The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Eyna opened her eyes slowly.

The bed was soft beneath her; in front of her, pressed against her nude body, was Xia’s warm, bare backside. Her long black hair smelled good.

The air above the thin sheet was humid, but a breeze danced in through the window and out the room’s open door, keeping the air soft rather than stifling. Eyna slid her hands down Xia’s smooth flank and the easterner mumbled in her sleep.

Sleep. Yes. That was an attractive idea, here in the soft, warm bed, despite the late afternoon light spreading across the sky outside. It would be pleasant, to let herself drift back to sleep. Whores needed to sleep during the day, and it had been a busy night...

The recollection of that night—the warehouse, the flowers—prodded Eyna towards wakefulness. She had slept enough. There was still much she must do for her Mistress.

Mistress. Khuluub. Eyna’s nipples stiffened against Xia’s shoulderblades. Eyna licked her lips involuntarily. Yes. She must obey Mistress.

Spurning the temptation of the warm bed, Eyna rolled away from Xia and sat up, the translucent sheet sliding off her breasts. She stretched, looking at the sleeping forms of Xia and, on Xia’s far side, Esmerill. They could sleep a while yet. Tremona would tell them when the first of the dreamers awoke. Eyna wondered what they would be like.

She slipped out of her bed and found clean clothes. She dressed for travel, without really wondering why; when she was almost finished, clad in her cowhide pants and tall boots, lacing up the front of her cotton overshirt, she noticed her choice of attire and paused to consider.

Her next purpose blossomed in her mind, and she smiled. Then her face grew serious, and she nodded.

In three nights, it would be the dark of the moon. Astraoth, the Blood Star, would reach his ascendency, pausing in the heavens to center in celestial body of Derune, the World-Mother. The stars would be aligned. Destinies would soften and melt, ready to be re-formed. A new era would burst from the old.

All must be ready to shape the world as Khuluub wished.

But not all was ready yet. Eyna clopped downstairs in her boots; the whorehouse felt empty, no sounds of conversation vibrating in the halls, no clattering from the kitchen, no snapping of new sheets or cursing at needle-pricks. Eyna almost regretted the silence from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled, but Princess was in the warehouse, head buried within a flower, mind deep in the embrace of Khuluub.

The larder contained bread, though, and preserves, so Eyna went to the kitchen and prepared herself a sandwich. As she ate it, she strolled back through the common room—might as well see how the dreamers in the warehouse were faring. She couldn’t leave until at least some of them were awake to maintain the Red Sail’s facade.

There was a knock on the door.

With a roll of her eyes, Eyna gestured at Aric, who stood motionless just inside the door. “The Red Sail is closed,” he announced without moving. “The door will open at sunset.”

“Ybella’s blessing upon you,” replied a female voice. “I am a Sister of Ybella, here to minister to those who would receive grace.”

Eyna almost choked on her sandwich.

Aric looked at her.

Eyna froze, waiting for Khuluub to tell her what to do. But no voice came.

“Let me in, please,” the woman said outside. “Do not deny yourselves her comfort.”

Eyna looked at Aric. He was a shell, now, his human brain merely the rooting substrate for the seed of Khuluub which had replaced him. The seed had utterly consumed his will; his tunneled-out brain now slept unless awoken and commanded to surrender its memories to the seed, which it invariably did; there was no resistance left in it.

The seed looking out through Aric’s eyes did not care who stood at the Red Sail’s threshold; it merely waited without emotion for Eyna to command it. Open the door, or not.

The knocking came again.

“I offer only comfort,” the woman said. “Ybella’s love is for all of us.”

Eyna bit her lip.

She had been a child when a wandering Sister of Ybella came to their village; she had watched as the priestess’ magic had set Agic’s bones and calmed the ravings of poor mad Vharrin. She had blessed the crops and the households, and that year had seen the best harvest in living memory. Ybella had truly blessed them, for a time.

She had not saved them from the invasion.

But her true servants did have power. If the woman outside were indeed a Sister of Ybella, could she detect what Aric now was? Could she see the twisted root that animated him? Could she see what Eyna was? (And what was she now, anyway, Eyna wondered...) If she were puissant, if she were devout... there had been no demons to drive out in Eyna’s village, but exorcism was in Ybella’s purview. Could she harm the Seed of Khuluub in Aric’s skull? Sever Eyna’s connection to her Mistress?

What could she do?

Back in Vegenen Xuul, Khuluub had said in Eyna’s voice that Ybella had no power here, but that was told to a man, a frightened slave, whose faith was not backed up by power. Far different than the devotee who might be at the door!

She should just wait. Keep the door closed. The woman would go away.

If only Khuluub would tell her what to do!

Eyna blinked.

No. That was it.

This was a test of faith. Did she fear Ybella, or did she trust in Khuluub? She did not need Khuluub’s reassurance that all would be well. It might not be well. But even were it not, Eyna would serve Khuluub. She would face down this foreign god’s slave. If it were Khuluub’s will that she die, she would die.

What could this infidel priestess do to her, compared to that?

She nodded at Aric. “Let her in.”

Aric turned and opened the door.

“Ah,” the woman outside said, squinting and looking up at Aric, “Thank you, I...” She frowned.

“You can come in,” Aric said, stepping back.

Still frowning, still looking at Aric, the woman stepped into the Red Sail. Her brows knitted as she tried to adjust to the dim light.

“Hello,” Eyna said, coming forward, half-eaten sandwich still in her hand. “You are a Sister of Ybella?”

The woman turned away from Aric to face her. “That’s right,” she said, giving Eyna a smile.

She was attractive, in her middle years, with tanned skin and black hair mingled with streaks of gray. She was dressed in gray trousers and a white shirt, with a blue mantle on top; Eyna remembered the priestess of her youth clad in the same sort of short cloak, the same blue color.

“I’m here to speak with the women in your house.”

“You have chosen a bad time,” Eyna said. “Everyone’s asleep. We... we work at night.”

The woman nodded. “Of course. I can wait. I am happy to talk with whomever is awake.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Eyna said. “Although... actually, I don’t know if Tremona will want us speaking with you. This is her house and she kind of prefers to, well, to control things.”

“Yes,” the woman replied, “she kept me out when I came before. She is asleep now? Or away?”

Eyna looked at the hallway. “No, she’s in the other building, overseeing some work in the garden. But, uh, I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“No matter. I shall remain as long as I can. And I shall return as often as necessary. This Tremona can throw me out as she likes, but Ybella’s comfort is offered to everyone, especially those in need, and I will make myself available to provide it.”

Eyna nodded. She stood quietly for a moment, considering.

“Would you, uh, like to sit down?” she asked.

“Certainly,” the woman replied. “May I ask your name?”

“I’m Eyna.”

“Eyna. It is my privilege to meet you. I am Jalanea.”

They walked to a pair of adjoining couches. Eyna gestured at one, and the priestess sat.

“So,” she said, as Eyna sat down facing her, “how many are you, in this house?”

“Not quite two score,” Eyna said, “if you count the free whores and Aric and Horr Hen. And Tremona. I’m not sure exactly.”

“You say ‘free’ whores... so you are a slave?”

Eyna nodded. “Almost all of us are. I... doesn’t Ybella prohibit slavery?”

The woman frowned. “She does. The king, and the lords Feyne, do wrong to allow it.”

“Did he let you come here? Lord Feyne, I mean. Is it okay for you to even be in Torr Gyn? Does he know?”

The priestess’ frown turned to a wry smile. “No. I came on my own, I daresay against Lord Feyne’s express wishes. Yet even he would not allow his men to lay hands on a Sister. And our purpose calls us to comfort those in need.” She looked around the room. “I think few are in such need as those who labor here.”

Eyna looked at the floor. “I don’t know much about Ybella,” she said in a small voice. “I mean, I know she’s a goddess, and she’s good, but our village priest was of Arta and didn’t mention Ybella much.”

“Ybella cares for us,” the Sister said kindly. “She encourages us to help each other, and in doing so, to help ourselves become that which is good. I don’t think you’re much interested in scripture, but if you like, I could tell you a story?”

Eyna gave the priestess a direct look. “Can Ybella free us? Take us away from this?”

The priestess sighed. She looked at the floor, then back at Eyna. “If we work hard enough, together, she can. She cannot simply reach down and change things, but through us she can work on the hearts of men—”

“Get out!” Tremona shouted.

Eyna and the priestess turned. Tremona had entered the room and was gesticulating angrily. “Get out! This is my house and I won’t have your pig shit in here! Get up and get out!”

The priestess frowned, squinting at Tremona. “Something... strange...” she said under her breath.

Horr Hen emerged from the scullery, and Aric took a few steps forward from where he stood by the door. “You have ten seconds to walk out that door or I will have you lifted up and placed outside it,” Tremona said, coming closer, her eyes wide. “I told you before that I don’t need you putting your stupid ideas in my girls’ heads. Get out.”

“You cannot keep Ybella out forever,” the priestess said, rising to her feet. “Her comfort is available to all. Even those kept in bondage. Especially them.”

Tremona stopped a few feet away from the couches, her face flushed. “This house is mine and these girls are mine and you are leaving.” She gestured at Horr Hen, who raised his hands.

The priestess gestured at him. “No need. I shall go. But I shall also return, again and again, until your heart softens and you see the truth of what I have to offer.”

She turned to Eyna. “It was nice speaking with you, Eyna. Ybella’s blessing upon you.”

Eyna mastered her urge to shudder. “Thank you,” she replied, as Tremona shouted “Get out!” again.

“May Ybella’s light warm your heart,” the priestess replied. She nodded to Tremona. “Good day.”

With a measured pace, the Sister of Ybella walked to the door, and let herself out.

Eyna and the three Seeds of Khuluub watched her go. Eyna motioned to Aric, who threw the bar on the door. Then she turned to Tremona.

“Nicely done,” Eyna said, and Tremona gave a soft mewl and squeezed her own breasts.

“Eyna,” she said. “It is time. The sleepers wake.”

“Good—fetch Xia and Esmerill from my room, and bring them to the garden.”

In the late afternoon light, the upper interior of the warehouse seemed to glow orange, almost as though it were on fire above the lush greenery of the vines. On the first floor the light filtered down in rays, dust motes glittering in them as they stabbed at the floor.

The women still knelt on the floor, faces raised and encased in yellow, vines wrapped around their skulls. Their hands curled limp at their sides.

Eyna surveyed them. A good crop.

How many would join her?

She heard Esmerill, Xia, and Tremona enter the warehouse behind her. “It stirs the blood,” Xia said after a moment.

They stood and surveyed the motionless women for a while longer. They were not entirely still—chests rose and fell, gently. The vines were somehow giving them air.

Then Eyna’s eye was drawn to a flicker of motion: a twitching hand. Yliss. The three women and the Seed approached her.

Yliss’ hand twitched again, then rose from the ground. Her other hand moved as well. Slowly, both hands came up, up, rising in front of her to blindly find the base of the flower that engulfed her head. Her hands slid around the stem and Eyna had a sudden image of fellatio, of Yliss—her throat engorged—sucking off the giant flower’s stamen, as Yliss’s hands encircled the vine.

Yliss leaned back. She made a muffled noise and pulled at the flower, trying to remove it from her face. Her hands clenched around the vine, straining. The flower did not move.

She subsided. Her hands lowered, the flower still enfolding her head.

For a moment, her chest rose and fell, her hands resting quietly atop her thighs.

Then her hands slipped between her legs. Both hands reached up underneath her dress, fingertips extending to touch her sex, stroking gently, probing; with the thick cloth of the dress in the way, Eyna could not see how Yliss touched herself, but touch herself she did, her ass clenching slightly, her hips flexing, her legs widening just a little. A few moments later her hands reappeared, fingers glistening. She had only been stroking herself for a short while—her undergarments must have already been soaked through.

Of course they were—she had spent the whole day dreaming of Khuluub.

Glossy with her own sexwet, Yliss’ hands rose once again to the vine, and encircled it. This time, rather than pulling, they stroked it gently, lightly squeezing, sliding back and forth. The vine grew slick and glossy.

The petals began to pull away from Yliss’ face.

The tiny vines entwined in Yliss’ hair came loose, curling away into the air. The petals themselves curled backwards, pulling away from Yliss’ face, revealing closed eyes and cheeks dusted with yellow powder.

Yliss’ mouth was open wide, her neck bulging, and now as the flower curled away from her face, Eyna could see the tube which had extended down her throat. It was black, glossy, jutting from the center of the flower to stretch Yliss’ mouth wide and splay open her throat.

Yliss’s hands began to pull, drawing the flower away from her face, and now the tube began to pull up and out of her neck. The ridges on its surface were visible, passing under Yliss’ skin as the tube slid out of her throat.

The tube was shiny wet and midnight black, coated with a whitish mucus. It slid out, and out, and out, and then Yliss’ neck was contracting to its normal size and then the flared tip of the stamen pulled out and sprang upward, flicking slime across Yliss’ face.

Yliss took a deep, ragged breath. Eyna realized that she, Xia, and Esmerill had been holding theirs.

Yliss’ hands released the vine, and her arms, at full extension, relaxed back towards her body, lowering themselves to her sides. Her head tipped forward, chin to her chest. Wet slime dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

Then Yliss’ head tilted upward, looking forward, and up a little more, and she opened her eyes.

Her eyes were glossy green, with black snake-like slits.

Yliss inhaled again, sibilantly, and her lips curled open wide, revealing long, thin fangs. Her head rolled slowly around her shoulders as she hissed at the ceiling.

As her long exhalation tapered off, Yliss’ face slowly turned to face Eyna; her mouth closed, the fangs retracting to lie along the roof of her mouth.

For a moment, Yliss stared at Eyna, weaving her head gently back and forth. Her eyes were bright emerald green, the entire surface of them, with midnight black slashed down the middle.

Yliss’s tongue slipped out to lick her lips. She blinked once, slowly, and in a breathy voice said: “I belong to Khuluub.”

Eyna nodded. “Yes. You belong to Khuluub. So do we all.”

Yliss looked around, as though seeing the room for the first time. She looked at Xia, and Esmerill, and the small grove of women with their heads enfolded in flowers. Her attention returned to Eyna.

“I belong to Khuluub,” she said again.

“Yes,” Eyna replied, and stepped forward to put hands on Yliss’ upper arms. “Now, and forever.”

Eyna raised Yliss to her feet. She stared into the green and black eyes, the perfect image of Khuluub’s own. “You are beautiful, Yliss,” Eyna said. “She has shaped you in her image.”

“Yliss,” Yliss said, drawing out the ‘s’. “Yes. That was my name. I was... Yliss. I... remember.”

“You are Yliss,” Eyna told her, her hands still on Yliss’ arms. “Only now you belong to Khuluub.”

“Yes,” Yliss said, and in her serpentine eyes there was an awakening. “I understand. I... I will obey. I am hers. I will obey her in all things.”

“You are the first to awaken,” Eyna said, looking around the room. “But your sisters will rise soon.”

Yliss looked around again as well. When she looked back at Eyna, her face looked normal—save for the serpentine eyes. But her brow had settled into her old expression, her mouth formed its habitual curve. She smiled and it was the smile that Yliss always used.

She smiled a little wider—and then hissed, her jaw snapping open, her needle-fangs leaping down. For a long moment, she hissed, weaving her neck around; then her mouth closed and she smiled again.

“Thank you,” she said, staring at Eyna with her new eyes. “Thank you for showing me her glory. Thank you for turning me into... this.”

“She guided me,” Eyna replied, “but you are welcome anyway. I am happy that you are happy with what you have become.”

“I have become what I was meant to be!” Yliss threw wide her arms. “To feel her, running through my veins... glorious!” She gave Eyna a sudden, hungry look. “Glorious...”

Swiftly, Yliss enfolded Eyna in her arms and kissed her.

Eyna froze, then melted into the kiss. It was slow, and full, and lasting...

Yliss’s eyes opened, and she broke the kiss. “Mm. Khuluub speaks. My sisters awaken.”

Around them, other women were stirring. Hands, rising from the dust, began to tug at the flowers that held their faces.

Yliss held Eyna in her embrace as they watched the women’s feeble attempts to remove the flowers. Followed by all of their hands slipping down, between their legs. Returning a moment later with sexwet to tease the tendrils away, to tickle the flowers into releasing, the petals into curling back.

The room sounded with wet noises as black tubes were slowly pulled from throats, springing free to the accompaniment of a dozen gasps for air, a dozen faces flecked with mucus.

And then a dozen pairs of green, snake-slitted eyes opened for the first time.

They did not all awake at once. Yliss had been first, and then more than half of them awoke all at once. But Jerreth only stirred and detached herself well after the others had already stood up, come into full consciousness, embraced their new lives, and returned to the Red Sail to find something to eat.

Esmerill, Xia, and Tremona went with them. Eyna, who alone was no longer feeling hunger, had remained to watch over those still kneeling on the floor.

As Jerreth looked around the warehouse in wonder, Tueri’s hands began to rise and reach for her vine. Jerreth waited hand in hand with Eyna as Tueri pulled the tube from her throat and rose to her feet—and Princess began to move, feeling blindly for her face.

Later, after the three of them had also returned to the Red Sail, Eyna stood once again alone.

She knew that she needed to go, to gather Xia and go, for such was the instruction which Khuluub had slipped into her mind. The dark of the moon, the alignment of the heavens, came on the third night hence. It would take a day to travel to Vegenen Xuul, and a day to return. And when she returned, all must quickly be made ready.

But Noebe and Linor still waited, kneeling in the dust, and Eyna wanted to welcome them. She stood next to her friends and watched for them to move.

She would wait a few minutes more, only. Mistress’ design must not be placed at risk.

Linor’s hands fluttered.

Eyna smiled, and watched as Linor’s hands sought sightlessly for the base of the flower that gripped her face. She found it, tugged at the vine. Then, guided by a sudden insight, she reached down between her legs for the nectar that would stir the plant to obedience.

Linor stroked at the vine, and the tendrils pulled away and the petals uncurled.

Eyes closed, Linor pulled the ribbed tube from her throat. Sucked in the evening’s warm air. She put her hands to the floor, and pushed herself up, eyes still closed.

Then she opened them.

Eyna waited while her friend looked around the room through her new eyes. As understanding filled in behind them, they settled on Eyna.

“Eyna,” Linor breathed. “You did this.”

“Yes. My Mistress instructed and I obeyed. Now you belong to her.”

“I understand.” Linor looked around the room at the sixteen curled, retracted flowers; at the seven women who still knelt in the dirt. “To know her... I love her with every fiber of my being.”

“She is our goddess,” Eyna agreed. “Life or death means nothing. Khuluub is all.”

Linor nodded, biting her lip. “I... I resisted her.”

“Did you?”

“I did. She frightened me—I did not understand. She had to... break me. Break my resistance. I can remember it.”

Eyna looked at Linor; it was an odd contrast, the predatory, alien eyes, set in a nervous, repentant face.

“Clearly she has forgiven you.”

“Oh yes!” Linor agreed. “Yes, she remade me into her creature. I belong to her, now; now and forever. But I think...” she gestured at the other women, the ones still kneeling, still bound to the flowers. “I think that they’re fighting her. They don’t understand how wonderful she is.”

Eyna put her arm around Linor and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s okay, Linor,” she said. “All will be as Khuluub desires. All shall serve, one way or another.” She looked at the remaining women. Noebe was still among them, her dark skin and hair a stark contrast to the yellow petals of the flower that gripped her. “All will fulfill their role in Khuluub’s plan.”

“Yes,” Linor said absently. “Yes, we will. Eyna...” she turned from looking at the women kneeling on the floor and stared into Eyna’s eyes. Her voice suddenly sounded low, distant. Eyna looked into Linor’s new eyes and shivered in delight.

“Eyna. Mistress speaks. These cattle resist her. They will not accept her blessing. Theirs shall be a different fate.”

Face gone slack, Linor turned to look down at Noebe.

Eyna looked as well.

The base of the flower, the bud where the vine met the petals, was swelling. From it, new runners emerged, finger-width, and they wound their way down around Noebe’s body. There were not many, perhaps a half dozen.

At the same time, the whole flower was actually pushing downward, forcing Noebe from a kneeling position backward, until she fell lightly back onto her ass and her feet slid outward away from her.

The vines, which had reached her waist, twined around each other and began to creep along her outstretched legs.

At the base of the flower, something else was happening. New petals were emerging, unfolding from behind the petals which still held Noebe’s face. Although initially yellow, as these new petals grew larger and larger they turned green, a pale translucent green, thinner but much larger than the plants’ original already-giant petals; twice the size, then three times. And more.

As the new flower petals spread themselves wide, the vines had reached down Noebe’s legs to her ankles, where they took hold, wrapping themselves around her heels. And then they began to pull, drawing Noebe’s legs back in, forcing her knees up, until Noebe was sitting in the dust, hands slack on the ground, with her legs drawn in tightly, knees near her petal-hidden chin, heels almost against her buttocks.

The entire time, Noebe had not moved at all, nor made a sound. Nor had the other seven women; Eyna looked around and saw that they were also being pulled into a tucked-up position, knees to chins, ankles to backsides.

The new petals had grown and grown and now they began to close, coming down around Noebe’s motionless form like the a flower closing up at the setting of the sun. The petals stretched around her, engulfing her body, draping over her back and sides and her drawn-in knees, until the petals’ bottom edges touched the dirt of the warehouse floor, and Noebe was entirely hidden from view.

For a long moment then, nothing more happened—at least, nothing visible. There were slitherings and stirrings beneath the translucent petals, but it was dark enough within that Eyna could not tell what was happening.

And then, slowly, Noebe was lifted up.

The vine pulled her upward, off the floor, and up, and up, towards the rafters of the building’s second story. Her whole body, shrouded by the thin green petals, hung like some giant fruit, save that from underneath Noebe was still visible, her hands dangling, her backside exposed next to the soles of her feet.

She rose in the air. When the vine had pulled her all the way up against the rafters, it stopped. Noebe hung there, swinging slightly from side to side.

Something else moved, something colorful, and from somewhere within the pod that held Noebe’s body, a bright red vine slid into view. It was slick, wet, like the proboscis of a jungle butterfly, and it slid down around the outside of Noebe’s thigh, curled up around her haunches, and worked its way up beneath her undergarments.

It pushed, glistening, up into her sex.

The vine slid deeper, and deeper, and then stopped.

Noebe didn’t move, other than to swing gently back and forth, a human-sized fruit in Khuluub’s new garden.

One at a time, the other women, now likewise encased, were drawn upwards. Soon they all hung, shrouded in pale green, their hands dangling down, with a single bright red vine curling around their exposed buttocks and plugged into their pussies.

Eyna realized that her heart was racing.

“They too shall serve Khuluub,” Linor said tonelessly. “Their resistance means nothing; their flesh belongs to Khuluub. We all are her creatures now.”

“Yes,” Eyna whispered, staring at Noebe’s motionless, dangling hand.

Linor turned to her. “Slave.”

Eyna faced Linor, and in her eyes she saw her Goddess. “Yes, Mistress?”

“You have your purpose. Go, and set all in readiness.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Eyna replied, bowing her head before the glittering green eyes. Turning from the fruit that Noebe had become, she hurried out of the garden.