The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Seed’

(mc, f/f, m/f, nc)

DISCLAIMER: This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

* * *

‘Seed’

Part Three

Just before dawn, Eyna was masturbating in the garderobe.

A whorehouse couldn’t smell like cess, so taking care of the necessary was done in a small outbuilding on the other side of the Red Sail’s diminutive rear yard. Lord Feyne had forbade outhouses within the settlement’s walls, so a trough had been laid in the ground which ran behind the line of buildings; waste ran out of the garderobe through the rear fence and into the trough, and the frequent rains drained it out past the palisade, to a foul-smelling pit periodically cleaned out by slaves sent to collect fertilizer.

The garderobe had a seat above a basin; one drew water from the well on the way past, then rinsed the basin out with the water, into the sewer trough.

Eyna wasn’t in the garderobe to relieve herself.

In her mind, she saw Khuluub.

Her Mistress was stroking her body, four hands running along her breasts, her sides, together across her mons as she had done when Eyna first saw her. Eyna’s hands worked her own pussy, the left rubbing her slit, the right with two fingers twitching inside.

Something touched her fingertips and she groaned.

She pulled the fingers from her vagina and leaned against the garderobe wall. There was a cramp in her stomach and she felt the thing inside her move, slide downward. Leaning against the wall with her right hand, she kneaded her pussy with her left, jaw twitching helplessly, making soft cries as the thing inside her pushed a little closer towards birth.

Her body clenched again and she felt it slide down, into her vagina proper, her cervix closing behind it, the smooth tip emerging into the warm air.

She squeezed down and it pushed further out, pod-like, not too large, a little thicker and a little shorter than a long gourd. Its widest part stretched open her cunt and she came, leaning heavily against the wall, and as her pussy spasmed the pod dropped onto the floor.

Eyna sat down on the garderobe seat and smiled at the thing she had birthed. She picked it up, still warm and covered with her juices, and held it against her skin.

“Thank you, my Mistress,” she said to the night air. “Your will shall be done.”

* * *

“Unh- unh- unh- unh- oh, Hells, Eyna, I can’t—”

“Fill me with your cum,” Eyna urged him. “Go on, I want to feel it.”

Her words were the final goad, and Jambic came, shooting what little spunk he had left into Eyna, who was on top, riding him, leaning back slightly, hands on either side of his thighs.

“Oh, yes, lover,” she rumbled, squeezing his member with her snatch. “I love that.”

The man moaned in pleasure and fatigue. “Six Gods,” he said, “No more. I won’t be able to go back to work.”

Eyna leaned forward, his cock still inside her, and daintily kissed his chest. The fur there was just starting to go to gray.

“Well we can’t have that,” she said. “Tremona would be sooo disappointed.”

“Oh, fuck,” he exhaled. “Atra’s bloated balls, you minx, how did you get so good at this?”

Eyna smiled coquettishly. “Just naturally talented, I suppose. Once I realized how much fun it was, and let myself enjoy it.”

She lifted her leg and his limp cock flopped out of her. With a contented sigh, she lay down on the bed next to him.

“So when are you going to be done?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Couple more weeks. I’m here dawn to dusk, but the skilled men aren’t reliable and the slaves do shitty work. No offense.”

She laughed. “I don’t work, I fuck. I’m good at it, I hope?”

He leaned over and put his face to her neck. “Very fucking good. Ybella’s tits, woman, how do you smell so good?”

She ran her hand across his hair. “Womanly arts. Now, did you want to go again, or...?”

He lay back heavily onto the bed. “Oh, fuck, no,” he said. “I’m spent. And I have to get back to work or Tremona’s new wing will never get finished, and then you’ll never get your own room.”

“Oh, I’m just a slave,” Eyna demurred. “Only the free whores get rooms of their own.”

Jambic sat up, swiveling his legs off the bed. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“I think you might be surprised about that. Do you even know what Tremona is charging for you these days?”

Eyna shook her head, eyes wide. “They don’t tell us that.”

He nodded, grinning. “It’s a lot. Not for me, of course, I get to fuck you because if I didn’t I could be working on any of two dozen other fucking buildings that people want built yesterday. But you... you’re special. Don’t think Tremona don’t know it. It’s getting her a double-size bordello well ahead of anyone else’s schedule.”

“We appreciate it, Jambic,” Eyna said, “we really do.”

He stood up with a grunt, and reached for his pants. “Eh. I could double my prices and still have more work than I can do, but it wouldn’t give me the same feeling as half an hour in here with you. I’m of half a mind to tell the slaves to slow down, give me time to enjoy some extra pussy.”

“Anytime you want me, Jambic...”

He raised a hand, chuckling. “Stop, stop. That’s too sweet. I need to get back to my gromae and my slave prod. I’ll have a roof over your head by the time Ides rolls around, my dear, you watch.”

* * *

“Really?” Eyna asked.

Tremona nodded. “This is your room now. You’ll also take clients here, so keep it neat and... attractive. You know what to do. Talk to Princess or Wylla about wall hangings, we can order some from Gildor City with the next caravan. There’s the incense burner. We’ll have a bunch of new girls arriving in a day or two, they can take over the laundry work.”

“Oh thank you, Tremona,” Eyna burst, and lunged forward to hug the whoremistress.

“Tut-tut-tut,” Tremona sputtered, extricating herself. “It’s good business. I don’t mind telling you that you bring in good money for me, the best of any of my slaves. It’s only fair that you see a piece of that. But don’t go getting ideas above your station.”

“Oh, no, Tremona,” Eyna said, looking at the floor. “It’s just... it’s so nice, this room, with a window, and my own bed- it’s just... thank you.”

Tremona nodded. “And I want you taking every fourth day off. No men, unless they pay special, of course, but you need to keep rested. You can start today, I’ll tell Princess you’re out for tonight unless we get a special.”

“Thank you, Tremona,” Eyna warbled again. “You’re so good to me.”

“Tut. Protecting my investment, I am. Now then, I have to check on the other rooms. You go get your things, the room’s yours.”

Eyna kept her eyes down as Tremona swept from the room.

She looked around the room, and smiled. It still smelled like lumber, and pitch, and sawdust. There, in the corner, was the little wooden pot that Jambic had made for her; she went and picked it up, and walked to the door.

Opening it, she found Loro frowning at her.

“L-Loro?”

His frown twisted deeper. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, cunt,” he said, raising a finger. “But I’m watching you. I don’t believe for one arse-fucked second that you enjoy being a whore. This is all a game, a sham. You’re playing at something. But I’m fucking watching you, you cunt. And when you slip up it will be me what gets to remind you of your place.”

“I- I—”

Suddenly, he slapped her, knocking her against the doorframe and sending the bucket clattering to the floor. With his other hand he grabbed her chin and yanked her head back around.

“You just remember, cunt,” he hissed. “I know you’re lying. And when you finally step out of line, I’m going to fuck you with a hot iron.”

Eyna hung her head and said nothing.

Loro spat on the floor, then shoved her away.

She watched him walk to the stairs, her eyes empty.

When he was out of sight, she smiled.

Bucket back in hand, Eyna went downstairs. She stepped out into the Red Sail’s yard and scooped the bucket full of dirt, then walked back inside and slipped down the corridor to the slaves’ room.

As Eyna approached the curtain-hung space where she had slept, she saw Noebe emerge from her adjacent space.

“Eyna,” Noebe said, holding out her arms. They shared a quick hug. “Come for your things?”

Eyna nodded. “Such as they are. And you? Are you moving?”

Noebe shrugged. “I am—Linor and Jerreth and I are going to share one of the downstairs rooms in the new wing. Tremona wants this area cleared out for the new slaves.”

Eyna looked at the row of curtained alcoves. “That’s... remember when we were new?”

Noebe gave a sad smile. “No. I was raised a slave. But I remember when Tremona bought you. Hard days.”

“Bad days,” Eyna agreed. “How many new girls?”

“No idea. But Tremona is swimming in money, so probably as many as ten, maybe even a dozen.”

“Wow. Good thing she expanded the building.”

“Yeah. Six Gods I hope this will give us a break. I’m just... I’m just tired, Eyna. Fucking every night...”

Eyna hugged Noebe again. “It will. I’m sure of it.”

Noebe looked at the wooden bucket in Eyna’s hand. “What’s that?”

Eyna smiled. “For my room. I’m going to get a plant.”

Noebe’s brows furled. “Oh. Huh. A plant.”

“You know, something pretty. A flower.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

They hugged again, quickly, and then Eyna stepped around Noebe and into her little sleeping area. She gathered together her things—although some of her lovers had given her coins or other trinkets, and she hadn’t told or surrendered it all to Princess, Eyna still could carry the total of her belongings all at one time. Mostly it was clothes, some pins for her hair, copper jewelry or baubles of little real value.

Bucket full of dirt perched precariously on top of her folded clothes, Eyna made her way back down the hall, up the staircase, and to her new room.

As she entered, she smiled. It was a decent sized room but after her previous quarters it felt like a vaulted chamber. She placed her clothes on the bed, and put the bucket on the little night-stand, under the open window.

Then she picked up the top half of the stack of clothes, putting them to the side on the bed, and revealing the gourd.

It had dried out and was wrinkled and brown, half the length of her forearm. With a gentle smile, she picked it up, then began to twist.

The husk of the gourd resisted, then tore. Eyna bent it in half, and a half-dozen black seeds dropped out onto the bed.

Eyna looked out her window, then tossed out the torn seed pod. She picked up the seeds and brought them close to her eye.

They were black and glossy, round with one flattened end, somewhat like the shape of an acorn. The opposite end of each seed tapered to a wicked spike. Eyna stared at the seeds for a long moment. A breeze from the window flicked at her hair.

Then she took a small pouch and emptied five of the seeds into it, and slid it into the drawer of the night-stand.

The other seed she held between her fingers, and raised it in front of the window.

“Bless us, Khuluub,” she whispered.

She jabbed the pointed end deeply into the flesh of her hand.

With a grimace, she pulled the seed back out. As the blood welled up, she pressed the black seed down into the earth within the bucket; then she squeezed her hand, letting several fat drops of blood fall onto the seed’s flat top.

Then she bound up her hand with a small strip of cloth, and began to place her clothes into the room’s small dresser.

* * *

“Hey—they’re here.”

Eyna looked up from her sewing. Although she had not worked in the laundry for several weeks, she helped the girls who did by taking the mending up to her room and working on it on her day off. She had always been handy with a needle.

“Who’s here?” she asked.

“The new girls,” Noebe said. “The new slaves. Tremona’s giving them the look over in the common room right now.”

Eyna put the workman’s shirt aside and hastened to the staircase after Noebe.

With the addition built, Tremona had the ceiling and several walls knocked out on the first floor of the original Red Sail building to make a large open space with a balcony. Tremona called it a ‘salon’, the girls called it ‘the common room’, and the customers called it the ‘the pick-a-whore’. The free whores and the slaves who could be trusted would lounge around the room decoratively and flirt with the men, who would be sold overpriced ale and spirits—further contributing to Tremona’s bottom line.

Currently, though, it was late morning and no customers were about. Twelve women, roped together, stood in the center of the room with their heads bowed. Eyna and Noebe pushed their way through the other whores to the balcony railing, winding up on either side of Linor. Below them, Tremona was inspecting her merchandise.

“Not bad,” Tremona was saying to the man standing at one end of the line. “Not bad. What about temperament?”

The man pointed. “That one’s a biter; she’ll need good use of the whip. The others are for the most part agreeable. The one near the end there, she don’t like men, or I should say she don’t like cock.”

Eyna looked at the woman Tremona’s factor was pointing at; although older than most of the slaves she was very attractive, her dark hair in cascading ringlets, her mouth thin beneath an aquiline nose.

“She doesn’t like cock?” Linor whispered.

“She likes to fuck other women,” Noebe whispered back. “Not men.”

“Ohhh. You can do that? How does that even work?”

“Hush.”

Tremona had walked down the line of subdued women to the one that the factor had pointed to.

“Is that true? You’re a cunt-licker?”

The woman looked Tremona in the eyes. “It is. I was a courtesan of the Countess of Quinyr.”

“What’s your name?”

“Esmerill.”

“Well, Esmerill, Quinyr was annexed last spring,” Tremona replied. “And now you, and I daresay any other survivors, are slaves. And you belong to me, and are here in my house. There’s not much call for your specialty here, cunt-licker. You’ll not give any trouble, when you take men?”

The dark-haired woman looked away. “No,” she replied.

“Good.” She walked back down the line to stand in front of the other woman singled out. “And you, biter. You’re a whore now, and my slave, and you’ll either wear that gracefully or you’ll be put to death.” She looked over at the factor. “How much for her, Thalli?”

“Her? Six aurel.”

Tremona barked a laugh. “You hear that, biter? Six aurel, you’re worth. Some of these whores earn that in two nights. So your value to me is entirely in your future earnings. Spread your legs, do as you’re told, or I’ll have your throat cut as a lesson to the others and think no more on my poor six aurel.”

The woman’s face tightened, but she didn’t look up.

Tremona walked back over to Thalli. “Fine work,” she said. “This lot should do nicely. Come back to the office, we’ll talk coin.” She looked over her shoulder. “Loro, show the slaves to their place.”

“Right, Tremona,” Loro replied. “Alright then, cunts,” he said as he took hold of the rope, “this way to your new home.”

* * *

Eyna woke from a beautiful dream.

In it, she had been with Khuluub. Her Mistress was leading her around a pool, in a temple; the domed roof was open at the center, and the walls were a riot of climbing flowers, yellow and blue and crimson. The pool itself was deep, and clear; at the bottom were a thousand waving vines, rising from a carpet of white bones.

Eyna took a deep breath, and smiled. She looked out the window into the darkness.

Next to her bed, the little potted plant had closed its single flower. Eyna gently stroked it.

Then she rose from her bed and dressed, dark pants and a dark shirt, and knee-high boots. Although Princess confiscated most of the money Eyna’s lovers gave to her, the gifts from the tailor and the cobbler she had been allowed to keep. The cobbler liked her to wear the boots when they fucked.

They fit quite well.

She opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a small purse, which she slipped into a pocket; also a firestick, enchanted to light at a word and burn for an hour. A soldier had liberated it from Lord Feyne’s stores; smitten, he had given it to Eyna.

Silently, she stole down the staircase. Horr Hen, the new night guard, sat awake in the common room, but Eyna snuck out through the kitchen into the yard. Using the latrine at night was common, and no cause for anyone to take notice.

Climbing out through the waste basin, however, was. Eyna washed it out with the bucket, then slipped in afterward, feet first, sliding down and through and out the back of the garderobe to the waste trench.

She moved quickly along the reeking trench. It had rained the night before and the smell was less, but still unpleasant. A hundred ells away, she came to the wall, and the iron grate that let the waste flow out but kept jungle animals from entering the settlement.

One of her children awaited her there.

She had planted it a week ago. Now it curled along the metal bars, dark green shoots running up the palisade wall, mottled leaves fluttering around the base.

Eyna closed her eyes, and prayed to Khuluub.

The vine began to grow. As she watched, green runners crept up the palisade walls; leaves budded and unfurled. In a moment, the plant was twice, then three times its former size, twined around and through the metal of the grate and up and along the wooden wall in all directions.

Eyna opened her eyes and held out her arm, palm up. Then she slowly turned it over, forming a fist.

The vine responded. Metal groaned as it bent. An iron crossbar separated from the verticals with a bang; the whole grate gave out a low shriek as it warped and twisted.

Eyna opened her fist; the vine stopped growing. She put her hands together, and then spread them.

The vines that had torn open the grate spread themselves aside.

Eyna ducked low and slipped out of the settlement. Behind her, the vines closed back together, a leafy green veil over the hole torn in the wall.

* * *

Eyna crossed the muddy clearing and entered the jungle. She did not worry about where she was going; she knew that Khuluub was in her mind, guiding her. There was a direction, and Eyna was pulled gently towards it. She followed the pull without hesitation.

She entered the jungle without fear. Her steps were light as she crossed fallen trees and pushed through bracken. The darkness was almost complete, though high above the treetops a full moon shone. She could feel herself being guided, and it warmed her. All this land belonged to Khuluub, every hill and stream, every rock and stump. She would move Eyna to where Eyna should be.

There was a sudden snap in the darkness, and Eyna saw a jungle cat, motionless, staring at her. In the darkness only its head, glowing in a strip of light falling through the high foliage, was visible, floating in the inky blackness. The cat was twice as large as a man, and she was easy prey.

But it responded to the will of Khuluub, and a moment later it moved on silently about its hunting.

Eyna kept walking, scrambling over deadfalls, circling around giant trunks. Beneath the leaves, the ground changed from sucking mud to a more gravelly texture, firmer and easier to walk on. More light filtered down through the trees as well; the soil here was rockier, not so rich.

Then, to her right, a hill loomed.

Eyna knew it was time for light. She removed the firestick and whispered the catch-word. The end of the stick caught fire, a fire which rapidly strengthened, casting torchlight onto the leaves and vines around her. Several small creatures scuttled hurriedly away.

The hill was just a hill, though the trees on it were small. It was where Khuluub was guiding her. Eyna approached.

A mighty tree, fifty or more ells tall, had fallen here, fallen onto the hill—and broken it open.

Not a hill. It was a building.

Holding the firestick aloft, Eyna clambered atop the trunk of the fallen tree and carefully made her way into the opening it had created. There was a jumble of dirt, roots, and muck; then masonry and shattered brick.

And then she was inside.

It was the temple from her dream.

Eyna knelt down and slipped off of the tree trunk, down onto the tiles of the floor. She looked around the room.

In the center was the pool; brackish now, the water only the depth of a man and black with leaf-rot. To reach the surface would have been a jump down of three ells. The temple walls rose around her, the vines that once climbed them long-dead, even their branches fallen onto the dirty floor, leaving dark-stained masonry. The oculus in the ceiling was clogged with dirt, from which roots quested around the top of the dome.

This was where she would plant.

Eyna withdrew the purse from her pocket and opened it. Inside were the three remaining seeds, their ends needle-sharp and glossy black.

She stabbed each of them into her arm, grimacing at the pain, then kissed them, and tossed them into the pool.

They hit the dark surface with little splashes which echoed around the room, and swiftly sank out of sight.

That was all.

Eyna turned away, then stopped. There was a rumbling sound.

Then, with a great rush of air that pushed Eyna backward, the dirt filling the oculus fell into the chamber, splashing into the pool with such force that water spattered the walls of the room. It fell and fell until a small mound of earth rose from the center of the pool—and moonlight shone down through the opened eye, above.

Eyna’s body thrummed with the echo of Khuluub’s power.

A little final dirt slipped from above, and then all was still.

The night’s work was done.

With a whispered promise to the planted seeds, Eyna turned and left.

* * *

As she slipped back out of the garderobe, Eyna could hear the whipping.

Loro used a cat hung with cloth, rather than with the leather strips used on deserters and thieves; the marks it left would pass but stung only a little less for that. Eyna paused in the yard. Another strike—another scream.

The biter.

Eyna did not doubt Tremona’s threat. If the woman didn’t bend in a week or two, her throat would be cut and she’d be dumped at the jungle’s edge. Six silver aurel was a fair price for a lesson to the others.

But Khuluub whispered in Eyna’s mind, and she smiled.

* * *

END Part Three