The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Special thanks to Vanderbilt for letting me use her Goblins universe.

And Then There Were Goblins

The Queen threw her head back in ecstacy. Uma (her number one slave) was between her legs, her tongue lapping up and down the Queen’s majestic labia, her fingers pumping in and out of her Queen. The Queen gestured, and two more slave-girls came running. One joined Uma in worship , her lips fastening around one long, purple nipple, while her hand tweaked the other, and massaged its surrounding breast. The other slave kissed the Queen passionately, their purple tongues duelling, their saliva mixing...

As the Queen came, so did all three of her servants, writhing in ecstacy on the floor. The Queen watched them as she came down from her orgasm, enjoying the sheer power her mind held over these simple, sexy creatures. She mentally ordered Uma to pleasure one of the girls, while the other massaged her. The Queen drifted into sleep that night watching two pale, bald goblins bring each other to orgasm again and again, all for her amusement…

Chapter 1:

Five women.

Four warriors—the best that the human race has to offer. Men are too rare to risk on missions like this, and as such, few are even trained as soldiers in the first place. Four warriors; fit, well-trained, and beautiful to boot. Four perfect warriors, and me.

My name’s Drew. If you were to look at the platoon, you’d be wondering why I was chosen. Not that I’m ugly, mind you—with less than five thousand men left alive in the whole United States, most women would kill for a chance just to talk to one…in my time, two separate males have asked me out. I’m not trying to be immodest, I’m just demonstrating that I stand out of the crowd, so to speak.

It’s just that while I’m cute—attractive, certainly. A looker. But while I have a distinct appeal, the other women are…well, they’re amazons. Finely-trained, fit, toned women. Perfect specimens of the human race. The fact that they’re beautiful is almost incidental—it’s like looking at the Brooklyn Bridge. You notice its strength before you notice its beauty.

Vernita’s the only one I’ve met before. She’s the unofficial “leader” of the group, I suppose. African-American, standing almost six foot tall, covered in tattoos. I heard that she trains for five hours a day…giving up sleep, if she has to. She says that sleep is for the weak. She says a lot of things are for the weak, actually.

Vernita doesn’t have much respect for the weak.

I met her on my first field assignment, the one that demonstrated my unique ability, the reason I was chosen for this team. When Vernita’s standing in front of you, arms invariably folded, staring, unblinking…she’s intimidating, even when she’s “at ease”. When she’s on the job? She’s terrifying. I’ve seen her murder twenty goblins without breaking a sweat. I’ve seen her take down a room full of them with a handgun, and when that ran out of bullets, tear the rest apart with her bare hands.

Do not get on the wrong side of Vernita.

She’s strong, she’s efficient, and she’s professional. If she has an issue with you, she’ll tell you. Give her a problem to solve though, and it doesn’t matter how she feels about you, she’ll solve it. And if she can’t, she’ll find someone who can.

Before the mission, I’d never met any of the other girls, but I’ve heard about them. Like I said, these girls are the best of the best—hand picked by the Sergeant Major himself. You don’t get to the attention of the highest-ranking male in the world without earning yourself a reputation.

Lucy, known as the Yellow-faced Whip, or just “Whip”. It can be a funny sight, seeing Whip standing next to Vernita—where Vernita is tall, Whip is tiny. Where Vernita is brash, Whip is subtle. Where Vernita is obvious, Whip can completely fade from view, even while standing in front of you. And where Vernita is practically bulging with muscles, Whip is toned.

There’s strength in that tiny body, mind you, but not in the same way as Vernita’s strength. You get the impression that Vernita could uproot a tree and beat you to death with it—Whip is more likely to climb the tree, disappear from sight for three days, and then drop down from one of the branches and strangle you to death when you least expect it. I heard she once spent two days hiding in a wall. I heard she once killed a goblin by living in its hovel for three days and slowly poisoning its meals. I heard it never even knew she was there.

Cameron and Beatrice are the last members of our little squad—experts, both of them. Unlike my area of expertise though, these girls are military-trained—Cameron is the US Army’s weapons expert. I couldn’t believe it when I heard they were risking her on this mission…though of course, if we were successful, it could be the tipping point in the war. Vernita has the muscles of a warrior, Whip had the muscles of an acrobat. Cameron, she had the muscles of a roadie. She was known for, no matter how much other gear she had to lug around, always carrying her favourite rocket launcher everywhere she went.

She knows more about weapons than anyone else alive. If soldiers were taught to read, they’d get Cameron to write a book and make it mandatory. Half an hour’s conversation with her, and you’ll learn more than a year’s weapon training. Ten minutes of watching her work, and you’ll be glad you’re not a goblin. She’s killed goblins with everything from grenades to bootlaces, and she can teach you to do the same.

Beatrice is the oldest of the team—at 27, she should have been retired years ago and put to work producing soldiers, but Beatrice is barren, and so had avoided involuntary retirement. Rumour had it that she’d either faked her infertility or caused it herself. I wasn’t about to quiz her on the subject—I was just glad she was on our team. Bea was the tactics expert—she’d seen her fair share of warfare, of course—the missing fingers on her left hand were evidence of that—but this whole operation was her brainchild. Vernita was in charge, but even Vernita would be taking advice from Beatrice.

The whole platoon has been trained from birth to be warriors. Everyone…except for me.

* * *

“All right, ladies. You’ve all been briefed by your commanding officers—and your mother should have filled you in, Drew.”

If they hadn’t been highly-trained professionals in front of the Sergeant General himself, I knew the other girls would be snickering right now. As it was, I saw a trace of a smirk on Bea’s face, and Whip avoided making eye contact.

“You may not have worked with each other before,” the General continued, “but you’re the best of the best, and…well, frankly, you’re our last hope.”

“God speed, girls.”