The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Adrien stepped out of the stairwell into the hall, her key already in her hand. As she looked to her own apartment door, she saw that the hall was not empty.

Lois was there.

Lois was there, standing as only Lois could stand, like her immediate environment was a bore not worthy of her. She was leaning partly against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She had cut her hair since the last time Adrien had seen her. It only came to her jaw now. It had been much longer before.

Lois hadn’t looked up yet, and Adrien took full advantage of the extra second to take her in. She had uncrossed her arms, and was studying her nails, and for that second of clandestine spying, Adrien drank in the image of her.

She had been dying of thirst, but the sight of Lois was quenching it, and the swell of emotion that came in response to this satisfaction was almost enough to distract her from the underlying current in her thoughts. The whisper that Lois’ appearance meant something. The unspoken context—the unaddressed, which would need to be acknowledged. And which would not be pleasant.

It was the stair door closing in the frame that brought Lois’ eyes to her, and standing in her sight was a lost memory abruptly returned to her. She felt an exhalation leave her. Lois’ eyes could cut. They drilled on their target with painful precision.

Adrien forced herself to keep walking as if Lois’ presence was of no interest to her. But she knew she had to speak first, if she had any hope of getting through this interaction in one piece.

“Hello, Lois. Did you forget something at my apartment? I’d think that after three months, anything left behind couldn’t matter that much to you if you didn’t remember to take it in the first place.”

She slipped her key towards the lock, keeping her eyes on the doorknob.

“I didn’t forget anything,” Lois said, cutting through Adrien’s affectation. “I missed you.”

She should have expected it, but she hadn’t, and she hadn’t braced herself for it. Her hand fumbled the key, and instead of sliding in, it slid past, glancing the knob.

The only way to recover the fumble was to look at Lois now, and look at her with defiant eyes. She made her best impression, and did so.

Lois had turned, and was closer now, leaning her side against the door frame. Her hair fell against her face in a lopsided line from the angle of her position, and her eyes were clear and open. Adrien held onto her affectation with all her strength.

“If that’s all. Thanks for telling me, but we don’t do that anymore. It’s been three months—we’re supposed to be getting on with our lives right now. I thought we were.”

“I want us back together,” Lois spoke the feared words, and Adrien opened her mouth to argue, but Lois spoke again over her fumbling. “For one night.”

For one night. Adrien’s fear shifted abruptly in response. Lois tended to be a woman of her word. One night would only be one night—she didn’t have to be afraid of Lois convincing her to take her back permanently.

But just the one night was frightening in its own way. Adrien didn’t think she’d be strong enough to withstand one more night with Lois. She’d been building herself up in their time apart, reconstructing a life, reconstructing a sense of stability, establishing independence. It was like fresh skin growing over a wound, so easily scraped away to expose the blood underneath—it was too new to trust, and she felt in her bones that even just one night with Lois would undo it all.

The most frightening thing about it was how much she wanted it to happen.

She was too flustered to keep up the act any longer. Honesty was the only path through. “We can’t, Lois. You know if we did, even for just one night—all the feelings would come back, and we’d make the mistake of getting back together for real. You’re not thinking straight—not thinking about the consequences of what you’re asking. One of us has to be practical about this. If I let this happen—If I agreed—everything that happened afterwards, all the consequences would be my fault. This is a big mistake, Lois, and it would hurt you and it would hurt me. I won’t let it happen. I won’t be the cause of any more pain between us.”

Lois looked at her for a long time, and gave plenty of time for the image of her leaning against the doorframe to captivate Adrien. There was a grace and an art about the way Lois moved, the way she held herself, even the way she leaned against doorframes.

Then, she leaned away from the frame to stand again, and she took a step closer to Adrien. She raised her hand, and for one second Adrien hoped and feared that she would touch her face. She couldn’t let it happen. She turned so her back was to the door, but without missing a beat, Lois followed her fluidly, as if her dance partner, and Adrien realized how much worse she had inadvertently made the situation.

Lois didn’t drop her hand, but moved it still towards her face. The touch that would have broken Adrien didn’t come. Lois slipped past, pressing her hand into the door, above Adrien’s shoulder by inches, and she pressed her weight into it, coming even closer to her.

“You’re right,” Lois said. “I’m not thinking straight. I miss you too much for that. You’ve always thought of me as strong, I know. I’m not. I’m weak. I’m weak enough not to care what the consequences are. I’m weak enough to want to have you, even if it’s just to hold you for the second before you slip through my fingers. Be weak with me...”

Adrien was glad now the door was to her back, because she couldn’t keep herself standing on her own anymore. She leaned harder into it, and she was barely able to keep herself from dropping her keys onto the floor. Lois was leaning so close now that if she eased forward one inch further, their bodies would be pressed to each other.

“No, Lois,” Adrien said, shakily. “You need to leave now. I won’t let this happen—I won’t be the cause—I won’t have this be my fault…” She trailed off.

Lois shook her head, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. “You always admired me for strength I didn’t have. Saw your own strength in me. If you’d come to wait outside my apartment, I would have already caved by now.”

Again, she hoped and feared—hoped and feared that Lois had accepted this answer, and would now take her hand from the door and turn to leave.

“I would have been lost at the sight of you—before you even spoke. Just like I was lost when I saw you come through the door just now, and lost with it any hope of being able to turn back from what must now happen. But I should have remembered that you were more stubborn than me. Though on occasion I have been known to… persuade you, and you to enjoy it... If I was more direct in my command, would that sway you?”

Contrary to her nature, Lois was speaking more indirectly—stepping around more obvious phrasing. That was Adrien’s trick—she loved to hide behind implications, and insinuations. Lois typically preferred to be blunt. But Lois was a strategist—and she knew that sometimes the easiest way to get to Adrien was to speak her language.

She swallowed, and moved her hand to knob. It was the hand that held the keys, and she wondered if she could get the key in the lock from this angle. Probably not. She gave it up without really trying, but shifted her hand just so she could feel the knob under her fingers. Just to remember it was there. To hold onto it like an anchor.

“You feel it too,” Lois said, softly. “You’re just trying to be noble. But you know how good it will be to give that up—you remember how good it felt to say yes to me and give in, don’t you?”

Adrien swallowed again, and scrabbled to get a better grip on the knob. The cool metal was almost enough to hold her back from the memories. Because of course she remembered—saying yes to Lois had been like praying, and she’d always savored the taste of the word in her mouth. Yes, yes, yes—as Lois had twisted her mind into contortions and sent her falling through pleasure that bled into dreamlike confusion and then back out again. She remembered breathing it like a song, and coming to love the sound of her own voice speaking it.

Lois was unbearably close, no further than half an inch. Maybe a quarter inch. Almost touching her, almost covering her body with her own, but just the space of that minuscule separation away.

She remembered, but she remembered more than that. She remembered having to be the one to have the conversation—remembered realizing that Lois would never do it, never admit that their relationship was falling apart and it wasn’t going to work. She remembered having to be the one to force Lois to face it, and force out that painful conversation. The confrontation had been painful, but it had been kinder to them both than going on in denial. It had been the kind of thing Lois would have been better at—blunt honesty was Lois’ trick. But that time, Adrien had needed to speak Lois’ language to get through to her.

She needed to do it again. It would be kinder than allowing them to fall into the mistake.

“I’m tempted. I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about you. I’m telling you no, Lois. You always listened so well. Hear what I’m saying, and go.”

There was a shimmer in Lois’ eyes. Her lips parted, and Adrien was painfully aware of them. “Tell me yes instead, Adrien. Say, ‘yes,’ for me.”

Adrien shivered against the door. She was crumpling into it under the weight.

“… no.”

“Yes,” pressed Lois. “Say yes.”

Adrien swallowed one more time. With all the strength she had, she raised the volume of her voice, “No,” and made it firm and resolute even in her weakness.

Lois didn’t insist again. She gave Adrien a long look. “You worry so much about responsibility, and blame. But there’s something I didn’t tell you about. I left something in your head, even after I deprogrammed you of all the rest.”

That was a true betrayal, and it winded Adrien. Lois had always been so transparent about her triggers, about exactly what she was doing when she was playing around in Adrien’s mind. She’d never done anything without telling her.

“I left it there because I knew one day I would be weak, and you would be strong. Because I knew I would need a last time with you, where we both knew it was the last time. I was afraid that what we had was too perfect not to be fragile and break. I was right. And this is going to be the last time.”

Adrien shook her head, defiant, even knowing it was hopeless. Lois had too powerful an effect on her, and this was even more amplified when her magnetism mixed with the programs and triggers she had used so skillfully.

“I won’t,” Adrien, said, her voice small. “I won’t let you. I—“

“But it won’t be your fault,” Lois said, and her eyes were soft. “It won’t be your fault, because I made you.”

Adrien exhaled again, struck painfully by the words. For Lois to quote that old game of theirs—to quote it now—she’d had so much shame when the two of them had first started having sex, and even more shame when they’d started playing hypnosis. So much shame that she’d thought she could never get past it, but Lois had found a way to turn it into a game. To take full responsibility in their encounters—even responsibility for Adrien’s own desires, and it had been so freeing—

And with those few words she was saying more than the sounds themselves. She was saying, I’ll shoulder the consequences. She was saying, Trust me to take care of it, the way she used to ask Adrien to trust that Lois would take good care of her when she was at her most vulnerable. The way she used to ask Adrien to trust her with her desires, even when she was too embarrassed to say them out loud. The way she used to ask Adrien to trust Lois with her heart.

And there it was, in the space between them, barely enough space for a breath, but big enough to fill the whole hallway. There it was, between them, the secret. The secret she had kept back, the secret that was about to spill out from between her own parted lips, that was bubbling up her throat, that was going to spill and shatter her newly grown independence. The secret that Lois could make her do anything, just by asking. That all of the games they had played had been window dressing, cover for the deeper truth that Adrien was Lois’ to have, and could be taken with nothing more complicated than the asking for her.

The secret that—if on that day, if during that conversation—if Lois had asked Adrien not to end it, if Lois had asked her to stay, all the hours of that dragging confrontation would have evaporated in a second, and Adrien would have forgotten her morality, and maturity, and strength. And she would have said yes.

The secret was in her mouth and it was going to come out, you can make me do anything even without a trigger, you can make me do anything and you could have made me stay, and it was going to ruin everything, but Lois blocked its exit, because in the next second, Lois’ lips were touching hers, and it was another lost memory returned. Could Lois taste it, the secret sitting there on her tongue? Could she lick around its shape, as her tongue twined with Adrien’s, and Adrien moaned into her mouth?

She pulled back, leaving Adrien limp and panting against the door, and if she hadn’t been lost for breath, the secret would have come out then. It was still about to fall, in the next second.

But Lois’ mouth was next to Adrien’s ear. “Seashell,” she murmured, and Adrien was falling, and the secret was lost before it could spill free. Her mind was forcibly emptied, all memories of the past five minutes roughly thrown out, leaving her thoughtless and blank.

“Turn around and put your key in the door,” Lois said again, her voice low and smooth. Adrien complied before she could process the words. The key slotted in, and turned, and she was unlocking the door almost faster than Lois could tell her to do it. And she was pulling the key back out, beating the sound of Lois giving that instruction, too. And the keys were passing into Lois’ hands.

“Go to the bed and strip yourself for me,” Lois said, and Adrien’s feet were moving before Lois had reached the end of her sentence. Dimly, from the bed, over the rustling of her own clothes, she heard the door shut in the other room, and the sound of her keys clinking against the glass hall table.

Then Lois was there in the door, and the thoughtlessness was a mercy she was too far gone to appreciate, because in her right mind, the image alone would have overwhelmed her.

Lois was shucking off her clothes quickly, too, and she was already over Adrien on the bed, and Adrien was already spread on the mattress. Her mind couldn’t hold the memory, but her body remembered how badly she’d ached in the hallway for Lois to close the distance and press into her, and in the next second, Lois did. Adrien’s skin sang in response, but her mind was too blanked out to hear it.

Lois did not hold still against her, but next began to roughly rock against her, the knee between Adrien’s thighs rolling against her folds. And Lois sank more heavily onto her, her other knee pressing into her hip, and her slickness streaking Adrien’s upper thigh as Adrien’s own streaked Lois’ knee.

Her eyes rolled back into her head at the combined sensation, and she remembered without needing to be told to sink deeper into the blankness, and drifted even further from herself.

But Lois gripped her by the arms as she rocked more roughly into her. “You know it’s the last time,” she said, with urgency, “you remember, and you remember what that means. Anything you want our last time to be—anything you want to give me, you’ll give it.”

Partial clarity returned to her, but it was still encased in the warm surrounding emptiness. The last time—suddenly she was not being rocked, but doing the rocking, rolling consciously with Lois’ movements, and grinding herself against Lois’ leg, as Lois pressed down roughly on her.

She let out a cry at the feeling, the sense of the width against her folds spreading her, and pressing in urgently enough to make her ache and twinge. It wasn’t an aching she wanted to stop. She wanted more of the feeling, and she rocked harder with Lois, tensing her muscles to grind more painfully into her. She twinged more painfully, and let out a deeper, guttural cry.

Lois drove against her harder. “More,” she breathed, and she didn’t need to be more specific than that, because in her haze Adrien understood what she was asking from her.

She moaned out again, letting it become a string that rolled on, growing in intensity as the feeling built in her. In response to the sound, she felt wetness gush out over her thigh and run down the side of it onto the bed. She moaned louder, ground down harder, and the moan morphed into a word, and that word was yes.

“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes, yes! Yes—“ The word superseded her previous sounds, and it became her chant, spoken in time with the desperate rocking. It only spurred Lois on to move more quickly, and in addition to increasing the tempo, she dropped her full weight onto Adrien, so that she was dragging herself over her completely. Breasts against breasts, nipples flicking over each other, stomachs touching, and every anatomical detail of Lois’ pussy pressing into the skin of her thigh hard enough to imprint it there.

Each movement was a question with only one answer, and Adrien gave it freely, with enthusiasm, and each question answered inspired a more precise, urgent question, which in turn drew a more enthusiastic answer. Lois had her fully shouting, screaming in the space of several minutes because Lois needed to know that Adrien agreed. This was the most perfect thing she’d ever felt, Lois knew just how to move with her, how to pleasure her, she was doing it right, she was doing everything right, better than perfect and Adrien never wanted it to stop, she liked it, she loved it, she would live for it, it was everything… it was exactly the way things should be, for their last time.

“You’re perfect,” Lois husked, and Adrien realized the word must have escaped somewhere between the rest of it. “You follow so perfectly—you know to respond to me, to anticipate before I can even initiate—“ and then Lois was kissing her again, deeply and roughly, and Adrien thought she’d partly lifted off the bed to meet Lois before she could get all the way down to her. She thought so because it felt like Lois was kissing her back into the bed, and then she felt like Lois was fucking her into the bed, and every movement was electricity, because every touch landed perfectly, and set her on fire, and then she was coming apart painfully enough that she cried, and Lois fucked her harder just for a moment, to push her all the way through it.

And then relief washed over her, and she sagged back against her mattress, and Lois lifted off her, and then pulled her close. Adrien slid into her arms willingly, and pressed even closer to her. They lay together for a long time and said nothing. Adrien was still washed out by that dreamy pleasure, with a sleepy smile on her face, and still not completely herself. The clarity Lois had given back to her had faded in the explosion of release. She was thoughtless again. It was such a warm place to be.

Just when she thought she was going to trail off into sleep, Lois spoke. “I’m going to tell you to wake in a minute. When I do, you’ll forget that ‘Seashell’ was ever a trigger for you. When I tell you to wake, there’ll be no words I can say to make you go under for me again.”

The words slipped into Adrien’s mind but she couldn’t understand them. She was curled up happily inside the sleepy, warm feeling.

There was a pause. “You’ll be completely impervious to me.” Another pause, longer. Longer. It was still stretching on. Then a sound, like Lois was trying to speak but couldn’t make the words come. Adrien couldn’t see it—but if she had been herself, she would have recognized the look on Lois’ face. The look of frustration she wore whenever she was trying to formulate a particularly difficult question.

“Do you—Do you still—” A pause. “Would you—Do you want to—“ Then a sigh. One last beat, in which it seemed like Lois held her just a little tighter. Then—“Wake.”

Lois had already pulled away when Adrien surfaced to consciousness. She stood, picking her clothes up from the floor, and quickly pulled them on.

Adrien was speechless as she watched her. She could remember the past few minutes vividly, and feel the ghosts of them as impressions moving over her skin.

The betrayal of before didn’t sting so badly, now. Lois had taken a liberty by leaving a secret trigger. It was still a betrayal. But it had been the only liberty she’d taken—Adrien knew just how deep she’d been. Lois could have given her any order, and she would have done it. She could have asked Adrien any question, and she would have answered it. She’d done neither—only deprogrammed her—really deprogrammed her this time.

Her heart was full again—Lois had asked for Adrien’s trust so many times throughout their relationship, and she’d given it. And Lois had proved she was still trustworthy.

The secret had never been more true—you can make me stay. you can make me take you back—but Adrien kept her lips pressed together. She remembered Lois’ last instruction—anything you want to give, you’ll give. Adrien hadn’t given it up, even as deep as she’d sunk. She kept her lips pressed together.

Lois had gotten all her clothes back on, and she straightened her over jacket, smoothing a few crumples out. She sank down to sit on the bed, and brushed her fingertips lightly against Adrien’s hair. “Seashell,” she said.

Nothing happened.

Lois looked at Adrien with a half-smile, wry. “You’re immune to my power now. Forever.”

Adrien felt more words bubbling up. The power wasn’t in the words or the triggers. As long as Lois could look at her like that, Adrien would never be immune. She would never be safe. Even now, all Lois had to do was ask—

Lois stood again. “I’m sorry I left you with a trigger I didn’t tell you about. And for a lot else too. I hope you have a good life. I promise I won’t come to see you again.”

Adrien’s heart was in her throat as Lois turned to walk from the bedroom. She followed her up, walking naked into her living room—it felt too sudden, too permanent this time, more permanent than the time they’d officially broken up. She didn’t know why she was following or what she was asking for.

“Lois—But—Lois—”

She could tell her—she could tell her—it was right on the tip of her tongue—

Lois turned to look at her. “I could have made you stay that night if I’d asked. I could make you take me back right now. I know.”

Barely two sentences. It was enough to strike Adrien silent. Enough to freeze her in place, it was so unexpected.

Lois gave Adrien another half-smile. “Goodbye, Adrien.” And she turned, unlocked the door, and stepped into the hall.

Numbly, Adrien followed to the door, turning the lock behind Lois. She’d said, I know, but she’d said more than that without giving the rest of it words. I know it isn’t what you really want. I know it wouldn’t be right. I needed to see if you really meant it all the way down into your bones. I stopped you from saying it when I kissed you.

Of course she’d known. Lois could always see through her. And had she paused and waited so long, hoping that she’d say it when they’d lain in bed together? Hoping the whole time that she wanted to give it?

Still shaken, Adrien happened to look down at her hall table.

Lois had remembered the exact spot Adrien liked to leave her keys.