The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Fay and Her Knight

Part One

The people and events in this story come from my brain, not the real world. Regardless of what that tells you about my brain, it means that I’m not writing about you, your mom, your friends, or your friends’ friends. So you can’t sue me. Neener neener.

If you’re underage in your territory (and you know what I mean), then read something else, please. If you’re easily offended by sexually explicit fetish content, may I suggest reading something else? If you’re easily offended by sexual content and are determined to help yourself to a dash of moral outrage, I put it to you this way: you have too much time on your hands.

Note: I promised some kind of epic follow-up to “The Fay At Fremantle.” Months ago. So here’s me trying to make good! This is pure romantic, escapist MC Sci-Fi, so consider yourself warned if you don’t like that sort of thing.

© 2002 by Aerosol Kid. Protected under the Berne Convention. Yes, my erotica is protected by copyright law.

Dean

“Rom dah, ah vah yoot!” That’s what the old guy Dean had just shoved out of the way was yelling at him. Or something like that. He didn’t need to speak the guy’s language to understand he was being called an asshole. And it was an asshole thing to do, shoving him like that, but he didn’t have much choice, running full-bore down a crowded street with a briefcase full of cash. Somewhere behind him were two disagreeable men, charged with the task of recovering said briefcase—quickly, according to their boss, and ideally, hurting Dean a lot afterward.

What had happened was this: he’d entered into a business relationship with some shifty organized criminals. Pasharu was lousy with them. He had procured things for a mob boss who fancied himself a collector. Old, hard to find things in remote systems. It was his specialty. The hazard in this kind of work was that the objects he delivered didn’t always live up to the expectations of the buyer. Things had gotten ugly, barely ten minutes earlier, when the mobster had wondered aloud about not paying him, and possibly breaking some of his bones, so he’d opted for a sudden, explosive exit. That is to say, the lavish conference room where this meeting took place was probably still on fire, as the sirens from the fire control drones whizzing past him on the street could attest. The trick now was to get off Pasharu without letting these guys catch him.

He wished he could just call Molly and have her pick him up. But surface-to-orbit ships in the city limits were about as welcome as his starship would be on the lawn of the capital building. Pasharu, and the revenue opportunities provided here, would be blacked off on his passport.

It was late, so he legged it into an area of town known for its nightlife, hoping to blend in with the crowd or get off the street. There was one club on the block that didn’t have a mile-long queue. He’d been up and down this street as many times as he’d been to Mezza City, but he’d never noticed this black, windowless building front before. The crowd on the sidewalk was so thick that he was forced to slow to a walk and pick his way through. He risked a glance over his shoulder as he caught his breath. No goons, but rapid footfalls clip-clopped from the cross street. They’d be right on top of him any second. He wasn’t necessarily afraid to take them on, in fact he was pretty sure he could deal with them, but he didn’t want to find out. Resolved, he slipped between some pretty, iridescent Golean twins, over to the black metal club façade, and grabbed the door handle.

Locked.

“Lovely,” Dean muttered, taking a step back. The goons were just around the corner, yelling at people to get out of the way. He turned to duck back into the crowd, but a buzzer sounded and the latch snicked open.

Inana

“I will remember none of this...” Inana heard herself intone quietly. And she was right. She blinked her way awake and wondered for the hundredth time how she’d ended up in the candle room. That’s what she called it, anyway. It reminded her of a room that her aunt used to meditate in, but that room made her feel good. This one didn’t. Nikki was there as always, ostensibly waiting for her to wake up. She rubbed her eyes, and the pressure from her fingertips caused the mandala to appear behind her eyelids again, electric blue and red. Swirling and pulsing. She started to drift back off.

“Really, Inana...” Nikki’s firm hands pulled Inana’s fingers away from her face. “Why do you have to be such a handful?”

Inana looked up at her, from the floor where she knelt. The older woman was tall, dark-skinned, zaftig. Even if Inana were standing, she still would’ve had to look up to meet her eyes. She had no idea what Nikki was going on about, which made her feel embarrassed. It seemed like this was how it always went with Nikki.

“I’m going to tell you this once,” she was saying. “This is your first night on the floor. Every man that you’ll see is rich and important, and they’ll all be interested in you. Remember to be charming and don’t fuck up. Remember that you’re for sale. If Mister Gund hears that you’re being a problem again...”

Inana shivered, nodded, and hoped Nikki wouldn’t elaborate.

She didn’t. “Good. Now finish getting ready.”

Dean

The lobby was small, tastefully appointed, and empty. Noiseless except for his ragged breathing. He set the briefcase down and ran his fingers through his hair as his heartbeat slowed, grateful for the locked door between himself and the street. It was air-conditioned in here, which was nice after sprinting in the hot Pasharu night air. The walls, floor and ceiling were composed of veiny marble. A trio of accent lights converged on an exotic, vaguely carnivorous looking plant in a glass case. It had translucent tentacles and a head-sized, violet pod in its center. He’d read about it somewhere. Very rare, and somewhat dangerous, if he recalled. The drinks here were going to be expensive.

Good thing he had a briefcase full of money.

His curiosity prodded him to go on inside, but he found the inner entrance was locked, too. So did that mean he was stuck in the lobby? Maybe this wasn’t a club after all. Tentatively, he picked up the case and started toward the exit.

“Good evening, sir,” a dusky, slightly breathless voice called after him. A voluptuous olive-skinned woman was now holding the previously locked door open. Long ago, one would’ve said she was Mediterranean. These days, with humanity all over this galactic spiral arm, she could’ve been from just about anywhere. Her stylish gown drew Dean’s attention to the highlights of her very rounded figure. She was elegant, but something about her said ‘Madam.’ Suddenly the windowless building front and the locked doors made perfect sense.

“Evening,” he smiled.

She scrutinized the cut of his suit, the briefcase, and other aspects of Dean that she appeared to approve of. “Do come inside,” she pronounced finally, with a smile to show that her evaluation was finished. She stepped aside and beckoned theatrically, and he figured there were worse places to hide than an upscale bordello, so he let her take his arm.

Inside, it was pretty dark, except for the dance floor, bright with all manner of undulating colored lights. A dozen stunning girls, who smiled and waved to Dean in turn, populated it. The music—old hand drum and zither stuff, back in vogue—was boisterous, but not too loud to talk over. Tables lined the walls discretely, barely visible in the dim light, at which the gentlemen sat. Some were alone, but most had been joined by at least two girls.

The girls were breathtaking. Some looked younger than Dean was comfortable with, but they all wore the same dress: ankle-length skirts, slit up both sides, all the way past the hip. Backless, tied behind the neck, and made of gossamer fabric one could see right through. They wore different colors, and different combinations of armbands, bracelets, and anklets, but none of them were in possession of lingerie. Each was elegantly made up and styled, no doubt by a highly paid in-house professional. And they were poised, graceful, like a collection of princesses, not prostitutes—well, except for the underwear thing—and the effect was startling.

Dean had been in space by himself a little too long.

The curvy Madam handed him off to a waitress, who put him at a table in the corner and secured him a whisky. When asked if he needed anything else, he said, “When will I...” and trailed off when he couldn’t tactfully phrase the question.

She blinked coyly. “Someone will be with you to discuss our inventory in just a moment.”

Inana

“So this is how it’s going to be tonight,” accused Nikki. She seemed stressed.

Inana knelt on the floor in front of her, blushing hotly. She was wearing her dress, like all the other girls. Hers was black.

“Do you know why you’re kneeling in front of me like a whipped dog?”

Inana took a breath, and the words tumbled out, unbidden. “I tried to leave again. I’ve been trained to come to you whenever I do something bad.”

Nikki nodded. “And didn’t I warn you not to misbehave tonight?”

Inana blinked. “I don’t remember.” Which was true. It was hard to remember much of anything these days.

Nikki’s smile was humorless. “Fine. Honestly, Inana. I don’t have time for this. Not tonight. One way or another, you’re going out on that floor. I’ll just have to dose you.”

Like her admission of guilt, the gasp escaped her lips before she could suppress it. “But...”

Nikki was already rummaging through her desk for the vial. “But what?”

“T-t-the doctor said that I shouldn’t have any more,” she pleaded. “He said it would start to hurt me.”

Nikki didn’t look up. Things continued to rattle around in her desk as she searched. “Inana, if you don’t straighten up, I’ll show you ‘hurt.’ Would you like another date with the dream plant?”

Somehow, Inana was able to keep herself from crying in front of horrible, horrible Nikki. Part of it was the thought of the dream plant, its tentacles holding her down while it...

“No, Nikki,” she whispered, and held out her arm.

Dean

Inventory? he wondered, as he sipped his drink and tried to make sense of this place. In the obvious ways, it was definitely like a brothel. Every few minutes, one of the men matched up with a handful of girls and was enthusiastically led through a set of red doors. But the vibe wasn’t quite right. Earlier, he’d taken notice of a redheaded sylph on the dance floor. She seemed completely in her own world, until a man stepped up and asked her to join him. There was something off about the way she stared so deeply into his eyes as he spoke. Halfway through his whisky, he noticed that all the girls were acting like that. Dean had been on Pasharu enough times to hear about all the weird things you could spend your money on in Mezza City, but since he wasn’t in the habit of frequenting places like this, he had no real point of reference. He wondered how much this night would end up costing him, and resolved to learn more after a trip to the facilities.

He was barely out of his seat when someone collided with him. Someone not very tall, with warm, glossy skin. Someone who smelled of citrus. Someone with tight curves and lovely straw-blond hair.

Someone who’d tripped over his leg, spilled out of her shoes, and was pitching toward the floor.

The music didn’t stop, but it may as well have. Every pair of eyes in the room was on Dean, standing over the girl sprawled on the floor, his mouth open in shocked embarrassment. It took a beat for his wits to return. When they did, he knelt to help her up. He gripped her elbows, but something surged out of her feverish, unblemished skin and lit him up like a nebula.

Touching her was better than the best sex he’d ever had.

Something else was mixed in with that nerve-singeing pleasure. It was raw panic; so fierce Dean could taste it. All this sensory input made it very challenging to get her to her feet, but he managed, and checked to make sure she wasn’t hurt. As she looked up at him for the first time, he realized that the fear was hers, not his. Somehow, he was feeling her feelings, and for whatever reason, she was spooked.

Spooked and adorable. Her eyes were like the electric blue Pasharu sun, if that sun were as luminous as her eyes, which it wasn’t. Her hair angled down from the nape of her neck, to curl under her chin. Her lips were improbably full. Up close, her dress was boldly revealing, the moiré patterns in the fabric beguiling. And it was wrapped tightly over her generous curves. He forgot about every other girl in the room.

“Is there a problem?” someone asked. Dean gave the girl a break from his intense stare to take in the compact, muscular gentleman in a black suit. A bouncer, no doubt. He didn’t know if the question was addressed to him or the girl, whose fear suddenly tripled. His eyes widened with it, and he wished he could switch off whatever the hell was connecting them.

The man regarded them impassively. He wasn’t leaving until one of them said something, and Dean was at a loss for words. To his surprise, she gently pushed him into his seat and perched on his lap. She shook her hair at the bouncer and gave him a dazzling smile. “Sorry, I fell and this nice man helped me up.” She pointed to her shoes, strewn on the floor. “I think I broke a heel.” She frowned and nodded sympathetically at them. Poor shoes.

The bouncer gave Dean one more look, just to be thorough. Then he relaxed. “Apologies. Just making sure the lady was okay,” he said, leaving Dean with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen sitting on his lap.

He steadied her, his hand on the small of her bare back. That was even better than clutching her elbows. But once the bouncer was out of view, her smile faded, and the fear returned. She seemed to be looking somewhere roughly ten thousand miles behind his head. He brushed his fingers along her cheek, mussing her hair a little. “Are you alright? Why so scared?” Maybe she was on something. Man, this place was weird.

She didn’t seem to hear him at first. Then he felt her mood shift. She became aware of his presence in her feelings. Became aware of his feelings, too. She grabbed his wrist, jerked his hand away from her face and glared at him, accusing. With effort, she shifted all her attention to him. Her gaze bored into him, and then all he could see was azure light as he plunged into her eyes.

Inana

She wasn’t sure about this guy. Obviously she hadn’t meant to trip over him; she was barely able to walk after Nikki had double-dosed her. It wasn’t her fault Nikki wanted her out here so bad.

But this guy... He was cute. He had curly brown hair, gray eyes. He wasn’t beefy, but thin. Compact. Her type...

There was something different about him. To date, every male she’d met had turned out to be a creep, an asshole, or both, with two exceptions. There wasn’t much to say about those two brief encounters, but when this guy helped her up and started to fuss over her, it made her feel the same way. And just before she slapped him for touching her face, she realized that she could link with him.

Inana was quasi-telepathic. She couldn’t do it with just anybody. She didn’t know why, but if she could read someone, they generally turned out to be okay.

And this guy could read her back.

It was enough to jolt her out of her narcotic haze and remember how bad she wanted out of here, so she focused, tried to suss him out. She reached out with her thoughts...

It was easy. Sure, he had his secrets, but he instinctively made himself accessible to her. So she could see that he wasn’t psychotic or evil. That he hadn’t killed anyone. Well, anyone who hadn’t deserved it.

He was some kind of loner, traversing space all by himself, doing this and that to make ends meet. Once he was some kind of Central Government spook, but something bad happened, something he wouldn’t let her see.

The important thing was that he didn’t want to tie her up, or hypnotize her. Sure, he was hot for her, but she was used to that. He didn’t even know what a Xhian was! Hell, he didn’t even want to buy her. He was only in here to hide from some guys who wanted to rough him up. He was in trouble, just like her.

She decided to make her appeal...

Dean

She probed around in his head for a bit, finding out what his deal was, which was okay. But she made her own feelings opaque to him, so he couldn’t tell what she thought of him so far.

Then she showed him dreams of things that had happened to her. Not very nice things. He could tell by dream logic that some of this had happened for days at a time. It was hard to make sense of it all, because she was having trouble focusing. Something began seeping into each thought as she sent it to him, and before she could finish, the thought became saturated, unreadable. But he pieced together a few details.

She was pretty young, and her name was Inana. She was some kind of runaway from Xhia Prime, a planet he’d never heard of. Apparently, it was home to a race of mostly women with super-heightened sexual abilities. Sounded like a nice place to visit. A planet of sirens, products of the old genetic revolution; a mostly dark stain on the pages of human history. All that shit was illegal now.

Apparently, there were lots of undesirables bent on making money off of her. On several occasions, she’d been abducted, and her captors had indulged in weird submission games with her. Her latest tormentor was a fat crime lord who’d put her up for sale. So this place wasn’t a whorehouse, after all.

It was a slave market.

Inana was in the deepest of shit, the worst predicament of her life, and she was too tranced out to do anything about it.

Except ask him for help...

When he came back to himself, he found she was still staring into his eyes, but now she was miles away. It was like she was hypnotized. Actually, she was: she’d inadvertently tranced herself. She’d been put under very deep, over and over for days now. They gave her some sort of drug that kept her from being able to think straight. She was on it right now. That’s why she’d collided with him.

He shook her gently. “Inana...” Her name sounded nice out loud.

That seemed to snap her out of it. She frowned, touched her forehead to his, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Apparently, she’d resolved any reservations about him during their telepathic exchange. She stayed like that for a while as she calmed herself down. Finally, she took a long, slow breath and met his eyes again. “Will you...” she attempted.

“Will I?” he offered helpfully.

She looked around the room nervously. “Help me?” she whispered, eyeing the door.

Dean thought about that for a second. She seemed like a sweet kid; it was a shame she was mixed up in all this. He could definitely see why trouble would follow her around. But on that particular night he was certain that he had enough trouble in his life. “Well...” he began.

“The gentleman has excellent taste,” purred the Madam as she strolled up to their table, causing Inana’s hard-won calm to evaporate. Dean had no idea how long she’d been watching them. He and Inana probably looked like moon-eyed lovers to everyone else.

He remembered that there were people out looking for him. The reason he remembered was because at that moment, those people walked into the room. He swallowed, and eyed the Madam. She wanted to know if Dean was here to do business. He gave Inana a gentle squeeze. “She seems to have taken a shine to me,” he said, sounding casual as he stroked her hair.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” the Madam said, leaning down in such a way as to show Dean a remarkable landscape of cleavage. “This is Inana’s first night at market, and you’re the first to see her.”

Dean blinked. Market? After Inana’s story, it wasn’t hard for him to make the conceptual leap from bordello to slave ring, but it sounded weird spoken out loud. Slavery was illegal in most human cultures, and it was illegal here on Pasharu, but the truth was that the government on this world was famous for looking the other way. As Dean could well attest, it was easy to do business under the table here. Still, slaves were rare, and very expensive. All the men in this room had to be fabulously wealthy. Except for the two guys who were looking for him. And the bouncer, who they were waving over.

“This one is very special,” the Madam said, running her finger down Inana’s back. Inana shuddered slightly and closed her eyes. “Very rare. Very... dear.”

Dean got the message loud and clear: don’t paw the merch if you aren’t serious. He had no desire to buy Inana, and probably couldn’t afford her even with all the money in his briefcase. He was here, he reminded himself, to elude his pursuers, who were busy describing him to the bouncer. Each second it became more obvious that they were colleagues. Which made it likely that the same shady characters whose offices he’d just wrecked were, in fact, also the owners of the secret slave market he was hiding in. He’d backed himself literally into a corner, he realized with a sigh, and the only way out was through. So he smiled at the Madam. “She is something special, isn’t she? I’ve been trying to acquire one of her kind for some time,” he lied. “I wonder if I might be alone with her for a while?” Inana slipped her hands into his, gave him a puzzled, hopeful smile.

The Madam’s eyes flicked briefly over his briefcase. “Of course,” she smiled. “This way, please.”

Inana

She was glad for Dean that those guys didn’t see them leave. Evil Nikki led them up the spiral staircase to the private suites, where most of the sex happened. She was a little exhilarated. She’d get to be alone with Dean, and if he was smart, he’d listen to her.

Nikki made a show of picking out a room, before opening the door with a flourish. Before she left, she gave Inana a look, a prolonged, wordless warning not to fuck with her again. She didn’t want to get her hopes up by imagining that she’d never see Nikki again.

Once they were inside, and Dean had locked the door, she was so relieved that she didn’t wait for him to deliver the line he’d been rehearsing along the way; the one about how she was a sweet girl, but he needed to leave, and would he show her a discreet way out? As he opened his mouth to speak, she lay a finger on his lips, flicked her eyes to the surveillance gear on the ceiling. Since he wasn’t an idiot, he nodded imperceptibly to her. Good boy, she thought to him, which made him smile.

The drug was wearing off, and she was in her element now, so she brazenly led him to the small bed and pushed him down. She dialed up some soft music, so that if they did have to talk out loud, they could do so without being heard. She slithered quickly out of her dress and let it drop unceremoniously to the floor. Of course she was used to every man who laid eyes on her drooling, just the same she was a little thrilled at Dean’s wide-eyed reaction. She almost laughed at his reddening cheeks when she sat down beside him.

He was going to make a last-ditch effort to turn her down again, so she leaned toward his ear and breathed on it. His eyelids fluttered, his protest forgotten. Her lips never touched him, and they didn’t need to. The millimeters of air between them were charged with her powerful pheromones. Her jaw worked as she pantomimed licking his ear. Can you? she thought to him. Can you get me out of here? She tried not to sound too desperate.

I don’t know, he stammered back, as she began to unbutton his shirt. I’m in a bit of a jam myself.

Those men. I know. She was on eggshells, trying to keep him from bolting. Can’t you take me with you?

It’s likely to get dangerous, he protested, as he kicked off his shoes. And I work best alone. I’ve got to get out of here quick.

Then why are you letting me take your pants off, she thought coyly. If you don’t fuck me now, they’ll get suspicious. She slithered behind him on the bed, getting into position, and steepled her feet beneath her ass. Come on. You know you want to...

Suddenly, Dean was between her thighs, sliding inside her. And once that happened, there was no way he was leaving.

But her smile faded when she realized he was about to blow it already. She’d forgotten that it had been a while for him, and she was a little too much woman for him at that moment. Ordinarily, she could calm any man and ride him as long as she wanted, but this guy was pent up, and he’d never been with a Xhian before. Stop, she admonished, summoning her wiles.

Dean seemed distracted. He obviously wanted her, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about those guys busting in any second. He wanted to make tracks. That wasn’t really helping him to keep from bursting inside her, but she managed to squeeze him off just in time. When he noticed her watching him, he smiled down at her. Sorry.

She locked her fingers around his neck and started fucking him again. It’s okay, she smiled. I just want you to make me come.

It was a given in Inana’s world that no mortal man could refuse that request of her. When Dean began to thrust into her again, she purred, content that the given was a universal constant. Plus, now he was showing her something she hadn’t had in ages.

Consideration.

He was actually paying attention to her, trying to learn what got her off. Even though he hadn’t figured it out yet (they were virtually strangers, after all), the attention made her moan. This encouraged him, and when he gripped the back of her neck, it almost sent her over the top. Surprised, she writhed in his hands and looked away, suddenly too shy for eye contact. She wanted things to go on a while, but when he gently kissed her collarbone, it was too much. She screamed as he unloaded savagely.

Dean

“What about buying me?” Inana suggested quietly. It seemed too intimate to keep sharing thoughts after what had transpired between them, not knowing what the future held.

They were lingering on the bed, enjoying the heavenly post-coital vibe. Once Dean had confirmed that his unit hadn’t exploded from his painfully violent ejaculation, he decided that his pursuers were watching them in the surveillance room, enjoying the show, waiting for the most embarrassing moment to bust him.

“That’s a lot of money,” he murmured. And it was. Even though the money in the briefcase could fund his lavish lifestyle for a few years, it wasn’t quite enough to buy a Xhian sex slave—the rarest of endangered human races in the galaxy, according to her. “And besides, they feel it’s their money, Inana. They’d only take it back, and we’d both be fucked.”

She sighed next to him. “What if I told you I knew another way out of here?”

Dean was torn. She was amazing. But the last time he really trusted someone... It didn’t work out. “Inana, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m the guy to help you.”

She went still. Then she pulled him on top of her, blocking the camera’s view of her face. She gazed at him calmly. Then, just for him, she let that calm go, and she let him see a scared, runaway street urchin, an unimaginable distance from home, with no hope in this world or any other. She sobbed once, twice, then willed her inscrutable mask back in place. She was resigned, her fate in his hands.

At that moment, Dean fell the last few steps down a long staircase that led to a deep infatuation, and his life got a lot more complicated. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, brushing her cheek, and this time she let him. “Sorry. I’m being an asshole. All right. Let’s get out of here.”

End Part One