The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Burda passed the Sword to another thrall behind them. Then she and Ehlen each took one of Rolanne’s arms and drew her toward the den.

Rolanne struggled as best she could, but she might as well have tried to stop an avalanche. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore whether she fought or not. She’d lost the Sword, and with it her only chance of defeating the dragon. If it took her—no, when it took her—at least she’d buy Weyderchi a few months of peace. Maybe she could even give them a year. How did a dragon reckon these things?

The lamplight battered her mind and made her feet stumble, but Burda and Ehlen lifted her off the ground and kept walking.

At last they crested the rise and Rolanne looked down into an amphitheater cut by human hands—gemstone hands, she thought.

In the center of the amphitheater, atop a massive pile of treasure, lay the dragon.

Few Weyderchines had seen the beast apart from its victims, and since it had only ever hunted at night, they hadn’t seen it well. Witnesses described a vast glittering shape with scales like jewels; and after what Rolanne had seen already, she was prepared to believe the dragon was scaled with jewels.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for the magnificence of the beast. Its wings were made of alabaster, thin enough for a glimpse of golden bones. Its claws and teeth were gold too, and its eyes were dark-hearted rubies. Each of its scales was a single massive diamond.

Lamplight glittered off the dragon, dazzling Rolanne’s eyes and muddling her senses. She hung blinking between her friends as the creature inhaled. Maybe it would spit fire at her, like it had with the ships. She almost wished it would.

The dragon exhaled, and instead of fire it sent a cloud of spice billowing up the tiers. Rolanne’s eyes rolled back in her head and her body spasmed ecstatically.

Burda and Ehlen lifted her higher and began their descent. By the time they reached the floor, Rolanne’s thoughts were beginning to clear. The dragon loomed over her on its pile of treasure, lowering its head until they were almost eye to eye. Then it smiled. Faceted lips spread wide over golden fangs and a ruby tongue snaked out, tasting the air and, quite possibly, its new victim’s helplessness.

“Welcome, Princess,” the dragon said. Its voice spilled over her like an avalanche of silk, filling the whole amphitheater. “I’ve been waiting for you much too long. Your priests disappoint me.” Its smile grew wider. “You, however, do not.”

Rolanne’s mind snapped instantly into focus. She knew that must be the dragon’s doing since she could barely hold her own against the lamp and the spice. The monster must want her clear-headed, for now. Probably it wanted to watch her struggle.

Even knowing that, Rolanne couldn’t resist. She screamed at her friends, demanding they wake up. She bucked and twisted in their grip, kicked their legs, braced herself on one and pulled against the other.

Burda and Ehlen didn’t so much as quiver.

The dragon watched with interest, not speaking again until Rolanne had given up. “Have you nothing to say to me?” it asked. “No words of defiance? No pleas for mercy?”

Rolanne’s braid had come loose, and she shook the hair from her face and glared at the dragon. She was angrier now than she’d been with Merdin. At least he’d only insulted her mother; the dragon had done much worse to Burda and Ehlen. “I’ll plead for my friends,” she snarled. “I’ll plead for my city.”

The dragon made a noise that was probably a chuckle. “How very admirable of you. And how very nearly prescient. After tonight, Weyderchi will no longer live in fear.”

Rolanne knew twisted language when she heard it. “You’re going to torch the city, aren’t you?” she said flatly.

The dragon laughed again. “After all the years I’ve spent, bringing it to this...point?” As it spoke, an anonymous thrall stepped up and laid the Sword at its feet. “I knew the priests would deliver this gift in the end. I expected it much sooner, of course; but at least they had the courtesy to send a princess along with it.”

The dragon paused to study her. “Or was it the princess who had the courtesy to bring me the weapon? Did you force their hand, Rolanne?”

Rolanne’s heart lurched. She thought she’d been acting of her own free will—no, dammit, she had been acting of her own free will—but she’d been serving the dragon anyway. It really had wanted a princess, the priests were right about that; but what it craved was the Sword That Never Struck in Vain. And Rolanne had brought the thing right to its feet.

She wouldn’t give the dragon the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Instead, she focused on its words, looking for anything she could turn into an argument. “But it only kills.”

“It only strikes,“ the beast corrected her.

And with that, Burda thrust Rolanne into Ehlen’s arms. Her hands now free, Burda removed her only adornments: a pair of golden gauntlets. She slapped them onto Rolanne’s wrists and stepped back.

Filigree sprang from the cuffs and spread across Rolanne’s hands, up her arms, and beneath her armor. It was as supple as paint but that didn’t make it any less frightening. Rolanne tried to jerk away.

Her arms would move. She could still see her skin between the filigree, and she could still feel her limbs beneath the gold; but they weren’t her limbs anymore.

“Your arms belong to me, now,” said the dragon, echoing her thoughts. “The rest of you will follow.”

Rolanne screamed. She’d have kicked again too, but Burda anticipated the move and knelt to grab her ankles.

“Let me go!” Rolanne demanded; and quite suddenly Ehlen complied. Rolanne felt herself falling toward Burda, but then her enchanted arms flew up and steadied her all on their own. She stared at them, clad in golden vines and curving so gracefully on either side of her body. They’d have been beautiful, if they’d still been hers.

With an effort, Rolanne brought herself back under control. First, she thought, the dragon had taken her friends. Then it had stolen her Sword, and now it owned her arms. It could take over her entire body in minutes, and it probably didn’t have to wait a moment if it wanted her mind. She had no hope at all...but she still had her pride. She’d keep fighting as long as she could, but from now on she’d keep the battle in her head. The dragon couldn’t watch her there. It couldn’t gloat.

Ehlen knelt before her with a pair of golden greaves. Rolanne managed not to jerk as the blue hands closed around her ankle. She saw where this was going and would have done anything to prevent it, but fighting Ehlen was useless and begging her to wake up just hurt when she didn’t do it.

The problem was that there was something left of Ehlen inside the thrall. Why else had she been turned to lapis lazuli, the stone of wisdom and insight? Why else had Burda been turned to tiger eye, the symbol fire and strength?

In fact, Rolanne told herself, the gold in Ehlen’s coloring could be the remnants of the poison she’d carried. Her idea had been a brilliant one, but it had relied on the dragon eating her instead of enslaving her. She’d fallen under its spell and then confessed her plot before she could ever carry it out. Then she’d removed all the bladders she could reach. But of course, she’d swallowed some of the bladders, so they’d have been transformed along with her body. It made horrifying sense. What a thrall had been determined what she became.

Once you knew that, you were tempted to think you could reverse the process. But Ehlen’s expression was devoid of thought, and her eyes were featureless and unblinking. Rolanne couldn’t even think of them as marbles, because marbles at least could move. Ehlen’s face had been carved from a single block of stone. She was a mere statue of herself, and nothing Rolanne could do would ever reach her.

Rolanne pressed her lips tight as Ehlen removed her boots and fastened the greaves around her shins. Again the filigree spread, down across Rolanne’s feet and between her toes (a pleasant sensation, if she’d allowed herself to admit it), plating the soles of her feet, then climbing her thighs under the leather and twining up her back. Her spine stiffened at its touch; and between her legs, smooth, cool tongues parted her labia and gently flicked her clit.

Rolanne squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth together. How could something so terrifying feel so gods-damn good? It was all she could do to keep from whimpering.

And just like that, the tongues were gone.

She opened her eyes. Burda and Ehlen stood a few paces away, on either side of the dragon’s head. Its eyes burned like lava. “You’re mine, now,” it said. “You dance to my tune and no one else’s.”

Suddenly the chimes were back, then the flickering. Rolanne’s hips swayed in time with them, nudging the golden tongues back and forth.

Her breath hissed between her teeth. The muscles she still controlled wanted to clench around those tongues and draw them deeper, but she pushed back for all she was worth.

The spice billowed over her again.

Her head dropped forward and a curtain of hair fell around her face. She tried to shake off the dragon’s influence, but this close to it, she couldn’t even raise her head. It was all she could do to keep her eyes focused.

Rolanne watched numbly as her hands floated up to untie the rest of her armor. It dropped around her like dead leaves and she stared at it, aware of her nudity, aware of the subservience of her pose, and aware most of all that parts of her body were still bare.

“Beg me,” said the dragon. “You know you want more. I know you want more. Beg me for it.”

She did. Ohh, she did. The golden tongues still teased, and her head was so full of enchantment that she hardly had room left for thoughts. She felt her lips open, trying to form a plea. But something deep inside, so deep she could hardly find it right now, made Rolanne close her mouth again.

Behind the fall of her hair, she saw the dragon smile. “Such a noble little thing,” it murmured. “So brave in the face of hopelessness. You’ll be my second-finest weapon.”

Rolanne mumbled a denial, but she didn’t believe it. Burda and Ehlen must have fought just as hard as she was fighting, and look at them now.

She watched Burda, drift towards her, carrying a golden collar. Rolanne remembered how the girl had looked standing before the Hierophant; and held her own chin just as high, forcing herself to meet her friend’s blank stare. Neither she nor Burda blinked.

Burda snapped the collar in place and filigree spread over the back of Rolanne’s head, parting her hair like fingers and swirling down across her face. More filigree spread upwards from her neck. Then, even as it locked her head in place, it slipped inside her nose and mouth.

Tendrils curled over Rolanne’s lips and twined around her tongue in an obscene parody of a kiss. They rolled on backwards, not far enough to make her gag, but far enough to make her worry about gagging. Then she felt them walling off her airway.

Oh gods, they were going to choke her!

Rolanne felt the gold seal closed and fought not to panic. Suddenly a fresh draught of air filled her throat. The gold was filtering it through to her somehow.

Well, it was filtering something through to her. Rolanne had barely begun to inhale when she caught the scent of spice. She stopped herself mid-breath.

It was no use, really. She’d fought as long and as hard as she could, but she could only hold her breath for about a minute. After that, she’d be just another gem-thrall. Why draw this out any further?

Because she wanted to.

Rolanne held her breath and her shoulders bunched, trying to make the air in her chest last longer. Her lungs burned. Her torso shuddered, trying to resist her will. It was agony, but it was her last defense.

It faded along with her consciousness.

Rolanne’s lungs heaved, and the breath revived her just enough for her to watch the fall of her mind.

She’d seen a hurricane once. It had torn boats and trees loose from their moorings, but since Weyderchine houses were built of stone, they’d mostly survived. The onslaught in Rolanne’s head left nothing behind. It demolished every thought in her head, and then it ground the debris into grit and blew that over the horizon.

Rolanne was a point awareness hovering over a landscape stripped down to bedrock. A few faint scorings were all that remained of her selfhood.

She waited.

“Very good,” said the dragon. Its voice echoed through the emptiness of her mind. “And now, my princess, you will beg me.”

Filigree crackled around her body and her head. Spice twined through the gaps and seeped into her pores, then out again to alloy with the gold. Together they formed a new being forged of absolute obedience.

But that being was still incomplete.

Knowing that, and yearning for completeness, rolanne pressed her face to the floor. The gold at the back of her mouth blocked her voice, but at least her lips could form words. “Please,” she mouthed, “Mistress, I beg you.”

The dragon slid its tongue over the top of rolanne’s head and down along her jaw. “There’s my good princess,” She rumbled. “See how wonderful the world can be when you only submit?”

“How wonderful,” rolanne echoed silently, “when i only submit.” Saliva pooled in the dust around her mouth and gold grit clung to her lips.

Mistress, riding the spice through Her new thrall’s mind, approved. She wanted to see more.

There was no need for Her to command rolanne aloud any longer. Her whims rang like clarions in the thrall’s empty mind.

rolanne raised her head, smiling, and felt golden mud crack around her lips. A few flakes drifted down to her chin and clung there.

“Such opulent debasement,” chuckled the dragon. “So fitting for human royalty. But whatever would your subjects think?”

rolanne stared raptly into her Mistress’s eyes. she knew the dragon didn’t really expect an answer, so she held still and simply basked in Her pleasure instead.

“And what would your family think?”

On the wind-scoured plain of rolanne’s mind, something snagged. It was no bigger than a thread caught on a splinter.

Silence rang through the cavern.

Then the dragon spoke. “Yes,” She said, “I thought that might be the case. It won’t be a problem.”

rolanne sighed happily. “It won’t be a problem,” she mouthed.

burda and ehlen brought out a breastplate and fastened it around rolanne’s chest. The filigree curled around her nipples and tugged them erect, making her mouth gape with pleasure. Another vine snaked down to her mons and slipped between her legs.

rolanne knew what the dragon wanted; it was what she wanted, too. “Please, Mistress,” she begged voicelessly. her body was rigid but her cleft throbbed, begging just as she begged.

The filigree halted just as it had before, and rolanne’s arms were locked at her sides. Even the touch of one thigh against another could have eased her yearning, but her legs were too far apart.

Of course, rolanne couldn’t have pleasured herself even if the dragon hadn’t placed her at attention. It would never have occurred to her to try.

Mistress’s will rang in her mind, drawing her attention inward as her body continued to spasm. The sensation was meaningless. Meaning came only from the dragon.

“I suppose you must have wondered,” She said, “where the blade of this Sword originated. Perhaps you worked it out when you first saw Me. Or were you too deep in your struggles to think about anything else?”

rolanne hung, dazzled and yearning, in the void of her own mind.

“It came from one of My ancestors,” the dragon told her. “A Matriarch many thousands of years old. your ancestors murdered her, to make Her hunting grounds their home.”

The dragon’s words were a sword in rolanne’s heart. she wept to hear them.

“She had grown so large, you see, that Her hide brushed the walls of this cave when She moved through it and a single scale fell loose. The humans found it and one of their mages forged a sword from it. Then another one used that sword to kill Her.”

“I’m sorry,” rolanne mouthed. her shoulders shook with misery.

“Yes. you carry the blood of that murderer in your veins. And you bear the blood of My ancestor on your hands. So beg Me. Again. Beg Me to let you atone.”

rolanne dropped instantly to the floor. “i beg You to let me atone!” her nipples rasped in the dust and her cleft throbbed even harder. This was what Mistress willed.

Mistress also willed that rolanne lie flat with her arms and legs spread wide. she was unable to touch herself anywhere at all and she wriggled helplessly against the floor, trying to find a position that would bring her clit in contact with any surface at all. It was useless.

But that was just part of the atonement. rolanne reveled in her desperation. she twisted like a worm and smeared her juices into the grit.

Finally burda took her by the arms and turned her onto her back. Looking up, rolanne saw ehlen above her with the Sword upright in her hands. The dragon loomed behind her.

“News of the Matriarch’s death spread, first through human stories and then through those of dragons. But the humans forgot their stories were true, even as we remembered. We still pass on the tale as a warning against hubris.

“I heard about the Matriarch when I was still in My youth, and I was so taken by her story that when I grew old enough to seek my fortune, I set out for Weyderchi. My two great desires were to avenge My ancestor’s death and to make the city My own.”

“Your own, please, yes!” rolanne mouthed. So great was her desperation that she could almost hear her own voice. burda still had her arms pinned, but her legs were free and she lifted her hips toward the dragon. “Avenge! Your own! Yes!”

Mistress smiled. “A dragon’s scales have so many uses. For a dragon. All your ancestors could think to do with one was make a Sword.”

ehlen remained perfectly still, but the weapon in her hands began to change. First the hilt flattened and curved, taking the shape of a miniature dragon. Its wings spread over her hands and its tail spiraled tightly beneath them. Then the blade of the Sword blunted and spiraled down into a tongue extending from the dragon’s mouth.

ehlen stepped forward and rolanne locked her hips.

“Think of this, My pet,” said the dragon. “As crown princess, you are both the representative of your city and the descendent of its founding murderer. I, meanwhile, am a descendent of the murder victim; and I wield the last shard of Her body. A Shard That Never Struck in Vain. Now...what do you suppose will happen when that Shard strikes you?”

Images bloomed in the gulf of rolanne’s mind and she saw Weyderchi as the dragon saw it: from above. she looked down on night-dark fields and narrow streets and gabled rooftops. she peered into windows.

What she saw was only the dragon’s imagination, but the dragon had lived above Weyderchi for three quarters of a century. She knew the city better than any of its human inhabitants.

Through the eye of imagination rolanne saw Weyderchines asleep in their beds, walking the streets, doing any of the thousand other things people did at night in a city that size. The dragon’s voice rolled over the vision like a wave. “Each of My thralls bear a splinter from My scales,” She said. “To you alone, crown princess, I give an entire Shard. For you alone can deliver it to your people.”

ehlen knelt between rolanne’s legs and rammed the weapon home.

rolanne screamed almost silently. she ground her hips around the Shard and drew it deeper until her ecstasy rippled back through the tunnel, down Mount Enwyf, and out across the busy city. Wherever they stood or walked or lay, every subject of the crown cried out in ecstasy and then fell into a swoon.

burda released rolanne’s arms and returned to her station by the dragon. rolanne sprawled limply on the floor, the Shard still lodged inside her.

Mistress tickled the hilt with Her tongue and it spun apart, becoming a mass of tendrils that twined in with the rest of the filigree and sealed the Shard inside her. Now rolanne was caged from head to foot, but between the curling vines her skin glowed pink.

That was wrong.

The dragon’s will bloomed within her and she rose, drifting toward the treasure pile and gazing up at her Mistress. One by one she kissed Her golden claws. Then, having made proper obeisance, she began to climb.

The dragon rolled on Her side and rolanne followed the curve of Her legs up to Her body, then backwards a little toward Her tail. The scales were smaller there, curving inward toward a crease that widened as rolanne drew closer. Within, the flesh was pink and wet, with a pulsing nodule at the end nearest Mistress’s head.

rolanne laid her hands on either side of that crease and spread it further. Then she bent to kiss the dragon’s clit. It was as big as her head, and the Sword picked up its throbbing and echoed it in rolanne’s body and mind.

rolanne crawled higher until she was able to slip inside the crease, feet first, with her arms still wrapped around the dragon’s clit.

Mistress purred Her pleasure.

It was impossible for rolanne displease Her; after all, she could neither move nor think anything other than what Mistress commanded. she drew her knees up and thrust them down again, kissing and caressing Her clit all the while. Honey swirled around her, more fragrant even than spice. her eyes rolled back in her head but she kept on thrusting, then began to twist as well, seeking out the rough spots with her toes.

Mistress began to growl. The sound of Her pleasure was glorious and it spurred rolanne to grind harder. There were the rough spots! she worked her gold-bound feet against them until the passage around her flexed. Giant muscles drew her deeper into the cleft. she held onto Her clit as long as she could, then released it with one last kiss and let herself be enveloped.

The dragon took her in completely, right down to her outstretched fingertips; and she swirled in the dark like an eel. Every motion she made was in accordance with her Mistress’s will and her Mistress’s pleasure.

Then it was Mistress’s pleasure that rolanne not move. A noise swelled around her, beginning as a bone-deep hum but rising quickly. In the end it grew so loud that it locked rolanne’s muscles tight as stone. Her bones followed, then the marrow inside her bones, then even the insubstantial awareness in her head.

Crystals sprang from the bedrock of her mind. The rock determined their structure, but in turn they sealed it more firmly in place. Then they spread downwards through the rest of rolanne’s body, turning living flesh to lifeless stone. she was no more than a statue lodged inside the dragon’s cleft, much as the Shard was lodged in her cleft.

For the moment.

Again the dragon’s muscles clenched, pushing the statue inch by inch back into the light. First came rolanne’s fingertips, flexing as soon as they cleared the opening. Next came her wrists, then her elbows. Awareness returned when her head breached the cleft.

she turned instantly toward her Maker.

The gem-thrall didn’t smile because she had only one expression. she didn’t speak because her mouth no longer opened. she just gazed blankly at her Maker and basked in Her approval.

After a moment, Mistress showed rolanne what she’d become. Through the dragon’s eyes she saw herself as a statue of emerald caged in swirls of gold. Filigree covered every part of her body except her eye sockets, where glittering facets reflected the light of the lamp.

“And now you’re Mine forever,” said her Mistress.

rolanne couldn’t even mouth the words any longer, but she didn’t have to. They chimed through her crystallized mind and rebounded automatically. she echoed them merely by existing.

Still looking through Mistress’s eyes, she watched herself obey an unspoken command and climb toward the dragon’s head. her facets shifted with every movement. In the spaces between the filigree, light shone into her body and made it glow like a second lamp.

rolanne knelt between Mistress’s claws, then obediently reconfigured herself into a square-cut stone. The filigree retreated into an elaborate setting around her.

Then rolanne’s view shifted again. Once more she saw Weyderchi through the dragon’s imagination, but now it was morning. People were rising slowly, beginning their morning routines with dazed eyes and the sluggish movement of sleepwalkers. Unlike rolanne, they were still human.

For the moment.

It would be months, perhaps years, before the dragon could add them all to Her hoard. Until then, those left waiting would live much as they had before. They’d just have less...clutter...in their lives. Everything they ate and drank, everything they did, would be reduced to preparation for a final walk up Enwyf. Even the cattle, the pets, the smallest insects, would find their way to Her cave in the end. Many of them were here already, strewn among the outer passages like the baubles they were.

As for the humans, most of them would prove to be minor jewels as well, quickly transformed and forgotten. Only a few would be worthy of inclusion on the dragon’s treasure pile. It depended on the bedrock of their personalities.

rolanne’s bedrock had been all the dragon could have hoped for. Her matrix was rich with pride, courage, genuine nobility, and a rather surprising amount of love. That last had been slightly bothersome, but it hadn’t prevented Mistress from achieving practically everything She desired.

She wasn’t a particularly demanding dragon. She was content with almost all of Weyderchi.

rolanne watched, through Mistress’s eyes, as the spellbound Hierophant led the spellbound royal family to his own rich suites. They’d remain there, well fed and tended, for a year or two as Weyderchi’s shipbuilders completed their final task.

At the dragon’s command they would build the finest, safest vessel their skill could devise. Then Weyderchi’s most experienced sailors would lead the royal family aboard and set out from the city, sailing down the coast of Nestromand for about a month until the continent dissolved into a scattered chain of islands.

The people there lived simply and spoke a different language from the Weyderchines, who hadn’t considered them worth trading with. But they were hospitable enough to take in foreigners, even those who weren’t entirely in their right minds. The Weyderchines would be awake by then, but for rolanne’s sake, they would be left with certain gaps in their memories. Among them would be the name of their homeland and any reason they should care to return.

Meanwhile, the priests and temple guard would remain in Weyderchi, continuing their lives in much the same way as their fellow citizens. The priests and guards, however, would never climb Mount Enwyf. When the city was empty of all but themselves, they’d turn toward the mountain and simply...stop. They would neither eat nor drink nor move, but only stare up at the glowing cave mouth and yearn in vain for the dragon’s call. Eventually they’d die.

All told, the taking of Weyderchi would cost the dragon no more than five hundred thralls. It was a small price to pay for a hoard greater than anything Her kind had ever contemplated.

She smiled at the emerald still nestled between Her claws. rolanne was Her greatest treasure, for she’d brought the dragon so much more treasure.

Mistress gathered rolanne together with burda, ehlen and some of Her other favorite gem-thralls. Then, using rolanne’s gold and a bit more from Her pile, She bound them into a circlet and set it atop Her head.

There. The new Queen of Weyderchi had Her crown jewels.