The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The signal from the front gate told us to expect two warriors on horseback with three men in chains. The sight of this group of people was shocking when they entered the front yard.

ada and Ketch’s house servant, toto, ran to help the warriors dismount and tried to stay as far away from the men as possible. As I strode toward them I had time to absorb what I saw: two disheveled women, blood on their hands, panting horses lathered in sweat and blood, and men who could barely stand, naked and bound at the wrists. They sank to their knees and rested on their forearms as soon as the horses stopped. I knew I was looking at men who had broken the law twice. Once by freeing themselves and again by attacking an unarmed messenger. Yet I was still upset at their condition.

My daughters had reveled in the fact that I had killed two men and I could not bring myself to look weak in front of them by admitting that I had not enjoyed it. And now what would I do with these men in front of the warriors? In the heat of the moment, still seeing po’s face in my head, I had said I wanted to bring justice myself but now I wasn’t so sure about it.

“Welcome, women, to my homestead. I’m pleased to see you are safe. Should I send out my cook to mend any wounds?”

“No, it’s not our blood. These are the remaining three of a band of ten.”

“Then we should wash down the horses and dry them. ada go fetch water and rags. toto, watch the men while we clean the horses.”

I eyed toto as I started to rub one horse down with my bare hands. I could scoop the foam and shake it off. toto was flaring his nostrils in disgust at the men but they weren’t paying attention to anything but their own breathing. The warriors eyed me, puzzled.

“What are you doing that for?” asked the archer.

“How would you like to be covered in the stink of your own sweat all the time?” I asked. They laughed and the swordswoman slapped me on the back like I was her best friend.

“We are when we’re at war, and it seems we’re often at war.”

I laughed with them, then said, “And your sword? When you’re at war, is it always covered in blood, or do you clean it and oil it when you can?”

“I oil it, of course! Otherwise it would rust away into nothing.”

“Well, it’s the same for your horse. She will take care of you as well as you take care of her.” The warriors nodded in understanding and took up their rags as soon as ada brought them. Soon the horses were clean and sleek again. I grinned at the warriors and mentioned that they should have a turn at getting clean.

“You know where the baths are. ada will help you bathe.”

I turned to toto, “Help me get these men to Kaum. She’ll be able to tell us whether they’ll live or not.”

I picked up the far end of a rope and pulled. One man lifted his eyes to me and stared boldly into my face. I automatically stepped forward and slapped his face.

“A man does not look into a woman’s eyes unless asked.”

He lowered his eyes but it seemed more out of weariness than anything else. I tugged on the rope again, saying, “Stand, slave, and come with us.”

He took a deep ragged breath and forced himself onto his feet, grimacing. The other men followed his lead and toto took their ropes. At the kitchen door we called to Kaum and her face appeared in the doorway.

“Again? Kapra you must stop bringing me these wretched bodies. po isn’t even out of his bed yet.”

I smiled and motioned to the men, who had again melted to their knees as soon as they stopped moving.

“Tell me what is wrong with them and what you will do.”

“First I will bathe them. As soon as all this dried blood is off we’ll be able to see where they’re actually hurt. Oh, look at this, they’ve been dragged quite a ways.” She pointed to streaks of dirt and pebbles. I couldn’t tell if the pebbles were imbedded in their skin or just stuck to them with blood. She tskd and sent toto and I away.

We retired to the public room and waited for the warriors. toto retrieved some refreshments then knelt by the door. I sat at the table and watched the front yard idly, letting my mind wander, sure that if I put my emotions aside an answer for the men would arise.

If they were not yet castrated that would be the thing to start with. If I left them intact they would see it as a sign of weakness, while castrating them would soften them. It was not punishment, however, just common sense, and the men would see it that way, too. I could whet them in a far more extreme manner than I usually did. Perhaps planting something in their minds that they would know was there but would be unable to resist. Their main offense to me was their abuse of po. Maybe they could be whetted to be his slaves. Slaves of a slave. I mused and chewed absentmindedly on a leaf of muana.

The warriors returned from their baths looking refreshed and arrestingly beautiful. They grinned at me and I offered them seats at the table.

“Well?” The archer looked at me with a raised eyebrow, “What are you planning on doing with them? Have you already killed them? I was hoping you’d let us watch.”

“You have already had a hand in killing seven master-less men. I can’t believe it would be any big deal to watch three more die,” I teased.

They laughed and the other said, “That was a simple slaughter. It’s hard to remember what the face of death looks like in the middle of fighting. It isn’t ‘til the battlefield’s quiet that I can see it again. I was hoping you might do a simple revenge killing. Slit the throat kind of thing.”

‘You are both quite bloodthirsty. I can tell you are good warriors,” I smiled and they smiled back, but with less humor than before.

“You’re telling us you aren’t going to kill them?”

“First we’ll see if they survive being dragged behind horses,” I said and they laughed again.

“We got that idea from the Goreka. They would lose their balance, fall off their horse, but get a leg caught in one of those funny loops they keep their feet in. Imagine a lunging horse carrying a big man’s body, his head striking the ground at the end of each leap. I’m glad we don’t use their horse-seats.” They chuckled to themselves then said, “If they live?”

“If they live they look forward to castration. Beyond that I’m not sure. The whetstone may be the answer.”

They flared their nostrils at this and one shook her head to disagree.

“Free men never make good slaves, even castrated!”

“Is it the way of the whetstone to kill? Yours is a good path, a fierce and noble path, but it is not mine. I am the Whetstone and live by the whetstone and my solution lies there. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking of making them slaves. Not to sell, anyway.”

“Then what?” The swordswoman asked as they both leaned forward.

“If my messenger lives, they could serve him. Or I could turn them into horses, or peacocks, or any animal I wish.”

They glanced at each other in surprise.

“No, I don’t mean they would really turn into animals. I mean they would think that they were animals. Can you imagine a flock of three men who think they’re peacocks? Scratching at the dust in the front yard, crowing to each other, strutting themselves. I could make one male and two females and think how it would look with one man proposing to the other two.”

It was a cruel thought, especially since I was thinking of leaving their selves in place beneath the veneer of animal behavior; as a form of punishment it had little to do with their actual crimes. But I smiled as the warriors laughed, their heads tilted back and their mouths open, looking for all the world like little girls who have just seen their first penis. Shocked and delighted and more than a little amused by the funny sight. They quieted down and the swordswoman asked,

“Could we watch?”

“Forget that, could we have them?” The other countered.

“To tell the truth, that was just a thought. And maybe not the best one I’ve ever had. And you know your own handiwork the best. I bet you could tell they’d have to spend a while recovering from the beating you gave them.”

“They’re lucky they didn’t get it worse.”

“They may think their fellow free men got the better deal,” I countered evenly and they smiled at me. Smiles that told me I could be vengeful or merciful and the warriors would still respect me.

“Will you be staying a while? I can provide slaves for your comfort.”

“We would like to stay one night and recover from the ride, then we must get back to our troops. Is there a free bed?”

“There is more than one bed available in the guest house, you’re free to choose.”

“We are mava-kema [unsure of the translation—perhaps “female couple” or “lesbian wives”].”

One reached her hand to hold up a pendant I hadn’t noticed. I nodded.

“Of course, how blind of me not to see that. How long?”

“Ten years.”

“Congratulations. I’m happy to see such a fine pair. Would you still care for a house slave? toto was Ketch’s houseboy before she left for training. He’d be able to serve you well.”

One giggled and said, “We still like to have the occasional male around. Is he cute?”

“He was the other male who helped us with the captured men. Did he make an impression?”

There was a brief silence.

“Well then, there is also yla, my retired concubine. He is fit, handsome and well-endowed. He’ll ply you with drinks and rattle off tales, and he has the best massage techniques. I’ve never been able to train a concubine to his level. That only comes with experience.”

“If all you say is true we are happy to let him serve us.”

“It’s my pleasure. ada, get yla.”

He left the room and the warriors and I chatted idly. They did not have their own slaves because they took care of each other. And they had no daughters. The archer pursed her lips at this revelation and I knew there was one spot of contention between them. But otherwise they seemed content and happy with each other. Mava-kema are rare but not rare enough that I shouldn’t have known right away.

“We also like to have the occasional third female join us,” said the swordswoman in blunt invitation. She blushed when the archer and I laughed.

“You are both quite beautiful and I admit an interest...” I started, when yla finally entered the room.

“Kek and Tapeth, this is yla, my concubine.” They stared in admiration, justified by the lengths to which yla had gone to look appealing to warriors: subtle brown paint to highlight his muscles, a tight loincloth that might as well have not existed, and red paint on his ankles and wrists. He knelt and bowed low, his head resting on the floor and his arms stretched out in front of him, ankles and wrists crossed.

“Say hello to the warriors, yla.”

“Warriors, I am at a loss to express my admiration and my desire to serve you in any way,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.

“Showoff,” I muttered. But I had to admit the decoration turned me on more than the bright peacock effect he’d painted last time I saw him. I was starting to rethink the polite refusal I had planned. I swallowed and tried to look unimpressed.

The archer turned to me and said, grinning, “Where were you keeping him the last time we were here?”

“Oh, I’m sure he was about somewhere,” I said nonchalantly.

“We’re glad that you could share him with us this time around,” said the swordswoman.

“Come, yla, show us to our room.” They rose and yla rose with them. The swordswoman turned to me on her way out, “Please keep our offer in mind. Will we be having dinner together?”

“Yes, we could have it in your room if you like. There’s a table there.”

“That would be good.”

When they were gone I heaved a huge sigh and threw myself back on my pillows. It had been a while since I’d been with a woman. Well, three women, to be exact. Too many winters ago to count. I tried to imagine what the warriors and I and yla could accomplish together and the thought made me tired. But willing. I decided to take a nap first.

—

It was dinner time and I sent ada to the warriors with some food. They sent him back to me with an invitation so I went to join them. I wore a flattering outfit but there was no way I could compete with yla. The only thing in my favor was that I was female. Gaen caught me on my way to the guest house and I had to return to our room and tell her a bedtime story. Lucky for me she was a tired little girl. The warriors had been testing her sword arm all afternoon.

I stood outside their curtain and announced myself. I heard a giggle and then someone said, “Come in, Whetstone.” I entered and saw a naked yla feeding both women at once. The warriors were barely clad themselves, breasts bare, the archer’s scar where one breast would have been had been decorated with yla’s paint. Their long black hair, streaked with gray, cascaded in curly waves down their shoulders and their dark eyes lit up as they turned to me.

“Took you long enough. We decided not to wait to eat,” said the swordswoman.

“I had to tell my youngest daughter a bedtime story. I’m glad you didn’t wait,” I replied.

“Sit here between us, and tell us the story you told your daughter,” suggested the archer.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t find it interesting. A whetstone and her daughter go on an adventure in the forest and find an old, old stone in an old, old tree and it tells them all sorts of secrets.”

“Why would a stone be in a tree?”

“Well, it’s an old, old story that doesn’t make much sense, but I liked it as a child and so does Gaen. She’s in line to be the next Whetstone in our house.”

They nodded in understanding and opened their mouths to accept another morsel from yla’s fingers. I glanced at his face and saw he wore the biggest smile I’d seen in a while. He was enjoying serving two appreciative women. They made noises to show how much they liked the food and I reached for some grains myself. I wasn’t particularly hungry, excited as I was by the idea of spending the night with these two women, but I tried to make a show of it.

“How could we be so selfish and keep your own concubine from feeding you?” cried the archer, " yla, feed your Master.”

“Oh, please. yla, sit back down. It makes me happy that he serve you. Don’t worry about me. I know how to feed myself. My house slave is devoted to my daughter and feeds her every morning, paying me scant attention.”

“How rude!”

“Under normal circumstances it would be, but I’m hoping it will help Gaen be brave enough to move into her own room. Soon enough there will be a new crop of boys here attending to my every whim. To be honest, it’s rather refreshing to have to feed myself.”

The archer leaned closer to me and I could smell her musk faintly.

“I’m glad to see not every village woman is soft,” she confided to me, and touched my forearm with a familiarity I found disquieting.

“My eldest sisters would have my hide if I ever let myself be too dependent on others. I’m certainly not Egyptian royalty.” [We’re fairly sure she meant Egyptian, but there is some doubt.]

They laughed at this and I felt myself starting to relax. Warriors are loud and obnoxious but at least these two liked my jokes. Maybe making a foursome with them would turn out alright. The worst that could happen would be bites and scratches and maybe a slight limp for a day or two.

The swordswoman leaned in towards me, as well, and I had two lovely, strong-willed women looking into my face. She touched my other arm and said, “We’d like to see just how strong you are, Whetstone.”

“In what way?” I asked coyly.

They let their fingertips drift up towards my shoulders. It seemed like something they’d practiced dozens of times on other women. I glanced toward yla and saw he wouldn’t come to my rescue. He wore an amused look on his face as he popped a date into his mouth. The archer’s fingers brushed my hair back from my shoulders and the other gently scraped her fingernails against the back of my neck.

“We appreciate your generosity with the horses and the riding lessons and now your hospitality and your concubine. You should let us show our thanks.”

I realized that, for the first time since I took my mother’s position, I was not in control of a situation. I decided to play the passive, masculine role and let the women keep me captive.

“Hospitality freely given needs no thanks beyond social protocol. And in this time of war even that is not necessary for strong warriors of your stature. It was completely my duty and pleasure to make sure you receive everything you need while in my home. But,” I shyly added, “I certainly won’t refuse your thanks.”

They grinned at me and the archer pushed me back onto the pillows behind me.

“In that case, let us make you more comfortable.”

She untied the thong that held my kahm [perhaps a wrap of cloth around the torso?] in place and bared my breasts. Her fingertips grazed my nipples and then she cupped my breasts to heft them gently. She cooed at me and continued running her hands all over my chest. I looked up into her eyes as I felt the swordswoman’s fingers undoing my skirt. It was unwrapped too and I was suddenly quite naked. I reached a hand up toward the string that kept the archer’s kahm in place but her hand stopped mine.

“Really, Whetstone, you should just let us take care of you.”

“Yes, we’ve seen how you take care of everyone else: guests, slaves, daughters, servants...” the swordswoman’s voice trailed off as she bent her head to take my left nipple into her mouth. I tried to suppress a gasp as her warm mouth enclosed my flesh. Her tongue swirled over my nipple much as yla would have done. I stiffened my body against the sensation and willed myself to relax.

“yla, remove my clothing,” I heard the archer say. I kept my eyes closed, letting myself focus on the mouth around my nipple. She bit me gently and my back arched in response. The excitement that had been quietly building between my legs increased sharply when she bit yet again. And then a third time. I pet her hair as she moved to the right breast, lapping her way over, tasting my skin.

When I heard the archer sigh I opened one eye to see yla’s back. He was between the archer and me and I couldn’t see what he was doing. The swordswoman raised her head and looked into my eyes.

“Come to the bed with me. Let’s leave those two here.”

She stood and offered her hand and I took it and rose, leaving my clothes behind. Since they had taken the initiative I didn’t know quite what to do, but it became obvious that the warrior had her own ideas.

“Lie down on your back and make yourself comfortable,” she said. And so I did. I looked up at the ceiling and realized the room needed to be whitewashed. I tried not to think about that, to let myself just be, but it was hard. Until I felt her hand on my thigh. I looked at her and her face was bent down, watching her hand trace lazy patterns over my thigh, her hair hanging over her shoulders but tucked behind her ears. I could feel her hand drift closer to, then farther away from, my crotch and I instinctively opened my thighs a little each time it came closer.

I reached out a hand to the breast closest to me, exposed above her kahm, and rubbed my fingers lightly over the nipple. She flared her nostrils in response but would not be distracted from the patterns she was drawing on my skin. I dared to pinch the nipple and her body moved a little but still she focused on my legs, finally letting her fingers drift up between them and touch the nub buried in my hair. I slowly moved my legs as far apart as I could and I watched her look at my crotch. Just watching her look at me made me wetter. I rocked my hips the tiniest bit and she smiled.

While one hand continued to drift up and down my legs, the other gently parted my labia and spread the lips. I watched her eyes as they took in the sight and started to roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. The hand on my leg reached up to remove my hand and place it to my side.

“You just relax,” she cooed. My pithy comeback died on my lips as she simultaneously pressed the edge of her hand against my clit and thrust a finger into my vagina. A loud moan came out, instead, and she smiled absentmindedly. She withdrew both her hands and moved further down the bed, making herself comfortable, and lying down between my legs. With her left hand she supported my pelvis and with her right she again spread my labia. It was too much effort to keep my head lifted to watch what she was doing so I let my neck sink back and I closed my eyes.

I felt her tongue reach into me, slowly, gently, and I heard the archer growling commands to yla. Part of me wanted to watch but most of me just sank into the sensations of the swordswoman’s tongue between my legs. She was talented. It took me mere seconds to orgasm, my back and neck arching, my toes pointing. I think I even cried out. I felt back onto the bed, panting, as the warrior drew herself up alongside me and started sucking on my nipples again. The sharp orgasm had surprised and exhausted me. I knew these warriors would wear me out. I panted, trying to recover even as she was working to get me excited again.

I clumsily reached down to her waist, unsure of how to touch a woman, and her hand took hold of the back of mine and directed it up, pushing up against her breast, then down to comb at the hair between her thighs. I kissed the top of her head and she looked up at me in surprise.

“Thank you,” I murmured. She gave me a small, sly smile and bent her head to suck and nip at the other breast. She let go of my hand and I let it drift over her, mimicking what she had done to me. I heard yla groan and the archer mewl in mutual orgasm and it helped shake me out of my post-orgasm drowsiness. A moment of silence passed as I sneakily moved my hand closer and closer to the swordswoman’s clitoris with each pass. Then I opened my eyes and saw yla and the archer watching us. I gave them a small smile and felt myself blushing. yla smiled back and me and the archer winked. She had dipped her hands in the water bowl and used a towel to clean her sex, then she stood and yla followed after her as she came to the bed.

“Darling,” she whispered to her mava-kema, “Let’s trade.” The swordswoman let go of my nipple and nodded. She kissed me on the cheek and let the archer pull me away. I followed her back to the pillows by the table with a backward glance to see the other warrior stroking yla’s nipples as he massaged his penis. It hadn’t even flagged from the last orgasm. With his training and whetting he’d be able to last a very long time. Probably longer than I would. I wanted to watch them make love but the archer distracted me with a hand on my buttocks. She squeezed and I made a soft noise.

“Sit her by me,” she said, her voice husky. She was on the pillows, her legs stretched out in front of her. I knelt next to her and we kissed. A long, lingering, exploring kiss. Her tongue tasted like honey and her lips were soft with the fat of the deer haunch I’d sent to them. I licked her lips and bit at the bottom one, pulling it out to suckle gently at it before letting it go again. She let her nails rake against my back, down towards my buttocks, which she started to massage. I lifted them away from my feet so she could reach wherever she wanted. I let my own hands wander up and down her torso, pausing to pinch a nipple, circling her navel with delicate touches, encircling her waist with my hands. Finally she broke the kisses and pulled her head back to look into my eyes.

“Have you ever mimok [performed cunnilingus]?” she asked in a low voice.

“A long, long time ago,” I answered, “Shall we see what I remember?”

She smiled and nodded and I kissed her again, taking the initiative. I kissed my way down her throat, pulling her head back by the hair, licking the hollow at the base of her neck and tonguing my way farther down. I pulled harder on her hair ‘til she began to lean backwards, then I guided her down with my hand cradling the back of her head. I rested my hands on her upper arms as I kissed all over her stomach. I could smell her and yla even though she had washed. I had tasted yla’s seed before and it was not unpleasant. Somehow I was not disgusted by the thought of tasting their mingled scent and a small part of me wondered if I should be.

I paused when my lips touched the edge of her fur. I moved myself back a little to be more comfortable and drew my hands softly over her skin towards my face, making her shiver. I pushed my palms into her hips then between her legs, forcing them open. I stayed kneeling at her side and bent myself double to reach my tongue to her labia. With my hands to either side of her crotch I used my thumbs to spread her labia apart and I saw the entrance to her vagina.

I paused for a moment, considering, then dove in with open mouth and extended tongue. I decided that whatever the swordswoman did to me I could do to the archer. Every shift of her thighs, every small cry she made, excited me more and my enthusiasm increased. I quickened the pace of my laps and was rewarded by hearing her breath come in faster gasps.

Her thighs began to tremble as I knew she was going to come. She grabbed my hair and let out a wild shriek. I let her grind her hips against my face and held my breath for what seemed to be a very long time before she relaxed her grip.

“Whetstone,” she finally gasped, “Your hospitality is unparalleled.”