The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Please,” Julia moaned as her father pounded into her, “Please, Daddy, I...I want you to suffer.”

They’d been fucking for almost half an hour now, and as Julia raked her nails across Roger’s back, he cried out in pain, and finally came. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as her father’s cock spurted into her unprotected pussy.

But as Roger pulled out of his daughter’s pussy and slinked off to his room, tucking his cock back into his pantihose and hiding it beneath short, tight stretchy skirt that so perfectly matched his six-inch platform 0heels, Julia watched him go, and sighed.

She just wasn’t feeling it any more.

The teenaged girl looked down at her garb; she wore a striped black-and-white corset, that pushed her huge, fake tits up until they were almost under her chin. She could barely read the words that she’d had tattooed on the top side of her breasts (“Peers” on the right boob, “me, Daddie” on the left) but even the prospect of her father putting rings through her nipple wasn’t as tempting as it had seemed when she’d gotten tattooed.

Ever since watching her mother get reluctantly fucked by the big bartender just a few days ago, the incestuous relationship she shared with her father had just seemed less and less enjoyable. It was the next morning, when she’d been back at home choking Roger...a part of her had realized that she wanted to feel what he felt.

Julia just loved her father so much that she wanted to emulate him in every way she could, and that included liking what he liked. Unfortunately for the young girl, her father was a total submissive, and there was no way she could persuade him to give her the spanking that she suddenly craved. Even the allure of getting to pierce his daughter’s huge, fake tits hadn’t inspired anything more than a shrug.

Roger had been the subject of Julia’s fantasies for as long as she could remember, but it suddenly seemed that she would need to go elsewhere to get what she needed.

But what her father wasn’t able to provide, her mother was more than happy to supply.

Snapping out of her daydream, Julia turned to Trisha, her strong, dominant, lesbian mother. In return for allowing Julia to fuck her father, Trisha demanded several hours of sexual servitude each day—at first, Julia had despised it more than anything, but as she grew increasingly aware of the erotic potential of pain and humiliation, she’d been surprised to discover that the time she spent under her mother was become her favourite part of the day.

If the huge whip in her mother’s hand was anything to go by, today was going to be intense.

Julia couldn’t wait.

One week later...

“No,” Roger moaned, as his daughter coaxed him to continue plunging into her wetness. “No, no, no, no, no...”

He shuddered with a curious mix of revulsion and intense erotic pleasure as he came, flooding his daughter’s fertile uterus with his seed. His dick was almost immediately flacid, and within a few seconds he was mincing back upstairs to his room, the middle-aged man’s tight rear end emphasized by the swishy short floral dress and tan nylons that he was wearing that day. (He’d seen the dress while watching Project Runway, and knew that he just had to have it. He’d ordered it several sizes too small, and despite having shed most of his muscle mass in recent weeks, it had been a struggle to force himself into it that morning, but for Roger, pain was definitely not a problem.)

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Julia looked down at her own apparel and sighed. She knew that if she wanted her father to enjoy intercourse with her, she had to dress dominant, scary. But more and more, she found herself attracted to clothes more like his—silly, frippy things. Even though on her, it could never look as silly as the tiny, girly dresses that he squeezed himself into, that was what she craved—she, too, wanted to look ridiculous. She wanted people to look at her and immediately smile, laugh at the little girl outfits that she wore.

That evening, after Julia had spent an intense three hours having her ass pounded by Trisha’s largest strap-on (and then another few hours recovering) she sneaked into her father’s room. Trisha and Roger had gone out to dinner with Roger’s parents—pretending, for the first time in weeks, to be a normal couple. It was exhausting for both of them. Trisha had been forced to wear a wig to cover her crew-cut, and one of her old pantsuits from work (which now barely fit her steroid-enchanced frame.)

When Roger had forced himself to slip out of his fishnet stockings and babydoll nightie, he’d cried, body-shaking sobs that didn’t subside until Trisha slapped him out of it. He was wearing a polo shirt, and a pair of pants, and was only manage to get through the evening by reaching down and stroking his silky panties as often as possible.

The nipple clamps were an extremely helpful distraction, and whenver Trisha thought he was going to crack, would reach over and brush them, causing an intense pain in her husband under the guise of brushing food off his shirt.

Throughout dinner, Trisha constantly fought the urge to curse, which was made more difficult by the constant stream of fantasies that went through her head—she wanted to tear off Sylvia’s dress, maul her tits, and tongue-fuck her 60-year old cunt. Roger barely managed to go the whole meal without a cigarette—only by imagining slipping under the table to wrap his lips around Gerald’s cock did he resist the temptation.

The image of swallowing down his own father’s cum almost caused him to cum, and at the end of the evening, when Trisha suggested that Gerald and Sylvia visit the new bar downtown, he had to excuse himself and find a busboy to suck off.

Julia had taken advantage of her parents’ absense to finally given into her urges, go into her father’s wardrobe to pick out the most ridiculous outfits she could find. The “sexy” Sailor Moon costume that managed to evoke images of the anime, without covering more than a few inches of skin (it was barely more than a bikini with trimmings.) She’d seen her father wear it on multiple occasions—it was no more designed for a man like Roger than a suit is designed to be worn by a walrus.

On Julia, however, it...looked good. She had the exact kind of body the costume was built for, and hard as she tried to make it look anything but sexy, it somehow managed to mesh with her slender frame. Even her ridiculous tattoos seemed to set it off, and she reluctantly had to admit that she looked like an anime fan’s wet dream.

She’d tried several other costumes—the tight pink lycra mini-skirt, the black nipple-hole bra, the polka-dot one-piece swimsuit so tight that that Roger had to tuck his cock back just to fit into it...no matter what she wore, however, she looked amazing. Her body made men hard by itself—in Roger’s outfits, she could have gotten the Pope to renounce his celibacy.

When she put on the kitty-cat outfit that had wrought a smile even from her man-hater of a mother, Julia broke down and cried. On her, it didn’t look silly, it looked...fun. Hot. Like she was a sexy minx, doing all she could to show off her body. She could have worn it to a Halloween party...hell, she could have worn it to a job interview. She was irresistable.

All she wanted was to look stupid, to closer resemble her father, to be the object of ridicule and humiliation. But her perfect body, her huge, fake tits, the tattoos that were starting to take over every inch of visible skin...she was a walking wet dream, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She began to take the outfit off, when a thought occurred to her. She’d long since learned of her father’s “hobby”—going into a bar, dressed like a silly little girl, and convincing the biggest, strongest man to punish him, to spank him and (ideally) cum in his ass or mouth.

It was a struggle for Roger; more often than not, he simply got thrown out. On nights when he particularly pissed someone off, he would be taken outside and beaten up (truth be told, he enjoyed those nights almost as much, so strong was his desire for pain...)—it was rare for him to actually find someone whose proclivities matched up with his.

But Julia...

Standing up and looking at herself in the mirror again, the sight that she’d seen earlier suddenly wasn’t depressing. It gave her hope.

She looked like a slut, a whore, a sexual creature good for one thing and one thing only. But more than that, she looked like the absolute epitome of desireability. She was hot, and since most men were more interested in fucking horny teenaged girls than middle-aged cross-dressing men, the odds were in her favor.

Her desire to be punished by a father figure, her desire to be spanked and treated roughly...perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that she looked so good in her father’s outfits. Perhaps it meant her desires could finally be fulfilled.

Julia practically danced with excitement as she picked out a few of her father’s hottest outfits.

It was going to be a good night.

Two weeks later

“Don’t be such a snivelling little twat, Sylvia,” Trisha growled into the phone at her mother-in-law. “I said I’d take you shopping for new clothes, you stupid cunt, and I will. Yes, goddamnit, we can go to Hot Topic, Rue 21, wherever the fuck you want.”

Trisha smiled, and rubbed her pussy at the thought of her new lover prancing around, a 60-year old squeezing herself into sexy little teenybopper outfits, hitting on young boys and then coming home to Trisha to be fucked like she so desperately needed. Sylvia’s husband Gerald had already begun trading in his rayon slacks and knit shirts for leather shorts, motorcycle boots, and fishnet tops, much to the delight of his “favorite bitch”, his son Roger.

Hanging up the phone, she picked up her riding crop, and turned to the two figures laying on the floor in front of her.

“Is this what you fucking want?” she asked, towering over Julia and Trisha, hog-tied with gags in their mouths.

“You want to be punished with your faggot father? You want to lie next to him, you pathetic little cunt? You want to both be pussy-spanked at the same time?”

Trisha slapped the riding crop against her left palm as she waited for an answer, enjoying the pain that it caused, knowing that it would soon be felt by the pair laying in front of her on the ground. The once demure, devout and devoted wife and mother no longer looked anything like her former self. Her now heavily-muscled body rippled with power, her biceps and broad shoulders bulging, her mammoth EE-cup breasts almost bulging out of the sleeveless leather top she wore.

She impatiently tapped the toe of her black, platformed, stiletto-heeled boot in front of Julia’s face. She wondered if the young girl could see her look of fear reflection in her mother’s shoe, tongue-polished by some annonymous tramp she’d picked up at a club.

Through the ball-gag, a muffled affirmative could be heard coming from Julia’s mouth. A slow, cruel smile spread over Trisha’s face, and she shifted slightly, enjoying the feel of her bulky thighs rubbing against each other. Each of them were now nearly the size of Julia’s waist, her leather chaps doing nothing to hide their size...and of course, they were open at the back to show off the butch, man-hating lesbian’s hard, muscular ass.

“But wait a goddamn second...I thought you wanted to fuck your Daddy? Didn’t my little slut of a daughter want to feel her father’s fat, disgusting cock sliding inside of her? Wasn’t that your dream, to get Daddy inside your dripping gash? Isn’t that the only fucking reason you’re doing this?”

Tears sprung from Julia’s eyes as she fervently shook her head.

The quality of her sex with Roger had steadily declined...more so, since that first night that she’d gone out and gotten fucked by a stranger. She’d found a huge biker in a bar out of town...he’d treated her so bad, called her a dirty little slut, spat on her during sex, and not even made any effort to get her off at all.

She’d cum harder than she had ever cum in her life—even the first time that she’d felt her father slide inside her couldn’t compare to how tiny the big man had made her feel. She’d finally understood why her father liked it so much, why he enjoyed being made to feel like a little girl.

The next morning, she and her father had just been going through the motions. She’d half-heartedly spanked him a few times, just until he was hard, and then she’d sat on his cock, slowly riding it for half an hour while Trisha watched. Julia and her father had silently come to an agreement, and he’d faked an orgasm shortly after. They knew that it—the magic, the forbidden allure, the erotic nature of what they were doing...was gone.

It had just grown worse and worse since then, until Julia wondered why she even bothered. If it weren’t for the fact that as “payment” for getting to fuck her father, she got to be used and humiliated by her mother, she’d have rather spent that time alone in her room, trying on her father’s frilliest underwear, one hand between her legs as she imagined yet another big, hairy, stinky man taking her every hole and treating her like a whore.

Finally, Trisha had called Roger and Julia on their lack-lustre performances, and Julia had admitted that she would be happy to skip the incestuous fuck with her father, and go straight to being punished and degraded by her bull-dyke mother.

That morning, by chance, the pair’s outfits had matched—Roger was dressed as an Indian squaw, a single feather in his hair (now bleached blonde, with pink streaks running throughout) and a brown dress that started below his arm-pits, so short that if he wasn’t erect his cock dangled down below the hem. Julia, quite separately, had chosen to dress as a cowgirl—knee-high cowboy boots, a short, denim skirt and a red checkered shirt that tied up in front. It was a “shirt” in name only—it failed to hide any of her cleavage, the swell of her breasts could clearly be seen underneath it, and since she wasn’t wearing a bra, her nipples poked through.

Julia had never seen her mother so happy as that moment, when she was informed that her daughter no longer wanted to fuck her father. Within a minute, she had them both naked, on the floor, her heels pressing into their skin as she literally walked all over them.

“I seem to remember, my sweet little slut of a daughter,” Trisha growled, “that you wanted to fuck your father. Wait, no...wanted isn’t the word for it, is it? Needed. That’s right, you fucking told me that you needed your goddamned father inside of you. Couldn’t fucking live without it, if I remember correctly.”

Julia remained still. Her pussy was dripping, and she couldn’t even work out why. She’d been tied up by her mother every day for almost a month now, but something about today seemed special. Perhaps because she was doing it voluntarily, perhaps because she hadn’t had to sit through half an hour of uninspired sex with her father first...or perhaps it was that, for the first time, her and her father were being punished together. Simultaneously.

Roger and Julia. Julia and Roger. Father and daughter. Dressed identically, going through everything as one.

The idea not only made her happy, but it had practically set her pussy on fire. She loved her father so much.

“Well, unfortunately for you, my little pets...” There was a pause, as Trisha rolled the word around her mouth, clicking her tongue stud against her teeth. Pets. She liked that. “...unfortunately for you, you little shit stains don’t make the motherfucking rules around here. I do, and you have to fucking follow them.

“And the rule is, before I can punish you, you have to fuck your father.

“Now.”

As Trisha leaned forward and undid the knots restraining her daughter and husband, Roger and Julia gave each other a confused look. They’d just offered Trisha what she’d wanted from the start—complete reign over her daughter, without anyone or anything standing in her way. A submissive slut, at her command, ready to be punished however she liked. Roger wouldn’t get in the way, Julia would willingly submit to anything she wanted. And in response, she’d...

The light dawned in Roger’s eyes before Julia’s, but despite her greatly diminished IQ, the young girl wasn’t too far behind. Trisha was doing what she’d always done, what she did best—she was putting them through hell

In the past, the father and daughter had gone through the motions, pretended to enjoy their privates meeting. Today, however, they could be completely honest, and show their revulsion at the idea. Julia had truly become her father’s daughter, only interested in being dominated, abused, used by huge, hairy men (and, of course, her mother)—and since she didn’t have to put on an act, she didn’t even need to cause Roger any pain, the only thing that had let him enjoy their sessions in the past.

For the first time, Trisha’s hand wandered down to her steaming pussy as she watched her husband and daughter fuck. It took ten minutes for Roger to even get hard—everywhere that Julia touched him, he noticeably flinched. Julia had a look of revulsion on her face as she attempted to stimulate her father’s cock, finally resorting to wrapping her mouth around it. There was even a moment when Trisha thought that her daughter was going to throw up.

The combination of hating what they were doing, loving how much they hated what they were doing, and knowing that Trisha loved watching them hate what they were doing caused a strange mix of arousal, disgust and fear in the pair. Over the next hour, it didn’t get any better—an intense combination of emotions ran through Roger, as he finally got erect enough to slip into Julia’s unlubricated entrance. The pain of his penetration was the only thing that aroused her at all during the early stages of their intercourse, and only by reaching down and stroking a pair of his panties laying on the floor next to them was Roger able to maintain his erection.

Finally, clenching his eyes shut and pretending that he was being taken by the entirety of the Hell’s Angels did Roger manage to cum, spilling his potent seed yet again into his daughter’s unprotected cunt, collapsing back and taking deep breaths to try to get past the unpleasantness of his actions.

Less than a minute later, Julia and Roger were both on their knees in front of Trisha, looking up at her expectantly, silently begging her to tell them what to do next. Her hands were still stroking her pussy; she’d cum a few times watching their unhappiness, but she wasn’t even close to finished yet.

I’ll have to get them collars, she reflected, before an evil idea came into her head, and she realized exactly what she wanted her matching pets to do next.

“Again,” she said, and another orgasm swept her body at the mix of horror and disappointment that appeared in their eyes.

Six months later

“So let me get this straight,” the burly man replied. He didn’t look stupid, but he was clearly struggling to understand what the young girl in front of him had just propositioned. “I get to fuck you, however I likes...as long as I get off inside him, as well.”

“Yes,” Juicy confirmed. Her mother had long since had Julia’s name legally changed, as well as Roger’s. She ignored the signs around the bar, and lit up—seeing how sexy her father looked when she smoked, Juicy had been unable to resist taking up the hobby as well. Every drag she took made her feel closer to her father.

If they were going to be kicked out, it wasn’t going to be for smoking.

“Don’t forget the thpanking,” Roxy lisped, flushing red at the embarrassment of actually speaking up. He couldn’t believe he was doing this—propositioning strange men in a bar, with his daughter. No matter how many times they did, it never failed to embarrass him, knowing what a cheap tranny slut he’d become, and give him a strange thrill as the strangers stared at him in disgust.

“Oh yes,” Julia added. “Thanks, Dad. You want to fuck Juicy, you have to take us both, spank us as hard as you can, and get off inside my father.

“We cum as a package deal.”

Juicy waited patiently as the hairy man drank the rest of his beer and mulled over his options. Juicy wasn’t worried—Juicy had long since learned that men found Juicy impossible to resist, and with the outfit that Juicy was wearing, even if this man said no there’d be another in the bar who would agree.

Her and Roxy were both dressed as naughty nurses—tight, white, rubber minisdresses, matching caps with cutouts at the sides, and hems so short they bared half their asses and most of their sex. The outfit was topped off with sheer, white, over-the-knee stocking with satin red crosses at the top, and red platform sandals with open toes and 6″ spike heels.

The entire bar had turned to stare at them as soon as they’d entered, something they were used to.

Ever since Trisha had bought the two of them matching collars, they’d fallen into the habit of matching their outfits—they particularly enjoyed the contrast between Juicy’s natural (and augmented) good looks, filling out every costume she bought, and Roxy’s ridiculous appearance while wearing the same, a grotesque parody of both manhood and femininity as both his cock and newly budding breasts pressed against the thin latex.

When they went up to solicit someone, it could take them a few minutes to notice that Roxy was even there, such was the allure of Juicy’s juicy body. Not only was she clearly built to fuck, but the tattoos that adorned every visible inch of her offered suggestions for exactly what men could do. “Treet me lik ur bitch,” her latest tatt said, tattooed across the back of her neck.

On her right cheek, a cock had been inked, pointing directly at her mouth, like a set of X-rated instructions. Her forehead simply read “SLUTT”. And of course, she’d finally gotten those nipple piercings—rings so heavy that even a thick top couldn’t conceal them. (not, of course, that she’d ever be caught wearing a thick top.)

The stranger didn’t take long to reply.

“Okay,” he said. “but I wants to fuck her first. He can suck her juices off my cock for all I care. And...no funny business.”

Juicy idly wondered what business he’d find funnier than having a father suck his daughter’s juices off a strangers cock, but Juicy didn’t want to push her luck. Juicy had picked this man because of his massive hands—Juicy couldn’t wait to feel them against Juicy’s body. Juicy hoped that they would hurt, a lot. At moments like that, when Juicy was truly being used by a large man for his sexual pleasure...Juicy felt more like her father than ever.

Glacing over at Roxy, she smiled, suddenly shy. She loved her father so much, loved sharing these moments with him. Loved knowing that he didn’t find her actions, her thoughts, her hobby perverse...it was a unique bond that they shared, and she loved every second of it. She loved it as much as she loved the life that he’d recently planted inside of her—as much as they both detested fucking, when she’d realized that it was the only way that she could carry her father’s child, Juicy knew that she had to do it, she had to show her Daddy how much she loved him.

Trisha would inevitably find out that they’d snuck out to pick up again—she’d threatened to come up with a truly horrific response if she caught them leaving the house together, but it was an itch that the pair needed to scratch. They weren’t able to stop...they’d never be able to stop.

Roxy glanced back at his daughter, and the two shared a moment. No matter what horrible punishment Trisha concocted for them, they knew that they’d go through it together.

And that they would love every minute of it.