Corrupting the Innocent?

Author's Note

A young witch meets a very, very old soul at LitCon.

This story was originally published for theVirtual Literotica Convention 2026 Story Event. See the Afterword at the end for more details.

Tags: 18-year-old, exhibitionist, female masturbation, LIT CON 2026, magic, male dominant, MFF, mind control, satyr, witch

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. I'm less concerned with realism than with telling a good story. Scenarios depicted here are intended to be fun fantasy, but may be illegal, immoral, and/or dangerous if actually attempted in real life. All characters in sexual situations are over 18.

Corrupting the Innocent?

Harley Harrison was going on a trip to an exclusive convention in Paris, and she hated it.

She would have loved it if she could have brought friends, but she couldn't. She appreciated having actual alcohol without being sneaky about it. She had turned 18 last October and her parents, Sarah and Tom, still treated her like a child most of the time. And she didn't even mind the destination. The main event was the Hôtel Élégante Convention on Sexual Reality and Fantasies, what they were calling LitCon, and she had looked forward to something wild.

Had looked forward to it, that is, until Miranda made it clear that Sarah and Tom would be there too. That was why Harley hated it. What could be worse than going to a sex fantasy convention with mom and dad?

The tickets, hotel, and convention passes were gifts with strings openly attached. Miranda didn't like the word "witch," she could go on and on about stereotypes or archetypes or phenotypes or something like that, but Harley and Sarah had been learning a lot from her in recent months that felt a lot like witchcraft.

This was the next lesson, and it wasn't optional. Tom was invited at Sarah's discretion. Harley didn't get any discretion. She'd go to Paris and the convention with her parents, and stay in the same room -- okay, suite -- as them every night, or else.

Harley skipped the meet-and-greet Friday night. She really was jet-lagged. Her father said he wanted to go, but he lay down for a quick rest around 7 PM and was out for hours. Her mother glared at both of them but didn't force Harley to accompany her downstairs.

Saturday morning, Harley couldn't get out of it any longer. They had a light breakfast at the hotel's balcony café. Birds were singing, the din of traffic from the Paris morning wafted up to the balcony muffled only somewhat by trees, the sun shone on dew-covered roofs of centuries-old buildings across the avenue, people walked between tables dressed for everything from Disneyland Paris to a dungeon, and Harley tried to ignore it all.

Sarah sipped the last of her coffee and flipped back and forth through the brochure, eyeing the many options for events and workshops. Tom tried to listen to her but kept getting distracted by convention-goers. Harley texted her friend Ashley back home.

How's Paris?

Fine

Fine

How are your parents?

Fine

Fine

How's Jared?

Fuck off

Fuck off

LOL sorry! But did you really not talk to him all week? You're running out of time!

ARRGGHH shut up I know

ARRGGHH shut up I know

Send him a picture of you at the convention! He'd love it!

Blocking you now

Blocking you now

She didn't block Ashley. She did, however, lock her phone and resolutely ignore the vibration that followed.

"Oh! Harley! We can go to the 'How to Please a Man (Sexually)' workshop together! You think you might learn something there to use with Jared?" Sarah asked.

"Oh my god, mom! We aren't even dating!" Harley groaned and buried her face further in her phone, even though the screen was black.

"Hey, yeah, go ahead," Tom chimed in. "Do you think I'd get anything out of the 'How to Please a Woman' workshop?"

"Maybe," Sarah answered off-handedly. "Oh, maybe you should go to the 'Communication and Consent' workshop."

"Really? Why?"

"Never mind."

"You know, I think I should go to the Sacré-Cœur," Harley said hopefully. "It's not far, and Mz. Bell at school said I should get some pictures there." Mz. Bell was her school art teacher.

"Sorry, Harley, we made a deal and we're keeping it," Sarah declared. "If you want to just sit and watch, that's up to you, but Miranda was very clear, we're both to attend and try to learn."

"This is so stupid," Harley muttered. "I don't know what she was thinking."

"Maybe she was thinking it would be good for you to get out of your shell a bit," Sarah offered.

"Don't you have some kind of love potion to test out?" Tom asked.

"What? No." Harley rolled her eyes. He put up his hands to ward off her withering scorn.

After breakfast, they took the elevator down to the main hall. Sarah and Tom meandered left out of the elevator, distracted by the brochure and crowd, so Harley stalked to the right.

Unfortunately, Sarah noticed. "Harley! Where are you going?" she called over the din. She might have insisted that Harley follow them, but half a dozen people pushed between them to the elevator, and Harley walked a little faster.

Harley called back something from the first sign she saw. "To the themed exploration floor, don't worry about me, I have Miranda's necklace!" Miranda had loaned her a silver pendant with a woven pattern that she said would repel almost all harmful magic. "I'll call if there's a problem! Bye!"

The sign led downstairs. The fact that the sign hinted at depraved sexual exploration wasn't nearly so important as the fact that it led out of sight of her parents.

Once she reached the exploration floor, she had to pause to orient herself. The space would normally be bright, welcoming, and inoffensive to tourists and business travelers from many cultures, but it had been taken over by a more risqué crowd. People in jeans and t-shirts like her were the distinct minority.

Some were naked. Some were wearing lace, leather, or latex that left them technically decent but only accentuated their assets, or covered their faces and displayed everything else. Some wouldn't have looked out of place solo at a PTA meeting back home or taking pictures of the Arc De Triomphe a few blocks away but were in groups that would: trios walking hand-in-hand, a normally-dressed woman accompanied by a naked man or vice versa, a six-foot-tall black man accompanied by a five-foot-tall white woman.

She felt her sheer normalness stood out. A woman asked her, "You okay, honey?"

Her blonde hair, even longer than Harley's, was in a ponytail, and her cheerful smile was as sincere and welcoming as anything she had seen so far at the hotel. Harley might have opened up to her if they were dressed similarly, but the other woman was wearing a lacy red bra showing off intimidatingly impressive boobs, matching panties that arched over her thighs in a V, a thick leather collar, and nothing else. Harley plastered on a smile and just said, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

She turned to a nearby sign to reassure the woman and herself that she had a plan. She tried to tell herself that the appraising glances were harmless and the friendly smiles were sincere, but she still felt like there were too many of them, so she concentrated and made herselfless.

It was one of the first tricks she had learned from Miranda. She assured Harley that someday she could use it to enhance anything she wanted about herself, but so far Harley had only managed to use it to make herself more like herself: ignorable. People would only notice her if they were concentrating on finding her personally, or knew something about magic themselves. Between that and Miranda's pendant, she feared almost nothing but bad drivers, and in the convention space hallway she wasn't too worried about them either.

Her notice-me-not charm didn't really help her self-image much, compared to how her mom was using Miranda's tricks on dad and other people, but she still found it useful to sneak glances at other peoples' tests in class, get home after curfew without dad noticing, and get into parties she hadn't been invited to. Maybe someday she'd also figure out how to use it to have fun at those parties.

Comfortingly hidden, she studied the sign and considered her options."The Cuckolding Chamber"? I get enough of that at home. "The Sensory Deprivation Suite"? Why would anyone go there? That just seems boring. "Hypnotic Room"? I guess I'll check it out. It's not real witchcraft, but maybe I'll have something to show off to Miranda when I get home. Well, probably not, but maybe Mom.

She followed the sign down the hall to the left and found what she was looking for: peace and quiet. The large room was broken up in half a dozen smaller sections by padded movable walls and comfortable cushions and chairs, muffling sound and providing something like privacy to small groups.

People could nap here. It looks like some might be. I guess normal-looking people get through the exploration floor quickly, come here, and then stay for a while.

One section had a large screen on it displaying a twisty spiral pattern with half a dozen people entranced by it. Something about the spiral changed every few seconds -- the speed, the width, the color -- but its audience didn't seem to notice. Most other sections had presenters with small audiences, ranging from two people to twenty.

A few people around the room were browsing, exploring the various sections. Sally drifted towards a section with a particularly large audience where the presenter on a slightly elevated stage seemed to just be getting started.

The man was middle-aged and dressed in a normal-looking suit with a necktie. He had short dark hair and a goatee. He had a podium to one side but was focused more on the device to the other side. It was a wind chime, of all things, dangly iridescent metal with a twisty pattern, hanging from a well-lit display that slowly and steadily turned it like in a store.

"Some of you might have something like this at home," the man in the suit said in an even tone. "That doesn't matter. That helps, really. It's okay if it's familiar and okay if it's not."

"There's nothing odd about it, it's just a concentration aid. It's just something pretty for you to stare at, just there for you to keep your eyes on while my voice and your mind does the real work."He's right, it's pretty. Miranda says that this kind of thing can be more useful than magic sometimes. What does she call it? Brainology?

"Relaxing is work sometimes. That's normal."

"We all have busy lives, right? Maybe you're young or maybe you're old, maybe you're married or maybe you're single, maybe you've traveled a long way or just took the metro here from home. It doesn't matter. You can relax here."

"You can do whatever you need to get comfortable here. Find a good posture, blink, don't blink, close your eyes, adjust any clothes that might be uncomfortable, whatever. Just relax."

"Relaxing feels good, too. That's normal."

"You're safe here. You wanted to be here. That's normal too."

"Maybe you've been in rooms like this before many times and maybe this is your first time. That's fine."

"If you've been in rooms like this before, maybe you're already in a trance. Maybe you're already feeling very warm and relaxed and safe. That's fine."

"Maybe you're very relaxed. Maybe you'd be just a little more relaxed if you took your shirt off."

"And maybe you're not in a trance, and that's okay. Just keep on listening, and watching the pretty flashing lights, relaxing, and getting comfortable."

"Maybe if you're very relaxed, you'll stand up and step forward."

"If you do, you don't have to do anything else right now. Just step up here, on the other side of the wind chime, keep watching it and listening to me, and keep relaxing."

Harley bumped into a chair. She blinked. She hadn't realized she had stepped forward until then. The man in the chair hadn't stood up, but hadn't seemed to notice the bump, either.

Harley blinked again, shook herself, and looked around. She was tingling all over. Two men and a woman had stood up and were shuffling toward the man with the windchime. The woman and one of the men were topless, as were several people still seated. Harley checked to make sure her shirt was still on.Hah. Of course it is. Sure, that was relaxing, but I couldn't get sucked into a trance just like that even if I was trying. Which I wasn't.

No one else had noticed her either. The charm was still working, even if she had... got kind of close to a trance. The man by the wind chime was saying, "That's great. You're relaxed, whether you're sitting or standing, whether your eyes are open or closed, and just paying attention to me and the chime. This is very comfortable and peaceful, and maybe it's very arousing too..."

Harley had had enough of that for now. She stepped away from that section, closer to the middle of the room, and sat in a free chair near a divider between two sections. Most other sections had similar shows going on. Some were more advanced; Harley blushed as she watched a woman finger herself on her knees and fellate thin air, apparently convinced she was pleasuring her husband.

Most other people in the room were just as entranced in their own sections, but there were a few exceptions. Two newcomers had just arrived and were surveying the presenters. One hypnotist was leaving with a woman and a man following him.

There was also one man sitting in a chair between sections like Harley, not really paying attention to any of the presenters. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see that his eyes were a vibrant, shining blue. His hair was short and blonde. He was dressed more formally than most, with a black sport coat on the arm of his chair and a flattering blue polo shirt and neatly pleated gray slacks hanging off his slouched frame.

He seemed monumentally bored, relaxed but not focused in a trance-like state, just bored with the idea of hypnosis if not the whole convention. He also seemed familiar for some reason. He was clearly a grown man but she couldn't guess how old, maybe only five years older than her, maybe 30.

She had been so comfortable with her notice-me-not charm, she didn't even realize he was staring at her until he smiled. She looked around. Yes, his eyes were definitely on her. No one else's were, just the blue-eyed man.

That stopped bothering her just as quickly as she had noticed him.So what if he's looking at me? Plenty of people around here are naked. That lady's fingering herself on that stage. They're probably fucking in the next room over. We could fuck right here, if we wanted.

Well, maybe not. I don't know him and it might be loud. But I could finger myself, right?

She couldn't think of a reason why not.

She spread her legs. Experimentally, without breaking his gaze, she ran one finger up and down the front, from her belt down to the seat, along the fly of the jeans. He smiled a little more.

She grinned back and suddenly felt silly about it. Why was she just grinning at this guy, anyway? She didn't know why he looked familiar, why he specifically made her think of a goat's horns, but who cares? She was at a sex fantasy convention, she was an adult, she had already gone all the way with Rick and Carlos even though they were both months in the past, she could do almost anything with almost anyone here, why was she just pantomiming fingering herself?

Why not actually do it?

Harley shrugged, acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and lowered her pants to her ankles. She sprawled in the big comfortable chair and stared at the blue-eyed man and rubbed her mound through her white panties. She breathed hard and pressed the cotton into her folds and soon felt a moist spot on them.

The blue-eyed man stopped smiling and slouching and sat up straight. He was focusing on her now, watching her pleasure himself. She wondered if his cock was stiff in those pants.

Maybe not. Maybe she should do something about that. She grinned at him and slipped her hand inside her panties. She ran one finger up and down her slit a few times, her knuckles making a tent of her panties, teasing him.

Maybe I should stop teasing him.

She pushed down her panties with one hand and ran her fingers up her labia with the other, pulling it tight, pressing around her clit, massaging it, breathing hard, baring her pussy and light thatch of hair to him.

He smiled at her and leaned back again, but not a casual slouch anymore, she definitely had all his attention. His legs were spread and there was definitely a bulge in his slacks now.

He wants to fuck me, he's ready to fuck me, we could go to a room and fuck right now...

She dipped her finger down again, between her labia. Oh yeah, she was wet now, wet and sensitive and ready. She probed between her slick folds, slowly and then faster.

We could fuck right here, it's a sex convention, most other people in the room are in trances right now...

She pressed the ball of her thumb against her mound, applying pressure on and around her clit, and drove one finger and then two into her pussy, curling them, reaching for her G-spot.

She couldn't look away from his intense blue eyes.Maybe we are fucking right now and I don't even know it, we're in the Hypnotic Room, maybe I just think I'm fingering myself and he's actually taking me right now, fucking me already...

She gasped. His lips parted in what she assumed was a sigh but she didn't care, her fingers were slick and soaking and sliding freely into her pussy, deeper, she stopped worrying about putting on a show and rubbed her clit with the hand that had been holding her panties so she could finger herself deeper with the other hand at the same time, he couldn't see her pussy any more but she didn't care because she was cumming now, she whined and moaned and drove two fingers into her pussy as deeply as she could and reached for her G-spot and pressed and trembled and felt an orgasm overtake her as she stared into the blue eyes of that strangely familiar man.

When it finally ended, she sank into the chair, limp and panting, and gave him a faint smile. Nothing else had changed, her notice-me-not charm still seemed to be working on everyone but him, but she felt very, very relaxed.

She didn't know how long she sat like that. Eventually he picked up his coat and stood and walked over to her with a certain stiffness. "You should come with me," he said gruffly.

"Should I really?" she asked.Cocky guy. Sure, he's good-looking, and it's weird that he noticed me, but telling me to follow him before even introducing himself?

"Yes." He turned and strode toward the exit, but after a few steps, turned to look back at her impatiently.

She thought about sitting back down or following him out of the room and going her own way, but he hadn't done her any harm, and after all, she was very relaxed. So she followed him.

While she did, her head cleared a little. Miranda had tried to teach her to pay attention, and more importantly than simply doing it more, to pay attention to different things. It was odd, now that she thought of it, fingering herself to orgasm in the middle of the room even if she was hidden by that charm, and several things about the blue-eyed man seemed familiar.