He Who Was First

He goes by whatever the fuck he wants, which already tells you everything. But if you’re reading this, you probably recognize the shape of him. HPD. I’ll call him J, because even now he feels like a letter you’re not supposed to open all the way. I was twenty-one when he found me on Niteflirt. I remember the first message vividly, not because it was flashy, but because it was strange. He asked me to join his group, and I didn’t understand why. I was small then. New. Still thinking of myself as a guest in other people’s desires. But tucked inside that invitation was something far more intoxicating than reassurance. Let me hypnotize you. That was the spell. What followed was the first hypnosis session that ever truly took hold of me. Not clumsy. Not rushed. Not pretending. He guided me downward with a confidence that felt ancient, like he had done this a thousand times and never once questioned the outcome. He relaxed me in a way I did not yet have language for. Not just my body, but the constant static in my head. For the first time, I felt quiet from the inside out. I don’t remember exactly what J did. Memory gets soft around him, like fog around a lighthouse. I know there was a list. I know things were placed carefully, deliberately. That’s enough. There were two more sessions after that. One involved recording my voice, responding on cue, something meant for a wider audience. The other was quieter, stranger. Off-list work, commissioned by a private client of his. A wealthy man from Texas whose presence I never felt directly, only through the shape of J’s request. I remember how it made me feel. Not owned. Not claimed. Assigned. Even though J was not my Dom, I adored those sessions because they came from him. Because he chose me to carry them. Because he trusted me with something private and controlled and just a little dangerous. I didn’t yet understand why that thrilled me so deeply. That should have been my first clue. I should have recognized how easily I slipped into usefulness. How naturally I softened into something to be directed. But I was naïve then. A girl from the Midwest with too much imagination and not enough self-knowledge. I didn’t yet know how much I enjoyed being shaped. I also didn’t realize I was falling for him. Why would he notice me like that? I was ordinary. Nervous. Earnest. He was distant, composed, untouchable. A voice that knew exactly how to linger. This story, strangely enough, has a gentle turn. J is building something new now. A new list. One that you, dear reader, will be able to use. You’ll be able to call me on Niteflirt. You’ll be able to purchase words of your own, if that’s what you want. And if it isn’t, that’s fine too. Having you read this feels like part of the ritual already. What matters is this. When J and I fell out of contact, I learned hypnosis myself. Not out of ambition, but out of longing. I wanted to keep him close. I wanted to understand the language he had spoken so fluently to my nervous system. In learning it, I found something that fit me perfectly. He didn’t just hypnotize me. He made me into someone who could do the same. For that, I am endlessly grateful.

I'm happy to be back being "free use" again.