The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was Friday morning, and I made breakfast for the family as I do every day. I hate to see anyone go out to a full day’s activities with empty stomachs, so it’s important to me that I set something out for everyone. My teenaged son likes frosted flakes and OJ, while my twin daughters (both grown and going to college) want fat-free yoghurt and half a banana each, while my wife likes her oatmeal and raisins. Of course I have to fortify everything, so as I usually do, I pulled my cock out from my terry robe and rubbed myself hard until I was right at the edge of spurting. I very carefully gave a good squirt to the cereal, got a good shot onto the top of each open yoghurt carton, but dumped most of it onto the oatmeal—my wife really likes my flavor, as long as I eat a lot of citrus.

I then put the food out on the table, along with flatware, napkins, and such. My wife came in about that time. She patted my now-limp, drippy cock, which was hanging out of my robe, and tasted her fingers. “Oh, it’s really tasty today!”

“Thank you, dear.”

She gave my member a friendly clasp and a couple of playful pulls, and sat down. She stirred the pearly white fluid into her oatmeal and dug in. My daughters came in together about that time, laughing about something, and sat down. Audra, as usual, carefully licked my semen off the top of the yoghurt and savored its flavor; Sandy stirred it into hers, the way she preferred it. Joe schlepped in, late as usual, flumped into his chair, and stared at his bowl. “Dad, did you...”

“Yes, Joe. I took care of it.”

He mumbled something that sounded like, “Good. Thanks”, and proceeded to inhale his breakfast. About that time, my wife yelped. She had dropped a hot spoonful of oatmeal into her lap.

“Ouch! Ouch! It’s hot!” She dabbed at the offending blob with a napkin.

“MUH-ther,” Sandy said. “If you’d put WEAR something when you come out of the bedroom, you wouldn’t have this problem all the time.” Audra nodded her head in agreement.

“You’ve got no room to talk, either of you! It’s bad enough you two have such cute, perky tits that they put my itty-bitties to shame!” She laughed. “That treatment is really helping yours more than mine. Oh! while I’m thinking of it...are either of you bringing a boy home tonight?”

Audra nodded. “The Berenson boys are both coming over tonight; Bobby said so. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, that would be great! But I’m really horny right now. Joe, could you take care of...” She did her best coquettish look.

“Mom! I told the guys I’d meet ‘em at the SuperAmerica before school!”

“Joe, do as your mother tells you.”

I got the usual sullen “Yes, sir.” He scooted his chair out, gets down on his knees on the floor, and as my wife scooted back and opened her legs, Joe licked up the bits of oatmeal still on her upper thighs and then starts lapping at her snatch. He’s much better about getting that chore done since my wife started keeping everything shaved smooth down there.

The twins got up and grabbed their books. Sandy kissed my cheek goodbye while Audra bent over at the waist and kissed the tip of my cock, just like I really like. She laughed when she saw how big it had gotten. “Ooo, it’s still getting larger from your therapy, isn’t it, Dad? I can hardly get my fingers around it anymore.”

Sandy patted my cheek. “Sorry, Daddy. No time to play ‘fuck the co-eds’ today—we’ve both got art history projects to finish up.” Audra started to moan. “Audra! Don’t get him started! We’ll take extra good care of him tonight. Thanks for breakfast, Daddy!” She pulled Audra’s face off my dick and dragged her out the door.

I suppose I have some explaining to do.

I don’t remember when it all started. Until a couple of years ago, we were pretty much the typical American family. The kids were growing up, my wife (whom I’d privately nicknamed She Who Must Be Obeyed) was beginning to fret about being a bored empty-nester, I was getting sick of home and work, and life was beginning to suck in general.

When I was caught in my second affair, my wife decided that the family needed counseling. So off we all went to Dr. Dave. He had been recommended to her by the Berensons, who lived down the street. Donna Berenson raved about the work that Dr. Dave had done for them, and I had to admit that there was something to that. The fights in the Berenson household used to be the stuff of legend—thrown cookware, screaming matches at 2 a.m., kids farmed out to relatives regularly. Then, after Dr. Dave’s work, you would see Donna and George working together in the yard, barely able to keep their hands to themselves. (One day, Joe went over to play video games with their son and caught Donna blowing George in the kitchen.)

Dr. Dave’s office was in the new high-rise office building at the edge of downtown—you know, the rose-colored one with all the glass. SWMBO and I took the elevator to Suite 2240. It was one of those buildings where the carpet is really plush, there is expensive artwork lining the halls, and each suite’s outer doors had to cost more than my monthly mortgage.

“Wow,” I muttered. “Real digs here. I bet this guy charges a fortune.”

“No,” SWMBO said. “Donna told me his rates are very reasonable.”

“I wonder how that could be. The valet downstairs is gonna want a fat tip for parking the car.”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “How much is our family worth to you?”

I didn’t have a rejoinder to that. We found Suite 2240. As we stepped up to the double doors, they swung open automatically. Fancy, I thought. I wonder where the infrared beam is.

Inside was a large reception desk with a ZOWIE! redhead in a tight-fitting business suit that showed a bit of cleavage. She smiled a pretty, perfect smile that extended to her entire face. “You must be the Smiths. You’re right on time, and you’ll be able to go right in to see Dr. Dave. Would either of you care for refreshments? Coffee or tea, soda, water? Anything at all?” I wanted a Coke, and SWMBO asked for a water. “Would you like a sparkling water with a twist, or a mineral water?”

SWMBO raised an eyebrow at that and responded, “Yes, something sparkling would be nice.” The receptionist touched a button on her desk console and spoke into her wireless headset, “A Perrier and lemon, and a Coke to room 2.” She touched another button which opened a paneled door to our right. “Please go on into room 2—it’s the one with the light on over the door.” She smiled that perfect smile and gave me a look that had a wink and a look behind it. “Thank you for coming!”

The hallway we walked into had carpet so plush you would feel your shoes sinking into it. There were several doors in the hallway, and a small yellow light was slowly flashing over one of them. “Guess that’s room 2. Honey, are you sure we can afford this guy?”

“There’s no harm in talking to him; his first consultation is free. C’mon.” As I reached for the knob, the door opened by itself. The room inside was fairly small but nicely paneled, and the outside wall was entirely glass with a spectacular view of Lake Michigan. There were three great-looking leather chairs that looked comfortable as hell. A small table between two of them had our drinks on them, and in the third chair was a smallish man, 60 or so with close-cropped gray hair. He stood up, hand out. “Hello. I’m Dr. Dave. I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Smith”

His handshake was warm and firm—so much better than the limp-wristed clammy thing you get so much these days—and his smile made you smile. He turned to SWMBO, took her hand gently. “Mrs. Smith. I’m so glad you called my office. How are the Berensons doing?”

“Oh, they get along fine now.” She blushed the slightest bit. “You have to be a little careful when you go over to Donna’s now. They’ve gotten so lovey-dovey that they get carried away and forget they have guests.”

Dr. Dave beamed. “Oh, good! Their issues were just some miscommunication, and a little work on trust was necessary. But, they did the hard stuff themselves. Good! Well, sit down and relax! I hope that I can help the two of you as well.”

I eased into my chair, and oh boy! was I right! It was the best thing I’d ever sat it—seemed like it was made for me. I got comfortable, and suddenly felt thirsty. I reached for the soda that had been poured into a really nice crystal glass.

“I have to apologize for something in advance. The building maintenance people tell me that the climate controls are a bit on the fritz, and the air on some of the floors is very dry. So dry, in fact, that I insist that my patients have something to drink if they wish. Also, I’ve put out two fresh bottles of artificial tears on your table—it really is that dry in here. Please feel to use them as you need.

“Now, before we fill out all the dry paperwork, tell me a bit about yourselves and why you’ve sought out counseling.”

So we did. Honesty between us isn’t our strong suit, so I hear a few things about how she feels that surprise me. When it came to my turn, I found it very easy to talk to Dr. Dave. I suspect SWMBO heard a few from me that surprised her as well. We talked about the boredom, the petty snipes we take at each other, my cheating on the marriage, and stuff like that. When SWMBO was talking, I was sipping regularly on the coke, and my eyes got really dry so I used a couple of drops from the tears bottle; that helped a lot. We talked for a really long time. It was a little warm in the room as well, and I have a habit of dozing when I’m warm. The chair’s buttery-smooth leather apholstry didn’t help much there.

After we got through the talk, he had me fill out a short form with some personality stuff on it, and had my wife taken to another room where she did the same thing while talking to one of Dr. Dave’s assistants. When SWMBO left the room, Dr. Dave turned to me and smiled apologetically. “I find that some of the more private details from the wife are more easily gotten when she talks to another woman. And I also find that we men talk more freely when the spouse is not there. So, tell me a little more about the two of you.”

So I do. My eyes had gotten dry again, and my throat as well. When I finished my Coke, Dr. Dave pushed a button on his console and asked to have it refilled by a really cute blonde office assistant who came in. She was wearing a REALLY short skirt. Dr. Dave watched me as my eyes followed her; when I realized he was watching me watching her walk out with my empty glass, I stammered an apology.

“Not necessary. Pardon the subterfuge, " Dr. Dave assured me. “I wanted to see your reaction to Wanda. She purposely dresses like that so that I can see how my male patients react.” Wanda came back in at that moment with my refill and a small airwick-type widget that she set at the table. It smelled really good—some kind of heavy floral scent, but really nice.

Wanda’s voice was a deep contralto, contrasting her petite frame and thin, toned legs. “I’ve brought this in to help with the dryness in the air. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Smith?” I was very distracted by the scent. It made me think how much fun it would be to reach up Wanda’s skirt to see if she was a natural blonde—she looked like she was. I put that thought away to enjoy later. “Uh.....no, no. I’m fine. Thank you.” Instead of reaching for her butt, I reached for the coke and took a big gulp of it.

“Wanda is a great asset to this office. Wanda, would you mind refilling my water as well?” Dr. Dave gestured to his glass. Wanda walked over, took the glass, and turned toward me and smiled me a really great come-hither smile. Dr. Dave looked at me, put his arm around her waist, and said, “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Would you like to see more of her?”

I knew I should have been shocked by the suggestion, but I was bemused by the scent and the warmth of the chair, and wasn’t quite myself. I murmured, “Yes, yes, I would.”

“Good!” Dr. Dave exclaimed. “Good! You’re being honest. That effort makes counseling so much more valuable to you, and to your family. Wanda, would you mind turning around...?” With another smile for me, she turned around and bent over at the waist quite gracefully. I’ll bet she was a dancer at one time, I remember thinking.

With her bent over in that short skirt, I could plainly see her slender ass framed by a thin white thong. Her skin was beautiful, flawless, and she had great muscle tone. She bent over further until she was bent double, her long blonde pony tail brushing the floor. She parted her feet slightly, and I could see her looking at me intently. “Dr. Dave,” she said, “I do believe Mr. Smith is getting aroused.”

Boy, did she call it! I can’t believe I feel this way, in front of strangers, and with the wife in the next room! I was shifting in my chair to keep from showing it; I had suddenly gotten harder than I had been in years. Even when I was cheating on SWMBO with that account exec, I didn’t feel this hot. And Wanda had really cranked me up tight. Wanda held that pose while Dr. Dave studied me. I felt a little like a bug pinned to a card and being looked at with a magnifying glass, but that didn’t keep me from squirming and hiding my passion.

Finally, Dr. Dave asked, “Do you want Wanda?”

Everything inside me said to say, “No, of course not.” All that came out was a little nod and a muttered, “Yes.”

“You’re doing quite well. Come over here and take her. You don’t have to be afraid of discovery—your wife is quite busy getting an introduction to my therapy techniques, and Wanda is a licensed sex therapist and M.D. Everything done here is confidential. Stand up and show me what you want.”

I stood, a bit wobbly, and tried to arrange my pants so that my hard-on didn’t show. “Don’t bother with that,” Dr. Dave assured me. “Everyone here is aware of what you want. It’s all right to feel what you feel. Take it out, and let us see it.”

I slowly unzipped, very clumsily and slowly. I finally got my cock out of my pants; it sprang straight out at its usual 3:30 position. Dr. Dave looked at it for a moment, smiled his best smile, and said, “We can do something about that angle. How’d you like to stand almost straight up again, Mr. Smith? What do you think, Wanda?”

She looked up at me from underneath my crotch, that sexy smile never faultering. “It’s a fair size. I think if we just get it to stand up higher, that’ll do for size and shape. Let’s see how he does for lasting power.” Dr. Dave suddenly grabbed my waistband and whipped my pants and underwear down to my ankles. I blinked hard, and suddenly felt that what was happening wasn’t right, somehow.

Dr. Dave noticed. “Oh, I bet your eyes are getting dry again. How about some more drops?” He pulled a bottle out of his pocket. “Tilt your head up, please.” I looked up, and he put a couple of drops in each eye. I blinked for a second, and then felt much better about everything. Of course, I thought. She’s a therapist, just like Dr. Dave. They both know what they’re doing.

“That’s better. That’s better. Now, let me help just a bit,” Dr. Dave said brightly. I couldn’t exactly see what he was doing—when I looked down from the drops all I could focus on was Wanda’s pussy. It was beautiful, with a neatly trimmed bit of blonde hair over her pubic bone but otherwise as perfect and naked as a marble statue. She was so hot; my cock twitched with every heartbeat.

I heard a snap! like a piece of rubber being stretched. Dr. Dave took his left hand, placed it on my butt, and I could feel not only that he was pushing my cock closer to Wanda’s wetness. I could also feel that he pushing his middle finger against my sphincter. He was gently worming it into my butt.

I thought, I shouldn’t let him do this to me. I like straight-arrow, vanilla sex. His finger felt like...yeah, like he was wearing one of those rubber gloves. But it was cold, too, like...oh, yeah, he’s got a blob of lube on his finger. I just couldn’t get worked up about it. All I could think about was...

My cockhead pushed between Wanda’s nether lips. OOOHH GOD! did she feel good! She was so warm and wet! I let Dr. Dave’s hand push me all the way into her, all the time getting his finger up my butt. He said quietly into my ear, “Push down, like you’re going to go to the bathroom. Ahh, that’s better. Now relax.” He felt around for a moment. “Your prostate feels like it’s in good shape. Now, let me guide your work with Wanda here.” He began to rhythmically push my butt with his hand and pull back with his finger hooked inside me. “No, don’t rush. Take your time. In, and then out. Easy. In, and then out. Let Wanda use her superb muscular control. She’s quite accomplished at this.”

Oh, lord, he was right! I could feel her vaginal walls contract and squeeze my cock as I withdrew, and then relax slightly to let me slip back into her really tight wetness. She began to push against me as I came forward. Dr. Dave’s finger began to slip in and out of me as I slipped out and in of her. This went on for a minute or two, or an eternity—I couldn’t tell. I remember being told some things, but I can’t for the life of me remember what. It all felt so good, I didn’t feel the urge to come yet. That was one of the issues I had at home; I didn’t want to take “the little blue buddy”—a man ought to be able to do this without medicine. I was already harder than I had been in years, and I didn’t really want it to end.

Dr. Dave watched for a few minutes, and then quietly said, “Would it help you along if you knew that Wanda was my daughter?” I gasped. Oh jesus! this was so wrong!

And yet it was so hot, too. I began to feel the urge building up in me. I started to pant hard, reached for Wanda’s hips. She gently smacked my hands away, and I obediently quit. I continued to snort—I felt like an animal in rut. Dr. Dave watched me for another minute or two, and then murmured in my ear, “What if you were doing this with your twin daughter Audra?” I felt my heart start to race. “...or Sandy?” I felt the knot inside me move toward my cock. “...or...both of them?”

In other circumstances I would have belted the bastard for saying that stuff, but now all I could was think about how much I wanted to come.

Dr. Dave admonished me, “Relax! Don’t fight the ejaculation. Let it happen! Relax!” I did my best to relax, and just as I started to come, Wanda pulled away and I spit out come two, three, four times, all the while Dr. Dave rubbing my anal wall. Wanda watched the process with a clinical eye. When I finished coming, she looked at Dr. Dave. “He needs work with his technique.” I had staggered back to my chair and fell into it; my knees were rubbery and I felt weak.

“Yes, but don’t they all?” He turned to me and gave me a bright smile. “Mr. Smith, I think I can help you and your family. Here, I would like to put on these earphones and just relax and listen. There are some things I like you to listen to. Comfortable?” I nodded slowly. “Good.” He walked to his desk console and touched a button. A really sexy voice started making vocal love to my ears, telling me things that I knew were important and that I should take to heart.

As I drifted off, I looked up to see Wanda getting reamed by Dr. Dave. Wait—that can’t be right. She’s his daughter. No, I didn’t see that right. Dr. Dave was getting done by Wanda. Wait...