The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Leave it alone.”

“But mother…”

“I said leave it alone! I know it looks cute, but who knows what sorts of diseases it has. Fleas, maybe. Your father worked hard to make sure we didn’t all have to live like the herders; I know he wouldn’t appreciate coming home to a flea-ridden house. It would make you unseemly, too.”

“But I’m already engaged. I don’t have to be “seemly” anymore.”

“Don’t be foolish, Karida. Being betrothed now means you have to work all the harder to appear beautiful before your fiancé, and you can’t relax even when you become a wife. Your duty will then be to your husband. Now come along and leave that thing alone.”

Karida sighed, giving the black cat a last, affectionate pat on the head before she turned to follow her mother down the narrow street through the city of Masqat. “Why have you never bought a new cat since Aleser died?” she asked as she tried to keep up the brisk pace her mother had set. She received no reply. This was emblematic of their relationship, as her parents had once doted on her despite being their youngest daughter, but their relationship had cooled in the years following the death of their old housecat, Aleser. It had died six years ago, when she had been twelve years old, and though she had properly mourned the cat’s passing, she had grown more eager over the years to acquire another, but to no avail.

“Do you think my fiancé will be able to get me a cat?” she asked instead. She knew little enough about him, except that he had connections with the Western energy firms, and thus would be good business for her father, who purchased geological engineering machinery from Europe to sell to the oil exploration companies. She also knew she would be his third wife, and that the other wives were in their 30s whereas she was but 18 years old, meaning she would face hardship with her position in the household.

“That is not for you to ask,” her mother said. “You should be grateful that you have found a husband who is able to care for several wives, and you should ask for nothing in return other than his love and support. If he buys you a cat, it will be from the goodness of his own heart.”

Karida did not like these statements, though she knew better than to say anything. She had always been headstrong, and as she grew to understand the role of women in Oman she had begun to resent the degree of obedience and subservience that was to be expected of her. Broaching the subject with her parents had been one component of the gradual cooling of relations between them, though by no means the largest. Instead Karida followed her mother back to their home.

Recently, dinners in the household of Nouri al-Sharif resembled something out of the dubbed Western television shows that the family sometimes watched. Karida was the youngest child, the last remaining unmarried, making them a one-child home. For a family with a husband of herder descent in Masqat, they were fairly well-off thanks to the hard work of her father, who had gotten a college education in the United Kingdom and ascended from his humble background. On this night, their daughter felt a renewed boldness and dared to ask anew in the presence of her father. “Father, do you think my fiancé will get me a cat?”

Her mother groaned. “She was on about this earlier today,” she said. “I told her that it is not her place to ask such a thing of him.”

“Your mother’s right,” her father said. “This marriage has been a blessing from Allah, and you would dishonor us all if you do not behave appropriately. It is fortunate enough that my business should prosper from the grace of your fiancé, but yet more fortunate that we found a man with multiple wives, wives who might distract him from knowing of your… condition.” Her father made a face on the last word, and her mother glowered as well. “You too have been fortunate, Karida. We have shielded you and given you some measure of freedom. We did not move to have you married until you reached full adulthood, unlike many in this country. You wear only a hijab in public, and you have not…” this time he paused to choose his words more carefully, “been sent to the Imams. You have had a good a youth as any girl can ask for, and now you must take on the responsibilities of marriage. You must learn to tame these childish desires quickly

“I understand…” Karida said, though she did not sound pleased about it.

After dinner, Karida retreated to her bedroom. In the confines of her room, Karida appeared much like the typical 18-year-old girls of many cultures, with a Western T-shirt and a pair of shorts worn when the robes she wore out in public were cast aside. Her family did not make her don the burqa nor the niqab, but nevertheless she often wore somewhat conservative robes that concealed her extremities and complemented the hijab she wore in public. In private she could let down her hair, long and black and well-maintained with the imported shampoos her family could afford. Her marriageability was apparent in the soft curves of her face, her skin that was a smooth brown like Mocha coffee drowned in a bit too much cream, while her eyes glistened like dark points of onyx.

She was an athletic young woman, exercising in the women-only gymnasium, and her young body revealed this fact as well, lacking any extra fat but being svelte and nubile. Any extra fat she may have had seemed to go to her breasts, which were quite well-developed for a woman of her body-size, though her beauty was not the main reason that she was being wed at her age.

The secret behind her parents’ eagerness to marry her, the thing that her mother and father refused to speak of, or indeed the reason that Karida’s bedroom seemed so Spartan, lacking even magazines or anything other than the essentials, was that Karida was a lesbian. That had become apparent through puberty, as her breasts had begun to develop, when Karida had been able to identify with surprising certainty that she was attracted to women and not to men. From some of the fashion magazines her father had once brought back from London, she found herself amazed and compelled by the shamefully-clad women in a way that the handsome and well-prepared men could not accomplish. In the innocence and confusion of youth she had confessed her feelings to her parents, and then the trouble had begun. Her barren bedroom was one result of this: her parents no longer trusted her with magazines or books, and certainly would not trust her with a television, not knowing what perverse thoughts she might be thinking. The only book in her room was a Quran.

On the whole, Karida knew she should be thankful for how her parents had dealt with her homosexuality. There were many Imams in the city of Masqat, some of whom preached very strict, reactionary, or violent ideals. Mostly their anger seemed to be directed at the West, but also at things they felt the West to be responsible for, like deviancy in the youth. To them, homosexuality was a sign of Western decadence seeping in, and that as Allah had done with the heathen cities of Sodom and Gomorrah in the past, so good Muslims should do to those who strayed from the ordained path of nature. Even some of the more moderate Imams sought aggressively to “cure” homosexuals if they could find them, but Karida’s parents had heard of the forms such “cures” took, and thus had shielded their daughter, knowing that her homosexuality did not make her less human. They were still ashamed of their daughter’s lesbianism, however, knowing that others in the land were not so tolerant and that it would damage the reputation of the family if her condition were discovered. Despite their annoyance at her condition, they still loved her and tried to help her in the only way they knew: get her married to a good husband as soon as she hit adulthood, before the community got wind of her dark secret and her marriageability was lost.

Karida herself knew that her lesbianism was a trial from Allah, a temptation that she could use to prove her worth as a virtuous Muslim woman, and so relented to the designs of her parents, knowing that this path was the best for her. Her heart was often in disagreement with her head, however, and she found herself yearning that things could be different.

It was time to pray the Isha’a, the nighttime prayer. She rolled out her prayer mat, knelt upon it and raised her hands. “Allahu…” she began, and then suddenly saw the black cat. It was the same black cat from the marketplace earlier that day. Karida was shocked, wondering how the cat had gotten into their house, before the cat did something that startled her yet more.

“Akbar,” the cat said, finishing the phrase of Takbir.

Karida looked upon the cat in stunned silence, torn in the span of a moment between many conflicting questions on the nature of the cat’s identity. She didn’t know what a cat that could speak the Takbir possibly meant: a jinn or an angel or merely a figment of sudden insanity. Perhaps she hadn’t heard the cat say “Akbar” at all. Denial was winning out in her mental battle when the cat decided to complicate things.

“Speak,” it said. She said, Karida realized. The cat spoke with a feminine voice, smooth and mature. “Be not silent, you may address me.”

“What are you?” Karida asked suspiciously. With the cat having shattered her attempt at denial, she settled on hostility. “Why are you interrupting the Isha’a?”

“Because Islam is not your true religion,” the cat replied.

“Blasphemy!” Karida hissed, self-aware enough to know that she should not shout or scream, that great trouble would come to her if anyone were aware of this cat, whatever its true nature was. “Islam is truth,” she growled.

“Peace,” the cat said. “I do not intend to disparage anyone’s faith, but I can state with certainty that as far as you, Karida in-Bastet, are concerned, Allah is not the most important deity.”

“What did you call me?” Karida barked back, more concerned by the odd name than the hideous blasphemy dripping from the cat’s mouth.

“Karida in-Bastet. The latter is your true last name, not al-Sharif. It is the lineage from which you are descended, the lineage which has sworn itself to me forever and ever. For behold,” the cat said, and then suddenly its form changed, its body flowing like smooth liquid as it took on human-like shape.

What stood before her now was the embodiment of all perverse desires Karida had ever felt. It was a shapely thing, shapelier than the shameful women from the fashion magazines, all curves in correct proportion, everything except her most private places revealed to sight, skin still darker and smooth, with a face sculpted to embody power and regal beauty and long black hair that reached down to her waist. Form-hugging bands of gold covered her curves, concealing her nipples and her womanhood in a manner similar to a bikini. Her eyes too were golden, with feline slits for pupils, and eye-teeth were visible in her half-open mouth behind sensuous lips. This form tugged at Karida’s impure, lesbian desires, making her feel aroused much more strongly than she ever had thus far.

“I am Bastet,” the thing-in-woman’s-shape said. “I am the Goddess of Cats and the Moon, once worshipped by people who inhabited a land that is today called Egypt. Are you familiar with me?”

“No…” Karida said, somehow finding the will to speak between the feelings of awe and desire that warped her very thoughts. She knew that in the time before the Prophet Muhammed, or even before Christianity swept over that region, even back unto the days of Moses, the pyramid-builders had worshipped many things, pagan idols based upon nature, though she had never been interested in any of their specific identities. Their identity, her identity, did not matter now, either. “There is no God but Allah,” Karida said, though there was little conviction in her voice. Bastet was not willing to get involved in a theological debate and ignored the profession of faith. “Long ago your ancestors were deeply involved in worship of me, and they pledged the service of their family for all time: all daughters of the family who are able to serve me shall do so. You are one such daughter,” she said.

The thing’s story was plausible, as Karida remembered that although her father had come from Bedouin herder background from the hills of Southern Oman, her mother had come from a merchant family that had originated in Egypt, emigrating back after the First World War. It was not impossible that, tracking down her mother’s line through the millennia, she might find her way back to pagan Egypt. “Why me?” she asked instead. “Why trouble me and not my older sister, or my mother?”

“It is rare that one is born into the family line that is able to serve,” Bastet said, stepping slowly closer to Karida and brushing a few fingers gently against the girl’s cheek. “What sets you apart from your mother and your sister?”

Karida hung her head in shame as it became clear what this was about. “My condition…” she said.

“Don’t be ashamed, my child,” Bastet replied, now cupping Karida’s chin in her hand and allowing herself to look into Karida’s eyes. “It is a blessing to be selected. Only girls who share my pure love for womankind can truly serve me, and your blessing means you shall become my servant.”

“This is a test, isn’t it?” Karida said, recoiling from Bastet’s touch and the uncomfortable, but all too desirable, feelings that came with it. “Are you an angel, or a wicked jinn?”

“Neither,” said Bastet. “I am Bastet, and I have come to claim you as my servant.”

“You have come from Allah or Iblis to test my faith,” Karida said, sounding desperate. “There is no God but Allah.”

“I do not answer to Allah or to Iblis,” Bastet said. “I am my own deity, with my own domain. I love the moon and the night, for its coolness and its purity, as I know that you do. Like you, I love cats, and I can indulge your love.” Suddenly Bastet morphed again, her human arms and legs taking on lion-shape with golden fur, though she still stood upright, and her torso was still human-shaped, though covered in that same golden fur, and her head took the shape of a lioness, proud and feral. Bastet the lioness smiled, growled and swiped her claws at Karida playfully.

Bastet morphed anew, switching to a black cat shape, but with human hair and a face that was somewhere between woman and cat and a long, black tail that she held to her body coyly. “I can indulge all your desires, Karida,” she said. “Even the ones that you feel are out of reach, the ones that you have wrongly been taught to hate.” Karida watched the transformations, feeling the desire that continued to course through her body at each new form. This thing played not only on her lesbianism, but inspired bestial desires in her as well. She wanted to do to the cat-thing activities which should be reserved only for her husband after they were wed. Night was proceeding, her parents would go to bed shortly after they had said their nightly prayers, and she was alone with this thing in her room, this thing which sought to give her all she desired, perverting her from the proper path in the process.

“Leave…” Karida said with a great effort, fighting back against the desire, the compelling, husky tones and the strange way that any form the thing took seemed to pull at her. She stepped away from it and pointed towards her window. “I will not be corrupted,” she said. “I am a good Muslim woman, I will be true to my fiancé and to Allah.”

“I know your mind, Karida,” Bastet said, stepping towards the girl once again. “For all of your life I have known of your destiny, observed you, and wanted you. You are strong, and you attempt to be strong when you are confronted with something new and potentially dangerous. That is a noble quality, one that I desire in my servants, but it is not your place to resist me, I’m afraid.” She smiled, showing her predator’s teeth in her half-human face, her yellow eyes glinting in menace.

Fear entered the mix of Karida’s emotions, but it was a fear tempered by awe. Here was a truly strong woman, one who could and did take what she wanted, and this cat-woman wanted her. She was thus frozen in place as the bedeviling woman approached, her black-velvet hips swaying and her tail whisking back and forth, with Karida stricken by fear and awe and secret desire.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Bastet said. “You will not accept me on this night, and that is admirable. But this foolishness must not endure,” she said. The tone of her voice sounded like that of Karida’s mother, stern, loving, and not to be questioned, only it sounded so much more natural coming from her forbidden lips; here was one who loved her but who was not to be disobeyed.

Bastet now stood right before Karida, the cat-goddess towering over the girl-child who was to belong to her. Her yellow eyes reflected in Karida’s jewels of onyx. The slits of Bastet’s pupils widened, and within the depths of those slits Karida saw something vast and incomprehensible. The sight of it consumed her, so that she did not hear the words that followed from Bastet’s mouth, though she knew their meaning. Sleep now, my child. Sleep and dream of me, dream of your destiny, of the ecstasy that awaits you when I return.

Karida fell deep into those eyes and the void beyond, floating on a stream of cosmic bliss into the soft embrace of slumber.

The next morning brought the young girl from a heavenly slumber to a hellish reality. She had indeed had forbidden dreams of the cat-woman, Bastet, though she only understood how forbidden they were upon awakening. In dreamland, she had ridden naked on the back of a lioness, tearing through a desert that was not hot whose sands were not gritty. The lioness had whispered things to her, and she had lovingly clenched her thighs around the lioness’ back in return. Her dreams had been filled with fur, with silky blackness that was soft and decadent, with yellow eyes that pierced her to her soul and filled that soul with reverence for the moon and for cats and the Goddess who controlled them both. She had dreamt of gold that hid things, things that she desperately desired to see, touch, and taste.

She awoke feeling a slickness between her legs, and knew the wrongness of it all. This Bastet had succeeded in corrupting her, having filled her dreams with lesbian fantasy, pagan idolatry, and bestiality. She was being led astray from the righteous path by a great, evil power, and it seemed there was nothing she could do about it.

“What’s wrong, Karida?” her mother asked over breakfast that morning. “You look a little peaked.”

Karida’s face was indeed flushed with the continued arousal that seemed to plague her even after she had awoken, as occasional images from her dreams surfaced in her mind’s eye, but this was nothing she could confess. “It’s nothing, Mother,” she said. “I’m just feeling a little hot.”

“Perhaps you should stay home from school today,” her father said. Whatever his views were, he at least saw the value in his daughter getting education up through secondary school, a local academy for well-to-do girls, and would keep her in for the few months of secondary school she would have after she wed.

“No!” Karida practically shouted. This brought stares from both her parents. “I mean… no sir, I would rather go to school today. I don’t feel that bad.” She couldn’t bear to think of what it would be like if she stayed home today, with nothing to occupy her time but inevitable indulgence in lesbian bestial fantasy.

So she went to school that day, but did little learning. School failed to provide a distraction from the seeds of perversion that had been planted in her mind, which wandered far from the realm of knowledge, trapped in desperation and secret lust. She was afraid of what was happening to her, afraid of what the cat-woman might do to her at any time, but all the more scared of what would happen if anyone discovered her plight. She had not mentioned it at breakfast with her parents, knowing that if she claimed she were being assailed by a blasphemous, spectral lesbian temptress, she would indeed be sent to the Imams no matter how much her parents loved her. Indeed, this “Bastet” seemed such a dire threat to her Muslim virtue that Karida wondered if she should not take herself to an Imam, to learn of what should be done when harassed by demons.

For indeed Bastet’s influence was making her a worse Muslim. She had already neglected the Fajr, her morning prayer, likely held in the bonds of her sinful slumber when she should have been praying, but she was truly alarmed when the time came for Dhuhr, the noon-tide prayer. She went through the motions fervently, wishing that the prayer would burn away her unclean desires, but her mind could not focus on the prayer that came forth from her lips. In her mind, her lips instead trailed their way through a patch of dark fur to a point where the fur parted and a source of wet heat was found. She grew terrified when the Dhuhr was finished and she emerged with her thighs once again slick with wetness.

By the time for Asr, the afternoon prayer, she had indulged in a mental fiction that she was too impure to pray. Asr was after school, so no-one would observe the fact that she had prayed before and yet was not praying now, and passersby would just assume a non-praying woman was on her menses. Like her menses, however, she hoped this would be only a momentary impurity, one that would, like a fever or another sickness, burn itself out and leave her free to pray anew. In the depths of her heart, she knew this was a lie, but she had nowhere else to turn to. She was no scholar of the Quran. Who was she to turn to who would not treat her like the impure, lecherous girl she was? She could count on no-one, neither community nor family nor even Allah himself, if she was unable even to pray. Her fiancé would also be unavailable for help, for learning of this would lead simply to a quick termination of the engagement. For a time she wished she was wearing a niqab, for at least then she could cry in her desperation without anyone knowing she had a problem, but her fear and desperation had to remain completely within, for her own safety. Concealing her tears and walking in her silent torment, she proceeded home.

“What’s wrong with you?” her mother asked. A mother’s instincts were not to be trifled with, and Fatima al-Sharif was no exception. Karida was clever, however, and further driven by her desperate need to keep her plight a secret.

“I guess I shouldn’t have gone to school today,” she said. It wasn’t hard for her to fake sick, because she doubtlessly looked as if she were fever-stricken.

“Go lie down in your room and rest,” her mother said. “I’ll wake you for Maghrib.”

“I’ll be fine,” Karida assured her. “It is my duty to know when to awaken for prayer.”

Her mother smiled in pride while Karida felt sick to her stomach. She had been corrupted into a liar as well, forced to weave falsehoods to protect her corruption from being exposed. In the secret depths of her heart, however, she was eager for time alone in her room.

She tamped down her eagerness upon arriving in her room, however. She had neglected the Asr in her weakness and perversion, but she was determined not to fantasize her way through the Maghrib as well. Instead, she took out her Quran and began reading. This did not prove to be a viable solution, for once again she could read the holy words, but was unable to truly drink in their meaning. At one point the Quran made mention of the Prophet’s time in the desert, and Karida’s mind was instantly drawn to that strangely erotic ride, naked on the back of a lioness dashing through the desert, with the body she so desired right there between her legs which clung to the lioness for comfort and safety. Right there… between her legs…

Karida’s hand ventured downward for the first time. She had never masturbated before, had no prior knowledge of how one was supposed to masturbate, but the imagery embedded in her mind led her on her way. She knew where the nerve endings were, where the sensitive spots were, which sorts of motions would draw out the most pleasure from her virgin womanhood. Drawn along by the sensations shooting through her body, sensations alien to her waking experience but already shown to her through the previous night’s dream, Karida pleasured herself heedlessly, lost in her own ecstasy and the fantasies that filled her mind. She imagined a rough cat tongue or a fur-covered tail in the place of her fingers, and carried herself on into the evening. While the good Muslims were praying the Maghrib, she was caught in her own worship as her pleasure reached a crescendo, as the girl reached climax for the first time in her life, one month before marriage. She lay upon her bed for a while, her Quran forgotten at her side, her legs spread wide and her shorts pulled down to reveal a well-moistened place the color of pale coffee. She lay basking in the afterglow of her own wicked ecstasy before she gained awareness of her wickedness. She had masturbated through the Magrhib, masturbated to fantasies of a pagan lesbian beast. She sobbed and then began to cry for a time, softly, still conscious of what would happen if her parents became aware of things. She pulled up her shorts and withdrew under the covers of her bed, knowing that now that Maghrib was past, her mother would soon come with an offer of food.

Her mother did come by, and Karida perpetuated her lie by smearing her tears around her face, giving her the impression of sweat. She had a runny nose from her crying, which helped her case. She took a small amount of food from her mother, but after she left she resumed crying. She did not turn to her Quran for solace this time, thinking herself too wicked to even touch such a book, fearing that the book would lead merely to more fantasies of Bastet. No, not Bastet, that thing had no name, nor any gender, it was a demon that was successfully corrupting her, taking her weaknesses and magnifying them, drawing her down into its world of darkness. And she could not resist, having no-one in the world who would help her. One way or another, she would be destroyed, whether she was consumed by the demon or killed for her sinfulness, there was no hope left for her.

Karida closed her eyes in her sadness and a new vision entered her; multiple visions. The cat-thing was in them, but the taint of eroticism was gone. Instead she felt a warm embrace, as a silk-clad woman with feline features hugged her and cried with her. Next she lay on the soft, warm sand, curled up beneath a lioness who lay on top of her, curling around her to protect her with its body. Then she was held in black-furred cat arms, with a voice that sang sweetly to her and warm yellow eyes that soothed her as she was rocked gently to sleep. Here was protection, here was safety, here was unconditional love. Bastet, for that was the Goddess’ name, could give her love and protection, as well as fulfilling all of her desires. If there was nothing left for her, she could fall into the warm, beautiful, loving darkness, abandoning Islam and her soul for pleasure, and she could at least be happy in her own destruction.

“Karida, are you awake?”

“Yes mother,” Karida said, sliding up from under the covers and sniffling.

“Your father and I are going to prepare for Isha’a and bed,” she replied, “do you need anything?”

“No thank you,” Karida said.

“Okay, sleep well, dear,” her mother said. She left Karida, but her daughter did not heed her mother’s call for sleep. It was closing in on that time again, the time of the night merely 24 hours before when Bastet had first appeared to her. Had it really been such a short time? In her resolve, Karida felt it had been forever ago when she had been a Muslim girl with a shameful secret who was engaged to be wed. Now she had a secret of greater shame, but she felt a powerful excitement throbbing in her breast, the idea that she would violate all taboos, that she would cast herself before the Cat and Moon Goddess the next time she appeared, prostrate herself and forswear family, decency, and Allah to fall into the thing’s servitude. She was afraid, but the fear was merely fuel for her great excitement.

She heard the call from the Mosque’s loudspeakers flying dimly through the night air, the last call to prayer for the night. She sat up on her bed, feeling her heart throb behind her breasts. She wondered if she should strip naked, but it did not matter. If Bastet wanted her, Bastet would have her, however she appeared. The voice from the loudspeakers ended, and a tense silence hung through the air for several tense seconds, before it finally happened. There was a click and suddenly her window slid open, and there she was. Karida was struck by how, even as an ordinary-looking black cat, her Goddess could be so stunning.

“Bastet…” she said slowly.

Bastet said nothing, simply looking into Karida’s eyes. Karida ached for the cat to say something, anything, approval or disapproval, love, lust, or hatred. Instead the cat turned and leapt out the window. “Wait!” Karida shouted, no longer worried about whether her parents would hear her. Heedless of secrecy or her own safety, she charged towards the window and leapt out, determined to follow her Goddess. She fell through the air for one agonizing moment, an island of sanity in her brain wondering if she had not been deceived to her doom. Bastet was there for her, however, for before Karida hit the street she felt light as a feather, she slowed and oriented herself upright, able to land nimbly on her feet. No-one was around to see this miracle, for it was night and Karida’s bedroom window looked out onto an alley behind the narrow townhouse her family inhabited. At the end of this alley, she saw a black cat, who darted way.

Karida once again gave chase through the city, her athletic tendencies finally doing her some good, for Bastet was small, swift, and hard to spot in the darkness, but Karida was svelte, swift, and did not tire easily. Often Karida was not even certain if she was actually seeing her Goddess in the dark of the night, but she felt an overwhelming certainty that she was there, leading her on. After some minutes of running, they came to a construction site in a different quarter of the city. Bastet leapt up over the high fence that surrounded the site, and once again Her power was with Karida, allowing her to make the 8-foot leap as well and land safely on the other side. The site was grimy, filled with working tools and hard earth that would have been muddy had there been any rain recently, but Karida had eyes only for the black cat that sat in a cleared patch of earth in the middle.

“You have chosen well, Karida,” the cat said. “Are you ready now to bond yourself to me forever?”

“Yes…” Karida practically sobbed, her body pulsing with physical and spiritual need.

“Then we shall consummate our relationship.” Around the cat a patch of dry grass grew, until most of the bare ground of the construction site was covered. The grass was springy, golden, and deep, reminding Karida of images she had seen of the African veldt, the grasslands where the lions reigned as monarchs of their domain.

A peculiar scent rose from the grass, a scent that reminded Karida of home; not like the townhouse she had just vacated, but of home; a place of belonging. She did not have long to think of what the grass smelled like, for the aroma filled her head and set it spinning, but soon made her deeply sleepy. She tottered a little, feeling as though she could no longer stand, before her sleepiness turned to a glacial calm. Her eyes became half-lidded and her body was filled with that odd warmth of one about to cast themselves into slumber. She was lucid, and yet removed from the moment, feeling in control and out of control all at once, with none of her mind left to ponder the contradiction. Whether it was her own will or Bastet’s will that drove her, she felt as if she were at peace.

Mesmerized, Karida walked into the midst of the grass, a circle where the fragrant grasses were beaten down and felt all the more soft and inviting against her socks. The black cat sat in the middle of this circle, but once Karida grew close enough, it changed shape once again, this time assuming the form of the woman; dusky-skinned and cat-eyed, sensuous and curvy, with lines of gold clinging to her skin like a bikini in the right places. The woman knelt upon the grass, and Karida knew she should do the same, so they knelt there facing one another, Karida’s half-closed eyes looking into Bastet’s slitted pupils.

“The ritual of consummation is threefold,” Bastet said. It was unnecessary for her to verbalize it, for Karida was well under her spell, with her mind dominated by desire and her senses addled by the aromatic grasses, but much as Karida was bound through ancient bonds to serve her, so Bastet was bound to observe the forms, a primordial contractual law older than she. “First we must strip and wash one another. In washing you make your promise to serve me and I make my promise to care for you, a mutual relationship until the world should change.” Karida said nothing in reply, though a slight smile began to creep over her face, happiness growing in her as she realized what was to come.

Bastet then leaned forward and took Karida’s t-shirt in her hands, pulling it upwards as Karida raised her arms helpfully, exposing a toned stomach and pert breasts held in place by a snowy white bra that contrasted with her coffee-toned skin. Bastet reached down and undid the fly on Karida’s shorts and the girl obediently shifted from a kneeling to a sitting position, straightening her legs out as Bastet pulled her pants down and then off completely. Next went Karida’s socks, and then Bastet reached up again to pull down snow-white panties. Last of all came the bra, exposing Karida’s full breasts to the night, her dark-chocolate nipples already erect, while her virgin mound glistened with untold desire.

With a small motion of her hands, Bastet summoned a bowl out of the earth, an ornate silver bowl filled with clear, viscous oil which gave off a new fragrance that was all the more compelling, and she immersed her hands in it. She then leaned forward and touched Karida’s shoulders, and the girl shuddered at contact from her Goddess. Slowly, Bastet began running her hands all over Karida’s body, slicking every part of it with the fragrant oil. Karida moaned, softly and shamelessly, as her Goddess’ hands kneaded the flesh of her breasts or mixed the slickness of the oil with the slickness of her natural fluids that surrounded her womanhood, when the Goddess’ hands sculpted around the contours of her ass or slid slowly down her young, toned legs. With all of Karida’s body covered, Bastet ceased her ministrations. “So I have cleansed your naked body, so I shall care for you, sheltering you from the weakness and vulnerability of mortality and maintaining your purity for all time,” Bastet said. “Now show your reverence for me in kind.”

So Karida returned the favor to Bastet. The golden bands covering her Goddess peeled away easily, despite being solid gold, they seemed as clay in Karida’s hands as she easily brought her Goddess to base nakedness. Then Karida too immersed her hands in the oil and set to work, a slower task for the girl who had less experience in the forms, and slower too because the Goddess was larger than her novice servant, her breasts taking more time to sufficiently cover, her ass having more dimension, her legs longer than the girl’s. Though Karida was too entranced to notice it, Bastet too had become wet with desire, and her nipples were also erect, having at last the prize she had desired lo these past 18 years. When her task was done, words sprang unbidden into Karida’s mind. “So I have cleansed your naked body, so I shall serve you to the most intimate degree, aiding your glorious divinity in whatever humble way I may,” she said.

The bowl of oil retreated into the grass and Bastet morphed again. Now the black-furred cat-woman knelt across from Karida, the erect nipples of her human-shaped breasts visible through her fur, her tail swaying languidly behind her, and potent pheromones emanating from her sex that found their way to Karida’s nose and set her senses aflame. “Second we must bring each other to climax simultaneously, to forge the bond of mutual pleasure that shall endure so long as the world does.” Bastet turned around and knelt on all fours, arching her hot, wet ass in the air, signaling in cats the desire to mate. But Bastet was no ordinary cat, and Karida certainly was no male cat, so she would not mount her Goddess, but had to take a position more subordinate still. She lay down on the grass, legs forward, and scooted underneath the black-furred body, offering her virgin womanhood to her Goddess’ downward-looking face, while Karida brought her own face underneath the source of the pheromones.

They indulged in the feast, Bastet bringing her head down and her rough cat-tongue out, lapping eagerly at Karida’s swollen womanhood while Karida enacted the fantasy she had entertained only earlier that day during the Dhuhr, in a time that seemed like someone else’s life, a fantasy of her lips seeking their way through black fur to find a source of heat and wetness. The taste was indescribable; Bastet’s lubricants absolutely laced with the chemical basis for her pheromones, a taste that gave Karida pleasure independent of the rough cat-tongue exploring her pussy. The lubricants went right to her head and put her in a frenzy, and she lapped eagerly and skillfully, utilizing skills she had learned in her fantasies.

Karida’s first sexual encounter in the waking world was all she could have imagined, for although it spanned only minutes in the count of time, it fulfilled a lifetime of wishes, for this sex was more than mere physical pleasure, but the bliss of knowing she was engaging in a cycle with her Goddess, forming a part of something larger than herself, but yet more intimate than anything she had ever imagined.

In the midst of sticking her tongue as deep within the cat-woman’s cleft as she could; Karida climaxed, and in doing so fulfilled the cycle; the rough cat-tongue drove her to a howl that was muted by her Goddess’ pussy, but the reverberations of the howl drove Bastet over the edge as well. A primal sound was heard, somewhere between a woman’s scream of unbridled ecstasy and a lioness’ regal roar, and a new flow of potent lubricants washed onto Karida’s tongue and into her mouth, driving her up and beyond to the very summit of pleasure while her Goddess continued to lap up the girl’s juices like cream.

The two lay there on the grass for a time, panting in the bliss of the afterglow. Bastet realigned herself so that she could kiss Karida for a while, lazily exchanging the mingled tastes that remained in their mouths, until the mood changed. The grass seemed to grow deeper and softer, and the scent that came up from it was once again more powerful, lowering the fires of lust in Karida’s body and driving her back towards sleepiness. Satiated as she was, she could have fallen asleep there, but the girl knew that now was not the time.

Bastet stood and transformed once again, the black cat-woman being replaced by the more animalistic lioness; who resembled a beast in all save her bosom, which was still shaped to human design, and her ability to walk erect. “Third and to complete the consummation, I shall nurse you from my breast, to show that I have become your caregiver, to provide and protect for as long as the cosmos shall endure, and that you have placed yourself completely in my power until that time. And I do swear that it shall be so, that I shall protect and provide for you until all things end. Karida?” she asked, giving the girl one last chance to turn aside, to leave now and return to her human life, although this was in truth a chance that had long since passed, but again the forms bound Bastet.

“I… agree…” Karida said slowly, feeling lethargic in the grip of the grass. “I will give myself to you to keep… completely and forever…”

In answer to Karida’s statement, Bastet laid herself on the grass near the girl, sideways so that her breasts were visible, the position taken by a lioness wanting to nurse. Karida sleepily sidled closer to her Goddess, reaching out with an arm that she draped over the lioness’ golden-furred body. She snuggled up to Bastet’s bosom, nuzzling her face against the breast before she found the nipple, wrapped her lips around it, and began suckling. She suckled slowly, as the sweet milk from the lioness swept her onwards to slumber, feeling completely helpless and totally at peace as she let the lioness give her everything; protection, love, and even nourishment.

Bastet felt Karida’s suckling begin to slow as the girl drifted towards slumber, felt her beginning to lean as if she could no longer support herself enough to continue suckling, so the lioness reached with her forelegs in a way that no lioness could and embraced Karida tenderly, hugging her closer to her bosom so that she could continue to suckle even as she lost strength. Bastet hugged Karida to her tenderly, taking the smaller, mortal woman in her arms with a feeling of great fulfillment on her part. She had done it, she had claimed the first new servant from that lineage for many centuries. She would protect this girl forever, and join her with others of her lineage, though she loved them all equally as daughters and lovers and loyal servants, providing for them and receiving their service in her domain.

At last the suckling stopped, and Karida’s lips gently slid free of Bastet’s nipple. Hugging her close one last time, Bastet let her go for a moment. She stood like a lioness, on all fours, then used her power to float the sleeping girl onto her back. The girl lay limply on the lioness’ back, but Karida did not need to fear anything in her slumber. She was with Bastet now, and would not fall no matter where or how fast the lioness ran.

And the lioness did run, kicking off from the ground and beginning to stride through the air as if ascending an invisible hill. The grass receded, the smell was gone, all trace of Bastet’s coming to the lower world vanishing as she ascended into the night sky, towards the moon she so loved. The naked girl lay on the lioness’ back, deep in a dreamless slumber as she traveled with her Goddess and protector, who felt more love for the vulnerable but strong-willed young woman than the girl could ever know, though she would have an eternity to try to convey it. Sleep now, Karida. She thought. Sleep now and know that eternity is just beginning.

And so Karida came home.

End.