The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Introduction

The text below is one of the earliest North African personal diaries to be found in our most recent internationally-funded archeological forays into that region. A brief introduction was deemed necessary in order for readers to understand the society and era in which the author lived.

The author and those around her refer to her as a “Whetstone.” Based on the text we can assume that her family tradition was to pass the title to the youngest daughter who chose it and she, the second youngest of her siblings, managed the homestead and performed the whetting of her village’s men. The diary fragments we’ve discovered show the author as a middle-aged woman with girls of her own and an apprentice to help her. We see her youngest daughter, Gaen, showing an interest in whetting.

The discovery of a manuscript describing life and society for this time period is startling enough but in it we also see the actions of a successful, intelligent woman as she pushes the boundaries of her niche in a particularly pivotal time in her nation’s history. Her natural empathic abilities and her fearlessness made it possible for her to expand her business to include the breaking and training of horses, an animal new to her and her people.

Her eldest sisters were leaders in their war against the Goreka, or Greeks. The sisters’ place in society were as traditional as hers: most elder daughters in her society became warriors. We see that they, too, heavily influence the changes taking place.

Her middle sister, barely mentioned, was in politics, a traditional role for the middle child. And her youngest sister was a wanderer. Evidently there was no traditional role for her when she rejected the Whetstone.

There are several interesting aspects to the author’s life and society. Perhaps the most intriguing is the strict social distinction between men and women. While Western history is a series of patriarchal societies in which women serve primarily as chattel or political and/or reproductive assets, Amaz society is shown to be matriarchal with an even more rigid definition of men’s and women’s roles. Women were masters of all (in the text there is no mention of a masculine word for master and we chose to show this in our translation by using “master” rather than “mistress”) and men were subject to a lifetime of slavery.

Such radical definitions of inter-sex relations are historically doomed to failure but it appears that this aspect of Amaz society lasted far longer than one would think before the inevitable sexual revolution took place. This is primarily due to the function of the Whetstone. The word Whetstone appears, in this text at least, to refer both to the physical object used to focus the subject’s mind and the woman performing the induction. Induction, of course, is the act of hypnosis. Apparently, for reasons we do not know but hope someday to understand, the Amaz associated the whetting, or sharpening, of knives with hypnotism. The author, as Whetstone, “shores up” the mental submission of Amaz’s men to slavery. Her diary provides examples of both extreme manipulation and re-shaping of minds as well as subtle changes wrought to improve the performance of an already-willing subject.

Basic definitions of social positions:

Amaz women appeared to derive their social standing by the number of males in their possession and historic family position. The upper class woman, or Mauyl, had at least two concubines (there was no mention of marriage or marriage-like contracts between men and women) and one castrated personal slave as well as her host of house slaves and female servants. Maurn make up the middle class. Every Maurn had a concubine and a castrated slave. Even the poorest Maut, or lower class woman, appears to have had a lover, perhaps by trading her brother for the brother of a friend.

Amaz women seemed to treasure their daughters and stoically train the occasional son. For the Mauyl a wet nurse took over the duties of raising the boy until he could be sent to a Whetstone. A Maurn could rarely afford a wet nurse and let her boy tend the flocks until it was time to sell him to a slave trader or a Whetstone. And the Mauts could not afford to send their boys or lovers to training, but they sold their boys as soon as they could and asked their village Whetstone for advice for handling their men.

Men, according to the diary, held various positions within that of basic slavery. There were house slaves, usually castrated, slave attendants to warriors, concubines, farmers, herders, messengers, and so on. In the diary we see men who perform multiple duties and those who, for one reason or another, serve strictly in one capacity. We are unable to confidently assert that the life depicted in this diary was common for all Whetstones in Amaz, but it certainly provided a cross-section of their society which will, combined with other discoveries, allow us to imagine and explain their history.

Excerpts of the diary, translated to modern English, follow. Sentences or phrases in [brackets] are comments by our staff.

Spring’s Second New Moon

Today Gaen woke me up with a cry of terror. I placed my hand on her head and she started awake.

“Were you dreaming?” I asked. She shivered and snuggled closer to me in our bed.

“There was a band of men on horseback, hacking up Kerl and Kain and their horses! It was horrible!”

“Shhh, sweetheart, shhh. I know dreams can seem so real, but you’re awake now. You can let it go.” I held her and listened to her breathing slow. Girls are so dear, so sweet, it’s a pleasure to raise them, to watch them mature. But if she was dreaming about the war, she was older than I wanted to admit.

“Mama, send the messenger to my aunties. I want to know they’re alright.”

“The messenger is still recovering from his run to see your Aunt Daka. He needs whetting today. But I promise I’ll send him tomorrow.”

“But what if my dream is true? Or will come true?” she asked, starting to panic.

“If so, we have either been given the time to change it, or it has already happened and sending the messenger won’t help. You know I understand that your dreams often have meaning, so you must trust me to know how to act on them. Do you trust me, daughter?”

She nodded and leaned her head against my chest and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. I stared up at the ceiling and thought about my sisters. The Goreka were fierce fighters and were slowly pushing their way into our forests. They slew everyone when they won a village and committed suicide rather than be captured. I had yet to see one in person but was told that they were hairy beasts, barely intelligible, and very smelly. I shuddered at the thought of my sisters dying at their hands.

“You must be calm in order to remember your dream clearly. Try to think of every detail. You will sit with me today when I whet the messenger so you must think of what you want to tell him to tell your aunts. Do you remember what you were taught about the message?”

“Keep it short, powerful, and use icons and rhyme to help the messenger remember. Say it only once while the messenger is under,” she recited.

“That’s right, so you must have it memorized yourself so nothing is left unsaid and nothing said is false.”

The cocks crowed and I could hear footsteps outside our curtain as our servants and slaves busied themselves with morning chores. My castrated slaves were the cast-asides, the remnants that needed constant whetting in order to do their work well. I had more than I needed, which required more energy to control them, but I could not bring myself to kill them. Katak, the Whetstone in the closest village, had no such reservations and predicted that as I got older I would see the wisdom in killing a man who would not submit easily.

There was a soft knock and ael’s gnarled brown hand moved the curtain aside and knelt at the doorway, holding our breakfast tray.

“Master, here is breakfast for yourself and Master Gaen,” he whispered. He was an eighty year old castrated slave, perfectly tempered, rarely requiring whetting, yet I took him in when his Mauyl Master decided she needed someone younger to serve herself and her daughters. [His alternative was probably death.]

At my nod he rose and entered the room to place the tray on our breakfast table.

“Are my other daughters up?” I asked. ael nodded and knelt by the table. Gaen stretched and I rose from the bed to sit cross-legged at the meal. Gaen came over to join me and ael fed her. I watched his gentle hands, the way his eyes watched her mouth, and realized, for the first time since it had become his duty to serve us breakfast, that ael was perfectly devoted to my daughter. It pleased me. Each of my other daughters had a faithful slave but Gaen was not like my other daughters. She was in line for the Whetstone, to become a Whetstone, and few men were at ease around her even though she was still a child.

I picked up a sanga leaf and picked out fruits to roll inside of it. The sweet tangy taste woke me up. I finished before Gaen did and rose to get dressed. There wasn’t much to be done today: whet the messenger, take ona’s training up another level before sending him back to him mother at the next full moon, and perhaps, if there was time, go horseback riding on Paka, my favorite horse.

Horses are new to us. We first saw them when the Goreka started to explore the shores to the north. We are not fishers and the land along the sea belonged to the Hateps, who traded their fish for our forest products of nuts, fruits, and meat and our farmer’s grains and goats. These fishers succumbed to the Goreka but not before two or three bloody battles set loose dozens of war horses. It was the horses that ensured the Hateps would lose. A man-creature with two heads would scare anyone. Now the Goreka controlled the shores but we were able to learn from the Hateps and the first thing our military did was hunt down and capture every stray horse it could. Most were female or castrated males, but a few males were unneutered and Kerl [an older sister] got her hands on one of them.

The first horse I ever saw was Kerl’s Goreka. She had named him after our enemy and the laughter that caused was worth the occasional bit of confusion. She brought him home and I could see at once that he could be both a source of money and fame. Then Kain [an older sister] brought home her horse, a female she named Waib. She came into heat right when she saw Goreka and they mated mainly because Kerl and Kain and the rest of us did not know how to control them. Goreka was huge, mighty, more terrifying than our one-breasted archers [link to Greek references to Amazonian women warriors], and we could not get between him and the mare. And Waib would not let herself be led away from her stud.

My sisters spent every waking moment of their six months at home learning how to ride their horses and even then they felt shaky and unsure of themselves. Kain was disgusted to find Waib pregnant and could not take her away to the military camp. I was left with Waib and, eventually, her colt, Paka, who would become the father of the rest of the horses I would raise and train for war. We would be ready for the Goreka when they decided to invade our land.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts of three year old history and called to ona, who was waiting beyond the curtain. He entered and opened the clothes room for me. He took care not to look at me and his body language was proper. A good change from the brooding boy his mother had brought me.

“The brown trousers and top, ona, and the green scarf,” I said, and ona dressed me as I wished, albeit with thumbs for fingers and so much concentration that the tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. When he was done I turned back to the scene of ael feeding my daughter as ona closed the clothes room door behind me and knelt at my left side.

“Gaen, you will soon be needing your own room, don’t you think?” I asked. Gaen turned her head to look at me with big eyes.

“But what if I have another bad dream?”

“Your sisters moved into their own rooms at a much younger age. You could ask them how they handle their bad dreams.”

She shook her head and frowned.

“I don’t want to,” she pouted and stuck out her lower lip. I glanced at ael and he smiled in my direction, conveying to me that he’d be happy to serve her in the mornings.

“Darling, you may share our room as long as you like, but I promise that soon you will want your own room and I know ael here will make the transition a good one.” Gaen glanced at ael, whose head was bowed and whose hands, still holding her food, were gently placed in his lap. He was the perfect vision of a quiet, patient slave. Gaen saw this and I saw the realization widen her eyes. She was being offered one of the best slaves in the household.

“Why do you want me to move?” she whined. I walked to her and put my hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t want you to, sweetheart, just like I didn’t want your sisters to move. Do you remember when Kali and Paul were still sleeping with us? It was like a big party every night. Then they each realized, in their own time, that they were ready for more privacy. You are ready, too, but you don’t realize it yet. You are the youngest daughter and sometimes the youngest must be told it is time. You think about it. ona, come with me.”

I walked past the curtain and down the hallway, through the public room and out into the front yard.

Our homestead is surrounded by forest but the front yard is a dusty, dry, sunny place where slave traders [lit, “men sellers’] buy their wares, mothers deposit their sons, and wagons of food and goods gather on market day. It is as long as ten women lying end to end and just as wide. A circular plot of baked earth. I stopped and ona knelt at once. It took me two weeks to train him to do that. I walked to the other end of the yard and ona remained two paces behind me and to my left. It took the better part of a morning to get him to remember which side is left. He is not stupid but he is not embracing his training. The primary whetting went well but he still has his will. I will remove it at the secondary whetting if he does not decide to accept his fate but I have not told him this. It is best to keep him ignorant, letting him be himself as long as possible, in order to tailor the whetting and training to bring out the best in him.

At the other end of the yard I stopped and again ona knelt.

“What are you thinking, ona?” I asked.

“Master, I am thinking that it is hot out here in the sun and that your legs are good,” he replied after a brief hesitation. Not particularly deep thought, but not particularly bad, either.

His mother and her household had the tradition of ignoring their male children, sending them out with the goats or taking them as beasts of burden when hunting. ona was about twelve now, and had spent most of his childhood with the goats. He was weaker than his older brother and so did not make a good beast of burden. As goat herder he was rarely spoken to and it was my job as Whetstone to mold him into a servant boy. His mother had said she’d want him castrated and back at her home to serve her eldest daughter but there was a lack of sincerity in her words and I thought ona would do best to have some manners in case his mother decided to sell him. In either case, the fact that he was prepubescent made my job both easier and more difficult.

The primary whetting went smoothly and he resurfaced quickly and without any mental anguish. Before there had been the goat herder ona who would not smile or lower his eyes, then there was the softer ona who kept his eyes on the floor and who would be silent until spoken to. There was no in-between stage of frightened, rolling eyes and trembling fingers.

“Do you remember what I told you yesterday about what we were going to work on today?” I asked.

“Yes, Master, you said we were going to practice breathing,” he replied. And we did.

Most boys were brought to me at his age or even younger, but there were some women who felt their boys’ training should begin after puberty so that the sexual aspect could be easily incorporate without a whole lot of explanation or urging. But even prepubescent boys know and are interested in sex. My professional experience had made it possible for me to train young boys to be good lovers without any actual sexual acts between us and that had made me more comfortable. There is something desperate about a woman who feels the need to have a child for a lover.

Breathing techniques, clay sculpting, and a dozen other tricks would train ona to satisfy his owner, whether castrated or no. At the secondary whetting those tricks would be transformed in his head into caresses, licks, and touches that would please.

Once I had taught ona five of the ten breathing exercises I walked to the men’s quarters with him trailing behind. I sent him to his pallet to continue practicing and I summoned the messenger.

po is at the peak of health, as a messenger ought to be, and generously endowed. I had hoped to have him today but after Gaen’s dream I decided he should conserve his strength. He bowed and before he could kneel I walked toward the Whetstone House with him following behind.

The coals in the fire pit were banked and glowing and the house was warm. The whetstone rested against the rear wall of the almost circular room and po sat before it, his back to the coals and his eyes resting on the center of the wheel.

“A whetstone sharpens the blade,” I said quietly as I stood beside him.

“A whetstone sharpens the blade,” po repeated.

“A whetstone sharpens the mind,” I said. po repeated. I said each sentence, and he murmered them back, never taking his eyes off the wheel-like stone before him. Gaen appeared in the doorway. I nodded to her and she came to stand by my side, watching po watch the wheel. Having been whetted many times it was easy for po to fall under the spell of the whetstone. We continued the litany until his eyelids fluttered and his hands hung limp from his wrists.

“Your mind is a sharpened knife now, po, and Gaen will use it. Tell Gaen you are ready to be used.”

“Master Gaen I am ready to be used,” he said.

Gaen took a deep breath and looked at me. This was her first time molding a messenger’s mind to remember her words. She closed her eyes and spoke,