The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“If you will, escort Otieria, the daughter of Hamon Eches, to her intended husband, the Seat Holder Fradlex, of Shossin. Ensure that she arrives neither harmed nor enslaved.” And added to this request was a postscript, in a slightly lighter tone: “Keep your hands off her and your cock out of her, Alcaeus, please.” The distance was unusual; the task itself was not.

Alcaeus’ sexual preference prevented him from engaging in the traditional employ of the Ainchonnim, the creation of slave boys for the amusement of those whose preferences did run in that direction. The Ainchonnim also created mind-obedient slave-soldiers, super-strong laborers, male trolls, and a miscellany of other slave types; Alcaeus had performed some transformation work in that area, but to his guild-brothers he had become largely an “agent-of-all-trades.” He was too obviously powerful in his magic for common jobs—healing the poor, curing “bedroom problems” for the impotent, carrying messages (though he had done all these, especially the former)—so his fellow men-wizards gave Alcaeus those guild-endeavors requiring that rare combination of prudence, power, intelligence, discretion, and diplomacy otherwise uncommon among the wizard elite.

He was not a spy; but he had done much secret work; noblemen liked him; he got along well with the Pecthentnim; and he was often called to leave for long periods his home in De.

One day Alcaeus told his slut, Leusa, they were going on a trip. Without questioning, other than in regard to the mundane items her master would need, she packed; and within hours the two of them were aboard a ship. The southwesterly voyage from Port of De to Shossin generally took between twenty and twenty-five days. The ship was a large galleon, and Alcaeus arranged, expensively, for a private cabin, which Leusa quickly made into a temporary home.

The bride Otieria’s father was a wealthy merchant-squire. She had already left on one of his private vessels, though because the galleon was faster Alcaeus would likely beat her to their destination, as was his intent. Eches was actually richer than most Deinian nobles, who though they could vote usually had no pot to piss in. Leusa had been exceptional, in more ways than one. Eches’ mills took linens and wool from Shossin and made textiles, some of which were sold back to the Seat Holders, the rest distributed in De and throughout the rest of the island-republics. It was a beneficial relationship and had been for centuries; but there were elements in De, in Shossin, and, especially, in the great mainland empire of Ancient Shajjwashan, west of Shossin, that would profit from its demise or even embarrassment. Any or all of them could be responsible for the threats made to Otieria. So, Alcaeus had been asked to look out for her. In truth, though, this whole business, being the escort and bodyguard for a wealthy man’s daughter, could be seen as something of a favor, nothing more.

Alcaeus’ recent business with Lord Teuthes had endeared him neither to the Nycclethnim, the Ainchonnim’s nominal ally in De, or to the Woman-Wizard Noalassa, one of the Nycclethnim’s most formidable sisters. He had deprived the wizard of her sport and potential profit. No threat had been made, either overtly or covertly, and Alcaeus could certainly defend himself; but Noalassa had a dire reputation, and what she had done in the past to the women of the men who had offended her was unpleasant.

Leusa was only a slave, but still . . . . he was not unhappy to have left De for a few months.

The voyage was an uneventful one. The crew and passengers were mostly of Deinian and West Dommodonan stock, pale and brown-haired; with a few returning Shossinians, also pale but with skin coarsened more by the weather as compared to their effete eastern cousins. Alcaeus spent most of his time on deck watching the sea. His conversation was short and desultory, and after a week the crew and passengers avoided him. Leusa, too, was withdrawn and spent most of her time below decks in his private cabin.

“What is Shossin like, master?” she asked him one day, about midway through their voyage.

“It’s a wild land, full of forests and untamed wilderness. It’s not a republic. The land’s divided into feudal states, and each of those states is ruled by a ‘Seat.’ Our future bride is going to marry one of these Seat Holders, to cement some business contract reached between his allies and Otieria’s father back home.” And that was that. She thanked her master and went back to her tidying. Eventually, the silence became intolerable, and Alcaeus returned to the deck above.

She had been cool to him—as cool as a slave girl could be with magically-instilled sluttishness and absolute obedience to men—ever since what he had done to Lord Teuthes. That she could be cool to him was one of the traits Alcaeus normally liked about Daoxechent slaves. They were enslaved but neither robots nor feebleminded. Alcaeus was aware how easily he could re-engage his slave’s affections toward him, how easily tractable Leusa’s emotions would be toward her master, to whom she would naturally feel awe and devotion. A thorough enough fucking and a few words of encouragement would be all that would be needed. But he hadn’t done so. He didn’t know why, he just . . . hadn’t.

Later, he observed Leusa on deck, dressed in her snug traveling outfit. With her figure, there could be no possibly mistaking her for a free traveler. When she gave him blowjobs now, she no longer added that extra little lick at the end, which he had taught her. She no longer loved him. She lusted after him, because she was a slave; but she no longer loved him.

I’ll sell her when we return from Shossin, Alcaeus abruptly decided. I’ll pick an anonymous market in Dommodon. That’ll be safe enough. Then, he thought, he would take a break from owning a slave girl for a while. He would wait a few months, maybe a year, before buying another.

Jondy was a busy port. As the easternmost anchorage of Shossin, it was the first and for many ships the only port of call from the island-republics. Alcaeus was unsurprised to see many Deinian and Dommodonan merchants and travelers among the native Shossinians. What was surprising was the number of slave girls he saw. He spotted them everywhere, outside of taverns and brothels, scurrying along half-dressed on errands, on their knees providing blowjobs to Shossinians and Islanders alike in alleys and alcoves. On previous visits to the large island, the man-wizard had witnessed but a smaller-than-average slave girl population, due no doubt to the lack of a formal wizard guild running things behind the scenes in Shossin. It was a free state under the Seat Holders. The Seat Holder Assembly allowed wizards from both East and West to come and ply their trade. Most of the slave girls Alcaeus had seen before had been Daoxechent sluts, like Leusa, imported from the island-republics.

This was his first time back in over a decade. What Alcaeus saw now was a slave population rivaling De, where roughly one in seven women was enslaved. It was a startling change.

Even more startling to the man-wizard was how many of the slave girls were utterly identical.

Every blonde was the same blonde: same face, same figure, same blank look. Every lithe brunette with the big tits was the same lithe brunette with the big tits: same face, same figure, same blank look. At first, seeing two indistinguishable slaves kneeling by the side of the road as he and Leusa had passed, he had thought twins. But then he had seen another, and another, all with exactly the same appearance. There were still plenty of unique Daoxechent slaves around; but some quiet revolution in custom had taken place in his absence. This uniformity of slaves, he recognized, was a practice of the Sarothonim, a western wizard guild. The types of girls themselves were Shossinian; but the magic was absolutely that of Ancient Shajjwashan.

Because the subject of slave girls interested him, one of the first things Alcaeus chose to witness after his arrival was a public enslavement. This was another new practice. The ceremony was performed in a public square. There was a raised wooden platform for the crowd’s benefit, rather reminiscent of a gallows; yet instead of a scaffold, a large rectangular box standing upright took up the middle space.

The platform’s construction was crude. The box’s was not: solidly made and lacquered, inwrought with arcane symbols and decorative embellishments, this wooden cell stood at least seven feet high and could easily hold inside a large-sized man, let alone an average-sized woman. The front swung open and could be locked from the outside. A large assembly had gathered for the proceedings. Alcaeus didn’t know what either woman’s crimes was that day, if crimes they had committed; but they were brought onto the platform individually, naked and bound.

The first went with solemn resignation, head down. The second, a large beefy woman who looked like she could pick up and fold the man-wizard in twain, fought ferociously. It was only with great difficulty that she was forced into the box, to the cheers of the crowd.

Before they went in, one at a time, a leathery mask, pale gray in color, was slipped over each woman’s face. Initially, Alcaeus had perceived this as a hood given to the condemned; but he was wrong.

The first masked woman went into the box, hands bound behind her. The door was swung shut and locked. The female attendants—themselves slave girls, Alcaeus saw, with some alarm—took hold of the box on either side and manually swiveled it. There must have been a pivot underneath, for this was accomplished easily. As the box turned, the symbols on its surface glowed whitely. From the crowd, the man-wizard could perceive the activation of some magical circuit prepared in advance, the unleashing of stored energy. The attendants released the box and waited until the glowing faded.

They then took the container and spun it back into its original position. They unlocked the front.

A slave girl stepped out. She was impossible to tell apart from the attendants already on stage.

Her appearance had been wholly changed. Brunette, older, the woman had come out the same height but that was all. Her hair had turned blond and hung down to the small of her back. She appeared no more than nineteen or twenty. Her chest had grown. She displayed the polished poise of a sex slave, servile and heated. She was beautiful, but utterly anonymous.

Both the mask and her shackles had remained in the box, along with her identity. More disturbingly, the woman’s eyes had gone completely blank, glazed white, without pupils: a denotation of utter mindlessness. The crowd cheered madly. When the outcry died down enough, a male official, the only man on stage, asked her a question, which Alcaeus failed to hear. He heard her reply, though: it was spoken not only by her but echoed by all the other identical slave girls on the platform.

“We are Mise, master. We are here to serve. How may we see to your pleasure?”

The other woman went in, with all that difficulty. The results were exactly the same, however, and exactly the same: “We are Mise, master. We are here to serve. How may we see to your pleasure?”

The attendants had stood the two new slaves side-by-side with them, and Alcaeus could not tell one, or any, from the other. He had gone back to the hostel with a chill down by his back.

Otieria’s ship arrived a few days later. Alcaeus met the young heiress at the Jondy dock. She was a pretty girl, with atypically dark-red hair that fell in straight lines down her back: Alcaeus wondered if she was of Shossinian descent. It would explain some things. A gold band helped secure her hair in place. It was expensive. Otherwise, she wore a modest traveling garment. Her fingernails were painted blue. She came with a companion, another redhead, slightly smaller in height, much more well-dressed. Alcaeus’ eyebrows rose at the sight of her.

“Menupao,” he said, tilting his head in greeting. “I was unaware that the Nycclethnim was also interested in this marriage.” The Nyccleth woman-wizard sneered his name in reply.

Alcaeus had met this woman-wizard before. Like him, she maintained a residence in the City of De, and like him she served her wizard guild in a variety of eclectic functions. Like most Nyccleth wizards, she had deeply scarlet hair, several shades brighter than Otieria’s; and her beauty was as magically enhanced as one could get without being considered a sex slave. Her fingers and hair were strewn with expensive jewels and pendants of power.

She was Noalassa’s guild-sister; but he had heard there was no love lost between them.

“I was not informed you would be here, Wizard Alcaeus,” Otieria said, and she shot a sour glance at Menupao. “Were you also sent by my betrothed?” She had a soft Deinian accent.

“In a manner of speaking,” Alcaeus said. “Our aims, certainly, are not at cross-purposes. I am here to extend to you some further protection, ma’am.” Alcaeus made a half-bow.

“Your help is unnecessary,” Menupao said brusquely, moving past him. Otieria looked as if she wanted to say something, but she desisted. “I am all the protection the squire’s daughter requires.” A group of free servants and slaves followed as their entourage, carrying loads and loads of cases.

“Very good,” Alcaeus said, largely to their backs as they made their way into the port city. “Please know that I am at your service, Otieria!” He waved. “Thank you,” the girl said, half-turning, “but I don’t think . . . .” And then they had turned a corner out of sight. Alcaeus sighed.

Despite Menupao’s objection, Alcaeus followed at a discreet distance and found, through some equally discreet questioning, that they would be staying at an expensive boarding house for a few days before taking another private ship from Jondy to Fradlex’s Seat in Marbat, several hundred miles farther along Shossin’s southern coast. Alcaeus had tea at a nearby open parlor and watched the house for hours, sipping and thinking. Come nightfall, he entered the lodging secretly, rendering himself invisible to the male free servants, carefully hiding from the female. He did a quick survey. He was not unwilling to accept Pao’s invitation to leave: he was confident the woman-wizard could protect the squire’s daughter from all conventional threats. If he found nothing amiss, he would gladly turn over the bulk of Otieria’s protection to her and merely follow the two of them to Marbat as common sense dictated.

Alcaeus hid in an empty room for an hour, then moved up to the roof and found himself a good perch.

Very early in the morning, long before dawn, a psychic trigger alerted him to activity in an adjoining alley. Moving carefully, he lowered himself over the edge of the roof and looked down.

An individual clad wholly in black was making her way through the trash-strewn backstreet, avoiding sound. By the time Alcaeus was there, she was already pawing at window with a delicate metal instrument. Her silence and movements said much about her training, and it was clear to the man-wizard that she was no common burglar, not that at this point in the game he would have considered the appearance of burglars as anything other than a deliberate action against Otieria. He considered his options. Menupao might still be able to handle this situation.

A suggestion of movement behind the man-wizard caused him to rethink very quickly.

Telekinesis pushed the dart aimed at the back of his head off course to strike the roof ledge beside him. Another surge of magic lent his only mortal limbs added nimbleness and strength: he simultaneously dodged the second blow aimed at his back while spinning around to face his attacker, striking the second burglar’s outstretched arm and pulverizing the bone. Alcaeus then pushed his other hand at the man’s chest, equally as rapid-fire. He did not actually make physical contact; but then he didn’t actually need to. The burglar was male. His attacker’s heart burst inside his chest, and he fell over dead.

Alcaeus deliberately fell off the roof.

The female burglar leapt at him, mid-air, one hand thrusting a pointed metal shaft at his head. The long, narrow blade parted the night beside Alcaeus’ head, grazing his cheek. He tried to grab the blade, but she pulled back in a long, straight motion. Warmth filled his palm from where it had been sliced open.

The blade the woman was using was so thin and sharp the cut didn’t even hurt. Alcaeus levitated: he kicked at the woman, unconcerned with gravity, and struck her in the chest. He heard bone crunching, and she struck the back wall of the alley, fatally. More movement alerted him to danger: Alcaeus leapt back toward the sky as two knives flew through the air at him. They missed. He extended his senses. He “felt” the presence of another man in the opposite building, readying another knife in his hand. Through his mind, Alcaeus determined that he had a female partner, also readying a throwing knife.

Alcaeus killed the man through the simple expedient of stopping his heart. The woman, immune to such an attack, threw the knife and then followed it out the window herself, drawing yet another blade as she made the jump. Clearly, she was planning some extreme acrobatic maneuver, which would have been impressive to witness. Despite some part of him wanting to see it, Alcaeus telekinetically reversed the course of the knife instead, and it rediscovered its thrower, ending the demonstration before it began. She fell lifeless to the alley below.

Alcaeus landed finally. He healed the injuries to his cheek and hand with a thought.

This was worrying. The male-female teams were an indication of professionalism: they came prepared to deal with magic, knowing wizards were incapable of directly influencing either the mind or body of the opposite gender. Their equipment and training were top notch. Their willingness to take casualties in the pursuit of their goal held disquieting promise.

The wizard rifled through the group’s belongings and found something that made his nose crinkle: four thin, leathery masks. The masks were like vellum, soft and supple. The color of the lips and cheeks were feminine. Three were identical; the fourth was marginally different, though obviously in the same style. Alcaeus’ psychic senses could discern the enchantments—there were invisible sigils inscribed on the inside of each of the masks, perceptible only to a wizard—but that was all. It was woman-wizardry.

Alcaeus’ first impulse was to destroy the wretched things. Instead, making a quick decision, he put the masks back in their bundles and took them with him. The bodies he levitated into the bay.

Alcaeus went through the boarding house. There were indications of a fight inside. Furniture was overturned, doors were smashed, at least one of the free servants lay dead with his back broken. Men and women alike were crying and moaning, bleeding and holding broken limbs. The man-wizard read the minds of Otieria’s male servants. They were honest, but their mistress had fled. Alcaeus found two more pairs of black-clad male-female assailants, dead. Neither Otieria nor Menupao were present.

One of the lodging house’s female servants was struggling in the common room. There was a pale-gray mask over her face, and she was trying desperately, futilely to remove it. It stuck to her face like glue.

Alcaeus silently wished her good luck, then went out into the night.

It was hours before he managed to pick up his quarry’s trail. By that time, he had returned to the hostel and grabbed Leusa. “We must move quickly. Leave everything that isn’t necessary.”

“Yes, master.”

A little while later, he knocked at the door of an abandoned house outside the city. He knew Pao had seen whom it was through Leusa’s eyes, which was one of the reasons he had brought her. Menupao opened the door and let him in. “Perhaps you should reconsider my offer of assistance,” Alcaeus said.

“Please, please help us,” Otieria begged, coming to him. The heiress’ eyes were wild. “They came in through the windows. One of my own servants tried to rape me! We barely managed to escape!”

Menupao closed the door. “They want to enslave her. They followed us for hours.” Their clothing showed the rigors of the chase: they were no longer quite as fine as they had been yesterday.

Alcaeus took out the bundles he had taken from the “burglars.”

“Your enemy wants you more than enslaved, Otieria. He or she wants you gone.” He showed the women the masks. Leusa and Otieria showed bewilderment; but Menupao either recognized the Shajjwashanan appurtenances, detected their enchantment, or both. She took a step back, and there was a disgusted look on her face, which Alcaeus actually found a little hypocritical, considering she was a Nyccleth.

“I don’t understand,” Otieria said. “What are those?”

“It’s Western woman-wizardry,” Menupao said.

“You’ve seen them here, on the streets. They’ve apparently taken over. In Ancient Shajjwashan, some female slaves are changed in such a way as to make them identical to every other in their stable stock. Along with the same name, they possess the same face, the same figure, even the same personality.” Or lack thereof, he thought.

Alcaeus put one of the masks on a table. “If you were to put this on, or, more likely, have it put on you, and you were placed inside one of their magic boxes, you would be transformed into one of those uniform slave girls, indistinguishable from any other this mask represents, of which there are likely hundreds in Jondy.”

Otieria shuddered. The three of them, then, Alcaeus, Menupao, and the squire’s daughter, sat in the house’s central room and talked about their plight. Leusa knelt in a corner and occasionally tended the fire. After the incident at the boarding house, Menupao had taken Otieria through Jondy, chased by the agents in black all through the night and much of the next morning. As they spoke, every once and while the man-wizard noticed Menupao touch her forehead and frown.

“Eight died at the boarding house,” Alcaeus said. “Yet more of them pursued you. Evidently, they are not going to give up.”

“Can’t we just leave the city?” Otieria asked plaintively.

Pao shook her head. “We were scheduled to leave on your betrothed’s ship. It hasn’t arrived yet. But even if it had, your enemies would just follow you aboard.”

“Can’t we just go home?”

Alcaeus shook his head. “We have a dedicated enemy. Pao and I could fight them, individually, and likely win; but the masks they’re carrying are magical. If one should slip past us, and he should put a mask on you, I don’t know if we could safely remove it.” He thought about the free servant earlier.

The dock was out. The borders of the city would also be watched. Alcaeus did not think it likely they knew about him; but they would certainly recognize Menupao and Otieria, using any mundane disguise.

They needed something not so mundane.

“Master,” Leusa spoke, timidly half-raising her hand like a schoolgirl, “what would happen if I put on a mask but wasn’t put into a box, or the other way around?” Both Otieria and Menupao goggled at her. Leusa had been so quiet and slavishly in-the-background, they may have forgotten she was present.

Either that, or they were surprised to hear a slave speak her mind.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Alcaeus said, “because I think if we’re to get Otieria to Fradlex, we’re going to have to try the experiment.”

“What do you mean?” Otieria shouted. “I’m not going to let you enslave me!” She got up and made as if to go to the door; but almost immediately she froze in place. Her eyes widened in horror at this sudden, apparent loss of physical control over her own body.

“What do you mean?” Menupao asked, in a milder tone. She stared at Otieria for a moment, ensuring that she was magically silenced, then returned her gaze to the man-wizard.

“There are other agents searching for Otieria and yourself,” Alcaeus said bluntly. “Speaking from personal experience, they are formidable. They have access to woman-magic, which means they can probably descry Otieria. Have you sensed their observation?”

Reluctantly, Menupao nodded, appearing weary. “Yes.” She touched her fingers to her forehead and winced. “There’s more than one woman-wizard attempting to divine her location. I have been blocking, but they are . . . insistent.”

“Can you tell from where?”

Menupao shook her head, again with some seeming reluctance. Alcaeus understood. Pao was but one wizard, working alone; but it was a group of woman-wizards attempting to find her, and possibly an entire guild. Alcaeus believed it could well have been the Sarothonim itself, one of the three moribund but apparently still proficient wizard guilds of Ancient Shajjwashan, that was hunting them. If so, Menupao was in a bind. The Nycclethnim (and the Ainchonnim, too, evidently) had underestimated the extent to which this “bride of Shossin” had been endangered; and Pao’s guild-sisters were not known for admitting their mistakes. If Pao failed to protect Otieria, she would be punished; but if she asked her sisters for help, she would also likely receive punishment, for making them look bad in the first place.

Alcaeus had no such worries himself. Not only was his own guild more willing to admit error, his relationship with his guild-brothers was such that he didn’t have to worry about a knife thrust into his back, figuratively or literally, as was the case with Pao. He could simply leave, with Leusa.

Yet he knew he wasn’t going to.

“You’re the woman-wizard,” Alcaeus told Menupao. “What do you think would happen if the Sarotho spells were sabotaged? Could you restore yourself and Otieria to your rightful forms?”

Pretending to be a sex slave in order to get away or get close to a victim was an old trick. The inherent danger of the ruse limited its use. Almost all non-wizards who attempted it ended up the true slaves they had only previously been pretending to be. Likewise, few wizards managed to pull it off, either. Nevertheless, the ruse had been successfully performed. The biggest obstacle to overcome was the transformation. Most female slaves back in the island-republics were magically enhanced, their bodies reshaped to fit a man’s fantasies: bigger busts, rounder asses, smaller waists, longer legs, and so on.

Being a sex slave was hard to fake, in other words. You either were, or you weren’t.

The mental transformation was often even more problematic.

“I don’t know . . . maybe. If I could dissect one of the masks, I might be able to create a temporary duplication. I could test the spell on your slut.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I recommend trying it on yourself first.”

“Don’t tell me you actually care about this piece of flesh?” Leusa, who had been on her knees and watching at a discreet distance, suddenly jerked to her feet, like a marionette. She pushed her chest out at Alcaeus and Menupao in a manner that was clearly not her own. Like Otieria, Leusa’s eyes were filled with self-conscious fright at her own body’s manipulation.

“I’m being practical,” Alcaeus said, not answering her question. “Leusa already has a potent set of spells cast on her, or hadn’t you noticed?” The man-wizard directed telekinesis at his slave’s shift. His power could affect her clothing, if not her directly. Leusa’s tunic-rag flew asunder. Not only were her lovely female charms revealed, so too was the Mark of Daox on her shoulder, the shoulder-placed tattoo facing the woman-wizard. Menupao recoiled, then grit her teeth and stared on, defiantly.

“Until you know how this transformation works,” Alcaeus went on, “combining it with a third brand of woman-wizardry would be a mistake. Unless you can tell me you already know how the Mark of Daox operates and can reverse its effects.” She couldn’t: although the tattoo itself was easily reproducible, the simple-seeming, lust-stirring, male-worship inducing magic had defeated all non-Pecthent wizards.

Menupao glared at Alcaeus a moment more, then sighed and released both women.

Leusa, the slave, not unaccustomed to rough handling—indeed, she craved it—crawled to her owner’s feet and curled into a ball. Otieria, the free woman, collapsed and started to cry. Alcaeus was moved to step forward and assist the young woman to her feet, then over to a chair. Halfheartedly, she tried to pull away from him; but she was too distraught to put up much resistance.

“We’re not here to enslave you,” Alcaeus told her, holding her. “We’re here to help you. The men who are trying to make you a slave will keep coming after you, until we get you to your husband.”

Once the marriage took place, and the contract between Otieria’s father and the Seat Holder was fulfilled, Alcaeus doubted her enemy or enemies would continue to pursue her. The symbolism would be lost. In any case, the duty for her protection would fall upon someone else.

“But it’s a long trip, and you’ll need a disguise.”

She sniffed. “As a . . a slave girl?”

The man-wizard nodded. “They mean to make you anonymous, more so than most slaves.” Alcaeus’ hand strayed down to Leusa, who had moved with him; he stroked her hair. “But if you were already anonymous, they might lose interest, and they could lose track of you. They’re looking for you and Menupao, after all, not just another pair of interchangeable sluts.”

He held up one of the masks. “They themselves may have given us the means for your deliverance.”