The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Milan gave a sad sigh, tapping the tuning fork against the side of the boat. He twisted the knobs, adjusting his lute’s tune, and idly plucked at a few strings.

“What’s the matter?”

The fisherman glanced down at his one companion out in the bay—a red-haired mermaid with a shimmering silver tail. She clung to the side of the boat, as she had been doing for the last hour since she’d arrived. Her name, as she said it, was Pallasii.

“Nothing, I guess,” he said softly. “Just... I guess I thought we’d have more of a conversation. Seems I never have much anyone to talk to these days, with all the routes closed down.” He knew why the routes had closed down, of course. The Kingdom of the Chosen was expanding, and not many merchants wanted to risk coming this far out anymore. “I haven’t been fishing the last couple weeks, what with the boat being damaged. I forgot how lonely it can be.”

“You know I’m just here to rest, right?” The mermaid grimaced. “I’ve been swimming for three days straight to reach your shore. When are you heading back to your boathouse, anyways?”

“Still don’t see why you want to go to the docks,” Milan said, rolling his eyes. He ruffled his dark, slightly spiky hair and squinted out to the south. Were those clouds on the horizon, or was he just tired and hungry? He’d only caught a few fish today. He didn’t want to have to head back early. “Doesn’t seem like a mermaid has much to do on land, right?”

The mermaid sounded sour when she replied. “I have people I need to get in touch with. They should be nearby. Can we head back to shore already? I’m tired.”

“I’m not done fishing,” Milan said. He tried not to snap at people, but Pallasii really didn’t seem to recognize that he wasn’t just out here to waste his time and ferry around tired mermaids..

“Well, there’s a storm approaching. Doesn’t that spook you at all?”

Milan looked up again. Sure enough, those were stormclouds. He nodded glumly and started reeling in his lines.

“Come on,” Pallasii whined, rapping the side of the boat. “Hurry up!”

“You could help, you know,” Milan said. But he was already almost done, and Pallasii seemed skeptical about the prospect, so he finished reeling in the last line himself and pulled up the anchor. He set his lute aside. “That storm sure is moving fast.”

Pallasii was biting her lip. He turned from her to look back at the storm.

He heard a splash, and a flop. The boat rocked dramatically. Turning, Milan saw that the herring maid had leaped into the front of the boat.

She lay almost upside-down, scowling up at him, her head touching the wooden canoe base. “Just shut up and row faster! I’m not getting caught in any storms after all I’ve been through! Row, Milan!”

Milan grabbed the oars and started to row, straining against the suddenly rather rowdy waves. “Not sure we’ll outpace the storm!” He strained to direct his boat into a current he sometimes followed back home. The current could be problematic—it had a few branching paths that led to trouble areas—but it was a lot faster than just relying on oars. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just keep your head down.”

The mermaid, her head still pressed against the floorboards, still essentially flopped upside-down in the canoe, glared up at him.

“Well, goodie-gumdrops!” Carava perched at the edge of the cliff, gazing out onto the ocean below. Her batlike ears flicked, causing jet-black hair to fly back in the wind. She grinned.

“What is it, lovey-love?” whispered a sly, sibilant voice. Carava turned as her fellow siren descended from the skies and landed beside her. Palcea had brilliant blonde hair, matching her pupilless eyes.

Carava pointed, keeping her voice just loud enough to hear above the wind. “A sweet young thing, Palcea, in need of our help.”

“Ooh. Shall he evade the storm?”

“Can a sugar glider fly upwards, love?”

They let out hissing laughter, then briefly embraced, running feathered tails over each other’s nubile, naked bodies.

“So... shall we play?” Carava whispered in Palcea’s ear.

“I must ask my honeycomb Saline, lovey-love.” Palcea pulled back, beaming. “But I think she will agree.”

“Very good.” Carava turned back to the waves, laughing under her breath. “Then let us sing our boy a sweet little love song!”

“Oh, no.” Milan wiped his brow.

“What?” Pallasii’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What is it?”

“We’re going off course!” Milan strained at the oars, but it was no use—the current was carrying them northeast, and well off the intended route. “We got in the wrong current! Can you maybe get out and—“

“Uh-uh. I don’t push boats around.” Pallasii crossed her arms. “Plus, I’m too tired. It’d just drag me with it.”

Milan bit his lip. They were heading straight towards the Whistling Cliffs. That place was not where he wanted to be. Up ahead, a massive rocky stack towered over the waves, creating a narrow path between itself and the headland. The current seemed to be bringing them straight towards the cliffs. “This is bad.”

“You’re telling me.” The mermaid glared at the cliffs, rubbing an ear irritably. “You hear that?”

Milan paused a moment in his straining against the oars. He blinked.

Just beneath the roar of the ocean, he barely made out a high-pitched humming.

“W-what is that?” he whispered.

“Trouble. We’re in—whoa!” The mermaid flopped over again, nearly smacking Milan in the head with her fish tail, as the boat slammed against a sandbar just barely low enough for them to make it over. “Shit! Who’s steering this thing!”

“I’m trying!” Milan lunged forward, hitting his oar off a rock to keep from striking it with the boat. The oar gave an ominous cracking, but did not snap, and the boat ricocheted away.

They were spiraling straight towards the rocks, but maybe if they could just keep between the cliffs...

“What’s that?” he heard Pallasii ask, but he wasn’t listening. The fisherman was throwing everything he had into the oars, desperately trying to keep his boat from being dashed against the rocks—some of which cut several murderous feet above the waves, some of which lurked beneath, almost out of sight.

He was drenched in sweat and saltwater. His heart was pounding. The roar of the waves surrounded them, drowned out everything else in his head.

With all his might, Milan leaned forward, braced the oar’s haft against his shoulder, and lunged towards one last, jagged stone.

CRACK.

Milan’s shoulder didn’t snap like the oar did, but it pretty much felt like it. He let out a loud cry, falling back into the boat.

“Shit, what was that? You okay?” Pallasii sounded alarmed, if only in a polite way. “Hey, there’s something down there!”

“Are we...” Milan bit his lip, pulling himself back up. “Are we clear?”

She didn’t seem to hear him.

He looked around. Sure enough, they were right in the channel between the two cliffs. Seagulls and cliff pigeons filled the air with raucous complaints and demands, but otherwise, things were suddenly quiet.

He could still hear the hum.

“Hey! Milan! There’s something down there! There’s something—YEEE!”

Milan let out a low sigh of relief. They had survived. No collisions. Swallowing, he turned to face Pallasi.

And a woman with blue-green skin, pupilless eyes the color of the sunny sky, long, tangled locks of jet-black hair, and a pair of large, prominent batlike ears smiled back at him.

He recoiled to the other side of his canoe, causing to rock. “YEE!”

Where had she come from? What in the...

The woman smiled. Milan stared, dumbfounded. He hadn’t even felt her climb in. She was drenched, and he saw she had a pair of batlike wings—something like a cross between a bat and a manta ray, actually—accompanying her arms, rather like a bat or flying squirrel. She was totally naked, and her nipples were a striking violet on large, full breasts.

From just above her ass protruded a long, slightly fluffy tail, with a long set of almost peacock-like feathers at the end of it. That tail twitched playfully as the woman transparently sized Milan up, licking her lips.

Milan swallowed. Her look was very... pozsessive. He wasn’t used to having even one naked woman in his boat, let alone two. Pallasii, for her part, was just lying in the back of the canoe, staring up in alarm at the twitching tail as it descended upon her.

“Um... hi.” Milan bit his lip. “It’s a... pleasure?”

“Milan,” Pallasii hissed, “do not—”

“Hello!” said the strange woman. Her voice was... Milan couldn’t describe it. It made his whole body tingle. It was wispy, silvery, high and singsong. He had never heard such a beautiful, beautiful sound in his life. “It is a pleasure.”

Her tail descended upon Pallasii, who had, Milan dimly noticed, gone totally limp as the woman had started to speak. The feathers started to trail over the mermaid’s exposed breasts. Pallasii’s eyes were glassy, her lower lip quivering as a bit of drool slipped out. The feather stroked along her breasts, and she squirmed, but seemed totally unable to speak up to ask this pretty woman to stop.

“Who are you?” Milan asked. “I’m Milan the Fisher.” He gave an awkward half-bow, still leaning back in his boat as the woman looked down at him.

“Call me Carava,” Carava said. Her voice made Milan’s head feel buzzy. Fuzzy. Drippy. He found himself nodding along. She beamed down at him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Milan. Would you please be a dear and take off your trousers?”

“Okay.” Milan blinked. Something about that request seemed odd when he replayed it in his head, but he couldn’t think of a single logical reason to refuse that gorgeous, tingly voice. He reached down and unbuckled his pants, even as his rational mind struggled to explain it. “Um... I hope it’s not rude to ask this, but what are you? A fey?”

“Close enough.” She giggled. Her laugh made Milan’s head swim, bubbly and drifting. He found himself laughing, too, and she smiled down at him with delight. “My, you’re a big boy, aren’t you, sweetie-pie?”

“Um...” He glanced down bashfully, realizing he was now in his underwear—and a bulge was evident. He frowned. What... what was he doing? “Huh.”

“But we can’t be sure,” Carava breathed, and he heard Pallasii whimper-giggling slightly as the tail danced over her nude body, “until we make your toy nice and hard.”

The way she said ‘hard’ made Milan’s mouth water. It was so... so breathy, so sensual, and simultaneously so playful.

His cock was straining in his underwear now, and Carava clapped her hands with delight.

His head was swimming. Her voice echoed in his head, replaying again and again. He rubbed his forehead. “I, um...” Was she doing something to him? Something in her voice? “Please, I don’t want to—”

“You don’t mind if a pretty girl plays with you, do you?” Carava purred, dropping to her knees.

And just like that, her voice soothed his worries like a soft, warm blanket. “No, of course not,” he mumbled. “But... but I...”

“You’re so very attracted to me,” she sang, “and you can’t wait to show me your yummy dick!”

Oh. Oh, no, he definitely couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said softly, reaching down and pulling down his underwear. His cock sprang free. He felt so confused. So horny. She was so, so beautiful...

“That’s right,” she purred, leaning closer. “That’s your big, yummy dick?” She giggled, and his mind momentarily melted into glimmering bubbles. “That’s mine now.”

He nodded meekly. Of course it was hers. He couldn’t imagine refusing her. He could imagine, however, what she might do with it, and that thought—those images—made him pant.

“Tell me, sweetie-pie,” the gorgeous woman cooed, “what do you want me to do with my new toy?”

He swallowed, staring up into her eyes. “I...” His cock was throbbing.

“Well?” she leaned in closer, grinning mischievously. “I know you’re horny and stupid with lust, cutie, but I need an answer!”

Horny.

Stupid with lust.

My new toy.

Toy.

This close, her voice send shivers down his spine. He stared at her in lost adoration. “P-please,” he whispered, “could you... touch it?”

She giggled. “Oh, silly boy...” Behind her, Pallasii let out a hoarse scream as she came, and the strange woman’s eyes gleamed. Her cheeks seemed to redden slightly, and her next words came out husky, almost weak. “You only... need ask!”

She reached down, and he whimpered.

Did her eyelashes flutter when he made that sound? Did her breathing deepen slightly?

Her fingers grazed his cock, causing it to twitch. She gasped and looked up at him in delight. “Like that?” she asked, licking her lips. “Is this what you meant?”

“P-please!” he cried.

”Mmm.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Do you like it?”

He moaned. She shuddered against him. “Oh, you do, you little bimbo. Whimpering little stud.”

Her voice filled his head. He felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper beneath layers of soft blankets. Her fingers grazed his cock again, and he let out a desperate whine.

She moaned. “Ooh. Oh, y-yes. Oh, yes, whimper like the toy you are!” Her fingers brushed his tip and tapped it gently, causing a little precum to trickle out.

He was almost lying on his back now, staring up into her blue, pupilless eyes. His ears were ringing with every word she spoke, her sweet voice oozing into his mind like molasses. She crouched over him on her hands and knees, tickling his cock and laughing.

“Do you know what I am?” she cooed. “Stupid, h-horny boy?”

He bucked and cried as her fingers again gently grazed his cock.

“I’m a s-siren,” she gasped, licking her lips. “And a bit of a mean one.”

“They...” He heard Pallasii panting with effort. Apparently the tail had slowed in its efforts. “They get off on... mmmmoans...’

“Ooh, not so much moans for me.” Carava giggled, and the tail sped up its attentions. Pallasii squealed in lusty anguish, once again consumed in need, and Carava’s voice turned breathier, “I... ooh... I really... really like my pets to whimper. It’s s-so... mm.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “Take off your shirt, Milan.” Her tail rose up above him.

Milan stared up in dread, his mind a mix of torment and blissful compliance.

“I wanna tickle you pink,” the siren cooed. “Make you squeal for me.”

And her voice was so sweet, so lovely, Milan immediately tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. He didn’t even look where it landed.

And as it flew, it dislodged his tuning fork from the step it had been resting on, causing the fork to fall to the floor of the boat.

And for a moment, a high-pitched hum Milan had all-but forgotten about dropped from his mind.

“Aah!” The siren’s eyes widened as the fork’s high-pitched ringing filled the air. “A-aah—AAAH!” She collapsed to the bottom of the boat, and he heard wet sounds between her legs as she wriggled and writhed. “Oh, no,” she gasped, “no, no, oh, yes, f-fuck!” She gazed up at him with wide eyes. “F-fuck! Fuck me! Now now now now now!”

Her voice left no room for disobedience. Milan leaned forward, gripping her shoulders, his mind dazed and hazy. He rose atop her, panting, as her legs spread.

“In!” she squealed, wrapping her legs around him. “In! In! In!”

And she impaled herself on him.

He let out a moan as she started frantically writhing and wriggling on his cock. But she had ordered him, and so he held her down, spread her legs wider. She whimpered and blubbered, her eyes wide, her voice squeaky and needy and so, so sexy.

He pounded into her in brainless bliss, letting her coo and babble incoherently in pleasure. His cock throbbed happily. His mind was fuzzy and blissful. Her every moan made his pleasure spike, made his mind feel slower and clumsier.

Pallasii was screaming, too. It was like Carava’s screams and squeals alone were enough to take the mermaid over the edge, and the mermaid was thrashing about like a fish in the net.

But he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was the writhing, moaning beauty beneath him, and her tight, wet pussy.

He and Carava were both too horny—too happy, too mindless. He was cumming, and he squeaked and whimpered from the pleasure, and this only seemed to make Carava’s expression widen into pure, empty bliss—

And then the boat hit the cliff, and his brain cut out.

When Milan came to, his clothes were gone, his cock was rock-hard, and he was staring up into the eyes of two giggling angels.

Their curly blonde hair hung in adorable ringlets around their adorable pale-blue faces. Bright, pupilless golden eyes shone down on him. They looked at him in the manner one might look upon a shiny newly-discovered treasure. The way their naked breasts hung over him made him go bright red.

“He’s awake!” sang the first blonde, who he somehow knew to be named Saline. Her feathered tail twitched behind her as she beamed down at him. “He’s awake, mapletongue!”

“I know he is, honeycomb,” purred the siren he somehow already knew to be Palcea. She batted her eyelashes down at him. “And he’s all ours, isn’t it?

Oh. He gave a weak smile up at them. “I am?” he asked, feeling a little nervous. It sounded reasonable, for some reason—it seemed so, so hard to refuse any of these beautiful creatures—but he wasn’t sure about such a big commitment.

“Yes!” Saline sang persuasively, her tail darting down and brushing over his cock. He gave a little squeak of pleasure, and their smiles widened. “Definitely ours!”

“O-oh.” He swallowed. “I, um... I guess that makes sense. But I, um. I had a boat...” He looked around. He felt so drowsy. So... scatterbrained. There was a strange background hum tugging at his mind, and he knew these creatures despite not knowing them. Almost like... like he’d met them in a dream.

“It crashed!” Palcea purred, as her feathered tail descended to tickle his cock as well. Milan twitched and moaned, and he noticed her squeeze Saline’s hand tightly at this. “You... you don’t have a boat anymore!”

He blinked. Lying on his back on this algae-covered ledge, he was staring straight at the opposite cliff. “I could swear that’s it over there.”

“Nope!” The feathers tickled between his thighs, and he gave a giggling whimper of arousal.

“R-right...” He paused to catch his breath. “Right between those two rocks? Kinda s-scratched up?”

“Driftwood!” Saline said.

“Optical illusion!” Palcea cooed at the same time.

They exchanged looks, then giggled like mad.

He frowned, trying to make sense of these two reasonable explanations. “It’s... both?”

“Yes!” The feathers grazed along his leg. “Exactly! You got it!”

“Mm...” His eyelids fluttered. They sounded so logical, how could he even think of doubting them. “Okay, I guess. So... I’m stuck here.” He flinched and gave a little giggle as the feathers grazed his hard cock again. Palcea reached forward and started rolling back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive skin beneath to their ticklish touches. “Could... could you not do that?”

They exchanged bright red looks.

“But don’t you remember, cutie-cake?” Saline cooed.

His head buzzed pleasantly. He blinked uncertainly up at them.

“You love being tickled!” they exclaimed together. Their voices filled his mind, filled his heart. Such pretty, sensual voices. He blinked. “Oh. I... I do?”

The didn’t bother responding. They just started giggling as their tails descended upon him and began his torment.

He let out a squealing giggle as one feather tickled delicately along the base of his shaft. Saline’s tail, meanwhile, snaked down his legs towards his feet. It brushed teasingly over his toes. He started to buck and pant and wheeze, thrashing.

“Stay still!” Saline sang.

He tried. He tried so hard to do as Saline said. But he was giggling louder and louder as torturous, exquisite pleasure filled his body. It was too much. He loved being tickled, but this... oh, fuck!

The feathers breezed along his sole and cock simultaneously, tickling his most sensitive skin. He squirmed and whimpered and laughed, staring up at the sirens with teary eyes. “S-stop!” he cried. “I c-can’t—can’t—oh—”

The sirens were panting for breath, clutching one another desperately. Their batlike ears were twitching like mad. They kissed passionately, messily, moaning hysterically.

They were climaxing, he realized with wide eyes and a rapid heart. He yelped and giggled as the feathers started grazing faster over his feet.

“P-please!” he whined. “I can’t—heehee—oh, p-please!” His whole body was contorting in tormented pleasure. He... he loved being tickled, but...

“Squeal for us!” Palcea cooed, flicking her unbearably delicate feathers over his unbearably sensitive member. “Oh, yes, squeal!”

He found himself shrieking as Saline’s feathers tickled over his feet. Why were they so tickless? Since when—

The thought was wiped away as their giggles once again filled his mind with glimmering bubbles. His mind was melting, gibbering, breaking down—

He came with a giggling scream, cum shooting out and spattering over himself and the rocks. The sirens were giggling like mad. Pleasure—wicked, torturous pleasure—sang through him.

His vision was immersed in light. Everything felt so familiar, so dreamlike. The feather kept stroking his cock, teasing out the last jets of cum as he bucked and whimpered and laughed.

His face was bright red. He couldn’t breathe. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. And then the feathers stopped.

He blinked. A deep, ragged breath came in as the tails rose from his cock. The much-needed relief alone nearly crushed his mind.

“Enjoying yourself, boy?” Saline cooed up at him, licking her lips.

He let out a little whine.

“What’s that?” Palcea beamed. “You want us to make it even better?”

He tried to speak, but his tongue was leaden. He could still barely breathe. He could only let out another whimpering whine.

And then the sirens descended, giggling, and started licking like kittens over his cock. They lapped up the cum as the feathers rose up and started tickling his arms like mad. And the pleasure torture—and his high-pitched laughter and whimpers—resumed.

Milan was in heaven. He loved being tickled. He felt so deliciously powerless, so intoxicatingly overstimulated.

He was also in fucking hell, and everything about this was awful. Why couldn’t he refuse? Why did he agree with everything these gorgeous blonde temptresses told him? What was that beautiful humming in the background?

“This little sailor boy,” Palcea exclaimed, straightening once more—Saline was clinging to her like a shaking leaf, clearly still in the midst of an overwhelming orgasm—“has the most delicious little giggles I’ve ever heard, doesn’t he, honeycomb?”

“Y-yessss,” Saline sighed. His cock throbbed at that tone of voice. “Such a... hee... good listener.”

“Mm.” Palcea smirked. “I just wanna keep him like this forever, don’t you?”

“Ooooh...”

They were controlling him, Milan realized, a dazzled smile spreading across his empty-headed face. The music in the background... their voices, so pretty....

He loved it. He loved them.

But... were they making him love them?

And did he care?

He wriggled and giggled as their feathers touched all over his cock and balls. He was a mess. A ticklish, mindless, obedient mess. How could he ever resist this? Even if he wanted to...

And then he spotted his lute.

It floated just on the current, bobbing over the waves. He stared at it, wide-eyed. It had floated right to the edge of the ledge.

Unthinkingly, he reached down towards it.

“Ooh!” squealed Saline, pausing in her licks. “Does he want more on his cute, sensitive arms?”

“He’s such a kinky little thing,” Palcea purred.

His eyes widened. He managed to grab the lute from the water—just as the feathers reached his underarms and armpits and started to tease the highly ticklish areas.

He squeaked and nearly dropped the lute, arms flying back down to his sides—but the feathers tortured him anyways, now trapped beneath. There was nothing he could do to stop them from tickling his arms and sides, and he soon gave up, letting his arms go limp to give them full and terrible reign.

And they took advantage. He whimper-laughed with unrestrained glee, his mind a swirl of erotic delight.

His fingers were twitching and shaking, but he clutched the lute tightly. A strange sense of deja vu settled on him as his knuckles whitened around the instrument.

And, barely even thinking about it, he found himself strumming a chord.

His heart fluttered with recognition. Gathering his wits, Milan began to play. And he began to sing the first thing that popped into his head—a very stupid little love song from back home. His voice rang out, smooth and sweet, echoing in the canyon.

“The young man lay, with eyes honey-sweet

Beneath the apple tree

The young man said, ‘O, my day would be complete

If I had some company.’”

The licking on his cock started to slow down. At the same time, to his intense relief—and regret—the tickling beneath his arms ebbed, and the feathery tails slipped away from his sides.

He managed to take in a weak, shuddering breath.

“Oh,” he heard one of the pair whisper. “O-oh. Nnn... can’t—“

“The tree looked down, with bitter-bark thoughts

And said to that young fool

‘What am I, then, you ungrateful little sod

I, that shades and keeps you cool?’”

His voice rang out, clear as a bell. Saline let out a squeaky moan, visibly shivering—almost as if she was the one having feathers run along her body. Her large, fuzzy ears were twitching rapidly.

He felt her hot breath on his cock.

Slowly, she and Palcea started licking again, but their licks were small and uneven. They were entwined within each other’s forms, stroking and pinching, as though just desperate to share the way they felt with the nearest hot body. Lust filled their formerly amused eyes—helpless, entranced lust.

They needed him to cum first, he realized, staring into those glassy golden eyes. Because if he came first, he would lose control. He would yield totally, cum his brains out, let them turn him into their horny, suggestible little ticklebimbo.

But the way their ears were twitching, they weren’t going to last that long. He took a deep breath for the next stanza as his fingers danced over the strings—

And then, competing with his own voice, there rang out the sweet, silvery voice of an angel.

“The young man saw, for he was a keen-eyed sort

A handsome dryad up above

A fey from the Highest old fey court

And the sweet voice of a dove.”

Their voices mingled, each in a separate key. He had to struggle to keep his tune straight.

But Carava’s voice trickled into his mind, sweet and tempting. He whimpered, fighting to keep his voice strong. It would feel so good to give in... he already felt so blank and dizzy, listening to Carava’s beautiful voice...

The little tongues below continued to tease him. Palcea and Saline were whining, mewling, desperately trying to keep him on the edge. Their efforts—and their beautiful whimpers—were enough to make his cock throb needily, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

His heart fluttered as he stared into those clever, greedy eyes.

Milan had to regain control. His mind crackled and hummed along with the tune, but enough of his touch memory alone was enough to keep his fingers sliding over the strings, and he tried to speed up the song to match a frantic, pace.

“The man said, ‘O, good sir, I didn’t mean a thing.

My words were poorly-spoke.

For if I had seen you, and heard your sweet voice ring

I would not have... told such jokes.’”

F-fuck. He couldn’t remember all the lyrics. He moaned, bucking slightly, as the tongues tickled and teased his needy, sensitive member. The giggles were starting to rise in him again.

But Carava was stumbling, too. Her voice couldn’t fill him with that sweet, staticky comfort anymore, not when she was so horny herself. He heard wet sounds, and saw from the corner of his eye that she had thrust two fingers into her cunt.

He redoubled his efforts, heart pounding. No matter what, Milan was going home tonight!

“And the dryad’s heart (a knotted, twisted thing)

Eased and loosened at these words

And he jumped down with a spritely fairy spring

And the man found his heart stirred.”

On the third line, Carava collapsed to the ground. He could see her stroking her clit, pinching her nipples, eyes wide and overwhelmed as her ears quivered. Her voice rang out high-pitched and desperate now.

Milan hesitated, lost in the sight, lost in her aroused tone of voice.

He fought to keep his senses, fought to keep the tune going. Carava’s singing was still powerful, and he still felt it prodding at him, pouring into the weakest points of his mind and turning them to her side. He swallowed, feeling Palcea’s and Saline’s slow, trickling pleasure continuing at his pulsating member.

Beside him, he saw Pallasii emerging from the water. The mermaid’s eyes were dull and dazed. She was trembling with arousal from the music all around her, but she looked at him with clear concern. “Can you... keep it up?” she hissed.

He nodded weakly. Palcea and Saline were barely licking him, now. What they gave were tiny, kittenish laps—torturous in how brief they were, but not nearly enough to break him over the edge. They were panting, moaning, stroking each other, almost grasping at each other in their eagerness. He stared in amazement as these two once-powerful sirens seemed to melt before his eyes into needy, gasping puppets to their own lust.

He took in a last shuddering breath, rallying all his will for one last stanza. Pallasii rested a hand on his shoulder, steadying him for the final ‘blow’.

“And the two climbed up into that tree so tall

And they found a...”

He felt a soft hand touch his cheek. Pallasii smiled down at him.

He blinked up at her, momentarily speechless.

Then she seized him in a sloppy, devouring kiss like no other.

”MMMM!”” He struggled desperately, but the mermaid gripped him tightly, moaning and laughing as her tongue slid into his mouth, as she nibbled and sucked at his lower lip, tickled fingers along his bare chest. “MMMMM!”

His fingers slipped off the strings.

There was a pause.

And then he heard musical giggling, and his mind exploded in bright blue and gold bubbles. Blissful haze filled him up completely until he was totally entranced—totally submissive once mmore to the sirens’ sweet voices.

The next thing he knew, Carava was singing again, wordless and alien, beautiful. His mind started to melt as the tongues started tickling over his sensitive cock in earnest, and he squirmed and moaned into the mermaid’s wet kiss as their feathers tickled his sides and underarms mercilessly.

His cock was throbbing. His mind was oozing out his cock, and all he could do was...

obey.

Oh. Oh, that felt so good. He moaned and giggled, bucking against the sirens’ tongues. Obey. He loved obeying.

“Pallasii!” he heard Palcea sing, giving his cock a sweet little kiss. “Get off him! We want to hear our little featherbrain squeal!”

“Yes, Mistress,” Pallasii mumbled, rising up and leaving him breathless beneath. The mermaid smiled vapidly down at him as she crawled away.

Her smile widened as Carava’s tail descended upon her.

“Good tickletease!” Palcea cooed, as the mermaid started to writhe and twitch, eyes wide, drooling once more in needy, paralyzed bliss. “You’ve been such a good tickletease today, too!”

“Yes,” the mermaid moaned. “A-alwaaaays...”

Palcea and Saline turned back to their red-faced plaything, batting their eyelashes. “So, featherbrain,” teased Palcea, kissing him again on his sensitive cock tip, “are we ready to be a good boy?”

Her words sank into his mind like soothing mist after all the stress. The betrayal of Pallasii barely registered with him. He just stared down at her, stared into those bright, gleaming eyes, biting his lip. “I... I, um...”

They grinned and descended back down on his cock again, licking with unbearably lightness and speed—not enough to bring him to orgasm alright, but enough to drive him mad with ticklish pleasure. The fluffy, feathery tails returned to his arms, wickedly teasing him no matter how hard he tried to cover himself. There was always some area of sensitive skin for them to toy with.

He let out a squeal, writhing and wriggling helplessly. He was a suggestible, squirmy, horny mess beneath their touches. “Yes!” he cried. “Y-yes, I—heehee—I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” He bucked and screamed as he started to cum. His mind went white-hot. “I’ll be good, Mistress!”

“Yes, you will,” said Carava sweetly, her song ending at last. Palcea’s and Saline’s tongues worked wickedly over his sensitized tip. The tails brushed teasingly down his sides, and he thrashed in futile reflex, desperate to avoid the exquisite attentions and yet desperate for them to continue.

His pleasure surged through him like a burst damn, and there was no saving him now. He didn’t want to be saved. He giggled and cried out in intoxicated delight, a mindfucked puppet for his Mistress’s cruel touches and delicious voices. Saline and Palcea were giggling like mad as tears streamed down his face.

He almost couldn’t breathe. He was laughing too hard, cumming too hard. He couldn’t stop cumming. Palcea and Saline were collapsing against one another in the throes of orgasm, kissing and moaning, clutching each other like lifelines, but he knew he couldn’t possibly muster the will anymore to think of that as any sort of opportunity. He was just proud he had made Palcea and Saline happy with him.

Their little featherbrain wasn’t going anywhere.

So he just lay back, and let the insidious, corrupted pleasure slowly turn his mind into fuzzy, happy mush.

His vision was immersed in a brilliant, warm glow as their squeals and taunts and coos sank deep into his mind. He was lost in the glow, lost in pliant bliss.

As he lay in the giggly, whimpering afterglow of his third orgasm, he felt Carava wrap her arms around his shoulders. He was almost blind with over-stimulation, and so all he could do was giggle and squirm as those wicked tails probed over his whole body, keeping him nice and brainless for the sirens’ pleasure.

He barely noticed as he was lifted into the air and carried up, up, up. His spirit was already in the clouds. He just weakly tried and failed to keep the tails from reaching his newly-exposed ass and back.

“Come on, toy,” Carava chirped, kissing the back of his neck as she clutched him to her chest. “It’s time for your favorite part.”

Favorite part. He went limp, moaning, whimpering, as the tickles continued their endless torment. He was already about to cum again as they took him to the mouth of a deep cave.

This was his favorite part. Every time they took him to this place, broke him, fucked him, this was his favorite part. This was the part where they made sure he remembered to take this current the next time he needed to return from his ‘fishing expedition’. This was the part where they truly made him their sweet, hypnotized featherbrain.

“Oh, my darlings!” Carava sang. “Guess what we found!”

As they entered the dark cave, a musical chorus of gleeful squeals from within sent him into his fourth orgasm, and his cock started to spurt as the tails descended upon it, soon joined by a host of slick, delicate tongues.

The siren colony would enjoy their toy tonight.