NEEHU5. My second year. A lot has changed... but my excitement remains. As the date approaches, it transforms once again from “that thing on the calendar that you had to pull teeth at work to get time off for” to a real, genuine, happening-oh-my-god thing. The internets are abuzz and it's easy to get intimidated and caught up in the undertow, simultaneously. So many familiar faces and usernames, all to be in one place. My pulse races when I check the group postings.
I miss all of you.
And all of this.
Since last year, I've done very little hypnosis as compared to all the Other Stuff I've been up to. I haven't had the time, and quite frankly, Other Stuff has been quenching certain thirsts for the time being.
My play partnership with DaSade was going strong through NEEHU4 but blossomed into a capital-R Relationship (and spread to include his wife, cckitten) in November. We have been exploring and bonding for the past few months, and to my pleasant surprise, the two of them would be attending NEEHU5 (perhaps not entirely without my influence, if unintended).
DaSade is not into hypnosis. The play we do together is heavily psychological, which is part of why we work so well together, but hypnosis is not something he was interested in. His reasons for going to the conference were to learn, to be able to converse with me and others, and to see where that took him.
Cckitten was new to everything as well, but she and I had already talked about me hypnotizing her. I had spent the past couple months teasing her about just when that was going to happen, setting up her expectations and playing with her anticipation. And of course a healthy amount of conditioning.
The week prior, I set up a trigger with her as a mutual gift for DaSade's birthday, which just so happened to be the Thursday of NEEHU5.
But that was the extent of our experience with hypnosis as a triad. I was really looking forward to introducing them to my community. I take pride in my trancey people. I wanted to show this group of people off to my chosen family, and conversely, show off my relationship to my community.
A mixing of worlds, flavored by the thrill of new and old friends, and the one topic in this world for which my passion runs the deepest.
DaSade and cc, meet hypnosis. Hypnosis, meet my couple.
Let's do this.
I arrive at DaSade's on Wednesday night, and the three of us have a quiet night in; the calm before the storm. It's needed -- we reconnect and prepare ourselves for what's to come. Volunteer things start mid afternoon on Thursday, and they insist on coming with me, even though it's not their job.
Thursday morning rolls around and I can't contain myself. The group online is going back and forth with who's going to arrive when, and who's already at the hotel, and when does stuff start?
I see that MarcCabot, who I haven't seen since WEEHU, is asking if anyone wants to get lunch in the area. DaSade and cc are amenable to going out with him, so we resolve to pick him up at the hotel and grab a bite.
The hug in the hotel lobby is wonderful. I've missed him and it's as though NEEHU-sleepingirl is beginning to shine through. No surprise that the four of us end up getting along like old friends. We all agree that it's a beautiful way to ease into the con.
We're waiting for the infamous pre-NEEHU Costco run, so we head to Marc's suite and wait for the attendees to trickle in. On the way, I meet Pynchon, who has flattered me a little too much but whom I'm very excited to finally shake hands with. He joins us in the suite and we share stories and tales of NEEHUs, kink, and of course, Doctor Who.
But somehow, Marc starts emptying his bag of toys and doing a bit of show and tell. Sonic screwdrivers, flashy light-up things, hypnogoggles...
“I like to take these out just to see her reaction,” he says, smiling. I pout disingenuously, remembering last year, and look away.
I believe the idea of a demonstration is brought up. I watch Marc preen just a bit and I grin back at him, because I get to fluff out my plumage as well. DaSade hasn't seen a lot of this, at least, not lately, and not this close-up.
Sitting on the ottoman, him very purposefully standing taller than I, I can feel the energy shift.
The compliments he gives me to begin with on what a responsive subject I can be are purposeful as well; I blush and thank him, trying to keep control over the situation, and he spins it into talking about how with someone like me, he doesn't really even need an induction, even though it is so nice to watch me go into trance...
You freaking... tease...
It still slows down though, and when the suggestion is given to me to have sticky hands, my head nods. Or maybe it doesn't. My brain nods.
I snap fully back(ish) and while my trance chops are a bit rusty, sticky extremities are still the easiest for me, and it doesn't get old to try to pull my left one off of my leg.
“Watch this,” Marc says to DaSade and cc. “Sleepingirl, you might have better luck if you try to pull it off with your other hand."
Perhaps that's the suggestion? But as soon as my right hand grips the wrist, it sticks there as well, and I give him an exasperated, but very amused look.
“How did I not see that coming?”
We laugh, and the last thing he does is stick my hands together, palm to palm, as if in some sort of really fucked up trancey prayer.
The energy in the room shifts again, and I can very suddenly feel DaSade's precense behind me. Him and Marc chat a bit, and I have the very distinct sense of being handed over to my Owner. I look back and smile at him, a bit sheepish, but nonetheless proud.
And then he says something beautiful:
“I would like a glass of water.”
The challenge is implicit.
The part of me that serves is so eager for it, and it's only a moment's hesitation (and a “is this one for me?” glance at cc; “yes!” is what she says), before I jump out of my seat and walk to the kitchen.
“Pride” is too soft a word. I have purpose.
My brain runs through the mechanics of opening the cabinet, getting the glass, turning on the faucet.
I snake my fingers through the handle and swing the door open. I nudge a glass closer to the edge of the shelf. My arms squeeze around it, the fulcrum of my wrists holding the cup, and slowly bringing it to the counter.
Then down to the sink, needing to drop it just an inch, pushing it under the faucet. Turning it on is easy, and I am in the home stretch when it fills enough for me to shut off the tap.
I can feel the room watching. My head is held high as I carefully pick up the glass in my forearms once more, and walk it over to DaSade.
He takes it, thanks me, and I can't stop grinning.
This is us, the moment screams.
“In my experience,” DaSade remarks, taking a sip, “hobbled subs will become very creative when there is an instruction to follow.”
I beam. Marc smiles as well. I hug DaSade as best I can with just my torso, and cc with my legs.
And eventually, I am released.
As DaSade often reminds me, released, but never free.