The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The night was still young enough in the city of Erette that business of all kinds was still being conducted. A fair number of merchants were still selling their wares. The restaurants would be open until later and the taverns would be open until later still, leaving only a few hours before dawn to close, clean, and for the people that made it all work to rest before starting the cycle again before the dinner hour the next day.

And there was the work that was best done at night or could only be done then, as prying eyes were at a minimum and had trouble peering through shadows anyway. The city looked quieter at night if one only bothered looking at the public places, but it was arguably more alive after the sun had set. It was certainly more passionate than in the daytime. In the light of day people were concerned about how they and the things around them were perceived, so they were often more aware of how they spoke and even how they moved.

With the cloak of night, those same people felt more free to be their true selves and let their feelings hold more sway. They could go and see to the passions of their true selves before the mask had to be replaced come dawn. A woman could watch the home of a once-suitor from the shadows to see who came and went. A man could get the liquids and powders he needed that made the horrors of battle go away enough so that his daylight mask was possible at all, and Men like Strannix could conduct much of the business that made him who he was in terms of a businessman and a man.

It also let Lenare Hoben want who she wanted and have them before she had to pretend she wanted someone else. She knew almost as far back as she could remember that her heart only truly fluttered for women. Her first childhood crush was a woman even before she truly knew what a crush was. Lenare only knew that Robyn was smart, and funny, and cute, and those doe eyes made her heart race.

At first, she told herself it was just because they had so much in common, but when she blossomed into womanhood, it could not be denied. There was something lovely in every woman. There was something to draw her to them in every woman. She knew that some of it was the awakening of her body, but, she could admit to herself that part of that might have been the lure of forbidden fruit, and those delectable sweets were certainly forbidden by her profoundly traditionalist family.

There was no room for anything that was not within their expectations. She and her siblings got the message early on simply listening to how they judged their relatives, friends, those in the Great Houses they’d heard rumors about, and even complete strangers that they passed on the street that there was a very narrow road that was acceptable in every fashion and deviating from that even in small ways led to endless scorn and derision.

Even putting themselves back on what their parents considered the right path never quite ended the issue because, for what seemed like forever afterward, there would be a cutting remark said as a joke reminding them how stupid or willful they had been. They had taken to playing the ‘What if?’ game with their parents, or making up something they claimed to have heard about some unknown other to gauge their responses before entertaining the idea of doing or admitting to having done that thing.

It was very clear early on that their paths were set. Her brothers would begin an apprenticeship in something appropriate, suspend that for a term of military service, then resume it afterwards, at which point they could go on with their lives as they saw fit with proper wives that their parents selected while Lenare and her sister wouldn’t bother with the apprenticeship, though they would take the term of service for the benefits it would offer their eventual families, then marry the man chosen for them.

Her sister didn’t balk at the plan because it didn’t deviate much from her own anyway, though she’d rather have choosen her own husband, but it was easier just to go along. Lenare found that she liked the service. Given what life with her parents was often like, she couldn’t say the discipline was completely foreign to her and she liked the people with whom she served, and she liked the purpose. She liked being part of something greater than herself and the respect people gave her when they saw the uniform. And it was a reprieve from the slow death that came with being with someone that she could never want until one of them actually died. She’d hide her desires from him, as she did from her friends.

But that didn’t make them go away. Indeed, they clawed at her and whispered to her all the more when she tried to bury them. They rumbled under the surface until she had to set them free, even if just for a time. It was a vicious cycle, but one she’d learned to deal with. She couldn’t bring herself to go to a brothel, lest she risk being seen and she couldn’t begin to afford a courtesan who would see to her privacy, so she resisted as long as she could until there was nothing more to do but slink out in the dark and look for a woman of the night to sate her needs, something that was happening more and more often as she drew closer to the end of her commitment.

This was what she was doing now, moving down the street, seeking out those women that would meet her eyes and would linger in that unspoken introduction that translated to, ‘I’m buying. Are you selling?’ While she was careful as a matter of course, she was happy to have the experience of her service because she felt knowing what she knew at least made her safer. Even so, she didn’t stray too far from home, though she didn’t have to since she was starting from near her family home that her parents strongly suggested that she not move from, that sat not far from a string of lower middle class shops. So, where there was a little money, there were people interested in taking it in legal exchanges and not.

She passed several of those women as she traveled the blocks. She had used all of them at one time or another and had no problem doing so again if she found no one new, but there was, occasionally, someone she hadn’t met yet. Sometimes they were part-timers and sometimes there were women trying to gain a foothold in a new neighborhood. They would come for a night or two, gauge their reception from the other women, and would stay or go depending on their welcome. Those women that she knew let their gaze and smile linger a bit as they called her by the name she gave them and she gave them a smile back as she passed by.

Lenare’s urges led her to seek out the new and different, so it led her beyond her neighborhood and the next and to the limits of what she considered her familiar paths. She was almost ready to turn back when she saw a woman leaning under a streetlamp, seemingly marking time. There was no way to know for certain until the two ended up face to face, but Lenare’s senses tweaked the animal part of her. The woman’s pose said ‘casual’, ‘unafraid’, and ‘whore.’ From the bright pink skirt and top that displayed some midriff that she probably fashioned on her own out of a proper dress, as it was more risque an advertisement than most, from her heavy makeup and knowing grin, everything about her was come-hither. Even her small handbag matched the dress. She wanted attention and wasn’t afraid to get it

She was almost as tall as Lenare with a smooth, medium brown complexion with gold undertones that seemed so rare and exotic, even for a cosmopolitan center such as this. Her eyes deep brown pools one could be happy to wade in for days and her full lips were painted dark, as were her cheeks and around her eyes. Her hair was long, thick, dark and cascaded over her shoulders in waves. She’d never seen anyone quite like her before. “Hello,” Lenare said cheerfully.

“Hello yourself.”

“It’s nice to meet new people. I’m Lenare. What’s your name?” She didn’t know why she gave the other woman her true name. There was just something about her that made Lenare feel at ease.

“Mira,” she said pleasantly with that smile appearing easily yet again.

She paused, being almost entirely sure of the situation, but almost sure wasn’t certain, so her tone was accordingly tentative. “It’s warmer than it’s been in a while. Is that what brings you out tonight?”

Mira looked to her left and right casually but just as cautiously as Lenare was fished the waters with her words, both of them aware of the first movements of the dance. “It is a nice night, and that certainly makes hospitality work such as mine easier.”

Lenare relaxed visibly and her tone lightened, “I haven’t seen you here before.”

The other smirked. “I usually like walking in the Upper Quarter. So you look for friends in the dark of night often?”

“Sometimes. You never know when the urge to meet new people might strike. Are you all right with meeting girls?” Some weren’t, she learned, but it didn’t bother her much. All people were people and people had types that attracted them, and some chose not to fake it.

“I’m happy to meet any nice, likable soul that can pay for my time.” Mira looked her up and down, seemingly not displeased by the sight before her, “You look like you can afford a pleasant evening.”

“How much for a pleasant evening?”

“Five silver, and tips are appreciated. Two silver extra to cover my place if you don’t have one.”

“That’s actually,” she began with some amusement, “pretty reasonable.”

Mira sighed, but didn’t quite lose her smile, “It’s late and it’s too late to haggle. Anyone that gives me shit over five silver isn’t worth my time to begin with.”

“Five is great. You said you have a place?”

She tipped her head down the street. “There’s a bar a couple of blocks down with some empty rooms built in behind it. They aren’t much but they don’t smell and they’re safer than slipping into some alley.” She turned into a bit of a tease. “Unless you’re into that.”

She shook her head while blushing just a little. “No, I’m not into that. A room will be lovely.”

“I didn’t think so. Come with.”

She walked with Mira as they headed together down the empty street and pondered their meeting. “So, you didn’t think I was the type to meet someone in a dark alley. What type do you think I am?”

“Out late at night and looking for the company of a woman like myself. Neat, clean and otherwise sure of yourself, yet you creep up to me as though you’re waiting for a cross look as a reason to bolt. That tells me that you don’t want to want what you want, so I don’t imagine you want to risk being spotted in an alley.”

“Does that make me strange though? Do most people want to have time with you in dark, dank alley?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mira said, her voice sounding as though she’d collected scores of secrets over the years. “The alley is filthy, and trashy, and only animals would go there and do sexual things. And whores are only fit to fuck in places where animals would fuck.” It annoyed her. “They need what we give and pretend that we are beneath them while they sneak to meet us.”

Lenare could understand, at least partially. She wished she didn’t need as she did, and no doubt many others felt the same, but she never took that resentment out on them. In fact, she was grateful for the fact that these men and women were there for those in need. “Well, I certainly don’t think of you that way at all. If you’re renting yourself out because you choose to, it’s at least honest work.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.” she said, as she pointed towards the small tavern they were heading for. “Your husband doesn’t know you like girls?”

“I’m not married, but no, my family doesn’t know.” She decided to err on the side of understatement, “They...would not understand.”

She snickered and spoke up before Lenare could take it poorly. “That’s most of my clientele. I need this or that and my woman won’t. My family arranged this wife for me and she doesn’t excite me. Or, yes, I need a woman but I can’t have one in plain sight so I sneak off to have one. Don’t worry, you’re in the same boat, one way or another, with many.”

They cut across a small open lot and towards lamps that glowed brightly; one over each of the four doors in front of a wooden building that looked, at first glance, like a glorified outhouse. It looked sturdy enough and, as they drew closer Lenare could hear the growling, labored breath of a man in the midst of fucking, with his woman of the evening urging him on.

Mira pulled a silver from between her breasts and put it in the slot of a rusting box that looked like the three others next to each door. The sound of the coin dropping and clicking past gears gave way to a thunk of metal on metal and the hinged flap at the bottom of the box opened revealing a heavy iron key. She took the key, turned it in the door lock and it opened with some protests from the hinges as she grabbed the lamp overhead.

She sat her handbag down on the bar stool nearest the door where she placed the lamp next to it before taking the candle from it and using it to light the lamp hanging from a hook overhead. “There we go,” she said with some satisfaction as the room lit enough to see the bed with the corners of the small room still being lost in shadow. Turning to Lenare again, “I trust this is all right?”

It was clean, the floor was wooden, and, while the blanket on the bed was threadbare, it hadn’t been chewed through by this or that. And the place didn’t smell. It was better than she’d expected. “This is fine. Really.”

“Forgive my supposition again, because, honestly, some of the most unassuming people have the most, shall we say, raw, desires, but I assumed that you were just looking for more usual things like kissing, licking, and fingering. Perhaps the usual filthy talk? I’m quite open and have few limitations, but certain things will, of course, cost extra.”

Lenare shook her head quickly, “No. I mean, yes, all of those things are lovely. I’m afraid I’m pretty bland when it comes to what I like. My desires have never been particularly...raw. I just want to be with a lovely woman.”

Mira spread her arms, “Well, here I am.”

There was a lingering and slightly awkward pause before Lenare jumped, “Oh, sorry.” She undid two buttons and reached into a small pocket on the inside of the dress to pull coins free. “You would think I wouldn’t still be so nervous about such things. It’s not as if it’s my first time.”

Mira was unconcerned. “It’s quite all right. It’s still a forbidden thing and some people never get past that.”

Lenare counted out the coinage. “That was five.” She caught herself again. “No, seven; there’s the two extra for the room.”

“That’s right,” Mira said with a smooth nod as she watched the coins appear, taking them as soon as they were handed off without quite appearing like she was snatching them. She gave them a quick look, letting them slide over one another in her hand. Whether it be coins sliding, or clinking together in a pouch, she never tired of the sounds of getting paid.

“Thank you.” She placed them on the stool next to her handbag and then turned, this time her look was far more flirty, like she was closing in on the only object of desire that she ever had. “Now that that’s out of the way, Lenare, why don’t we get to the fun part, eh?” Her arms slipped around the soldier’s waist and their lips met shortly thereafter.

When they finally did, Lenare whined into Mira’s mouth, the urges inside her finally allowed to be unleashed and to begin to to be slaked. Their tongues mingled with growing ferocity, Mira meeting every bit of passion that Lenare could give her. She had to admit that this one was a good kisser. They parted for a moment and Mira bit her lower lip, feeling Lenare caress her, nervous energy making her shiver, Lenare looked down, then back at her, “Am I going too fast?”

She shook her head, “Not at all. You just kiss like you fight it, honey. You do, don’t you? You don’t want to kiss, love, and fuck women.”

There was shame in the look in her eyes and the growing red in her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, girl. That’s not all bad. Sort of makes it better when you finally surrender, doesn’t it? Every touch, every kiss ends up being so much more exciting when you hold back every second that you can.” Mira pulled Lenare to her again and kissed her deeply, and surrendered in her own way, letting the other unbutton the gold buttons that held the thin, almost gaudy pink together over her chest,

She leaned into it when Lenare teased and played her breasts with fingers and tongue. The light tease of fingertips on her nipples brought them to attention before Lenare sucked and tongued and pulled gently with her teeth. Her words came with a sultry, giggly purr. “That’s not half bad, honey. You’re making me fucking hungry.”

Lenare seemed to like the sound of that and redoubled her efforts. Mira closed her eyes and let herself feel, This usually wasn’t her thing, but she had to admit this woman knew how to touch and Mira could feel her own pussy becoming damp at the budding sensations.

She took a handful of hair in her hand and pulled her from the breast, watching her swallow hard and her wide eyes feast on her and her body. “I want that pussy, honey. I want it now. You want that, too, honey? You want a girl’s tongue pleasing that pussy? Let’s make that happen.”

The kissing began again in earnest as the focus switched to getting the young soldier out of her clothes in a flurry of activity, Lenare’s excitement leading to some fumbling even as she tried to help, finally managing to wiggle her way out of her dress to the pale orange slip beneath. There was another flurry of kisses and pawing of bodies as Mira pushed Lenare to the bed and climbed atop to join her, kissing her neck and sucking and nibbling her way down, thumb and forefingers of each hand slipping over and under the thin straps of her slip to expose a pair of small breasts only large enough to make a mouthful.

Occasionally Lenare had hoped to have been blessed with larger gifts there, but they had the advantage of being able to be fully consumed if one was so inclined, and Mira certainly seemed inclined, and quite practiced with women. There was a smile in her eyes as she played with each breast in turn and invited her to watch. “How long have you needed this?” she wondered in a whisper, “Days? Weeks? Longer?”

Just about longer than I could stand, she thought with a sigh as the woman she paid continued to play with her breasts as though she owned them in ways that made her skin sing and her pussy drip more than it already had been at the thought of tonight and the sight of Mira on the corner. She caressed the woman’s hair and simply allowed herself to feel that mouth and tongue feed her needs and build them at once.

Mira kissed her way down Lenare’s breastbone and over her belly, trying different combinations of lip, tongue, and breath to find the best ways to make her belly flutter. So rapt was her attention on that slowly descending head that she didn’t notice the flick of the index finger of her left hand as it ran down her thigh. And even if she had noticed it, it wouldn’t have occurred to Lenare that it served to open the handbag that sat otherwise innocuously on the stool.

A moment later, a glint of lamp light reflected off the tiny, black, glassy eye of a serpent as it slithered over the edge of the opening. About two fingers long, the body was as black as the eye, save an almost luminescent red at the very tip of every other scale. It slithered down, brushing the coins as it made its way from the stool and dropped almost soundlessly to the floor.

Mira exhaled long and slowly over the wet, delicate pussy before her and couldn’t help but be amused at the full body tremble that it caused, “And I haven’t even started yet.” A quick flick of the tongue, not unlike the serpent slithering ever closer, following not only its instincts, but the thread of magic that existed between it and its owner and drawing closer to her. Mira’s fingers grazed the supple inner thighs of each leg, making random trails before she made new ones down the flesh with her tongue before moving upward once again, nearing her target.

As she drew closer, Lenare raised herself upon her elbows while spreading and drawing her legs upward as she spread them so that she could watch the scene to be just so. She ached to see a woman on her, see a woman’s eyes looking up at her, see and know that that tongue was what was causing her so much pleasure. For the next hour or so she could pretend that she was with a lover that was hers and that all was as it should be.

Between kisses that trailed upward, Mira spoke, “You want to watch, do you? Want to watch me eat that wet pussy?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Ask nicely.”

She was enjoying the tease, so that and the heat built only made her sound a tiny bit desperate, “Please eat my pussy. Please, please, please.”

“Ask again,” she whispered.

This time, the corner of her mouth turned upward, “Eat my pussy...or give me back my money.”

Mira laughed an honest laugh, “Oooo, there’s that soldier’s backbone.” Her eyebrows went up in a shrug, “Well, then, since you did pay, I want to keep my money, and you’re already nicely wet and on display, I may as well.”

She dipped in with no further delay, knowing just how to do what the other needed. While she may have started out tentative because of the nature of the exchange, this woman was no stranger to aggression and wanted a women to want her and to be unashamed of the fact. Mira was certainly unashamed. A job was a job and she would do what it took to complete it. She licked. She ate. She feasted, lapping away as the two communicated with one another through eye contact.

That tongue awed Lenare. She was soooo good. It wasn’t just the licking, though the woman knew other women, it was that she knew Lenare wanted a show and was giving her one. It was in the eye contact that displayed wickedness. It was in the sounds of enjoyment from her; the moaning and lip smacking. It was how Mira would pull away from licking so that Lenare could watch the saliva pour from her tongue and onto that cunt. She liked to think her pussy was good enough to make Mira drool. It was in how Mira’s hands kept her knees spread like she needed to eat like she needed to eat and be eaten the same as she did.

Mira would drive her, let her plateau, and then drive her to higher heights, enjoying how those nipples stayed erect, and how the breathing slowly gave way to panting. She liked how the woman would squirm trying to keep that tongue working and try to drive herself to orgasm. Try as she might to never close her eyes, Lenare did because it was beautifully overwhelming.

Mira did too, but her purpose was to know where her little helper was and to nudge her along; to leave a little hint of instinct here and there like a trail of crumbs to keep her in the shadows. In Mira’s mind, she could see her coiling around the cot and inching her way to the mattress. Then she could feel it slither over the back of her leg and come forward, drawn between the legs of her Mistress via the callings of her and the natural heat of her pussy while Mira’s body obscured its movement.

She licked and teased, keeping Lenare where she needed her to be; heart pounding and blood rushing just so, using the whines and pants as tells as much as anything else, having her at the place where just a few more seconds of aggressive play would send her over the edge. And the barest touch to the nerve bundles that qualified as the serpent’s mind was all that was needed for one lightning quick strike on Lenare’s inner thigh before it pulled back and darted behind her knee and away.

The sharp, sudden pain that felt like an insect bite jerked her free of the moment, “Ow.” she came up to check herself as Mira pulled away. She looked to see the tiny punctures in her skin with a drop of blood welling up from each, and the area around them already swelling and turning a pale yellow. “What was…?” At first the notion of a rodent entered her mind, but, before she finished the thought, her eye caught the movement of red tipped scales as they tried to burrow into a hole in the mattress.

“Shit.” She moved to her knees and doubled her fist, ready to bash the lump in the mattress before Mira interposed her body between them as she called the small snake back to her. “Don’t hurt her, she’s just being who she is.” The snake crawled up the back of her hand. ‘It’s all right, Ena. You were just doing what you do, weren’t you, sweetie?” She looked to Lenare who was clearly stunned by the whole affair, eyes wide and filled with confusion. “Don’t worry, it works fast.”

“What?”

Mira scooted from the bed, Ena cupped in her hand as she stepped past her to drop her in the handbag. “It works fast. It won’t hurt. In fact,” she continued as she closed it with a snap, “it feels very nice. I made sure of that.”

Lenare looked back to the bag, “What are you talking about? Why?”

“She’s a Sitan. They are very rare, but very dangerous. Ordinarily one bite is almost always fatal. One in a thousand might survive because the toxin is particularly vicious, as it attacks all of the body’s systems at one time. That broad a poison is ideal for magic to tweak; enhance this element here, mute that element there and you can do almost anything with it.” She was quite proud of herself. “It’s one of the Goddess’s greatest gifts for those that know how to truly make use of it.”

“Magic?” Her heart began to race, and she wasn’t sure if it was caused by what was now flowing inside her or the fear that was building. “Forbidden magic?”

All magics but those that made for simple parlor tricks or for healing had been banned generations upon generations after mages had been driven from society and to near extinction by a people that let their lack of understanding turn to fear and paranoia until there was finally swift and brutal action. There had been a call to ban it in all of its forms, but the simple magics were thought to be harmless in and of themselves, and the healing magics were simply deemed to valuable to be allowed to be lost. The study or use of any other type of magic was punishable by death. As with anything else that was forbidden, however, forbidding something didn’t mean no one practiced it.

“Technically, no,” Mira said pridefully. “All the magics I use with Ena are, in practice, healing magics of one type or another. “What she’s priming you for though?” She snickered as she drew closer to soldier once again. “That’s incredibly illegal. You feel it, don’t you?” She began, stroking her hair, examining her eyes, watching the pupils begin to dilate. “Yes, you do. Your body feels cool and tingly now, doesn’t it? Like there’s a mountain spring flowing through your veins, but it’s not too cold. It’s just enough to be pleasant.” She knew it was true because her nipples were harder now than they had been only minutes before.

“But...why?”

Mira’s brow furrowed and she shook her head in the smallest “All in due time, dear. All in due time.” She looked the other up and down. Such complex changes in chemistry were difficult and took so much effort that it was a shame not to take the opportunity to sit back and observe the results. There was also a clinical aspect of it all in that she could watch for unforeseen effects or reactions that might change her responses. Or, in the best of circumstances, lead to new avenues of study and discovery.

That and she honestly liked watching her handiwork work.

Lenare’s eyes looked downward, then left and right and back again, as though she were looking inside herself, trying to figure out what might be coming next. Mira wasn’t wrong though. The cool, tingly feeling wasn’t unpleasant. It was like stepping from the desert into an ice box where the cool would wash over you and take the brutal suffering of baking in the sun away. But, for Lenare, the feeling was on the inside and it radiated upward to her skin. “Please stop this. I don’t know what you want. I’m not anybody special. I don’t have anything to give you.”

“There you are,” Mira said with a smile. You’ve been just standing here for three, maybe four minutes staring off into space. Do you remember?”

Lenare puzzled because she didn’t. She’d simply blanked. There was no space between one moment of awareness and the next.

And you do have something to give me. You.” Mira continued to examine her. “I think I can do something about that cold now. With that, her hand went to Lenare’s breast , cupped it, and then dragged her fingertips in a circle around the areola before pulling it roughly. Trails of fire dragged behind the touch which made the woman shiver and the not quite pain from the pulled nipple made her gasp. The nerves shot heat throughout her body.

“I have to go.”

Her voice conveyed her indifference. “Nothing’s really stopping you at this point.” Mira’s hand ran over her belly as she moved to stand behind her, her hands beginning a seductive massage of her back. “There’s nothing paralyzing you, really. You could try to make a break for it. To be fair, you won’t get far, but there’s nothing keeping you from trying. Except my touch. You like my touch. You liked it before and you like it now. My hands caressing you, thumbs pressing ever so gently but firmly as they travel up your back.”

Lenare’s sigh was deep.

“You feel the warmth of my touch. The warmth from my body to yours. Feel how the warmth goes from skin, then to muscle, then to bone. Your body remembers my touch. The pleasant chill is being washed away by the warmth, but the warmth is lovely too, isn’t it?”

“I feel...”

Mira cocked her head in honest curiosity, It was nice to get feedback on her work, especially from her victims, as that was helpful in crafting. “What do you feel, Lenare?”

She didn’t answer. The bite was pulsing with her heartbeat. It was sort of fascinating and making it hard to think of anything else. There was poison inside her and she should get help and someone told her nothing was keeping her where she was. But the pulse was so compelling and the warmth and the feel of hands gently roaming her felt so nice, she really saw no need to move, then the thought of doing so fled her mind, too.

Mira was untroubled by the fact that Lenare’s mind had slipped away again. It was supposed to, after all. It took almost two years to develop the toxin that she wanted, one that would divorce certain layers of a mind from the rest in just the right way. “That’s all right, lovely. You float and be happy and be empty for a while.”

She stopped massaging the other’s back and moved closer to her, pressing their bodies together and moving her hand between Lenare’s legs, over the soft hair and down to the pussy where the mixed wetness from her pussy and Mira’s tongue could still be felt. Her first two fingers pressed over the other’s clit and began to circle the nub of flesh, pausing occasionally to place it between those fingers as she circled, adding to the pressure. Mira took a breath, closed her eyes, rested her head against Lenare’s shoulder and resigned herself to the fact that her clinical ministrations at this point were going to take as long as they would take.

Minutes dragged with nothing but the sound of the two women breathing together and the sounds of an increasingly wet pussy being ministered to. The only warning was two deep breaths before a long, low sleepy moan came from Lenare, as though she had cum gloriously in a dream, but couldn’t pull herself from slumber. Then there was another that was slightly quieter, but no less intense. Even if she’d been awake and with all her faculties she wouldn’t have had words for it. All that was left to her was instinct now and a desire to keep hold of the warm, cocooned, dreamy feeling that took away everything else. It seemed to emanate from a place between her legs, a wellspring of heat that seemed to be in a constant eruption.

When it ebbed for a moment, instinct drove her own fingers to the spot and the heat rushed again. She rubbed faster and was rewarded with another languid, nearly thoughtless orgasm. The empty moan that came with it extended the sensations

Mira was in front of her now, enjoying the blankness in her expression and the emptiness behind those once expressive eyes. “You’re feeling good, aren’t you, Lenare?”

Her mind recognized what it had been named and that a question had been asked of it. A question had been asked about how it felt, not about how it thought. It wasn’t thinking anymore. All there was was instinct. “Yes.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” ‘For what?’ never occurred.

A hand touched her arm and pulled her gently. She felt herself turn and then pressure on her shoulders that instinct told her meant ‘down.’ She sat, and instinct spread her legs so she could stimulate the wellspring better. Mira looked at her and she looked beautiful like that. She looked even more beautiful empty-eyed and blank-faced. The rubbing, empty thing was a testament to her own skill.

She worked her magic, placing her hands on either side of the little thing’s skull. “You want this.”

The heat. The sensations. There was no question. “Yes.”

“Your little mind is just about mine, isn’t it, soldier girl?

“Yes.”

“I’m going to tell you what to do and you will do it.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to show you exactly how now.”

“Yes.”

Words entered her ears and they created images in her mind. With no other thoughts to get in the way, they became everything.

She rubbed, surrendered to lazy rapture now and again, and listened.

The markets of Erette were always lively places. As the lifeblood of consumerism for the city and the kingdom as a whole, all of them were almost always bustling with throngs of people buying, selling, and bartering to make the world go round. They were also, in many ways, a physical manifestation of the stratification of the society, though that had been less of an issue under the rule of Queen Evaline, who never held the beliefs that still had a firm place in the world, namely that the people that were descended from slaves from various conquered lands and those for whom the Goddess had not favored with wealth were somehow lesser beings that deserved their lot.

The poorer sections tended towards handmade, sturdy, simple goods though many travelers tended towards those because, for the most part, when on some sort of adventure, grand or not, simple was better, though one could find sword makers and weavers there that could rival the upper markets, which were home to the finest of goods in the land and the known world, and, it was said, some parts unknown.

The city itself was a monument to that stratification. The paths in and out were fine, well-maintained stone streets that wound outward and upward from the docks and, while the walls were now more hedge work, flowering vines, and artistic gateways that monuments had been built around, but one could still travel from the have-nots to the haves and know exactly where you were in the grand scheme.

In an area above the markets that was once, generations before, was a literal wall, it had been pared down and changed so that part of it could now serve as an outdoor dining space for the small restaurant that made use of it. It was a bit cool this day and the sky had a fair number of clouds meandering about, but there was still blue to be seen. The view offered some distance and height and offered a pleasant view of the people milling below and the bright, colorful canvas canopies that, if they didn’t advertise wares specifically, they advertised it as a place that people would want to visit and be a part of, even for a time. If that didn’t work to entice, there were the cooking fires that spoke of fresh food of all kinds to be had. From their perch, the young man and woman could see it all. “I assume everything went fine?”

She was perturbed. “Do you think I would be here if it didn’t? Do you think I wouldn’t have gotten word to you if something went wrong? If it all goes fine, we meet here for the last piece. It all went fine and here I am.”

He raised a hand and pulled it back towards himself in surrender. “Sorry. Relax, Syl.” He looked her up and down with a hint of lust-driven satisfaction. “I like the new you. It’s very different, but no less beautiful than usual.”

“Thank you,” she said dryly, not bothering to be annoyed by the fact that he used a casual form of her actual name.

“It’s a great testament to your paranoia.”

“Of course, you didn’t bother with a changing spell yourself at all, did you?”

He shrugged with a small laugh. “What does it matter? If it all works out, she’ll be too dead to identify me. If it doesn’t, I’m just a face with no connection to much of anything here, certainly not enough for anything to lead back to me. Let them sketch me. Let some mage pull my image from her mind. If they have nowhere to go with it, it hardly matters and, either way, we’re both out of here. If it goes fine, we’ll be elsewhere with the prize. If it all goes to shit we’ll just be gone from here anyway. Why bother to waste all the time and energy with a changing spell?

His logic was sound for him, but she had her own reasons for masking herself. He knew what he was doing, she admitted to herself, but he just seemed to have such a cavalier attitude about everything that always rubbed her the wrong way and made working with him a trial, even if it was only a trial within her. If it weren’t for the fact that he did know what he was doing, and the fact that Arik was level-headed and serious enough for several souls and easily the match of any guild master or mistress in terms of skill and could manage a job, she would probably have passed on this triad. “I suppose. Word from Arik?”

“Everything is set on his end. He’s only waiting for the cargo. His eyes were drawn to her again. “This isn’t even the one you used last night, is it?”

She blushed. “Shut up.”

He laughed again. “It isn’t, is it? You are such an easy read. You’re simple, and, by that I mean straightforward. I know enough about who you are and what you’ll do. You’re predictable enough, and I like that about you.”

“Anonymity is...comforting. I can go where I need to go, do what I need to do, and no one is the wiser. Strutting, like some people,” she looked at him pointedly, “just invites trouble.”

He raised his brows and grinned. “What’s the point of having power if you can’t show it off occasionally?”

“You like it too much. It’s a tool. Keep using it as you do and those words will be on your grave marker.”

He put his hand to his heart and the melodrama was almost a living thing, “Oh, I knew we were friends. As long as you are there to weep for me it will have all been worthwhile.”

She clenched her jaw to keep from rolling her eyes. “I suspect the only tears that will fall will be from the laughter that I just can’t stop because your brashness finally did you in. Though I admit I will grieve for the fact that you can’t hear me tell you I told you so.” She straightened in her chair a bit to signal that she was already done with the banter. “Can we get on with this please?”

“Hey, I’m only waiting on you. I assume it’s ready.”

In answer, she removed a weathered gray pouch about the size of the palm of her hand from her bag and placed it on the edge of the table, the contents making the bottom spread out a bit. “Why do you always ask whether or not I did my job? I always do my job.”

“Because I know you get it done. It anchors me and allows me the freedom to show off,” he joked. There was some sliver of truth in that, though he’d never tell her so. He gingerly opened the pouch with two fingers, “Doesn’t look like much,” he said of the coppery powder.

“It’s more than enough,” she assured him. Don’t breathe it in once it’s activated by your own magic.”

“Obviously. What? Didn’t want to walk around with it live?”

“Obviously. Make sure you funnel it properly.”

“Telling me my job?”

“I feel as though someone should.”

“I practiced. I can only rightfully strut if I display perfection, after all.” He took a moment to concentrate and pull the necessary energy around him while shaping it just so. He was certain of his control. He had rehearsed the spell on all sorts of granular matter in order to teach himself how to move it in the air that his power would drive. He needed to move those grains as he wished so they would go where he wanted them to and he could be nowhere near it them when they were finally released.

Even so, when his magic touched the dust and light rushed over it in the space of an eye’s blink, he reflexively clamped down on his own breath even though he was certain they were contained within his own gifts. They were funneled from the pouch and floated in a stream outward, disappearing to the naked eye almost at once. He could see them as reflective sparkles as they fanned outward, driven by a current of magic towards the market. Sylanna, her given name that few knew, watched the magic move, float, and then descend upon the market.

And they both waited for the results.

It was business as usual in the market for Polan, an amiable baker that had bakeries all over the city and looked as though he sampled his own products quite a bit. As a professional of note, he did not rest on his laurels or leave his work to others. He was active in all aspects of his businesses and he still woke up well before dawn just as he just when it was just him with a single shop. The difference now was that he was awake early to get to special orders from people who now sought his skill or to teach new workers how to do it all right the first time.

He came to the poorer markets here because the denizens here were among the first to meet the trade ships as they came in, and the market owners here often made their own little side deals with merchant sailors for extra of this spice or sizable extra coin for that rare game meat if they took a side trip when they were on their journeys. He could usually make far better deals here than for the same things in the fancier parts of town. Sometimes they even had things they kept from those fancier vendors to give some added incentive for those in the know to shop here first.

Polan took the small crate of fruit from the vendor and placed it in the push cart next to two others just like it. The cart had plenty of room yet as he had a few more stops to make.

The vendor, Nika, counted his silver and mirrored Polan by putting the small pouch into the lock box with his other money. It was already setting up to be a good day. “Pleasure doing business with you, Polan, as always.”

“We’re not done yet, Nik.”

“Oh?” Nik said in a tone that said it wasn’t a shock, but the game was the game. “What else can I do for you, my friend?”

Polan placed his bulky arms on the counter between them so he could lean closer. “I hear you have some Koln spice.”

He played coy. “Who told you that? That’s especially rare right now. With the drought south it’s going to take a few weeks to get it from elsewhere.”

He nodded. “I know, and that’s all fine, well, and good, but there are few better sources of sweet and heat to be had and I have need.”

“Every baker, pastry chef, and cook in the city has need for it, but you just said there are other sources for that mix of flavors.”

“Substitutions are fine for general customers. Most of them won’t notice and, even if they did, will simply take ‘necessary substitution’ for an answer, but I have commitments for parties and such to the higher houses, and if their child’s birthday cake or the pastries for their tea parties doesn’t taste exactly as they expect, I’ll pay for it by having them yell me deaf or worse, lost business. So it’s just easier to pay you a premium now and save my business and my hearing.”

“The nobles can be quite a trial, can’t they?” The words of sympathy were especially syrupy.

“They can,” Polan agreed, meeting the tone with his most disarming smile. “So how much do you have?”

Nika leaned over the counter, looking left and right to see who might be watching before coming back to look behind himself in the one man kiosk. Judging the coast clear, he reached beneath the counter and retrieved an opaque glass jar. “Two pounds of the best Koln anywhere.”

Polan’s eyes looked over at the jar and back at Nik who knew that was the cue to open the jar. He unscrewed the lid quickly, lifted it, then brought it down just as fast before resealing it so the rush of air couldn’t carry the scent far.

That was all the baker needed to know it was real and high quality, as that hint was enough to clear his sinuses. Saved for the nobles, the quantity would be more than enough to ride out the shortage. “Fifty gold,” he said quietly.

His eyes twinkled. “That’s a good start.”

Polan snorted, but there was little annoyance to be had. The game was the game. “Start? How long does it take you to get fifty gold, Nik? And I’ve got it here and now.”

“And how much do you think I could get if I took this sweet little jar to Kriss?”

Now there was annoyance. “Kriss? That woman makes pastry so excellent you could shingle a roof with it, and it’d last twenty years.”

“Or what if I just take it up to the kitchens of one of the grand houses myself? They could afford to drop ten times that. By the depths, some of them might like doing that just to show off. But, you know, we’re friends, so I’m willing to take a loss on this to,” he groped for a second before adding a smile to, “maintain goodwill.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred seventy-five.”

He stiffened. “Robbery.”

“And fifty is theft, Polan, so let’s figure it out.”

He took a breath, but that only seemed to ratchet up his annoyance at the whole affair. The game was over. Standing with this man going back and forth about something that should be his after offering what it would take months, if not longer for this little merchant to cobble together stuck in his belly and gnawed at his insides like a little animal trying to get out. His voice grew cold. “Seventy-five. Take it, be happy with it, and give me what’s mine.”

Nika’s eyes suddenly lost the twinkle that always accompanied the potential for profit. Who was this man to come down here and behave like he could come down here, take advantage of people trying to make an honest living, and then expect the abused to kiss his ass? He wasn’t the only one, he was just the latest and the anger in simply contemplating that burned in his chest “Take your seventy-five and go fuck yourself with it, Polan.”

“Give me what’s mine,you sniveling fucking dock rat!” Polan leaped over the counter between them, oblivious to the sound of the jar hitting the ground and shattering. They were now both oblivious to the sound, the pungent scent of the spice, why the spice once mattered at all, or the fact that similar fights were breaking out all around them.

All that mattered was sating the rage within.

From their safe place at the table, Nax and Sylanna watched. They watched the grains sparkle as they floated, using their sense of magic that only those that truly understood the scope of its capabilities could manage. They watched the milling throngs meld together in piles, then they watched smoke rise as cooking fires were used to set the colorful canopies ablaze.

“Excellent control, Nax,” she admitted grudgingly, watching with a growing smile at the increasing bedlam below.

“Nice work yourself, Syl. How long will it last?”

“More than long enough to get the job done,” she assured him. They’ll spread it for a while once they take it in and, even when the...help finally dissipates,” she continued matter-of-factly, “there will be enough people who’ll want to settle scores or just cause anarchy to keep it going.” She was equally satisfied with her work. “More than long enough.”

They rose together, slipping easily through the crowd that was gathering to watch the show before anyone might have bothered to take note.

While the lower markets burned.