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MIND CONTROL

The Staff Of Mathgar Ch 02

The Staff Of Mathgar Ch 02

by mctales
19 min read
4.7 (5500 views)
adultfiction

Hours later, Azareth's meeting with the four other Dark Elves dragged on. All five elves sat around a circular table in the dimly lit room. There was a lot of information to digest. Azareth had ordered Telith back to the temple, as the others did not yet trust her. They wouldn't risk her overhearing their plans.

Cellon, a short stocky man who'd spent his youth working as a thug for one of the city's many gangs of thieves, had taken Azareth's side during the hours-long debate. Both favored bold action.

"We've never had this kind of opportunity," Azareth pleaded for what seemed the thousandth time. "We have a double agent. We have the gods damned Priestess of Ban'ath!"

Cellon nodded along enthusiastically.

"We can accomplish much, if we act quickly," Azareth continued. "We can free the prisoners in in the temple's dungeon! Hell, we could assassinate the captain of the temple guard if we wanted!"

"And then what?" asked Mourena, mousy woman. The confidence in her voice contrasted with her petite stature. "Even if we managed to kill the captain, that act would prompt a response. The guards would ransack every Dark Elf home in the city and hang a few for good measure. Killing one man is an act of petty revenge, not a strategy for restructuring an entire society.

"It was just an example," muttered Azareth.

"We need to tread carefully," continued Mourena, ignoring Azareth. "We have a tremendous advantage, yes, but it's an advantage we cannot afford to lose. Caution is needed, now more than ever."

Azareth frowned at Mourena from across the table.

Nalina, playing the diplomat, interjected, "perhaps there is some middle ground." The tall, lean woman looked warily from Mourena and Azareth. "Surely, we must take advantage this situation, but perhaps a smaller step first? Something that ensures we don't overplay our hand?"

Rakin, a mild-mannered man and a respected leader of the rebellion, took that opportunity to voice his opinion. "A test of our abilities is prudent," he declared. "There will be time for bolder action once we confirm the staff's abilities."

"Hmph," mumbled Azareth. He was outvoted and he knew it. "I didn't risk my life finding the damned staff just for us to sit on our asses. But the counsel's will is the counsel's will." He leaned back in his chair in resignation.

"Then it's settled," concluded Mourena. "We've discussed much tonight and it's grown late. Let us reconvene tomorrow to discuss next steeps, after we've had some sleep. Agreed?"

"Agreed," everyone responded, though Azareth did so unenthusiastically.

Azareth remained seated while the others stood and filed out of the room into the dark alley. Mourena was last to the door, and she hesitated. She closed the door and turned back to face Azareth.

"I know you're not pleased, Azareth. You take things too personally. The counsel's decision is not personal. We are all grateful for what you accomplished, but there is much at stake."

"Grateful..." sneered Azareth. "Grateful, but untrusting. I'd have thought," continued Azareth, grabbing the Staff of Mathgar and holding it out on display, "recovering an ancient artifact that could save our entire race would earn more than a little gratitude. Perhaps my opinions deserve some actual weight."

"Again, Azareth," Mourena replied sounding tired, "no one doubts your contribution to our cause. But it is OUR cause. We have all put our safety on the line; we should all have a say in how we proceed."

"You've put your safety on the line?" shouted Azareth. "Do you have any idea how many times I almost died in that temple? I would have been tortured if I'd been captured in those catacombs. Your safety on the line? You," Azareth jeered, gesturing toward Mourena with the staff.

A flash of red light engulfed the room.

Startled, Azareth blinked, clearing his vision.

He looked back at Mourena who stood near the door with a vacant expression.

"Oh shit," whispered Azareth. "Shit, shit, shit. What did I do?"

"Mourena?" Azareth aseked hesitantly. ""Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Master," replied Mourena neutrally.

"Oh, fuck," exclaimed Azareth in dismay, putting a hand to his forehead. "Fuck! Why does this even work of a Dark Elf! It's a weapon against LIGHT Elves!"

"Okay. I can fix this," Azareth mumbled to himself. "Mourena I'm not your master. Once you leave here, I need you to forget everything that happened in this room after the others left. Can you do that?"

"Yes," answered Mourena simply.

"Okay. Good," said Azareth, taking a deep breath. It seemed the disaster was averted. "Now go home," he instructed.

Mourena turned to the door.

"Wait..." said Azareth. Mourena stopped, her arm outstretched toward the door. She turned her head back toward Azareth.

Azareth hesitated. "You're not my slave, Mourena. You're not. But... I want you to defer to me at future counsel meetings. You trust my judgement and you'll support my suggestions. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Mourena answered.

"Go home," Azareth told her, and Mourena slipped through the door.

__________________________________________________________________

It was late the next evening when Azareth arrived for the counsel meeting. To his shame, he'd had difficulty shaking the image of Mourena under the staff's thrall. Mourena had a husband, Kalmin. He was a bit obnoxious, but still a good man, and valuable to the rebellion.

Azareth made the secret knock on the door and, moments later, the door opened an inch and Cellon peered out. Seeing Azareth, he opened the door and let him inside.

"Well, if it isn't our savior," Cellon teased.

"Oh shut up," Azareth replied good-naturedly. He and Cellon often saw eye to eye on counsel matters, and they got along well.

Cellon closed and barred the door while Azareth fetched himself a mug of ale and took a seat at the table.

Another series of knocks sounded from the door and Cellon went to open it. Mourena, Nalina,and Rakin entered together and took seats at the table. Mourena slipped out of her heavy cloak and hung it on the wall. Beneath, she wore a pair of snug fitting leather breeches and a tight, navy blue bodice over a white undershirt that left a fair amount of cleavage exposed. She took a seat directly across the table from Azareth.

Azareth looked down at his drink, trying not to let his imagination wander.

"Well, now that everyone's had a little time to think, does anyone care to propose a plan?" Mourena asked.

"Ahem," Nalina cleared her throat. "I believe a measured next step would be taking control of a Light Elf courier who delivers messages between The Temple of Ban'ath and the Dawn Palace. It would be useful know what the High Priestess and Empress discuss."

Rakin nodded. "Makes sense."

"Hmph," groaned Azareth. "I knew you lot wouldn't want to start by controlling the Empress herself, but a COURIER? Have you no guts at all? I'd hoped to end our subjugation sometime this century!"

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Nalina and Rakin glared at Azareth, clearly annoyed.

"I think," spoke Mourena, "Azareth may have a point."

The entire table turned toward her, Nalina and Rakin clearly surprised.

Mourena shrugged. "Perhaps a courier is somewhat... unambitious."

"Very well..." Nalina said through gritted teeth. "Perhaps Azareth cares to share his plan, which I'm sure will demonstrate restraint."

"Gladly," responded Azareth. "I suggest we raid the temple's weapons cache and arm out rebellion."

"Ban'ath help us," moaned Nalina, looking up at the ceiling.

"I like it," said Cellon, always eager to get his hands on a good blade.

"That's your idea of restraint?" asked Rakin. "You think the armory won't notice when weapons go missing.

"Let's hear him out," said Mourena.

"Thank you," Azareth replied. "Who said anything about missing weapons? You're underestimating the staff. I'll order Telith to have her guards package up some weapons, enough to arm a squadron or two. She'll have the guards deliver the weapons to a storehouse, with instructions that the weapons will be picked up later and delivered to the soldiers fighting on campaign in the Vanthrol Marshes. Then we grab the weapons from the storehouse instead."

"You're going to get us killed," replied Nalina.

"It's less insane than I thought," conceded Rakin. "But it's hardly a subtle first step."

"A vote then," proposed Azareth. "All in favor?" Azareth raised his hand eagerly.

Unsurprisingly, Cellon's hand followed.

A moment later, Mourena raised her hand as well. Nalina and Rankin stared at her. "YOU favor this?" asked Nalina incredulously.

"It's risky, but manageable," answered Mourena. "We need to make some actual progress at some point."

Nalina sighed. "If it's the will of the counsel, so be it."

Cellon stood and retrieved a map of the city, which he laid out on the table. "We'll need to pick a drop-off location for the weapons."

"How about the docks," asked Rakin, gesturing to an edge of the map. "Plenty of cargo stashed there. Should blend in easily enough."

"Too many guards," replied Mourena. "They'll keep watch over any cargo their colleagues drop off. How about the abandoned foundry in Old Town?" she asked, rising from her seat and leaning over the table to point at a spot in front of Azareth.

Azareth found himself staring directly at Mourena's cleavage, the charcoal grey skin of her breasts on clear display. Mourena kept talking, but Azareth was too distracted to catch any of what she said.

Mourena sat back down and Azareth snapped back into reality. He quickly glanced at the others to check if anyone had noticed his leering. His eyes met Nalina's. If looks could kill, Azareth would have had a dagger through his heart.

Nalina frowned at Azareth in disgust, then returned her attention to the discussion. Azareth looked down in embarrassment.

The deliberations lasted another hour before a rough plan had been cobbled together. As everyone gathered their belongings to head home for the night, Azareth lingered at the table. "Mourena, can I have a quick word with you?"

Nalina glared at Azareth, then caught Mourena be the arm whispered something in her ear. Mourena rolled her eyes and placed one hand on the pommel of a dagger sheathed at her hip.

Nalina gave Azareth one final sideways glance, then filed out the door with the others.

"What do you want, Azareth?" Mourena asked curtly.

"I wanted to thank you for your support during the meeting. I'm glad we saw eye to eye for a change. I'd like to run a couple ideas by you before presenting them to the full counsel. I thought perhaps getting your input first would permit a united front."

Mourena sighed. "Very well."

"Good" said Azareth. "Fetch a bottle of wine from the cupboard and I'll get started.

"Fetch your own wine, Azareth. Let's get this over with so I can go home."

Interesting, thought Azareth. She didn't follow his order. His instruction that she was not a slave had worked. That was good to know. But he was starting to wonder if using the staff on Mourena had truly been a mistake. The counsel was finally taking bolder action. And he was seeing Mourena in a new and very flattering light...

Mourena sat at the table studying the map. "What are you planning?" she asked.

Azareth walked to a cabinet behind Mourena, who was too distracted to notice it was not the liquor cupboard.

"I think there is a safe means of freeing some prisoners form the dungeon. Not all of them yet, just a key few. I think we can fake their death." As he talked, Azareth slipped a key from his pocket and unlocked the cupboard.

"You'll have a hell of a time convincing Nalina and Raken, but I suppose there's a chance, if you work out enough details."

Azareth unlocked the cabinet and reached inside, withdrawing the Staff of Mathgar.

"I'm glad our relationship has become more productive," said Azareth. "I'd like it if we came to think of each other as friends."

Mourena turned and found Azareth staring at her, staff in hand.

"Put that away, Azareth. It's not a toy," she said sternly.

Azareth lifted the staff and pointed it at Mourena.

Mourena's eyes widened in panic.

"Azareth! What..."

The room flashed red. Azareth's eyes recovered almost immediately. Mourena's eyes were just as he remembered from the night before. Vacant. Empty. She was ready to absorb whatever instructions he gave her.

Azareth placed the staff back in the cabinet the approached Mourena. He leaned in close to her face and stared into her eyes. He sensed none of Mourena's fiery will. He sensed nothing at all.

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Azareth stepped behind Mourena, placing his hands on her hips and pressing his body against hers. He leaned in to whisper into her ear, "I think you and I are going to become close friends. Very close."

A part of Azareth knew this was wrong. He and Mourena were on the same side. Despite their distaste for each other, they respected one another and had both made sacrifices for their shard cause. But that part of Azareth was rapidly shrinking. He felt intoxicated with power. He grew stiff within his breeches and he pressed his groin against Mourena's firm behind.

"Tell me Mourena, have you ever been unfaithful to Kalmin."

"No," answered Mourena neutrally.

"A pretty woman like you, surely you've been tempted to," pressed Azareth.

"No."

"And if I ordered you to be unfaithful? What would you do if I ordered you to pull down your pants, bend over the table, and let me have my way with you?"

"I would do as Master commands," answered Mourena without emotion.

"That's right, Mourena, you do as your master commands," Azareth whispered back into her ear. "Master commands you to unlace your bodice.

"Yes, Master." Mourena began to unlace the thread that bound her bodice. Once finished, her arms fell limply back to her sides.

"Remove you bodice and undershirt."

As Mourena began to slip her arms free of the bodice, Azareth reached around her waist and unbuckled the thin leather belt supporting her breeches. He slipped it free and tossed the belt aside. Meanwhile, Mourena crossed her arms, reached down and grabbed the bottom of her shirt with both hands, then pulled it up over her head. Again, her hands dropped to her sides.

Azareth peeked over Mourena shoulder at her exposed breasts, then lifted his hands and cupped them. They felt soft and heavy in his hands.

Fondling her beasts, Azareth leaned in and whispered into her ear, "You belong to me now, Mourena, more completely than you ever belonged to Kalmin. Your mind is an empty vessel and I intend to fill it. Among other things..." He reached up and slid two fingers between Mourena's unresisting lips. "Suck," he ordered.

Mourena's lips closed around his fingers and she began to gently suck on them.

"You love me, Mourena. You always have. You only settled for Kalmin because you knew I wouldn't take you as my wife. But your love for me eclipses anything you've ever felt for Kalmin. You would cheat on him in a heartbeat if it meant a moment of intimacy with me, and you'd feel no guilt or remorse. I am your soulmate; you're soul is bound to me."

Azareth could not see Mourena's face, but her change in attitude was clear. She began eagerly bobbing her head back and forth along his fingers, and she swayed her hips side to side, grinding her ass against his groin.

"Your feelings for me are a secret," Azareth continued. "Your dark secret that you hide from the world. But when we're alone, you're overwhelmed with thoughts fucking me. You'll do anything it takes to seduce me, to feel me inside you. You'll do anything to convince me to fuck your brains out until you cum so hard there's nothing left of you but a mindless slut."

Mourena continued grinding again Azareth with newfound intensity. She reached up and grabbed his hand by the wrist then slid it, still slick with her saliva, down the front of her pants.

Azareth felt her slit, warm and wet from arousal. He gently rubbed his fingers in circles over her clit, and Mourena let out a deep moan. She turned her head backward and kissed Azareth passionately. Her tongue pressed eagerly into his mouth.

Several moments later, Mourena pulled her lips away, panting to catch her breath. "Fuck me," she moaned. "Please."

Still facing away from Azareth, she reached down and hurriedly unbuttoned her pants, then pulled them down to her knees, taking her undergarments with them. She bent forward over the table, presenting her ass, and looked back over her shoulder with hungry eyes. "Please," she begged, "I need it."

Azareth unbuckled his belt and dropped his own pants to his knees. Mourena stared intently at his erect cock and licked her lips.

Azareth stepped up behind Mourena and used one hand to guide his cock to her slit, stopping as soon as he made contact.

"Please," Mourena begged, as she started to press back onto Azareth.

"No," Azareth. "Not yet." He used his hand to slide the head of his cock gently up and down along Mourena's slit.

"Hnnnnng," she moaned in frustration.

"First, tell me what you'd do to fuck me," Azareth instructed.

"Anything!" Mourena answered hurriedly.

"Anything?"

"Yes, yes! Please!"

"And if that's true, if you'll do anything I tell you, does that not make you my slave?"

"I..." A look of concern passed over Mourena's face. "A slave?"

"I would certainly enjoy fucking a slave," answered Azareth, grinning.

"Yes, a slave!" responded Mourena, still looking back at Azareth over her shoulder. All doubt disappeared from her face as she nodded vigorously. "I'm a slave! Your slave! Please!"

"Good," replied Azareth as he slid inside Mourena.

"Ohhhh yesss." Mourena sighed. She laid her head down, cheek against the table. Her eyes glassed over as Azareth began thrusting and she lost herself in pleasure.

Azareth grabbed her hips and closed his eyes. Mourena was warm and tight. She felt wonderful. He picked up his pace and his thighs slapping against her ass at the apex of each thrust.

"Uunnngaahhh," Mourena exclaimed, sounding more animal than elf. Her mind was swimming. She lived entirely in this moment. Nothing existed beyond the feeling of Azareth filling her.

Azareth looked down at Mourena's face flat on the table. Her mouth hung open and a pool of drool was collecting on the table. The intelligent, determined woman Azareth knew was unrecognizable. This was something else entirely. A mindless bitch in heat.

Without pausing, Azareth had a moment of self-doubt. This was... wrong. So wrong. And so

hot

. She was his. Entirely his. A slave to pleasure that only he could give her. She was putty in his hands, ready to be molded into whatever he desired.

Azareth reached forward and grabbed Mourena by her hair and pulled her head forcefully back. She offered no protest. "You're mine," Azareth growled. "Forever mine." He came, shooting his load into Mourena without thought of the possible consequences.

After finishing, Azareth released Mourena's hair and stepped back, sliding out of her and unpinning her from the table. She collapsed into a heap on the floor, panting for breath. Her dark skin glistened with sweat, and Azareth's seed leaked from her slit.

Staring down at her, Azareth realized two things. First, he should not have done what he'd just done. Second, he would do it again. And again. He'd never stop.

Azareth had convinced himself that what he'd done to Telith had been about punishing her. She'd been his enemy. His oppressor. What harm was there in taking advantage of someone evil like her? It was justice.

He could make no such excuse with Mourena. She was an ally. A friend even. What he'd enjoyed just now was the feeling of control. He'd enjoyed dominating a woman with his will. He was not proud of it. In fact, he felt ashamed. But there was no going back. The experience had been... irresistible.

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