The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A thick layer of clouds allowed but a sliver of moonlight as Ayden walked down the streets of Richmond’s Fan District. Despite the cold air, dozens of students from the nearby college strolled the streets going from business to business in search of food, drink and sex. He searched for something different, but the hopes of finding a woman did bring him here this night.

He didn’t see the woman he was hunting in any of the bars, but he’d somewhat expected that. Better if he could know she wasn’t home. He would have to chance it. Odds favored she would not be there. Even if she had all night, her chance to find her own prey would come only in these early hours.

Walking just one street over, he came to some of the Fan’s more residential structures. Mostly of brick, though this close to the college one could find more than just varied shades of red. The house he sought was two-stories tall and built of brick painted a vibrant white. The cement binding the bricks was smoothed out to create the illusion of a flat surface. He walked past the house and offered a casual glance to look for any hint of movement within that place.

He circled the block and slipped into the back alley. Trees added to the shadows of the already cloudy night. He offered a silent prayer of thanks for the cover. He paused to get a sense of the wind and decided it was moving west. That would do. He removed a vial from his jacket and spilled its crimson contents near the eastern corner of the house, making sure not to get any on himself. He’d taken the blood from a neighbor’s pet dog just before coming here to ensure it Was fresh. He didn’t doubt that should the police become involved that they would find this evidence, but given the source, he felt safe in saying they would never trace it to him.

From there, he made his way to the back door and listened one last time for any hint of movement. He didn’t linger long. That mistake had nearly cost him dearly one time. After that, he’d never underestimated the nosiness of neighbors and their eagerness to call the police about strangers at a neighbor’s door. With some effort, he managed to pick the lock. The point of the blood would be defeated if he forced the door.

He paused once more after entering what appeared to be a kitchen. Every surface within the kitchen shined in the slim moonlight, as if rarely—perhaps never—used. He reached into his jacket and removed the twin daggers he kept there. Everything suggested she wasn’t here, whoever she was, but he chose not to take his chances and cautiously searched the house. He started with the first floor. The house looked little different than any other in the Fan, a comfortable southern home. No heat seemed to be on, that he could still see the steam from his breath proved that well enough. No, of course, he thought to himself, why would she need to keep her house warm?

The upstairs offered the rest of the evidence he needed. The windows were painted black with thick curtains draped about them. Sunlight hadn’t touched these rooms for some time. Nor had much furniture. She’d only bothered with furnishing the master bedroom, an ornate bed with banisters and canopy thick with layered fabric, a precaution should the windows break during the day. This one, she liked her clothes, he thought to himself. The closet was well stocked with outfits for any occasion, including nightgowns. Such a wardrobe seemed so human amidst all the signs that a vampire made this her home.

He decided on the closet for his hiding space. The emptiness of the other rooms would likely give away any movement he made. Let her come prepare for bed, and then he’d finish her.

More than four silent hours passed as he waited in the dark closet. Keeping his edge was difficult, but he’d slept during the day to make certain he wouldn’t grow tired. When the sound of the back door opening reached his ears, he fought down the urge to sigh in relief even if her hearing would not be any keener than a human’s. He’d learn that from the others he’d killed, and practice had made him better at finding their homes. Even if her hearing was not above-average, he knew her sense of smell was far superior. The blood he’d spilled in the back would hopefully overpower her senses enough to overlook his presence. The trick had worked twice before, and he suspected the use of an animal’s blood made the planted blood less suspicious.

He readied his twin daggers as he heard her climbing the stairs. She walked straight into the bedroom. How long would she take to come to the closet? Plenty of hours before sunrise. What if she didn’t change clothes or waited even longer to prepare for bed?

She’d stopped moving, and the oppressive silence unnerved him. If she’d realized he was there... He shook off the thought. He’d made it this far, and he had the advantage of strength even if she had speed. He based that on his previous kills, and tonight, that knowledge was about to fail him.

The crackle of a match nearly made him jump, and he saw the glow of candlelight filtering through the cracks in the closet door. She moaned softly, as if stretching, after she finished lighting several candles. That offered some reassurance and reason to believe should would ready for bed soon. He tried his best not to move or make any sounds as she came closer. He caught a glimpse of her slender shadow as it blocked the door to the closet. Move fast, he told himself, waiting for her to open the door, which never happened.

The door shattered as a lithe arm shot through it and grabbed him by the throat. Dear God she was fast... and strong. Before he could even raise a dagger, she’d ripped him through the opening in the door and cast him out of her bedroom and into the upstairs hallway. He landed on his back, and realized he’d already lost the dagger he’d had in his right hand. She rushed him before he had a chance to get on his feet.

The floor seemed to slide out from under him as she grabbed him and cast him into one of the unfurnished bedrooms. His back cracked against one of the walls. When he fell, he dropped to his knees. Dammit, Ayden! Move! He finally managed his own attack. She rushed him only to find his dagger waiting. His thrust sliced through the space between them as she jumped back. He heard the rip of fabric as he caught her loose-fitting black dress with the point of his dagger.

She hissed angrily at him as he got to his feet and kept his dagger ready for her next attack. He lunged again, careful not to overreach and lose his balance. She slashed at him with her fingernails. One swipe caught his arm and earned a hiss of his own. He answered in kind. She tried to grab his arm and he thrust upward, catching her in the middle of her chest, splitting open the already deep neckline of her dress.

His successful strike rebuilt his confidence, until he saw the smile part her lips and reveal those pearl-white fangs. “Did you really think to take me this easily, Ayden?” she said.

The use of his name startled him, and she put the distraction to good use. Her arm shot forward, her fingers wrapping hard about his neck. She pinned him to the wall and knocked his dagger from his hand as if swatting a fly. The weapon clattered to the hardwood floor.

“How many has it been, Ayden?” she asked with a confident smirk. “I know of at least two you killed. How many?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he struggled to free himself from her grip, but there was no breaking her hold. The woman’s hand felt cold as ice and hard as stone. His attempts to scratch the back of her hands gained nothing, no cut... not even a grimace.

“Did you think you could hunt us, and we wouldn’t notice?” she asked, arching an eyebrow on that inhumanly lovely face. Had she been a mortal woman, he’d have called her beauty beyond compare. That he could notice it now, pinned to a wall as she had him only fueled his anger. A kick to her stomach earned him nothing but an irritated hiss. Still, she smiled. She hadn’t budged, nor had her grip on his throat lessened.

“How many have you killed, Ayden?” she asked, her voice demanding an answer.

“I don’t know,” he told her.

She laughed, her voice a soft echo within the empty room. “I only know of two, Ayden, and if it’s not much more than that, then you will die.”

“Twenty-three,” he said, deciding that the answer was a small price to stay alive a little longer, perhaps long enough to make his escape. “Are you satisfied.”

She nodded, her grin widening. “Few hunters take that many of my kind, but up until now, I think you’ve only faced young ones. There are others like me, Ayden. Only a few of us live so long that we attain our full strength.”

“If my killing your kind makes you so happy, then just let me kill you,” he replied, wondering what it was she was after. His reply only amused her, and given she clearly had the upper hand, he wasn’t surprised.

“I have other plans for you,” she said in a voice full of contemplation. “Meet my eyes, Ayden.”

He knew better than that, and shut his eyes tight. Her sigh whispered warmly against his ear and startled him. He hadn’t sensed her move closer. “You can’t fight this,” she whispered. “But if you prefer to try, then so be it.”

A sharp pain shot through his body. The sensation spasmed every muscle in his body. What was she doing to him? She hadn’t bitten him. A simple bite couldn’t match the agony he felt. It was as if she’d thrust hundreds of tiny blades into every corner of his body. He opened his mouth to cry out in pain, but he only managed a muffled shout. Her hand covered his mouth, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake loose. “My walls aren’t that thick, Ayden,” she said with a teasing tone to her voice, “and we wouldn’t want the curious to interrupt, now would we?”

He’d never felt this much pain or imagined anything close to it, and his body’s spasms only worsened the longer this lasted. “You want it to end, don’t you?” she whispered with a feigned sympathy. “Then stop resisting, and open your eyes. The longer you resist my mind, the more you needlessly suffer.”

He had to fight this, but as surely as he knew that, he also realized there was no winning this fight. “Just open your eyes, Ayden. Just open them, and let your pain end.”

His eyes opened, and the whimper of defeat that had just started instantly changed to a groan of pleasure as his eyes met her own. He looked into those deep blue eyes, a shade shy of violet, and felt a wave of pleasure wash over him like the ocean rushing upon a hot beach. The power of the pleasure from her eyes surpassed the intensity of his previous pain, so much so that he could no longer remember what that pain had been. He only felt delight in looking upon her face and into her eyes. Dear God, she was more beautiful than ever, and the desire for her was almost more than he could stand.

“Now,” she whispered, her voice lowered to a purr, “isn’t that better?”

“Yes,” he answered. The defiance had disappeared from his voice, and a corner of his mind noticed that and screamed that this was wrong. A narrowly lucid thought slid across his mind that he should fight, but her blue eyes had him and the idea of looking away was impossible to consider.

“I can give you so much more pleasure, Ayden, more than you’ve ever known,” she promised. He didn’t think that was possible, but the mere stroke of her finger to his neck, her skin to his, nearly undid him. He heard himself groan, and the sound seemed so distant. He was too focused on her to hear his own thoughts, if he had any of his own left.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she told him, and he believed her. He couldn’t decide how much of his trust was owed to that endless pleasure in which her mind was bathing him. She smiled, and despite all of his earlier defiance, he smiled back.

“Follow me,” she whispered huskily. She released her hold on him and walked away. Her eyes no longer looked into his own, and to his surprise and perhaps horror, the pleasure she was giving him did not end. It lessened, but the sensation that made his flesh tingle with dark delight continued. Having already entered the upstairs hallway, she looked at him over her shoulder. Her long, red hair spilled down to the middle of her back. “You can’t push me out of your mind as easily as I entered it. Now follow.”

Her dress slid from her shoulders and crumpled into a small, black pile upon the floor. The glimmer of candlelight from her bedroom reflected upon her pale skin and cast the back of her body in shadow. His breath caught at the sight of her. She was playing with him. He knew it, and even as he despised her for it, he couldn’t think of walking away. The idea already felt so foreign.

“And when you come,” she called to him from her bedroom, and he suddenly realized that he was already walking towards her, “disrobe.”

He stopped, hesitating for a moment as a he was about to unbutton his shirt. What am I doing? He looked up with a protest upon his lips, but what amounted to a token defiance died a quick death as he found himself caught in her blue eyes once more. The pleasure tingled all the more sweetly across his body as his clothing mingled prophetically with her own upon the floor.

She stood by the foot of her bed, her hand resting against the banister. The canopy’s mass of fabric all but concealed her from view. A fang faintly revealed itself as she smiled upon seeing him enter her bedroom. His body betrayed just how desperate he now was for the pleasure she offered, and the look in her eyes made it clear she knew that for fact.

“I have need of you, Ayden, a man of your skills,” she crooked a finger, and he started towards her again as if she’d pulled him by a leash. “I want you to keep hunting, but I want you to hunt for me.” She made that offer so tempting just by the purr at the back of her throat. Her fingers drifted down his bare chest, and his body ached for more of her caresses. That single touch was enough to make his eyes roll back, and a wanton moan assured her that her efforts were having their way with him.

“I want you to serve me,” she whispered. He looked down to see her on her knees. Her tongue snaked out to stroke the tip of his manhood. “My hunter, my slave.”

“I—can’t,” he said, and the effort to issue that weak defiance all but exhausted him. Why had he even bothered to try? The thought entered his mind, and he only briefly wondered if she had put it there. A flick of her tongue ran across the base of his hardened skin. What reward for hunting can match this? she asked, the question bluntly placed within his mind by her own. His legs about gave out as the shudder of delight hammered through him.

She pushed him onto the bed, and the fall was as if a slow descent into clouds. “Men, like yourself, have worshipped me for a Goddess. We are your Gods.” She stroked the tip of a fingernail up the inside of his leg and up to the tip of his shaft. “Could a mere woman please you like this?”

“No.” The word exhaled slowly past his lips. No question existed as to whether he meant for her to stop or that she was right. Her mind was racing through his own, and as she mounted him and his body’s firm flesh slid into her own to join them together, he shared in the pleasure it gave her.

“I like you, Ayden,” she hissed as she clearly savored their union of flesh. “I mean to have you.”

She stayed there, but never still. Her body rocked with a skilled precision. She knew exactly how to please him and herself. The line between her pleasure and his own turned as vague as mist within his mind. Her hold upon his thoughts had grown that strong.

“Will you worship me?” she whispered hotly.

“Yes,” he answered. His throat was dry with his desire to please her, and the instant he heard her tsk tsk, he hastily amended it. “Yes—my Goddess.”

A moan of pleasure and a giggle, hers without doubt, was shared with him. The sound of that moan made his mind swoon. The thought alone of having pleased her was more intoxicating than the finest wine.

“Will you hunt for me?”

“Yes, my Goddess.”

“Will you do any thing to please me?”

“Anything, my Goddess.”

“Everything?”

“Everything!”

She laughed wickedly on hearing his answer, and the pleasure of their union seemed to reach a feverish pitch that left them both aching for release.

“Will you kill for me?” she asked, and barely formed the words around the lustful growl building in the back of her throat.

“Yes! Yes, my Goddess!”

With a fierce cry of dark fulfillment, her body lunged forward onto his own. Her fangs drove deep into his neck. His blood spilled out, and it seemed she could not drink enough. His own cries matched her own, desperate for the moment to never end. Her animalistic thoughts touched his own, demanding more. He eagerly gave as much as she wanted, but for all her frenzied desires, she pulled back before she might take too much. A giddy laugh filled their bed, and his laughter eagerly joined her own.