The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She gave me everything I needed. The taste of silver and afterglow mingled together is so delicious. I’ve had women tease me before, but never like that. Everything about her just tore right through me. Everything she did just made everything about her better and better. Aurora could never hold out through my pleading and begging. My mind feels so hazy, but in the best of ways.

It was so hard to obey. It’s never been hard like that before. Every time someones had me under their control it’s been so easy. I struggled under Miss Corvi’s control at first, but she didn’t have the magic Rust has. She had to build up her dominance over me. Even then, it was never hard to obey. I just chose not to and broke free. But I don’t have that feeling now. I can still feel her Red pumping and throbbing inside of my mind even in the afterglow of her silver. I can only imagine how it would feel if she’d used both at once.

Can she do that? If she can, it would either feel like an unending orgasm or the cruelest torture I could possibly imagine. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. I think even if it were the worse side of that I’d love it. At the very least I’d need more of it.

It takes me longer than it should to realize I’m not still laying on the floor. I’m on the bed. Her bed, or at least the room she took me to change. The only reason I’m sure is my uniform still on the bed beside me.

“Pleasure is such a good way to start things over again, isn’t it?” I hear Rust before I see her. She’s leaning back against the the lower left post of the bed. Her posture is so casual but still manages to look tall and imposing. She’d just need to stretch out her arm to make me powerless again. She might not even need to do that. “I think I’ll need to adapt the way I’ll be making use of you, but that’s fine. My dear sister’s reluctance requires waiting regardless of my desires for expediency.”

“Then why move now . . .?” Things do feel reset. I feel so different, but I can’t quite put it to words. Her Red is still inside of me, but it isn’t quite the same. I feel . . . looser? All of the words I try to use don’t feel right. I still must obey, and I know that, but I feel less tightly bound.

Rust pushes off of the bed, slowly moving over to sit beside me, her feet hanging over the side of the bed. “Without a nudge, dear sweet Lucia would never acquiesce, and that simply will not do. So I’ve nudged. Now it’s merely a matter of remaining strong while keeping my persuasion as effective as can be.” She pauses, raising up a mostly red eyebrow. “With an acceptable level of risk, of course. After all, hanging you from the ceiling has a chance to work, but such a waste with such a low chance of desirable results.”

For just a moment she reminds me of Doctor Lys but Rust isn’t like that. The future isn’t certain for her. She’s just smart enough to make an educated guess. Maybe she can use her magic to see a bit of the future, but she doesn’t seem the sort of confident you seem when you know whats going to happen because there’s no chance it wont. Instead she glows with the kind that screams she’ll fight tooth and nail to make fate end up the way she wants.

“What do you want from her, anyway?” She said it herself. Sarah isn’t very good at things that Rust finds important. Her sparks are strong, but that doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that she’d work so hard for. Considering mom will never stop breaking free, it doesn’t make sense.

“You’ll know soon enough, my dear Sylvia. Seeing as there’s no way you knowing could help me procure it any faster, it seems fruitless to waste the time explaining the what, or the why. Neither are such simple things.” Anyone else saying that would be condescending. It still is, but it feels justified. Her fingers slide through my hair. I tense up but she doesn’t grab or even press all that hard. I almost wish she would.

Her nail teases along the curve of my ear, rewarding me with a slow shuddering pulse of silver. There’s so much that she isn’t telling me. Is she trying to keep some secret from me? Why? I must obey! It’s hard to deny that if she’s doing something then it’s probably the smart thing to do, but I can’t explain any of the whys.

There’s so much I want to ask, but as if she knows Rust places a red nailed finger over my lips. “Shh dear. There will come a time when you know the answers to every question you have. It will not be now, but when it occurs you will wish it hadn’t. Let us not rush such undesirable moments, mm?”

So many responses come to my lips only to be blocked by her smooth finger. Each time they’re about to part the faintest of silver tingles across them, making them kiss her finger instead. Rust slowly shakes her head, sighing under her breath.

It feels like she’s looking for something the way her eyes are staring so intensely into mine. If I knew what it was I would show her. Why does she need to be so secretive with me? It doesn’t make sense.

Her finger presses harder, tighter against my lips. A red glow pulses from the very tip, ripping another whimper from my throat. I can’t keep my lips still. They keep moving, rubbing, brushing against her finger for some satisfaction. The more I try to keep them still, the more I can’t help but rub them harder.

I whine the moment her finger pulls away taking the red glow with it. “P-please, Rust! I’m trying to give you what you want, but I can’t if I don’t know! And you keep teasing me, it’s driving me crazy!”

“What if that’s just what I’m hoping for? It could be, couldn’t it?” Rust laughs as I rub the back of my own hand against my lips to try making their dull ache go away. I’ve wanted to kiss someone before, but I’ve never felt it as much as I’ve needed to eat after realizing at midnight that I haven’t eaten all day. She’s so cruel. Is she really trying to drive me mad? She might be a lot closer than I think if that’s really her plan. I might not even be able to tell.

Shaking her head with a heavy sigh, Rust pulls me closer. Her arms don’t feel particularly strong, but with how much better it feels to be close to her than far away they feel stronger than anyone’s arms ever have. “Please don’t do that, please! I really want to do whatever you want me to! I need to obey! I want to obey!”

My eyes are filling with tears. My lips won’t stop aching. Rubbing isn’t helping. Kissing my own hand isn’t helping. I need her to make it better. Even my mist only makes it worse even if it still makes me quiver. I look to her eyes as desperately as I can. There’s no pity or sympathy in either eye, red or silver. There’s so much amusement. There’s so much delight. She’s loving each and every minute of this! I cry out and try ramming my lips into hers but the same finger comes between our lips at just the wrong moment.

Red floods into my lips even more, making them feel almost on fire. I scream against her finger, kissing licking and suckling at it like a needy animal. It only makes it worse, but not doing it is beyond impossible! Even as mean and horrible as this feels I just need her too much to care.

She laughs and I scream. Too far away she’s saying something in her condescending voice, talking to me like some child who can’t keep her hand out of the cookie jar, but I’m too busy wrapping my lips around her finger to listen. The aching taste of how much I need more of her is sweeter than cherries. How much it hurts to swirl my tongue around her finger as it burns with that same red is like licking fire that tastes like the long nights I’d spend in bed with the whole band.

I could stay like this forever, in horrible needy agony. As much as I need something I’m not getting, need this need to end, the need is too strong for anything else to matter. I need more of her finger more than I need to think. I need more of her more than I need to breathe. I just need, need, need!

My eyes fall shut, and I can see the red taste before my eyes. This is what everyone is referring to when they think of red hot – only everything else is a pale imitation. Nothing else aches like this so much that the ache itself becomes something that you need. No other flames can burn so hot that they not only consume you but remake you like a phoenix rising from the flames just to dive back in to rise again.

Red fingers claw across my scalp, roughly tearing me away from my crimson oblivion. Eyes still closes, tying to savor the after images, I suck and lick at the air in some vain attempt to get the taste back. It’s futile. I don’t know where it is, and I don’t want to open my eyes and lose the last hint of red. I don’t want to lose the last hint of pure passion on my tongue.

“Do you know why you burn, why you ache, why you suffer, my dear Sylvia? It’s really quite simple. And it explains just what it is that I want from you with just the slightest of thought.” Red teases the end of my tongue, caressing it lingeringly. As soon as I’ve felt it it moves away.

I struggle against her hand, ignoring the sharp ache to try moving closer to her finger. No luck. The last of the red fades from my vision and I open my eyes the next moment. Her finger is so far away. It’s just inches, three, five, seven, but inches that I can’t stretch across. No matter how hard I fight against her I can’t get more. My cheeks burn as tears trace hot wet paths down to my neck. “P-pl-pleeease, dear aunt! Anything! I’ll do anything! I’ll do anyone! I’ll make Sarah give you everything you could ever want, just let me suck you forever!“

Red burns across my vision, but this time it’s only because my hair feels like if I struggle any harder it won’t be able to stay in my head. Why won’t she just give me more?! Would it be so bad to just have me latched on her finger, or her arm, or her breast, or any place she wanted for the rest of time? I’d just suckle and moan and lick and roan. She wouldn’t need to do anything at all, and I’d feel such euphoria!

Red burns in my mind. It reminds me what I want. It reminds me what I need. Like a song that goes on for five minutes longer than the last verse the words keep hammering into me like a redundant chorus not even broken up by an instrumental. I must obey. I must obey. I must obey. But obedience doesn’t give me what I need!

Every woman that’s taken me from myself and given me a leash instead gave me everything I ever needed. Nina Corvi gave me Symphonic Nebula. Pamela gave me exposure. Quillspawn gave me power, a purpose, and another mother. Hope and Doctor Lys gave me a lover and a future where I would be loved by everyone with no worries or cares. Even Christina Donovan was going to give me oblivion where I wouldn’t be able to think only be an expensive fuck toy. Even that was more than Rust has given me.

I must obey, but how can I obey when she gives me nothing but a need she won’t fulfill?! How can I obey when she tugs and tears me in half deeper than I can even feel when she isn’t making me yearn?!

“How can a girl be so smart, and yet so foolish?” Her words ache, tinged not with the sweet fulfillment her words normally carry. They don’t even give me the fulfillment of making me need or want more. They just sting and burn, aching deeper than any cut could ever hurt. “So beautiful, and yet warped into such a visage. You look obscene, Sylvia. Obscene. You sound obscene. You could have a painting, but you settle for a photograph. What petty trash has our family become?”

“Please just tell me! It’s hard to think when I need you so much! It’s hard to anything when I need you so much! I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want, be anyone you want! I’ll be your student, I’ll wear your boring robes, I’ll give you Sarah, I’ll give you Aurora, just give me some of you!” No matter how hard I rub my tongue along my lips all I can taste is me.

“Such a child.” Her hand grabs mine. I hadn’t even remembered I could be trying to grab her closer. I was too busy thinking with my mouth. Before I can remember that I have two hands, the fingers from my hair are wrapped around my other wrist. She forces me down to the bed and I let out a pitiful howl as she straddles my waist. Rubbing myself up against her doesn’t do anything but ache. There’s too much fabric between us. I know she could make it feel like it wasn’t there, but she isn’t. She could make me cum with a thought, but she isn’t. She could make this all better but she won’t.

I thrash and struggle underneath her, but she’s too strong. I cant run the risk of shoving her away, either. I need her. I need her closer. I need to wrap my arms and legs around her but I can’t reach. No matter how loud I scream she doesn’t relent. She’s loving it! Stronger than I’ve felt any other sensation, so strong I don’t even need to pay attention to her red in my mind, I can feel how much she’s loving this.

Is this what she wants? Is my pitiful thrashing the kind of obedience that she craves? She could have this so much easier! She wouldn’t even need to use her powers to make me her slave. I’d be like this with just one long hard kiss of her lips, one lingering touch of her finger. She doesn’t need to light my mind on fire and make my body slick as a crushed grape with need.

Nothing I do does anything more than make her laugh or shake her head. Her hands are so strong around m wrists. Leaning over me like this none of her hair in front of her eyes, and as much as I savor the easy sight of both of them it doesn’t do anything to give me the more of her that I yearn for. I’ve never even seen her shoulders, her navel, or all of her bare legs. The longer that she stays over me the more time I have to ache for new parts of her that I want to know better than I know myself.

I want to know how red she tastes between her legs. I want to know how red her hair smells with my nose sliding through the strands of silver and red. I want to know how soft or firm the curves of her ass feel under my fingers. I want to know how it feels to grind my bare nipples down against hers. I want to taste our bodies shuddering in perfect unison.

I open my mouth to plead, but I can’t find my words. Choked sounds and pitiful cries come out instead. My eyes burn as much with tears as from the attempt to get more from looking deeper into hers. She has such gorgeous, hot, sexy eyes. She has eyes that could make an angel beg to be fucked. I’ve never seen a red eye look so alluring, so sexy, but she makes it so gorgeous. My own mixed colors feel so inferior to the way hers are so clearly distinct. I want to feel those distinct different tastes and memorize the different ways they sizzle and ache.

“You still don’t understand. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your every struggle. Such a different creature than I’d imagined, you are. Nebula. Sylvia. You’re more Yana’s daughter than you could ever be Lucia’s.” She never just says what she means! Rust’s voice is edged with barbs that don’t cut and tear, but poke and tease. She doesn’t tear me apart, she just makes me wish she would.

If this need wasn’t magic I would have been able to cum just from rubbing my thighs together by now. I’ve felt need so powerful that just daydreaming and a little friction was enough to send me over the edge. Aurora’s made me feel that. Nikki has made me feel that. Rust just makes me ache and yearn like nothing else ever has.

My head shakes violently back and forth as I rub as much of my body up against hers as I can. How can she be putting so much weight down against me without being close enough for my body to mash into hers?! “I don’t understand anything! It’s only getting harder the longer you don’t give me what I need! Please! Just spell it out! I’m an idiot! I’m dumb! I’m what Aurora always says and thinks she is! Make me more! Make me better! Give me what I need to please you!”

“What I want, is not a thing that I can give you.” Her hands press into my wrists harder. Her lips move, but the words that tremble from the edges don’t sound like words. Warmth burns at my wrists, pulling me up higher than I can arch on my own. The longer it burns, the harder it is to struggle and the harder it is to move. I sink down into the bed with a tired whimper that sounds too soft and far away for how pitiful I feel and how strong my need still burns. “I can take what I want from you, yes, but I had hoped for so much more from you. Perhaps I’ve been seeing you through Lucia’s eyes for too long.”

Why does she keep calling my mother Lucia? No one ever calls her that. I know it’s her middle name, and the name that Lida would have named her if she hadn’t let Susan convince her to break tradition. It’s still not her name. Her name is Sarah. This shouldn’t be so hard for me to understand!

Even squirming my thighs feels too hard. My body feels like it’s made of lead. No, it feels like its made of electrum, heavy magic electrum. I’m not strong like Aurora is. I can’t move like this. I know that I’m still made of flesh but it doesn’t feel like I could be. I feel so heavy, and Rust on top of me feels so light. She feels wispy as a red and silver diaphanous cloth carried by the wind.

She leans down closer, and if I still had any strength in my body to move I could steal the taste that I’ve been craving so easily. It would be almost painfully simple to rub my lips against her cheek as hers near my ear. It would be so easy to grind my chest up against hers. She’s even weighing me down and I can’t rub against her any more.

I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and I’ve had my head filled with more ink than blood in my veins. I’ve had a chip in my brain. I’ve had a song that kept me drunk with a kiddy need to please. None of it was like this.

“Even as my slave, you struggle. You seek. You reach.” Rust’s red nails slowly slide down along my arms. They don’t rake, and they don’t press hard enough to make red rise up over my pale skin. All they do is trace a path, dancing in a pattern like a never ending sideways ‘s’. “Being a slave is not a privilege. Obedience is not a gift. It is a responsibility. This is not some paradise made just for your perverted delights, my sad, simple niece.”

My mind literally aches. Why wouldn’t she want that?! Why wouldn’t she want me to want to obey, to want to do something to prove just how much I need to obey?! If she wanted me to just obey, she could make it so that was all I could do or all I wanted. She could tell me. She could instruct me. Something, anything! Just assuming that I would understand something so cold, so dispassionate, so strange, it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing about her, or this situation makes any sense! She wants something, but she wont tell me what it is so I can help her get it. She makes me want something so much that I cant help but beg for it, but reprimands me for wanting it!

There’s no way that I can win. Struggling aches and burns. Surrendering to it means that I ache and latch onto anything my lips can find. She doesn’t give me any options that would please her!

Rust sighs and closes her lips around the base of my ear. I stiffen, letting out a long slow groan as her tongue traces languidly over my skin. So hot, so warm, there’s nothing about her tongue that doesn’t feel like paradise. Her lips pull back only for her tongue to trace further along my ear. I don’t have the strength to make my body move, but it definitely has enough to move on it’s own. My thighs clench tight as my neck arches to shove my tongue more against her ear. It doesn’t feel as good it would feel to have the same sensation along my lips, but it feels so much better than not having it.

Red dives into my ear as her tongue thrusts with a loud wet sound right into its center. Red bursts in hot aching flashes across my vision, burning between every thoughts, every part of my self. Red, hot, sticky, slick, dripping red presses past my ear and past my everything else.

Deeper than any fingers have ever gone, deeper than any words have ever gone, her tongue dances in my ear and I can feel it licking me. Not my body, not my pussy, not even my mind, but my soul. The part of me that makes me me has her tongue flicking against it, making it burn just as it fills me with pleasure. Her saliva drips down along her tongue, staining everywhere it lands with hot paths of blazing red.

Her fingers squeeze my shoulders, reminding me that both her hands and my shoulders exist. Ten sharp points of red press just agonizingly hard enough not to hurt but more than would just feel tender down until they find my breasts. Awakened by her touch my chest screams for more of her touch, but I can’t move an inch. My lips even feel too heavy to move.

Unlike my lips, her hands satisfy the craving they’ve given my bust. Starting with a sharp pinch of my nipples through the dull, too thick red fabric, they’re soon grabbing handfuls and squeezing hard enough to make my legs shake and kick on their own. Torn between the feeling of her tongue penetrating me like no tongue ever has, and her hands mauling at my breasts in such a raw way that its hard to think of them as anything but tits I feel so much less like a person and more like a thing.

Her nails grow hotter and hotter against the fabric, not with the feelings that are still burning in my lips, but actual warm heat. Another layer of sweat starts to drip and slide along my every curve. It matches the serpentine rhythm of her tongue in my ear. Her tongue feels more like a worm, but that doesn’t sound nearly as sexy and oh does it feels hotter than hot to have her tongue buried so deep I cant tell where she ends and I begin.

Smoke wafts past my nose, and I would be worried if that was a feeling I still understood. It ends a moment later when her nails tear through the singed fabric and rip the robes enough to free my breasts. So drenched with sweat even the warm air of Rust’s room feels nearly chilling. If my nipples weren’t already diamonds they would be now.

Roughly her hands grasp at my now bare chest, burning with the same red as my lips. Every knead makes me need the next one more. Choked gasps and groans struggle at my throat, too many of them wanting to get out for any one sound to last for long. When her nails finally pierce my skin, just enough for ten points of wet red to dot my pale skin, the orgasm is so intense I don’t know how my hips don’t fling her from the bed.

Wet hot lust gushes between my legs, but it doesn’t make the need for more go away. Like I’m infected with some great incurable need all I can do is buck and writhe. Her fingertips slowly trace over the small wounds, sweet burning heat sealing and soothing away one after the other.

You must obey, but more than that, you must yield. You must give me not just your actions, not just your in-the-moment surrender, but all that you ever were. You must make me the rusted silver sun burning at the center of your reality. You must make yourself but a pawn to be placed as I desire it, or to be discarded when you are no longer desired. You must be my pet. You must be my toy. You must only be Sylvia because I desire Sylvia.

Her words slam into my mind harder through her tongue than they ever have from her voice. With nothing between her meaning and me I can start to grasp what I couldn’t before. It just still doesn’t make sense. It still feels so wrong and foreign. It’s all just so confusing.

Why would she want that? Why when she could have me burning to do anything I could possibly do would she want me to just give her patience and calm? She’d settle for so much less than I want to give her, but she won’t accept the more that I have to give.

Her hands pull away from my chest to grab at the robes on either side of my hips. A series of rough tugs later and the robes are bunched up around my waist exposing the sticky wet heat between my legs. I’ve been slick for so long now that some of my juices along my thighs have had time to dry and the warm air makes the skin under feel clammy. My pussy is still newly slick, and the air just makes that better and worse as her fingers spread my sticky need out along my skin.

Before she didn’t even watch me strip, and now she’s fucking me. It feels so much better, so much more the way things should be, but for just a moment something about that feels wrong. It almost feels scary, but then she traces along my slit and all of that sinks away.

So used to being made into something, to be set to a task, are you even capable of doing nothing? Can your mind even comprehend standing in a long corridor, wearing nothing, just being a decoration? Can you even imagine being used so thoroughly that you had no true self, no true desires, and were just a puppet? Have you ever conceived of being a possession and felt bliss at the notion? You’ve been used as something powerful for so long that even when broken you’ve forgotten what it means to be weak if you ever knew. I’m not certain even I could teach you, but I can humble you.

I’ve never felt more humble, pitiful, and weak than I feel right now. I’ve never felt so completely helpless and yearning for more of that sensation. When her fingers thrust inside of my aching cleft I scream so loud my ears ring and arch so hard it feels like my body is breaking in half. My eyes open so wide, finally reminding me of the tears that are still flowing from how much I need my lips to be touched.

Even with her fingers finding the perfect rhythm to grind against my clit as they fill such deep slick places inside of me I need her to touch my lips. I need to feel her kissing me, rubbing my lips, pressing her shoulder to them, anything. No matter how much my toes are already starting to curl, no matter how good the orgasm she gave me with my breasts was, it doesn’t make my yearning any less. If I could control my breathing o the nonstop stream of cries that match the staccato rhythm of her hand I would beg for more.

She knows. I can’t see her eyes, my own rolled too far back into my head and my body contorted to make it easier to press my ear to her mouth and my cunt to her hand, but I can feel the grin on her face. I can see the cruel cold satisfaction in her eyes. She knows the agony I’m in just as she knows my juices flowing over her fingers.

Pressure starts to rise inside of me, building higher and closer to that blissful breaking point. All of my screams catch in my throat, and then her fingers burn firey hot red inside of me.

If I could find my voice I would beg in every way I know for her to do anything but this. I mash my lips together hard as I can, trying to concentrate on relieving that feeling instead of feeling the uncontrollable yearning only rising higher and higher deep between my legs. A pressure harder and stronger than my release pounds and thumps inside of me, quivering with bright, garish red.

My hips are shuddering out of control, thighs trying to clench around her hand, but now my body feels just as powerless as I do. All of its strength is replaced with uncontrollable need. Her fingers don’t move, they just stay buried deep inside of me, holding me on the edge of something that I can’t fight and I can’t ignore.

An eternity after it entered her tongue withdraws from my ear only for her voice, husky and dripping with lust, to force its way into my ear. “Yes, you must obey. Yes, you will obey. But I will have more than that. I will have something deeper than that. I will have something you have never given another, even if just for a taste of it. Even when your Miss Corvi claimed you and made you her creature, she made you her creature. She kept you as a person. She kept you as her person.”

My heart is pounding so loud in my ears, and each hard thump makes red flash across my vision. Just a taste of her silver at both sets of lips and I think I’d break the bed with even my powerless thrashing. I can’t think past Rust. I don’t want to think past Rust. I just want her, need her, to give it to me.

Rust’s voice echoes through my body, making every ache worse and the reds brighter. “But I will have even that, my dear Sylvia. I will have your concept of identity. I will have your understanding of even having a self, your own or that gifted by another. I will have your humanity, your passion, your lust, I shall have your very understanding. Pledge it to me. Pledge your essence to me in ways no one has ever rended from you, and I will give you even more than what you think you need.”

“Y-yes! P-please, take it all, take everything, and do whatever you want with it!” From some deep reserve of strength I didn’t even know that I possessed explode words so strained from lust that I don’t even recognize my own voice. I only know its mine because I feel my body shake harder with every syllable.

“Very good, my dear Sylvia. If I could believe this would last things would be quite different, but I’m afraid I’ll need to settle for this.” I don’t even try to puzzle out the meaning of her words. Her lips mash into mine, and another finger joins the two already so deeply between my legs.

Silver bursts from every place our bodies meet. Hers laces with mine, flowing through thee conductive violet flowing around it, making everything so much more raw. I can feel my whole body glowing, humming, vibrating like a piece of some powerful overcharged machine. Even the half moon marks of her nails across my breasts shine with that intoxicating silver, making the pain of their stimulation so beyond worth the pain.

Reality cracks and blurs with silver. I press my lips back to hers as hard as I can, and the rush of her own full lips pressing against mine makes me feel like my juices should be flowing as much from the upper pair as the lower. Bright flashes of blinding pleasure make it so hard to keep track of one breath to the next. Its hard to be sure if a moment passes or a year, and whether I’m cumming again or still cumming.

Everything just runs together, making me feel so drippy and runny.

At some point she pulls away, her lips and hand gone and my eyes still too tightly shut to be able to guess where she is. It doesn’t stop the sensation. It doesn’t stop my hips from shaking as my pussy drools contentment over the already ruined sheets under me. Saliva coats my lips, and in another breath it covers half of my neck.

In the distant future of her kiss the red everywhere but in my mind finally cools. My lips feel silver and violet again. I can feel the dull throbbing of pain from my breasts. It’s insignificant, but it’s there as far away as I must be from the sun. In this perfect moment of contentment Rust slowly traces her slick fingers across my lips, and then along my tongue. “For that perfect time between when you came, and when your mind stabilized, you truly understood what my words could never express. You were the very perfect concept of obedience personified. You were more than I could have ever hoped.”

Its too hard to feel like a failure for being too base to understand her. Being anything besides a mewling afterglow is entirely too difficult when it feels so good to just groan and squirm. Her voice is so sweet to hear after such a powerful orgasm that it doesnt even matter if she’s saying things that should feel disappointing. She’s speaking, and I get to hear it.

“Mmm. Not that you seem to mind.” Rust laughs, and if I wasn’t still struggling to ease my own breathing while moving around my tongue to make my mouth feel less arid, I’d probably join her. “Take your time gathering yourself, my dear, but not too long. For once you’re ready, and capable, we have an errand to run.”

“So this is the Temple of Athena?” I can never remember if Athena is Roman or Greek. If I could I could then I’d know whether the columns lining the open entrance are one or the other. It looks a lot like the Council’s HQ only there are no doors in the doorway, the columns lining it have elaborate silver wrapped around the bigger part at the bottom and top.

This place is like nothing else. Counter Spell has told me a little about where she grew up and while it reminds me of here a little, its more like I could see them beside each other in a magical travel brochure. There’s even something really special about the air!

The temple itself is nice too. I guess. Maybe it just looks a little too much like I imagined it. That’s not entirely fair though because Lida did describe it a few times. Still . . .

“I dunno why but I expected something . . . bigger.”

Leora laughs, snorting in a good-natured way as she gracefully guides a few strands of silver hair behind her ear. “You’re from another world, cousin. And besides, it’s whats inside that matters. This is one of the oldest buildings in all of Sanctuary. It’s very important to our family. I’d prefer your first visit be under better circumstances, but there’s no changing that now.”

“I guess not. I really am sorry, Leora. If I could take it back, I really would!” It’s hard not to feel like a fuck up when your attempt to save the day made things a lot worse than they were before you started. And they didn’t even save the day.

That part’s just a little obvious.

She shakes her head, smiling as she takes my hand. “You’re as much a victim of this as anyone. She has your mother. The light bearer may be important to us, but she’s your mother. I can understand why you threw caution to the wind. I’d just recommend in the future, if you’re going to risk the possibility of being so wrong, do a better job of making sure you aren’t helping someone make it worse. But I feel like I’ve gotten to know you a little better in our brief time together. You were over eager, not malicious.”

“It won’t matter if . . . No, I’m sorry, never mind. Forget I said anything!” I force myself to smile and give her hand a squeeze. Over eager. That’s a really nice way of putting that I’ve got more of a sense of urgency than sense. Not that she’d be wrong, but I still don’t really like the way it feels.

Leora leads the way into the temple, and I have to admit that she’s right. The outside might look a little plain, but the inside is awe inspiring. Statues that look like they’re made of pure silver stand around as though they were common decorations. The lighting seems to entirely consist of statues with their hands up above their heads, holding silver stars bright enough to feel like sunlight.

Their clothing is just as silver as they are, but they still make me think of mom. Then they make me think of the dawnlings. I don’t know if the thought of my robo-golem-dopplegangers or Sarah’s imprisonment is more unpleasant. Neither is really making me feel especially chipper.

Women move through the halls, and all of them smile and nod to us as they pass. Some of them look a little bit uneasy, but that’s to be expected. I’m sure they’ve already heard what happened. This place is likely to be one of Rust’s targets eventually. While just being here isn’t really strategic, Leora was right. We had to go somewhere. Going somewhere she might end up feels like a good idea.

Most of the women are wearing the same white priestess robes with silver detailing. They have some see-through bits, but overall they’re on the plain side in a classically beautiful kind of way. Most of them also have silver hair, and silver eyes.

A younger girl nearly plows right into me as she runs past us into some unknown part of the temple. Her hair is black, and her eyes a brilliant emerald green. She whispers a quick apology but doesn’t stop to wait for a response. She’s probably late for something. If she’s still young enough that her magic hasn’t started to kick in yet then she’s probably on her way to some sort of temple-study. They do have those, right?

The walkways have silver lining the edges. Tapestries with all sorts of depictions of Athena hang from some of the walls, making the temple feel a little like some very specialized art museum.

“So, what do you think Aurora? You haven’t seen the best part yet, but I don’t want to rush our way through. After all things aren’t going to stay calm for long.” I hate that she’s right, but she is. It’s nice to know that Leora is a decent human being, even if it’s a little late for knowing that to stop me from wrecking everything by not taking the time to check Zandra’s story.

“It’s gorgeous, really! I don’t know what I expected, but it’s definitely more than I anticipated from well, outside.” I blink at my own bad phrasing before rolling my eyes. “It makes sense that there’d be so much silver in here I guess. The statues are really beautiful even if they kinda make me think of some less than pleasant things. Thanks for bringing me here. This is probably one of the things that I should have asked Lida to show me sooner.”

Leora smiles a little brighter, and I can see it in her eyes just like I used to be able to see it in Sarah’s or Sylvia’s. I guess that’s a wider family trait than just us. “There’s no helping that, but you are quite welcome. I think there’s something here that will make up for any ill feelings. It should be just around this corner.”

Around the corner is a doorway, again without any doors, that leads in to a small circular room. At the center Is a statue maybe three meters tall of what I think is The Domina fighting the founder of the Nesatealia. I never really understood the whole red skin demon thing until I read that book. If I ever get the chance to tell Sarah why she actually had to face a succubus demon I’m sure it’ll make an interesting detail.

Unlike the statues filling most of the temple, these are actually painted. Otherwise the giant silvery statue of Nesatealia would probably look a lot more like it was glorifying her. The Domina even has a conflicted facial expression. Sylvia definitely needs to see this someday.

In front of the larger statues are three about as tall as a person, and another two that can’t be taller than a couple feet. The statue on the left is Sarah, dressed in her silver girl uniform. Seeing myself in the exposed skin of the statue, I have to admit that I feel a little silly. Shorter, dressed in a costume designed for me by a villain, and only trying to live up to what it means to be Silver Girl. It’s like seeing exactly how I don’t measure up. Not that being short means I’m not a great heroine but it feels figurative as it does literal.

The statue on the right is Lida. I really hope that she’s okay. If Lida is Rust’s mother, then she probably nabbed her first so no one who would think of going to Sanctuary would find her. Doctor Lys already knew that Sarah would disappear and was just waiting for the chance to nab Valerie. There are fewer and fewer missing puzzle pieces.

I liked it better when it seemed like this was going to be an open shut super heroine sort of ordeal. I don’t mind it being difficult, but I don’t like the scope getting any bigger.

What it really means is that more people are going to get hurt.

The statue in the middle though, that’s what Leora really wanted me to see. I take a step closer, and blush. It’s not often that I look down at a statue. “This is really her, isn’t it?”

Leora lets go of my hand to squeeze my shoulder instead. “To scale, every detail perfect as could be. We had the gold specially prepared just for this one statue. It isn’t a color that we tend to make very much use of, but for the woman who sacrificed everything for the light bearer we could do nothing less. I was actually the one who made the recommendation, believe it or not.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I don’t try to hide them or rub them away. “Aureus. Mommy. I never got to meet her, not really. I was too young. I used to wrap my arms around myself, close my eyes, and imagine that I could remember her voice from my own memories and not a recording. I never could, and it usually just made me cry.”

She doesn’t say a thing. I feel entirely too grateful. Its so tempting to wrap my arms around the statue and give it a hug, but instead I just let myself sniffle.

It’s just a statue. It’s metal, sure, just like mom was metal when she was Aureus, but it’s not my mom. It’s a symbol of who she was. She gave everything for Sarah. She did it for me. I don’t think the world would be better off if it had been the other way around, but I know Sarah would have done the same thing and it would have ended the same way.

Somehow seeing this makes it feel more real. I’ve seen enough stuff in my time as a super heroine to know that no one was lying about what happened the day that she died, but this makes it stronger somehow. Maybe it puts it in context? They had a threat to deal with that was even more dangerous than Rust. She was going to do terrible things, so they did everything that they had to do to stop her. Sylvia’s mom even sacrificed her life because she knew that mine could pick up the slack for her and there was no other way.

Could I do that if it was the only choice? I’ve thought about it a million times over. Would I shove Sylvia to save her life even if it meant losing mine? Of course. Could I be the one to sacrifice myself more as an action than a reaction?

I’d like to think I’d be able to make that choice.

Leora gives my shoulder a tighter squeeze. “She’s a hero here, just like you are. The only reason no one reacted to your uniform is that it’s not an uncommon garment for younger LaSilvases to wear. And well, besides a picture here or there, it’s not like you look much like your statue.”

The two small statues in front of Olivia are me and Sylvia. Well, they’re Sylvia and I the way we looked when we were kids. I remember when Sylvia used to wear her hair back like that. I remember when I used to get my hair cut short because I hated it getting in my way when I ran around playing heroine. I was always running around, hoping to get a chance to grow up to be just like my mommies.

I wanted to be just like Olivia and Sarah rolled into one. When I wasn’t as much of a brat I wanted to be like Valerie too. We’ll really need to spend some quality time together once all of this is over.

Preferably without any mind control involved.

“Thank you for showing me this, Leora. It really means a lot.” I take a deep breath to compose myself, sniffling one more time before wiping my eyes with my glove. “There’s more to see, right?”

“So much more, but something told me I should show you this sooner than later.” Leora takes my hand anew, but doesn’t lead us away. Instead she just stands beside me.

Waiting.

I take another step closer, and press my lips to the Olivia-statue’s forehead. In as soft a voice as I can, I whisper “I love you, mommy” and then lead Leora out of the room. I don’t start crying again. Instead I can’t stop smiling. It almost hurts.

But I’ll take hurting from smiling too big over tear tracks any day.

I just hope that we can find a way to save Sylvia before the only way this story can end is with more tears.