The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Reap the Whirlwind

Four

I came home one night from dining with Nicole and Gaston to an extremely pleasant surprise: Lisa’s meetings had finished early, and she was home, lying in wait for me. “Hi baby,” she purred from the sofa, dragging on a holdered More 120 and french-inhaling as she removed it from her lips. With a graceful, leisurely turn of the head, she eased her chest forward, sending a smoke trail across the dimly lit room. My penis jumped in immediate response, pressing against the front of my pants. “I was missing you horribly,” she cooed, pausing to take another enchanting, elegant drag with crossed legs. She lifted her chin and smoke blossomed from her lips, briefly obscuring her face. The holder was held high by her ear between curled fingers at the end of a cocked wrist. “So I got home as fast as—” Lisa drew on the holder again, this time audibly sucking the smoke deep into her lungs, breasts slowly rising. Another leisurely turn of the head, and smoke flowed in a thick combination exhale without a sound. “—I could.”

At that, off to the bedroom we ran, no children to hide from, no restraint necessary. By the time we made it there, I was rock-hard and immediately shucked my pants to relieve the strain. My wife settled onto the bed, obviously wanting to be seductive and play with my senses through my fetish, but my unwavering rod pointed enthusiastically at her, making her quickly decide that was enough seduction for the moment. Lisa put the cigarette out, undressed in a hurry, and took me into her mouth. It felt good, but I didn’t need it, so I pulled away after she bobbed her head a few times and gently pushed her backwards.

I pistoned at her and she matched my rhythm within a few strokes, giving as good as she got. We moved in perfect tandem, me panting, Lisa whimpering, my erection powering her orgasmic climb. “Ohhhh... Oh, Jack... Ohhhh... Oh, Jack!” Lisa began bucking, driving her hips into me. She clamped her arms around me, gasping my name as she came, eyes rolling, hips oscillating wildly, waving my magic wand inside her, unable to force the iron bar out, eventually collapsing to the bed with a loud, “AUUGGHHH!”

Within seconds, we were fucking again, my hungry thrusts removing her ability to speak, her eyes losing focus more frequently, the pink flush around her face, neck, and breasts indicating her uncontrolled rush to a second orgasm. My wife wailed and vibrated like a tuning fork for a good little while, trying to shake my own orgasm loose until her body could take no more. She collapsed onto the bed with a huff, legs splayed, lying still, with me still rock-hard and buried inside. Tentatively, I moved my hips back and slid forward, making my dick tingle a little. Lisa sucked in air, feebly placed her hands on my arms, and let me gently pump at her while her body recharged.

A few minutes later, her arms and legs were wrapped around my neck, and she took all of my dick, encouraging me with breathy, sensuous obscenities. My dick tingled constantly, but my own orgasm still seemed far away; I was headed to the point of no return, but at a snail’s pace. Lisa’s pussy sloshed and slurped as my relentless strokes continued. She began to moan, louder and louder, until suddenly, her arms hit the bed with a thump and she wailed, squeezing my cock mightily inside her. With a groan, my wife went limp, both inside and out. Regretfully, I pulled my cock out of her after a few moments. It was still ramrod straight, and ready to fuck some more. Unfortunately, my partner was down for the count. Lisa was still breathing heavily, groaning happily, so I started to masturbate. Even as I stroked myself in my most sensitive areas, I didn’t feel the sizzle that normally accompanied such stimulation—it was still just a pleasant tingle. Now, after the heat of passion had receded, I realized that my cock felt abnormally hard, and had been so even throughout our lovemaking. I sighed, and stopped playing with myself, hoping my penis would soften. When Lisa wakes up, I’ll have her help out.

An hour later, Lisa stirred, but sat up quickly. Before I could say the magic words, she looked directly at me and asked, “Jack, have you been taking Viagra?” The unexpected question interrupted my earlier selfish thoughts and my still half-hard cock bobbed and lost a little bit more steam. “I mean,” she resumed, “Don’t get me wrong... it was what I wanted, and—wow! But you were just a little—too hard. And you didn’t cum—like that time we tried it after Mel’s party.” Lisa and I had experimented with Viagra once before, after a free sample from a friend—he and his wife said that it had been an “incredible experience,” even though he was, in their shared words, “perfectly capable all on his own.” For us, it hadn’t been so much fun. Yes, I could fuck all night, but I had reduced sensitivity, and the extra hardness and stamina became—uncomfortable—for my wife. As soon as Lisa mentioned the word, “Viagra,” everything became clear—other than the fact that I hadn’t taken it.

“Why would you take Viagra, Jack?” rejoined my wife. “Especially since I wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow?” I had no answer, because as far as I knew, I hadn’t, and told Lisa so. She continued to press the issue, overriding my protests by noting that it was easy enough to get a single pill—or a prescription for that matter, since we had several friends who could write one for me. I had to admit to myself that the circumstantial evidence was damning. To prove her point, Lisa lit a Sobranie Black Russian in her longest femme fatale holder. My cock was full within two puffs, hardened steel after three, and she masturbated me while smoking... and I still didn’t cum. It took another cigarette and a little bit of head to finally get me there.

I sighed a happy, relieved, “Thank you, sweetie,” but wasn’t quite prepared for Lisa’s next reaction. “So who is she, Jack, this woman you’re taking Viagra for while I’m out of town?” I didn’t know what to say; there was no other woman, I hadn’t taken Viagra, but it was impossible to deny that it looked as if I had. Lisa lit a Capri 120, touched my cock, and it jumped eagerly, so she gave me smoky head for a couple of minutes until my cock was that same rigid steel bar it had been earlier, not more than five minutes after I had cum. “I know it would take longer than that without it,” she coldly said, and left the bedroom with, “I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight.” This tested my resolve not to use my hypnotic control of Lisa for anything other than sex, a vow I hadn’t broken in our twenty-eight years of marriage. I wanted to make her understand that I hadn’t cheated on her; in twenty-eight years, I’d never even thought of being with another woman. The thing that stopped me from pressing my argument was the nagging and enormous doubt inspired by the unsolved question: why the hell was my body acting as if I had taken Viagra? I didn’t sleep well that night, and my dick didn’t help, popping up at any stray thought of Lisa.

Lisa spent a lot of time away from home after work over the next two days. It would be late when she got home, and she would greet me with a quiet, “Hello,” but not much more. I would try to open a conversation, she would tell me that she was tired, and head directly to the guest room, locking the door behind her. I went to bed worried and confused that second night. My cock had continued to be abnormally responsive to thoughts and still was not as sensitive as it normally was, so there was no longer any doubt in my mind that I had indeed taken the drug. I just had no idea when it possibly could have happened, nor any memory of having taken it. I didn’t even remember any situation that could have caused memory loss. Nonetheless, Lisa wasn’t in the mood to hear my apology—and I didn’t have an explanation to give her. I resolved to fix things as best I could with the only tool I had; I would wait for her to come home the following night, and then Lisa would, “sleep for me.”

It was a great plan, but she didn’t come home by herself, bringing four female co-workers home after a girls’ night happy hour that turned into dinner that turned into a gabfest at our house. I went to bed alone; she and her friends continued talking past one a.m., and I was going to meet my son for our biweekly ritual of breakfast and a round of golf later that morning. It would have to wait until after that, but at least it would be fixed.

Lisa wasn’t home when I got back from golfing. It figures. I knew that she would eventually be alone with me, in private, and then I could make her see that she was the only one for me—permanently—but it was still hell waiting for that inevitable meeting. I’m glad the Viagra’s finally worn off—I don’t get hard just thinking about hypnotizing her now. By four, Lisa still hadn’t returned, and I was starting to worry. Is Lisa making arrangements for a separation? Have I waited too long to make the adjust— The phone rang, startling me from my alarming train of thought. “Daddy,” said Nicole urgently, “can you come over right away?” I asked her if she was all right. “Yes... well, kind of,” was her reply. I said I would be right over, and called Lisa on her cell. There was no answer. Dammit, Lise! For once, forget about how mad at me you are, and pick up! Our daughter needs us! I left a terse, urgent message before flying out of the house.

Nicole was standing at her door by the time I got out of the car. “Are you all right? Is it Gaston? What’s he done to you?” I said, grabbing her in a fierce, protective hug outside, and ready to hurt her boyfriend once I got inside.

“No, no, I’m fine, Gaston hasn’t done anything,” my daughter hastily reassured me, pushing at me to slow me down. “Daddy... Daddy... stop. I’m fine. See? Calm down. It’s not Gaston,” Nicole firmly said. Confused, I stood in the middle of her living room, a bundle of nerves and energy with nowhere to direct it. I asked her why the panicked phone call. “Well, Mommy came over and—“

I interrupted my daughter with, “Yes, your mother and I are going through a bit of a rough patch. We’ll work it out.” The afternoon’s earlier doubts abruptly resurfaced, making me hope that I sounded more confident than I felt.

“She told me that she thinks you’ve been cheating on her,” Nicole resumed. I swore to my daughter that I had never even thought about going to bed with another woman. “I know that, Daddy,” she calmly said. “Mommy just doesn’t understand the Viagra, and she’s had to travel a lot lately, leaving you alone a lot.”

I confessed that while everything pointed to my using the drug, I couldn’t figure how I got it, and didn’t remember taking it. “Maybe you can help, Nicole. Maybe it’s a buried memory, and I know you’re an expert at hypnotically retrieving traumatic events and muting their effect.”

My daughter heaved a loud, despondent sigh, admitting, “Yes, Daddy, I can help.” Why does she sound so troubled? I wondered. “Especially since I’m the one who buried them in the first place,” she confessed. “Mommy’s not entirely wrong about there being someone else. You see, I am the other woman.“

* * *

Mistress took a long, elegant drag from a Capri 120 in a silver cigarette holder, making my dick twitch. My nuts throbbed as I watched from the bed, spellbound, barely aware of the other man sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. A long silky ribbon flowed from her mouth. “You like watching me, don’t you, Daddy?”

“Yes, Mistress...” I replied.

“You’ve always been fascinating to me, and I love fascinating you... just like Mommy. She loves it too, and both of us always take good care of you. We make you happy, isn’t that right?” I repeated my enthralled response, my cock proudly pointing up towards her. She dragged again, tossed her head, and exhaled slowly through her nose. The other man moaned ecstatically. “Shhh, Gaston, or I will send you to your room and you won’t get to see your Goddess for the rest of the night. She promised you a show, but only if you were a good boy.” She took another glorious drag, and returned her attentions to me. “Are you ready for me, Daddy?” Mistress propelled a long, narrow stream of smoke across the room through pursed lips.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then it’s time for me to make you feel good... Mommy’s not home, and she would want me to take good care of you,” Mistress softly purred. She gently grasped my cock, straddled me, and eased onto my erection with a happy groan. She took one last drag, put the half-finished cigarette out in the ashtray as she exhaled with lidded, dreamy eyes. Then Mistress rolled her hips and poured her tongue into my mouth, stirring her warm, moist insides with my cock. “Let me make you... ohhhh... make you happy, Daddy.”

“Yesss, Mistress!” I hissed in pleasure, her movement sending an intense sizzle all over my cock that resonated throughout my entire body. She kissed me passionately, moving more quickly, whimpering in her passion. “Yes, Mistress!” I began to pant, repeating it louder and louder as the sensation from my cock rapidly became too much to bear. “Ohhh... Misss-tre-e-e-esssss!” I gurgled into her ear as fire coursed through me and flowed into her, drawing a snort and a squeak from the woman I obeyed without question or hesitation. She quivered on my lap, and my pubic hair got very damp while our tongues dueled wantonly. With a final groan, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling Mistress forward on top of me, popping my softening cock out of her.

Mistress lay on top of me, panting heavily as she moaned, “ohhh... ohhhh... ohhh.... Daaaaaaddy.” After a while, she reluctantly pushed herself off me, and eventually into a sitting position. “That was wonderful.” She leaned over and gently started cleaning my cum-covered cock, only to become more energetic and enthusiastic in her oral attentions. Unfortunately, I was done for the night, and my cock remained unresponsive. Mistress hopped off the bed and disappeared from the room, returning after a few seconds. “Here, Daddy,” she brightly said, handing me a blue, diamond-shaped pill and some water. “Your Mistress isn’t finished with you yet. It’s still early, and Mommy won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

Half an hour later, Mistress removed a small cigar about three inches long, placed it in her onyx holder ringed with diamonds set in a platinum band, and stood next to the bed, fetchingly posed with the holder effeminately held between her fingers. “It’s a rum-flavored cheapie,” she blithely said. “Not a real cigar, but I like them once in a while, nonetheless.” She turned to look at the naked man gazing adoringly at her from the corner and sang, “Oh, Gaston.” He stood and approached with his semi-hard cock bobbing as he moved. He stopped, picked up a lighter from a nearby table, and performed the implicitly requested service. Mistress drew on the holder, inhaling the thick smoke without any sign of effort or discomfort, and titled her head back just a little, before exhaling slowly through her nose, looking regal as we both watched. My cock started to get hard, and I couldn’t help but notice that Gaston’s grew as well. She touched him on the shoulder and he sank to his knees, eyes still glued adoringly on Mistress. She snap-inhaled a drag from the cigar and exhaled into his face through pursed lips.

“Powerful, intelligent women smoke cigars,” Gaston immediately said, “I adore powerful, intelligent women. My goddess is powerful and intelligent. I adore my goddess. I must obey my goddess.”

“Very good, Gaston,” Mistress magnanimously said. “Now, when I say, ‘begin,’ I want you to repeat that you must obey me until it is engrained in your very soul, and then, without touching yourself, you will feel more and more pleasure, more and more excitement each time you say it until you can take no more of this exquisite pleasure from your Goddess. Then, and only then will you release and let the pleasure wash away your thoughts and your consciousness, your very being and you will know that you are beholden to your Goddess for this wonderful, magical bliss that only she can give, and she will give you through your complete and total obedience. Do you understand, my zombie darling?”

His arms slowly rose to his shoulders, outstretched. “Yes, Goddess. I understand, and obey.” My cock inflated quickly as I watched him go even deeper into trance, as his expression became increasingly blank.

Mistress helped, wrapping her hand around my cock and gently stroking me as she seductively breathed, “Watch me, Daddy... watch me smoke... watch me hypnotize... watch my hypnotic slave... all things you love so much... all the things Mommy taught me to take care of you.”

All of it was true; I loved watching her smoke, I loved seeing people get hypnotized, I loved seeing people hypnotically controlled for sex. “Yes, Mistress,” I breathed in rising excitement. She whispered, “Begin,” and Gaston repeated, “I must obey my Goddess... I must obey my Goddess,” in a wooden monotone as commanded. Untouched, his penis filled, becoming parallel with his outstretched arms while he continued his enchanted oath of submissive obedience from his kneeling zombie position. Mistress whispered some delicious obscenities in my ear, and took an enchanting drag from the small cigar in her fancy holder. I watched her exhale simultaneously through her nose and mouth and my cock was now iron-like in her gentle grasp. She kissed me, and my eyes rolled up into my head, only to return to the spectacle of Mistress’ next exhale and her kneeling, hypnotized slave saying, “I must obey my Goddess... I must obey my Goddess.” She guided me to the foot of the bed, and after a final, forceful, nasal exhale, leaned over, and softly commanded, ‘Fuck me again, Daddy.” Her pussy sloshed loudly as I slid my iron bar of a dick into her and I began thrusting to the sound of Gaston’s mindlessly repeated oath of obeisance to Mistress. “Look at him, Daddy. So hypnotized, so under my complete control... just like you like to see Mommy...” Within seconds, Gaston said a final, “I must obey my Goddess,” and grunted, “NNNNGGGHHHHH!” Cum shot from his engorged cock, flying several inches across the carpet. “See... what... I... did—!” Mistress gasped in between thrusts before her pussy convulsed around my dick and she came with a loud wail.

The room filled anew with the sounds of rhythmic slapping when I resumed pumping at her from behind as her torso lay flat on the bed. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Mistress with each forceful thrust of my hips, my cock not as sensitive, but as hard as ever, feeling as if no more blood could fit. “Ohhhh—Daa-a-a-a-a-aady... I’m gonna... ohhhh, I’m gonna... OHHHH, I’M GONNA—!” She peeped and I felt her vibrate around my dick, making periodic nonsense sounds. She moaned and her velvet grip eased, allowing me to fuck her some more. “OH! UHHH! UFFF!” Mistress throatily responded in time with my continued pounding of her pussy. “OHHHHH... SHITTHATFEELSSOGOOD!” she yelped in a lust- and smoke-roughened voice. “OH! OHMIGOD!” She bucked violently, trying to dislodge my cock, only succeeding in impaling herself again, triggering yet another orgasm, groaning, “UHHHHNNNNNNN!”

“S-s-s-s-stop—please!” Mistress finally gasped. I remained perfectly rigid inside of her, not moving as she had ordained. My erection showed no signs of fading, remaining solid steel. “I think I gave you too much,” she wheezed, more to herself than me. My cock still tingled, making me want to keep fucking in spite of Mistress’ directive; the compulsion to obey her fought the physical urge tearing through my body... and lost. I tentatively pulled my hips back, making her suck in air. Her hips responded to my movement by slamming her butt backwards into my pubic bone, impaling her anew—and we were at it again. Mistress’ voice went up a couple of octaves as I fucked her with excited, near-manic determination and my newfound superhuman stamina. I was snorting with exertion, heart pounding, hips relentlessly pile-driving my sensitive, rigid dick into her. She gave a loud grunt, squirted, and shuddered around me, and then her legs began to give out. I grabbed her lithe body and pinned her to the bed to keep her from dragging both of us to the floor. Mistress’ pussy suddenly loosened, and I finally pulled my still-tingling, still-hard cock out.

“Come lie... lie down... next to me, Daddy,” wheezed Mistress. As soon as I did, there was a tap on my forehead... and nothing.

* * *

The memory had forced its way to my conscious thought. “IT WAS YOU!” I roared in disbelief, anger rising. “OH MY GOD, NICOLE! YOU HYPNOTIZED ME INTO CHEATING ON YOUR MOTHER—INTO INCEST!” Nicole lifted a crystal in front of my face and began to spin it, cooing for me to just watch the crystal and relax... watch the crystal and relax... I swatted it out of her hand, sending it flying across the room. “That’s not going to work on me this time! HOW COULD YOU EVEN FANTASIZE SOMETHING THIS UNSPEAKABLE???” I roared, advancing threateningly. Nicole tapped me on the forehead, slowing my angry approach as everything went fuzzy for a moment, but I remembered how evil this woman, my daughter, my incredibly intelligent daughter, had been. She was unspeakably evil, and the realization allowed me to push through the powerful urge to relax... and sleep... NO!!!

“EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN!” Nicole shouted just as I grabbed her arms, and suddenly, I was unable to move, frozen in place, yet still awake, livid, and full of malice. She gently extricated herself from my grasp. “My darling, strong-willed father,” she began. “I never thought I’d have to use that command with you... but then again, Kevin and Lynne lost enough battles of will with you unless you let them win, so I guess I should have known it would come to this at some point,” she nonchalantly finished. “You can’t move or speak, Daddy, so don’t try; you’ll only end up hurting yourself.” Nicole calmly walked over to the coffee table and picked up a long wooden cigarette holder, smirking, “I need a smoke after that. You don’t mind, do you? Of course you don’t.” Trying to affect an air of control and command, she put a Capri 120 into the holder and lit it, but her hands trembled. She french-inhaled, slowly, pursed her lips, and silently blew, filling the sunbeams in her living room with billowing smoke. “Just watch the cigarette holder, Daddy... Watch and remember... Remember how easy it is to give up control... give up control... to me... your beautiful, special, daughter.” The holder waved back and forth in front of my eyes... back and forth...

“Ni—” I grunted, fighting mightily against the urge to relax... relax and sleep... “—cole... NO!”

She jumped, almost dropping the holder in her shock, and gaped at me for a few seconds. A sly, excited smile slowly came to her lips. “You are so the man of my dreams,” Nicole husked. “Such a strong will... so accomplished in the world... a kind, loving parent... and soooo good in bed.” Her eyes fluttered orgasmically for a few moments, but then she focused, and clinically continued. “I’m amazed that I can’t put you all the way under right now. The holder thing always worked.” My twenty-eight year old daughter dragged deeply on the cigarette holder, held from beneath, in a relaxed, runway-model-like pose, and after a couple of seconds, she silently exhaled through her mouth and nose.

I watched, feeling an echo of excitement. Just like her mother... Her mother... her mother... Lisa... my wife! The realization snapped me out of my brief, fetish-driven fascination. “You’ve destroyed your parents’ marriage!”

“Wow. You can still talk.” Nicole heaved a sigh. “You’re really fighting me on this, aren’t you?” I glared at my daughter as she tried an alluring puff to distract me. “Would it make you feel better if I showed you that you and Mommy are as good as you’ve always been?” I blinked, losing my angry bearing for a moment, asking her how that was even possible. “Follow me. Come see for yourself,” she brightly said. Just like that, I could move, following as she turned and swayed down the hallway, inviting me to watch. “Oops! Just a sec,” Nicole said, stopping at a door. I looked over her shoulder to see Gaston, unconscious on a couch. She went in and whispered something. I heard him slur, “Ssss... G’dd’sssss,” in response and she closed the door before I could see much else. “I apologize for not letting you remember,” my daughter confessed with genuine contrition before equivocating, “but today just proves that I was right not to.”

Before I could fire an angry retort at her smug justification, she led me through another door into a bedroom, where I saw my wife sitting in front of a laptop computer with a swirling spiral on it, softly repeating, “Jack is the love of my life. I will always love Jack. Jack would never cheat on me. I am the love of Jack’s life. He is always faithful to me.”

“See? I fixed it,” Nicole causally said. “She won’t worry about you having a super hard-on ever again. It was my bad for giving you a larger dose than usual, but Gaston only had samples of the larger pills in his bag, and I wasn’t done yet. Guess I got a little too greedy. It was so good that I just had to have more.” My daughter noticed that I had to force myself to look away from the spiral on the screen and hummed, “Interesting.” She gently took my hand and ran her finger from my hairline to the tip of my nose. “You’re slowly losing the battle, Daddy,” she whispered, “and we both know it.”

Nicole was right; it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid falling into the hypnotic state steadily eating away at the edges of my consciousness. It was tempting just to watch Lisa’s spiral, listen to my daughter’s calm, peaceful voice, see the holder wave back and forth... back and forth... back... I shook my head violently to dispel the growing fog over my thoughts. “Nicole... why?”

She jumped, surprised by the assertiveness of my question. “Your willpower never ceases to amaze me, Daddy. Stay here, and I’ll explain everything.” Nicole left the room, returning with a pack of Capri 120 menthols. “If I tell you, will you finally relax? I’m not hurting anybody. Mommy’s all fixed, and I would strongly advise you to let me remove the guilt that you have over—being intimate with me. Otherwise, it will drive you insane.” She looked at me with... contrition, but only for a few seconds, before she resumed. “Our liaisons have nothing to do with your incestuous desires, latent, innate, or otherwise. Our—relationship—was all at my insistence. I’ve always been a very determined girl, Daddy, and I’ve always used my brain to get me what I want. You and Mommy taught me to work towards my goals.”

“How long has this been—going on?” I said, feeling my stomach twist. Nicole immediately lit another Capri, and exhaled, looking exactly like her mother did when she would acknowledge my fetish and give me a playful tease. She waved the foot-long cigarette holder slowly in front of my face and told me to relax... relax and talk with her... just talk with my special daughter... Suddenly, I no longer felt ill, but fought the growing temptation to go into calm, relaxing trance by focusing on my anger. “So how long have you been seducing me?”

“Since I was nineteen,” frankly replied Nicole. “You see... the only thing standing in the way of me and my ideal man... is Mommy. Truthfully, when she told me today that she was thinking that a trial separation might be a good thing for the two of you, I was just the tiniest bit tempted to push her along that path, and then I could have you all to myself.” She waved her hand to forestall my interruption. “But then you’d be miserable whenever you and I weren’t together, and she would be... damaged by the prospect of being alone at fifty, without the man she’s loved with her heart and soul since she was a few days past twenty-one. She’s my mother. I’m not heartless, and I owe her happily ever after.”

“Since you were nineteen?” I incredulously interjected. “Nicole—this could get me arrested! Besides, I’m your father. How can you even think of me as your ideal man? The response for you is the same as with any other woman: I’m taken.“

“Daddy, I know that. That’s why I’ve carefully worked out this—sharing—arrangement,” was her calm reply. “As for the incest bit... I waited until I was nineteen—you don’t know how I counted that last month day-by-day—to make sure there were no—legal entanglements. Besides, most of the time, you don’t know that we’re having an affair.” I tried to search my memory of the last twenty-eight years, carefully grilling myself to see if I had shown any iota of untoward interest in my daughter. Yes, she had always been beautiful, but it had only caused me to worry about her attracting boys, and the danger that posed. I hadn’t been overly protective, had I? “I can see you racking your brain to find out why I turned out like this, why I’m... madly in love with you, and to be honest, quite jealous of my mother.” Nicole tapped me on my forehead; the world winked out for a microsecond, and her voice suddenly became crystal-clear. “Believe me when I tell you that there was nothing you did. I got to this point all by my little, deviant—clinically speaking—self. But since Freud thinks everything revolves around sex—no, I do not have penis envy—let’s run with that for a moment. I was four the first time I saw you and Mommy having sex. I was curious about the noises, so I carefully pushed your bedroom door open enough so I could see. You remember, the one with the latch that didn’t always work. So then I did some research. I found out what went where, and why Mommy was making those noises. You sure weren’t hurting her, which was my original thought.”

A snippet of our past flashed in front of my mind; five-year-old Nicole calmly telling Lisa and I that she knew where babies came from, and that I, “watered Mommy’s seeds.” I felt a pit growing in my stomach. “Your brother and sister...”

“Oh, no, no. No. Absolutely not,” Nicole immediately, definitively, answered. “Kevin was the prototypically annoying little brother. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him, even after I learned about hypnosis—as tempting as it may have been on occasion. And Lynne is sooo—not my type. Besides, I didn’t want to make you suspicious, so I left them alone, and kept you guys as my own little secret. It wasn’t like all of us watched. I snuck peeks of you and Mommy expressing your love for each other as often as I could.” I told her that I still didn’t see how that lead to her aberrant, near-obsessive behavior. My daughter returned a pained look. “Just remember who has the Ph. D. in psychology, Daddy. It’s only considered aberrant because of societal norms that have a biological genesis—a bias against inbreeding and the damage it does to the survival of the population.” She took another drag from her cigarette holder and shot me a wry, teasing smile. “Yes, I know. Just like Mommy. I should be, as much as I’ve practiced under her tutelage—but I’m getting ahead of myself. I have no interest in producing offspring with you, so society’s taboo doesn’t apply.” I gaped at her deformed logic. “But we’ve had this conversation on several occasions. I could never quite bring myself to make you as mindless as I do Mommy or Gaston. I’ve always loved the way you treated me and talked to me, like I could understand advanced concepts, and that’s why we’re having this discussion now.”

“When did it all change, Nicole?” I asked. “From childhood curiosity—most pre-teens play doctor, but they quickly learn their gender roles and the appropriate separations shortly thereafter.”

“Again,” she evenly retorted, “I’ve considered societal standards and chosen the ones that make sense to me. But I guess the first time...” Nicole paused, thinking. She looked at the end of her cigarette holder, where the Capri had burned down. “Oh, shoot. Well, the first time was when I was fourteen. I had lost my virginity to Charlie DaCosta—”

“You WHAT?” I shouted. Charlie was a big kid, three years older, but a senior to her junior in school. He was somewhat slow academically speaking, but a gifted athlete and hard worker. At the time, I had thought him a nice young man. Nicole had volunteered to tutor him to help him qualify for a college scholarship and get him through high school, which she had done. Now, Charlie was married with kids of his own, and worked in the training department of a large corporation. He still remembered Nicole, sending her flowers and a handwritten thank you note every year on her birthday.

“It happened fourteen years ago, Daddy,” sighed Nicole. “Too late to do anything about it now. I coaxed Charlie into bed one afternoon at his house during a tutoring session when I knew we were gonna be alone in the house for a couple of hours. I wanted to see what all the fuss about sex was, since that was all the kids at school talked about.” She stroked the bridge of my nose. “Relax.” I felt my parental anger diminish. “Anyway... it wasn’t that great, I didn’t orgasm, and he was...” She giggled, “so grateful that it was... cute. And he made sure that nobody picked on me for being the school brainiac after that.” My daughter shrugged. “While I didn’t cum, I felt—something down there, and so I went online to see what it was supposed to be like.” Nicole paused. “I was mortified when you and Mommy caught me. I can’t believe that I forgot about the cache.”

In spite of the disturbing revelations of events surrounding it, I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that particular incident. Nicole prepared another cigarette. “But I quickly figured out that if I was super-quiet, and Kevin and Lynne were asleep, watching you and Mommy was way more instructive than a whole bunch of stupid porno videos. I masturbated to my first orgasm watching you—or more specifically, Mommy doing her zombie, ‘yes, master’ thing and watching you get excited. That was when I became interested in hypnosis, and chose psychology.

“Mommy loves everything you do sexually... even if she doesn’t consciously remember the hypnosis. She always has. I got that from our non-hypnotized mother-daughter talks. She’s so in love with you, Daddy—it’s amazing.” Nicole shook her head before posing with her long cigarette holder and its unlit occupant. “Would you be so kind? I know you always carry a lighter for Mommy.” I lit my daughter’s holdered Capri, and after a slightly noisy exhale, she resumed, “The more I caught you guys, the more I saw exactly how Mommy turned you on, and at some point, I suppose, the constant orgasmic reinforcement caused this... transference effect, to where I put myself in Mommy’s shoes when I would fantasize while masturbating. I wanted to be Mommy, not just like her, because she had you.“

I wanted to feel sick; this was my fault, but Nicole had hypnotically removed that capacity. Feeling ashamed, I softly began, “So you started smoking because—”

“—it turns you on,” Nicole blithely finished. “Believe it or not, I rarely ever smoke on my own. I can take it or leave it, mostly leave it. It’s useful for arousing you and Gaston and reducing your resistance to being hypnotized. Plus—” Masterfully, she performed a slow, extended french-inhale, issuing a small jet from her nostrils before carefully forming an “O” with her lips, and exhaling by easing her chest forward without a sound. “—when you—or even Gaston, bless his easily-manipulated self—watch me like that, it does make me feel sexy. So I had Mommy show me how to be sexy, just the way you like it.”

“How on earth did you get your mother to teach you?” I asked. “We were both shocked when you announced that you were going to start smoking shortly after you turned eighteen. We even discussed the health and social implications to try to dissuade you.”

“Actually, I started learning how at sixteen—you just never knew. You don’t think I could get so accomplished at casual french-inhales in just a few months, do you?” Nicole smiled and lazily crossed the room to Lisa, who had been repeating her soft mantra throughout our discussion. “Do you remember this, Daddy?” She lifted her mother’s chin so they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Sleep for me, Lisa,” whispered Nicole, and Lisa went slack in the chair, lips moving as, almost silently, she repeated her self-deepening script that would take her to complete obedience. After suggesting that they were alone, and it was twelve years earlier, Nicole conducted her mother to the bed where they sat. “Let’s ask her why she taught me how to smoke, shall we?” Nicole smiled. “Mommy, would you teach me to smoke like you?” she asked, sounding like a teenager again.

“Of course, honey!” Lisa smiled. “I’m so flattered that you would ask! I enjoy teaching women how to smoke—don’t tell your father I said this—so they do it sexy.” She paused and asked, “You’ll also need a cigarette holder or two... or more—you can borrow one of mine for the time being.”

The long-forgotten memory of our honeymoon and the girl who had embarrassed Lisa by asking her how to be sexy came to the surface. Laurel... Laura... Laur-something... was her name.

“Thank you, Mommy! I wanna be just like you!” Nicole answered as her teen self, making Lisa beam. Then, with a light tap to her mother’s head, she intoned, “Sleep. Deeply, completely asleep, hearing nothing, feeling nothing until you receive the signal. Do you understand?” in a deeper, adult voice.

Almost inaudibly, my wife replied, “Yes, Mistress,” and collapsed on the bed.

“You never blocked her from being hypnotized by anybody else,” Nicole noted. “I have to give you credit, though. The whole ‘sleep for me’ self-deepening thing is ingenious. I even use that with some of my easier patients.” My daughter looked at me and then at my pants. “You have a little bit of a bulge down below,” she smiled, and took another fetish-worthy drag from her cigarette, preventing me from willing it to disappear. “I guess at some point you ingrained it on her psyche to be flattered when someone asked her to teach sexy smoking... but I do see your point. It can be very sexy—or entirely common and unremarkable.” Nicole drew steadily on the holder. Some smoke spilled from her nose in mid-draw, and then she let some of it slip upwards into her nose before she removed the holder from her mouth. After a casual half-turn of her neck, she exhaled with a hushed “fffff.”

* * *

Lisa and I were watching a movie in the smoking room, some foreign detective flick. Lisa was learning the language for work, and this was an assignment. I started out watching the movie just to hang out with my wife, but when one of the central characters turned out to be a dangerously seductive femme fatale, complete with cigarette holder, I started paying attention. It was obvious that the actress was a real-life smoker. Almost every time she would take a drag, she would open her mouth, allowing some of the smoke to slip upwards into her nose in a creamy ball before she removed the holder. She would then turn her neck away from the hapless male on the screen and project a long, narrow stream into the air.

About halfway through the movie, Lisa lit a holdered cigarette of her own, and, with a playful twinkle in her eyes, began to imitate the actress. From time to time, Lisa’s hand would rest palm down in my lap, and she’d massage the slowly forming bulge for a few seconds with a mischievous smile. “I still have to pay attention to the movie,” my wife whispered, bringing her lips close to mine. The light from the TV illuminated her next french-inhale and hushed “fffff” of an oral exhale, performed mere inches from my face.

“Daddy?” We jumped at the unexpected sound of our oldest daughter’s voice. Nothing had happened—yet, but the interruption broke the increasing sexual tension, and ended my wife’s tease. “I was trying to figure out this diagram for science class,” said our precocious twelve year-old. “It was bugging me so I couldn’t sleep.” I pecked Lisa on the cheek and told her that she wasn’t the only one who needed help with her homework; in response, my wife took another lazy drag and froze me with a slow, creamy french-inhale around the holder. Then she tossed her head and exhaled quickly with raised chin. I led Nicole out of the patio and into the study, willing my developing erection to go back to sleep.

* * *

“Once I found the key, Mommy was a walking guidebook on how to seduce you.”

“But I don’t remember—”

“—Our first time?” My daughter nodded. “That’s because to you, it wasn’t sex.” I was incredulous that she could hypnotize me out of remembering sex. “It took me almost a year to seduce you into trance. I kept telling you about my dissertation, and you paid attention, right? I had several volunteer subjects for my thesis... and you. I used smoking cues for you because you always notice women who smoke, and pay closer attention if they do it—the right way. I also had to work at suppressing your fetish restraint when it comes to me and smoking—at first, you didn’t find it sexy when I smoked.” Nicole stopped and pouted, “And I worked so hard at following Mommy’s instructions to the letter! But, I guess I am your daughter, and you’re not supposed to find anything your daughter does to be sexy.”

* * *

“I am an adult now, and if I want to smoke, you really can’t stop me,” eighteen-year-old Nicole defiantly said. “Unless you’re just being hypocritical. Mommy smokes, and so I’ve tried it and I like it.” To prove her point, she lit a menthol Virginia Slim Light 120, casually opening her mouth for a quick, but thick, french-inhale and then lifted her chin. Nicole waited, holding the smoke for a second or two before expelling a stream through pursed lips punctuated by a brief, but definite, residual nostril trail. Legs crossed, cigarette held high and near the filter, Nicole looked startlingly adult. It was obvious that Nicole had picked up on her mother’s smoking style after watching all these years. Of all our kids to start smoking, I didn’t think it would be the genius. I sighed in resignation and looked at Lisa, who blushed. An unbidden thought flashed across my mind: at least she’s ladylike about it.

* * *

“Once I was sure that you would respond to my smoking, unconscious though it may have been, I put you under with the trance reflex, dressed sexily, smoked for you, and when you were hard, I asked you to give me a hug. It wasn’t your fault that I wore no panties and had my legs spread so that all I had to do was sit on a height-appropriate table and shift so that you penetrated me. It didn’t last long, I think I wiggled my hips about a dozen times or so—I honestly don’t remember because that was all it took for me to cum—really hard.” Nicole playfully tapped my nose. “Don’t feel bad, Daddy. I’m deviously smart. Once I set my sights on you, there wasn’t any doubt how it was going to turn out. You may as well relax... forget that this is incest... I’m just your incredibly sexy mistress... just relax...”

My eyes started to close, but fought to stay open. “Mistress—please, stop.” I blinked. “Why do I call you ‘Mistress’? Why does your mother call you that, too?”

She shook her head with a smile. “You are sooo hard to trance when you’re on guard.” Seeing that I wasn’t falling any further into trance, my daughter sighed and said, “I had to make the adjustment once fooling you into sex wasn’t—enough.” I waved at her to go on, and quite uncharacteristically, she blushed. “I wanted to make you a more—active—lover, but every time you called me by my name, you would pop out of trance. Kinda put the damper on achieving orgasm when I had to stop and take you really deep to keep you from killing me for hypnotizing you into sex. So, I led you to see me as a mysterious, beautiful, irresistibly sexy woman who you have to obey, not as your daughter. If it’s any consolation, Gaston has to call me ‘Goddess.’”

“And what about your mother? Is she the same sex slave for you that I am?”

“Daddy! I’m shocked that you would even consider the thought, even in these libertine times. She’s my mother, and I’ve always respected that. No man other than you, and no woman, ever. She was always quite clear about that, even in the deepest of trances, where I could find out her most deeply hidden self-secrets. Besides, I have my pick of cute sophomore girls doing psych experiments in hypnosis for credit and/or money if I want to play on my own side of the fence. I don’t do it very often—maybe once or twice a year, and more or less out of academic curiosity instead of any sexual desire. I want to see if I can induce a sufficiently deep trance to override someone’s default sexual orientation with my methods.” She shrugged. “As far as you and Mommy, though, I may be devious... maybe a little... evil, if you want to attach a moral judgment, but you and she raised me... and I still owe it to both of you to see you happy.” My daughter looked at me. “Lots of times, even when you’re hypnotized, I just put the two of you together and watch. It’s still—” Nicole sucked in air. “—incredibly hot. You two are magical together, especially when she does the whole sexy-smoking-femme-fatale thing with her eyes on fire for you. I can copy the sexy smoking, but I still can’t give you that look.”

“You’re obviously an incredibly innovative and skilled hypnotist, Nicole,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from her increasingly sexual bearing. “You’re brilliant. You could do so much to help people. You could teach your methods to other therapists, write papers—”

“Absolutely not,” she flatly declared. “I use what I’ve developed in therapy for my patients, and for my own personal nefarious ends, deviant though they may be. Someone truly unscrupulous could take my methods, and with access to the right people, use it to make puppets who would let them take over businesses, maybe even entire countries. I don’t want that on my head. My advanced methods stay with me. No seminars, no papers, no nothing.” Nicole lit yet another Capri 120 in her long wooden holder, exhaling through her nostrils as she double-dragged on it. She gaily tossed her head, sent a long stream into the fading light and resumed, “It’s not really mind control. I strip away inhibitions, reduce or remove the effect of conscious brain processing, and get to the root of the issue. It’s very effective with patients in self-denial.” She exhaled a long stream, turning to give me a profile view as she stood alluringly, the holder held from beneath.

“Mistress,” I said, “I wish you hadn’t done what you have to Lis—your mother—and me. But I want it to stop immediately. It’s never been appropriate, and even less so now that I know you’ve been doing it.” My daughter giggled. “What’s so funny?”

“I think it’s funny that you’re trying to tell someone you call ‘Mistress’ what to do. You’re losing, Daddy.” She ran her finger from my hairline to the tip of my nose. “Relaxing more... and more... soon, you’ll be in your Mistress’ trance, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Mistress—Nicole—took another luxuriant drag. “You’re surrounded by sooo many of your trance keys, Daddy. The spiral on the screen, the smoke leaving my lips, the way I handle my long, looong cigarette holder... and with Mommy in trance and repeating her hypnotized mantra, it keeps you distracted just enough to blunt your anger... you’ll be mine again soon.” When she mentioned my wife, I reflexively turned to look at Lisa... but I focused on the spinning spiral on the laptop screen. “Yes, Daddy... that’s it... just watch the spinning spiral and listen to my voice... Just listen to your Mistress and relax... Relax... Listening to your beautiful Mistress... Ready to obey me, Daddy. Just give in... Let me soothe your anger and your conscience... Mistress can make it allll better.”

My breathing had slowed, and my eyes were fighting to stay open. I knew that Mistress and I hadn’t finished our discussion, that there was more to be said, that she was evil, this was wrong... but she kept telling me to relax... and listen... and obey... and she would make it better... and listen... obey... obey...

* * *

I watched my beautiful, caramel-skinned Mistress from below, sexual ecstasy on her face as she gently rolled her hips, stirring her insides with my Viagra-hardened cock. In the background, I could hear another woman’s voice repeat, “Jack is the love of my life. I will always love Jack. Jack would never cheat on me. I am the love of Jack’s life. He is always faithful to me,” in a quiet, hypnotized monotone, magnifying my excitement. Mistress cried out, shuddering with her eyes clamped shut. Her juices flowed, dampening my groin. Slowly, she opened them, fogged with afterglow, and leaned forward to give me a torrid, passionate kiss. “You’re the best Daddy a girl could have,” breathed the irresistibly seductive caramel-skinned woman, regarding me with renewed lust. She dismounted me with a hiss before rolling over onto her back and spreading her legs for me. “Now, come give me some more of that wondrous cock... nice, and long, and slo-o-o-ow.”

I replied with the only words in my mind. “Yes, Mistress. I hear and obey.” Then, as she had commanded, I mounted her, slowly sliding the full length of my cock into her warm, wet pussy.