The barmaids were melting his mind away.

Gerrim lay helplessly back and squirmed like a kitten on catnip, trying in vain to hold his breath as Monarch—the big-breasted platinum blonde—hooked her leg over his, half-straddling his side, and slowly unscrewed the heart-shaped rose quartz stopper of the perfume bottle.

On his left side, the strawberry-blonde Swallowtail clung to him, stray locks from her bouffant tickling his cheek as she smiled down at him, played her finger along his quivering lips. She wanted him to open wide, but she only needed a little bit of give to slip her finger inside—and once Monarch’s ‘perfume’ was ready to be applied to that finger, that would be enough. He had to keep his mouth tightly shut.

That would be easier if the third barmaid, Crystalwing, wasn’t down between his legs right now. Her hands gripping his hips, the made-up blonde bimbo’s candy-pink lips planted loud, smacking-wet sticky kisses on his inner thighs. With every kiss, she came closer and closer to her true prize: his hard, twitching cock. With every kiss, she moaned, as though her lips were so sensitive she couldn’t bear it.

But she didn’t stop kissing. And with every kiss, his skin sang and tingled with pleasure. Kissing cane, the Toxin Ranger thought weakly, biting his lip as he felt the numerous kiss-marks she’d already planted on his face, his lips. Offshoot, pun unintended, of sugar cane, known for its stickier, gooier sap that can be turned into a very powerful aphrodisiac. If applied over a coat of hazel oil, it can be worn as a slightly uncomfortable lipstick. Gets everywhere.

The thought of how he would look to an onlooker—a man nearly six feet tall, big and muscular and completely naked, his face covered with lipstick marks and his ruddy brown dimples glowing like embers as these three blonde barmaids, fully dressed in those pretty pastel dresses of theirs, held him down and toyed with him—

The rookie Ranger wished it didn’t make his cock twitch so obviously.

He really wished Crystalwing didn’t notice.

“Ooooh!” She fawned over his cock with tiny teasing touches of her fingers, tickling it, admiring it. “I do declare, this flowerboy’s got a cuuuute pistil to play with!” She giggled, and the part of Gerrim that was still lucid and not crying out helplessly from those touches wanted very badly to correct her on her plant terminology. She plumped up her lips and batted her eyelashes up at him, her expression coquettish and sweet—and unmistakably hungry. “Ready for some hospitality, sugar?”

“Hold on, Crystal,” said Swallowtail, her voice barely a breath. She ran her finger over his lips over and over again. It was a hypnotic motion, Gerrim knew—one of the classics. If he closed his eyes, she could entrance him with touch alone.

But her bright blue eyes were hard to look away from, too. He whimpered, looking between the three Southwestern belles, as Monarch dipped a little brush into the strong-smelling perfume. Their blue eyes stared into his soft brown eyes—exotic, alien, irresistible. They glimmered like alien planets, like pools of water on sunny days. It felt so easy to just stare into those strange, shimmering blue eyes.

And it didn’t help that Gerrim’s surroundings smelled so... heady. Intoxicating. Inescapable.

“But I wanna take care of him now, Amber!” Crystal whined, and now Gerrim knew two of their names. Her fingers fell to his thighs and gripped him once more, and Gerrim numbly realized he could have taken advantage of her releasing her grip on his hips to struggle. Too late now. “Poor boy needs attention! Just look at him!” She smiled up at him and winked. “Flowerboy seems to be a virgin,” she cooed. “He needs a proper introduction!”

Oh. Oh, gods. How did she...

Gerrim’s cheeks must have grown even redder, because Swallowtail and Monarch oooed and started giggling. Monarch started to delicately run the brush over Swallowtail’s fingertips, painting her nails a striking red.

Gerrim caught a whiff and recognized the concoction instantly—succubi’s folly, or “slutberries”, fermented and distilled. His breath quickened. But there was nothing he could do.

Not without his pack. And that was blocking the door.

“Maybe he does,” Swallowtail breathed, as her last nail was painted with the drug that would soon break Gerrim’s mind for good. “But we’ll have lots of time to break him once he’s nice and dosed, won’t we?”

“Ooh,” Monarch nodded eagerly, taking a little lick from the brush and shuddering with delight before re-stoppering the bottle, “g-gonna... he’s gonna cum and cuuuuum...”

Crystal’s breath was hot over his cock. Gerrim was practically melting with need. “But he can cum now, can’t he?” she asked sweetly.

“What’s that, darling?” Swallowtail asked, playing her red-painted nails before Gerrim’s eyes, tapping his cheek. His eyelids fluttered.

“You need him to open his mouth,” Crystal said, giggling. “And... I can make him scream, Amber. Isn’t that right, boy?”

She blew him a little kiss.

Gerrim swallowed. Swallowtail had gotten a crafty look.

He had to conceal his fear, he knew. Had to hide how close he was, even though it would be obvious to Crystal. He and she both knew all it would take was one kiss to seal him to her will forever. He needed Swallowtail to doubt her, to say no, please, say no...

As Swallowtail glanced back towards Crystal—and his big, throbbing, obviously desperate cock—Gerrim took a risk.

“Please,” he whimpered, keeping his lips as closed as possible, “just... l-let me get my bag, a-and I can use what’s in it to help you break free...”

Swallowtail’s eyes flashed back to him, and he closed his mouth just in time as her fingers came back to his lips. She giggled, gleefully running her fingers over his lips, and gave him an innocent look of confusion. “What was that, sugar? Ooh, I didn’t hear you.” Her fingers tickled his cheek. “Speak up.”

He stared up at her and kept his lips tightly sealed. Please take the bait, please take the bait...

“It sounds like he wants us to get his bag,” Monarch said thoughtfully. She glanced back, then gave Amber a sly look. “Better do as he says!”

“Wh—oh.” Swallowtail’s eyes lit up. She ran a finger over her butterfly tattoo, then bounced off the bed. “Ooh, yes, boy, that’s a wonderful idea!”

He watched her ass sway in that frilly dress, and momentarily let himself breathe heavily. He had to try to recover himself now, while the threat of the slutberry drug was gone. This would be his last respite.

And with Crystalwing moaning softly, positively drooling over his cock, he knew it wouldn’t last long.

Swallowtail hefted the bag up from the door, giggling at its weight, and bounced back over. She smiled down at him, her lovely strawberry-blond hair almost glowing in the lamplight, her tight green barmaid’s dress swishing as she sat down next to Monarch. “This backpack?” she cooed.

“Mm.” He nodded nervously. “The—the outsi—”

Crystalwing’s tongue touched his cock’s tip, and he squeaked with shocked delight.

“What was that?” Monarch asked, as the barmaids giggled over him. “Ooh, what was that, sugar?”

He squirmed and bit his lip, whines slipping from his throat despite his best efforts, as Crystal gave him another tiny lick. And another. He was so, so close, but he needed a kiss... her kiss...

“Was it in... this pocket?” Swallowtail asked playfully, arching an eyebrow. “Or this one?” Her hand hovered over the pocket that contained most of his toxin cures—he kept his mouth shut. “Or this one?”

Gerrim needed his wits, needed to keep his head, he whined and whimpered and cried as Crystal licked and sighed and cooed in wordless adoration for his big, needy cock....

Swallowtail set the pack on the bed and indicated a fourth pocket. This one contained several important snakebite antidotes—and something special he’d found on the way here. “Is it... this one?” she breathed.

He nodded wordlessly, as Crystal smacked her lips in anticipation.

Swallowtail drew out three little blue vials and a little puffball mushroom. “Is it these?” she cooed, holding them just out of reach in her left hand. “Is it one of these?”

Gerrim nodded. He forced out the words, “O-One for each of y—”

Swallowtail tossed the blue vials over her shoulder. He heard them crack and shatter. “Whoopsie!”

He widened his eyes.

She leaned in as they all giggled. She was the picture of mock-contrition, wide-eyed and guilty, pouting, as the painted fingers of her left hand started to stroke over his lips. He smelled slutberry juice. “You’re not mad, are you?” she cooed. “Don’t worry. I guess we’ll just be your little sluts forever, sugar. But I’m sure we can find something else fun to do with what you had in your—“

Gerrim reached with his left hand and grabbed her right hand, still carelessly holding the puffball.

He gave it a hard squeeze.

Swallowtail just giggled and pushed his hand against the bed, tossing aside the squashed mushroom bits. “That wasn’t very nice at all,” she scolded. “Crystal, make him nicer.”

His heart stopped. He stopped breathing.

“Yay!” Crystal clapped her hands excitedly as Swallowtail slipped back to straddling his left side.

Just in time for him to watch as Crystal’s hot pink candied lips slid over the head of his cock for a long, loud, sloppy, irresistible, brain-melting kiss.

Gerrim gave a squeal of bliss as he came, as the pleasure seeped into him, and his mouth opened in helpless joy. He bucked his hips in mindless delight, sensuous ecstasy surging through him in an instant and into Crystal’s hot, eager mouth.

And Swallowtail fell atop him, giving a little sleepy moan, and he found himself smothered in her bosom.

Crystal was moaning loudly as he bucked wildly, but he heard her moans turn questioning as Monarch, too, swooned. Gerrim was trapped beneath them, helplessly cumming into Crystal’s hot mouth as her tongue lavished love over him, milked him easily. She sounded confused, but seemed unable to stop.

She was cumming too, he realized. Too lost in pleasure to stop and think. All she could do was kiss. And suck. And lick. And suck. Oh, gods, it was unbearable...

He was still lost in afterglow as her confused moans turned into sleepy moans, then to soft, dreamy sounds of happiness, as she slipped off at last into sleep.

It took Gerrim a moment to realize he was buried beneath three horny barmaids and couldn’t really breathe anymore.

He eventually extricated himself, trying to manage his dizziness. The fluffy puffball was rare in these dry areas, and its spores were stronger the less water it got. Already, the three barmaids were mindlessly squirming, humping each other, their eyelids fluttering as wonderful wet dreams trickled through their softened minds.

Gerrim felt sleepy, too, but he’d held his breath long enough to avoid the worst of it. He made it to his feet and staggered away.

Gerrim leaned against the dresser, catching his breath, watching as the barmaids writhed. His cock was still dribbling slightly, and he stared with a bit lip at Crystal as she took Monarch’s thumb into her mouth and started sleepsucking. Her moans were the loudest of the three.

When the hazel oil was applied improperly, the kissing cane lipstick could backfire and cause extreme sensitivity to the oral region. This woman seemed to have completely messed up the dosage—or maybe she liked it that way. Sucking someone else got her off. What a silly bimbo.

Gerrim realized he’d started stroking his cock, his mind drifting idly.

Maybe he didn’t have a right to call anyone else a bimbo right now.

Shivering, he hefted up his bag and stumbled over to the door. The stall owner’s words echoed reproachfully in his head. Trust no one. He’d tried to warn Gerrim.

“Easy enough,” he gasped, and hesitated.

He checked his bag. Sure enough, he still had one vial of honesty extract remaining.

He looked nervously over the three, and his gaze settled on Monarch. He swallowed. They’d all be sleepfucking for at least another hour or so.

Time to get a few answers from them about what he really had to do to get inside the castle.

* * *

Of course there was a secret passage. There was always a secret passage.

Gerrim panted as he crawled up and down the narrow ventilation tunnel. Once used by the former baron to drop an enslaved slime girl or five upon unsuspecting intruders, the tunnel had been repurposed after his death. Apparently, Baroness Violet thought the slime girls were ‘ridiculous’, and had put them to work in the kitchens instead.

But the vent still led right to the bedrooms—a tower of the castle now completely taken up by lavish bedroom suites, hot baths, an open bar staffed by a pink slime girl he was advised to avoid at all costs, and two ‘kennels’. This was Violet’s... play area.

The memory of the hucow tickled his brain and dripped down his spine like ice water, sending tingles through him. But not tonight. Tonight she would most likely be playing with one of her favorite captives. A would-be burglar who had once made fun of one of Violet’s lewd catgirl posters, this captive had been given a catgirl obsession so unbearable she now wanted to be one—and begged to be called ‘Kitten’ by her Mistress.

Violet had to be stopped.

As Gerrim drew near Kitten’s chambers, he could hear the Brat Baroness’s catty, condescending voice ringing out. “Are you really not able to stand up, Kitten?”

“I... I, um...” A small voice was letting out pathetic mews between words. As they echoed through the shaft, Gerrim could hear that voice positively dripping with arousal and need, molten with it. He swallowed. This was it.

He sniffed the air, quickly confirming there were no obvious airborne toxins. But really, if there had been, he’d have been lost by now.

Hesitantly, he pressed his eye against the vent and gazed into the chambers of the Kitten’s Kennel.

In many respects, it was surprisingly like an ordinary bedroom. It was well-lit, with a crackling woodstove, an open wardrobe, a white-linen bed and a small bookcase beside it. There was just one window—a nice modern glass four-pane, with ivy crawling all around outside. Nymph ivy, he noted automatically. Hybrid of poison ivy and old wicked bindweed. Oils in the leaves and flowers cause extreme ticklishness, has some limited animation to capture incapacitated victims. Not ordinary decoration.

Indeed, nothing here was ordinary at all. The room was lit with a fiery orange glow. The closet was full of costumes—maid outfits, harem dresses, scandalous catsuits and an endless array of collars and cat ear hairbands. The bookcase held only a half-dozen books, and from the covers Gerrim could see, they were all lewd—one seemed to be a picture book, entitled “What Good Kitties Do”. Mantra text, he noted. printed for use in deepening mind control. Atop the woodstove simmered a kettle, whistle-up, that he quite suspected was generally used to brew some mind-melting concoction.

And, of course, upon the bed sat a strawberry blonde in a maroon dress, smiling with one finger to her pouting lips, one leg hooked over the other as her heel tapped the floor. Her eyebrows were raised in mock-amazement, her red lips half-parted. Sparkling sapphire earrings jangled from her ears. She was rather short, but buxom, her painted eyelids lowered over bright blue bedroom eyes that regarded the woman on the floor with dusky, lusty contempt bordering on amusement.

Gerrim looked with dread from the Brat Baroness Violet of Skarrivan to the quivering woman at her feet. The redhead looked to be perhaps in her late twenties—certainly older than he and Violet—with sunset-orange hair that looked almost luminescent in the firelight. She had a cute button nose and a lithe, fit figure befitting a former burglar. Her ornate undercut dropped into luscious bangs shading pretty brown eyes and gave way to something of a fluffy mohawk as it arced and spilled to the back of her head. She was as pale-tanned as Violet—a native of the Western Plains, no doubt.

Most notably, she was currently dressed in a truly humiliating costume—a lacy white dress, almost a wedding dress, that she was quite visibly tangled up in. She tugged at its sleeves, but seemed to be fumbling with her hands, as if unsure how to use opposable thumbs. A look of desperate misery was in her eyes as she almost rolled onto her back with the intensity of her futile struggles. A neat little leather collar, complete with bells, hung around her neck.

Perhaps most degrading, though, was the little wire hairband she wore that placed a pair of fluffy, tufted lynx cat ears atop her head.

She mewed miserably, struggling to rise only to fall right back onto her ass. At first, Gerrim thought she was trying to escape.

Then he realized hr eyes were fixed on Violet. Her tongue lolled out and she mewled pathetically as Violet rubbed her thighs together. No, this wasn’t about escape at all.

“Oh my gosh, Kitten.” Violet giggled. “I never told you you didn’t know how to walk! Are you doing this on purpose?”

“N-No, Mistress,” Kitten whispered. She squirmed, placing her arms between her legs and visibly humping around them. “I—I can’t, um... get up. ’Cause of the dress!”

“Ooh, do you like it?” Violet beamed. “Isn’t it a nice present?”

“Y-Yes!” Kitten spoke with surprising desperation. “Yes, mistress, I l-love it!”

“You didn’t thank me much when I let you put it on.” Violet’s smile dropped slightly. “I thought you were gonna, like, show me you liked your present. If you don’t like it, I think you should just say so.”

“Oh...” Kitten bit her lip. “Oh, Mistress, it’s... it’s wonderful, I just can’t, um...” Her voice broke. “... c-can’t, um...”

Violet smirked. “Can’t what, Kitten?”

Kitten let out a high-pitched whine, broken up by whimpers as she humped her hands helplessly.

“Gods, you’re adorable.” Violet kicked off a heel and patted Kitten’s head with her foot—Gerrim’s breath caught as he watched the not-catgirl desperately rub her head against it, as if craving even the slightest, most degrading affection. Any kind of touch at all from her Mistress. “I bet every day you thank the gods you have me to take care of you, right?”

“Y-Yes, oh, yes, Mistress...”

“Aren’t I a good Mistress?”

“Yes, M-Mistress!” Kitten fell onto her back, her paws—hands up in the air, and squirmed like a flipped tortoise. “Mistress, please—b-best Mistress, wonderful, perfect...“

Violet smiled. It was a genuine smile, Gerrim realized in amazement. She genuinely loved this praise—praise she had clearly programmed Kitten to give her! “I love how honest this dress makes you,” she teased, kicking off her other heel and walking over to her captive. “No more begging for mercy, huh?”

She descended to crouch before Kitten, tenderly helping to disentangle the catgirl—the human slave—as Kitten continued to hump her hands. “Because,” she continued with glee, “you secretly love every second of it, don’t you?”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Kitten whimpered.

“Aw.” Violet giggled. “Gosh, you’re all just so helpless without me. It’s like I’m a babysitter for a whole town. Always someone who needs to be taken care of.”

Her eyes flitted to Gerrim. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

Gerrim froze.

He was pressed against the vent, barely breathing. His eyes stared into Violet’s—so electric blue, so heavy-lidded and sly.

She knew he was here. Gerrim had... had gotten caught up. She knew he was here. Fuck.

Slowly, hips swaying with almost mocking casualness, Violet approached. She was smiling in undisguised glee.

He squirmed beneath her gaze as memories of earlier that day flickered through his head unbidden. The impossibly curvy Kittycow whimpering, pulling that poor man to her chest. Violet talking down to him, enslaving his mind to adoration. Sitting beneath the stall and smelling the sweet milk. The three bimbo barmaids pulling him down into bed and smothering him with adoring kisses. Gods, how had he ever escaped them?

He needed to not think of such things. But he could already feel it—a delicate, probing presence against his brain. Violet was feeling his mind out, and even those little scouting touches made his lips part and his breath catch.

They were such soft, gentle, tickling touches, like antennae brushing over his brain. And the knowledge that Violet was smart enough to feel him out first, to search for weak points...

... that he hadn’t been smart enough to learn more before crawling right into her clutches...

“How old are you?” she breathed, a knowing smile flickering across he face.

Gerrim knew not to answer—but at the faintest tickling, the words slipped like giggles from his lips. “Twenty.”

“Aww.” She smiled brightly. “I remember when I was twenty. So cute and innocent. Still figuring out your place in the world.”

“A-Aren’t you twenty-two?”

Violet raised an eyebrow. Her smile had faded slightly “Two years make a ton of difference, boy.”

“Right.”

Gerrim tried to keep his tone neutral, but as soon as the word left his lips he saw anger flash across Violet’s face. The anger came as bright and hot as a wildfire, roiling in its intensity... then flickered back into her smirk just as quickly, concealed to near-perfection.

She smiled at him with an expression of pure, condescending fondness.

“That’s right,, she cooed, brushing her hair back with a little girlish giggle. “So don’t you worry about a thing, silly boy. You’ve got your momma to take care of you now.”

Gerrim’s heart quickened, and he felt his cheeks heating up. “Um. I, um—ah! Ooh! Um—aah!” He shook and struggled for breath.

“That’s right,” she said softly, as her feathery touches on his mind became more insistent, more daring. “We’re a good boy, aren’t we? Gotta respect our elders.”

“O-Only two years,” he whimpered, squirming in the cramped vent as the touches grew longer, gentler. She knew what his mind looked like now, he realized, staring into her gleaming blue eyes. And she was getting ready to... to take it. His mind. To take him. And even those tiny touches felt so, so good.

“Oh, you’re barely more than a boy,” she purred. “And—oh my god, are you still a virgin?” She giggled. “You need me more than I thought!” As she leaned in, Violet’s eyes glimmered like twin sapphires. “A smart, sexy, experienced woman to show this boy how good he deserves to feel.”

“N-No.” Breathing heavily, Gerrim fought the mental caresses off, shaking his head vigorously. He was a Toxin Ranger. He had this. He could fight her off, regain the advantage. The clasp at his throat was proof that no ordinary mindweaver stood a chance against his training.

“Take off your badge,” she said happily, giving his mind a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” he replied, smiling as he undid the clasp and let it clang to the floor of the vent.

Oh. Uh-oh.

His look of horror must have been pretty funny-looking, because Violet entered into a giggling fit. She clung to the slots in the vent, her eyes as bright as stars as she beamed at him. “Oh my god, your face right now! Not used to being put in your place, are you?”

Gherrim’s hands fumbled for the clasp, barely even thinking.

“I like that clasp,” she said, leaning in close and smiling mockingly. “It’s soooo pretty.”

He felt another gentle squeeze, and it felt so, so good as he wordlessly passed the clasp through the grate and let Violet take it. She giggled and bounced happily like a girl receiving flowers from her faithful beau. “Thank you!”

Her gratitude squeezed his mind tenderly, and he felt almost molten at that look in her eyes, that sunny smile, that eager bouncing.

“Mnn.” He bit his lip, heart pounding. Bad. Bad. He watched in growing dread as Violet slowly clasped the Ranger badge to her shirt. She beamed up at him. “Aren’t I pretty now?”

“Y-Yes.” The words were slipped out from him like butter under his feet, coaxed by Violet’s sweet, gentle will. Gerrim knew his face had to be as red as a basket of strawberries right now.

“Aww!” She clasped her hands together and swung her hips back and forth, smiling so sweetly up at him. “You’re such a good boy for me. No wonder you came here.” She leaned closer. “Oh, by the way, why did you come?’

“I—” Gerrim bit off the words. He scrambled, head spinning from the incessant little touches and strokes Violet’s will was giving it to keep his brain as happy and docile as a puppy. “I-I, um...” He needed a lie!

“Come on! Come on, boy!” Violet spoke like she was coaxing a puppy out from under the bed. “I want to know now, silly boy!”

“I... can’t...” Gerrim felt her will slowly starting to tighten. She had wrapped around his mind like a serpent around sleeping prey, he realized. And now came the suffocation.

“Tell me now,” she demanded, and there was no patience whatsoever in her tone. “Tell me. Tell me now, or else!”

Gerrim couldn’t betray his Order. He couldn’t! He clutched his head, falling onto his side in the vent, as the squeezing grew more and more unbearable..

“Tell me,” she chanted. “Tell me. Tell me and I’ll make you cum. Tell me or I’ll make you the dumbest, sluttiest orgasm-blocked toy I have. Tell me, you brat! Your momma is asking you a question!” She glared up at him. “Why are you here? Now! God, you’re being so unreasonable! Tell me now!”

If she was feeling frustrated, it was nothing compared to Gerrim’s struggle. He squirmed and whimpered, feeling her pouring magic into him, compelling him to give the Brat Baroness exactly what she wanted. Everything she ever wanted. And he wanted to give it to her so, so bad. How could anyone refuse her anything? It felt impossible.

But he couldn’t do it. Gerrim couldn’t give his new colleagues up, not on his first mission ever. A Toxin Ranger never gave in—especially not to some amateur mindweaver barely two years older than him!

He stared into Violet’s eyes as she leaned right up against the vent, her pouting lips turned down in an infuriated frown. “Tell me,” she demanded, her lips brushing the grate. “Now.”

Gerrim stared at her, helpless as her magic flooded his tired brain. He felt his will melting away between his legs, as her scent—lightly perfumed, but also a little bit musky from her play with the not-catgirl—tickled his senses.

Her scent.

He stared at her, trembling. “O-Okay.”

Immediately Violet was all big smiles. She bounced in place, squealing with excitement. “Finally! God, you were being so stupid about that. So who sent you?” Her eyes gleamed, watching as Gerrim reached into his pack. “Do you have written orders? I’ve never seen a Toxin Ranger before. Are there more coming? When will they get here? Is it true they make you wear a chastity belt at all times? Because, wow, you’re gonna be so grateful to me when—”

Gerrim held his breath, brought his hand up to the grate, and gave the puffy little red flower in his hand a gentle squeeze.

Violet blinked. That was all she had time to do as a burst of pollen exploded from the flower. Gerrim shielded his face as best he could as he heard her let out a different kind of squeal.

She fell away from the grate, coughing and blowing. Her face was covered in golden pollen, and though she was trying to cover her mouth and nose, Gerrim could tell by the display that she’d already inhaled some.

He carefully brushed the pollen on his hand onto the floor of the vent and brushed his face clean, just in case. Then he lowered his hands and watched her intently.

Violet was staring at him, hand over her mouth as her struggles to cough up the pollen ebbed. “What did you d—whoa.” She blinked big, blue eyes. Her pupils were dilated slightly. “Whoa. Wow. Um. Wow!”

Gerrim barely held in a soft sound of relief as her grip on his mind started to loosen.

“Mistress?” whimpered Kitten, still desperately humping her own hand. She was tangled up anew in the dress, eyes wide as she stared up at her staggering owner.

“I. Yeah.” Violet shook her head, as if trying to dislodge a pesky fly. “What was. Wow. Kitten. Wow. Need.”

“Mistress,” the ex-burglar cried.

“Kitten, I need you...” Violet trailed off, eyelids fluttering. “Oh. Huh. Yeah.” She looked around, tilting from side to side. “Ooh. Yeah. Kitten.” She stumbled backwards.

“Mm!” Kitten nodded desperately, staring up as Violet came to stand right above her. She bit her lip and gave a soft mewling whine.

“Kitten,” Violet breathed. “I... need... your... tongue. Now.”

“Mm!” Kitten nodded again and tried to rise, only to fall back down pathetically.

“Kitten.” Violet’s voice broke. Gerrim watched as she stared at him, then back at Kitten. Her hips rolled as she rubbed her thighs together. “Kitten, I need you now!”

“Yes, Mistress!” Kitten struggled to rise again, and her anguish was almost physical as she slipped back down, still bound by her lovely, tangled lacy dress. She immediately tried again, to only more pathetic results.

“Kitten. Kitten, please.” Violet was panting. Her hands crawled over her chest. “K-Kitten!”

“Mistress!” cried Kitten, and she lurched up and locked her fingers onto Violet’s dress. She immediately lost her balance, though, and Violet gave a startled squeak as she fell atop her pet, her dress half-slipping off in the process.

Gerrim bit his lip and snapped out of the show. Violet’s mental control had slipped away, and as she clung to Kitten, forcing her pet down under, he had a brief window of opportunity.

He tested the vent. To his intense relief, it popped out of the frame, just as the barmaids had said. After making sure none of the remaining pollen was drifting around, he crawled through.

Violet was crying tears of joy as the tricksome axinea pollen did its work—and Kitten did hers, eating Violet out with a desperation normally reserved for someone dying of thirst brought to a fountain of ambrosia. Her tongue lapped rapidly as she moaned and sighed and cooed with every lick.

And Violet, sensitized and lust-drunk from the pollen now in her system, could only writhe and lock her legs around Kitten and cry out in pleasure.

“Y-You’ll submit to me!” she shrieked, thrashing in place—Kitten held her by the hips, pressing her against the floor for easier licking. She glared up at Gerrim. “Do it now, and I might let you—aaaAAAH!” The orgasm seemed to hit her like a tidal wave, and she quaked and screamed as Kitten just kept licking, drawing it out longer and longer, building her fast towards the next. “N-Now!” she wailed. “S-Submit, boy!”

“Or?” Gerrim put his hands on his hips and stared down at her. She stared up at him—then at his crotch.

He bit his lip and slumped slightly to hide his erection. The Rangers never taught you how to hide when the enemy made you this horny.

“Or... or I’ll...” She raised a quivering hand towards him, only to cry out as Kitten moaned and kissed and sucked and licked. Whatever magic she’d been attempting flickered out.

“Wow. I’m very scared now.” He folded his arms, eyebrows arching.

“Sh-Shut up!” Violet’s eyes blazed, even as she tweaked her nipples with one hand and entangled her fingers in Kitten’s hair with the other. “I-I’m... just, um, t-taking a moment...”

Gerrim walked over to the cabinet and picked up a ring with three keys on it.

He walked past Violet and Kitten to the door and turned the appropriate-looking key in the lock. The only entrance aside from the vent and window was sealed.

He turned back and smiled. “Okay, Baroness. Take all the time you need.”

“Y-You asshole,” she whispered, biting her lip to hold in another shriek as Kitten took her over the edge again. He self-control was a little remarkable. “I’m gonna turn you into the b-biggest bimbo in town when I g-get out of here. The village bicycle.”

“How do I put this?” Gerrim tested the door again for emphasis. “You’re not getting out of here.”

“Y-Yes I—aah! I always do!”

“You get lucky.” Gerrim started rummaging through the bookshelf. A lot of books about mind control. A book with cute cat drawings. A book full of lewd catgirl drawings. Nothing useful. If he wanted to get people here deprogrammed, he would either need to make Violet do so—and he wasn’t sure he had the chemical know-how for that—or just spirit her away and call for backup. Probably the latter. He just had to make sure she’d be... docile.

“I’m the best mindweaver you’ll ever meet.” Violet’s voice sounded small and fragile, and not just because Kitten was moaning and kissing her clit with visible tenderness.

“Swallowtail says you caught her and the other barmaids because a poisoned drink meant for you got mixed up and she drank it by mistake.” Gerrim checked the window for safeguards—no sign of wards, but it would probably be best to take the vents, especially with that ivy around. Maybe he could deprogram Kitten enough to have her help. “You had her help you catch the other two. They would’ve crushed you otherwise.”

“She—no! That’s a lie!” Violet’s face was burning as she struggled—but despite her wriggling, she still held Kitten between her legs. “I planned that! And she shouldn’t be able to tell you that! Oh! K-Kitten, you’ve gotta... ooOOH!”

“You stretched the mind control too thin.” Gerrim tested the bed, then sat down and opened up his pack. A sleeping dose for Violet would do. Maybe make extra, in case he needed to subdue Kitten. “you think you’re way stronger than you are because you got lucky. Lucky.”

He worked in silence for around a half-minute, getting out ingredients and his mortar and pestle. Violet said nothing, aside from her gasps and moans. Her face was pale, though with anger or fear, Gerrim didn’t know.

Until he heard her softly whisper, “Please. Please, it’s t-too much...”

“No, it’s not.” Gerrim mashed some numwillow bark with the mortar and pestle, spitting into it to add some moisture. “It’s just tricksome axinea.”

“I-It feels too much!” Violet whimpered. “Please, just—just a bit of antidote! Aah!”

Gerrim sprinkled some dreampoppy seeds into the concoction and mashed some more. “You’re fine.”

“No,” she whined, “no, I’m not, it’s too much—can’t—aah!”

Gerrim looked up, blinking as she came to a fifth? Sixth? Orgasm. Her face was even paler than before—or was it just the moonlight? Her complexion offset those brilliant blue eyes in a way that made her look almost faerie. Innocent, even.

Kitten’s licking and kissing were an endless background of sound as Violet’s thighs tightened around the pet’s head. “Just let her go, then,” he said impatiently.

“No.” Violet’s lower lip was trembling. “I want her.”

“You are such a brat.” Gerrim scowled down at her. “Has anyone ever said no to you in your life?”

She looked up at him, eyes teary, and shook her head. “Please.” Her voice was horribly weak. “I can’t stop. It’s so much. It—it hurts.”

Gerrim stared down at her.

Violet’s lie was feeble—pathetic, even. Wicked axinea wasn’t a sensitizer. All it did was build lust and heighten pleasure. She clearly knew nothing of the plant, which was no surprise. People like Violet were opportunists, bullies, but they had no idea how to deal with someone like Gerrim who actually knew what he was doing.

Although...

He hesitated, looking at her critically and trying to mask his doubt. There were occasional reactions. Could she be allergic?

She whimpered like a puppy as Kitten mewed and planted kiss after kiss after kiss on her pussy. She looked so pathetically desperate, and Violet didn’t strike him as much of an actress. Could she be telling the truth?

He decided to test it. “Admit you got lucky.”

His words echoed in the little bedroom.

Violet’s lips parted in horror. “Wh—n-no! I didn’t!”

“Then the dosage isn’t too high.” He started to turn back.

As he stepped towards the bed, though, he heard a tiny whimper.

“I got lucky.”

Gerrim stared down at her with one raised eyebrow. The egomaniacal baroness was staring at him with an expression of pure, lusty need.

“What was that?”

“I got luuuucky,” she moaned, rolling her hips as kitten wrapped her arms around her ass and thrust her tongue into Violet’s cunt. “S-So lucky! I—I used Swallowtail’s m-mistake to brainwash her—her friends. And I c-caught Kitten bec—” She squeaked as Kitten planted a quick kiss on her clit.

“Because?” Gerrim asked, his voice soft. His cock was hard as he gazed down at her. He needed to be sure. And he wanted to drive this point home.

“Because she tripped over my... stuff.” She bit her lip. “She’d—she’d tied me up, made fun of me—she drew ‘slut’ on my face in lipstick—b-but she tripped on my... on that book.” With a trembling hand, she pointed up to the bookshelf. Gerrim realized she was pointing at Catgirls in Heat, one of the copper-piece smutty illustration collections that were so popular these days. “And then she... made fun of me for it. A-And my posters.”

“Oh, Mistress,” whined Kitten, though Gerrim could barely understand her—and wasn’t sure if she was hearing what Violet was saying, or was just overcome by ecstasy as she licked another screaming orgasm from Violet.

“And while she was making fun of me,” Violet blubbered, “o-one of my sex toys was... wrapping around her.”

“Yes?” Gerrim sat back down on the bed, shifting slightly to hide his erection as best he could. He didn’t dare say more. He didn’t dare interrupt.

“And she noticed what it was doing, the i-i-ivy,” Violet mewled. “And... she started wrapping me up in it... sh-she wanted to play, only... oh, she said I...” Her face grew brighter still. “She said I begged so n-nicely, she’d take me with her. And that meant we got caught, ’cause we ran into Swallowtail on the way out.”

“Wow.” Gerrim took a deep breath. “You did get lucky.”

“Mm.” Violet nodded eagerly.

“You only captured her because you were such a bimbo,” he said, shaking his head, “that she wanted to keep you for herself. And someone else had to save you.”

She nodded again, almost robotic. “Please, please, just a... just a tiny bit, it h-hurts so bad...” Her eyes squeezed shut.

Gerrim grimaced.

Okay, there was no way she was this good an actor. She wasn’t talented enough to be this good an actor. Or humble enough. This amateur actually was allergic to the stupid flower.

He sighed, reached into his bag, and pulled out a tiny bottle. He unstoppered it, knelt next to Violet and took the Brat Baroness as gently as he could by the hair. “Okay,” he said wearily. “Just a bit—“

Violet’s eyes widened.

She lunged and grabbed him by the wrist. Gerrim’s heart thudded into his throat as she yanked his hand to her mouth, made him toss back the contents of the canister, and drank it down in one greedy gulp.

He jerked his hand away, and little droplets of antidote splashed on the floor and onto her face. But almost all of it was gone.

Kitten let out a happy sigh. “Ooh, Mistress...”

Gerrim stared down at Violet, shocked. Violet smiled up at him.

He tried to move away and found that he couldn’t move a muscle.

“S-Silly, naïve boy,” she cooed, as her mind sensuously wrapped around his, tightened, and embraced him once more like a lamia around an old flame. “Soooo gullible.”

“Th-that wasn’t fake,” he gasped, falling backwards on his rear with great mental exertion. He tried to backwards-crawl away, but it was like moving through molasses.

“Um, what?” Violet giggled, stroking Kitten’s hair and slowly shoving the ‘catgirl’ away. She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled towards him, moving so slowly—and yet so quickly compared to him. “Yeah it was. I tricked you. I outsmarted you, silly boy, because you’re just a silly, inexperienced bimbo, aren’t you?”

“N-No.” He fumbled for something, but—oh, no, he’d left his pack on the bed—

She followed his gaze and beamed. “Good boy!” Her mind sent dripping, tingling tentacles of pleasure into his mind with her praise. “We don’t need any more toys. I’m gonna show you how good you can feel without them, and you’re gonna be so grateful to me.” Her eyes glimmered. “You were no match for a sexy, mature woman who’s just soooo much, like, smarter than you.”

Gerrim felt the soft and insistent suggestion to lie down, and desperately resisted, but her grip just kept coiling, tighter and tighter. It would feel so good. So easy to do as the suggestions said.

“That’s right,” she purred, as his crawling slowed to a stop. “I tricked you. I outsmarted you, because you’re a dumb little wannabe and I’ve been doing this for years. Did you think I’d be super easy? Ooh, you did, didn’t you?”

Gerrim stared in horror as he felt the tendrils of magic gently squeezing his mind in rhythm, milking his thought away, massaging his mind into slumber. Violet was so... so beautiful... and she’d outsmarted him, this arrogant bimbo of a baroness...

“Well, I am, a little bit.” She winked. “But, like, you know who else is suuuuper easy?”

Her fingers tickled over his bulge in his pants. “Aside from everyone I meet, I mean?” She tittered.

Lie down. Gerrim blinked as the suggestion blanketed his mind like fog. He found himself complying. It felt so easy to just lie down. To just do as he was told.

It felt even easier when Violet crawled on top of him.

“Silly, horny little virgins,” she breathed in his ear. She ground her hips against him. “Soooo easy. Kitten?”

“Mistress,” purred the fake catgirl, and she entered his field of vision again. The redhead crawled beside him and gave his cheek a little lick.

“Ooh, I felt a twitch!” Violet sang, bouncing atop him until he moaned. Her tits bounced, too, and Gerrim stared at them in helpless wonder. So perfect and round, glistening in the fiery orange glow of the woodstove. She smirked down at him as Kitten started to gnaw at and rip his clothes from him. “Does my little flower boy like my pussy?”

Kitten stiffened. “Oh, Mistress!” she wailed, clinging to Gerrim’s arm. Gerrim realized she was coming as she quivered and brazenly humped against him, her body warm and her breaths shallow.

“Oops.” Violet giggled. “I, like, forgot that was a trigger I gave her. Anyways.” She leaned in very, very close, batting her eyelashes. Her lips grazed his. “Doesn’t it feel so niiiice?”

Her will gave his another squeeze. He whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensation.

The buxom blonde beamed. “I’m soooo glad you tried to take me down,” she cooed. “Aren’t you? Don’t this go soooo well? Just like you hoped?”

Gerrim bit his lip to hold in the words. But he felt so docile. It felt so easy to slip into her embrace. He was naked, now, save for his underwear. Violet’s naked breasts jiggled against his chest, perfect and smooth.

“I can make you feel soooo good, little rose.” Violet smirked. “All you’ve gotta do is answer one super-easy question for me.”

He blinked rapidly. He had to resist. He had to fight it back. He didn’t want to, but he had to. Or... he didn’t want to give in, but he needed to? His mind was fluttering about like dandelion seeds. He whimpered from the gentle sensation of her wrapping tighter and tighter around his vulnerable will, from the wonderful bliss as Violet’s tight pussy slipped over his cock. Violet was so beautiful. And she was about to start bouncing.

“Which of these pretty flowers should I use,” she whispered with a questioning pout, holding up his backpack for him to see, “to make you a nice, docile little slave forever?”

Her sweet voice echoed endlessly in the little room. Everything was lit by that same warm, fiery, almost hellish glow.

Gerrim licked his lips.

It was so foolish. To ask a qualified Toxin Ranger—who was still resisting!—what to give him from his own bag. Such a reckless, inane notion. Was Violet actually that arrogant? Surely even she could realize that any Toxin Ranger worth anything would exploit that and escape easily. He knew a half-dozen antidotes off the top of his head that could clear his head, could block her control, could even let him take her over again.

Instead, he burbled, “The pink, um, r-rose looking flower.” Violet reward his words by beginning to rise and fall upon his cock, and as her silken pussy caressed and milked him, his voice became weaker, words more jumbled. “G-Gotta—pink flower, c-cupid rose, m-makes me... makes me l-love, so rare love you, love you—already do—j-just let me smell it, face, rub my face in p-pollen, let me smell—love, love, love, lo—”

As Violet began to bounce in his lap in earnest, giggling in triumphant delight, Kitten started kissing his neck—and pressed a soft, fluffy pink blossom against his mouth and nose, smothering him in its spelled scent.

“Deep breaths,” Kitten purred, and he could tell as she kissed his neck that she was smelling the flower, too. “N-Nice... deep... breaths...”

Gerrim breathed in, and pink fog filled his vision.

And as sweet obedience flooded into his mind and Violet started to cry out in ecstasy, he came his virginity—and his will—away for Violet’s pleasure.

Pleasure surged into his very soul as he fell in love with the wonderful, sexy, mature Mistress who had claimed him as her own.

Two years had been all the time in the world.

* * *

“And this is your new home,” Violet said, giggling as she led the beaming ex-Ranger into the courtyard garden. She relished the sight. He was spinning around like a falling maple seed, still clearly dizzy, and clung to her hand like she was his only lifeline. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Currently, the garden was a bit of a mess. The gardeners could rarely do anyhing with it without falling victim to the two mind-controlling plats she had—none of them knew how to care for those, let along plant more.

“Pretty!” he agreed, leaning in and kissing her neck needily. Violet smiled and stroked his hair as he kissed and suckled. This kind of infatuation could get annoying eventually—she had enough hangers-on already—but she didn’t mind just yet. And she could always brainwash it to something more fun if it did ever get old. “Pretty Mistress. I get to live here?”

He pulled back to stare at her in excitement, and seeing that pink glow in his eyes, Violet had a feeling it wasn’t ever going to get old. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t add, like, a hundred more triggers and suggestions. She’d promised to make him the village bimbo, after all. And she hated to let such a pretty, obedient boytoy down.

“That’s right!” She patted his head. “You’re gonna grow me all kiiiinds of pretty flowers, okay, sweetie?”

“Ooh, yes.” He bobbed his head eagerly. “Lots of flowers and fruits and herbs! Prisoner fruit. Nurselilies. Fluffy puffballs. Dreampoppies. Gonna make everyone love you!”

“That’s right! You’re such a clever boy.” She got up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. At the same time, she reached down, taking his big, delightful cock in her comparatively little hand and pumping him rapidly. “Just my clever little flower. And you’ll grow me whatever I want, won’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” he moaned, clinging to her. “Yummy plants. Yes, yes, please, let me m-make everyone dumb and horny for you.”

Violet pulled back and giggled. “You’re growing me something really yummy right now,” she teased, stroking the tip of his cock with the tip of her finger. He visibly trembled with pleasure, right on the edge now. She put a finger to her lips, blinking up at him. “Will it make you nice and dumb and horny for me, flower boy? Nice and dumb enough to help me send word to the Rangers about how totally great this place would be for a brand-new Ranger Lodge, and how awesome it would be as, like, a new training headquarters for inexperienced Western Plains recruits?”

She made her pout extra-adorable, her eyes as big as saucers, and watched as his brief struggle melted away in seconds. Such a good boy.

He stared at her in helpless adoration as she slipped down to her knees, grinning up at him. What a silly bimbo. She gave his cock a little lick, then another, savoring his soft little cries above. And oh, he blushed so prettily.

“So sweet,” she teased. “And such cuuuute rosy cheeks! Am I fluuustering you? She gave him another lick. He whimpered happily.

She wrapped her fingers around his cock and grinned. “I think I’ll call you Rose, okay, boytoy?” She batted her eyelashes, making herself the picture of coquettish innocence. “Are you excited to help me get lots of other pretty flowers to come and live with us, Rose?”

He nodded eagerly, sinking onto his back in the grass. Violet grinned and crawled up between his legs, gazing at his helpless cock and infatuated expression with equal glee.

And Violet gave her Rose one last, long kiss to finish the deal.