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 had 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 flowers 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.

The Thriae and catgirls up above were cackling and cooing down at her, making taunts and promises and threats. Yathi understood none of them. She vaguely understood that one of the catgirls was promising to use the dryad on her, or to use her on the dryad, but she couldn’t even tell which of them was being teased. She gave a vapid smile up at the pitcher dryad, who gave a weak smile back. The smile was disrupted as the catgirl seemed to twist the runerod, causing her face to screw up in simple pleasure.

Yathi giggled. She hoped they sent the dryad down here with her. She needed someone to share all this with!

* * *

“You’d like to go down there with her, wouldn’t you?” Menta purred in the dryad’s ear. “Back into your nice little... cocktail.”

“Y-yes,” the dryad whimpered.

“Do you think you deserve her?”

“I... this slut deserves only what her Mistress, Menta, tells her she deserves.”

“Good girl!” Menta smiled and gave her fellow catgirl a little smile. Obediently, the catgirl increased the power of the runerod, eliciting a rapid moan.

“Um, like, wait a second!” Kifina scowled. The airheaded Thriae put her hands on her wide hips, pouting. “I thought we were gonna share her!”

“We are!” Menta smirked. “But I want a little show, is all.”

“Oh!” Kifina’s scowl vanished, replaced by a look of surprise. “That sounds, um, fine! I like shows!”

The other Thriae, ‘Vissy’, seemed less confident. “How do we know you aren’t gonna use your pet here to claim her for yourselves all the way?”

“Ah, Vissy, it’s Menta.” Kifina giggled, blatantly ogling the gasping dryad. “She wouldn’t trick us!”

“But how can we be sure?”

Menta clasped her fingers, concealing her scowl. Right. Her lovely honeys weren’t all as dumb as Kifina. Important to keep in mind. “It’s true, we could try that. But why would we ever?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “We love Tsimpi and Kentri.” This wasn’t even a lie. She hadn’t even seen the band’s commander yet, nor her second-in-command, but she was looking forward to the reunion.

“Yeah, but you love good pussy better,” Vissy said, licking her lips. “And I bet you want that scout all to yourself.”

“Vissi,” Kifina burbled, running a hand over Vissy’s shoulder possessively, “shut up. I wanna see the show!”

“K-Kifina.” Menrta marveled at how quickly Vissy went from stiff and blunt to submissive and stammering. “I... I, um, really think we should be considering...”

Menta gave her fellow catgirl a very subtle nod, and the vibrations of the runerod stepped up. The dryad let out a loud cry.

“Mm.” Kifina leaned in and started kissing Vissi’s neck, soft, suckling sounds coming from her smacking lips. “We can watch ’em fuck like bunnyfolk...”

“K-Kifina—”

“... I know you like watching,” Kifina purred.

Vissi let out a tiny little moan. Menta licked her lips, though she tried to be subtle about it.

“Imagine those lips,” Kifina gestured to the dryad, “on that slut’s pussy? I need to see it! I need to!” Her tone was almost bratty. “So be a good girl and do as Kiffy tells you, like you always do!”

“B-but... Kiffy, we were told...”

But it was clear Vissi was losing the battle. Menta gave her a wide, smug smile. Nice try, her eyes said. “C’mon, Vissi,” she murmured, leaning in and stroking the Thriae’s breast. It was a brazen move, but Vissi was too horny, and Kifina too dumb, to call it out. “Don’t you love watching someone submit?”

“Submit...”

“Someone who should know better,” she cooed in Vissy’s ear, “but she’s just so horny. She’s so smart, but it doesn’t matter how smart you are if you turn into a dumb little sluuut when you get horny, does it? Even another dumb little slut can control you when you get horny.”

She felt Vissy grasp at her ankle, as if begging for her to stop. “H-horny...”

“So she’s gonna be a good girl,” Menta said, and she gave Vissy a little lick. “And she’s gonna let us throw that dryad in there, and she’s gonna...”

“Vines...”

“That’s right,” Menta said, and her voice was as smooth as silk, “she’s gonna—wait, what vines?”

The grip on her ankle tightened.

Menta gave a catlike yowl of surprise that only lasted a moment before she channeled her focus into the plants around her. The vines that had grabbed her instantly turned into ash, and she bounded onto a nearby tree branch. The Fifth Circle catgirl druidess looked down, eyes narrowed. Our vine dryad is being a naughty, naughty girl.

Down on the leaf, Kifina and Vissi had managed to escape as well. Menta’s fellow catgirl was lying there on the leaf, moaning, but already Menta could see that she was cutting her way free. She needed to hurry. More vines were on their way to entomb her.

Her ear twitched, giving her a second’s notice before another vine struck at her from behind. She leaped to another branch and swung her druidic power backwards, obliterating the offending tendril.

She hesitated. Together with the Thriae, they could probably settle this. But Menta couldn’t trust the Thriae not to make a move on Yathi.

And Menta had already decided that there was no fucking way they were giving up the knight.

We’ll be back later, she though, and she started leaping from branch to branch, vacating the scene. The Thriae and catgirls would follow suit, scattering into the forest. Menta planned to have a few words with a certain misbehaving slut.

She left the dryad on the leaf. Lost cause. The pitcher dryad lay there and could only whimper as the vines began to cover her. Then she began to scream.

* * *

Brist lay on the forest floor, giggling like mad, moaning like the best pair of lips in the world had locked onto his cock and started to suck him like a lollipop.

And it was all from two feathers.

The dark-skinned crystal mage had never been so sensitive. He’d never been so turned on, so tormented, so... humiliated. The two catgirls—one a redhead, one a brunette—sat on either side of him, pinning his arms beneath their asses. The redhead had begun to subtly stroke herself on his arm, humping it like an animal in heat. But that was the least of his troubles.

The pair of them seemed to delight in teasing, and as it turned out, they were very, very good at it. His cock, lips and sides had become impossibly ticklish. Even his long, frizzy white hair was hard to bear where it brushed his shoulders. The magic of the catgirls had rendered him helpless against their little touches.

He’d lost the bet fair and square. Brist realized that. But his mind was simply awash in need now. He needed to cum. He needed release, relief. He needed to do everything they told him so they would let him cum.

He squirmed in vain as the redhead delicately ran her feather over his cock. “N-no!” he cried. “Please, I—I y-yield already! Y-you have... heeheehee...”

“Ooh, no.” The brunette smirked, trailing her feather over his lips until he could do nothing but giggle like a hyena. “You’re so cute like this! I think we’re gonna keep you like this for a while.”

“Months, maybe,” the redhead said happily, her eyes squinting slightly as she ran her wet slit over his limp arm. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Y-yes!” He knew the answer they wanted. He’d already learned it was always best to give them the answers they wanted. “But... but I need to... heehee!”

“You need to lie here,” the brunette purred, tickling his lips again, “and be a good giggly tickleslut for us! Don’t you wanna turn us on?”

“Uh-huh!” Brist was disturbed at how easily this answer came. Was it even a lie? A part of him loved this. Loved being dominated, teased, tickled to the point of tears. “B-but...”

“Then be a good tickleslut,” the redhead cooed, tickling his head mercilessly. His cock throbbed, pulsing with need, but she was being just careful enough to keep him from achieving release. “Moan for us! It’s so cute when you moan!”

Brist couldn’t help it—not when she was stroking his cock like that, not when the brunette was kissing his neck like this. He moaned. This only encouraged the redhead, of course, and she started tickling his glans with fine, pitiless movements. The young mage trembled and shook and cried out in tormented pleasure.

“You know...” The brunette gave him one last wet kiss on the cheek. “I think he likes this, darling.”

“Ooh, yeah!” The redhead giggled. “Definitely! Look at how big his cock got!”

“I’ll bet he wants to be our pet forever.”

“Yeah! I bet so!” The redhead leaned down, continuing to rain down sweet torture on his oversensitized member. He shook, staring up into her bright green eyes. “Is it true, big boy?” the catgirl whispered. “Do you want this?”

“I... I... aaugh!”

“If you say yes,” the brunette hissed, “we’ll keep you forever.”

Brist closed his mouth. He’d been about to say it, he realized—just to give them the answer they wanted, just so the redhead might lay off with the teasing for a half-second. He shook and shivered, barely holding the truth in.

“C’mon,” the redhead whined. “Tell me! Tell me!” She started rocking back and forth on Brist’s arm, and Brist realized she was having a little orgasm. The feather seemed to get faster and faster on his cock. “Tell—tell—meeee!”

Brist could only giggle. Not even this display could finish him off. It only turned him on more.

“Say, boy,” the brunette cooed, “if you do like being a tickleslut, you should tell us.”

“Yeah...” the redhead sighed. She wiggled her hips a little, her ears perky in afterglow. “’Cause we’ll let you cum if you do.”

Brist stiffened. He felt the pallor draining from his cheeks.

No. He had to fight it. had to... had to...

… He stared up into the brunettes heavy-lidded eyes, overwhelmed by her sheer sexuality. Her feather trailed down his chest teasingly. Her long, rough tongue poked out and slowly, sensuously, licked her lips.

“I do,” he whimpered. “I like it!”

“You love it?” the redhead cooed in his ear. And even her breath tickled agonizingly.

He finally snapped.

“I love it!” Brist burst out. “I... I love being your tickleslut! I’ll be your tickleslut forever! Just please let me cum!”

The catgirls exchanged twin looks of glee. To Brist’s surprise, they leaned over him and kissed each other for a long moment, then pulled back and grinned down at him.

“We were lying,” the redhead said, giggling.

“But you weren’t,” purred the brunette, and he gasped as a second feather started trailing along his shaft. The stacking sensations were unbearable.”You want this. So we’re gonna give it to you.”

Brist’s cries of despair transformed into blissful giggles as they went back to work.

* * *

Trys raced through the forest, doing her level best to retrace the path they’d taken to reach the pitcher plant. Her heart thudded in her chest. At any given second, she expected plants to shoot out at her, expected a whole pack of catgirls to burst out of the bushes and tackle her to the ground.

But no one did. And when she finally returned to the clearing, she was astounded to find that all of their gear was still there, just where they’d left it.

With one notable addition.

A pale, freckled catgirl with brown hair and a cute heart-shaped face was there waiting for her, hands clasped behind her back.

“I knew you’d be here soon,” she said happily. “Menta told me you were up to mischief!” She winked.

Trys eyed her sword, resting by the hypnotic thistles. She bit her lip. She’d never make it.

“You won’t make it,” the catgirl confirmed. “I’m Morrowii, by the way. Call me Mew.” She winked. “Boy, you’re sexy. Had some mead in your day, huh?”

Trys assumed a combat stance. Even unarmed and naked, she was perfectly capable of defending herself. But she had no idea what sorts of magic this druid could bring to bear. “A long time ago,” she said bitterly. “Stand aside.”

“Okay.” The catgirl smiled and stepped to the side.

Trys stopped short and blinked. That had not been the response she’d expected.

The catgirl gestured to the sword and gave a wide grin. “Go ahead! Take it!”

Trys hesitated.

She considered it a moment. Yes, this was obviously bait. But if Mew was being so kind as to let her take the sword...

“You smell nice,” purred the catgirl as Trys edged past her. “Like mead—and, wow, I haven’t had mead in ages. And you smell like two of my sisters. Sure you don’t wanna try me? I promise I’ll let you stop whenever you wanna.”

Trys had to stop herself from showing hesitation, despite the sketchy promise. She was not an idiot. But she was very, very horny. She hadn’t gotten to come that last time.

She reached down for the sword.

So distracted was Trys in her thoughts, she didn’t even think to check her flank. It was a foolish, tired error.

And so she was caught quite off-guard when, as she bent over, something popped into her pussy. Something furry, long and soft. “Oh!” Shocked, she reflexively tried to straighten.

The tail that had entered her seemed to... vibrate.

Trys fell to her knees, panting for breath.

“Feels good?” Mew laughed. “It’s my own special spell.” For emphasis, the tail twisted around, tickling her clit quite badly. “It’s gonna make it so hard to think when you’re cumming. You’ll get fun and stupid in no time! I was gonna use it on your mage, but, uh...”

Trys tried to speak, tried to rise, tried to grab the sword, tried to do anything. But the tail vibrated again, a silken stroke across her clit, and an orgasm flickered and flared within her. She shook and moaned, going all-but-limp on the ground. It was all she could do to stay on her hands and knees and ride it out. “S-stop...” she managed.

“Nope!”

Why couldn’t she get up? Why couldn’t she pull away? Trys moaned as she felt the catgirl circle around her and place her hands possessively on Trys’s breasts, toying with the nipples. Why was she being so...

The second orgasm caught Trys badly off-guard. She trembled and shook, losing all semblance of balance—only the grip of Mew held her up and kept her from just collapsing. The afterglow filled Trys like sunbeams, and she was too blissful and sleepy to even notice as Mew used one hand to spread her legs for easier access. “That’s a good toy,” Mew whispered. “That’s a good toy.”

“But...” Trys shook all over. “I, um... I don’t wanna be a toy.”

Her voice had changed. It was squeakier, more confused. A mild lisp had taken over.

“Ooh, I think you do,” Mew chirped, and Trys felt fingers dipping into her pussy. “You’re just too smart to realize it! But being a toy means pleasure!”

“Nuh-uh!” Trys was astonished at herself. Why was she talking like this? Like a... like a...

Mew was laughing as her fingers pumped in and out of Trys. Trys shivered as another orgasm was drawn slowly out of her. Mew drew this one out as long as possible. “See how good it feels?” she whispered. “Being a toy means pleasure!”

“Um... but I, um...” Trys’s eyelashes fluttered unwillingly. Those fingers felt amazing!

“You sure are cumming a lot,” Mew cooed, and Trys felt her fingers stroke her clit lovingly. “What a bimbo!”

“I’m not a—a—aaah!” Trys shook badly, lowering her head to the ground to keep her balance. Her ass was totally presented now.

She blinked blearily. I must look like such a bimbo! she thought, biting her lip.

“Not a what?” Mew sang.

“B-bimbo!” Trys repeated, moaning. Those fingers were irresistible

“You’re a bimbo?”

“N-n—” Trys stopped short. Here she was, her ass presented, getting fingered by an enemy. All she could feel was bliss. Her mind slowly clicked towards a solution. It took surprisingly long, considering how much sense it all made.

“Yes!” she squeaked, delighted that she’d found the answer. The fingers were bringing her closer, and closer...

“Ooh, good girl! Being a toy means so much pleasure!”

“B-but—” Trys frowned. “But I’m not s’posed to, like... Mew, I thought I was—”

A rough little tongue lapped once, twice, three times against her clit, and she came. Pleasure filled her body, and she whined and babbled her bliss. As she came, she felt everything else empty. All the doubts washed away, replaced with Mew’s sweet voice as the fingers kept stroking her, kept drawing it all out. “One last time, bimbo: What does it mean to be a toy?”

And finally, Trys knew the answer.

“P-pleasure!” she squealed, and she came again instantly, as though the word itself felt good to say. “Pleasure! Being your toy means pleasure for this dumb bimbo!”

“Good girl!” Mew sounded positively ecstatic. “You finally figured it out!”

She beamed. It felt so good to give in to it. So good. She was such a good girl. Such a dumb, stupid bimbo, eager and ready to be used.

But as Mew rolled her over and started to lick her out, Trys felt a cool steel brush the small of her back. She stuck one hand beneath her and felt a hard, metal handle. Oh. She’d almost forgotten about that.

Trys was very stupid. She was also still Trys. And she still had to save her friends. Slowly, dazedly, she grabbed the object.

Mew was so occupied licking her out, she didn’t even notice what Trys was doing until the blade was pressed against her throat.

The licking halted abruptly. Mew looked up at her, blinking.

“Where’s Brist?” Trys demanded. “And, like, Ia?”

Mew stared at her for a long moment. A smile started to form, but it faded as Trys dug the knife in a little. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m gonna save them!” Trys glared. “Now, tell me what I wanna know, or I’ll, like, cut your throat!” Some part of her quailed at the idea of hurting Mew—Mew was so nice and friendly, and she made Trys feel so good—but the catgirls were still enemies, and Trys the Warrior was not so easily silenced after all her years of training.

Mew had to do what she said, right? Trys had the knife. She had the power!

Mew just kept staring at her. Her green eyes glimmered. “You sure?”

“I... yeah!” Trys was getting agitated. Why wasn’t Mew telling her? She was supposed to tell her! “Tell me where they are!”

Mew leaned forward and gave Trys’s clit a little lick with her long, rough tongue. Trys gasped. “They’re safe and happy,” she purred. “You can join ’em soon, I bet.”

“S-stop that!” Trys cried. “I’ll—I’ll cut your throat!”

“Sure you will,” Mew cooed, licking her again. “And then you’ll never find them. But you’re so smart, I bet you have a solution to that.”

Trys blinked. Her mind seemed to be moving very slowly, but she tried to—

Mew started licking with new gusto. Trys let out a loud moan, the thought slipping away, replaced by simple, blank-minded pleasure. Oh, fuck. Her eyes widened. Her fingers trembled. Being a toy means pleasure. Being a toy means pleasure.

Don’t drop the knife, she thought desperately. Don’t drop the knife! The tongue filled her with bliss, made it impossible to think straight. Don’t—don’t—

The pleasure crackled through her like electricity, and she shook and moaned. Mew just kept licking, drawing it out, continuing to build her higher and higher. Her fingers shook. The knife trembled inn her weakening grip.

But she held on.

Her mind was buzzing. She felt even foggier than before..”Um...” she giggled. “I, um... you were supposed to stop!” She giggled again. It was a little funny, despite it all. She’d been so horny. She was still so horny.

She squirmed, feeling the catgirl continuing to overwhelm her with that wonderful, glorious seductive tongue of hers. “S-stop!” she whined. Her blonde curls bounced as she struggled to remain sitting up, struggled to hold the knife steady. “Like, I’m gonna... gonna do something, kitty!”

A happy little moan was the only answer. That, and licking.

Trys’s mind struggled. There was something going on here. There was a reason she was being so... so dumb, so ditzy. A reasons she was acting like a brainless bimbo.

But Mew’s moans distracted her. Fuck, she was enjoying this just as much as Trys was! Trys giggled. What a silly slut. She didn’t even have a nice, rough tongue lapping at her clit to explain it.

The next orgasm caught her totally by surprise, cutting her idle thoughts right off. She arched her back and screamed, feeling her mind go golden with delight. She was sinking back down. Her hand could barely hold the knife steady. She was barely a foot away from lying horizontal. She was so close to submitting.

Then another orgasm came. Trys gasped. “S-stoppit!” she whined. “I wasn’t read—”

Another. Trys started to writhe and moan, wrapping her legs around Mew. Her thoughts were just melting out of her, through her pussy. The knife was just barely between two fingers now. All Mew had to do was reach up and take it. That was all she had to do.

Another. Trys was almost beyond words now. What had she been complaining about? She beamed at the pretty kitty between her legs. She loved her kitty! She started to whimper, “I am a good pet. You are my kitten.” It felt good to say those things, for some reason.

Mew mewled out her agreement. Her eyes were screwed shut, Trys noticed, and she was shaking as though in orgasm herself. It was almost like something in Trys’s pussy was totally intoxicating to her.

A meadchaser, a small part of her mind said. An addict. Like me. It was a distant and quiet part—Trys’s main mind was getting emptier and emptier—but it made sense. She smiled down at her kitten. “You like licking my pussy!” she bubbled.

“Mmmm!”

Mew’s tongue brought Trys to another terrific orgasm, and the knife clattered from her grasp. But Mew did not take advantage, as Trys slowly sank back onto the ground. She just wrapped her arms around Trys’s waist and started licking like there was no tomorrow. And as far as Trys was concerned, there wasn’t. There was only being a good toy, and a good pet, for her hungry kitten.

Trys’s mind got emptier and emptier as Mew continued to bring her to orgasm after orgasm. She could only giggle and moan and coo, commanding Mew to lick her harder, to not tease her. Mew did everything she told her to do.

And when Trys had finally had her fill of orgasms, and commanded the catgirl to stop so she could rest for a while, Mew did that, too. They just lay there together in one another’s arms, for what felt like an eternity of afterglow.

Slowly, when the pleasure had stopped filling her mind with stupidity, Trys’s mind began to clear. She looked down at the catgirl, licking her nipple in a deep sleep.

“Well,” she whispered, voice still trembling a little, “that’s... one way to take you down.” She found herself stroking Mew’s hair affectionately, even as her mind raced with new intent. This... this was an advantage. The first lucky break they’d had. Right? “So you’ll... you’ll be a good girl for me, right? A good kitten?”

She felt Mew begin to purr.