The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ordelia tossed and turned in her sleep, whimpering as her wings flexed and thrashed. Tears ran down her face. Whatever phantasms haunted her that night, they seemed especially severe to the guards outside her chamber-so much so that they’d contemplated creaking the door open a little to see if she was alright.

Their faith in her, absolute though it may have been, nevertheless quaked under the imposition of her frightened wailing. The sounds of their queen sputtering barely audible, mostly-incoherent pleas-to whom or for what they found indecipherable-proved chilling to their very bones. One of them remembered turning down Gina’s offer to take their shift, and made a joking note to themselves that she owed them. They gripped their weapons, steeled their faces, and weathered the night just as they always did. Then, in the morning, she awoke.

When Ordelia came to, she was in the fetal position. Her wings ached slightly and she had a sheen of cold sweat spread across her skin. None of this was unusual, but this morning proved worse than usual. Visions of things from her dreams the previous night drifted back and forth inside her head. She remembered a blonde girl with long, fluffy hair worn in a spiky mane that fell to her knees. That they slept peacefully in a coffin. They remembered a great bird, plumage black but not quite the black of night, plummeting gracelessly out of the air. She remembered a man, soft-faced with a fancy hat and a fancier sword.

Ordelia rose, naked, from her bed. Her long lithe limbs stretched as she pushed her bones as far as they could reach and yawned. Were the dreams visions? It wasn’t unthinkable. She knew the boy was Saint Verinth, a fairly recent figure in history and honored by those who worshipped the goddess of love. The girl in the coffin she also recognized-she was Carrion, the goddess of cats and the terminally ill. “Also sleep and coffins,” She could almost hear her wife adding, so often that exchange happened between them.

The bird, though...that perplexed her a bit more. The wild pantheon that governed the world had at least two living, active deities it could be an omen from, assuming it even corresponded to that and wasn’t just a vague symbolic warning.

Ordelia shook her head, only to realize the room looked blurry. Tears? Tears. Her eyes were wet with tears. She wiped them away with her arm. The two human prisoners needed to be dealt with. She’d charmed Izzy rather thoroughly-both conventionally and using her powerful magic-and in doing so gotten all the information she needed. Their family was being called to the capital for a meeting. She fought at the urge to get angry, again, at the loudmouth brother’s foul disrespect to her goddess. Ordelia’s hands curled into fists and she unwittingly sneered at the wall with her teeth bared.

Then, release. She sighed. Amata was no longer her goddess. Not really. The inquisitor in her dungeon would make sure of that. There was no use sulking over it, so she got dressed once more in her armor. Like she did whenever her dreams were especially rough, she paused at her door. Exhaled. Inhaled. Swallowed. Had to be strong. Had to be regal. Then she opened the door and saw Gina.

“A beautiful stranger wants to meet you!”

A tangible wave of unease immediately swamped her mind and then rushed like a flood down her body from head to toe. She didn’t meet with strangers. Gina KNEW that.

“I’ll meet them.” Ordelia answered, her throat instantly dry.

Gina lead Ordelia to the visitor and went on her merry way. Ordelia swallowed, hoping against hope that this would be someone, anyone, other than who she thought it was. Instead, a wave of nausea, joy, and anxiety impacted her skull with the force of a brick. Before her stood Amata, goddess of sex, love, and passion.

Amata’s blonde hair was messier than normal, more of a subdued blonde than the radiant sort of gold it usually was. She wore it in two frizzy ponytails, which each turned black near the end. She took the form of a human with a moderately large chest, tight and compact, long limbs and a flat tummy. Her body was adorned in black-a black tunic, black skirt almost resembling a funeral shroud, an ivory necklace hanging from her neck and hanging from it the great talons of various birds of prey. Her eyes were a dull red, and her plush lips (smaller than usual, as was her mouth) wore lipstick of a very similar color. Her skin had a pallor almost of death.

An older look, but it checked out.

“Hello, Ordelia.” The goddess spoke, her voice bereft of malice but not quite of pain. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Shall we conduct our business here or in private?” Ordelia pursed her lips. This wasn’t the tone the bubbly literal sex goddess usually used. Her almost airheaded flirtation was a delight, and her ocean-boiling fits of rage were familiar, but she was more than capable of calm, calculated reason too. For some reason, that had always been the side of her that scared Ordelia the most.

“In...in my chambers, I suppose.”

“Very well,” answered Amata, “lead the way.” So Ordelia did. As she turned away to do so, she felt Amata’s hand slip into her own and very gently take hold of it. Blood rushed to Ordelia’s face against her better judgement. Try as she might, the familiar feeling of Amata’s perfect, milky smooth skin and gentle caring touch still threatened to melt her. It wasn’t as overwhelming as it would usually be, but it still made the queen’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

She tried not to let her face show how flustered she felt as she lead Amata through the palace to her quarters. Her breath was too shallow, her eyes moving in a way far too erratic-she knew anyone looking for it would absolutely see through her. Nobody was, however-she reached her room without any problems and entered, taking a few deep breaths while Amata closed the door behind her. This was not going to be fun. Probably. It might be a little fun.

“You seem stressed. Is something wrong?” Amata asked without warning, slipping her arms under Ordelia’s and pulling her close. Her embrace was soft, gentle, caring. A smell of lavender and belonging wafted up Ordelia’s nostrils. She struggled not to think about how good submitting to her goddess felt. How much she’d love to flop onto that bed and beg for forgiveness. “I love you, Ordelia. I miss you.”

“I’ve…” Ordelia choked on her words, her speech as stiff as her erect spine. “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.” Amata nuzzled her face into Ordelia’s hair and the queen had to bite down a pathetic whimper. She’d forgotten the heavenly feeling of the goddess’ soft, loving arms wrapped tenderly around her body. It was an uplifting, liberating feeling. Ordelia could feel her tensions and anguish coming free and she had to actively fight to cling to them.

“What...brings you here?” Ordelia forced from her lips. Amata began tracing one of eight long black nails across Ordelia’s navel and extracted a pitiful whine of glee from the powerful monarch.

“I wanted to visit you.” Amata whispered. “I know what you’re planning. Considering.” She planted a kiss on Ordelia’s neck, a soft, slow, sensuous kiss; Ordelia bit her lip and groaned. “I know why, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl. You’re trying to do good. But this isn’t.”

“You won’t-convince me…” Ordelia whispered shakily. Was she trying to convince Amata, or herself?

“I could, doll.” Amata breathed in a husky tone into Ordelia’s luxurious hair. “Easily. But not without breaking the rules. I don’t care so much, but…you know. Gods gotta follow them or things go badly.”

Ordelia contemplated what to say next. Could Amata overpower her, if she wanted? She liked to think the answer was no, but...just the deity’s wonderful presence had her like this. Her crotch was hot, and getting hotter. She realized how fondly she remembered the last time Amata’s hand had graced it. Tears graced her eyes, for some reason. “I’m...sorry…” There was a moment of silence. Amata squeezed closer.

“You don’t have to do this, Ordelia. I love you. WE love you.” The words warmed Ordelia’s heart even as they pierced it from every angle like a convict being skewered. “You think what you’re doing is right, but trust me, please!” Amata slipped a hand under the breastplate of Ordelia’s dress. Ordelia contemplated how she’d done it, then decided that because Amata was a goddess

Fuck. Fuck that felt good. “Ahhh-ah!” Ordelia squirmed. Her nipples immediately went totally stiff. The goddess’ fingers massaged and squeezed and rubbed. Gently. Lovingly. Amata’s other hand pressed with its palm, tenderly exploring Amata’s lower ribs, belly and hips as though to confirm they had not been harmed since the last time that palm had touched them. Then, as if it was satisfied, the hand took to gennnntly caressing the curves of her waist.

“I want you to know I’m proud of you.” Amata purred. “That I love you and I’m sorry things turned out like this.” Her voice was thick, rich, and tinted just a little by sadness. It had that maternal care she was known for, too. “I told my daughter about you, by the way.”

“Whichz-AH!” Ordelia gasped as a pair of fingers pinched her nipple. Her body radiated heat. Even her wings were flushed with blood. “Which-one?”

“Heather,” purred the goddess, “During one of her very rare moments of offtime. She’s such a workaholic and she visits me so rarely, you know. Makes me worry.” Ordelia nodded. “We had a few hours together seven years ago. Not long before you left. Snuggled naked and I told her about all the children you helped arrange new homes for. She’d been so eager to meet you some day.” The concept of a goddess gushing to another goddess about her would have made the world spin if her brain wasn’t already melting in an ocean of endorphines. “Speaking of seeing people too rarely...I’m sorry to visit while your wife is away. I want to meet her.”

Ordelia groaned weakly. Her wife would have loved that, too. “She would have...she would have been honored to meet you. Probably asked a lot about me.” Ordelia briefly felt a wave of emotion as she realized she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since her betrothed left. “Did...you send that dream?”

“No,” Amata responded inquisitively. Her hand stopped probing at Ordelia’s chest to instead give a comforting squeeze. “What dream?”

“About…” Ordelia panted. “About Verinth.”

The affection froze. There was an uncomfortable pause. “No. I get why you’d think that.” She nuzzled Ordelia’s neck again. “There are certainly...parallels. What you’re considering-its bad, overall. Much like his husband, even if the specifics of his are much worse.”

Ordelia laughed sadly. “Oh? Should I worry about my wife trying to kill me? A plucky band of non-humans coming together to unravel this empire?”

Amatata frowned and pressed herself against Ordelia’s back. For a brief, beautiful moment, their hearts beat together. “No. She would never. You mean too much to her.”

Had it been meant as a good thing? Ordelia couldn’t tell. She also noticed, in the back of her mind, that Ordelia hadn’t actually answered her entire question. “You...you think I’m evil, don’t you?”

Amata gave a pained laugh. Her voice “May I...make one request?” She asked, sadness saturating her shaky voice.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“May you...stay here? For a night or so?”

Amata nodded. “Of course, darling. You’ve given me so much of your life. Such a request is a trivial thing to ask in return.”

“Thank you…” tears began to flow. Softly, then rapidly. Amata clung to her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Not for the time being, anyway.