The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a long journey, but Tivin and Daphnia had finally arrived in Asdale. The princess had no idea what to expect from the town, but in turned out that there was nothing TO expect—it was just a normal, sleepy country town. That being said, there had to be SOME reason why the resistance had directed her here. And she had learned that appearances could be deceiving. Look at her—no one would suspect that the curvy, eager elfslut parading herself for the pleasure of others was actually the princess of Erecia.

She and Tivin had fucked for two hours before actually entering the town proper, just so that she could be prepared for whatever awaited her. She thought it prudent to have the edge of her lust taken off so that she could be prepared for whatever awaited her. After about ten orgasms, she was ready, and entered the town as alert as she had ever been.

The boy? She had left him sleeping in a copse of trees just outside the city outskirts. There was only so much sex a man could take, and apparently he had reached his limit. She had kissed him gently goodbye and smiled indulgently at his face lost in happy slumber. She couldn’t have asked for a better manservant...and he had been put to sleep in perhaps the most pleasurable way known to man.

She had attuned herself astrally the moment she left the forest, and there it was—the same sigils that had left her out of the castle led her to a manor somewhere in town. It took her some time to get there—avoiding the crowds and finding her way in a new environment took time—but eventually she was at the gates of a large building. Steeling herself, Daphnia raised her hand to knock on the doors...and the swung open before her instead.

She stepped into the building and there he was—the hooded figure. At least she thought it was a man. It could just as well be a woman, or several different people altogether. She had no way of knowing.

“Princess. We have been expecting you.”

Of course they had. They had been the ones to bring her here. She decided to try a different tack this time—not saying anything. So she stared steadily into the where the eyes would be on a normal man (woman?) and after a few moments the figure spoke again.

“Welcome to Asdale, Your Highness. We of the resistance thank you for your patience, and for all the help you have provided us thus far. Rest assured that it has not gone unnoticed. We are regretfully unable to effect a cure for your transformed state at present, but we are working on it. Before we proceed further, there is someone that we think you should meet.”

Someone? Daphnia’s interest was piqued despite herself. Who could this be? Another slave? Someone she knew? Or maybe...could it be...that they had finally located one of her family?

She nodded and motioned for the figure to continue. A door to the side of her opened and someone walked in...a man both strange and familiar.

Daphnia’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Perthias? Is that you?”

It appeared that her brother had been subject to the same spell as her had been, just the male version. He had never been what you might you call burly or swarthy—tending to the petite side, just like her. The crown prince of Erecia had always preferred the rapier to the broadsword, the epee to the axe. Some of the more unruly courtiers had sniggered a little when he walked by—a possible result of his dandyish ways and slight figure—but to his credit, her brother had always paid them no heed.

But now a hulking giant of a man stood before her, with thighs nearly the size of her head, and rippling muscles that bulged outwards not unlike her own enhanced endowments. He was almost seven feet tall, and Daphnia also could not help but notice that the flimsy loincloth he wore barely covered his massive organ.

He we not unattractive—far from it!—and she felt elvish desire stir within her, but this time she was able to tamp it down rapidly with the knowledge that this was not just another sex slave but her brother. Her stupid, bumbling, incompetent oaf of a brother, somehow caught in the same web she was.

The sight of him did bring up another memory though...that of Briva, the male slave that she had shared many a pleasant interlude with back at the castle. Where was he, she wondered. Still servicing willing females? Did he remember her as fondly as she remembered him? Things had progressed so rapidly that she hadn’t thought of him in weeks—the flight to Asdale had occupied all her waking moments. But she did miss him—as much as she missed his passionate lovemaking and arduous attention.

Looking at her kin in front of her, Daphnia’s mind reached a sudden insight. If she had been transformed into an elfslut, and her brother had too—who WAS the slave? It seemed too much of a coincidence for me to just be your ordinary, run-of-the-mill sex slave. She knew there were plenty of those in the castle, but he was different somehow...who could Briva be? Once again, there was no way of knowing. As usual, there were far too many mysteries and too few answers.

She would have to ask the resistance forces about that. If they truly knew everything, then that mystery should not be hard to them to penetrate. But knowing the hooded figures elusive ways, they would either stonewall her or tell her the time was not right. All she could do was focus on the here and now.

Her brother was looking at her with much the same surprise as she displayed. She could tell by the expression on his face that he had reached much the same conclusion as her—he had realized that the over-endowed elfslut in from of him was actually his sister. Though changed by Rampillion’s magic, enough of her facial features remained that both siblings could recognize each other.

They fell to talking immediately, stumbling over their words in an effort to exchange as much information as possible in the shortest space of time. Daphnia recounted her transformation and how she managed to escape the castle with the aid of the resistance, and Perthias in turn told his sister about his own imprisonment and subsequent flight. Neither of them explicitly mentioned their sexual escapades—it was obvious that both of them had had plenty of sex with many partners, and it seemed crass and besides the point to bring it up now.

When their brief conference was over, the siblings paused for a moment to catch their respective breaths and assess the situation. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet...how they were both alive and well and out of the clutches of the Crimson Mage. They hadn’t yet regained their original forms, but nevertheless it was a start. If only they knew where their mother was...

Lost as they were in their recollections and revelations, prince and princess both hadn’t noticed the entrance of a third person into the room. Only when she (and it was a she) neared both of them did they look up in surprise. The busty sex slave in front of them looked...familiar, somehow. All three of them stared at each other, trying and failing to voice what was foremost in their minds. They knew each other from somewhere, that much was certain. But where...how...

The hooded figure appeared once again to shed light on the situation. Without any fanfare at all, it announced the truth that was so close yet so far to the three transformees.

“The royal family has been gathered together. Let it not be said that we of the resistance do not honor our promises.”

It took a few seconds for all that to sink in. Daphnia, Perthais and Gladia all gaped at each other in turn. Could it be...no, it couldn’t...but it was. Changed though they were, somehow the three people in the room recognized each other for who they really were. Princess and queen might be sporting breasts larger than their heads (to say nothing of spectacularly rounded behinds) and the prince might have forearms thicker than some men’s legs...but all their memories remained intact, and in that moment as their eyes met all of them knew each other as family.

Another round of talking began as quickly as the previous one had ended. As the hooded figure watched silently, the royals swapped stories and exchanged information. Their respective transformations, the flight from the castle—all was shared and dissected, and if any of them suspected the others of not divulging embarrassing or personal information, they were too circumspect to inquire. Daphnia, as a sorceress of no small skill herself, was particularly interested in the strange potion that her mother had drunk—as far as she knew there had been no record of such a thing in records that the castle scholars had kept meticulously. But before she could inquire further, the figure interrupted them once more.

“My apologies, your Highnesses. I can well understand your need and desire to be reacquainted, but we have more pressing matters to discuss. Now that you are all here and gathered together, we must discuss how and when we can turn the tide against the usurper.”

All eyes turned to the speaker. He/she had their complete and undivided attention—for it seemed like their long-awaited counterattack was at hand. But there were other pressing matters to discuss first, and Daphnia, ever the one to take action, stepped forwards to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“We have given you our word, and so far you have kept yours. For that, as a noble of Erecia, I thank you. But I must also ask that you no longer keep us in the dark as to whom you are and what your purpose is. Yes, you stand against the foul Crimson Wizard, that much is certain. But we need more to go on than that.”

Silence reigned in the hall for what seemed like an eternity. “I suppose that telling you to wait longer will not allay your suspicions at this point?” The figure sighed and answered its own question.

“I thought not. Very well. You all have more than earned the right to know. I do not speak only for myself, and so I cannot say too much, but I will give you something to go on.”

Robed arms crossed and uncrossed as the figure took a deep breath and began its tale.

“The resistance is formed from those who have suffered at Rampillion’s hands. Believe me when I say that you three are not the first to have fallen foul of his schemes, and will likely not be the last if we do not oppose him.”

“We come from all walks of life. Some of us are mages, some soldiers, some spies. You have probably guessed that I myself do not lead the resistance—and you would be right. We are many, but we are not yet enough. Coin and men take time to procure, and we will not move until we are absolutely sure of victory. Rest be assured, princess (Daphnia started slightly when her name was mentioned) that the information you supplied will be of use. But the time has still not yet come.”

Here the figure paused, weighing its words carefully. The royal family had the distinct impression that it wanted to say more, yet it could not. After a few moments it began speaking again.

“The time has not come for me to reveal who I am. But I can share a few other pieces of information with you.”

“Queen Gladia. The potion that transformed you is not Rampillion’s doing. However, it was created using alchemy similar to his craft, and its function is not wholly unknown to us. We will research this further, and share whatever we learn.”

“It is currently not possible for us to undo the transformations that you have been subjected to. We of the resistance beg your continuing patience. All I can say at this moment is that we are doing the best we can. It may be possible that we will need to topple the usurper before his magics can be broken. Princess, I’m sure you know of what I speak.”

At this, Daphnia nodded grimly. It was a possibility that had crossed her mind more than once—as a mage herself, she knew that certain powerful magics could only be dispelled when their caster was dead or otherwise stripped of power. The transformation spells that the Rampillion had used were too esoteric for her to form any definite opinion on, but there was always the chance that undoing them would not be as easy as they thought it might.

“You may want to know more about the true identity of the man you call the Crimson Mage. That is but one of the many names he has used. He is far older—and far more powerful—than you have suspected. Princess, there is no shame at all in losing your magical duel with him...I tell you in all sincerity that despite your skill with the arcane arts, it would have impossible for you to win.”

“He is cruel, wicked, and proud beyond all measure. He desires power, but largely as a means to an end...what motivates the man that you call the Crimson Mage is the use of said power for sport. There is nothing he loves more than to see others squirm and writhe in his clutches, to struggle against bonds that they have no hope of every breaking...”

A rigid tone of anger had entered the hooded figureÅfs voice. He/she took a moment to compose him/herself and continued at a more sedate pace.

“He has taken over your kingdom not out of the desire to conquer but to have a base for which to make even greater conquests. Who knows what kind of foul schemes he is plotting in the castle even now...but all men have a weakness, and Rampillion is no different. When we find it, we will be sure to take the fight to him.”

The three stood silently, digesting all they had been told. It was a lot to take in at once. Being reunited, sharing their tales of transformation and escape, and finally learning about the resistance...as many questions as had been answered, still more remained. All of them processed the information in their own way—Daphnia with her eyes closed in a meditative trance, Perthais by striding from one end of the room to another, and Gladia by simply folding her arms and standing still.

But as the minutes ticked by, a familiar and not unexpected sensation began to arise within the royal family. Daphnia began to fidget, her usually absolute concentration obviously broken by something. Gladia shifted uneasily from one foot to another, trying her best not to rub her thighs together in front of her children. And the urges that were bubbling to the surface were most evident in the prince of the realm—male arousal is a lot more obvious than female, and Daphnia and Gladia tried their hardest not to stare at Perthias’s slowly stiffening member as it bounced from side to side while he walked.

Their transformed bodies wanted one thing, and that one thing could not be denied. Their flesh knew naught of revenge, or plans, usurpations or insurrections—all it knew that it was high time they fucked.

The royal family grew steadily more uncomfortable as their arousals became more and more apparent. Neither could meet each others’ eyes, and they shuffled from side to side, unsure of what to do. The females were beginning to moisten as well, but thankfully not so much that it was immediately visible. Still, as elvish desire began to stir within her, Daphnia flushed hard enough that it showed through her bronzed skin. Her mother wasn’t in much better shape either—she had raised a hand to absently tug at a nipple ring and only stopped herself seconds before her fingers came into contact with the metal.

The figure cut in again, with a note of amusement in its voice that the three in the room tried their best to ignore.

“But we have talked long enough. You all have...needs that must be attended to. Prince, if you would follow me, Cythea awaits. Ladies, please remain here. You will be...attended to shortly.”

Cythea? Who was that? A female name, it seemed...Daphnia’s curiosity was piqued again and she shot her brother an inquisitive look. But something in his face told his sister that this was not the time to ask questions. Besides which...she had urges of her own that needed sating.

Perthias allowed himself to be led from the room, while the princess and queen stood embarrassedly to the side. Gladia tried to give her daughter what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and she was gratified when the younger female met her gaze instead of averting it. Both knew that there was nothing to be ashamed of, really...neither of them had asked to be transformed into sex-hungry sluts, even if that was what they were right now. But even with that knowledge—and Daphnia’s newfound sense of liberation—it was hard for them to overlook the fact that they were still mother and daughter, and these were definitely not circumstances that either would have chosen to be in.

But needs must where the devil drives, and as an assortment of men began to troop into the room—some slavers, some soldiers, some thin, some fair—neither queen nor princess could fully contain their excitement. Daphnia—not generally religious—prayed to whatever gods might be listening that her mother would not notice how erect her nipples were becoming, and Gladia for her part tried her utmost to regulate her breathing. They both stood there for a second of horrified silence—surely they wouldn’t be expected to service the men while the other was present!—until the hooded figure appeared once again and led the queen to another adjoining chamber.

Daphnia let out a sigh of relief. There were some things one simply did not do in front of one’s family, and an orgy was one of them. The princess released the locks in her mind (not that they were doing much anyway!) and once again elvish desire swept over her like a tidal wave. The ever-present itch was back with a vengeance, and Daphnia felt it have its way with her oversexed body once more...her nipples stood at proud attention, her slit began to gush, and her breathing hastened. Gods...she was so horny! She probably had been during the entire time she was talking to her brother and mother, but it had faded into the background given the import of the matters they were discussing. Faded, but never truly gone, there in some form, tormenting and tantalizing her.

And...Daphnia would never have admitted it to her family (or even to herself!) but she liked being horny. There was something about the onrush of desire. The sheer wantonness of it. It was liberating, exhilarating. And after having sex more than a few hundred times, the transformed princess was hard-pressed to remember a time when she wasn’t. Even after being scratched, it was would always come back

So it was with a combination of lust and relief that she greeted the men filing into the room in the way she knew best...by batting her fine eyelashes at them, absently caressing her giant boobs, and fingering herself lightly. There were no illusions or surprises here for either of them. They were going to fuck her, and she was going to love it.

She had intended to start things off slowly, but the men had other ideas. She walked towards the nearest one, massive tits bouncing and full bottom swaying, and cast him a smouldering glance, placing her hands gently on his chest—but instead of letting her continue, he grabbed her roughly and pulled her in for a kiss. Daphnia’s initial surprise turned quickly to reluctant acceptance, and then to eager acquiescence—whoever this man was, he knew how to kiss! Their tongues dueled with each other as he clasped her close to him, and Daphnia couldn’t decide which she liked more—the sensation of her erect nipples rubbing up against his hairy chest, or his rough lips pressed against hers.

After a few seconds they broke the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting both their mouths. Both of them knew what was going to come next. There was no bed in the room, so the stone floor would have to suffice, but Daphnia didn’t care—by this time she was so turned on she would have fucked the men in the stables. She slid down onto the floor and spread her legs wide, giving her audience a clear view of her gushing pussy...she was so wet that her nether regions fairly glistened with fluid. She had long abandoned any notions of propriety or shame—her daily activities would have made her old self blush. But Daphnia the elfslut had come a long way from her prudish origins. Never had she felt so free than when she was engaged in the act of copulation, and now that she was free to do so, she fully intended to fuck to her heart’s content.

The man who had kissed her now knelt down and thrust into her unceremoniously, and Daphnia moaned at his sudden entry. But for all his kissing expertise he had little to no staying power (or maybe it was just that her voluptuous body had robbed him of it) and he came after a few quick thrusts into her hungry slit—fortuantely she was so sensitive that even that made her come there and then. The princess would have been disappointed if another lover had not appeared soon after the first and thrust into her while she was still in the throes of her first orgasm. She wrapped her hands and legs around him as he slammed mercilessly into her, enjoying the feel of his powerful motions and corded muscle—he had to be a soldier or military man. But what mattered the most was that he was a man, he had a penis, and he was using it to fuck her thoroughly and well.

Soon enough the second man came and was replaced by a third. By this time the edge had been taken off her lust somewhat, and the transformed princess had recovered a modicum of calm—as much calm as one could be expected to muster while being ravaged on a stone floor. As the third man entered her, Daphnia experimented with everything she had learnt on her trip to Asdale. She licked her lover’s ear, mashed her mountainous chest against him and clenched her pussy muscles until he had no chance but to gush into her. She sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction—unsure whether she was happier at her prowess or her lover’s climax. It was nice to know that all that lovemaking practice wasn’t for nothing, and that she could make whoever was fucking her come when she wanted to, and how she wanted to...she did so love the sensation of a pulsing penis inside her, how it tightened for an interminable second and then spewed all its contents out into her greedy cleft.

And so it went on. After the first few or so men had finished fucking her, it soon became apparent that simple missionary would take forever. So the princess-slut got down on all fours—her favorite position!—so that she could be taken from behind as well as suck off whoever wanted to use her mouth. This also had the benefit of letting whoever was fucking her reach around to fondle her giant dangling breasts. Her eight (or was that seventh? she was losing count...) lover also had the good sense to pinch her erect nipples as he thrust into her, causing Daphnia to become so excited that she started pushing her rounded behind back at him, fucking back even as she was fucked.

Meanwhile, her mouth was kept more than occupied sucking cock after cock. She sucked and laved each erect organ as it was presented to her, sometimes even going so far as to gently probe the slit in the cockhead with her tongue. She would swallow one almost to the hilt, and then be more careful with the next, licking the underside and coaxing out that thick white fluid that she craved. And the final touch was to look up into the men’s eyes as she played their flutes to perfection...one look from her lust-soaked gaze and they went off like rockets in her wet, eager mouth.

But even that could not satisfy the swelling ranks of men...not to mention her own appetites. So Daphnia took matters into her own hands, instructing her latest lover to lie down so that she could straddle him. This left her mouth open to service another member, and her hands free to take another one each. With an hard penis nestled need in her vagina, another in her mouth and two more about to explode in her hands, Daphnia was in heaven...so much cock, all for her!

But even fucking four men at once, there were just too many for a single elfslut—no matter how voracious—to handle, and some of the bolder men took it upon themselves to begin masturbating as their companions engaged in frenzied intercourse with the delectable sex slave writhing on the floor.

Daphnia had just come down for a series of orgasms when she felt a hail of hot come on her skin. She would be annoyed that the men had dared take such liberties with the princess of the realm...except that it just felt so good! So good, in fact, that Daphnia paused to rub half of it into her skin, pleased at the way it made the golden bronze hue of it shimmer even more brightly. The rest she scooped up with a slim finger and placed onto her mouth, while she proceeded to gulp it down like it was nectar. If asked, she would have not known which mouth—upper or lower—liked semen more.

Seeing her consume their come with such abandon inflamed the men so much that they began to push and shove each other in an attempt to get to her first and for a moment Daphnia was worried that a fight would break out. She couldn’t have that...she hadn’t had sex with all of them yet! So she did the next best thing—divert their attention. She called to the men wordlessly, and when they turned to face her she arched her back (which have the side effect of thrusting her huge breasts out, exactly as she had intended) and began stroking her pussy with one free hand. The other she used to tweak her nipples—which were almost diamond-hard now as a result of all her activity. She discovered a few stray droplets of cum on them and in a sudden fit of inspiration, hefted one massive melon up to her mouth, where she proceeded to suck it off—all with her eyes still on the men. (and their rapidly stiffening organs)

That got their attention, and fast. She continued her impromptu show, licking, fingering and bucking on the floor until she was a wet and sweaty mess...but stopping just short of her orgasm. She spread her legs wide again and gave her erstwhile audience a pointed look which made her intentions clear—she didn’t want to finish herself off, she wanted one of them to do it. And so in seconds the men were on her again, thrusting into each hole as she moaned and squealed in pleasure.

But all good things come to an end. The pace of the orgy turned slower, as the number of males able to perform dwindled...there were few non-enhanced men able to keep up with an elfslut, especially one as pent up as her. Daphnia slowed down with her final few lovers, coaxing the last few drops of from them with a combination of words and touch. Their copulation turned slow and purposeful, calling back memories of Tivin and Briva, the more gentle of her lovers. It was true, she mused as another man came inside her with a groan—she had gotten good enough at fucking that she was actually able to entertain philosophical thoughts while in the midst of coitus—Variety really was the spice of life. As much as she enjoyed being taken roughly, she also found slow lovemaking to be very pleasurable in its own way as well.

Finally the last man could perform no longer, and Daphnia found herself surrounded by a heap of sleeping males. She allowed herself the luxury of a long stretch (which any of the men would have loved to see if they had been awake...) and then got to her feet, none the worse for wear. Instead of feeling fatigued at her exertions, the transformed princess actually felt energized, like she had just woken up for a long nap. In a strange way, all the sex had helped her to process what she had heard a few hours before, and she was now ready to find her family members and plan their next course of action.

But first things first. She’d need a bath.