The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After the slave trader departed—her coin purse replenished, her stock depleted—the household returned to its daily rhythms but I was still unstrung by my growing desire for brer. I tried to distract myself by focusing on niokos, but after he had broken there was little to be done. I sifted through his mind, found a cherished childhood memory and kept him there, idly playing with toys in the shade of a tree, until I heard from my sisters.

There were a lot of confusing memories in his head. I could see that the Gareka way of life was far different than our own in even the most basic ways. His father was the head of the house, his mother controlled only a small portion or the household and was not allowed out of the compound. His sisters were sheltered from the world while he roamed his town at will, taking classes with other boys from a venerated man who’s love was philosophy, to the detriment of other studies. niokos’ life, then, was of the mind, not the body. He was neither a farmer nor a laborer, but a student and, eventually, a warrior high up in the ranks of his army. He did not fight but made tactical decisions and acted as translator when necessary. He knew not only his own language and mine, but those of just about any other nation he came across. Were I a merchant or a warrior I’d keep him just for that gift. But I felt his future was not in my hands.

brer’s future, however, was under my control. I can hardly write about him. I know not what to say. He was almost too well trained, he served me without showing a trace of the desire he expressed the other night. He was quick, obedient, neither nervous nor shy, but happy to assist. He became my top servant and helped me train the new children when they arrived.

There were three: pama, maya, and ilya. They were sweet little boys, perhaps nine or ten summers old who spent half their time playing; either chasing each other like little goats or role-playing as concubines. At first brer’s skin scared them all but they came to count him as an older brother.

This morning I heard all three as they knelt outside the doorway waiting for permission to enter. There was shuffling, a little whispering, then silence.

“Come, boys, and dress me,” I called to them, and they rushed inside, elbowing each other to be the first to get to the wardrobe. pama won, settling closest to it as they knelt again.

“pama may dress me today. maya, ask the cook for khetana oil for my hair. ilya, fetch the pasha water [rose water, perhaps] for my face.” I sat on the edge of my bed and let ilya wash my face as I told pama which clothes to lay out. pama’s little fingers had no trouble with the knots and his face was free of worry. All three boys were an improvement over ona, though in the end he had proved dedicated enough to my eldest daughter.

maya knelt outside the doorway with a small bowl cupped in both hands.

“Master, may I enter?” he called out.

“Enter, maya, and comb through my hair with the oil. pama and ilya, watch carefully as I instruct maya. First, dip the comb in the oil. Yes, hold the comb above the bowl and let a little of the oil drip off. There, that’s the right amount. Now start at the top of my head and, ouch!, you must learn to be gentle. A woman’s head is not like the hide of a pig, little boy. If you find a tangle, gather the hair above the tangle in one hand and work it out from below the with the comb. No, don’t dip it again yet. Long, smooth strokes. There, now the tangle is out. Try again from the top of my head. Very good. A little more pressure with the teeth of the comb. You want to not only oil the hair but the scalp as well. Women love a little scratching. Too much scratching! Try again.”

My scalp hurt a little from the pulling and scratching, and there was more oil in my hair than there should have been, but finally maya was done. He stood back and proudly reviewed his handiwork.

“Master, may I try again tomorrow?” he asked eagerly.

“Little slave, a woman does not oil her hair every day. And your fellow slaves must have their chance.”

His face fell and he started to sniffle. I cupped his chin in my hand and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sure my daughters will need help with oiling their hair, however. Since there is still some khetana oil you may take that bowl with you to my daughters’ rooms and offer to comb their hair.”

maya turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of the hand on his chin and ran out of the room, hugging the bowl close to his belly. pama and ilya had grimaces of jealousy on their faces but otherwise knelt quietly at my feet.

“Come, children, and take yourselves to the cook. If she has work for you, you must help her. If not, you may bother yla to show his body paints. You two are handsome enough without them, but concubines must know the craft.”

They bowed and ran out of the room. I stepped toward the doorway and noticed brer’s pale pair of knees beyond them.

“Yes, slave?”

“Master, may I enter?”

“I did not send for you, brer,” I said, more sharply than I wanted to.

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to serve you.”

“I need nothing at the moment.”

“can I not offer a massage or –“

“You have not been trained to give massages. You are a messenger.”

There was a short pause.

“Would you like me to take a message to your masseur?”

I smiled at his attempt at humor and had to bite my lip before responding.

“brer, please tell my daughter, Gaen, to prepare for a short journey. When you have delivered that message, help po pack my things. Then come find me again.”

“Yes, Master.” He was on his way and I found that I missed the sight of his knees.

It would be best to see the witch at New Moon but I couldn’t wait any longer. brer was driving me mad and I couldn’t understand Gaen’s assertion that she was going to be a panther. I had to straighten these things out now, before becoming a maid of the full moon [meaning unclear – probably referring to going insane].

Gaen came running into the room, breathless with anticipation. po and brer knelt outside a moment later.

“Where are we going? Why are you taking me? Have you heard from my aunts? Do I get to ride a horse?”

“You may enter,” I said to the slaves before answering Gaen, “We are going to the witch. I am taking you because of your dreams. No, I have not heard from your aunts. Yes, you get to ride a horse.” I took a deep breath and braced myself for the next round of questions.

“Are you going to ask about brer’s message? Do I get to hear it? Are you going to tell his mother? I know what my dreams mean, I don’t need to talk to a witch. What horse do I get to ride? Can I pick her out? Can I? Can I?”

“Yes, I am going to ask about brer’s message. No, you do not get to hear. No, we will have brer memorize it so he can tell her himself. You may think you know what your dreams mean, but the witch can help you interpret them wholly, not just the parts you care about. Yes, you may pick your horse, but do not select one that’s in season or too pregnant.”

“Why don’t I get to hear brer’s message? Is it because I told you bad things?”

“They weren’t bad, just surprising. But the real reason is that the message in his skin is for his family. As his owner and Whetstone I must hear it in order to help him memorize it, but that’s all. If he or his family wishes to share their message with you they may tell you themselves. But he is not like a two-headed goat or a wheat grass that blooms scarlet. His difference is sacred and should be respected.”

Her troubled look lightened and she danced around the room.

“We’re going on an adventure!” she shouted, and raced down the hall to her bedroom to help ael pack her things. I turned to supervise my men and found po glancing at my chin in order to get my attention.

“Speak, po,”

“This is a sudden move for you, Master. When did you decide to do this?”

“Just now when brer’s knees were at my doorway. I realized I needed to ask the witch something. Now, check the back of my kahm, is the oil from my hair ruining it?”

“Yes, Master. Let me help you take it off.” po was speaking in his seductive voice. I let him undress me in front of brer and for the first time I felt shy in front of a man.

“brer, go fetch the travel bags. One for Gaen, one for you and ael to share, and one for myself.”

He bowed and left the room. I turned to po and could see a mischievous grin hiding behind his obedient face. I slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“You know what I need to ask the witch, po; don’t make my life harder before she and I have a chance to talk.”

“As your humble slave and devoted lover I must be bold and tell you, you need no witch. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you question your heart. Must you continue to agonize over him? Take him to your bed, Master.”

“My heart tells me things no Whetstone should hear.”

“These are not ordinary times, and you are no ordinary Whetstone.”

“You have moved into the realm of pure flattery, so there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”

“Master, I speak merely truth. As a trained messenger, isn’t that my calling?”

I smiled fondly at him. Even while burning for one man I could count the many ways I was tied to another.

“Are you, a man, giving your Master permission to seek out another man?”

“Should it be an ordinary man I would burn with jealousy, but it is brer I wish to share you with.”

“That’s an inappropriate answer,” I teased.

“Master, what I meant to say is: how could I, a man, give or withhold permission? You are woman and Master, you are free to choose your lovers.”

“Much better.” I flared my nostrils and inhaled his scent. So familiar, so rich in memories and promises. I pressed myself against him, my kahm at my feet, my hair too slick against my back. My hands slid down his torso to unknot the leather at his hips and free his member. It slowly rose to present itself to me.

“Today I take you to my bed, o humble slave who wishes to share me with another. But I shouldn’t ruin the sheets with my hair.”

“Shall I have those boys whipped?”

“Oh, you’d make a hard taskmaster, po. I tremble. No, it’s your cock that makes me tremble.”

I slid my hands over it, caressing it, marveling—even now—that a body part could be at once so hard and so soft. po traced his fingers lightly down my back to grip my bottom, then he crouched a little to brush his fingers between my legs. I arched my back slightly, pressing harder against him. I thought both of him, his ability to turn me on, and of brer, who I would not let myself touch. Closing my eyes I pretended they were one man, touching me for the hundredth time and the first time.

“How can I please you, Master?” po whispered in my ear. In reply I lifted my right leg to hook around his waist and rest against his hips. I reached behind myself and guided him into me. I was up on the tips of my left toes and he continued to crouch, thrusting up into me, slowly pulling out and quickly pushing himself back in.

It was one of my favorite positions, though as I aged I found it harder to keep it for long. Somehow, with my eyes closed, I felt young again, able to stand there forever on one leg while my lover breathed into the hollow of my shoulder.