Wirret lowered his crossbow, giving a short laugh. “Oh. And here I thought it was somethin’ dangerous.”
The pallid creature smiled at him, dusky speckled wings outstretched. Her head bobbed slightly, almost like that of a bird, as she seemed to… examine him. “Nothing dangerous about me,” she whispered. “Nothing here but us ghosts.”
Wirret raised an eyebrow. When he’d heard the horrid scream while exploring these old ruins, he’d assumed there was some horrific monster—not some ethereal woman with bird wings. Her dress trailed behind her, almost like a nightgown or wedding dress, as she smiled.
“Great,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take a look at that chest behind you.”
She glanced behind her, then back at him, giggling. “You may,” she said softly. Her head swayed from side to side, almost rhythmically. “There are sssuch treasures inside, little one. Treasures to steal your breath away.”
He tilted his head. “Any traps?”
He wasn’t sure he trusted this weird harpy to give him an honest answer, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Worst case scenario, he was still holding a crossbow pointed at the pretty thing.
“Traps?” She beamed at him, head rising and falling, swaying to the left, then to the right. She was almost like some kind of serpent—especially with that sibilant voice of hers. “No traps, brave one. But you must listen closely. There is a price.”
“A price?” Wirret didn’t like the sound of that. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” The strange creature giggled, and her voice seemed to echo in Wirret’s head for a moment. He realized he was just getting a bit tired. He snapped himself out of it. “You must listen closely,” she whispered. “And watch me.” Around and around her head spun, in slow, gently bobbing arcs.
Her movements were so graceful. Mesmerizing. Like a sinuous dancer, like a serpent moving towards its prey.
Wirret took in a deep breath, realizing he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment. He was wondering whether there was something untoward going on when he heard her whisper, “Watch my eyes. Drift into them.”
Wirret’s crossbow started to lower. It was hard to remember to keep it pointed when he was trying so hard to keep his eyes on her spiraling head, her pretty, pretty face. She was actually extremely beautiful, if he could ignore the wings. Her every move was one of total delicacy and grace. It made him dazed just to think about it, and right now, he couldn’t think of anything else.
“… drifting,” she cooed, and he realized he’d zoned out. “Falling. Fading. Around and around, until you… start to get a little dizzy, don’t you?”
“Uh…” He frowned, starting to raise the crossbow again, but it just felt so heavy, and he felt so dizzy. Just like she’d said. “Dizzy?”
“Yes,” she hissed, as her whole body swayed, as his swayed in time with hers. “Dizzy. Dizzy, dizzy boy.”
“Mm.” He didn’t much like her tone. He swayed slowly to the left. “No, I…” He swayed to the right. It was like mist was sliding up and down in his mind as his head tilted from side to side. Like water sloshing in a sinking boat. “You’re…” He was getting so dizzy, so… so sleepy…
“Dizzy,” she repeated. Something about her tone of voice, her glimmering eyes, her coy smile made him feel weak, let her suggestion take hold of him and spin his mind around and around and around… “It feels nice to be dizzy. nice and dizzy and powerless. Following my eyes, following my words… getting sillier and sillier…”
“I…” He blinked rapidly, but every time his eyes reopened, there she was, her graceful neck bobbing, her smile dazzling him, her eyes holding him captive. “C-can’t think…”
“Yes,” she hissed, “no more thinking for you, dizzy boy. You’re drifting for me, falling for me, deeper and deeper in love with me…”
He was panting. His head was buzzing.
“I will make you feel wonderful,” she cooed, slowly advancing. The closer she came, the dizzier he felt. Her fingers danced before his eyes, delicate and nimble, and he shivered. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to feel what i can do to you?”
He quivered, biting his lip. She looked so delicate, so… ephemeral…
As her fingers wiggled teasingly before his eyes, he felt a window of clarity. For a moment, her face exited the center of his attention. In desperation, he raised his crossbow up and gripped the trigger—
And he felt her fingers delicately caressed over his hand. She smiled at him. “So weak,” she hissed. “So fragile.”
“N-No—” He tried to squeeze the trigger, but his hand was not his own anymore. It was hers.
He lunged for the dagger at his belt, recoiling with a snarl as the crossbow fell uselessly to the ground. “Stay back!” he barked. His right hand was tingling where she’d touched it, as though he’d been sitting on it for the last hour.
His heart was pounding. He’d have to deal with this one quickly. This sneaky fey had gotten him with her hypnosis, but he could tell she was no fighter. She was built for seduction, not for combat. She looked like she was made of porcelain.
She eyed the knife with a sly smile. “I can make you feel ssssso good,” she said sweetly, drawing out her hisses. “Ssssso ssssilly and sssssleepy…”
She giggled—then darted forward. He slashed forward with one hand, and as she ducked underneath the blade, he managed to grab her by the arm. She gave a slight squeak, staring up at him in sudden alarm.
He brought back the dagger to finish the job, trying to ignore the plaintive look in her eyes.
And he felt fingers brushing through his trousers over his cock.
He stared at her. He stared into her deep, deep, wonderful brown eyes.
“Ssssilly me,” she cooed, her voice but a breath, as the dagger slipped from his fingers. She wriggled out of his grip and wrapped an arm around him, her delicate fingers behind him fiddling with armor straps to access his bare back.
“Ssssilly,” she repeated, as she started to unbuckle his pants, as she took him into her arms and he felt her soft, downy wings wrapping around the two of them. “Trying to control your hand…
“When we both know what really controls you, don’t we, silly boy?” she cooed.
And the porcelain maiden began to stroke him at a slow, even tempo as she took him into a breathtaking kiss.
The ghost harpies, also known as lich owl harpies, or simply, “the delicate ones”, mostly keep to old ruins and cathedrals, where they tend to the ancient relics—as well as their beloved pets. They can be very sweet if you arrive fully naked, eat a prisoner fruit beforehand for stamina, and beg to be allowed to pass through after no more than a day of heavy indulgence. They might even let you look at the relics afterwards.
If you are mortal, and arrive under literally any other circumstance, they will delight in adding you to their much-doted-upon collection. Ghost harpies might seem fragile, but their touches are mind-numbing, and their hypnotic whispers have been known to captivate even the strong-willed without much of a fight.
[Special thanks to the wonderful @thesecretsubject, who has ever-so-kindly given me permission to use her images! Check out her Patreon—her hypnosis files are straight-up the best I’ve ever been broken by. ;)
Oh, and check out my Patreon, too, if you’d like me to be able to keep writing stories like this!]
