The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The gothic splendor of the study, with its munificent tapestries and goliathan shelves, was topped by a cathedral ceiling, its rising triangular lines vanishing in the impenetrable darkness above. The angry flames, encased in a massive stone fireplace faced by an array of couches and chairs arranged in a semi circle, could not spill light far enough to pierce the blackness, and thus contented themselves with painting long, shifting shadows on the floor instead.

The velvet sides of countless tomes, nestled in perfect sequence upon the shelves, stood in ominous display, their pages silent witnesses to secrets buried and forgotten. The faint scent of dusty parchments, singed by the very flames that had consumed Sappho’s Epithalamia in ancient Alexandria, softened the sharp odor which rose from the hissing tinder piled squarely in the hearth.

Corrine’s fingers danced in an intricate pattern before Amberslut’s eyes. They were slow, hypnotic passes, floating back and forth, as if turning the pages of an invisible book. Amberslut’s pupils dilated in the flickering light, her mind possessed with the thought of that hand sliding sensually against the thin, translucent material that draped around her body.

It was a rare thing for Corrine to use a focus to penetrate a mind. She frankly disliked the uncouth method, considering it an affront to the sacredness of a Daughter’s gifts.

But pride in her mastery of the Arts was stronger than her distaste. She was Teacher of the Ways after all.

She had given this pretty one a new name. She would teach her more still.

Her gesturing was careful and precise, attesting to the pressing matters which guided her purpose. The warning signs of Ambrian encroachment in Paris had been slow to emerge, but quite alarming once she had gleamed a pattern. Three more captured females had already kneeled before her in this fashion once she had given voice to her suspicions, but the Council had ignored her just the same, unconvinced of the danger.

Unwilling, even, to acknowledge its possibility.

Three, Corrine thought. Three who had tasted the pleasure of her Gracing. Three who had cried out in lustful surrender as she remade them into obedient Covenance-sluts. Three who had betrayed a pre-existing touch on their minds... a maddeningly familiar, yet elusive touch...

A different approach had been warranted... a gentler intrusion of the mind, to glimpse the true nature of this mysterious influence.

She waited. Concentrated. Reached out with her thoughts.

Amberslut gasped as she felt the lightness of the other woman’s mindtouch, her arousal deepened by the trance. Awareness of her inability to resist trickled down between her legs, where her lust made the leather stiletto pressing against her snatch—and the soft material caught between them—slick with warm juices. The floor was cold under her knees, but she thrilled in lightheaded contemplation just the same, and shifted to accommodate the arch of the hallowed ankle pressing sweetly against her mons.

She did not register the slight smile that reflected Corrine’s satisfaction, lost instead in the ripples of her gown, traveling upwards, tugging on her taunt nipples as the delicate stroking continued. It was all she could do not to lean forward and shower the intricate hose netting that wrapped around Corrine’s shapely leg with licks of passion.

But the need to gaze up at Corrine, perched on the settee, was stronger. Amberslut’s dazed mind wandered in the softness of the taffeta gown the woman wore, overpowered by a blend of Victorian lines with the overt, sexual audacity customary of fetishist designers.

Corrine lowered her hand and adjusted a flowery cuff meticulously, her expression somewhat detached as her shoe continued to work its dark spell on Amberslut’s sex.

“Who do you serve, my precious?” she intoned softly.

The flush sparked from Amberslut’s clitoris, penetrating her like a tongue of molten lava. She gushed on the woman’s ankle and let out a whimper, feeling the wet rubbing under herself, as delicious as the hollowness that existed in her own mind.

I don’t know, Amberslut realized. “I... I...”

A sweeping gesture of Corrine’s hand froze her mind, and a void suddenly loomed in the wake of the moment’s hesitation...

There was loyalty and resolve in it... more than what could be expected of Ambrians... and... something else, hiding behind it.

Quiet. Silent. Shapeless.

“Who do you serve?” Corrine pressed.

Twisted patterns of corruption twinkled in Amberslut’s brain, each pulsing flash more debauched than the next.

She answered the only way she could. The only way that mattered. She shifted, parting her knees wider, letting her hands tug the hem of her gown higher, to feel leathered softness slip unfettered on her wet pussy.

She offered herself. The heat of the nearby fire teased the inside of her spreading thighs, but could not match the simmering of her cunt.

Understanding flooded inside her as she rode her climax. i am amberslut... i am property... i am owned... my soul belongs to Her voice... my body belongs to Her lips... my bliss is Her pleasure... my pleasure is Her bliss...

she rocked her moist pussy back and forth against Corrine’s foot... she was a hot little snatch, remade to think and do whatever pleased her Teacher...

je suis prête, Maîtresse.

she welcomed the deeper probe when it came, entering her mind like a shining scalpel. Corrine’s was inside her, searching, while her last words blinded her with the fury of a shattering orgasm.

Knowledge came to Corrine in a torrential flow of pleasure, to match the warm soaking on her foot. Her joy sparked a touch of appreciation for the broken will that had provided her with it, and she worked her stiletto deeper inside amberslut, feeling her trashing, struggling to impale herself upon it.

Ahhh... dearest Sondra, the Teacher reflected, Emerging from the abyss? Did you think word had not yet reached Paris?

She shook her head slightly as she searched the darkness around her. Surely not. The Sondra she remembered was impulsive, reckless even, but far from stupid. Counting on the momentary surprise of a resurgence far away from her last reported location, perhaps, but not so unseasoned as to think it could be a lasting advantage.

A spontaneous thrill coursed inside Corrine.

Truthspeakers were the eyes of the Covenance... seeking... listening... Gracing females worthy of ascension and service... moving the Agenda forward. The specifics of such mundane tasks were hardly worthy of banter, but the news of Sondra’s disappearance had fattened the rumors of her betrayal of the Order.

Rumors, Corrine reflected. How amusing.

Her fingers abandoned their fascinating dance in Amberslut’s eyes, to fidget quietly in her lap. amberslut’s distant moans made her thighs jerk to the rhythm of enduring memories.

Her eyes narrowed thinly, and she summoned the feel of a tongue lapping fervently between her legs.

Sondra’s or Claudia’s?

Lover’s or student’s.

Corrine had never decided which one she had liked best.

She had secretly dreamed of a day when she wouldn’t have to.

Her periodic inquiries had remained subtle following the pair’s departure from Paris. The black clouds of suspicion, already gathering around Sondra, had cast a pale shadow on Corrine then—and her vanishing, along with Claudia, somewhere on the Eastern coast of the United States, had made things worse.

Details pointed to a messy affair, and ridiculous rumors of the emergence of a rogue, more proficient in the Sacred Arts that the most gifted among the Covenance, fueled outrageous speculation.

Voices and minds had grown noticeably silent around Corrine.

And now the Council is fearful of sound advice, should I happen to be the one speaking it.

She shifted her leg absentmindedly. amberslut cooed and warmed her shoe with juices.

The sound echoed in the back of her mind, bringing insight.

Corrine imagined a checkered surface littered with pawns... pictured the subtle, gradual closing of the trap, betrayed by a single move forward...

A suicidal gambit... quite uncharacteristic of the Ambrians ... but Sondra is another case entirely...

She conjured the sight of a black queen on her imagined chessboard, placing it, safely withdrawn, behind the advancing line.

She frowned at the flaw in her conjecture. It’s too fine a touch... the paws themselves are unaware of their true allegiance...

Something dark lived inside amberslut... a taste of corruption, running deep. Not even Sondra could aspire to be this thorough.

And yet...

Corrine flicked mental summons at the darkness, and waited patiently. A door creaked open, and the soft padding of footsteps heralded the emergence of a naked figure into the light.

Fabienne’s fingers were as wet as her shaved slit, her face and breasts a soft shade of pink. Waiting in the dim hall had denied her eyes the spectacle of amberslut’s debasement, but her Daughter Gifts had allowed her a taste the glorious descent just the same. Her hands had not resisted the call of her pleasure.

The pale gray of her eyes glittered like silver in the firelight. I serve.

“Hers was not an accidental choice after all,” Corrine observed aloud, nodding curtly with her chin towards amberslut.

Her voice had turned as cold as the creeping ice of a glacier.

Fabienne sighed through her lust. Had Amberslut been punished? Did she need to be punished as well? Oh, yesss... please...

“I... I obeyed your commands, Maîtresse...”

Corrine visited the mindsight of her Teaching Rack upon Danielle’s pet, and watched as the woman attempted to squeeze the creeping heat out of her thighs. “Ooooohh...”

Obeyed my commands, did she?

Indeed, Fabienne had done just that, playing the hound to Corrine’s whims. Ambrian havens had grown scarce as the Covenance struck across the city, but Fabienne’s mind still held useful secrets. She had sallied forth among the narrow streets of the Quartier Latin, leashed by Corrine’s will. She had returned with a worthy prize to offer Maîtresse.

“Why did you choose this one?”

Fabienne stiffened as elation coursed through her. She lifted hands to her breasts, and squeezed them.

“She... was kinsister... we shared bed and warmth on the night of her Taking... our eyes glittered with the lights of Cassiopée when Ambria consecrated us both... she carried Fionna’s blessing, as I carried her love in my heart... her name was... h-her name—”

“Her name is amberslut... and you chose her because you needed to see her warm tears of joy when you made her kneel at my feet for the first time,” Corrine whispered.

She watched Fabienne pinch her nipples roughly before cumming.

“You need to, Fabienne... it is your very nature, now... it was so when I found you... even before I offered you to Danielle... your need to please us in this way is all consuming...”

She glanced at amberslut’s petite figure, remembering the gracefulness of her steps as she settled into thralldom, her round little ass moving like the bashful tides of Mediterranean shores. Her tan was dark for springtime Paris, but so inviting to Corrine’s eager lips.

How long had she served the Ambrians, before Sondra crept into their ranks, to work whatever strange spell that had made them all slaves? How long had she served her sect before becoming a tool, seduced along with her sisters and sacrificed to the tender mercies of a Covenance too eager to absorb them into their own ranks to notice the taint which they carried?

“Watch her fuck herself on my foot, Fabienne. Watch her writhe and moan. You love to watch her like this, don’t you?”

A chorus of moans came from both sluts, theirs voices blending in symphonic harmony.

Corrine’s tone was relentless. “You love to watch her like this Fabienne... the very idea of knowing that you played a part in this slut’s corruption to my will drenches that fuck-hungry little cunt of yours... you can’t help it... my word is the only thing keeping you from using your own Gifts... your own tongue... to help me finish reshaping this little one into a permanently loyal, obedient toy like yourself...”

amberslut continued her moaning, but Fabienne was past it, managing only stifled cries between rushed breaths.

Corrine’s arousal sweep over her, kissing her own moist slit as she let Danielle’s pet reduce herself to a puddle of cum-juice.

Open your minds to me... open them...

“Your are eternally loyal to the Covenance, Fabienne. Your will is Danielle’s... your will is mine... it shattered like brittle glass when I found you... Danielle has melted the remains, and you now live for the instants where you gather as many of the free-thinking Sisters as you can...”

Fabienne reeled on her feet. Her nipples screamed to be pinched, her clit starved for hard, swift strokes from her magical fingers.

Something stirred inside her. She gazed at Corrine with fierce passion.

“Yessss... my sisters... for yoouu...”

“You were made to please us...” Corrinne whispered. “Even before I took you... your mind was altered... your thoughts shaped... you resistance was short lived... shallow... illusory... your true purpose is to make more sluts for us... to have them worship us...”

“More sluts... for you... I... live to worship... I was made to worship...” The words evaporated in the swelling heat burning between Fabienne’s legs, but her voice was growing steady

Corrine savored the display, recognizing Sondra’s touch, and the rising desire that came with it. The raw energy of Fabienne’s lust was a swirling maelstrom, the pleasure of her slaves making her skin glow...

Her eyes darted to amberslut, and her nipples hardened painfully.

“You want to be like Fabienne, don’t you? You know what she is? What you are?”

amberslut fucked herself on the stiletto with fervent abandon, her shapely ass rocking up and down, breasts bouncing as ecstasy knifed deeper and deeper in her sopping slit. The point of the shoe felt so wicked inside her, and she could barely manage an answer.

“i am a cunt-slut! cunt-slut!”

“You both live to obey,” Corrine pursued inflexibly. The room was quickly filling with currents of libidinous abandon, making it difficult to think of anything but the way she made her two sluts moan. “Pleasing me is the quintessential Truth of your existence. Your minds are as open as your slick pussies, aren’t they?”

She made soundless moans as her own words made her head reel. Yessss... aren’t they, my sweets?

Fabienne’s hand moved of its own accord, its purpose serving Corrine’s will more than her own. She captured her Maîtresse’s attention, and grinned lewdly.

“Opennnnn... yessssss...” she hissed, so happy to demonstrate how easy she could slip three digits inside herself. “We love to serve... we need to be taught to obey now... how to obey properly... only you can teach us... teach us...”

Not to be outdone, amberslut settled down firmly on Corrine’s shoe, gracing it with the river of cum, hoping Maîtresse might allow her to lap it up with her own tongue. She was filled with Holy Lust, gushing the fledging remains of her resistance, letting it flow from her cunt, feeling the sweetness of orgasmic bliss rip the heavens of her world apart.

“Teach us... teach us... " she breathed in a quivering voice.

Corrine’s cheeks were aflame, the lust of her slaves infectious. She tried to remember the danger of loosing herself in it, but the hot river pulsing between her legs made all reason flutter away.

They were hers.

They belonged to her.

She would teach them. Yes.

The sudden urge to exert her power to the fullest measure was like a taste of sweet cream on her tongue, and she licked her lips before diving in earnest into the succulent thoughts ebbing from the pliant minds that served her will.

She needed to teach them. She would teach them now.

Fabienne took measured steps, approaching. Her fingers slurped gently, in and out of her.

The room spun, making Corrine dizzy, but concentrating on the beautiful, golden-haired slut dispelled her momentary queasiness.

Obey me, she commanded.

Torrid sounds of yearning filled her ears, and for a brief moment, she thought she recognized her own voice.

The Voice beyond the dream could no longer hear. The Eye beyond the dream could no longer see.

danielle accepted these things, accepted them as she accepted the world that surrounded her. her waking self could only glimpse a handful of broken shards, unable to fully grasp the stark decadence that filled hers dream now... filled them and made her drip ambrosial sweetness... but the memory of those fractured reflections was enough to feed the seething currents of her desire just the same.

her body could not forget what her mind did not remember.

she sighed softly.

No matter. Here, she was free to remember it all.

The Hall of mirrors welcomed her once more, its featureless space now adorned with an array of ornately sculpted pedestals. she smiled prettily at the angelic figures standing upon each of them, roundness and contours of flesh frozen in display... each of the females more ravishing than the next, striking poses that married elegance and wantonness.

Splotches of colors ran over their firm thighs and taunt breasts. Their reflections filled the mirrors around them.

Hundreds... thousands... danielle tried to count them all, but it was so hard for her to think.

The black sky fissured with lightning overhead. The play of light and shadow upon the graceful statues filled danielle with longing.

she frowned inside the dream, feeling the Eye stir momentarily as she caught sight of her standing reflection. she looked down at herself, suddenly untrusting of the mirrors that made her warm and wet if she stared in them for too long, but the pretty white socks emerging from her black-polish buckled shoes had not vanished, nor had the tartan-patterned skirt of blue and green barely covering her knees. she gave it all a cursory glance, far more intrigued by the mystery of tall letters on her tight, long-sleeved gray shirt, rising and falling with the generous slopes of her breasts.

Fillmoore.

The word sounded English. she spoke it aloud, noting the familiar feel of the syllables, though she had never once heard it.

she cast her eyes downward again, this time to glimpse the patterns of blue and white marble, lifted in an oblong shape above the smooth floor.

Was she to take place upon it? Was she to climb it and become part of...

The collection?

The answer came with the rush of air, drifting hotly behind her, like a breath rising along the smoothness of her back. she shivered, dripping shamelessly through sultry moans, before yielding to the impulse and turning around.

danielle soaked at the sight of her teacher.

corrine... so pretty and collared.

her hand rose to her own neck, and reassurance filled her as she touched the leather band stretching across her skin. A wild thought made her picture a tiny medal attached to it, with her name engraved in the metal, but her breathing grew swifter when she realized she might not have need of a name anymore.

she watched corrine’s lips tremble in the aftermath of a climax. The pulsing of lightning above made the woman’s skin glitter. her round breasts were soft. Enticing.

The teacher swayed like a dancer, her hands dipping into a pool of fuchsia splattered across her midriff. she ran colored lines up the undersides of her breasts, caressing them sensuously with her fingers.

“Thank you, claudia,” she purred.

danielle answered with a puzzled stare. “claudia?”

corrine’s answer was faint through the haze of her exhilaration. “Mmm... claudia... yessss... Thank you for claudia... for showing me the Truth of the Goddess... showing me purpose... i understand everything now... i am so proud of you... so happy to serve—”

A name struggled to slip between corrine’s gasps, but her body could not sustain the pleasure of its utterance. her eyes rolled back as her knees parted slightly, and her hands glided back down to her midriff, while the furious waves of a climax swelled anew inside her.

she lifted a needle-heel stiletto upon the small elevated platform, her bosom rising and falling to the cadence of whistling breaths. She moved with ceremonial precision, as if the mere act of climbing upon her pedestal was a sacrosanct ritual.

corrine leaned forward and raised herself. The sky flashed angrily overhead a second later, as if to echo the pleasure exploding between her legs.

In a careful motion, she pivoted to face danielle. her whole body tensed as the rolling waves of her orgasm intensified. her cunt floated before danielle’s eyes. Slick. Wet. Painted. Gentle fingers had left shining colors to mingle with juices, a dark, artistic testament to the will they had annihilated in their dance upon corrine’s slit.

danielle’s fingertips were moist. she glimpsed at them, finding a matching blend of colored swirls upon them.

she resisted the urge to plunge them in her own cunt, sinking to her knees as she pictured unremembered moments when she fingered her dearest teacher into the abyss of servitude. her sight blurred, and she barely heard corrine’s words, awash in her own sea of pleasure.

There was tender melancholy in her voice. “The Angel misses you terribly, claudia... come back at Her side again... come back so we can all be together again... She wants you to embrace the Goddess... as we both have...”

corrine was swaying again... her hands resting at her sides... her hips moving bewitchingly. her eyes were moist, but the beaming smile spoke of greater joys to come.

danielle’s attire inspired treacherous thoughts. her fingers hungered for moist reaches as she fancied herself a disobedient schoolgirl in dire need of punishment...

Her collar throbbed against her neck...

The Angel...

She knew Her name.

Her eager summons echoed across the Hall. “Sondra...”

danielle’s nipples throbbed as the light touch pressed against the small of her back. This time, she did not turn, her shoulders dipping back, her legs rooting themselves to the ground. she managed a single thought for the statues that surrounded her, pretty and frozen, before flooding her panties with the rapture of a sudden, harsh cum.

The voice of Sondra trickled like sweet honey in her ear, over the racing sound of her heart.

“What beautiful sculptures you’ve created for us, my sweet little claudia.”

danielle struggled to glance aside, but her eyes were lost in the dancing flush of corrine’s painted slit.

“I... I made them for you.”

she realized the truth of her words the very moment she spoke them, and rode the dark thrill it gave her, like she would Sondra’s hand between her legs. she breathed deeply, immersing herself in a cloud of perfume, mixed with the pungent scent of oiled leather and sex.

The voice of Sondra was playfully reproachful. “You made them for... Her, child... You are learning... your mind is becoming aware of the Truth beyond the Dream... understanding it... accepting it... ”

danielle swam through her delirium, her thighs spread, her legs refusing to clench together. She was dripping...

Who am I? Why am I here? oh Godde—

Answers came to her. Strange musings... colors swirling over her pussy... making her voice quiver.

“You took her from corrine... Y-you once took... claudia from corrine—”

her moan consumed her. she had almost added ‘as well...’

she could feel Sondra’s Cheshire smile stretching behind her... betraying an awareness of her every thought...

danielle’s head filled with strange memories... a face, not unlike her own... a kneeling figure, caressed by Sondra’s hand... or nibbling on corrine’s hard clitoris... savoring pleasures in a not so distant place...

“You lost her... lost... claudia... but you... you fell before you could find her again... before—”

“—before I was remade, child.”

Tender lips slipped over danielle’s. Sondra’s body was firm, shifting, pressing against her with unhurried passion. Roaming hands traveled on her body, stroking her ass, hips and back. she rose on her tiptoes, her clit screaming in pleasure as she accepted Sondra’s tongue in her mouth.

The sweltering kiss heated her like a desert wind. she wasn’t breathing anymore... she existed to serve... to suckle that tongue gently between her lips, to lick and kiss every portion of Sondra’s body... to fall on her knees and make love to Her sweet cunt until her mind could form no thought but the bliss of worship.

The kiss ended. she fell back on her heels, hard. The Hall swirled around her, the heat of fervor still glowing on her mouth. She gazed up at Sondra, and begged with her eyes.

Fingers lifted her chin, and she blinked through happy tears as Sondra led her across the floor, to an empty pedestal.

The naked, upraised space called out to her, hungry for obscene displays. she trembled, knowing she could not refuse a command to mount it. she wondered what twisted acts she could be made to perform upon it before she froze into a reflection of pure, endless ecstasy.

she waited for Sondra’s hand to slip from her chin, down her neck, snaking between her breasts, slowly, until it dove underneath her skirt.

she longed for the graceful shape of fingers to fill her warm, tender pussy.

Longed for them to take her mind away.

The surroundings of her dream swirled once more as Sondra graced her with a exalted smile. Her lashes fell like the night as She surrendered to her own pleasure.

She mounted the pedestal.

The leather stretched to contain Her voluptuousness. She flexed Her knees, squatting gently, letting Her clit ring glitter in the shadowed valley of Her spreading thighs.

danielle’s incomprehension vanished in the climax that crashed inside her. she was dimly aware of a thousand other voices, echoing her own, but her hoarse whisper rose over them.

“Take me—

“Make me yours.

“Yesss.”

Sondra’s eyes drifted open.

“Goddess summons you... She alone will leash you at Her feet... ”

The words exploded in danielle’s mind as Sondra spoke. her fingers were still wet with paint, and they felt warm when she eased them gently inside her cleft.

Sondra’s voice became a melodious chant. “Dream... dream my little claudia... dream and make it all come true...”

The flash of dark glided across glass.

It minutely followed Audrée’s pace as she clipped across the elevated corridor. She angled her head to the right and smiled as she went, delight fluttering in her as the reflection matched it perfectly.

The rich locks of honey brown she remembered were gone, washed away along with the languor that had lived in her eyes before ascension. A slick, black mane now snaked down and around her neck, reminiscent of the seductive shadows that appeared over her eyes whenever she fluttered them.

Gone, too, were the form-fitting blazer and skirt, measured countenance and corporate poise, the trappings of deception she has used to usurp the position of museum curator. Her pace was light and free now, unburdened by the concerns which had haunted her last instants of free will. Her mind was alive with contemplation both succulent and wicked, to dwarf the stark beauty of the steel arches and plaster caissons which arched overhead in a feat of architectural extravagance.

My lips... pressed against the ivory softness of her thighs... her skin dancing under my tongue... flushed... while I rise towards her petals, eager for taste while she resists...

Her excitement grew with every step. Fresh dentelle moistened between her legs while echoes of distant cries carried the joy of lustful understanding from the adjacent galleries. The butt plug was fluid pleasure, and she loved the way her asshole squeezed warmly around its intrusive shape, loved it almost as much as the soft jingle of the chain linking the two rings that bit into her nipple flesh.

The honor of the kiss is mine alone... Mistress commands it... I press myself against her and hear her moan... her resistance is fading... the maze of straps holding her up creaks softly against her tormented shape... the raging climaxes make her twitch so beautifully...

Another orgasm washed over her as she licked her lips, and tasted the heavenly remnants of female juices. The Musée d’Orsay was a temple to the Goddess now, and this night had brought the awakening of a host of new servants. Ritual called out to her, but she resisted the urge to join the others who were taking the confused, moaning females that remained in the main hall below after closing time, and guided them deep into the heart of the elongated building with a gentle hand, filling their thoughts with the glorious song that soon devoured all will to resist.

her loyalty to the Covenance becomes heresy the moment my mouth kisses her pussy... I explore her gently with my tongue... she begins to understand my Mistress’ Truth... I taste her creamy essence as she struggles faintly... my mind fills hers with the glory of obedience... she hears my song and cries her pleasure as I raise my hands and cradle her ass... plunging my tongue deeper...

She was bringing wonderful news, and quickened her stride at the thought that Mistress might reward her. She waded through the swirling awareness of her own submission, knowing that the simple act of kneeling—her libidinous smile still glistening with the juices of a newly made slave—would be enough to have her writhing and begging for a chance to lick up every drop of her own nectar off the floor, once Mistress allowed her to cum.

The pattern of her musings swelled inside her, familiar and passionate. She mouthed a prayer of thanks for Mistress as her hand reached back around her rear to push the butt plug deeper, and her hushed words dissolved into incoherence while her asshole stretched and throbbed deliciously.

Mistress had chosen this place to seed the beginnings of enlightenment for the Daughters of the city.

Mistress had chosen the Ambrians first... as She had chosen Audrée first...

Her hand teased the outline of the plug in slow circles, luxuriating in the knowledge that not a soul in the vastness of the building now failed to serve Her. It was enough to make her breath shallow. The thought of futile struggles... females seeking to resist the blessed call...

I smile when I finally hear her voice join mine... it chants the Will of Mistress... it chants with me... with the voice of all thralls... her legs quiver against my shoulders... she offers herself to me... she cums in my mouth... her pussy is melting on my tongue... The Covenance is no more... the Ambrians are no more... we are one in our surrender... there is only the voice of the Goddess... we are Hers...

The sharp crack of her heels ceased as she left the polished floor behind her, turning to her right, and penetrating the golden radiance of the Salle des Fêtes. Lavish chandeliers burned silently above, fittingly ostentatious amidst the opulence of the Second-Empire-flavored restoration, which housed the museum’s most recent special exhibit.

The Herringbone wood pattern dazzled as it stretched in all directions, as did the elaborate embellishments of sculpted platinum adorning the walls, but Audrée focused instead on the sight of entranced females, paired before selected works, their eyes wide, their mind empty, their souls drinking up the glorious lines and shapes of classical, romantic and expressionist beauty.

The arresting sights made Audrée lightheaded. Her mind floated as she strolled briskly past an attractive duo marveling at a particularly inspired Ingres nude. Their choice of stiff attire, complemented by conservative coiffes tightly bunned atop their heads, could not mask the creeping moistness staining the front of their skirts, or the rosy hue of their flustered cheeks.

Audrée fantasized about the lives they were about to leave behind while her touch wandered, stroking their rounds asses. Their thoughts drifted easily to her, open and shameless as they lost themselves in growing elation. The taste of their dissolving essence was divine, accelerated by the spiral which had been put inside their minds.

It stayed with Audrée as her steps led her away. She turned another corner, and angled to the right, penetrating into a large showroom, and heading towards a semi-circular window on the northeast side.

Sparks of delight washed over her as she teased her clit with a quick, circular motion of her finger.

Mistress was Gracing new slaves.

It occurred to Audrée that the women who surrounded Mistress had once belonged to the Ambrian Order.

It occurred to her that she had once belonged to it as well. That she had led them against the Covenance. That she had staged the careful invasion of the city’s quieter districts, striving to bring an end to the economic and political edge the capital conferred to her enemies.

It occurred to her that she had once basked in the admiration of their shining eyes, finding in them the assurance that she would die before letting a dark fate befall any of them.

Her hand traced along the shape of her rear once again, until her fingers reached the plug, and she began sliding it in and out. Her quaint little thoughts faded as she worked her ass to accentuate the gratifying pleasure. She flashed a twisted smile as Mistress’ spectacle unfolded.

The pretty heads of the sluts-to-be jerked as Mistress strode in a lazy circle with an air of slight amusement, and Audrée realized most of the women had already been bonded into the ring of corruption. Each of them, in turn, knowing the irresistible call of Mistress’ eyes... drawn into shadowy depths... unable to resist the summons... the urge to give in... unable to deny the growing arousal shaping their every thought... feeding off the swirl of lust spreading inside the circle with each new female that joined it...

Mistress came to rest before a lovely brunette who peered dazedly through rich curls of light nut brown hair. Her fingers brushed coyly across the woman’s generous cleavage. Audrée saw the slut-to-be azure-blue irises growing wide, glassy and still, before feasting on eerily familiar curves.

She sifted through her brain to find a name, but she remembered none.

She speared herself with the plug, and came hard. We are all Mistress’ servants now... had some of us have no need of a name anymore.

Wetness dripped down her tights as she approached the circle. Pangs of envy stirred in her too—Mistress had not yet allowed her to join the circle. Audrée had glimpsed the crystal beauty of the minds molded by Her... she had imagined the joy that came with becoming a tool... the purest extension of Mistress’ will and pleasure... with honey coating her slit as she fulfilled command after command...

“What news, my pet?”

Mistress traced odd, sensual shapes upon the brunette’s firm tit. Audrée gathered a shaking breath.

“Wonderful tidings, Mistress Sondra. The Covenance gathers more of our numbers. Three more have succumbed to your will, and have wandered into the Main Hall this afternoon. The building is now secure. I have prepared them for you, and they await your pleasure in the northwest atrium.”

The dark-haired, leather-clad succubus fetched the image of their kneeling forms in Audrée’s mind.

“Mmmm... very good, child. A fine catch then?”

Audrée beamed. “Assuredly, Mistress. Two Circeas and a Truthspeaker... they have all served their Order well, acquiring considerable influence over the Palais de l’Elysée through the influence of their servants. It will be a simple matter to see to their ascension once the trio hears and obeys your commands.”

Mistress Sondra hummed her approval in a soft contralto, brushing one of the brunette’s nipple with a long, crimson nail, eliciting a fervent moan from the nameless slut.

The sound was instantly echoed by all the other females frozen in the circle.

Audrée struggled not to join them. Failed. Moaned.

Came.

“So many new believers joining us... I wonder what I shall do with this one?”

Audrée quivered through a fog, finding so many uses for a new slut.

“P-Perhaps it is time to orchestrate another ‘capture’ for the Council.”

Mistress’ laugh was playful and wicked. “Patience, child. Let us not give credence to Corrine’s suspicions... yet.”

Her fingers were graceful as they teased the slut’s inflamed nipple.

“One for the Teacher then? To silence her?”

Mistress shook her head. “Corrine is taking new students under her wing. She will be busy for some time.

“Leash this one along with the others and prepare them for Ritual. The Covenance will fall soon... I want to keep her gifted little tongue busy.”

Audrée leaned closer, brushing her moist sex against the enthralled brunette’s thigh. She began to rub herself against it, breathing soft noises in the slut-to-be’s ear.

“I hear and obey, Mistresssss...”

“Your charges are performing wonderfully, child... The Goddess will be pleased... it is only a matter of time now...”

“Yes... Goddess... pleased...”

“You will be by my side when we present Her with Destiny’s Gift... you will know the blessings of True enlightenment when She takes you...”

“Mmmm... yeessss... I must serve the Goddess... we must all serve... G-Goddessss...”

“Nothing must interfere with this... Destiny’s Gift will come... she has dreamed it...”

“Dream... ouuuurs... yessss...”

“Go. Prepare the servants. Join the ritual. Fate will take its course.”

“Rituaaaal...”

Audrée drenched the brunette’s leg with a warm stream of cum, wrapping trembling hands around her supple frame to keep herself from falling. She could hear the sluts final thoughts, resonating in her own mind... the ascendance, wiping away the core of her self... wiping away all of what she was...

She wondered if she would know such joy when Mistress Sondra brought her before the Goddess.