The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Erulia stood back from the lacquered timber armoire with a steaming cup in hand as a worried expression marred her otherwise arresting face.

She had slept surprisingly well and awakened in her faithful handmaiden’s warm embrace as they snuggled together in dawn’s forgiving light after the disturbing events of the night before. Breakfast had already been laid out on a side table; ripe seasonal fruits, fresh baked bread, purest honey and churned butter with a piping hot pot of the herbal brew scenting the room with the aromas of morning.

That was well and good but whomever had provided the enticing repast had also absconded with her clothing from the day before. There was probably a sub-clause in the diabolically complex betrothal agreement about her wearing the fine whispersilk dress from home.

Erulia really needed to read more of that dense tome of contract law to better comprehend her strange circumstances but that would have to wait…

Because Queen Annarosa wouldn’t.

“Any better wardrobe choices in your quarters?” She called out to Idril as she plucked at the draping sleeve of a cerulean blue gown. The fabric was wonderfully smooth to the touch but the gossamer skirts were nearly transparent.

Far too daring for an elf of her station and position.

“Not really.” Her friend called back through the connecting doorway. “I’ve found something really nice in jade silk but the small corset top is a no… just, no.”

“We don’t have time for this. Her Majesty expects us to attend her shortly and I suspect she is neither the patient nor forgiving sort.”

There had been a note delivered with breakfast, written in a curling cursive hand, courteously inviting the elven Princess and her companion to join the Sorcerous Queen in her atelier by the third bell, followed by some poorly veiled threats outlining the strict ramifications of failing to do so.

The woman was going to be a nightmare to deal with, though after what they overheard last night…

“Fine, how about this one?” Idril asked, trudging back into the room holding up a strapless, backless soiree dress weaved out of intricate lace. It was the color of burnt umber and sized for clingy. “At least it will cover my most delicate parts.”

Even as she spoke, Erulia couldn’t miss the way her friend’s bright hazel eyes kept flickering to the portraits of Prince Seberin covering every available inch of wall space around the airy apartment.

She couldn’t even find it in herself to reprimand Idril, there was something powerfully attractive about the painted likenesses and she had often found herself doing the same throughout the morning. Just kind of… spacing out and being soothed by the distant roar of the castle wards as she fell into those piercing amber orbs and big strong muscles.

“That looks like a good choice.” She said in a weak attempt at moral support. “I think it will make your eyes pop.”

“Just so long as nothing else pops out, if you catch my meaning.”

The platinum-haired Princess wasn’t sure why Idril was so worried. She wasn’t the one about to spend the day being grilled alive by the unhinged Regent of Bathard. But at the same time, the outfit she had chosen would undoubtedly capture the attention of any red-blooded male who saw her.

And by all reports, there was only one such male in the palace.

A slip of the flavorsome tea helped calm her rattled nerves and she turned back to her own questionable fashion options with new, mildly competitive, resolve.

“Okay, help me into…” She reached into the wardrobe and withdrew a particularly revealing garment that had initially offended her prim and proper high elf sensibilities “...this one. Hurry now, we can’t keep her royal Majesty waiting.”

Erulia didn’t miss the slightly sour expression that flashed over the beautiful wood elf’s face at her scandalous selection.

“Are you sure, Princess?”

“I am certain. Now perform your duty, handmaiden, and assist me in dressing.”

“Where are you taking us again?” Erulia asked, tugging self-consciously at the front of her skirts as she tried to keep up with the briskly striding maidservant. “The Queen’s receiving rooms?”

“Her Majesty’s atelier. The locus of her magical power and innermost sanctum. You are privileged to be amongst the rarefied few to be allowed entry to her most private chambers.”

The pretty young serving woman leading them didn’t look back or slow her trotting pace as she spoke in a cool, neutral tone. Like all the palace staff Erulia had encountered thus far; this fiery redhead represented an impressive combination of full curves, sculpted limbs, dazzling features and—in this particular case—was spectacularly pregnant.

The girl’s hugely swollen belly pushed out the front of her frilly black and white uniform as though she had swallowed a winter melon. Her big milky tits jiggled atop the prominent baby-bump, barely restrained within a swooping neckline which dipped so low that a deep enough breath would cause an embarrassing incident.

Not that Erulia was really in a position to throw stones concerning tastes in fashion. She was already beginning to regret her hasty choice of courtly garb.

The elegant sapphire gown she was wearing wrapped her lithe figure tightly with layered skirts that swept down at the back to tickle her ankles but were cut high at the front, meager inches below her narrow hips, exposing most of her sleek ivory legs.

She had thought the matching silk stockings would provide additional coverage but the gauzy bands and garters connected just short of the ruffled hemline, drawing even more attention to the slim gap at the topmost terminus of her bare thighs. At least it distracted from all the perky young Princess’s décolletage—humble though it was—on display due to the plunging nature of the exposing ensemble.

“Atelier… Do you mean her sorcerous workshop?” Idril inquired, as they turned down another grand hallway that was near identical to the last three they had traveled.

The castle interior was larger than it seemed from outside appearances. A sprawling labyrinth of corridors and rooms, lavishly decorated to showcase the wealth and might of the human kingdom, and its royal family especially.

Hunting trophies of fantastical beasts were mounted upon the cold marble walls alongside captured war banners, tournament prizes and, of course, the multitude of framed canvases featuring one or both of the two current rulers of the human kingdom. One of the receiving halls they had passed contained a full adult chimera—preserved through some miracle of taxidermy—suspended by chains from the ceiling with its giant bat wings spread as though frozen in mid flight.

…and under each exhibit was a small brass plate denoting the heroic manner in which they were won. Unsurprisingly, Seberin De La Sol’s name was featured with unerring regularity.

“You will understand when you arrive.” Was the gravid maid’s only response.

“Will the Prince be there too?” Idril pressed a little too eagerly. “We are ultimately here to meet with him after all.”

She sounded a bit breathless but that might have been because the snug fit of her barely-there lace dress constricted her usual stride to small half-steps, taking two for every one of their own. The absurdly tall drakeskin fuck-me boots she was teetering about in probably didn’t help either.

Erulia moved far more comfortably in her slingback pumps sparkling with azure crystals to match the color of her indiscreet gown. The stiletto heels were only three inches long, easily manageable with her high elven grace and dexterity.

“The Crown Prince—may his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years—will be preoccupied with taking audiences today.” The pregnant redhead replied, warmth entering her neutral tone at the mention of Prince Seberin as her small hand drifted down to rub her massively swollen stomach. “We will be passing that way shortly but cannot dally. Her Highness does not tolerate tardiness.”

No sooner had she said it, then they were entering a busy grand foyer with vaulted stone ceilings and varnished timber benches lining the walls on either side of a pair of elaborately carved double doors.

Four of the statuesque Amazonian royal guards barred the entryway with spears and bucklers at the ready. Their brief studded leather corsets and segmented skirts left a gratuitous abundance of full, pushed-up cleavage and muscular legs out on show.

The bustle of supplicants waiting to be announced were almost entirely female. Gorgeous young women of every variety sporting their finest—if somewhat undersized—attire with a few pallid sallow-faced men scattered amongst their tittering numbers.

Erulia spotted a powerfully built orcish shield maiden dressed in fur loincloth and a chainmail bikini top that struggled to contain her enormous green endowments looking coyly down at her nervously twiddling thumbs as she waited to be summoned.

A trio of lilac-skinned drow femme fatales whispered conspiratorially together in one corner, blushing and giggling like naughty damsels. Their deadly honed bodies criss-crossed in the thin strips of black leather they regarded as armor and braided onyx hair falling to the small of their trim backs.

The buxom serving girl didn’t waste time in guiding the pair of rubbernecking elves through the press, stepping around an eager-eyed group of young noblewomen in extravagantly brief evening wear, when the giant double door rumbled open just wide enough for two dazzling examples of human beauty to stagger out.

They were both tall, vivacious blondes who looked so alike they might have been twins. Their frippy little summer dresses were badly rumpled and their shining golden hair was in a frightful state of disarray. One fussed absently with a broken shoulder strap as they leaned heavily on each other for support and fanned their beaming faces with flapping hands.

“Thank you, Highness!” They sing-songed over their shoulders, stumbling a little on bowed legs. “May your glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!”

Erulia frowned as she noticed the wet sheen coating both pairs of flashing thighs before she was whisked away down yet another corridor.

“Next!” A guardswoman shouted behind her retreating back.

“You are on time, good. I have always believed that punctuality is the politeness of princesses.” Queen Annarosa commented dryly. “And I will not suffer a laggard for a daughter-in-law.”

After an interminable and confusing journey through the twisting palace halls, Erulia and Idril had been led to an unassuming wooden door at the bottom of a short flight of stone stairs. Behind it they had discovered a large, open studio filled with an alarming clutter of arcane paraphernalia and the Queen Regent standing before an artist’s easel in the center of it all.

“Your Majesty?” Erulia inquired. The air in the room was saturated with enough auras and enchantments to make her feel lightheaded. “We have come as instructed.”

“Another point in your favor, girl. A good daughter and wife should strive to be obedient whenever possible. It is a sign of courtesy and respect.”

The snippy Queen Annarosa was the picture of regal poise and bearing, if not exactly dressed like it.

A sleeping robe of the darkest chiffon hung open off her shoulders, so wispy and transparent as to hide little beneath. Sheer embroidered mesh lingerie in midnight black hugged and entwined her mature voluptuous figure in a spiderweb of ebony strings and fine silver chains. A scalloped demi bra lifted and enhanced her ripe motherly bosom while a tiny lace g-string rode high over her full hips before disappearing into the deep crevice of her peachy round rump.

“I agree that courtesy and respect make strong foundations for any relationship.” Erulia hedged diplomatically, shuffling further into the room with her autumn-haired guardian in tow. “Is this your private workshop, Highness?”

The room wasn’t small but felt… busy. Two of the bare stone walls were lined with ancient oak shelves stuffed full of magic tomes and grimoires secured in place by iron bars locked across their dusty spines.

Several scarred wooden workbenches were covered in parchment scrolls, pots of spell ink, mystical implements, animal bones and glowing gemstones, while complex alchemical glassware hissed and bubbled away on others. An actual honest-to-goodness cauldron sat neglected in an inset fireplace and everything was lit under the bright unwavering light of everburning lamps suspended from the ceiling above.

In the middle of it all the Sorceress Queen stood side on to the gawping elves with a brush and mixing board in hand, daubing paint onto a large canvas with a fixed expression of concentration.

“This is my Atelier, girl.” She snapped in reply, never once looking away from her art to acknowledge their presence. “Workshop… bah! They call me the Blood Rose of Bathard, does that sound like the moniker of a common tradesperson to you?”

Erulia could hear Idril’s breath quickening from a step behind her. No doubt the string of petty barbs and crushing magical presence was getting to the overprotective elf. So she spoke quickly to stave off a rash rejoinder from her friend.

“I meant no offense, Majesty.” The Princess said calmly, “I was simply awed by the impressive level of arcane study and comprehension the contents of this… Atelier implies. “

There, a perfect example of grace under pressure. Grinding magical pressure that grated against her innate resistance like a millstone.

The Queen glanced away from her painting to arch a speculative brow at Erulia then jabbed her brush towards a small covered table, neatly laid out like an oasis of order amongst the chaotic hubbub. There were two padded stools set beside it.

“Sit. There. Both of you. We will continue our interview as I… create.”

Moving gingerly through the crowded space and trying not to touch anything, they took a seat and waited expectantly for the furiously painting Sorceress to speak.

Erulia spared a quick glance for Idril, the beguiling wood elf looking stunned. Out of sorts. Blushing and not meeting her crystalline gaze as she squirmed fitfully on her perch. From their new perspective, they could both see all of the ageless matron in her full glory and the bedroom sounds of the night before came rushing back in cheek-burning clarity.

The imposing enchantress howling in sinful ecstasy as her hung human lover pinned her to the bed and pummeled her luscious ass…

That same ass that rolled enticingly as she sauntered over to a benchtop and plucked a pinch of sparkling pigment out of a clay jar to sprinkle over the smeared paints on her mixing tray.

“Are you content with your accommodations, do you lack for anything?” Queen Annarosa asked, returning to the portrait to continue her work. “Speak, child. I would not have it said later that our Bathardian hospitality was found wanting.”

“Yes—I mean no. Ummm…”

Which question did the woman want answered? The lightheadedness was interfering with Erulia’s usually agile wits.

And what was the Sorceress painting? She couldn’t get a clear sight line on the easel from where she was seated.

The gorgeous Queen scowled, pausing to flick her free-flowing raven hair over a shoulder as she turned on the two elves with a stern expression.

“Perhaps it is better for you to be seen and not heard.” She scoffed, looking imperiously down her upturned nose. “I can deduce from your attire that you found the wardrobe without assistance at least. Small wonder. Have you been drinking the herbal tonic as instructed?”

“Y—yes.”

“Good, it has given you a healthy glow to those skinny cheeks.” Her Majesty said, sounding slightly mollified. “Let us pursue that line of questioning since you appear amenable to the subject.”

Which line of questioning? Erulia looked to her handmaiden for some much needed clarity in her discourse with the razor-tongued mad woman. Idril was blinking owlishly and looking about the worksh—Atelier as though lost. She had a warm glow on her cheeks too.

“The subject, Highness?” She hastily asked before the unhinged Blood Rose of Bathard could go off on another rant. “Do you mean the tea?”

“The reason behind the tea, girl. Have you forgotten?” Queen Annarosa asked, giving her a critical once over with her smoky eyes. “It is to prepare you for receiving my perfect son’s blessed seed.”

“The Prince’s seed?” Idril babbled, finally lending her voice to the uncomfortable proceedings.

She sounded half-asleep. Dreamy. The Queen shot her a minute smirk before returning to the canvas and adding a few more dabs of the now glittery paint.

“You elven women are like song birds, delicate and pretty to look upon. That is well enough but I have any number of song birds at my beck and call already. My greater interest lies in the futherence of the royal line. For that I need brood hens.”

Birds… hens? What in the nine hells was this lunatic talking about?

“My apologies—”

“Children. Heirs. Your ability to carry healthy children for my sweet Seberin.” The Queen elucidated, almost attacking the portrait with her brush in a feverish fit of ardor. “My boy is immensely strong and endowed with more than kingly riches. You elvish maidens may be gifted with wisdom, magical talents and long lives but are slight in build. Frail. My future daughters-in-law must be robust, fruitful, capable of enduring his mighty passions!“

Goodness, Erulia was suddenly feeling warm at all this talk of the handsome Prince and his… fecundity. Hot even. Beside her, Idril was beginning to visibly sweat and rock in place on her stool.

The wave-like crashing of the castle wards was almost audible here, deep in the heart of the Sorceress’s power and the high elf could feel her resistance being tested. She straightened her back and shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

“The existence of half-elves is a long established fact…” She began in a small voice that quavered more than she wished but the Queen was still gathering a head of steam.

“Mongrel trash too rarely birthed from low-born adventurers and street whores. I speak of royalty, girl.” The raving Regent seized the easel in white-knuckled hands and dragged it around to face them. “Look upon his glory and tell me, in truth, that you would not be split in twain upon my brilliant boy’s supreme member!”

Idril gasped but Erulia could only gape at the big reveal. The colors glimmered like iridescent oil in wet swirls and lines forming a heart-stopping whole that was greater than the sum of its mesmeric parts.

An image of the Crown Prince Seberin was displayed in naked glory before their watering eyes, slung sideways across a golden throne with his stunningly gorgeous mother standing proudly beside him and an audience of ravishing, lingerie-clad beauties kneeling with demurely bowed heads surrounding the raised dais.

Every ridge and indent of his bronzed physique was presented in fantastic detail. A rich mane of chocolate hair fell over shoulders broad enough to hold up the heavens. His arms and legs were thick as stocky tree limbs, and the striated muscles of his ripped torso were stacked atop each like slabs of rough hewn granite.

But the point where her crystalline stare fixated was on the massive, ferociously male protuberance extending from the Prince’s bare lap.

“You see now? Bear witness to the foremost man to have ever existed in the history of this kingdom or any other!” Queen Annarosa proclaimed, spittle punctuating every zealous word. “Magnificent falls short of describing his utter excellence. My beloved son is the paragon of masculine perfection made flesh!”

Erulia was busy staring at that flesh.

Diamond hard flesh that was thicker than her wrist and huge. It glistened wetly—or was that just the paint?—and dragged at her mind as though it had an insidious psychic gravity all of its own. An unfamiliar ache began to grow down inside her flawlessly smooth belly. Hungry and persistent but there was an edge of fear too.

By all the heavens, how was she ever going to fit that thing inside her tiny body?

Beside her, Idril panted and moaned like she was on the edge of a panic attack. The stunning star blade writhed within her skin-tight mini dress, her hands shoved beneath the tablecloth and moving in a telling motion.

One didn’t need a hellhound’s supernaturally keen senses to smell her floral dampness or hear the moist noises coming from between her squeezed thighs.

“Your silent reverence is all the answer I need, Princess.” The Queen nodded, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts. Her tone had become unexpectedly calm. Conciliatory. All the fury and emotion gone in a flash. “I can read the despair on your pretty face. You desire my sweet Seberin, as all women do but cannot fathom the sheer physicality of sharing his marital bed.”

Erulia nodded dumbly, her sapphire gaze sliding over to the stately sorceress with all the speed of warm molasses.

She was very beautiful, now the elven Princess came to think about it. Ripe and lush with child-bearing hips, a waspish waist and big, pillowy tits that defied the passage of time. Her olive skin was unwrinkled and glowed with good health, her long raven hair voluminous and unfaded where it tumbled in dark waves down to sweep the top of her thick, firm behind.

How had Queen Annarosa only produced a single heir? She appeared handcrafted by the gods themselves to bear whole litters of infants.

“Fear not, child.” The ravishing woman crooned in a low sultry voice, stepping up to her in an elegant glide that brought them face to overflowing bosom, seated as Erulia was. “I have divined powerful alchemies with which to sculpt the body and rid it of all mortal sickness and deficiencies.”

The Princess could only boggle at all the abundant titflesh a hairs breadth away from her nose as delicate fingers dipped into the golden valley of cleavage and withdrew a thin glass vial of swirling purple liquid stoppered with a miniature cork.

She licked her dry lips.

“You are under no obligation to imbibe this potent catalyst. I will not force it upon you through custom or contract but know this,” The Blood Rose of Barthard gently seized her small elvish hand in a firm hold and guided it down between the Princess’s shaking thighs. “I created this alchemical solution for myself. Its magic has stayed the march of years and restored me to the flower of my youth. Do you find me desirable, Princess?”

She did. Honored ancestors help her but she did!

“Y—yes…”

Strong fingers pressed against her own and pushed them against the insubstantial lace panties covering her puffy pussy mound. The salaciously small underwear—the most practical she could find that morning from the scandalous selection provided—sinking into her virginal cleft and rubbing against her dewy pearl under the delicious pressure of their joint touch.

Erulia let out a shuddering groan. It was unbefitting her noble station but couldn’t care a wit in the heavily lust-laden moment. The wave-like crashing of the palace wards thundered in time with her racing heartbeat as she nuzzled her flushed face into the Queen’s royal bosom.

“That pleases me greatly to hear, girl. I have toiled without cease and sacrificed much to reach my present position. Would you risk even a fraction of what I did to please my darling boy?”

The soft hand steered her own in thrilling spirals over the engorged button peeking from between her slickened folds and made Erulia quiver like an arrow at full draw. Her mind flashed with recalled images of the studly Crown Prince in his many illustrious depictions.

Tall, handsome, intimidatingly imposing and impressively built. Bronzed and honed and mightily hard.

Her pristine elf pussy clenched at the remembrance and her empty womb rumbled like a sleeping giant.

She released another garbled moan which Idril heartily echoed from beside her. It was so difficult to make such a weighty decision when her whole self was blazing with desire for a man she had never met in person.

“I musn’t… hnnnrgh~! There are other con—considerations… im—important treaties… oh fuck!”

The Queen pulled away just enough to free Erulia’s face from her captivating cleavage and shifted so she could look past her at the picture of ultimate manhood again.

“Considerations, girl? What else do you need to consider but HIM? My darling son…”

Her vision seemed to tunnel, focused on striking facial features, the shining muscles and—most of all—the mesmerizing, adamantine weapon so explicitly depicted in deflowering detail.

“I will. I—I swear it on the moon and stars.” She blathered as the leading hand released her to chase that elusive fruition alone. “Pleeeease~! Give me what I need to endure his manly affections. I want to be able to please his glorious majesty!”

“His glorious majesty!” Idril agreed lustily between gusty breaths and squelching fingers.

“Laudable words of devotion worthy of my Seberin.” Queen Annarosa purred, uncorking the vial. The scent was like an entire field of roses blew through the atelier. “Your frail elven bodies are primed to accept his royal seed but not yet physically prepared to bear his powerful progeny. This draught of fecundity will change that. Steel yourself, Princess, for the effects can be… dramatic.”

Erulia was ready. Past ready if her thrumming elfhood and achingly empty belly were to be believed. Her thumb rolled over her sparking clit as her fingers dipped oh-so-carefully into her drizzling pussy to draw out more lubricating moisture without risking her precious maidenhead.

Her hips bucked into her own hands as she leaned over the table towards the tiny glass vessel in the Sorceress’s grasp. Her little pink tongue extended and curled like a moist sluiceway to receive the purple liquid held within.

The gorgeous olive-skinned woman went to feed her the promised concoction then paused, her dark smoky eyes regaining some of the wicked glee from earlier.

“Oh, forgive me Princess. I almost forgot your precious elven traditions.” Then she turned, yanked Idril’s pretty head back by the hair and tipped the vial’s alchemical contents down the gaping elf’s throat. “Your assassin handmaiden always gets the first taste!”

“NOOooo~!”

Erulia wailed as she watched her hope for a fertile future filled with the Prince’s offspring disappear between her friend’s sagging lips. Queen Annarosa let out a manic giggle as she released the autumn-haired elf to collapse face-down on the table in a twitching, whimpering puddle of orgasmic release.

“Apologies, child. My sense of humor can be gauche at times, I did not mean to cause you any distress.” She said with a smirk, dipping her dainty hand back into the depths of her immense bosom. When it re-emerged, three identical purple filled vials were held between each of her knuckles. “As a high elf your inborn resistance to foreign magic will naturally precipitate the need for a larger dose. Ingest these and I will provide more as needed if the results are not as fulfilling as you desire.”

Her honeyed words barely registered to the moaning knife-eared Princess as she snatched up the proffered potions, tore the corks out with her teeth and guzzled down the florid smelling solution with gusto.

It tasted like rose-water, star anise and something tangy that she couldn’t quite place.

Then Erulia shrieked as her arousal spiked and a climactic lightning bolt grounded itself in her pristine nethers. The world turned fuzzy around the edges, soft and blurry as her spine bowed, her legs spasmed and blessed ecstatic darkness took her into its comforting embrace.

“I’m going to be his wife” She gasped as Idril bathed her tiny pussy in adoring licks and kisses. “I’m going to be HIS wife.”

They were back in their adjoined apartments with no recollection of how they got there.

It didn’t matter. All that was of importance was the many likenesses of Prince Seberin, in all his glorious Majesty—may he rule for a thousand years—hung upon every available surface of their spacious rooms. He was everywhere. On the walls, on the ceiling, on viewing stands crammed into corners where less attractive furniture once dwelled.

Really, there was only the vast bed, a few wardrobes stuffed with even more risqué clothing than this mornings poultry proferrings and HIM.

Handsome Prince Seberin standing atop the massive corpse of a slain dragon—bare chested with his vorpal sword held aloft—with two starry-eyed bombshells, dressed only in broken chains, wrapped worshipfully around his muscular calves.

Rugged Prince Seberin getting vigorously throated by the angelic captain of a squad of winged valkyries, each one a breathtaking heavenly beauty looking on in obvious envy as their golden-haired superior gagged and slobbered messily on his high-born manmeat.

Hunky Prince Seberin buried balls deep in a succubus’s crimson cunt. Her supernaturally shapely legs shot out straight on either side of his powerfully pumping hips as her twisted, usually haughty features, warped into a horned visage of blissful, servile surrender. A distinctly princely bulge invading her otherwise defined, toned abdomen as her cloven hooves waved in the air above her.

“I’m going to be his wife and give him dozens of babies.”

Just the thought of her trim little tummy swelling huge with that majestic Man’s young caused another pseudo climax to pulse through her splayed out figure as she clawed at the luxurious sheets and squirted her hot nectar into Idril’s lovingly lashing tongue.

“Mmmhmmm~...” Her faithful handmaiden agreed through her faceful of high elven muff.

Idril had always been a skilled bedroom companion and her lingual attentions were appreciated but throughout a long sweaty afternoon of pursuing sensual sapphic delight, the beguiling wood elf had been playing second fiddle to the arresting images of you-know-who.

Each small glance or brief contemplation of his majestic magnificence gifted the groaning, writhing Princess with another pussy-soaking not-quite-orgasm that left her breathless, momentarily blissed out and desperately hungry for more.

She hadn’t missed the fact that Idril was constantly fingering herself beneath the raised hem of her revealing maroon mini dress as she licked. Or the way she kept stealing glances at a particularly fine depiction of the Prince relaxing naked in a clear forest pool with a trio of excitable wood nymphs worshiping his jutting length whenever she paused to catch her breath.

The naughty nymphs each had chestnut hair, tanned skin and pointy ears like her and Erulia concluded that her friend was enjoying a short moment of imagined juxtaposition.

A little mental self insertion to spice up the scintillating pleasure of Idril’s more physical insertions into herself.

“I’m going to grow round as a goodberry and have to be carried around the palace with how incredibly pregnant he’s going to make me.” Erulia groaned, smearing her sodden lower lips across Idril’s moist mouth and blushing cheeks. “I’ll birth him strong sons and beautiful daughters then climb straight back onto his exalted erection until he packs me full of his potent royal seed again. How could I not get pregnant after something like that?”

Her words tapered off as another electric shiver quaked her trembling core and her shaky knees came together to squeeze her slathering handmaid’s pretty skull tighter against her gushing nethers.

From the jubilant sounds coming from between her clamping thighs, Idril just crested the same prurient peak in a salacious show of sinful solidarity.

“Mmmnnph~! Stop… Idril, stop. I need a break.” Erulia chuffed, wiping stray platinum strands out of her eyes. “We need to think clearly about all of… this.”

“Mmmmmm… Yes, my Lady.”

They scooted up on the bed until they were seated against the looming bedhead and the Princess rested her dizzy head against her friend’s comforting shoulder. Idril’s stunning face looked like it had been dipped in a jar of aloe, and her rosy lips were puffy, bruised from the feverish hours of oral ministrations.

Both of their hands quested for the side tables for the cooling cups of herbal tea waiting there as they closed their eyes and caught their collective breath. The indistinct crash of the castle’s enchanted wards calmed Erulia’s racing heart like surf breaking on a distant shore.

“It’s suspicious, right? Nefarious. The way they took our belongings and restricted our movement.” She sipped the fragrant brew to wet her dry throat. “The unquenchable heat of my desires for a complete stranger and now this.”

She indicated a small box sitting beside the teapot next to the bed. It was carved and varnished oak with little brass hinges affixing the open lid. Sparkling within the velvet-line interior were dozens of shiny glass vials filled with purple liquid.

A whiff of rose blossom tickled her nostrils.

“The Prince is very handsome, Erulia.” Idril commented sleepily, nuzzling in closer. “Tall, dashing and strong with a huge—”

“Don’t start that again or we’ll be up half the night. I’m talking about all the magic and these… what did she call them? Draughts of Fecundity. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No, do you want me to take another? They taste pretty good and make my skin tingle in a nice way.”

What had the Queen said? The potion was supposed to harden her body to bear the Crown Prince’s children. By the Gods, just the passing notion made Erulia want to pin her drowsy friend to the bed and hump her like a hellcat in heat.

She gave Idril a surreptitious once over, trying to spot any changes in her lithe physique. The strapless, clingy dress she was wearing did appear a bit tighter in the hips and did the wood elf have that much curve to her chest this morning? The skirtline was riding a few inches higher than would be considered appropriate in the Mithril Spires but was probably fine in this castle full of underdressed servants and ladies.

Her own clothing had been discarded hours ago. Panties too but the white chiffon of the simple bandeau bralette she was wearing was stretched fairly tight over her own pert breasts. Her rosebud nipples felt sore from rubbing within the expensive fabric but that could also be due to the fits of arousal.

Then again, Erulia had a high elf’s resistance to magic that Idril lacked and if the alchemical solution was truly what kept the Queen so young, undeniably beautiful and full figured…

It couldn’t hurt to try. Probably.

“Maybe we can take one or two more, but first we cover the paintings. Otherwise we’re not going to get anything done this evening.”

“If you insist, Princess.” Idril sighed unhappily. “If you insist.”

Empty glass vessels tinkled together on the mattress as Erulia licked her lips.

All she could taste was star anise and tangy rosewater.

She was kneeling on the bed facing her autumn-haired friend with the box of purple potions set squarely between them. Around the room, sheets hung over the mounted and standing portraits by means of much averted eyes and shuffling feet a short while earlier.

The ones on the roof were more problematic. They had simply promised each other not to look upwards until this matter was resolved.

“That was four each. Feeling anything?” She asked, gliding her hands down her nubile form and checking for changes. “My skin feels extra sensitive but nothing else on my end.”

It wasn’t a lie. She couldn’t stop rubbing her alabaster flesh. Touching and caressing her slender thighs, taut tummy and small breasts. Her pulsating elfhood was strictly off-limits, no matter how much Erulia desired to bury a few knuckles into her virginal flower.

“I’m not sure. Um, do I need to keep the stupid dress on?” Idril whined, she was touching herself too. Running greedy hands over her hips and chest, plucking at the form-fitting orange lace and, most strangely, occasionally reaching up tug at handfuls of her flowing chestnut hair.

Was that growing longer and why did she keep groaning like that when she pulled it?

“Yes. It serves as a metric to measure any changes to your body. It’s the only one we have.”

Erulia herself had removed the troublesome bra—it had begun to pinch unpleasantly—and kneeled bare as the day she was born, examining the wood elf’s striking figure. Idril was lean and flexible, her body honed to a keen edge by countless hours practicing her mystic blade arts.

Something was definitely happening though. The sexy soiree gown was riding further up legs with more muscle definition than before and being pushed out by an ass that was gradually gaining new contours. Clear outlines of stiff nipples pressed against the thin front of the strapless dress and the bustline was filling out slowly but noticeably.

…and Idril’s inflamed lips hadn’t gone down to their usual thin line despite an hour without eating pussy. Their puffy, bruised condition had merely receded to a pouty beestung appearance that Erulia mildly envied.

Her best friend looked imminently kissable and she was sorely tempted to lean in to taste that cushiony softness for herself.

“If you say so, Princess.” Idril croaked, shuddering deliciously as she downed her fifth purple vial. “Only… it feels unfair that you get to be all nude and baring your tiny titties to me while I am stuck in this slutty little outfit.”

Tiny titties? Idril had been in possession of a chest of a slightly respectable size for all of ten minutes and she was already throwing shade. The cheek!

Erulia pulled the wooden box of clanking glass vials closer to herself with an irritated sniff and tossed her starlight hair dramatically as she turned her nose up at the mouthy wood elf.

“I think that’s enough for you, handmaiden.” She huffed, opening two potions at once and bathing the room in their floral scent. “I am the one who will be carrying Prince Seberin’s heirs after all. This magic is wasted on you.”

Then she slugged down both vials like an ill advised adventurer shooting dwarvish spirits in a rowdy tavern, shuddering as the aromatic liquid slipped down her slender throat, then squawked with indignation as Idril snatched another from the velvet lined case.

“I don’t know,” The wood elf sneered as she popped the cork with a thumbnail. “Her royal highness hasn’t objected to my participation in the proceedings thus far. Maybe it is time for one of the forest kin to shine instead of the prissy high elves stuck up in their lofty ivory towers.”

“They’re called the Mithril Spires, you tree-hugging harlot!”

Hands flew, glass clinked and a matched set of pure elven voices moaned and gurgled as they wrestled over and chugged down the remaining stash of precious purple potions.

“I’m going to grow fat with his babies…”

“No, I’M going to grow fat with his babies...”

The two noble elves lay on the large bed facing each other, all antagonism gone as they snuggled together with curling fingers buried in one anothers slick pussies and breathless parted lips mere inches apart.

Their contentious words weren’t an argument so much as they were a husky refrain in worship to the glorious masculine figure displayed on the ceiling above them.

The irrefutably perfect form of a naked Crown Prince Seberin was displayed fucking the face of some raven-haired, olive-skinned woman with impossibly voluptuous curves garbed in barely-there wispy black underthings, though the artists perspective was directed towards the mature cock-gobbling bombshell’s backside and shielded her visage from view.

“He’s going to stretch my virgin elfhood wide open with his wondrous cock…”

“No, he’s going to stretch MY virgin elfhood wide open with his wondrous cock…”

They shuddered in blissful unison as the whispered words brought on another small wash of carnal pleasure and they clung tighter together as they basked in the warmth of each other’s caressing touches.

The afternoon had journeyed into evening on a delirious trail of quick little cums brought on by their shared, spoken fantasies.

The room reeked of fragrant herbal tea, wet elven cunt and rose blossoms. Erulia kissed along Idril’s swan-like neck, marveling at how velvety soft her friend’s tanned skin felt against her exploring lips. A multitude of empty glass vials tinkled on the mattress surrounding them as they rocked gently upon one another’s wiggling fingers.

The quantity of consumed potion had resulted in a lackadaisical euphoria in both elven maidens, draining all the venom out of their brief fit of temper and replacing it with a languorous skin-tingling serenity. A fluffy sense of wellbeing and warm affection suffused their lissome bodies.

“He’s going to fill my fertile high elf womb with all his royal seed…”

“He’s going to fill MY fertile wood elf womb with all his royal seed…”

They gasped quietly as more of their combined juices dripped onto the damp bedding and Idril moaned again as Erulia palmed one of her spongy breasts through the constricting fabric of her tightening dress.

There was definitely more there than before. The sweetheart neckline was beginning to dig into swelling mounds of flawless sunkissed flesh.

The changes weren’t solely confined to Idril’s chest either.

She whined piteously as Erulia withdrew her clever digits, now pruny from a prolonged pussy soaking, and grazed them up over hips that were practically broadening under her stroking fingertips. The maroon skirts had bunched around the pointy-eared vixen’s still narrow waist hours ago for horny ease of access but Erulia doubted that they could properly cover the plumping up rear the wood elf was growing.

It was as though her friend and present lover were slowly blooming into adulthood before her eyes. No, not adulthood—motherhood! Like each pulse-quickening micro-climax added a fraction more curve to her willowy figure, filling it out in preparation of being fucked full of princely progeny.

It was a rapidly accumulating effect given the lusty afternoon they had just shared.

Erulia looked down at her own slim nakedness with a distant feeling of discontent muted by the dreamy fuzziness. There was some added padding to her cleavage, sure, but where she might fill a shallow goblet with her pale tit, Idril’s figure-hugging gown was coming apart at the seams under the strain of her incrementally expanding frontage.

She didn’t think her juice drenched thighs were getting any thicker but it was difficult to tell at a glance with Idril’s faithful fingers still buried between them. Would her butt and hips fill out to child-bearing proportions too?

For the first time in her life, the high-born Princess cursed her peoples natural magical resistance. What a thrice-damned nuisance!

Then her crystalline stare drifted up once more to the portrait of the hunky Prince Seberin getting his cock lavishly worshiped by the mysteriously familiar dark-haired beauty on the ceiling above. All her concerns floated away like chaff on the wind as she lazily rolled onto her back and pushed the mewling wood elf’s pretty head down her wriggling body until those fat, kissable lips were firmly locked onto her pristine pussy.

Perhaps things would be better in the morning after some sleep.

The sound of deep hearty grunts and husky feminine squeals began to drift in from the grate in Idril’s room next door…

“You can’t get enough can you? Do you need this hard fucking cock in that tight mommy cunt?”

“I do! I constantly crave your big boy dick stirring up my insides, baby. I want to be walking with a limp tomorrow after you make me scream myself hoarse!”

Erulia’s dainty hands covered her reddening cheeks as the meaty smack of slapping skin and increasingly loud wails of orgasmic rapture caused her to buck and grind on her handmaiden’s lashing tongue. Her eyes were locked on the image of the masculine god staring straight into her soul with those intense amber eyes as her back arched off the bed and fingers tore at the soiled sheets.

“Prince Seberin… Hyaa~!”

Sleep would have to come later, it was fixing to be a long night of sweaty gushing passion under the piercing gaze of the most perfect man Erulia had never met.