The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Helpful Hannah

by Pan

Chapter 10

“I did it,” my brother said softly. “It worked…last night, I was able to cum.”

My jaw dropped. We’d done it!! I had done it! I’d finally been able to make my brother cum!

Well, sort of.

* * *

Eighteen hours earlier, I’d been in a club. The floor was sticky, the music was loud, and everywhere I looked there were scantily-clad women, dressed in outfits that were…well, not dissimilar to mine.

My six-inch heels drew attention to the black skirt I was wearing, which covered no more than a few inches of flesh—it started just below my navel, and finished an inch or two below my pussy. My boobs were barely contained in a snakeskin top that wrapped around my neck, barely held together by two thin pieces of fabric criss-crossing along my back. The skirt was split up the side, and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

I was on the prowl.

As I stalked my way across the dance floor, the music made my head throb, and I would sporadically be overwhelmed with doubt. What am I doing here? Why am I dressed like this in public?

I’m not even a lesbian.

Before the thoughts could get a hold of me, however, all I needed to do was shut my eyes and there it was. My brother’s thick, smooth cock—his hand, stroking it up and down, as his beautiful deep voice gave me calm, firm instructions.

I’m here to pick up, I reminded myself. I’m here to find a sexy girl, take her home, and fuck her until the break of dawn.

My purpose reinvigorated, I would open my eyes and continue my search.

I’d never been to a lesbian bar before. “Bar” probably isn’t the right term—alcohol was being served, but the centre of focus was the dance floor. Dozens of women, each sluttier than the last were dancing with each other, rubbing their bodies against each other, reveling in how hot, how sexy they looked.

More than anything, I wanted to be one of those women.

A friend of a friend had told me about this place—on Saturday nights, men were banned from the premises, and as a result the women felt like they could go all-out. Without any fear of the male gaze (“fear” wasn’t a word that made sense to me in that context…but I suppose that’s why I’m not a lesbian) they would come in as scantily-clad as they liked, knowing that there was no one here to look at them but other lesbians.

Other lesbians…and me.

It didn’t take me long to attract some attention. I’ve always been proud of my body, but since I devoted myself entirely to serving my brother’s needs, I knew that it had to be in the best possible shape. Every morning, I remove every follicle of hair below the neck, and then spend at least an hour at the gym, hitting the treadmill.

When I first started going, I would wear my standard gym gear—track pants and a sweater—but as soon as my brother learned where I was spending my mornings, he insisted that I wear a bit less. He said that he liked the idea of other men looking at me, lusting after me, wanting me…and knowing that he was the only one who got to take advantage of my body.

After that, it was nothing but sports bras, yoga pants, and occasionally even gym shorts. I loved it—getting to show off the curves that only my brother gets to touch.

I’ve even had a few people recognize me from my site. If it were up to me, I’d have rewarded them with a quickie…but I knew my brother wouldn’t like that.

And that was all that mattered.

Every day, as soon as I came home from the gym, my brother would fuck me. He enjoyed taking my sore, sweaty body—my slippery flesh, the raw smell of perspiration. I’d always cum a few times, but even after going through a condom or two, my brother never did.

It was the gym that had put the idea into his head—one day, I’d noticed a girl staring at me. She was tall, slender…very attractive. After fucking me into a gooey mush, my brother liked me to tell him all the sexual fantasies I’d had while working out. It turned him on, knowing that I wanted to fuck other men, but never would—that my body was his to control.

And so I’d told her about the girl. I hadn’t seriously considered it, but the thought had crossed my mind that she might recognize me from my porn site, and that to thank her for her patronage, I should hook up with her or something.

Like I said, it wasn’t something I’d thought about too much—I really have no attraction to other women. I never have, really. But for some reason, the idea really appealed to my brother—he started jerking off at the idea, and as I tried to turn him on by going into more detail, he flipped me over and slipped his cock deep into my ass.

I was sweaty, but hadn’t lubed up yet, and so there was actually quite a lot of pain as he started to fuck me, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. This idea had really turned him on, and there was a chance that he might even be able to cum—what sort of an ungrateful sister would I be if I ruined that for him?

So instead I just lay there, sharing more and more details of a lesbian fantasy I didn’t even have, as my brother pounded my tight asshole. As he continued fucking me, I started to actually find the pain a bit of a turn-on, and before long I was cumming, my buttocks clenching around his cock as I came.

Without permission, but after a gym session, my brother never said anything. He’d just punish me for it later.

Even as my orgasm overcame me, my story never slowed down. It stuttered slightly as my body began to wrack with pleasure, but I kept on making up details, drawing from the extensive collection of lesbian films I’d found on my brother’s collection. Every minute I wasn’t directly pleasing him, I was researching what turned him on, or taking care of my body, or trying to come up with new ways I could get him powerfully aroused.

Soon he bellowed, and his cock began to soften. He withdrew from between my pert ass-cheeks, and I looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head. Every time he shook his head, it was like someone ripped my heart out—it was just a constant reminder that I wasn’t good enough, that no matter how much I tried, my body wasn’t hot enough to get my brother off.

It reminded me that I was a failure…and inspired me to try harder.

As I walked to the shower naked, sweat dripping from my anus, my mind was awhir. Sure, my brother didn’t like the idea of me fucking another guy…but maybe a girl was different? Maybe he wouldn’t have a problem with that—especially if I didn’t get any joy from it, if it was purely for his pleasure?

After I washed myself off, applied deodorant, lube and perfume (I’ve been trying slightly different perfumes for the last few weeks, making notes on exactly which ones turn him on the most) I marched straight to my brother’s room, knelt down in front of him, and proposed the idea.

He loved it—he loved it so much that he started roughly fucking my throat, before turning me over and sneezing loudly. I sneeze when I see a particularly bright light—when my brother’s really turned on, he sometimes sneezes all over me, and I can feel it hitting my skin, in a few short, warm spurts. I find it more than a little weird, but I’d never tell him that—with his condition, he’s already got enough to worry about.

And so the next time I saw the girl at the gym, I’d pulled her aside.

“Hannah,” I’d introduced myself, and when she’d given her name, I’d leaned in for a kiss.

As I thought, she was a lesbian—it turned out later that she didn’t even know about my site, just found me extremely attractive. We made out for a few minutes, and then exchanged numbers. When I got home from the gym that day, my brother fucked me harder than I could ever remember—he insisted on me repeating every detail of it, how her lips had felt against mine, what had been running through my head.

I considered making up stories about how hot I found it, but I knew that I couldn’t lie to my brother…

I can never lie to my brother.

…and so I’d told him the truth, that I’d found the whole thing sort of boring, but that the other girl (whose name I’d already forgotten) had seemed really into it.

When I called the girl, it ended up being a wrong number—maybe fake, or maybe she’d just gotten it wrong—and I never saw her at the gym again. But the seed had been planted, and so just a few days later, there I was in the club, dressed to kill.

One or two girls had looked at me with familiar looks on their faces, which made me blush—I had no idea that lesbians looked at porn, let alone my porn—but I made sure to avoid them. I wanted someone who wanted me for me, not so they could bang someone famous.

On the dance floor, I again lost myself in the music. For a few minutes, I was dancing, and I felt…normal. Well, not normal. Extremely strange, really. For a few minutes, I forgot that I was my brother’s 24-hour slut, that everything I did and thought was to get him off. For a few minutes, I was just a “normal” girl, enjoying the music, dancing…

It was really weird. Nice, but at the same time…dangerous. I didn’t have a purpose. I didn’t have a simple, singular purpose.

The idea made me feel simultaneously free and sick, and I ran to the bathroom. Away from the music, away from the swaying bodies and the pulsating lights, it felt…right. Right, and wrong. I wasn’t a slut. I was Hannah, a normal girl with a normal life and normal wants and…

“Are you okay?”

To my left was a girl…she must have been about a foot shorter than me, wearing a tight dress. She had a cute face, framed by her long, black hair.

Just like my brother likes, I couldn’t help but think, and in that moment I was back.

I didn’t say anything in response—I just grabbed her head and pulled it towards mine. She resisted for a second, but as my hands moved to her butt, she quickly realized I was up for it, and returned my kiss with gusto.

We stood there in the bathroom for what felt like hours, just making out, exploring each other’s bodies with our hands. I’m not a lesbian, but it was definitely nice—her lips were soft, her hands were gentle, and she seemed to like it when I treated her roughly.

All the time we were making out, a single thought was on my mind—What would my brother like? What does my brother want to see?

What must we look like?

Before I’d left, my brother had given me very strict instructions, and I followed them to the letter. After a few minutes of making out, she went to pull me into one of the bathroom cubicles, but I wasn’t having any of that. I grabbed her hand, pulled her out the door, and a few minutes later we were in a taxi on the way to my house, making out furiously, beginning to finger each other.

She seemed to be excited by my lack of panties, and hers provided no obstacle—as my finger went between her legs, I made sure not to get her too excited. I didn’t want to make her cum—not yet. Not until my brother was watching.

My parents were watching TV in the living-room when we got in—they didn’t even look up as I dragged the hot, slutty girl I’d picked up into the hallway and made out with her for a few minutes more. Our moans of passion must have been audible—at one point, Dad turned the TV up slightly, probably to drown us out.

Making out loudly in the hallway had been the pre-arranged signal, to let my brother know I was coming in. After a few minutes, I had the girl (whose name I still hadn’t caught) panting, and without further ado, pulled her upstairs and into my brother’s room.

“Is this…—“ she started to ask, but before she could say anything, I had hiked up her skirt, pushed her onto my brother’s bed, and pulled down her sopping wet panties.

I had carefully positioned her so that her legs were pointing directly toward the closet where my brother was hiding—I wanted him to have the best possible angle of what was going on. I’d tasted my own pussy before, but this girl’s tasted slightly different. Not better or worse, just different.

To my surprise, she started giving me instructions on how to lick her. If I’d really been interested in her, of course I would have followed them, but the only reason we were doing this was to get my brother off, and I was pretty sure that he didn’t want to hear instructions on giving head to a girl.

I didn’t say anything in response, just reached up and slapped her across the face. She froze in shock, but as my assault on her pussy continued, relaxed, and I swear she got even wetter from it.

Maybe my brother would like to slap me like that, I thought, and the idea of it—of my brother slapping me, causing me pain just for his own amusement—turned me on more than anything had that night.

Making sure that my ass was as visible as possible to my bro, standing behind me in the closet, I took a finger and inserted it into the stranger’s sopping wet pussy. She moaned, and I took that as an invitation to insert another one—as my tongue repeatedly ran across her clit, my two fingers pumped in and out of her tight pussy.

No wonder it’s tight, I thought to myself. She’s probably never even been with a man…

A part of me wished that my brother would burst out of the closet and take her by force. She wouldn’t be happy, but her pleasure was irrelevant. She was irrelevant, except for as a way of helping my brother get off. That’s all she was good for—that’s all any woman was good for.

Listening carefully, I could have sworn I heard a muffled grunt or two coming from the closet, and that was all I needed to spur me on. The knowledge that my brother was just a few feet away, getting off at the sight of me screwing this girl—it was so hot that I didn’t even care that I wasn’t attracted to women.

I was making my brother hard, and that was sexy enough for me.

Before long, the strange girl started cumming, her hips thrusting, causing her whole body to rise off my brother’s bed. She came differently to me—a series of whimpers, followed by a shout. I found it a little bit sexy, but mostly just interesting.

“Okay,” she said, a wicked smile on her face. “Your turn.”

As I undid my top, allowing my breasts to fall into view, she unzipped my skirt and pulled it down. There I lay on the bed, naked, another woman between my legs. I sure hoped my brother was enjoying the sight—and more than that, the knowledge that I was going to do whatever it took, that I’d fuck a stranger—a female, at that—just for the chance of making him cum.

I’d somehow got the feeling that my brother enjoyed knowing how little I got from hooking up with a girl, and so I kept my face flat and emotionless as she went down on me. I just stared at the closet, unable to stop thinking about my brother watching up, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking up and down and up and down…

Even as I came, I remained still. The girl didn’t comment at all—I guess everyone’s different, and she just assumed that was how I did it.

We made out for another half hour, enjoying our own tastes on each other’s lips. Her breasts were a tiny bit smaller than mine (and mine had become slightly smaller, the more I went to the gym—a thought that sometimes kept me up at night with worry) but they were just as pert, with pink up-turned nipples. I made a big show of tasting them, smacking my lips, hoping that my brother was getting off at the sight.

It was almost 4am before we finally drifted off to sleep—we’d made love into the early hours of the morning. She seemed to like my dominant streak, and I have to admit that I quite enjoyed spanking her, watching her ass and thighs ripple every time I did. I pinned her down and forced my cunt into her face; she shivered in orgasm on all fours as I fucked her with the strap-on dildo that I’d bought explicitly for this purpose.

When she finally collapsed, spent, I lay next to her, enjoying the visual contrast of my pale skin against her slightly darker tone, and when she started snoring, my brother finally left his closet, giving me a thumbs-up on the way out.

The next morning, I was awoken by the feeling of my guest’s lips on my shaved pussy. It seemed that she shared my brother’s predilection for morning sex, but without an audience, I wasn’t interested.

Of course, an audience was something I could easily arrange…

Reaching over and borrowing her phone (mine was in my handbag, which was somewhere at the end of the bed) I texted my brother a photo of the strange girl going down me.

“What’re you doing?” she said at the sound of the artificial shutter, but I just shushed her and instructed her to keep going.

A few minutes later, my brother entered, and moved quietly across the room, until he was standing right next to me without the girl having noticed a thing. I happily wrapped my lips around his cock and started sucking, as he watched the girl’s talented tongue work its magic between my legs.

It didn’t take long for her to realize something was up, and she looked up in shock.

“What the fuck?” she asked, disgusted, and in response to the joint smiles of my brother and I, began to back away wide-eyed.

With a simple gesture, my brother indicated that he wanted to fuck me, and so after fetching a condom, putting it over his dick, and carefully making sure that it was thoroughly lubricated with my saliva, I flipped over and moaned with pleasure as his wide, strong penis entered me.

“You guys are sick!” my lesbian lover of the previous night yelled as she hurriedly put the rest of her clothes on. Looked like she wasn’t going to be joining us—pity. Fucking a lesbian was probably something that would really help my brother.

The door slammed as she left, and as she stomped downstairs, my brother leaned close into my ear.

“I did it,” he brother said softly. “It worked…last night, I was able to cum.”

My jaw dropped. We’d done it! I had done it! I’d finally been able to make my brother cum!

Well, sort of. Indirectly. And yes, he’d still cum by his own hands. But I’d been in the room! Me—my body—had done it!

We were one step closer. All we had to do now was make him cum more directly—by my hand. Or my ass. Or my pussy…

I shuddered in orgasm at the thought.