Slyspeaker

I so rarely initiate contact online. I’m much more likely to lurk quietly than send the first message. But something about SlySpeaker’s profile made me pause.

I’d found him through the RSVP page for a hypnokink munch I was thinking about attending. His profile mentioned being an experienced hypnotist who enjoys rope and the energy it brings through touch. Outside of kink, running his own business, enjoy woodworking and the outdoors,

I messaged him,

Hi! I saw you're interested in going to the hypnokink event on Tuesday. I'm trying to convince myself to go too, but events make me a little nervous when I don't know anyone. I couldn't help but notice you're into hypnosis and rope/bondage—those are my two biggest kinks—so I figured I'd take a chance and say hello. I also saw on your profile that you own your own business and do woodworking. I have a soft spot for someone who's handy... especially when they're good with wood. 😉

I was starting to think he wouldn’t and I was considering not attending the event at all. He messaged me back a week later.

Let me hopefully be the first to welcome and encourage you to go on out to this even if you don't know anyone. I've been to plenty of these over the years (and hosted a bunch as well) and they are always welcoming no matter your skill level. And I'm right there with ya on hypnosis. It's my biggest kink by a long stretch and I do love some good rope play though I'm a little out of practice with it. Thankfully I've got a very versatile bag of cuffs and restraints that can do in a pinch. I'll definitely be there though so you'll have at least one person you kinda/sorta/mostly know. :) And I do like being handy though sadly the last year has been a busy one and I haven't gotten to be very handy or creative though I do have some ideas for a dungeon crawler carl piece that I'm tinkering with! What about you? Are you handy with wood or something equally fun?

I messaged him back before heading to the Hypnokink munch,

I overdressed.

Of course I did.

I slipped into a lavender ruffle dress covered in oversized cheetah heads, paired it with black tights and my Mary Jane shoes, then spent entirely too long doing my hair and makeup. Part of me wanted to look nice for myself. The other part hoped that I’d stand out and grab a hypnotists attention.

At least, that’s what I told myself while I sat in my van for nearly thirty minutes, nursing a drink and trying to convince my nervous system that walking through the front door wasn’t actually as life-threatening as it felt.

At 6:50, I finally gave in.

I’d been to Denver Sanctuary years before, but almost nothing felt familiar. The only thing I truly remembered was the purple door.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to open that purple door. To step into the unknown while feeling that something on the other side is calling you forward, asking you to push past fear and apprehension.

Inside was a cozy lounge with oversized couches. Following the sound of voices, I wandered into the next room where four people immediately looked up at me. Another room of couches. More secret doors branching off in different directions.

“Hi… I’m new,” I blurted out.

They smiled and welcomed me in.

I immediately escaped to the restroom, where I stared at myself in the mirror and seriously questioned every decision that had led me there.

When I came back, I picked a couch that looked perfectly ordinary until I sat down.

It swallowed me whole.

There was no graceful way to perch on it, so I surrendered and melted into the cushions. I tried making conversation, mentioning I’d been a member almost ten years earlier and that everything seemed different now. Everyone agreed the Sanctuary had changed a lot, and before long the conversation drifted elsewhere as more people filtered into the room.

Then he walked in.

Tall, I didn’t even know I found tall to be an attractive trait till he walked in the room.

Lavender button-up shirt.

Bald head.

Goatee that accented his jawline

He sat at the opposite end of the couch before glancing over.

He introduced himself as SlySpeaker.

Well… fuck.

That was the exact thought that flashed through my head.

I wasn’t expecting him to be so damn attractive. His profile had no visible picture, so I’d thought it safe to assume the worst. Suddenly my stomach was full of butterflies, and I felt defeated before we’d even spoken. There was no way someone like him would be interested in me.

On top of his good looks, he carried himself with an effortless confidence that was equal parts appealing and intimidating.

Trying to hide my nerves, I joked that I appreciated him wearing a lavender shirt to match my dress.

He looked down at his shirt, scoffed dramatically, and managed to ruin my smooth moment in the most charming way possible.

As we talked, I became painfully aware that half the room could hear us. Every sentence felt like I was tripping over my own words. I was so nervous I could barely form a complete thought, perhaps foresight of what was to come!

The munch itself was relaxed. K5 led the discussion, apologizing that some of the regular presenters couldn’t make it. While they seemed a little shy, SlySpeaker had no trouble jumping in whenever something needed explaining. Watching him speak, it was obvious he was comfortable in front of people.

Eventually a smaller group wandered into another room to demonstrate trance for one of the attendees, Tom, who openly admitted he was skeptical and wanted to experience hypnosis for himself.

SlySpeaker declined putting anyone in trance saying he was running on only a few hours of sleep. Whether that was the real reason or not, I couldn’t help quietly wondering.

I stayed behind, still half-consumed by the couch, listening as the remaining group somehow wandered into a discussion about AI.

Eventually I excused myself to use the restroom. Walking past SlySpeaker, I became acutely aware of him watching me.

Maybe I imagined it.

Maybe I didn’t.

Either way, I secretly hoped he liked what he saw.

I quietly slipped into the other room. The lights had been dimmed, and someone was explaining fractionation. I found an empty spot on the couch while Tom sat cross-legged on the floor nearby.

A moment later as if following me SlySpeaker walked in and leaned casually against a sideboard.

Again, that confidence made part of me want to look away.

The other part wanted to drink him in.

He had the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention, yet somehow gathered it anyway.

The group began another trance exercise, and I followed along almost effortlessly. Trance hasn’t always come easily to me, but with practice it has become more natural.

Throughout the evening I’d been absentmindedly twisting my worry-stone ring, grounding myself whenever anxiety crept in. Somewhere during the induction my hands simply fell still. My shoulders softened. My thoughts quieted.

With my eyes closed, I found myself wondering if he was watching me. Studying me as I drifted deeper.

I could almost feel his gaze fixated onto me.

Whether it was real or imagined, I’ll never know.

I never dared peek.

The munch continued, and they did everything they could to make me feel included—much to my chagrin. I’d hoped to be an observer. Talking in front of, well… anyone has never been my strong suit. I stumbled over my thoughts and rushed my answers, eager for the spotlight to move somewhere else.

As everyone began gathering their things, I walked over to Sly to say goodbye.

“It was really nice meeting you,” I said. “We’ll have to coordinate our colors for next time.”

He looked at me with a straight face.

“Nah. Too much effort.”

I laughed awkwardly, said goodbye, and headed toward the parking lot.

Then I heard him call after me.

“Are you coming back Saturday?”

I turned around and admitted I wasn’t planning on it and asked what was happening Saturday, answering my own question by asking if it was a play party. He confirmed and I confessed those really weren’t my thing.

He asked why.

I mumbled something about being nervous,

Then, with a grin, he asked,

“Don’t you want me to tie you up?”

I bumped my shoulder against his arm.

“Yeah… maybe I do.”

The entire conversation was fueled by mutual awkwardness and nervous smiles.

I told him to message me.

He said he would.

I smiled all the way back to my van and the entire drive home.

Then I waited.

Several days passed before I finally got the notification.

His message was ordinary, gave no hint of any interest in me.

But I took the bait, he had me on his hook no matter his intentions.

We met again Saturday night, we settled into the main lounge first.

He asked about me, Again I tripped over my words and struggled to form a cohesive thought.

I learned more about him.He did not seem to mind taking the lead and doing most of the talking while I giggled out of excitement and pure nerves .

At one point he explained how hypnosis could leave behind suggestions or triggers that might surface days or even weeks after a session. He described his process: bringing someone deeply into trance, discussing exactly what would happen, getting enthusiastic consent for everything, then removing the memory of that planning conversation so the experience could unfold naturally later.

The idea fascinated me.

He grabbed his toy bag, and we went to a couch in the conjoining room. We sat and he ruffled through his bag pulling out cuffs, clamps, floggers and paddles. The room crowded and busy with chatter but I could still feel my heart beat in my chest.

It wasn’t anything I haven’t done or fantasized about but it felt like an old me from a lifetime ago. I was just dipping my toe back into it and knew I wanted to take it slow, find out what I want and so far I knew that I wanted hypno and bondage.

Eventually he led me toward a quieter room near the entrance.

Storage lockers lined one wall, and tucked into the corner were two oversized beanbags. One was covered with a floral sheet, something you would find in a grandmothers linen closet.

He settled onto the larger beanbag and gently pulled me down beside him. We lay shoulder to shoulder, his left arm cradling me while his fingers traced slow, comforting patterns along my arm.

People wandered in and out of the room, opening lockers, changing clothes, chatting quietly.

None of it seemed to bother him.

He simply began speaking. '

Within moments I felt myself sinking.

My eyes closed.

My head naturally rolled toward him.

His voice settled close to my ear, warm and husky, and somewhere in the middle of the induction he quietly called me a good girl.

Trance has always felt like coming home.

Each time I experience it, surrender comes a little easier.

The conversations around us faded into the background—not disappearing completely, but becoming distant enough that they no longer mattered. His voice became my anchor, while his gentle touch carried me deeper than hypnosis alone ever had.

I hadn’t realized how powerful the combination of trance and simple, reassuring touch could be until that moment.

Every so often he’d bring me all the way back. We’d laugh, exchange a few words, and I’d tell him how much fun I was having.

Then he’d simply say,

“Sleep.”

And I’d fall again almost instantly.

Each return came easier than the last.

There were moments when he’d tell me to freeze, and I discovered I genuinely enjoyed that feeling. It brushed against something I’d only begun exploring—the quiet appeal of doll play, of willingly becoming still and allowing someone else to guide the experience.

Like most trance experiences, the details blur together. It’s difficult to separate one moment from the next because they all melt into the same feeling of peaceful surrender.

I have never been much of a cuddly person. Physical touch has never been something I naturally sought out, but the older I’ve become—and the longer I’ve gone without it—the more I’ve realized how deeply I crave it.

There was something profoundly comforting about being wrapped in his arms. His fingertips would absentmindedly trace patterns across my skin while my own hands wandered over his chest and along the strength of his arms, simply enjoying the quiet closeness between us. Every so often, he would gently pull me on top of him, our fingers intertwining as if they had found exactly where they belonged.

It wasn’t just the touch I craved; it was the connection. The unspoken reassurance of being close to someone, of feeling safe, seen, and wanted. Every embrace seemed to quiet my mind, yet somehow left me longing for just a little more, reluctant for the moment to end.

When we finally wrapped up, I told him I wanted to see the dungeon. I know I had seen it at some point but couldn’t remember it.

He stood, took my hand, and led the way.

Out of everything that happened that evening, this may be one of my favorite memories.

He’s so tall, and my hand tucked inside his made me feel unexpectedly safe. I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced quite that feeling before. Following just behind him, I realized I would have gone anywhere he led.

There was something profoundly comforting about not needing to navigate, not needing to make decisions, not needing to worry.

Just follow.

Just trust.

It feels almost silly that something as simple as holding my hand could affect me so deeply.

But sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that stay with you the longest.

They’re the feelings I’ve spent a lifetime quietly hoping to find and even if lasts for just a moment I want to embrace the feeling.