The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Queen Fanura smiled wryly as she looked up from the parchment in her hand. The messenger who brought it offered to interpret it into her language, but she had no need of translation. She read and spoke Corthon almost as well as she did her own Nurian. Her mother, who had been Queen before her, had seen to that by giving her the son of a Corthon warrior, one of her mother’s many lovers, as her playmate. When she was twelve, she had taken him to her bed and made him her first boy slave. “Our neighbors to the North are ambitious, my dear. One day they may come calling. I want thee want to give them a proper reception.” The carefully scripted words on parchment indicated that day she and her people had been preparing for had now arrived.

She read the brief document again.

Honored Fanura, Queen of the Nurians. Hail!

Marius Portius, Emperor of Cortho sends thee greetings.

Fame of the richness and splendor of thy realm, Nuria, has spread far beyond thy frontiers. It has come to my Imperial Knowledge that many enemies covet the prize of thy land. I, Marius Portius offer thee the protective embrace of Cortho. Within the fold of my Empire, Nuria would be safe from the predators which round about her compass as wolves about the defenseless lamb. Thy ascent to our gracious offer cannot be doubted. In three days my armies will be at thy frontiers. In three more, at thy gates.

Open then, the gates of Nuria to Cortho, as the thighs of a maiden to her betrothed. Make ready a banquet for the nuptials of our kingdoms.

Hail!

Ah! The insolence of the Corthon Emperor! “Safe from predators?” Indeed! The lamb that has been eaten need fear the wolf no more. “The nuptials?” Speak clearly, Marius! Thou meanest the subjugation of Nuria, our absorption as yet another province of the Corthon Empire, another source of gold and women. No, Marius,” she smiled. “Nuria will not be an appendage to thy Empire. Nuria will fight thee, nay, vanquish thee as we did the Thrussians and the Sirtaphs before thee,” she smiled, “and thou willst never know the battle has already begun.”

Fanura clapped her hands. “Run, Rini,” she said to her serving girl, “call the High Priestess Dolphia and the other priestess from the Goddess’s temple. I would see them in council.” They had six days to prepare a banquet, even as the document had stated. More than enough for a night Marius and his men would never remember!

“Everything will be done, My Queen, even as thou hast spoken,” Dolphia smiled confidently. “One of my priestess will be at each officer’s side to lighten his heart and swell his member. The praetorians will be similarly entertained by the city’s finest courtesans. I myself will accompany mighty Aldos the Strategeon. And of course Marius Portius is thine, My Queen.”

“What of the lesser officers and men who will not be at the banquet?” Fanura asked.

“The women of the city have been informed, My Queen, and they are more than equal to that pleasant chore,” Dolphia chuckled. “After all, we keep our husbands and brothers in happy subjugation and they KNOW our wiles. A few thousand foreign soldiers will be too happy finding out just how friendly Nurian girls are, to be troublesome that night, even without the Zuma we will infuse in their officers’ wine.”

“The Zuma, have we enough?” Fanura inquired.

“Enough and to spare,” spoke up Munira, Dolphia’s deputy. “The women of Azunia were so grateful for our assistance in putting down the revolt of their men that they have supplied us with seventeen cartloads of the finest leaf. They would send an army to thy aid, but beg leave for, in accomplishing their victory, most of their fighting maidens are newly with child. No matter, thy temple priestesses even now are extracting the essence. In two days hence we shall have enough Zuma to tame several barbarian armies,” the young woman concluded proudly.

Gassara stepped forward scowling. Towering over the priestess and even the Queen, the Captain of the guard commanded respect. “Do not underestimate these barbarians, my sisters. They are not like our soft and weak-minded Nurian men. Their custom is to take pleasure from women, not allow themselves to be pleasured. And my spies tell me of a custom that makes them not so easy prey. Corthon men refuse to drink from a woman’s self. Nor will they take a nipple into the mouth. They believe this to be penetration by the woman of the man and that a man must never be penetrated. So, my sisters, we will not be able to drug them with the Zuma-rich fluids of our sex,” Gassara concluded.

“This is grave news, My Queen,” spoke Dolphia. “The Zuma in wine makes a man’s mind soft and open to a woman’s words, but only his repeated worship at her temple makes him fully her own.”

“Fear not, my sisters,” Fanura replied. “These Corthons have never met women like us. What a man thinks and believes in the cool bright air of Cortho, may be very different in the warm thick vapors of a Nurian bedchamber. Somehow I doubt they will be able to distinguish between taking their pleasure and having it poured into them, when we make the semen to boil up in their loins. As for the city women, give each a pitcher of wine for her ‘guest.’ It will do our work even though the women understand not the power of Zuma. Go now and adorn yourselves, my lovelies. Let us make our visitors glad they have come before they regret it—if they ever do,” she added, to the gathered women’s giggles.

Dressed in the finest of diaphanous silks that hid nothing of her full breasts and large dark nipples, queen Fanura had watched the triumphant entrance of Marius and his officer into the palace precincts. Now, siting proudly upright she faced the Emperor as he slowly approached her portable throne. Her eyes fell on his narrow hips and broad shoulders. Glancing over at Dolphia, she smiled, wondering if the High priestess was making a similar appraisal of the rugged Strategeon. She could not refrain from comparing these beautiful male specimens to the nobles of her court. She noticed Marius’s large powerful hands and feet. “Large feet, large ...” she mused. None of the men in her kingdom, delightful as they were with their practiced mouth worship, measured up.

Before handing the realm over, her mother had advised Fanura to bear a daughter as heir as soon as possible. Fanura, however refused to allow some effete son of a scheming baronesses who coveted her crown, to make her fat with child. “I may used this light-skinned barbarian as thou didst the Scythian ambassador to beget me, Mother,” she caught herself thinking. “And they may serve my priestesses, as well.” Fanura knew that Dolphia’s and Munira’s almost constant night play was more frustration with the inadequacies of their pretty-boy mates than real predilection for women on their part. Indeed, the extended visit of the barbarian army could be “very fruitful.” Rising to meet him, Fanura was aware of a growing wetness between her legs.

“... In sum, My Lord Emperor, I, Fanura of Nuria welcome thee and thy men to our city,” Fanura spoke evenly to the guests of the banquet. “Even thought we cannot conclude any treaty or conduct high business of state with ye during Thirteenth Moon Festival, we wish ye to remain as our guests throughout the celebrations. In honor of the happy visit of thy Imperial Majesty we offer ye the toast of ‘Pearls before Wine.’ Hail!”

At her word, the woman at each officer’s side reached to her necklace and quickly removed one of the many pearls that adorned her neck. Fanura did the same and before the astonished eyes of Marius dropped the shining jewel into his wine flagon as did all the other women. “What hast thou done, Queen Fanura?” Marius asked. “The pearls will dissolve in the wine; their beauty lost to the world for ever.”

“Not lost, My Lord Emperor, transformed into thy further glory and of thy warriors,” she replied. “And to cover the first taste of the Zuma,” she discretely refrained from adding. After a few droughts, the tongue no longer detected the bitterness of the essence. “Now let the banquet begin!” Fanura smiled, raising her goblet in toast.

The feast proceeded as planned with platter after platter of delicacies, the flesh of exotic animals, fruits unknown in Cortho’s colder climes, seafood from Nuria’s southern coasts. Each dish was prepared with just a little more spice than necessary and Marius and his men partook liberally of the wine that never ran short. If they had been more attentive, they would have noticed that their flagons were refilled from different pitchers than those of their smiling tablemates.

But the men’s attention was already elsewhere. Except for camp followers, none of the men had been with a woman in weeks, certainly none like the exotic beauties now at their side: high cheekbones, gleaming ebony-smooth skin, hair that hung in hundred of tiny plaits interwoven with silver and copper-hue threads. The eyes of the men were assaulted with images of voluptuous black bodies, breasts that pushed against the flimsy upper body ties, bare waspish waists, and ample womanly hips. Though Dolphia and Fanura were more discrete, they noticed that Munira had already drawn the young aide-de-camp’s hands to her rounded breasts and close-trimmed cunt. Fanura moistened to see how easily the youth was snared, how already he wore the adoring gaze of a Nurian pussy-slave.

“The hospitality of Thy Highness surpasses even the fame of thy beauty,” Marius said as he toasted Fanura yet again.

“My Lord is too kind to the Queen of a small people,” Fanura replied with downcast eyes, but she read in Marius’s gaze more that mere flattery. He was smitten. As well he should be. Her garment was of sheerest silk and wound so as to display her breasts. After the first goblet of the drugged wine, the Emperor’s eyes seldom traveled far from those dark mounds except to gaze deeply into her darker eyes. Fanura noticed a massive bulge beginning to show itself beneath his tunic. That was good; she had plans for it. “By the time I finish softening it, Marius thou willst have taken the first steps to thy certain enslavement” she mused.

It had been a day of surprises for the tired Emperor. Fanura smiled, remembering her powerful visitor’s amazement when he first saw her. Apparently, his intelligence had not informed him to expect a woman of her youth and beauty—and black! Nor was he prepared to be greeted in capitaline Corthon without the whistled “s” that betrayed the Emperor’s own provincial origin. The luxury of the banquet brought further amazement and she watched with amusement as Marius’s face reflected the gradual shift from arrogance to mere contempt, to acceptance, to admiration, and now fascination with his scantily-clad hostess.

As the night wore on, a large torchfire was lighted in the center of the couches and lust-inducing incense was thrown onto the fire. Marius and his men reclined around the circle and pretty, flirty serving girls continued to bring around plates of food and flagons of wine. Aldos’s captains, vanquished by the incense and visions of large, soft breasts, already lay in the arms of their diner partners who stroked their manhood and promised a night of passion. The torch burned down and a pounding drumbeat gradually grew louder. The serving women were now bringing more drink than food and their clothing had grown skimpier. Large unencumbered breasts dangled in front of the men’s eyes as the women leaned down to refill their drinks. The loincloths barely covered their provocative little pussies. And when a girl stood close enough to a seated man, he couldn’t avoid smelling a cunt in heat.

Fanura saw her women titter and whisper to their happy guests, making sure their wineglasses remained filled. The men grew tipsy and boisterous as their tablemates teased them. Fanura smiled, seeing Aldos besieged by Dolphia’s kisses, the lush body she pressed against him, and the wordless invitation to open her tie and fondle her breasts. Fanura wondered if the experienced warrior even realized he was under attack, that the beautiful woman at was using her voluptuous body to enflame his passion, cloud his mind and overturn his will. She could almost see the Strategeon relax, no longer resisting the charms of the High Priestess. His reason was helpless against desire for the woman and in a moment of weakness the warrior allowed a small soft hand to invade his tunic and take possession of his manhood. A stronger man than Marius, if there were one, might have seen it, too, and detected the danger as his men were conquered by the arms of the women they had come to conquer. But Marius saw nothing but Fanura’s gleaming breasts and flashing eyes as she wove her spell around him.

Seeing that all was in readiness, Fanura gave the signal. Suddenly silence welled up like a cobra rising from its basket. At the sound of a gong, each man’s companion leapt into the circle and positioned herself, one in front of each man. Talking, laughing, and ribald remarks ceased as a temple priestess began to writhe slowly before each man, her movements in time with the imperceptibly accelerating drum.

The officers were riveted by the swaying of the women’s hips and bouncing breasts, none more than Marius himself by the beautiful Fanura. She was taller and a little older than the others. But what she lacked in youth, she made up in a steamy sultriness. Like the others, she had a bright silver disk dangling from her neck in front of her large round tits. Marius could not take his eyes off of those tits and so he stared too, at the shining, flashing disk.

As the dance accelerated, each woman inched closer to her prey, forcing him to look up at an uncomfortable angle at those wonderfully round, bouncing boobs. The drum was louder now, as well as faster, and filled the ears of the transfixed men as the flashing disks filled their eyes. Slowly, Marius and his men were falling into the power of the Queen and her court.

Now the drum grew still louder and the rhythm more frenetic. The dancers ground their hips in the faces of the men whose stares became glassy, their bright blue eyes growing dim. Equally noticeable were their hands. Quite unconsciously, the men had begun to slowly stoke their rigid cocks. Suddenly the drum and the dancers stopped. The men hardly reacted, so deep was the spell they were under. Perfect!

Yet Fanura noticed a bit of light creep back into Marius’s gaze. He was a strong man, a willful man, and not an easy man to tame, by the looks of it. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, he began to look around him. The other dancers had fallen on his entranced comrades. Even Aldos was lying cradled in the arms of the busty Dolphia, placidly nursing her breast, his eyes closed in a docile, beatific smile as she stroked his penis. His own aide-de-camp’s head was thrown back as he sucked the pussy of Munira who kneeled over him, slowly jacking him off. Two others—Marius couldn’t see who in the dim torchlight—were lying with their tunics up around their waists, their heads lolling, as two smirking women methodically rode them toward orgasm.

Like a lonely, cornered animal, Marius instinctively sensed the danger and poised for battle. Fanura looked down at him and saw his partially successful efforts to throw off her spell. Her nostrils flared to think of the powerful mind as well as body that soon would be hers. Immediately, she stepped forward, dropped her skirt, and thrust her crotch in his face.

The scent of a hot Nurian pussy must have hit Marius with the force of an assagai. Fanura watched Marius fight the powerful aroma of her rank, dripping love slit. Marius was no longer looking around at his vanquished followers; he was staring straight ahead, straight at the wet, bushy cunt in front of his eyes. Fanura looked down at the big man, aroused but amused. She could see his resolve weakening as her body worked it’s magic on his brain and loins. “Look long, Marius,” she thought. “Breathe deep my musk and let it dissolve your will. Taste me and yield.” Little by little she saw him overcome by the one instinct that could overpower both the anger leading to resistance and the fear leading to flight: lust. “You thirst for me, My Emperor. Drink,” she commanded.

In a desperate effort as if to ward off the enchantment, Marius brought up his hands, as if to shield his eyes from the bewitching sight before him, as if to push away the tempting vision that held him fast. He stretched them forth and—with a lunge—seized Fanura’s round ass and buried his face in her warm womanhood.

A shout of acclaim went up from the watching women as the barbarian leader succumbed to the wiles of their Queen. His bravery, his intelligence, his iron will were useless against the desire that clouded his judgement and undermined his resolve. The Queen allowed the slavering man to fill his mouth and nose with her lust inducing juices for several long seconds, then dropped them both to the couch placed nearby for that purpose. As Marius lost himself between those dark, delectable thighs, nimble fingers removed his clothes and the Queen began stoking his hardened prick.

Far into the night Marius roared his joyful defeat.

At an early-morning meeting of her Council, Fanura looked around at six contented, if somewhat tired and disheveled women around the mahogany table. “Did all go as well as your faces tell me?” Fanura smirked.

“Indeed, My Queen,” reported Dolphia. “The men are all still sleeping. A whisperer will be sent to each to fill his mind with lustful thoughts. She has at hand a sleeping potion if her charge should stir. No man will leave our beds until he is our mindless slave.”

“No, Dolphia. I do not desire that they be taken thus. If our foreign guests disappear into our palace too suddenly, the remaining troops may become restless. Remember, our sisters in the city can only entertain the army. They are not skilled in the use of Zuma and we cannot let them use it in the powerful mixtures as we do. It can be many months before the soldiers are so besotted with weak Zuma and soft bodies as no longer to prove dangerous to us.”

“What then wouldst thou have us do, My Queen?” Dolphia frowned. “Our spell upon them is well begun. Shall we now allow our captives to slip from between our fingers—and our wet thighs?” Dolphia added with a chuckle.

“Nay, my clever minions,” Fanura replied with a smile. “Our new foreign friends will not escape from our skilled hands nor our lusty loins. It is a foolish fisherman who pulls hard on the line when the fish has just begun to nibble. Play with thy fish until thy hook is set deep into his mind. For now allow him to awake each morning, but with memories of a night of unspeakably intense pleasure. I trust ye had no difficulty with that ‘chore.’”

“It is even as thou sayest!” Munira blurted out causing the older women to giggle at her enthusiasm. “Lucas may be a barbarian, but he is skilled in wielding his manly weapon. I have never passed such a night. He brought me unto a woman’s pleasure nigh unto a dozen times.”

“’Lucas’ is it?” Fanura teased her young companion. “Methinks were it not for the Zuma in the drink of the Emperor’s aide-de-camp, thou wouldst be in HIS thrall.” Munira blushed and the other women tittered before Fanura continued. “’Tis well, Munira. Cortho is our enemy, not thy Lucas. Take thy pleasure from the youth. Thy sisters did the same. Their quarters are not so far from mind that I did not hear THEIR joyous cries last night.” Fanura looked around grinning at the other women whose embarrassed silence confirmed her words. “I did even so with the Emperor. His weapon is strong and thick, but fortunately I have a sheath that is the equal of it.” All the women smiled and nodded.

“We want our guests to tarry long with us. Let us make their stay here a pleasant one. I shortly will awaken the Emperor Marius with a delightful surprise. Do ye likewise. Later today I shall be showing him the sights of our beautiful city. I do not doubt he will wish to share my bed again tonight. In fact, I suspect he will not wish to wait that long to drink again from my private temple and allow me to melt the steel of his weapon in my furnace. If anyone should venture to the palace gardens this afternoon,” she grinned, “please do not let thyself be seen.”

Fanura judged well when her unwitting captive would awaken and she was at his side when his eyes fluttered open. “What...? Where... Oh, oh!” Marius moaned. Then he saw the beautiful young black woman smiling down at him.

“Good morning, My Lord, the Emperor,” Fanura smiled and kissed him softly on the lips.

“OH, my head!” the Emperor moaned. “What? What happened?

“I fear thou didst partake too liberally of our Nurian wine. As for later ... Surely My Lord has not forgotten last night. I never shall! My Lord was magnificent!” Fanura’s flattery was purposeful, but not insincere. She had indeed come many times on the barbarian’s thick cock. The Zuma weakened only his will; it fortified and stimulated his body. “Thou didst slay me with thy spear and gladly was I slain! Never has any man filled me as didst Thou. Aye! My Lord!” she gasped, her eyes widening in partial surprise, “I scarce can believe my eyes! Thy weapon is again ready for battle.”

Marius winced at her words. Fanura knew he was well aware of his erection, an inevitable result of seeing her firm breast and hard nipple just inches before him. Aware, but not pleased at that moment. As his large penis throbbed to life, so too his head throbbed with pain. He moaned again, partly with arousal, partly the ache in his forehead. “Thou are in pain, My Lord. Here, take this potion; it will assuage thy distress.”

Marius shook his head, “’Tis nothing.”

Fanura smiled and persisted, pressing a goblet she had prepared to his lips. It was sweet to his tongue and he drank. “Yes, My Lord, drink it all. It will cause thee to sleep and thy pain to cease.”

“Sleep again? But I have just awakened. The day is well begun. My officials will expect me at noon for Council,” Marius protested.

“Ah my brave, noble Lord,” Fanura smiled. “Do not concern thyself for them. Thou didst not battle alone last nigh. I heard Aldos slay Dolphia many times, last not long before dawn. Thy Council can wait.”

“Nay, Queen Fanura. Duty is everything for a Corthon. We cannot allow the weakness of the flesh to deflect us from our appointed tasks.”

“It is as I feared, My Lord. Thy strong will is preventing the potion from giving thee its balm. Rest thy head on my bosom and I will make thee to sleep.”

“I must ... not” Marius replied, struggling not to pillow his head on the Queen’s perfect breasts. Fanura could see the potion beginning to make his eyes heavy. It was time to take him one step further.

“My Lord, it is thy weapon, drawn and ready for battle that does not allow thee to sleep. Let us battle again as we did last night, thy sword and my sheath. Gladly would I have thee conquer me again!” And before the drowsy and aroused Emperor could react, Fanura had straddled him and positioned her moist cunt lips at the tip of Marius’s engorged cock. “The sheath of thy sword awaits thee, My Lord.”

“Fanura! No! This cannot be! A Corthon man never allows a woman to ...” A gasp of pleasure cut short his protest as Fanura lowered herself over the helpless man’s stiff cock. Slowly as first she began to ride him.

“Speak no more, My Lord. Let my sheath upon thy sword ease thy pain. Aye, Thy manhood is too hard; let me make it soft for thee. Yea, My Lord, thrust deep and I will warm nd please thee. Deep, My Lord, my sleepy Lord. Loose the hold on thy body, My Lord. Let me take thee deep. Release thyself into me, My Lord, deep into me, deeper and thou willst sleep. Release, My Lord and sleep. Release ...release ...RELEASE!”

Fanura had felt his orgasm building and his consciousness sink beneath her whispered words. With a final twist of her shapely hips and a clinching of her cunt muscles she triggered his climax. Surprisingly, the flood of his hot seed released an irresistible warmth within her, too and she came, collapsing on his hairy, heaving chest. It was several long moments before she was again in control of herself, but no harm was done. The Emperor was safely entranced a faint smile on his face. Amazingly, his thick cock was only now deflating. Fanura let herself relax a few more minutes in the Emperor’s strong, though now limp, arms. She was aware that his penis still dammed up her pussy, not allowing his thick sperm to drain out of her. It was a pleasant sensation and stirred a feeling of tenderness for her imperial captive.

Her pussy twitched at the thought of what could result if they continued to “battle” thus and she were incautious. Since she had become a woman, her mother had taught her to drink a potion of Mea every morning on three weeks of each four. “Do so and THOU, not thy need for a man’s organ, canst decide when and with whom to have a child,” her mother had advised with a knowing smile. Fanura employed Mea, as did most of the elite of the Nurian women. Now she was beginning to wonder if after twenty-five springs, the time was not approaching to put in practice the other part of her mother’s advice.

The treaty of accession was to be signed on the first day of the month after the New Moon festival. The rains had ceased, yet the harsh dry heat of summer had not yet come upon the land. The sun shone merely warm on the lush landscape around them. The treaty was being signed on the portico of the temple of the Goddess overlooking the newly whitewashed city below and the green valley and fertile fields beyond. Originally scheduled for the fourth hour, the ceremony had to be postponed until noon, as Marius and his men had greater difficulty than usual in arising from the soft beds and softer arms in which they slept. “Ladies,” Fanura had told her council the night before, “I intend to see that Marius has an especially good and strenuous night, sleeps deeply in my arms, and arises tired and happy. Do ye likewise.”

All was in readiness as Queen Fanura and her council of priestesses met Marius and his council of warriors. An official of Corthon palace protocol would have been surprise that rather than sitting on opposite sides of the long table, Corthons and Nurians sat side by side. Yet is seemed quite appropriates to the participants, who only an hour or so earlier had been entwined in each other’s arms.

The formal toasts over, Marius arose to speak. Fanura smiled reflecting that unlike the banquet a month ago, no pearls were needed to disguise the Zuma in the wine. The men no longer noticed the drug and indeed, would have felt quite uncomfortable were it not supplied. “Queen Fanura,” Marius said, trying to sound severe with the woman whose bed he had so recently shared. “There appear to be changes in the treaty. It was crafted by our legal scribes and was carefully considered by the Corthon Senate.”

“Aye, My Lord. I asked that a few clarifying words be added in the spirit of thy invitation to join the Corthon Empire. Thou didst ask us to ‘open our gates as a maiden does her thighs to her betrothed.’ I believe My Lord will agree that we have opened more than our gates.” The men looked embarrassed as the women at their sides snuggled closer.

“But this treaty states that no legions, save the Emperor’s guard will be posted in thy land,” Marius pointed out.

“True, My Lord. Now that we are wedded to the Empire, no enemy will dare attack. Thy legions will be freed to defend thy northern marches. We can deal with raiders as always.”

“Aye, My Queen, but internal order?”

“Does the bridegroom send armed servants to watch over his bride, My Lord? I dared hope that My Lord would do his own watching,” Fanura smiled. Marius was not sure if it was an accident, but at that moment his eyes fell on Fanura’s ample breast and he could not suppress a noticeable stiffing of his prick.

“But my Queen, soon I will return to Cortho. Business in the capital demands it.”

“Speak not of thy departure, My Lord. Cast me not aside as Aeneas did poor Queen Dido. The marriage of Nuria to Cortho is but consummated and the honeymoon is not yet begun. Stay yet the season. Surely thou dost not wish to return to Cortho just as the cold rains and bitter winds of the North sweep thy capital.”

“But the Senate will be expecting a report and the first tribute.”

“Report the plain truth; the capital is wherever the Emperor lays his head.” Most recently between my legs, drinking from my womanhood. What better place for the capital of Cortho, Fanura thought, suppressing a smile. “Do not thine own laws say thus? As for gifts, My Lord, with thy permission, I shall send each Senator, Tribune, Praetor, and Pontifex the finest fruit of our land, a Nurian maiden for to wife with a rich dowry.” Fanura smiled at her words. Yes, the Nurian women would take dowries that included many large flasks of Zuma essence. Perhaps next year when their new wives became homesick for their native land, a goodly number of Senators and other high officials would join their emperor in Cortho’s new Southern capital.

At each clever reply, Fanura saw the Zuma-addled heads of the Corthons nod ascent. “Set, then, thy hand to the treaty, My Lord, and let the marriage celebrations begin.” She smiled over that the Emperor who was gazing at her almost in adoration. As she placed a quill in his hand her other hand found his manhood beneath his tunic, squeezing gently. Marius’s doubts and objections floated away. He certainly did not want to feel the miserable cold of a Corthon winter. Less did he wish to leave the bed of this delightful woman who filled his nights and days with pleasure beyond his previous imaginings. Carefully he appended the initials to the document -

C. I. M: Corthun Imperator Marius.

The heat of the dry season arrived making it difficult for Marius to conduct Imperial business around mid-day. Not that he conducted very much at other times. Marius held Imperial court only during morning hours, hours that grew shorter and shorter as the Emperor, exhausted by long, vigorous sessions of lovemaking with Fanura, arose later and later. Should he awake early, he found the shapely black woman in his bed randy and ready to put him back to sleep.

With the heat, Marius and his men were introduced to the delightful custom of siesta after the mid-day meal, a custom made more delightful still by their company in bed. Marius took his noon meal with Fanura and was always quite drowsy when it was over, so it was quite convenient for her to lead him to her bedchamber for his nap. There, beneath pukahs moved by beautiful servant girls, Fanura let him suckle her breasts until he was moaning with arousal and then put him to sleep by riding him to a volcanic climax.

Marius did not realize it, but more and more Imperial affairs were transacted in his name by Fanura and her court. She now wore the imperial Signet. It had been thus since the arrival of the Santhian Ambassador. News had reached Marius in Fanura’s chamber just after a long slow siesta session with Fanura that, as usual, had left the Emperor limp and happily dazed. Fanura gave his eyelids a little kiss and offered to attend to the matter. It had not seemed proper, but after making love to Fanura, Marius was in no condition to refuse his lively young bedmate. As he drifted off to post orgasmic slumber, Fanura slipped off his ring and scurried to greet the visiting dignitary.

When Marius remembered to ask that she return it, Fanura teased him, “Oh, does My Lord not have more urgent business to conduct here?” drawing aside her short tunic and inserting her fingers into her ever moist slit. “Is this not the taste,” she asked placing her dripping fingers in his mouth, “of a woman in dire need of thy sword. Come to my bedchamber, My Lord and slay me. I have need of the sweet death thou bringest.” It was days before Marius thought again of the ring and them only to realize he didn’t really need it.

As Fanura spent more and more time on Imperial business, she allowed her servants to keep Marius sated and happy. She began by bringing Rini to their bed, stroking his vanity by telling him he was “too much man for one woman.” Eating Rini’s young puss as Fanura rode him sank Marius into stupor before either woman was fully satisfied, but Queen and servant knew how to solve that problem. Gradually Marius accepted Rini and others into his bed during the long afternoons. Sucking their soft breasts and allowing them to ride him to orgasm, had the same soporific effects as did their Queen’s ministrations. It was exhausting trying to satisfy so many pretty women and Imperial business suffered still more.

As the summer drought burned the landscape to dull brown, a challenge arose. The wild tribes of Zaria in the West were causing increasing trouble. A decisive blow was called for, but Fanura did not wish to rouse the Emperor from the lethargy she had carefully crafted. The danger, she decided, could become an opportunity and set a plan in motion. Several weeks later a Corthon messenger reached the palace with news from the frontier. Fanura was summoned. Leaving the Emperor in the post coital bliss of an early morning hand job, she rose and persuaded the messenger to refresh himself before delivering the message to the Emperor. The young man’s “refreshment” in the arms of two temple priestesses gave Fanura time to complete preparations.

When the messenger, exhausted by the ardent priestesses, stumbled into the imperial chambers, the Emperor was lying breathless beneath the Queen, having just come most satisfyingly up in his royal lover’s warm wet pussy.

“Grave news, sire! The Zarians have attacked Quoma. The Nurian defenders fled and the women were taken away.” Fanura smiled secretly. The Zarians had taken the bait. A few years with Nurian temple prostitutes disguised as peasant women, would tame the tribe, but meanwhile for form’s sake, they must be chastised.

“Villainy!” roared the Emperor, trying to arise from beneath the young woman. “Guards! Bring my armor. <gasp> Bring my sword.” The unaccustomed exertion told on the Emperor who was growing flabby from too much food, wine, and sleepy lovemaking.

“Do not concern thyself with the Zarian raiders, My Lord,” Fanura smiled and pushed another goblet of wine into Marius’s limp hand. “I shall deal with these swine in thy name. Thou hast more important matters to attend.”

“My Queen, it is not meet that thou shouldst deal with affairs of arms while I remain always within thy palace. Of what ‘more important matters’ couldst thou speak?”

“The most important matter of all, My Lord,” Fanura smiled. “I have brought thee the daughter of a powerful prince and if I err not, she is ripe this night for thy potent seed.”

“What? Thou wouldst that I remain behind to breed a foreign wench while thou leadest our soldiers into battle?”

“The woman is Rotha-Na, from Parthia, My Lord. The old King is without heir. Make his daughter’s womb swell with thy man child, and another kingdom will be mine, er, thine.”

“Can I not service her another day? I would smash these insolent Zarians with mine own strong hand!”

“Strong it is, My Lord, but stronger still the weapon thou wieldest here, in thy loins! Lo, I feel it stir mightily!” the wily woman said, placing her hand on Marius’s cock.

“Fa -nu -ra!” he groaned.

“Yeah, My Lord, the sword of thy strength is ready. Plunge it into the girl’s belly and make her thine.” The Queen clapped three times and two serving girls led in a tall dark beauty with almond eyes, struggling to break free. “Look on her My Lord. See the proud breasts, breasts that thou willst make heavy with milk to give suckle to thine Imperial Offspring. See the wide hips that shall bear thy child. Dost thou not think her comely? Aye! Thy sword leapeth in mine hand.”

“But is this not the one brought in chains, but days ago?” Marius asked, unable to take his eyes from the gorgeous woman. “Did she not cry aloud that she would never consent to be my concubine?”

“Indeed she is the one, My Lord, but she is but a woman. Her mind is weak and her body is susceptible to the potions and philters of thy priestesses and enchantresses. She has been with them for these days. Now she burns with lust for thee. Even now her temple weeps with the joyful anticipation of thy manhood. Lie with her until the new moon and thy seed will find its fertile field. Her belly will grow fat with the fruit of thy loins.”

“But Fanura, Th... th...,” he swallowed as his eyes feasted on the scarcely clad maiden in front of him, unable to formulate his sentence.

“Zarian raiders?” Fanura finished his implied question. “My Lord, surely thou willst not let this beautiful flower wither on account of a few Zarians who are foolish enough to defy thee.” The Queen lifted one of the thin veils that barely hid the young woman’s charms. Her olive skin contrasted with the alabaster thighs of the Queen’s imperial captive.

“My Lord, thy humble servant will rid us of this Zarian nuisance. Thy Empire and thy people need the issues of thy potent loins to remain strong.” With a tap of her hand, she made the writhing young woman spread her thighs a little.

“Behold My Lord, this ready vessel. The high priestess assures us she has never born fruit. At thy command my serving girls will ready her that thou mightest pour her full of thy potent liquor.

“But how knowest, my Queen, that the time draweth nigh for conception? Perchance we shall return and she be yet ready.”

“Ah, my proud Lord! I am a woman and I know the signs of a woman’s body when it crieth out for child, but verily, I pray thee, prove my words.”

Fanura nodded to the woman. “Shew thy readiness to My Lord, wench!” she commanded.

The servants released the writhing girl and Marius suddenly realized her struggles had not been to escape, but to fling herself on HIM. In a twinkling, she had flown to the couch where Marius reclined and had thrust her pussy into his face. Before he could think of resistance, her musk had overpowered him and Marius began to lick the copious intoxicating fluids that leaked from her vagina.

Fanura smiled as she saw Marius loose himself between the young woman’s ample thighs. “Taste and prove, but carefully, My Lord, lest the potions she has been given affect thee, too. Do not drink too deeply of her flowing fount or the desire to breed will overtake thee as it has her.” Even as Marius ate the aroused woman, Fanura was slowly stoking him. “Aye! “Thy sword is drawn and ready. My Lord is too generous to his concubine, to pleasure her in this way. Wouldst My Lord make her come with thy powerful tongue? Lo! Thou castest a woman’s pleasure upon her! Her cup overfloweth. Drink it not My Lord!”

The Emperor’s enchantment was too deep to heed Fanura’s ironic warning. As the woman’s cum squirted onto the helpless man’s face, the crafty Fanura she gave his cock a final jerk and made him erupt into her hand. “Ah, My Lord, my generous Lord! Thou hast spent thyself giving pleasure to this foreign woman. Even if thou willest, thou canst not now accompany thy troops as we smite the Zarians. I perceive that slumber overtaketh thee. Thy concubine is similarly spent. Sleep in her arms, My Lord. Take her this night and every night ‘til my return. She is eager to please thee. Fill her with thy efficacious seed and make her grow heavy with thy child.”

Marius looked up at Fanura through sated eyes, almost pleading. “Do not speak My Sweet Lord. I know thy eyes grow heavy when thou givest of thyself to a woman. Thou willst sleep with her and I will go. And when I return, the woman will shew forth the fullness of thy handiwork. Thou willst breed her well, My Lord. But now thou must sleep, My Sweet Lord. Sleep deeply. Take her soft breasts to thy mouth and suckle like a babe. Thine eyes close softly. Thou art at peace. Thy thoughts are scattered and drift away from thee. Sleep, My Lord. Sleep.”

Fanura smiled again as the woman gathered Marius’s head to her breasts and he began to suck softly. The woman looked up at Fanura who winked. This clever foreign prostitute Fanura had procured would keep the Emperor happily occupied for the next several weeks, she thought. Several more weeks of drinking her drugged wine and eating her potion-laced food would keep her imperial “guest” too drowsy and horny to think about anything but this and other nubile women in the harem Fanura had carefully assembled for him.

Each was an enchantress in her own right, skilled in enflaming the lust of any man and using that lust to keep his will soft and pliable. Fanura herself had taught Marius to allow a woman to mount him, pacify him with her breasts and draw forth his sperm with her pussy, sating him with sleepy pleasure. As Marius lay abed letting one woman after another drain and enervate him with pleasure, Fanura would gather the reins of power to herself. Soon the Empire would be hers alone! Just one more thing was needed.

Several weeks later it was a self-satisfied Fanura who presided over the Great Council. One after another the reports had all been favorable. The Zarians had been chased back over the border feeling lucky the Nuri-Crothon troops had not pursued them to recover the abducted women. She imagined what kind of joyous homecoming the Nurian “captives” would have prepared. Nothing more would be heard from Zaria raiders; that was sure until their women brought them to kneel before Fanura, begging to be incorporated into her Empire.

Messages had arrived telling of the success of the Nurian maidens sent to Cortho. Each had quickly become a cherished favorite of her new husband without raising the ire of the first wife. As the Zuma increased the stamina as well as the malleability of the Corthon men, the first wives found their husbands made love better and more often than before the Nurian girl arrived. And many Corthon matrons discovered the joys of love with a woman for the first time as they made common cause with the younger woman to bring their husband to heel. The Senate hardly met any more; with two horny women at home, Senators had better things to do. The “girls” dispatched to the high Corthon officials were well trained in administration and soon took control of their new husbands’ affairs as their Corthon wives learned how to keep their men home making love. In most households both the Nurian and the Corthon wife were pregnant.

The Corthon foot soldiers were being rapidly absorbed as second husbands for the women in the environs of the capital, although some of the city women sent their former mates back to their elder sisters, preferring the imported to the domestic product. Most of the Corthons had been farmers before being forced into the army and would probably have been quite happy to stay even without having a woman who wanted him in her two or three times a day. Fortunately, the Corthons were able to introduce several new crops and farming techniques that meant greater agricultural output. The extra food would be quite welcome as most of the Nurian women with new Corthon husbands were soon found with child.

As Marius, Aldos and the other Corthon officials lost interest in matters of state—for months their sleeping ears had been filled by whisperers, urging them forget such trivial things—their captors encouraged them to become more physically active. Fanura and the other women enjoyed going to the stadium and watch their men wrestle, sprint, broad jump, throw javelins and shoot bows, each cheering excitedly for her bedmate. Fanura was pleased that her Marius was seldom bested except by Aldos, and that only in wrestling, where the Strategeon’s greater bulk made him invincible.

“In sum, Nuria had never been more prosperous or more secure. Nuria is, to all intents and purposes, the capital of an Empire that is Corthon in name only. The minnow has swallowed the frog. There is but one thing more that we can do to seal our place at the head of the Empire. I, myself, have already taken this final step,” the Queen stated proudly. “The choice is thine, but for several weeks I no longer partake the daily draught of Mea.”

A little titter went around the table. “I may have softened and blunted the Emperor’s will, but I can report that his sword remains rigid and sharp,” the Queen announced with a little smirk. “About the time of next Thirteenth Moon Festive, I will bear the Emperor’s first child!”

Fanura paused and looked around; then frowned. She was expecting a reaction: surprise, jubilation, outrage; instead Council appeared merely pleased. Dolphia saw the Queen’s consternation and smiled. “They share thy joy, My Queen, but not thy hesitation.”

“My hesitation? Why I have allowed the Emperor...”

“We well imagine what thou hast allowed the Emperor,” the High Priestess smirked. “But thou art not the first.”

“What?”

“Lucas and I are expecting our first before the rains resume. Behold!” Munira stood, lifted her short tunic and displayed to everyone the first signs of her delightful bulge. “I knew I must bear his child from the first night I made him lie with me. He tells me that he will gladly remain in the temple and care for as many as I will give him.”

One by one the other Council members, from the youngest to the oldest, nodded and rubbed their bellies. “I though my days of childbearing were over, but Gaius’s fresh seed proved my field was but fallow, not infertile,” Laufi announced, her eyes glowing like a bride. “And my young centurion promises to sow me again next year and the next.”

“You did beguile Marius, My Queen, but not deceive him when you promised him a baby by me,” Rotha-Na smirked. “What other chance had I to bear an Imperial scion. I consigned the Mea potion to the imps of the underworld and allowed the Emperor to fill my belly with his child.”

“I, too, am filled, My Queen,” Gassara smiled. “Although in truth I cannot say which of the Praetorian Guards is the father. As a precaution, I have taken the whole lot for my household!”

“Well said, Gassara,” Dolphia said. “You must know unless you have forgotten that the seed of a Zuma-drugged man often yields a double or triple harvest!”

This announcement at last brought the gasps and giggles of amazement Fanura had expected at her own. Although irked at being upstaged by her followers, surrounded by so many happy women, she could not remain angry. “Well, Dolphia” the Queen laughed, “It seems we need to arrange quickly for a joint marriage ceremony, lest we cause scandal.”

“There will be talk enough as it is, My Queen, when thou and thy entire Council present their swollen bellies before the alter of the Goddess. Especially where thy equally pregnant High Priestess will meet ye.” Fanura started. “Yes, my Queen, I carry Aldos’s child since the night of the treaty ceremony, although he does not yet know it,” chuckled Dolphia.

“Scandal enough? Oh, perhaps not,” the Queen replied with a mischievous grin. “I can think of something else to set the gossips’ tongues wagging.” No one dared ask, although the Queen’s broad smile harbored no threat. “I see Laufi is too smitten with her Gaius to partake, but now that we have proven the abilities of our future mates to beget children, we can begin to share the fathers-to-be.” A nervous titter ran among the women.

“Methinks Munira is not the only one to have admired fair Lucas. Perhaps the boy could be trained to please his gravid mistress by a heftier rider,” she grinned, glancing at Dolphia who looked embarrassed. “And, would not Gassara prove well the mettle of Aldos’s sword,” the queen smiled as the virago’s nostrils flared in anticipation. “Nor do I suppose the Emperor would ever wish to escape the sweet slavery of our dear Munira once he has slept a night with his sword between her slim legs.” A wild delight flickered in the girl’s face. “For my part, I would do battle with the Praetorians. Perchance for a few nights my cries will disturb the sleep of Gassara, as for months hers have mine.”