The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Stranger In My Own House”

It had become almost a ritual. The guns, unloaded and cleaned and placed with reverent care into their spaces in the gun racks. The heavy leather duster, hung up on a dressmaker’s dummy that was the only souvenir of his battle with the Doll Queen. A touch of solvent applied around the edges of the golden mask, just enough to melt the spirit gum that helped hold it in place. The mask itself, placed in the heart of a small shrine at the back of the workshop. Incense lit, an offering of thanks for his luck and speed and for the misfortune brought to his enemies. A comb run quickly through the hair to brush away any mats or tangles left by wearing the mask. And with that, the crimefighter known as the God of Bullets vanished for another day to leave behind the man, Li Huang.

Huang checked the cameras that showed the outer workshop. He didn’t really expect anything—Gemma knew better than to take any visitors to this room when she showed them around the house—but good habits bred good outcomes. Sure enough, the room looked just as dusty and cluttered as always, the kind of half-abandoned basement workshop you might see in the home of a man who was always meaning to fix things up but never got around to it. Just the way it was supposed to. He triggered a small switch to open the hidden door and went from one life to another.

After securing the hidden door again, he went out through the workshop into the laundry room, taking care to avoid leaving any footprints in the sawdust he’d scattered around to help maintain the illusion of disuse. As he stepped gracefully from one clear spot to the next, his mind was already working on thoughts of the evening ahead. Gemma had probably made dinner, but if not, Huang was pretty sure he could make something palatable out of the leftovers from last night. The lawn needed a little trimming, but he could take care of that after dinner—the nights were so short these days that he could practically let it go until bedtime...

With one last ten-foot bound, he landed in the laundry room as lightly as a sparrow coming to rest. He checked quickly—nothing in the washer, and the clothes in the dryer were already clean. He dumped them into a basket and took them with him—he could probably get them all folded and put away by the time dinner was ready. Huang started up the staircase, the smell of fresh laundry in his nostrils.

As he got further up the stairs, though, he began to notice another scent. He took a whiff, trying to place it. It smelled floral, but nothing like detergent; this had notes of hibiscus and jasmine, like a tropical garden had bloomed in the house. It smelled somehow familiar...had Gemma worn this as perfume some time?

He quickened his pace slightly, drawn up by the aroma. He definitely knew it from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place where. It was almost maddening, because he knew he should know exactly where it came from, but the memory hovered just out of reach like a teasing lover. It smelled wonderful, though, like hothouse flowers blooming on a sunny day. If this was a perfume of Gemma’s, he should ask her to wear it more often because it was absolutely delightful. He felt a pleasant warmth between his thighs as his cock twitched slightly.

The aroma drove him on, making him take the steps two at a time, drawing him up through the kitchen and out into the living room. He tossed the laundry basket onto the couch, his fingers suddenly fluttering with an urge he couldn’t describe. He felt tension running through his body, but he couldn’t explain what kind. Some part of him wanted to turn and go back for his guns, but it was as though he couldn’t possibly stop himself now.

He found himself breaking into a run, and even as he turned the corner to head to the bedroom his mind was racing with arousal and sudden panic intermingled into a swirl of adrenalin rush because he remembered why he didn’t remember. He remembered all the times before when he’d smelled this same perfume and forgot why it was so intimately familiar, because the first thing the scent induced was a mild amnesia that meant you never remembered who you were facing until you saw—

“Believe it or not,” Femme Fatality purred out in a voice that sounded like whiskey mixed with buckwheat honey, “this really is all just coincidence.” She was lounging on his bed, her body swathed in the trademark silken scarves that were soaked in her mind-numbing scent, shifting just a little to let the translucent fabric tease her naked body underneath.

Behind her, Gemma lay unconscious on the same bed. She’d been hogtied with two scarves around her wrists and ankles, and a third acted as a gag. Huang tried to focus on how angry that made him, and how worried he was for his wife’s safety. It helped keep his mind off of the strength of the erection he’d just gotten.

“I mean, by the time I found the house, it was obvious who you really were,” she said, “but I really wasn’t looking for the God of Bullets at all.” Fatality parted her legs slightly, not enough to let Huang see anything but enough to make him all too uncomfortably aware of what he wasn’t seeing. “You know me, I’ve never been one for revenge. There’s no profit in it. I’ve always said that if you’re foolish enough to go looking for your enemies, you deserve whatever you get.”

Huang staggered backwards, trying to get back out of the room before more of Femme Fatality’s sweet, thick perfume could saturate his lungs, but she unwound out one of her weighted scarves with a smooth and easy gesture, snapping it out like a whip and snagging the doorknob. She pulled the door shut just as he reached it. “No, I was actually looking for a gunman. I’ve got a target at the United Nations, and there’s just too much air conditioning and too much security for me to get at him easily. And unfortunately, the sanction is a bit time-sensitive.” Huang knew she meant ‘murder’, but Fatality liked to wrap her bloody business in a cloak of delicate sensibilities.

“So I started looking around for someone I could...persuade to assist me.” Huang headed to one of the windows, hoping to get some fresh air into the room. He could smell the heady, tropical aroma everywhere in the room—she’d soaked the whole place with perfume. The bed, the carpets...even the wallpaper gave off her scent. He’d been able to resist her mind-altering toxins before, but that had been out in the open, and never this much at once. “And everywhere I went, people said the same name. I’m sure you can guess who it was.”

Huang tried to lift the window sash, but it wouldn’t move. With a tremendous effort, he focused eyes that had already become glassy with desire and saw nails hammered into each sash where it met the frame. She’d left nothing to chance, it seemed. Even Gemma was accounted for—Femme Fatality’s perfume didn’t work on women, but she’d made sure that his beloved couldn’t do anything to help. “They said you were the best in the business, that you could do magic with a gun. They said that you just kept getting better and better until one day, you simply vanished. Like you’d gotten so good that the devil had hired you to kill angels for him.”

Huang balled up his fist and punched at the glass, less concerned about cuts than about whatever Femme Fatality might make him do once she’d gotten him under his sway. He’d sworn to the monks at Huoyao Temple that he would never again take a human life with his guns, but he knew that Femme Fatality’s drugged perfume could dull his mind to the point where no oath would have meaning. She would use his skills until her scent had worn his mind as smooth as a stone, and then leave his blank and empty husk to take the fall for her crimes like she had with so many others. He had to—

He looked down, his sluggish and foggy mind just now taking in the fact that his hand had never actually connected with the glass. There was a scarf wrapped around it, one with heavy ball bearings sewn into one end to make it into a throwing weapon. He realized just how much trouble he was in when he had to follow the length of it with his eyes to make the connection between it and the woman who was talking to him.

“It took some digging,” she was saying, “but I eventually tracked you down. I was almost disappointed, Mister Li. Trading in a lifetime of skill and glory to become a jumped-up Robin Hood with trick bullets instead of trick arrows? You should be glad I found you.” She yanked hard, and Huang stumbled backwards to fall onto the bed. He tried to get back up, but his body felt uncoordinated, as though it was no longer under his control. If he couldn’t get away from Femme Fatality soon, he knew, it truly wouldn’t be.

She loosened another set of scarves, wrapping them around his arms with a few deft gestures and pinning them to his side. Huang struggled, but he knew the silk was stronger than any steel cable. “So, Mister Li, I think it’s about time that you and I began planning for our future together.”

She rolled across his body in a sudden display of acrobatic grace, using the silken scarves like puppet strings as she dragged his body first one way and then another. Her costume unraveled as she wound it around him until he was cocooned in silk and she was almost entirely naked. “I think that you’re going to be happy with what I have to offer you.” She leaned in, pressing her body to his, and kissed him so hard that he was left gasping for breath and sucking in more of her scent. “Very happy.”

Femme Fatality nuzzled her way around his chin, whispering to him between kisses. “Do you know a little secret about my perfume?” she asked, her breath tickling his ear and sending tingles of pleasure up his spine. “It has a very special interaction with the chemicals released into the human brain during sex. Endorphins, seratonin, dopamine, oxytocin...they all bond with my little chemical cocktail and intensify its effects.” She reached down and caressed his cock through his clothes. “Meaning the better I make you feel...the harder it is to resist me.”

“I...” Huang’s voice sounded strange in his own ears, thick with confusion and lust. He realized he hadn’t spoken since he walked into the room. “I won’t...” he said, trying to force himself to sound firm and resolute. “I won’t do it.”

“Resist?” Fatality asked, her voice lilting with mock confusion. “Of course you won’t!” She pulled his zipper down slowly and slid her fingers into the waistband of his boxer shorts. “You can’t. How could you, with my touch feeling so good, washing over you and through you, each and every nerve alive with the pleasure only I can provide.” Her eyes glittered darkly with desire, and Huang desperately looked back towards Gemma.

She was awake. She was desperately working at the gag with her jaw and tongue, trying to free her mouth, even as she wriggled against the silken bonds. He wished she could have stayed unconscious through all this, so that at least she wouldn’t see him give in to his weakness. He felt Femme Fatality free his raging erection from the confines of his clothing and slowly pump her fist up and down his throbbing cock.

“You’re so cute when you try to think for yourself, you know,” Fatality sighed. “It’s so pretty, watching you struggle—your mind and your body both, trying so hard to escape and finally, inexorably giving in to the realization that it’s impossible.” She gently rolled his balls between her fingers, delicately massaging the sensitive flesh. “You can never escape my power. You don’t even want to escape my power anymore.”

She straddled his crotch, working his cock with both hands now. “All those endorphins, mixing with my special scent and fogging your brain with desire. All that thick fog, clouding your thoughts, making it so hard to think about anything at all, isn’t it?”

“S-so hard...” Huang knew that he shouldn’t agree with her, that he needed to resist even if the only way he could resist was keeping silent. But it was so hard. He was so hard. His balls ached with arousal, but Femme Fatality kept him teased on the edge of orgasm.

“That’s right, it’s so hard.” She slowly drew her fingernails down the length of his cock. “It’s so very hard.” He felt his precum dribbling out, felt her working it into his skin like lube. “It’s too hard to think. Too hard to think now.”

Huang heard Gemma shouting through the gag, but it was muffled and indistinct. The pleasure made it sound like it was coming from another room, perhaps even another country. All that mattered now was fingers on his cock, hands massaging his balls, lips suckling at his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt and the sheer fabric of the silken scarves. He could feel her breasts trailing across his stomach, could feel her belly against his rock-hard cock as she lay against him and stared him right in the eye. “Feeling my sweltering tropical heat now all through your body as you sink deeper into my control. You’re so hot, aren’t you?”

“So hot...” Huang couldn’t remember where he’d heard the words, but they possessed an inexorable truth now. He was so aroused, flushed with sexual heat, and the sensations were sparking pleasure that flowed all the way up his body into his mind and made it weak and vulnerable as Femme Fatality’s chemicals swamped his mind. He knew it was true. He couldn’t not know it. She was telling him right now, and he knew everything she told him was right.

“You’re going to come for me soon,” she said, shifting position to slide onto his aching cock. “You’re going to gush all that hot, sticky cum into my pussy, and do you know what that’s going to do to you?”

“I...I...” Huang tried to respond, but every time he started to speak he felt her clench around him and his mind stilled with ecstasy. “I...ohhh...”

“That’s right.” She rolled her hips back and forth, her muscles so perfectly toned that she worked his cock with her pussy as easily as if she’d been using her hands. “All that oxytocin, all that seratonin, it binds even more strongly than the endorphins do. If you thought you couldn’t resist me before, you’re going to find my power over you becomes a million times stronger when you come for me.”

“Muh...muh...” Huang didn’t even know what he was trying to say. It was all just sound, sensation, helpless desire. He was being fucked right in front of his wife and he didn’t even care anymore. He couldn’t imagine what she could make him do once he came for her.

But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t fight the heat, the desire, the warm wetness of her gripping his cock and rocking up and down, faster now, the pleasure overwhelming. “Oh yes,” she moaned, sensing that whatever frayed threads of resistance he’d been holding onto had finally reached their limit. “Oh fuck yes, good boy, come for me, come for me good boy and obey, obey and be mine, oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK!”

He felt her squeeze around him one last time, and he echoed her moans with a helpless gasp of his own. He felt the orgasm explode like a flower opening in his mind, a red hibiscus that drowned his thoughts in deep, thick, sticky nectar. He strained his hips upward to meet her downward thrust before finally going limp in mind and body. He felt her slump down onto her as well, but he couldn’t imagine taking advantage of her momentary distraction.

Then he heard Gemma coughing and spitting the perfume out of her mouth. He looked at her through distant, glazed eyes and saw that she had finally worked the gag loose. Improbably, she was actually smiling at him. “Thieves in the castle, dear,” she said. The words held no meaning to Huang, which was why he was utterly surprised to find himself headbutting Femme Fatality in the face as hard as she could.

Fatality lurched back and to the side, the blow catching her utterly unprepared. “Wha’ fuck?” she grunted out, her voice distorted by the pain.

“You know,” Gemma said casually as Huang rolled free of the silken bonds, his body suddenly once again moving with the fluid precision he was used to, “some of us have learned when to be satisfied.” Fatality tried to gather up her scarves once more, but Huang knotted them up in his hands with equal precision and dragged the other woman straight into a roundhouse kick.

Huang wasn’t sure if Fatality was still in a position to listen, but that didn’t stop Gemma from continuing. “I’m not saying I don’t understand, mind you. I was a supervillain myself. But after a while, I started to ask myself—all the constant fighting, all the narrow escapes, all the scheming and plotting...what was the point? I decided to keep my goals manageable.”

Femme Fatality tried to shake off the kick, but she was clearly woozy—in no condition to interrupt Gemma’s monologue. “One superhero, completely under my control and willing to obey my every command. That’s all I really need, in the end. It’s not millions of dollars or world domination, but all that really just means more work and more problems. Better to be content with what you have than to spend all your days chasing the next rainbow.”

Femme Fatality made a groggy attempt to lunge at Gemma, but Huang caught her effortlessly and turned her momentum into a throw. She hit the wall hard, fell to the floor and didn’t rise. “You probably should have talked to me before you tried this, dear, instead of simply thumping me on the head. I’d have told you it was a wasted effort. Your drugs might be able to control him, but I own him.”

With Fatality subdued, Huang found himself moving to untie his wife without even thinking about it. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “That’s much better. Why don’t you use those to keep her out of trouble for a bit while we see into contacting the Liberty Squad and mindwiping her or whatever they do in situations like this?” She opened the door with a theatrical sigh. “And then we can see about getting this dreck out of the carpet.”

Huang moved to comply. He heard a voice inside his head desperately insisting that he mustn’t, that Femme Fatality was too beautiful to resist like this, but he was amazed at how small it was next to the power Gemma held over him. He was like a doll, a plaything compared to her will, and he sighed in happiness as he realized once again just how perfect that felt.

“Good boy,” she said as he straightened up. “Now, we do have a bit of time before we have to start prying nails out of my windowsills, and frankly watching you go all blank and fuzzy like that has gotten me a little worked up.” She hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties aside. “I think you need to lick me now, pet. Until your cock is ready for another go. And after that, well...we’ll just have to see.” Huang knelt down and began to worship his queen’s soft, sweet flesh.