The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


“Would my strong and powerful Master like to be let down now?” the alraune asked sweetly.

“Y... yes!” Senya gasped, writhing in midair as the green-skinned woman ran her finger along his rigid shaft, her ruby-red lips curving up in a smile. The blossom-covered vines of the nectar-filled pink flower she inhabited were wrapped firmly around his ankles and arms, pulling his limbs taut and leaving him totally exposed.

He was, of course, as naked as ever. His short brown hair was a sticky mess, and his slight, lithe form contorted in needy agony, pale skin slick and dripping with the juices of the alraune flower’s aphrodisiac nectar.

“Are you certain?” Brigitte asked, arching an eyebrow. She rose up within her flower, licking those red lips, her face inches from his own. The fey’s eyes sparkled. “Does he truly wish to lose all this?” she cooed, cupping her breasts. His eyes slid down to them helplessly as her voice turned smokey and seductive. “Perhaps he would like to slip back in here with me... and enjoy a few more hours?”

Senya bit his lip. “I... I...” He stared into her eyes and couldn’t help but try futilely to lean in, even as her finger grazed up his sensitive, nectar-drowned cock. “B-Brigitte,” he whimpered.

“I think he does!” the alraune exclaimed with delight.

“I do!” he whined, trembling. “P-please, Brigitte, take me again—“

“Take you?” Her eyebrows arched. “Make you mine? My horny, helpless, wanton plaything?”

“Yes! M-Make me yours!” He breathed in deeply, and the alraune’s sweet, toxic scent went to his head within moments. Already, he could feel himself drifting. “Please, please, I—I want it—wanna be your h-helpless... helpless... um...”

Brigitte giggled. “My helpless what?”

“... play... thing...” His voice was flat and toneless as he stared deep into her sparkling green eyes.

He felt so foggy. So foggy and deep and helpless and happy and horny as her fingers stroked along his twitching cock. He longed to be hers again, to slip back into that warm, sticky flower and be locked inside Brigitte’s warmth once again... bouncing against her, sliding in and out, trapped for hours in sweet, sticky bliss...

The alraune lowered back down, reached above his head, and popped a soft, juicy pink prisoner fruit right into his open mouth.

He stared at her dumbly, like a pig with an apple. “Mm!”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, gesturing. Accordingly, the vines gripping Senya yanked him up into the canopy, then whirled back down, dropping him gently on the grass nearby the entrance to the clearing. “You just cannot say no, can you? But... even an alraune must show mercy sometimes, when her prey is so totally helpless. On your way, my sweet, submissive darling. Heavens know you’ve wasted enough time already. ”

Senya lay there, panting on the ground, his cock tingling with need. He reached up and took the fruit from his mouth, but couldn’t help but continue eating, letting the delicious juices dribble down his chin.

He staggered to his feet and started walking away, cheeks burning, unable to help himself. He knew that Brigitte had given him the fruit to make sure he ‘took care of himself’. Like he was an invalid. A walking sex toy with no will of his own.

He heard Brigitte sighing, and wet noises started to emanate from the flower as she started masturbating once again. “Poor, silly Master,” she said with a giggle. “You know, I don’t think you could dominate so much as a hen harpy, could you?”

Senya bit his lip and managed not to answer as he tossed the fruit’s pit behind him. There was no need to mention how the hen harpies had tied him down just last week.

* * *

Senya walked along the path, trying to keep himself out of the daze by whittling. He’d recovered his carving knife from the side of the path, and after finding a large branch, had begun to carve. He hadn’t done any proper carpentry in a while, but no harm in the hobby, right?

As long as he didn’t cut himself. He knew from personal experience that anything so much as a sewing needle would inevitably be found by the rose hamadryad if it was left out here, and if he lost another day under the effects of her prickles...

Today, he was carving a newt. He’d gotten quite good at carving them—for some reason, newts were just about the only animal that came into the Ambrosia Ranch that weren’t connected to some sort of fey, so he had lots of examples to model from.

Even carving with a sharp, probably-drugged knife, it was hard to keep from slipping off. It always was after spending too long with Brigitte. Part of him longed to just put down the knife and slip away once more, maybe even stumble back to her and beg for another few hours in her clutches... she would indulge him, too, there was no way she’d resist a second time...

No! He shook away the thought just in time to avoid pricking himself with the point of the blade. Careful, Senya Wetherdean. Careful.

Wonderful as a day drugged out of his mind in Kordesii’s clutches sounded right now, he knew he’d regret it after. He could even see a few of her vines trailing across the trail, no doubt waiting for him to slip up and...

He paused.

Those weren’t rose vines.

They were whorelip.

He stared in confusion. The whorelip bushes lined the path, of course—rosebush-like plants, but with bright crimson flowers that glistened with nectar. Most notably, the flowers resembled nothing so much as plump, ruby-red lips. The scarecrows had warned him to be wary of the whorelip.

But this bush was trailing across the path, and it had grown... vinier. Long, emerald-green tendrils trailed across the path and off it, and twitched occasionally, almost in warning. Almost as though they were lying in wait.

Senya started at the plant uncertainly, then edged to the side, off the path. I’ll just... go around this, then.

He turned and walked through the dense orchard, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched whenever he caught a glimpse of one of those flowers stirring, the lips seeming to undulate like they were actively sucking something. He had no idea what the whorelip could do to him, and he had no intention of finding out.

As it turned out, this plant had grown long indeed. It seemed to have set up new roots, too—the way a blackberry bramble could spread across wide swaths of earth. Senya was perplexed.

It made for a stressful walk, too. The orchard was densely packed already, and very dark thanks to a thick canopy laden with the sunset-pink fruits. It only grew darker the further Senya got from the path. The vines seemed to go on forever, blocking his way.

If this keeps up, he thought nervously, I won’t even be able to see the whorelip anymore. Then he might accidentally step on a vine. Then the vine might snake up and wrap around his ankle. And then...

He shivered, noticing one whorelip blossom stirring slightly as he stepped over it. Careful, now.

Maybe it would be best to head back. He could try the other way around, or go back to Brigitte.

Ooh. Yes, that sounded nice. He nodded dazedly. Brigitte could help with this, whatever was going on here. Definitely. A part of him felt very sure that Brigitte would exactly know what to do for him when he got back there.

Senya was just turning to go when he heard the first whimper.

It was very small. Very faint. Senya frowned, turning and looking around. Then were came another—a gaspy, whispered moan.

Then, a tiny little, “Ohyes.”

Heart pounding, Senya walked towards a nearby dense cluster of fruit trees. There was something in the middle of the little copse—a hollow of some kind.

He circled around it, being very careful to avoid any whorelip. As he walked, part of him knew that hearing a strange moan in the woods was not exactly a good reason to investigate—it was a reason to get the fuck out of there.

But what if someone needed help? What if it was... was... some sort of hapless prisoner who’d stumbled in here? Maybe a fey, even!

Maybe a fey who was luring him into her clutches, who would drug him, or hypnotize him, or just reach inside his brain and tug at the strings he or she didn’t like until they went away and he was just an obedient little bimbo for their pleasure. Oh, fuck, that sounded so hot.

As he circled around to the far side, where a gap in the ring of trees allowed him to see inside, Senya’s speculations encountered a new variable.

The whorelip was absolutely everywhere in this small clearing—which was perhaps ten feet across at most. It trailed over the trees, hung from the branches overhead, blanketed the orchard floor.

And in the center of the clearing lay a young woman who was absolutely entangled in it.

She had long, lovely red hair, and pale rosy skin the color of sweetpeas. Two curved, segmented horns arched from her forehead. A long, barbed tail slithered between her legs, and half-wrapped around her trembling form were two dark, velvety batlike wings.

She gasped and whimpered, biting her lip, as the whorelip planted kisses all over her curvy, naked body. She wasn’t bound, exactly—she was free enough to rub her legs together, she was free enough to writhe and squirm, but she could not get up as far as Senya could tell. Her face was bright red, and her eyes were glazed with arousal.

“Oh, please,” she cried. “Oh, p-please...”

Senya stared in shock. He eyed a pair of trailing vines hanging from branches right over the entrance to the clearing, then looked back at the seemingly helpless demoness. “Um... hello?”

The woman looked up, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she saw him. She pushed herself up and started crawling towards him, whimpering with every movement. “Help me!” she cried. “H-Help...” Her arms gave way as the lips kissed over her armpits, and she collapsed, giggling helplessly, and curled into the fetal position.

“Whoa! Um, okay.” Senya put his hands up. “I’ll... I’ll go get someone who can cut you out of... here?”

He blinked. The woman was staring at him again, her lips quivering. She pulled herself forward, moaning. “Help me,” she repeated, staring into his eyes. “I n-need... your cock...” Her voice took on a dreamy purr on the last word.

Senya swallowed. “Oh.”

Really, he should have expected this.

“Please,” she blubbered, “I need it, I n-need it so bad...”

“I don’t...” Senya paused uncertainly as the whorelip again targeted her underarms and sides, and again she curled up, giggling like mad. “I should... should, um...”

“... need to fuck,” the woman cried. “Need to suck! Oh, please, mister...” She batted her eyelashes. “Just... j-just let me kiss it once. Please? Just one kiss. If I c-can kiss it... kiss your b-beautiful cock... oh... I can f-finally... cum...”

Senya was more-or-less a stranger to orgasm denial. Aside from the beembos and a few other outliers, most of the fey here seemed quite happy to make him cum his brains out forever in their grasp. As such, he felt his heart going out to the strange woman.

But not enough to completely lose his mind. “Th-the whorelip,” he stammered, eyes again darting up at those two innocent tendrils. “I can’t... I don’t...”

“They’ll m-move!” the woman whispered. “They’ll move, won’t they? Oh, p-please move...

And to Senya’s amazement, the vines started to trail away, pulling back into the back of the clearing. Did she... control them? Or did she just understand their workings better than he did?

Well, considering she was clearly some sort of succubus, either one was possible. Senya swallowed.

A kiss, he knew, could be dangerous. One kiss could lead to two. Two could lead to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock, making him cum and cum until he would think he could see a skyfull of stars in midday. And if she was anything like the cupid...

He looked down and realized that he had walked right up to the demon. She was struggling to pull herself into a kneeling position, biting her lip with the effort as the whorelip continued to torment her. Still, she seemed almost intoxicated by his proximity—almost hypnotized by his cock.

“What... are you?” he whispered, heart pounding.

She looked up at him and stuck her lower lip out in a flirty pout. “I’m your needy little slut,” she whimpered. “Please, can I kiss it, Mister? Can I?”

Senya hesitated. He watched numbly as one whorelip flower repeatedly kissed her neck, looking and sounding every bit as luscious and soft as the real thing—if not moreso. Then he looked down at the succubus’s lips, which were just as luscious, currently partially opened as she breathed in his scent.

“Yes,” he said softly.

She gave a sigh of relief, beaming up at him in gratitude. Her expression was so innocent, so utterly grateful, it caught him a little off-guard as she lunged forward, gripped him by the waist, and leaned in close.

Her hot breath wafted over his cock. Though Senya was already larger than normal, thanks to the constant effects of the prisoner fruit, he could have sworn, as he drew in his own shuddering breath, that his engorged cock was... growing.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, as if waiting for permission. He stared at her numbly, his knees quaking.

“Please?” the strange demon woman whimpered. “Please?”

She licked her lips.

“Yes,” Senya said, his voice as small and frail as a robin’s egg. “Gods, y-yes!”

Her face lit up in glee. She leaned in closer. Senya had just a moment to wonder if he’d just made a mistake before she planted a small, dainty kiss on the very head of his cock. It was almost chaste. Everything about it except her rapturous expression.

Senya nearly came right there. He groaned, trembling, his knees quaking—but she held him steady. He felt vines snaking around his arms to hold him up, and he gratefully leaned into their support.

“Another?” the strange woman whispered. “Please, can I... can I have another, mister?”

Senya struggled to resist the temptation to just... just grab her head and force her onto his cock. He couldn’t believe how wonderful, how soft and moist and tender, her lips had felt on his sensitive member. He couldn’t believe how she was teasing him now.

“I... d-don’t even know your name,” he managed.

She blinked, then giggled, batting her eyelashes as the whorelip planted dual kisses on her cheeks. “Tyfaeniallis. But you can call me Tiffany!”

“T-Tiffany...” He nodded frantically. “Yes. More. Please, more.”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She leaned in and gave him another kiss, this one much longer.. Her eyes closed tightly, and she maned softly, as if savoring the sensation of his throbbing cock against her lips. He cried out as her tongue just barely grazed his glans.

Finally, she pulled out again, blinking wide crimson eyes at him. “Another?” she whispered. “Please?”

Senya bit his lip, overwhelmed by her brazen teasing. He stared deep into her gleaming eyes and felt an almost overpowering need to take charge, to grab this little slut by the back her the head...

But all he could bring himself to do was pet her hair and nod.

She beamed and leaned in again.

And this time, she took him into her mouth. Just the tip, but as her luscious lips slid over the head of his cock, Senya nearly screamed in pleasure.

He was totally leaning back in the vines, now, but they weren’t kissing him—just helping him remain standing. Dimly, he felt a rush of gratitude towards the hellish plants. How kind they were, although really, he wouldn’t exactly mind just falling to his knees before this demonic temptress. It just felt natural.

Tiffany was moaning like a wifwolf in heat as she suckled daintily at his cock, her tongue lapping over his sensitive head, the look in her eyes positively beatific. He stroked her hair, and she moaned louder, eyelashes fluttering. It was like she was feeding off of her own submission. She slurped and sucked desperately at his cock like it was the most important thing in the world to her.

Senya, totally in thrall to his own pleasure at this point, couldn’t easily disagree. He was gasping and moaning, bucking helplessly into her warm, wet mouth as her tongue swirled around him. He’d already been already horny from earlier, and this woman had incredible technique.

“Oh,” he gasped, trembling, “god, god, please, please, please!”

“Mm?” She blinked up at him, and redoubled her attentions. “Mm!”

“Yes!” He was quivering in her grip. “Please, more, more, m-more—oh, p-please, let me—let me cum!”

She blinked up at him. She seemed almost confused. “Mm?”

Oh, gods, she’s—she’s still teasing me. Senya could barely think straight.

“Please let me cum!” he cried. “Please—oh, gods, thank you, I can’t—can’t help—m-myself—” He was breathing heavily, gasping for air. All his attention was centered into holding off his climax. “Please,” his voice broke on the word, “your pet n-needs... oh, oh, fuck, he n-needs to cum, Mistress! C-can’t—”

And as she stared up at him, she abruptly stopped sucking.

The contrast and shock were too much. Senya’s eyes widened in horror even as he came with a disappointed scream. His cock throbbed and spurted a little into her mouth, and she swallowed, still looking... puzzled.

He whimpered as the ruined orgasm drained from him. His mind was reeling, spinning, lost in intoxicating humiliation. “Please, Mistress,” he whimpered, “I... I didn’t mean to...”

She pulled off and started licking his cock, frowning. He gasped and trembled from the attentions. Her tongue was long and sinuous, and her licking was fast and affectionate. But she seemed troubled. “Forgive me, Master,” he heard her mumbling. “Slutty girl was bad. Slutty girl ruined Master’s pleasure.”

He stared into her ashamed eyes as she licked, his cock twitching with every touch of her tongue.

Senya felt like there was something going on here he didn’t fully understand. But his mind was already reacting to the ruined orgasm, telling him he needed to submit more, telling him he had been disciplined. He knew he needed more. The question was, would Mistress give it to him?

Maybe if he was a good boy.

His brain clicked back into place as her licking started to have an effect on his engorged, drugged, brainwashed cock, and he felt himself melting once more into her mouth.

* * *

Tiffany wasn’t quite sure what she’d done wrong. The boy had come in her mouth, and yet... he was still here. Something wasn’t right about all this. As she licked, the demoness’s mind raced, searching for her mistake.

Incapacitate herself in whorelip and edge herself into a delicious, submissive haze, check.

Lure the boy to her, check.

Beg him to let her suck him, check.

Tease him until he forced her to suck him dry...

Not check.

She gave his cock a long, adoring lick, savoring the lingering taste of his cum on his member—even though it lacked that delicious seasoning a soul would provide. She stared up at the handsome boy, admiring his slightly glazed hazel eyes and cute little pout, salivating slightly at his naked, alraune-juice-drenched physique. Just looking at his cock made her pussy clench in anticipation.

He hadn’t forced her. Hadn’t taken charge. He’d called her Mistress! He’d begged her! She shuddered at the thought. That was a succubus’s game—a dull game, in the incubus’s opinion. Where was the fun in taking charge? It was so much more delicious to be used, to let the mortals fuck your brains out even as they came their souls away.

She couldn’t prey on someone who refused to Lie Above. And if she couldn’t submit fully and perfectly, the incubus could not claim anything from his orgasms, no matter how glorious his pleasure and hers might be.

She pouted. And that would be no fun at all!

Clearly, she would have to be a bit cleverer. Bait him. So, with a giggle, she wiggled her ass up at him, giving his cock one last lick. “Oh, Master!” she sang. “Slutty girl needs a nice, big cock in her pussy!” She winked. “Would Master like that?”

He stared at her. Tiffany let her lust aura pour into him, willed him to see her for the eager, easy slut she was meant to be. She giggled again, putting a finger to her lips. “Gosh, Master, do you not wanna fuck slutty girl’s brains out? Maybe you don’t wanna fuck at all!”

He was practically drooling. His cock was completely erect, and she grinned mischievously at this. “Your powerful cock knows what he wants,” she purred, licking her lips. “Ooh, Master, please take me with it. Please, pound me into a happy, gooey mess for you. Fuck my brains out!”

“Fuck... brains out...” The brunette boy swallowed. “H-happy, gooey mess... Yes...”

Tiffany shivered as he said the words. She licked her lips and laid it on a little thicker—sometimes a more subby victim needed a little bit of encouragement. “Maybe that’s not what he wants, though,” she teased, giving a bratty grin. “I bet my Master hasn’t got it in him to do that to his little slutty girl!”

Senya stared at her and slowly blinked. He nibbled nervously on his finger. “I... can I...”

Oh! Tiffany suppressed a growl of frustration. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Tiffany reached out with her fiendish connection and gave the whorelip a weak little tug.

Usually, when incubi tried to control other fiends—even fiendish plants, for that matter—it didn’t go so well for them. A reckless incubus could spend centuries in the whorelip’s delightful clutches, until someone found them and decided to take advantage.

But that was exactly what she wanted.

The whorelip wrapped around her tighter, and with a muffled squeak, she found herself jerked around, forced onto her hands and knees, and felt the vines lift her ass impossibly high up into the air. She moaned in delight, realizing the vines were presenting her ass—and her tight, wet pussy—for Master’s use.

Oh, thank you, lovelies, she thought, whimpering. I am a good girl a good girl a good girl...

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the whorelip rear back. Without any other warning, it darted in and started peppering her clit with little wet kisses, and her eyes rolled back up into her head. “Please!” she cried. “Oh, please, M-Master—they’re so... so wicked... please, have mercy on your plaything!”

She couldn’t see his expression, and with the whorelip kissing her every available body part, she could only moan and whimper and pray.

She heard footsteps right behind her.

“Yes...” she heard the man mumble. “Oh...”

Glee filling her heart, Tiffany stepped up the aura, flooding the boy’s mind with mental images that made her even wetter—images of him fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, her tits. Images of her being used like a living sex toy. Images of him having a whole harem of eager sluts like her. Images of him on a throne, and her on her knees, all-but-naked, prostrating herself before her sovereign monarch.

His moans and heavy breaths were the only proof she needed to know that it was working.

And then his cock head poked against her slit, and her breath caught in her throat. She barely managed to swallow.

“Take me,” she whimpered. “Make me yours. Make me yours—I’m yours—yours—“

And as she felt that massive cock slide into her, Tiffany let out an overjoyed squeal.

“M-mine,” she heard Master whimper. It was a pathetic whimper, and almost a question, but it was enough. Enough to build her up and up as she started to slide up and down on his cock, as he pounded in and out of her, gripping her shoulders for support.

She mewled and nodded as he fucked her, her tail coiling around his leg, her glowing red eyes shining, her skin sticky with sweat. The lips were kissing all over her sensitive body, and now he was... he was...

“Oh, gods,” she squeaked, “you—you’re g-gonna make me—”

“Yeah,” she heard him gasp, “yeah, you... f-fuck... make you c-come..”

It was enough.

Tiffany slipped over the edge, and she came with a shrill squeal, grinding her ass desperately against the base of Senya’s cock. She tried to form words, to beg, to thank, but no sound came out save moans of ecstasy.

Tiffany was left a sweaty, ragged-haired, whimpering mess by her climax, and she knew more were on the way.

But this cute little orgasm was nothing, she knew, to what she and he would feel when he started to cum.

And Tiffany intended to make sure that her Master would get to feel that wonderful pleasure for the rest of his life.

He was getting close now.

“M-Master,” she whimpered, still breathing heavily in the afterglow as he continued to pound her clenching pussy, “am... am I a good girl?”

His only response was a whimpered, “Good girl. Good girl!

Facing away from him, Tiffany gave a sly grin. It would be enough.

* * *

“Good girl,” Senya whispered, amazed at himself. He had never met such a strange, bewitching creature before, but she was so desperate to submit, it almost might have worried him. That is, were he not barely able to breath right now, much less think.

Her tail was caressing his neck. Her pussy was contracting around his cock. His mind was turning to dribble in her clutches, and... all he wanted to do was pay her back in mind.

“I’m a good girl?” Tiffany whispered again, before groaning as he squeezed her shoulders tightly. He was getting closer and closer.

“Y-yes!” he cried, shaking as his cock started to throb. He was already leaning over to hold on, but now he leaned down and started kissing her shoulders and neck.

He had to reward her. Had to make her know she was a good girl. It felt so bizarrely, wonderfully blissful to be in control of this delicious creature. And if her little gasps and wordless pleas were anything to go by, Tiffany was enjoying it, too.

“I-I’m Master’s good girl?” she cried, rolling her shoulders as he planted kisses along her shoulderblade. “Oh, thank you, Master!”

“Yes!” He hungered for more. He licked her neck, and was rewarded by another little cry. She was sensitive there. He kissed and licked that little spot behind her collarbone without mercy, holding her still for his attentions. “My—mm—good girl. Little—mm!—ob-obedient plaything!”

She was quivering in his grasp, shivering at every kiss, every dirty word. A muffled moan escaped her, and he realized she was biting her lip to try to hold off from cumming—to no avail.

Tiffany’s whole body shook like a sheet in a hurricane as the pleasure claimed her once again. Senya just kept thrusting in and out of her, making her screams crack and break every few seconds with his motions.

Senya’s eyes were tightly shut at this point. His mind was dissolving within the joys of dominance, drugged by the haze of control. He’d never known it could feel so good to just... take over. It felt almost perverse to wield so much sexual power over another creature. But something had awoken in him.

After all it had to be something from within him, right? Where else could this overpowering need to master have come from? Why else would his heart flutter and quicken with every needy little squeak uttered by this lovely demoness beneath him?

Senya was so focused on kissing her—he was practically lying on top of her as she knelt amid the whorelip—he didn’t quite notice how much whorelip was gathering around him.

He didn’t notice the little tickling as tendrils snaked around his arms and legs.

H didn’t notice the strange little titters that seemed to be coming from the bizarre plants as they encircled his throat, bound his wrists, and wrapped in slow spirals around his torso—like serpents coiling around sleeping prey.

But Senya did notice when—just as Tiffany’s mind-melting orgasm was beginning to peter off, and he could feel his own fast approaching—those vines tightened their coils and jerked him out of Tiffany’s dripping pussy and right flat onto his back. None-too-gently.

Senya struggled, but only slightly, as the vines easily pinned him to the forest floor. It was like the alraune all over again. Unfortunately, that connection just made his struggles all the weaker.

The demon girl gave an indignant shriek, springing to her feet... or trying to.

Trapped in the soft grass, Senya watched as the kissing blossoms seemed to redouble their efforts. They surged around their original victim, kissing every sensitive patch of skin. She squeaked and tried in vain to cover herself, her attempt to rise halting abruptly to avoid bearing her most sensitive parts to the ruthless plant. Slowly, he saw that indignant rage in her eyes dim to blissful acceptance.

At last, the demoness sank back into the grass with only a few whining protests, whimpers, and pleas.

He watched her crumple a few feet away from him, still weakly struggling to fend off the merciless whorelip, and swallowed. Wow. Glad it’s not me.

And then the whorelip binding Senya really got to work on him.

Senya had been warned about the whorelip. It wasn’t safe, the scarecrows had said. It was ‘tricky’, according to Bobbin. Even Mommy’s giggles on the manner had seemed forced—like the way an instructor or parent would laugh when a child asked a question with a grim answer. Or the way a person might laugh when asked about an ex-partner they were still a bit in love with.

But he hadn’t known just how good a kisser it truly was.

Those wonderful, soft lips kissed his neck, the small of his back, his shoulder blades, his inner thighs, and he started to shake. They kissed his ankles, his toes, planted big, wet kisses on his sides and arms, and he started to writhe wildly. He was totally helpless to stop them. It was like a dozen plump-lipped goblin maids were lavishing the sloppiest, most mind-melting kisses they could muster upon him.

The hellish flowers descended around his face only a moment later, and he had scarcely time to even moan before their strange giggling and loud smacking and slurping sounds immersed him in a sensual soundtrack of lust. They were kissing his cheek, sucking daintily at his earlobe, peppering his face with their wet little caresses until he was too disoriented to think straight.

Worst of all, that chorus of high-pitched giggling seemed designed specifically to make him feel weak. Helpless. It was so easy to imagine that rather than being captured by a sinister plant creature, he was immersed in the loving embrace of dozens of lush-lipped temptresses who were ever-so-awfully amused at his predicament.

His struggles certainly were getting weaker. And that had to be because of the laughter, right? Otherwise, it would mean he just... wanted this.

As one particularly large whorelip blossom descended down towards his mouth, her—its—lips parted, and a strange, sinuous sort of stamen, almost like a forked tongue covered in gleaming nectar, snaked out. It was almost as though the flower was testing the air.

Senya suddenly realized that he was in the power of something very different from a teasing hen harpy, a seductive alraune, or even a loving, maternal holstaur.

He was in trouble.

And then the whorelip kissing all over his body paused, and Senya saw their own slick tongues slither out.

It started on his soles and toes. He gave a sudden squeak, followed by an involuntary giggle, as the little forked tongues lapped over the space between the front pad of his foot and his little toes. The tongues snaked around, between the toes, along them, then descended to the soles.

He trembled. Something about those slick, nectar-covered tongues was so... sensitizing.

He tried to hold it in, but as the tongues licked along his sole, he started to giggle. As the whorelip tongues started to tickle his ankles, he lost it completely, thrashing in futility within the whorelip’s grip. And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Worse, the giggling almost seemed to encourage the flowers. The tittering got louder as tongues started to emerge around his chest and belly, then at the small of his back and between his shoulderblades. Then his inner thighs, and he was crying real tears of joy and torment, struggling in vain to close his legs—only to feel his arms and legs spread wider, as if in punishment, as the whorelip started to tickle-lick all over his underarms, along his totally exposed armpits, and his sensitive sides.

And as he opened his mouth to scream, the ‘mother’ whorelip closed the distance and captured him in her—its—passionate kiss. He managed little more than an, “Mmf!”

Senya had never kissed a plant before. But as these lips locked with his, and that long, slender tendril snaked into his mouth and started to trickle in a slow, steady stream of sweetness he couldn’t help but lick up and swallow, he forgot that was what he was doing. His eyes fluttered shut. His mind started to spin.

His giggles and screams were lost. His mind was lost. All he could do was submit to these luscious lips. Submit to the embrace. Submit to the torment.

He imagined that they were Tiffany’s lips, that that gorgeous demoness was kissing him tenderly, rewarding him for being a good boy... or was he rewarding her?

It didn’t matter. Nothing he wanted mattered. Senya was so wonderfully, deliciously helpless, he didn’t even care anymore.

It took him a full minute to notice that the demoness’s whimpers had died down.

Around the same time, soft, slender hands ran over his exposed, ticklish chest, and he heard a low growl. “You... you f-fucking bimbo.”

“Mm?” His eyes half-opened.

Tiffany crouched over him, her eyes wild, her breaths so heavy they tickled his his face. She licked her lips, looking over his helpless, squirming body. “How are you so... weak? Mm, I just can’t... I mean, look at you!”

He whimpered as she openly stared at his naked, whorelip-teased boy. The demoness seemed confused—but clearly some part of her liked what she saw.

The ‘mother’ whorelip kissing him stepped up its attentions, and his eyelids fluttered, nearly closing altogether as he became lost in the kiss once more. But he desperately tried to keep Tiffany in his vision.

The demoness was panting. She was almost drooling. She stared down at his cock—hard, erect, and totally devoid of any kissing whorelip to keep it company. He saw where her eyes had darted to, and moaned, nodding frantically, desperately.

She crawled down towards it, licking her lips, and leaned down to lick it. Senya felt her hot breath on his sensitive shaft, and his heart nearly stopped.

“You’re so... pathetic.” She licked over it slowly, sensuously, causing him to mewl. “So needy.” She licked it again, then kissed it. “You... you little... I can’t even...”

“Please,” he cried, his hips bucking involuntarily. “Oh, please!”

Her eyes glazed with lust, then blazed with it. The whorelip was crawling over her whole body, but it barely seemed to faze her anymore as she climbed atop him, loudly purring like a cat. “You are going to take me,” she hissed, grinding her body against him. “You’re gonna... unh... you’re gonna take me, and fuck me, and—and fuck my stupid brains out until you cum your soul right out if I have to force you to do it, you needy little slut!

He cried and moaned, imploring her with wide eyes to—to do whatever she wanted to him. His cock was begging her to take it and use it, to devour him, to claim his soul, anything. He couldn’t resist anymore. He was hers. If only she would give her slave the pleasure he craved.

And it seemed she couldn’t resist, as she rose, her face a bright red. Her eyes held his with sheer gleaming desire. “You wanna take me?” she cooed, reaching down between her legs and stroking his cock, slick with precum. He felt her magic sinking into his helpless body with every little touch. “You wanna fuck me like the needy, submissive slut I am?”

“Mm-hm!” He nodded desperately. Yes, he would fuck her brains out, use her like a cumdump. Anything. Anything to make this wonderful creature happy.

She reached down, wrenching the mother whorelip away—it crawled up her arm, and she let in a slight gasp as it started kissing her shoulder, but she was of a single mind now.

With a growl, the incubus grabbed him roughly and leaned in close as her hips contorted to position her pussy right above his twitching, erect cock.

“Say it,” she purred, her lips brushing by his. She kissed him, and he was immersed in the kiss, in her heavy breaths, in her sweet, musky scent, in those spiraling crimson eyes. “Say you wanna take me. Tell me to fuck you. Command me to fuck you, you l-little slut!”

He stared up at Tiffany, lost in helpless lust.

She kissed him again. This time, he felt her pouring her power into his mind, and he whimpered, struggling against the kiss. Her tongue played and toyed with his own. She devoured him, and he melted for her.

Senya was gasping for breath when she finally pulled away. “Fuck me!” he squeaked. “Please, please, please—fuck me!”

Her eyes gleamed, and she giggled, patting him on the head. “Good boy.”

And she descended onto his cock. As her slick, silken warm walls contracted around his cock, he and she started to moan in unison. It was indescribable, inescapable. Tears of joy streamed down Senya’s cheeks as he bucked and writhed beneath her.

“Y-you’re mine!” she squealed, her hands wrapping around his throat as she started bouncing rapidly. His breaths came out as rapid, tiny whimpers. He had never felt so much like a... a doll. A helpless little horny toy. “My obedient dom! M big, strong owner! Oh, y-yes, my needy little Master!”

She looked down at him for confirmation, eyes shining in confused delight.

He nodded meekly, crying out as the pleasure spiked. His breaths and hers started to deepen, and then she was looking up at the treetops and screaming. “Take me, Master!” she screamed.

Yes, Mistress!” he squealed, as pleasure exploded inside him. He trembled like a rag doll, and she wrapped soft, woolen wings around him, trapping him with her as the whorelip kissed tenderly over their bodies.

“You little bimbo,” he heard her purr, as he quivered in her embrace, his hips still bucking helplessly inside her folds. “I’m gonna make you cum your brains out, cum your cute little soul away, and you’ll love every second of it.” She giggled. “You can’t help but take me, can you? Can’t help but take over. Take control.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whimpered, resting his head against hers, his heart meek and happy, his mind happy and empty. “Please, Mistress.”

As their orgasms faded, and he sank into an entranced afterglow, she gave a happy sigh. Then, a little confused sound. “Wait. I didn’t... I didn’t get your...”

He blinked up at her with an oblivious smile. His mind was too melty to understand what she was saying, but Mistress seemed confused. “Mm?”

She was frowning clearly trying to think, even as her pussy continued to wetly contract around him. But as they made eye contact, her eyes began to sparkle with newfound desire. “Oh, you little...” She seized him in another kiss, making him whine. “Gonna play subby, are you? Well, we’ll have to punish you, then, won’t we?”

He screamed his agreement.

* * *

Tiffany was breathless and sweaty as she rode her squealing master. Dimly, as he begged to cum a seventeenth time, she realized that something had gone wrong. He was supposed to be a nice, soulless drone by now. Instead, he was just... just...

She stared down at his wide, needy eyes, and licked her lips. Ooh, but he was just so easy... She wriggled her hips and enjoyed watching him cum, feeling him throbbing inside of her. What an adorably pathetically little thing.


She bit her lip. As nice as this felt, it wasn’t what... it wasn’t what she was supposed to do, was it? But no matter what she tried, the damn boy wouldn’t take charge. He was hopelessly submissive. It was... hopeless. And unbelievably frustrating.

“Senya?” Tiffany’s eyes flashed with surprise as she heard a new voice, light and clear. She turned as a catgirl with long, dark hair done up in a ponytail came to the entrance to the clearing. “Senya, is that y—oh!” Her eyes widened as she saw Tiffany. Her eyes darted over the whorelip, over Senya’s quivering form, and over the incubus’s blatantly demonic form.

Beneath her, Tiffany felt Senya twitching. “V-Valina?” A spark of awareness crackled in his voice.

Slowly, Valina’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why, you little...”

Finally, someone with a spine. Tiffany immediately went into her submissive mode, crawling off of her whimpering boytoy and towards the catgirl—who was, she noticed, naked.

And judging by her incubus senses, this clever little kitty was much more aroused than she was letting on. “I’m sorry!” Tiffany squealed, wiggling her ass slightly. She wasn’t taking any chances this time. “Ooh, please... please, I d-didn’t hurt him! I was j-just so... so horny...”

And as she made herself as vulnerable as possible, she reached forward with her mind and poured all the lust energy she could muster into this catgirl’s confused, open mind.

The catgirl blinked rapidly. Tiffany hid a grin, knowing that the sight of a naked, horny demoness on the ground would be irresistible to most anyone even in their right minds. And she’d just surged enough lust into this woman to tranquilize a Cloistermage.

“You...” The catgirl breathed heavily. “Y-You, demon...”

“Uh-huh?” Tiffany bit her lip and batted her eyelashes, then, to sell it even more, rolled over onto her back and spread her legs wide with a loud whimper.

The whorelip kissing over her body made it even easier to slip back into submissive neediness, tickling and kissing all over her inner thighs. Tiffany shivered as she imagined just how good this fey would taste—she might not be ensouled, but even a half-meal would be worth it right now. “Ooh, please,” she cried, “Please, punish me!”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

And then the catgirl fell into the grass with a squeal, thrusting her face between Tiffany’s legs. She was breathing heavily, and she stared up at Tiffany with eyes clouded with indescribable need as her tongue hovered over Tiffany’s pussy.

“D-does... Mistress need me?” Kitten whimpered.

Inwardly, Tiffany let out a scream of frustration.

A few seconds later, the demoness was letting out quite a different kind of scream.

* * *