The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You smack my ass one more time, Starros, and I’ll snap your thumbs off!” Fleyah barked at the satyr crouching behind the corner of the neatly trimmed hedge wall.

“My dear High Guard Fleyah! I was only trying to swat away a pesky wasp that must have mistaken your rump for a bouquet of flowers,” Starros replied, crouching low and leering at the blonde elf’s powerful buttocks barely concealed under a pleated leather skirt.

“And you know you really should address me as Lord Keyholder,” Starros chided, shaking the large jeweled key that hung from a silver chain around his neck.

Fleyah scowled and swept a kick at Starros’ head. She knew she’d be reprimanded and probably exiled if she actually struck the honored Keyholder for the Ethrana Empire’s secret arsenal, but she never worried about her blow landing. Starros catapulted himself backward on his powerful goat legs, cackling to see he had gotten a rise out of Fleyah.

“Ho, ho! Careful love! You could cause an accident with that thing. Maybe we should head behind the spruce tree over there and I could give you a chance to work out all that tension?”

Fleyah scoffed, nearly amused. “Yeah, by kicking you in your fucking goat balls again and again!”

She had to it, the idea was very tempting.

Starros twirled his finger through his beard. He was a younger satyr, which made his incessant horny energy all the worse, but he still had a long, bushy tuft of hair on his chin.

“Hmmm! Sounds kinky! Well, I’ve tried worse things with the minotaur bunch. Shall we get started?”

Starros reached for his loincloth, gently pulling back the thin fabric. Fleyah got a glimpse of his swollen nut sack before she threw up her hands in disgust.

“Oh! By all the stars and goddesses! This is the worst fucking assignment ever!”

Starros rolled his eyes. He had to hear this rant at least once a day. Fleyah would shriek and scream that it just had to be her to babysit the most obnoxious, randiest satyr in all the Realm, and that it was just plain stupid that the Ethranian elites would even trust the Grand Key of the Vault of Legends to a goat-legged, horndog like him, and if she had to put up with him grabbing her butt or leering down her shirt once more she’d cut his balls off!

The young Lord Keyholder had to it he also wasn’t completely happy with the situation, either. The Vault of Legends contained some of the most powerful artifacts in the empire and could be used to secure its downfall should they ever fall into the wrong hands. The elves didn’t trust their own kind enough to leave that responsibility to a potential usurper or a spy for the dark factions.

But satyrs?

They were a frisky, devilish, wild lot, but they kept their word when they gave it and had always been a steadfast ally to the Empire through the ages.

There was just the little problem of satyrs’ libidos. Sure, they were crafty, quick, and excellent magic weavers (making them adept at resisting many forms of magic), but wave a pretty nymph in front of them and all sense of honor and duty runs away with the wind.

That was why Fleyah alone was entrusted with guard duty around the Vault of Legends. It was her job to shoo away pretty much anyone with breasts who might try to distract the Lord Keyholder.

So instead, she ended up becoming the distraction from the distractions, and it was unfathomably miserable. Some of her kind may go for satyrs, but certainly not her! The whole Empire knew of Fleyah’s sapphic proclivities, hence her appointment to keep an eye on Starros.

“Alright, alright!” Starros held up his hands when he couldn’t tolerate the elf’s rantings anymore. “I can tell you need some time to reconcile your feelings. Why don’t we patrol the opposite sides of the grove for a bit, and then we can regroup and work out all that stress you’ve been building up.”

Fleyah’s lips pressed into a thin white line that contrasted nicely with her face, now a furious red.

“The first part.” She growled. “And so help me Starros, if I hear that key jingle because you’re offering it to the first sprite that sucks you off, I will absolutely impale you with your own horn!”

“I believe I have a strap-on harness that might help you with that,” Starros gloated.

“Raaaaghhh!!” Fleyah roared as she stormed away, fuming all the more to feel Starros’ eyes tracing her curves from behind.

Starros smirked as the statuesque elf warrior disappeared behind one of the hedge walls. He stretched and scratched his balls, giving his turgid cock a small jiggle. Too bad pestering Fleyah was the only fun they allowed him to have on this cursed post of his. That and practicing his music, always a favorite for satyrs.

He turned and picked up his bound wooden set of pan pipes, sat down on his favorite moss-covered rock, and began piping out a medley of jaunty tunes, promising that he’d get back to ‘patrolling’ right after a few songs.

On the other side of the small clearing, bordered and partitioned by verdant hedges, Fleyah also chose to practice her specific skills instead of patrolling the perimeter. She grasped her birchwood bow, reinforced with moonsilver, and fired arrow after arrow into a gnarled tree stump that happened to have a very uncanny resemblance to Starros’ head.

When the tenth arrow split through what she pictured as Starros’ ‘eye’, she let out a strained breath through her puckered lips. She didn’t mean to let Starros’ impropriety get to her, but she had been on patrol for the whole of the past month, and his aggravating, grating, impishly childish behavior was beginning to make her…well, irritable.

Fleyah holstered her bow over her back and was about to circle around the grove when the rustling of a distant oak branch caught her attention. Something flitted through the eaves of the forest, against the wind.

She unsheathed her bone-white knife from her belt and stalked closer, keeping against the sides of the hedge wall. She didn’t smell any kind of deer or bird that might have shaken the tree by accident, but any sort of squirrel or critter could have taken a bad step. Still, it was her duty to be suspicious, fully aware of how many of her enemies were out to infiltrate the Vault of Legends.

The grove that concealed the Vault was designed with several labyrinthine paths and alcoves in order to confuse and disorient would-be intruders. The noise that grabbed her attention had come from the end of one such alcove, the hedge walls stretching to a small fountain garden about fifty paces from the main path.

Fleyah peered deep into the foliage, using her keen eyesight to spot the broken branch on the oak tree just above the bordering hedges. It looked like a fairly solid bough of wood, something no squirrel could have snapped by accident. She crouched low, stalking her way down the grassy path.

The brush in front of her was quiet and still, which set the elf on edge. No voles or rabbits scampering, no jaybirds flitting from bush to bush, something was silencing them, intimidating them. For a brief moment, she thought about summoning Starros, just to give him a heads up that something was amiss. She pictured him running up and ‘accidentally’ bumping into her backside with his throbbing phallus.

She staunchly decided against it.

Suddenly, Fleyah lifted her head. She had just caught a scent, a whiff of something, drifting on the breeze. She sniffed for it again, trying to track down the elusive smell. Something sweet, yet pungent and spicy. She moved her head around in small circles, sniffing at the air like a tracking hound. Every so often, she’d pick up a blast of it, floral and almost sour, then the smell would fade, and she’d jog a few feet further down the path.

She found herself desperate to get another sniff. It was such a strange, unfamiliar scent. She had to figure out what it was, searching for it in the air with an ardent fervor. Another hit of flowers mixed with spice, mixed with sex.

Was that it? Was Starros getting seduced by some bimbo goblin floozy? She had to see! Had to find the smell tickling her nose and making her face flush.

Fleyah broke into a full run but stopped short when she realized she was plainly headed for a dead end. The pathway ended at the small limestone fountain with nobody in sight, only the fountain and an ornate wicker chair with a throne-like hood. She brought her hand to her head, reeling and a little dizzy. The smell was overpowering. What in Ethrana was making it?

She stalked around the fountain, sniffing at every corner like a soul possessed. She felt if she couldn’t find whatever was making the sweet, spicy musk, she’d have a fit.

Then, at the height of her exasperation, she saw it. A single, large flower, its four large triangular petals a confounding blend of fiery reds and orange that faded into pale yellow, dotted with iridescent spots near the tips. The aroma driving Fleyah mad was so thick about the flower’s long stamen, she could practically see it, like a fine pink mist.

What kind of plant was this? She walked closer, the smell invading her head. She needed to see the incredible, aromatic flower closer.

It was…beautiful! She sighed and slumped to her knees.

The swirling, confusing patterns of the petals captivated Fleyah’s eyes as much as the flower’s scent had captivated her sense of smell. She stared wide-eyed at the petals, trying to make sense of it all.

The sour, spicy, yummy smell…the pretty, shimmering, brilliant colors.

Watch it.

The words crept into Fleyah’s mind in a voice that didn’t sound like her at all. Part of her wanted to glance up and look around, but her gaze was stuck on the pretty flower. She couldn’t look away now.

Smell it.

The voice bounced through her head again. Fleyah immediately inhaled deeply, letting the mesmerizing scent fill her entire body, making her muscles melt, and her nether regions heat up.

Pick the flower.

The idea was so obvious. She was so fascinated with the strange, beautiful, enticing flower. She should pick it and get a closer look. Her hand twitched, hesitantly drifting towards the compelling blossom. Why was she doing this again? Wasn’t she supposed to be on patrol for…something?

The heady aroma was making it so hard to think. She tried to shake her head, to shake loose the befuddling fog that had descended over her brain. She felt lost, dazzled by the shimmering colors and wonderful smell.

Pick the flower.

Fleyah’s hand stretched out and, without a second thought, snapped the flower off its thin stem, growing entwined with the thick hedges. She brought it closer to her face, the stupefying patterns and scent doubling in potency. The powerful elf felt her body sink, heavy on her knees, and her head tilted to one side as she marveled at the strange flower, her eyes glassy and her mouth hanging open.

Stare at it. Smell it. Listen.

The words trickled through Fleyah’s head, hijacking her mental faculties. The more she stared and bathed in the flower’s scent, the more her thoughts dissolved into pretty, shimmering sparkles, guided by the strange words that tickled her ears.

So entranced was the elf that she hardly even noticed when a silky hand, pale green in complexion, gently snatched away the mind-consuming flower and brought it gently above her head, letting rosy pink pollen gently shake off the girthy stamen and into her eyes. Something tickled her between her legs, and she let out a small giggle.

The long, thick stamen looked like a tiny penis. Fleyah smiled sleepily and followed the flower around with her head as the green hand swayed it above her in gentle circles.

A face appeared next to her ear, soft dark green lips curling into an evil smile with small, pointed fangs that crossed from her top and bottom teeth.

“That’s a good girl,” the mouth whispered. “Now listen closely….”

Starros finished up his tenth set on the panpipes and leaned back in the afternoon sun, his promise to patrol the western perimeter conveniently forgotten. He reached down and fondled his full balls, wondering why the grove sounded so quiet.

Then it hit him. He hadn’t heard Fleyah’s voice nagging him to be more responsible, or take his post more seriously, or to stop trying to flick berries down her neckline. Really, she’d just reprimand him any time he was in danger of having fun.

So, how had he just wasted the better part of an afternoon dicking away at his music without Fleyah threatening to slice off his tongue? Something wasn’t adding up.

Starros kicked off his rock and began to pace on his tawny hooves down the neatly trimmed grove dotted with gardens and marble statues. He ran his fingers over the Grand Key around his neck and pricked up his ears, listening to see if any of the birds or beasts might tip him off. Nothing so far. What had happened to Fleyah?

He stopped and gazed absently at a sculpted bust of the Alixaria the Uniter, the first Elven Empress to unite the five sylvan factions into what became the Ethranian Empire. Starros wasn’t so much interested in the history of it, but rather found it amusing that the sculptor had taken the term ‘bust’ in more ways than one.

“Starros! There you are!” Fleyah’s voice chimed from behind him. The satyr jumped and spun around a hundred and eighty degrees, half in shock. Fleyah stared back at him with her hands tucked behind her back, her torso pressed out towards him. “I had been so worried about you.”

Starros braced himself for Fleyah’s long-winded lecture about keeping his guard up and how she could have stabbed him in the back as he stood there daydreaming. To his utter surprise, she didn’t say a word. The athletic blonde elf only gazed at him with her blue eyes, softly swaying on her hips. The satyr cocked his head in confusion.

Was she actually smiling?

“That’s most heartwarming, my dear,” Starros said, scratching his chin. “And a bit out of character. Has something happened while I was playing—I mean, tending to the perimeter?”

Fleyah tilted her head and stared into his eyes with a fierce, ionate look. In two steps, she closed the distance between them, her soft body wrapped in linen and leather pres against his bare chest.

“I need to show you something. Something I know you’ve been aching to see. Follow me, and don’t ask any questions,” the words came hot and fast off her lips. Starros could feel her breath tickling the hairs on his chin and the heat radiating from her body. The sweet smell of her golden hair surrounded him, not to mention a lingering smell of …something floral and sweet. He reeled from the shock, warning bells going off in his head.

“Fleyah, I’m not sure…”

The elf hooked her fingers into the front of Starros’ loincloth, the tips of her first two digits lightly scratching the base of his cock.

“…why you didn’t ask me before!” he finished, his lust shouting louder than his brain. “Please lead on!”

Fleyah smiled like a cat and gently pulled Starros forward by his woven hemp belt. After a step or two, she let go and let Starros follow her sultry hips as they swayed back and forth with every step.

Starros was no fool, just horny. He knew full well that something odd, even dangerous, had befallen the usually stuck-up elf guard, but if that meant he was finally going to get some action, then he could always deal with the enchantment later. After all, he was a satyr! Nobody ever pulled one over on him, and he could always undo whatever spell she was under later, preferably when it was most humiliating to Fleyah.

The two of them sauntered down the grove as Fleyah led him down a narrow side path towards the limestone bird fountain. As they walked, Starros picked up on more of the strange scent in the air that clung to Fleyah’s body. He sniffed and continued gazing at the elf’s undulating curves, her every step radiating hunger and lust.

At last, Fleyah stopped at the end of the path, swaying slightly on her feet as if intoxicated. Starros inhaled deeply, more aware than ever of the overpowering floral smell.

“And what did the head guard of Ethrana wish to show me?” Starros asked, somewhat bemused.

In response, Fleyah grinned, her eyes half-lidded and pointed to the large wicker chair set near the side of the hedge.

“This, Lord Keyholder,” she said through heavy breaths.

Starros glanced at the chair and smiled, nodding his head in understanding. The chair was adorned with bright, shimmering iridescent flowers with large phallic stamen, no doubt the source of the heady miasma that had enthralled the elven warrior. The chair might as well be a throne for some sylvan god of decadence and debauchery.

“Ah! The Bacchal’s Delight flower, rare and in stunning full bloom,” he said, prancing over to the chair. He plucked a large, four-petaled flower, and inhaled deeply through the nose.

“It’s been outlawed for some time in the Empire, something about the devastating effect it has on the minds and bodies of the elves who chance to smell it. Whoever set up this pitiful trap failed to do their research, however. We satyrs were practically raised in the far-flung valley from whence it grew, and we’re therefore immune to its effects.”

Starros turned his head back to Fleyah who continued to stand in a happy daze, her mind inundated with the irresistible scent. A smile curled up his face.

“But I wager you must be feeling the effects most strongly, aren’t you, Fleyah?” he said, stalking forward and dangling the exotic flower over the elf’s vacant face. “You must be feeling drunk and horny as a meadow nymph in the springtime rut. That delicious, tantalizing scent making all your faculties drain straight into that denied elven pussy of yours, yes?”

He waggled the flower back and forth in front of Fleyah’s face, drawing her eyes and her head along with it. Her mouth hung open in a stupefied grin and she swayed gingerly on her feet.

“y-yyeeessss…” she slurred.

“It’s been said that unscrupulous villains like the gorgons and the dark faction elves used these flowers to waylay unsuspecting elven ditzes and have their way with them. Elven ditzes like you, my dear, who get so wet and agreeable when they let the lovely smell enter their heads.”

Fleyah did little more than nod and giggle along, the pretty flower with its miniature cocks for stamen robbing her of all thought.

Starros continued to circle the flower in front of Fleyah’s nose as he raked his eyes across her fit, powerful body, her sturdy hips and thighs, her full, very perky breasts nearly spilling out of her leather tunic.

The sight was making Starros’ loincloth lift up a few inches.

“Well, my dear, I know you’re having such a difficult time reasoning at the moment, but you are supposed to protect me from all temptation, is that not right?”

Fleyah nodded blankly.

“And you know the best way to keep a satyr free of temptation is to make sure he’s always sated, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Starros could have been describing dwarven mathematics, Fleyah would’ve still answered him the same.

“yes…makes sensssssseeee…” She giggled, her eyes darting down to the growing bulge between Starros’ legs. The satyr licked the top of his teeth and strolled closer. He gently took the blossom of Bacchal’s Delight and wedged it gently behind Fleyah’s pointed ear. The elf nearly swooned at the touch. Starros chuckled and sat down on the throne of flowers, his legs splayed to the sides.

“Well, I suppose it must be your solemn duty to give your Lord Keyholder a nice, sloppy blowjob so he’s free from harm’s way, agreed?”

Before waiting for an answer, Starros threw open the small bit of fabric concealing his massive cock and balls. Ten inches of erect dick popped out at Fleyah, as tempting as the phallic stamen of the flower behind her ear. His balls were the size of apples wrapped in his silky smooth nutsack.

“Time to do your part for the Empress, my loyal, obedient warrior.”

Fleyah sighed and dropped to her knees, her gaze glued to Starros’ erection as she began to fondle his balls. The satyr grinned from ear to ear and let his head tilt back in pleasure. He could give Fleyah the antidote whenever he wanted. It was a simple formula from easy to find plants and mushrooms, but why waste such an opportunity? He alone still had the key that could not be lifted from his neck by anyone except him, and he finally had the little tease of a guard at his mercy. Oh, she would rant and scream at him for a day straight after this, but it would be worth it to know that she would do so with the lingering aftertaste of his cum in her throat.

Just a quick blowjob, and then he’d get to work.

For someone who was usually so vocally repulsed by a satyr’s junk, Fleyah was impressing him with her fellatio skills. Her slender tongue swirled and whipped up and down Starros’ shaft, flicking back and forth over the head and then back to the base, her delicate yet strong fingers ringing and tickling his balls. The satyr leaned back in the chair, reveling in the long-awaited sensation of an eager, wet mouth going to work on his cock. The elf ogled, cooed, and stared at his prick as she pleasured him, a hungry gleam in her eyes.

Starros grunted and bit his lip, feeling his balls filling with pints of hot cum. Just a little longer…

Feels so good…

The thought trickled through his brain. It did feel so good to finally get this sexy elfmaid on her knees.

Don’t want it to end…

No, he most certainly didn’t want it to end. He’d be happy to sit for hours on his glorious throne, letting Fleyah go crazy on his cock.

Hmmm…did the voice in his head sound different, somehow?

You love it when she slurps your balls…

On cue, Fleyah stretched her mouth around one of Starros’ oversized testicles, smacking and sucking with soft, wet lips, her tongue wriggling over her sack. Gods and Titans! That felt amazing! He didn’t care where the strange, compelling thoughts were coming from. They were undeniably right!

Fleyah switched to the other side of his sack, her fingers, slick with spit and precum, slithered around his shaft in the meantime. It was divine, but Starros knew he’d better bring it to a happy ending already.

Too good to stop…

Don’t want it to end…

Want the elf girl to keep sucking your horny cock…

Starros couldn’t agree more. He did want this gorgeous elf to keep sucking his cock. She was certainly enjoying it, granted the mind-altering pollen of the Bacchal’s Delight was mostly responsible for that. But by heavens, he didn’t want it to stop. Fleyah seemed to anticipate exactly when Starros was on the edge of cumming, and exactly when to back away to keep his climax just out of reach.

The satyr put his bare arms over his head, cushioning the back of his head with his hands. He could just relax and enjoy this.

Relax and enjoy it.

The satyr’s face twisted in rapturous pleasure to feel the elf slip her lips around the head of his cock, drawing herself up and down…up and down…

Think about goblin women…

The sudden, intrusive thought nearly snapped Starros out of his reverie. He had no love for goblins. Nasty, insufferable, cruel beings that…that…

Goblin women have the bounciest butts…

Starros growled in frustration, feeling his climax slip away from him again, his cock jutting out harder. He couldn’t fantasize about goblin women. He couldn’t get aroused thinking about their ugly, green, bouncy, plump ass cheeks pumping back and forth…up and down…just like Fleyah’s mouth, up and down…

Up and down…

Up and down…

Goblin butts bounce up and down…

Starros closed his eyes, his arms falling back down to the sides of the chair, limp and exhausted. Every ounce of strength was drawn into his cock as he thought about beautiful, green asses bouncing up and down. Just for him.

Goblin women have such big, yummy boobs…

Two huge green tits materialized in Starros’ mind. He practically roared in lust. Fleyah looked up at her Lord Keyholder and slowed down, a thin smile curling up her lips, around his cock.

Goblin women have big, bouncy boobs…

Goblin women have big, bouncy butts…

You love thinking of pretty goblin women…

That…that wasn’t true! He didn’t have the hots for goblin women shaking their curvy butts, shimmying their gorgeous racks. Smiling and teasing him as he got harder and harder.

Harder and harder…

Don’t want to cum…can’t cum…

Wanting to watch goblin women…

Starros was practically delirious with pleasure as Fleyah mercilessly teased and edged him with her mouth. Any idea of stopping her was out of the question. He had to unleash his balls…fill up her mouth with his cum…cum all over pretty goblin titties…

Think about cumming on goblin titties…

Want to cum for goblin titties…

Will do anything to cum for pretty goblin women…

Fleyah half watched Starros in his agonizing pleasure while the other half of her drifted in a wonderful fugue of cock, sex, and flowers. Her glazed eyes drifted towards the satyr’s tortured face and the small hollow reed that hovered next to his ear. A reed that went from his ear all the way back to the hedge wall, delivering hissing words to his sex-addled brain.

From the wall, the plants rustled slightly, and out walked Libania, the short, thick goblin spy that had found Fleyah earlier. The one that whispered all those dirty ideas about how wonderful it was to suck cock while she lost herself to the beauty of the Bacchal’s Delight. Libania eyed Starros cautiously, continuing to whisper words into his ear via the hollow reed.

You can’t resist pretty goblin women with big tits and bouncy butts…

Bouncy goblin butts make you horny…

Big goblin boobies make you stupid…

Starros moaned again and thrust his hips forward into Fleyah’s mouth, much to the elf girl’s delight. He was mad with arousal now, his need to come almost turning him blind.

Until he saw the most radiant vision in front of him. A buxom goblin girl wearing nothing more than a few leather straps over her incredible tits, the dark green areolae peeking out on the sides, and a leather thong that showed off her bare, juicy thighs and massive butt. The curvy goblin, holding her reed innocently behind her back, walked up to him, her tits jiggling back and forth with each step.

“See, silly satry man?” She said in a bubbly voice. “I told you goblin women were sexy!” She hefted her bouncy breasts up and down. Starros’ eyes were on stalks.

“You just can’t resist goblin tits, can you?” She shook her breasts side to side, Starros mindlessly copied the movement, inadvertently shaking his head ‘no’.

“Didn’t think so,” she gloated. She turned and rubbed her large ass in the satyr’s face just to see him boil. “Poor, stupid satyr. So far gone, I could just reach up and grab that silly key from your neck, and you wouldn’t do a thing to stop me. You’d just keep getting your cock serviced by my lovely assistant here while you kept thinking about my curvy body, wouldn’t you?”

Starros grunted. He couldn’t tell if he was in agony over being ambushed by the goblin spy or just from sheer desperation to cum. Either way, he was helpless.

“Except I couldn’t, could I?” Libania said, bringing her full, feminine hand to her face. “Nobody except you, mister silly, stupid satyr can take that key off around your neck. So, what can I do to persuade you?”

Libania knelt next to Fleyah, and Starros nearly ed out from the sight of the goblin sandwiching the base of his cock in her cleavage while Fleyah sweetly kissed the tip.

“There must be some naughty fantasy that you’ve been wanting to do for so long. Just tell me what it is,” she commanded and squeezed her plump breasts together. “I promise I can make your dreams come true, just like a sexy, green genie, hmm?”

Libania chuckled and poked Fleyah in the ribs like they were sharing a joke. The suggestible elf began chuckling along too, sending a flood of vibrations through Starros’ cock and into his brain.

“What do you think, miss silly, slutty elf?” the goblin maid asked. “Is there anything that can make your stupid satyr take off his key?” She let her hand slide down Fleyah’s back and over her ass. She hiked up the elf’s skirt and let her green fingers probe Fleyah’s pussy lips, eliciting a long moan from the elf. With her other hand, she lightly scratched and tickled Starro’s huge balls with her filed nails.

“Oooh, maybe that’s what the stupid satyr wants?” said Libania, flashing her fanged smile. “Does the horny, stupid satyr want to fuck the slutty elf’s pussy. Would he like to gush all this nasty cum—” she gently batted his nuts “—into a tight, wet elf pussy? I bet that would be satisfying. And I think our slutty elf agrees, don’t you?”

Libania let her two fingers slide into Fleyah’s cunt, long since dripping from arousal. Fleyah squirmed and grinded against the goblin’s hand but never gave up her assault on Starro’s cock. The elf bucked up and down, nodding her head along to Libania’s thrusts.

“See? She’s ready and eager! And I think you must be dying to get that load out of you! We’ve been keeping an eye on you. We know how pent up you must be, silly satyr. Satyrs aren’t meant to be responsible. They’re too stupid and horny to be disciplined. Satyrs are only meant to fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Starros began thrusting his hips in earnest now, the goblin’s dirty, sexy words turning his brain to goo. She was right! He wanted to fuck! That’s all he wanted from life right now. To the pits with the consequences, all he needed to be complete was to gush his cum inside that hot, wet, needy elf cunt.

Libania removed her hand from Fleyah’s slit and sidled up next to Starros, pinching his nipples and bouncing her tits up and down on his shoulder.

“And you can. It would be so easy. Just reach up here…” Libania gently tickled the back of his neck, taking care not to touch the enchanted chain holding the great silver key. “…and pull off this key. Just let go of that silly burden, and you can bust a load in that sexy, silly slut.”

Starros looked down, one last desperate plea to Fleyah to help him. To shake off the spell of wanton lust she was under. She slowly, tortuously, circled her long tongue around the head of his cock as her ice blue eyes projected just one thing.

Fuck me.

Starros beamed in sweet surrender, his arms reaching up to his neck, and pulled the chain up and over his head. He sighed blissfully as he mindlessly let the Grand Key, the only key to the crucial Vault of Legends, drop straight into the open palm of his enemy.

Libania clasped the jewel-studded key, chuckling in triumph. She glanced over at Fleyah.

“A deal’s a deal! Hop on board, slut elf!”

With an excited squeal, Fleyah let Starros’ cock drop from her mouth as she mounted him reverse cowboy style, giving him a luscious view of her tight ass while she impaled herself on his stiff member. Starros grabbed onto her hips and thrust into her again and again, his wildest fantasy finally a reality. Libania, for her part, stood back and watched the spectacle, the grand key dangling from one green hand while she teased her slit with the other. She watched Starros’ face, his eyes consumed with a singular focus of cumming inside his pretty elf cohort. Libania also watched Fleyah, knowing that her brain was too far gone to do anything but orgasm as soon as she felt the girthy cock inside her begin to pulse.

Time for the finishing touch. She waited just another minute until she could tell that the two of them were about to climax.

“Sooo sexy…sooo hot…so happy to just fuck and fuck and fuck while a sexy goblin woman makes away with your most secret treasures!” She swung the key back and forth on the chain for emphasis. The two unlikely lovers focused on the swinging key, too lost in ion, too close to finally spilling over the edge to care what the short goblin girl was babbling about.

Out of sight, Libania reached into a small leather pouch strung around her waist, and brought out something in her closed fist.

“Ready to finally cum, cum, cum those silly, stupid brains out. Ready? And 3…2…” Libania brought her fist closer to her face, teasing out the moment just a little longer.

“And one! Cumming now!”

Starros bellowed at the top of his lungs while Fleyah’s face opened wide in ecstasy. They had just crested the top of orgasm when Libania suddenly opened her fist.

“Surprise!”

FLASH!

A blinding streak of white light exploded from her hands and slammed into the unsuspecting lovers. The brilliant flash froze them in place mid-climax, both of their faces perfect masks of unimaginable pleasure. They stayed that way for a few brief moments before their skin began to harden and turn gray. Within five seconds, both of their bodies had turned completely to stone, including their heads. Where Starros and Fleyah had been making love, there was now just a statue of a satyr fucking an elf, the two creatures forever frozen in unending, unrelenting pleasure.

Libania had the foresight to keep her eyes closed, but opened them now that the Medusa’s Eye spell had run its course. She had been warned extensively not to mess around with the flash powder derived from the molted snakeskin of the gorgon’s hair. Not that it would have killed her necessarily, the antidote was well known both to elves and goblin kind, but it would have obviously have thrown a pretty big wrench into her meticulous, and evidently, successful plan.

Libania took a moment to walk around her two playthings, now reduced to granite statues locked in infinite orgasm. She had no doubt the foot soldiers of the arrogant Ethranian Empire would eventually find them and ister the antidote, but considering how many of Bacchal’s Delight flowers she had laced around the wicker chair that Starros was frozen on, it would take a few days and many unsuspecting elves falling under the enchanted sway of the flowers, wandering around in a stupefied daze and fucking anything that chanced their way. Whether he knew it or not, Starros was about to become the de facto idol of sexual abandon for the Elves until someone finally came up with the idea to cover their nose with a wet cloth.

Of course, by then, she would have already raided the Vault of Secrets, easily robbing the Empire of their most unstoppable weapons and powerful spells. This simple trap that had so easily ensnared the proud Elf warrior and the cocky satyr would reshape the entire balance of power for the entire Realm.

Libania twiddled the Grand Key through her stout, goblin fingers and sauntered away, leaving the song birds to perch on top of the two petrified lovers as the sun sank below the tall hedges of the secret grove. She smiled wide with self-satisfaction.

Wouldn’t the goblin queen be pleased with her.