The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s kind of funny; when I tried to remember what my cousin Ginnie was doing to me, the memories would slip away, like a wet bar of soap, impossible to hold on to. But whenever I would stop trying, then sometimes fleeting snatches would pop into my mind, seeming more like a dream than like something that had really happened....

At first, I didn’t really believe the visions were real; I just figured I was fantasizing about what I wanted Ginnie to do with me. My cousin, after all, was two years older than I; at 17, she was fiercely enjoying the spring of her junior year, while I, only 15, was hoping to avoid summer classes after my first foray into high school.

Moreover, Ginnie was incredibly beautiful and athletic, and popular with everyone. A fiery redhead, she had done basketball in the winter, and cheerleading in the spring and fall. Her 5′ 9″ frame seemed to be mostly legs; she could toss off a jump shot and a high kick with the same ease.

Mind you, I wasn’t suffering, myself. Already, I was half an inch taller than Ginnie was, and I had played track and soccer, as well as chess. I’d had a steady girlfriend, a leggy blonde named Macy, who had been the reason I almost failed math. I had been much more interested in studying her figures, and she’d been open to a lot of after school tutoring.

Even though I noticed my cousin—always trying to get a peek of her, that sort of thing—it never occurred to me that she had noticed me back. We’d lived in the same house since childhood, each of us the only offspring of our mothers, who were sisters. I lived with both my parents on the main floor, and she lived upstairs with Aunt Lulu, widowed ever since Uncle Henry had never come back from Desert Storm.

It also never occurred to me that magic could be real; that Aunt Lulu could have dabbled in it, trying to contact her departed husband; that Ginnie could have stumbled upon some ancient spell that somehow really did work; and that she would have chosen me to be her guinea pig—or perhaps, unwitting sex slave might be closer to the truth.

I say unwitting, rather than unwilling, because truth be known, had she told me what she’d been planning, I would’ve saved her the trouble and volunteered! Ginnie figured prominently in my dreams: her lush red hair; her creamy skin that never seemed to freckle or sunburn; her slender curves, including a round bust that was more likely a full B than a small C; and hips that were the reason denim had been invented! As a teenager, I could easily reach climax with a skin mag and two extra minutes, but something about my gorgeous cousin inspired me to stay up at night, sometimes for hours, fantasizing about what little I’d seen, and how I could arrange to ‘accidentally’ see more.

Still, though my memory is faulty, and I don’t have all the details, I’ve let my imagination fill in the gaps, and I’m pretty sure that the following account is close to the real truth. You’re welcome to be the judge, though I stand by what I’ve written....

I’m pretty sure that the first incident, at least the first one I vaguely recall, happened the Friday morning just before spring break. Looking back on it, I’ll bet Ginnie was testing the spell she’d found, not really expecting it to work, but figuring it couldn’t hurt to find out. All I know is, I was coming out of the first-floor bathroom, with nothing but a towel around my waist, when Ginnie surprised me in the hallway.

“Wait a minute, Hank,” was what she said. (Did I mention I was named for my beloved Uncle Henry?)

Knowing that she had to get ready for school also, and that she had a shower upstairs, I stopped, curious. My curiosity rose when she leaned forward to whisper something in my ear.

I may never know what those words were. But their effect on me was immediate. I froze, stock-still, with my head tilted sideways, ready to catch her whisper. It seemed like time had stalled. Outside noises had ceased, and my eyes were locked, looking sideways at Ginnie’s face. She had stepped back, partly in surprise that her spell had worked, and partly to appraise my near-nakedness with an obvious relish that I had never seen before.

She briefly disappeared out of my view, probably to check out my backside, which was peeking out a little from beneath the hastily-wrapped towel. When she moved back into view, she had stepped forward, letting her soft hands touch my smooth chest, and once again whispered non-words into my captive ear.

A moment later, I was alone in the hallway, having completely forgotten that my cousin had even been there. Although I wasn’t aware of it, somewhere deep in my mind, like an urgent chore that couldn’t be recalled, was an instruction. And I would be unaware of following it....

School passed quickly, the teachers catering to our lack of attention with very little classwork and a few over-the-break projects. The only unusual thing happened during gym class, when I realized that I’d somehow managed to forget to include ‘put on underwear’ on my list of things to do, but practice was light and we were all wearing baggy shorts anyway, so no one else noticed.

When I got home, the house was uncharacteristically empty, except for Ginnie. Since I didn’t believe in magic, how would it have occurred to me that Mom and Aunt Lulu had been ‘encouraged’ to go window shopping while Dad was still at work? Nor did I question the impulse that had me stopping in my room just long enough to lose my books, shoes and socks, before heading up the stairs, and straight into Ginnie’s room.

Her walls were pink, which you might expect; they weren’t covered with posters or photos, which you might not. She had a queen-size canopy bed, with white gauze drapery and four large pillows; her stuffed animals and Barbie collectables were neatly arranged on a wall shelf above her writing desk, next to her computer desk.

Other than the fact that I was there, nothing else seemed unusual at that point. Ginnie was still modestly dressed, in the floral blouse and blue jeans she had worn to school that day. It almost seemed like she’d been fidgeting, anxiously awaiting something, and unsure of what to expect. When she saw me enter, she smiled and let out a deep breath.

“I’m glad you could make it, Hank,” were her first words, and before I could figure out what she had meant by that, she had come over to where I was standing, and whispered something else.

Again, a strange fugue settled over me; I couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, and if I was still breathing, I didn’t notice. Ginnie’s hand reached out to touch my face, stopped, pulled back; and then, as if assessing the consequences and deciding the risk was worth it, proceeded to stroke along my cheek and chin.

When I didn’t protest, shiver, or make any other acknowledgement of her actions, my red-haired cousin grew bolder. Moving around in front of me, she tried picking up my arm, smiling with relief and mischief when she discovered that she could make it move, and it would hold its position when she released it. Taking advantage of my plastic immobility, she lifted up my arms so that she could slip off my shirt, and then left them there while she caressed my chest and back. She may even have murmured something about how manly I was; I may never be sure.

She disappeared from my view, and I think I heard her shut her bedroom door. Having apparently decided that the experiment was a success so far, I assume she decided to proceed with the next stage. I didn’t notice the next words she whispered to me, but I did notice my reaction.

Sensation flooded me again; I could move, react, and feel. But I still felt a strange lethargy, or maybe apathy, kind of like I would be willing to do something, as soon as I knew what it was, but I didn’t have any real motivation to figure it out on my own.

Fortunately, my cousin solved that problem nicely. “Drop trou, Hank. Show me what you’ve got.”

I saw no reason not to, even if my trousers happened to be the only clothing I still had on. Following Ginnie’s command, I disrobed, completely ignoring my nudity, as well as my trousers once they were on the carpet. Standing still, like an art model, I felt nothing unusual as my cousin inspected my completely naked form for the first time.

I knew from locker-room comparisons that I was only a bit above average, but Ginnie seemed suitably impressed. She came in to inspect my manhood directly, first by observation, then with personal experience. Her touch was warm and pleasant, everything my 15-year-old fantasies had imagined, but for some reason it excited me about as much as petting a cat.

“I wonder what it looks like hard?” she mused, and instantly, obligingly, I showed her. Her hand leapt away, startled by the speed and ferocity of my erection. In my foggy memory, it felt like I was harder than I had ever been until then, and rarely since; a vein stood out, pulsing along the shaft, which pointed well above the horizontal. Yet I wasn’t aroused, merely erect.

Still, Ginnie seemed unaware of the difference. Possibly deciding I deserved a reward for my obedience, or maybe simply suddenly uncomfortable in all her clothes, she peeled off her blouse and shrugged out of her shoes and jeans. Unsnapping her bra, she let it fall forward, revealing to me at last those two perfect orbs I’d spent too much sleep time picturing. And they were perfect! Full, bouncy, and perky all at once, her breasts were round, with almost no sag, and were capped with quarter-sized, dark red tips, that seemed strangely full and flushed just at that moment.

She hardly paused before peeling off her matching black panties. Suddenly I was treated to the vision of a creamy thatch, covered with dark red hair, which covered her mound and outer lips while leaving the slit itself reasonably bare. All my adolescent fantasies at once, and there I was, powerless to take any advantage of them!

I have since heard of sympathetic magic; perhaps the sex spell she had used on me had partly rebounded upon her, or maybe she was simply enjoying her first opportunity to indulge her cravings without consequence. In any case, her first act upon disrobing was to step in close, pressing her naked chest against mine, and insist, “Hold me, Hank, and kiss me like I’m your girlfriend!”

I would have, anyway, I’m pretty sure. It would have been a dream come true, even if I’d had any control over my actions. My arms slipped around my cousin’s waist in a sturdy, but not crushing hug, and I pressed my open mouth to hers, letting my tongue meet and dance with hers for the first time.

Ginnie had said to, “kiss me like I’m your girlfriend,” and my mind had no option but to take her words literally. The moment our tongues touched, every feeling, every sexual thought I had ever had about my girlfriend was copied onto my cousin as well. I still loved and desired Macy, I just loved and desired Ginnie equally! So it was without shame that I savored the womanly warmth of Ginnie’s lips, the earthiness of her breath, the twisting caresses of her tongue.

In addition, I still had my erection—I hadn’t been told to lose it—but now, with my cousin’s simple command, my sense of sexual pleasure had been reawakened. I was horny, and naked, and in the arms of a woman I now believed that I loved and desired, so I began to treat Ginnie the way I would have treated Macy under the same circumstances.

I moved over to kiss and lick my substitute girlfriend’s earlobe, bringing forth a surprised exclamation of, “Wha—what are you doin—ooh!” as she tilted her head and offered me easier access. A small tremor passed through her; the proof of her rising arousal was turning me on even more.

Having no instructions to the contrary, I continued downward, nibbling the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder, and then moving to the front. I paused to gently lick and suck the hollow of her throat, and I must have hit a particularly sensitive spot, because she cried out, “There! Right there, ah, keep doing that, don’t stop, uhhhnnn....”

For the next three or four minutes, I kept repeating exactly the last motion I’d been doing, which had been to grab the skin of her throat with my teeth and tickle it with the tip of my tongue, while my cousin squirmed and moaned her pleasure. Finally, she regained her composure a bit, though I honestly don’t believe she’d had an orgasm at that point, and told me to keep going.

So, of course, my next stop was her breasts. I had been looking forward to this; even though I’d been told to feel toward my cousin as if she were already my lover, I was also on some level aware that this was our first time together, and that it was special. So I took extra care in making sure my ‘other lover’ was feeling as much pleasure as I was.

I started with the top halves of her full melons, kissing and licking all along her curves, delighting in her uncontrolled humming and moaning. In the meantime, my hands were able to re-interpret my cousin’s command to hold her; they had moved under both of her ‘B-plus beauties,’ and were gently lifting and caressing them, working up to, then around each nipple. I felt her pleasure building; her hums were getting louder, more frequent and more forceful.

When the humming seemed to have reached its peak, I added another push of pleasure. Moving my hands back to the underside of her sensitive flesh, I pressed them both upward, and at the same time pulled and bit at one nipple while rubbing the other with the pad of my thumb.

“Mmmmm—ahhhHHH!” I’d be willing to guess that the sharp new double sensation upon her nipples was enough to drive my lov—I mean, my cousin, over the brink of climax. “Don’t stop!” she shrieked, as her hands clamped onto my head and her hips thrust into my thigh, over and over again. It seemed to last forever, though of course I had no real sense of time.

Eventually her hips stopped thrusting, and Ginnie regained control of her breathing. She winced at the continued sensations of my mouth and thumb on her nipples, and breathed out, “Enough! Keep going, please, Hank.”

If I had had any emotions other than arousal, I probably would have been as surprised as she was by what I did next. To this point, we had both been standing, just on the inside of the door of her bedroom; now, my arms slid back down to her waist, then wrapped themselves under her firm ass, and lifted her up! I carried her over to the edge of her bed, and gently sat her down and tilted her back, so that her hips were on and her legs were hanging over, feet pressing into the carpet.

Shifting my hold to the backs of her thighs, I knelt down, reached over, and began to kiss my way down along her abdomen to her navel, where a thin, thin red line of hair announced the beginning of the entrance into the promised land. I felt my ‘lover’ tense up in anticipation.

But I’d fooled her; my hands shifted their grip to the outsides of her knees, and I began to nibble, kiss and suck the insides of her thighs. They were the only place on her body where she had any kind of freckles, and were absolutely perfect–soft, plump, creamy and warm. And sensitive; at my first love bite, Ginnie nearly sat up in bed, and only the firm grip of my hands saved me from a probable bloody nose!

Still maintaining my erection, but under implied orders not to be in a hurry to use it, I hungrily explored my cousin’s secret and sensitive thighs. I know I wasn’t the first one there, but I’d like to believe I was the most caring and dedicated of all her lovers. I seriously doubt if any two of them combined had spent as much time building up to the main event as I was doing.

And what an event it was! With the edge off a bit from her first orgasm, Ginnie was better able to enjoy the ride to her second climax. When I finally spread her lips, though she really didn’t need it by then (remember, I had no choice but to ‘hold’ something; that had been part of her explicit commands), and touched the tip of my tongue to the tip of her clit, Ginnie jumped, but she didn’t thrash. Instead, she moaned, letting her head loll about, twisting her shoulders and making her tits dance, arcing and pressing her mound up to me as the pleasure built to bursting.

Her orgasm caught me as I was thrusting my tongue between her inner lips, like a thick miniature penis. A gush of thick juice landed on my taste buds, as her clit rammed into the base of my nose. My own cock jumped and twitched at this proof of my other-lover’s pleasure, as I rode out her enjoyment. It was a good thing that no one was home, I think, because I seem to remember her enjoyment being very loud.

Still walking the tightrope between my urges and Ginnie’s commands, as she was recovering I worked her fully onto the bed, with her head propped up against the pillows. Moving on top of her, I ‘hugged’ her arms and shoulders, and kissed her open mouth, as I slid into her.

She hadn’t forbidden me to, and I was still following her other command to, “keep going.” In any case, she probably expected it, since I don’t recall her screaming in shock, and I’m almost positive she didn’t order me to withdraw. (Did she say something about the pill? I hope so.) Instead, she grabbed and clawed my back, and I think she also told me to, “hold off until we can come together.” In any case, I passed beyond ‘ready to go!’ through, ‘any moment now,’ and on up to, ‘explosion imminent!’ ... and held there. And held there ...

... until I heard the words, “Now! NOW!” and let myself loose.

How can I describe it? I’m not sure I even remember it! But if it was anything like what I think I recall, then it was like opening a fire hose during a thunderstorm. There was a jolt, and a blast, and another blast, and then my brain overloaded from the pleasure and I blanked out.

... And when I regained my senses, I was alone in the shower, naked, cold, and wondering how it had gotten to be so late, and how come mom and Aunt Lulu were just getting home?