The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Honey, she’s here,” the voice floated up the stairs, carrying the words Sarah had been dying to hear all day. The eighteen year-old vaulted off her bed, shoving her diary under her pillow. She was out her door before she even knew it, throwing herself down the stairs.

Sarah pulled herself up half-way down, her hand gripping the bannister like it was a life-preserver, fear swamping anticipation. What was she going to say? What was she going to do? Without making a fool of herself, anyway. Maybe she could act all casual. Maybe pretend she’d just been coming downstairs to get a drink. That might work.

Swallowing nervously, Sarah took a careful step down the stairs. Then another.

Then all rational thought flew straight out of her head.

“Oh, God, I know,” the Goddess in the doorway huffed into her phone, Sarah’s eyes zeroing in on her lips. “Airports, right? And then the taxi driver. I had to give him directions. And then he expected to be paid? Really? Oh, hi Mum.”

Sarah stood there, slowly realising that her mouth was hanging open. She hoped she wasn’t drooling.

“Sarah, why don’t you give your sister a hand?” her mother, Rachel, asked.

Sarah’s mouth snapped shut. Trying not to stumble she made her way down the rest of the stairs and towards the door.

Towards her sister.

Her gorgeous, amazing, perfect, sister Helen.

Who Sarah had been fantasising about for months.

Helen, two years older than her sister, wasn’t paying Sarah any attention, one hand holding the phone she was still speaking into, a small case under the other arm, a wheeled suitcase pulled along behind her.

Helen was home.

Taking the handle of the larger case Sarah’s breath caught, her fingers brushing against Helen’s. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, hi Sarah,” Helen said. “Look, I have to go,” the older sister continued into her phone. “I’ll call you later. Things to do. You know.”

Sarah just stood there, drinking in the sight of her sister. Her beautiful, blonde, sister. With those movie star looks and legs so perfectly outlined in those tight jeans and that killer body.

And, alright, Sarah was blonde too. But not quite as blonde as her sister. And she wasn’t as tall. And she didn’t have her sister’s curves. Not that Helen was in the least bit fat. She had curves. Just the right curves. Curves that would look amazing in a bikini.

Don’t think about that.

Sarah made herself look at her sister’s face. With those blue eyes. And those red lips. Lips she could just-

“Sarah!” her mother tsked. “Take Helen’s case to her room. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Sarah’s eyes shot wide. She really didn’t want her mother knowing what she was thinking. She couldn’t let her mother suspect. She couldn’t let Helen suspect. She’d die if either of them knew what she was thinking.

Sarah turned and fled back up the stairs, dragging the suitcase behind her. She heard her mother asking Helen about how the semester had gone at University.

You ring her every week, Sarah thought sourly. Why do you need to ask?

Sarah wished she’d had the courage to talk to her sister on those calls. But lately every time she tried words just failed her and she’d just stand there like an idiot, holding the phone and saying nothing.

Like she was standing now, paused outside her sister’s room. She could leave the case there. Or she could push it through the door. Or she could go in.

No. No way.

If she went inside she’d be alone. With her sister’s clothes. And she might be tempted to…

Pushing the case inside, its wheels squeaking, Sarah fled back to her own room, slamming the door behind her.

She threw herself on her bed, grabbing her phone. And then hit record. “She’s home!” Sarah cried, smiling happily at the small device. “Helen’s home! She’ll be home for months. And we can.” With a flash of guilt the teen stopped herself. She kept a vlog, uploading thoughts and accounts of her days. She’d done that ever since she got her first phone. But other people might see it. She didn’t want them knowing what she really wanted to do with her sister. “Um, we can hang out,” she continued hurriedly. “It’ll be great.”

With a nervous swallow Sarah put her phone down. She’d edit and upload the video later.

Right now she wanted her diary, the one she’d hidden under her pillow. She’d kept diaries before she even had a phone, abandoning them in favour of videos. Once she had her phone she hadn’t needed her diaries. Until recently, anyway. The diary she now eagerly opened was special.

A few minutes later Sarah heard her sister come up the stairs. Then a few minutes later again leave her room.

Headed for the bathroom.

Sarah’s lower lip trembled.

It was just like the passage she’d been reading in her diary. Well, almost.

When she gets home Helen will be tired. Not that she looks tired. She never looks tired. But she’ll be hot from the trip. She’ll need a shower. She’ll head down the hallway. To the bathroom. Close the door. Then she’ll unbutton her jeans, take them off. Her legs. God, her legs. She’ll pull her top off. Shake her head, her hair flowing over her shoulders. She’ll be in her underwear.

That last word was underlined. Three times.

Sarah’s own jeans were undone, the teenager’s hand thrust into her panties, fingers desperately working away.

She’ll take her bra off first. Look into the mirror. Turn one way then the other. She can see her breasts. Her breasts! Her breasts are so beautiful. Then she’ll slip off her panties. God, she’s naked now. Then she’ll step into the shower. The water will be running over her body. She’ll run the soap up one arm, leaving little bubbles behind it. Her hair’s all wet and she’s all wet and…

And that was where her diary really stepped from reality into fantasy. Because at that point in her diary Sarah joined her sister in the shower, running her hands over that body, the silky feel of soap on skin. Their bodies pressed together in the confined space of the shower, hot water running over them, dripping between their breasts, other things dripping as Helen’s hand drifted down Sarah’s back, as Sarah’s fingers trailed over…

Sarah shoved her face into her pillow as she came, desperately hoping that would muffle her screams.

She’d have to be doubly careful now that Helen was home.

Sarah still didn’t know how to deal with her fantasies. They’d started about a year before, although she wasn’t exactly sure when. She’d never really thought that much about boys, but she hadn’t thought about girls either. She’d always assumed she’d find a guy some time. Start going out or something. But then she’d started noticing the girls around her.

At first she hadn’t even thought about it. Girls hung out with other girls, right? But then she’d realised. Her heart skipping as she took cautious, embarrassed, glances at the outlines of breasts under white school blouses. Breath catching at the swish of a pleated skirt over the curve of rounded hips. Heat rising from her centre on the weekends as she hung with her friends, outfits so much tighter, so much skimpier, than their school uniforms, Sarah so aware of their bodies. So aware of how close they were.

She’d wanted to deny it. She wasn’t gay. She’d never been gay.

But then the fantasies had started. Maybe she’d had them for a while, just not admitting it. She couldn’t remember exactly when they’d begun. Of female bodies. Naked. Of breasts with nipples pebbled with arousal. Of her friends’ hands on her body. Of them kissing.

And other things.

She’d tried to tell herself it was just a phase. Didn’t lots of girls get bi-curious at some point? Sarah was sure she’d heard that somewhere. She’d tried to tell herself that that was all it was. After all, even when those fantasies came every night, Sarah huddled under her covers, her fingers drifting over her dripping slit, something about them didn’t feel quite right.

And then, six months ago, her sister Helen had come home for the mid-year break from University.

And Sarah had realised exactly what had been wrong with her fantasies.

They hadn’t been about Helen.

Her gorgeous, beautiful, picture-perfect, sister Helen.

Helen was who Sarah had fantasised about every night for the last six months.

Who she was fantasising about now. As her fingers drove her to a second orgasm.

But Helen could never know. Sarah only half-accepted that she was gay. There was no way that her sister was gay as well.

Helen had boyfriends.

That thought was enough to quell what was left of Sarah’s ardour after two orgasms.

She tried very hard not think about how it was her sister that she fantasised about and just how wrong that was.

After cleaning herself up as best she could, all the time trying very hard not to think of her sister naked in the bathroom, Sarah crept downstairs.

“Oh, there you are,” her mother looked up from the kitchen bench. “I was wondering where you had got to. Give me a hand, I’m making Helen’s favourite.”

Sarah could do that.

For Helen.

Helen didn’t reappear until the meal was served. Sarah kept sneaking little glances at her sister. She tried very hard not to spend too long staring at the tight t-shirt Helen was wearing. At how clearly it showed the outline of her sister’s bra. She tried looking at her sister’s hands, the long, delicate, fingers tapping away at the sleek, late-model, phone.

“Helen!” their mother exclaimed. “Can’t you leave that thing alone for a few minutes? Who is it anyway? A boyfriend?”

The elder sister paused in her typing and looked up. “Just Taylor.” That was one of Helen’s friends from university. Sarah took the chance to gaze at her sister’s beautiful eyes, before Helen returned her attention to her phone.

“Can’t you at least stop for your first meal home?” their mother pleaded.

“I suppose so,” Helen sighed, giving her phone one last delicate tap.

“Do, do you have a boyfriend?” Sarah asked quietly.

Helen cocked her head to one side and smiled, actually smiled, at Sarah, the younger sister’s heart leaping. “Nah,” Helen replied. “The last one was just too boring in the end. Maybe when I go back. What about you, Mouse?” Mouse being Helen’s favourite nickname for her sister. “Or are you still a virgin?”

Sarah didn’t know what to say, random noises coming out of her mouth. Helen didn’t have a boyfriend. That was good. But she’d said she might have one in the future. That was bad. And asking Sarah about her love life? Those were questions Sarah had absolutely no intention of answering.

That their mother was angrily yelling at Helen not to ask Sarah questions like that only barely registered.

Sarah wasn’t sure whether the heat in her body was from embarrassment or just being so close to her sister.

Helping her mother with the washing up Sarah’s mind was filled with images of her sister. The way her hair fell over her shoulders. The smooth skin of her arms. The way her lips had the tiniest pout as she opened her mouth for her food.

“Sarah?” Her mother’s voice penetrating her daydreams. “We’re done. You don’t have to stand there.”

“Oh, uh, right,” Sarah managed, throwing the cloth down on the bench and fleeing the room before shooting up the stairs.

She paused outside her own room. She could just go in. No one would know what she was doing. There was her diary and she could, could. Could lose herself in thoughts of Helen. An urgent yearning rose from her centre. It would be so easy to lie on her bed, hand thrust into her panties again and drown in fantasies of her sister.

But she’d been doing that for months. Helen was here now. Maybe, just maybe, her older sister would want to spend some time with her. Even watching a film with Helen would be worth a dozen orgasms at her own hand. Wouldn’t it? Or maybe it would just be an agony of frustration.

She had to know. She at least had to try.

Sarah swallowed hard, then, heart in her mouth, headed to her sister’s room.

The door was half open. Sarah pushed it the rest of the way.

And gasped.

Helen was lying face down on the bed, knees bent at ninety degrees and shins crossed, head propped up on one hand as the other held her phone to her ear.

The elder sister was wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts. Had Helen worn those at dinner? She must have. Sarah wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed that. Or had Helen somehow slipped in and sat down behind Sarah’s back?

It didn’t matter. Sarah was seeing them now. And Helen’s legs

In all their glory.

Sarah sometimes wondered if her sister had been named after Helen of Troy. If she hadn’t been, then she should’ve been.

Sarah just stood there, drinking in the beauty before her.

“Oh God, seriously?” her sister laughed. “She’s awful! And the outfits she wears. Did you see that one in the last class? I thought my eyes were going to bleed. If she doesn’t give me at least a distinction I’m going to appeal. How’s anyone supposed to think when they have that in front of them? Hang on.”

The hand holding the phone dropped to the bed, Helen turning her head to glare at Sarah. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Um, err, is that Taylor?” Sarah asked, struggling to remember what she was here for.

“No, it’s Lauren,” Helen huffed. Lauren was another of Sarah’s friends from University. “Not that it’s any of your business. I was talking to Taylor earlier. Why would I be talking to her again? Honestly, sometimes you’re thick.”

“Uh, sorry,” Sarah mumbled. Helen’s words hurt, but somehow they didn’t bite. Not with how her sister was rolling on her side, back arching, breasts pressed against the thin material of her t-shirt. Sarah shook her head. She didn’t want Helen to think she was ogling her. “I just wondered if you wanted to watch a film or something.”

Helen raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “I got over my Disney phase ten years ago. Maybe you should too.” She turned away, phone again planted on her ear. “No, it was nothing. Now, what are you doing for summer?”

Sarah hadn’t been about to suggest a Disney film. Even if she did still like Frozen. Especially now. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

Instead, she turned and fled back to her own room.

There, in her mind, Helen didn’t say no.

Not to anything.

The next day Helen was already at the table when Sarah crept down for breakfast. The younger sister looked away, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, as Helen smiled at her, images from her dreams flashing in front of her.

“Hey,” Helen said, looking up from her phone. “Sorry about last night. Tired from the trip, you know? Anyway, you want to do something this morning after Mum goes to work? Watch a film. Just not Disney.”

“S-sure,” Sarah stuttered. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else.

All through breakfast she agonised over what to choose. Obviously not Disney. Not that she would have anyway. Maybe some action film? No, Helen always thought they were cheesy. And they never seemed to laugh at the same comedies. She knew what she wanted to pick. There were mainstream lesbian romance films now. But there was no way she’d be choosing one of those. She didn’t want to do anything to raise her sister’s suspicions.

So she settled for a romcom. And yes, it was the guy who got the girl. Not another girl.

But she could dream.

Not that Sarah ended up paying much attention to the film anyway. Even though they were sitting at opposite ends of the lounge she was so aware of Helen’s presence. Of her sister’s glorious body. It was like a planet, trapping Sarah in its gravitational pull. It was so hard to keep her eyes fixed on the screen, not sneak glances at Helen, imagining what it would be like to let her fingers trail over the silky-smooth skin of Helen’s thigh, up and up until she brushed the edge of those shorts and then…

The film was over almost before Sarah realised it.

“Well, that was okay,” her sister shrugged. “But I have things to do. I’m going to hang out with Emily.” Emily was a school-friend of Helen’s. They’d gone to different universities but caught up every holidays.

“Tell Mum I’ll be back for dinner.”

With that, Helen rose and left.

Sarah was alone in the house. Which meant she could…

The eighteen year-old shot off the lounge and bolted for her room.

She pulled out her diary.

We’d be watching a film. Maybe it’s a horror film. And it’s night. So we have a blanket. We’re both under the blanket. And our legs are pressed together. Her legs are so smooth. And it’s a really scary part. Helen grabs my hand. I put my arm around her. She doesn’t object. In fact, she snuggles in closer. And I put my other hand on her knee. She doesn’t object to that either. I can hardly breathe. I run my hand up her leg. Her skin is like silk. We’re under the blanket, so no-one can see. Not that anyone else is there. Helen turns to me, almost as if she’s going to ask a question. Her lips are parted. God, her lips are so amazing, red and glistening and just, just. I just do it. I kiss her. It’s so awesome. It goes on and on and she doesn’t say no. She actually takes my hand and puts it on her breast. And then we’re slipping out of our clothes, giggling and who cares about the stupid movie? And we do everything.

Sarah’s hand was inside her panties again. But this time she didn’t have to stifle her cries. No one was there to hear her.

They still couldn’t hear her as she leafed through her diary, picking another page.

All her best fantasies were in her diary.

She spent quite some time with it before she felt settled enough to make an innocent video about how she’d watched a film with her sister.

Sarah didn’t venture back downstairs until just before dinner. Helen headed for her room as soon as the meal was over. After helping their mother with the cleaning up Sarah crept upstairs, then hesitated outside Helen’s room. She could hear her sister’s voice. Helen was probably on the phone again.

Helen had such a great voice. Sarah could listen to it for hours.

Sarah waited uneasily by the door. She could just stand there, listening. Even if she couldn’t make out exactly what Helen was saying she could at least hear her sister. The sound tugged at something in Sarah’s chest.

Or she could go in. Ask if Helen wanted to do something. Sarah was sure she could act nonchalant enough. Ask if her sister wanted to much another film. Or something. Tonight. Or tomorrow.

Anything to be near her sister.

Or she could just keep standing there.

“You want something, Mouse?” her sister called.

Sarah felt like dying. Had she made a noise? Sighed? Said something? How long had Helen known she’d been standing there?

Maybe she should run. Hide in her room. Deny she’d ever been there.

But her sister had asked her.

Summoning her courage, Sarah opened the door.

This time her sister was lying on her back, knees bent. Sarah’s eyes were drawn to the outline of Helen’s breasts.

“Well?” Helen asked impatiently. “No, it’s just my kid sister,” she added into her phone.

“Emily?” Sarah asked.

“No, Lauren,” Helen scoffed, a little shake of her head as if Sarah should have known. “I spent this afternoon with Emily. Why would I call her now?”

That hadn’t stopped Helen in the past.

“Anyway,” Sarah hurried on. “I was wondering if you want to do something? Tonight? Another film? Or maybe tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to spend my whole holidays watching films,” Helen huffed. “Couch potato much?” Then she smiled. Just a little smile, but to Sarah it was like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. “I need new clothes for when I go back to university. You can’t expect me to wear the same things I had this year, do you?”

“Uh, no?” Sarah ventured hesitantly.

Helen’s smile widened just a fraction, so Sarah assumed it was the correct answer. She didn’t point out that Helen had only just come home and it was months before she’d be leaving again.

Her sister had always been fond of clothes shopping.

“So I’m going shopping tomorrow,” Helen announced. “You can come with me. Now shoo.”

Sarah scampered out of the room. But not before she heard Helen say into her phone. “Yes, I’m taking the Mouse shopping tomorrow. Maybe I can finally do something about her wardrobe.”

She didn’t care. She didn’t even care that Helen’s friends knew her nickname. She was going to spend hours with Helen.

She made a video about that, too.

Before she pulled out her diary.

“You think I’d wear that?” Helen sneered, Sarah cringing at her sister’s acid tone. Helen was staring in disbelief at the dress the sales assistant was holding up. “I wouldn’t even let my mother be caught dead in that.”

Sarah wasn’t sure what was wrong with the dress. It looked quite nice to her. Knee-length, with a pleated skirt, the material a cute floral pattern with embroidery around the edges of the short sleeves.

Although being knee length maybe it wouldn’t show off enough of Helen’s legs.

“Get me a top that will go with this,” Helen demanded, holding up a long summer skirt in white. “And another one for this.” The second garment was a short, pleated, mini-skirt in red and grey.

Sarah knew which one she’d prefer to see her sister in.

Then she realised the material of the first one was sheer enough to be just the littlest bit see-through.

There was a pulse from her centre.

“God, how does she even keep her job?” Helen huffed at the woman’s retreating back. “She has the fashion sense of a mole.”

Sarah didn’t say a word. It wasn’t the first sales assistant they’d had. The first one had retreated in tears under her sister’s harangues.

“Now, what are we going to get you?” Helen mused, perusing a rack of skirts that Sarah thought were scandalously short. “Here,” she declared, thrusting something at Sarah. “Go. Try this on.”

Sarah gaped as she held up the garment. It was a skirt, well, barely, and pleated like the shorter of the ones Helen had picked out for herself. But it was all black.

And so, so, short.

“I, I, couldn’t wear that,” she bleated.

Helen rolled her eyes. “Of course you can. You put your feet in, pull it up your legs and you’re wearing it.”

Sarah wilted under her sister’s gaze.

“Oh,” Helen added drily. “You mean it’s too short. Bullshit. You’ve got decent legs. At least I think you do.”

Sarah burned as Helen’s gaze dropped to Sarah’s slightly baggy jeans.

Sarah focused on the skirt. And its price tag.

“B-but,” she stammered. “I can’t afford this!” If she thought about the price in per metre of fabric, she’d probably have a heart attack.

Helen smirked, flicking a credit card between two of her fingers.

“Isn’t that the one Mum gave you for emergencies?”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “Your wardrobe is an emergency. Now go,” Sarah’s sister ordered, pointing at the changing rooms. “I’ll have more for you. But I want to see you in that skirt.”

Sarah’s lips went dry. Helen couldn’t have meant it like that, could she? It was impossible. But even if Helen hadn’t meant it the way Sarah wanted, the words were enough to have her breaking out in goose bumps.

She almost ran to the changing room.

Sarah’s fingers trembled as she undid the button on her jeans. She could feel her heart beating so fast as she slid them down her legs. She held up the skirt. It was so short. Swallowing nervously Sarah pulled it up her legs, made herself look in the mirror.

Maybe her legs weren’t that bad. But she wasn’t like Helen. She didn’t have curves. She was just skinny. She felt like a twig with a ribbon tied around her waist.

“Have you got that on yet?” Helen demanded. “Come on out. Or I’m coming in.”

Sarah’s eyes darted around the walls of the changing room, her heart beating wildly, like the wings of a moth trapped under a glass. Helen couldn’t be serious, could she? Sarah’s mind fled back to her diary.

We’re shopping for clothes. I’m in one of the changing rooms. I’m trying on a skirt. I’m looking in the mirror when I hear the door opening. And Helen comes in! She looks at my image in the mirror. And smiles. “Let me help you with that,” she says. Then her hands are on my hips. Just resting there. Neither of us moving. I can see us in the mirror. Then she leans her head in and nibbles at my ear lobe. I’m just melting. I can feel her breasts against my back. God, I want her. She’s undoing the zipper on my skirt. Letting it fall to the ground. “Shush,” she says as I turn around in her arms. “We have to be quiet.” And we are. We’re so very quiet. Nobody knows what we’re doing. I’m hardly breathing as I pull her top off. And then-

“Ten seconds and I’m coming in.”

Sarah’s eyes shot as wide as saucers as she realised that her hand was up and under that skirt. She couldn’t let Helen see her like that. Hastily she pulled her hand out and smoothed the skirt down. “Just. Just a minute,” she called.

Sarah’s heart was still beating like a trip hammer as she exited the changing room. The skirt was so short, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Helen was simply standing there, looking bored.

“Finally,” her sister muttered. “Now just stand there.”

Sarah did as she was ordered, standing so still as Helen walked around her. Helen was looking at her. Sarah could feel her sister’s eyes on her, her skin burning. That wasn’t the only thing burning, her centre aflame. Hot and wet and her nipples were so hard.

Don’t drip, don’t drip.

“Not bad, Mouse,” Helen pronounced at last. “You!” Sarah’s sister continued, rounding on the shop assistant. “She’s taking that. Now find her a top to go with it.”

Sarah scampered back to the changing room, ripping the skirt off. Guilt flared in her as in the mirror she saw the damp patch on her panties.

But she didn’t mind too much. Helen had been looking at her.

Helen looked at her in tops and other skirts and dresses, some short, some tight. Some both. Others weren’t, designer tops and sweaters, plus the silk blouses and tailored jackets that looked awfully formal against the barely there pleated skirts, crop tops and tight jeans. None of it was her usual style. It didn’t matter. Sarah’s mind was lost in a fog of delight at being the centre of her sister’s attention.

She got to look at Helen, too.

“What do you think?” her sister asked, Helen’s hips swaying as she considered the light cotton dress she was trying on.

Sarah had to swallow a couple of times before she could answer. She really didn’t want her tongue falling out of her mouth. Helen’s hips were almost mesmerising. And that was before she got to her sister’s waist. Or the mind-numbingly tempting vision the low neckline gave of her sister’s breasts.

“Uh, pretty good?” Sarah managed.

“It’s not bad,” Helen allowed, one hand casually dropping to the dress’ hem, Sarah’s gaze glued to her sister’s hand as Helen’s fingers slowly pulled the hem up an inch or two.

What was her sister doing? Helen wasn’t looking at her, Sarah’s older sister’s eyes locked on her own image in the mirror, hips swaying as her hand teased the hem higher. But she was doing it. Teasing that hem higher. Sarah wasn’t breathing as more and more of Helen’s thigh came into view. She could imagine it was her hand slowly pulling that hem up. Her fingers brushing against the smooth skin of Helen’s thigh. Her fingernails grazing over her sister’s skin. As their lips brushed together. Helen’s thigh was soft and smooth but with just enough definition to it to have Sarah’s mouth watering. Her mouth wasn’t the only thing that was damper than it had been a few moments ago. Her insides were in knots. She wanted to reach out to her sister. To touch her. Sarah’s eyes were riveted to the sight, Helen’s skin shining under the neon lights of the store. Maybe just a little higher and she might see her sister’s panties.

“Yeah,” Helen decided at last. “I can work with this.”

To Sarah’s disappointment Helen let the hem go, the dress falling back into place. And while the dress was short enough to show most of her legs the image of what she’d seen was seared into Sarah’s mind.

Helen declared an end to their expedition soon after that, Sarah ending up laden with more skirts and dresses and tops than she thought she’d ever wear.

“Now that you’ve got this I want you to throw out some of that shit you have,” Helen commented in the taxi on the way home.

Sarah wasn’t sure what to say. She liked her clothes. But Helen had taken the time to help her choose new ones. And if her sister wanted to see her in them then that was what Sarah would do.

“Maybe we could do that again?” Sarah asked after the family had finished their dinner.

“Uh, what?” Helen frowned, looking up from her phone. “Eat? Well, duh.”

“No, I mean shopping,” Sarah replied, realising she hadn’t been exactly clear. After putting the fruits of their expedition away she’d spent hours imagining what they could do. She had new clothes. Clothes Helen liked. But didn’t new clothes need new underwear? She could go underwear shopping with her sister. The idea of Helen modelling underwear had occupied Sarah for a good hour and a half. Or maybe they could go looking for swimwear. Those images had taken another hour. “Just shopping.”

“I can’t hold your hand all the time.” Helen’s casual wave of a hand sent Sarah’s dreams crashing into ruins.

Sarah tried very hard to stop her lip trembling. “Oh, uh, right,” she managed before she fled the room.

Lying on her bed Sarah twisted and turned, unable to get comfortable. She couldn’t even summon the enthusiasm to slip her hand into her panties. She’d recorded an innocent video about their expedition, but that hadn’t helped. Fantasies about her sister were just, well, fantasies. And yes, they’d watched a film together and gone shopping together and maybe she could persuade Helen to do something else. Something sisters would do. But that was just it. It was only the things sisters did. Nothing more.

It was nothing like what she wanted. Nothing like she imagined. Nothing like what was written in her diary.

Sarah reached under her pillow, pulling out her diary. She knew which page she needed. Holding the book in one hand her other slipped under the waistband of her panties, her fingertip slowly tracing the length of her labia. She gasped as her finger reached her clit. But she wasn’t going to stop reading.

I’m watching her eyes. I have to watch her eyes. So I can be sure. Her eyes are so gorgeous. Even as her eyelids half-close and then flick open. Her lips are just open too. I can see that. Just at the edge of my vision. She’s sitting so still. She’s been sitting like that for a while now. There’s something vacant about her eyes. My hand’s getting tired, but I don’t care. I have to keep holding up the watch. The watch Helen’s looking at. The watch I told her to look at as it swings from side to side. “Keep watching the watch,” I say. And she does. She does! I can see it in her eyes.

Sarah moaned as her fingers slipped inside, her back arching as those fingers plumbed the warm, wet, depths.

She’s not moving. She’s hardly breathing. “Deeper now,” I say. “With every breath, deeper and deeper. So easy to go deeper. It’s like walking down a set of stairs. With every step you go deeper. With every step another thought drifts out of your head.”

It was so easy to picture Helen sitting there, so beautiful, staring at the watch. Not a thought in that gorgeous head.

“All you can hear is my voice. So deep now. You love being this deep. It’s your special place. Just keeping watching the watch. Only my voice can take you to this special place.” God, she looks so beautiful, Just sitting there. Waiting for me to tell her what to do. I could tell her to do anything.

As Sarah came she knew what she had to do.

She had to hypnotise her sister.