The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The road ahead of her was empty of any fellow travelers, and the sprouts of long grass dotting the uneven path suggested she would be one of the few to take it in quite some time. The trees along either side of the road towered overhead, their branches linking to create a canopy shielding her from the afternoon sun. Summer had come and gone, taking with it its steady heat and often oppressive humidity, and in its place a vaguely chill breeze was rifling the leaves. Already some of them had started to turn, shifting from their vibrant summer dress into the fiery colors of Fall. They created a mottled mosaic of color that any artist would have happily spent hours attempting to capture.

She only wished she was in the mood to appreciate the tranquility; it had taken several days on roads not much better than this one, but she was finally nearing her destination. If the directions she received from the last inn were in any way accurate, House Koyasu should be waiting at the end of this winding road.

The task seemed simple enough; Lord Nobunaga was in the midst of his campaign to the south, amassing his forces and securing allegiances from the other local lords, and needed someone to survey this particular prefecture to gauge its position in the war. As remote as it was though, it seemed unlikely that its small population could sway the conflict in either direction, but Lord Nobunaga was nothing if not thorough.

At least, that was the cover story she was to present. Her travel satchel was heavy with scrolls of authority and signed mandates from all the proper offices, enough to allay even the most suspicious of local magistrates. Her attire was practical but expensive; fine silks and perfectly dyed wools and cottons. Her mount was fine and strong. She bore all the traipings of a courtier from the court of the greatest warlord in the nation. She’d accepted other missions with not even half as much before.

So why was she feeling so uneasy?

As she maneuvered her horse along the curving dirt path, accompanied by the droning of cicadas and the occasional song of a rushing bird, she recalled the hushed conversation she’d had with her primary contact, a rotund informant she knew only as Gousaku.

They’d worked together in the past, so when he came to her with this particular assignment, she saw plainly how uncharacteristically troubled he seemed. His heavy jowels rumbled as he spoke, punctuated by a frequent clicking noise he made with his tongue. She knew Gousaku tended to do that when something was annoying him, as if he was trying to dislodge a particularly tenacious nugget of food from between his teeth, and this time, he had been clicking like mad.

“I know it sounds far-fetched, Lace-san,” he explained, rubbing his multiple chins idly, “but his excellency’s envoy seemed completely sincere. They want you to investigate the Koyasu family’s estate and surrounding land holdings, and verify whether these rumors of...demons...is true.”

Demons. Oni. Ghost stories and superstition. Lace tightened her grip on the reigns, feeling her fingers sink into the supple leather. They weren’t always tall-tales; this she knew from personal experience. More often than not though, the “oni” turned out to be a local samurai drunk out of his mind and far too liberal with his sword, or a group of bandits hiding behind a veil of fear. It was far less often that news of a real oni ever made it to the ears of the local lords...but that was because real oni very seldom left anyone behind to recount their existence.

Some people believed in them enough, feared them enough, to take even shallow rumors of their movements completely seriously. If Lord Nobunaga did not, then someone in his chain of command certainly did. Gousaku had arrived with all the paperwork, and even more gold, on their very first meeting.

“You come highly recommended,” he added, meaning to compliment her, “There aren’t many who can rightly claim to have training in this sort of thing, and fewer still who have your experience and...discretion. His lordship trusts you will carry out your duties swiftly and effectively.”

Her duties. Her job, more like. Visit the Koyasu barony, investigate the spate of strange disappearances and unusual happenings, and determine if any of the rumors bore an ounce of truth; like how Koyasu Akehito, the local daimyo, had apparently wed a commoner who claimed to be able to cure any ailment; that said commoner arrived by herself and went about blessing rice fields into unbelievable fertility; that since their marriage, Lord Koyasu has rarely been seen, and seemed to be abdicating all his responsibilities onto his new wife.

Kageyama Yoko. The stories about her alone filled two whole scrolls.

The wind picked up, whipping her golden blonde hair about where she’d tied it in a simple ponytail. She had spent the long travel hours internalizing her cover story; she was an envoy of Lord Nobunaga, a foreigner working in his service as part of a bargain he’d made with the nations beyond the sea; such was his lordship’s power and authority that even the pale-men of the west came to pay him homage. What better way to show them the beauty and glory of the nation of Japan than to allow one of their own to survey it for him?

She had no bodyguards; a gaijin had very little value to the Nobunaga court, but any slight against her would be seen as a slight against him, and so she had the protection of his name and sigil without requiring the manpower of an armed escort. Besides, most people took one look at her and scurried the other way. Xenophobia was its own protection, in a way, and if push actually came to shove...

Reflexively she reached down and felt the short saya cinched at her waist, and the wakizashi sleeping therein. If anyone dared lay a hand on her, they’d pay swiftly for the miscalculation—for she was ninja, and where she walked, death followed not far behind.

House Koyasu was exactly where the innkeeper said it would be. As she reached the end of the overgrown dirt path, the forest suddenly opened up to reveal a wide clearing cut into the heart of the beating woods. A tall wooden torii framed the entry way, its once-vibrant red paint dull and chipped. Beyond it, a small cobblestone path led up to a massive three story house, larger even than the ones she’d seen in the more prosperous baronies to the south. The Koyasu family was very old, and their holdings were known for their unusual wealth amassed over the centuries. Koyasu House itself was the seat of that wealth, each generation adding to the structure and expanding its perimeter. It was a testament to the power of family and the strength of tradition, and the whole of the region operated in its figurative shadow. Only the Koyasu family’s apparent disdain for wider ambitions kept them beneath the notice of their more aggressive counterparts, who saw them as recluses and eccentrics. Better to leave them be out here in the middle of nowhere than to waste the resources to provoke them into a fight.

Lace was still taking in the sight of the dark stained wood and starkly white paper windows when the central door creaked open, and a small figure in a bright blue kimono slipped out. She hastened to the path, clutching a small roll of paper in her hands. She stopped in front of Lace’s horse, and fell into a deep bow.

“Lace-sama, welcome, we’ve been eagerly expecting your arrival,” the woman said, still bowed. She extended her arm, offering up the roll of paper, “We received notice of your coming only two days ago, and beg your pardon that we could not provide you a proper escort during your travels.”

She straightened, and for the first time Lace got a good look at her features. She was young, barely out of her teens, with short dark hair and wide, brown eyes. She was trying her best to be polite, but she couldn’t seem to stop her eyes from darting up to glance at Lace’s startling blonde hair. It was probably the first time the girl had ever seen someone with western features before, and no amount of early notification could suppress her innate curiosity.

The girl introduced herself only as Michiko, a courtier in the services of Lord Koyasu. She was to show their visitor to her room and allow her time to rest from her arduous journey before she met with Lord and Lady Koyasu. A dinner was being prepared even now. She would also take her horse to be stabled and fed.

Even as Michiko explained all this, Lace couldn’t help but notice how utterly still the rest of the household was. There was no sound, other than the young girl talking; even the cicadas had fallen silent, and the breeze had ceased dancing through the trees.

Once more, a sense of disquiet turned in Lace’s stomach, but the journey had been long and not a little taxing; it could simply be fatigue playing on her nerves. Thanking Michiko for her gracious reception, she dismounted, and was soon shown to a large, lavish room. Everything inside was available for her use and comfort, the young courtier explained. She had a few hours before dinner would be prepared, but in the meantime someone would be by with fresh tea, and Michiko herself would return to fetch her for the audience with the Lord and Lady.

She slid the partition shut behind her, and at once, Lace found herself alone. Lace couldn’t help but smile as Michiko closed the door, impressed not for the first time at the enthusiasm of youth.

“And the naiveté,” she said to herself, her gaze hardening in reflection. She shook her head and turned to the room.

On the off-chance she was being observed, one can never be too careful, she went through the mundane routine of unpacking. Clothing was squared neatly away in the provided furnishings. Documents were organized into her ever-present satchel.

All of the more...exotic...possessions were hiding in plain sight. The sword tucked within a kimono, poisons hiding among ink jars, and so forth.

She then set to her hair. Taking advantage of a beautiful and surprisingly feminine dressing table, complete with mirror, she untied the pony tail and meticulously brushed it smooth. She could actually feel the tension of the road fade away with each tangle straightened.

Picking out the only truly formal gown that was part of her present wardrobe, Lace smiled again. She’d specifically chosen something with a western styling, which meant it displayed most locals should find a startling amount of cleavage. It was not corseted, but snuggly tailored and the deep blue tones accented her coloring nicely.

“Every advantage,” she said to herself. Using intricate sleight of hand, again, just in case she was being observed, she made secretly tucked away the various tools of her trade in hidden sheaths and pockets.

With a few finishing touches for jewelry, now ready for dinner, she stood and began to wander the room, admiring every detail and running her fingertips over almost every surface as she waited patiently for the meal.

As she paced the perimeter of the room, her fingers trailing across the wood panels, something abruptly caught her attention. She stopped short, brow furrowing, and back up a half-pace. She turned fully to face the wall, and ran the flat of her hand across the spot that had attracted her attention.

There, cut into the wood, were four shallow furrows spaced unevenly apart. Lace leaned in closer, examining the faded markings in the fading afternoon light. On a hunch, she spread her fingers over the marks, and found them to line up almost perfectly with her hand.

Her heart skipped a beat. Scratch marks, they were unmistakable, though someone had taken the time to try polishing them away.

Looking closer, she noticed an almost imperceptible matching set of markings just to her left. Repeating the exercise with her other hand, she discovered it was a match as well.

Someone had scrapped their fingers across this wall, and not that long ago too. She turned to face the meticulously cleaned chamber, and eyed it with growing suspicion. She completed her circuit of the walls but found no other marks of note; the furniture likewise came away clean. All that was left was the wooden dais that supported a mattress low to the ground.

This time she didn’t need her sense of touch; she plainly saw the scuff marks on the corner closest to her. Crouching beside it, she traced the markings once more with her fingertips, and felt the worn, uneven groves left behind.

Ropes made indentations like that; at least, they did when they were moved with some force.

She found similar markings at the other three corners.

By the time she was done investigating the room, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and with it, the sounds of the Koyasu house seemed to come alive.

Beyond the walls of her chamber she could hear shuffling movement and short, hushed whispers. For a house that had been so deathly silent only minutes ago, the change was rather striking. Distantly she could hear the clanging of pots and pans, and the smells of cooking began to waft throughout the mansion.

A moment later, she heard a small knock at her door, followed by the muffled voice of Michiko on the other side.

“Lace-sama?” she said, “I’m to fetch you for dinner now.”

Lace took a moment before answering to reflect... rope marks in the four corners of the room? A sudden and distinct memory of herself bound by ropes tied to her wrists and ankles, spread so tight they held her body suspended face-up over a wide pit. She shuddered as she remembered wet tendrils rising impossibly from it and swarming over every inch of her body while she cried and struggled. Her erstwhile Ninja lords were gathered round laughing and wagering...

Lace staggered just a bit and steadied herself against the door. It took a moment, but she methodically walled that memory away once more. Only when she was sure the sensations were quelled did she clear her throat.

“Very good, Michiko.”

She slid the door opened smiled and bowed very lightly to the young girl. After retrieving her letter of introduction from the satchel, she then followed her, taking every opportunity to soak in the details and layout of the house.

Along the way she queried Michiko idly... how long had she worked here? Does she have many friends? Have things changed a great deal since her lord’s marriage? She kept the tone light, almost as if simply gossiping with a girlfriend. And with every question, every exchange, she would use her psychic gift to gently encourage the girl to trust and share, and to see if any stray thoughts might flirt by without being spoken by her.

Michiko reddened noticeably, unused to having someone of such importance paying so much attention to her. She stammered a response to Lace’s questions as she led her through the winding house.

“I’ve um, I’ve been working in the services of Lady Yoko for about three weeks now. My father is a farmer, and our fields...it’s been a bad year. Very bad. But all that changed when Lady Yoko arrived!”

Lace could feel the swirl of emotion playing across the girl’s consciousness; feelings of gratitude, of devotion...but beneath that, a streak of something else. Uncertainty? Fear, even? But as soon as it came it was gone, and Michiko was still talking.

“She said the chi of the land was flowing badly through our lands, and that was stopping the plants from growing. She offered to bless the fields so that they would prosper. At first my father turned her away; he’s a simple man, and doesn’t believe much in spirits or gods. It was only later, after some of our neighbors showed him the sudden changes in their fields, did he seek her out.”

She swallowed audibly.

“My family is poor, Lace-sama; we did not have anything of worth to give in exchange for her help. She said that in lieu of paying, they could simply allow me to come help her here, in the mansion. I’ve been here ever since. It’s not hard work; mostly I do the same things I did at home, but Lady Yoko says she needs me to learn to read, so that I can better help with the duties of the court. I’ve...I’ve been working very hard at that...”

“That’s wonderful Michiko,” Lace replied, remaining casual as they traversed the halls. “Reading is a rare and precious skill. You should be particularly grateful to Lady Yoko for that.”

She touched the girl on the the shoulder. It was a breach in cultural norms, but there are advantages to being a gaijin... such things are usual forgiven, or at least overlooked, and a great deal can be learned from a first touch, especially when it’s a surprise.

Michiko yelped, almost jumping at the unexpected contact. She whirled on Lace, apologizing profusely. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t expect that! Lady Yoko suggested you might be...different...I just was ill-prepared. Please, forgive the outburst...!”

Through the girls’ frantic apologies, the sudden spark of emotion Lace felt travel up her hand at the moment of contact began to coalesce into vague, foggy images.

A dark hallway lit by pale moonlight. A stark white hand reaching out of the shadows, clamping firmly on her shoulder. A cry of alarm, smothered immediately by insistent, commanding lips. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears as everything began to grow hazy...hot...

With effort, Lace managed not to betray the discovery in her expression. But rather bowed apologetically to the startled girl.

“It is I who should apologize Michiko-san.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Sometimes even a courtier forgets her manners.”

Michiko swallowed audibly, looking slightly paler. She hastened her steps through the stately halls, until finally they arrived at a large double set of paper-screened doors.

“We’re here, Lace-sama,” she whispered, moving to open the panel for her to enter. “Please, come.”

Lace nodded, turning to the dining hall, “Ah. Wonderful. Thank you.”

The banquet room was the most opulent chamber Lace had seen so far; whereas the rest of the house was cast in the same clean, practical lines she’d come to expect from her travels, here the room was decorated with long, expensive silk drapery, and lit by bright paper lanterns. A bamboo mat dominated the center of the chamber, atop which sat a long, wide table customarily low to the ground. Plates of steaming food were arranged artfully all the way down its length, enough to feed ten people, though Lace only saw seat cushions for two.

Michiko whispered to her from the entryway. “Please, be seated. Lady Yoko will be here shortly.”

She slid the panel shut, and once more, Lace found herself alone.

After surveying the room for a few moments, she stepped forward with quiet assurance walking to stand before the place setting at the opposite side of the table. There she placed the letter, properly situated on the left edge of the table. She then turned and walked slowly to her seat, letting her fingernails trail along it’s surface the whole way, once again absorbing any details she could.

She then sat gracefully, placed both palms on the table in front of her, closed her eyes and for the first time absorbed the movements, the physical vibrations of the house.

A rush of information came spilling up from the floor beneath her. While the room itself seemed picturesquely placid and serene, all around them the adjoining rooms were a hive of movement as people wove too and fro on any number of tasks and missions. She could feel floorboards being scrubbed, linens being carried to wash, the clatter of plates falling to the ground. Much effort was being made to keep the banquet moving smoothly, and so far she was the only one there.

Lace found it a little odd that so much activity was happening now, when most normal households would be winding down for the evening.

Before she could contemplate much further, the ring of shamisen chords sang in the air, and the heavy panels on the opposite wall slowly began to slide open.

They parted to reveal a tall woman with alabaster skin so fair she seemed almost luminous. The exquisitely embroidered purple silk kimono was perfectly tailored and conformed to her every curve. Hair as black as night fell in great waves, reaching nearly to the small of her back; an ornate orchid brooch pinned her bangs to the side and away from her emerald, almond-shaped eyes.

The red painted on her lips was all the more striking for the fairness of her skin. Her eyes settled on Lace seated at the table, and she smiled.

“Greetings, Lace-sama,” the woman purred, bowing deeply, “We are most honored to have you visit our humble home.”

She straightened, and fixed Lace’s blue eyes with an almost unnerving stare. “I am Koyasu Yoko; wife of our lord Akehito, and mistress of this house.”

Lace stood and stepped politely to the side of the table so her hostess could see her fully, then bowed her deepest bow since arriving and held it looking down for just a moment.

“You honor me, Mistress Yoko-sama, with your welcome and generous hospitality,” she said before rising with a warm smile. “My Lord Obunaga specially asked I express to you his personal greeting and his fervent hope to soon meet you personally. He also asked me to confirm the rumor of your striking beauty, Miss. I look forward to his smile at my assurances.”

With that, she fell silent, though carefully gauging the reaction. From prudence, she chose not to use any psychic gift for now... just in case.

If Lady Yoko was at all perturbed by Lace’s choice of dress she gave no hint. In fact, there was a sly, almost impish curl to her lips as she took in the sight of the lovely gaijin, and her generously displayed assets.

“You flatter me,” she said, “But you do yourself a tremendous disservice at the same time. If I were Lord Nobunaga, I would have been aghast at the thought of sending someone so...striking...on such an errand by herself. We live in troubled times, and death might be the most merciful thing to befall a maiden found alone on these roads.”

She seemed to be growing impatient with the formality of their parlance, and urged Lace to sit down. “But enough, you must be famished. Dine with me. We can discuss your duties later; for now, it would please me to learn more about you.”

She ignored the cushion waiting at the opposite end of the table, and settled to her knees in the space adjacent to Lace’s spot. She retrieved a small clay pot with her slender fingers, and poured them both a saucer of sake.

“Do you drink sake?” she said, smiling as if sharing something scandalous, “I’ve developed something of a taste for it; I fear my husband’s habits are rubbing off on me.”

“I adore sake,” Lace replied smiling conspiratorially as she sank to the pillow next to her. “Your husband won’t be joining us then?”

Lace paid special attention to Yoko’s movement, looking for indicators of dance or martial arts training; there were usually tell-tale clues. As the conversation unfolded, Lace began to tentatively, almost flirtatiously, steal glimpses of her surface thoughts and feelings.

Lady Yoko smiled coyly, and absently brushed a long lock of hair back over her shoulder. “My Lord sends his deepest apologies, but the day has been taxing for him, and he needs to rest if he is to maintain his responsibilities to the people in his care. He wholly expects to meet with you as soon as he is able.”

Her mannerisms were refined and articulate, but bespoke of no specialized training besides the practiced motions of a skilled courtesan.

As she spoke, Lace caught sight of a red mark set against the hollow of Lady Yoko’s shoulder where it peeked out from beneath her slim robe. She noticed the others soon after, and immediately recognized them for what they were; love bites, dotting the woman’s shoulders, neck, upper chest, and god only knew where else. A thin layer of powder sought to mask them, but her skin was so fair they were still plainly visible.

Poking idly at her psyche, Lace found something she wasn’t expecting; Lady Yoko was suffused with a warm, heady glow; feelings of contentment flowed atop a deeper current of that sang of devotion, adoration, love. Even briefly exposed to it, she felt her own cheeks suddenly coloring, and suddenly remembered what Lady Yoko had just said.

The Lord Koyasu was exhausted, was he? Well, one didn’t have to have too active an imagination to figure out why.

They chatted for a long while, and Lace quickly found herself peppered with seemingly endless questions about life beyond the eastern sea, and her services to Lord Nobunaga’s war effort; Lady Yoko played the gracious host perfectly, always quick to offer a sampling off one of the many dishes lining the table, and always swift to refill Lace’s sake dish whenever it was emptied.

Her own dish remained curiously untouched.

Somewhat taken aback by the feelings she sensed in her hostess, Lace still engaged in the conversation amiably. She answered the questions with enough specificity to convey authenticity, but enough vaguery to frustrate further questions for which she might be unprepared.

And, she responded in kind. Asking the script of questions regarding the Lords estate, and resources. Always polite, and general in nature. But Lace wanted to take this opportunity to try and gauge how involved the lady was in daily operations.

Then, “Oh my, Lady Yoko . You haven’t had a single morsel of food. I feel so rude.".

Yoko looked down quizzically at the small dish of untouched sake, and laughed jovially.

“Where has my head been? Your stories of your homeland are far too engrossing, Lace-san. But here, let us toast then to your safe arrival, and to the success of your mission.”

She picked the sake bottle up by its stubby neck, and with a wink tossed the entirety of its fiery contents back in three swift gulps. Exhaling loudly and wincing as the alcohol singed her windpipe, she nonetheless bade Lace to finish off her own drink.

She began to recount how she arrived in the region, a traveling priestess of humble origins, and how she had met Akehito after aiding some of the local farmers with their fallow fields. It had been love at first sight, she claimed, and the two were wed before next the moon was full. Her husband trusted her completely, and had given her extensive authority over the mansion and the surrounding lands while he devoted himself to more pious and spiritual efforts.

Distantly they heard a low chime. Lady Yoko stopped in the middle of describing her duties to Lace, titling her head slightly at the sound. She nodded, and smiled apologetically at her guest.

“I regret we will have to end our dinner a little earlier than expected; that sound means my husband is awake, and he will be looking for me before long. I will make sure he is prepared to meet with you tomorrow evening. I must spend much of tomorrow setting the accounts of the barony in order, so I regret I too will be unavailable until sunset, but you have our blessing to travel anywhere within the province you so choose. No barriers will impede your assessment for Lord Nobunaga; merely present this seal and all will do as you ask them.”

She handed Lace a tightly wound scroll fastened with a strip of crimson silk. During the hand-off, Yoko’s fingers seemed to linger just a heartbeat longer than they should have against Lace’s slender hand, and when she looked up she noticed the same bemused smirk and smoky glint had returned to her features.

“You must be tired after your long journey,” she said softly, her brilliant green eyes almost shimmering in the lamplight. “Come. Let me show you to your quarters.”

“Thank you Lady Yoko,” Lace replied, “there are so many twists and turns on the way here I’m sure I’d never find my way back without a guide.”

It was a lie of course. She could find her way back blindfolded without touching a wall, but she smiled and followed politely. Her calm pleased expression masked inner turmoil. That the Lady was conveniently unavailable by day in a house that seemed all but abandoned until dusk was a strained coincidence at best. She clearly didn’t hunger for ordinary food and could drink sake at a pace that would fell a seasoned dockworker four times her weight.

At the same time she was surprisingly warm and friendly. Certainly charming and appeared to be full of light and warmth and... Well... Life.

Hardly the classic demon pedigree.

Still, the marks in her room, Michikos vision and her own nagging instinct cautioned Lace something was amiss. “Regardless,” she thought to herself, “tactically, I must assume the worst. Her order had many sayings. One of her favorites: On a mission, stay on guard until you know there is no danger. Then stay on guard some more.”

Lady Yoko smiled as she rose, offering her hand to help Lace stand. “Come.”

She held her hand all the way back through the long passageways, a rare breach of personal etiquette for someone of her station, but she seemed utterly heedless of the taboo. The roil of her surface thoughts betrayed only a sense of wild exuberance and a playful, mischievous streak of someone doing something they knew would provoke admonition.

Her hand was soft, and warm; almost unusually so. Perhaps it was the sake? There was noticeably more color on her noble features, but she walked with confidence and grace, with not a hint of a stagger.

“It took me a week before I could find my way around here without a handmaiden to guide me,” she said, “I’ve never lived in a place so large, or with so many rooms. I’m not quite sure I’m used to it yet, but my husband is exceedingly proud of his family’s heritage, and this great house is the physical proof of their achievements.”

They reached Lace’s door, having encountered no servants or bondsmen anywhere in their return. Even Michiko had seemingly vanished into the house’s labyrinthine interior. Yoko pushed the sliding partition aside, and gestured for Lace to enter.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, it’s magnificent. I could spend a week just exploring and enjoying all the nooks and crannies.”

Lace steped into the room, turned to bid lady Yoko good night, then startled and took a step back.

As soon as the blonde had stepped inside, Yoko had slipped in after, and shut the door behind them.

“I... Is, is there something you wanted to speak with me about or privately?”

Lady Yoko paused, her back against the screen door. The moonlight from the open window made her fair skin seem almost luminous. The dim changed the hue of smile from crimson to a red so deep it might have been black.

“Do you take me for a fool, Lace-san?”

Lace angled her chin ever so slightly on response then replied,“Have I given offense Lady Yoko?”

The mistress of House Koyasu began stepping towards her, emerald eyes glinting.

“Offense? Of course not; you’ve been the perfect guest. Cordial, polite, and exceedingly charming.”

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps a little too charming.”

“There are pots, and then there are kettles, Yoko-san,” Lace countered. Her face still wore his smile, but she planted 1 foot directly behind her and angled her hands politely between two of them. Her body language saying, “stop.”

“I may be from humble roots, but I am not naive in the ways of the world,” she said, nodding at Lace’s attire. “Lord Nobunaga has not been coy with his ambitions. He has long sought the support of the Koyasu family, for the food our lands can produce and for the gold in our coffers, but we have humbly insisted we are not interested in his war or his affairs. Now he sends you, a beautiful, rare flower, alone, to entreat with my husband. You said it yourself, you expected to meet with him tonight...with all your loveliness on full display.”

She smirked, confident certainty flashing across her minds-eye. “You were sent here to seduce my husband, weren’t you? To sweeten the bargain for Lord Nobunaga. Perhaps the fortunes yet smile upon me that he was indisposed, for I confess...I’m not sure he could have refused.”

“Something tells me luck plays a very small role in your affairs, Yoko-San.” Lace turned and continued speaking as she walked slowly into the room. “And war is coming, whether you approve or not. It will affect us all. Every household every business every person, born high or low.”

“Will it require sacrifice and contribution? Of course. But my Lord will win. Consider the bounties he will rightly share with those who he considers friends... bounties taken from those he does not.”

She turned upon reaching the bed holding your arms politely but fixing the Lady with an icy stare.

“And if you think I was paid to offer my virtues, you mistake me entirely.”

The confidence in Yoko’s gaze wavered a bit, her brow furrow in as she absorbed what Lace was telling her. Then something seemed to change. Her features relaxed, and she no longer seemed to be looking at Lace so much as through her. The effect was not a little disconcerting.

When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“So much pain...what roads have you travelled, for such sorrow to weigh upon your heart?”

Place filled her expression soften. “it is not easy being what I am, where I am.”

She smiled a bit and added, “but, you were right in the dining hall, I am weary from my travels. Perhaps a good nights rest, and a bit less sake will cool my tongue.”

Yoko still seemed lost in thought, but bowed deeply, saying, “Of course. Please forgive my outburst; I confess I find myself jealously protective of my husband. Especially with so singular a visitor beneath our roof.”

She turned to leave, sliding the door open, but stopped just short of stepping through. She turned to regard Lace over her shoulder.

“It seems I was mistaken about who the fortunes have sided with. I know not what pain you have endured...but perhaps I am meant to heal you, too.

Just like I healed my husband.”

And with that, she left, silently sliding the door shut in her wake.

Lace stood watching the door for a few moments, eyebrow raised. Not what she expected. Seemingly more emotional, but of course that could be a ruse. Her mood seemed to shift so rapidly, almost mercurial. But then that was a common tactic in interrogation.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

Still, Lace felt confided she’s managed to penetrate the armor a bit.

She then set about the routine of putting herself to bed. Changing into a very light sleeping gown, she arranged the pillows just so and settled in after extinguishing the lantern. She willed herself to a light sleep and then wake after two hours had passed. She needed the rest, but needed to begin real reconnaissance even more.

Deep in House Koyasu, seated in its upper floors, was the Lord and Lady’s bedchamber.

Ancient tapestries and scrolls of calligraphic art hung from the walls, while an ornate woven rug dominated the central living space. Candles burned low in golden holders, their flickering light making the shadows dance, and giving a semblance of motion to the sheer silk drapes adorning the canopy of the wide circular bed. Incense burned in ash-filled cisterns, wafting long plumes of fragrant smoke into the dark rafters overhead.

Unlike other rooms of the mansion, this one had a proper door, a heavy wooden disk bisected down the middle and reinforced with sturdy lengths of iron. The sound of the heavy lock being pulled back, and the door creaking open, was enough to cause the figure laying on the bed to stir.

“Why did you dally, Yoko? I summoned you quite some time ago,” a low voice rasped.

Lady Yoko finished shutting the door, and turned to face the bed. Her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was attending to our guest.”

“Ahh...the envoy...the gaijin...” the voice said, rumbling hungrily. “Was it as we suspected? Is she indeed bait from our ‘ally’ Lord Nobunaga?”

Yoko approached the bed, shaking her head uncertainly. “It seems we may have judged her prematurely, my love. She seems sincere in her intentions. Or she’s simply a much more talented liar than I give her credit for.”

“I will judge for myself, tomorrow...but for now, I’m hungry, Yoko. Always hungry...”

She smiled sympathetically, “Of course, darling. I have not forgotten about you. Your sustenance is being prepared as we speak.”

She began untying the knot holding her robe in place.

“In the meantime, perhaps I can entertain you? An appetizer, if you will...?”

She let the robe fall from her shoulders to puddle around her ankles. She was naked underneath, and the sight of her elicited a growl from the silken canopy.

“Yesss...come to me, wife. Come...!”

She shivered as the raw hunger in his voice made her skin erupt in goose bumps. She bowed her head meekly, and slowly slinked towards the bed. “Yes, master. I shall serve...I shall obey...”

The curtains parted, and she slipped into the waiting embrace of pale arms corded in sinewy muscle, and fingertips ending in nails as sharp as claws.

Lace woke instantly without any disturbance in her breathing. Physically she felt refreshed, but she needed to take a few minutes to calm herself from her fevered dreams. The details quickly faded but she was certain they featured Yoko.

This of itself was to be expected, her hostess was very much on her conscious mind, but the erotic nature... Unusually intense.

After restoring her calm she reached out with her senses.... Feeling the vibrations of the house. She had to make sure no one was observing her before making her next move.

Lace could feel the stirrings and movements of individuals elsewhere in the household, but they remained distant from her and engaged in their own activities. It was as opportune a chance as she was likely to have to move unawares.

Lace slipped out of the covers and adjusted the arrangement of the pillows, causing them to settle into a shape that could pass for a slumbering body. In the span of two minutes she slipped on her gray gi and tight leggings. She pulled her hair to a pony tail then lifted her hood into position to hide her blonde strands.

In a moment she was out the window and scaling to the roof to seek access to a crawl space or attics, to search as much of the mansion as possible without risking discovery. The full moon cast far too much light across the rooftops for proper concealment, so she moved quickly across the ceramic tiles, her practiced steps making hardly any sound at all.

A quick look around the structure suggested a simple arrangement to navigate; the house was comprised of three levels, each seated atop the previous, with the bottom-most layer being the broadest and the upper-most seemingly dominated by a single massive room.

Beneath her the sounds of the mansion seemed utterly mundane; she could hear people moving through the halls, and a myriad of noises associated with its upkeep. The veneer of normalcy made what happened next all the more startling.

A cry cut through the night, faint enough that it might have gone unnoticed to someone without Lace’s considerable training and sensitivity, but it immediately snapped her to attention. She fell to a crouch, hiding in a deep shadow of a raised parapet, and listened again.

She counted the moments in heartbeats; she concentrated, trying to place the sound from memory, when all at once she heard it again.

The cry was not quite a scream...and female. It was coming from the uppermost chamber.

“Naturally,” Lace breathed under her breath. She weighed her options. To circle the too floor for reconnaissance would be the most tactically sound thing to do. But it was a scream and thins could be urgent in nature.

Sword drawn and held low, she approached the upper floor. She stole her way under a top balcony, then climbed and peered carefully over the railing

She was unprepared for the sight that awaited her.

On the floor mere feet away from the balcony was the naked body of a woman, crumpled on the floor like a child’s discarded doll, her arms and legs splayed limply around her.

She had fallen on her back, her dark hair thrown around her wildly; her eyes were wide open and stared blankly up at the ceiling, and her mouth gaped in a silent cry.

Though not unfamiliar with death, the sight of her still made Lace’s heart skip a beat—until she noticed the woman’s chest was moving, and that periodically, a muscle group would spasm and jerk her around like a puppet with cut strings.

She was alive, Lace realized, staring uncomprehendingly at the woman on the ground.

It was then that she noticed the others as well.

All around the room, other women lay in similar states of disarray; three in total, each of them naked and gleaming in the flickering candlelight. Each of them bore the same blank, wide-eyed expression. It made Lace shiver.

Suddenly there was movement towards the dark heart of the room, where a massive canopied bed occupied a sizeable portion of the chamber. A sudden flash of deja vu reminded Lace that she’d seen this very bed—this very room—only recently...in that bizarre dream!

But, that would mean...!

“P-please, Koyasu-sama—I, I can’t—!”

The woman’s voice sounded desperate, plaintive, and hammering with fear. At once though Lace realized the cry she’d heard moments ago did not belong to this woman; the tone was all wrong. It must have belonged to one of the girls laying insensate upon the ground.

However unfamiliar it was, at least it sounded human. The voice that answered her was anything but.

“Aoba-san,” it oozed in a rich, deep drawl, “It should please you to know I saved you for last. Come...I will not harm you...”

It chuckled confidently, “Quite the contrary...”

There was a flurry of movement behind the canopy, but in the dim light Lace could not see what was happening. All at once, she heard the woman shout, “N-no!! No, you can’t—!”

And then she exploded out from the curtains hanging around the bed, crashing to the floor in a mad dash. Her escape had been too desperate though, too clumsy, and she could not find her footing. She tripped on the splayed limb of one of the other women, falling to the ground with a gasping cry.

The woman was in her late twenties, and pretty; her dark hair was cut into a short bob, and her figure was delightfully soft. All of the women were comely, but this one still stood out.

She heard the rustling of the curtains, and the woman spun onto her back.

Behind her, a tall, pale form emerged from the bed. His skin was beyond alabaster, and all but glowed even in the dim lighting. The only word that sprang to mind at the sight of him was...lean. Hungry. He was not emaciated, but every muscle on his arms, his legs, his rigid abdomen, were cast in stark display. Like a statue of living marble, glistening in a sheen of sweat. He appeared to be a man in utterly prime physical form, but shockingly so. His features were harsh, aristocratic but cruel. The topknot that normally would have restrained his hair was undone, so it spilled out behind him in a wild, black mane. His eyes shone like dark shards of glass in his wolfish face, and his ruddy lips were pulled back in a smile that displayed blindingly white teeth.

Most shocking of all though was the thing jutting from between his legs. For as pale as the rest of him was, the pulsing shaft of his cock was an angry, dark red. Long, almost as thick as her wrist, and riddled with long, pulsing veins, it mirrored the predatory aggression projected by his loping stance.

He began to advance.

“Please...stay away...!” she gasped, backpedaling slowly on her hands and feet. He was maybe a dozen feet away, but rather than lunge for her, he merely followed behind, matching her pace.

There was nowhere for her to run.

“There’s no reason to be frightened, Aoba-san,” he soothed, almost in mocking jest to be coming from a man so seemingly inhuman. “You and your friends are merely fulfilling your duty; you swore an oath of fealty and service, and now, your lord is calling upon you to serve...on your back...”

“This—this is insane!” she sobbed, looking at her fallen sisters, “Akane...Kiyone...what have you done to them...?!”

“You saw it with your own eyes, Aoba-san,” the man said, eyes narrowing as he drank in the sight of her luscious tits, her creamy thighs, “I fulfilled them; I satisfied them as no man ever has...and now, as no other man ever will! Lie back. Spread your legs for me, and experience the same bliss as they did!”

Lace could feel the terror rioting in the woman’s mind; her psyche was a veritable symphony of fear, her panic almost palpable. She shook her head, wide eyes fixed on the unnatural figure stalking towards her. “N-no! I will not! My...my husband—”

“You husband doesn’t have a cock like mine,” the creature sneered, “Does he?”

Almost reflexively, her eyes fell to the engorged spear of flesh jutting obscenely towards her, still shining with the wetness of the last woman it had touched. Miss Aoba made to say something, to utter some new denial...but then something shifted.

Beneath the current of fear on the surface of her thoughts, Lace felt something stir. Something thrashed awake, rippling the surface of her tension like the tail of a great and terrible beast. Her mouth fell open, and whatever denial she’d sought to utter caught in her throat.

“Look at it, woman,” the thing whispered, “You saw what it did to your friends. You heard how I made them moan. How I made them beg. Imagine how it will feel...inside you...”

“N-no!” she moaned, “I don’t w-want that...I don’t...!”

And yet her eyes stayed transfixed on his swaying cock, even as he continued to approach. He was closing the distance now, slowly, and only then did Lace realize that the woman had stopped trying to back away.

“You can’t take your eyes from it, can you?” he whispered.

Once more Lace felt that horrible stirring in Miss Aoba’s psyche, as something bubbled up through the fear. Confusion cavorted within her, mingling with the fear, as it all was slowly surmounted by...desire.

Color began to blossom on her cheeks, and her wild, panicked breathing began to deepen, becoming sighs, then pants. The wide, pink nipples adorning her heavy breasts had stiffened into tell-tale peaks, and they seemed to throb in time to the steady pulse of his monstrous organ. She had stopped trying to back away, but her legs continued to shift uselessly beneath her, until Lace realized the woman was pressing her thighs together almost reflexively.

And still she continued to stare at him, first in terror, then disbelief...and now awe.

“Yesss...” he hissed, seeing the lovely young woman falling further and further under his spell. “You know what you want...what you need...lie back. Ressst...”

“N-no....ooohhh...nooo...” she whimpered, her eyes becoming glazed, distant. Her arms trembled, and slowly gave way to her weight. She fell back onto the plush rug, the great mounds of her tits quivering as they settled proudly on her chest. He came closer, kneeling now in front of her. Her eyes followed the slow sway of his cock obediently.

“Spread your legs for me, Aoba-san,” he sneered. “Spread them wide.”

The landscape of her psyche had totally shifted; the terror and fear that had so dominated her emotions only moments before had receded, or more accurately, had been overwhelmed. There was only one thing on Miss Aoba’s thoughts now...and it arched above her, throbbing, a pearl of thick white fluid falling from its swollen head to drip hotly against her thigh.

She moaned...and spread her legs.

He fell between them, chuckling derisively, grabbing her behind the knees and pressing her legs up alongside her aching tits. Her pussy was left open and vulnerable, wetness trickling out from between swollen nether lips.

At the first touch of his swollen cockhead, she gasped. He traced along the length of her cunt, teasing her, moving back and forth until her wetness covered the crown of his shaft. By the time she felt him press against the opening of her sex, she was almost mad with desire. She arched her back, moaning loudly, raking her fingernails across the perfect white of his chest...and then he was inside her.

“OOOOHHH!! Y-yes....oh yess!! Oh god, s-so deep...so.....aaaaaaaaahhh!”

“That’s it, slut,” he said, leering down at her as he slid his thick shaft into her dripping sex, “Moan for me; moan as I make you mine...!”

He began thrusting his hips, sawing the length of his cock in and out of her in dominating, foot-long strokes. She could not help but obey him. She moaned, she moaned as sweetly as if it was her own husband taking her so passionately on the floor...though she was not thinking of him at all; the only thing she could think about, that he let her think about, was the sensation of serving beneath him as she succumbed to his will.

The sound of her submission filled the bedroom as she screamed, as his driving cock forced the first orgasm upon her helpless body.

As he began fucking her in earnest, his back shifted towards the balcony, and Lace saw the thing tattooed on his back.

Violets and blues and ink so black it seemed to suck in the light swirled together to form a huge, fanged face that took up the majority of his back. It stood out in stark relief upon his alabaster skin, every movement, every shuddering muscle, making it seem almost alive.

It’s eyes were wide and fiery, orange flames licking up from its sockets. A too-wide mouth was split in a massive, fanged grin. A mane of black and blue hair surrounded it all in a chaotic halo.

The tattoo of a great and terrible demon.

Lace’s eyelids fluttered closed at the first sight if the spectacle beneath her. Suddenly she was years younger, bound as she often was, this time on her knees, her torso bent forward parallel to the floor, suspended by her arms tied behind her back at the elbows and wrists.

For over an hour, knowing, soft fingers with long nails had manipulated her sex, building her dripping desire until she was crying out in pleasure and need. Then she felt it. Blindfolded though she was, somehow she knew it was a mans erect cock suddenly between her legs. She struggled all the harder but couldn’t escape it. It sawed across her hard clit again and again making her open. Making her need.

In time she felt her hips pushing back, her thighs widening, her young body so eager and hungry.

That was when she felt the second cock against her face, her cheek.

They seemed to work in unison, slipping and sliding around her orifices.

She whimpered. Her body pulsing between them. Then they repositioned and stilled. One nestled between the lips of her mouth, the other the lips of her pussy. They simply stilled there... Throbbing.

Desperate, young Lace opened her mouth and tentatively wrapped her lips around the head if the cock in front if her. Instantly the cock behind her invaded her tightness an inch.

Groaning around the shaft, she lunged forward taking as much of it into her mouth as she could. As she bounced backward she was impaled smoothly yet savagely! She screamed as she came from that single stroke, her virtue, virginity and dignity stripped in an instant.

There was applause.

Present Lace shook her head savagely to dispel the memories almost sobbing out loud. She was not that young innocent anymore. She was ninja. She was death.

She gritted her teeth. There was work for be done and she set about doing it.

The overwhelmed woman beneath him was writhing in helpless submission, wrapping her legs eagerly around the hips attached to the cock driving her absolutely mad with pleasure. She was utterly oblivious to everything else, but her partner...

All at once, he slowed, then stopped. She groaned in protest, rocking her hips to entice him to continue, but he ignored her pleading. He cocked his head, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the air.

Suddenly he turned to glance over his shoulder, right in the direction where Lace crouched hidden behind the balcony balustrade.

Uh oh.

Instantly Lace spring to move, racing to the side quick and silent. She crawled to the point of the roof situated over the bed and deposited a powerful explosive, a smoke and knockout gas bomb on a long chemical fuse. The rushed to look down at the chamber from a different vantage point, poisoned throwing dagger in hand.

“P-please...My lord, why did you...stop...?” miss Aoba moaned, grinding her hips against him. Akehito ignored her, searching the room, seeking out that strange rush of sexual need he had sensed only moments before.

“Nezumi,” he whispered, grinning wolfishly. Abruptly he stood, extracting himself from Aoba’s loins despite her pitiful protests. She fell upon him, clinging to his leg, reaching imploringly for his still-turgid member.

“Please my lord, don’t stop,” she whined, planting wet kisses along the length of him. Her own juices smeared across her lips, but she only kissed more frantically. He pet her head as a gesture of consolation, and she mewled happily.

“Later, my pet. We have a guest...and it would be rude to ignore her.”

He turned to the rafters above, his voice booming, “Show yourself, little mouse. Do not be afraid.”