The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Give it back!” Lysander snarled, red-faced and beginning to sweat in his armor. “Listen, it’s—”

“Ooh, so close!” The nymph tittered, dangling the letter just out of reach, hopping back with each clumsy swipe the knight took towards her. “Almost there, sweet boy! Just a little bit further!”

He just growled, reaching towards the letter, even though he knew he wasn’t likely to actually grab it until she got bored and gave up. Still, he had to at least try! It was a very important letter, a petition from his prince to the witch queen, and- Oh, bother, leave it to one of the witches to fill her academy with these kind of useless layabouts! Nymphs were the worst!

Easy on the eyes, he had to admit. She was more beautiful than the prettiest human woman he’d ever seen, effortlessly graceful, achingly voluptuous...! Nymphs were the ultimate trophy wives: glamorous, loving, and freely amorous with their husbands. Their one vice was their love of the chase, and it seemed as if he’d caught this blonde beauty’s attention in that regard. Her heavy breasts barely covered by a necklace of flowers, the nymph giggled and cooed, steadily retreating to an ocean of bright red poppies.

In short, inescapable failure. Lysander wasn’t so fool as to follow her there.

He idled by the edges of her flower-bed, watching the field of blossoms undulate like sea-waves in the gentle breeze. Crossing his arms, he decided he’d appeal to reason. Or pity, at least! “Look, as much as I’d love to chase you—”

“You want to chase me?” The nymph lit up at that, hands clasped together, her eyes wide and her smile wider. “Goodness, I didn’t want to assume- Nay, I thought not to hope that such a dashing knight would while away his time frolicking with me, but...!“

She swooned back, fanning herself with the letter. Her breasts wobbled and bounced, and her hips cocked to the side, casually showcasing the intoxicating fertility nymphs were known for. He’d heard that a nymph’s sex was like a suckling kiss to one’s manhood, a pampering, velvet hole that wrung a man dry and sent him sweetly to sleep. And when she gave her hips a wiggle, Lysander found it hard to think of just about anything else.

He shook his head! “A-As I was saying!” Lysander stammered, holding out his hand. “I’ll have all the time in the world to chase you as soon as my errand’s completed! So, if I could but have that letter—”

“This letter?” The nymph teased, holding it out at arm’s length...as she took steady steps backwards into her floral lair. “Goodness, but all you need do is reach out and take it, sir knight!“

“I can’t—”

“What’s your name?” She canted her head to the side, fluttering her eyelashes at him prettily.

“Lysander! Now—”

“Lysander!“ She sighed dreamily, hands clapped to her cheeks. She bounced in place, sending her tits wobbling in tandem. Then she twisted from side to side, rapturous in her girlish glee...and sending her chest rocking from left to right in turn. “Goodness, I’d never let some miserable Tybalt or a Claudius catch me, but a Lysander! Ooh, I’d adore a Lysander grabbing me by the hips and letting loose his full male rage upon me. After all...” She winked and kissed the letter. “A nymph such as I must infuriate you so. But that’s our lot in life, one supposes! We’re the prizes to be pursued! Whether knights like it or not.” She winked flirtatiously, blowing a sweet, floral kiss through the air. Red pollen fluttered as a heart towards him, and with a puff against his face...

...Lysander suddenly got that much madder! “Look here—” He stomped into the field of poppies before finding it necessary to wade through them. “I don’t have a lot of time, so you’re going to give me that letter—“

“So demanding!” The nymph gasped, breathlessly giddy at his ire. “Goodness, Sir Lysander! Would you pursue a maiden such as I with such caprine zeal?” She turned away from him, giving her hips a wiggle...to shake that thick, heart-shaped rear at him. She gave her derriere a smack and giggled. “I shudder to think that your virile passion might slow mine flight! But if your virtue’s true, make haste! I’ll only give up my maidenhead to one deserving of it, and- Ooh!”

Lysander had begun stomping towards her in the meantime, plowing through the flowers towards his wide-hipped nymph- No, she wasn’t- She wasn’t his.

Yet.

Lysander stomped through the flowers gracelessly, as if he were splashing through a waist-high stream. The only difference seemed to be that instead of foam and spray, his clumsy fervor kicked up pollen in a carmine fugue, an intoxicating mist that only grew thicker as he pursued her. Had to chase her. Had to catch her! Lysander’s eyes had strayed from the letter in her hand to the mesmerizing sway of her hips as she frolicked away.

Soon he was seeing red, and he didn’t know how much of it was the flowers’ reverie and how much of it was his desperate desire to catch the little minx- That thick, fertile rear of hers begging to be grabbed, rutted against- And every now and then, intoxicatingly, there’d be that little wink of her sex between thick thighs-

But he wasn’t fast enough! Lysander’s armor slowed him, unacceptably so. With a snarl, he undid the straps, let metal fall from his body into the flowers. There! Much faster. More nimble- He was still practically groping his way forward towards her, but now he wasn’t so miserably slow! Getting closer, too-

“Sir Lysander, no!” The nymph cooed over her shoulder. “Without the trappings of thine knightly station, it proves woefully difficult to tell you’re chasing me for your own noble goal! Why, to the uninformed, you’re no better than a satyr pursuing the latest subject of his masculine lust! And, oh, to be that happy quarry!“

She talked! So much! Lysander staggered after her in nothing but his sweat-stained smallclothes, and even those felt cloyingly tight. His muscles tensed and coiled as he gained momentum, and soon he charged after her like a red-crazed bull. The only difference here was that he wasn’t whipped into his single-minded rage by a fluttering crimson cape: his lusts were stoked by the slip of pink between her legs.

Soon enough, the nymph’s giggling prancing wasn’t quite fast enough to outpace Lysander’s mad charge, and with a yelp, she had to begin to run from him. But that body of hers wasn’t made for the same kind of breakneck sprint that Lysander was capable of, and with one particularly greedy lunge, Lysander finally grabbed ahold of her. His fingers dug into the meaty swell of her hips, and he tugged her backside against his lap.

“Lysander!” She gasped, wide-eyed and breathless at his sudden rutting ferocity. But even if she was all but scandalized by his conduct, it didn’t stop her from wiggling her hips and bouncing them against his thick, throbbing prick as it tented his smallclothes. “Ooh, you beast! How am I possibly supposed to resist this ruinous male instrument! One taste of your weapon, and I’ll be domesticated, bedded, made so deliciously heavy with your child that I’ll be unable to evade your greedy hands! Ooh—!”

She arched her back and moaned, shaking her hips and grinding them back against his crotch harder than before, smearing his cloth-covered manhood with her own arousal. No doubt about it, this bitch was in heat. No wonder she’d been so easy to catch. Of course, Lysander was practically an apex predator himself, so- His pupils dilated as he caught a glimpse of the flushed pout on her face, so needy and eager to be captured. He found himself pent-up from the chase, but now seeing how shamefully ready she was to be mounted and taken, Lysander couldn’t help but literally tear his clothes off and plunge into her.

“Ah!” The teasing lilt was gone from her voice, replaced by a high, keening whine. She mewled and pushed her hips back against him, her cushiony derriere giving him all the pillowy softness he needed to mercilessly rut into her cunt from behind. “Oh, take me! Take me, you brute, you beast!” The nymph sang, their hips slapping together like two beasts mindlessly copulating. “Claim me! Stain my womb white and make sure all your brother knights know that I’m your woman! My days running are over now that you’ve claimed me so surely!“

Lysander groaned, and if her words weren’t enough to wring a cumshot out of him, her hot, dripping cunt assuredly was. It clenched around him with an exquisite, velvet rhythm, controlling his pace without Lysander even realizing it. He thrust balls-deep into her fuckhole when it went loose and pulled back with luxurious languor as it seemed to suckle at his length, seeming to beg his prick to stay longer! And when he finally thrust deep enough to bump up against the entrance to her womb, it practically planted a loving kiss to his cockhead, an intoxicating somatic siren’s song, one that eventually had him hilted in her cunt. He just had to feel her cunt suckle and squeeze around him, and-

“Ooh, Lysander—” The nymph moaned, raising one hand and seeming to conjure a cloud of scintillating red pollen from the flowers around them. “There’s no running now...!” She brought her hand higher and higher...before tracing a lazy whorl in the air with one finger. The pollen swirled around them in a stupefying maelstrom, and that’s when her cunt latched onto his cockhead. The ring of her cervix seemed to swallow him up and start to mercilessly suck on it, eager, mind-blanking gulps around his manhood designed to make him empty his balls into her as soon as possible!

Her pursuit had turned to a different kind of urging, her hot, wet breedhole coaxing his twitching manhood into eager, male surrender. He couldn’t do much more than rock his hips forward, already as deep in her body as he could ever be. And that suction! Lysander’s eyes rolled back as his nymph-bride began to cum around him, her arousal felt and heard and practically tasted on the air. She came so much and with such eager abandon that each gush of feminine arousal was just as palpable as the pollen in the air, tinting it pink and further compelling him to surrender his seed-

He could feel it staining his cock, his balls, his thighs- He’d be able to smell her eager heat for days, he was sure of it, and Lysander- Lysander knew there was only one way to ensure that this breed-happy bitch would ever let him go!

Snarling, Lysander grabbed her by the hips once more and pushed into her despite his inability to go any deeper. Had to fuck, had to breed, had to claim his quarry!

“You caught me, you caught me! Claim me! Marry me!” She crooned, her soft, fertile curves bouncing with every thrust he gave. The nymph cast an amorous smirk over her shoulder, watching him with half-lidded eyes as her new brute of a husband found his new home in her cunt. “Now—“

“Cum!”

Lysander roared as he pumped his seed into her, filling her womb to overflowing with hot, thick ropes of jizz, each splurt of seed into her cunt enough to fill a human woman. That relentless suckle didn’t allow him to do anything but conquer her, though, and as his pleasure stretched from seconds to minutes, Lysander’s eyes crossed and rolled back, his tongue lolled out, and his arms fell slack by his sides. He was sucked dry, every drop of sperm-heavy spunk he had in his balls pumped into his new nymph-bride’s womb.

Finally, though, it seemed as if she was satisfied, and with her previously slim belly now showing the delightful pudge of a bull’s well-seeded conquest, the nymph’s cunt released his cock and let Lysander flop back bonelessly onto the flowers. He splayed out, halfway to dreams already, and...

“Mm. Goodness, such a beast.” The nymph tittered, nudging the discarded letter away with her foot. “Well, the letter’s already written, isn’t it?” She laid down beside him and sighed happily, nuzzling close. “No harm in taking a quick nap before I let my new husband do his knightly duties. After all, there’s plenty of time for me to conduct my wifely duties after that little errand.“