The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Princess Angelique was awakened by a knocking on her door. With a moan, she turned over and threw the blankets over her head, but the knocking came again, more insistently.

“Oh, very well,” she murmured, throwing on a bathrobe and answering the door.

Before her stood a young man she’d seen around the court. She didn’t recall his name offhand, but he was wearing the blue robes of one of Prospero’s students. He reacted quickly to her presence, but not quickly enough. He cast his eyes down and went down on one knee, nearly toppling over in the process.

“Forgive me, Princess,” the young wizard said. “I am sorry to disturb you, but your father commands that you make ready for the journey.”

Angelique sighed. Was that today? Of all the bothers...

But there was a war on, she remembered.

She nodded. “Tell my father I’ll be there in a few.” The young man nodded, and shut the door.

The princess threw on a courtly riding dress and took down her hair. She brushed it before a mirror; elegant and brown-black, it flowed in thick tresses down to her small waist. She turned in front of the mirror. She supposed she looked presentable, with the amber-and-scarlet of the riding dress hugging her slim figure.

The wizard Prospero and a company of knights—along with her regal father—were already waiting when she arrived at the receiving chamber. “My lords and ladies, the Princess Angelique,” the crier shouted as soon as she walked through the door.

“Oh heavens, can’t we dispense with that for one day?” the King sighed.

The crier shrugged, and faded into the alcove.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but we must hurry,” one of the knights said. “It will be dawn soon, and if we wish to move undetected...”

The King nodded, and approached Angelique. She was struck by the kindness in his eyes, as she always was.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” King Orsino told her. “But you must go to the winter palace. It is far too close to the front lines here, and should anything happen to thee—” He bit his lip. “I would never forgive myself as a father. But it is not just for myself I ask... as the royal heir...” He reached for her hand, and kissed it.

Angelique nodded. “Of course, Father—but I beg thee, take care! I need thee, the Kingdom needs thee; thou must live at least to the day I marry and give thee a grandson, and I wish thee to have many more years after that.”

The King nodded. “I give thee my promise, sweetling. Now, go with Prospero and the knights, and take their sound advice.”

She nodded, and joined the chief wizard at the door. The princess had always been fond of the old man. Although Prospero was aged enough to be her father’s father, there was often a twinkle in his eye, and wisdom sat upon his brow.

His eyes were not twinkling today, though. They made their way through the castle and to the stables. Ironically, the wizard’s favorite horse was an old gray mare, not quite as large as her sable stallion.

The black horse whinnied as she mounted the beast, recognizing her and anticipating their ride.

Three of the knights rode out, followed by the wizard. Angelique guided her stallion afterwards, but stopped in the door, for Prospero had also stopped.

He was muttering in a foreign tongue—perhaps Romanian?—and waving his staff. Incredibly, the starry night sky was cleft with lightning—but no thunder followed.

“What art thou doing now, Prospero?” the princess asked. Magic had always been mysterious to her, almost unreal. She had never grasped even the fundamentals.

“I am warding the castle and the path against our safe journey,” Prospero said. “I cannot imagine the Illyrians moving against us, yet our strength today is in stealth, not force of arms. We must go quickly.”

She nodded, and rode beside the old wizard as the final three knights followed behind.

They had been on the road less than an hour when the sun first peeked its head over the hills. Angelique was tempted to let her horse run. She would feel the great beast galloping beneath her, the wind would blow in her face, her long brown hair could stream out behind her... but the company moved at an easy canter, and she knew they must stay together.

The blast came without warning. For a moment she thought she saw fireflies, but it was only the confusion of being hit with a torrent of wind so powerful she was nearly knocked off her stallion. The three knights ahead had all been toppled from their horses. The beasts neighed in confusion as one crashed onto its side.

“By Marduk,” Prospero gasped, and raised his staff. He began to chant—this time in Catalan—but a bolt of energy knocked his staff from his hand.

“What in the name of all the gods?” the wizard cried. The forward knights were beginning to pick themselves up. The rear guard moved forward, blades drawn.

A sinister voice echoed down from the hill on the right. “The ancient Prospero, reduced to a gibbering idiot!” Angelique glanced up, and saw a tall man with a brown staff atop the hill. A dark cloak bellowed around him. The villain’s clothes were likewise black, but for some unknown reason he wore bright yellow stockings that stretched to his knees.

“Malvolio, thou craven loon,” Prospero cried back, and wiggled his fingers at the enemy magician. “We have matched wits before. Thou knowest thou art no match for me!” Already the rear guard was charging up the hill.

Malvolio’s staff blazed as he muttered something in Flemish. The knight’s swords leaped out of their hands and flew in all directions, and then the knights themselves flew out of their saddles and thumped on the plain, hundreds of yards away. Angelique could hear their distant groans.

By now the forward knights had risen, and were rushing toward the evil sorcerer with blades drawn. “Wait!” cried Prospero—but their devotion to duty seemed to have overridden their sense of strategy. “Oh well, can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” the white-bearded wizard grunted, and shouted something in Latvian. The sky above Malvolio darkened, and suddenly he was awash in rain. The villain raised his arm over his head as hailstones pelted him from the sky; but another word from Prospero, and the dark magician’s staff was struck by lightning. The enemy dropped it, shouting out a curse.

Prospero urged his horse between the princess and the magician. “Stay close to me,” the wizard said, and prepared another spell.

But several other voices rang out from behind them, and suddenly a bucket appeared inverted over Prospero’s head. Angelique glanced behind them, and gasped. A good dozen black-robed men were advancing toward them.

With a groan, Prospero cried out in Serbo-Croatian. The bucket over his head turned to carnation petals, which quickly blew away in the wind. Two knights had almost reached Malvolio, and one turned back to help them.

The dark wizard grunted something in Farsi, and an umbrella appeared in his hand—but the wind from the hailstorm quickly blew it inside-out. With a curse, he cast it away, and began muttering in Ukrainian.

“Surrender, Malvolio, you would need to bring dozens of wizards to best me,” Prospero cried. He chanted in Albanian, there was a puff of smoke... and the enemy’s shoes turned into caterpillars.

“Egad!” Malvolio cried, and started dancing around on the hilltop. He soon slipped on a hailstone, and came crashing down.

Prospero and Angelique exchanged grins, and the old wizard turned to face the sorcerers behind him... but the mirth died on the princess’ lips.

The dozen black-robed Illyrian wizards had been joined by what must have been forty more. They all spoke in diverse languages—and with a frightful meowing, the party’s horses turned into kittens. The wizard and the princess tumbled to the ground in shock. Prospero began to cry out in Slovene, but a croissant appeared in his mouth. He spit it out, and began another charm in Bulgarian—but an (unpeeled) banana appeared in his mouth. No sooner had he removed it when it was replaced by a pineapple.

Angelique rose to her feet and ran to help the fallen knights—but they had been replaced by gibbering spider monkeys. The princess began to run—but her arms were seized by dozens of evil magicians.

Soaked and barefoot, his yellow stockings in tatters, Malvolio limped down the hill and stood before them. While Angelique kicked in protest, Prospero’s robes were transformed into slithering black pythons. As he fought them off, the enemy wizards bound his arms.

“I did,” the black-robed enchanter grunted. “I didn’t bring a select group of my wizards, Prospero... I brought all of them.” He sneered, then turned to the princess. “And finally, the prize.”

Angelique gazed at him defiantly. “Duke Antonio will never defeat my father.”

As two of the enemy seized her legs, Malvolio stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “He already has, Princess,” he said. His old arrogance was returning. “Look into my eyes.”

Before she had a moment to think, Angelique saw the wicked light in his eyes, and gasped. Within the dark pupils burned a fell flame, a dark fire, that almost seemed to spin. Yes, it was spinning in a terrifying spiral, a spiral that captured her thoughts and erased them; a spiral that seized her attention and would not let go. She didn’t even realize the enemy wizards had released her limbs. She knew nothing else but the spinning wheels of fire in Malvolio’s dark eyes. Her limbs went numb; her mouth hung open; her eyes locked to his as she lost all sense of where and who she was. She knew only the fell light in his eyes, understood naught else but his evil will, had no consciousness of her eyes opening wider and her body leaning forward, all the better to stare in to the strange, commanding, absorbing, terrible, irresistible spirals of dark sorcery.

Angelique felt she was dreaming, for there was no other explanation for her perceptions.

She was floating in a dungeon, of that she was sure, for the walls were of dark stone. Within the cell was a cot, a table, and two chairs. A thick black candle burned in the table’s center. Both seats were occupied. One was the wicked Malvolio, short boots and tall yellow stockings restored; the other was herself.

She saw her body sitting there, limp; but its eyes were fixed upon the candle. Her consciousness floated closer, and saw the candle’s light reflected in her body’s dull eyes.

Her body was speaking. How could it speak without her inside it?

“And two companies of men at arms at Elsinore,” her body whispered.

“Good, good,” Malvolio said. His voice was soothing, but its greed and malevolence still made her skin crawl. “What of Belmont?”

“The main legion awaits an attack at Belmont,” her body was saying. “The King will join them there.”

Nooooo! Angelique wanted to shout. This must not happen! But her body prattled on, and her spirit could make no noise.

“Well done, Princess,” Malvolio grinned after a while, his smile full of spite. “Well done. That is enough for now. I will return this afternoon.” He blew out the candle—

—And suddenly Angelique was back in her body. She glanced up at him, but Malvolio had already vanished through the cell door, which then slammed shut. She heard the clang as the bar was drawn.

Angelique put her head in her hands and began weeping.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, crying, when she heard whispering outside her door. She stood up, looked around for a weapon—anything!—and finally picked up her chair.

Then she paused. What language were her captors speaking? Icelandic?

She heard the bar lift, and the door swung open. There, in a filthy gray suit, was Prospero’s student.

Angelique stared at him.

“My name is Luke Skywalker—I’m here to rescue you,” he said.

That made no sense whatsoever.

“Just kidding,” he said. “Look, your Highness, let’s get out of here!”

She put the chair down. “You don’t have to ask twice!”

He gestured to her politely, and she stepped out of the dungeon, barely noticing the two snoring guards sitting outside.

“Hmm...” the student said, and spoke some more words, this time in Tatar. Before the princess’ eyes, the door shut and bolted itself.

“That should keep them guessing,” her rescuer said. Angelique started to run, then skidded to a stop.

“Um, which way?” she asked.

“This way!” he proclaimed with a swift grin, and dashed off to the left. She followed him, almost smiling herself. Thank goodness they didn’t take my shoes, she thought.

After a few twists and turns, he came to an abrupt halt, and she almost crashed into him. Without a sound, he pressed her against the wall, then flattened himself next to her.

“Absolutely, milord,” Malvolio said as he strode by, side by side with none other than Duke Antonio himself. “She has already given us her father’s troop movements. We will know their protective spells within the hour.”

The two villains continued on their way, laughing. Angelique let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“I didn’t know I even knew the troop movements,” the princess whispered to the student. “I certainly don’t know Prospero’s spells!”

He shrugged. “Your mind must have remembered them from all the meetings,” he guessed, “even if you didn’t know you knew. Plus, to reverse Prospero’s spells, all Malvolio needs are their names.”

Unconsciously, Angelique’s hand sought out the student’s, and clasped it. He squeezed her hand with his own.

There was a yell from down the corridor.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he said. The two ran down a different hallway, holding hands... and crashed into a crowd of courtiers.

“Oh, pardon me,” the student said. The courtiers stared at him in confusion; then someone recognized her.

“That’s Princess Angelique!” the nobleman shouted, pointing.

Her wizard proclaimed something in Lithuanian like he was announcing the day’s weather... and a score of berry pies anointed the courtiers’ faces.

Angelique burst out laughing, but her rescuer seized her hand and pulled her off in another direction. They bumped into a guard... and some Portuguese syllables turned his spear into a carrot. As the man stood there dumbly, her wizard opened a door, and ushered her inside a kitchen.

One of the chefs saw them, and cried out in alarm. The cooks advanced toward them, their hands groping... and her wizard cried out in Hungarian. Without warning, ladles and rolling pins flew up of their own accord and started beating the chefs over their heads. Yelping, the cooks scattered... and the two fugitives dodged ovens, shelves full of pastries, and hanging sides of beef.

The wizard threw open a diagonal trap door, and they emerged into fresh air! Angelique almost jumped for joy. She felt the sun on her skin, the wind on her face...

At least twenty men at arms were running toward them.

The student smiled nervously, and shouted something in Gaelic. There was a flash and a bang, and the soldiers vanished.

The princess looked at her wizard curiously. “Where did you send them?”

“The cesspool,” he grinned. He raised his arms and began another incantation.

Angelique heard a noise from above. She looked upwards—and was pushed to the ground, along with her rescuer, as a heavy net fell from an upper story and encased them.

Malvolio emerged from the kitchen door, clapping ironically. “How amusing,” the sorcerer snarled, not sounding remotely amused. “If this were a pulp story posted on the internet, this might be funny.”

Angelique glanced at her wizard in confusion. What was the villain talking about? Her rescuer shrugged.

But the enemy sorcerer was still talking. “But you both will receive a sound lashing. You, princess, will return to your dungeon, and you, you impudent rascal, will have your tongue removed, your hands chopped off, then spend the rest of your life at hard labor.” Black-clad soldiers began to file past him.

“Sorry about this,” her rescuer whispered in her ear. “Try to stay close to me, all right?” Then he whispered something in Romany.

Angelique tried to speak, but her voice didn’t work... she fell down to all fours, and seemed to be shrinking. All that came out was a little yelp.

Then the enemy soldiers halted, goggled for a moment, then turned around and ran as an elephant charged them. Malvolio swore, but was trampled by the fleeing soldiers. The elephant cast off the net easily, then tossed the unconscious wizard after the men-at-arms into the kitchen.

The huge beast looked around on the ground, then its trunk came down and wrapped around Angelique’s waist. She struggled frantically, but she had rusty-red furred paws, and a long tail. She tried to protest, but only tiny barks came out.

The elephant charged away from the castle into the woods.

The princess didn’t know how long the elephant ran, or how far. They were soon out of the woods, and gallivanting across the plain. Suddenly, a giddy sensation overtook her, and she felt her body twisting and growing. She felt her paws turning into hands; her tail vanished. She was back in her regular body.

The elephant skidded to a halt in a most un-elephant like manner. It put her down the correct way, feet to the ground.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Angelique asked.

The elephant nodded.

“You can understand me?”

Another nod.

“Can you speak?”

It extended its trunk, and let out a brief trumpet-sound.

The princess giggled, and hugged the extended trunk. Its skin was rough and hard under her hands.

“Um... what do we do now?”

The elephant picked up a stick with its trunk, and drew some very clumsy letters on the ground.

FoLLoW mE

And it lumbered off.

With a moan, Angelique followed it.

A few minutes later, there was a crash and a bang, and the elephant vanished... to be replaced by her rescuer, Prospero’s student.

“Sorry about that,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope you’re not allergic to dogs.”

“That’s what you turned me into?”

“Well, a fox, but same family.”

“Gracious!” the princess proclaimed, and helped the student up. He brushed himself off. “Why don’t you wizards turn people into elephants more often?” she asked.

“Two reasons,” the apprentice explained. “First, if you turn someone into an animal, they can get stuck that way. Second, if I don’t have human hands and a human voice...”

She understood. “No magic.”

He nodded, then Angelique smiled happily and hugged him. Awkwardly, her wizard patted her on the back.

“There’s something else I’ve been wondering,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your name?”

The young wizard burst out laughing. “Claudio,” he told her.

“How is it that you were the one sent to rescue me?” Angelique asked as they trudged across a marsh.

Claudio smiled sheepishly at her. “I wasn’t, actually. I came on my own. Prospero doesn’t know I’m here.”

The princess gazed at him in incredulity. He was either extremely foolish, or... “You’re braver than I thought,” she said out loud.

The apprentice wizard actually blushed. “What?” the princess asked.

He looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind. “We’ll be at the border in half an hour or so,” he told her. “When we get close to the Illyrian lines, I can do a spell so Prospero will know where we are, and the generals can send a commando squad to get us back across.”

“You can’t just zap us there in an instant by magic?” Angelique asked, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that before.

Claudio shook his head.

“Why not? You can turn spears into carrots... you transported those men to the cesspool! How much harder can it be?”

He smiled sheepishly, and extended a hand to help her jump a pool of mud. “Two reasons. One, Malvolio’s enchanted the border so only he can cross it magically.”

“Two?”

“The counterspell’s in Estonian. I don’t speak Estonian.”

“I’ll never understand magic,” she mourned.

Claudio opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“What?” the princess demanded.

“Nothing,” he said, avoiding her eye.

She pulled rank. “Claudio, student of Prospero, I command thee to speak. What were you just thinking?”

The wizard blushed heavily. “You are magic, princess.”

Angelique blinked. “Thank you for the compliment.” That was a compliment, right?

He bowed.

All went as planned, and within two hours they were back across the border into Mantua. There, they were met by a furious Prospero.

“Princess!” he proclaimed, hugging her. “I am so glad thou art safe! And thee!” he continued, turning to Claudio. “Thou overconfident nitwit! Thou insufferable nincompoop! Thou bungling dingbat! Thou couldst have been killed, and then the princess would still be a prisoner, and I’d be short my best student!”

Claudio had the grace to look repentant.

“We were preparing to launch a rescue tonight!” Prospero snorted. “We would have done it this afternoon, but no one could find thee! What in the name of Vishnu made you try a rescue singlehandedly?”

Claudio looked at the ground and stood on one foot.

“Very well!” humphed Prospero. “Thou shalt give a full account of your irresponsible impetuosity to the conclave of wizards... assuming we ever hold one again.” He glared at the apprentice, and then clapped him on the shoulder.

As they rode back to the royal castle—back where we started, Angelique noted with a sigh—she spoke to Prospero in confidence.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” she whispered. “Just between you and me, I don’t think I’ve seen such bravery or quick thinking in my whole life.”

“You’re nineteen,” the old wizard grunted.

“I think I have worse news,” she said, and explained about her bizarre out-of-body experience with Malvolio in the dungeon.

Prospero paled. “This could be serious,” he muttered.

“This could be disastrous,” King Orsino said, rubbing his forehead. “If Malvolio forced my daughter to reveal our tactics, all our defense plans will have to be rewritten from the ground up. We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Could be worse, your Majesty,” another wizard piped up. “If Malvolio strikes us with magic at the same time Duke Antonio strikes with soldiers... well, before, they did not know our movements and numbers. Now, they could coordinate their attacks. We’ve lost the advantage of surprise.”

There was a collective groan. Claudio saw Angelique staring at the floor.

“How great is this threat, Prospero?” the King asked.

“Great,” the old wizard sighed. “We need to recapture the advantage somehow.”

Angelique was tugging her braid.

“Is there naught we could do against Malvolio magically?” the King asked.

Prospero shook his head. “My wizards and I can counter his spells one by one, but since he knows our weaknesses there’s too much ground to cover, and we can’t be everywhere. The only way we could counter all his magic at once would be if we knew the name his mother gave him at birth... and that is a wizard’s most closely guarded secret.”

Claudio noticed Angelique’s face growing bleaker and bleaker. “I am so sorry, Father,” she said out of the blue. “This is all my fault.”

A chorus of counselors, generals and wizards drowned her out. The King’s voice rose above the rest.

“Do not blame thyself, Daughter,” he said. “The fell wizard read thy mind—there was naught thou couldst have done.”

Claudio took a deep breath. “We might have a means of discovering Malvolio’s true name.”

All eyes went to the apprentice wizard. Oh, why did I have to open my big mouth, he thought.

“Is thy mind addled, Claudio?” Prospero demanded. “How couldst thou determine such a thing?”

The student sighed. “I know a little of the spell Malvolio must have used to draw the information from the princess’ mind. It requires an utterance of the secret name to invoke it. The princess must have heard him speak it.”

The council fell into uproar. “Treason!” one of the wizards shouted. Prospero looked as if he were going to be sick. The King looked like he wanted to strangle Claudio. Two or three generals looked at each other, bewildered.

“What’s the matter?” Angelique asked.

“That spell is an invasive, dark magic,” Prospero grunted. “Terrible, malevolent sorcery. It’s the magical equivalent of rape, my child. Even I cannot cast it, nor would I ever wish to. What Claudio is proposing... we’d have to deal with the devil himself to find a wizard who can cast it. Plus, that thou shouldest suffer the same spell Malvolio used at the hands of a friend...” he trailed off.

Claudio took the deepest breath of his life. He felt a lump grow in his throat, and his stomach felt like a lump of lead.

“I can cast it,” he managed.

“YOU!” cried one of the wizards. Prospero looked daggers at him. Everyone started shouting at once... but then the King’s voice rose above the cacophony.

“How do you know this spell, son?”

Claudio smiled weakly. “Do you recall Alonso the Heathen, your Highness?”

The King nodded. “Of course.”

Angelique looked confusedly at Prospero. “Defected from Illyria years ago after quarreling with Malvolio,” the old wizard whispered to her.

“My uncle,” Claudio said.

The King shook his head. “You did right to place this offer on the table, young Claudio, but we cannot think of abusing—”

“I volunteer,” the princess said, to dead silence.

Prospero thought the best place to employ the spell would be where the princess felt safe, so the two faced each other in Angelique’s bedroom. She sat at the head of her bed, Claudio at the foot. Between them was a silver tray, and on the tray was a candle.

“Now, you’re absolutely sure about this?” Claudio asked.

Angelique looked at him. The past twenty-four hours had been terrible, nerve-wracking and traumatic, but the cloud had a silver lining: she had gotten to know the young wizard. She felt they knew each other quite well, and she had grown to trust him.

“Aye,” she said. “No matter how dark this magic is, I know it will be very different in thy hands than in Malvolio’s.”

“Princess, you realize, before today I would have never dreamed—”

“Of using black sorcery upon your princess, yes, I know,” she said. “Get on with it, Claudio. I trust you.”

The young wizard nodded slowly. “Look upon the candle, my princess.”

She stared at the flickering flame, and heard Claudio say something unintelligible in Coptic. Suddenly, the flame seemed to leap, consuming bed, room, castle, Claudio, herself...

Then, in an instant, it was over. The candle was gone, and she was gazing into Claudio’s eyes. She hadn’t realized before how warm they were, how clear and brown, loving and caring. By Ishtar, Angelique realized, no wonder Claudio came by himself. It wasn’t just because his uncle told him of Malvolio, his magic, and his castle... it’s because he’s enamored of me.

Enamored of me.

Claudio’s wonderful brown eyes seemed to hold her and comfort her. She felt herself leaning forward, to better gaze into them. His magic was all around her... all around her... Claudio’s magic... she felt it inside her head, coursing through her body, reverberating through her soul.

“Tell me—” he began.

“Anything,” she promised. She would tell him anything... she would do anything for him... she longed for him to ask her something, to give her an order that she might obey... she’d swim the Hellespont for him.

“When Malvolio spoke to you—”

“Yes,” she gasped. Malvolio... she could remember the evil wizard, who was all bluff and bore and nonsense. Why, Claudio could swat him like a fly! She stared into Claudio’s perfect brown eyes and felt her breasts becoming heavy, the place between her legs becoming damp and feverish, her skin prickling in heat and bother.

She saw Claudio swallow hard, noticing the tender flesh of his throat. Oh please, command me to kiss your throat, she wanted to beg, but somehow she couldn’t remember how to speak unless he asked her something.

“Did he...” Angelique could tell Claudio’s mouth was dry. “Did he mention his real name?”

She looked at Claudio’s hopeful face, and felt her heart was going to break. She couldn’t disappoint him! She wanted nothing more than to make him happy, see him smile, make him proud. She wanted nothing more for him to take her, seize her body, cover her with kisses, to make sweet love in a steam bath...

Why wasn’t she observing this from outside her body? Oh, how could she care, this amazing sensation was so much better, she knew Claudio, she belonged to him...

“His real name?” her handsome wizard repeated.

Oh yes... Claudio had asked her a question... she had to answer him... she needed to please him... oh, to admit failure would break her heart...

“I don’t know,” she managed, gasping. She was lost in Claudio’s eyes, helpless as his ecstatic power coursed through her body. “He was speaking a foreign language... I think it was Czechoslovakian... his name might have been in there... I don’t know...” Oh please, Claudio, command me to kiss you, she pleaded silently. Oh please, take me, take me now, I’ll deny my father and refuse my name, if thou wilt be sworn my love...

Oh, the pain on Claudio’s face, the torment, how she needed to go to him, to comfort him, to open herself to him, to welcome him inside her and hold his manhood tight between her legs. She would make all right again with her body, she would kiss the pain from his face and make him cry out in joy, she would surrender herself completely and have no other name than Claudio’s lover...

His eyes lit up. He had an idea, thank Astarte! The hope in his eyes made him a thousand times more handsome, oh that she were a glove upon his hand that she might touch his cheek...

Claudio was saying something... she couldn’t understand, it was in Uzbek...

And she remembered. He’d cast a spell so she could understand Czechoslovakian. She remembered every word that that blockhead Malvolio had used, when he’d thrown her mind aside and interrogated her memory through her body... not like this wonderful feeling of sweet impossible surrender that bound her heart to Claudio’s forever...

“Cassius,” Angelique whispered. “The name his mother gave him at birth, forgotten when his father overruled her and named him Malvolio... ‘twas Cassius.”

Claudio smiled. He was like an angel, like David, like Adonis... he was happy... he was pleased with her, that smile was for her! Her heart melted, she had done right, she had done it, he was thrilled, elated, that smile was for her, just for her... she felt her heart was going to explode in joy... he was taking her into his arms for a hug... she melted into his arms, this was home, this was where she belonged, she wanted Claudio with every last molecule of her being... what’s a molecule? Oh, who cares, she thought, he’s holding me... she closed her eyes and parted her lips... and what was taking him so damn long? She opened her eyes and looked up at him... she had never let go, so she was lying in his arms, and he was staring at her, his eyes burning, mad with desire, and why isn’t he kissing her? Why isn’t he tearing her clothes off and taking her like an animal?

Oh no, a tear dropped from his eye onto her lips. It was salty; he was sad. What had she done? She had to comfort him, but he was saying something in Coptic again, and...

Something clicked into place, like fastening a button in her mind.

She was still lying in his arms, gazing up at him. “Claudio, dammit, kiss me, you fool,” she said.

He looked at her like she’d grown a third arm. She hadn’t, had she? She double-checked... no, she had the correct number. You never knew with all this crazy magic all over.

“Claudio, what is wrong with you? Kiss me already!” Angelique demanded.

His voice sounded strangled. “I can’t... the spell...”

“Bugger the spell!” Angelique tried to speak calmly, but it came out more like a shriek. “I want you! Kiss me!”

“You’re not in your right mind!” Claudio groaned. She could see the sweat on his forehead and feel his hardness beneath her.

“If this isn’t my right mind, I don’t know what is!” she cried. “Oh for heaven’s sake, you turned the spell off, that—pull—is no longer affecting me—I think—anyway, forget that and kiss me!”

She could see the terrible want in his eyes, knew he was longing for her, dying for her, just as much as she was for him. “Your father will have my head,” he managed.

Yikes, he was right... um... what could she do... oh, thank Inanna.

“As princess I can raise someone to nobility,” she said, staring up at him. “I will have thee dubbed a knight, thy actions in rescuing me warrant it... and I can invest you with preference by declaring you my champion! I’ll do all that in the morning, just give me tonight, I beg you... I BEG you...”

“They’ll say I forced you with black magic,” he sputtered.

“I’ll chop their heads off,” she cried. He stared at her, love burning in his eyes. Her arms went around his neck, and their lips met, and their tongues danced, and he pulled her close, and she wrapped herself around him, and couldn’t get close enough, and her tongue hurt for kissing him so violently, but she couldn’t stop, she didn’t want to stop, and she tore off his wizard’s robes, and he was unbuttoning her dress, and she ripped off her undergarments and...

“Oh god, not like this,” Claudio murmured, and whispered something... and suddenly she was just Angie, and their naked bodies were pressed close together. She could feel the hair on his chest against her breasts, and his cock was almost between her legs, and a few more inches and he would be inside her... just a few more inches...

“Dammit, what is wrong with you?” Angie demanded, her body writhing. “I can’t believe you did this to me twice in one day!”

Claude was shaking his head frantically. “I can’t do this to you when you’re under... it’d be like taking advantage of you when you’re drunk. I want you in your right mind, or not at all!”

“I don’t care!” Angie cried. “I don’t care if we’re Claude and Angie or Claudio and Angelique—I just want you!”

“Okay, we need protection—” he began.

She shook her head frantically, squirming in desperation beneath him. “I’ve got a hormone imbalance—I’m on the pill to regulate my period. I can’t get pregnant!”

“Have you been...”

“Yes, right after my last relationship tanked! Why, haven’t you?”

“I was with someone since I was tested last,” Claude confessed. His eyes were wide and his body trembled as Angie’s sweet, tender, soft, smooth, loving flesh rocked against his. “I used protection every time, though—”

“Close enough! Take me!” Angie cried.

And he pulled her into a huge kiss, his lips and tongue seeking hers. She clawed at his back, desperately, and their hips flexed at the same time, and their bodies fused.

Angie cried out as she writhed underneath him, his muscles touching all the wonderful places inside her... and his arms were wrapping around her, and he was riding her, and it felt oh so damn good... hot and sweet and spicy all molded into one ecstatic sensation.

He was pulling her close, crushing her against his body. She took deep breaths, holding him, squeezing him, raking her nails down his back... and then he kissed her, and she surrendered to his kiss, their lips and tongues dancing as their bodies writhed and squirmed and undulated. He was breathing heavily, staring into her eyes, and she stared back, gazing at his handsome face as love and lust and desire and need all shone in his eyes. She gave herself over to the feeling, lost herself in his deep dark eyes, mirrored his need in her heart and his lust in her brain and his love between her legs. Deep inside her body she felt him touching her and wanting her. She was wet and slippery and made of sugar, and he filled her deepest need, her darkest dream. His hands were all over her, caressing her, holding her to him; she remembered to move, and slid her hands down his back. They were both hot and sweaty, and the scent of his body was so sexy. She nipped at his neck and ears. His wonderful brown eyes widened. He was holding her tightly and desperately as their bodies rocked together, and she wondered at the angst on his face, wondered what the heck he was doing... but then she knew as she felt the wonderful trembling warmth start deep, deep inside her, and jolt out like a bolt of electricity that made her arms shake, her legs shake, her whole body quiver and tremble as she let out a primal scream, and he exploded inside her, squeezing her tightly, his body covering her and surrounding her, and she was safe, safe in his arms and safe sharing her feelings, and their lips met, and she kissed him hard, remembering to breathe... and she felt tears running down her face.

“Are you all right?” Claude gasped, and he was kissing her cheeks, kissing away the salty tears. “Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” Angie managed, shaking her head. “That just felt so great...” She took a deep breath and stared up at him. “Stay with me, promise me we will do this again.”

He squeezed her, and kissed her, and her body melted against him, and he was caressing her cheek and staring earnestly into her eyes.

“I promise,” Claude whispered. “I will never, ever let you go.”

And suddenly she knew it was the right time. “I love you,” she told him, gazing into his eyes.

He kissed her again, hard, his hand sliding under her head and drawing her to him.

“I love you, my angel,” he whispered.