Note: This chapter contains mind control, nonconsensual sex, tickling, mermaids, hints of brainwashing, and hints of slime girls.
~~~~ ~~~~
Chrysa basked in the joy of her conquest: Both in the conquest of her prey, and the conquest of herself.
She had won. And lost. Her will had broken down the will of her captive. Her will had broken down. And it was all too deliciously, gloriously steeped in ecstasy for the jelly maid to tell the difference.
She sucked at the cock between her pale lips, flicking her little stinging tongue twice over his glans. She had always made the boys happy. She had always known how to touch them until they felt good. So good. She looked up, eyes glowing with triumph. The wispy white tendrils that served as her "hair" had long since stopped stinging him. Now they just wafted above her, brushing along his belly and continuing to lightly tickle.
Her captive's eyes were screwed tightly shut. She slowly ran her lips up and down along his shaft, savoring the feeling of hardness inside her. It was starting to throb again. She loved this part.
Chrysa remembered back before. Before she had met her mistress. She had once loved to go
all
down on her lovers, deep-throating with the skill of one who did not breathe through lungs. The sensation of being as filled as a mermaid could possibly be had brought her to orgasm time and time again. But not anymore. Now she was more full than ever, thanks to her mistress. And she wanted to taste him. She moaned as another spurt of salty cum shot onto her eager tongue.
This jelly maid had been given a very important job: Milking the male human. She giggled. He had been the one who would put up a fight, her mistresses had said. Chrysa had to milk him dry. Make him weak. Make him hers. Make him cum.
It had been even easier than she'd expected. And he was so delicious! She closed her eyes with bliss as her tongue teased a bit of extra cum out of him. She reached up and tapped his chest, getting him to open his eyes and look at her. She made sure he saw her swallow.
She loved being like this. They had made her love being like this. She ran her tongue around his cock, briefly sliding her lips all the way down until her lower lip brushed his testicles. She took the it all down her throat, adoring the sensation. It felt so good, being slutty, being pliant. She knew with every suck, every swallow, every moan, she was fucking her own brain more. Making herself more slutty, more pliant. A better bimbo for her beautiful mistresses. Just like they wanted.
Her head rose back up, and she sighed into him. Her prey had come at least four times now. She was
so good
at making him happy. He bucked against her, and she stared up at him with joy. He wanted her!
For a moment, she wished she was a mortal. She wished she had a pussy that she could wrap around his eager shaft, wished she had legs instead of tentacles to wrap around him and feel him inside her. She wished she could buck and moan and scream on top of him like a common landwhore. She wished she could make him lick her out, make him look up at her, taste her, and realize that she was his goddess. She wished she could orgasm with him.
But she was nothing but the plaything of her mistresses. She would come at their pleasure, and not before.
She squealed as he started thrashing and bucking for a fifth time, her breasts heaving from the effort of milking. It felt so good to lose. He would learn that soon enough.
~~~~
For a few strange seconds, Larya was made of stone.
As the druidess glided through solid rock, she felt the layers, the cracks and crevices, the streaks of pure ore and the grains of odd mineral. She felt the earth beneath her, felt its grinding progress as it ate away at itself, the crust descending and ascending and descending again like a serpent biting its own tail.
All earth was fluid, if you could find something denser, and she knew the world's crust floated upon oceans of stone. This dark, dull stone was no less alive than fire. Larya felt the World Base in it, just as she felt it in trees and animals.
When she emerged on the other side of the wall, she realized she'd gotten a little wet. Which was still a weird sensation when she was thousands of meters underwater. This spell was bizarre. It let her pussy get moist, but it didn't let her fingers get pruny. So weird.
She took a look at her folded clothes. Mylio had ordered her to undress before lying down for him, and she was currently buck-naked. It almost felt silly to be going around dressed when she was thousands of meters underwater, spell or no spell.
Then she remembered that look in Nerka's eye. That lusty, predatory, inhuman look. Something was seriously wrong here, and she did not want to tempt fate. Or mermaids.
She donned the shirt and skirt as she walked. They were completely dry, thanks to the spell, and it felt a bit surreal to be wearing them again. She considered her underwear, then tossed it aside. There was no time. Besides, her panties were still slick with juices. It wouldn't do. Some merfolk had really good senses of smell.
As she hurried down the dark tunnel, Larya caught a glimpse of something drifting through the water. She frowned. It was of a bright grass-green hue, and stood out quite sharply against the dark, clear water. Even without the spell allowing her to see in deep waters, it was clearly slightly luminescent.
She stopped walking and stared at it. It was a liquid, or maybe a jelly of some kind. It swirled in a way that was almost . . .
. . . almost . . .
Larya inclined her head. It was so pretty, shimmering in the darkness . . .
. . . swirling, spiraling, rising and dipping like a slow, sensuous wave . . .
. . . Nerka's breasts had been heaving as Mylio had sucked at one nipple, just
begging
for a second mouth to fasten around the other . . .
The jelly slowly descended into a crack in the wall. Larya's eyes followed it as it squished its way through, navigating almost like a tentacle. Like Mylio's tail, thrashing helplessly in Nerka's solid grip . . .
As it vanished from sight, Larya realized had been been staring at a single wisp of passing algae for a full minute. She gave a start.
What's wrong with me?
She tried not to think about the fact that she'd gotten even wetter doing it as she continued running.
~~~~
Chrysa's first warning to be on the lookout was a little sexy sigh in her ear, and her eyes rolled up into her skull with sheer pleasure. Her mistress was speaking to her again. She found herself shaking with repressed orgasm, even as she determinedly kept sucking—her paralyzed prisoner still needed to be milked. She still had more to drink before she would be satisfied. She was so overcome, she didn't even hear what her mistress actually said.
Her second warning was a quarterstaff being put in front of her throat and jerked backwards. "Oh!" the jelly maid managed before being yanked backwards. She felt a knee press into her back.
The quarterstaff continued pressing against her neck, and she struggled desperately against the firm grip. It hurt! And she had been forced off of her plaything!
Chrysa spent a few seconds flailing wildly, her mind racing in a blind panic. The pain and shock made her lose control of her senses. She didn't know what was going on, but it hurt and she wanted to be free. What was going on? Was the figure going to kill her? Why couldn't she go back to milking?
As she continued to struggle, though, and nothing changed, the panic slowly dulled. The pain did, too, and the figure didn't seem to be planning to break her neck anytime soon. Understanding dawned on Chrysa: The figure was trying to strangle her.
She kept fighting, but less sincerely, as a grin started to spread over her face. She felt the soft skin against her back. Heard the little gasps and grunts from the figure trying to choke her. Smelled the sexual frustration in the water.
Jelly maids didn't breathe through their lungs, or even their gills. They breathed through the pale flesh of their tentacles, and the rest of their skin to a lesser extent. The pressure against her neck hurt, but that was it. The figure had made a grave error. A wonderful error she would come to be so, so happy she'd made.
Oh, Chrysa knew exactly who was trying to choke her.
No paralysis this time. She loved making boys happy. But girls deserved to be happy, too.
"Hi!" she whispered. "I'm gonna make you feel
so good
."
"What?" came the voice from behind her. Perfect! Chrysa had needed her to speak to be sure where she was; she would only get one shot.
Giggling, she directed one of her lower tentacles to leap up. She felt it scurry up the druid's leg and climb right into that slick pussy. Bulls-eye. She was wearing a skirt, but no panties. No barrier to Chrysa. Clearly, this druidess was more eager than she would admit!
"Oh!" The voice of the druidess was surprised. Startled. Very aroused. Chrysa beamed. This would be fun.
She told her tentacle to give just a little sting.
"
Aah!
" The pressure against Chrysa's throat vanished, though the quarterstaff did not release her. "
Aah—ahaaha!
Stop—oh, goddesses, that
tickles
—"
The druidess was wriggling behind her, trying to get the tentacle out without letting go of the staff, but she was being
so
helpful in telling Chrysa where she was with all this noise. Chrysa had three more tentacles shoot up. Two joined the first in rubbing inside her cunt. The third started tickling between her legs.
"
Aahahaha! Heeheeheehee! Stop it!
" The pressure returned on Chrysa's throat, but only for a second before growing weak again. "S-s-s-st
aaah!
"
Chrysa kept stinging. She could hear the voice of her mistress in her ear again.
"Drown her in touch,"
the voice hissed. "
Ooh, make her beg to be nursed. Make her beg to be our slut, just like you are!"
Chrysa longed to turn around and behold the face of the druidess, who was now squealing with giggles and arousal. But the staff still held her firm. So she just looked straight ahead, keeping an eye on her previous paralyzed plaything. She couldn't wait to get back to milking him. She pictured having this druidess suckle at her teat as she did so and couldn't help but let out a little squeal of her own.
It was time to step up her game. Experimentally, Chrysa leaned back. She felt a womanly chest behind her. There was a shirt, but no bra. Perfect. Oh, so perfect.
"
Heeheehee—wha—oh, no, no, no—"
She grinned evilly and set her hair tendrils to work. They crawled under the collar and ran over the druidess's breasts, instilling them with new sensation. More sensation than a human breast was meant to contain. She teased her tendrils over those hard nipples, tickling them until she could feel the warm breasts heaving and swelling against the back of her head. "Isn't this nice?" she sang.
"Y—n—
hee hee hee hee!
"
"I thought so!" Chrysa giggled, feeling almost as tickled as her hot little new captive. She reached back with one hand. "So how about you let me go and I can make you feel even
nicer
?"
"N-no!"
Chrysa was impressed. This druidess was still holding the quarterstaff against her neck, even with a jelly maid tickling her clit, thighs and breasts without mercy. But it was time to show her who was
really
