The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Author’s note:

This story is preceded by “Greater Lust Hath No Monster” and “Greater Love Hath No Woman”.

To new readers! This tale is set in the same fictional world as “the Ancients” and Corelle D’Amber. I do keep in mind those folks who may arrive to this fresh, but you will find a minimum of exposition about what has gone before.

My tales will often contain mc, fd, ff, and edi (Extremely Disturbing Imagination). All stories copyrighted.

The library of my stories and “Corelleverse” series characters are referenced at: http://www.asstr.org/~EyeofSerpent/library.html

Greater Life Hath No Evil—

Eye of Serpent

“... this visible world seems formed in love, the invisible spheres were formed in fright.”

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick, 1851
“You deny and question, but mine eyes gleam on thee,
lit with an ancient light. My lips proclaim mysteries.
My arms hold all that gods desire and fools reject.
Behold me!”
-George Sterling, Lilith, 1919

Corelle D’Amber prepares for battle. The Ancient Crane has forsaken the Dance of Ancients. Fiona Nyx travels the world without a friend. Our planet is over four billion years old and is likely to sustain life for several million years more. These apparently factual statements are not true. The Earth has a few hundred days remaining.

Day Two-hundred and Sixty-nine—

She treasured this room, this place, though now each thing here seemed to smoke and darken at the edges as from the heat of her terror. She worked to bury the panic, as her mind told her that the beautiful things in her years of cherished memories were being consumed in the presence of the current horror.

She had presided over the ordination of the nuns surrounding her. She knew their families. She imagined the torment behind their still faces.

The Biksuni Mother Elder focused on the tiny pale-skinned Ancient, pinned by the amber eyes glinting back at her. She shivered and twisted slightly against the naked nuns that held her arms. “Ancient, I am nothing. Release all the other women and I will certainly bow to you. You cannot achieve your goals, whatever they are, by making a mockery of this monastery.”

The Mother Elder watched the Ancient face that was an odd mixture of pale smoothness and lips like ice. The white-haired woman was under five-foot in height, slender, very long hair, snow-white lashes and brows. She wore an old fashioned green silk robe with dragons threaded over it. There were laugh lines around the dreadful amber eyes.

The thin silk robes of the Ruined Dragon were damp with female essence and tears. The gold threads of sailing dragons winked in the low light. The Ancient smiled at the Mother Elder. “I last saw my Love in a helicopter coming back to Hong Kong, and your monastery’s courtyard is large enough for a helicopter to land in. He will return to me soon. Sooner I think by taking this good place and making it over as a house that worships power and lust instead of peace. I will wait here, where there are so many tiny lives to swallow while I am waiting. I am so very hungry with the fires burning between my thighs.”

The Dragon grinned and licked her lips. “There are so many ways to dine. I wish to explore them.” She nodded to the young university professor she had enslaved yesterday.

Elsie Leung pushed her glasses up on her nose and stepped forward and with a trembling hand, she untied the brown robe of the Buddhist elder nun and quickly stripped the clothing from the woman’s upper torso. Elsie took up the golden needles as programmed and carefully inserted one in the center of each nipple. Then she grasped each needle between thumb and forefinger. “Ready, my Bride.”

The cold smile on the white-haired Ancient stretched wider. She shrugged off the delicate silk wrap and exposed her pale nudity; porcelain smooth skin; four very slight breasts on her slender torso and their hard pink nipples at swollen attention. Her strange beauty was horribly maimed; her forearms had been severed at the elbows. The Ruined Dragon had no hands. The skin at the elbows had healed over completely, yet the scars were fresh.

She licked her lips again.

All eyes were on her, and this seemed to register some delight in the young-old face. She paused, turned a bit to make sure that all present had a chance to admire her. She rolled her hips once.

The tiny Ancient walked around behind Professor Leung and squatted. She balanced there like a dancer. She leaned into to the professor’s naked ass and began to lick the anus. Her lust and will surged slightly and the muscles in the young mortal’s ass began to twitch uncontrollably.

Elsie’s glasses began to fog as she panted. She groaned, keeping her fingers firmly on the golden needles, acting as the filter and conductor of her Bride’s amazing and deadly lust. She cringed as the hot tongue entered her ass and began to vibrate with power. Her knees went weak. She felt the heat flow into her ass, up her spine, down through her arms and into the needles. She started to whisper. “You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

The Biksuni Mother Elder ground her teeth with the strange sensations clawing at her soul. She remained silent. Her nipples were swelling with arousal.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River,” chanted Elsie.

There were hums of pleasure from the four nuns gripping the Mother Elder, who could feel the vibration through their hands.

“A false thing cannot be made true by violence.” The Mother Elder began her own whispered chant. It seemed her nipples were now doorways into her mind. It felt to her as if a scalding tongue were licking through the nipples and into the inner recesses of her soul.

It felt terribly good.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River,” chanted the professor with dazed sad eyes. Elsie wiggled her ass on the profane tonguing though she tried to restrain herself. She felt her face burn with the knowledge that her Bride used her as a corrupter; an obscene weapon. She often told her colleagues she was an intellectual person. She didn’t know what to do with the pleasure throbbing in her at being used this way.

“A false thing cannot be made true by violence.” All of the Mother Elder’s blood felt like it was rushing to her breasts. It felt so good.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

“A falze thing cannot be made trrue by violenze.” Her inner peace was on fire. Burning.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

“A falzze thinn cannot be mmade trruu bii violenzze.” She thrust her nipples onto invisible tongues.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

“A falzzz thinnn cannn be mmmade trruuu biii violenzzz.” She wept with the arousal her nipples absorbed.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

“A falzzzz thinnnn cannnn be mmmmade trruuuu biiii violenzzzz.” She orgasmed. She realized that the others were not holding her captive now. She tried to remember where the room’s exit was. She’d forgotten. The Biksuni Mother Elder reached up and grabbed her smoldering breasts. She crushed them with her grasp; watched them bulge. Stared at the golden needles quivering in her huge nipples. Felt the invisible tongue melting her mind.

“You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

The room’s lights winked from the golden needles. A scalding tongue licked her thoughts.

“Brrride. RiverrrSlut. Whorrre. Riverrr.” She gasped staring at her beautiful aching nipples.

Elsie felt the Ancient nod and pull the burning tongue from her ass. Elsie licked her lips and shivered with a prolonged orgasm. She released her damp grip on the needles and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “You are bride to RiverSlut. You are whore to the River.”

“Umm. Agh. Brrride. Whorrre.” Sweat dripped from the Mother Elder’s chin. The nun squeezed her breasts again. Orgasmed.

The Ancient moved around Elsie and smiled at the Buddhist. “Welcome to my brothel. You are the senior whore.”

The holy woman smiled and nodded. “Yesss.”

Elsie wept and came.

* * *

Day Two-hundred and Sixty-three—

Fiona Nyx watched the skyline of Hong Kong thrust slowly upward through the summer haze. The pilot had just told them all it was another ninety-degree day with eighty-percent humidity. She rested her forehead against the cool plastic of the plane’s window.

What went wrong here? I punished Fu for her attack on me, but why is she poisoning the River? Such suffering. It’s obscene. I can’t fight this. I should be on the other side of the world; in Africa, in some nice dark cave. Or an empty beach in California. Damn you, Dragon.

The plane touched ground within ten minutes. The taxi to the gate went smoothly. In moments, the passengers were leaving the cabin. She waited, reluctant to leave the comfort of simply sitting. She pulled her tiny leather luggage from the overhead and checked her passport inside her brown jacket. She was the last one to exit the plane. She nodded to the flight attendant as she left. Her boots made hollow sounds on the jetway as she walked into the terminal. Once beyond the metal enclosure of the plane, the stink of the Tainted River caressed her and her stomach cramped. Her face was strained.

On the concourse, she caught sight of a swiftly receding passenger she had spotted on the last leg of the trip and her mouth tightened to a thin line.

She followed the hurrying woman in jeans and yellow jacket into the ladies’ room. As she walked in, the woman tried to duck into a stall. Fiona grabbed her hard by the upper arm and pulled them both into the stall, shouldering the door closed. “What are you doing here?”

The other struggled against her anger. “How strong are you? Christ on a biscuit!”

Fiona hissed. “Answer me, Saika. What are you doing here?”

“I followed you. You need me. Say, you are one really weird chick. A six-hour flight from LA, another fifteen hours from Hawaii and you didn’t go to the bathroom once. Unless you did it while I was catnapping.” She shifted in Fi’s grip, tilted her head exposing her neck. “Look. I bought myself a pet collar. I’m yours, you can’t just leave me behind.”

Fiona wanted to break her arm and leg and leave her there. “Pest. Parasite. If I had spotted you sooner, I would have thrown you off the plane.”

Saika laughed. “Yeah. Right.” She smirked into Fiona’s grimace. Faltered. Lost the bravado.

They stared at each other.

Saika waited; feeling anger sizzle the air around them, growing more uncomfortable as her arm became numb below Fi’s grip. Seconds dragged. Saika wondered again if the horrible compulsion to follow the biker had been a deranged urge. I’m in love with a nutcase, and I’m going nuts, too.

“Fine. I’ll fix you, my pretty,” hissed the Serpent.

“And I’m your little dog, too?” Saika gulped and tried to smile. The look in Fiona’s eye caused her to swallow her gum.

Fiona shifted her grip and dragged Saika out of the bathroom without another word.

* * *

After the taxi, the metal shop was horribly noisy with running machines and grinding abuse.

Saika looked around while Fiona chattered with the small foreman. Some kind of heated discussion was taking place, but in Chinese. Without much warning, Fiona was beside her again, still looking pissed. The foreman was walking away with a yellow twisted piece of something he hadn’t had a moment ago. Saika smiled. “OK. Look. I know that I shouldn’t have—.”

“No. And you’ll be sorry.” Fiona took her roughly by the upper arm again and steered them outside into the narrow street. A speeding bicycle nearly impaled both of them—they skipped aside. Asian faces everywhere. Crowds.

“OK. But I really think—.”

“No. You don’t. And it’s probably my fault somehow. I’ve already tried encouraging your mind back to something normal. But it looks like loyalty, or stubbornness, is your strong point. I overpower that and your mind will snap like rotten wood.” Fiona strode to the corner through the crowds, hissing two burly students out of her way. Then they quick-marched up the block.

“Really? Well, in college—.”

“No, Saika. I don’t want to know. I don’t want your life story. I don’t want to care about you. I don’t want you here. But since you ARE here I’m going to use you, you’re going to do what I tell you. Exactly what I tell you, when I tell you.” The crowd seemed to part in front of them. They crossed a street in the midst of traffic and hurried up another block.

“Hey. If you really feel that way—.”

“Saika. Shut. Up.” They crossed another street on a diagonal, dodging traffic and bikes. Fiona pushed open the door of a clothing store and icy air rushed past them.

Saika looked around. Expensive. Very. Some kind of oriental ‘Neiman Marcus’.

An elegantly tailored Asian woman approached slowly and eyed them both. “Good day. I am Ms. Mei, I hope I may serve you.”

Saika smiled. English. Outstanding. I can understand. She sure doesn’t like our boots and jeans look. We’re too scruffy for her tastes.

Fiona chatted her up in Chinese. The words had a hint of command. The saleswoman looked poker-faced for a while, then moved quickly to call for other younger women to help. Dresses and beautiful shoes started appearing. Boxes were being brought out and displayed.

“Wow. This is like ‘Pretty Woman’.” Saika lifted a green silk dress and ran a finger over the stitching.

Fiona laughed. “Oh yes, my pretty, and you have the whore’s role.”

“Uh?” Saika turned and stared.

Fiona slid her powerful hand to the back of Saika’s neck and rubbed it. “My pretty whore. Well-dressed. Pretty. Obedient. Whore.”

Saika turned a shade of crimson. She whispered, “Whore.” She found herself nodding. She was instantly wet and aroused.

“There is a Triad Chairman I need to see. A single petitioner is too gutsy and will draw thoughts I want to avoid giving Madame Fong. A trio will look foolish instead of daring to the Chairman. So I’m riding you into her compound.”

“Yes. Riding me.” Saika felt the bizarre buzz of attraction settle about the image of being ridden. A whore being ridden. Like a beast. A dog. I’m her bitch. “Yes. I like that.” She smiled, embarrassed again. The Asian saleswoman was pursing her lips with disapproval now.

Fiona suddenly orgasmed and wept. She gagged once—caught her breath quickly.

There was a moment of awkward stillness in the shop, then everyone busied themselves with pretty things, eyes averted from the bald woman’s tears.

Day Two-hundred and Sixty-two—

“Madame?”

The elegantly posed woman set aside her cigarette holder. “Yes, Miu Che?”

“There are prostitutes at the front gate who request to speak with you. The oldest’s name is Candy Mei and she claims you owe her a favor.”

An arched eyebrow was the affected response. For a moment, nothing else happened. “How curious.” Madame Fong stretched and picked up the phone. She punched three numbers. “Ip Pau? Describe this whore.”

She listened. Nodded. Took a long pull of her cigarette. “Three girls? What taxi company brought them?”

She smiled. “That is fine, I know the one. They will be silent at a word from us. Escort the young ladies to the Holding Room and make them comfortable. I will be there in ten minutes.”

She hung up. “That is all, Miu Che.”

The maid in black-and-white bowed and backed from the room.

* * *

Madame Fong entered the soundproof room to see a thirty-something Asian and two Western girls already secured in the teak stocks that held their wrists and necks in padded confinement. They were dressed in chic style and the blonde gwailo whore was unpleasantly thin. She smiled. “Raise them onto their toes.”

The men made adjustments of the iron posts holding the wooden crosspieces. Efficiently, each woman was stretched and balanced on the toes of her pumps. Madame Fong waved the five men out of the room. They bowed and left quietly.

She moved slowly to her guests. Studied them. Expensive clothes. Too new. These girls are not pretty enough. Wrong makeup. Mirror lemon nail polish that clashes with their outfits. Definitely not the kind of prostitutes that work for the Peacock Triad. Cheap poseurs.

“I do not know you girls. However, I am amused and entertained by brash young ladies who do not know respectful manners or their proper place. Since you are here, I thought you might enjoy a lesson in manners. Then you would be unlikely to make a mistake like this in the future, yes?”

She smiled sweetly and took a leather flail from the wall rack.

The slightly older Asian whore spoke quickly. “We meant no disrespect, Madame Fong. If—.”

In four quick strides, the Madame crossed behind the apparatus and laid a hand to the skirt hem of the speaker. She squeezed her ass. “Your name, whore?”

“Candy Mei. If—.”

Madame pulled the skirt up to the waist, exposing stay-up white stockings and transparent red panties. She stepped back and, with an expert hand, snapped the tangle of leather strips across the well-padded ass. “Is that your real name?”

Candy jerked and raised one foot as her cheeks flamed. “Yes! Please! I didn’t want to—.”

The flail whistled and snapped. “Whom do you whore for?”

Candy shrieked and clattered her feet, on toe, first one and then the other rapidly. “No! Please! I’m the senior saleswoman to—.”

The flail arced and cracked. “Whom do you whore for?”

Candy wailed. “Her. The blonde. I whore for her!”

The flail snapped once, then backhand, then forehand again . Madame laughed. “You work for another whore? Whom do you whore for?”

“For me.” Came the Chinese interruption from the thin blonde. Candy sobbed twitching and moving her ass as if she could dodge further blows.

Madame raised an eyebrow. She strolled over behind the blonde with the pageboy haircut and the piercing in one eyebrow. Madame shook her head. “For you? You are ugly and not very clever to come here. Even in those clothes, I can’t imagine men paying good money for you, my dear. So you are the mind behind these two?”

The gwailo blonde nodded. “Yes, I am the mind behind them. It was my idea to come see you, Madame.”

Madame pulled up the blonde’s tight skirt to the waist, displaying stay-up yellow stockings and shaved pussy. She stepped back again and with quick flip, smacked the flail across the narrow ass. “I want to show you what I think of your ideas. You will, of course, be kind enough to let me know when you understand?”

Madame smiled and licked her lips. The flail worked the bare flesh. Pink stripes crisscrossed the firm cheeks. The flail eagerly kissed the ass again and again. Madame watched the backside twitch and sway as the color plied into hotter pink, into red, into crimson.

Madame heard the blonde whispering to herself and strained forward to hear.

“Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni. Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni.”

Madame laughed with her own arousal. Interesting. A pain whore. Let us see how well she does. I may have use for her.

“Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni. Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni.”

Madame constructed rhythms with her instrument. The backside acquired glowing heat. The narrow cheeks kept a swaying pattern like a mobius strip or an infinity loop. Madame made certain to vary her stroke and strength, so the girl could not know what to anticipate.

“Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni. Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni.”

Beautiful. Such color. Such lovely red curves above the yellow silk. Look at her wet herself. Look at the wet lines on the red curves. She’s totally powerless. Totally hot. Waiting for the next blow. Wishing for the next crack of pleasure. The wet lines flowing and falling like tears on red, red cheeks of shame. Beautiful. Such color.

“Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni. Snap. The heat transforms the flesh. Snap. The flail kisses the yoni.”

The sounds and motions sang out.

Madame finally felt fatigue in her arm. Then she realized the girl had stopped whispering, that the whisper in her head was not in her ears. The whisper had climbed inside her thoughts. She stopped that and lowered the flail. She noted with buzzing excitement that there was no blood, though the girl’s cunt was swollen to twice its size and wet as a rain-drenched rose.

And still. Probably unconscious.

Madame stepped forward. Yes. Like a rose. Only with a perfume of a sort I cherish more.

She touched the blooming cunt, her fingers pressing the wet petals, and leaned forward to smell.

The shock traveled up her arm. Her eyes rolled up white as she convulsed, thrusting her fingers deeper into the flower. Oh. Mind spinning. Skull too small. Oh. Heat transforms. Oh. Kiss yoni. Oh.

Madame Fong orgasmed. Again and again. Some invisible balance knew the exact number and kind of flail strokes and these all came rebounding up through her arm as transformed pleasure.

She fell forward face-first into the red yoni-rose and wiggled her nose in it as her pleasure dragged her down into darkness.

Day Two-hundred and Sixty-one—

The Ancient Serpent walked to the window of Madame Fong’s bedroom and looked at the lights of the city. “And so the Po Lin Temple has kept its doors open since this supposed arrival?”

Madame Fong scrupulously applied the lemon-yellow nail polish in a second coat on her toes. Her nipples burned. She avoided looking at the vanity’s mirror that would cast back her whorish face—made up for selling sex. “Yes, Fiona. The rumors of the return of the Celestial Fu were too dangerous to investigate any closer. The temple is also a public place with many tourists. The Peacock Triad could not afford to ask too many dangerous questions.”

Saika and Candy sat tangled nude on the sofa with their hands teasing each other’s breasts and hot pussies. They kissed and moaned.

Fiona walked back to the food tray that had been delivered just past midnight and stopped. Madame paused in finishing the vibrant nail job to watch Fiona take a sip of hours-cold tea. The Westerner’s bald head and thin face were unpleasant to look at. Fong felt that thought stir new heat in her cunt. Her thoughts whispered, Heat transforms. Kiss yoni.

She whimpered and bent back to her painted toes.

Fiona groaned and gagged. Liquid spattered from her mouth onto the priceless imported carpet. She doubled over and dropped the teacup, choking. She retched and clutched her stomach.

Candy, Saika and Fong were on their feet in a blink and rushing toward her.

“Stop!” the Serpent hissed and coughed.

They froze like naked dolls.

“I will be fine.” She straightened painfully; blood trickled from her nose onto her lip. She lifted a hand and rubbed her temple. “I will be—fine.”

Saika tried to move and could not. She watched with dread as Fiona picked up the wet leather flail and began to tease herself between the legs. For some awful reason, that made Saika even hotter.

Day Two-hundred and Sixty—

The two men in black suits nodded to confirm the room was properly checked—then left.

He walked to the balcony and gently opened the doors with a gloved hand. He looked at the stars first, because they were as old as he was. They were a familiar comfort.

Then he looked across the water at Lantau Island. He could not see the Po Lin temple from here. Small matter considering what must be happening over there. He could feel the poison from here. It hung in the air; it traveled in and out of his lungs, and whispered in his mind. It was everywhere.

The Great River was being beaten and ravaged.

He swallowed his rage, as he recognized that it was, itself, part of the poison in the River now. The necessity of being here at all galled at him. Why weren’t the others taking care of this? Where was Crane? Dead as the Spider? Where was Salamander? Or Ogre? Or even the sly Fox? Did they think this could go on with no response?

He was most disappointed in Salamander. He had really hoped that his fellow Ancient would kill the Dragon the last time. He smiled with that fleeting fantasy.

Of course, none of the Old Bitches would face the Horror. No. Certainly not. They were spineless except for Isis. And the Old Cat wouldn’t leave her sandbox. And the Dragon had only tried to enter Egypt’s sands once. He smiled at that memory.

He sighed and rubbed the silver head of his cane alongside his patrician nose. Then he reached up and took off his black glasses.

The Great River twisted and writhed before his black on black eyes. The night sky was tinted with black and red threads of the lives burned and taken in agony and suffering. He stared at Lantau Island. Blood bright lines of poison flowered and bloomed up into the sky in beautiful abundance.

The Ancient spat and put the glasses back on. He lifted a hand and rubbed his temple.

A soft knock sounded behind him in the suite.

He drifted silently back within.

One of his frozen-faced men entered at his signal pushing two hotel maids in front of him.

He smiled and snatched his glasses off.

Their eyes locked on his and their faces twitched with dread. Their mouths worked with little pants of protest. Their breathing was panicked. Then the faint smiles started, lopsided at first, then slowly widening, their facial muscles warring with conflicting impulses from their brains. Until finally, they were both grinning broadly and starting to remove their clothes.

He snapped his fingers and they froze. He looked at the man behind them. “How long did they last?”

The black suited blond consulted his timepiece. “Thirteen seconds, sir.”

The Raven nodded and waved the fellow out. “Proceed with your desire, bitches.”

His man left quietly. The women hurriedly stripped, throwing their clothes off with energy and tearing their stockings in haste. The maids leered at him—and then got down on the floor and crawled to their radiant dark God.

END