The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Eyna and Xia—for that was the easterner’s name—approached the gate in the palisade across the cleared field around Torr Gyn. Already the weeds and seedlings were calf-high. The guards watched them come, leaning on their spears.

“May we enter?” Eyna asked, as the two of them drew close.

“Yeah, ’course you can,” one of the guards drawled. “You hain’t no jungle cat, hey ya?”

“Wait,” the other one said, squinting at Eyna. “Do I know you?”

“You do know me,” Eyna replied.

His brow furrowed, then cleared. “Eyna,” he said. “The whore. I thought... didn’t you run off?”

Eyna shrugged.

“Look,” the guard said, stepping towards her, “don’t go in there. Just get back to whatever plantation you ran off to. You know what they do to runaway slaves in Torr Gyn. If that whoremistress of yours doesn’t want to lash you until the bones show, the guard serjeant will do it for her. It’s Lord Feyne’s law—slaves that run away get fifty lashes. No exceptions.”

“Who says I ran away?” Eyna replied. “Perhaps I was on an errand for my Mistress.”

The guard rolled his eyes. “Who says? Only anyone who’s been to the Red Sail in the last week. Tremona rants about you to anyone who will hold still. ‘Fucking cunt, stole my money, ran to the jungle...’” He gave Eyna a level look. “She hasn’t yet offered a reward, though, so take my advice and turn right the fuck around.”

“You’re sweet,” Eyna told him, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. Then she and Xia walked past the guards into the town.

The guards watched them go. The one who had warned Eyna watched for a moment longer, then shrugged and looked back out at the jungle.

“You’re sweet,” his compatriot said, miming a kiss.

“Fuck your mother,” the guard replied.

Eyna walked directly down the muddy streets to the Red Sail, and strode in through the front door.

It was mid-day, so the salon was quiet. Princess walked into the room with a tray, looked over, saw Eyna, and froze. Her eyes went wide.

A large hand closed on Eyna’s shoulder.

“Eyna,” Horr Hen said. “Shouldn’t’a come back.”

“Hello Horr Hen,” she replied. She looked at her companion. “Xia, why don’t you wait down here.”

Xia sat down on one of the scarlet-upholstered couches as Horr Hen ushered Eyna away. The bouncer guided her upstairs to a closed door, and knocked on it.

“What?” Tremona snapped from inside.

Horr Hen opened the door, and there was a gasp.

“You.” The tone was ice.

Eyna walked into the office. “Hello, Tremona.”

For a moment, Tremona just stared at her. Her mouth made silent half-words as she struggled to express a roil of emotions. Finally, she stood up, walked around her desk, and struck Eyna hard in the face; so hard she fell to the floor.

“You cunt.”

Tremona stood over her. “You absolute... you’re a slave, do you not fucking understand that? You belong, to me. Pro-per-ty. You think you can fuck a few men, play nice to them, and you’re suddenly fucking untouchable? You’re fucking touchable! You belong—to me!”

Tremona kicked her in the side.

“You stupid fucking fucking fuck! You’re going to wish you had fucking died in the jungle! Fifty lashes... Archfiends, I have half a bloody mind to cut out your eyes! You’re not that fucking important, Eyna!” Tremona screamed, and kicked her again. “You’re a fucking slave! You don’t get to... I gave you a room! And you fucking ran out on me? On me!”

Tremona kicked her again, then squeezed her hands into fists and looked toward the ceiling.

“No,” she said. “I’m not going to go fucking Loro and give myself an apoplectic fit. I’m fucking calm.”

Tremona turned around and walked back to her desk, pushed her hands down on its surface. For a moment, the room was quiet as Tremona inhaled, and exhaled. Then she pushed herself up and turned back to face Eyna.

“You are going to be punished, and punished, and punished,” she announced. “Because no one fucks me over like that. Taking advantage of my kindness and generosity. You are a slave,” she hissed, “and you will finally fucking understand that, just before I really start to fuck you up.“

Eyna, wincing, sat up. She blinked slowly a few times, shaking her head.

“So we’ll start with the lashes first,” Tremona went on. “Sure, you were a good earner, but I’m making enough coin that reducing you to a limbless cunt in a dark room won’t trim my fucking sails. So it’s lashes—to start. And then I think some hot irons. You’re going to be screaming how fucking sorry so are for—” Tremona’s voice rose again “—what the fuck are you smiling about?“

Eyna just cocked her head and kept smiling.

“Get her the fuck up,” Tremona told Horr Hen, waving a hand. “Let’s see how long that smile lasts when she’s on the fucking wheel and the lash hits her.”

Horr Hen bent over to take hold of Eyna’s neck—but then he tottered, unsteadily, and then pitched forward onto his face.

“The fuck?” Tremona gasped.

The bouncer made a gargling noise, the sound of air escaping a bladder. His arms twitched as he slumped bonelessly on the floor.

Eyna, smiling, got to her feet.

“Dear Tremona,” she said, walking toward the desk.

“Stay away from me,” Tremona snapped, taking several quick steps back around her desk, putting it between herself and Eyna. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Dear Tremona,” Eyna repeated, drawing closer. “I’m so sorry that you felt betrayed by my absence.” She paused. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. A bit perplexed, actually, I’m just a slave, you really shouldn’t get so worked up about this sort of thing.”

Tremona felt dizzy, which spiked her panic even further. She slammed open the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a knife, which she pointed at Eyna.

Eyna smiled and kept coming, rounding the desk; Tremona swung the knife but Eyna easily caught her wrist, and Tremona’s attempt to pull her arm out of Eyna’s grip failed feebly. Suddenly all her strength seemed gone.

The knife tumbled from Tremona’s fingers and her knees gave out; she she would have slumped to the ground, but Eyna kept hold of her arm, pulling her close, and as Tremona toppled Eyna caught her around the waist.

“Dear Tremona,” Eyna said, looking down at her captive with a terrifying glint in her eyes, “I’m ever so sorry I caused you trouble. Let’s kiss and make up.”

“No...” Tremona whispered, as Eyna’s mouth closed on hers.

Feebly, she struggled; then her struggles grew wilder, though no more successful, as she felt something pushing into her mouth.

Eyna felt the vine reach up from within her and slide forward over her tongue. Her eyes rolled up in her head as it pushed its way into Tremona’s mouth, slithering between the two of them, and then Tremona’s body began to jerk as the vine turned at the back of her throat and began to burrow upward into her brain.

Eyna’s throat bulged as the vine’s rootball passed up out of her, and she felt its fuzzy wetness fill her mouth, stretching out her jaw, and then it popped out between her lips and passed into Tremona, trailing tiny roots.

With a soft gasp, Eyna broke the kiss. She held the convulsing Tremona in her left arm, and wiped her mouth with her right. She smiled as she watched the rootball disappear down Tremona’s engorged throat, slipping downward in staccato pulses.

“Don’t worry, Tremona,” she said. “You’re not going to die—yet. Mistress still has great use for your body. It’s just... our relationship needed to change.”

Gently, she set Tremona down in her chair. The whoremistress’ eyes were as wide as her slack, drooling mouth, and her head twitched atop her neck.

Eyna walked around the desk. Helplessly, Horr Hen stared up at her, eyes wide in terror.

Eyna smiled at him.

There was a tapping at the door.

“Tremona? You’re back? And Jerreth said you wanted to see me?”

“Come in,” Eyna called happily.

Tentatively, Esmerill opened the door. Her eyes widened.

“Eyna! What are you... doing...”

Eyna was sitting atop Tremona’s desk, her legs dangling off the front. Behind her, Tremona was sitting slack in her chair, head slightly cocked, staring at the ceiling above the door. Her arms hung limply to either side.

Esmerill looked at Eyna. “Is she... is she dead?”

Eyna looked over her shoulder. “Tremona, are you dead?”

“No,” Tremona replied in a strange voice. Only her mouth moved; the rest of her body remained entirely motionless, draped bonelessly over her chair.

Esmerill looked up and down the hall, then slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. “This is... she’s been... taken by...”

“...Khuluub, yes,” Eyna finished for her. She slid lightly off of the desk and stepped over to Esmerill, hooking an arm behind her back and parting her lips for a kiss.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Esmerill relaxed and leaned into Eyna’s body, returning her kiss. Their lips plucked at each other, tongues flickering lightly, and Eyna’s hands slid up and down Esmerill’s back. Esmerill felt a wave of warmth wash across her body and her own hands increased their grip on Eyna’s back, her mouth gripping Eyna’s with greater urgency. She inhaled through her nose and scented the strange perfume of Eyna’s bedroom flower.

After several long minutes, Eyna took hold of Esmerill’s arms and broke their kiss. Esmerill almost whined, leaning forward for more kissing before blinking and shaking her head.

“We must speak, first,” Eyna said. “There is much Khuluub will have us do.”

“I will obey Khuluub,” Esmerill responded. “What does she want us to do?”

“Tremona obeys now,” Eyna replied. “She can do no other. A creature of Khuluub lives within her. She is its helpless slave, and shall remain so until it finishes consuming her and takes her place entirely. Through her we will accomplish Khuluub’s design for this place. First the Red Sail, and all within, shall become hers. Then all of Torr Gyn shall be remade in her image—before the moon is once again new.”

“Yes,” Esmerill said, awed. “What am I to do?”

“Do you have my plant? Have you kept it safe?”

“I have,” Esmerill replied. “When you left, Tremona... she tore apart your room. She smashed the furniture, destroyed your clothes...” Esmerill looked at Tremona, but the whoremistress just stared vacantly at the ceiling. “But I had already taken the plant away. At night it is in my room, though I take it into the yard for light during the day. It is there now.”

“Wonderful.” Eyna walked around the desk, and put a hand on Tremona’s head. “Here is what I want you to do...”

Vykello looked up from his desk with annoyance; when he saw who it was, his brow furrowed even further.

“Gorvin, I told you not to let her in,” he snapped at the manservant who stood behind the two women.

“She has an offer...” Gorvin began.

“I fucking know she does. I’ve heard it before. Arta’s scrote, how much coin did she slip you?” The merchant waved his hand at the servant. “All right, I’ll fucking talk to her. Go on, get back to the door.”

Rolling his eyes, Vykello sat back in his chair and looked at the women. “Impossible to find good help in this town,” he observed. “Gorvin’s not bad—at least he requires money to disobey my direct orders. Now then. I’ve told you several times, whoremonger, that I am not interested in selling the building. Warehouse space inside the palisade is simply too valuable. And I’m perfectly willing to pay to get my wick dipped when I so desire, so I’m not interested,” he said, looking more closely at the second woman, “in any of your additional blandishments.”

The second woman, an attractive slave with dark, curly hair, approached Vykello’s desk. She reached into her embroidered shirt, removed a pouch from between her breasts, and tossed it onto the desk with a jingling thump.

The merchant looked at the pouch, his eyebrows raised in spite of himself. Gingerly, he reached out and opened it.

His eyebrows raised further.

“My Mistress would like to purchase your warehouse,” Esmerill told him. “Is that amount sufficient?”

Vykello opened his mouth, paused, then closed it. “Is there something I should know?” he finally asked. “Did you discover the lost treasure of Kaz Ghuul beneath the property or something?”

Esmerill smiled. “Not at all. My Mistress wants to expand her business, and does not wish to have to visit multiple establishments spread across the settlement. Your building adjoins hers and has the most space.”

“Business must be doing well,” he replied, sweeping the heavy pouch into a desk drawer. “Very well, the warehouse is yours. Although my other facilities are not so well-situated, your argument has persuaded me. I will have my men clear it out by dusk tomorrow.”

“That’s very kind,” Esmerill said. “My Mistress thanks you.”

Vykello leaned to the side. “Is your Mistress quite all right? She’s awfully quiet, which, ah, I find unusual. Tremona, you are well I hope?”

Tremona, whose head was slightly cocked, licked her lips. “I. Am fine,” she said in an oddly deep, monotone voice.

Dubious, Vykello nodded. “Well. The warehouse is yours, as I say. I’ll draw up the papers this evening.”

“Actually,” Esmerill said, “we’d like to leave with them, if you please. That’s a large sum of coin you just tucked away. We don’t want to depart and have nothing to show for it.”

Vykello looked at Tremona, who stared back at him with unblinking eyes. “Well, ah... very well. Gorvin! Bring me the deed to the property next to the whorehouse, and a set of transfer documents!” He looked at Tremona. “Would you prefer that I send a runner to Lord Feyne’s registrar’s office with the notice of sale, or do you wish to deliver the notice there yourself?”

Tremona cleared her throat. “We take it,” she replied.

The merchant gave her a look, then shrugged. “As you wish. Gorvin! Hurry it up!”

Eyna stopped just inside the door and looked around.

Vykello’s men had cleaned out the warehouse quite thoroughly; there was nothing on the dirt of the floor save a few large stains where oil or wine had once spilled. Otherwise it was just one large, empty room; the rafters of the second floor had even been stripped of the boards which once held additional stores there, trimmed boards having a high value in Torr Gyn.

Had Eyna wanted the building as a warehouse, she might have been annoyed.

Light entered through windows which were really just openings in the walls, with wooden shutters to cover them. All of them were on the second story, windows at ground level being too tempting an inducement to theft.

“It’s perfect,” Eyna announced.

She turned around to face her compatriots, still standing in the street. Waving a finger in a small circle, she instructed them: “Strip off the roof. Stack the shingles in the rear yard.”

The bodies of Horr Hen and Aric twitched, then lurched to obey.

Eyna watched with a small smile as the bouncers returned to the Red Sail to fetch tools. Then her gaze turned to Esmerill, who had been standing between them.

“Bring it in,” she said.

Esmerill stepped forward, carrying the pot with Eyna’s small flower. It had grown further since Eyna’s return and now sported three hand-sized yellow flowers on a viney twist easily an ell tall; as she held the wooden pot at her waist, the vine’s uppermost flower brushed Esmerill’s cheek. Behind her, Xia, the golden-skinned easterner, entered holding a shovel and a pail of water.

Together, the women walked to the center of the warehouse. Eyna slid a foot along the floor, leaving a streak in the dust.

“Here.”

The shovel bit into the ground.

Once the hole was large enough, Esmerill lowered the pot to the ground, and gently laid it on its side. With a single swift stroke, Xia struck the pot with the shovel, cracking it. A second blow and the wooden staves split open.

Esmerill lifted the plant, cupping the dirt and roots, and placed it into the hole. Then all three of them scraped the dirt into the hole around the plant, gently tamping it down.

Xia poured water onto the plant, then handed the bucket to Esmerill, who poured out another third. She handed the bucket to Eyna, who finished pouring the water onto the plant.

The three of them clasped hands, standing around the yellow flowers.

“Grow strong and serve Khuluub,” they whispered.

Eyna looked at the other two. “It is time,” she announced. “The two of you must go to our Mistress.”

Xia and Esmerill looked at each other, then at Eyna. “Yes,” they replied simultaneously.

“I am ready,” Xia added.

“I as well.” Esmerill paused. “Are you coming with us?”

Eyna shook her head. “No, I must remain here, to oversee the Red Sail.” She smiled wryly. “I doubt that Tremona is up to it.”

“Without you, how are we to find our way to her?”

Eyna stepped towards Esmerill, leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “She is in your mind already,” she said. “Open yourself to her and listen. She will guide you.”

Esmerill nodded slowly. She looked at Xia, who nodded at her; then the two of them turned to leave the building.

Eyna paused to run a hand gently through the uppermost fronds of the small plant. “Soon,” she promised it, twining her fingers through its thin runners, leaning over to kiss the soft petals of a flower. Then she followed the other two women from the building.

The door shuddered in its frame.

“Open up!” a brusque voice called.

Eyna hurried into the common room. Aric stood dumbly next to the door; she waved a hand at him.

Aric turned and pulled the door open; a wave of sunlight and dust motes spilled into the Sail’s interior. Outside stood a handful of soldiers.

Putting a hand on Aric’s broad chest, the one who had been hammering on the door stepped inside, frowning as Aric didn’t move, then pushing him backwards.

“Where’s the whoremonger in charge of this place?” the guardsman demanded in a loud voice.

“I’ll fetch her, sir,” Eyna called out. She skipped down the hallway to Tremona’s office.

The two of them returned, Tremona walking stiffly behind Eyna. They walked down the stairs and into the lower level of the salon; all six of the soldiers were inside now. Their expressions were mocking as they cast half-smiles and knowing glances around the room.

“You can go, Aric,” Eyna said kindly, and the bodyguard turned and walked away towards the scullery.

The guard who had knocked on the door—the leader, clearly, by his posture and the way the other men looked to him—frowned at Eyna. “A slave, ordering a free man? Be silent, slut, or I shall remove your impudent tongue.” His gaze fell on Tremona. “So: you are the owner of this cunthouse?”

Tremona’s head bobbed. “Yes,” she said.

“Then what the fuck is going on?” the guard asked.

There was a moment’s silence.

Tremona’s mouth bobbed open, flapped around a bit. Then: “I don’t understand,” she said.

The soldier’s mouth fell into a satisfied line. “Look, you stupid cunt, you are doing something here that the counselors of his Highness Lord Feyne find themselves unable to explain. You and all of your hirelings and chattel are here on the sufferance of his Highness; I want to know what you are doing and why.”

Tremona’s tongue moistened her lips. “O-kay.” She blinked, very slowly. “Slave. tell him what he wants to know.”

“Sir?” Eyna said submissively. “If you would be specific...?”

The soldier’s eyes bore down on Eyna. He sneered, then returned his gaze to Tremona.

“You are purchasing property for far more than it is worth. You are then removing the roof of that building for no obvious reason. You are allowing slaves far more latitude than you should, and the laws of this colony are quite specific about that. And in general,” he added, brows furrowing as he returned his gaze to Tremona, “you are behaving oddly. Uncharacteristically.“

“Well, sir,” Eyna stammered, “we, uh—”

“Shut up, slut,” Tremona hissed.

Everyone looked at her.

“I bought that building because I have the fucking money,” Tremona said, stepping forward. “And I wanted the building next door to my fucking building because I don’t like to fucking walk everywhere. I’m taking its roof off because it’s my fucking building, and I’m going to be doing more to it in the fucking future. I allow my slaves what ‘latitude’—” her voice paused around the word, mocking the soldier’s tone—“I like, because they’re my fucking property. And I suspect I’m behaving oddly because I became a little too fond of a certain plant that grows around here, and it turns out that it’s been fucking with my head.”

She took another step forward, stopping and craning her neck to look up at the guard’s face.

“I left Gildor City and came to Lord Feyne’s colony because I had been told that here a woman’s property was her fucking property, to do with as she pleased. And, until today, it has been. So now what’s with all the fucking questions?”

The guard said nothing, glaring at her, his mouth a thin line.

“You,” he finally said. “Are here. On sufferance. I will be watching. And if I don’t like what I see, you will be leaving Torr Gyn—and all of your ‘property’—on a slave cart. Do you understand?”

Tremona stared back at him, then looked away. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

He looked at Eyna. Then, swiftly, he struck her with the back of his hand, so hard she fell to the floor.

“And be sure your slaves understand their place,” he said, turning away. “That’s the first thing I’ll be watching for. Let’s go, men.”

With chuckles and amused comments, the guardsmen filed out of the building. From the corner, Aric approached and shut the door behind them.

Eyna rose from the floor. Tremona was standing still, arms at her sides, staring at the closed door.

“Nicely done,” Eyna told her, and ran a hand through Tremona’s hair.

Tremona turned to her with an eager smile, and wide eyes.

“Good girl,” Eyna said, stroking her hair some more. “Good girl.”