The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Several hours later, it was as though the... Lleva incident had never happened. Jenne and Felic were back to flirting, newly at ease with one another after their mutual embarrassment earlier.

This was not true for the rest of the hall, unfortunately. Lleva’s dismissal to the servant quarters was decidedly irregular—to have a foreign attendant forced to room with local help was unheard of, but Felic knew in this case it was best to honor the wishes of the princess. The other three attendants seemed decidedly distracted, and the parliament heads, servants and guards seemed even moreso as they talked to the former.

Felic and Jenne talked through the evening, despite the hassle of speaking all the way across the banquet table. And as the fireplace grew low, and one of the servants—Jasper, in fact—moved to shovel another load of coal onto it to keep it bright, Felic raised a hand.

“I think I can’t eat another bite,” he said loudly, to the visible relaxation of one of the chefs bustling out of the room. “My Princess Jenne, what do you think?”

Jenne laughed and scooted back in her chair. “It was a wonderful feast, my Prince. I thank you.” She turned to her attendants.

The Parliament heads, both red-faced, hurried from the room. Several servants followed suit. Last left the attendants.

And then it was only Felic, Jenne, and Horace and a few guards. Horace sat stiffly in his place—in accordance with policy, he had not drunk anything but water, but Felic could tell he was exhausted.

“So, you were saying, Princess Jenne,” Felic said, clearing his throat, “about your magic.”

“Ah, yes.” Jenne clapped her hands together. “I must confess, my Prince, I’m really just an illusionist. My sorcery isn’t anything to write home about.”

“Oh, but the tricks you’ve shown us have been remarkable! The Princess is being modest.” Felic smiled. “Illusion magic is... rare, here in Rainvale.”

“I’ve heard it’s frowned upon.” Jenne looked around, then leaned over the table. “My Prince Felic, I do not wish to be bold, but honestly, I’ve been talking across this table all ni—”

“Oh, please!” Felic laughed and patted the chair to his right. ”Please, spare us more shouting across the banquet hall.“

“Yes, please,” Horace muttered, sitting directly to Felic’s left. The captain looked like he had a bit of a headache.

Princess Jenne hopped up and practically pranced over. Again, Felic was struck by her casual manner, the simple violet pants she wore—and her incredibly wide hips, which swung at every step. Her black topknot bounced frivolously as she settled into the chair at his right. “Thank goodness,” she gushed, leaning in conspiratorially. “I say, my Prince, I was getting a sore throat over there. Not to say anything about Castle Azure’s drink, of course—the wine soothes the throat, doesn’t it, and it’s always easier to speak at length after a long meal, but I say, there’s something a little awkward about a conversation held at giant’s-arm’s length.“

Prince Felic laughed, nodding along. Princess Jenne was also a lot more talkative than any princess he’d ever known—though technically, as the seventh-born of a seventh-born, she was not considered a princess at all. At least, not in the Wildflower Kingdom. After all the unpleasantness with Lleva, he was quite happy to let his future bride talk as much as she wanted. It was sort of a relief to not be able to stop her, in fact. Aside from Captain Horace and the castle spirit, just about everyone in Rainvale treated him like an infallible deity rather than a young and inexperienced prince.

“Anyways,” Jenne went on, giggling as she took a servant’s proffered pitcher and refilled her mug—she’d brought her mug from the seat across the table over, Felic noticed, as if she was eager not to waste another dish. That was... delightful. He’d never even thought about that, but now he wished he had. Reusing dishes saved the servants work. “Anyways, you were telling me about my magic. I’ve heard it’s less frowned upon in Rainvale.”

“Yes. Yes.” Prince Felic shifted slightly. “I mean, I suppose it must have always been trusted to some extent, considering the magic of Castle Azure. I think—”

“A genuine wonder of the world, my Prince. I could spend years walking these halls talking to the spirit. So much to learn—so much to learn.” Jenne rapped her knuckles on the table in excitement. Prince Felic was starting to suspect she’d had about enough wine, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Yes,” he said, when he was pretty sure she’d finished. “I think that magic was always sort of... there, in Rainvale. Nobody knows how the castle was created, exactly—not even the Castle —”

“Oh, and of course it wouldn’t know,” Jenne said, nodding eagerly as the drink in her mug sloshed. She giggled. “I mean, I say, it only came to being after it was created, wasn’t it? It stands to reason. Still, I’ll bet it knows something. But illusion magic is less common?“

“It’s associated with the sirens that guard your river,” Felic said. “And... the Queen.”

Jenne bit her lip. “Yes,” she said, not even the mention of the Succubus Queen quite enough to slow her down, “yes, Old Sweetness has never quite made it across the Balm, so we’ve never... never faced her works the way Rainvale has. I suppose we’ve been lucky.”

“And since many demons can see through it,” Captain Horace said, startling Felic slightly—the Captain hadn’t spoken all night, even though Jenne had declared she wanted everyone to feel free to take part in the conversation tonight (another strange custom that Felic felt sorry he hadn’t already encouraged)—“it’s not as useful to get out illusions, begging your pardon, Your Highness.”

“Of course, of course,” Jenne said, her head bobbing. “Of course it’d seem frivolous if it couldn’t stop the invasion.”

“B-But it’s not at all frivolous!” Prince Felic said quickly. “I mean, there must be wonderful uses for your magic.”

Princess Jenne turned to him and smiled slightly. “Well... I do have some more interesting tricks,” she said, her tone suddenly playful. “And some are very useful. Part of the reason I was so—I mean, part of the reason I was chosen—well—” She cut off, suddenly flushed in a way that was not entirely due to the wine.

Impulsively, Felic put a hand on hers, easing her to set down the mug. “My Princess?”

Jenne bit her lip. “I... I do have some things to share.” Her voice was quiet. “But I think they’re for your eyes only, My Prince. I... I suppose your Captain can stay, but—”

“Captain Horace? Gawain, Levric?” Felic turned to the captain and the last couple of servants who’d faithfully lingered. “Would you please excuse us?”

Captain Horace stared at him, then at his plate—which had been empty for the last couple hours. He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion clicking from every halting motion. “I...”

“You don’t have to excuse him,” Jenne said, though her eyes looked less sure. “I-I mean, I don’t want you to feel...”

“The castle spirit will be here if anything happens,” Prince Felic said impatiently. “Isn’t that right, spirit?”

“Yes, my Prince,” said the wispy voice of the spirit, its billowing silk form emerging as if it had been there the whole time. “Though I’ve been meaning to tell you: I believe that the attendant known as ‘Lleva’, who you had confined to the servants’ quarters for her harassment, is... enjoying the company of a scullery maid.”

“What?” Jenne and Felic said at once.

Horace groaned. “I’ll deal with it, my Prince.” He got to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’m guessing I do need to deal with it?“

“I...” Felic coughed. “I mean, I suppose if it’s... consensual...” He felt newly self-conscious of how he treated his servants, and he glanced towards Jenne.

She was the vision of indignation. “Oh, all respect, Prince, all respect, but absolutely not! I sent her to the servants’ quarters as punishment, not as an opportunity for her to cause an incident!” She muttered an audible curse under her breath. “Spirit, can’t you—“

“I can interrupt them,” the spirit said primly, “but I’m not good at multitasking, and I’m trying to watch the whole castle. It’s a full moon tonight.”

“Full moon’ meant the Succubus Moon was shining bright. The castle spirit was their most effective guard dog, and nothing could enter the castle without its awareness—if it wasn’t distracted too much by conversations elsewhere.

“I’ll go,” Horace said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Gawain, Levric, you can help me find my way. I don’t know the servants’ quarters.”

He and the last two servants bustled out, Levric only pausing to refill Jenne’s and Felic’s mugs once more.

“Do you want me to be manifest in here?” the spirit asked, as the doors closed once more.

Felic glanced at Jenne, who shrugged indifferently. He turned back. “You can, if you want. We can’t very well keep secrets from you, anyways.”

The spirit seemed to smile. “Well, I can’t see illusions, so that will be one secret you can keep.”

Jenne’s eyebrows raised. She smiled at Felic, twirling a finger. Colorful smoke rose into the shapes of letters: Is the spirit a boy or a girl? They’re kind of cute.

Felic felt his cheeks burning and he stifled his laughter with a hand.

“... I think I’ll leave you to it,” the spirit said slowly, looking right at the illusion and clearly seeing nothing. “But I’ll be watching. Remember, my Prince, you can always say no.”

“Spirit,” Felic said, feeling his cheeks burning even hotter.

The castle spirit dissipated.

“You are dreadful,” Felic said scoldingly to Jenne. “Cute? They’re a—a mass of silks!“

“In a pleasing shape, though.” Jenne rubbed her nose slightly, grinning. “But I might just be a li’l, ah... tipsy.” She scooted the chair a bit closer. “A li’l,” she repeated with a giggle.

“So what was the... what were the tricks?”

Jenne’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes, my Prince, the tricks. Oh, I’ve been looking forward to—back home, nobody lets me magic!” She gripped his hand with excitement. “I mean, I say, they don’t... Magic is evil where I come from. Nobody’s as accepting as you. As Rainvale, I mean.” Her eyes went downcast.

“Well...” Prince Felic hesitated, then squeezed her hand back. She laced her fingers with his with a coequettish smile. “In Rainvale, women aren’t expected to be quite so... assertive. So it’s not all bad in the Wildflower Kingdom.”

“That’s true.” Jenne shrugged. “I suppose there’s a good measure of equality there, at the least. All the fey and creatures of the prairie make it hard to really believe that men are the stronger sex, when all it takes is a giggling alraune to render any man a molten-minded bull for breeding.” As soon as the words left her, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth at the vulgarity. Her cheeks went as red as roses.

Felic giggled at her expression, even though he felt almost equally shocked. “I... how very... apt, my Princess Jenne.”

She relaxed slightly. “Well... what I mean to say is, things are different over there. But I never get to show this off.” She twirled her finger, and the smoke letters appeared again: Prince Felic the Kind.

“Well... what do you want to show me?”

“Oh...” Princess Jenne shrugged. “Can we, um, start with something else? You choose something. I know we have to talk about the war, but for now... oh, I’d just like to relax a little. It’s been such a lovely evening with you.”

“Of course.” Prince Felic then bit his lip. “You mean you want me to request an illusion?”

“My illusions aren’t just pretty pictures,” Princess Jenne boasted. “I can do all kinds of things. I can scry faraway lands, though it’s a lot harder. I can put you in the mind of a Balm-dancing siren, or let you see through the eyes of a mountain bee high in the northern range.”

“Can you show me your castle?” Prince Felic asked. “I’ve almost never left Castle Azure.”

She blinked. ”Really?“

“The Prince isn’t supposed to. I’m... very important to the people.”

“But didn’t Old Bullet—”

“My mother was different.” Felic looked down at his feet. “She was everything the people needed her to be.”

He fell silent. He hadn’t meant to let the tone get so serious, but now he wasn’t sure what to say. He felt Jenne squeeze his hand, and he looked up.

“My Prince,” she said warmly, “if you want to see my castle, I can show it to you. Just hold my hand and concentrate.”

“On wh—”

“And don’t speak,” Jenne went on, giggling. “My Prince, you can’t very well concentrate if you’re chattering away! We both need to focus. This, um... might be a bit forward, but I’ll need you to look into my eyes for a moment. And you must be very quiet, because if one of us is just chattering away, I say, we can’t very well work this spell, can we? Illusion and divination are very complicated. Very complicated indeed.”

She leaned in, and Prince Felic’s playful objections died on his breath. Her eyes were... such a nice amber-brown, but now he could see his face reflected in them. They seemed to ripple, like a stone thrown into a pool. Everything went blurry.

And then he felt himself sinking into them, as her hand became very, very warm, and his vision changed.

He was flying over a grandiose palace, built atop a hill not unlike Castle Azure. But this palace was not carved of rune-studded lapis lazuli. It looked almost like a classical cottage, except it was... enormous. Larger than Azure, certainly, built of brick and mortar, its many roofs painted all the colors of the wildflower prairie below.

“The Wildflower Palace,” he heard Jenne say, her voice soft and echoing as if on the wind as he flew above the castle. Vaguely, he remembered he was seeing all of this in the reflection of her eyes, but he could feel the wind blowing his curly hair back, hear the calls of birds around him... “As seen by a starling flock. Here, want to go closer?”

“Yes,” he whispered, awestruck.

The vision rippled again, and the scene shifted. He was staring down a hallway with lovely hardwood floors. Paintings hung from the walls depicting various scenes of frolicking fey and moonlit revelries—paintings which would be considered scandalous in Rainvale. Some of them even had naked people in them.

“My Prince,” Jenne said, “you’re blushing!”

“Th-The paintings...” he mumbled.

“Oh. Really? Those are just classic works.”

“Classic? But thery have—” Felic trailed off. Surely classic paintings didn’t feature naked men and women posing and displaying themselves like that. But Rainvale, he realized, didn’t have many classic painters.

After a moment’s pause, two women came through. Both wore maids’ outfits, and they were sweeping and dusting. One looked like a human not unlike Jenne, save for slightly paler olive skin and bright, spiky red hair. The other, though, had a pair of pointy bull horns, and the uniform she wore did little to hide and everything to pronounce her massive tits. Felic’s heart quickened, and he prayed Jenne couldn’t see what he was looking at—or at least what he was focusing on within the vision.

The maids bustled about, and he could distantly hear them speaking, he thought, in the native tongue of the Wildflower Kingdom.

“A... a cowgirl,” he said uncertainly. “In your palace?”

“Hm? oh, yes. Look closer, my prince, if the view allows. I think we’re looking through the eyes of a housefly here.” The vision seemed to narrow, focusing on the holstaur. Felic’s breath caught. For a moment, he thought they were zooming right into her massive cleavage.

Instead, they stopped on her wrists. She was clutching a broom, and each wrist had a little dainty chain of flowers around it.

“Bracelets?” he said uncertainly. His voice sounded so fuzzy right now. This was so disorienting.

“She’s just a pet,” Jenne said casually. “A captive monster. We employ plenty of them—espeically the ones who make trouble. Ooh, here, I think we found a mobile view! This fly’s following something.”

The vision rippled and shifted again. Now Felic found himself flying down a flight of spiraling stairs, giving chase to a par of very curvy women in pink aprons. They were chattering to one another. They both had rabbit ears, one pair long and floppy, while the other’s stood straight up, perky, as they carried a covered platter downstairs together. Once again, he spotted sets of flower ‘manacles’ on their wrists. He also noticed their uniforms had especially tight pants, probably to allow the little bunny tails to poke out more comfortably.

“Oh, I know those two!” Jenne said. “They’re very kind to the late-borns. Always sneaking us extra treats when the parents aren’t looking.”

The view left the stairs as the pair started down another hallway, this one lined with luxurious colorful curtains, all of which were open, allowing the pink light of the full moon to spill in.

“They must have left the shades open,” Jenne said distantly. “Careless. Someone must be slacking off, I say.”

Felic was only half-listening, unable to tear his attention from the bunnygirls’ rears as they practically bounced down the hallway. They paused, looking at a closet door, then exchanged giggles and continued on to disappear through a doorway. It closed, leaving their view behind.

For a moment the view was confused, spinning about. Then the housefly apparently chose a new direction and turned towards another doorway. It landed on the hardwood floor before it. Distantly, Felic heard strange sounds, then the fly scurried under this door, and he realized they were in a closet.

There were two figures entwined in each other’s arms, distantly moaning. In the dim, rosy light, a man was curled up in a curvy holstaur’s lap, clinging to her and suckling her breast helplessly. The holstaur’s lips were open, cooing words as she pumped his cock, stroking his hair, whispering gently right in his ear as he moaned and writhed and—

The vision broke off abruptly. Jenne’s eyes were wide, and her face was beet red. “S-Sorry!” she blurted, scooting a full foot away from him. “So sorry, I didn’t—I had no idea the captain was—that’s so careless, he shouldn’t be, but you know how boys can be sometimes—I mean—“

Felic was breathless, avoiding eye contact, shifting his legs beneath the table. “Goodness.”

“I know,” Jenne said, biting her lip, “I-I didn’t think it would—”

Felic looked at her, looking even more flustered than he felt, and then he burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it, even when she looked almost indignant. He clutched his stomach and giggled helplessly. “Jenne—Princess Jenne, it’s fine! It’s fine! It’s just—I mean, goodness!“

Jenne stared at him, then started giggling too. “I just can’t believe they would do that in—”

“I know!” He exclaimed. “And the bunnygirls—I mean, you could tell they heard it—if Horace ever did that, just fooled around with a random servant—“

“Captain Malques is always so serious, too!” Jenne took a gulp from her wine, shaking her head ruefully. “I mean, seven gods! He’s practically a mirror of your Horace! I can’t believe he’d let himself be drawn in like that by—I say, that holstaur is the one who’s supposed to be drawing the curtains, I’ll bet you anything!“

“A low rank?”

“Oh, yes.” Jenne rolled her eyes. “Lower than a scullery maid. There’s a lot of curtains in the Wildflower Palace.”

The tension and panic relieved, Felic took a sip of his own mug. It was, to his surprise, empty. Had he been drinking more than he’d thought?

“Here, finish mine,” Jenne said, tipsily tipping her goblet to dump its half-empty contents into his mug. “I’ve probably had... more than enough, being honest.” She giggled slightly, and Felic culdn’t help but giggle as well, agreeing.

“So now what?” he asked.

She blinked big eyes at him.

“Oh. Right.” He nodded. He had to think of another request. “Well... the Wildflower Kingdom is famous for its beautiful treasures. Present company included.” He took a sip from his goblet. “So, um...”

“Would you like to see our vaults?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Felic’s eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t—that would be too forward, I think. I wasn’t even thinking—”

“Oh, no!” She shook her head hurriedly. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to imply you were—”

“No, it wouldn’t do.” Felic bit his lip. “I, um...” He trailed off uncertainly.

Jenne scooted up and stole a sip from his goblet even as he held it up. Her fingernails trailed over his fingers, and Felic felt his breath catching. “Well... I mean, I say, I’ve got more magic than just the visions. Would you like me to show you our most sacred treasures, my Prince?”

He smiled hesitantly. “I think that sounds lovely. If—if it wouldn’t come across as me just, um...”

“Not at all.” She pulled her hand back. “Now, you needn’t look into my eyes for this one, my Prince. Just...” She spoke a word of power and wove her fingers together, almost like a magician preparing a sleight of hand.

She unsteepled her fingers, and a sparkling length of silk appeared in her hands. The sound of faint, tinkling chimes filled the room as she held up a scarf of shimmering colors, tiny silver beads jingling from it.

“The Singing Shawl,” she said softly, draping herself playfully in it. “Woven from the silken beds of the fluttermaids who tend the prairie’s wild gardens, with the chimes of the tinker belles won piece by piece, dance by dance. She batted her eyelashes coquettishly up at him, head framed within the shimmering rainbow lights.

Felic’s mouth was dry. “Wow,” he breathed. “I thought tinker belle fairies guarded their chimes closer than their own lives.”

Jenne giggled, taking the scarf off. “They love to dance, and if you can out-dance them, they will gamble anything. But see, feel the silks.” She boldly took his hand and ran it over the scarf, offering it to him. “It will hold heat for days if warmed, and keep you cool in the hottest desert.”

Felic nodded, feeling the incredible smoothness, the fine threads. Despite the heat in the banquet hall, the scarf felt as cool as stone. He ducked his head, allowing Jenne to drape it over his neck. “How are you...”

“... making it feel so real?” She giggled. “Your wish is my command, my Prince! Illusion magic can do wonderful, wonderful things.” She pulled back, leaving the scarf wrapped around him, and began weaving her fingers again. “And see... this.” She un-steepled them to reveal a circlet of many woven copper chains, massive topaz gems hanging at the bottom. “The Circlet of Wealth.“

“What does it do?” Felic reached out and took it from her gently. The gems were warm to the touch. He placed it on his head, and felt a strange sense of calm as it settled.

“It fills your dreams with all your desires,” Jenne whispered. “At least, the real one. I’ve always wanted... well, I’ve always longed to try it. My dreams are rarely happy.”

Felic looked at her uncertainly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jenne leaned against him, steepling her fingers once more. “Why do you think I’m showing you these things? This is my dowry, my Prince.”

“You mean—”

“All this is yours,” she said happily, sliding shimmering silver and gold rings over his fingers. “They long for this alliance almost as much as I do, my Prince.” She draped chains of lapis lazuli beads over his lap, and with every additional chain, Felic felt strangely more wakeful, more alert. His fingers tingled with static. “The Spider’s Foot Rings. The Beads of Virility.”

Felic nearly choked on his wine. “What?”

He met her gaze, feeling a strange surge of passion flowing through him. The beads hung heavy over his shoulders. Jenne was so close, he could smell her exotic scent—so many unusual perfumes, floral and almost cloying in their complex intensities...

Jenne burst out laughing, and snapped her fingers. The treasures vanished. “Oh, My Prince, they don’t actually do anything. These are just illusions!“

Nonetheless, Felic felt a bit lighter as the beads vanished and the scarf faded away. They’d felt real enough. He wondered if Jenne knew the kind of effect they’d been having, though.

Or if she knew the effect she was having on him by being so very close up and... personal with him.

“Your magic is beautiful,” he murmured, setting aside his empty goblet. He felt a bit light-headed.

“Aw.” She giggled, and hiccupped. She scooted a bit closer, until they were practically sharing a chair. “My... my Prince is so sweet to me. So good to me.” He realized she was leaning in, and he was leaning towards her. Her lips parted. Her eyes were as big as saucers. His heart started to pound.

“My Princess...” He bit his lip. This is indecorous. This is improper. “Please, um, show me more. Show me the creatures of the Wildflower Kingdom.“

“Oh.” She blinked, and nodded, pulling back. Her face was glowing in the candlelight—dim, but not so dim as to hide her furious blushing. “Yes. Yes, my Prince. Do you mean the animals? The monsters?”

“We have no monsters here.” Felic bit his lip. “I would like to... like to see them.”

She giggled. “Even the holstaurs?”

“... maybe not the holstaurs. I think I’ve seen enough of them.”

“Oh, have you?” she teased. “You know, that maid was a bit small for a cowgirl.”

Felic’s mouth was dry.

“But...” She sprang to her feet. “Why don’t I show you the flower girls, my Prince?“

“The...”

“The women of the prairies who are bound to the lovely blossoms,” she explained, almost dancing around him to the other side of the table. “I say, there is nothing quite so lovely as the meadowmaidens. Nothing quite so breathtaking. I’ve never forgotten the sight—really once in a lifetime, you know?”

“I...”

Jenne was back into full motormouth territory. “Really, really, now, I can’t imagine not seeing their sunrise and sunset celebrations. Really wild stuff. Really just, wow, an absolute knockout, pun unintended.” She started to weave her fingers together. “Alright, let’s take it slow, um, just one at a time. Any requests?“

“Oh, just...” Felic shrugged. He smiled at her, the unreserved smile of drunken fondness, which she returned. “You know best, Jenne.”

She blinked. “Oh. My Prince, you... know just what to say.”

She brought her fingers together above her head and parted them, tracing a symmetrical outline that was decidedly humanoid—and very feminine.

And a woman emerged from the flickering candlelight.

She was wreathed in lovely pink blossoms with plump, feathery petals, her form slender and her skin a pale bronze. Her dress was so brilliantly red it almost hurt to look at, impossibly vast and fluttery for such a slight wearer. She stepped delicately from Jenne’s spell, blinking large, thick-lashed eyes at him. Long, fine fingers raised a crystal flask to her lips.

“The lady of the hibiscus,” Jenne said warmly, running a hand over the woman’s brilliant red hair—done up in an elegant bun, with three long pins holding it in place so just a few stray locks trickled down around her dusky eyes. “Rarely seen in the prairies after dark, but oh, their joy in the sunrise must be shared to be believed.“

Felic stared up as the woman approached, her every motion like that of a china doll as she slowly sipped from the flask. “That... that flask...”

“Hibiscus nectar,” Jenne said, dancing after the swishing flower maiden. She smiled proudly down at Felic as the illusion gave a soft, wordless coo, reaching down and running fingers curiously over his chest, fiddling with his buttons. “They’re always a little bit drunk.” She giggled. “So, um, she fits in here, doesn’t she?”

Felic laughed, slightly nervous about the way the hibiscus woman was looking at him. “Um... hibiscus. A delicate beauty, in the flower language.” He took the illusion’s hand and eased it away from his shirt. It was warm, and she blinked down at him.

“Oh, my Prince,” Jenne said, her eyes widening, “you never said you knew the prairie tongue!”

“I... dabble.” He smiled nervously, suddenly realizing the meaning of Jenne’s flower choice and feeling the blush creeping over his cheeks. Him, a delicate beauty. He felt like a proper prince would object to that, but the hibiscus maiden’s fingers were playing between his own, slipping free to hold his hand tenderly.

He did feel a little delicate right now. A little vulnerable. Tired and tipsy. He cleared his throat. “So...”

Jenne was already working the next illusion, smiling brightly as her eyes glowed solid orange. “Yes, my Prince. Perhaps...”

Several woman stepped out of her outlines, shimmering wisps. The hibiscus maiden danced away as a woman who was about as short as Jenne—but with a much bigger bosom—sank into her unused chair beside him. Her eyes were wide, her hair long white curls, her lips painted gold. She delicately played her finger over his cheek.

“I—” Felic turned to her just in time for her fingers to tickle his lips. “I, um... honeysuckle.” His eyes darted unwillingly to her massive chest, heaving against her white slip. “Generous... devoted affection.” He breathed in her scent, impossibly sweet. His head spun a little.

Jenne clapped her hands happily. “My Prince has wonderful taste,” she breathed. “And... her?”

Felic was blushing brilliantly, and he turned to say something—ask Jenne to move these illusions off him, maybe, and get the hibiscus maiden off the table—but now a third illusionary flower girl had spilled into the chair on his other side. She cooed and moaned wordlessly, her hair green with violet streaks, her form tall and willowy. He breathed in. “Ivy,” he mumbled, reaching uncertainly for his wine goblet, needing something to stare into other than the ivy woman’s pretty purple eyes. “Um... devotion. Marriage. Dependence.”

“If that’s what it means, who am I to argue?” Jenne’s face was bright red, but she was smiling, leaning back and forth, hands clasped nervously behind her back. “I... it’s rare to meet an ivy maid alone, you know. They travel in large groups. They’re hungry. Needy.”

“I noticed,” Felic squeaked, as the ivy woman rubbed against him silently, her eyes full of desire, her hands running over his whole body. Behind him, he noticed the honeysuckle woman taking his hand holding the wine goblet, curiously sipping from it. He jerked it away and took a sip.

His eyes widened. “Guh! It’s sweet!“

“Oh, yes.” Jenne covered her laugh. “Um, yes, I’m sorry, that’s what honeysuckle women do! They sweeten everything. You shouldn’t have let her near it.”

He shot the honeysuckle woman a sour look. She smiled sweetly at him and pushed her chest out. The ivy woman continued to cling, and the hibiscus woman hopped off the table and wove around toward him.

“Do you know what tulips mean, my prince?” Jenne sang, and he turned his attention back to her as the flower girls started to press in from all around.

Felic swallowed, and reluctantly took a sip from the sweetened wine to loosen his tongue. He felt the hibiscus woman’s fingers tracing through his hair. “I...”

He really needed to end this here. This wasn’t... quite indecorous yet, but it was dangerously close. But somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to object.

Because two more women were emerging from the shadows as the hibiscus, ivy and honeysuckle women faded into colorful, fragant mist. One had brilliant blonde hair, one had brilliant red hair, and both wore flowing white dresses that only accentuated their lovely curves.

They smiled at him, their lips painted brilliant colors matching their hair.

“I... I, um...”

Red tulip. ‘I love you.’ he watched as the red tulpid maid advanced, hips swinging, and sank down beside him. She gazed at him in liquid adoration.

“Please, my Prince,” Jenne whispered. “Tell me what the prairie tongue means.”

The golden-haired illusion sat down on his other side. The tulip women leaned in close, beaming brightly, lips pursed for twin kisses on his cheeks.

“The tulip women are awful flatterers,” Jenne went on, giggling at his expression. “And very... indulgent. We see them only during the winter. But what do they mean?”

Yellow tulip, Felic thought, lips quivering, as they planted twin kisses on is cheek. His heart was fluttering. “Hopeless love,” he whispered aloud. “Infatuation.“

Jenne blinked. “Oh. If you say so.” She giggled and waved a hand, and the visions dissolved into mist before his eyes. Jenne sat down beside him once more. “Of course,” she said playfully, bouncing in her seat, “I wouldn’t... wouldn’t ever, um, be so forward. How could a royal daughter of the Wildflower Kingdom fall so helplessly in love with anyone? How could such a powerful sorceress be tamed by any soul, no matter how gentle, how... how sweet?” She leaned in slightly, biting her lip.

Felic let her rest her chin on his shoulder. Impulsively, he reached up and ran his hand over her long, straight, silky black hair. He swallowed. “My Princess,” he said hoarsely, “I... I wish I could conjure a thousand flowers for you to say how I feel. But I can’t. All I can say is... we should go to the mountains sometime. There are many tulips there. Red, yellow... broken tulips...”

He stared into her eyes. She stared back, her eyes wide, her lips half-parted.

‘Broken tulips’ were a rare kind of tulip that had unusual feathered patterns over their forms. In the flower language, they meant beautiful eyes. Eyes to break the heart in two.

The lingering scents of honeysuckle, ivy flowers, tulips and hibiscus hung around them like thick curtains, and as Jenne breathed in, he noticed her eyelids fluttering slightly.

She reached forward and took his hand, and emptied the goblet down her own throat.

“I must... I want to show you more,” she said, smiling dreamily at him. “If I may.”

“Of couse,” Felic said, nodding eagerly. As his head bobbed, though, he felt lethargy there—like his brain was stumbling, sloshing from the movement. “I... although I’m getting a bit... sleepy, I think.”

Jenne giggled. She cupped his chin. “My Prince,” she cooed, “your eyes are like broken tulips right now. I think I’ve kept you up long enough.” She made to rise.

“No... no, my Princess, please. Please stay.” He held onto her hand, even as he lay back against his chair. “I... I may be sleepy, but I want to... want to see more.”

She bit her lip, but stopped rising. “I shouldn’t keep you.” She ran a hand over his head. “You look like you can barely keep your eyes open. All that wine, all that fragrant... love...”

He nodded sleepily. “Stay. I... command it.”

The Prince’s command carried all the weight and authority of a bowl of spilled milk, and Jenne giggled at its feebleness. But the powerful sorceress sat back down. “I can... help you, maybe,” she murmured, fingers flitting over his eyelids. “Help you stay wake. But do you want that?”

He squeezed her hand. “Uh-huh.”

Jenne patted his hand, holding it between hers like a baby bird. “As you wish, my Prince. As you wish.”

He watched her finger gently twirl, and admired her elegant nails. He wanted to lean against her—his beloved, this powerful sorceress who had so easily charmed her innocent prince—but that, surely, would be going too far. This was flirtatious, but it wasn’t... anything untoward. Yet.

A strange device was appearing out of thin air. Jenne smiled brightly, twirling her long, delicate fingers over the length of a sinuous pipe. It was... oh.

It was a hookah. A long, bejeweled hookah of precious silver and gold, glimmering with a glow all its own as fire glinted in its glossy blue belly. A curious blue silken pouch, like an air sac, was connected by a second pipe to the belly.

He blinked up at her, uncertain. “What’s...”

“This,” she declared, thrusting the hookah towards him, “is a one-of-a-kind, state-of-the-art buzzsmoke pipe. They’re rare these days, you know, terribly rare. One of the more especial treasures of our vaults. Do you know what buzzsmoke is?“

Felic had no idea. “I—”

“A buzzsmoke pipe,” Jenne went on, patting his hand for silence, “is designed specially to carry buzzsmoke, which comes of burning a special meadow honey created by the meadow bees kept by the Thriae. The honey burns hotter than oil, which is why... here, take a feel, see?” She took his hand and encouraged him to run it over the hookah’s belly. It was warm. Very warm. He marveled at the heat of the glass.

“It’s hot!” he said stupidly, and immediately blushed at the obviousness of his words.

But Jenne only nodded eagerly. “That’s right, my Prince, hot as anything in the world. It takes a special kind of glass made from sand from our shores to hold that heat without melting—or burning the user! Luckily for you, we’ve got one of the genuine articles, I say, the genuine articles.“

Jenne’s voice was incredibly melodic and easy to listen to. She snapped her fingers, and Felic almost jumped from the break in her rhythm. The orb’s glow increased slightly. “Go on,” she said, “you mustn’t take my word for it, my Prince. Go on, take a puff!”

Prince Felic blinked dumbly at the pipe offered to him. “But... I thought your illusions were, um...”

“Don’t you want to stay awake?” Jenne prompted. “Go on, my Prince, just a puff. Just give it a try. You don’t want to miss this opportunity to smell and taste the sweetness of buzzsmoke. I say, it’s a really once-in-a-lifetime chance!”

“O... okay, I guess so.” Prince Felic nodded and took the pipe. He felt like Jenne was contradicting herself—hadn’t she said her illusions were entirely artificial?—but he was too tired to argue, and it was awfully easy to just go along with whatever his princess told him. Just a puff. Just a taste. Wake me up a little.

As he sucked in a shallow breath from the pipe, it vaguely occurred to him that Jenne hadn’t actually explained how buzzsmoke was going to keep him awake.

Then smoke filled his head, puffy and sweet and musky and strong, and he gasped.

“That’s it,” Jenne encouraged, and he saw she was squeezing the sack with some kind of rhythm, and he felt more smoke enter him. “There you are. Isn’t it just wonderful, my Prince? Isn’t it everything you’d wished for?”

Felic’s eyes were watering. Every time she pumped the bag, more smoke flowed into him, regardless of whether or not he was sucking. But it was... it was...

Amazing. Everything was sparkling, spinning, glowing. Especially Jenne. Jenne was radiant. He stared at her in shocked adoration as she giggled. “Oh, my Prince, you should see yourself right now. Aren’t you glad you took my advice? I say, I didn’t steer you wrong, did I?“

“Mha!” he managed, struggling to speak around the pipe. His head was... buzzing. He felt awake, incredibly awake. Like a fire had been lit inside him.

Jenne smiled and pulled the pipe away—he noticed with some surprise that she’d been holding it to his lips, helping him get a good dosage. She snuggled up against him. “Didn’t I say?” she purred. “Aren’t you more wakeful now? I say, aren’t you glad you did as I said?”

“Y... yes, Princess Jenne,” Felic said, giggling a little. He felt light-headed—but energetic, like he could run a marathon. His mouth was incredibly dry all of a sudden, rendering his voice a bit weak. “It’s... it’s not addictive, is it?”

Jenne giggled back, patting his head. “I would never give you anything you couldn’t give up,” she purred. “My Prince, it’s no more addictive than a kiss!”

“I... yes. Good.” Felic nodded limply. He couldn’t stop smiling at her.

“Don’t you feel better?” Jenne’s chair was pressed against his now, so they were practically in the same seat. “Didn’t I say?”

“Uh... yes.” Felic blinked rapidly before realizing what she was looking for. “You were right, Jenne.”

“Princess Jenne,” she ‘corrected’, with a wink. “I’m so happy, my Prince! And it wasn’t too much?“

“Um...” Maybe a little, Felic thought, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jenne’s feelings. “No. No, it was... was good. Wow. It was wonderful, Princess Jenne.“

“I’m so happy.” Jenne’s smile was as sweet as candied dates. She tossed her ponytail back. “After all, this is the first night of our... well, I mean, um, the first night we get to spend together. I’d like it never to end.“

“M-Me too.” It felt so good to admit that. Felic was glad she’d said it first. He stared into her pretty amber-brown eyes, nodding along with her. “Princess Jenne.”

“So...” She casually laid her arm over his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Felic sort of figured that was a bit improper, but... well, it was only an arm, right? Not like he was just... just hanging on her, like some wanton trollop. Some easy eye candy. “What would you like next, my Prince? Please, we have the whole night.”

Felic bit his lip. “You wanted to show me something, didn’t you?”

“... Yes.” Jenne’s smile faded slightly. She ruffled his hair. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’d rather save that one for later. It’s a less cheery topic, my Prince, and I suppose I’d like to spend some more time on silly little illusions before we get into the... darker subject matter.”

“Oh.” Felic blinked. “Okay, I suppose we can wait. Yes.”

She looked at him expectantly, smiling and batting her eyelashes.

“Yes, Princess Jenne.” He giggled slightly, and though she was a lot shorter than him, he found himself cuddling against her like a cheap trollop. It wasn’t as if anyone would notice. And there was nothing scandalous about cuddling. “Please, I’d love to see more illusions, but... I’m also very thirsty. That smoke really, um...“

“Of course!” she exclaimed. “Of course, my Prince, you’ve got to stay hydrated! I say, that was really very careless of me to neglect!“

“It’s fi—” he started to protest, but she held up a finger to his lips.

“It’s not,” she went on, visibly fretting with her hand draped over him (it wasn’t possessive, just... friendly). “No, no, it won’t do. And we’re out of wine!”

“Mm.” He nodded hesitantly. “Maybe we should avoid wine, anyways. I, um...” He giggled slightly. Why am I giggling so much? Everything’s so sparkly and... and hard to focus on. “I think I’ve maybe had my, um, fill, and we’ve really—“

“No, no, no,” she enthused, squeezing his shoulder, “don’t worry, my Prince, I’ll supply the drinks. Your wish is my command!”

He blinked as she snapped her fingers.

Three wispy forms emerged from the shadows behind her—each a slender woman with wide hips, big, jiggling breasts and highly revealing black-and-white maid costumes with long, flowing skirts. Each had her hair done up in an attractive braid—blonde, redhead and brunette.

Felic gaped.

“Fetch us wine!” Jenne declared. “The best of the best for my Felic, if you please.”

The three maids giggled. Below their skirts, Felic realized, he couldn’t see feet—they just sort of melted away into fog. They twirled through the air, soaring to and fro, whirling around the table. He felt dizzy trying to watch them. There was a thick scent in the air, like heavy water vapor.

“What are—”

“A spell of mine,” Jenne said confidentially. “They’re just... aha, splendid, very good!” She beamed as the maids came to a stop between them, offering up a large bottle with no label made from jet-black glass. Jenne shook it experimentally and grinned.

Felic tried again. “What are... eep!” He flinched, feeling cool hands running over his shoulders. The wispy maids were drifting behind him, running their hands over him. From their lips spilled sweet murmurings, little nothings in his ears. He realized all three were directly behind him.

“They’re summons,” Jenne said, concentrating on the bottle. “Nothing too serious, but they can fetch things. Ooh, is this from the Bitter Waste? They say the fruit there is fermented before it finishes flowering!” She gave the bottle an experimental shake and beamed.

“Jenne, um—” Felic squirmed slightly, but the maids only faintly giggled. They were massaging his shoulders and his neck, and it felt... nice. But he was having trouble focusing on what Jenne was saying.

“Princess Jenne,” she corrected playfully, not looking up from the bottle. She seemed to be trying to gauge the contents.

Felic bit his lip, feeling the impossibly soft hands squeeze and caress his muscles.

“Shh,,” cooed one of the voices in his ear.

“Relaaaax,” cooed another.

He hadn’t been aware how... how tense he’d been, he realized, eyelids fluttering, as he sagged back against the chair, back against Jenne. “I, um... Princess Jenne...”

“Hm?” She looked up, blinking thick lashes. “Oh! Sorry. They get handsy if they see someone who seems tense. Should I tell them to stop?”

Felic hesitated. Now that the initial shock had passed, he found himself enjoying the massage. “I, um... no,” he squeaked. “Not for now, they’re... they’re fine.”

“That’s so wonderful, my Prince,” Jenne said brightly. “I’m so happy you like them! I’ll keep them around if that’s your will. Here, One.” She handed the bottle up to the third maid, who giggled and fluttered around them like a gigantic moth.

Felic watched as the maids filled their goblets once more. ‘One’ brought his goblet up to his lips, pressing against his side opposite Jenne. “Your drink, m’lord,” she breathed.

Felic looked nervously between her and Jenne, and parted his lips. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. But his throat was dry. And the wine was sweet.

And strong. very strong. Felic swayed slightly as it burned down his throat. He felt himself sagging against Jenne, and to keep himself from sinking to the floor, he put an arm around her belly, feeling the smooth skin of her bare midriff. He knew how this looked—the prince of Rainvale, hanging on a petty royal non-princess’s arm like a... like a...

She smiled at him, and he smiled back hesitantly. “Do you like it?’ she asked, biting her lip.

In that moment, she was vulnerable. In that moment, the mighty sorceress was an ordinary person in love. And Prince Felic felt the need to assure her like a fire in his gut.

“It’s... it’s wonderful, my Princess,” he slurred, clinging to her tightly with both arms. “W-Wonderful.“

“So you want more,” the maids squealed in his ears, and before he knew what was happening, ‘One’ was pouring more wine down his throat, and ‘Two’ and ‘Three’ started gliding their hands down, slipping under his shirt...

“Um,” he squeaked, nervously burying his face in Princess Jenne’s neck to hide his blush, trembling at their touches. He squeaked again as he felt a hand graze his hip.

Delicate fingers took his chin back, easly, tenderly, like correcting a careless mistake. A maid beamed at him, and he found his lips parting as they encouraged him to drink deeper.

“He’s enjoying it,” teased a wispy maid in his ear, as he relaxed still deeper. He felt like a rag doll, perfectly compliant for their wishes, moving as they pushed him. “So easy. So easy to just... enjoy it.“

One of the maids was leaning against him, giving him a full, easy view of her cleavage, and it was so easy to stare at the misty—and yet so solid-looking—assets. He bit his lip, feeling her stroking his bulge, feeling unwanted sinful pleasure trickling in.

“I’m so glad,” Jenne said obliviously, taking a sip from her own drink and giggling nervously. “I—I’m stll trying to perfect this spell, honestly. Sometimes it gets out of hand.”

The maids giggled softly in his ears, and the one atop him, serving him, gave his cock a meaningful squeeze. He almost choked on his drink.

“No fear of that,” they cooed faintly.

“We’ll do whatever you want” they moaned.

He bit his lip to hold in a cry as the maid started positively wriggling in his lap, her form just solid enough to torment him but just vapor enough to give nothing. She was moaning and gasping softly, cooing sweet nothings in his ear, and he trembled in pleasure—he needed to say somethng, but he couldn’t find the words, and they were pressing the goblet to his lips again—and he felt so, so relaxed right now...

“So he must want this,” teased the illusionary temptresses.

“Don’t you?” they all said at once, and the goblet was pulled away for him to answer.

He was panting, cock tingling, so needy and horny beneath the maid, so eager for—for more—the breasts jiggled before his eyes, so soft and warm, promising so much as she wriggled, squirmed, milked him towards—

“P-Princess!” he blurted.

“Oh, no,” Jenne scolded, and snapped her fingers.

All three maids went up in smoke. Felic watched in confusion as the goblet at his lips started to fall—

Only for Princess Jenne to hurriedly catch it and finish pouring it down his throat. In her haste to keep it from falling, a little dribbled around the corners of his mouth.

She pulled back, face flushed. “Sorry, my Prince,” she said softly, going for a napkin. She dabbed his lips. “Really, that’s my fault. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see any more. I mean, really, so—so indecorous, I can’t apologize enou—”

She felt so warm. So soft. Almost unconsciously, one of Felic’s hands dipped down past her waist, feeling the smooth, plump flesh of her rear...

“More,” Felic mumbled in her ear, and he felt her shiver. “My sweet Princess, the... the fault is mine.” Somehow. Somehow, it had to be his. “The maids were lovely. How can you conjure such... such powerful magics?“

Jenne lowered the napkin, eyes wide. She raised the goblet, and he willingly took another sip. “Oh, my Prince...” she whispered softly, “you are so kind to me. I don’t even deserve you. Would... Would you like me to show you something else?“

Prince Felic could only submissively nod.

She giggled, and raised her fingers for another snap.

“As you wish,” she cooed.