The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dana knew she was dreaming.

The precipice she stood upon was one she had visited many times before. The great spire of rock jutted out of a thickly verdant jungle behind her, like the horn of a great, fallen beast. Moss and lichen covered it in a soft blanket of green, with only a few proud rises of bone-white stone to break up the living canvas. Wildflowers bloomed unchecked, adding their brilliant purples and yellows to the lush.

All of this was familiar. All of this she had seen before.

Ever since she was a child.

But the figure standing naked and barefoot on that crag of rock was no longer a child; she was strong, as vibrant and powerful and beautiful as the uncowed wilderness around her. The wind that whipped at her long blonde hair felt like a welcoming embrace; the song it wove through the trees as they danced and swayed a chorus of greeting. The sun shining in the cloudless blue sky warmed her skin.

She felt utterly at peace here.

Wordlessly, she began to climb the sloped embankment towards the tip of the fallen rock. She did so effortlessly, despite the steepness of the incline; perhaps it was just the dream, or perhaps here, where the very air seemed to suffuse her body with unending vigor, she simply could not feel fatigue.

She made it to the edge, and gazed out upon the world sprawled beneath her.

She could see forever, it seemed, and the panoply of landscapes below offered endless marvels to gaze upon. It was as if every facet of the earth was represented all at once, woven together into a seamless and unparalleled tapestry. The tall grasses of a savannah flowed into a great tangle of towering trees, which themselves curved around a soaring mountain of rich red earth. Deserts and tundras, taigas and tidepools, just when she thought she had seen it all she noticed something new.

This was the All, she thought in silent awe, this was the world made manifest. It was her place; had always been, since for as long as she could remember. She remembered scrabbling up that same hillside as a child; she remembered laughing and rolling back down its slope. She remembered sitting here, listening to birdsong, listening as a thousand different calls all sounded out at once.

Most of all though, she remembered when it had first spoken to her.

It did not use words; not human words, anyway. She had been young, barely into her teens. She had found herself here, and had harkened to a leading tuft of breeze to climb to the top of the pinnacle. She had gazed down then, just as she was now, and at the time, a single, perfect imperative had formed itself in her mind.

She needed to protect this.

Such a simple realization, but its effect upon her had been profound. The sight before her filled her with nothing but awe and commanded something beyond love. It was part of her, she realized, just as she was part of it. It was perfect, and magnificent....and yet it was in danger.

She might have been young, but she knew from where the danger came. She had seen the news, had read the stories. She had heard the rumble of cruel machinery in her bones and had felt their biting claws in her skin. Of all the creatures on Earth, man was the only one who seemed to have forgotten its place in the whole of the great tableau, and in his vanity risked tearing it all asunder.

Dana couldn’t allow that to happen; wouldn’t allow it to happen.

And so she had become nature’s champion, its guardian in the age of man. But despite what she knew humanity was capable of, they were as much part of the Earth as its other children, and so she could feel them no malice. She would guide them, she resolved, she would endeavor to remind humanity of their role, to show them a better way.

But even as she remembered all these things, something made Jungle Babe pause. She blinked, her brow furrowed in confusion; she did not visit this place often, and could never invoke it wilfully. Something in the air felt different, more charged somehow. Why was she here?

As if answering her unspoken call, the wind brushed past her face, touching upon her cheek, and bidding her to turn around.

Dana did so slowly, her body turning with that strange ponderous pace one often finds in dreams—but what she saw behind her still took her completely by surprise.

A hand flew to her mouth to stifle her gasp of alarm.

She could see beyond the forest this time; she had never been able to before. Always in the past, the space behind the forest at the base of the jutting rock had always been obscured, covered in endlessly billowing clouds of perfect white, the great wall of vapor extending all along the horizon. She had always assumed it had simply been the way of her dream; a metaphysical boundary wall in the mental construct.

This time though, the clouds were gone.

This time, she could see everything beyond, but what she saw waiting for her was a vision straight out of hell.

Where her world was brimming with lushness and life, veritably exploding with vegetation, the place opposite hers was a barren waste. The plants were mottled, dark brown and rank; leaves were wilted or else bloated and splitting, oozing pale sap from craggy wounds. The trees were gnarled and twisted, coiled like a hag’s fingers as they scrabbled to a dusky orange sky. Puddles of still, fetid water gleamed and bubbled sickly as a blanket of heavy, soiled mist oozed and stagnated over top. Somehow she knew that there would be no breeze there, no soothing gust of wind to stir the heavy air. It was choking. Suffocating.

Everything was dying.

No, not dying, something inside her reasoned, just...twisted. Malformed. Perverse.

Indeed, as she gazed further, she could see the tumorous lesions of unchecked growth billowing out of the ground. Mycosynth fibers erupted in cages of fungal life, surrounding trees and trampling down the underbrush. Thorny brambles were seemingly the only things vicious enough to thrive in the cadaverous gloom, and they formed a tangled carpet beneath sickly swaying trees, heavily laden with ropy, misshapen vines that swayed unnaturally in the still air.

Directly across from her, soaring out of this mass of corruption, Dana could see an outcropping just like the one she stood upon; a perfect mirror, in fact, for even from a distance she could see the bone-white of the rock, familiar, yet appallingly alien at the same time, like a rotten tooth stabbing upward from a bed of roiling decay.

Then, to her utter shock, she saw something moving at the base of the outcropping; something pale. Something huge.

The thing that began to climb towards the precipice was more animal than man; massively proportioned, with antlers adorning his head like a great wicked crown, and a mantle of fur cascading from his neck to the upper slope of his chest, and running down the middle of his back where it flowed and lengthened into a long, swishing tail. Cloved hooves cracked the ground as the Beast strode to the peak, dragging a wake of pale green mist behind him where it clung to his skin of moon-white.

It was only when he reached the top that the creature stopped. Dana felt her heart clench in terror as he turned around—and shot a burning, hellish glare across the open expanse, right into her own wide and fearful eyes.

“Pretender,” he sneered, his rumbling voice carrying like a roll of thunder across the void, “False prophet. You lack the power, the resolve, to do what must be done. This world must be cleansed. Humanity must be brought low, to have reason once more to fear the deep woods. All will serve me, woman...including you.“

With a razor-toothed leer, the Beast thrust a clawed hand towards her, and at once, the ground beneath Dana’s feet began to tremble. Before her disbelieving eyes, the balance of light and shadow bisecting the dense forest between them abruptly shifted, and a cascade of darkness rushed towards her, like water breaking over a dam.

Everything the shadow touched changed; trees twisted, plants withered, flowers crumpled into wads of black waste. The green drained away, and as the grass dried into a carpet of brittle brown nettles, Dana saw something—a many somethings—burrowing beneath the sickened soil.

They raced towards her, coiling up her fang of rock. She recoiled instinctively.

Then, just as they neared her feet, the winding tunnelers suddenly exploded out of the ground. Jungle Babe screamed as dozens of pale, oozing tentacles sprang up around her, diving blindly for her naked body. In the inscrutable logic of the dreamscape, she was unable to avoid them—somehow knew that she’d be unable to, even if she tried—and almost instantly the monstrous tendrils had her bound hand and foot. Their pulsing, slimy limbs twisted around her wrists and arms, her ankles and calves, lifting her effortlessly into the air even as she struggled and pulled.

She looked on in horror as the darkness raced past her, plummeting down the cliff face and spreading across the vivid tableau of landscapes behind her.

She had to look away as she saw them start to change; she couldn’t bear the sight. Tears stung in her eyes, and her heart thundered in her chest. She grimaced almost painfully and let out a long cry of anguish.

“Now now,” the Beast’s voice startled her it was so close, “It’s no use to struggle. You are weak. I am strong.” She snapped her eyes open and discovered to her horror that he was at the base of the slope, and with a smooth, confident gait, was steadily climbing it.

Towards her.

She froze.

“W-what do you want?” she stammered, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. He wave a hand at her dismissively, and at once the vines binding her snapped into action. With a cruel twist, they yanked her arms over her head and bent them back so that her wrists were trapped behind her head and her breasts were forced to thrust towards him obscenely. At the same time, the tentacles binding her ankles slithered higher, encircling her thighs now and pulling wide. She whined pitifully as what little leverage she could muster was callously crushed, and her legs were forced to spread, baring her smooth sex to his rapacious, smoldering gaze.

Dana trembled, feeling utterly helpless, utterly displayed. Suddenly the nakedness she had always felt so completely at ease with here became a source of vulnerability, turning her stomach in a nervous loop and making her cheeks burst into burning red.

The Beast drew closer.

“I think you know what I want,” the monster chuckled, his voice making strange tremors race through her bound body. His fanged jaws twisted into a sneer, and his lambent eyes flashed. ”You.”

The tentacles wrenched her forward, carrying her towards him at an alarming speed. She choked back a scream as the ruined landscape whirled past her, and she was flung into his arms. Claws outstretched, his deep, arrogant laugh reverberating through her body, the Beast was upon her—

—and then all went black.

“No!“ Dana screamed, jolting awake. Reflexively she snapped upright, and then groaned in dismay as her head spun in protest. She hunched forward, one hand flying to cover her aching eyes, and the other scrabbling to catch her balance. Soft, thick fabric greeted her touch, and she realized belatedly that she could feel some kind of cushion or mattress beneath her. With her head spinning she didn’t dare open her eyes yet, and so she felt about, blindly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The fabric was all around her, a blanket, it seemed, thrown loose when she had woken from her horrific dream.

The dream…

She tried to focus, to remember, but even attempting that made her dizziness worse. She moaned quietly, struggling to get herself under control, to remember where she was, what had happened. Distantly she could recall her travels through the forest, to the great spires of rocks that marked the start of the winding hills and mountains that concealed the Beast’s hidden lair. She had made it with the help of Anna, the brave girl who—

Oh no.

Anna!

Now it wasn’t just uncertainty that clenched at her chest, but an almost mortal terror for the poor girl, and a sickening, wrenching guilt at what she had done to her.

She’d fled into the forest, run into one of the Beast’s consorts—and had been wholly overcome. Shame—and something else she absolutely couldn’t even consider right then—flushed her cheeks a deep, scarlet red. Her stomach knotted in dismay.

“Anna,” Dana whimpered, feeling hot tears welling behind her tightly shut eyes, “Anna, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Be safe. Please, be safe...I’ll save you.”

Brave words, she thought bitterly, since I’m not even sure I can save myself.

It took several long minutes of trying to force her breathing under control before Dana felt confident enough to try gauging her situation.

She was in some kind of underground chamber; the domed ceiling reminded her vaguely of pictures she’d seen of ancient catacomb vaults. The walls and pillars were made of huge slabs of solid stone, perfectly cut and balanced. The masonry skill of its creators was frighteningly impressive—or, perhaps obsessive was the operative word, given the likelihood that she now found herself in the heart of the home of the cult of the Beast.

The room was sparsely adorned, the only notable piece of furniture the sumptuous bed she found herself on. Sconces lined the walls, but only a few of them were lit; the sputtering flames made strange shadows on the walls that were playing hell with Dana’s perception. She couldn’t focus on them too long, or she found herself getting strangely distracted by the dancing shapes.

Her head felt like it was...god. She felt half drunk. Everything had a strange fuzziness to it, from the dancing lights to the strange, unnerving sounds coming distantly through the thick walls, and if she moved her head too quickly, her vision swam a moment as her eyes tried to catch up.

Cautiously, she looked down at herself, searching for any wounds, but apart from a few scratches and welts she seemed to be in perfect condition. Even so, her body felt...funny…

Haltingly, Jungle Babe let her hands fall to the top of her heavy breasts, and slowly, slid them down her naked body.

She shuddered at the result.

“Ohh...fuck,” she gasped, as her skin blossomed in an intense rush of sensation. Her nipples, already stiffened from the cool air, surged to aching hardness at the mere brush of her hands, until she could see them visibly throbbing beneath her gaze.

She shifted her hips gingerly on the bed, and swallowed a reluctant whimper when she felt the slick, feminine heat rub between her legs. She pulled the rest of the blanket aside and looked down, only to confirm what she already feared.

Whatever sensitivity had taken hold of her body had affected her pussy too. Her mound was plump and swollen, her labia puffy and engorged, and all of it glistened with damning readiness in the dim, hellish light. And there, standing prominently erect at the top of her cleft, her clit jutted and throbbed with the same blind eagerness as her nipples. After feeling what had happened when she brushed them, she did not want to risk touching her pussy to investigate any further—not because of what she feared she’d find precisely, but because she had a growing concern that if she started, she might not be able to stop.

She was trapped beneath a mountain of rock, surrounded by brainwashed cultists and inhuman monsters, and she was more turned on than she thought possible. Her body was smoldering.

She groaned and held her head in her hands, trying to fight off the strange fog slowly settling over her thoughts. She suddenly felt faintly drowsy, and the comfort of the bed was growing increasingly more attractive by the second. Maybe she just needed to sleep, she thought dimly, maybe she could just lie down a moment, and close her eyes, rest...

But...no! She couldn’t do that. It was a trap. She knew what would happen if she did. She’d lie down, and the headiness would only get worse, and worse, and the throbbing ache in her breasts and pussy would become harder and harder to ignore. I’ll just touch them a little, she’d concede, just a little, to take the edge off. But a little wouldn’t be enough, not when the pleasure began to mount, and her already dulled senses grew even more sex-drugged, until she’d be helpless on the bed, mindlessly masturbating herself into a vacant stupor and completely unable to resist if the monster—!

“Fuck!” she cried out, jerking sharply as a jolt of pleasure rippled from her pussy. Somehow during that wicked little fantasy, her hand had found its way between her legs and had surreptitiously stroked her stiff little clit, and the effects were just as terrible (wonderful) as she feared. She snatched her hand away, looking at it like it was a dangerous animal, and trying hard not to get too fixated on how her fingertips gleamed wetly in the torchlight.

“I have to get out of here,” she groaned, and forced herself to crawl off the bed.

Moving was hard at first. Her muscles were loose and sleepy, and responded very reluctantly to her commands, and even when she finally found her footing, she felt none of her normal power or strength. She was drained, utterly, from her encounter with Sandra.

As her head steadied itself at last, Dana saw what she suspected was causing her malaise. The entire floor of the chamber was blanketed in thick, sickly green fog. It moved unnaturally, clinging to her bare skin almost like oil instead of gusting away as she moved. The protective effects of the herbs she’d consumed in Anna’s village were clearly wearing off, and the maiasma’s corrupting influence was starting to take its toll.

She needed to get free before she completely succumbed.

Gingerly, with her hand on the wall for support, she began to walk.

The portal to her chamber was a large, circular opening with no visible door. It opened onto a dark hallway beyond that curved gently to the left and the right, giving her the impression that her room was set on some circular hallway in the Beast’s temple. She needed to find a way back to the surface. She resolved to follow the path to her right unless she felt it start to descend, in which case she’d turn around and try following it to the left.

She only hoped she would not encounter any of the monster’s minions, either his mindless slaves or his wicked brides, not to mention the Beast itself.

Doing her best to ignore the needful ache in her loins, Jungle Babe began to walk. Cautiously, she stumbled her way through the labyrinthian halls of the massive, submerged temple, and despite her feelings of unrelenting dread, it was impossible for Dana not to gape at the ancient architecture with startled awe. In her travels through the world’s jungles, she had often come across ancient structures swallowed up by the encroachment of the wild, but none of them compared to the sheer grandeur that surrounded her now.

The walls and floor were cut from massive, gray stone blocks, and even though the arched ceilings were surprising high, she couldn’t help but feel the omnipresent weight of the earth bearing down on her from all sides. Even her footfalls seemed hushed. Buried as she was god only knew how far beneath the mountain, it was as if everything was suspended in muted reverence. The place felt like a temple, like a place absolutely dedicated to worship, except in this case the adoration was centered not around a benevolent deity, but a depraved monster.

Carvings decorated the walls at various points in their journey, most often at intersections where tunnels would merge or veer off. The stygian carvings were unintelligible to her, comprised in part of writings she could not recognize and of glyphs she could not decipher. Initially she thought perhaps they were markers for direction, to help the initiated navigate the winding passageways, but as they passed more and more of them, Dana noticed the patterns were almost always the same. She didn’t know where the realization came from, but in her mind’s eye she imagined the first adherents of the temple moving in prayerful packs down the torchlit halls, and stopping at the joinders of the passages to murmur the carved intonations in practiced unison.

Prayers, she realized, they’re all prayers. To Him.

To the monster.

Not for the first time since she began her walk, she felt an unwelcome flutter of...something...in her belly, one that she couldn’t will away, no matter how hard she tried. There was a perverse excitement to the feeling, knowing that in every darkened hallway or gaping chamber, some malefic creature might lurk, just waiting for her to come close enough to seize. Here, Jungle Babe realized, she was the prey, and that awareness made her acutely sensitive to every sensation that assailed her overcharged body. She was terrified, but with every moment her latent arousal only continued to grow. The hot trickle of wetness she felt slowly leaking down the insides of her thighs made that fact impossible to deny.

It was insane, but once again her mind ran away from her; in the dimly lit corridors, with the floors obscured by a thin blanket of that foul green mist, it was impossible not to feel a terrible sense of erotic foreboding. At any moment, something might lunge out to take her—to throw her to the floor, or carry her away, and ravish her completely. Her screams would echo down these halls, her cries of forced ecstasy proclaiming her submission, as sounds of terror slowly changed into sounds of supplication, and her voice joined with the hundreds of others over the ages who had fallen prey to the demon, become it’s disciple. It’s slave.

Another helpless sextoy for the insatiable Beast.

The thought made her stumble to a stop with a helpless groan as a wave of wet, feminine lust shivered up her body. She braced her back against the wall, panting, as she fought to reestablish control.

“Stop it, Dana,” she hissed, screwing her eyes shut, “You’re making it worse. Just stop. Focus. You have to escape.”

But it was hard, and seemingly getting harder by the second. She wasn’t just drowsy, she was tired. Her legs felt like gelatin, and her breathing was labored—and she couldn’t have been walking for more than ten minutes. Despite her best efforts, she didn’t know if she was any closer to the surface or not; the halls were confusing enough, but to her sluggish mind, they felt incomprehensible. She had no idea where she was, how far she’d come from where she woke, how far she had to go. All she could do was focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and walk.

She’d become almost accustomed to the sound of her own breathing that she didn’t recognize the noise when she first heard it, but the second time it reached her ears, she stumbled to a halt, alarmed.

That had sounded almost like a…

There. Again. Low and distant, but impossible to miss. She heard them. The voices.

No. The moans.

Jungle Babe was fraught with indecision. Should she turn around? Those voices, they sounded human, but their tenor—their ardor—was hauntingly unsettling. If she proceeded, and it was a trap of some kind, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to fight them off.

But...fuck. What choice did she really have? She feared that trying to backtrack now would only result in her total exhaustion, and then she’d really and truly be doomed. If she wasn’t already.

So steeling herself for whatever horrors might lurk ahead, and trying her best to deny how those sounds made her clitoris practically tremble in anticipation, she continued forward.

Presently, she saw the light.

The hallway curved slightly ahead of her, and where the end vanished out of sight, there radiated a faint, green glow that was much brighter than the pallid emerald fog still hungrily lapping at her knees—

Her knees?

Jungle Babe looked down in alarm, and noticed for the first time how much thicker the mist was here. It had swollen the closer the came to the source of the sounds, and now floated almost two feet deep. It shifted and whorled in unnatural animation, and the air was heavy with a humid, salty scent that made her drunken mind feel even fuzzier.

Once again she fought the urge to flee. She’d come this far. She couldn’t just turn around now.

She had to see.

And so, swallowing down the lump of nervous anxiety that had filled her throat, she pushed ahead. But when she finally arrived at the yawning door at the end of the hallway, she stopped short—

—and stared in wide-eyed, gaping disbelief.

The hallway terminated at an arched opening nearly twelve feet wide, but this massive door was itself dwarfed by the chamber that extended beyond. It was massive, a great, cavernous chamber whose rough-hewn walls were riddled with thick, pulsating roots, while the craggy stalactite-covered ceiling hung thickly with long, ropy vines, some of which created living columns reaching from the ceiling to the ground below.

Or, more precisely, into the milky pools of glistening liquid that bubbled amidst the rocks; dozens of them, some no larger than a few feet wide, others the size of swimming pools, and all of them frothing with the thick, pale fog rising off their surfaces. Like a twisted, unnatural volcanic spring.

That was why the fog was so much thicker here; Jungle Babe had found what had to be the pulsing heart of the Beast’s lair, the center of the cancerous corruption invading the surrounding forest. But for as horrifying as that discovery would have been on its own, it’s what she saw in the pools that made her heart jump—

—and her traitorous pussy clench in helpless sympathy.

All throughout the chamber, either immersed in the evil fluid or else sprawled upon the ground surrounding the pools, were women. Countless women, all completely naked, and all caught up in some form of hedonistic abandon, either alone, trapped among a tangle of tentacle vines that bound and defiled, or else caught up in the arms of a partner. And not all of those partners were human.

Among the throng of victims, Dana could see the misshapen forms of the corrupted male townsfolk engaged in horrendous acts of sexual violation. They had girls pinned beneath them, or against the edges of the pools, while their sinewy bodies fucked in a ravenous rut. Some poor girls were trapped between multiple assailants, forced to service two, three, or more of the monsters at the same time.

But as Dana stood there in mute shock, she gradually came to a startling revelation. For all that she could see and hear, not once had she heard a cry of terror, or alarm, fear or pain. The women trapped below weren’t desperately trying to escape their plight, but rather seemed utterly consumed by the primal, sub-human sexuality that had them in its grip.

They might have been victims, but they were also participants; willing and eager participants to the debauchery unfolding around them. Feminine legs were wrapped around the monsters between their thighs, hips rising to meet them thrust for thrust. Girls bounced hungrily in the laps of others, heads thrown back in total abandon while inhuman teeth and tongues lashed at their out-thrust tits. Others were mere playthings, sandwiched between two beasts as they were taken front and back, their bodies seizing in tantric torment as they were forced to cum over and over again.

She saw girls actively going down on the things were they sat at the edge of the pools, slavishly pleasuring the creatures’ jutting cocks with their mouths, hands, and breasts, even while more of the beasts lurked nearby. Girls fell upon girls, impatiently pleasuring each other to satisfy their mindless need for sex.

And the girls not consumed by the beasts or each other were the prey of the vines. Dana saw them, trapped in endless coils of slimy, oozing un-plants that slithered over their quivering bodies. In the insane web of the vines, it was mostly impossible to see just how the girls were being violated, but Dana didn’t have to. Their glassy, vacant eyes, and their howls of sheer, mind-fucked ecstasy were evidence enough.

In the sepulchral glow of the pools, every savage, carnal excess was on full display, and the entire chamber echoed with the cries and gasps and moans of the hellish orgy churning below. It was a scene ripped from some perverse, fevered nightmare, something only the dark and malignant mind of a literal sex demon could conjure into being—

—and yet Dana had to consciously fight the urge to stumble down the slope of the cavern to join them.

Her heart was hammering, her chest quaking with every labored, panting breath, and her legs were so shaky that had she not been holding to the wall with white-knuckled intensity, she would surely have fallen to the floor. The sights and sounds from the madness below were that much more terrifying for how powerfully alluring they were. They spoke not just of pleasure (endless, ceaseless, soul-stealing pleasure…), but of release...freedom. Freedom to feel, to be felt, to fuck and be fucked; freedom from fear and terror in the white-hot grip of sex-madness; freedom from everything but single-minded, all-consuming carnal need.

How many women had woken up just as she had, terrified and alone? How many had wandered the halls until they discovered this very sight? How many had felt the same magnetic pull in their loins, and had simply...given in? Was she looking at those very women now? Would she do the same?

It would be so easy. She just needed to walk. Or crawl. Just needed to reach the edge of the pools...and someone—or something—would pull her in. Then she’d be one of them, caught up in the same wanton excess. And then...she’d never need to fear...or think...ever again...

“Nooo!” she gasped, lurching drunkenly backwards and throwing her hands over her ears to block out the song of the seductive chorus below. She fell, landing in a sprawl on the stone floor. The pain of the impact helped jar her head, momentarily dispelling the erotic fog that had slowly been pulling her in, but also making her terribly aware of her own body’s state. Her pussy was drenched, her thighs glistening; she wanted to squeeze her thighs together to stop the sensation, but at the same time feared what that delicious pressure would do to her oversensitized body.

“Have to get out…” she repeated desperately, forcing herself onto her hands and knees. The fog was all around her now, up to her shoulders, and the salty, musky scent was making her head swim. “Have to...get...a-away…before I…”

Give in…

“No…” she groaned, screwing her eyes shut and shaking it—hard—but that only served to make her even more dizzy and disoriented. The whole room seemed to be...spinning…

Give in to the lust. The need. The desire.

The voice in her head—was she going mad? Was it hers, shamelessly expressing the truth she was too terrified to acknowledge, or did it belong to someone else? Some...thing? She didn’t know. Couldn’t focus. Her clit was...throbbing…!

She could almost hear the voice smile.

So hot. So horny. So helplessly...aroused. Why fight it...when all you want to do is...come…

“Musn’t come,” Jungle Babe moaned, her voice thick with the very desire the voice described that she desperately tried to deny. “Musn’t come. Musn’t come.”

It was all she could do, crumpled on her knees, to repeat the words and try to block out the almost overwhelming need she felt to comply. She was teetering, on the very brink. A pinch of her nipple, a caress of her clit, would have sent her screaming into release, but in the end it was something far more devastating that was her undoing.

A familiar, sweet voice called out to her.

“Dana.”

She jerked her head up at the sound, her heart leaping into her throat, and gaped in utter disbelief across the pool to a yawning portal opposite her. There, standing in beautiful, regal glory was the woman she had sought so desperately to find: Brenda Wade, Miss Americana, wearing the flimsiest of gossamer robes that clung to her every voluptuous curve and split scandalously high up each thigh. She was a vision of erotic sensuality, her raven hair spilling behind her in midnight waves that only seemed to make her blue eyes that much more enthralling.

Instantly Dana felt the deep pang of recognition; this was no illusion, no trick of that witch Sandra. It was really and truly Brenda Wade. Her hero.

Her friend.

Dana could only stare. She could scarcely remember to breathe. Her voice cracked. “B-brenda…?”

Her friend smiled. A kind, calm, reassuring smile that—even across the gap that divided them—seemed to envelop Jungle Babe in its warmth. She sighed, her taut limbs loosening. Tears of relief beaded at the corners of her eyes.

“Yes, sweetie. It’s me,” her friend answered. “I’m here. I’m safe.”

The words didn’t make sense to her. She couldn’t be safe. None of them were. Yet to her frazzled mind, Dana could only feel a surge of joy.

“Oh god,” she choked, “I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”

“I know,” Miss Americana began walking towards her, her gown flowing. Her eyes remained fixed on Dana’s own, starlights of blue. The rutting orgy seemed to quiet and grow distant in Dana’s ears, even as its participants wordlessly parted to allow this goddess passage. Perfect feet trod gracefully between the pools, effortlessly maneuvering her through the maze of pathways in an unerring beeline to where Dana knelt in a crumpled, panting heap. And through some trick of the cavern, Brenda’s voice remained soft and soothing in her ears, despite the distance; distance that was rapidly closing.

“I know, darling,” Miss Americana soothed. “You’ve been through so much. Travelled so far. All to save me.” She beamed, and Dana felt her heart melt. “You are such a wonderful friend, Dana. Thank you.“

She had reached the final pool before the cavern sloped up to where Dana was, but instead of avoiding it, this time Brenda waded directly into it. The trail of her gown floated along the milky surface, glimmering in the dim. She opened her arms wide, offering her embrace.

“It’s time, Dana,” she breathed, “Your journey is over. I am here.” Her eyes seemed to pulse and ebb like twin sapphire pools of unknowable depth. Dana found herself completely unable—or unwilling—to look away. Miss Americana’s voice brushed against her with all the familiarity of a lover’s touch. “Come to me.”

Dana swooned, her only answer a low, helpless moan as she struggled to comply. She rose on unsteady feet, swaying dangerously left and right. Only the fixed, steady gaze of her friend helped keep her balanced. She staggered down the slope, her thoughts and feelings a chaotic whirl in her head that simply made no sense any more. There was only Brenda. Brenda’s eyes. Brenda’s voice.

And the hot, palpitating fever of desire that burned in every fiber of her being.

“Come to me Dana,” Miss Americana purred, beckoning with long, slender fingers. “Come...come…”

It was both a command and a promise, and Dana, intoxicated and entranced, could do nothing but obey.

She reached the edge of the pool, and paid it no mind. Her next step was into the warm, semen-slurry that was thicker than water and more slippery than oil, and it threw her already precarious coordination completely out of control. She groaned, stumbled, and would have fallen into it entirely had a pair of strong, powerful arms not reached out to catch her, and pull her instantly into a tight, possessive embrace.

Dana moaned as she felt her aching tits press and rub against Brenda’s own. Through the spider-web-thin fabric of her robe, she felt the other woman’s sumptuous softness, and the soaring stiffness of her nipples as they stood to meet her own. She melted into Brenda’s arms, all strength and volition draining out of her body and into the vile fluid pooled around her thighs. Her eyes fluttered, her panting body trembled as she felt soft, feminine hands caress her back. Her neck. Her ass. Brenda’s lips grazed her ear and she shivered.

“You came here to save me,” she whispered, “But now it’s my turn to save you—from all your worries, from all your troubles...from every bothersome thought.” That last word hung ominously in the air, but Dana was too far gone to recognize the danger she was in. When Brenda pulled back just slightly, it was all she could do to stare up into the taller woman’s gorgeous face with heavy, hooded, lust-laden eyes. Her ruby lips were coming closer...closer…

“I am going to prepare you…” Miss Americana whispered, just before their lips touched, “...for... my...Master…!”

It was only then that a small part of Dana’s mind swam to consciousness long enough to recognize what was happening—to note the heady, drugged tone to her friend’s voice, and the vacant, doll-like glassiness of her eyes—but it was too late. Her lips captured her in a deep, sensual kiss even as her hand slipped between them, slinking between Jungle Babe’s wet thighs and capturing her clit beneath merciless fingers—

—and Jungle Babe came, screaming, into Miss Americana’s corrupted kiss, pleasure blazing her mind into a canvas that was barren, white, and completely, utterly—

—blank.

What happened after that seemed like a single uninterrupted sensual fever dream.

Jungle Babe melted into the arms of her beautiful seductress and the two sank together into the steamy pale fluids of the pool, their tongues writhing like love-sick snakes. Mindless sounds of drunken bliss moaned out of Dana’s throat, met by the soft, encouraging coos and giggles of Miss Americana. They slipped and twisted about each other, gliding through the thick water that filled their senses with its heat—and the rich, salty scent of inhuman cum.

Jungle Babe’s hand moved on pure instinct; her mind was emptied of all but the most basic of needs, and right then, she could scarcely coordinate herself beyond simply fulfilling her desires. They slid up and down Miss America’s back, sank deep into the perfect firmness of her ass, and lost themselves in the impossible softness of her tits. Brenda welcomed every touch with a dizzy moan, even as her own hands moved purposefully to stoke her friend to even greater heights of urgency. Long fingers played and tweaked taut and turgid nipples; tapered nails teased and circled; she slipped a toned thigh between Dana’s legs, and was rewarded with a strangled sob as it made contact with her swollen mound. Shamelessly, Jungle Babe began to grind herself upon the smooth muscle, her brow screwing with pleasure.

Brenda took hold of her hips beneath the water and helped focus her movements, ensuring she kept maximum pressure on her needy little clit with every thrust. Jungle Babe cried out.

“That’s it, sweetie,” Brenda panted, licking at her ear. “Let yourself go. There is no one to judge you here. No shame in taking your pleasure. I know it feels good. I want it to feel good. That’s it. Faster. Harder! You need it; need it so bad. Need to...cum!”

As if on command, Jungle Babe felt her pussy clench and her body seize as she humped herself to climax. Her head threw back and her ruby lips parted in a grateful groan as Brenda showered her neck and breasts with soft kisses and held her all through the waves of her ecstasy. But as they slowly ebbed, Dana’s lust-soaked mind became distantly aware that the relief was all too fleeting; even as the last quivers in her pussy ceased, a new seed of need was already starting to blossom. She sighed, nibbling her lip. Confused, she could only whimper and whine, “MMmm….mmmmph…!”

“More,” Miss Americana moaned, giving her friend the word she so desperately sought, “You need more…!”

“More,” Jungle Babe repeated, nodding in relief, “Need more...need...oohhh…!”

Her words left her as Brenda lowered her head and took her breast in her mouth, sucking and flicking her aching nipple while her hand squeezed and massaged the soft flesh around it. She lavished it with her devotion until Jungle Babe was practically trembling, and then she moved to the other until the beautiful blonde was reduced once more to a sobbing, gasping mess.

Miss Americana let her captive nipple slip free of her suckling mouth with an audible pop.

“Mmm...like that, baby?” she cooed, nuzzling her face into the deep cleft of Dana’s breasts. “You’re so sensitive. I’ll bet I could make you cum just sucking on these big stiff nipples of yours...but I know something you’re going to love even more…”

Gently, she guided her dazed companion to the edge of the pool. She lifted her onto the ledge, then took hold of her knees. She gave Dana a mischievous, knowing grin before she slowly forced her legs wide apart.

“Now...just relax…” Miss Americana breathed, slowly descending towards the bare, unprotected sex of the entranced heroine, “I’m going to make you feel good...so very good...just relax...and give in…”

It took all her strength to hold Jungle Babe’s legs apart when she finally let her tongue sweep over the throbbing bud of her clit. Dana cried out, her muscles seizing in the sudden explosion of bliss, but as Brenda’s tongue began to lick and circle and tease and caress, it was like all the strength drained out of her. Her glassy eyes fluttered, her mouth opened in a helpless moan, and she slowly fell backwards until she was splayed out, writhing on the soft, spongy ground. Miss Americana found no further resistance as she easily pushed her partner’s legs obscenely wide, giving her full and unhindered access to her dripping cunt. As she licked and pleasured, her hooded eyes remained fixed on Dana’s rapturous face, watching her expressions and learning which places were the most sensitive.

She was utterly merciless. With devious skill, she worked her friend up to a crescendo of pleasure, taking her right to the very edge of release before cruelly backing off. Then she did it again. And again. She giggled each time as she listened to Dana’a frustrated moans, and watched as she tried in vain to hump her mound back into contact with her receding tongue.

“Don’t rush, darling,” Brenda soothed, kissing all around her labia and trembling inner thighs, “There is no hurry. Just let the pleasure carry you. Feel your desires mount. You have no control here, Dana. You can only submit. Feel pleasure...and submit…”

She resumed her wicked work, enveloping Dana’s weeping pussy in her mouth and exploring her with her tongue. Her words echoed in Jungle Babe’s empty head, repeating themselves over and over again as she was assaulted by pleasure, as if they were being writ into her very being with each sensual tongue-stroke.

And Jungle Babe was helpless; even if she had the strength to escape, she had none of the will. The feeling of being so patiently and lovingly devoured simply overwhelmed her, and with Brenda’s powerful words guiding her, she fell further and further into the unrelenting spiral of sexual captivity. The lines between build and climax began to blur, until there didn’t seem to be any difference; she was simply a tiny, insignificant ship adrift on an ocean of pleasure, letting the waves take and toss her however they pleased. Her fingers alternated between raking along the sodden earth, or clinging desperately to Brenda’s hair as her own tossed wildly upon the ground.

Her cries and moans had not gone unnoticed by the others in the pools; in fact, the erotic show the two shapely heroines were putting on had attracted quite a crowd. Women and their monstrous lovers now circled them in a ring of debauched excess, with cocks and pussies being rubbed, stroked, and filled to the sight of the raven-haired goddess licking her blonde captive to utter surrender. Two girls, apparently overcome by the sight of Dana’s great, heaving tits, crawled forward until they reached her by the pool, and fell upon her nipples with almost savage intensity.

Jungle Babe cried out, arching her back in delicious agony as their little mouths worked evil magic upon her neglected breasts, while between her legs Brenda carefully adjusted her attack to keep her dancing on the razor’s edge. She gave each of the girls a very meaningful glare, and they both nodded in understanding—the blonde was not to be allowed to cum, no matter how much she might want to.

But they could tease her as much as they liked.

“Taste me…” one of them whimpered, dipping her fingers into her own sex and brining the shiny digits to Dana’s mouth, “Taste…”

Dana groaned as the sweet, tangy flavor touched her tongue. She reacted on reflex, closing her lips around the girl’s fingers and sucking greedily. The girl giggled, then did it again, gaping in wonder at the sensation of Jungle Babe’s tongue laving her fingers like a cock.

“Taste me…” she repeated, slowly straddling Jungle Babe’s face. “Taste...me…”

Dana never saw the smooth pussy descend to her mouth, but as soon as he tasted the girl’s hot, wet sex, she knew instinctively what she was being asked to do. She wrapped her arms around the girl’s slender thighs, capturing her in an oily embrace, and obediently opened her mouth. The girl’s voice rang out sweetly as Jungle Babe began to lap and sup at her copiously flowing slit, and it was not long before she was crying out in release, cumming all over Dana’s upturned face. No sooner had she climaxed than her partner wanted a turn, and Jungle Babe was only too eager to comply. Between the blonde’s legs, Miss Americana smirked in dark satisfaction as she watched her friend grow increasingly drunk off hot girl juice, and lazily licked her slit and clit to goad her on.

When it became obvious what the new game was, the circle around them grew tighter still. One after another, women from the crowd would crawl forward and take their place atop Dana’s panting mouth, and offer the dizzy blonde their dripping slits. Jungle Babe soon became hopelessly lost in the procession, until all became a heady blur of giving and receiving pleasure, her senses filled with the rich, musky scent of female arousal and her tongue bathed in the reward of her efforts. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she imagined it was a very particular girl who was riding her mouth and giving in to the caresses of her tongue, and with the image of dear sweet Anna dancing in front of her fevered mind, she gave herself over to her need with unbridled fervor.

The groans and cries of hedonistic abandonment rose around her like a chorus. She could feel the song reverberating in her very bones.

Overcome by the sight of such sapphic revelry, one of the malformed beast-men uttered an impatient grunt, and shoved its way towards the prone Jungle Babe. It pushed the girl riding her aside, and tangled its gnarled fingers up in her hair, pulling her eager mouth towards his hard and waiting cock—

—until a voice growled a cold warning.

“No,” Miss Americana snapped, her blue eyes lashing the un-man with a sting far worse than any whip. He jerked back, slack lips drooling in confusion. Miss Americana shot him an arched look. “No cocks. No one is to penetrate her. The Master wills it.”

The thing crumpled in dismay, burbling so pitifully that Miss Americana’s features instantly softened. She smiled at it as one might an indulged child. “You may cum on her, if you like. She can even help you do it. She has hands. But she is not to feel a cock in her mouth or anywhere else...not yet...” she added ominously, but the beast wasn’t listening anymore. Hurriedly, it moved beside Jungle Babe and placed her hand around the solid column of his dick. She groaned, and stared at it in momentary confusion...but then she recognized what it was, and issued a hungry, sensual growl before she began stroking him from base to drooling tip.

Another beast took his place opposite his brother, and the game began anew, its rules now clear. Another girl took her place over Dana’s mouth, and the urgency of the crowd built even higher as they watched the fallen Jungle Babe dutifully stroking twin cocks even as her mouth ravenously supped, until both cocks and cunt exploded over her in sprays of orgasmic release. Semen dripped from her fingers and lubricated the next set of cocks that were pushed into her hands, and soon her stomach and tits were streak-soaked with thick ropes of white, and a growing puddle of girl juice widened around her head and neck.

It was endless, unrelenting, and exquisite. Jungle Babe lost herself in the rut of the crowd, hungrily reaching for another cock, another girl, her own animalistic growls joining the cacophony of excess all around her. When Miss America, giving her friend’s pussy a final, parting lick, finally nodded, the crowd surged in, lifting Jungle Babe into their midst and swallowing her up. The once valiant champion of truth and justice settled herself in a throne-like outcropping of rock, dragging a pretty young thing with her and pulling her eager lips to her own unattended sex. She sighed as the girl began to worship, and stroked her hair approvingly as she watched as the orgy took Dana into their midst.

Any other girl would have found herself instantly impaled thrice over by the horde of rutting males, but the Master’s orders were clear, and his will absolute. None of the un-men would dare take her, and would actively deny any attempt she made at taking them. She was trapped, caught in a riot of soft female flesh and hard, rippling male muscle—pleasured and teased but wholly denied the chance to satisfy the increasingly primal need in her empty sex.

Brenda knew her friend had nothing to fear though; soon enough, she would meet her new Master, and nothing she was being denied now could compare to the hard, thick, enslaving member that hung between his legs.

Miss Americana shivered, an orgasm erupting in her pussy at the mere thought of it, of Him. She petted the girl’s head affectionately, and for a brief moment, caught Dana’s eyes in the tumult of the crowd.

The corrupted heroine saw her friend’s blank, doll-like stare, smiled evilly, and mouthed only a single, simple word.

“More.”