The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Nectar’

(mc, m/f, f/f, nc)

DISCLAIMER: This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

SYNOPSIS:

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep; sometimes, very deep indeed.

INITIAL COMMENTS:

More than usual male-focus in this one; fans of my f/f work, be warned.

* * *

‘Nectar’

part One

* * *

It was a very drowsy day.

Helen was reclining luxuriously against the base of a large tree. Her muslin dress was doubtless becoming quite besmirched by the grass beneath her, but it was only one of several summer dresses and the day was just so nice she couldn’t resist plopping herself down in the shade of the oak and savoring the balmy air. The maid would just have to bleach out the grass stains if she could.

Helen wiggled her toes. She had left them in the sun; it wouldn’t have done to have sat in the sun herself—she would have freckled horribly. But no one paid attention to a lady’s feet, so she had pulled off her shoes and let the warm rays toast her toes. Randy certainly didn’t mind if she let her feet get a little color.

Thinking of Randy evoked a rueful sigh. Of course he had wanted to come out to the country. He had that brand new Sunbeam with its “twin cam engine”—whatever that was—to play with. And he’d learned that the motorway out here had just been macadamed... and so, full of ulterior motive, he’d suggested a trip to the country.

Helen patted the picnic basket at her side. Certainly, he meant well. He just didn’t understand how gripping the door handle with white knuckles wasn’t fun for her.

Well, an hour of terror had been enough. So Helen, and the picnic basket, had debarked at the front gate of a place identified on the plate as the “Musgrave Estate”, had crossed the road and had begun enjoying the weather in a much more civilized fashion.

She leaned over and looked around the side of the tree at the house. From here, she could only see the top story of it, covered in ivy, and looking thoroughly deserted. Doubtless the country house of a frightfully respectable family.

Another advantage to her present location, Helen reflected, was that she couldn’t see the road. In fact, it was quite easy to forget that the horrible-smelling black strip existed, and that she was miles away from any such unpleasant signs of the twentieth century. Just her, and her picnic basket, and the gnats flitting around the meadow.

Then she heard an automobile approach on the motorway. She looked around the tree again, but it wasn’t Randy—although she could only see the roof of the vehicle as it sped along, it was black, and Randy’s new Sunbeam was hunter green.

She returned to her side of the tree, and waited for the noise to fade away.

A bird called. From where she sat, the meadow sloped gently downward to a thick copse of trees. There were a few trees dotting the field itself, but it was only at the base of the low hill she was on that the forest really began, trees with trunks as large as the one she was reclining against straining against each other for sunlight.

Much better to be this tree up here.

Helen yawned, and stretched. She had been getting more comfortable, and more drowsy, ever since she had sat down, and her feet were now nicely warm. She closed her eyes. Bees hummed in the grass.

A little while later, something disturbed her, and she opened one eye. Nothing looked different. She let the eye close again, and wiggled a little in place.

Then she realized what had bothered her. The quiet.

Helen opened her eyes again, blinking. It was quieter—not still, just quieter. The sounds of the insects were still there, but muted, dimmer. Helen stretched, and looked around.

Something moved in the woods.

Helen focused on it. There had been something... white, down there. At least, she thought there had. Was she imagining things?

No, there it was again. Something white, moving from behind one tree to another. It moved like a person. Was there someone down there?

Helen stood up. “Hello?” she called. The white shape froze, then slid behind a tree.

“Hello?” Helen called again. She picked up the picnic basket, and started down the slope. She didn’t know why, as she hadn’t gotten much of a look at the person, but she had the impression that it was a woman. A woman in a white dress.

She walked slowly downhill, towards the edge of the woods. “Hello?”

Maybe she was imagining things. A trick of the light, perhaps, or-

A woman’s face appeared from around one of the trees.

Helen stopped.

The woman had chestnut brown hair, two shades darker than Helen’s own, and lots of it. It must have hung to her waist. She was quite pretty, with very fair skin and intriguing eyes. Helen couldn’t make them out very well from here.

“Hello?” she called, beginning to walk forward again. “I won’t hurt you. Will you talk to me?”

The woman just watched from behind her tree.

“I, ah, I have a picnic basket,” Helen said, raising the basket a bit. “Would you like some fruit?”

As she was drew nearer, she was increasingly interested in the woman’s eyes. They were green, but Helen was unable to define them any further than that. They shimmered—the light green of grass twinkling within the deeper green of forest leaves, and a sort of shine glittering atop it all. They were really quite fascinating.

Helen was getting quite close, now, about ten feet from the edge of the woods. She stopped.

“Won’t you talk to me?” she asked.

Perhaps the girl couldn’t speak. Her lips were pursed, as though she were sucking on something, or preparing for a kiss.

“Would you like something to eat?” Helen asked, wiggling the picnic basket again.

Then the woman stepped out from behind the tree, and Helen gasped.

She was naked. Completely, utterly naked.

The woman took a step towards her. Helen was speechless. She hadn’t been in a white dress, she was simply incredibly fair-skinned, like alabaster, like a marble statue. To Helen’s surprise—and some part of her mentally remonstrated herself for even looking—there wasn’t even a dark patch between her legs, just smooth pale flesh, above... well, above what was supposed to be there.

The woman was walking towards her now, step by measured step.

Helen swallowed, and forced herself to look up at the woman’s face.

She had been about to say something, to ask something, but the eyes caught her. They were dancing, glistening like pools of green oil.

They were terribly beautiful.

The woman was close, now, very close. Helen’s heart was pounding.

A pale white hand reached out, slowly, towards her face.

“I...” Helen managed to whisper, as the hand touched her cheek like cool water. But the woman wasn’t stopping, she stepped closer, into the sweep of Helen’s arms—and putting Helen inside her own. Helen could smell her, just the faintest hint of clean flesh, and something...

Helen realized the woman was about to kiss her.

“Oh I don’t—” she managed, and then those pursed lips were pressing against her own, and despite herself she was responding, pursing her own lips, kissing back.

The green eyes were huge, deep pools.

Then the woman stepped back. Helen stumbled forward a little—had she been leaning into her? The thought dragged her back towards her senses. She pulled her self-control, blown from her like a cloak in a sudden and unexpected wind, back around herself.

Who was this woman? What was she doing here, running around naked? And how dare she just... kiss someone she didn’t even know?

Helen licked her lips, and prepared to grow angry.

Then she licked them again.

WHAT was THAT?

It was... honey, and cinnamon, and sandalwood, and very, very male. Helen gasped. She looked up at the woman, who was standing at arms length, watching her.

What was that TASTE?

Helen stared at the woman, stunned by the magic on her lips. The woman just looked back at her, eyes glittering.

Then she turned, and ran into the forest.

Helen watched her pale buttocks flounce into the woods. Then she realized—she’s running away! Without telling me

WHAT

that

WAS

Helen’s self-control managed to put the picnic basket down, rather than simply flinging it to the ground.

Then she ran after her.

* * *

The girl wasn’t trying very hard to get away. In fact, it seemed like she was playing with Helen, staying just a few yards away, leaping across small creeks and darting through the tangled roots that tripped Helen at every step.

It helped that she was so pale—in the darkness of the forest interior, her waxy skin seemed almost to glow.

Helen chased her for a good ten minutes, until her breath was coming in short gasps. She kept tripping, and tore her dress until the bottom of it was in tatters. But the girl led her on, and she had to know what that taste was that had been imprinted on her lips.

But sanity was returning.

How foolish was this? Chasing after a naked woman? An almost certainly deranged woman. And how would Randy find her? Did she even know which way was out of the woods?

As though she had overheard that last thought, the girl chose that moment to dart behind a tree, and vanish. Helen stumbled after her, rounded the tree—and there was no one there.

She stopped, listening intently. The forest was quiet. Not a sound other than the rustle of leaves and the trickle of water.

Where had she gone?

Helen sighed, and slumped against the tree. She had lost not only the girl, but herself. Straightening, she leaned back against the knotty wood. At least there weren’t any bears or wolves in England.

Sighing again, she turned to try and retrace her steps—and the girl was there. Right there, just a foot away. Helen squeaked.

Then those eyes had her again, dancing and glittering even in the dim forest light. The woman came round the tree, placing herself square in front of Helen, forcing Helen’s back against the trunk. A pale hand pressed against the wood on either side of her.

Helen rallied her courage. “Now see here,” she began.

The woman kissed her again.

This time she lingered, pressing against Helen, and then there was something pushing in, a tongue, pushing its way into her mouth, and with it came

the TASTE

It overran Helen’s senses, and her knees went weak, but the woman had her, both hands now on Helen’s back, and she was kissing Helen and her tongue was in Helen’s mouth and Helen was sucking on it, and slowly she was being lowered to the forest floor...

Then, with a pop, the woman’s mouth came off of her own, and she stood up, leaving Helen on her ass staring stupidly up at her.

She couldn’t speak. The taste was in her mouth and in her nose and in her mind, and she just stared at the apparition in front of her, whose eyes glittered and whose own mouth was still closed.

Then the woman darted away, and stopped. She looked at Helen.

Helen swallowed, and got to her feet.

She followed.

It was not a chase, now. Helen was being led. She didn’t know where to, or why, but the taste in her mouth and the glittering eyes of the... faerie? demanded that she follow. And Helen obeyed.

The trees became larger, until it was like walking through a cathedral. Helen hadn’t thought trees like this existed in the U.K. any more. But she couldn’t stop to look, for the spirit kept dancing away from her, waiting for Helen to almost catch up, then dancing away again. At least the forest floor was becoming clearer, and walking was easier.

Then they were there.

It was a ring, a circle of trees, trunks thick as ten men with barely space to walk between them. The faerie danced inside.

Helen followed, and gasped.

There was light here, green light, and it was very much like a cathedral. Pillars reaching to a ceiling so high it might as well not have been save for the tint that the leaves gave.

And there were worshippers here, too, for the girl that had ensnared Helen was one of many, of dozens, naked women with alabaster skin who lined the mossy floor of the circle, lounging in languorous repose. Their hair was black, brown, red, blonde, and some were short and some tall, but all were fair and, as one, they all turned glittering green eyes and pursed lips toward Helen.

She just stared back at them.

Her faerie—Helen knew her, knew her slightly upturned nose and her chestnut brown hair and the way her breasts filled out beneath the nipples, as though offering them upward—still stood. She stood in the middle of the ring, and turned once, pirouetting a full circle. Then, possessively, she stalked towards Helen.

Helen, falling back into Her eyes, found herself dropping to her knees.

The faerie’s fingers tickled her chin, and tilted it up. Helen fell up, into her eyes, as the faerie lowered her mouth to Helen’s. Their lips touched, and the fey’s tongue slid into her mouth again, bringing with it that Taste, and then the fingers on her chin were pulling Helen’s mouth open, and something thick and gooey and magical was being pushed from the faerie’s mouth into hers.

The faerie filled Helen’s mouth with it, then gently pushed her chin up and her lips closed. She pulled slowly from the kiss, a long streamer connecting their mouths until it broke and fell onto Helen’s filthy dress.

Helen could barely think. Her mouth was full of It and It tasted so, so... powerful. It was powerful, and beautiful, and it was doing things to her...

Fingers plucked at her, and Helen realized that the faeries, several of them, were taking off her clothes. She tried to pull away from them, but then Her fingers brushed closed around Helen’s chin again, and she stopped struggling, and let the faeries strip her, pull off her dress and her slip and her undergarments and everything until Helen, too, was as naked as the day she was born.

The magic in her mouth was slowly demanding less and less of Helen’s attention. She could see, now, that her faerie, who was still staring at her with those magical eyes and holding her chin with those cool fingers, she could see that her faerie was smiling, smiling in a way that told Helen she had less of the Magic in her mouth than before, that her mouth was almost empty, and Helen thought how terribly generous it was for Her to have shared It with Helen like that.

Then the fingers on her chin slowly lifted her to her feet.

Her clothes were gone, as though they had never been, and naked Helen was led to the center of the circle. There was a horn there, which she had not seen, and the other faerie gathered around as her faerie picked up the horn, smiled at Helen, and blew it.

It was not a sound Helen would ever be able to describe. She felt it in her bones, not because it was loud, but because her whole body recognized it.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then HE stepped into the circle.

HE arrived all at once; HE was not there, and then the circle was filled with His presence, His smell and His glow and the way HE felt in the air. Some tiny, tiny part of Helen’s brain assessed Him at perhaps seven feet tall, but His legs were shaggy like a goat and upon His head were a tremendous pair of stag horns. His eyes were yellow, with slits, and they fixed themselves upon the faerie holding the horn.

HE smiled.

“An empty mouth?” HE asked, and His words were tremors in Helen’s blood.

The faerie curtseyed deeply, and set the horn aside.

HE looked at Helen.

Suddenly, she was in rut.

It washed over her from her pussy, like fiery liquid erupting all through her body. She NEEDED to FUCK. To BE FUCKED. She groaned uncontrollably, spilling the Magic, which trickled down both sides of her chin, and at its loss she fell to her knees, scooping at her face to get it back into her mouth.

She needed to fuck SO MUCH.

And when she looked up, she saw that HE was ready to help her. His cock—tremendously large, but she NEEDED it, she would MAKE it fit—was erect, and glistening, and the faerie women were falling to their knees, reaching for it but managing to touch only His furry legs, His hooves, but even that seemed to be enough for them, as their bodies contorted in the pleasure of His touch.

His hands were large, and firm, and they came down on Helen’s shoulders and she bucked, and the Magic spilled from her mouth.

“Swallow it,” HE said. “There is much more where that came from.”

So she did, she swallowed it, and suddenly she was in control of her needs—or rather, they were in control of her, she could do nothing but sate them, but they had abated enough that she could serve them properly—and as HE picked her up, she spread her legs.

To her disappointment, HE did not impale her immediately, but rather lifted her high, to His head, and His pink tongue snaked out to touch her. She moaned, but she was in control now, and as His tongue slithered along her slit and she came for the first time she did no more than twitch.

She was ready, so ready, couldn’t HE see that? Her juices were running down her thighs, she needed it so MUCH, and then HE was lowering her, and her eyes widened as His strong arms aimed her squarely at the head of His cock, and she spread her legs as wide as possible and then it was touching her and then it was IN, oh incredible it was IN, and it felt so GOOD, and she was coming again and then HE was pushing in and then sliding back out and pushing AGAIN and working it deeper oh my LORD I’m sorry I’m so TIGHT but she was coming again and then HE was going deeper and deeper...

HE fucked her. For hours, or days, or years. There was no way she could tell. But HE fucked her, and she came again, and again, and again, far past what she could have ever done were HE anything like a mortal man. HE fucked her from behind and from below and from on top, with her propped up on her shoulders and lying on her back and on her knees and suspended from His strong hands.

HE fucked her for ever and ever, and HE never came.

And then HE was done. And HE lifted her from His cock, and placed her on her knees in front of Him. And she didn’t notice that, during their fucking, all of her hair had come out, save only her light brown mane. And she didn’t notice that her skin was now as pale as alabaster. HE placed her on her knees, and offered his slippery cock to her mouth.

She had never done such a thing. When she had fucked before, fucked some man, it was not the sort of thing that a woman did.

There was no hesitation.

She opened her mouth, and slid the head of His cock in, and it tasted like Him (and a little like her), and it tasted like Magic. And she looked up at Him with her cockle blue eyes as she sucked, and her hands closed around the shaft and slid along it, and her tongue danced across the tip and then around under the head, and she closed her eyes and lost herself in her worship of His cock.

It shivered.

She opened her throat.

HE came like a mountain brook tumbling down a hill, filling her mouth, filling her throat, and she swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, and stroked His cock, milking it for more.

Around her, her sisters gathered, as His seed leaked from her mouth and pulsed across her chin, onto her breasts, and they took turns licking it from her flesh.

She knew that HE was finished, almost, and so she reached out for Her, the one how had brought her here, and with infinite regret took her last long drink of His seed, keeping it in her mouth, and pushed the head of His cock to her sister. And she drank from it, filling her cheeks and her belly.

Then HE was finished.

The new faerie looked up at Him, and HE smiled down at her glittering green eyes. She smiled back, as best she could with her mouth full of Magic.

Then HE left.

Her sister—the one who had brought her here—came to her, and they kissed. But though it was passionate, and tender, and their fingers strayed to flit across each other’s slick pussies, their mouths remained closed.

The Magic was too precious to spill.

* * *

END ‘Nectar’

part One