The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Passion of Isis soaked the old wooden phallus-bit in my mouth. The ivory wedge inside my sex was only tantalizing by comparison to the aroma of concentrated lust under my nose. The temple walls swam in and out of clarity. The clamps on my blood-swollen nipples were like heated tongs.

Then the holy Chorus of Isis moved forward and began to play the chimes on my breasts.

And I loved it.

I quickly rose above the discomfort. The scent of Isis in my nose was a greater thrill than the Great River. The taste of Isis in my mouth was like dark honey, sweet and sucking my rational thoughts away from any philosophy of the moment. I arched my back, proudly displaying my chest and allowing the mortals to play upon me a pleasant vibration.

I shivered my ass to hear the ringing between my legs.

The madness of my wantonness smote me hard. The taste of Isis must be mine forever! There would be no taste of her left on the bit in my mouth. This holy relic would never pass to another.

Ever.

I began to grind my teeth down. The muscles in my neck and jaw knew nothing of pain or hardship. I only knew the wicked ecstasy of my nose and tongue. I only knew that I would devour the holy device before I let one bit of quintessence escape.

The wood splintered under my hard-edged teeth. I sucked. I cracked it. I sucked the hard form. It snapped again. I swallowed the first tiny soaked morsel of ancient wood and pure dark honey. I sucked the phallus into my mouth and bit hard, splintering the edges. I sucked. I swallowed tiny pieces. I hollowed my face and ground my teeth into the device to take its surface as well as its flavor. Leather tore at the edges of my mouth.

I wagged my hot rump to feel my intimate folds clash and chime between my thighs. I came hard and delightedly.

No taste of Isis would remain. I watched the holy light in Mother Egypt’s eyes for her measure of my madness. I sucked the wood in and chewed it like a beast.

“End!”

My Chorus ceased, suddenly, in unison with the ending force of my words. Their strings fell to the smoothed stone floor and with nipples taut against their close-cut robes, they fell back into the shadows to pleasure themselves in the wake of passion and lust of their most favored Ritual.

Roxanne lifted the Rat’s sore, dripping sex from the bowl and phallus, and let her fall to the ground. At my nod, the young attendant tied the ends of the leathered sleeve that still bound both of the Vermin’s arms to the ends of her ankles.

I slid forward off the soaked cushion, sweetly moist with my potency and desire. My perfume slipped easily from my skin, as I slid a smooth hand across the desert-worn cheek of the young Kin before me.

I watched her eyes, wide, and wet. Uncertain, and yet yearning; she wanted all I had to offer.

Silent, and with the face of a dispassionate Judge, I gestured to Penelope. She had been left out of the Ritual, only left to stain the whole of her hand wet with her juices. She had served me well, and deserved this role.

She knew what to do. Kneeling to the floor, the young pale woman ran her hand across the smooth, tensed body of the supple creature before her. She licked her lips, and wrapped her lips around the end of the bit, pressing her need into the new slave-girl I’d just borne.

She suckled, seeking the taste she so desperately sought within the soaked wood. The pitiful whimper that passed her lips spoke for itself. The new slave-girl had done her tasks well.

The bowl was lifted, and proffered to me like the most holy of objects. I held it aloof, and nodded to the attendants who slowly pulled the bit from her straining mouth.

I poured the whole of her back within, letting the Vermin drink and suckle the lust for me from the ivory tip that she had so easily spilt. It trickled down her cheeks, over her breasts. It dripped onto the stone floor as she tried greedily to swallow it all at once for me.

I allowed the flicker of pleasure to pass my elegant features. “Let it be known that the Queen of the Golden Vermin, the last child of Old Rat, the youngest of the Blood of Gods, has joined my Court.”

I gently flicked a heavy chime with my fingertip; the sound ringing across the breathless hall. She shivered, deliciously.

“Mother Egypt Chooses Her. She is Chosen, by Mother Night. Before you kneels She Whom I Name Mischief, Goddess of Earth. She is to be treated as my most favored, to stand only behind to my daughter in kneeling to this Temple.”

I paused, and dangled the bit in front of her, before dipping it in my Sacred Waters again, casually. I leveled my eyes at her.

“I give you that choice again, Mischief. To leave,” I spoke, quietly, “And to forget what you saw, and felt, and the warmth of the sands beneath your feet. Or to stay in my Court, to swear your fealty to the Greatness of Egypt, and its Mother until either the Final Darkness takes us, or we are all that remains. To bring it news of the Dances beyond, and the destruction and Darkness those of our Kin would do upon each other. To tell it tales of what passes beyond these borders, and of plots to harm it. To give your worship to my Temple, as I see fit, and to let your body be a tool upon which I will use as my endless amusement, and imagination while I allow you to stay here.”

I had guessed well. She had assumed that I would keep her here, as but a slave to my perverse pleasures. She had thought me one of the Bloodthirsty. She saw Isis in her full Avatar, Guardian, and Mother of Great Egypt. The choice was clear in her eyes, and immediate.

I smiled, and pulled her lips into my sweet Shrine. I closed my eyes, feeling the purity of her Blood Blessed tongue worship her Truth, and with a gesture, the Chorus came forward again, ready to play their song on her breasts.

I asked with the Voice, throated and husky, “Ask,” sunken into the delightful darkness of the roles we now consummated for each other.

She knew what I wanted, even as I knew that she desired me to ask her for it. I waited, for her to beg me to put my Voice in her mind, to bind her to the endless sands forever.

“Isis,” I found little strength in my voice. I swallowed and tried again, “Isis, I worship your Shrine.” I tongued her at Her Delta. I shuddered with the savory ecstasy that seemed to have no saturation. My mind slowed again.

The numb wrench of my arms was a light song of stress through my body that went well with the deeper pangs of quivering heat from my nether lips. I wanted the Chorus to play my nipples in celebration of this moment.

“Isis, I ask to travel the world always in agony to not be at your feet. I ask to place myself in jeopardy, sniffing out the Dances of the Ancients so that I might bring you news of the world beyond Egypt. I ask you to use your Holy Words to numb my ears to any Voice but yours, so that I might be your toy even though you send me to the farthest reaches of the world and I weep to not be at your Shrine.”

I looked up between her thighs, “I ask that you be this cruel to me. To send me away from the greatest pleasure I have ever known, Mighty Isis, as you tell me it is your will.”

It felt right. It felt completely different and wonderful. It had nothing of power or pride in it and I felt like the Center of All.

I grinned at her words; a sweeter music than the soft chimes echoing against the wide throne room, a more satisfying sound than the moan of a young innocent vixen lost within me for the first time.

The Queen of the Golden Vermin, the last drop of Blood left of the old Rat King was begging me to bind her, to tie her soul to my Voice.

She was the creature now of my designs, and I sang My Song into her mind against the pure tones that rocked and tugged at her roughly treated breasts.

I Sang, with all my might, and the Great River flowed from my lips, a pure Light, and it was eagerly absorbed into the earth of her hungry mind. Her Will was laid barren, left so I might plant the seeds of my design within. She was beautiful, and Evil, corrupted in her Blood, and my Song.

I thought, for a single moment, I felt wetness in my slit, yellowed Evil eyes.

She Drank, and Worshiped me and I fell into the River again.

The unpleasant feeling of her swollen lips leaving my Shrine awoke me from my submergence in the Great Power, and I stirred.

Softly, and finding my Voice, I purred, “Mischief, give thanks to those who have brought you to this,” as my Chorus, and two pleasure-slaves encircled her, parting their robes between their soaking, lustful thighs.

I looked to Roxanne, “Bring her to the stables, when the circle is complete, and prepare my chariot, and its company. This one will drive us to the borders of my lands, where I will give her news, before she leaves our Court.”

I slid from my throne, and left her to the circle of impassioned attendants. There were two gifts yet to give; a letter I’d intercepted from Octavian and the tool that would remind the Young Blooded of her bondage to me.

The rigorous sun of Egypt is a friend to no one.

The silky sands of the day-land are the shifting flesh of an immense scalding serpent. I pulled at the chariot of Isis while the sun and sand warred over my delirium. Sweat shone on my body, the leather traces across my shoulders and through the delta of my legs was wet with my streaming perspiration. It felt so good to be a prize on display.

I was good at this.

She had changed me. I had never known my body this way, never appreciated how exciting it could be. I was changed by her Voice. I had a new fascination for what an Ancient might make of another Ancient. Even knowing my mind was imprinted with her desire made me so hot.

The few nomads we passed on the sands fell on their knees and faces as Mother Egypt passed. I did not look at those mortals, but I lifted my head and arched my neck. My bells chimed with my gait. I orgasmed, the leather harness tugged against my clit with each pulling step.

I ravished myself across the miles.

This horrid submission was a sweet dance. I worked at the labor of pulling across the sands. Isis and her attendants called encouragement. They called for more speed. I leaned forward digging the strange shoes deeper into the sands, feeling the sands kicked up behind me kissing my wet ass and back.

We reached the border sands and Mother Isis pulled me to slow. She dismounted.

I put my hands on my knees sweat dribbling off my chin. The dry heaves lasted a minute.

She motioned to her attendants and they gently stripped the leather harness from me. I stepped from the arched shoes as they unstrapped them. They left the eight bells in place. The soft winds blew her night-colored hair like a cloak about her curves. “Mischief, here are two things I command you to take with you and make use of.”

She stepped closer and handed me a very thin scroll. “Read this. It arrived in my lands several weeks ago by ship courier. It never reached its intended hands. I realize now who it is talking about.”

I opened the stiff scroll and read about my betrayal. Instructions from Octavian described my arrival due soon and included a long formula for mixing a poison that would burst my heart after my work was done in Egypt. Not that it named me; it referred to a ‘personal agent of power’. The Salamander was clever and my quiet death on Egypt’s lands would save him a storehouse of gold. The circle of Ancients made smaller again by one with this betrayal.

I shook my head amazed that I felt no debilitating fury.

Isis had changed me. I looked up at her. “Thank you, Isis. I may have some use for this.”

She nodded, “It is a gift. So is this token.” She handed me a small sculpture. “Honor me by wearing it outside of my land.”

I turned it over in my hand. It was white jade, precious and rare in this half of the world. It was shaped by attentive fine craftsmanship. It was beautiful enough in design that I didn’t realize immediately that it was a pleasure plug for the ass.

Luna kissing Gaea.

Only in this design, the larger sphere was marked with relief symbols of Nut, the Mother of Night and Day. The smaller sphere was gracefully marked with the dark eye of Bast. Between the two spheres, where normally there was nothing but the ‘kiss’ of joining spheres, this plug had a tiny ring of small pyramids, pyramids edge to edge forming a small cylinder between Nut and Bast.

Egypt.

Nut and Bast sheltering Egypt.

I looked up at Her and grinned. “This is quite a large honor. Are you sure you want a scruffy beast like me to have this? It’s worth a small fortune. I could pawn this next month and never return.”

She only pulled Her lips back in that threatening smile, “Really? Try thinking of never sitting at my feet again.”

Puzzled, I imagined fleeing into the world never to ret—.

I was frozen and stiff. My senses reeled. I started to pitch over to the sands, so stiff I had no balance.

Isis knew the moment would come; she pushed a finger into my chest, holding me from falling. She reached and moved my right hand up under my chin, where it stayed of its own nature. Then she reached and arranged the other hand to demonstrate further that I was a doll to be posed.

I burned with arousal, trapped inside my flesh. I wanted to gasp, to squirm, to orgasm, but these things were denied me by the power of Isis.

“Now you can move again.” She whispered huskily.

And it was so. I took a deep breath. “Mighty is the power of Isis.”

She nodded gracefully. “Yes.”

I put the white jade to my mouth and ran my tongue around the large sphere of Nut. Then I reached behind my cheeks and introduced the token to my ass. I pressed the shape there and felt the texture of Nut’s markings sliding into the tight dimple. The sphere was three-fingers wide; it took a moment to seat it properly.

I orgasmed. It was very good.

I bowed to Isis and at the same time, felt the bite of ‘Egypt’s pyramids’ below in the tight clench of that muscle ring. This odd unpleasant sensation elevated my heat.

“I am Chosen. I go now that I may return the sooner.”

She held up a hand stopping me. I waited. She moved closer studying me and began to remove the clamping bells from my nipples and finally my nether lips. While she did this, I became so aroused that I was whimpering. This seemed to change her too. Her nipples were fat and dark and she began to whisper, “I don’t want you to go. It is something new for me, to send one of my treasures out of my grasp. It is exhilarating and dangerous. I shall have to think on this.”

She finished collecting the bells and walked away saying nothing else.

Seeing her retreating back was like a physical pain. The blood rushing back into my clamp-free flesh was less arduous than watching the curves and rhythms of Isis leaving me alone.

I wept and began to walk into the west with my head held high.