Intrepid Pawns Ch 08

Trys lay in the darkness, whimpering softly, trembling beneath the twin tongues on her breast and pussy. The catgirls' tongues were rough and long, wet and slow—oh,

so

agonizingly slow in their attentions. They had long since rendered the mighty warrior a quivering, moaning mess. She had come at least fifteen times already, by her count. But counting was difficult. All she knew was that it was too much, and she never wanted it to end.

Only the catgirls' magic kept it from being utterly agonizing at this point. Even so, she couldn't bear it. The screams had left her throat hoarse and weak, so they had commanded her to stay silent. She tried. She tried so hard. The gleaming eyes before her told her to do as her owners said, and she was too lust-drunk to even contemplate disobeying. Still, every now and then, a little sound escaped her open, panting mouth. That always made them laugh.

She knew, deep down, that these weren't eyes. The catgirls were busy licking out her pussy and suckling her breasts, lapping all over her, driving her mad with horniness. Their eyes were nowhere near her. These were candles. She had been hypnotized by a cheap pair of scented candles. It was humiliating. She had to fight this! Had to resist!

"Please," she cried, bucking weakly against the tongue to encourage the attentions on her clit. "Please, n-no more, no more, nnn... oh, more,

more

—

AAH

!" The orgasm blasted through her like hot water, agonizing in its intensity. There was too much pleasure. She couldn't fight. Couldn't think. She was lost in the eyes, lost in bliss, however unwelcome the bliss might be.

She heard the catgirls giggling. They knew that they had won. She was theirs, now, their own lust-crazed slut. They would turn her into a sweet little pet, she was sure, and then they would sell her to the Thriae, or perhaps keep her for themselves and keep her like this forever. She wasn't sure which she preferred.

They weren't even bothering with the mantras anymore. They were too occupied drinking her—Trys's time with the mead meant that her pussy and tits both produced a sweet honey-like liquid when stimulated, and what she was going through right now went far, far behind stimulation. The catgirls couldn't get enough of it.

It didn't matter. Trys knew the mantras by heart now.

My kittens are my mistresses. My mistresses love to give me pleasure. I love pleasure. I love my mistresses. My kittens love yummy sluts. I am a yummy slut for my kittens. I am a good yummy slut. A good yummy slut obeys her kittens. My kittens are my mistresses...

No! Trys struggled to avoid whispering them under her breath again.

No, that was too late, she realized. She'd been whispering them for hours, but broken-up, subvocalized. She could not allow herself to actually say them loud enough to be heard and understood.

That

was the last line to cross. If she started that, soon she would be screaming them, and then she'd be lost for good.

She needed to break free. She knew, if only she could look away from the lights, she could start meditating. She'd spent years learning how to resist fey control, but it was

no use

if her mind was lost telling herself to be a good yummy slut. Her kittens loved yummy sluts. She was a good yummy slut for her kittens. A good yummy slut...

Trys snapped back to attention. She'd just almost said 'obeys' aloud. How long had she lost to the mantras just now? A few seconds/?Minutes? Hours? She had to break free.

Now.

But the lights were too much. The pleasure was too much. Her eyes were lost in those eyes, lost in these tongues. The blonde warrior marveled at the glows. They made her feel so warm inside. So horny. Such a good, yummy slut...

Trys barely managed to catch herself in time. At least, she hoped she had. She'd come at least three more times, but she was past begging now. The catgirls didn't care what she begged for—they wanted to drown her in overstimulated pleasure until she had no brains left to resist a thing. They wanted to lick her brains out, to fuck her stupid.

And a big part of her wanted to let them.

No.

Trys knew what to do. She needed to disrupt the pleasure. The catgirls were too nectar-drunk themselves to notice whatever she tried. Still, this wouldn't be easy.

She reached down. No, she couldn't possibly remove the catgirl from her cunt. She could never bear to lose the tongue on her clit—not yet. But if she could get the other kitten's mouth off her breast...

She rested her hand on the head of the catgirl suckling her tit, and marveled at the smoothness of her hair. Now. Now was the time to pull her away. Now.

Now.

She swallowed, pressing the catgirl's face closer against her, savoring the unending lickings and suckings. Any moment now. Any moment she would... would...

"... a good yummy slut," she heard herself whimpering. "M-my kittens love yummy—

aah!

" The orgasm shuddered through her whole body, reducing the rest of her words to babble.

Oh. Shit.

She couldn't fight it. Couldn't bear to lose the tongues. Trys felt tears coursing down her cheeks. it almost

hurt

. She'd come so many times, been so overwhelmed by sensation... She couldn't even beg for them to stop anymore. And she'd barely caught herself just now. Soon, she'd start screaming the mantras, begging to be made a good, yummy slut for her kittens. It was painful, waiting for the inevitable. She almost wished they'd just get it over with.

Painful.

A thought occurred to her. A dreadful, bitter, ashen thought. But in the sea of gooey sweetness, she grasped at it. Clutched it until it made sense in her mind.

Struggling with every fiber of her being, the blonde swordswoman and ex-prisoner of the Thriae reached her hand upwards. It was like pushing a lead weight through quicksand.

But she was very strong.

As she reached up, Trys could feel her other hand stroking her kitten's hair. She marveled at the softness. How wonderful her kittens were. So soft. So good, to give her so much pleasure.

She moaned, feeling yet another orgasm fill her mind. She loved her kittens so. What had she been worried about, again? Surely whatever it was, her kittens could keep her safe. She started to smile. Her kittens would take care of her now.

"My kittens are my mistresses," she heard herself gasp, rocking back and forth, clutching the lips on her breast tightly. Here came another climax. "My m-mistresses love—

love

to give me pleasure!" Her voice rose to screams, as she felt her mind finally snap. "

Oh, yes! I love pleasure! I love my mistresses—my mistresses love yummy sluts—I AM A YUMMY SLU—AAAAUGH!

"

Her scream was not one of pleasure.

Unconsciously, without even being fully aware of it, her hand had come to rest upon one of the candles. The candles had been floating in midair, but as she'd touched this one, burning pain had seared through her palm—and hot wax had spilled right onto her neck. She screamed in agony, and with that pain came clarity.

She smacked the candles away, more out of panic than anything else. The catgirls were stirring, confused, but the honey made made them tipsy and dreamy. Before the one at her breast knew it, Trys had grabbed her by the hair and yanked her away, smacking her head against the ground

hard

. She'd twisted her legs up, catching the catgirl's neck between her thighs and—

She hesitated, catching the catgirl's panicked eyes. The catgirl stared at her, biting her quivering lip. There was a silent plea on those lips.

Trys found she didn't quite have it in her to kill. Not yet. These were her mistresses, and... and she was a good...

She settled for twisting around and smacking this catgirl's head against the floor as well.

It took Trys a moment to rise, and she spent the time breathing heavily and peeling the wax off her skin where it had pooled. It hurt, but not too badly. She'd been through way worse. Brist could probably heal it, at least a tad. Crystal mages had all sorts of...

Brist. She stopped short, thinking intently. There was no way Brist and Ia were still at the flower by now.

Okay, let's see.

Ia's immune to mind control. That means they got her first, got her out of the way. Then they grabbed me and Yathi, because Yathi's hot as fucking hell, and they... must have left Brist for last.

Yathi was the real prize, definitely. Trys knew that Yathi would be hard to rescue, because there was

no way

the catgirls weren't focusing their attentions on that nubile scout. Unfortunately, she was also the member of the band most likely to know a weakness. Catgirl druids were a devastating threat—unarmed, Trys had only taken out two by surprise, and she wouldn't have that luxury again.

Trys wondered, idly, if the catgirls had planned the flower hypnosis. Probably. Then again, maybe hey hadn't needed to. The team hadn't been playing it smart. Getting into arguments, hiding awkward crushes, shouting at each other... it was a mess.

Ia's fault? Maybe a little. But only a little. This problem seemed fundamental.

This team...

Trys thought, chewing her inner cheek. She sat there in the pitch black, remembering. Okino had put this team together. A couple of immature kids dancing around their hormones, an ex-mead addict, a misanthrope, and a warrior aiming to bang said misanthrope to lead them. And only one mead-immune between them!

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

What if I just got Brist?

she thought.

He's... probably the least guarded. He'll be easy to subdue, that one, so they won't have more than a Third Circle or two.

She chewed her upper lip.

I could find him and get out of here. A crystal mage would be enough. We could just leave. I can't help Yathi, and Ia... let her handle herself. We could just get the hell out of here.

The thoughts were dirty and dark, like charred wood, and they ground against her mind in an unpleasant way. But wasn't there some truth to them? Everything was in such bad shape right now. Why not just save the mage?

She let the thoughts grind against her mind for a good, long moment.

Because we aren't finished here,

she thought reluctantly, getting to her feet.

We still have a mission. The city is counting on us, and damn it, I won't be the one to blame for our failing.

She cast about in the darkness, hoping against hope that Yathi had left one of her many knives behind.

"S-stop," rasped a voice trembling with pleasure. Trys gave a start. A catgirl? A Thriae? A...

Oh. She registered at last the faint vibration sounds and remembered the fourth tenant of this vine dome. Two glowing green orbs were watching her now, locked on Trys's golden eyes.

"It's okay," Trys said, holding up her hands and taking a step closer. "I can help y—"

"Stop."

Trys felt her legs freeze in place. She blinked, and tried to take a step forward. No. She tried to take a step backward. Still no. The legs weren't numb. They just... weren't following her instructions anymore.

She stared in growing nervousness at the vine dryad, who seemed to smile. "Good girl. G...

oh

... we're good girls..."

"I can help you break free of them!" Trys pleaded. She struggled to fight the compulsions, to force her feet to move, but vine dryad mind control was subtle. It crept into your brain, slithered around, tightened its soft grip while you were distracted. Doubtless, the dryad had been placing it ever since the catgirls had been knocked out. And Trys hadn't been paying enough attention to notice it. Stupid, stupid...

"No," the dryad said. "We gotta be good girls! Wait for 'em to wake up. They'll... 'ward me..."

"They're enslaving you."

"Mm-hm..." The quality in her voice could only be described as dreamy. Trys felt her pussy give a twinge as she realized that the vine dryad was edging herself. A good girl indeed. "Making me a nice good girl who deserves lots and lots of lickings! They'll—

aah

—make you nice and good, too! Good li'l sluts for our kittens..."

Trys bit her lip. "I... I don't want..."

"Yes, you do."

"Yes, I do." The words escaped Trys's mouth before she'd even identified them. Her heart sank. The conditioning was still on her. No wonder she'd been so easy to control—a part of her truly wanted to let the dryad take command.

"See? You're a good slut, like me. Oh!" The green eyes fluttered. The voice was getting breathier. Trys felt faint just listening. "And... and you're gonna wait here in the nice darkness with me, until our kittens wake up. And then I'll hold you down, and they'll make you cum and cum and cum, and maybe they'll... mm, yes... let

me

cum and cum and cum, and maybe they'll—th-they'll even let me lick one of them out!" The dryad let out a long, soft moan. "Oh, to be a good slut for my kittens..."

Trys felt her arousal spiking. She was quickly losing control. Shit. She'd been so close, so clever, and to lose to a damn sex toy? It was humiliating.

These catgirls would find it adorable, she was sure. At least her kittens would be happy.

No! She couldn't think like that. She needed a plan, she needed... needed...

"We... don't have to just wait down here," Trys said. Her mind was racing.

"Yes, we do," the dryad said smoothly. "We're gonna wait down here until they wake up so they can make you come your brains out!"

"No, I mean..." Trys licked her lips. "We don't have to

just

wait.:"

A pause. "What?" The arousal had clearly risen in the brainwashed fey's voice. That she was constantly edging herself probably didn't help.

"I could lick you." Trys smiled. She reached up and tossed her long, wavy blonde hair. "I'm really good at it. The Thriae taught me."

Well, brainwashed me into being little more than a squealing honey sprite, but...

"Oh. Oh." Trys heard the dryad lick her lips. "Um. They told me to... to edge myself... can't make myself come..."

"But I can make you come." Trys smiled broadly. She reached down and openly fondled her pussy, knowing that the vine dryad could see it even in this darkness. And she could certainly smell it. "It'd... make me feel good..." Fuck, this

did

feel good. She'd have to be careful not to go overboard.

"Good..." The dryad was panting.

"Don't you want me to be your slut?" Trys cooed. She stuck a finger into her pussy and stroked her clit with her thumb. She made her voice coy, playful. "Just for a few minutes? Nobody needs to know."

"I... I shouldn't..."

"You should."

"I mustn't!"

"You

need

it," Trys moaned. Fuck,

she

needed it, at this rate. She knew that stroking her pussy was necessary to seduce the creature, but the thoroughness of her strokes—and the use of her other hand to play with her nipples—was, perhaps, a bit out of hand.

"... I need it," the vine dryad whispered. "I need it! Oh, yes, come here. Come here! Oh, my little

slut

! Lick me out!"

Trys staggered forward, stopping when she could hear the dryad's panting breaths close by, and dropped to her knees. She felt hands grab her head, press her against the dryad's groin. She licked out and tasted dryad juices. The dryad gave a little yelp. "Yeah! You're mine! Lick me! Lick me, slut! Oh,

please

—"

Trys took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent. She pressed her face into the dryad's pussy and started licking inside the inner folds. She dedicated long, sensuous licks to the clit, alternating them with little affectionate kitten laps—just as the catgirls had done to her. And gradually, she sped up both.

The dryad had been edging herself for a long, long time, and she was horribly needy by now. Her hands instantly fell away as Trys started eating her out. She started babbling uncontrollably, thanking Trys, begging her, worshiping her. Her hips started to thrust. Her knees buckled, but Trys grabbed her around the hips, holding her steady.

"I—" The dryad was trembling, almost crying. She was so, so close. Trys redoubled her efforts. "Oh, it's—feels so good—oh, I'm so sorry, my kittens—"

And she came.

Screams took the place of words. The commands melted into moans. She melted into Trys's arms, totally spent, totally broken. Trys felt the mind control breaking away, and suddenly she was free.

Free to stroke herself.

Free to pinch her nipples.

Free to hump the dryad's knee.

Free to drink from her lover's wet, swollen pussy...

She barely managed to refocus her attention to the subject at hand. The dryad had gone limp in her arms, all fight gone. Afterglow had consumed her entire being.

"Who's a good girl?" the blonde warrior whispered.

"I'm a bad girl," came the reply. "Ooh, Mistress, I'm...

such

a bad girl... wasn't s'posed to cum... please, Mistress, we mustn't..."

And there it was. 'Mistress'. They had conditioned this one well.

As the dryad's orgasm settled into afterglow, Trys took her tongue away. Ignoring the dryad's whimpers of protest—for all capacity for commands had been well and truly fucked out of her—Trys replaced the tongue with her fingers and rose up to look in to the dryad's fluttering eyes.

"Do you want more?" she whispered.

"N-no..." the dryad whimpered. "Stop, my... my Mistresses... m-my kittens!"

Part of Trys hated herself for doing this. She'd been in the dryad's place once, in a manner of speaking. She knew what it was like to be betrayed by her own mind, her own body. That the dryad was being forced to submit

against

those who had already raped her didn't make it much better. It was wrong. Trys knew that.

So why did it feel so

hot

to sit here, legs straddling the brainwashed fey woman's legs, edging her with her fingers and forcing her to submit to

her

will?

"Listen to me very closely," Trys cooed, licking the Dryad's ear and nibbling it softly. From the dryad's little burbles and whines, she knew there would be no more argument.

~~~~

Elsewhere in the Western Evergreen, sitting on an immense green leaf, five fey observed the similar plight of a young scout with utter delight.

Well, four of them observed it. The fifth—a bronze-skinned, copper-haired pitcher dryad—was being made to watch as a catgirl held her still and casually slammed a runerod in and out of her positively drooling pussy.

The young scout's name was Yathi. Up until recently, she had been the pride of the city's knights—a master of stealth, a skilled survivalist, and an expert on all things fey. But she had always been best-known, to her painful disappointment, as the most beautiful woman in the knighthood. Her superiors and peers had always openly lusted after her, and she'd had to learn to handle herself around much bigger, stronger coworkers. She had learned from a very young age to resist mind control, as well as how to wield a switchblade. She knew how to battle every fey in the books, particularly those prone to kidnapping attractive young ladies and brainwashing them into service. She cut her dark hair to shoulder-length, and refused to dye it honey blonde, like the other girls her age.

And none of it had been enough.

Now, she lay immersed in the sap of a massive pitcher sap, moaning and screaming like a sprite pit customer who'd been down too long. The exquisite sensation of the poisons suffused her entire being with pleasure. She could feel her mind bending and writhing to suit this new master—not the fey ogling her, not even the captive fey who owned this plant, just pure, sweet bliss. And she didn't mind.

Yathi loved the plant. She stroked herself openly, relishing in orgasm after orgasm. It simply didn't end, because the plant would never allow her anything as horrid as going a second without orgasm. She beamed. It loved her too much for that!

She'd been so silly before, thinking to cut herself free. How could she ever leave? How could she even consider it, when she had the option to just lie here forever and be a good, passive girl for her new owner? It would pump her full of orgasms, and she would lie there and moan, and wriggle, and accept it all.