Enslaving the Princess (Mind Control Breeding)

Camille, the young
nineteen year-old handmaiden to the cruel Princess Mariana, once again found
herself turning to Counselor Victor for comfort. She sat in his lap, as always.
That was one of the rules he had. She could tell him whatever he wanted, but she
had to sit on his lap, first.

“It was awful!”
Camille shuddered. She was so glad the Counselor was there, that he was so
strong when she felt so weak. “She took Ana, that damned Tryptian whore, and
just led her face down between her lap as I was right there! I was brushing the
Princess's hair, and she just stops to get her cunny licked by someone else!
Can you believe it?”

Victor tsked.
“Tell me about that.”

“Well Ana, I mean,
she's beautiful. That dark skin, you know. It's like chocolate. If I wasn't so in
love with the Princess myself, I would be happy to watch someone like her lick
someone like that. And Ana—she looked so scared at first! Like she wasn't
really enjoying it, but she had to, because otherwise Princess Mariana would
punish her somehow?”

Camille ran a hand
down her half-open blouse. How had it gotten so open? Oh well. Victor was so
nice. He wouldn't mind her cooling off. She tweaked a nipple. Her open blouse
revealed a tautly muscled young torso.

“That's kind of
hot, actually,” Camille admitted. “The look in her eyes, like that. Scared, but
accepting. Right before she dove in, it looked like she was smiling. Like being
that close to the Princess's pussy just turned her on too much. I'm just . . .
I'm just jealous, is all.”

They were in his
office in his tower, located in the back of Fairmount Palace. The room was
spacious, filled with piles of books on every table and desk, with long groups
of flasks and burners off to one corner in the back.

His tower was
sometimes known to the locals as the Cruel Spiral, due to allegations that he
would kidnap portions of the populace and experiment on them—Camille didn't buy
into such things, of course. Victor had never been anything but lovely to her.
That's why she came straight to him with news like this.

His lap was
expansive, as Victor was a large man. He had a shaved head, and a dark, trimmed
beard, and was rather young to be a Counselor.

She knew he was
actually the youngest Counselor in the Kingdom for over five hundred years.
Counselors were the right hands of the King, offering advice to the throne and
enacting royal wills on the populace. Normally, there were two or three or even
four Counselors at one time. But Victor was the only one the King had
currently.

His rise to power
had come after a series of unfortunate deaths, sudden retirements, and one case
of thorough madness from his long line of predecessors. They all had Victor as
an apprentice, and much suspicion had at one time been cast upon him; but of
course, he was innocent. If he wasn't innocent, how had he gotten the job?

“How does that
make you feel, dearie?”

Camille shook her
head, her thick, long dark hair sweeping across her svelte form. She had to
struggle to look into his piercing, ice-blue gaze for long. His eyes felt like
they were breaking her mind apart, but in a good way. The way that cinnamon
broke apart on top of a hot cup of tea.

It felt sometimes
like this was all so very wrong. That she shouldn't be sitting in his lap like
this. That she should be fighting, perhaps. Or running away. Or telling someone
she knew about what they discussed. But, then she would come up to him and
complain, and he would calmly explain how much he cared for her and make her a
special little drink that made all her cares go away.

Still, every little
while, the thought crept back up. Why was she still a handmaiden? She
remembered the herbalist, Dell, had offered her a job tending the garden, to be
an apprentice underneath him. She even remembered being excited about it.
Camille loved herbs, loved plants, loved watching the way they twisted and grew
and vibrated with the force of the planet.

But after she
discussed the idea with Victor, it seemed like not a good idea at all. She made
fun of Dell as she rejected him, called him a dirty old man. Victor suggested
it all, and  Camille listened. The beautiful young brunette was lucky she had.
The Counselor had made so many good decisions for her.

Victor's hand was
on her thigh, fingers thumping along. He was so patient.

“It makes me feel
. . . I don't know. It makes me wish that your love potion would hurry up and
work.”

When Camille had
revealed her love for the Princess—it was only a short time after she turned
down the apprenticeship that she had realized her affection, making Victor's
suggestion that she turn down Dell even better—Victor had crafted her a love
potion to use.

It looked awfully
similar to the little drinks he made her, but Victor promised her that it
wasn't the same. And it felt
so good
to trust Victor. He was so right
and strong.

He nodded sagely.
“Yes, I can see how you would want it to work. Though I would proposition that
it already is.”

She looked
puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed
any—shall we say—other instances of amorous activity of the Princess before
this?”

“Oh, no. Not at
all.”

Princess Mariana was well-known throughout the kingdom for being rather icy.
Glacial, as a matter of fact, when it came to romance. At eighteen, she was
years beyond the proper age of betrothal. But her father, the King, was wrapped
around her pretty finger, and let her do whatever she wanted.

It was easy to let
Mariana do whatever she wanted. The young blond was beyond gorgeous—most of the
populace was convinced she was a living divinity, some physical form of one of
the Seven Divines.

There was a
saying—as Princess Mariana went, so went the Kingdom of Elysia. Certainly the
King went along with anything she had to say, even more so since his wife's
death some years past.

“Well,” Victor ran
a hand through her hair. Camille trembled again, harder this time. She could
feel it in her nipples, starting to stand up firmly against the loose cloth of
her half-open blouse. “I would take that as a good sign, my dear. She was
obviously overcome with emotion in your presence. Perhaps, being so long without
a partner, or without any real affection, she simply didn't know how to
proposition you correctly?”

Camille nodded
eagerly. That made perfect sense. Victor was always making such good sense.

When she had first
come to him, weeks ago, he made sense right away. Well, she hadn't so much come
to him as he had shown up in her quarters. But then he took out his wonderful
crystal of truth.

He explained,
quite well, how no one could lie when the crystal was taken out.

Look at how well
it sparkled and shined. It was impossible to think that anything he said was
something other than the truth, wasn't it? Wasn't that crystal nice?

That night, he
revealed how much he cared for her. How he saw her as a daughter, or maybe a
little sister. And how she needed to confide in him.

When Camille had
first started talking to Victor, she believed silly things—like that she didn't
want to be a handmaiden forever, even a royal one. That she had big, grand
aspirations. Become an apprentice to someone. Maybe the herbalist? Maybe even
be the royal herbalist someday?

Victor helped her
realize that was just part of her latent repression of her sexuality. That what
she really wanted was to fall in the arms of sweet, gorgeous Princess Mariana,
and lick her pussy forever after.

“I think you must
be right, Counselor Victor,” she said sweetly. “It's just...it's so hard to see
things how you do, sometimes. You're so wise and kind.”

“Perhaps my little
crystal could make things a bit more clear?”

“Oh yes,” she said
breathily, her chest heaving, one hand coming up to paw at his bicep. “Please,
let me look into the crystal again?”

“Very well,” he
said, reaching into his pocket. “Assume the truth position, my dear.”

Obediently, she
slid off his lap, and knelt down in front of him. Staring up at him with her
deep, dark brown eyes. He had explained to her that this was the only proper
way to receive the truth he had to deliver.

“The oath, first.”

The young beauty
nodded, her pouty lips forming a serious line. She knew the oath by heart. She
held a hand to one breast, tweaking a nipple, as she raised her other hand in
the air.

“I hereby promise
to honor the crystal of truth, to recognize its power, to open my mind to its
revelations, no matter how strange or foreign, and to enact its vision however
I may.”

“Good girl.”

Camille felt a
slickness in her thighs at his words—in fact, at just saying the oath. That was
new. When he took out the crystal from a pocket in his robes, the slickness
intensified a hundredfold.

“Let's start with
some affirmation, yes?”

“Affirmation,”
Camille said, her voice sleepy. “Yes.”

Her mind was
barely capable of describing the crystal, its effects. She felt like she was
swimming in the universe, in the time before time began, bumping up against all
the vibrations of the stars.

“You trust me.”

She nodded slowly.
“I trust you.”

“I am your
counselor.”

“You are my
counselor.”

“My words are
always right.”

“Your words are
always right.”

He stroked her
face. His touch so gentle, so caring. She moaned appreciatively. The wetness
between her thighs increased.

“You love Princess
Mariana.”

She nodded eagerly. “I
love
Princess Mariana.”

“She deserves to
be Queen, right away.”

“She deserves to
be Queen, right away.”

Camille's hand was
still on one nipple, tweaking and fondling. Had it been there the whole time?
Oh well. It was wonderful. Victor was wonderful. And so right.

“You'll do
anything to make this happen.”

“I'll do anything
to make this happen.”

“Touch your clit,
dear. Finger your hot little pussy. You'll listen better.”

Camille complied
with a moan. That made perfect sense. With as slick as she was, her fingers
slid right in.

“I am the true
King of this realm.”

“You are the . .
.” she fingered herself harder, struggling to make it make sense.

“The true king of
this realm. Remember your oath, Camille. Open your mind.”

Yes. Open her
mind. Be a good girl. Her fingers pumped in and out, the soft wet noises
filling up the space between her and the crystal.

“True king,”
moaned Camille. “Mind open.”

“I am the true
King of this realm.”

“You are the true King of this realm.”

She just trust
Victor. So much. He had to be telling the truth. If she had been able to see
herself, she would know that her eyes—deep dark brown—had been turned shining
and blue as she stared into the crystal.

“The current King
is an imposter.”

“The current King is an imposter.”

Yes, of course he
was. Victor was the true King of the realm. The current King had to be an
imposter.

“He deserves to
die for his treasonous crime.”

“He deserves to
die for his treasonous crime.”

They repeated this
a few more times. It was drilled thoroughly into her head.

“The Princess
deserves a real King.”

“The Princess
deserves a real King.”

This only made
sense. Camille's fingers plunged ever deeper into her cunt, her thumb working
harder on her hot little clit. A puddle had started to form underneath her.
Yes. A real King for Mariana.

“The Princess
deserves me.”

“The Princess
deserves you.”

Yes, oh yes.
Victor was the Real King. Mariana deserved a Real King. She deserved Victor. Of
course she did.

“Princesses should
serve a true King's every need.”

“Princesses should
. . . should serve . . .”

“Princesses should
serve a true King's every need.”

“Princesses should
serve a true . . . a true . . .”

Camille whined.
This was starting to feel wrong again. Her hot little fingers in her snatch
began to slow.

Victor stood up
for a moment, taking the crystal with him. Some of Camille's fog started to
clear. Victor was . . . was a King? Was that right? It had to be, because he
said it, and yet . . .

 He returned with
a goblet in his hand.

“You should drink
this.”

Camille nodded
blankly. “I should drink this.”

The liquid was
warm, thick, full of happiness and warmth. It wasn't wine, not exactly, because
it was too milky and smooth, but it was red and had the tinge of alcohol. Just
like every time before that she had drained this sort of drink, Camille felt
like she was flying. She let the goblet clank down to the ground from an empty,
strengthless hand.

“Princesses should
serve a true King's every need.”

Her cunt felt
afire Her fingers slid in and out with renewed vigor. She felt her orgasm fast
approaching.

“Princesses should
seerve aaa truuue King's. Mmmmm. Oh.
Every
need.”

“I am the True
King.”

“
You
are
the
Truuue
King.”

“Princess Mariana
should serve me.”

Camille's fingers
were deep in her pussy now, her thumb riding ceaselessly over her clit. It was
sooo good.

“Focus, girl. Give
yourself a nice little cum, and focus.”

Camille came
almost immediately, her hips bucking as her melting hot pussy vibrated with pleasure.
It was the
command
. She just
had
to do what he said, and it was
so
easy
to obey him. He was sooo strong.