The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Several days before Amata made her appearance at the capital, Minister Lucas woke with a groan. Each morning since his two children had departed on their mission he grew increasingly weary of potential consequences. His wife lasted three days before she needed to be imprisoned for one or two to calm her down, and upon release she had promptly chosen to go on a trip to a nearby village with family. He felt another pang of regret each time his thoughts turned to the matter that he hadn’t arranged to track her somehow. Their doing so had become increasingly frequent in the last few days.

He rose from his bed and rubbed at his eyes. Something was...up. It was raining outside so he couldn’t quite tell at first, but the estate seemed eerily quiet. He paused by his door and closed his eyes to listen for footsteps. He heard none.

“Curious,” he muttered to himself. He went walking down the hall. Still, he saw neither hide nor hair of any of his staff. Dread knocked at some tiny door in the very back of his mind but he ignored it. It was raining, after all, it was possible he’d simply woken up earlier than usual. Stress had that effect. He turned and went back to his room, where he donned a belt and hung his family’s sword from it. No reason not to take some level of precaution, he figured to himself, even if everything was fine. He went once more out into the halls, and used a weak spell to create a small light in his hand.

He walked past many doors. No footsteps, only rain. Nobody was in sight. Was he having an unnerving dream? He shook his head.

Then he turned the corner.

Down the hall was his study. For some reason, a massive black globe stood defiantly where the door ought to be. Anger gripped at his chest. Some fiend had taken residence in his home!

“Ready yourself, monster!” He roared. He drew his weapon and hurled himself at the door, ready for it to be locked. It was not locked.

Minister Lucas hurtled through the door, tripped over his own ankles, and faceplanted into the floor with a crash. He quickly scrambled to his knees, too much panic cluttering his mind to hear the small metal noise behind him. He screeched some magical words and straightened his spine.

“Enchantments, begone!” He roared. The blackness shuddered and ebbed for a moment, but it held strong.

“Nice try, loser!” Laughed a girl’s voice. “Here, let me get that for you.” He heard something squeak and swivel.

CRASH!!

Lightning struck directly outside his window and lit the room up in stark black and bluish grey. In his revolving chair sat a girl of nineteen with bunny ears, and lying on his desk there was a woman with the fluffy doglike ears and tail of a fen who appeared to be older than the other girl by about half a decade. Then, the darkness spell flickered and blinked a few times on its way out of being.

“Who-who the hell—” He didn’t need to finish asking his question. They wore flowy white coats lined with extremely high quality down, like that of the dire swan which was called majestic exclusively by fools who had never met one. These coats bore an emblem on the front of each shoulder, which was what had answered his quarry. Each copy of this insignia consisted of a pair of rainbow-colored circles with some overlap, and within the center of each circle sat a sun. It was the symbol of the Children of the Lost, that detestable candy-colored monarch’s personal cult.

Minister Lucas sneered with contempt. He opened his mouth to speak-

“We’d like to have a word with you about loyalty,” chimed the girl in the chair. She leaned back and clasped her hands in front of her mouth. One of her long legs, furry from the shins down, crossed over the other to hang from its knee. Her hair was short and had a reddish brown color, with a small but tense circlet of braids decorating the crown.

“....” The minister simply glared at them. His sword sat awkwardly in the air and his hand likewise shook very slightly in place. None of these people were supposed to be in the area for months!

“Were you aware that your kids attempted to assassinate Her Majesty?” The fen asked lazily before she retrieved a grape from some kind of magical bag and popped it into her mouth for quick and easy consumption.

“N-no,” The minister answered with sweat on his brow. They had to know he sent them! It was unthinkable that they didn’t! But...on the off chance that they didn’t, this was the only lifeline available to him. He sheathed his weapon. “I had no idea. They had vanished a little while back. Are you sure that was their intention, fair ladies?” He lied through his teeth. It was unclear whether they were buying his charade.

“Hmmmm,” the girl with the rabbit ears murmured and eyed him like a viper sizing up its prey. Minister Lucas couldn’t stand it. He was a noble, damn them, not a mouse so feeble as to be preyed upon by a rabbit! “That’s terribly unfortunate! Well, we’re pleased-somewhat-to report that your children are alive. Your daughter saw reason so we might settle for community service, but Mark?” The girl shrugged her shoulders as though she were not threatening his child’s life. “Mark is an adult, of course, but not by much. Our Lady understands, she’s frankly not that much older herself. She’s, what, in her mid thirties-oh, nevermind, I guess she is. But, anyway-sorry, that’s besides the point. This WAS the result of two kids making a brash decision, right? They SAY you sent them, but here’s the thing.”

Ice poured into Lucas’ lungs. A hand made of it might as well have wrapped its cruel fingers around his heart. His throat was suddenly frigid like he’d run a mile.

“They could just be trying to deflect the blame. That’s what we’re here to talk about.” The rabbit girl nodded at her companion, who handed her the bag. She retrieved some celery and noisily made prey of it.

“Anyway, here’s the deal. Trying to kill the queen? We’re forgiving. We can overlook that. But if you ordered them to? No no no, we can’t have that. Loyalty is very important to us, you know.” Her eye glinted with that obnoxious light these cultists always got when their brain threatened to make you listen to their thoughts on their queen. It made him sick. “We all know what it’s like to be thrown aside, after all. Risking the lives of your own children by hurling them at the queen, while you sit behind a desk? Utterly loathsome. But you would never do such a cowardly thing, would you?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” What were they getting at? The woman with the dog ears left the table. Walked up to him. Stood uncomfortably close. Her long mane of blonde hair resembled a golden retriever, and so did the floppy dog ears sticking out of her head. She was fit, stacked, beautiful.

“What we’re saying,” she growled with a veneer of playfulness bordering on venom, “is that if your son is so keen on throwing you upon the rack despite your good name, you should probably be there when he’s executed.

“What!?” The ice grew colder. Did they know? Were they taunting him!?

“You heard me,” a little bit of a laugh, “He essentially tried to kill you. Spun this story about how you threatened to throw him into a freezing river if he didn’t do as you said.”

Had he? Would his son…? No, no. He would never. They had to be lying! But that would mean…

This was a trap. The entire visit was a pretense. But what could he do? They’d infiltrated his manor and disabled all of his staff overnight. If he just tried to cut them with his sword…

“How...terrible.” It was the only way. He sheathed his weapon. He’d have to sacrifice them, try again later. “I would never do such a thing. You’re right. I’m deeply ashamed.” For a moment the fen angled her head upwards so her hair fell over her eyes. He couldn’t see her eyes but for a moment he could, without needing a visual of her expression, feel a powerful wave of contempt radiating from her. It passed. He gulped. “I...I will have to accompany you. On one condition.”

“Yes?” Inquired the younger of his adversaries, chewing on a root.

“I would like to request that my daughter be spared and returned to me. That is all.” The rabbit girl giggled merrily at his suggestion but nevertheless paused for a second and appeared to be mulling it over.

“We can arrange for that, I suppose. She’ll certainly be in no danger of being harmed, I’d like to elaborate, essentially no matter what.”

“Yes, I can accept these terms,” mumbled the minister, adrenaline not quite allowing the full consequences of this interaction to reach his conscious mind at the moment. His heart was still pounding.

“Excellent!” The fen piped up from behind him. “You’ll be coming with us, then!”

A winged woman, nineteen years old, walked into a middlingly sized room. In it rested nothing but a single bed. It was a fairly large bed, albeit one with little of note about it. It was one of a few such rooms in this church, a space for weary travelers to rest-and, especially, for those in the service of Amata or her family. She stripped out of her leather garments quickly and easily, and then she hopped into the bed and sat down. She ran one hand through the pink hair that fell straight and neat to her shoulders. She wished it was longer, but that came with time.

“You seem troubled.” Suddenly, and this was who had spoken, there was a beautiful human with blonde hair, slender fit proportions, and a large chest sitting naked beside her in the bed. Her body practically glowed with a radiant beauty that the winged girl knew from experience would be there no matter what shape she took.

“Hello, Your—”

“Sweetheart, there’s no need for formalities.”

“But-you’re our god!”

“Our god?” The blonde laughed merrily. The winged woman felt blood rush to her face. “You make it sound as though I chose your family as my own or something. Just try and relax, okay?” For only an instant, the woman’s body and voice radiated a warm glow. It pulsed through her pink haired companion and soothed them to their very soul. The girl swooned weezily for a second before catching herelf.

“By Reginaaaaa holy shiiiit…” her heart felt at ease. Her weariness fled from her. Every tensed muscle in her went totally lax.

“By Regina?” Teased the literal goddess with a playful glint in her eye, “I thought I was your goddess?” Her mouth curled into a playful sneer of mock rebuke. “What have we here, then? A heretic?” The woman with wings laughed herself, all of her worries now evaporated.

“You know what I meaaaaant,” the mortal woman protested, “I don’t have the ability to spells fueled by reciprocated faith in her.” She performed an exaggerated pout. Her goddess laughed again. She opened her arms. The mortal snuggled into them and was held close. Impossibly soft hands stroked her scalp, back, and pink hair and struck exactly the perfect trail each time to send delightful tingles down her spine without making her shiver.

“I do,” the goddess purred, “though I want to ask how you’re doing.”

“Why?”

“Well…your wings. They’re scratched up really badly. There’s a gash in one of them.”

“So you could...tell?” The pink haired woman buried her face in the goddess’ cleavage. She wasn’t sure how ashamed she felt, but she knew that she did.

“Yes, dear. There are plenty of means in this temple to heal yourself, and you could easily do it yourself. You’re a powerful young woman. Why this?”

“Are you sure you don’t just hate scars?” The mortal teased with a sarcastic grin. “Maybe those nasty rumors about you—”

“Dear.” The mortal went quiet. The single word which cut her short was spokenly entirely without malice or anger, yet it dripped with disappointment. “You know what my inquisitors teach about deflecting with jokes like that?”

“I...um.” Quiet. “I kind of expected you to feel insulted and get defensive…” her wings practically wilted. She winced.

“Why haven’t you healed them, darling?” It was a question asked with utmost sincerity. The mortal sighed heavily.

“This is why you came down. Isn’t it.” The goddess nodded. “Well...I just-those things are for other people! It would be wrong to...spend them on myself.”

“That’s not true.” The goddess very slowly ran two fingers alongside her devotee’s right wing. Soft green light danced across it as the injuries hidden by feathers mended themselves. Then she gave the same treatment to the other side of the wing, then again to each side of the left. All the while, the woman they belonged to wriggled and moaned and bit her lip.

“Perhaps...I should keep doing this,” she said in jest with a defiant smirk, “So that you—”

“Your magic is a limited resource, yet I am not?” Asked her goddess. She went silent, again feeling a small sting of shame. “Listen, dear. I love you. We all do. You can’t help people if you die or become bedridden, can you?”

“No…” admitted the woman she held. “I suppose I couldn’t.”

“Your body is worth it.” The goddess added. “You deserve love and care just like everybody else. I don’t want you fetishizing self sacrifice like that. It’s never good. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

“I...suppose.” The young woman sighed. “That’s...it? You came down from your sex palace to—”

“Why do people think I have a sex palace?” The goddess didn’t sound angry or even offended. The best word to describe her tone would actually be “annoyed.”

“Huh?”

“None of my texts say I have a palace except for some obscure volume from three hundred years ago by some oracle who had a flash forward to visiting me in the afterlife! There are something like five rooms in the palace that I use for that! It’s mostly just comfortable lodging and beautiful scenery! " she seemed to catch herself. Clear her throat. Attempt to mend the air of majesty she’d just destroyed. “Anyway. Darling. I love you. You’re sweet, and giving, but...impulsive. I’m not one to talk but I don’t want you getting sent to me too early, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” Her goddess kissed her on the lips. Her entire world shattered around her. It was the most sublime kiss her brain could possibly even try to imagine, soft and warm and wet and delicate and firm and gentle and giving. She moaned into her goddess’ mouth and threw her arms around her goddess, clinging to them as love filled her mind.

“I love youuuuu,” she groaned weakly for her deity. The blonde deity laughed and began to gently massage her winged worshipper’s body. She probed and pressed and pulled at their arms, shoulders, their hips, their sides. They shook and sighed and made delighted sounds as her expert touch helped to dig up any and all tension still left in her, then purge her body of it completely.

“Sleep.”

The word rang into the pink haired woman’s mind like a church bell. It bounced all throughout her mind, her arms, her legs. Instantly the remaining strength used to hold herself up and hold on to the goddess dissolved and let her fall, seemingly endlessly, into the comfortable mattress below her. She wasn’t aware of the goddess taking care to tuck her in while moving her body as little as possible, but she could remember being kissed on the forehead. The bed enveloped her as she fell easily and cleanly into it, the pillow supporting her head like nothing less than the body of her goddess ever possibly could. She was safe. She was happy. She was loved.

Ordelia woke up with a start. She was cradled in familiar arms-in those of her goddess. She felt it was unfortunate she could not also be in those of her wife, but that was something she could deal with. A beautiful yawn let her know Amata was awake behind her. Both sat up and then got out of bed. Both were naked.

“Been a while,” Amata smirked as her macabre outfit from yesterday materialized on her. “You sure you don’t want want to return?”

“Yes.” Ordelia flicked her wrist and magic disassembled her armor-dress in seconds before the pieces flew onto her body and reattached to one another. “I have to—”

“To take over the world?”

“Not...no, not that at all. But there’s so much...evil—”

“I knew I was wasting my time.” Amata turned and walked to the exit. She stopped and turned her head to glare at the queen. Her eyes shone yet again with disappointment. They stabbed through Ordelia and wounded her soul in ways that no sword, bullet, or magical explosion ever could. It was like a chill was tearing into her through her skin and its touch turned her bones into knives.

“Wait! My lady—”

“Just lady, now?” Amata scoffed. “I suppose I’m not your goddess anymore. You are.”

“I...had a dream. About...the first time we met.”

“Of course you did. I gave it to you.” Amata turned her back on Ordelia, just as the winged woman had almost a decade ago.

“But why?”

“I thought a reprieve from the nightmares might help your tired mind see reason.”

“But why...the elf?” Amata stopped. One of her feet kicked impatiently at the air.

“What elf?”

“A member of the Lilac Inquisition showed up here a few weeks ago. He’s—”

“No they didn’t.” Amata sounded concerned now. “Whoever that is, that’s not one of mine.” The hair on the back of Ordelia’s neck stood up.

“No, no, that’s impossible!” The feeling of betrayal, the bitterness, the resignation-that could all wait. Something was wrong.