The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mistress,” Erelstra asked carefully, “Are you certain this is the right course of action?”

The Princess pondered how she should answer, while their mounts continued the ascent. She clung more tightly to the monstrous spider, curling her fingers in the stiff hairs bristling over its wide back as it made its way up the steep incline. Once again she was forced to admire the skill with which her servant rode. Everyone knew that her bondswoman had an affinity for their pets, but seeing her like this made it clear that she had truly been blessed by Loethe herself.

Certainty was something she had long since abandoned, but how could she tell one of the baseborn that she merely hoped they were doing the right thing? The old adage said that a wounded prey was the most dangerous, but in her case it appeared as though they were merely the most reckless.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “But what other choice do we have? The Seelie have gained new and powerful allies, and unless we do the same, we will perish.”

“But Dragons, Mistress,” the servant continued, “You know they think of none but themselves, not to mention their … appetites.”

“We have been granted safe passage,” the Princess reminded her, “And that is what we must place our trust in.”

Erelstra lapsed into a sullen silence before urging her mount ahead. Princess Filhrae sighed heavily, she could understand the she-elf’s frustration, but her emotions had no place on a diplomatic mission of this importance. Silently, she wished that her sister was here in her place, but then Alakantar lacked her silver tongue, (not to mention the fact that, as Queen, she was eminently less expendable).

That it should have come to this was an embarrassment and an unbearably heavy burden. The Seelie and Unseelie courts were supposed to represent a balance between light and dark, and yet, over recent years the predation on her kith and kin had escalated to the point where the whispers were now of extinction.

No one represented that balance more clearly than Filhrae, herself. Her pale skin told the story more eloquently than any verse. The Princess’ mother had taken her pleasure with one of their many captives, finding joy in that small taste of the overworld, and she had been the result. So, while Erelstra’s skin shone like polished ebony, hers was almost as pale as the servant’s silver-hair. And that explained why, though she was the first-born, her sister had inherited House Auvryani when their mother had died.

They pressed on, letting that uncomfortable silence build between them. Slowly the sickly glow of phosphorescent fungi gave way, first to guttering torches and then, as they neared the Aerie, magelights in every imaginable hue. No stranger to the mystic arts herself, Filhrae couldn’t decide whether this profligate display of power was a foolish extravagance or merely an indication that the Dragons really did have magic to spare.

Their mounts were becoming restless, perhaps scenting the spoor of the great beasts, and that nervousness seemed to seep into the riders as well. Filhrae felt as if a hundred unseen eyes were boring into her, and the burning between her shoulder blades was becoming unbearable. It was almost a relief when the Aerie itself became visible. Whatever fate might await them within, the Princess was sure that her imagination could conjure something far worse from her anxieties.

The cavern was vast, dwarfing anything she had encountered before. In the far distance, she could see cave bats as they flitted gracefully about the rough-hewn stone. The Princess had heard tales of the overworld, and its near-limitless space, but this was no story to be experienced second hand. Vertigo threatened to engulf her, but she muttered a quick incantation, and banished the sensation before it could take root. That was another part of her strangeness, and while a command of the healing arts should have been of benefit to them all, it was still looked upon as unwholesomely Seelie in its origins, and therefore not to be trusted.

Her servant startled the Princess from her reverie, drawing the young elf’s attention with a soft whisper. Filhrae couldn’t see anything at first, but she trusted Erelstra’s senses even more than her own. Sure enough, after a few tortuous seconds, while she squinted into the half-light, the Princess caught her first glimpse of emerald scales. Something sinuous and terrible unwound itself from the shadows. It flowed toward them, rearing up as it approached, and gazed down at them, its eyes flashing angrily.

“This is not your land,” it roared, and its breath was hot with smoke and sulphur, “Who comes before the Court of Shadows? Speak quickly, little elves, or I may forget myself and simply take those I deem worthy of my attentions.”

“Greetings, noble serpent,” the Princess replied, forcing her mount to move forward, “I am Princess Filhrae of the House Auvryani, and my retinue and I have been granted safe passage by your Queen. I must profess my surprise that Her Majesty neglected to mention this when she assigned you your duties. But, no harm has been done, and if you would be so kind as to escort us inside, we can set about conducting our business.”

The Dragon growled irritably, but made no further threats. That didn’t stop it from casting a lascivious eye over the group as they rode past, and its gaze seemed to burn even hotter than its breath. The path led across a narrow stone bridge, the edges of which plummeted away into the darkness. The Aerie itself loomed before them, carved into the face of the rock. And it was only now, as they drew closer, that Filhrae realised that the ‘bats’ she had seen flitting around castle before were in fact more dragons, diminished only by the sheer scale of this fortification.

“You can leave your … steeds here,” the dragon explained, as they reached the foot of the castle walls.

Pre-empting any argument, the Princess dismounted, patting her spider fondly and in a manner she hoped would be reassuring. The others followed her example, although she noticed without surprise that Erelstra lingered far longer than was strictly necessary. Still, her attentions seemed to soothe the agitated beasts, and that was worth the slight delay.

Apparently satisfied, the dragon urged them on. His tail thrashed impatiently, but he continued to hold his tongue. When he did finally speak, it was to address the gate-guards in a distinctly alien language. Filhrae had a vague grasp of Dragontongue, enough to recognise that their guide wasn’t particularly flattering in his assessment of their group. But, whatever he said, it was sufficient for the unseen guards to lift the heavily spiked portcullis and allow them entrance.

They passed through the outer walls, marvelling at the enormous stone doors protecting the inner sanctum. The sheer opulence of the interior was quite breathtaking... gold and other rarer metals adorned every surface, while the details were picked out in a rainbow of precious stones. Other people walked among the dragons here, but the Princess knew that they too were serpents, ones who simply chose to wear a different form.

But the building had been built for dragons, and it was impossible, under the circumstances, not to be reminded of just how small and insignificant her tiny band really was. Their guide seemed pleased by the effect his home was having on the elves, and he was happy to let them gape in awe, as he showed them through another series of armoured doors and into the throne room itself.

“Your Majesty,” he announced, with a low bow, “The delegation from House Auvryani.”

It was obvious that the apparently delicate young woman, who lay sprawled across the oversized throne, was in fact the Dragon Queen. The Princess didn’t know how they transformed themselves, whether it was some innate ability or a spell that had to be learned. But the Queen’s chosen form was an unsurpassed beauty.

Slender, but still generously endowed, with a lithe grace that was both sinuous and flowing, it was impossible to ignore the woman’s serpentine nature. Her skin glistened, and rippled, showing flashes of the scales lurking beneath that firm flesh.

What little she was wearing only seemed to accentuate what was being barely concealed. Her brassiere consisted mainly of gemstones, while the wisp of silk covering her sex was so fine it appeared almost transparent. More jewels glinted around her throat, while others decorated her soft curves and glimmered amidst those auburn curls. A single sapphire practically glowed, where it lay nestled deep inside her navel.

In turn, each of them felt the intensity of her appraising stare, but it was Filhrae upon whom the Queen lavished the majority of her attention. All around them the room was silent, and the Princess couldn’t shift the feeling that this was some kind of test, and one she very much needed to pass.

She was pinned her beneath the dragon’s gaze, and the sensation was very much like being mentally undressed. But the discomfort didn’t end there. Those scarlet eyes just drilled into her, stripping away everything and looking directly into the darkness of her heart.

Sweat prickled her forehead, and trickled in chilling streams down her back. The heat was oppressive, but still she was struggling not to shiver. Filhrae couldn’t bring herself to meet that stare, because she knew deep down, that if she were ever to even glance back into those eyes, she would be lost.

“You there,” the Queen called out to one of Filhrae’s warriors, “Go now, and tell your Prince that his gift is acceptable. In return, we shall give him what he desires above all else.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the soldier said quickly, her relief very obvious, “Thank you.”

Erelstra stepped forward, placing herself between the Princess and the immediate threat. Filhrae wanted to laugh at the noble futility of the servant’s gesture, but she was still trying to understand what was happening. The soldier studiously ignored them, bowing to the Queen instead, before almost running from the cavernous throne room.

“What has my brother got to do with this?” the Princess asked softly.

“Oh,” the Queen reacted, as if surprised that the delegation were still there, “Prince Vieratar just purchased our services.”

She slipped from the throne, and her every sinuous movement served to emphasise her draconian nature. The silken material clung hungrily to her full curves, and Filhrae found her eyes drawn down to the ruddy slash of curls that seemed to bisect the Queen’s sex.

“If that’s the case,” she began hesitantly, unsure why the dragon seemed to affect her so, “Then I am happy, as although it would appear our mission has been superseded by his efforts, the important thing is your support in our war against the Seelie. I thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty, but it would appear that our work here is already done.”

“Nonsense,” the dragon laughed, low and throaty, “Filhrae, you and your entourage have not yet begun to sample our … hospitality. And I can assure you, Princess, we will find more than enough work to keep you and yours occupied for the foreseeable future.”

“Mistress?” Erelstra asked anxiously, her hands balled into tight fists.

“Take them,” the Queen hissed, and the nightmare began.

One moment she were standing in the throne room, and the next, the ground simply dropped out from under her feet, both literally and metaphorically, as it turned out. Then, she was plummeting into the darkness, with just enough time to gasp out a startled yelp, before a surprisingly wet impact knocked the breath right out of her.

Warm liquid ooze pooled and puddled around the Princess, spattering her body with gleaming droplets. Struggling to rise, her feet slipped and slithered, unable to get any kind of purchase. Chest tight, winded and able only to whimper in frustration, her anger abruptly turned to panic. Something touched her thigh, silken, feathery strokes that were more intimate that any lover’s caress.

Filhrae’s head jerked around, and even amidst the cloying shadows, she could see the groping limbs rising from the slime in which her lithe body was being bathed. Their strength was another hideous surprise, and no matter how hard she fought against them, her fingers simply flowed through the hot, cloying liquid. And, as she struggled, more and more hands joined those first clutching digits.

Sounds of combat came from all around, grunts of exertion mixing with the softer moans of unwelcome arousal. She knew her servants would fight bravely, but this wasn’t a battle they could win by strength of arms alone. The dragon’s potent magic was almost entirely alien, and yet, Filhrae was no slouch when it came to spell-weaving. The Princess didn’t know if she could counter the Queen’s enchantment, but at least she could to try.

She struggled to ignore the increasingly lewd touches, while picturing the complex spell in her mind’s eye. Layers of magic intertwined, forming a lattice of almost pure mana. Filhrae began to pluck at the individual strands, loosen their hold on the squirming elves, and the magic seemed to recognise the threat she posed, redoubling its efforts to pacify the recalcitrant Princess.

Greasy ooze seeped through her clothing, dampening her skin, and making it burn deliciously. The attackers caught hold of her tender breasts, wrapping them in marvellously shivering bliss. Then, the hands were everywhere, trapping her thighs, her knees, catching her ankles, elbows, wrists, even cupping and holding her straining buttocks in their lurid and impossibly exciting embrace.

And, just when she thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, two more slimy limbs joined the assault. The first sunk hungrily into the already melting heat of her aching cunt, but the second, more devastating attack was the one that covered her mouth, stifling any remaining resistance and muffling her increasingly aroused moans into desperately urgent, mewling pleas.

Her head was suddenly filled with the potent scent of lust, as the sticky fingers smeared their essence over her face, and for the first time she realised just what she was mired in.

“Oh Goddess,” she whimpered into the tightening grasp, “It’s cum … I’m drowning in a puddle of animate cum … and it just feels too good to even think of fighting it anymore. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Submit,” a soft voice whispered directly into the base of her brain, trickling over the sensitive folds of her fading, weakening mind.

The fingers clenched, sliding through the soft wet fabric and into her captive flesh. In one glorious instant of sweaty surrender, she was suddenly so controlled, so totally owned and held. Her head was swimming, thoughts dizzy and spiraling away. The voice followed the grasping, creamy ooze, flowing into Filhrae’s head and shunting aside anything that couldn’t be subsumed into the new ideas it was crafting.

“Feel yourself being washed away, little one,” the voice coaxed, “Lie back, and let my utterly addictive cum rework your frail brain into the shape you have always known it yearns to find. Hands on your soft curves, whispering in your slavemind, fingers probing deep into your helplessly enslaved and enslaving cunt.”

“No!” she screamed, lashing back at her tormentor with all of her remaining strength, and then there was nothing.

“Mistress,” the soft voice coaxed, “Wake up, I need to speak to you and we don’t have much time.”

Filhrae’s eyelids were almost too heavy to lift, and all she really wanted was to lapse back into the soothing blankness of oblivion. But she recognised Erelstra’s voice, and more importantly, the concern that dripped from every word. It was enough to drag her full back to wakefulness, although, as the true enormity of her situation became clear, the Princess wondered if she had been better off unconscious.

“You saved us,” Erelstra whispered, “and that really pissed off the wyrm-bitch.”

The Princess realised that she was resting in her servant’s lap at the same time their nakedness became apparent. The contrast between her own milky skin, and Erelstra’s ebon tones was even more marked by their proximity. It was soothing somehow, to rest back against the she-elf’s toned body, and allow herself to be held. Their flesh was still sticky from the spell’s ministrations, but the easy intimacy made even that humiliation somehow bearable.

The floor was lined with damp stone, and the barred wooden door looked as if it would have taken a battering ram to break down. Her only relief was that although the walls were lined with all manner of manacles and chains, neither of them had been restrained. That didn’t make the cell any less inescapable, however.

“A temporary respite at best,” Filhrae sighed, nestling her head in the warm valley between the other elf’s breasts, “I’m sorry, Erelstra, but I don’t think I’ll be able to resist her again. They were right; it seems that my blood really isn’t strong enough.”

“Vith’ir,” the servant hissed, “Forgive me, Mistress, but the blood of Loethe flows through your veins, how else could you have shattered the dragon’s magic? It is my honour to serve you, Filhrae. My Princess is far stronger than she knows.”

Having Erelstra address her so informally came as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. The Princess longed to be treated as more than just royalty and, under the circumstances, it seemed ridiculous to demand titles or protocol. The feel of the servant’s arms as they wrapped around her was both protective and comforting. She sighed heavily, wishing she could live up to the other elf’s expectation.

“The Queen will be here soon,” Erelstra announced after a moment. “And we must get you ready for that audience. I believe in you, Filhrae. I know you can get us out of this. The question is, Princess, do you trust me enough to let me help you?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, “With my life.”

The other elf looked momentarily startled; such an admission was almost unheard of in a culture as devoted to lies and betrayal as theirs. When assassination was as natural as breathing, placing your life in the hands of another was tantamount to suicide. Most would see it as a sign of weakness and yet another indication of the Princess’ tainted blood, but not Erelstra. She was truly her Mistress’ bondswoman, and it gladdened Filhrae heart to know she was held in such high regard.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the servant breathed, “Now rest back, and let me make you even more desirable.”

There was no time to protest before Erelstra’s hands slid across the Princess’ shivering skin. In an instant, her servant’s touch had shifted from warm intimacy to full-blown sexual teasing. Filhrae’s half-formed complaints simply melted as the other elf’s hand cupped and held her still puffy mound. She gave a small gasp, squirming in place no matter how hard she tried to remain still. Tiny tickling caresses danced over her swollen lips, tingling so deliciously that it was impossible to resist.

“Erel,” she moaned, “What is this?”

“Hush,” Erelstra smiled, “Trust me, this is what you need.”

Then, the soft skittering sensation slipped remorselessly over her silken seam, before crawling deep inside the sticky heat of her drooling cunt. She stopped trying to understand, and just gave into the wonderfully sensual massage. The wet, demanding strokes poured over her skin, following the tender touch of her servant’s dexterous hands.

The tingling heat grew stronger and more insistent, lingering over the succulent ripeness of her throbbing clit, and burning that tender nub with exquisite gentleness. Filhrae let her eyes drift closed once more, slumping into that fond embrace, and allowed herself to be taken care of.

Her second awakening was more gentle than the first, lacking as it did the frisson of fear that had coloured everything before. The Princess’ body still burned with the memory of Erelstra’s assured touch, but of the young woman there was no sign. That should have worried her, but Filhrae knew in her heart that her servant was more than capable of taking care of herself, even here.

What did come as a surprise was to suddenly find herself dressed... although perhaps under the circumstances, dressed was too strong a word for her attire. The finest silk she had ever felt, poured over her body. The gossamer somehow contrived to both cling to her curves, emphasising the soft swell of her breasts, and to slide against her skin, moving as if it were liquid. The neckline of her camisole plunged deep, stopping just short of her navel, and the translucent material left nothing to the imagination.

Her briefs were even less practical, high cut to the point where they almost became a belt. But they did at least cover her twinging sex, while still revealing the depths of her arousal to anyone who chose to look. Completing the ensemble, Filhrae’s long legs had been wrapped in the same flowing silk, thigh-high stockings whose shimmering glow seemed to draw attention ever upwards.

The Princess ran her hands over the soft material, luxuriating in its smoothness and warmth. Then, just before she lost herself in that pleasure, she became aware of heavy steps approaching, and the sounds of keys jangling in the cell door. Filhrae stood, head held high and, filled with new-found confidence, waited for her visitor to enter.

A tall man, who she presumed was the jailer, dragged the door open, before stepping diffidently to one side. The next moment, two women strode through, and took hold of her arms, dragging her roughly with them. The Princess didn’t try to resist,as it had been clear from the moment they entered that either one of the she-dragons would have been more than a match for her. Instead, she allowed herself to be led, biding her time and wondering what new indignity they had planned.

Her unspeaking captors took her deeper into the Aerie, pulling her along and even lifting the slender elf from her feet when she didn’t move as quickly as they wished. They passed through steadily increasingly levels of excess as they moved through the wide corridors, until, by the time they reach their destination, the walls were covered in rich veins of orichalcum.

As they approached, the enormous double doors swung open, revealing the bedchamber beyond. A waft of sweet smoke poured forth, its subtle complexities only just masking the underlying note of brimstone. But, much to the she-dragons’ apparent chagrin, their recumbent Queen did not look happy to see them.

“What is this?” she asked with deceptive softness, while flames flickered around her flaring nostrils, “Why have you brought her here, thus, after I had taken the trouble to strip her naked?”

“B…but,” one of her guides stammered, “My Queen …”

“Your pardon,” the other interrupted quickly, “Majesty. Please, allow us correct our error.”

“No,” the Queen decided, as they moved to rip the flimsy material from her prize, “It is pleasing enough. You have done well. Now, leave us... we would be alone.”

Neither of them needed any further encouragement, happy to accept their lucky escape and leave the chamber without the expected punishment. They obviously didn’t care who had dressed the captive, although they were more than willing to accept the Queen’s thanks in their stead. The dragons didn’t spare Filhrae a second glance as they hurried away. Their dark hints had already made it very clear that once the Queen was finished with her, there would be precious little left.

“Come to me, child,” the Queen commanded, and Filhrae could feel the first coils of magic beginning to wrap themselves around her, “Come to Irelia, and let us finish what we started.”

“I beat you before,” the Princess challenged, with more conviction than she felt, “And I can do it again. Ask yourself, Queen of dragons, wouldn’t I make a far more useful ally than my half-brother?”

Irelia rose from her bed, moving with a sureness and certainty that Filhrae could only envy. Then, quite unexpectedly she began to laugh, a deep, throaty chuckle that held real amusement. The Queen’s eyes twinkled, a mote of light that danced before the deeper flames.

“Oh, Filhrae,” she whispered, conspiratorially, “Your brother is a fool, we both know that. And I have no need for allies, not among your kind. All any of you will ever be good for is sating one of my many appetites. You should consider yourself very fortunate that you will have the honour of slaking my lusts, while Prince Vieratar and his people feed my other needs.”

They stared at each other, and in her surprise, Filhrae forgot to avoid the serpent’s gaze. Slit pupils widened, revealing flickering flames, and the Princess felt herself being sucked in. The mystic cords pulled a little tighter, sinking hungrily into her yielding flesh.

“You surprised me before,” the Queen admitted, “I didn’t think you were strong enough to resist my magic. But we both know how much it cost you and, more importantly, that you don’t have nearly enough mana for another counterspell. So, why don’t just make it easy on yourself, and give me what I want. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“And that’s worth about as much as the deal you offered my brother,” the Princess groaned, still trying to break eye contact.

“Silly girl,” she sighed, “Come here, and I’ll show you why this is different. First off, let me share what I’ve been doing while I was waiting for you to arrive.”

The compulsion tugged at her, more mystic threads tightened around her throat and, before she could even think, Filhrae had taken her first step. After that, she began to struggle in earnest, but the result was the same. She was too spent, and the dragon’s lure just too seductive. Then, adding to her misery, the Queen unbound the jewelled thread that circled her slender waist, and let the silken material flutter to the floor.

Filhrae’s eyes flicked downwards, following the fabric’s descent. For an instant, elation gripped her, and then her gaze was helplessly recaptured by the Queen’s ruddy and glistening lips. The Princess moaned, as the dragon dipped her fingers into that slippery heat. Every lurid caress seemed to echo through her own needy sex, and she gave a despairing groan with each faltering step.

There were too many torments ranged against her, and no matter how hard she fought, Filhrae was taking two steps forward for every one step back. Then, the Queen reached up and stroked her sticky finger across the Princess’ lips. The taste was so evocative that she found herself almost instantly transported back to that hideously dark pit and the drowning tide of controlling juices. She hardly noticed as the dragon dabbed more of her melting essence under each nostril, until the scent of lust filled her mind with lurid promise.

“This is beautiful,” the dragon whispered, her forked tongue slithering wet against the nape of Filhrae’s neck.

Clawed fingers brushed gently against the Princess’ camisole, pressing the soft material into her enflamed flesh. She whimpered softly, squirming under that perfect attention, as the silk whispered and rippled. Then, one talon dug cruelly into the tenderness of her puckered nipple and the weak sounds gave way to a startled hiss of agonised pleasure.

“The material is so sheer it’s hardly there at all is it?” Irelia wondered, “And yet, even my claws won’t pierce it. Oh Filhrae, you really do make such an intriguing package, all wrapped up and ready like this. But now it is time to peel off this pretty covering and taste the treasure that lies within.”

Despite the room’s heat, the Princess felt a cooling draught, as the Queen knelt and dragged the silken thong down over her shapely legs, glazing the flesh with the undeniable evidence of her helpless arousal. Filhrae’s pussy tingled angrily, sharp twinges that were enough to make her thrash, humping her pelvis madly and yet utterly unable to sate that terrible need.

Needles bit into her arse, claws clutching her shapely buttocks and pulling her drooling cuntlips onto the dragon’s eager tongue. The forked tip glided sharply over the Princess’ clit, spearing that shivering nub and making them both yelp. Delight rose up from the depths of her belly, clenching her body and sending ripples of ecstasy cascading down her spine.

Her thoughts stalled as the remorseless pressure continued to expand. Hot, controlling cum filled her once more, binding and pacifying her feeble resistance. She fought against it, but couldn’t stop the wonderful sensations from dragging her back down into the warm bosom of Irelia’s dominance. But then, just as Filhrae was about to give up hope, just as first of those merciless climaxes was about to crash down on her and utterly shatter her resolve, the entirety of her being seemed to convulse and the darkness simply poured from her tortured cunt.

Irelia gave a startled cry. Then, quite suddenly, the relentless tongue was gone, and the magic simply unravelled. The Princess ground herself into the dragon’s face, as the chittering tide crawled forth and consumed her. Hundreds of tiny spiders swarmed over the horrified Queen, biting and stinging, while she struggled to escape. But in truth, the battle was already over, as that first bite had already felled the proud serpent; she just hadn’t realised it yet. Paralysis gripped her, stealing her remaining strength and stiffening her muscles into rigid spasm.

Meanwhile, Filhrae had shrugged off the remnants of her sorcerous attack, feeling her head grow clearer moment by moment. She watched as the Queen collapsed, falling heavily back onto the bedding, and the spiders began to fade, melting into her unblemished flesh, leaving dark stains in their wake.

“Can you feel them, Irelia?” the Princess asked after a moment, “Crawling through you mind and wrapping your thoughts in their thick, coercive webbing?”

She climbed up onto the bed next to the supine Queen, massaging her flat stomach. The fire still flashed behind Irelia’s eyes, but Filhrae knew it wouldn’t last. The proud dragon had invoked the wrath of their Goddess, and even the strongest mind couldn’t hope to stand against that divine power. She didn’t know how long it would take, but the Queen’s fall was inevitable.

“Time to end this,” Filhrae smiled, “Let me slake your thirst for controlling elf-cunt.”

The Princess knelt astride her former captor’s body, hooking her legs behind Irelia’s shoulders. Then, with dramatic and painful slowness, she pressed her gaping lips down onto the dragon’s frozen face. The orgasm that had been building, ever since Erelstra began to touch her, washed over the elf’s sweat-drenched body, and her venom soaked the Queen’s helpless mind in a slick honey of absolute control.

A puddle of darkness seeped from the fallen Queen, hundreds of spiders massing and crawling, their work done. Slowly they coalesced into a glistening black pillar, which then flowed in molten streams. Erelstra stepped forth, her skin gleaming like wet chitin, and the savage smile she flashed her Mistress was breathtaking.

Filhrae touched the warm softness of her spider-silk camisole and returned her servant’s dazzling grin before collapsing, exhausted, beside Irelia’s motionless form. Very slowly she rolled over, and began to whisper softly into the Dragon Queen’s ear.

“You’re right,” she breathed, while her hands smoothed over the feather-soft material, “It is beautiful; it was a gift from someone very dear to me. Your gift, on the other hand, has just finished swathing your brain in its own silken cocoon. You can thank me later, but for now I need to show my dear friend just how grateful I am. Then you can pick up from where you left off. Do whatever you like with my brother and his friends, but if you ever even think of touching me and mine, I will make you crawl to me on your knees and beg to be taken.

“We will be allies, Irelia. Because your only other option right now, is to be my slave. And please believe me, that is not a role for one as proud and haughty as you. I need you, but more importantly we need each other, and that is the sole reason I have not pulled those final strands taut and sealed your fate. I would much rather have you as a friend than as a mindless thrall; but if that is what it takes, be in no doubt that I will finish what I have started.”

Without asking permission, Erelstra pressed close, enfolding Filhrae in those strong arms. Tenderly she nuzzled at her Mistress’ swollen breast, suckling softly and making small, contented noises. The Princess winced as sharp fangs grazed her puckered nipple.

“Goddess, but that felt good,” she moaned.

“What’s that, Mistress?” Erelstra wondered quietly, releasing the shivering flesh with obvious reluctance.

“Having you inside me,” the Princess giggled, and crushed herself more fervently into her servant’s embrace.

The Queen could only lie there, listening to the moist sounds of their frenzied coupling, while her mind grew increasingly more foggy and tangled in the myriad threads woven through her thoughts.

Filhrae knew that Irelia would never have felt more powerless in her life, and yet the truly terrible thing was that it would feel so unbelievably good to her that she would never want it to end. The Princess had been as good as her word, in her own twisted way, sating the dragon’s hideous hunger, but leaving a whole slew of new appetites in its wake.