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.
