The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1

The troll-guards at the wizard’s gate - huge, marble-gray skin, neanderthalic - refused Eria entry.

“What do you mean I have to leave my men behind?” she asked outraged, then immediately admonished herself. Arguing with a troll? That was a proverbial expression for futility. She would have had better results trying to convince a stone wall to let her pass.

“No . . Come . . In,” the first guard told the noblewoman, pointing at the two men standing between her and the wizard’s security. The sight was a somewhat ludicrous one, even Eria had to admit. Her bodyguards, male, were each at least a head taller than her, yet the gray-skinned, flint-like trolls, female, stood half-again even this size: the men appeared as but children in the comparison, the swords and shields they wielded toys set against the block-like hammers in the trolls’ hands, each as big as Eria’s whole body.

She gave them credit. Eria’s men tried to look threatening. The effect, despite the seriousness of her business and the horrible consequences its culmination entailed for her, was such that she had to work hard to restrain laughter.

Hysterical laughter? The men were hopelessly outclassed, and everyone knew it. All things considered, it really was a mark in their favor that they stood their ground. One swing . . . .

“Leave . . That,” the second guard told Eria and pointed at her charm. The noble’s hands went to her breast where the small metal trinket gleamed amid the folds of her rich apparel. It was a seemingly harmless, meaningless object, yet Eria valued the protection it offered more than she did that offered by her guards and their weapons, and more dearly would that protection be missed when it was gone.

“My charm . . .” she whispered, then shook, body quivering. She was loathe to do so. The charm was all the magical defense at her disposal. It had been made for her by the Pecthentnim to resist female magic. Without it, she would be totally at the mercy of Noalassa’s power, her mind and body utterly hers for the woman-wizard to alter at will. Nonetheless, biting her lower lip, Eria unclipped the tiny charm and handed it over. She saw her men stiffen. They knew its significance as well as she.

“My Lady” one of them said, moving to intercept, but she shook her head. “No,” she said. “It has to be this way. Stay here. If I’m not back . . .” She stopped and gulped. “Just . . . stay here.”

Then she walked forward between the wizard’s trolls, who parted barely enough to let her pass.

Eria entered a small cobblestone courtyard. A fountain sat in the center surrounded by walls to either side. In back, a small area beneath a lacquered awning was enclosed in shadow. There were windows set in stone high above her but no doors, other than that which she had entered. These large portals behind her closed, after a moment. She turned sharply at the sound.

Above her, framed by the high walls, a blue sky beckoned. A single white cloud drifted by. Eria looked about her in vain. She was alone.

Uncertainly, she stepped a little farther away from the entrance, approaching the fountain.

She called out. “Hello?” Her voice wasn’t very loud.

No one had come to greet her. Under almost any other circumstance she could imagine, such behavior would be deemed incredibly rude, especially for a woman of her - supposed still - wealth and station. “I am the Lady Eria Scarphn,” she called out. The words echoed, emphasizing the dead silence. Eria turned to the courtyard doors, behind which her men were waiting.

Should she try to leave? Would she . . . be permitted? Eria closed her eyes. No, she thought. That would be pointless, after coming so far already. She had made up her mind to do this thing, or at least make the offer. No. It has to be this way. Quite deliberately, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she turned her back to the front gate. She opened her eyes, lifted her chin, and waited, displaying as much noble poise as she could muster.

Perhaps it was in the seeing of this determination that her host deigned respond. After a few minutes, Eria heard a sound coming from the overhanging area in front of her. A door, previously hidden in the shadows, opened, light stretching out, and a slight figure emerged.

Eria took a sudden, sharp breath through her nose as she recognized the woman approaching as a mere slave girl.

The insult to her station was not at all a subtle one. Common civility demanded that she be greeted by a free person, at the barest minimum, not an object! Unless, of course, her host considered her guest to be little better than a property girl herself. Eria bristled. She dug her fingernails into her left hand. She was on the cusp of making some kind of protest, but two things prevented her.

First, it was her mindfulness that it was unwise to rebuke a wizard, regardless of circumstance.

Second, it was a rueful recognition that, in this case, the labeling was not entirely inappropriate.

Eria held her tongue.

The slave possessed a large bosom. This was the first and, really, the defining sight that presented itself to Eria’s vision, and which at once unquestionably identified the figure before her as a property girl. It was a mistake, though, upon consideration, to say the slave “possessed” big breasts. They, like her, were, in fact, “possessions” of another, their use blatantly sexual and provocative. An open-front harem top - practically speaking, merely a draping of semi-transparent silk over her shoulders and upper arms - had the effect of emphasizing even further the girl’s tits. They were round, like celebratory Festival of De balloons, and firm, unnaturally so, clearly augmented. Her nipples were pink, perky, and perfect. Her skin overall, too, was unnaturally flawless, utterly without pores, and pearlescent. Her hair hung low about her shoulders, unburdened. It too appeared overly bright and glossy, like the hair of a doll.

A metal anklet adorned the object’s left ankle. Otherwise, her feet were bare. She wore nothing else. The slave came up near to Eria and went to her knees before her, lowering her head and face. Her thighs spread. The object’s slit was smooth and inviting.

“Mistress,” she spoke, in a breathy voice, “my owner extends welcome to her humble abode. She is gratified to host the Lady Eria Scarphn, of the Great House of Scarphn, of the City and Island-Republic of De, and offers her guest both refreshment and pleasure.”

Other slaves, all female, emerged from the enclosure, six more in all, with the first slave becoming the seventh. One girl carried a silver tray of candies and cheese. Another carried wine and a single glass. Four of them brought forth a small table and chair, which they settled in front of Eria, then drew back from and knelt in a single line. The first slave poured a glass for the noblewoman.

“May I, or any of my sisters in bondage, serve you, mistress?” It was an invitation to more than just food and drink. The slut was visibly in need, as were the others.

For this was the way of things. In addition to the physical modifications to the body, and the twisting of the slave’s mind to obedience, it was the custom of the Nycclethnim to instill in their merchandise a potent and ever-present sexual desire. These nude slaves kneeling before Eria were eager to serve her . . . very eager, clearly. Lust was written in their eyes and in every expression of face and form. Two of the sluts were dark-skinned, their flesh transformed so that it had become like ebony. They had most likely been captures from the Jungle Continent, or even further overseas. The others were purest ivory - whether they had originally been Forest Barbarians or Islanders, there was no way of telling anymore.

“Inform your owner . . .” the noblewoman started, then reconsidered. “Kindly inform your owner that the Head of House of House Scarphn wishes to speak with her.”

“Our mistress regrets that she is otherwise engaged, great lady. We have been instructed to entertain your ladyship until our mistress’ attention may be more properly diverted to your august presence. She sincerely regrets the imposition.” A flat-out, yet politely worded lie, Eria translated. The bitch was making her wait on purpose. Eria had sent notice ahead, and she had received confirmation of this appointment. There was no reason for delay, save the obvious, her discomfort.

“How may I serve your pleasure, mistress?” the first slave asked.

Eria wanted to tell the object to go and find her owner, but she knew that would be useless. So, she waited, boldly refusing the wine, the treats, and the supernaturally treated flesh. She sat at the table and tried to think of other things. Eria Scarphn was a handsome woman. While not as preternaturally beautiful and physically enhanced as the property girls surrounding her were, or ever had been, she still possessed a fine figure, and while she was past her youth, and there was a thinness in her face that bespoke worry and the weight of worldly problems, she was clearly far from edging into old age. She still attracted men. That was, perhaps, the root of her current dilemma.

An hour passed, then two. Eria’s fingers tapped impatiently on the tabletop surface.

Finally, the first slave rose from where she had been kneeling. There had been no sound, no outward signal, yet she came to her feet and told Eria that her mistress would like to speak to her now.

All the slaves rose as Eria did, and they escorted her inside the wizard’s home. Beyond the inner door was a marble atrium, with columned pillars to either side. The slave girls surrounded Eria, three to each side, the first slave leading in front. It was like a prisoner being escorted to her execution. As they passed through the inner halls of the mansion, two slaves peeled off silently in opposite directions as they passed connecting rooms. Another intersection, a staircase, and the other slaves drifted off as well, in pairs, leaving at last only the first slave to bring Eria to a well-furnished and comfortable salon.

Eria took a deep breath. She flicked her fingers to dry her palms, which were sweating.

The woman-wizard Noalassa was a tall, pale Islander female, her red-as-flame hair curled in a series of tight and intricate buns that must have taken her slaves hours to prepare daily (or mere seconds, with the use of magic). She was beautiful, voluptuous, her features sharp and intelligent.

Her dress was midnight black, a loose assortment of fabric that revealed the expanse of her cleavage and the length of her legs to advantage. It was patently apparent that she wore no underwear. On every finger she bore a jeweled ring. About her throat and arms were multiple charms and pendants.

“My Lady,” she said, civilly enough, yet not so polite as to rise from the couch she was reclined upon, like a cat. She lifted her arm in greeting.

In one hand she held a glass of liquor. Of its own accord, a second glass rose from a table, levitating across the room toward Eria, whose hand rose to take it before she was even fully cognizant of it.

“The Lady Eria Scarphn, of the Great House of Scarphn,” the escorting slave girl said, bowing, then humbly backed out of the room and closed a set of curtains behind her.

This is it, Eria thought. This is really happening. She felt a sudden swell of panic and suppressed it. She found the drink in her hand and almost against her will lifted it to her lips.

She had known this moment was coming, had prepared for it, even rehearsed precisely what she would say and how she would have to say it, yet now that the time was here, with this strange and powerful woman gazing her at her frankly from the couch, Eria went blank. If she could have left at that moment, she would have. That it meant the ruin of her House, her family, her son and daughters, it would be certain; nonetheless, she would have run. But she couldn’t. She was afraid.

“I’m not going to bite you,” the wizard, Noalassa said. Eria gasped. “Your life is in no danger from me. I have no designs on your estate. Come in, my dear, and speak freely. I will listen to anything you may have to say.” A chair facing the couch turned by itself, openly beckoning Eria to sit.

There was an open window to the left of the seat. Eria slowly went to it instead. Noalassa watched her silently, a half smile on her red lips. Eria looked out onto the courtyard where she had recently been waiting. She was watching me, she conjectured. She took another sip of wine, then placed it on the edge of the window sill.

“I have not had the fortune of visiting the City of De in some weeks,” the woman-wizard said to Eria’s back. “This is the start of the blooming season, is it not? I must make a point to see the orchards, now that they’ve been resettled.”

“Yes,” Eria said, rather blankly. “There is a promise of a good crop this year.”

There was a lengthy silence. “Tell me, how does Lord Glevy look these days. Happier, I trust? I sold him a fine pair of sluts the last time I was there. Twins, they had been, originally, captured from one of the Barbaric Isles.” Eria turned quickly around. She saw the woman reclining, meeting her eyes.

“As I recall, don’t you have a pair of twin daughters, as well, Lady Eria?”

“You stay away from my daughters!” Eria shouted at her, raising her fist. “They have nothing to do with this business. Nothing!”

“As you say, my dear.” She tilted her head, expression unfazed by Eria’s burst of emotion. Eria leaned back, supporting her weight on the window ledge.

“What do you want of me?” the woman said, finally.

Eria closed her eyes for a moment. This is it, she thought. “My House has collected many debts,” she said. “My husband was a . . . poor investor. His speculations have seen poor return.”

“Your husband was a degenerate gambler,” the woman-wizard, Noalassa, said. “One of the worst in De, the gossips proclaim. And you have inherited his debts. Is that what you’re trying to say, my dear?”

Damn you. “Yes, he gambled.” Eria sighed, then left the window to pace back and forth in front of her host.

She stopped and stared at the arrogant bitch. “Look, I could explain at length his many shortcomings, but there would be no point. Suffice to say, that with his death my family’s finances are in ruins. Our creditors have approached me, as Head of House, and an . . . offer has been made to recoup some of our losses, enough that my successor could stand a reasonable chance of getting the family back on its feet.” She was breathing heavily.

The wizard’s lips curled ever so slightly. “Your . . successor?” she said, invitingly. The bitch knew.

“A cousin. He would take over after I . . .” She stopped. She didn’t know if she could actually say it.

The wizard said nothing. Her eyes were merry, though, watching as Eria squirmed.

Oh, damn it. Just say it. “They want me as a slave,” Eria pronounced heavily. “If I am . . made a slave and sold to them in a private auction, they will forgive a portion of the debts.”

“I see,” Noalassa said. “And do you truly think you are worth so much that the sale of your flesh, in and of itself, will save your petty little family?” She touched her lip. “The debt your husband owed is in the millions, I hear. A trifle arrogant, don’t you think, believing that the men of De would pay so much merely to fuck you?” She laughed.

“It would be a symbolic gesture, you bitch,” she snarled. It was a dangerous thing to curse at a wizard, but she couldn’t stop herself. The wizards who truly ruled Ramanananan could do anything they wanted, to any one they wanted, and nobody could stop them. But Eria was past caring. “They wanted my daughters, too, but they have agreed to just let it be me so long as it’s . . . me they get.”

She would have said more, but Noalassa’s eyes sparkled, and she abruptly raised her upper body.

“Oh, really?” the wizard said. “Now that’s interesting. ‘They agreed’ with the idea, meaning that your creditors were not the ones who approached you with this delightful notion.” She gestured toward Eria.

“Whose idea was it, then?” she asked, looking her guest in the eye.

Eria lifted her nose. The impertinence of this horrid creature. She . . . “It was mine,” the words came out of her mouth, startling her. She tried to step back, and her limbs froze.

She couldn’t move!

“I was the one who made my cousin the offer,” Eria’s voice said, emerging from her lips. But it was not she who said it, not really. “Ever since I was a young girl I’ve been curious about what it would be like to be a slave, to have to obey my Masters, to have to serve men sexually. The idea thrilled me, continues to thrill me, and it was this excitement, I think, that finally convinced me.”

Eria’s eyes were wide. If she could have seen them, they would have expressed well the shock, embarrassment, anger, and excitement she was experiencing. Certainly, she had heard it in her voice.

The words she had spoken were absolutely true yet at the same time something she would never have dared to say aloud. She was absolutely mortified to have her soul’s feelings displayed like that. But what was worse how the words made her feel. The humiliation, combined with the utter sense of helplessness she now felt - she had no control over any part of her body, she was a prisoner in her own body, powerless in the face of the woman-wizard’s magic, for that was surely what was happening to her, she was caught in the woman’s magic, forced by her to say what she had never, ever wanted anyone to hear, what she had only barely managed to admit to herself in the privacy of her own bed, the tears staining her eyes while her fingers probed her sex and she masturbated to visions of herself on her knees, on her back, fucking men, fucking her Master, her Owner, having no choice but to obey him, to worship him, because she would have been magically ensorcelled to feel that way, to be that way, forever, because she would have been made a slave - sent electric sensations up and down her body.

It made her nipples hard and her pussy wet. It made her want to sink to her knees and worship this woman, her Mistress! who had compelled her to say these things and feel this way, having no choice.

“I dare say,” the woman, Noalassa, said, “you must have been very convincing, for them to agree to something so foolish.” She waved her hand toward a liquor cabinet. A bottle lifted of its own accord to pour another drink. Once filled, the glass floated across the room to the wizard’s hand.

“Yes, Mistress,” Eria said, blushing wildly. “One man, in particular, has expressed an interest in owning me. Lord Chros had attempted to court me when I was younger, but I rebuffed his attentions. I humiliated him in public, on more than one occasion. It seems he holds a grudge. He is one of my late husband’s creditors. He sent a messenger to my cousin. He was willing to forgive much of my family’s debt if I was secretly given to him in slavery. My cousin informed me. After reflection, I proposed instead a private auction to be held among the major male noble creditors, to which he agreed.”

“Your cousin is a fool,” Eria’s host remarked. “Like most men. It would have been easier to sell your ass.” Enslavement of family members for outstanding debt was not an unusual penalty in De and the surrounding island republics, among commoners, that is. “What about your daughters and your son?”

Oh, please no, Eria thought. “An offer was made for my daughters as well, Dyno and Eida, in a counterproposal made by the creditors. They were not interested in my boy Cas. But my family is noble. Enslaving a member of the nobility is fraught with controversy. The precedent is not one lightly to be made.”

“But it would be quite another thing for a noble to volunteer to be made a slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Eria said. “This need for discretion helped our arguments considerably. My cousin and I convinced them that my voluntary enslavement, alone, would be both more respectful of Deinian law and considerably more humiliating to me.” Eria wanted to curl up and die, she was so ashamed of the truths coming out of her mouth!

“In secret.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Why did you resist Chros’ advances so many years ago?”

“Ostensibly, for money,” Eria said, hating the admission. “My future husband, Eunor, was wealthier, then. It was a better political match as well. The real reason, of course, was that it delighted me to make Chros seem small and insignificant and beneath my station. I hoped, in my secret slave heart, to humiliate him enough to want to seize me for his own and make me his property girl.”

Noalassa curled in her seat, appearing in it like the dangerous feline she resembled.

“And what exactly was the part I was to play in this little melodrama?” she asked. “And, oh, yes, go to your knees when you address me, dear. I believe it would be more appropriate.”

Eria’s body sank her to her knees. It was a dangerous thing to curse at a wizard.

“Yes, Mistress,” her voice said. “I came to you in order to arrange my enslavement. I want you to make me a slave. You would be paid a commission based on a percentage of my final sale price at a private and secret auction.” Again, she had spoken - been forced to speak - the absolute truth. But this was hardly the way she had wanted to broach the subject!

She had planned it all out assiduously: the conversation, a delicate discussion of the topic at hand, a negotiation over the price of Noalassa’s wizardly services. And if, in the event she had lost her nerve, she could still have called the whole thing off. There were even other foreign enslavers she could have approached. But to have it all laid bare like this! Shocking, yet in no little part exciting as well, Eria had to admit.

Is this what it is like to be a slave? she thought. She could only think at that moment. Nothing else was permitted her. The woman-wizard’s magic held her like an invisible vise.

“I see,” Noalassa said. She turned her gaze to the ceiling in thought. She put a finger to her chin. “I suppose that might be acceptable, though I rather think I could get more money by selling you and your daughters to a public brothel.” Eria went cold. “Your House is one of the most prominent in De. It has a long history, and you are a public figure of sorts.

“I imagine that many, if not most, Deinian brothels would enjoy getting their hands on you and your family.” She sipped. “If there’s one thing the lower orders enjoy most, it’s using their former social betters for recreational slave sex.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Eria had to say.

“Would you like me to sell you to a brothel, dear?”

“No, Mistress.”

“But why ever not?”

“It would be beneath me, Mistress.”

Noalassa laughed. “No it wouldn’t, you foolish slut. Once you are made a slave, and I haven’t agreed to perform the ceremony yet, so don’t get your hopes up,” she said, wagging her finger, “serving your owners in any capacity would be perfectly acceptable. It is honor for a slave to fuck for her owners.”

“Yes, Mistress. I understand.”

“Yet you still wouldn’t like to be sold to a brothel?”

“No, Mistress. Please, Mistress.” Despite the heavy charm working on her mind and body, Eria’s lips were quivering.

The woman-wizard sat back in her couch. She waved her hand about. “Exactly how did you imagine all this would carry out? Explain it to me, dear. Leave nothing out.”

“Yes, Mistress. I came here in secret so that we could discuss my enslavement at your hands. If those negotiations went well, I would agree at a later date to be made a slave. My creditors would meet in my mansion along with my cousin and a prefect of De. The ceremony would take place with them as witnesses certifying that I had voluntarily surrendered my freedom and been made a slave.

“The men would then bid on me in a private auction, competing against one another.

“My family would receive two compensations. First, a good part of my husband’s gambling debts would be paid from the proceedings of the auction, without incurring further embarrassment to our House. The creditors have agreed that our shame should be kept secret, if each of them receives a reasonably good chance of owning me afterwards. Several of these men, in addition to Chros, I believe, have wanted me for years.” Because she was being forced to speak, this last statement was delivered factually, matter-of-factly, totally without arrogance on her part. It was the simple truth.

“You must be an arrogant bitch, to have led so many men on.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Continue.”

“Yes, Mistress. Second, it would be stipulated that my status as a property girl would remain a secret, so as not to bring shame either to the House of Scarphn or the Deinian Senate. Everything would be handled in secrecy. Even my own direct family would have no idea what I had done. I would simply disappear, and while it would certainly be speculated that I had fallen into the hands of enslavers, no one would know for certain, and certainly they would not know I had volunteered to be made a slave.

“Personally, I had another motive, and it is this.”

Oh, please, please, Eria struggled against the power holding her. She did not want to say this. She did not. But she had no choice.

“In my heart, I have always wanted to be made a slave, to be used ruthlessly like the object I hope to one day be. So, while I am doing this for the sake of my House, I am doing it for myself as well.”

The woman-wizard chuckled lightly.

“Such great value you place in your dignity. Dignity is out of place for a slave, dear.”

She put her glass down on the table. “If we were in Hiduh-Vi, you would already legally be a slave. Noblewoman or not, you would have been the moment you made this ludicrous suggestion.”

“Yes, Mistress. But we are not in Hiduh-Vi.”

Noalassa smiled. “That is true. Yet here’s another thing to consider: if you had not been a noble, your family would not have been able to protect you to this moment. You, your daughters, and your precious little boy would have been sold into slavery to cover at least part of your debts. A small part, that is. And there would have been none of this nonsense about ‘private’ and ‘secret’ auctions. You and your family’s flesh would be given an honest appraisal, and the prices set within the current market.”

“Yes, Mistress. Yet I am of noble birth.”

“Yes, again, that is true. You may rise, dear.” Eria climbed to her feet as her host did likewise. The woman-wizard prowled across the room to the window where not so long ago Eria had found herself gazing through. Noalassa looked silently over the courtyard for a minute, then turned to face her.

“I dislike secrecy. It smacks of cowardice. And I am unmoved by efforts to preserve the dignity of a slut who well deserves to be proclaimed so publicly. I am disinclined to perform this ceremony, dear.”

She gestured with her fingers. Suddenly, the power, the magic, the whatever it was that had been holding Eria silent and still was gone, just like that. She could move again. And she could speak.

“YOU BITCH!!” Eria collapsed on the floor, so overcome with anger, shame, and the sudden exhilaration of being free again that she was unable to doing anything other than shake. Noalassa shrugged. With the careless disregard of a child, she tipped Eria’s glass over the ledge. Eria heard it shatter on the cobblestones below. She knew that one of the slave girls would soon clean the mess up.

“You monster,” Eria cried. “I hate you!” With effort, she pulled herself to her knees. Noalassa sat in the window alcove facing her, and Eria’s first thought was to rush at her and push her out. She knew she would never get that far. Eria seethed and hung her head down in shame. Gradually, she got to her feet. She would leave. It had never occurred to her that her offer would be rejected.

“Would you like another drink, Lady Eria?”

“Go to hell!” Eria straightened her garments around her, feeling as if she had been raped. In a manner of speaking, she had been. She turned and went toward the curtained entrance.

“Before you leave, I think you might find the following of interest, my dear.” Noalassa herself didn’t move; nonetheless, a cabinet along one wall opened by itself, almost certainly magically manipulated by her will. The cabinet was divided into several shelves; the shelves were filled with papers and books. A leather-bound folder lifted into the air, as if handled by an invisible presence. It sailed across the room to the wizard’s waiting hand. Eria hesitated. She didn’t like the smirk on the woman’s face.

She was also half-convinced that she wouldn’t actually be allowed to leave, that if she tried her body would simply betray her again.

The woman-wizard held the folder out to her. “I really think you should read this.” Her expression was again like a cat’s playing with its food. It was an expression that said, I know something you should know. Eria slowly approached Noalassa. She stood near her and started to reach for the folder, and stopped, afraid.

“Go ahead,” she said to her. “It’s perfectly safe. It’s an ordinary document. There’s no magic attached to it whatsoever.” Eria took it and backed up. When she was sure the wizard wasn’t going to lift her hand or cast a spell or perform some other wizardry on her - half-sure, anyway - she opened it.

Inside, like Noalassa had said, was a document. At the top was the symbol of the Island-Republic of De. Below that was the seal of the Deinian Senate. At the bottom, to her alarm, was her late husband’s signature. Eria read the paper, eyes growing wider with every passing moment.

“That,” Noalassa said, indicating the document, “is a bill of sale, a contract between a guild-sister of mine and your husband, Lord Eunor Scarphn, then Head of House of House Scarphn. The terms of this contract are clear. As Head of House, your husband had certain rights over his family members, which he took advantage of here. I believe he had the same wrongheaded notions about the value of noble blood as you and this conspiracy of fools does.”

“No,” Eria whispered. “No.” But it was right there in front of her eyes, in black and white and the official seal of De.

“Ah, but yes. As you can see, in exchange for a certain sum of money - it’s right here, dear, the part that’s underlined - he agreed to sell the flesh of your daughters, Dyno and Eida, into slavery.”

“No,” she said, again. That bastard, Eria thought numbly. That cold-hearted bastard.

She was holding her daughters’ bill of enslavement. A document signed by their father.

A document, also signed and witnessed by a prefect. That meant there would be a copy in the Archive of the Senate as well. A document that publicly proclaimed her daughters property girls. He didn’t even get half the money Chros offered for me, Eria thought. Not even half.

She looked up, sudden fire in her face. Futile or not, she hurled herself at the woman-wizard.

But, as she had expected, Eria got but one step closer. Within grabbing distance, at least. Then, once more, she was frozen in place, held by Noalassa’s dreadful magic. The wizard hadn’t so much as twitched. She calmly took the folder and document from Eria’s unresisting hands, as if Eria had intended to hand it back to her.

“This bill of sale is only a few months old,” Noalassa said. “The transaction was never completed. The money changed hands, but your husband died before he could arrange delivery.” She replaced the paper and retied the string holding the bundle together. “It may interest you further to know that Eunor was negotiating with Chros for your sale as well, but they never got past the preliminaries. No doubt that is why Chros approached your cousin. He already had the idea that you belonged to him.”

Eria fumed, anger and terror intermixed. You bastard! You bitch! she was screaming, over and over.

She knew Eunor. She knew him! He had done it. She had never suspected, but she knew Noalassa was telling her nothing but the truth. A lot of things came clear to Eria: statements her husband had made that she hadn’t understood at the time, looks he had given her and the twins, looks she now recognized as speculative, appraising. You bastard, she cursed his ghost. You utter bastard, you!

Noalassa left the window. She walked around Eria, and the noblewoman straightened from the attack posture she had been frozen in the midst of and followed her. The woman-wizard resumed her languid pose on the couch.

Eria stood near her and began to strip.

First, she removed the pins from her hair. With her fingers she spread the brown locks out across her shoulders. Then she slipped off her shoes and removed the fastening in the middle of her outer dress. She let it drop to the floor, leaving her clad only in a white shift, panties, and stockings. She removed these as well, then stood apart from the pile and posed for the woman who controlled her actions.

The wizard examined her. Her eyes took in Eria’s face; her breasts, no longer as firm as they had been; and her body in general. The look Noalassa gave her, the appraisal of her, seemed to indicate nothing special. When she was done, Eria felt the uncontrollable impulse to kneel. She spread her knees, much as the sluts out in the courtyard had done. Again, the look Noalassa gave her seemed unimpressed.

“Your daughters take after their father,” the woman-wizard declaimed. “In truth, they are average slatterns, but, I assure you, like all bonded sluts they can be made slave beautiful.” She tapped the leather folder against her hand. “I acquired this bill of sale after you made contact with me. My Nycclethnim guild-sister was going to press her claim, but the Deinian Senate, in the aftermath of your husband’s demise, persuaded her to wait awhile. They are a very solicitous group, the Senate of De. I can only imagine their reaction when you brought this little scheme of yours to their attention.”

“What will you do now, Mistress?” Eria heard herself ask. She didn’t know if the question came from her or was the product of Noalassa’s prompting.

“Why, I’m going to take possession of Nycclethnim property, my dear, and turn them into slaves. Your daughters are already here. They were picked up shortly after you left the city yesterday.” Here!?

“Would you like to see them?” No! Yes. God, I don’t know. My daughters!

“Yes, Mistress. Please.” Noalassa closed her eyes for a minute. She concentrated, sending some kind of mental message. A few minutes later the curtain to the parlor parted with a soft jingle, and four women entered the room. All were naked (nearly all - the two slave girls on the outside wore the miniscule harem jackets over their upper arms). The two in the middle were Dyno and Eida, Eria’s twin daughters, barely eighteen years old, their eyes frightened out of their wits. Those eyes grew even wider and more frightened, if possible, when they beheld their mother on the floor.

“How charming this family reunion is,” Noalassa said. “Eria, dear, why don’t you explain to your daughters what is happening. I’m sure they are full of questions.”

Eria felt herself stand and face her terrified daughters. Dyno! she thought. Eida!

“Yes, Mistress,” she said. “Thank you, Mistress.

“Dyno. Eida. Before he died, your father sold your flesh into slavery. You belong to this woman here, the Wizard Noalassa of the Nycclethnim Order. I was unaware of this until this moment. I came here today to negotiate with your owner for my own sale into slavery, to help clear some of the gambling debts your father left us with. These negotiations are proceeding.”

Dyno blinked and spoke. “Thank you, mother,” she said, the words as obviously pulled from her lips as Eria’s own were.

“Yes, thank you, mother,” Eida said a moment later. “We appreciate your efforts on our behalf, even though they were in vain.” She turned to the wizard. “When will my sister and I be turned into abject sluts and playthings for men, mistress? We are looking forward to being raped repeatedly.”

Noalassa spread her hands. “Oh, unless I am persuaded otherwise, the ceremony will be conducted tomorrow.”

“Please, do not wait until tomorrow to enslave us, mistress,” Dyno begged. She went down to her knees, spreading them as any common slave girl would. “We beg to be put to use as soon as possible.”

“Yes, mistress, please,” Eida said, following her sister onto the parlor floor. “I have always wanted to be made a slave. I want nothing more than to go down on men and let them use my body as a fucktoy.”

You demon! Eria could only helplessly scream inside her head. The humiliation her precious doves were going through was making her sick. Yet, from a reserve of her mind, the thought could not help but surface: were her daughters’ submissive feelings as deep as her own? For despite everything, a part of Eria still wanted to be made a slave. Once unlocked by Noalassa’s magic, this part of her was impossible to forget or ignore. She knew it wasn’t an ensorcelment of her design (mostly sure): she had dreamt of being a property girl long before making her way to the woman-wizard’s mansion.

“Mistress,” Eria said, surprising herself. “May I ask a question of my daughters?” Oh, no, please.

“Of course, you may, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Eria turned to Dyno, the elder twin, if only by a few minutes. “Daughter, do you truly wish to be made a slave? I am an admitted slut before your owner. I have always dreamt of a life in chains, of being a man’s plaything.” In a weird way, a very weird way, saying this aloud, even though she wasn’t the one actually speaking, so to speak, felt curiously liberating, as if she were giving up a burden she had been carrying unknowingly her entire life. “I wish to know whether you too are a born slut and a willing slave.”

Dyno tilted her head to the side, as if she were giving the matter actual consideration.

“Honestly, mother . . . no. My previous declaration of wanting to be put to hard use as a common slave girl were words given to me to speak by my owner. I do not truly wish to be made into a slave. There is nothing I fear more.” She turned to her sister. “I believe Eida, however, feels differently.”

Eria addressed her other daughter. “Eida, are you a born slut, unlike your sister?”

“Yes, mother,” her precious flower said. “I am like you. Ever since I was a young girl, ever since I can remember, I have dreamt of being a slave girl. My words, spoken previously, of a desire to give suck to a man and to be put in chains and raped, were accurate. Even though I would normally deplore saying this, I look forward to being made a slave.” She turned to face her sister. “I do not wish for my sister to be forced into an unwilling state of slavery, however, even though I know she too will be made to enjoy giving men blowjobs and being used like a slut, the same kind of slut you and I are, mother.”

“I cannot help but think I am doing you three ladies a favor,” Noalassa said, “forcing you to be so candid with one another.” She was clearly enjoying herself, the woman-wizard was, controlling their minds and bodies and watching their discomfort.

She lifted a finger. Dyno and Eida rose to their feet and rejoined the two slave girls - themselves long since completely transformed - who had been standing there, waiting patiently. Eria, despite the overwhelming rush of emotions passing through her head, speculated why they were there in the first place. They obviously weren’t necessary as guards: Eria and her daughters were helpless in the grip of Noalassa’s power. Nor were they needed as guides. “Goodbye, mother,” her girls spoke in unison. “We go to await our enslavement.” And with that they left, yet not so much following the slave girls accompanying them as walking in perfect unison with them, all four controlled by the same mind.

And it was with that observation that it became clear: Noalassa had brought the two already transformed property girls there to remind Eria - to provide her with a graphic presence - of the types of object her daughters would soon become. Such cruel attention to detail bespoke much of the woman-wizard’s sadism.

After the four other females left, Eria said, “Mistress, you indicated you might be persuaded otherwise in completing my daughters’ enslavement. Are you in fact open to such persuasion?”

Noalassa leaned back in her seat. “Certainly,” she said, opening her hands wide.

It was another curiously liberating sensation. Had she not been so completely under the wizard’s spell, such was Eria’s confused and emotional state of mind that she would have been unable to form a coherent thought, let alone speak one in a calm and orderly (if utterly submissive) manner. Her thoughts were in turmoil. She wanted to weep. She wanted to claw Noalassa’s eyes out. She wanted to dig her late husband up, piss on him, and set him on fire. She wanted to go with her daughters. Somehow, for some reason, she still wanted to save her House. (She also wanted to be made a slave girl.) Without Noalassa’s control, she would have been unable to give voice to what she truly wanted to say.

“Mistress, how can I persuade you to free my daughters?”

“It’s simple. At the moment, you are still, technically speaking, a free woman. Despite the liberties I have taken with you, I have no legal means to reduce you to the slavery you so richly deserve.”

She sniffed derisively. “Oh, I could, if I wanted to, and no one in your republic could stop me. But they would believe I had taken you against your will, even though you and I both know better, and that is unsatisfactory to me.”

“What must I do, Mistress?”

“Declare yourself a slave before the Deinian Senate. Sign the bill of your own enslavement. Persuade your cousin to reveal everything. I will then perform the ceremony of your transformation in front of everyone. The auction for your flesh which you had hoped to keep secret, you will ensure that it will not be secret. That is what you must do.”

“I will do it, Mistress. Whatever you desire.”

And Noalassa nodded.

. . . to be continued (1 of 3)