The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

For the next ten days, Mom completely went off her diet.

It didn’t even surprise me, to be honest. Everyone has different reasons for losing weight (like I said, I’d done a lot of reading on the subject) and Mom had always been very clear about hers: she wanted to feel more attractive. She wanted to look good, to feel good, to try to recapture her glory days.

And our last session had made it clear that was never, ever happening. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she was never going to be attractive again.

She’d internalized it. She’d fully accepted her own inevitable, unending ugliness.

God it made me hard.

Obviously there was a risk that Mom would start gaining all her weight back, but I was confident that I could step in and get her back in line.

After our trip to the grocery store, I was confident I could get my mother to do anything.

Perhaps because of how strongly I’d reinforced her duty to obey me, Mom continued to tell me every time she ate something she shouldn’t. She even kept on working out—I think she’d grown accustomed to the routine. I stopped giving her impossible workouts. It didn’t feel necessary, since I was punishing her so much for breaking her diet.

I was punishing her a lot.

At first, I jut tied her up in different ways, in different places. I tied her to her bed—then my bed—then to the chair in the living room where I’d sat, watching her make my sister cum.

I even tied her to my old play equipment in the back yard. We have a tall enough fence that I wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her…but of course, that’s not what I old her. Instead, I’d reminded her that anyone could see, anyone could glance into the yard and see her tied to the swingset, immediately realizing how kinky she was.

One time I tied her to the slide and had her wear a blindfold. For the next fifteen minutes, she didn’t even know if anyone was looking at her.

She told me later how much she’d hated the experience…which only made me love it all the more. Mom said those fifteen minutes had felt like an hour.

Aside from how embarrassed she was, I knew Mom was enjoying the punishments. Even as they escalated, it was hard to really consider them “punishments”, but that was partially why I was doing them.

I’d knocked Mom’s legs out from under her; after that, I figured she deserved a break. A sort of emotional aftercare, in a sense.

Plus, since she wasn’t sticking to her diet, she wasn’t getting her daily reward. While she was conscious, at least, Mom wasn’t cumming. And I knew that she was starting to feel it—she’d gone several decades without a single orgasm, then I’d turned on the faucet…and now, by her own actions, they’d dried up again.

I was a little surprised she didn’t masturbate. I mean, it’s the obvious solution, right? You want to get off, you just take care of it yourself. But I honestly just don’t think it occurred to her. She’d never done it in the past; why start now?

Plus, she was getting off quite a lot. Just not while she was awake.

So yeah. On one hand, Mom’s “punishments” were—for the most part—stuff that we could both enjoy. On the other hand, not getting her daily spanking was a punishment itself—for both of us, really.

Watching Cynthia walk around the house increasingly turned on had sort of tuned me into what it looked like, and I could very much see it in Mom. Even though she was getting regular unconscious orgasms, her conscious mind thought that she was getting all this stimulation and no satisfaction, and so I started to notice a lot of the same signs of pent-up frustration. The way she’d squeeze her thighs together, or blush (and sometimes gasp slightly) whenever anyone said anything sexual.

It was amazing.

But the reason I was tying my mother up wasn’t kindness (I am a sadist, after all)—it was to experiment with pushing her boundaries as far as I could. Three days after Mom went off her diet, I tied her ankles to her wrists again, but this time on the kitchen floor—with a ball-gag in her mouth.

It was so much more demeaning; Cynthia and I had to step over her for the two hours I had her restrained like that. When I finally knelt down to untie her, I was delighted to find a small puddle of drool beneath her mouth.

The next day, I tied her hands behind her back and bound her boobs as well. Really tight, like I’d been fantasizing about. It was everything I’d hoped it would be—as her tits turned red, and then purple, Mom grew more and more flushed...and there was nothing she could do about it. If I’d decided to walk away, she couldn’t stop me. I was in complete control.

The power was intoxicating, but not as much as the gasp of pain she let out as the blood returned to her breasts.

The one I was proudest of was a full body restraint. I made Mom lie face-down on the floor, tied her arms behind her back, and—this was the best part—had her bend her legs back, and tied her ankles to the strap of the ball-gag, behind her head. She was completely trussed up like a turkey; she literally couldn’t move at all. I only kept her in that one for forty-five minutes, her head folded back, her tits pressed against the floor.

Even before she told me, I knew it was incredibly uncomfortable…but not nearly as uncomfortable as the last one.

See, Mom had grown pretty used to showing me her tits, but as far as she knew, I’d never seen her ass, or her pussy. She’d flashed the street as a punishment, but she’d never shown anything inappropriate to her son.

While she was under, I’d seen her ass more times than I could count, but never when she was conscious.

And so after Mom had glumly informed me that she’d eaten an entire block of chocolate between meals, I’d gleefully told her that as punishment, I was going to tie her up naked.

My mother’s eyes had widened, her nostrils had flared in panic, but she hadn’t even offered a token resistance.

She’d just slowly, awkwardly stripped off in front of me, and let me tie her up on her bed.

I tried not to make it sexual, of course. As she stripped, I was playing the part of a giggling mischievous teenager. Like, oh my god, tying your mother up naked? What a hoot!

But I think she was almost as aware of my erection as I was. I think she knew how fundamentally sexual it was.

And she didn’t seem to care.

There was no fancy knotwork or anything—I just tied each of her wrists and ankles to a bedpost and left her like that for an hour. Spreadeagled on her bed, her hairy cunt not just exposed to her son, but spread wide, revealing her pink tunnel. I glanced at it once or twice while I was tying her up, as I imagined any teenager would upon seeing a naked woman for the first time (even his own Mom) but I didn’t do anything more than that. When the timer ran out, I came back, untied her, and told her that she’d taken it so well, she was going to get a reward.

That one was a bit of a risk—I’d only thought of it while in the other room, fucking my sister as I thought about Mom just two rooms over, naked on the bed. But ever since our trip to the grocery store, Mom had been so acquiescent, I was confident she wouldn’t resist.

And since it had been almost a week since her last reward, I suspected she’d be desperate for a good, hard spanking...and the orgasm which accompanied it.

“Come here,” I instructed, and it was a real effort to contain my smile when she obeyed without hesitation.

I’d spanked my naked mother to orgasm dozens of times while she was hypnotized, but this was the first time doing it while she was conscious.

As Mom walked towards me, I could see the look in her eye—arousal, mixed with embarrassment and fear. A week without cumming, a week of tying her up, exciting her daily without release...

In that moment, I knew that she wanted it almost as much as I did.

As Mom lay across my lap, she was trembling. Her breasts swung free, and the smell of her pussy filled the room. I’d made sure that Cynthia wouldn’t interrupt us, but I don’t think it would’ve mattered if she had. She knew I spanked Mom, and she’d seen Mom topless or tied up on many occasions.

The only negative reaction she’d have to seeing Mom naked on my lap would be jealousy.

As I often did, I recounted my mother’s punishment to her as I spanked her. “I can’t believe you did that,” I murmured. “You let your own son tie you up naked.”

SMACK.

Mom gasped at the sound of my hand hitting her bare ass, whimpered in pain and pleasure, but didn’t say a word.

“What if Cynthia’s friends had come round? Anyone could have seen you, naked on the bed—how do you think they’d react?”

SMACK.

“What do you think they’d think of you, exposed like that? Not just your body, but your kinks; laid bare for all to see.”

SMACK.

Mom gasped. I’d only struck her three times, but I could tell she was getting close. The humiliation, the stimulation, the seven-day spanking fast being broken—my mother’s body was reacting strongly, quivering and shaking with every blow.

“How would they judge you? How do you think your son judges you, seeing your naked body like that? Knowing what a deviant you are?”

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

That was a risky one. I normally played off her punishments as normal, natural. But even though I’d just cum twice in my sister’s room, I was so excited, I just let the words fall from my mouth.

And I knew that my Mom was excited too. Even if I hadn’t been able to read her like a book, the pants and moans coming from her mouth were enough to tell anyone exactly how she felt about the crude accusations spilling from my mouth.

I raised my hand, feeling my mother’s body tense up, but instead of bringing my hand down on her ass (which I was confident would have brought her to orgasm) I gently rubbed it across her exposed cheeks, making her shudder. Her pussy was glistening with arousal and wetness, and I don’t know what was hotter: seeing my mother like this, or the knowledge that my mother was fully aware I was seeing her like this.

“No son should see his mother naked,” I whispered, and Mom made a strangled noise of agreement.

“Please...” she said, breaking the silence. “I...”

I smiled a cruel smile. Mom was so turned on, so out of it—she didn’t care that I was her son. She didn’t care that she was naked on my lap, my erection poking into her stomach. She didn’t care that I could smell her arousal, see her wetness, feel her frustration and neediness.

In that moment, all she cared about was cumming.

SMACK.

I slapped my mother’s bare ass, harder than before. Her body jerked in response—I could tell she was close, but she didn’t cum.

SMACK.

“You deserve to be punished,” I reminded her. “You deserve this.”

“I deserve this,” Mom groaned, her pussy clenching as my hand hit the right spot.

“And,” I said magnanimously, “you deserve this.“

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

With three expertly-delivered blows, my mother began to cum. It was something I’d seen a hundred times before, but never like this. Never while she was naked and conscious, laying across my lap, fully aware that her own teenage son was watching her orgasm. Watching the orgasm that he’d caused.

She twitched and moaned, and I felt her entire body quake as her climax began.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

I continued spanking her as my mother came, my cock hard and throbbing as the naked woman on my lap shook with a powerful orgasm, amplified by the merciles ass-beating. She looked like she was having the most intense experience of her life—despite being completely conscious her eyes were wide and unfocused as she gasped and moaned uncontrollably. Her ass was red and clenching repeatedly, her breasts swinging free, and her hands clutching at the bedsheets but making no efforts to cover herself. She quivered and shook and I knew that she was enjoying every moment; a week of orgasms, all combined into one.

I knew that she would remember this for the rest of her life. That we both would.

“How was that?”

I had to ask twice, because Mom was too busy gasping and moaning and trembling and...well, cumming.

“Good,” she finally gasped, collapsing onto my lap in exhaustion. “Oh, Daniel, I...”

Mom trailed off, and I decided not to push it. Just as I had after her last spanking, when she’d been under, I casually ran the tips of my fingers up and down her back. She trembled and shivered but did nothing to stop me.

“Good work,” I smiled down at her. “Would you like me to hypnotize you?”

“Yes, please” Mom said, without even a trace of suspicion in her eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

“Do you want to cum?”

“Yessss,” my sister groaned as two of my fingers lightly dipped into her vagina, moistening my fingertips.

“Are you going to cum?”

“Nooooo. Gonna try not to. Gotta be a—oh!—good...girl...for my brother. For Daniel. Gotta be Daniel’s good girl.”

“Good girl,” I said, smiling as my sister twitched at my words.

The last ten days had basically been a crash course in female pleasure. I guess it had been arrogance on my part, but I’d just figured...y’know, men and women evolved to be with each other. You get a dude and a chick, you put their bits together, bam! Sexual pleasure.

Like, that’s how it worked from my end. I was pretty confident that Cynthia and Mom could’ve done pretty much anything to my dick and I would’ve gotten off on it. Just the feeling of Cynthia’s cunt around my cock was basically enough to make me cum in and of itself. She didn’t even have to do anything!

But while I’d made my sister cum dozens of times, she was still able to resist me when she concentrated.

But not Mom. For some reason, she was able to resist Mom’s touch…but not mine.

So I’d studied up.

The internet is a beautiful and terrifying thing. While there are no specific guides on how to get your sister off, there’s a wealth of knowledge on how to...well, fingering women. Whether or not you’re related to them.

The first tip had simply been that everyone was different. Some women wanted very specific foreplay, some wanted to be lightly touched everywhere except the clit before you even went near it, some needed to be kissed and fondled and teased until they were begging for more.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but there were plenty of diagrams and instructional videos. Some were just porn (which I enjoyed on their own merits) but others really effectively demonstrated how to give a woman pleasure.

And it helped, of course, that I had an eager participant in my studies. One who would not only submit herself to my touch, but offer a constant, running commentary on what she did or didn’t like.

My hand was already wet, but I added more lube. It felt so hot as my fingers slid inside my sister.

“I like that,” she said with a moan. “Oh god, sir, yes, please...I like that so much.”

Sometimes her comments would be a little, y’know, unspecific. But all it took was a reminder that her role was to help me learn, and she’d happily go into detail.

“I like the contrast between the warmth of your fingers and the cold lube,” she elaborated. “I like the way you’re stretching me out slowly. And I like that—oh!—I like that you’re my brother. I like that my brother is touching me, that I’m being your good girl, your obedient little sex doll, here for you to fuck and touch and...—

“Don’t cum,” I reminded her sternly. If Cynthia could have nodded, I know she would have. A tremor ran through her body, making her naked tits bounce gently as she panted.

My fingers began to move faster, and—when I could tell that she was ready—my thumb moved to her clit.

“Do you want to cum?” I asked again, a smug smile on my face.

“Oh, God, please,” my sister moaned desperately. “I want to cum, Daniel. Please let me cum.”

“Are you going to cum?”

“No! No!” Cynthia said quickly, but her pussy was clenching and twitching. “Please don’t stop. Please...please...”

Making my sister cum accidentally had been incredible. Watching her unwillingly climax as I fucked her, even as she tried to resist—that had been so hot.

But there was something about being good at what I did that brought the entire experience to a new level. Knowing that I was in control of her pleasure—skilfully able to bring my sister close to orgasm at any time...it was hotter than almost anything else we’d done. My cock throbbed as I continued to finger-fuck my sister, moving two fingers in and out of her tight hole.

“Are you going to cum?” I repeated. My voice had gone from teasing to demanding.

Cynthia’s eyes fluttered, and I felt her muscles tense around my fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her hips thrusting slightly.

I smiled down at her.

“Did you cum?”

“No, sir,” she said with a gulp, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I edged.”

With a nod, I withdrew my fingers.

She was ready.

“You’re such a good girl,” I told her, watching her tits jiggle as she breathed heavily. “Such a good, obedient, little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynthia replied breathlessly.

“And as a reward, I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes, sir,” my sister moaned.

I never had to justify it any more. So long as she was under, Cynthia would let me fuck her whenever I wanted. Well, more than just “let me”—she’d all but beg for it. I knew that her conscious mind wouldn’t allow me to try anything in real life, wouldn’t believe that I wanted to, but while she was under, anything was fair game.

I reached up, grabbing a handful of hair as I positioned the head of my erection at her entrance. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as I pushed my dick inside her.

“Ooooooohhh,” she groaned, her legs quivering beneath my weight.

“As a reward,” I continued, my voice hoarse. “You’re allowed to cum. While I fuck you, you’re allowed to cum as often as you want. Again, and again, and again...”

Cynthia’s eyes opened wide as my words sank in.

“You can cum a hundred times if you like,” I grunted. “You can cum until you pass out...”

I paused. Could she even pass out, while she was under? And if she did, would she come to still hypnotized, or would she wake up?

Before I could follow that train of thought any further, my sister began to moan. I could feel her cunt tightening around me, her body tensing and shaking. She was cumming.

“Oh, fuck,” my sister cried, her hands twitching, her entire body spasming. It felt amazing—fucking my sister always felt amazing, but this was something else. I pulled out and slammed back into her as hard as I could..

“Again,” I demanded. As soon as the word left my mouth, Cynthia’s pussy clenched tightly around me, her juices flowing freely. I watched, mesmerized, as her body shook and trembled as she came for the second time.

“Again,” I growled, my cock throbbing. I was close to cumming myself, and I wasn’t about to stop now. “Cum again.”

“Ohhhhh, fuuuuck,” my sister moaned loudly, her pussy clenching around me once more.

“Do you want to cum?” I said.

“Yesssss...” she whimpered. “Please, please let—”

“You can cum,” I ordered, delighting in the sensation of her body shuddering as she came. “Cum for me. Cum around your brother’s cock.”

She gasped and thrashed as I fucked her. The pleasure was so intense—I couldn’t hold on much longer. But I didn’t stop, not even when I felt my balls tighten.

“Good girl,” I whispered, fucking her as she found relief again and again, cumming more in this single session of sex than she had over the last few months combined. Possibly more than she had in her entire life up until this point.

“Fuck!” I shouted as I pulled out. The first shot of my cum splattered against her tits and face, before dribbling down onto her stomach and exposed pussy. I collapsed onto her chest as we both panted heavily.

“Good girl,” I said again, and my sister simply shivered in pleasure at my words. “Are you ready for more?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she said hesitantly, as if not sure what to make of the situation.

I didn’t blame her. For months I’d been depriving her of orgasms, and I’d spent the past ten days building up my talents, touching her as skilfully as I was able, forbidding her from cumming all the while. To suddenly insist on a stream of non-stop orgasms...it was quite an about-face.

But it was all for a reason.

Cynthia moaned as I pulled my softening cock out of her. I pulled out my phone and snapped a few pics—there was something so beautiful about seeing my cum smeared across my sister’s naked tits.

I stroked my fingers through the thick, sticky mess that coated her breasts and belly, making Cynthia gasp and moan in pleasure. I moved my hand down between her legs, coating my palm with the juice that leaked out of her pussy.

“You’re my good girl,” I repeated softly. “Now, cum for me.”

I fingered my sister to orgasm after orgasm until I was hard enough to enter her once more. I fucked her as deeply as I could, both of us moaning loudly as my cock slid into her tight cunt.

I began to move slowly in and out of her pussy, watching as Cynthia’s body tensed and shook. Her orgasms were regular, but less frequent. Having just cum, both of us were able to last longer, so I continued to pump her as she came.

“You’re my good slut,” I told her. “My obedient little cumslut sister. You’ll do whatever I say. Whatever I want.”

Her eyes fluttered. “I’m your bitch,” my sister replied, her voice a soft gasp.

I laughed aloud. “Yes, you are.”

“I’m your cumdumpster,” she added.

“You are,” I agreed.

My sister came, her body tensing and shaking. “I’m your whore,” she moaned, when she’d recovered from the orgasm.

“My cumwhore,” I corrected her.

“Your cumwhore,” she agreed. “I’m my little brother’s cumwhore. My little brother’s—oh!”

“Cum for me,” I ordered.

She whimpered as she came a third time. It took longer than the others, but was just as powerful.

It took almost twenty minutes before she began struggling to cum on command. Even after months of edging, my sister was starting to reach her limit.

My sister was all cummed out.

I pulled out and knelt above her, my cock still semi-hard, glistening with my sister’s juices. “Cum for me,” I ordered, putting one hand between my sister’s legs, touching her in the exact way I knew she most loved.

Cynthia gasped and panted, my cock filling the field of vision of her glazed-over, unfocused eyes. But even as I rubbed her clit, even as I rubbed the combination of our fluids into her, she couldn’t.

“You’re a bad girl,” I said. “A dirty, nasty, cum-loving slut.”

She groaned in response, her body writhing beneath me. She looked so helpless, so submissive. She made me so hard.

“You’re my good girl,” I said, pulling on my cock, listening to her desperately try to obey. “You’re my good little sister slut. Now cum for me.”

I felt my balls tighten. Her pussy spasmed around my fingers, but I knew she wasn’t cumming. I knew that she couldn’t.

“Ohhhhh, fuuuuck,” she cried, her body twitching and shuddering as I fucked her with two fingers. “P-please...please...”

It wasn’t until my cock swelled up, and she saw the first wad of cum approaching her face that Cynthia was finally able to climax. As my seed landed on her eyes, her nose, her open mouth, my sister spluttered in orgasm.

“Good girl,” I said, watching as her tits bounced. “That’s my good girl.”

I cleaned my sister up, whistling a happy song as I did.

I’d had to use every trick I knew to bring Cynthia to that final climax—and even then, just barely managed.

Which meant I was pretty confident that one hour later, my mother would finally fail to do the same.