reading the Bible enough. I told her that I often tried, but that it all felt so forced. She wore a scowl on her face, and my stomach filled with dread. The whites of his eyes swelled, and dark blotches of sweat stained his shirt. They told me I had the Spirit of Rebellion. They told me my heart was evil. I tried to push back, but they yelled and told me that God would abandon me if I continued to live in sin. I wish I could say I stood up for myself that night, that I ran out of the room and never came back, but the truth is I stayed. I stayed for what felt like hours, crying and letting them pray for my sins. I finally drove home in a blur, my body spent. I knew in that moment I had lost my faith. I moved on with my life without much talk about those fiery Jesus years, as if pretending they never happened made it so. It was years before I began to talk about my experiences in the church and process them for what they were: The more distance I had from the church, the more I could see how brainwashed I had been by fundamentalism. During my teenage years, I lived exactly how Jessa told me to — down to how I dressed and what music I listened to and what friends I was allowed to spend time with and how I spoke and how I approached the world. I believed that by following Jessa and Jacob, I was following God. They had the final word on salvation, eternal life and objective truth. They leveraged my normal human fear of death, and my desire for connection, as power over me. While it hurt at the time, I now look back at their cruelty with gratitude because it was the catalyst for me to claim my freedom. I ran into an old friend from youth group while visiting my parents for Christmas, and she asked me if I attended church. No, I said, quietly, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as we stood in the produce section of my childhood grocery store. I saw sadness in her eyes. I remembered what it was like to be in that world. For years, I believed that people who walked away from their faith would suffer eternally for it. I used to judge the backsliders, and now I was one. The words of my pastors that night so many years ago had been seared into my mind: You have the Spirit of Rebellion. Most of them come from those spiritual legacy families that I used to long for. Often, they are the first to break away from generations of religiously devout people. Some of them have been disowned by their parents, while some are constantly pressured by their family members to come back to the fold, complete with warnings of impending judgment. Compared to their journeys, I had it easy. My rebellion was church. M ichael Bates was caught off guard by a newspaper item he read in late July He and his parents, a retired couple residing in the seaside county of Essex in southeastern England, were being connected to the murder of Italian fashion icon Gianni Versace. Michael, then 44, is a stocky man with close-cropped hair and a tough demeanor. He runs a business harvesting cockles, an edible mollusk found in the North Sea near where he grew up. He squinted at the paper and continued to read. The newspaper laid out the puzzling circumstances of the case. On July 15, , Versace was leaving his opulent Miami Beach mansion when he was gunned down on his front steps by year-old Andrew Cunanan. Allegedly distraught that a rich benefactor had cut him off, Cunanan embarked on a kill rampage across four states, murdering four people before coming back to Miami and shooting Versace for seemingly no reason. When police finally tracked him down eight days later, Cunanan led them on a chase, broke into a houseboat, and shot himself. Reineck was a socialite who loved showing off his Sealand passport and was said to have diplomatic plates from Sealand on his car. Located in international waters and technically outside of the control of Britain, or any other nation, the country straddles a line between eccentric experiment and legal entity of uncertain definition. Formerly called Roughs Tower, Sealand was one of a series of naval forts built seven miles off the coast of southeastern England during the Second World War to shoot down Nazi warplanes. The British government left the forts to the elements following the end of the war, and in the mids a group of enterprising DJs moved in and set up illegal radio stations. The BBC had a monopoly on the airwaves at the time and pirate radio was the only way to get pop music to the masses. One day while taking the train to work, Roy had a moment in which he realized he was done with the 9-to-5 routine; instead, he wanted to enter the pirate radio fray. Roy decided to set up his station, Radio Essex, on Knock John, one of the naval forts. The forts were a hot commodity, and violent struggles for control of them sometimes broke out between competing stations. A decorated soldier who had once had a grenade explode in his face, Roy stepped up to the occasion and resolutely defended his fort. If ever there was a true buccaneer, it was Roy. His long-term intention was to turn the fort into some kind of lucrative enterprise, such as an international casino or independent television station. He declared Roughs Tower the Principality of Sealand on September 2, , and installed himself as prince and his wife Joan as princess. In , Michael and Roy Bates appeared in British court after firing across the bow of a Royal Navy vessel that got too close to the fort. The family elected to stay at the fort after the British government green-lit commercial radio and brought pirate radio to an end, and the Principality of Sealand quickly became the foremost micronation in the world, influencing people on every continent who now claim their bedroom, neighborhood or disputed territory as a country of their own. As they built up the reputation of the concrete-and-metal statelet, the family issued coins, stamps and other trappings of statehood, including passports. The Sealanders had issued around of them over the years, but only to trusted compatriots, and certainly not, Michael Bates was sure, to anyone who would commit cold-blooded murder. His head was spinning when he finished the article. O n April 4, , a trim, handsome year-old man named Francisco Trujillo Ruiz made a few adjustments to the odds and ends in his office at Paseo de la Castellana, a street in a fashionable part of Madrid, before sitting down to speak with a newspaper reporter. Trujillo Ruiz jumped up in surprise, and the officers promptly made their way around desks and chairs to where he was standing, boxing him in. He was under arrest, they announced, for allegedly selling more than 2 million gallons of diluted gasoline. Trujillo Ruiz was momentarily nonplussed, but as the police closed in, he pulled out a diplomatic passport and claimed immunity. The police had no right to be there, he said, as they were actually on territory belonging to another country — his office was the Sealandic consulate in Spain. The passport was superficially quite legit, with a rubber coating and foil-stamped seals, and it gave the officers some pause when considering how to handle the arrest. Far from being a diplomat, Trujillo Ruiz was one of the prime movers and shakers in a gang of scam artists operating throughout the world. At least 20 fake diplomatic passports, hundreds more blank passports, and 2, official documents were seized in the raids, as were two vehicles with Sealand diplomatic license plates that had been escorted through Madrid by Spanish police on more than one occasion. While the Versace incident in had alarmed them, the Bates family had been oblivious to the extent of the problem with Sealand passports. Michael scratched his chin. Sealand did have a website, but it was in its infancy. The site was how he had left it. He then searched around and turned up a Sealand site with a much more manageable domain name: Lo and behold, it was a website purporting to be the official mouthpiece of Sealand, and one could indeed buy a number of Sealandic documents. Spanish investigators unraveled the web and found that the scams associated with the fake Sealand paperwork involved more than 80 people from all over world. The scams were impressively wide-ranging: We knew nothing at all about it or the people involved. They intended to sell the arms to Sudan, which was under embargo by many governments of the world for being a terrorist state. How disgusting can you get? Trujillo Ruiz reportedly first learned about Sealand while working in Germany for a man named Friedbert Ley, who had launched his own Sealand fan website in and asked Trujillo Ruiz to set up a Spanish branch office of the Sealandic government. When confronted by investigators about the fake passports, Trujillo Ruiz conceded that they were made in Germany but said he had been appointed acting head of state by the royal family of Sealand and been given authorization to issue Sealandic passports. Roy Bates was of course fine. The Germans had once visited the younger Trujillo Ruiz in Spain, and they appeared to be a bad influence on him, the father said. I n the early s, Roy Bates had prepared to turn the fort into a much larger ministate with a group of Belgians and Germans who had offered to go into business with him. The Germans were led by Alexander Gottfried Achenbach, said to be a former diamond dealer who was planning on a quiet retirement raising rabbits in Belgium until the Sealand opportunity sucked him back in. The Germans were remarkable busybodies, drawing up a constitution and legal decrees and bombarding embassies all over the world with requests for diplomatic recognition. Nevertheless, the petitioning continued in earnest and their zeal was infectious. Roy Bates had long intended to make the fort into a profitable business, and the plans he and the Germans cooked up were grandiose. Back in Sealand, however, Michael was working on the fort alone when a helicopter landed. Out came some of their German associates, who claimed Roy had given them possession of the fort. Michael was extremely uneasy about the situation — and completely outnumbered. Roy and Joan were similarly uneasy when a friend back in England alerted them that he had seen a helicopter hovering near Sealand. Their sinking feeling was justified. Michael tried to wrench himself free, his hair falling in his eyes as he was dragged into the room and shut behind a steel door. You need to be naturally obedient and submissive. For hypnotic sessions I prefer masculine men in good, health. I can create a different aspect of your personality and alter-ego so to speak that will only appear on command thru agreed upon triggers. If you are trained to be a slave, he has to role-play being "normal" at other times, around family, friends and co-workers, etc. All that needs to be done, can be done remotely thru web cam, chat, IM, phone, or in-person ;. I will not make you do anything you do not wish to do we will agree on what you need to accomplish I prefer web cam sessions with speakers If you want to begin the ultimate in training get back to me I am ready are you? More Photos Latest Photos Porn ruined her life. She liking balls porn. Asian girl in micro bikini. Porn big boob picture. Naked girl holding bass. Hermosillo banos gay. Top hentai manga rank. Domain nudist org. Xxx japan sexy garls com. Free daddy cock old mandick pics. Indian village women nude photos..

Her adoring friends and employers had no idea. M ore than 12 years after Jannie Duncan walked off the grounds of a mental hospital and into a new identity, Debbie Carliner opened a newspaper and got the shock of her life.

Javfo Porn Watch Sex Videos Sex 0. I want them to know how strong their own mind and body can feel. I want to mold that person improve enhance and trigger, So they are essentially transformed little by little into the person they need to become. I can effect this online thru cam and speaker speakers or in personal in I realize this is sometimes not physically a possibilty. The reason I want to view you on cam is so I can attest to what level of trance you are in. I can use these methods to form triggers of various things examples: You will truly feel this We will decide together what you want to accomplish be it transforming you into and animal or anything of our choosing. I'm so happy. I feel so good and youthful. I am at your command and am strangely, at peace. It isn't easy to submit and admit that to another person, Sir. But I get so much pleasure from obeying you. I need to obey you. It just happened and I went without control, feeling your plan was being executed. Thank you. I usually have a good mind. It was amazing i really love it" -- Alfredo, after he watched the video from his session. Thanking you for the speedy delivery. I thought I would just look at it for a few minutes but I was fascinated with it I could not stop. Kind Regards" -- Graham. I liked the first best. I realy want to be hypnotised by you. I'm glad I found your site on the net. It is really great. You were right I especially like seeing the guys going out when someone points and says sleep. Just wonderful. The whole tape is really great and I thank you for doing it. It looks like you guys realy had a great time. Wish I could have been there. Keep them comming and let me know if you need any more ideas or anything. I am really enjoying it. I just finished watching it! You guys did such a great job! I love watching guys fall into a deep hypnotic trance and watching guys fall asleep on command I look forward to ordering and enjoying more titles. I enjoyed it. I ended up putting my favorite part on repeat to make a loop was the part when he tried to stay awake when you told him to sleep Personally my favorite parts are the induction and putting him under. As you know of my fetish my favorite is him fighting the sleep and giving in to it. HE seemed like a great subject and it's a fun tape. I am looking forward to next work. DVD received. I loved how you turned his arm to steel. The whole 2nd part was outstanding. I will be honest.. Your voice is as hypnotic as your eyes. I don't think there was a moment I didn't like. The variety of suggestions, inductions and just plain fun. Too much fun. Hopefully there will be a sequel or extended version or outtakes. While watching the video, he said "i dont know how come, i feel im there and relaxing and submitting. I couldn't believe the quality and the routines. She was lying in bed in her home in Washington, D. It was January 5, Her husband looked over, confused. Carliner showed him the layout, which included five snapshots of a middle-aged black woman looking radiant in various settings. There she was smiling, surrounded by friends in one image, resplendent in a wedding gown in the next. The woman was Joan Davis, 54, a kindly and beloved former family employee. In the s, when Debbie Carliner was a teenager and her mother decided to go back to work, her parents had hired Joan to make the beds and help with the cleaning. Joan was an excellent worker, and she was warm and unfailingly trustworthy — so much so that when they left on family trips, the Carliners asked her to watch after their home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. All of which made reading the story that much more bewildering. And that was hardly the only revelation: In , Jannie had been arrested for the murder of her husband, Orell Duncan, whose savagely beaten naked body had been buried in a shallow grave near Richmond, Virginia, the story said. She stood trial, was found guilty of murder, and sentenced to 15 years to life in prison. After a few years, she was transferred to St. Elizabeths Hospital, a mental institution in Washington. In November , Jannie had walked off the hospital grounds and vanished for more than 12 years. After she was finally arrested again, on January 2, , the story that emerged was as straightforward as it was unbelievable: She seemed to have simply melted into the streets of Washington, mere miles from the hospital, taken on a new name, and plunged into a new life. Over more than a decade, Jannie had populated her new existence with a bustling community of adoring friends and employers who were oblivious to the considerable baggage of her old life. Even more strikingly, when her secret was revealed, every one of these acquaintances stood by her. The Post story was filled with the kinds of adulatory tributes usually reserved for retirement parties. Like everyone else, Debbie Carliner was incredulous. Neither she nor her parents could imagine that the woman they knew as Joan could murder anyone. If she had, the Carliners figured there must have been a plausible explanation. I was so fascinated that I spontaneously abandoned what I was doing to look for other articles about her. The more I found, the stranger and more interesting the story became. The more I found out about her in the weeks that followed, the more I became consumed by a question: What was the truth about Jannie Duncan? Her twin narratives diverged so sharply that there seemed to be only two possibilities: Or she had killed her husband, escaped, and fooled everyone, cleverly concealing her status as a fugitive who had engineered a great escape. She was a model citizen who had been wronged, or she was a con artist. I decided to find out which. Public records indicate that she was the fourth of seven children. She dropped out of high school after the 11th grade, and, after turning 19, married Thomas Bowman, her hometown sweetheart. The marriage was likely an act of heedless teenage passion. She left her husband after a few months, lighting out for Washington. The divorce became official a few years later when Jane, whose friends called her Jannie, married a comedian named Telfair Washington in He died of a heart attack in In , she married again, this time to a gambler named James Terry. Within a few years, she employed a handful of people and owned a full-length mink coat and a powder-blue two-tone Cadillac Fleetwood. In , Orell Duncan had been arrested and convicted of operating a lottery and possession of number slips. Jannie married him in March , but within a few months, they were living at different addresses. There are conflicting accounts of what happened while she was working at the boarding house on 7th Street during the early-morning hours of March 11, Orell disarmed her and again began struggling with her. Orell was later found dead from multiple contusions to the head. Within a span of three days, police in Virginia and Washington arrested Jannie Duncan, James and Simms, and introduced a motive: That detail became a staple in newspaper reports about the killing. She was charged with first-degree murder, which carried a mandatory death penalty. The prosecution claimed that the three defendants finished him off in the car, while Jannie and the others testified that they were talking calmly when the men began arguing and struggling with Orell, and he fell out of the car and died from his injuries. After a full day of deliberation, the jury found Jannie and James guilty of second-degree murder. Simms was convicted of manslaughter. One then-inmate later told the Post that Jannie was quiet and tidy and kept to herself, studying law books. After three and a half years, on November 14, , Jannie was moved to St. Almost exactly two years later, she walked off the grounds and vanished. R econstructing a life from decades past takes time and effort. Elizabeths and the FBI. I wrote letters and called the people connected to the story who were still alive. Over time, I assembled the jigsaw puzzle that was her life. Once out of St. Elizabeths, Jannie began quietly reinventing herself. She spent about two years working for that family, according to newspaper accounts. After she proved herself a solid and reliable worker, she parlayed strong references into subsequent jobs with the Carliners and others. Jannie never left the Washington area, except for the year she spent in Detroit with her new husband, Wilbert Lassiter, a Michigan native whom she married in Eight of her friends flew from Washington to attend the wedding. Considered dangerous. In the photo, her face is tilted just to the right, her mouth slightly downturned; her hair is closely cropped and forms a little wave on the right side of her head. She is listed as 5-foot-6 and pounds. Jannie made no attempt to leave the area; rather, she doubled down on Washington, steadily building a community there. Irene Carroll described her friend in the Post as fun-loving and generous. But cracks eventually began to show in the foundation of her immaculately rebuilt life. She and Wilbert Lassiter separated around May By December , he had taken up with another woman named Jannie — Jannie Dodd, according to the Post. That month, Dodd complained to the police that Joan Lassiter had made threatening phone calls and left menacing messages at her house. One such note, Dodd said, read: This will be your last. That infamous offense came to light in a remarkable way. She was fingerprinted, processed, and sent home. As her paperwork was being filed — the sets of prints placed among about , others — a clerk noticed something surprising: Duncan, escaped murderer. She was a convicted murderer on the lam, so he brought along two other agents as backup. They watched the building for a while, and when a light popped on in her second-floor two-bedroom unit, they moved upstairs. She stood stiffly, eyes wide and blank, as Niemala handcuffed her. The other two agents each took a shoulder, gently lifting her, for the walk to the car. She was still so immobilized that when they reached the FBI office in Alexandria, Niemala brought the fingerprinting equipment to the car rather than haul her up to the third floor where she would normally have been processed. Then Jannie Duncan was returned to St. Elizabeths Hospital. After about three weeks of evaluation, officials there declared that she had no mental issues and shipped her back to prison. As I learned more about Jannie, I began to view her exploits more cynically. Several elements of her story fed into this. She told Margot Hornblower of the Post that she had no memory of anything prior to her life as Joan Davis. But during that same interview with the Post , she did recall that rather than having escaped from St. Those menacing notes offered evidence of her old, true self leaking out. Delaney who is deceased relayed that she was contemplating trying to escape, but Jannie talked her out if it, saying she would only end up with a longer sentence. One passage near the end stands out. Elizabeths Hospital because she thought it would be easier to receive a parole from the mental institution. When I contacted St. Elizabeths, a spokeswoman told me she was permitted only to confirm the dates that Jannie entered and left the facility. But the Post passage suggested the possibility that Jannie had planned the whole thing: She had engineered the transfer not because it would be easier to be paroled, but because it would be easier to escape. After calling the federal courthouse in Washington to ask about her murder trial, I learned that the case file is stored in the National Archives. I drove to Washington to see what I might learn. In the research room, I flipped open the first box, which contained the first few hundred pages of a 3,page trial transcript on thin onion-skin-type paper. What I read stunned me. It began with a description of her life over the previous year — the entire duration of her marriage to Orell. I had a knot on my head and bruises on my leg. After driving a short distance, he reached over, opened her door and pushed her out, then exited and began hitting her while she was on the ground. The violence escalated. She escaped that situation, but another time he threatened to stab her to death. She made several hospital visits. Then she took his gun one night when he had passed out from drinking, and on February 18, he came into the boarding house at 2: This time the district attorney put through an arrest warrant. She refused, but still, Orell was never once arrested for any of the attacks. The warrant and hospital reports were introduced at the trial, and other witnesses testified to seeing Orell abuse Jannie. All of this culminated with his arrival at the boarding house just after midnight on March 11, Jannie had finished fixing up Room 7. Then he kicked me, and I fell out of the chair. And when I got up, I pulled this gun on him. She held it on him as he walked into the kitchen, then she gave the gun to an employee while she called Edward James. A few minutes later, James and Simms arrived. Carl Winchester was the key witness against Jannie. But the employee had removed the bullets when she called James. James and Simms began scuffling with Orell, but eventually they stopped. Orell asked Jannie to give him a ride home, and she agreed on the condition that the two other men came along. A postmortem toxicology report in the file showed that Orell was heavily intoxicated. While some states began to criminalize domestic violence as early as the s, those laws were rarely enforced, and cases of physical and sexual assault were largely viewed as marital issues best worked out within the domicile. Yet none of it seemed to register with anyone: There was no mention of it in newspaper coverage. At one point, the prosecutor, Assistant U. Attorney Frederick Smithson, said of Jannie: Smithson also questioned whether Orell was capable of beating Jannie in the ways she described, noting that he only weighed marginally more. I was also struck by another aspect of the transcript: Independent proof suggests that this was almost certainly true. The IRS typically auctions off property only after expending significant effort, often over the course of several years, to extract back taxes. But even a casual reading of recent American history reveals that none of it is particularly surprising. Of everything about this strange story, that was the shortest leap of all. He could easily have killed her, and probably would have eventually. The transfer from prison to St. It could have been her scheming, but one document among the court papers shows that she was moved to St. As for the memory loss, that could potentially be explained by dissociative amnesia. You will not feel hypnotised. Just closing your eyes and breathing regularly may be sufficient to reach this state. You will be aware of noise, but it will not disturb you. Person can open eyes and walk around. Amnesia and disassociation of the body can be experienced. Examples of my hypnosis session scenarios Hypnosis can be used to enhance a wide variety of session scenarios and role-plays. I have found the following to be particularly pleasurable and effective: Mental reprogramming — I will reprogram your mind, conditioning your responses to more suitably reflect your role as an utterly weak and submissive male. Pain taking scenario — I will enhance your tolerance for pain so that you are able to endure whatever suffering I chose to inflict upon you. Access is made available only to those who accept the terms of the following agreement: I certify all of the following: I understand that the material on this site is of an adult nature and is sexually explicit. I am at least 21 years of age and have the legal right to possess and view adult material in my community. We have no control over the content of these pages. 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She was lying in bed in her home in Washington, D. It was January 5, Her husband looked over, confused. Carliner showed him the layout, which included five snapshots of a middle-aged black woman looking radiant in various settings. There she was smiling, surrounded by friends in one image, resplendent in a wedding gown in the next. The woman was Joan Davis, 54, a kindly and beloved former family employee. In the s, when Debbie Carliner was a teenager and her mother decided to go back to work, her parents had hired Joan to make the beds and help with the cleaning.

Joan was an excellent worker, and she was warm and unfailingly trustworthy — so much so that when they left on family trips, the Carliners asked her to watch after their home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. All of which made reading the story that much more bewildering. And that was hardly the only revelation: InJannie had been arrested for the murder of her husband, Orell Duncan, whose savagely beaten naked body had been buried in a shallow grave near Richmond, Virginia, the story said.

She stood Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, was found guilty of murder, and sentenced to 15 years to life in prison. After a few years, she was transferred to St. Elizabeths Hospital, a mental institution in Washington. In NovemberJannie had walked off the hospital grounds and vanished for more than 12 years. After she was finally arrested again, on January 2,the story that emerged was as straightforward as it was unbelievable: She seemed to have simply melted into the streets of Click at this page, mere miles from the hospital, taken on a new name, and plunged into a new life.

Over more than a decade, Jannie had populated her new existence with a bustling community of adoring Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years and employers who were oblivious to the considerable baggage of her old life.

Even more strikingly, when her secret was revealed, every one of these acquaintances stood by her. The Post story was filled with the kinds of adulatory tributes usually reserved for retirement parties. Like everyone else, Debbie Carliner was incredulous. Neither she nor her parents could imagine that the woman they knew as Joan could murder anyone.

If she had, the Carliners figured there must have been a Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years explanation. I was so fascinated that I spontaneously abandoned what I was doing to look for other articles about her.

The more I found, the stranger and more interesting the story became. The more I found out about her in the weeks that followed, the more I became consumed by a question: What was the truth about Jannie Duncan?

Her twin narratives diverged so sharply that there seemed to be only two possibilities: Or she had killed her husband, escaped, and fooled everyone, cleverly concealing her status as a fugitive who had engineered a great escape. Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years was a model citizen who had been wronged, or she was a con artist. I decided to find out which.

Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years records indicate that she was the fourth of seven children. She dropped out of high school after the 11th grade, and, after turning 19, married Thomas Bowman, her hometown sweetheart.

The marriage was likely an act of heedless teenage passion. She left her husband after a few months, lighting out for Washington. The divorce became official a few years later when Jane, whose friends called her Jannie, married a comedian named Telfair Washington in He died of a heart attack in Inshe married again, this time to a gambler named James Terry.

Within a few years, she employed a handful of people and owned a full-length mink coat and a powder-blue two-tone Cadillac Fleetwood. InOrell Duncan had been arrested and convicted of operating a lottery and possession of number slips.

Jannie married him in Marchbut within a few months, they were living at different addresses. There are conflicting accounts of what happened while she was working at the boarding house on 7th Street during the early-morning hours of March 11, Orell disarmed her and again began struggling with her. Orell was later found dead from multiple contusions to the head.

Within a span of three days, police in Virginia and Washington arrested Jannie Duncan, James and Simms, and introduced a motive: That detail became a staple in newspaper reports about the killing. She was charged with first-degree murder, which carried a mandatory death penalty. The prosecution claimed that the three more info finished him off in the car, while Jannie and the others testified that they were talking calmly when the men began arguing and struggling Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years Orell, and he fell out of the car and died from his injuries.

After a full day Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years deliberation, the jury found Jannie and James guilty of second-degree murder. Simms was convicted of manslaughter. One then-inmate later told the Post that Jannie was quiet and tidy and kept to herself, studying law books. After three and please click for source half years, on November 14,Jannie was moved to St.

Almost exactly two years later, she walked off the grounds and vanished. R econstructing a life from decades past takes time and effort. Elizabeths and the FBI. I wrote letters and called the people connected to the story who were still alive. Over time, I assembled the jigsaw puzzle that was her life.

Once out of St. Elizabeths, Jannie began quietly reinventing herself. She spent about two years working for that family, Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years to newspaper accounts. After she proved herself a solid and reliable worker, she parlayed strong references into subsequent jobs with the Carliners and others. Jannie never left the Washington area, except for the year she spent in Detroit with her new husband, Wilbert Lassiter, a Michigan native whom she married in Eight of her friends flew from Washington to attend the wedding.

Considered dangerous. In the photo, her face is tilted just to the right, her mouth slightly downturned; her hair is closely cropped Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years forms a little wave on the right side of her head. She is listed as 5-foot-6 and pounds. Jannie made no attempt to leave the area; rather, she doubled down on Washington, steadily building a community there. Irene Carroll described her friend in the Post as fun-loving and generous. But cracks eventually began to show in the foundation of her immaculately rebuilt life.

She and Wilbert Lassiter separated around May By Decemberhe had taken up with another woman named Jannie — Jannie Dodd, according to the Post. That month, Dodd complained to the police that Joan Lassiter had made threatening phone calls and left menacing messages at her house. One such note, Dodd said, read: This will be your last.

That infamous offense came to light in a remarkable way. She was fingerprinted, processed, and sent home. As her paperwork was being filed — the sets of prints placed among aboutothers — a clerk noticed something surprising: Duncan, escaped murderer. She was a convicted murderer on the lam, so he brought along two other agents as backup. They watched the building for a while, and when a light popped on Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years her second-floor two-bedroom unit, they moved upstairs.

She stood stiffly, eyes wide and blank, as Niemala handcuffed her. The other two agents each took a shoulder, gently lifting Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, for the walk to the car. She was still so immobilized that when they reached the FBI office in Alexandria, Niemala brought the fingerprinting equipment to the car rather than haul her up to the third floor where she would normally have been processed.

Then Jannie Duncan was returned to St.

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Elizabeths Hospital. After about three weeks of evaluation, officials there declared that she had no mental issues and shipped her back to prison. As I learned more about Jannie, I began to view her exploits more cynically. Several elements of her story fed into this. She told Margot Hornblower of the Post that she had no memory of Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years prior to her life as Joan Davis.

But during that same interview with the Postshe did recall that rather than having escaped from St.

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Those menacing notes offered evidence of her old, true self leaking out. Delaney who is deceased relayed that she was contemplating trying to escape, but Jannie talked her out if it, saying she would only end up with a longer sentence. One passage near the end stands out. Your voice is as hypnotic Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years your eyes. I don't think there was a moment I didn't like. The variety of suggestions, inductions and just plain fun.

Too much fun. Hopefully there will be a sequel or extended version or outtakes. While Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years the video, he said "i dont know how come, i feel im there Dana hayes milf relaxing and submitting.

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Prenagen Porn Watch XXX Videos Xnxxxxxxxxx 2018. Posted 8 months ago. Posted 10 months ago. I do all things in a safe sane manner I have over 20 years experience in hypnosis and mind control thru role-play and other methodologies. I am into erotic hypnosis and employ various exercises to coach men who want to experience control and wish to serve others in a non threatening way. I am not cruel but like to control my subjects. I want my subjects to realize it is their place to serve in various capacities. It was such a weird feeling because even though part of me knew I could resist, I really didn't want to and I'm not sure I could have if I tried. His first tests of me were fairly easy. He had me see and feel a balloon at the end of my hand, raising it higher and higher until it popped and my arm fell back on its own. He had me see a little flying elephant in my hand and pet it and wave bye bye to it. Then he started giving me key words to make me go deeper or do things like "freeze" or "unfreeze" my movement. And I'm not sure what he did but instead of my name being "Jim", all of a sudden I was calling myself "Baby Jim" and I was playing with a kids' toy. He first used the "freeze" word while he had me singing my ABCs. By this point I already felt like I was just a little kid again. I'm not sure exactly what he said but then I felt myself getting younger. Each time he said a number and touched my forehead I seemed to lose another year. As he did, he asked me to write my name down on a note pad. Later he showed me how it got progressively less legible and it actually looked like a 4 yo, then 3 yo, then 2 yo was writing on the note pad. As he took me younger, he dressed me in a stripped t-shirt that I brought with me cause it looked really babyish. I could hear his words suggesting to me how a grown man should feel being dressed like a baby and how he had taken control from me. All I could respond with was the talk of a little 2 year old boy. By the time he took me to a one year old baby all I could do was gurgle and coo and goo goo and gaga and I was soon on my back on the sofa with my legs in the air, helplessly reliving my infancy. As I lay there he fixed a baby bottle full of water and gave it to me to drink. In my mind I could see that he had climbed into my crib. It was incredible. After he cleaned me up, he sat me up and tied the bib around my neck and proceeded to feed me baby food pureed squash which I dribbled and drooled down my face and bib. I looked into his eyes as he fed me and all I could see was "dada". After my meal, he had me get on the floor and crawl around like a little baby. I crawled to him and layed in his lap while he planted several suggestions deep into my subconscious that I didn't fully realize until many hours later. When he woke me I discovered that the pacifier in my mouth couldn't be removed. Try as I might, it was stuck there. I learned soon that it wouldn't come out until I had driven all the way home. He wanted to ensure that my desire to be seen as a baby by others was accomplished. I'm blushing still as I write this. We sat and talked for a few minutes As I more fully realized my situation was soon more than I could stand. I couldn't believe what was happening. We talked a little more and it was soon time for me to leave. When I stood to put my clothes back on I somehow knew that the potty pants had to stay on. What I didn't realize was they wouldn't come off until I got home. So I pulled my jeans on and collected my things, still with pacifier in my mouth, and went to leave. As I was putting on my coat I vaguely felt like I was supposed to be on my hands and knees but I told him that I guess my conscious mind knew what it wanted to do. Just then he told me my legs were getting weak and he touched me on the forehead and I collapsed to the floor, only able to crawl like a baby. He told me I had to crawl down the stairs and out the door. Only when I reached the outside would I be able to stand again. It was the most incredible feeling ever. I knew I shouldn't but also knew I had to. The risk of being seen that way suddenly didn't matter. When I stood up and finally got in my car I realized I had the long drive home in rush hour traffic with a baby's pacifier in my mouth. I blushed more than I thought possible. It was pretty amazing, especially when I pulled up next to a really hot guy at a red light. I n the early s, Roy Bates had prepared to turn the fort into a much larger ministate with a group of Belgians and Germans who had offered to go into business with him. The Germans were led by Alexander Gottfried Achenbach, said to be a former diamond dealer who was planning on a quiet retirement raising rabbits in Belgium until the Sealand opportunity sucked him back in. The Germans were remarkable busybodies, drawing up a constitution and legal decrees and bombarding embassies all over the world with requests for diplomatic recognition. Nevertheless, the petitioning continued in earnest and their zeal was infectious. Roy Bates had long intended to make the fort into a profitable business, and the plans he and the Germans cooked up were grandiose. Back in Sealand, however, Michael was working on the fort alone when a helicopter landed. Out came some of their German associates, who claimed Roy had given them possession of the fort. Michael was extremely uneasy about the situation — and completely outnumbered. Roy and Joan were similarly uneasy when a friend back in England alerted them that he had seen a helicopter hovering near Sealand. Their sinking feeling was justified. Michael tried to wrench himself free, his hair falling in his eyes as he was dragged into the room and shut behind a steel door. The only possible way out was a porthole window, but it was far too small for an adult to fit through. Michael was left in the room for three days, keeping himself warm by wrapping himself in a Sealandic flag. Eventually, the captors threw Michael onto a boat, which deposited him in the Netherlands, with no money and no passport. A sympathetic skipper helped him get back to England, where he linked back up with his parents. But Michael explained his ordeal. Holding the Fort. The family quickly decided that the only possible response was to recapture the fort. They gathered some rough-and-tumble friends and a few guns, and enlisted the talents of a pilot friend who had flown helicopters in a James Bond film. The plan was to fly to the fort, rappel down ropes, and retake the Principality by force. Attacking at dawn, they descended from the sky, fired a single shot from a sawed-off shotgun, and tossed the captors into the brig. A tribunal was established to try the invaders. Britain shrugged its shoulders when asked to intervene, saying the fort was not on its property. The Germans retreated back home after the failed coup and established the Sealandic government-in-exile, a dark mirror version of the Principality that persists to the present day. T he government-in-exile disavowed any role in the late s Spanish passport scam. They were arrested when they tried to cross into Italy. The money had in fact come from a gambling enterprise in Poland, but it was an aboveboard operation. Did we recognize these passports or not? For a time in , after Slovenia was briefly caught up in the Bosnian war, many countries refused to recognize our nation. Achenbach was 79 when he filed the lawsuit in , and he succumbed to old age in the middle of the litigation at age The strange legal and financial quagmire was a fitting final chapter in the life of someone who had spent his whole life involved in dubious ways to get money. Today, however, the Principality does offer a legitimate way to become a citizen of Sealand. The Bates family sells royal titles, an official business whose proceeds go only to funding the honest initiatives of the true Sealandic government. Costs vary: Prince Roy and Princess Joan passed into the next realm in and , respectively, but the country is going strong more than five decades after it was founded. Michael takes only intermittent trips out to the fort these days, but Sealand is always occupied by at least one armed caretaker, lest any of the events of its bellicose history repeat themselves. The government-in-exile is still going strong as well, led by Prime Minister Johannes W. Seiger since a constitutional amendment transferred power from Achenbach in Seiger asked this writer if I could put him in touch with Donald Trump to help him with his quest, canceling further contact when I was unable to do so. Fifty years ago, John Trudell overcame tragedy to become the national voice for Native Americans—and a model for a new generation of activists. H e sat at the same table each evening, sometimes with lighting and sometimes without, a cigarette often in hand, a guest always by his side. In the background, the sound of waves rolling against the rocks and the stuttering of a backup generator were constants. Then, with a crackly yet true radio connection, streaming through the wires from an unthinkable place — Alcatraz Island — he began speaking in a calm, determined voice. The nation was listening. In the Pacifica Radio Archives, located in a modest brick building in North Hollywood, you can hear what hundreds of thousands of Americans heard on those evenings. File through the cassettes and you will find more than a dozen tapes labeled with a single word: Each is followed by a date, anywhere from December to August But these were not simply programs about Alcatraz, that island in the notoriously frigid San Francisco Bay that was home to a federal prison until it closed in Rather, they were broadcast from the former prison building itself, from a small cell without heat and only a lone generator for power rumbling in the background. By the winter of , Trudell could be found in that austere cell, speaking over the rush of waves in a composed Midwestern accent. Why would the FBI compose its longest dossier about a broadcaster speaking from a rocky island a mile offshore? What was Trudell saying that frightened them so much? Trudell was advocating for Native American self-determination, explaining its moral and political importance to all Americans. On air, he often revealed the innumerable ways the government was violating Native American rights: He imagined a future in which equality — between different American cultures, and between all people and the earth itself — would become a reality. And for the first time, non—Native American communities were listening. More than , people tuned in to Pacifica stations in California, Texas and New York to hear his weekly broadcast. At just 23 years old, with long brown hair and hanging earrings, Trudell had one thing the FBI could not stop: The organization pointed to the Treaty of Fort Laramie, which provided that all surplus federal land be returned to native tribes. It had been unoccupied since President Kennedy closed the federal prison in By inhabiting the 12 acres of Alcatraz, IOAT hoped to set a precedent for the reclamation of hundreds of thousands of unclaimed acres across the United States. But there was an obstacle: That all changed on the night of November Under the cover of darkness and a dense blanket of fog, 79 activists from more than 20 tribes sailed from Sausalito across the frigid bay and settled on the island. The Indians have landed! A gathering was held that night at 2 a. Governing teams were also established. Onshore allies knew the landing had succeeded when they saw a bright yellow Morse code message blinking through the mist: J ohn Trudell was not on those initial voyages. At the time, he had just returned from deployment in Vietnam, enrolled in San Bernardino Valley College, and moved in with his girlfriend, Fenicia Lou Ordonez. When he learned of the landing on Alcatraz, he suggested they join in. Expecting to join for only a few weeks, they packed sleeping bags, headed six hours north, and hitched a ride across the emerald bay on one of the IOAT-operated vessels, many of which were typically used for fishing and shipping. What was once a treacherous journey with fierce Coast Guard resistance was now readily accessible, but not because the government had become any more benevolent. Fearing a public backlash, federal authorities called off the Coast Guard from intervening in these voyages. Soon after docking on the island, Trudell attended the daily island meeting of IOAT leaders and tribal heads. He pointed out that if they truly wanted to make a case for the Native American right to reclaim unused land, they urgently needed to reshape the narrative. On his drive to the Bay Area, Trudell had seen national papers like The New York Times and San Francisco Chronicle running stories portraying the occupation as a Native American theft — rather than a reclamation of what was stolen from them. He asked himself: December 26, For the next 30 minutes, Trudell led conversations with Native American activists, spiritualists and students — many of whom were living on the island, visiting as volunteers, or ferrying supplies. It was called Radio Free Alcatraz , and Trudell typically began episodes by describing challenges on the island. There were many: Alcatraz had shaky electricity, a dearth of clean water, and it was frequently hit by strong offshore storms. And Saturday, we were stranded on the island because of bad weather. Despite these immediate challenges, Trudell — often clad in a wide-collared button-down underneath an emblazoned leather jacket — spoke both with the equanimity of a captain reporting to headquarters and the kindness of a good friend. In an interview with KPFA host Al Silbowitz in December , Trudell sketched a portrait of life on the island and outlined the purpose of the occupation. This struggle was not unique to this moment. It was experienced daily by native tribes everywhere. We have a chance to unite the American Indian people as they never had the opportunity to do. In a conversation with Al Silbowitz, Trudell explains how the difficult conditions on Alcatraz all too closely resemble life on so many Native American reservations. The heart of the program was his intimate voice — masterful at revealing the aspirational humanity that defined the movement, while outlining the enduring goal of activists to construct a university and Native American cultural center. Trudell was not just a broadcaster: He was one of the unsung American forefathers of what we now call socially impactful publicity, or strategic communications. He already knew that for activists to succeed, it was not enough to campaign. They had to shape national consciousness. Trudell opened with a question: Would you explain — what tribe are you with, and where is it at? Jonny raised concerns about the unjust allocation of federal funds to her reservation and revealed the low wages factory workers were receiving at a firearm production plant there. Then the BIA, or Bureau of Indian Affairs, stepped in and determined many of them incompetent to handle their affairs, so they put this money in trust with white people, who got fantastically wealthy. He relayed stories that showed it, and he had faith that Americans everywhere, having heard these stories, would do the right thing. Oakes, in immense grief, left the island. Marshals might raid the island at any time. But Trudell did not falter. His was a voice of constancy, offering a lighthouse for a movement troubled at sea. Tragedy was not new to Trudell. It was a foundational part of his family history. A few years later, the couple had a daughter, who, after moving to Nebraska, fell in love with a Santee Sioux native, Clifford Trudell. The couple married and had John, born in a hospital close to the reservation in Omaha, on February 15, John grew up on and around the Santee reservation in North Dakota. Life felt wholesome; the reservation offered respite from the civil commotion and disarray that characterized U. She hugged me; she kissed me. And then it was time to go. In the early s, John enrolled in school off the reservation, where he confronted a Western culture indifferent to his spiritual understandings and offering few answers to his enduring questions. But these concepts never resonated with him. How could he trust a religion that was upheld by a culture that was threatening the lives of his tribe and Native American people everywhere? He longed to escape a school that seemed to stifle, not teach. He soon found a way, enlisting in the Navy during the early days of the Vietnam War. He spent his deployment far from the jungle battlefields, bobbing in the waters off of Saigon, watching the stunning kaleidoscopic sunsets and meditating on the fate of his people. I n , the occupation was more than a year old, and the federal government began plotting to end it. The population on the island plummeted as water became increasingly difficult to access. Meanwhile, factions and power struggles began emerging within the occupiers; some wanted to hire an attorney to represent their claims. Others, including Trudell, believed self-representation was the only honest way forward. When government agents raided Alcatraz on June 11, there were only 15 people remaining on the island. It is unknown whether Trudell was among them, but one thing was clear: Though the occupation was officially finished, Trudell was just getting started. His next fight would be with the FBI. They had no idea that the even greater danger lay in a deeper kind of power: They married in and often traveled and gave speeches together. Meanwhile, Trudell galvanized AIM through protests, most notably the campaign to reclaim Wounded Knee village from tribal chairman Richard Wilson, who was notorious for suppressing political opponents and failing to act in the best interests of the reservation. But this time, he used it not to communicate to outsiders, but rather to organize disparate tribes. It worked. Calvary in , which now had symbolic power. The FBI and federal marshals soon moved in. Clashes were deadly. In , he was arrested for assault after entering a reservation trading post to obtain food for senior residents. And on February 11, , as part of a protest against the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he burned the U. Edgar Hoover Building. She awoke to the smell of smoke and a pounding on the door. In very simple terms fetish or erotic hypnosis is a hypnosis session, conducted by a trained hypnotist, who introduces or focuses on BDSM, fetish or erotic elements to create an enhanced and more immersive experience. Such a session will allow you to explore the process of being hypnotised in a safe, consensual environment. Using techniques I have learnt as part of my research, it is entirely possible for subjects to enjoy the full benefit of hypnosis during these shorter sessions. I usually allow at least two hours for a full hypnosis and play session. Hypnosis is the core activity I will explore with you, however, it is also possible to incorporate additional fetishes to enhance the experience. For example, sensation play can create an added richness and intensity for the subject while they are in a trance state. Such a session will last around one hour. Please note, any hypnosis booking must be made in advance and I require an obligatory upfront deposit to secure it. In order to tailor your hypno session to your fetishes you will be asked to provide me with a description of the areas of BDSM you wish to explore and the type of hypnosis session you would like to try. You will sit in a comfortable chair more experienced player can be put in full bondage or mummified and listen to my mesmerising, hypnotic voice. With the aid of either a pendant or an induction spiral you will be put into trance the depth of the state of trance differs from individual to individual. Once you reach a state of trance you will be fed hypnotic suggestions and trigger words will be planted into your subconsciousness, while you experience a hypnosis scenario based on your particular fetishes. I do need to mention at this stage, that not everyone enters a trance during their first hypnotic session. User Comments 5 Post a comment Comment: In order to post a comment you have to be logged in. Titanium at Solstice at Man that looks good. 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Clearly, you and your hypnotic subjects have a lot of fun with this" -- John. Your videos are great. They are not fake. I can see that people are real. Reactions are real.

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And you know exactly what to highlight to emphasize the session. I always wish that you could live closer so that I could participate in one of your hypno sessions as a guest.

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I don't think I've ever been so excited as when I Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years your clips" -- Damon. Really liked the baby transformation -- getting him to wear diapers, suck on a pacifier, trying to eat baby food. MMmmmm Good Stuff! I bought one dvd and bunch of clips Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years up the great work.

A few weeks ago I had the greatest session with a local hypnotist. I had corresponded with him by email after he had noticed my posting in a yahoo newsgroup about making a guy talk and act like a little baby while hypnotized. I discovered that he ran a great website http: Since he was local I set up a session with him in person. In our conversations beforehand, he asked me several questions and told me to bring "baby stuff" with me.

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So I loaded my backpack with disposable and cloth diapers, plastic pants, a baby bottle, a bib, a pacifier and a few other baby things I thought he might want to use with me, and I was on my way. As I drove to his place I ran through all kinds of possible scenarios in my mind. Our two hour session could take me to a level of submission I hadn't experienced before.

Posted 10 months ago. I do all things in a safe sane manner I have over 20 years experience in hypnosis and mind control thru role-play and other methodologies. I am into erotic hypnosis and employ various exercises to coach men who want to experience control and wish to serve others in a non threatening way.

I am not cruel but like to control my subjects. I want my subjects to realize it is their Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years to serve in various capacities. Areas of such strong feelings that their hearts and minds and body's are fully into it.

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Wwsex Lk2000 Watch SEX Videos Bisexual Inc. To be considered for this training you HAVE TO BE , in good health and good physical condition, you need to devote yourself and commit to this training so our time is protected. You need to want to have and athletic build or want to transform your body and your mind. You need to be naturally obedient and submissive. For hypnotic sessions I prefer masculine men in good, health. I can create a different aspect of your personality and alter-ego so to speak that will only appear on command thru agreed upon triggers. If you are trained to be a slave, he has to role-play being "normal" at other times, around family, friends and co-workers, etc. I'm blushing still as I write this. We sat and talked for a few minutes As I more fully realized my situation was soon more than I could stand. I couldn't believe what was happening. We talked a little more and it was soon time for me to leave. When I stood to put my clothes back on I somehow knew that the potty pants had to stay on. What I didn't realize was they wouldn't come off until I got home. So I pulled my jeans on and collected my things, still with pacifier in my mouth, and went to leave. As I was putting on my coat I vaguely felt like I was supposed to be on my hands and knees but I told him that I guess my conscious mind knew what it wanted to do. Just then he told me my legs were getting weak and he touched me on the forehead and I collapsed to the floor, only able to crawl like a baby. He told me I had to crawl down the stairs and out the door. Only when I reached the outside would I be able to stand again. It was the most incredible feeling ever. I knew I shouldn't but also knew I had to. The risk of being seen that way suddenly didn't matter. When I stood up and finally got in my car I realized I had the long drive home in rush hour traffic with a baby's pacifier in my mouth. I blushed more than I thought possible. It was pretty amazing, especially when I pulled up next to a really hot guy at a red light. He was on his cell phone and he turned to look straight at me, nursing on my widdle pacifier. That embarrassment will fuel fantasies for a long time. I hope you don't mind me sharing this long story, but it was an amazing feeling and I know I'll return for another hypno session with him. He's already told me that babyland awaits. I'm sure you get loads of emails from guys like myself who have just come across your website. I've only relatively recently started to have fantasies about hypnosis and to find that there was a website aimed at men really got my attention! My original fantasies were being in the dominant role - hypnotising someone against their will then having complete control over them. This came out of a desire I had with a friend of mine who's a personal trainer: I fantasised about getting him to pose for me and be under my complete control. You'd see why if you ever met him - because he's one big bloke and the idea of someone like that doing whatever you want is pretty intense. I suppose I always felt it was a bit wrong of me to want to do that to him - but since there's no way I'd be able to persuade him to let me hypnotise him I thought it was a pretty harmless fantasy. Finding your website however opened up another side of me and I really wish I lived closer because I think a session with you would be the most fantastic thing ever. I've always had a very submissive side, but at the same time find it difficult to express as I find it difficult psychologically to hand control over to someone else. My fantasies have always involved much bigger guys who were able to dominate me with their physical strength. But from your website I got the idea of being controlled by someone through hypnosis and believe me it's been on my mind ever since! The idea scares me a bit, but also intrigues me and the idea of being totally open with someone and exploring my fantasies really excites me. To have someone totally in control who I could share all my fantasies with would be a total release. Like most of the guys who write to you I'd guess I have certain fetishes and ideas that turn me on. But many of these aren't practical or possibly even safe in reality. Whereas the idea of experiencing them through a hypnosis induced fantasy is amazing. That I could in one session try everything I've ever dreamed about but with no risk to myself just won't go away. Reading through your website though has really triggered something in me and although I don't share all the fantasies portrayed in your videos - there are certainly some that click with me. Being forced to smell a well worn sneaker or sock really does it for me. I also like the idea of being with someone else who's also under hypnosis and acting out a wrestling fantasy with them. They are the high school wrestling champion and looking to humiliate me on the mat. They keep pinning me down and forcing me to smell their sweaty armpits, wrestling boots and socks, keep forcing their crutch into my face and, sitting on my face and kneeling above me flexing their arms. Hypnotism could allow me to explore my fantasies in a safe and controlled way. Legend says Melville was in mid-throw of a Molotov cocktail when he was gunned down. As much as that would make for a great dramatic ending to this made-for-TV story, evidence brought up in a civil suit during the s revealed this to be a mistruth, as no such item was found near his body. For an almost year stretch starting in , a group that initially called themselves the Sam Melville Unit carried out a series of bank robberies and bombings across the Eastern Seaboard and the Midwest. Last year, former New York City Police commissioner Bernard Kerik summoned the name of the Melville-inspired group when arguing that the left-wing protest group Antifa should be considered a domestic terrorist group. Arching back in his chair to lend further significance to his statement, he puffs on his cigar and continues. While other girls my age were sneaking off with boys and getting drunk, I was becoming a zealot—and trying to convert my parents. O n a summer Thursday evening, shortly after my 16th birthday, my face was pressed into the maroon carpet again. Mildew filled my nostrils and I coughed. I was mesmerized by the way God moved through her. The Secret Place of the Lord was the place we could dwell if we lived holy lives. In the Secret Place, God would whisper divine revelations to us and show us miracles. I dug my face harder into the floor — lying prostrate was how we humbled ourselves before the Lord. I sang, improvising a new melody to the Lord. I felt something release as I sang, something like the warmth of God. I kept singing and the tears started flowing, as they always did when I prayed long enough. They dripped off my face and darkened the carpet underneath. I was a homeschooled girl with only a smattering of friends. My best friend, Siena, lived just down the road from me, on the pine-speckled canyon seven dusty miles from town. I adored her, but Siena was a public-school jock by then and had way cooler friends than me. I was lonely, and this Pentecostal church had the only youth group in town. Not long after joining, I was all in. I prayed in my room for hours every day. I spoke in tongues and believed I was slaying demons as I prayed in my spiritual language. I threw out all of my secular music. I went on mission trips to spread the Gospel. I cut out my non-Christian friends. I signed a contract promising that I would protect my virginity for my wedding night. My parents were nominal Christians, but not churchgoers. I deserved parents who would guide me into the Things of the Lord. They told me that sin could be passed down for generations and that people born into a spiritual legacy — generations of people who were believers — had a leg up on people like me from heathen families. This came at just the right moment, developmentally speaking: I was leaving behind the childhood fantasy that my parents were perfect and coming to the realization that they were actually just winging this whole parenting thing, and that they sucked at it sometimes. This is a very normal realization for a child, but at the time, it felt irrevocable and huge. Jessa offered to be my spiritual mentor, and I excitedly agreed. I spent many hours in their living room, talking about my hopes and dreams. Jessa stroked her frizzy hair and told me all about the incredible destiny God had for me if I surrendered everything to Him. I clung to every word she said. I wanted to be just like her. You are demonic. We ate a meal of corn on the cob, cherries and grilled chicken, on a wooden picnic table a few yards from the water. I pushed the food on my plate around, sulking. I was thinking of ways I could convert them to my faith. Next to us, the river rushed constantly, filling the spaces between words. As the sun set, we played cards by lantern light. I wanted to mention this, but I thought that it would only stir up trouble. My heart hurt thinking about what my Jacob and Jessa were up to that night. I imagined them praying together, or worshipping around a bonfire, or dissecting passages of the Bible around the dinner table. I longed to be with them. I tried to comfort myself with reassurances that God was both all-powerful and all good and that human suffering was all part of His Plan. But for the first time since I joined the church, those answers came up short. Just 10 days after the fire, I left my hometown to go to a nearby Christian university. I spent that first semester in a fog, trying to make sense of my life. I remember lying on the top bunk in my new dorm room a few weeks into my college career, wondering if my faith made sense anymore, while my roommate used our dorm phone to talk to one of the boys who wanted to date her. I held still and listened. I watched Snow White on the inch TV screen that somebody had donated to me, under a fort of blankets and pillows on the floor. I allowed myself to be whisked away to a time before. A time before the altar calls, before the revivals, before the fire, before the fog. I hid for days in the fantasy of enchanted forests and fairy dust and singing fish, while my peers went to prayer meetings. I stopped trying to read the Bible. None of it made sense anymore. I called Jessa, hoping for a lifeline. I confided in her that God felt so far away. She asked me if I had been praying and reading the Bible enough. I told her that I often tried, but that it all felt so forced. She wore a scowl on her face, and my stomach filled with dread. The whites of his eyes swelled, and dark blotches of sweat stained his shirt. They told me I had the Spirit of Rebellion. They told me my heart was evil. I tried to push back, but they yelled and told me that God would abandon me if I continued to live in sin. I wish I could say I stood up for myself that night, that I ran out of the room and never came back, but the truth is I stayed. I stayed for what felt like hours, crying and letting them pray for my sins. I finally drove home in a blur, my body spent. I knew in that moment I had lost my faith. I moved on with my life without much talk about those fiery Jesus years, as if pretending they never happened made it so. It was years before I began to talk about my experiences in the church and process them for what they were: The more distance I had from the church, the more I could see how brainwashed I had been by fundamentalism. During my teenage years, I lived exactly how Jessa told me to — down to how I dressed and what music I listened to and what friends I was allowed to spend time with and how I spoke and how I approached the world. I believed that by following Jessa and Jacob, I was following God. They had the final word on salvation, eternal life and objective truth. They leveraged my normal human fear of death, and my desire for connection, as power over me. While it hurt at the time, I now look back at their cruelty with gratitude because it was the catalyst for me to claim my freedom. I ran into an old friend from youth group while visiting my parents for Christmas, and she asked me if I attended church. No, I said, quietly, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as we stood in the produce section of my childhood grocery store. I saw sadness in her eyes. I remembered what it was like to be in that world. For years, I believed that people who walked away from their faith would suffer eternally for it. I used to judge the backsliders, and now I was one. The words of my pastors that night so many years ago had been seared into my mind: You have the Spirit of Rebellion. Most of them come from those spiritual legacy families that I used to long for. Often, they are the first to break away from generations of religiously devout people. Some of them have been disowned by their parents, while some are constantly pressured by their family members to come back to the fold, complete with warnings of impending judgment. Compared to their journeys, I had it easy. My rebellion was church. M ichael Bates was caught off guard by a newspaper item he read in late July He and his parents, a retired couple residing in the seaside county of Essex in southeastern England, were being connected to the murder of Italian fashion icon Gianni Versace. Michael, then 44, is a stocky man with close-cropped hair and a tough demeanor. He runs a business harvesting cockles, an edible mollusk found in the North Sea near where he grew up. He squinted at the paper and continued to read. The newspaper laid out the puzzling circumstances of the case. On July 15, , Versace was leaving his opulent Miami Beach mansion when he was gunned down on his front steps by year-old Andrew Cunanan. Allegedly distraught that a rich benefactor had cut him off, Cunanan embarked on a kill rampage across four states, murdering four people before coming back to Miami and shooting Versace for seemingly no reason. When police finally tracked him down eight days later, Cunanan led them on a chase, broke into a houseboat, and shot himself. Reineck was a socialite who loved showing off his Sealand passport and was said to have diplomatic plates from Sealand on his car. Located in international waters and technically outside of the control of Britain, or any other nation, the country straddles a line between eccentric experiment and legal entity of uncertain definition. Formerly called Roughs Tower, Sealand was one of a series of naval forts built seven miles off the coast of southeastern England during the Second World War to shoot down Nazi warplanes. The British government left the forts to the elements following the end of the war, and in the mids a group of enterprising DJs moved in and set up illegal radio stations. The BBC had a monopoly on the airwaves at the time and pirate radio was the only way to get pop music to the masses. One day while taking the train to work, Roy had a moment in which he realized he was done with the 9-to-5 routine; instead, he wanted to enter the pirate radio fray. Roy decided to set up his station, Radio Essex, on Knock John, one of the naval forts. The forts were a hot commodity, and violent struggles for control of them sometimes broke out between competing stations. A decorated soldier who had once had a grenade explode in his face, Roy stepped up to the occasion and resolutely defended his fort. If ever there was a true buccaneer, it was Roy. His long-term intention was to turn the fort into some kind of lucrative enterprise, such as an international casino or independent television station. He declared Roughs Tower the Principality of Sealand on September 2, , and installed himself as prince and his wife Joan as princess. In , Michael and Roy Bates appeared in British court after firing across the bow of a Royal Navy vessel that got too close to the fort. The family elected to stay at the fort after the British government green-lit commercial radio and brought pirate radio to an end, and the Principality of Sealand quickly became the foremost micronation in the world, influencing people on every continent who now claim their bedroom, neighborhood or disputed territory as a country of their own. As they built up the reputation of the concrete-and-metal statelet, the family issued coins, stamps and other trappings of statehood, including passports. The Sealanders had issued around of them over the years, but only to trusted compatriots, and certainly not, Michael Bates was sure, to anyone who would commit cold-blooded murder. His head was spinning when he finished the article. O n April 4, , a trim, handsome year-old man named Francisco Trujillo Ruiz made a few adjustments to the odds and ends in his office at Paseo de la Castellana, a street in a fashionable part of Madrid, before sitting down to speak with a newspaper reporter. Trujillo Ruiz jumped up in surprise, and the officers promptly made their way around desks and chairs to where he was standing, boxing him in. He was under arrest, they announced, for allegedly selling more than 2 million gallons of diluted gasoline. Trujillo Ruiz was momentarily nonplussed, but as the police closed in, he pulled out a diplomatic passport and claimed immunity. The police had no right to be there, he said, as they were actually on territory belonging to another country — his office was the Sealandic consulate in Spain. The passport was superficially quite legit, with a rubber coating and foil-stamped seals, and it gave the officers some pause when considering how to handle the arrest. Far from being a diplomat, Trujillo Ruiz was one of the prime movers and shakers in a gang of scam artists operating throughout the world. At least 20 fake diplomatic passports, hundreds more blank passports, and 2, official documents were seized in the raids, as were two vehicles with Sealand diplomatic license plates that had been escorted through Madrid by Spanish police on more than one occasion. While the Versace incident in had alarmed them, the Bates family had been oblivious to the extent of the problem with Sealand passports. Michael scratched his chin. Sealand did have a website, but it was in its infancy. The site was how he had left it. He then searched around and turned up a Sealand site with a much more manageable domain name: Lo and behold, it was a website purporting to be the official mouthpiece of Sealand, and one could indeed buy a number of Sealandic documents. Spanish investigators unraveled the web and found that the scams associated with the fake Sealand paperwork involved more than 80 people from all over world. The scams were impressively wide-ranging: We knew nothing at all about it or the people involved. They intended to sell the arms to Sudan, which was under embargo by many governments of the world for being a terrorist state. Hypnosis can help you to genuinely inhabit your submissive character or alter ego. What is a fetish hypnosis session with me like? What will not happen to you during hypnosis: Awakening The state just before awakening. You will experience a state of trance. But what is trance? You will not feel hypnotised. Just closing your eyes and breathing regularly may be sufficient to reach this state. You will be aware of noise, but it will not disturb you. Person can open eyes and walk around. Amnesia and disassociation of the body can be experienced. Examples of my hypnosis session scenarios Hypnosis can be used to enhance a wide variety of session scenarios and role-plays. 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I never disappoint my fans, I strive to be the best time you have ever had. User Comments 5 Post a comment Comment: In order to post a comment you have to be logged in. Titanium at Holly brisley beach in bikini video. It was the most enjoyable experience I have had in a long time. It's as if I was half asleep and half awake, as if I'm in 2 different worlds at the same time.

We had a session on line about a month ago which I enjoyed very much. I feel the need to be under your control again. After his in-person session: If people only knew how great this feels, they would be banging down your door. After Sunday's session, I am a believer.

You are helping me to expand my mind and horizons like no one else has ever done before, and i cannot tell you Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years thrilled I am about it. You opened up a whole new world of pleasures that I never thought possible.

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Thanks for opening my mind to what I can experience with your help. I remember not being able to move, yet just barely being balanced, almost every muscle helplessly foced into a hard contraction just to keep me in place. You could have tipped me over with a light breeze!

Superhero pornstars Watch Sex Movies Musclematt videos. The reason I want to view you on cam is so I can attest to what level of trance you are in. I can use these methods to form triggers of various things examples: You will truly feel this We will decide together what you want to accomplish be it transforming you into and animal or anything of our choosing. To be considered for this training you HAVE TO BE , in good health and good physical condition, you need to devote yourself and commit to this training so our time is protected. You need to want to have and athletic build or want to transform your body and your mind. You need to be naturally obedient and submissive. And those stinkers were funnny!!!!!! I'm so happy. I feel so good and youthful. I am at your command and am strangely, at peace. It isn't easy to submit and admit that to another person, Sir. But I get so much pleasure from obeying you. I need to obey you. It just happened and I went without control, feeling your plan was being executed. Thank you. I usually have a good mind. It was amazing i really love it" -- Alfredo, after he watched the video from his session. Thanking you for the speedy delivery. I thought I would just look at it for a few minutes but I was fascinated with it I could not stop. Kind Regards" -- Graham. I liked the first best. I realy want to be hypnotised by you. I'm glad I found your site on the net. It is really great. You were right I especially like seeing the guys going out when someone points and says sleep. Just wonderful. The whole tape is really great and I thank you for doing it. It looks like you guys realy had a great time. Wish I could have been there. Keep them comming and let me know if you need any more ideas or anything. I am really enjoying it. I just finished watching it! You guys did such a great job! I love watching guys fall into a deep hypnotic trance and watching guys fall asleep on command I look forward to ordering and enjoying more titles. I enjoyed it. I ended up putting my favorite part on repeat to make a loop was the part when he tried to stay awake when you told him to sleep Personally my favorite parts are the induction and putting him under. As you know of my fetish my favorite is him fighting the sleep and giving in to it. HE seemed like a great subject and it's a fun tape. I am looking forward to next work. DVD received. I loved how you turned his arm to steel. The whole 2nd part was outstanding. I will be honest.. Your voice is as hypnotic as your eyes. I don't think there was a moment I didn't like. The variety of suggestions, inductions and just plain fun. Too much fun. Hopefully there will be a sequel or extended version or outtakes. While watching the video, he said "i dont know how come, i feel im there and relaxing and submitting. More Photos Latest Photos Porn ruined her life. She liking balls porn. Asian girl in micro bikini. Porn big boob picture. Naked girl holding bass. Hermosillo banos gay. Top hentai manga rank. Domain nudist org. Xxx japan sexy garls com. Free daddy cock old mandick pics. Indian village women nude photos. The Germans retreated back home after the failed coup and established the Sealandic government-in-exile, a dark mirror version of the Principality that persists to the present day. T he government-in-exile disavowed any role in the late s Spanish passport scam. They were arrested when they tried to cross into Italy. The money had in fact come from a gambling enterprise in Poland, but it was an aboveboard operation. Did we recognize these passports or not? For a time in , after Slovenia was briefly caught up in the Bosnian war, many countries refused to recognize our nation. Achenbach was 79 when he filed the lawsuit in , and he succumbed to old age in the middle of the litigation at age The strange legal and financial quagmire was a fitting final chapter in the life of someone who had spent his whole life involved in dubious ways to get money. Today, however, the Principality does offer a legitimate way to become a citizen of Sealand. The Bates family sells royal titles, an official business whose proceeds go only to funding the honest initiatives of the true Sealandic government. Costs vary: Prince Roy and Princess Joan passed into the next realm in and , respectively, but the country is going strong more than five decades after it was founded. Michael takes only intermittent trips out to the fort these days, but Sealand is always occupied by at least one armed caretaker, lest any of the events of its bellicose history repeat themselves. The government-in-exile is still going strong as well, led by Prime Minister Johannes W. Seiger since a constitutional amendment transferred power from Achenbach in Seiger asked this writer if I could put him in touch with Donald Trump to help him with his quest, canceling further contact when I was unable to do so. Fifty years ago, John Trudell overcame tragedy to become the national voice for Native Americans—and a model for a new generation of activists. H e sat at the same table each evening, sometimes with lighting and sometimes without, a cigarette often in hand, a guest always by his side. In the background, the sound of waves rolling against the rocks and the stuttering of a backup generator were constants. Then, with a crackly yet true radio connection, streaming through the wires from an unthinkable place — Alcatraz Island — he began speaking in a calm, determined voice. The nation was listening. In the Pacifica Radio Archives, located in a modest brick building in North Hollywood, you can hear what hundreds of thousands of Americans heard on those evenings. File through the cassettes and you will find more than a dozen tapes labeled with a single word: Each is followed by a date, anywhere from December to August But these were not simply programs about Alcatraz, that island in the notoriously frigid San Francisco Bay that was home to a federal prison until it closed in Rather, they were broadcast from the former prison building itself, from a small cell without heat and only a lone generator for power rumbling in the background. By the winter of , Trudell could be found in that austere cell, speaking over the rush of waves in a composed Midwestern accent. Why would the FBI compose its longest dossier about a broadcaster speaking from a rocky island a mile offshore? What was Trudell saying that frightened them so much? Trudell was advocating for Native American self-determination, explaining its moral and political importance to all Americans. On air, he often revealed the innumerable ways the government was violating Native American rights: He imagined a future in which equality — between different American cultures, and between all people and the earth itself — would become a reality. And for the first time, non—Native American communities were listening. More than , people tuned in to Pacifica stations in California, Texas and New York to hear his weekly broadcast. At just 23 years old, with long brown hair and hanging earrings, Trudell had one thing the FBI could not stop: The organization pointed to the Treaty of Fort Laramie, which provided that all surplus federal land be returned to native tribes. It had been unoccupied since President Kennedy closed the federal prison in By inhabiting the 12 acres of Alcatraz, IOAT hoped to set a precedent for the reclamation of hundreds of thousands of unclaimed acres across the United States. But there was an obstacle: That all changed on the night of November Under the cover of darkness and a dense blanket of fog, 79 activists from more than 20 tribes sailed from Sausalito across the frigid bay and settled on the island. The Indians have landed! A gathering was held that night at 2 a. Governing teams were also established. Onshore allies knew the landing had succeeded when they saw a bright yellow Morse code message blinking through the mist: J ohn Trudell was not on those initial voyages. At the time, he had just returned from deployment in Vietnam, enrolled in San Bernardino Valley College, and moved in with his girlfriend, Fenicia Lou Ordonez. When he learned of the landing on Alcatraz, he suggested they join in. Expecting to join for only a few weeks, they packed sleeping bags, headed six hours north, and hitched a ride across the emerald bay on one of the IOAT-operated vessels, many of which were typically used for fishing and shipping. What was once a treacherous journey with fierce Coast Guard resistance was now readily accessible, but not because the government had become any more benevolent. Fearing a public backlash, federal authorities called off the Coast Guard from intervening in these voyages. Soon after docking on the island, Trudell attended the daily island meeting of IOAT leaders and tribal heads. He pointed out that if they truly wanted to make a case for the Native American right to reclaim unused land, they urgently needed to reshape the narrative. On his drive to the Bay Area, Trudell had seen national papers like The New York Times and San Francisco Chronicle running stories portraying the occupation as a Native American theft — rather than a reclamation of what was stolen from them. He asked himself: December 26, For the next 30 minutes, Trudell led conversations with Native American activists, spiritualists and students — many of whom were living on the island, visiting as volunteers, or ferrying supplies. It was called Radio Free Alcatraz , and Trudell typically began episodes by describing challenges on the island. There were many: Alcatraz had shaky electricity, a dearth of clean water, and it was frequently hit by strong offshore storms. And Saturday, we were stranded on the island because of bad weather. Despite these immediate challenges, Trudell — often clad in a wide-collared button-down underneath an emblazoned leather jacket — spoke both with the equanimity of a captain reporting to headquarters and the kindness of a good friend. In an interview with KPFA host Al Silbowitz in December , Trudell sketched a portrait of life on the island and outlined the purpose of the occupation. This struggle was not unique to this moment. It was experienced daily by native tribes everywhere. We have a chance to unite the American Indian people as they never had the opportunity to do. In a conversation with Al Silbowitz, Trudell explains how the difficult conditions on Alcatraz all too closely resemble life on so many Native American reservations. The heart of the program was his intimate voice — masterful at revealing the aspirational humanity that defined the movement, while outlining the enduring goal of activists to construct a university and Native American cultural center. Trudell was not just a broadcaster: He was one of the unsung American forefathers of what we now call socially impactful publicity, or strategic communications. He already knew that for activists to succeed, it was not enough to campaign. They had to shape national consciousness. Trudell opened with a question: Would you explain — what tribe are you with, and where is it at? Jonny raised concerns about the unjust allocation of federal funds to her reservation and revealed the low wages factory workers were receiving at a firearm production plant there. Then the BIA, or Bureau of Indian Affairs, stepped in and determined many of them incompetent to handle their affairs, so they put this money in trust with white people, who got fantastically wealthy. He relayed stories that showed it, and he had faith that Americans everywhere, having heard these stories, would do the right thing. Oakes, in immense grief, left the island. Marshals might raid the island at any time. But Trudell did not falter. His was a voice of constancy, offering a lighthouse for a movement troubled at sea. Tragedy was not new to Trudell. It was a foundational part of his family history. A few years later, the couple had a daughter, who, after moving to Nebraska, fell in love with a Santee Sioux native, Clifford Trudell. The couple married and had John, born in a hospital close to the reservation in Omaha, on February 15, John grew up on and around the Santee reservation in North Dakota. Life felt wholesome; the reservation offered respite from the civil commotion and disarray that characterized U. She hugged me; she kissed me. And then it was time to go. In the early s, John enrolled in school off the reservation, where he confronted a Western culture indifferent to his spiritual understandings and offering few answers to his enduring questions. But these concepts never resonated with him. How could he trust a religion that was upheld by a culture that was threatening the lives of his tribe and Native American people everywhere? He longed to escape a school that seemed to stifle, not teach. He soon found a way, enlisting in the Navy during the early days of the Vietnam War. He spent his deployment far from the jungle battlefields, bobbing in the waters off of Saigon, watching the stunning kaleidoscopic sunsets and meditating on the fate of his people. I n , the occupation was more than a year old, and the federal government began plotting to end it. The population on the island plummeted as water became increasingly difficult to access. Meanwhile, factions and power struggles began emerging within the occupiers; some wanted to hire an attorney to represent their claims. Others, including Trudell, believed self-representation was the only honest way forward. When government agents raided Alcatraz on June 11, there were only 15 people remaining on the island. It is unknown whether Trudell was among them, but one thing was clear: Though the occupation was officially finished, Trudell was just getting started. His next fight would be with the FBI. They had no idea that the even greater danger lay in a deeper kind of power: They married in and often traveled and gave speeches together. Meanwhile, Trudell galvanized AIM through protests, most notably the campaign to reclaim Wounded Knee village from tribal chairman Richard Wilson, who was notorious for suppressing political opponents and failing to act in the best interests of the reservation. But this time, he used it not to communicate to outsiders, but rather to organize disparate tribes. It worked. Calvary in , which now had symbolic power. The FBI and federal marshals soon moved in. Clashes were deadly. In , he was arrested for assault after entering a reservation trading post to obtain food for senior residents. And on February 11, , as part of a protest against the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he burned the U. Edgar Hoover Building. She awoke to the smell of smoke and a pounding on the door. Fire filled the house. It was too late to run. Tina, who was pregnant with a boy they intended to name Josiah Hawk, perished, as did all three of their young children — Ricardo Starr, Sunshine Karma and Eli Changing Sun. From the time that his mother died in to his first days on Alcatraz, Trudell had turned to language — orations, poetry, rhetoric — as an existential stabilizer, a spiritual compass. But this time was different. He had no words, and he was left only with angry suspicions — suspicions that the FBI had caused the fire, suspicions that they were now on the hunt for him. And if I can get through it, then maybe I would learn how to live again. He disappeared from the national scene and drove, crisscrossing America, alone in despair. T he voice of a chanting woman rings out. Another joins, deeper, complementing the first. A third now, creating a chorus whose song creates an image of the Great Plains of the American West, the mountains of South Dakota at first orange light. Their voices carry pain but build toward hope. Produced by Jackson Browne and entitled Tribal Voice , it was the product of years of grieving, mourning, and, eventually, finding the words for his pain, for his hope. He wrote much of it while on the road in the early s, a cigarette between his fingers, a cup of coffee by his side, and a journal on his lap, during a period when he made very few public appearances. The lyrics on Tribal Voice reflect that nomadic lifestyle — dynamic, alive, quaking with power — and they at once inspire us to move our bodies, while also attuning us to the earth, to our connection with the earth. Few heard the album at the time of its release, but those who did — including Bob Dylan — praised it for its brilliance, and for its urgency about raising American political consciousness. But the years of tragedy in the s, including the death of his wife and children, remained deeply with him, and he would never return to the central activist role he once held — perhaps one of the reasons that, of all of the activists of the late 20th century, he is one of the least known to us today. Connected to life and all living. If there was anything that was eternally human, Trudell believed it was our infinite web of connections. Despite the wars, violence and oppression he witnessed in America, it was his narrative. He stuck to it. On December 8, , Trudell posted a final message on his Facebook page. Celebrate Love. You will not feel hypnotised. Just closing your eyes and breathing regularly may be sufficient to reach this state. You will be aware of noise, but it will not disturb you. Person can open eyes and walk around. Amnesia and disassociation of the body can be experienced. Examples of my hypnosis session scenarios Hypnosis can be used to enhance a wide variety of session scenarios and role-plays. I have found the following to be particularly pleasurable and effective: Mental reprogramming — I will reprogram your mind, conditioning your responses to more suitably reflect your role as an utterly weak and submissive male. Pain taking scenario — I will enhance your tolerance for pain so that you are able to endure whatever suffering I chose to inflict upon you. Access is made available only to those who accept the terms of the following agreement: I certify all of the following: I understand that the material on this site is of an adult nature and is sexually explicit. I am at least 21 years of age and have the legal right to possess and view adult material in my community..

Damn, again getting excited just reminiscing about it! Seemed like I wasn't out long but you said it was about 90 minutes. Somewhere inside I know I'm a slave. At at the same time I'm more alive and more in control but also have no control.

You have awaken something in me. Thank you Master" -- Jim. I didn't how it was happening, but I was so happy. Once I got into the water and the bubbles started bubbling, I played and played and laughed. And then I floated and I was really getting little, Sir! More info could feel a change in how my arms and legs and muscles were not doing what I told them to do and I floated and got more and more tiny and my toes curled up and that was funny and my eyes were peeking through the bubbles and they were popping in my ear.

More and more. And the more pop i heard, the more i was emptying all from within and my mind went blank and happy and i just gurgled and cooed and after a while, the bubbles went Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years, and I climbed out and was big again.

I didn't even have a plan on how I was gonna do a baby bath and then it just, it just was. And I was not in control of it happening nor have any concept of how it occurred, within me and outside Nice woman butt me. And those stinkers were Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years I'm so happy. I feel so good and youthful. I am at your command and am strangely, at peace. It isn't easy to submit and admit that to another person, Sir.

But I get so much pleasure from obeying you. I need to obey you. It just happened and I went without control, feeling your plan was being executed. Thank you. I usually have a good mind. It was amazing i really love it" -- Alfredo, after he watched the video from his session.

Thanking you for the speedy delivery. Link thought I would just look at it for a few minutes but I was fascinated with it I could not stop. Kind Regards" -- Graham. I liked the first best. I realy want to be hypnotised by you. I'm glad I found your Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years on the net.

It is really great. You Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years right I especially like seeing the guys going out when someone points and says sleep. Just wonderful. The whole tape is really great and I thank you for doing it. It looks like you guys realy had a great time. Wish I could have been there. Keep them comming and let me know if you need any Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years ideas or anything. I am really enjoying it. I just finished watching it!

You guys did such a great job! I love watching guys fall into a deep hypnotic trance and watching guys fall asleep on command I look forward to ordering and enjoying more titles. I enjoyed it. I ended up putting my favorite part on repeat to make a loop was the part when he tried to stay awake when you told him to sleep Personally my favorite parts are the induction and putting him under.

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As you know of my fetish my favorite is him fighting the https://monstertits.caca.press/page5947-gyjan.php and giving in to it. HE seemed like a great subject and it's a fun tape. I am looking forward to next work. DVD received. I loved how you turned his arm to steel. The whole 2nd part was outstanding.

I will be honest. Your voice is as hypnotic as your eyes. I don't think there was a moment I didn't like. The variety of suggestions, inductions and just plain fun. Too much fun. Hopefully there will be a sequel or extended version or outtakes. While watching the video, he said "i dont know how come, i feel im there and Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years and submitting. I couldn't believe the quality and the routines. Some really neat ideas. Well worth it.

And nice production values on the DVDs themselves. Very nice looking and professional" -- David. I will be treating myself to more. It came today and I like it! I am pleased You're videos are Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years special. I'll happily be getting some more amazing Continue reading.

Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years

This is just what I have been searching for. I am thrilled. Clearly, you and your hypnotic subjects have a lot of fun with this" -- John. Your videos are great. They are not fake. I can see that people are real.

Reactions are real. And you know exactly what to highlight to emphasize the session. I always wish that you could live closer so Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years I could participate in one of your hypno sessions as a guest.

I am a subject, and thought they were excellant and well worth the Been erotic hypnosis ive subject transformation years. Thanks a lot. It's always a pleasure to see more and more of them being set up! The download is very simple and the quality is good. I hope to be able to see it more fluent when I get my new computer. Nevertheless, keep it up! Till then, greetings, Ralf". Spank the kasbar.

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