The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Summer’s First Three-Quarter Moon

We left that same day and camped that night next to a dung village. My guards stood watch but the horses kept the curious from getting too close. Gael had chosen Brika, a young mare. Perhaps too young to carry a grown woman but able to bear my daughter’s weight. I was nervous at first – what little experience I had of horses so far taught me that their young are full of energy, mischief, and an uncanny ability to shy at absolutely nothing. But somehow Gael’s fearlessness and energy matched that of the horse, and the rest of us were now tired from working hard to keep up.

I was riding another female, Ganna, since Paka seemed busy with his mares. I had thought the end of Spring would bring the end of mating season for them, but Paka and his girls didn’t know or didn’t care. All the mares that didn’t catch the first time were coming back for more. Ganna was pregnant, but not so far along that she couldn’t ride two days out and two days back.

“Mom, tell me a story.”

“Which story would you like to hear?”

“The one about Ki and mi.” She stretched lazily on her pallet and rolled to a more comfortable position. I took a sip of water and cleared my mind so I could tell her a good story.

“Back before there were men or women, there was Ki and mi. Ki was big and brown and beautiful. The sky adorned her like a cloak, the stars lit her way as she walked, and the moon shone her light back to her so she could understand her own brilliance. Even the gods were in awe of her, since their home was lit by her face and warmed by her breath. She was happy, content, and walked as she pleased.

“One day, in her contentment and ease, she fell asleep in a cradle of clouds. A god sent her a dream to warn her of a wanderer that would soon find her. In her dream this wanderer was feverishly hot and black. More than anything she wanted to help the wanderer back to health.

“When she awoke the back of her neck was hot and when she lifted her hair to cool her neck she gasped as her hand grew too warm too quickly. She turned and before her was the wanderer – a formless creature black and on fire.”

“Ki said to the wanderer, ‘Are you male or female?’

“ ‘I am male, great woman,’ the wanderer replied.

“ ‘Why are you so hot?’

“ ‘I burn to love and I have not found my beloved.’

“They spoke for many days and Ki found herself in love with the creature. The more she loved him the more he changed. But the change was so slow that Ki found it hard to remember what he used to look like.

“ ‘I am through wandering,’ he said one day, ‘Will you please give me a name and keep me with you always?’

“ ‘You are mi, you may stay with me always,’ she said softly. So they made a home together and the formless wanderer became a disk of gold, his scorching heat became the warmth we feel on our cheeks when he bows upon rising and through the day as he makes love with her. They had many children – the plants and the animals, and even us, who turn our heads to warm our faces, who count our time with his movement from his rising bow to his setting bow. We who covet the favor of the gods, who bleed for monthly blessings from our patron, should not forget to honor our father as well as our mother.”

There was silence and I let it cover me like a blanket as I watched the fire die back. ael covered my daughter with his cloak and lay down beside her. brer arched an eyebrow at me and, when I nodded, banked the fire so it would keep to itself without burning out. Then he, too, lay on his pallet. I remained sitting for a while, hearing the guards murmur to each other occasionally, hearing the rustle of wind through leaves and branches, hearing my heart tell me its own stories.

The next day brer built up the fire again and ael cooked us breakfast. I invited the guards to eat with us and fed myself so that brer could serve them. I was eager to be off. We un-hobbled the horses and set out for the last leg of our journey. It was uneventful and we were all silent, wrapped in our own thoughts. Finally we found ourselves at the witch’s home.

There were human skulls lining the walls of the compound the way some women line their walls with pikes or pointed boards of wood. There were no guards at the gate so we let ourselves in. A horde of flies greeted us in the courtyard, swirling so thickly around an object that I couldn’t make out what it was. But the stench let me know that whatever it was it was quite dead and rotted. The horses were nervous and I and Gaen rode them back out and dismounted, leading them to a tree far enough away to keep the smell from their noses.

When we re-entered we saw that the witch had come out and was speaking to a guard. She looked like any other woman, save that her nose was missing. She turned when she saw me, nodded, and held up a hand.

“Welcome, Ka, daughter of Ka, daughter of Ka. And welcome also, Gael, daughter of Ka, daughter of Ka. Would you please step into the public room?”

“It would be an honor, Witch, daughter of the moon.” I nodded back and Gael bowed stiffly. I could see she was slightly afraid.

We stepped over the threshold and into the dim light of the public room. A slave knelt by the doorway, old and disfigured. The witch waited for me to seat myself, then motioned to the slave. He rose and left the room as my own slaves knelt by the door and my guards squatted against the wall behind me. Gael stood by my side, waiting to sit after the witch had seated herself.

“Your daughter is so polite, waiting for an old woman to sit first.”

“I could hardly call you ‘old,’ Witch. You have not aged since I last saw you,” I replied lightly.

“When was it you last saw me?”

“Two Winters ago. You were at our market, selling magical items.”

“Did you buy one?”

“Sadly, no. Though I’m sure I’ll need one when you set up shop again in our town.”

She stared at me a little while, trying to gauge whether I was teasing her or brownnosing. Finally she smiled and said, “Ka, you are still as impertinent as you were when you were little. Some women never grow out of impertinence and it does not suit them. You, however, it suits.”

“I am pleased you think so. Please, call me Kapra.”

The disfigured slave brought in cold tea and served it first to myself, then the witch, then my daughter. The witch sat and my daughter followed suit. I sipped my tea and found it odd-tasting. I put my hand on my daughter’s arm to stop her from drinking her own. At least one of us should remain straight in the head while we were here.

“Ka, daughter of Ka, I shall tell you why you are here,” the witch said, setting her tea down after taking a sip. “There are three points, one of which you should have taken care of yourself. First, the albino slave. I accept the challenge to decipher the message. Second, the daughter dreams. I accept the challenge to decipher the dreams. Third, you must go fuck him and let destiny follow its course.”

I was shocked into silence for a moment before saying angrily, “A woman chooses her destiny.”

“This particular aspect of your life you are not free to choose. Take him as your consort, as your concubine, and as your beloved. Don’t waste my time with drivel I normally hear from goat girls and kitchen boys.”

“But my grandmother –“

“She is not sitting here before me. You carry her name, the name of all your ancestors, like a stone around your neck. Your stone has its own house with it’s own bed of coals. Leave it there when you go to bed at night. I have said what I wanted to say on the matter, primarily to get it out of the way. Now the subject is closed. Which of the other two points should we address next?”

I closed my eyes briefly. Whatever was in the tea was strong and acting fast. Whoever added the drug must have known I wouldn’t drink any more after the first sip. I bit my lip to keep from asking the witch if she had drugged my drink. Of course she did. And she did it for a reason. And I had to trust that reason would not harm me. I heard Gaen quietly ask if they could discuss her dreams first. I opened my eyes to find the witch staring at me again. Very few people stare directly at me for any length of time. I fought the urge to slap her for her rudeness. Then I started to laugh at myself for wanting to slap her for looking at me but not wanting to slap her for drugging me.

“Mom?” Gaen asked, looking at me nervously. I gave a little chuckle and said, “Gaen, go with the witch now, do anything she asks you to do. The same privacy I give my slave I also give my daughter. Share with me what you will when you return. But don’t come back until you hear everything she has to say.” With that I kissed her forehead and she rose to go with the witch to the Seeing House. Once she was out of the room I let myself fall back on the pillows.

“Master.” It was a guard’s voice, Ken’s, coming as if from far away.

“The tea. Don’t let Gaen drink it. Get me some water. And send the other guards to watch over the Seeing House.” I heard her footsteps fade and then I heard someone breathing in my ear.

“Who’s it?”

“Master, it is your slave brer.”

“Put your arms around me. I’m cold.”

He did as I asked and I snuggled against him. The witch’s words swam in my muzzy head. I lifted an arm to hold brer against me but it felt like lead.

“Master, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Tell me you love me,” I mumbled.

“I love you, Master,” he replied softly.

“Tell me you are still untouched.”

“I am. I am saving myself for your will.”

“Tell me…” I fell asleep with the question unfinished and was woken by a cold cloth pressed against my forehead.

“Drink, Master,” Ken said. I opened my lips and she pressed a cup against them, letting cool water into my mouth. I swallowed and was suddenly thirsty. I grabbed the cup and finished all the water in it.

“More,” I commanded. She dipped the cup into a bucket and handed it to me. I drank again and again asked for more.

“Master, why would the witch drug your tea?”

“I don’t know.” But I had my suspicions. They would prove themselves eventually.

“How is my daughter?”

“The incense is so thick the guards can’t see through it, but there haven’t been any worrying sounds, just two voices talking intently with each other.”

“Then I will sleep. Wake me again when the witch is ready to see brer.” I snuggled back against my albino messenger and he wrapped his arms around me.

mi had swept across the sky when brer woke me by kissing my fingertips.

“Mom, the witch and I are done for now,” I heard Gaen say.

“For now?” I said groggily.

“I must came back again.”

“Will you be a daughter of the moon?” I asked, not understanding.

“No, but I must learn a few things from the daughter of the moon.”

“As you wish, Gaen.” I started to drowse again.

“Mom, stay awake. Drink this. The witch said it will make you alert again.”

I drank and it was a bitter tea but I felt better almost immediately.

“She’s waiting for you and brer in the Seeing House.”

“Will you be alright while we’re there?”

“Mom.”

“Right. I’ll see you soon, sweetie.”

I left the room with brer following behind two paces. His every deference was perfect. I wanted to drag him off to a remote corner of the yard and make him kneel and lick me all over. Even the fly-covered thing wouldn’t have distracted me. But I had a duty to his mother.

The Seeing House was misnamed. I couldn’t see a thing in all the smoke and incense and darkness. I stumbled into a table and heard the witch laugh at me.

“Did you like your nap?”

“The tea was not the type I’m used to, it must have been too strong for me.”

“It was what you needed for the next leg of your journey. Time will prove me right.”

“As you say.”

“Now brer, son of Patik, daughter of Patim, lie face down on this table. I am going to feel your bones.”

My eyes were starting to adjust to the dimness and I could see brer’s look of uncertainty as he lay down. The witch removed his traveling cloak and untied his loincloth and his body shone pale and alone between us. She moved her hands over his body, muttering under her breath, without actually touching his skin. Occasionally a leg or arm would twitch, but other than that brer was quite still. His breathing became shallow and sleepy.

“brer, little slave, bend your right knee.”

He did as she asked and she grabbed hold of his ankle, peering at the sole of his foot.

“Ka, listen as I ramble on. We will need everyone’s ears to help us remember all of this,” she paused for a moment, then, “There was a battle five generations ago in which his ancestor killed the eldest daughter of Makep. Makep in turn killed the slayer’s youngest daughter by poison. In their grief, the slayer’s sons threw themselves on her pyre. Since then, there have been no sons born to this family. Until now. brer, straighten your right leg and bend your left.” She traced her fingers over lines on the sole of his foot and began speaking again:

“Now is the end of the time his family lives as servants. His sister must be given over to serve a warrior and become one herself. His mother must retire to live with the family he serves, in honor, in her own house. His first child must be a Whetstone [the reverse of the traditional order], his successive children must choose their own path, whether warrior or horsewoman, whether healer or lawyer [“waran,” precise translation unclear].

“Any sons by him must be taught as daughters are taught. They will pair up with their sisters and serve them in their paths. The afterbirth of his daughters shall be burned on the New Moon following their birth. The afterbirth of his sons shall be burned on the Full Moon following their birth. His daughters shall be tattooed at the wrist and ankle so all will know them. His sons shall never cut their hair so all will know them.”

She paused and flared her nostrils, inhaling the incense, the resumed her reading, “No Amaz shall harm these children, nor their children, to the fifth generation. Death is the punishment for harming them. brer, you may put your foot down and turn over.”

brer turned, his hair falling into his face, his hands and lips trembling. The witch again passed her hands above his body, from head to toe and back again, over and over, mumbling, “Let me see, let me see. Mother Moon, let me see.”

“brer, raise your right hand. Your life will be long, your heart wide. You will live with your daughters and sons. None shall be castrated, all will bring you honor. Now raise your left hand. You will be spit upon, cursed, reviled, but no one will attack you or harm you physically. You are the beginning of the end. You are the sign but they will see you as the object of the sign. There, it is done. Can you remember what I’ve said, brer, son of Patik, daughter of Patim?”

He repeated everything back to her, including her commands to him, and the witch glanced at me before muttering, “Impertinent.”

I reached out a hand to help brer up from the table. He knelt at my feet without bothering to retie his loincloth.

“The beginning of the end?” I asked the witch, worried.

“Woman, the warriors fear the Gareka, with their better weapons and their better horsemanship, but they are like winds that knock over a house or two on their way inland. It is the termites a homeowner fears more.”

“brer is a termite?”

“No, Ka, you are the termite, with your horses and Gareka slave, and your love for an albino. You will make decisions that will bring down the house of Amaz. But by the time it falls, you will have built another.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you do, you just don’t want to admit it. Stop staring at me with those frightened eyes. Embrace the end, it is the beginning.”

“Don’t you fear the end of Amaz?”

“As surely as I fear my own death, which isn’t much at the moment, only at night when clouds hide the sky and we all count the days we have left. When ends come we shiver with both fear and excitement. Which one will you let have the upper hand [lit. ‘mahnma mehan kepthamo’: ‘which will be the woman’]?”

Summer’s First Full Moon

I took brer into a trance while we were still in the Seeing House and imprinted the witch’s words so he wouldn’t forget. They didn’t rhyme and there was no whetstone for him to focus on, but I was sure he’d remember every word.

There was little to say after that and the witch wasn’t one for idle chatter and meaningless formalities. Gaen got up the courage to ask about the fly-ridden carcass and the witch answered with a riddle:

“What continues to work after breaking?”

Gaen puzzled over this as we rode home, our guards walking ahead, our slaves behind. We camped by the dung village again and again Gaen asked for a story. brer knelt beside me, unwilling to leave me after my fainting attack, and my left hand was lying on his right knee. Even if I wasn’t touching him I could feel him. The desire to own him sexually was stronger and fiery than ever. I realized I was holding my breath.

“What story would you like to hear tonight, daughter?”

“How the gods got to the moon. And why witches call the moon Mother.”

“Choose one, I’m too tired to tell both tonight.”

“The one about the witches, then.”

“After Ki bore the plants and animals the gods brought her gifts for her children. She distributed these gifts fairly – beauty to the flowers, speed to the hunters, cunning to the hunted, the ability to breath water to the fishes, and so on. In the end she was left with one gift: intelligence. She looked at all her children but each and every one already had their gift.

“ ‘There must be one more child to bear,’ she thought to herself.

“In return for the gifts she made each god a patron of each of her children, and there were just enough to go around. She realized that she needed one more patron for her as yet unborn child.

“Finally she bore her last child: the Amaz. To the Amaz she gave the gift of intelligence. To the Amaz she gave the moon itself as patron.

“Many Winter moons later there was one particular woman, Kennit [lit. ‘witch’], who heard the moon speak to her.

“ ‘Kennit, daughter, give me a gift,’ the moon said. Her voice sounded like clear water, smooth, untroubled, sure.

“ ‘Patron Moon, I will give you anything, but surely Ki is my mother, not you,’ Kennit replied.

“ ‘I will be your mother when you give me the gift of your allegiance. In return I will give you the knowledge you need to really use your intelligence.’

“Kennit was a vain woman and felt she knew exactly how smart she was – smarter than any other woman she knew and strong enough to use it to her advantage. She thought of how much more she could gain if she had the moon’s knowledge to go with her intelligence. She accepted the bargain and listened as the moon told her how to swear allegiance.

“ ‘When I am full of light again, light a bonfire as big as I am, and walk through it, from east to west. Say to yourself as you walk, “Mother Moon, let me see. Mother Moon, let me hear. Mother Moon, let me feel. Mother Moon, let me taste and smell. I am your daughter, Mother Moon.’

“Kennit waited until the next full moon and did as requested. The bonfire was so large that everyone and everything could see it, and Ki could feel it scorch her breast. Ki awoke and watched her daughter swear allegiance to the moon.

“ ‘Why is my daughter taking the moon as her mother?’ Ki wondered. She was sad and bewildered to lose a child. She sent a bird to the moon to ask what this was all about. The moon replied, ‘I weep for my barrenness. Let me have one of your children. As their patron I fell in love with them, as Kennit’s mother I promise to care for her as you would.’

“Ki was still sad but could not do anything because Kennit had already performed the ritual. She had not burned, for the fire burned as cold as the face of the moon. When she came out the other side her head was filled with knowledge and she went insane. She howled at the moon and clawed at the ground and wept and wept because she could not shut out the knowledge. She saw and heard and felt and tasted and smelled everything as it truly is under the hard white light of the full moon.

“ ‘Help her!’ The moon begged Ki, “I cannot reach her from here.’

“Ki sent sleep to Kennit, who collapsed and could barely breathe.

“ ‘What have you done?’ Ki cried. And she and the moon wept for their daughter. When they were able to dry their tears they tried to think of how to help Kennit.

“ ‘I have given her intelligence and you have given her knowledge. We cannot take these things away,” said Ki.

“ ‘Perhaps we can hide her knowledge from herself, so she only sees a little at a time, as one only sees the top layer of yarn when it’s wrapped in a ball,’ said the moon.

“ ‘Yes, let’s,’ replied Ki. She sent the north wind to Kennit and, as it swept over her, the knowledge in her head was wound around itself as a ball of yarn. When she awoke she was confused. Where was the knowledge her Mother Moon had promised? But as she focused on one thing, then another, the information for each thing suddenly filled her head, then receded as it was replaced by knowledge of the next. She understood and bowed low to the full moon which still hung in the early morning sky.

“ ‘Mother Moon, thank you! I can see, hear, feel, taste and touch the truth of everything, just as you promised!’

“ ‘Daughter, be wise,’ came her only answer.

“And so all witches are daughters of the moon, trading the protection and love of Ki for knowledge only the moon can give.”

Summer’s First Waning Three-Quarter Moon

Upon our return, once the horses had been rubbed down and belongings unpacked, I sent for brer to meet me in the bathhouse. I had slaves pour scented oil into the large tub, followed by hot water, and I ordered candles to be arranged throughout the room. The sky was dark but clear, the moon barely risen above the trees. I slipped into the steaming water and closed my eyes. Soon there was a rustle at the door.

“Speak.”

“It is brer, Master.”

“Enter, slave, and remove your clothing. Then come join me in the bath.”

I kept my eyes closed even when wavelets of water touched my skin. I listened to his breathing and made myself wait. There was a strong sort of pleasure in anticipating taking his virginity and I was trying to make it last until I couldn’t stand another moment. And there was the ritual to consider. He was silent and unmoving once he settled in.

“Take the soap and wash me, slave.”

I felt his hand take mine and extend my arm at the water’s surface. Then I felt the soap slide along my skin, raising goose-bumps in spite of the heat of the bath. There was a pause in sensation as he put the soap down, then he lowered my arm under water and gently ran both hands down in to rinse off the soap. He washed my limbs in this manner, the started on my belly, then up to my breasts, then neck and shoulders. I was both soothed and excited. He reached behind me, sliding his handful of soap between my back and the wall of the bath, and washed my back. I made no move to be helpful. I felt full of myself, full of pride and sex and control. There was a little splash and then I felt his hands on my face, gently applying soap and just as gently rinsing it away. Then there was silence again.

“You forgot once thing,” I growled quietly. I felt his hands reach down to my crotch but I did not spread my legs. He got the hint and slowly moved my knees apart with his own hands. He barely touched me as he washed between my legs and I felt every touch like a shiver in my soul.

“Thank you. You may now wash yourself.”

I listened to the sounds of brer washing himself, seeing him with my mind’s eye, and waited until he was silent again. His breathing was quick and shallow. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

“Master,” he began.

“Yes, slave,” I replied, not bothering to open my eyes.

“Master, I – I want…” his voice trailed off and I suppressed a smile.

“What do you want?”

“I want to – I want you to make love to me,” he finally managed to stammer.

“Why?”

“I love you. I belong to you. I think of you day and night and most of the time my imagination is filled with what we could be doing.”

“Oh! And what’s that?” I heard a small groan in reply to my dismissive tone.

“S-Sex, Master.”

“Describe to me what that entails.” There was a brief silence and his reply was hesitant.

“We could… kiss… and you could touch me. If you wanted. You could let me touch you, if it pleased you.”

“Is that all, slave?”

“I would be happy to, um, lap at your khetah [“crotch”] and suck on your prapetnah [“clitoris”]. And I would be happy to bring you to orgasm by giving my penis over to your pleasure.” That last phrase was nicely turned. I liked it and it made me more aware of the heat between my thighs.

“Before I decide whether or not to deign to use your body for my pleasure, tell me what you would do for me in return for me granting your wish.” There was another silence. I was going to fuck him anyway but I wanted to toy with him a little longer.

“I would do anything you pleased. I am yours, body and soul.” There was a note of desperation in his voice.

“You already are mine, body and soul. Indulging in sex or not.”

“But – but…” a defeated sigh escaped his lips, then, “As you wish, Master. I see there is nothing I can do or say to get you to do something just because I want it. I am yours to command, to use as you see fit. I will not be so bold to ask such a large favor again.”

“On the contrary, slave, I like to hear you beg. Beg one more time.”

He drew in a breath.

“Oh Master, I cannot tell you how I long for you to touch me, to use me, to fuck me. It’s a torture to serve you day and night, yet it would be even worse if I couldn’t, because then I wouldn’t see you. Your smile makes the sun dim, your eyes are more mysterious than the night sky, your hair is a sheaf of softest wool, and your skin is of the sweetest fragrance. If you do not take my love, if you do not take my virginity, I know I will die.”

I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. His eyes immediately slid away. I leaned over and kissed his mouth. It was soft, lips parted, passive. His eyes closed as he sank without reservation into the kiss. It seems we kissed forever. By the time I broke it off the water was starting to cool.

“slave, get out of the water.”

“Did I do something wrong, Master?”

“Do not ask questions.”

He got out of the water and I followed.

“Dry me off, then dress me, then dry yourself.”

brer did as he was asked, his hands trembling. He was biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from crying. I almost softened and kissed him again, but I had to establish my position in the whirlwind I was about to throw myself into. If it was love, then I was cursed and could only trust my training to keep me from the mad acts my grandmother had done.

When I was dry and dressed I left the bathhouse, tossing him a command over my shoulder. In time he knelt naked at the doorway of my room. Instead of calling him in I stepped past him and ordered him to follow me. We walked to the wheat field in silence, the moon hanging over us, a faint breeze cooling my neck. When we reached a level and soft-enough spot I stopped and he kneeled by my ankles instantly, eyes downcast, hands palm up on thighs, penis half-erect.

“What does the Whetstone do?”

“The Whetstone sharpens the blade.”

“What does the Whetstone do?”

“The Whetstone sharpens the mind.”

“To whom does the mind belong?”

“To you, Whetstone Kapra.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, nor was there resignation, but an eagerness, a wholeheartedness. Again I wanted to simply throw myself at him, but the first time had to be memorable in more ways than one. I drew my blade and drew a deep breath.

“brer, I am your Whetstone, your mind belongs to me. I command you to take this knife.” I held it out to him, handle out, and he took it. We hadn’t chanted long enough for him to be in anything but the lightest trance. What he was about to do, if he obeyed, would shock him out of it.

“You must prove to me that you are mine, that you will do as I ask with no hesitation ever. Your mind and body are an extension of my will. As you learned in the bath house, there is no use in asking me for things since there is no way for you to repay me for them. There is simply my will. You may beg for favors when I will you to beg. You may pleasure me when I will you to do so. Now, slave, you may ask me what my will is.”

“Master, what is your will?” he asked.

“I will that you make a blood offering to the moon and to me. Nick your foreskin and the palms of your hands, hold your hands up to the moon and let the blood soak into the earth.”

I nearly stopped him but he instantly drew the blade briefly against the top of his foreskin. He gasped but didn’t hesitate to draw long shallow gashes across the palms of his hands. He dropped my knife and raised his hands to the moon, showing her his blood. I picked up my knife in one hand and put the other gently on his head. He was crying quietly.

“I am satisfied. There is no shame in crying, nor in mourning the death of your own will. I accept you as my concubine and I accept the dowry of your virginity.”

We stayed there for a while. The stars were out in the thousands, with no clouds to obscure them. The moon had grown smaller in her ascent, making room in the crowded sky. An owl flew overhead, wings rustling, and we were silent. When brer stopped crying I drew a clean rag out from under my kahm and wiped away whatever blood was not yet dry. His palms were smears of black set against glowing skin. His penis had shriveled from the shock of his offering. Once I dabbed everything dry I ordered him to kiss my feet. Again he did not hesitate.

“Stand, slave and concubine. You will sleep at the foot of my bed tonight.”

He did not speak or even signal a wish to speak and I, too, kept my tongue. There were no smiles, no teasing, no courtship, for courtship was done.

I moved to stand in front of him, bent myself toward his inviting mouth, and tilted his head up towards mine so our lips could meet. A warm breeze enveloped us as I ran my fingers up through his hair, down to the nape of his neck, and around to touch his hard nipples. I gently pushed him backwards and he put his hands on the ground behind him to prop himself up, exposing his penis. In the waning moon I could hardly see where he had nicked himself and his member was growing in response to our kiss. I let a hand trail down to touch the head briefly before standing upright again and removing my own clothes.

brer’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. I spread my skirt on the ground next to him and told him to lie on it so that it would protect his buttocks.

“Gebrana,” I commanded. He immediately stretched himself out, face up on the ground, his arms raised above his head, crossing at the wrists, gently pushed back into the grassy crop. He drew his legs straight and close together, ankles crossed, and closed his eyes. His pale skin stood out against the grass and I surprised myself by taking a moment just to look at him. I most assuredly was in love. I felt tears well up in my eyes but blinked them back, taking a deep breath before straddling his hips with my thighs. At my touch brer moaned and turned his head away, blushing.

“This night, brer, you must be brave enough to look into my eyes. And I must be brave enough to look into yours. We are just beginning to walk down a strange path together. We must do it with our eyes open.”

He turned his head to the sound of my voice and opened his eyes. There were tears in them and they leaked down both sides of his face, pooling briefly in the cups of his ears before spilling to the ground. I ground myself against his penis for a moment before moving up and guiding him into me. I made it last as long as I could, watching his eyes as intently as he watched mine. He did not feel alien inside me as I thought he might. The color of his skin had no effect on the hardness, the heat, the rightness of the sensations I felt. His moan lasted as long as it took me to take him in entirely.

What happened next is barely more than a blur. His hands remained obediently still, as did his hips. I rode him slowly and silently, looking into his eyes. Every moment I could feel my love for him growing as if a spell had been placed on me. I finally let myself cry, and the tears swept down my cheeks to meet at my chin and fall onto his stomach. But we still managed to hold each other’s eyes. I remember his eyes the most, the look of complete submission and a mix of passion and compassion that chilled me.

I clenched the walls of my vagina around him and moved faster, the love and emotion subsumed by the lust building between my legs. His moans turned to cries and yet he managed to remain absolutely still. His face grew redder, his tears dried. Finally he was shouting out incoherently and as he started to orgasm I threw my hips down onto him as hard as possible, impaling myself onto my own orgasm, grinding against him with a ferocity I had never felt before.