"I'm going to go get our badges and the program of events," Ashes said to the group she was travelling with. "You guys go find out when the next demonstration is."
Ashes, a 25-year-old redhead, was part of a group who traveled through three states in a rented van to attend Bewitched!, a hypnosis fetish convention held in the DuPont Hotel ballroom. A hypno-fetishist as far back as she could remember, the magic of the internet showed her she wasn't alone. After years of scouring message boards, talking in chat rooms and joining any number of hypno-kink servers, Ashes had found a small group of like-minded folks from all over the country whom she truly considered her friends.
A blue-eyed stunner with a body that earned a second glance from every man, and many of the women she passed on a normal stroll down the street, it was her fiery red hair, and personality that inadvertently made her to focus of any room she entered. A mixture of childlike glee and wonderment, mixed with hard-earned independence, and an unmistakable sensuality made the very air around Ashes pulse with overcharged energy just waiting to burst.
"Welcome to Bewtiched," a youngish man with black hair, a pale complexion, and a black collared short sleeve shirt asked Ashes as she got to the check in desk. He, as well as the rest of the event staff, had red and white spirals emblazoned on their uniform shirts. "Did you pre-register?"
"We did," Ashes said, retrieving her ID from her purse and giving it to the check-in clerk. "I'm part of a group of five. We registered under 'The Forsaken Ones.'" As he took her license, the clerk almost, but not entirely, hid an eye-roll at the clever name of the group.
"Yes, here you are," he said, crossing their name off his list and presenting Ashes with a handful of lanyards. "You will need these to come in and out of the convention floor, as well as to attend any demonstrations, shows, or classes. Please take the time to go over all the rules of the convention before engaging in any sort of hypnosis with anyone."
Ashes nodded as she took the badges. Just then, two large, heavily muscled security personnel were dragging a man from the floor to the hotel lobby.
"I didn't break any rules," he was shouting. The giant men in the black shirts with 'Security' in white block letters across their backs continued on as if they couldn't hear him. "This was exactly what she wanted. She said she wanted to be surprised, and all I did was give her what she wanted. I paid a lot of money to be here!"
Ashes watched the scene with wide eyes as he was ejected from the event.
"The most important rule, of course, is you must get clear consent before trancing or hypnotizing anyone," the clerk said before looking past Ashes to the next person in line.
"I suggest you take that rule very seriously," a voice came from behind Ashes. The voice was calm, low, and what could only be described as dark and mellow. It left a pleasant feeling in one's ears as he spoke. Ashes' ears were already tingling. "They obviously tolerate no deviation from their consent clause."
She turned to find a man in his late forties, possibly early fifties with dark hair, a salt and pepper beard that spoke of his age and experience, wide shoulders, a slight smile and kind, welcoming eyes.
"Oh, um," Ashes stammered, her thoughts suddenly a bit jumbled. "I don't have to um, worry about that. I'm not a tist, I'm more of a sub."
"Well, then, be sure to grant, or more importantly, withhold such consent very clearly," he said, his eyes smiling wider than his mouth. He offered his hand, big and strong; more suited to an iron worker or a lumberjack than a hypnotist, Ashes thought, as she watched her small, pale fingers disappear into his grip. "Liam Fitzgerald. A pleasure to meet you, Miss?"
"Ashes," she said, barely over a whisper. What's wrong with me, she thought. "My name is Ashes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fitzgerald."
"Please," he said, placing his other hand atop hers, making small, soft circles with his palm. "It's Liam. To some, it's the Amazing Fitzgerald, to others, it's simply Master. To you, lovely Ashes, it's Liam."
"Liam," she repeated, looking into his eyes. Were they blue? Clear blue? The color of summer, she thought; the color of the wind. Perhaps the calming color of...of..."Sleep."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Liam asked, still holding her hands. Her arms had gone somewhat limp, but she either hadn't noticed, or more likely, didn't care. "I didn't catch that."
Shaking her head as clear as she could, she smiled, giggled nervously and withdrew her hand slowly.
"I said, I haven't had much sleep," she lied. "My friends and I drove across three states to be here."
"Oh, where are your friends now?"
She looked around the room, scanning every gathering, every crowd and line before spotting them.
"They're over there," she said and pointed. "I got their badges while they got in line for the NLP demonstration."
"Oh, that's a fantastic and informative lecture," he said. "A friend of mine put it together. But, I'm afraid it's one of the more popular rooms at the con. Your friends are going to be in line for at least 45 minutes."
"Oh, dear," she said. "Maybe we should wait."
"Oh, no," Liam quickly dismissed the thought. "The wait won't get better all through the convention. If they are in line, it's probably best they stay there. In the meantime, would you allow me to buy you a cup of coffee? Perhaps help perk you up after your multi-state journey?"
"YES!" he mind screamed, the volume in her head making her blink before she spoke.
