The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rys hadn’t slept. Perhaps her eyes had been closed longer than usual, or perhaps her senses and thoughts had become more blurred than normal. Not enough to feel unconscious, she knew, but there was still some of it.

Since the night of the ancestors’ lights, she’d felt overstimulated, oversensitive, overwrought. Uncomfortable, more than she normally felt, much more than she always felt. Her furs had been uncomfortable. Her clothes, now, as her skein marched along the treeline, were uncomfortable. Her skin under it all twitched and trembled, still uncomfortable. The noises she heard were too loud and too close; it was like Tel and Kez were breathing right into her ears, when she was really five feet apart from both of them.

Worst of all, though, were her thoughts. Both too loud, and too quiet. Too distant, and too close. Focusing was uncomfortable.

Especially when, with each opening of her eyes, she couldn’t tell for how long she’d been listening to the voices in her head, hearing them hurling accusations.

You’re lying to them, part of her whispered, from just over her shoulder. You’re betraying their trust.

You’re keeping secrets from them, one voice shouted, echoing down the mountains in the east.

Something crawling on her back. You’re manipulating them.

Someone in the trees. You’re not guiding them. You’re controlling them.

Footsteps in the snow. They’ll never trust you. They’ll never love you.

On her own lips. “I know.”

In her own mind. You made the mistake. You caused all of this. Your carelessness. Your lack of discipline. Your disregard for their safety.

“I know.”

You have to make it right.You can’t let them be dragged into your life made of lies.

“I know!”

Your spell did this. Your magic. Your dreams. Your desires, not their own.

“I’m trying to stop it,” she pleaded with herself.

Then why are you letting them talk?

Rys opened her eyes. Tel walked ahead of her, slowly. Behind, Kez was somewhere close.

“Just saying, I don’t know why I can’t lead the way,” the huntress was saying.

“Because you are not in the front.”

“Only because you two put me in the back of the line.”

“That is preferable.”

“It’s not like warriors have to go out in front or something,” Kez muttered resentfully. “You get one scratch from a sword and we all have to walk like we’re on ice?”

The warrior breathed a sigh. Rys could see the warm, foggy air leaving her lips.

Rys had a sigh, herself. “Kez,” she began, “we already talked about this when we awoke...” Didn’t we?

“Tel said it wouldn’t slow her down.”

“It will not,” the warrior rumbled from the front.

“Y’know, it really looks like it is, from waaay back here. How long have we been walking, Rys?”

The seer didn’t answer.

“... few hours, anyway,” Kez went on, “point is we’ve barely gone anywhere.”

The warrior didn’t answer this, either.

“So what’s the problem? Big strong warrior can’t handle a few more—”

“Kez, please.” Rys let out another sigh. She could see Tel’s shoulders tensing, even through her layers, and her steps were coming even more rigidly. “We’re not in any rush.”

“So that means we’re getting close?”

Rys didn’t need to look skyward. Straight ahead of them, through the trees, through hills and ridges and past plains, she could see it. She could feel it. Just as strongly as, maybe even stronger than the stone and its inscription bobbing against Tel’s front.

“Something like that,” the seer said quietly. She wouldn’t think about it now. It would be days, at least, with the rate they were moving. She had time to tell them still. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to.

But of course that was wrong. They would need to know, and she needed their help. They all needed their help. Rys couldn’t risk failure. Everyone she knew, maybe everyone she would ever know was counting on her, on them, on this. Failure meant death. Not just for herself. Not even just for her skein. Kez and Tel would have to know.

But to tell them felt impossible. All the lies, all the deceptions, all the manipulations had grown out from it and taken on lives of their own, like a rotten blight chewing its way through the trunk of a tree. All those strands splayed out from it, from the wrongness in the sky that she couldn’t let them see.

Why didn’t you just tell them?

If she had, they’d have hated her for not telling them sooner. And if both did not want to do what she needed to, what they all needed to, what could she do? They would head back home. She would be forced to follow. She couldn’t do it on her own, she couldn’t live on her own. A warrior and a hunter may lack direction without a seer, but they wouldn’t suffer for lack of strength or lack of food. They would know to head north, with or without her. They could find another skein to help them, take in another seer. She was unnecessary.

So she’d led her skein this far, this close. Turning back would be folly now. They had to keep moving forward.

And so they couldn’t know. Not yet.

Then when will you tell them?

Never, Rys wanted to say. But that was impossible.

And so she opened her eyes instead.

Tel was next to her. Kez was… somewhere? The seer looked around. Saw nothing of the huntress. Then, putting her hand to her seer-stone, she looked once more. And knew. The huntress was sixty paces into the woods, wandering, close enough to keep her skeinmates in sight but far enough to move and walk and hunt at her own pace, not restricted to the slow gait of the wounded warrior. Rys sighed.

The warrior glanced over, but said nothing. Her face was unreadable, as it nearly always was, but the light in her green eyes betrayed something else. Questions roiled in the seer’s mind. Was it hurt? Anger? Longing? Was it at Kez? Was it at her?

Did Tel know?

Could Tel remember?

You can’t take the risk, her own voice whispered in the wind. Not when you can fix it.

Rys couldn’t.

“Tel?”

“Yes?” she was looking ahead again, her face hidden by the raised hood of her coat.

“Is there… something on your mind?”

She drew a long breath. Foggy air drifted free. Warm. “It is nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

She regarded the seer for only a moment. “I do not want to speak of it, Rys.”

It hurt Rys to think her next words. And it hurt more to put them onto her tongue. But she couldn’t take the risk, and forced them out anyway. “We’re a skein, Tel.”

The green gaze flicked over once more.

“... we have our struggles, but we don’t have to handle them alone,” Rys whispered.

Slowly, the warrior nodded. “I know,” Tel said.

“You kept me safe last night. You comforted me.”

“I know.” Tel sighed. Warm, foggy air between them as they walked.

“I’d like if I could do the same for you.”

“I do not need your help.”

“I know,” Rys said. She squeezed the warrior’s hand, and couldn’t remember when she had first taken it. “But do you want it?”

Tel blinked. “I… am not certain.”

“And that’s?”

“Okay.”

Rys rewarded the warrior with a squeeze, watched the pulse of warmth rush through the magic in Tel’s body, watched, more than acted, as she made it shift, made it settle, made it settle more strongly in her mind. Like a passenger in her own body, the seer just watched, and did, and spoke, as the actions and words made themselves obvious to her. The green eyes were staring down.

“Tel,” Rys said.

“Yes?” the warrior said distractedly.

“Breathe for me.”

Deep breath in… deep breath out. Warm and foggy air between their eyes as they walked. Rys squeezed. “Do you see that?”

“... do I see…?”

“Breathe.”

In. Out. Fog from the warrior’s lungs. “Right there,” the seer said.

“Yes.”

Squeeze. “Breathe.”

In. Out. Long and slow.

Squeeze. “Tell me what it is.”

A pause. “... clouds.”

Squeeze. “Breathe.”

In. Out.

“Where are the clouds coming from, Tel?”

“Inside me.”

Squeeze.

“Breathe.”

In. Out.

“The clouds are inside you, aren’t they, Tel?”

“Yes.”

Squeeze.

“Breathe.”

In. Out.

“In your body and in your lungs, yes?”

“Yes.”

Squeeze.

“Breathe.”

In. Out.

“The clouds are in your mind, aren’t they.”

“Yes.”

Squeeze.

“Breathe.”

In. Out.

“The ice is so foggy, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

Squeeze.

“What happens next?”

Pause.

“Answer me, Tel.”

“I don’t know.”

“And that’s?”

“Okay.”

Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze…

Rys lost count of how many times she squeezed the warrior’s gloved hand. She lost count of how many steps they walked for, how many moments they stared for, how many plumes of clouds were caught between their eyes. She lost count of how many times she blinked. Lost track of how many words she had said. She blinked, once more, and spoke quickly, “Where are you, Tel?”

“In the ice.”

“In waking sleep?”

“Yes.”

Good.

Squeeze.

Now…

Why had she done this?

She gave Tel’s hand an idle squeeze, trying to recall…

The dreams. That must’ve been it. She had to be sure of the dreams.

“Did you dream last night, Tel?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Even while the ice is clear?”

“Yes.”

Oh ancestors. “What did you dream about?” she asked quickly.

“Kez.” A pause, and just as Rys was about to speak again, “You.”

Rys’ eyes widened into the warrior’s empty stare. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Wh-what about me? What about Kez?” A longer pause. Could Tel even recall? Was this just hesitation? Was it resistance? Did she ask too many questions? Were they too complex? Too involved? Rys wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure she even wanted to know, but she knew that she couldn’t stand looking into that silent gaze any longer. She asked a new question, to replace the old. “How do you feel about this dream?”

“Good. And troubled.”

“Not bad?”

“Not bad.”

“Good. And you know it’s just a dream?”

“I know it’s just a dream.”

“Good.” Rys looked past, through the warrior. Kez was still far, but still, close. Had to move faster. She peered into Tel’s mind, watching the magic twisting within, changing its patterns as with her memory by the flexes of her fingers. “You’re not just cloudy now, Tel, you’re very foggy.”

“I’m very foggy.”

“So foggy that this walk is all blurring together, blurring through the ice, even while you’re awake. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re awake, this will be hidden under the ice, just like your dreams. Blurry and so foggy and so indistinct that you’ll just never have to think about it. Right?”

“Right.”

“Good. And when I squeeze your hand…”

They were walking side by side, then, hands unheld. It had passed like a blur for Rys, as well. Waking and dropping and waking her skeinmates was becoming automatic, her patter so easy for herself to fall into, get lost in, that she wondered sometimes if she wasn’t moving in and out of the waking sleep herself. It at least meant she didn’t have to think too hard about it. Didn’t have to worry about making mistakes.

But it still gnawed at her. Wasn’t it negligent to put so little thought into her words for them? To change and shift the magic in their bodies to whatever end she wanted, without even thinking?

Of course it was negligent.

But if she thought harder about it, she knew it would make the space between her legs even more damp, even more hot. The flush was keenly felt on her cheeks, on her neck, all over. She wondered if that flush ever faded, now.

Rys tried to tell herself it was just Tel. Tel was just attractive. Very attractive. If they had just been talking, just walking side-by-side and hand-in-hand, she would have felt just as aroused as she was then.

She tried to tell herself this. She tried to tell herself that she was not attracted to the waking sleep. That she did not squirm at the blank and wide-open stares of her skeinmates. That she did not daydream of their locked eyes, their locked lips, their pressed bodies.

She tried so very hard.

And then her eyes were opening. Tel wasn’t at her side; she was setting the camp. The snow was already cleared. When had Tel cleared the snow?

No, Rys thought, when did I clear the snow?

Her eyes opened once more. Kez was there now, nudging the seer in the side, startling her with a squeak.

“C’mon, Rys,” the huntress grinned. “You said you wanted to see me work.”

When did I say that?

She had no choice but to follow.

Kez led her into the trees. The huntress’ tread was light, nearly soundless, and Rys’ tired feet kept stumbling through the thick snow every few steps. Kez shot a few glances back at these noises, but her expression was kind and patient. And with her hood down, her ears listening, the red of her braid made the huntress look so very pretty.

Focus, the seer chastised herself. Walk quietly, walk carefully, don’t…

Eyes open. She was crouched next to Kez at the side of a great tree, and the huntress’ brown eyes were searching the swaths of white.

Rys swallowed. “What are we—”

“Shhh!” Kez hissed, putting a raised finger to her lips and glaring the seer into silence. “I just told you to shut up,” the huntress whispered.

Rys blushed furiously and stared at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Kez’s hand landed between her shoulders, patting her back comfortingly. “It’s fine,” the huntress sighed, “this is just the waiting part.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Kez turned. “For what?”

For lying to you, Rys wanted to say. Saying it could fix everything. It had to come out. She needed it out. For changing how you feel. For breaking your trust in me. For leading you without telling you of the dangers. For dragging you into this. For anything. For everything. Say something. Say anything. Say—

“What,” Kez chuckled, “for being noisy?”

Rys just nodded. Tried on a smile, and it even felt hollow, just as much as it must’ve looked.

“It’s fine, Rys.” The huntress’ hand rubbed her back warmly. “You’re alright?”

“Yes,” the seer said quickly. “I’m fine. Good. Just a little… on edge.”

“I know the feeling.” She sighed, then her eyes met the seer’s. “Hey, so about Tel…”

Rys didn’t even think this time. When she began to, her fingers were already laced with the huntress’, their eyes were already locked, she was already squeezing, she was already whispering, “... down and down and down…”

The seer just let it happen. She let herself talk Kez down. She let herself squeeze, and shift the magic, and point the woman’s thoughts all towards the waking sleep, the one she sank so well into, “... so very well, so very wonderfully…”

Rys wasn’t surprised. Kez might’ve been, but now the only emotion her expression betrayed was nothingness, in her eyes. Warmth, in her cheeks. Sleepiness, in her small and slackened smile, “... and you are deep in the ice now, aren’t you?”

No response. A pause that drew out too long. Hesitation. Kez’s eyes fluttered. “... Rys?”

“Foggy ice, T—” … ancestors. “Th-the braid, Kez. That smoke, that warmth, that sleep that you like so much… the… the braid that twists around you and draws you deeper, and deeper, and so deep, isn’t that nice, Kez?”

“Yes,” the huntress spoke.

And now Rys could breathe. She could spare one moment to think, think of what to do next, not to question why she had done what she had just done.

She couldn’t risk it.

“What were you going to say about Tel, Kez?” she asked the becalmed beauty before her.

“... I’m worried about her injury.”

Rys swallowed.

Kez kept talking. “I’m afraid she pushes herself too far… ’fraid I’m letting her…”

“Good, Kez, you can stop speaking now.”

A shaking breath left the seer’s lips. Nothing about the dream. Nothing about the attraction. Just concern, the concern for a friend.

And she had gone to extreme lengths to learn it, when Kez was about to say it willingly.

And now extreme lengths had to be taken again.

Dropping the huntress’ memory into oblivion, making it lost and muddled and twisted in the smoke, warmth, and sleep of her embraided mind, waking her without a thought to the past minutes… it didn’t feel so extreme to Rys.

And that only made the hole in her stomach yawn open wider.

But she moved past it. She smiled at Kez, she talked with Kez, she followed the huntress on her hunt and retired to the tent with their quarry of birds. And in a blink, Rys was taking her clothes off, just like the others, in the heat of the fire. And in two more, the dinner was being served, and she was eating it, though it did nothing to soothe her gut’s ache. And with each blink still, her eyes struggled away from bared chests and bared legs. And with each blink still, the noise of conversation grew louder, more distorted.

There was laughter, too, laughter that made her bones itch and set her teeth on edge. Some of it was hers, she wasn’t emotionless. But she couldn’t stand the others’ joy, because she knew what that meant. She knew it meant she was failing. She could hide their dreams, she could hide their thinking of them, she could even hide their memories of having once thought of them, and then hide all trace of her having hidden anything. But the feelings were still there. And every time she blinked, every time her hand strayed to the stone around her neck, she saw those feelings, those patterns working through their minds and bodies, the swirls and shapes of growing, changing magic that she couldn’t hope to forestall.

She could have driven them apart. But she knew she wasn’t cruel, even if she was a liar and a hard, thoughtless, uncaring person.

Doesn’t matter, Rys thought, they’re already apart. They argue endlessly. But they grow closer all the same. Anything I do merely speeds the inevitable.

Their arguments had moved away from vitriol. Towards ribbing, chuckling, jabs and pokes instead of fists and kicks. Tel’s braid ‘looked like two ravens fucking.’ Kez’s braid ‘was like blood set on fire.’ Both enjoyed the insults, deprecated themselves, laughed…

She’d already stirred their companionship. Their desire. She could do the same in reverse. She could’ve injected the venom back into their bites and scratches, slowly poisoned them against one another, turned them to bitter foes again. It would be easy. Make interpretations unfavorable. Make every remark cut deep. Refusing forgiveness. Denying apology.

… but they were a skein. Skeins get along.

Skeins that get along stay alive.

And Rys wanted to stay alive.

They all wanted to stay alive. Her skeinmates were worried. She could see it plainly in their eyes, in every furtive glance they gave her that they thought she wouldn’t notice. And when they asked her a question, or mentioned her name, or caught her eye, she just smiled. What else could she do?

When her eyes opened again, she had apparently done something more.

Kez and Tel both stared into the flames with half-shut eyes, expressionless, lips hanging agape. Rys held neither of their hands.

I needed them to be quiet, she realized. I needed them to stop getting so close.

And so she sat, awake, while the other two slept with their eyes open.

The fire crackled.

Wind beat against the walls of their tent.

Kez’s stomach growled, though she did not notice.

Tel’s breathing was a rhythm as endless as the sharpening of her weapon.

Kez’s breath sounded like whispering.

No one moved. No one spoke. And how could they?

“This is better,” Rys told herself out loud. “This is safer.”

It was neither. And now, she knew, she was even lying to herself. She could no longer deny it.

Waking the two was a distant memory, nearly as faraway and fuzzy as the memory of sleep, real sleep, seemed in her mind. And they were talking again, but she had told them, prodded them with magic, to feel tired, so their voices were punctuated with yawns, elongated syllables, stretched pauses that felt like hours. Rys suggested they all lie down and rest, and that sounded nice to each skeinmate. And so she lay down, away from the fire, as the others did the same.

And she was left wondering if it had even happened. If she had brought them to the waking sleep and made them sit, or if it was another image, another fantasy conjured by her mind. She couldn’t tell the difference.

And she tried not to think of another image, of the warmth and strength of Tel’s body, clutched around her own.

And she tried not to think of the brightness and lightness in Kez’s whole being, and how that would feel pressed against her naked skin.

And it became infinitely more difficult when, after what felt like only minutes, the two were up again, talking in their quiet tones, barely heard whispers, trying not to wake her.

But Rys did not sleep.

And she tried not to listen as they talked softly, long into the night. Tried not to listen to their breath as they finally slumbered. Tried not to listen to her own thoughts, as she ran the same circles in her head for hours, over and over and over, until she longed to hear the close whispers of the her skeinmates to give her something else to listen to, something else with which to torture herself.

And the next day was as blurred as the rest. Tel rose, and while Kez still slept, Rys had asked to look over the warrior’s wounds, and were they healing properly? It was a pretense, of course. Tel dropped like a stone, cold and hard and heavy. She had dreamed again. Rys told her to forget about it, not to worry about it, not to let it consume her thoughts. And she told her to forget that the moment had ever happened.

And when Tel took her morning vigil, and Kez was waking, Rys had asked to see the huntress’ fingers, her bowstring seemed a little too tight yesterday, didn’t it? It was a pretense, of course. Kez dropped like a stone, warm and happy and heavy. She had dreamed again. Rys told her to forget about it, not to worry about it, not to let it consume her thoughts. And she told her to forget that the moment had ever happened.

And the rest of the day was as blurred as the morning. They walked through snow that never seemed to end. They walked between trees that all looked the same. They talked about weather, about food, about fighting, about anything but dreams and sleep and waking sleep. Rys had made sure of it.

Because when Tel had stepped away to relieve herself, Rys had cornered Kez, taken both her hands, pulled her so deep into smoke that the word ‘sleep’ just couldn’t come to her lips all day long.

Because when Kez had wandered off to look for rabbits, Rys had cornered Tel, taken both her hands, dropped her so deep into ice that the word ‘sleep’ just couldn’t enter her thoughts all day long.

And on, and on, and on they went. Walking at the pace of snails. The warrior’s injuries made them slow, which made time stretch forever. But it gave Kez time to hunt, and it gave Rys time to treat Tel’s cuts and burns and work her magic for something good, for once.

And everything, everything came in fuzzy, indistinct flashes.

And they made the tent. And they made the fire. And they were naked. And they ate. And they talked.

And both women were staring at her.

“Rys,” Kez said.

And Rys opened her eyes. “Hm?”

“You are tired,” Tel said.

“Yes, I… do you need something?”

Kez and Tel shared a glance. “We asked if you were alright,” the huntress muttered.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I must’ve been…”

“Rys.” The warrior closed a hand around her forearm, firmly, but warmly. “You are under stress, friend.”

Her eyes darted between her skeinmates’ waiting stares. “No, I…”

“Rys. Please.” Kez sighed. “We all know something’s bothering you, can we just talk about it?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” the seer said, more forcefully than she’d meant to.

But Tel’s voice was still soft. “You do not have to lie to spare us our worry, Rys.”

“We’re worrying anyway, whether you tell us or not,” Kez shrugged. “It’d just be nice to know what to worry about, and… y’know, if there’s anything either of us can do about it.” Tel nodded as agreement.

The eyes were sincere. And though she couldn’t rightly reach for her seer-stone, the magic in their bodies would’ve echoed that sincerity just as strongly. Rys swallowed.

You can’t tell them, her voice whispered from within the fire.

They’ll hate you.

They might even kill you.

Everyone will suffer because of you.

No one will—

“Rys.” The squeeze of Tel’s hand pulled the seer out of the pit that her thoughts had made. “Speak with us, please.”

Rys didn’t want to tell another lie, because it would mean another, inevitable blow to their trust. But letting that trust suffer now, with her silence, would be worse.

Besides. Lying was beginning to come naturally. It was just the truth, only slightly misshapen. And it was so easy for those bends and stretches to become warps, tears, and holes.

But one more bend couldn’t hurt.

“... it’s the waking sleep,” Rys murmured.

Tel nodded. Kez did the same.

“... I want to keep doing it, but…”

“So do we,” Kez said, sharing another nod with the warrior. “We both enjoy it. We think it’s a good thing… but not if it’s going to make you so miserable. We know it’s hard on you, so, you don’t have to do it just for us.”

The seer made herself chuckle. If only Kez knew. “It’s not doing it that’s difficult.” The emphasis shifted slightly in her head; it was, indeed, not doing it that was growing difficult.

“Then what is it?” Tel asked, her hand softly stroking Rys’ arm.

The truth, only slightly misshapen. “It’s that… I’m scared of liking and sharing it too much. When it’s supposed to be a ritual, meant for one purpose, meant to be kept secret to myself and not meant for fun. But… it’s fun, isn’t it?” All three nodded. “And I like that, but… to balance my duty with that is straining to me. I don’t know when I’m doing it for my own enjoyment, or for yours, or for the benefit that it’s meant for…”

“You are not selfish, Rys,” Tel murmured.

“Yeah,” Kez chimed in. “You’re anything but.”

Another chuckle, a real one. If only they knew. “But don’t you see?” Rys spread her hands. “I can’t help the feeling, it won’t go away…”

“I get it,” the huntress nodded. “But, like… just because it’s a ritual, just because it’s this big trust thing, doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it, right? As long as we’re showing our respect to the ancestors?”

“I agree,” Tel said. “There is no reason for one thing not to mean another. It is ritual, yes, but… as are all things we do.” The warrior shrugged. “We are a people of many traditions. Some are more enjoyable than others, and this one is above very many of those.”

“The Lights’ Festival, now that’s a fun tradition.”

“The Yearning, less so.”

Tel was right. Spending days subsisting off the most meager excuses for meals possible for a whole week was an honorable practice… but it wasn’t fun. All of them seemed to keenly recall the pangs of hunger as silence settled.

“It’s like when Tel killed the bear,” Kez started up, as abruptly as her words were bright. “Just because she wasn’t supposed to hunt, and she didn’t hunt it clean, that doesn’t mean we didn’t get some good out of it. We ate off that for days, and we’re still using her fur.”

“Or when Kez used her skills of the hunt to fight,” Tel smiled. “She is not a warrior. It is not her place. But it was needed, and it was good for us all.”

“So…” Kez started slowly, “we just want to say, don’t do it just for us. Don’t do it just because you feel like you have to. Don’t do it if it’s going to make you crazy. But if you think it’ll be fun, and you think we’ll find it fun, and you think it’ll help us all get along… then yeah, let’s do it.”

Most of the words could not apply to Rys. Were things as simple as they thought them, she would be moved, she would be weeping, she would be embracing them both. But she couldn’t bring herself to lie that much. A smile would do. “Thank you,” she said. “Both of you.”

“You are welcome.” Tel’s hand withdrew.

And there was silence.

But Kez began again. “So… if you want to…”

“We want to,” Tel finished, with a flashing grin.

“Why?” Rys heard herself saying to both.

“It would be fun. It would be fruitful. I can see no harm in it.”

The huntress laughed at the warrior’s stiffness. “In other words,” she said, “why not?”

The seer chewed the inside of her lip. Both wanted it. And they wouldn’t be upset if she said no…

But why not? It would just be fun, and they welcomed fun. She needed to relax. She needed to work the magic without something to cover up, something to hide, something to change.

Besides, she thought, feeling herself smirking, both will just drop like stones.

“Get comfortable,” she told them, and smiles lit on both faces. Furs were arranged. Naked bodies were seated, naked legs were crossed. And naked hands were offered for Rys to take. Eagerly, fingers met fingers, and hands were laced together. Across the fire, Tel’s left, and Kez’s right, were sitting idle. “Would you both…?”

Kez looked over. “What?”

“Hold hands?” Rys giggled.

“But won’t that…”

“No, it won’t. It will be fine, and I think it will be fun.”

With some hesitance, and either begrudgingly or warily, the huntress and warrior clasped their free hands together. Rys squeezed the hands in her grip, and two sets of eyes fluttered towards the flames at the center of their triangle. “Those hands are a bond between the two of you. A link that can’t be broken.” The seer grinned. “Go ahead. Try.”

Tel did. With a yank, she nearly toppled Kez, before the huntress grit her teeth and pulled back… but neither’s fingers would release. “How the fuck,” the huntress swore.

“Magic,” Rys winked.

Kez rolled her eyes. “And I suppose you’re about to ask if we want more of that magic?”

“Very astute, Kez,” the seer laughed. “What do you think, Tel?”

She squeezed the warrior’s hand, shifted the magic just enough to make an answer tumble from her lips, “I think that it is going to move much faster than we expect.” Tel’s eyes slid to Rys’ for a moment. “Am I correct?”

“Look at the flames, and maybe I’ll tell you.” The warrior did. “Very good, Tel, but I wonder… have you noticed what’s happened to Kez?”

“No,” she said, and there was an edge in her voice.

“Listen.” Deep breathing. Steady breathing. Not a word from the huntress’ lips.

“Kez…?” Tel murmured.

“Mmm?”

“Are you…?”

“Uh huh…” the huntress sighed. “Feeling really good, Rys…”

The seer could see Tel’s blush. “You think that I am Rys?”

“Who else would you be…?” Kez giggled sleepily.

The warrior swallowed, looked to Rys. “The same magic as that night, but how did she…”

“I’ve been massaging her hand for minutes now, Tel. You’ve only had a few squeezes here and there, but Kez…” Rys looked over. The huntress’ eyes were barely open, her lips parted in a sighing, dreamy smile. “You’re very sleepy already, aren’t you Kez.”

“Uh huh…”

“Give her a squeeze, Tel.”

“Me?” The warrior looked stunned.

“She thinks that you’re me. Why not?”

Tel swallowed. Rys saw the muscles of her left arm flex, and then again, and again… Kez’s smile only grew, and her sighs only deepened. “It is… pleasurable for her?” the warrior muttered.

“Is it pleasurable for you?” Rys asked.

“Yes.”

The seer chuckled. “In that case… Kez?”

“Mmm?”

“Squeeze your right hand for me, Kez.”

Tel’s face could only convey a brief flash of surprise, before it leadened, as both her hands were warmly, deeply squeezed at once.

Like a stone.

“Again, Kez. Keep going.”

Another pair of squeezes, and another. Rys watched lines of magic, flickering like fire, pulsing and pumping through Tel’s body, subduing thoughts, smoothing emotions, blanketing her in the growing enchantment…

“You too, Tel. Keep squeezing your left hand.”

Rys massaged both hands, and watched her skeinmates do the same for each other. The pulses grew in a constant, rhythmic glow, bodies and minds aligning to the magic she subtly shifted, spellbound in mere moments.

“Both of you doing so well, feeling so warm as you sink…”

The idea had formed itself in her mind, and she enjoyed it then, but watching it, feeling it unfold now… Rys was warm. Very warm.

“... squeezing your hand, relaxing all your muscles…”

But they could still hear her. See her, if she moved. She could not act.

“... falling so far, so wonderfully far and deep…”

Not having to do all of the work herself… left her more time to admire. To stare.

“... down and down and down, that’s right…”

But she wanted to do more than stare. And they still needed their fun.

“... coming to rest, nice and deep, just like that.” Rys took a deep breath, in time with those of her skeinmates. “Now how do you feel?”

“Warm,” Kez said.

“Deep,” Tel said.

“So good, so very good… I want you to focus on how you feel.” Rys swallowed. “I want you to think hard about how you feel, think hard about the words you could use to describe it… and think about how powerful those words can be. Could you do that, for me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. You’re doing amazing, both of you… and now you can find that, whenever I speak a phrase about feeling, saying, ‘I feel,’ if you feel that way, too, you’ll find yourself saying that phrase aloud. You’ll find yourself feeling that phrase, so strongly, as it leaves your lips. And when you’ve repeated it, you can squeeze both your hands. And when both your hands are squeezed… you can say how you feel, too, and feel that strength in those new words. Does that sound nice?”

“Yes.”

“Nice.”

“And like always… you don’t have to hear anything but my voice. You don’t have to see anything but the fire. You don’t have to feel anything but my hands, squeezing both of yours. I want you to focus completely on those things, and your feelings, you understand? Because I’m still holding your hands, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Rys felt the flush of her face. Felt the tightness in her throat. But she would only need to say three more words.

“I feel good,” the seer said, and in a flash, she dropped the hands that she held.

But their arms stayed outstretched. Suspended above the ground, pointed right towards her.

“I feel good,” both said at once in the same beautifully empty tone, and each squeezed the other’s hand. Grasped together, floating aside from the fire as their empty hands reached out to nothingness, their eyes staring deep into flames.

Tel spoke first. “I feel deep.”

“I feel deep,” Kez repeated, and squeezed.

“I feel deep,” Tel repeated, and squeezed.

And Kez spoke next. “I feel warm.”

“I feel warm,” Tel repeated, and squeezed.

“I feel warm,” Kez repeated, and squeezed.

Rys rose to her knees, trembling. She backed away, pulling her furs along with her, and laid herself down on them, propping her head enough to still see.

“I feel relaxed.”

“I feel relaxed.”

Her eyes were hungry, and they drank in the sight. Tel, shadows and flame dancing across her muscles, flashing in her eyes, sprawling across her chest. Kez, light and dark warring over her flesh, painting her lips, gathering in her bosom.

“I feel at ease.”

“I feel at ease.”

Her fingers itched. She watched the rise and fall of both women’s breasts, steady, unerring. She felt the shakiness, the breathiness in her own. She felt the need. The stiffness of her nipples demanding a touch.

“I feel happy.”

“I feel happy.”

Her hands indulged. Kneading over her chest, palms gliding across hard, sensitive nipples. Drawing out a whimper… and then a moan. Neither of her skeinmates could hear her.

“I feel peaceful.”

“I feel peaceful.”

Circles traced over each of her breasts, across each nipple. Her moans grew louder. And in her mind, she imagined it was Tel’s hand, on her left. She imagined it was Rys’ hand, on her right.

“I feel nice.”

“I feel nice.”

She imagined Tel’s breath, repeating those mindless affirmations into her ear. She imagined Kez’s voice, sighing beautifully into her other. And she imagined as both led her left hand down, down, and down between her legs.

“I feel calm.”

“I feel calm.”

She watched Kez’s lips, stared openly, dreamed of them pressed against her cheek. She watched Tel’s breasts, stared openly, dreamed of them pressed against her lips. And she cried out, as her legs shook, as her fingers found purchase within her wetness.

“I feel transfixed.”

“I feel transfixed.”

Hearing Kez’s laughter, the huntress’ joy. Feeling Tel’s warmth, the warrior’s solidity. Both of them adoring her, loving her, holding her and caring for her, bounding between wakefulness and mindlessness.

“I feel enraptured.”

“I feel enraptured.”

Both of them reaching between their legs, at her insistence. Neither of them seeing any reason not to, any reason to resist it. Both of them rising, and rising, and climbing to heights of pleasure, Rys whispering it into their ears, into their minds.

“I feel captivated.”

“I feel captivated.”

In her thrall. Under her power. Subject to her magic. Working, so fast, so deep within her core, so wonderfully, so pleasurably, so beautifully.

“I feel enchanted.”

“I feel enchanted.”

Enchanted. Captivated. Enraptured. Transfixed. In waking sleep, in her spell, in her hands, in her words, at her sides, kissing, loving, touching, moaning, sighing, seizing, screaming and crying out as orgasm rocked through her body.

“I feel becalmed.”

“I feel becalmed.”

Becalmed. They were becalmed. Inundated in warm, just as Rys’ body, flooded and flushed, weary and warm, hot, all over, and chilled by shivers, tremors that shook her nerves with each moment.

“I feel sleepy.”

“I feel sleepy.”

Sleepy. So, so sleepy. She could hear it in their voices. And she could feel it in her body, as her fingers slipped to her thigh, the need for sleep, the need for calm. Her eyelids drooping. Moments passing.

“I feel blissful.”

“I feel—”

Rys grabbed their suspended hands. Squeezed them tight, felt their fingers. Fought to keep her voice calm, level, as normal as she could make it. “Both of you have been so wonderful. Was that fun?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. So good. But you’re both sleepy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to sleep, and rise in the morning with all of this in mind?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Then in a moment, you’ll release your hands, find your furs, lay yourself down, and once you’re comfortable, once your head comes to rest, you’ll fall asleep, just like that. Does that sound good, you two?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“So very good. Now sleep.”

She dropped their hands. They dropped each other’s. And their sleeping, enchanted bodies moved, turned, sprawled, and sank into sleep.

Rys watched. But as the peaks of her orgasm had turned to ripples, she was left not with desire, not with hunger, not with pure, untethered bliss.

She was left with guilt. Guilt, as she lay on her side. Guilt, as she tried, and failed, to arouse herself once more. Guilt, as she thought of their faces, their bliss, their calm, their peace.

As she was jealous of the lies that they lived.

And moments turned to minutes, as they always did.

And still. She lay awake.

And then the morning was coming, after she’d lost count of how many times she’d lost count of her deep, steady breaths.

And Tel and Kez were dressing, and talking, and laughing with one another.

And the guilt that had been in her head for so long, it found its way to her lips as she sat, for it demanded to be said. It demanded louder than her fear, than her whimpering, than the exhaustion that wracked her being.

And the way she had lain away from them both, it had faced her towards their destination. The one so close now. The one that she could see, even when her eyes were held shut so tight.

And she spoke.

“There’s something I have to tell you. Both of you.”