The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lemma the Librarian

Prologue

The inn went silent as I walked in. I smiled at the assorted travelers and local drunkards, well aware that these barbarians had probably never seen anyone as hot as me before. I mean, could you blame them for their awe? I stood a petite five feet even, in a tight off-white blouse that showed off my small, but perfectly shaped breasts and a pair of dark pants that hugged my slim hips and cute little butt. I have a sweet little heart-shaped face with big brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and naturally perfect skin. Silent, worshipful awe is absolutely the perfect response.

Still smiling, I put back the hood of my black cloak with red lining and tossed my waist-length brown hair. “Look all you like, boys, but no touching,” I said teasingly. “I’m out of your league.”

They erupted in laughter. “Oi,” said a fat lout at the end of the bar, “come to get a meal, little girl? Put a little meat on them bones a’ yers!”

Another man called out, “That a little girl, izzit? An’ ‘ere I thought it were one o’ them walkin’ skeletons as ‘aunts the moors of a night!”

I felt my face heating as I stomped to the bar. Stupid barbarians couldn’t even tell a beauty when they saw one. Did they really actually prefer big-boobed Amazon cows like the blondie barwench serving them their ales?

Well, screw them, then. I slumped in a chair and ordered an ale. I knew it’d taste like piss, but still better than crappy Islander wine, and I wasn’t about to risk drinking their water. When the innkeeper plunked it down, he asked, “So, yer a traveler, girlie? I gots a room yeh kin have, if’n yer’s got the coin.”

“I’m not interested in a room,” I said. “Just information. I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh?” said the innkeeper. “Tell me ‘is name, and mebbe I kin help.”

“I don’t know his name,” I said. “I’m looking for someone with powers. A sorcerer, wizard, anybody with magic. Heard any rumors of anything like that?”

Silence fell on the inn a second time. I looked around at the sea of fat, stupid, frightened faces and sighed. Superstitious louts.

* * *

I guess I should tell you a little more about myself before I continue. My name’s Lemma. I’m nineteen years old, and a sorceress. If you haven’t heard of me, don’t feel too bad; my career’s gotten derailed a little. I was supposed to be one of the greats. Top of my class at the Imperial Academy of Lemuria, the greatest school of magic —of anything—in the world. Queen of the Academy Ball, two years in a row. Voted Most Likely to Become an Archmage. All that sort of thing.

But then I got suckered into this stupid job. Day after graduation, I got called in to the office of Archmagus boKorell for a job offer. Well, I was pretty excited. I’d applied to join the his Enforcement Corps, the special agents who hunted rogue wizards, and I was sure that was what he wanted to talk about.

“Ah,” he said as I came in. “Have a seat, young lady. I’ve been looking over your CV. It’s quite impressive.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, and sat. I batted my eyes at him a little—couldn’t hurt.

He didn’t seem to notice, unfortunately. “You’ve got top certifications in magical tracking, identification, theory, defense, and spell-breaking, and secondary certifications in, well, everything else.”

See what I did there? If I were to call myself a magical prodigy or list everything I’ve mastered here, that’d be being stuck-up. So I let Archmagus boKorell do it for me. Clever, huh?

He kept talking. “You’re young, physically fit, and enthusiastic. You’d be very well suited to an active role in the Enforcers.”

I smiled. “I’d be honored, sir, to—”

“However,” he said. However? No! No howevers, I’m gonna be an Enforcer!

“However, I have a special project in mind for you. It’d be a long-term project, requiring extensive travel, but a vitally important service for which you are uniquely well-suited.”

That sounded good. Really good. I was relieved; for a moment, I was worried they were still counting that incident in my fifth year against me. I told them the west lab building had tentacles before I got there, but somehow they refused to believe me. Possibly because they were still building the new east lab building, to replace the one I’d kinda sorta slightly disintegrated in my third year. Look, I think it’s damned impressive for a twelve-year-old to dissolve a heavily warded six-thousand-year-old building of solid stone, designed to resist damage from magical experiments, into a fine powder. And it’s not like it was on purpose! And it’s not like anybody got hurt. Well, nobody important.

Where was I? Right, vitally important service for which I am uniquely well-suited. “Tell me more!” I said.

He smiled briefly, as if he were only allowed a certain amount of smiling each year and didn’t want to blow it all at once. “It would require the utmost secrecy—you would not even be an official member of the Enforcers. The situation is somewhat... embarrassing to us. Delicate.”

I nodded. Delicate situations are a great way to get people to owe you favors, and favors are how you get ahead in this world.

“Well,” he said, “I would need you to accept a geas to complete the quest and not allow any Lemurian to learn of it, before I could tell you the details.” He put a scroll down in front of me. “One drop of your blood and a word of agreement will complete it,” he said. “After that, we’ll set up your unlimited expense account. You’ll be living on that while you’re away; your salary, at a hazard rate, will be deposited here to await your return.”

I whistled. I’d be living for free for the duration of the job, and even a little while at hazard rates—keep in mind, this is what magic users consider hazardous—would be a lot of money. “Deal,” I said.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

* * *

So that’s how I got stuck here in the Tin Islands, the asscrack of the universe. Specifically, I was in the dinky mining kingdom of Kyrno, which was like the asscrack of the asscrack of the universe. Well, I hoped it was. Not having seen the rest of the Tin Islands, I could only assume Kyrno was the worst of the Seven Kingdoms. If any of the others were worse, then the entire archipelago ought to just be sunk under the sea for the sake of the world.

The only reason they had even a trace of civilization was the large tin deposits, which they sold to the Sea People for bronzemaking. Otherwise, they had, well, sheep, and bad smells, and a lot of cattle, of both the two- and four-legged varieties. Maybe one person in a thousand could read, and their idea of magic was dancing naked in stone circles, which is what we in the Academy called “a little too much to drink”.

Of course, the fat louts in the inn were worthless. They had lots of rumors about magic-users, but they were all of the stupid a-witch-killed-my-sheep variety. I left the inn in a huff, and set off into the night.

Oh, sure, I know what you’re thinking. Small girl, alone in the dark in hicksville, I know where this story is going. Think again. I’m a highly trained sorceress. Unless you happen to run into a dragon, I’m the most dangerous thing you’ll ever meet. About the only thing that can threaten me is the aforementioned dragon, another sorcerer, or a really good warrior in dragonscale armor.

Halfway up the hill west of the village, I realized I was being followed. Had been for a while, and it had taken me nearly fifteen minutes to notice, which meant this guy was good. I bent down and fiddled with the lacings on my boots, and took a peek between my feet. Man in a black cloak. Big, sword, definitely a warrior. A good warrior, given his ability to follow me silently while wearing— crap. Black dragonscale.

I’m telling you, it’s not one of those stories! Not exactly. I admit, for a moment I was worried it might be. I prepared a spell that would barbecue him, if I could punch through the magical defenses of his armor.

I whirled to face him, ready to throw my spell if he tried anything.

“Well met!” he said.

Not what I was expecting, but I am nothing if not fast on my feet. “Um... hi,” I said.

“You were in the inn,” he said, walking closer. I kept my spell ready, just in case.

“Yeah,” I said. “You got any info for me?”

“Possibly,” he said. “Might we talk?”

“Put down the sword first,” I said.

He shrugged, unslung it from his back and placed it carefully on the ground, then stepped toward me. I studied him carefully. He spoke Islander with a trace of an accent—not my own Lemurian, but the more sibilant tones of the Sea People. He looked like one, too: stocky, with olive skin, tightly curled dark hair, and very dark eyes. His cloak was finely made, but well-traveled, and his armor was likewise of excellent workmanship, a true black dragonscale breastplate and leather breeches with dragonscale guards. The armor alone was probably worth as much as I was going to make in a year at hazard rates—a king’s ransom in these parts. And that wasn’t even including his sword, which was almost certainly something special as well. He had every mark of the professional dragonslayer about him.

“I am known as Iason,” he said. “I am a traveling mercenary and monster hunter. I have come to this land seeking my sister, who follows a similar trade.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. The Sea People normally kept their women at home, like most barbarian cultures. If she was able to roam freely, she must be incredibly good at kicking ass.

“What’s this have to do with me?” I asked.

“I have heard... rumors,” he said. “I have learned that, after killing a chimera that threatened the people of Frogshackle, about five miles from here, she accepted a three-day job as a bodyguard for one Lord Brinksmoor. She has not been seen since.”

“Still waiting for what this has to do with me,” I said.

“She is not the only person connected to Lord Brinksmoor to disappear. Rumor has it that he is a dabbler in dark arts.”

I scoffed. “Rumor has that about every old lady and hermit in this backwater.”

“My reaction as well,” said Iason, “but for one thing. A merchant of my acquaintance told me that Lord Brinksmoor is a collector of rare books, particularly foreign books, and most especially those dealing in—”

“Magic,” I said.

“Just so.”

“All right,” I said. “Sounds like my first real lead. I assume you’re headed for his castle or manor or whatever he has?”

“Indeed.”

“Count me in, then,” I said. “There’s a clearing about a half-mile that way,” I pointed into the woods, “that I was planning to use for a camp.”

We made it to the clearing pretty quickly. I created a ring of fire with a wave of my hand, to keep wolves and bandits out of our clearing, and then bedded down in my cloak. “No funny business!” I warned him. “I can burn your eyes out of your head if you try anything.”

Iason shrugged and started taking off his armor. “What do you seek magic-users for?” he asked.

“Stolen books,” I said. “They were taken from the library that employs me about fifty years ago. We tracked them to one of your people’s ships, but it never reached its destination. We thought the ship had gone down and the books were destroyed, but about a year ago one of them turned up for sale. Turns out, pirates had raided them, sold the whole cargo in the Tin Islands. Now I’m trying to track them down.”

“Ah,” he said. “The infamous Lost Library of Lemuria.”

I rolled over to face him. I registered that, under the armor, he was a wall of grade-A beefcake, but didn’t let it stop me. “Now, just a minute!” I said. “Where’d you hear about that?”

“It is legendary in these islands,” he said. “And your small stature and accent clearly place you as a Lemurian. Not to mention that, in the inn, you asked after magic-users, not book-thieves, so the books you are looking for must be magical.”

Shit, I thought. Shit shit shit shit. I felt an attack spell rise in my chest, against my will, and fought it down as hard as I could. No point in wasting a potential ally, or a set of abs like that. “Listen,” I gasped. “Swear, right now, you won’t tell anyone!” It was that stupid geas, compelling me to make certain that no Lemurian could learn of the Library’s loss. The same stupid geas that prevented me from going home and telling the Archmagus where he could stick this stupid job.

Iason stared at me. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to tell him off, and the first syllable of a lethal spell spilled out. I choked it back and started coughing. “Swear it!” I wheezed. “Quickly!”

Still looking puzzled, he said, “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

I could still feel the spell trying to cast itself. “Not good enough!”

He frowned. “I swear on my father’s sword and on his grave, on my honor and on my blood, I will reveal to no one the secrets of your mission. May the Earthshaker bear witness to my words, and swallow me to his depths if I fail my oath.

That did it. His oath was a proper, magically binding contract, and my compulsion to silence him vanished. “Thanks,” I said, relaxing.

“What was that?” he asked.

Might as well tell him. Wasn’t like he could reveal it to anyone. “Geas,” I said. “I’m magically compelled to pursue my mission diligently, to the best of my ability, until it is complete, and to make certain that no Lemurian can learn of the Lost Library. It’s not supposed to be possible to steal from the Imperial Library. If people knew you could, there’d be chaos.”

“Ah,” he said, “I’ve heard of them, but never seen one in action.” He rolled over. “We should reach Brinksmoor Castle in the morning.”

I rolled back over in my own cloak and listened to Iason’s breathing. He seemed like a nice guy, but I’m not stupid. I wasn’t about to go to sleep until I was quite sure he wasn’t going to try anything. I found myself thinking, a little bitterly, about home. It had taken me nearly six months in the Tin Islands to find this one lead. If I was lucky, Brinksmoor might have one of the books. If I was really, really lucky, he might even have a lead on where he bought the book. But I was still probably going to spend the rest of my life compelled to search for these stupid books.

And what’s more, they’d done it to me on purpose. It was so obvious! The Council of Archmagi was afraid of me. I was powerful, young, and completely uninterested in their stupid traditions (not to mention sexy as hell). They knew, if they gave me the chance, I intended to shake up tired old Lemuria, so they got rid of me. And I fell for it. Some genius.

Iason’s breathing was slow and even. He was asleep. I felt a little disappointed. He could have tried something. Heck, I’d gone without so long—nearly a year!—I might have let him do more than try. At least the Sea People had heard of soap, unlike these Islander bumpkins.

Oh well. At least the journey was starting to get interesting. Maybe tomorrow I’d find a good lead. And maybe, if I was really lucky, I’d have something other than my left hand to keep me company pretty soon.

Little did I know just how much “company” I was going to have before my quest was over, whether I wanted it or not.