The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 5 — The Maître

Odette lay in a state of bliss. Her head nestled in the prince’s lap, the rest of her body splayed out across the couch for him to admire, surely no paradise existed greater than the one she found in his close company.

They had adjourned to his bedroom for a more intimate setting, away from the judging eyes of servants. There, they had found a roaring fire, and not far from it, the comfortable couch they currently occupied.

Her emerald dress had long since been discarded. Odette was naked now, save for her white stockings and lace garters, which she knew her Maître had a particular fondness for. Her small feet were braced up on the armrest, one hand lay at her side while the other gently teased her sex, drawing circles around her folds. That had been the only part of her body she had subconsciously refused to show that dog Dmitriev. The sight belonged exclusively to her wonderful Maître.

For the moment, Prince Alexander Myshkin paid little attention to the beauty in his lap. Instead, he was engrossed in the fruits of her labors for him. There were more than a dozen pages of notes Odette had collected for him over the weeks of work. French military movements, army sizes, logistical plans, she had spared no details. She’d even contrived to learn which of his 50 horses Napoleon planned to bring on campaign. The Prince poured over the pages, adding his own small notes in the margins where needed. He felt Odette squirm in his lap, and a moment later, heard her unsuccessfully attempt to stifle a moan. The prince grinned at the sound and continued to read on.

For Odette, all of this was heaven. Of course, her Maître had little time for her. He was an important man and put duty above all other things. She had brought him critical intelligence that must be immediately attended to. She was more than content with the knowledge that she had served him well, and while he took in the product of that service, she lay nestled in his lap and simply enjoyed the serenity that came with his presence. Occasionally his free hand would drift down and run affectionately through Odette’s hair or would trace a few fingers over her cheek. Those brief moments of contact would cause a flutter in her heart and a quiver of pleasure between her legs.

“The Austrians and Prussians will both join then?” her Maître asked, his eyes not straying from the paper.

“Oui, Maître.” Odette answered, thrilled to be of use. “And Westphalia, Saxony, the Poles, and Italy. All are providing contingents for La Grande Armee.”

The prince stirred at her answer. “With that he’ll be able to summon… nearly half a million men.”

“Perhaps as many as 600,000.”

On the answer, Prince Myshkin glanced down at her. Odette inhaled as their eyes connected. The prince’s gaze seemed to penetrate directly into her soul.

He searched her countenance, seeing if he could detect some hint of deception. Prince Myshkin wondered for a moment if his hold on the young madame was not as strong as he believed. 600,000? Such a number was unheard of in the history of warfare. Yet, as his commanding eyes starred into her adoring ones, he knew it must be true. She was no more capable of deceiving him as to the size of Napoleon’s army than she was as to the color of her own hair. The prince’s expression softened. With one hand, he gave her hair a quick tousle, bringing a bright smile to Odette’s face.

He turned back to her notes, flipping to examine the final page. “So the main thrust will be towards Vilna with the central column?”

“Oui, Maître. Napoleon intends for one column to pin your army in place, while he leads the main one to crush your flank.”

“We shall endeavor to disappoint him.” His eyes scanned the last couple lines. “He will seek a quick victory then.”

“Yes, mon Maître. I should tell you, many of his officers have misgivings. They fear a drawn-out war, as has taken place in Spain. Battles without purpose, marches through barren territory, and of course, many are still haunted by la guerrilla.”

“Well, if they fear la guerrilla,” Prince Myshkin looked down and gave her a small smile. “I cannot wait to introduce them to the Cossack.”

Odette’s preened. “They shall fall on your swords, Maître.”

“On our swords or in our snows, I assure you they will fall,” he spoke with confidence. At last, the prince put the papers aside and gave his full attention to the belle staring worshipfully up at him. “I must say my dear, turning your charms on your own countrymen has been a brilliant success.”

“Merci Maître!” Odette glowed under his praise. “I am honored to serve.”

“Tell me, my lovely,” the Prince spoke warmly. “What have you learned today?”

“The Tsar has been preparing for war for some time. He has strengthened his defenses by the border, prepared the army reserve, and has conducted a number of reforms on the artillery. Even more, he is preparing a peace treaty with the Ottomans, and has concluded a secret agreement with the Swedes. Both moves will free up large amounts of troops for the coming campaign.”

“Very thorough. Now tell me, when you leave here, what shall you report to your emperor?”

Odette shined. “The Tsar is totally unprepared for the upcoming war. His defenses are in shambles. The army is just as disorganized as it was after its last defeat. Large numbers of troops will be tied down by the war with Ottomans, which is dragging on without conclusion. The Tsar also fears the Swedes will invade, so he must also leave a force there to watch their border.”

“Perfect,” he praised. Odette giggled as he gave her hair another ruffle. “But your emperor may be disappointed in you when he learns the real state of affairs.”

“L’Empereur is a dog!” Madame spat. “He is a rogue and a usurper. I wish him nothing but disaster and misery. The only good thing he has done in his miserable life was fight the battle at Friedland which thankfully killed my terrible husband.”

“Hmm.” Prince Myshkin glanced pensively at the fire. “I was at Friedland, fighting on the other side of course. I assure you, I got little more joy of the battle than your unfortunate husband.”

“You shall have your revenge, Maître! I know it!”

“I pray you are right, my dear.” He thumbed a lock of her red hair and wound it around his index finger, giving Odette a soft tap on her forehead. “Now, you did not always think these things about your emperor, did you?”

“Non, Maître.” Odette’s soft voice became despondent and her eyes downcast. “I am ashamed to say that I once thought him the greatest man in Europe. But then you came along and showed me the truth. He is a scoundrel.” Her smile returned. “And you are the greatest man in Europe.”

Prince Myshkin chuckled. In silent thanks for the complement, the prince ran a hand down her chest, eliciting a gasp in response. “I trust your adventures were not too unpleasant today? Was Count Lipovsky difficult to deal with?”

“Gahh! I can make that little piggy squeal without the least bit of effort.”

That drew another chuckle from the prince. “And Count Dmitriev?”

“He was quite obstinate and rude. I had to punish him.”

“Not too harshly, I hope?”

“Very harshly, I’m afraid,” Odette uttered without shame. “I showed him my body and ruined all other women for him. He will be forever haunted by me.”

“That is quite harsh, Odette,” Prince Myshkin admonished, though in a tone that signaled only amusement.

“Mon Maître, I did not punish him because he was rude to me.”

The prince gave her a bemused look. “Why then, my dear?”

“I punished him because he had the nerve to insult you in my presence! As your slave, I considered it my duty to defend you and enact retribution. Though of course, my normal self thought I was doing it to be cruel. But truly I was doing it in your defense. Honestly, I was!”

Prince Myshkin knew he couldn’t suppress his smile, and thus didn’t even try. He graced Odette with another pet of her hair. “I believe you, my dear, and am deeply touched by the sentiment.”

“Maître, you need not be. I would do anything for you.”

“I know, my pet. But I fear we’re venturing down a side path. Tell me, how did you find the Countess?”

“I found her far better than I found the count!” Odette giggled. “I have given her the list of names you have supplied me. Once she returns to St. Petersburg, she will work to build influence in your court to bring about their downfall. As they fall, I trust your own men shall rise.”

“She will not waiver with you so far away?”

“Non, Maître. She is devoted to me, and always will be. Just as I am your slave, she is mine.” Odette then giggled. “Hmm. I suppose that makes her yours as well?”

“Indeed.” Prince Myshkin let his interrogation lapse and gazed down at the lovely creature resting in his lap. With her bright saucer eyes and contented smile, she looked the portrait of innocence, though he knew she was anything but.

The prince remembered when they first met, and wondered, if but for a few twists in the strands of fate, how easily their roles could have been reversed. She had to come to him, as she had come to so many others, presenting herself as a harmless girl eager to make new acquaintances among the Russian nobility that had flocked to Paris when peace first settled. Had he not been on his guard, and had he not been experienced in the same craft she practiced, he almost certainly would have succumbed to her poisoned charms like the rest of his unfortunate comrades.

Many years ago, his uncle had taught him skills which had saved his life. Prince Ivan Myshkin had been one of the late Tsarina Catherine’s famed lovers. Prince Alexander didn’t hold any doubts about how he had gotten that position. With no sons of his own, his uncle Ivan had chosen Alexander as heir, not just to his considerable fortune, but also to the unconventional knowledge that had helped him obtain it. Those skills had ultimately allowed him to beat Odette at her own tricks.

He recalled with satisfaction, how she had tried to coax him to stare into her eyes, and the way her expression had softened when instead of him falling into her gaze, she was enveloped by his. He remembered in vivid detail, how her head had nodded while he whispered new thoughts into it, how she’d quivered when he, reinforcing her new ideology, had slipped between her legs, how he had asked who owned her and she had climaxed while screaming his name.

And so, Prince Myshkin had turned one of Napoleon’s greatest weapons into one of his greatest weaknesses. Since the day he conquered her, Odette Laurent had worked tirelessly and loyally on his behalf. For months now, French ministers eagerly gobbled up lies the prince fed them through her. More recently, as war became inevitable, he had deepened her service to him, sending her about stealing state secrets and collecting information on the coming campaign. Odette had done it all with unwavering eagerness. He would send her off to collect some piece of vital intelligence, and she would return, sometimes days or even weeks later, and happily surrender the information to him with all the pride of a hound dropping a pheasant at its master’s feet.

She was staring up at him now, a look of pure reverence written on her face. The prince felt some emotion stir in his chest. He had told himself that no good could come from getting attached to the girl. Indeed, after first he had hated her for what she had attempted to reduce him to. But the lovely belle had become so devoted to him, that it was impossible to prevent that hate from developing to affection.

“Odette,” he said, breaking the silence. “I am afraid tonight will be our last meeting for some time.”

“Ah non, Maître!”

“I sorry to say it is. The Tsar has called me back to St. Petersburg as well. He knows what is coming, and he wants me by his side.”

“I understand, Maître. You must do your duty to your Tsar. Compared to that, I am insignificant.”

“Odette, there is nothing on this earth that, when compared, could render you insignificant.” She smiled sweetly up at him at that, which he returned for a few seconds before his expression gave way to a more serious look. “Soon my time in glittering balls and soirees will be done. When your emperor invades, I shall take the field at the head of my brigade.”

Odette stirred. In her mind, she pictured her noble Maître at the head of a column of cavalry, leading a great charge that breaks the entire French army. The dog Napoleon is sent scuttering back to France with his tail between his legs.

“Focus for me, Odette. I can see you are lost in thought.”

“I am sorry, Maître.”

“You are forgiven.” He stroked her cheek and continued. “Now, we both know your emperor is no fool. He has many flaws, unfortunately stupidity is not among them. Eventually, he will realize someone has played him false. When that happens, I imagine Minister Fouche will have you charged with treason.”

“If that is what fate has in store for me, then so be it.” Odette didn’t waver. “I shall gladly die in your service and carry your secrets to the grave.”

“You shall do no such thing.” The prince said, perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended. He felt the Odette recoil under him at the rebuke. Stung with guilt, he took her face lovingly between his hands, and whispered, “My sweet Odette, do you think me a philistine who would cruelly discard a treasure such as yourself?”

“You may do as you wish with me, Maître. I am your property. I can be thrown away at your whim.”

“Gahh to that, if I may borrow your phrase.” He gave her hair another ruffle and returned her head to his lap. “No, if you are my property then you are also my responsibility, and I mean to see you delivered safe from harm.”

“Maître… Truly?” Odette’s face flushed with emotion. She loved her prince will all her heart, but had never dreamed he felt anything more for her than a passing interest. She’d thought herself nothing more than a convenient tool; one that he would devest himself of when she was no longer of use. Now here he was, speaking tenderly of saving her from a forlorn fate. It was enough to make her heart burst with gratitude.

Prince Myshkin spoke to her in an even whisper. “Calm yourself and listen to me now, my dear. I am about to give you instructions. Perhaps the most important orders I have ever given you.” She straightened immediately at the weight of his words. “I wish I could take you with me when I depart, but we both know my movements are too closely watched. Soon, perhaps within the month, your emperor will leave to go to the front. When that happens, you will wait another week or two, and then you must also leave France. I am sure you can find some excuse. Perhaps some pet of yours is waiting abroad with intelligence to pass on. Whatever you need to throw Minister Fouche off the scent.”

“I have Fouche wrapped around my finger. This will not be difficult.”

Prince Myshkin nodded and continued, “I will give you money for the journey. After you have left France you may dispose of your old personality. By then, it will have outlived its usefulness.” Odette wiggled in satisfaction. She eagerly anticipated the day when she would no longer have to forget she was her Maître’s slave. “Once aboard, you will arrange to have yourself smuggled off the continent. To England, or Sweden preferably. You can manage all this, Odette?”

“Oui, Maître,” Odette answered. In truth, she was less than confident in her ability to make the arduous journey. Deceiving Fouche was no easy task. And while she didn’t doubt her skills, nothing in her experience had prepared her for the task of smuggling herself across Europe undetected. Faithful slave that she was, Odette chose not to burden her Maître with her doubts.

“Good. When that is accomplished, you will present yourself to our embassy. I shall provide you the necessary letters of introduction. The embassy will arrange transport for you to St. Petersburg, where I will have rooms and servants prepared for you in my summer palace. There you will await me. Promise me now Odette, that you will make it to St. Petersburg.”

“I promise, Maître. I swear it! But, will you join me there?”

He found it difficult to face her and moved his gaze upward to the fire. “I can make no promises. It is impossible to say what the fortunes of war have in store for me.” He turned back to her. “Rest assured, so long as I have some life left, I shall use it to make my way back to you. We must trust in providence that we shall both survive our ordeals and be reunited when all affairs are settled.”

“I shall pray every day for you, Maître.” Odette felt tears briming in her eyes.

“Ah, my pet,” The Prince put on a smile, his voice almost breaking as he choked back tears of his own. “Let us banish any nasty thoughts. If tonight should be our final night together, and I hope it will not be!” As he had said those words, he noticed a fresh sorrow drawn up in her face. “But if it should be, at least for a time, it would be foolish for us to spend drowning in tears.”

“ Qui, Maître. You are right. We should enjoy it.”

“So let us enjoy it.” The prince lifted her up. Trained with servant’s instincts, Odette knew what her Maître wanted from her. She aided him in bringing herself up until she’d straddled his lap. Prince Myshkin found his eyes pulled toward her chest. The sight which had so captured the count and countess, now graced his vision. He found it equally irresistible.

He heard her light gasp when his lips found her breast. She responded a moment later with a shudder. As the prince feasted at her chest, his hands took the liberty of roaming her curves. A body that belonged to him, soft in all the right places, with skin so pure and unblemished it reminded him of fresh snow in the rolling hills of his estate. She might loan herself out at his discretion, but his rights of ownership were never in doubt.

Distantly, the prince was aware of the signs of Odette’s gratification. He felt her fingers combing through his hair. The breath from her exhale warmed his forehead. She was so close to his ear, he could hear her whispering ‘Maître’ softly in between rasps. Once, when his tongue tiptoed around the bud of her breast, he felt her shake in his grip.

After a time, when the prince’s appetite for her breasts was sated, he pulled back to take in the full view of the beauty in his lap. There was something sublime in the sight. A face, flushed red yet innocent in appearance, set against a body and mind well-practiced in seduction. So skilled, she’d even managed to charm her way into his heart. An unwelcome revelation, but the ache he experienced at their soon-to-be parting made it undeniable.

Prince Myshkin’s eyes flashed up to the bed at the far end of the room. He felt some of his bravado return. They’d get there soon, but first...

“My French mare, shall I put you through your paces?”

A smile bloomed on Odette’s face. “Oui, Matire!”

His hand darted between Odette’s legs. The prince let his fingers dance.

Odette bit her lower lip and gave a quick twist in anticipation. She could feel him barely touching her skin at first. A few brushes on the inside of her thigh, a light trace near the hip, her prince knew his business. She marveled at his mastery over her. With barely a touch, he’d reduced her to a weak and wet mess. She was his instrument, and judging from the sounds her own lips omitted, he was an expert in playing her.

He kept on teasing for several seconds before his hand found her sex and began to circle. The shock of his touch caused a quick intake of breath. Her toes curled as he whispered to her.

“What are you?”

“I am a slave,” Odette gasped. “It is my duty to serve and obey. I do not question my status. I do not doubt my orders. I-I am simply a tool to be used, ugh… an instrument of my owner’s will. I am his p-property. His possession. My mind, my body, my spirit… all belong to him.”

“And who is your owner?” The prince’s fingers moved in circles. Odette lifted her hips to embrace his touch. At his question, he felt her grow slick in his hand.

“I am owned by the great Prince Alexander Myshkin!” Odette’s voice was seeped with a mixture of pride and arousal. “C-Colonel of the Tsar’s Guard. Hero of Friedland. His will is what guides me. His-His goals are my goals. His am-ambition is my ambition. He is my owner. Mon Maître. Mon Amour.”

The prince smiled at the last part, the most recent addition to her pledge. He had never instructed her to love him. Somewhere along the way, duty had turned to devotion, then to adoration and lastly to love.

“What would you do for your Maître?” His figures moved at a faster pace.

“Anything!” Odette gasped. “I would do anything for mon Maître’s! W-Whatever he orders, I do without hesitation… I would lie for him, control for him, kill for him. I-I have betrayed my country for him. I have turned against m-mon empereur. I have divulged his secrets to mon Maître. I-I,” Odette swallowed down a moan. “I have deceived him at mon Maître’s command. Ah… There is no task I would not perform for mon Maître.”

“I see. Now tell me slave, since you have entered your master’s service, has any other man accessed your body?” He pushed two fingers in between her folds. Madame gasped as she felt her Maître enter her.

“Non!” She breathed huskily. “No other man may possess my b-body. It is not mine to give away. It-it belongs to mon Maître! Umhm… E-Every other man is unworthy of it. He is the only one that may have me.”

“Very good. And for your service, do you think you’ve earned your reward?”

“It-it is not a slave’s place to judge if they should be rewarded,” she stated as matter-of-factly as her lust-filled voice would allow. “O-Only mon Maître may decide that!”

“Quite right my dear. That is for your master to decide,” He let her hang on his words for a few seconds. “And after consideration, he has decided that you have done excellent work today, you have more than earned your reward.” In one swift motion he pulled his arms under her and lifted her off the couch.

Odette squealed with joy as her Maître carried her over to the bed.

“Now my pet,” he whispered to her, “let us make one more lovely memory. One last happy night together, that we can cherish and hold on to as we face the trials ahead.”

Fin.