The Big Beautiful Risk

He called me while wandering the aisles of a grocery store. The hum of shopping carts, distant conversations, and store announcements should have made it difficult to connect, but somehow his voice still managed to draw me in. Despite the distractions, I found myself settling into the familiar pull of our conversation

He asked me what I wanted to experience, and I struggled to answer. I’ve already admitted to him that I long to surrender control—to simply allow myself to be guided.

I used to be deeply involved in the BDSM lifestyle. I craved being a submissive. It was something I had always desired, and without that dynamic, I found very little interest in sexual relationships. Over the years, though, that longing seemed to disappear. I stopped exploring kink altogether, and I stopped having sex. I still take care of my own needs occasionally, but that’s where it ends.

I didn’t realize until I started talking with Blaine again that those desires had never truly disappeared. They had simply been waiting beneath the surface. The truth is, I don’t think I have willingly wanted to submit to anyone else. I didn’t lose interest because the desire faded—I lost interest because, for me, it was only ever worth exploring with him. He is the only person I trust enough to let inside my mind, to hand over that kind of control, and to know I will be safe in doing so.

He asked if he could create alternate personalities. My immediate reaction was apprehension, but beneath that hesitation was something else entirely. I realized I wanted him to do whatever he imagined, trusting that as we go down this path he will always take care of me. There is something incredibly intoxicating about knowing he can step into my mind and create a world just for us—a place where I feel completely safe, understood, and free to let go.

Eventually, he made it back to his car, and we switched to video. We talked normally for a while before something shifted. His voice softened, and within moments I felt myself beginning to drop. It’s difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced hypnosis, but there is something both exhilarating and deeply comforting about allowing another person’s voice to affect you so profoundly. It feels intense, vulnerable, peaceful, and exciting all at once.

We slipped into a trance, and he guided the session in a more sensual direction, hoping to help me reach orgasm. I hadn’t expected it to take that turn, and almost immediately I became trapped inside my own thoughts. I was deeply relaxed, undeniably aroused, and acutely aware of my body’s response—my breathing becoming shallow, my pulse quickening—but I couldn’t fully surrender. I couldn’t cross that final threshold.

Honestly, that isn’t unusual for me. Reaching orgasm with another person has always been difficult. More often than not, I rely on my Magic Wand, and climax has rarely come easily through connection alone. I don’t see that as a failure. I trust that, with time, comfort, and practice, my mind and body will learn to respond differently. Maybe one day an orgasm trigger will work exactly the way he imagines. My body simply wasn’t ready to surrender in that way yet, and that’s okay.He knows we will get there and I trust he will get me there.

Just before we ended the call, he asked if he could see my breasts.

The request caught me completely off guard. Up until now, most of his compliments have been about me being cute or adorable. He hasn’t been especially flirtatious over text, and somewhere along the way I convinced myself that he probably didn’t see me as sexy. A deeper part of me worries that what truly draws him to me is my hypnosis kink—that without it, he might not find me all that interesting or attractive at all.

I’ve never been fully comfortable with my body, and as I’ve grown older and gained weight, those insecurities have only become more pronounced. Being desired in such an intimate way is both flattering and intimidating. Part of me is deeply touched that he wants to see me that way, while another part recoils, convinced that I may not be his type. It will likely be something I forever battle and I am not sure he will ever be able to reassure me enough to ease my insecurity.

I am so incredibly overjoyed to have him back in my life. Just hearing his voice feels like coming home to a place I didn’t realize I had been searching for all these years. But that joy is intertwined with a quiet fear that lingers beneath the surface—the fear that I’ll say the wrong thing, disappoint him, or over time he will lose interest in me.

I can feel myself falling deeper than I ever intended. Every conversation draws me in a little more, every trance leaves another piece of my heart in his hands. I know I have to follow this journey wherever it leads because walking away would mean wondering what if for the rest of my life. Yet the thought of losing him again terrifies me. I’ve survived that heartbreak once before, but I don’t know if I could survive it a second time. The thought of my world shattering all over again is enough to make me hesitate, even as every part of me longs to keep moving forward.

The truth is, I don’t want to lose him again. I don’t plan to. The only thing standing in my way is my own insecurity. I have to quiet the voice that tells me I’m not enough and trust that what I’m feeling isn’t one-sided. I have to believe that when he looks at me, he sees someone worth holding onto.

I’m trying to trust that his presence is real—that I don’t have to constantly earn his affection or prove I’m worthy of his attention. Old insecurities are stubborn companions, but hope is proving to be stronger. For now, I’m learning to hold both at once: the intoxicating happiness of reconnecting with the one person who has always been able to reach places inside me no one else ever could, and the breathtaking vulnerability of believing that this time… he will never let me go.