The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Thanks to those who helped me get this done, to those without whom I would not be here, to those who inspired me over the years in this venture or others, and to those who helped to polish what came out the other side once they had.

All work is my own, except in portions mentioned above. Feedback is appreciated at the usual places. If you shouldn’t be reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this.

As always, dedicated in loving memory to Sara. I miss you ;_;

Stone And Oak

By LRP

It had been a night like this one, warm and dry, when they had first met. At times, it seemed like only yesterday, but a year had passed. Or was it two? Etain had lost track of the days at one point, and Talia had been happy to keep it that way, to keep her distracted to the point where confusion and desire melted into acceptance.

It had been overwhelming at first. Having so many people in the same place was an occurrence for Etain, having grown up in a secluded rural town in the mountains. The rare town meeting, perhaps, but the moot was very different. All these people…all of them… were members of the order. Not just vassals and affiliated tribes, but fully fledged druids, or those like her, awaiting the ceremony to be dedicated. All were masked in various style

The press was off-putting, but Etain was determined not to let it show. She put on a brave face and observed. After a while, some of her panic had dispersed, and she’d begun to notice patterns within the group. Certain people moved with a sense of purpose. Others seemed content to wait and watch the proceedings, standing out in their own way from the majority of what she took to be newer members and devotees (who did not so much wait, as mill around). Then there were a few who stood out only in as much as they seemed to blend in perfectly, moving through the throng with a natural grace that called to mind salmon swimming in a clear stream.

One such person was suddenly by her side… a beautiful woman with golden brown hair and dark eyes beneath a mask depicting a mountain fox, carved magnificently from pale wood. She smiled, but did not introduce herself, merely examining the young woman before her. Etain had never been self-conscious, though she had never considered herself to be pretty. Born with sharp features and a keen mind she’d had little chance to exercise, Etain had taken on a scowl at a young age and it had never seen fit to leave her.

If the woman was off put by her expression though, she did nothing to show it. Nor, it seemed to Etain, did she show any particular signs of approval either… simply curious examination. Despite the warmth of her features, and what she was rapidly coming to consider very welcoming eyes, the fox-lady exuded a detached aura, her gentle smile as much a mask as the wood upon her brow.

When she reached up and brushed the hair from Etain’s face, it came as a shock then, and the younger woman jerked slightly in surprise. Unexpected heat blossoming at the touch, followed by an uncomfortable warmth elsewhere. Etain began to blush, but the strange lady was already moving off again, her smile shifting slightly in what Etain took to be an apology.

Grappling with strange new feelings, she was happy to once more be left alone in the crowd.

As the evening continued, Etain reigned in her feelings, the fluttering in her stomach replaced by a new nervousness at the coming ceremony. As she waited for it to begin, several others came to inspect her.

A stocky man, whose mask appeared to resemble a wild brushfire, who looked more uncomfortable in his robes than she was, had offered her an apple. She’d refused that, though more from nervousness than a lack of hunger.

A tall man, whose hawk mask, while beautiful, did nothing to conceal his cruel gaze, Etain shivered, silently grateful when he turned away without touching her.

A thin woman, wearing elaborate rings that ended in talons made from bone, had three times approached, only to change paths at the last minute. Her finely crafted mask had evoked the image of a spider, with gleaming gems across its brow to simulate the many-eyed beast. Etain had been curious about its construction, and considered seeking her out to ask, but thought better of it, and remained still.

Swirls and eddies of people seemed to form and disperse at random, and a few of the younger members held a conversation that included her (more out of proximity than any real interest), but for the most part, it seemed that the gathering largely ignored her. Certainly there were others here for the ceremony that night whom small crowds had formed around… the popular ones. As always, Etain accepted the fact that she was not one of them, and concentrated instead on trying to calm herself for the mysteries of the night’s goings on.

* * *

Drums beat into the night, calling forth the aspirants, one at a time, into the stone circle. Etain was, through a method of organisation entirely foreign and bewildering to her, situated somewhere towards the very end of the evening’s order. Unsure what to make of it, she had meditated as much as possible, and watched as the crowds thinned and the moons rose higher into the night sky.

At last it was her turn, and not knowing what to expect, Etain allowed herself to be guided by one of the assistants, a girl not much older than herself with a far-off look in her eyes behind a featureless mask of polished stone. The assistant brought her to a small circle of standing stones, nothing near the size of the structure upon the hill, but still potent. A number of runes inscribed on their surfaces glowed a faint green in the torchlight. Wordlessly, the girl guided Etain into the centre of the circle, where she was to stand.

Then, as silently as she had appeared, the girl departed, leaving Etain alone.

Unsure of what she should be doing, Etain stood where she’d been positioned, and tried to decipher the script upon the stones. It was not a language she knew, nor, she suspected, was it any other language in the truest sense of the word. More likely they were mystic runes that more powerful druids had used to enact their will upon the stones, binding them and even, if rumours were to be believed, animating them into powerful constructs to aid in magic and war.

These stones, however, seemed content enough to remain still, and in contemplating them, Etain found herself taking a measure of their stillness into herself.

It took some time, but out of the corners of her eyes she noticed that the runes’ glowing was not uniform, but that it seemed to pulse in slow, steady throbs. Pondering the means by which they’d been crafted, Etain found her eyes lingering in space, attempting to time the pulses shown to her only when she stopped looking. Without realising, her thoughts began to drift, and her heartbeat slowed to match the pace of the gentle throbbing. Even the drums seemed faint now, unimportant to her current task of remaining still and peaceful.

When the assistant returned, Etain did not notice, her eyes now as vacant as the young druid’s. She did not see the bowl filled with a fine pearlescent powder the assistant carried, nor did she see the young girl shed her robes. The pulsing of the stones had slowed even further, taking her thoughts down with them.

She did not see the bowl filled with a fine pearlescent powder the other carried, nor did she see the young girl shed her robes. When she began to remove Etain’s garments, Etain barely reacted, a soft sound escaping her lips, stifled and inarticulate. It was not a protest, and barely even a query.

After all, nothing was so important as to disrupt her reverie, while she remained still and at peace.

The assistant began to apply the powder to Etain’s exposed flesh, slowly and methodically rubbing it into her feet, then working her way upwards. Etain murmured something, the soft, pampering touch bringing her slightly out of the fog that had blanketed her mind so stealthily. The young girl’s hands were cool and firm, the powder felt smooth, and it tingled lightly where it was applied.

Luxuriating in the feelings, Etain gasped softly as the young girl’s hands gently, but with firm insistence, parted her thighs and cupped her cleft.

The tingling feeling lingered, even stronger than before, as the young girl slipped a finger tenderly inside, coating every part of her with the silky powder. Then, seemingly far too soon, it withdrew, leaving Etain disappointed at its loss. Still, everything felt much too nice to complain, or to do anything but allow the redhead’s tender touches to continue in their purpose.

The assistant’s fingers did not linger, coating Etain’s small breasts with the same methodical grace as every other part of her, though the feelings left by their passing grew stronger and stronger with each passing moment, multiplying upon themselves. By the time she’d got to Etain’s throat, her pulse was beating quite fast again, and her thoughts had turned from the shifting stones to more personal and much more insistent pulsings.

Slowly melting inside, she found no strength to move, but simply stood there, accepting the sensuous feelings as the young girl continued to prepare her for the ceremony.

Eventually, all that remained was a daze of slow, insidious heat and smooth firm hands pressed against her flesh everywhere. Thus, by the time the assistant was satisfied that Etain was suitably anointed, Etain’s eyes had glazed over and her limbs felt both languid and sensitive at the same time. Her nethers throbbed with desires much deeper than she’d ever experienced before, and she could feel herself sinking into their insistent urgings.

It was in such a state that she was guided from the lower circle, and up the hill.

Entering the great circle of the moot, Etain was lost deep within her own world (though somehow her body, acting automatically, seemed to find its centre). The glow of three full moons beamed down all around her, the stones blazing with a green light only she could see, even if through half-lidded eyes. As though through a long distance, she felt knowledge being poured into her mind, the strength of such “wisdom” driving her to her knees.

As she knelt, her calves sank into the mud, its coolness doing nothing to quell the prickling of her skin, but rather seeming to seal it within her heated flesh. Etain let out an garbled moan, speaking in tongues, words and oaths she’d never heard, all of it spilling forth to pledge her loyalty to the Earth, and to the Wurm, and to the balance between the two.

As she sank deeper into the waterlogged soil, the mud kissed her sex, and what had been a dull burning blazed to full life, for a moment consuming what little thought had remained inside her. As the wave abated, it left Etain with the same feelings she’d had earlier that night, when the attractive lady in the fox mask had touched her.

An enormous pressure welled up within her, and Etain yearned for that touch once again, upon more intimate places, over and over. The thought seared into her mind, and lifting her head, and through hooded eyes, she sought out the mask within the crowd. She searched, hoping wildly, yet knowing deep in her heart (and other places), that “fox lady” would be waiting for her, just as surely as it seemed now that Etain had been waiting for her.

Finally spotting the upturned ears of pale wood, Etain’s heart leapt, and she struggled upright. Staggering slightly, she moved toward them, the daze in her head leaving only the one thing in focus.

The thin crowd parted as she approached, and Etain knelt once more, this time at the feet of woman whose smile, she dared to hope, seemed more genuine now that she had been chosen.

She looked upwards, and the eyes that before had seemed to beckon her, now swallowed her whole. Falling into them, she made her heavy tongue form the ritual words she’d not known until moments before.

“By Stone and Oak and Beast and Air I have chosen my path.”

Etain’s words rang loudly, clearer than anything but the certainty in her choice. There were murmurs from the crowd, though she did not hear them. Somewhere, a tall man turned away, his face unreadable, but Etain did not see him, her mind churning wildly. Much softer now, for a moment aware that perhaps this… this connection… had been entirely in her own head, she practically whispered….

“I offer myself to you. Will you not take what has been given?”

The fox lady smiled, sweetly and with real warmth this time, and without saying a word, reached out to take Etain’s chin in hand and guide her to her feet. Whereas before, her touch had ignited flames, now it broke forth a madly spinning storm of pleasure.

Wracked with a sudden and overwhelming orgasm, Etain’s legs gave out and she fell into the other’s open arms, and everything went black.

* * *

When Etain awoke, she found herself alone in a room of simple rock and wood furnishings. She had been clothed once more, and laid out upon a soft pallet of feathered down. In the centre of the room there was a low stone table, and upon it a plate heavy with steaming food. The smells wafted under her nose and Etain found her mouth watering at the aromas. Her other hungers were not yet sated, and simmered frustratingly beneath the surface; but for now they were held back by the awareness that whatever time it now was, she had not eaten for quite a while.

Next to the plate, Etain found a note, written in flowing script upon coarse parchment. “Eat.” The note stated simply. “You missed the feast, and I suspect you will need the energy.” It was unsigned.

If the food had smelled appetising, it tasted magnificent. The meat (boar, she decided), was tender, with thick veins of fat running through it, and crisp skin. The vegetables were equally juicy, with roasted herbs, soaked in the runnings from the meat, and a roll of crusty bread to sop up the leftovers. It was, Etain thought at first, more than she could comfortably eat, but as she wolfed down the food, she found a stamina and strength returning that she hadn’t fully realised was missing.

Engrossed in eating, she did not hear the door open, but did feel a tug deep within her belly, and looked up to find she was no longer alone. Startled, she went to stand, unsure how to proceed, but the woman waved her off, gesturing to the table instead.

“Please,” the woman laughed lightly, her voice smooth as silk, “don’t stop on my account.”

Then she sat opposite, placing a pair of goblets to the side of the table, each full of a dark wine. No longer masked, she was indeed beautiful. Her hair hung down her back in waves, and her eyes were pools of deep luxurious brown. She had a warm, rounded look to her face, and her dark skirt was clinched under her sizeable bosom, hinting at the full curves beneath… a fact that did not escape Etain’s notice.

She found herself wondering, with quickening pulse, if anything like last night’s activities would be repeated.

Etain resumed eating, though she remained silent. She had chosen a mentor, that much she understood, though her memories were a little fuzzy on the workings of that choice. What this teacher/student relationship entailed though, she had no real inkling. She would, at some point, be taught the trade and secrets of the order, and be made aware of some of its mysteries… that much she understood. But the individual details of her study, and the workings of her day-to-day life from here forward, was unclear.

As if sensing her uncertainty, the other woman spoke, smiling generously in a way that made Etain’s belly flutter in a not entirely unpleasant manner.

“It seems I am being rude. I thought you might need sustenance, but it occurs to me now that while I know who you are, and while you may have chosen me in the circle, we’ve not been properly introduced. My name is Talia Briarsworn, an Overseer of the Circle, and, it seems, you are to be my student. So welcome, Etain, please eat you fill, and then we shall begin your training.”

Her lips curled at the last words, which sent another set of flutters through Etain’s body.

“There are many paths you might tread, and as many opinions on the right way to do so, but you are my pupil here, and as such, you will follow my ways until I release you.” Talia sipped wine from her goblet as Etain wiped the dregs from her plate and did the same.

“Some of our greatest servants are formed from rock and stone, and certainly the ability to shape the elements and the natural world has served us well, but in the end, all these tools are controlled by man, a creature of flesh. That,” she paused, a finger raised, “is my specialty. Though of course,” she added almost dismissively, “a solid grounding in all the basics is needed.”

“Yes, Talia,” Etain said, if for no other reason than to not appear mute.

“Now, if you’ve finished, I believe we shan’t waste any more time, and we can begin the first lesson.”

Talia stood, taking the plate and goblets in hand before leaning close. As she did, Etain smelled faint traces of moss and damp earth, and her head swam. Talia’s eyes locked with hers, and she whispered low, her voice like a tender caress. “I’ll be right back, dear. In the meantime, would you be so kind as to strip for me?”

And with that, she turned and left Etain to quiver softly, her eyes wide. Memories of last night washed over her, bringing with them a rush of desire, and Etain found herself remembering the way Talia’s lips had formed her last words.

Of course, she complied quickly, shivering more with excitement than discomfort in the warm air as she stood, awaiting Talia’s return.

* * *

When Talia re-entered the room, she was carrying a stool, a wide shallow bowl of beaten metal, and a tall bronze carafe. She examined Etain’s naked form with a cool gaze that once again gave no real hint as to approval or disapproval, but nonetheless flushed the girl to her cheeks. Setting the bowl upon the far end of the table, Talia began to pour a shimmering oil into it from the carafe.

“We all come from nature, one way or another, some moreso than others. And so too, do our greatest tools. This is a blending of my own creation, derived from seeds and saps that, when prepared in a particular way, greatly increase the quickening of the flesh. You’ll see for yourself in a moment no doubt.

“Now, put your hands behind your neck and spread your legs to a comfortable width.”

Watching, and moving to place the stool against the wall, and the pitcher beneath it, Talia then returned to Etain, once more leaning in to inspect her features. Her proximity caused the young girl to once again quiver in anticipation and breathe deeply, her teacher’s scent causing a pleasant dizziness.

Then, smiling, but without preamble or warning, Talia plunged her fingers into Etain’s sex.

Every brief contact they’d shared thus far had sparked fires of desire within Etain, like caged lightning, but gasping at the sudden intimacy of her invasion, now she felt... nothing. Or, not nothing as such, as there was a flickering of desire, but it felt muted somehow.

Talia’s fingers probed gently, and seemed to trace a complex pattern against the inner walls of Etain’s cunt, but to Etain, the whole thing felt dreamlike and distant. She was aware that it felt nice, and when she thought on it, she could feel aspects of the excitement and desire she’d felt moments ago. Still, now it seemed very detached, as though happening to someone else. When her fingers withdrew, Etain felt their loss with a faint disappointment that never quite touched her heart.

“And so you see that a touch can inspire great feelings and emotions, but so too, with the proper training, can it quell them. Now that you’ve experienced both sides of my art, we can begin to train you in proper,” Talia said, her voice cool and velvety. “Lower your arms and come with me.”

Etain’s thoughts reeled. Had this all been Talia’s plan? Had that first haunting touch, that had awakened such unforeseen desires, been merely an expression of her art? Had she been tricked into choosing?

Talia grasped Etain’s shoulder tenderly and guided her over towards the bowl. As before, the touch caused sparks in a place locked away within Etain. It felt nice to be held, but nothing more. Her thoughts running in circles within themselves, Etain barely noticed as Talia guided her hand into the oil, then brought it back to her belly.

“Here is the first lesson.” Talia stated calmly, her voice slipping between Etain’s thoughts like a slippery eel, breaking their loop. “A basic sigil, in ways similar to the one I just used.”

Talia’s hands guided Etain’s fingers, as she trailed an oily touch across her naked belly. A swirling spiral pattern the wound its way inwards to her navel. When the pattern completed itself, heat sprung forth once more from Etain’s loins, and the slick sigil felt alive with sensation. Etain’s eyes widened in pleasure.

“This touch will bring you pleasure that builds upon itself,” Talia smiled, though her eyes narrowed. Etain felt herself gazing into them, as beautiful and lustrous as ever, but she did not feel the tug as before, did not feel herself falling into them. “Though it will not grant you release so long as my sigil holds.”

When she spoke, her voice once more slipped right between Etain’s thoughts and compelled immediate obedience. “You will kneel upon the table, and practice it upon yourself.”

Etain sighed in faint, helpless pleasure, and climbed upon the table. She knelt, feeling its surface smooth, but hard, against her legs. Her fingers dipped into the bowl, coming out dripping sweetly scented oil, and she obediently began to reproduce the pattern upon her flesh.

Talia sat upon the stool and watched, her face impassive but intent. When the sigil was again complete, and Etain let out a small gasp as the pleasure renewed itself, Talia calmly stated, “Again.”

* * *

If Etain had thought that the first day was intense, she was quickly disabused of that notion.

She was woken from a fitful and lust-ridden sleep by Talia placing a plate of bread and freshly churned butter upon the table. Next to it, the shallow bowl glimmered, filled anew with yet more oil. Etain staggered to her feet and managed to eat the meal in record time, painfully aware that the ongoing effects of her previous day had not abated in the evening. If the faint taste upon her fingers was anything to judge by, her hands had strayed frequently in her dreams, which had been haunted by images of Talia’s stern but warm face urging her to greater excess.

Talia took the plate and resumed her place upon the stool, where once more she stated coolly and calmly, “Again.”

So, Etain pulled herself up upon the table and once again began to trace the sigil upon her skin, still slippery from yesterday, plus the sweat from her night’s exertions. Her fingers were more assured today, able to mark the symbol more quickly and efficiently. When pleasure blossomed within her, it felt different from the previous day’s… stronger, more intimately tied to herself.

Shivering, she had already begun to trace the next even before she heard Talia command her to do so.

Over and over again, she marked herself, everywhere she could reach. Her oily fingers plucked and played, teasing herself with her touches, slowly building up the boiling pit of lusts within. And yet, true to her word, Talia’s sigil held the sweetness of release out of her grasp, for what else could it be?

Etain had explored her body before, but not like this, never like this. This was no furtive touches in the silence of her bed, no stifled moans of pubescent pleasure. Here she displayed her flesh to another; here her fingers explored every part of her. Desperately, she tried to overwrite Talia’s arts with her own, dipping her fingers within her own needy flesh, carving the runes within the walls of her heaving cunt in the vain hope that it would replace Talia’s command and allow her to finally experience the shattering release she’d felt that night in the circle.

But no, Talia’s arts held strong, even as oil and juices dripped freely from Etain’s pussy, the orgasm she sought unable to be found.

And through it all, Talia observed with calm detachment.

At some point, she had stopped issuing her command. It was no longer needed, Etain’s body executed her will with or without hearing the words. Wild fantasies invaded Etain’s mind, driving her lust against them, soaring to greater and greater heights… and depths. She yearned to mash her oily slick body against Talia’s thigh, to bury her face between her breasts, to coat her as thoroughly as she herself was coated, and to spread some of her lust between them.

How Etain wished to break that composure, to see Talia’s impassive face crack with the throws of orgasm, to hear her magnificent voice cry out in pleasure, to smear their combined juices over every part of herself.

But no matter what she’d tried and whatever she did, it was not enough… it was never enough.

* * *

The third day was simply a blur.

Etain could remember fitful bursts of sleep, where she dreamed of unfulfilled need, and of repeating those same actions time and time again. Upon awakening, another fresh bowl of oil awaited her, as did Talia’s cool gaze.

Her touch lost all artistry, though it was hardly needed at this point. So thoroughly stretched were her nerve endings, and so completely soaked in oil was her entire body, that any and every touch swelled her pleasure and made her cry out. Whatever fantasies she’d previously envisioned returned to her in great vivid splashes, playing out in torrid detail behind her eyes.

New desires appeared, washing over her, and growing more insistent and crude. Helpless under their power, Etain cried out to them, spilling the details of her life and needs to Talia in the hopes of motivating her to lust, or even just to smile. Lost and desperately aroused, she searched for any sign that Talia somehow approved of what her student was becoming.

If she smiles, Etain thought, perhaps that will be enough, though she felt the gaping pit within her, ever hungry, and growing stronger by the minute, and knew that would not be. Still, she fed it, stoked its desire, plumbed every depth she could imagine, teased every orifice. Great handfuls of oil were rubbed against her taut stomach, against her firm breasts, and within the folds of her dripping cunt. After a while it, didn’t even matter what she felt, simply that she longed to explore it. Any and every conceivable act was considered by her melting brain and body.

Cool water was poured down her throat, though it did nothing to quench the flames or wash away the oil that permeated every inch of her skin and hair. Talia deftly stayed out of reach while forcing Etain to drink, before taking her customary seat, all with her usual calm manner. This brief interruption made Etain briefly aware that she had not eaten, though that hunger was so utterly insignificant compared to the greater hunger she teased from her flesh that she ignored it.

And within moments, even that thought was lost, washed away by yet another wave of lust running through her from head to toes.

* * *

On the fourth day, Etain began to feel… in the rare moments her thoughts could fight through the tides of throbbing need that crashed against them at every turn… as though her mind may break from this. Pleasure and pressure continued to build, to boil over, and to spill upon the table. If she’d slept at all, her dreams had merged seamlessly with her reality, her awareness of which was which eluding her, and no longer of any real importance.

Never in her life had she even imagined it was possible to feel so much need, so much desire. She felt sick with it, feverish, every part of her body ached with longing, and burned with the desire to touch and be touched. She could barely bring herself to move her hands from her flesh to dip them into the oil. Only the knowledge that it would feel even better, that she would need even deeper, impossible though it always seemed, could bring her to do so.

Her mind felt detached from her body and its unbridled lewdness, her thoughts floating across the surface of a great sea of desire, like a glimmering slick of the oil soaking into her belly and dripping from her slit. The dizziness brought on by her hungers lent a surreal caste to the things she found herself reciting, while her fingers continued to pluck and tease her body of their own will. They pinched, hard, and the sharpness of the pain, by the time it made its way through layer upon layer of oily, glazed bliss, felt amazing.

Everything felt great. The slight roughness to the table that she’d not noticed before began to feel delicious. She yearned anew, not just for Talia (though of course that remained the central theme of the refrain running through her mind), but for anything… the touch of course fabric, the whispering touch of silk, the taste of pig fat dribbling down her chin.

It was almost too much to bear, but still she wanted it so very much.

Eventually she slumped, barely moving, just twitching with an ever growing pleasure. Each little spasm sent more ripples of bliss and need across her slick flesh, and cast more drips from her soaked pussy onto the stone beneath it. Her mind spiraled endlessly, lost entirely to the pleasure and need that constantly wracked her body.

No thoughts anymore, just sensations… overwhelming and complete.

* * *

Time passed, meaningless, lost within the constant, slippery bliss. Etain’s body squirmed weakly, falling deeper and deeper into a neverending pit of sensation.

At some point her wide, glassy eyes found Talia’s, and she felt what little was left of her consciousness being pulled into those deep, dark pools, embracing the feelings of her body at a distance while she just reveled in her gaze. Through the haze of everything and nothingness, she heard Talia’s voice, felt it sending shivers down her spine and burrowing within the twitching folds of her cunt, and sliding gloriously into the greased depths of her mind.

“There are always deeper places to go to, deeper desires to search. If you’re not careful, you may find yourself lost within them, never to come back. I hope not, You’re of little use to me in that state permanently.”

Etain became aware of Talia’s hand, hovering a mere inch over her quivering mound.

Oh, she longed to thrust herself against it, to buck her hips and grind and rub herself to glorious climax. Let Talia remain cool and distant if she must, but just to feel the heat of those first touches would be so glorious. Assailed by such yearning, she could feel her mind buckling under the pressure, and struggled to hold on… half from stubbornness, and half in eagerness to please her calm and collected mistress.

Her body would not raise, however, it would not act.

“Already,” Talia purred, “your body senses who owns it most completely. It bends to my will, and in time, I shall play upon it the most wonderful music one can make. For now though, I must wait. I will train your body most thoroughly, as in many ways it is much easier to train the body when the mind is absent.”

There was a pause, potent and ripe with electricity, before she continued.

“Now I don’t want to destroy you, my dear. It has taken steps beyond your knowledge to bring you here to me, and I shan’t waste you now. Your mind is a wonderful thing, and I would never extinguish it willingly. If you can come back through this next part, then I will do wonderful things to you… things beyond your wildest imaginings. But if you cannot, if you disappoint me and break…?

“Well, I’ve no need for mindless thralls.”

A hint of sadness, the first real trace of emotion from Talia in days, and Etain latched onto it. She didn’t want to disappoint Talia. Even now, her lusts bubbling away madly, running wild and threatening to consume her, she did not want that.

“What I need from you, is your complete loyalty. So I’m going to make you cum your pretty little mind out. Then, I’m going to put it back together in a way that pleases me and slide it right back into place. All your fierce intelligence, your cunning, and your defiance, will be turned to serve my purpose. You will offer these things up to me and more, before I am done. That much I am certain. I’m going to be more a part of you than you are yourself.

“And you want that, don’t you, dear little Etain?”

With that, she leant over and whispered in her ear.

“Tell me how much you want that...”

Etain let out a strangled moan, unable to articulate her need but equally unable to resist the command.

It was enough for Talia, who finally claimed what was hers.

Bending over, she kissed Etain, hard and possessively, while at the exact moment their lips met, her hand securely cupped her cleft, the palm pressing firmly against her clit. As their tongues began pressing and sliding against each other, Talia’s middle finger slid effortlessly into Etain’s quivering mound, eased up against the sigil etched there, and in one gentle motion, smudged it.

Etain’s world exploded into a riot of senses, and under the combined weight of days of pent up desire and the deft ministrations of her new mistress, what little thought she had left drained away in the gushing torrents of worship pouring out her cunt.

* * *

Etain awoke feeling wrung out, but sated. Her body ached, but it was the pleasant ache that comes after a day’s hard labour in the fields, or a good solid workout.

Or apparently, she thought to herself, a truly earthshaking series of orgasms at the hands of a determined and dexterous lover.

As if called by her thoughts, the door opened and Talia walked in carrying a large platter of food. She placed it upon the table and sat down, gesturing, with a smile that sent shivers down her spine, for Etain to join her. If the smile hadn’t been enough to compel her, the smell of the food would have been, as Etain realised she was utterly famished. The platter, full to near-overflowing with breads, fruits and cheeses, looked almost as tempting as the woman sitting next to it.

Etain sat and began eating with what would never be termed dignity; but if her manners caused Talia any discomfort (and she rather doubted they would) then the druid did nothing to show it, simply smiling and plucking at grapes one at a time and daintily popping them between her lush inviting lips.

If she weren’t so hungry, Etain considered, it would probably have been enough to drive a girl to distraction.

All too quickly, the meal was done, though when Etain licked the crumbs from her fingers Talia laughed, a gentle tinkling sound that lifted Etain’s spirits and brought an unbidden smile to her face.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve retained your appetite.” Talia laughed again, before leaning across to kiss the young girl’s forehead. The touch sent faint sparkles across her skin, and Etain squirmed slightly.

“I imagine you’re rather stiff and sore at the moment,” Talia continued, collecting the platter. “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you one of the more mundane benefits of my art.”

Though it had been phrased as an invitation, neither party had any doubt it would be obeyed, and when she left the room, Etain followed closely.

Talia led Etain through her simply made home of wood and stone walls, through an ample kitchen, and to a large open area. Sunlight sent a beam of golden light across the centre of the room, illuminating a large “couch”. Talia directed her to shed her robe once more, and lay upon it. Etain found herself obeying without question, dropping the light sleeping gown on the floor before lying face down upon the padded bench.

The leather was warm, and softer than Etain had ever felt before, though she rather doubted that this was all Talia had meant when she had said ‘mundane benefits’. Nonetheless, it was incredibly comfortable, and Etain felt herself relaxing as the sunlight gently warmed her skin.

Etain let out a small gasp of surprise and pleasure as Talia’s firm hands pressed down against her shoulders. Under her tender ministrations, Etain slumped against the couch and murmured softly. Everywhere Talia touched, the tension, the aches, and the knots of sore muscle seemed to just melt away.

Etain wondered if it was some further facet of Talia’s art, or just that, as she’d said earlier, her body knew it belonged to her mistress. No matter the cause, there was no resistance in her, and the young woman’s flesh simply yielded to Talia’s insistent touch.

Within minutes, every muscle in Etain’s body grew limp, so soft and pliant, and still Talia continued.

Firm, gentle fingers pressed and smoothed and stroked, as Etain felt herself moisten. Almost immediately, Talia felt that too, her fingers sliding gently between Etain’s thighs as though called there by the blossoming wetness itself. Loving strokes were applied, gently guiding Etain’s hips to rock up and down with the motion.

With a soft sigh, Etain found herself being rolled onto her back. Helplessly pliant, she couldn’t even muster the energy to open her eyes, simply content to lie there, basking in the sunlight while Talia’s soft hands massaged and stroked her. Etain’s skin, still slightly slick from all the oil, offered no friction as Talia, her fingers slippery with Etain’s own juices, tenderly acquainted herself with every inch of her supplicant flesh.

“You know,” Talia purred, her fingers tracing one of the many faint scars along Etain’s body, trailing a line down her belly before drawing itself tortuously slowly along the soft flesh of her mound, “I could soften all this out, smooth over all your roughness.” Then a pause as the hands cupped Etain’s breasts, rubbing the erect nipples with her palms. “Maybe swell these a bit.”

The fingers returned to teasing her cleft, while Talia resumed. “With a little work, I could turn you into a walking sex-dream. Maybe then I’d send you into the beds of my enemies, and they’d fall before me, driven mad with lust.”

Etain could feel warm breath against her pussy now, still arousing despite Talia’s vaguely uncomfortable suggestions. Yes, she could be prettier, but in a way, she realised, she was proud of the way she looked. Of course, she thought, quivering slightly, that pride would make a wonderful offering to her mistress, too.

She leaked quietly at the thought of that.

Fingers now invaded her warm, wet flesh, pushing inside her, gentle but firm, guiding her motions as she rocked against them.

“You’d make a lovely weapon, my dear, so soft and willing. And you yield so very well. I’m so happy I chose you,” Talia cooed, her magnificent voice feeling like a soft, velvet stroke along Etain’s pussy. Etain had no doubt now that she’d been drawn to Talia, had been destined, fated, forced to choose her. It made her even wetter to know that.

“But no,” Talia continued, and even with her eyes closed, Etain could hear her smiling. “I rather like you the way you are.”

And then a firm plunge of the fingers, pressing into just the right places, probing and stroking. Just as suddenly, they withdrew, as Etain’s hips bucked in a quiet, gentle climax that rolled across her like a wave.

“Of course,” Talia added, a teasing tone in her voice as she reached up once more to caress Etain’s breasts. “I still might just give you a little more to play with....”

Etain could only murmur in pleasure, her whole body turned to happy mush, and even that noise was cut off as Talia’s lips pressed against hers in a long, tender kiss smelling faintly of damp earth and moss.

* * *

Etain moaned softly as her body was slowly and irresistibly pulled into position. They’d spent an hour or two on the couch, kissing, touching, rubbing against one another, but eventually it seemed, Talia had decided that it was time for another lesson. Etain was, Talia announced, young enough to have recovered both her energy and stamina, so it was time to put them to the test once more.

Apparently, also to be tested, Etain mused, was her flexibility. The ropes that bound her now, while luxuriously soft, were quite firmly placed, and pulled her arms back into a pose that she imagined must be designed for aesthetics as much as for functionality. Talia was evidently as skilled in this particular field as she appeared to be in anything she attempted, or at least chose to inflict upon her young apprentice.

She’d smiled that irresistible smile, the one that Etain suspected would be enough to convince her to run naked across the mountaintop had she asked, and told her to kneel on the mat. Then she’d opened one of the cabinets. In the afternoon light, the exact nature of some of the items within were unclear.

Some however, carved, polished, and phallic, where obvious enough in design.

A tiny shiver of anticipation had run the length of Etain’s spine at the sight. Just a week or two ago, she’d never have entertained such thoughts, not with man or with woman. But here, with Talia, it seemed entirely natural. Or, she corrected herself, perhaps not natural, but definitely right.

When Talia had withdrawn the lengths of rope, Etain had been confused for a moment. But as her mentor had swiftly begun to wrap the silken cords around her, looping and clinching, Etain had found herself quite thoroughly ensnared. Her arms, still limber from the massage, were easily pulled behind her and clinched there, and her legs were bound with equal efficiency. Then Talia had tugged in a few key places, cinched and knotted the ropes even more, and Etain had found herself slowly and inexorably being pulled into a pose of presentation and submission.

And so now she waited. Talia had disappeared from sight, leaving Etain helpless and bound in the middle of the floor, her thoughts reliving the movements that had led her into this position, and the feelings they had evoked.

When Talia returned, she was carrying another rope, this one slick and dripping with oil. Without a word, Talia attached it to the elaborate harness she’d fashioned around her apprentice, a carefully placed knot pressing teasingly against her clit, while the body of the rope wedged itself against her mound, firmly parting the lips of her cleft with a slippery bond. Another tug, and Etain found the rope tightening, parting her folds.

Talia stood back and admired her handiwork, clearly pleased with the way the ropes pulled and shifted when Etain breathed. For her part, Etain could already feel the oil begin its insidious work, and struggled to resist the urge to squirm against the ropes.

“Oh no, that’s quite ok,” Talia said gently, as if sensing her thoughts. “In fact, I think you should do just that. You should fight against the ropes, draw them tighter and deeper against you, work them within your soaking little pussy for me.”

That was all the encouragement Etain needed, and she began to rub herself against the rope and its clever little knot in earnest. It took only moments before she found herself on the precipice of slick, oily climax. And yet, she could not quite plunge over it.

“Oh my dear, sweet pet,” Talia exclaimed, “You should know by now that’s not how it works. You have to beg first.”

Begging came easily. The ropes were maddening, and the helplessness of the situation had triggered something unknown within her that had a direct line to her pleasure centres. If Talia wanted begging, then she would have it.

So, Etain pleaded, promised, yearned… but it was not enough. Deep down, she knew it, too. She knew she was begging to achieve sexual release, but somehow realised just saying the words would never work. She also suspected, as that maddening knot rubbed back and forth, that she’d be begging much more honestly before too long.

Her pleading got a jolt of inspiration and desire when Talia began to sway seductively in front of her, carefully positioned just out of reach. Slowly and sensually, she took her robe off, first revealing the creamy flesh of her shoulders, then her soft heavy breasts. Finally, teasingly, she displayed her taut belly and smooth mound, glistening slightly as the dewdrops of her desire appeared.

Then Talia began to touch herself… slowly, deliberately. Etain found herself growing mad with desire, and if her hands had not been so thoroughly bound she’d have attacked the other’s sex with vigour, or reached out to grasp her lover’s exposed flesh. Instead, she was forced to rub herself against that rope again and again, feeling it bind tighter, constrict more, and leave her even more helpless to the feelings that assaulted her.

Talia bent over, being sure Etain got a good eyeful in the process, and picked up a small pitcher of oil. Straightening up, she poured it across her own breasts, and then began to slowly work it into her soft flesh. Squeezing her nipples, she purred quietly, her eyes never leaving Etain’s as she lifted one tit and licked it gently, sending Etain moaning in desire all over again.

Then, while the young girl remained torturously bound, Talia began to rub her oily breasts all over Etain’s body. Moaning, she pressed them up against Etain’s face, rubbing herself all over her “captive’s” helpless body, all the while breathlessly whispering lewd and sultry promises until Etain joined her in a chorus of desire.

Etain begged in earnest then, for the sheer joy of begging, unable to name all the things she would surrender, that she longed to offer. She begged for release from her bonds, so that she could ravish Talia herself; she begged for the release of orgasm, so she could give in to her deep, sexual feelings; she begged for tighter bindings, to drive her even more happily insane.

Responding to that, Talia reached around to untie the slick crotch rope, the bindings so constricting that Etain couldn’t even rub her body against Talia’s thigh, though she certainly tried. Once the rope was loosened, Talia pulled it free with aching slowness, being sure to drag the wet, tormenting knot through Etain’s mound and across her clit.

Then, with equally deliberate and sensual motions, she repeated the rope’s journey across her own cleft. Etain watched helplessly, her eyes locked on to the juice coated slit in front of her, moaning softly to herself while Talia punctuated the knot’s journey with a moan of her own.

Oh what a glorious sound. Etain gasped for air, longing to be the cause of Talia making those sounds over and over, to hear her amazing voice break in pleasure at the point of orgasm.

The rope finished its long path as Talia pulled it between the fleshy mounds of her own breasts. It arriving out the end dripping in sensual oils as well as glistening with the erotic juices of both women. Talia then set about wrapping the rope gently, but firmly, around Etain’s chest, then threaded it back between her thighs and against her pussy.

Once it was locked solidly in place, she retrieved a soft, black scarf, which she teasingly rubbed back and forth across her own slit, coating it in her sex. Etain, still tightly bound, simply watched and twitched, as the ropes once more began to tighten within her seam, smearing her with Talia’s juices as well as her own. Quickly and efficiently, Talia wrapped the scarf around Etain’s eyes and nose, rendering her blind, and her nostrils invaded by the heavy scent of her musk and the faint lingering hint of damp earth.

“Now, my dear Etain,” Talia purred, her voice appearing from the sensual, “I want you to picture those ropes, slick and slippery, but oh so tight and inescapable. Imagine them wrapping themselves around your mind, binding you thoughts with your own cum, and of course my own. Feel them gripping you, sliding between your thoughts, all that oil and pussy juice seeping between the folds of your brain.

“Can you feel it yet?” she asked, knowing from the moaning what the answer would be if Etain was in any state to speak. “Doesn’t it feel wonderful, to have my sex grinding tighter and tighter against your mind, imprinting your very core with my lusts and your own? Knowing that your juices form the unbreakable bond that ties you to my will. Knowing that if you ever even thought of disobeying me, that these soft oily ropes would squeeze tighter still, squeezing those naughty thoughts out of you and leave them leaking out your cunt. Leaving a dripping needy slave all the more desperately devoted to pleasing me.

“Feel those ropes pull tighter the more you struggle, and know that you’re struggling not to be free, but to deepen your obedience to me. It makes you so very hot to fall for me, doesn’t it my little pet? To know that the wetter you get, the more slick the ropes in your mind get, and the deeper they will slide into you.”

Etain moaned loudly, overwhelmed, her body bound tightly, her mind bound even tighter.

She rocked her hips to work the rope deep within her pussy, smelling only Talia’s sex. Captured, helpless, obedient, devoted, she could feel Talia’s control gripping her, could feel her tugging the ropes, controlling her movements and her thoughts. She could feel herself being compelled to love what was being done to her, and loving it all the more for it how helpless she was to resist it.

“Good girl,” Talia whispered, pinching Etain’s erect nipples just to see her shudder. “Now I’m going to feed you some of that nectar you’ve been smelling and thinking about, that you’ve been craving and rubbing yourself raw over.”

Standing over the bound woman, Talia slowly lowered herself onto Etain’s face, gently guiding the blindfolded face towards her steaming cunt. Etain found herself pressed against the soft, succulent flesh she’d been thinking about nearly non-stop for days now, felt her face getting smeared with its juice, her sense of touch working overtime. She moaned once, long and low, before putting her mouth to other uses.

Talia cooed as the young tongue parted her creamy folds, offering sweet encouragement while massaging her breasts in time with the motions of the woman between her thighs. She’d been on edge for some time too, and having her dear new pet’s tongue lapping at her pussy was heavenly.

“That’s right my dear!” she cried out. “Drink deep, surrender to the feelings, surrender to the pleasure of your bindings. Take me inside you. Yes, just like that. Let your desire strengthen my control over you.”

“Give yourself to me. Give me your love, your devotion, your obedience. Give me your mind, a gift tied up in pussy-slicked oily ropes all wrapped up with a bow for me. Surrender to your cunt and through it, to mine.”

Talia threw her head back as her body began to buck its way towards climax, feeling Etain’s tongue frantic upon her flesh. As the first wave began to hit, she grabbed the ropes and pulled, sending vibrations down Etain’s encased breasts and earthing themselves deep within her cleft. With a shudder, both women let the bliss of orgasm wash over them, drawing them closer and entwining them together… with no regrets, no hesitation, only devotion and pleasure.

Talia smiled, her soft velvety voice cracked slightly with the aftershocks still running through her.

“Again.”

* * *

It had been a night like this one, warm and dry, when they had first met. Drawn together by desire and craft, they’d grown into their roles. Talia had taught her a great many things, many of which had not seemed pertinent to her at the time, or of any real value.

But in the end, Etain had trusted her mistress implicitly. How could she not?

And of course, often their lessons would turn more intimate in nature, and those memories she savoured most of all.

She’d learned a great deal at Talia’s feet, about herself, about the world, about power, and about surrender. And even though both women knew this day would come, it still seemed to arrive too fast. For all her skills, Talia could not halt the flow of time, merely relish in the fruits of its passing.

“I don’t want to go,” Etain stated, her voice wavering, a hint of pleading in her whispered tones. “There’s so much you could still teach me here.”

“Would that I could keep you here forever, my dear pet,” Talia sighed. “I shall miss you, your clever tongue, for its wit and for its other uses. Your mind, and your laugh. I will miss your smell.”

She hesitated, steeling herself. “But you must go. You’ve a task to attend to, and there are lessons you must learn on your own, and away from me.”

“You will return, though. I demand it.” she added firmly. “But not today.”

They embraced tenderly, both women alive with longing. They were a long time in parting.

“I will miss you every day, and I will return the moment my duties permit it.” Etain smiled a bitter-sweet smile. “Of course, you could come and find me...”

“Maybe I will, dear Etain.” Talia shook her head to hide her eyes. “For now, though, I have one last gift, and one last lesson.”

Etain lit up, though her smile never quite touched the sides of her eyes. She curtseyed, her eyes downcast. “As you wish."+

Talia laughed, the sound light in the air, if not in their hearts, as she reached under her dress.

Today she wore her most ornate robes, with plates of green and gold worked into the shoulders and through the bodice. From the folds at her crotch she withdrew a green gemstone the size and shape of an egg. It glowed, pulsing faintly, and glistening juices dripped softly. Within the heart of the stone, a small sigil had been etched.

Talia’s personal rune.

“So you will always feel my touch,” Talia said, “and so you will always be able to find your way back to me.”

With a kiss, she reached under Etain’s skirt, parting her legs with a gesture. Slowly, she drew the stone across her cleft, before sliding it effortlessly between her buttocks, up and inside. As always, Etain’s flesh yielded with pleasure, and she gasped softly as the first pulse rippled through her, earthing itself towards Talia, whose hand lingered.

“Listen to it, dear Etain, it calls to its twin.” Talia smiled softly, her other hand stroking her own buttocks through the cloth.

“And the lesson?” Etain shivered, her lips parted slightly as pleasure slowly infused her.

“A simple one, my sweet. By Stone and Oak, I too have chosen my path. I love you.”

~Fin