The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Disclaimers:

  1. The following story contains events sexual in nature. If it is against the law in your location for you to read such things don’t read this story.
  2. The following story is fictional. The characters are fictional. The archaeological group and translators are fictional. Nothing and no one is based on any non-fictional events or people.

Author’s Notes:

“Amaz” is rather fleshed out so if you’re interested only in the induction and/or sex scenes you’ll have to do a lot of scrolling. I can’t decide whether or not to apologise for that. I hope you enjoy it either way. E-mails welcome but I may not have the time to respond:

Spring’s Second First Quarter

ael brought us breakfast and fed Gaen with barely a thought for me. I ate quickly and dressed myself, not bothering to wait for ona, who was kneeling beyond the curtain. His progress was average and his desire to please below average and I did not have the time to wait for his fumbling fingers to tie up my clothes. Today five warriors would arrive to review the two year olds I had for sale. They were ready to go to war on horseback and my horses were the only ones old enough. So far the warriors used steeds they had captured, plus the three or four horses I had managed to raise and train last Spring. This new crop of horses would raise the entire Amaz mounted regiment by a sixth. Our archers had been our main strength against the Goreka, our second strength the male foot soldiers we could throw at them, but the Goreka were advancing inexorably on their horses. We had to hurry to catch up our number of riders, but nature can rarely be hurried.

I passed ona as I stepped into the hallway. I glanced down to see his perplexed look and snapped at him, “Go to the kitchen and see if they need you there. If not, go to your pallet and practice your breathing until I call for you.”

“Yes Master,” He said as he rose, eyes on the floor, and walked to the kitchen. I walked the other way to the public room and stopped a slave who was on his way out the door.

“Has there been any signal yet from the gate?” I asked. He shook his head. I sent him on his way and glanced around at the room. Warriors make me nervous, except for my sisters. They are imperious, strong, and far too loud for my ears. I am surrounded by slaves and concubines in training, men who kept their voices soft and meek, and even my daughters are quiet-voiced, save Ketch, my eldest. She is determined not only to follow the Amaz tradition and be a warrior, but also to be the first warrior to bring home a live Gareka. She is certain I am the only Whetstone that could break and train one to be a proper slave. I have my doubts.

Another slave walked in from the front yard and knelt by the doorway.

“Speak.”

“Master, the signal from the gate is visible. Two warriors are approaching.”

“No sign of the messenger?”

“No, Master.”

“Thank you. Are there slaves waiting to attend to the warriors?”

“Master, there is one aside from myself.”

“Who?”

“ada, Master.”

I flared my nostrils. ada was one that needed constant whetting. I thought of who could be spared.

“Go get ona and ael and my concubine for a fifth. I want each warrior to have a personal attendant while they’re here.”

He nodded and rose, headed toward the men’s quarters.

I paced anxiously in the public room, waiting for ada to announce the warrior’s arrival in the front yard. The slave returned with ona and ael and yla and the four knelt in the public room. Finally I heard ada call and I stepped out into the bright sun.

The warrior to the left was taller and darker than the other but she was not nearly as impressive. The warrior to the right was an archer. Her skin was paler where the ceremonial war paint would normally be smeared and her uniform exposed her chest where her right breast would have been. Her quiver of arrows rose behind her back and her slave was carrying her bow and another quiver of arrows as well as the travelling pack. She was also attended to by a quorat, or archer-in-training, who carried her own quiver and bows.

I inclined my head slightly at both warriors and they nodded back to me.

“I am honored to have you and pleased to see you’ve arrived safely. Please accept my hospitality. Rooms have been prepared and a slave as been provided for each of you. We should step into the house for drink and footbaths.”

They each signaled to their personal slaves who moved to follow mine to the guest quarters and the women and I went into the public room and sat around the large table. I signaled to ael and he went to retrieve the drinks. The women sighed as they sat and the archer’s quorat kneeled behind her and closed her eyes. All three looked tired.

“ona, bring the water bowl and a towel and wash their feet,” I ordered. It would be good practice for him. He bowed and left and I noted that he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he was less intractable than I thought.

The warriors and I bantered lightly as we drank our cold tea and each one expressed pleasure at having ona wash their feet. I could see their battle scars and their graying hair but I knew from my elder sisters that it would be impolite to say anything. Instead I asked if they knew the other three women who were expected. Before they could answer ada called from outside that the signal from the gate said they had arrived, along with my messenger.

I excused myself and went out to the front yard to greet them. When they rounded the walls of the yard I could see that they were carrying my messenger.

“po!” I called and I ran to him. His entire body was bloody and he was nearly unconscious.

“Tell me what happened,” I ordered. One of the women stopped me, saying, “He’s already told us, Whetstone. Let him save his breath and we’ll tell you ourselves.” po moaned and rolled his head toward me.

“The whetstone sharpens the mind,” I said to him and he relaxed. I helped them carry him to the side yard by the kitchen and Kaum, my head cook and nurse, started to look him over. I turned to the warriors and gave the same greeting to them as I had to the others and we headed back to the public room. There was nothing I could do for po except what I had done—turning his mind over to the whetstone so he could let go and forget his pain.

The three warriors did not have their own slaves and I was glad I had thought to provide for that. They, too, sighed when they sat around the table and took deep droughts of their cold tea. I ordered ona to wash their feet as well and settled myself to speak lightly while they relaxed. I wanted to ask about my sisters but decided it was wiser to let the warriors turn the talk to weightier matters in their own time. My five slaves and the two new slaves were kneeling behind the warriors, lined up against the wall, and it was interesting to note how differently the two new men behaved. They fell asleep instantly but with an air of tension around them. Every time we laughed they opened their eyes, looked around the room, then closed them again. My slaves, on the other hand, were listening intently, their eyes drinking in the backs of the warriors.

Finally the warrior who had referred to me as Whetstone said, “Now, about your messenger.” My slaves leaned forward to hear better and I held up a hand.

“Please, let me get my daughters in here so they can hear the news as well. I can’t believe that my messenger had good news to deliver and I want my daughters to hear it firsthand.”

The woman nodded and I sent ona and ada out to find them. While they were gone the archer asked about my daughters.

“You women would love my eldest best, I’m sure,” I replied, “for Ketch was a warrior before she knew the word itself. She will be joining the military not at this full moon but the next. Kali is second-eldest and her future is not certain yet. She is both vicious with a sword and tactful with her words. Paul is certain to take up law. Her memory is incredible and she is a stickler for rules. All the slaves and servants tremble before her.” The warriors laughed at this just as Gaen walked in from the hallway.

“And this is my youngest daughter, Gaen. She is the one who insisted we sent our messenger to my sisters.”

She bowed to them, smiling, and they inclined their heads in response, the leader with a serious look on her face. Gaen looked from her to me uncertainly and I held out an hand to her.

“Come sit by me, darling, and we’ll hear what they have to say.”

My remaining daughters filed in behind her and sat next to me. We looked at the warriors and they looked back at us and the lead warrior cleared her throat.

“We found your messenger limping along one of the forest trails. He told us who he belonged to and begged to let us take the message because he was certain he was going to die. We stanched his wounds and carried him as far as we could manage yesterday. We were close to your village but decided to camp for the night. He had had a chance to recover and desperately wanted to tell us the message. We respect the privacy of the messenger’s owner but it did look like he might not last long enough to tell you. We each agreed we’d memorize a stanza. I have the first one:

“Gaen we speak with love,
And thank which god above
Gave you cause to dream it
And messenger to bring it.
Both aunts are safe.”

My daughters and I sighed in relief and the next warrior spoke,

“Gareka blades were not drawn
But our women were gone
Taken by a storm of stones
Warriors limping on crushed bones.
Gareka has a new weapon.”

I tried to imagine how an army could cause a storm of stones and thought they must have a magic we don’t understand.

“With horses we flanked them
With arrows we felled them.
They fell away and ran
As fast as Gareka feet can.
Your message warned us and we listened.”

The room was silent for a moment and Gaen climbed into my lap to be held, burying her face in my neck. Over her head I looked at the warriors.

“That is very good news indeed. But, if this is so, how did our messenger get so badly hurt?” I asked.

“There was a band of free men [lit, “master-less slaves”]. They insisted he join them. When he refused they beat him nearly to death. Your messenger told us that the men said his body would convey the message to you.”

“I thought my mother whetted the last free man in Amaz,” I said, astonished.

“We have only your messenger’s word for it, but I think his loyalty to you would make his words honest. The three of us were planning on hunting them down as soon as we bought horses from you.”

“Can you ride yet?”

“Other horsewomen have been training us. We can ride well enough to track down and kill the men. Unless you’d rather have them brought to you for revenge.”

I pondered this for a moment then said, “Let’s go see the horses while I think about this.”