The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her mother was wearing nothing but her underwear and a pair of high heels. The underwear was only a little lacy. But it was black.

It showed so much of her mother’s body.

Her mother’s beautiful body.

Sarah yanked her eyes away from her mother. It was so much easier to gaze at Helen.

Helen, who had already discarded her dress. Who was standing there in only her underwear.

Both her mother and her sister were half-naked, Sarah’s eyes flitting between them.

Beautiful as they both were, they weren’t the same. Sarah’s mother simply stood there, an amused half-smile on her face, while waves of need radiated off Helen, her hands hovering over her breasts and crotch. Helen had squirmed all the way home. Sarah had been sure she could smell her sister’s arousal. She’d been worried that Emily might suspect something, but Helen’s friend hadn’t said a word. Probably lost in her own arousal.

Maybe Helen’s hadn’t been the only scent wafting through the car.

Helen wasn’t bothering to hide her arousal now, her chest heaving. Sarah was sure she could see her sister’s nipples trying to thrust themselves thought Helen’s bra.

“Can I?” Helen pleaded.

It was up to Sarah. Helen wanted to cum. Sarah could tell how much her sister wanted that. But it wasn’t Helen’s decision. It was Sarah’s. Her choice. Her decision.

When Helen got to cum.

Helen looked so good when she came.

“Yes,” Sarah said.

Helen’s hand dove into her panties, her knees buckling as she fell to the floor. Moans and incoherent cries fell from her lips, her chest heaving, hips bucking as her fingers plunged inside.

Sarah’s breath was taken away.

“Can I see?” Sarah’s mother asked, indicating Sarah’s packages while completely ignoring the animal noises coming from her eldest daughter.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Helen cried, hand still pumping. She was on her hands and knees. Sarah was sure that her sister had already cum at least once.

Wordlessly Sarah went to hand her mother the bag containing two of the blouses. She couldn’t process what was happening.

Her mother shook her head. “No. I want to see you in them.”

Sarah could understand that. It would give her mother a better idea of the outfits if she modelled them. Well, the ones from the first shop anyway. Sarah had no intention of letting her mother see her in the last outfit.

She headed for the stairs.

“No,” her mother said again.

“What? But?” Sarah spluttered. “If you want me to wear them I need to get changed.”

“Of course, dear,” their mother smiled. “But you can do it here.”

Helen was on her back now, legs spread, hips thrusting upward, one hand between her legs as the other roamed over her body.

“But,” Sarah tried again. She really did want to go to her bedroom.

Even with the magnificent sight her sister presented.

Her mother raised her eyebrows, her head tilting disapprovingly. “It’s not like we’ll see any more of you than you’re seeing of us.”

Sarah swallowed nervously. Her mother did have a point.

And it would mean she’d get to take her clothes off in front of Helen.

Slowly, Sarah undid her blouse, slipped out of her skirt. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her the whole time.

“Oh, that’s nice,” her mother purred, Sarah now dressed in the scarlet red blouse and black pencil skirt. “Silk? You’ll have to be careful with that.”

Sarah was hardly listening. She was staring at her sister, Helen working herself to another crest where she lay on the floor. Helen turned her head, the sister’s eyes meeting. There was a light in Helen’s eyes, something Sarah couldn’t read. She wanted to reach out, touch her sister, run hands along Helen’s legs. Kneel between those legs and, and…

“What else did you get?” their mother asked, something in her voice slipping into Sarah and curling deep within her.

Sarah’s eyes jerked to her mother. Her mother was indicating the bags that held the other outfit. “Um, stuff,” Sarah muttered, edging towards the stairs. She wasn’t letting her mother near anything that came from the second shop. “I’ll show you later.”

“I’d like to see it now.” That half-smile was still on her mother’s face.

I can’t, Sarah wailed. There was something so wrong about the idea. Stripping off in front of her mother. Putting on that outfit.

“Maybe you should tell Helen to stop. I’d like to see what she bought, but she’ll need a little rest first.”

“Uh, right,” Sarah nodded. “Helen, stop playing with yourself.”

Her sister lay on the floor for a few moments, exhausted, before pulling herself to her feet.

“Now, what’s in these other bags, dear?” The words were so innocent, but the purr in her mother’s voice had Sarah feeling things she didn’t want to think about.

Her hands were unbuttoning her blouse. Sarah wasn’t sure when she’d told them to do that.

Or if she even had.

“I’m sure anything Helen had you buy will look good,” her mother smiled. “She does have such good taste in clothes.”

Sarah felt her face flush as she slipped the pencil skirt down her legs. She tried to tell herself it was only embarrassment. She went to grab the leather skirt but a look from Helen pulled her up. That wasn’t right. She’d need to put on the bustier first. So she could fix the stockings to it. Then the skirt.

The bustier was worn without a bra. She’d need to take her bra off. In front of her mother and sister.

They’d see her breasts. They’d see how erect her nipples were.

It was so wrong. It was so right. As she reached behind herself for the bra clasp Sarah couldn’t believe what she was doing.

Why did I do that? she wondered as the garment fluttered to the floor. She could have turned around. Offered her back to her family as she shed her bra.

She hadn’t.

Her mother smiled at her.

Helen wasn’t smiling. There was no mirth to Sarah’s sister’s look, just an eager light in her eyes.

Hastily Sarah grabbed the bustier. Pulled it on.

That felt better. At least she was wearing something. She hoped her family hadn’t noticed just how hard her nipples were. Hoped they didn’t notice how aroused she was.

Hoped her panties weren’t giving away just how wet she was.

It was too late now. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it properly. Reaching into the bag she removed the stockings. Unrolled one, then the other, up her legs. Taking her time. Making sure they fit properly. Something about it felt right. Her stockings. Her body.

Her family’s eyes never left her.

She was the centre of attention. Their attention.

Let them watch.

Sarah raised her eyebrows at her mother and sister as she slipped into the leather skirt. Daring either of them to say a word. Daring either of them to criticise her. Let her mother say she shouldn’t wear an outfit like this. Let her sister make some disparaging remark. Sarah wasn’t going to put with anything like that. She could wear this outfit. Make it hers.

Something about wearing it felt almost like control.

Even the boots, with the so-high heels. She was taller than her sister now. She was the one who was clothed. Helen was just standing there in her underwear, cheeks flushed, panties stained. So obvious what she’d been doing.

What she’d do again at a word from Sarah.

Helen was smiling now, a glint almost of satisfaction in her eyes.

“You can play with yourself, Helen,” Sarah said, not a trace of hesitation in her voice.

Helen’s hand dived into her panties.

“But don’t cum until I tell you to,” she added.

Helen looked at her but didn’t say a word.

“Look at my little girl,” her mother smiled. “All grown up.”

Sarah’s mother was walking towards her.

“I wish I’d been daring enough to try something like this when I was your age,” Rachel said, her hand landing lightly on Sarah’s bare shoulder, the teen quivering under the touch. “Do you like it?”

Sarah hesitated. Did she like that outfit? It was so different from anything she’d ever worn. Anything she’d ever thought of wearing. But something was telling her it was right. Something was telling her she could be in control if she wore this.

She wasn’t in control right now. Her mother’s hand had slipped her from her shoulder, traced its way over her collarbone, the tips of those fingers now gliding low over the Sarah’s chest. Over the tops of her breasts.

Her mother was touching her breasts.

That shouldn’t be turning her on. Even with Helen there, so beautiful in her underwear. It should be Helen touching her. Her touching Helen.

No matter how good this felt.

“I could just eat you up,” her mother whispered.

Sarah knew what was going to happen. Her mother was going to lean in, kiss her.

Sarah didn’t give her the chance, her hand shooting to the back of her mother’s head, pulling it in. She kissed her mother, hard, claiming her mother’s mouth.

Maybe it was her mother she could hear moaning this time.

“I can’t believe how good you look in that outfit,” her mother’s voice still so low after Sarah let her break the kiss. “But you are beautiful so perhaps I should. My daughters are so beautiful. Any gi… Anyone who gets you is so lucky.”

Sarah’s mind whirled, thoughts stuttering. Had she been about to say ‘any girl’? Did her mother know?

Sarah didn’t care, one hand on her mother’s hip as the other guided her mother’s mouth back to hers.

Her mother’s hands were on her hips, turning them

“Anyone,” her mother breathed.

With the way her mother had turned them Sarah was looking straight at Helen over their mother’s shoulder, her sister gazing back, Helen’s hand playing over her panties.

“Anyone,” her mother repeated, that taste of strawberries on Sarah’s lips as her tongue explored her mother’s mouth.

Her mother couldn’t mean Helen. That was impossible. It was possible that her mother knew that Sarah was gay. Mothers knew these things. But she couldn’t be talking about Helen. That was impossible. Glorious, wonderful, amazing, if it was true. But it couldn’t be. Their mother wouldn’t want that.

Sarah’s thoughts splintered as she embraced her mother, Rachel raining kisses raining on her neck. Sarah couldn’t look anywhere but at her sister.

Didn’t want to.

One of her mother’s arms was around her waist, the hand of the other gliding up Sarah’s inner thigh, currents of bliss rocketing through the younger daughter. Sarah’s lips quivered as her mother’s hand found its way under the short leather skirt, traced the edge of her panties.

Sarah pressed herself against her mother, her eyes never leaving Helen as she kissed her mother. She was so close.

“Anyone,” her mother repeated again, before her teeth nibbled Sarah’s earlobe, before her fingernail trailed over the skin of Sarah’s crotch that her skimpy panties left so exposed.

Before Sarah came, her hips bucking, her body thrusting against her mother’s

As her eyes never left her gorgeous sister.

“There you are, dear,” their mother smiled, Sarah blinking in confusion. “They really are some nice outfits. But why don’t you put them away while I look at what Helen bought? She’ll need both hands, though.”

Sarah could barely stay standing after her mother released her, the teen tottering on the towering heels of the boots.

The confidence she’d felt as she’d kissed her mother had disappeared.

“Helen, stop,” she managed.

Sarah’s head spun as their mother started examining Helen’s purchases. The image was surreal. Her mother and her sister both in their underwear, Helen’s face flushed, chest heaving. Sarah’s sister’s nipples poked into her bra and her panties were soaked.

There was something so wrong with this. But Sarah couldn’t work out what.

Helen looked so good in her underwear.

Her mother and sister glanced up, Sarah so aware of their gaze.

She turned and fled up the stairs.

Sarah took some time in her room to compose herself. Changed into her normal clothes, a short skirt and blouse that Helen had bought for on their first expedition. Made a quick vlog entry, about how she’d gone shopping with Helen and a friend. She even filmed one of the new blouses, the red one.

She didn’t mention anything about the second shop. Hurriedly Sarah put those things away. She didn’t know if she’d ever have the courage to wear them again. Then she went to do the same with the skirts and blouses and pumps.

Sarah stopped herself.

Laid the outfits on her bed.

There was nothing wrong with them. They weren’t short or revealing. The skirts, for all their slim lines, came to her knees and the blouses were long sleeved. Even the shoes were alright, Sarah telling herself she’d need to work out how to walk in heels someday.

Really, they were good.

Expensive.

They’d felt wonderful, the silk brushing against her skin, the skirt hugging her hips.

Even the shoes.

She’d felt different in the outfit. Mature. In charge.

It felt good to feel in charge.

Sarah’s fingers tingled. She reached for one of the blouses, a black one, let her fingers glide over the material, sparks jumping up her arm.

Someone who wore clothes like this would be experienced. In control.

Would be able to take what she wanted.

Like when she’d taken those kisses from her mother.

Maybe be able to do the same with Helen.

Sarah’s mind flew back to one of the passages from her diary.

I’ve got her under again. God, she looks so good when she’s under. She always looks so good. But when she’s under she listens to me. I can tell her anything. She’s just standing there, in her underwear. And I can tell her to do things. I tell her to bend over. And she does. She does! I’m dying just looking at her arse. Then I tell her to get me a drink. And she does that too! Then I tell her to put my book away. And get me another one. Tell her to stand there. Then I tell her to kneel. And she does! Helen’s kneeling in front of me and I can see right down her cleavage and she’s just waiting for me to tell her what to do!

She could. She could do that. Maybe it would help if she was wearing the right clothes.

Sarah almost ripped her clothes off, tossed away the underwear she’d just put on. There was underwear in the bags that had held her new outfits. Silk and lacy and just right for these clothes.

She needed to wear it.

She needed to wear these clothes.

For Helen.

A few minutes later Sarah admired herself in the mirror, her hand brushing the black silk of the blouse before slipping down to rest on her hip.

She could almost persuade herself that the clothes suited her. That the made her look like a sexy, mature, woman. Someone who knew what she wanted. Knew how to get it.

Sarah knew what she wanted.

Helen.

Sarah spun on the ball of one high-heeled foot and headed out her bedroom door and down the stairs.

Sarah ignored her mother. She only had eyes for Helen. Helen was watching her as well, wide eyed. Sarah could see that her sister was still aroused. There was a light in Helen’s eyes.

“Helen, go down the stairs.”

Sarah didn’t care that she was doing it in front of her mother. Someone in clothes like these wouldn’t care about something like that. If her mother said anything Sarah would tell her where to go.

She didn’t have to.

Their mother simply nodded quickly, mouthing ‘I’ll leave you two alone’ before heading to the kitchen.

Sarah smiled as she waited for Helen to finished her countdown. As the thoughts leaked out of her sister’s head.

Sarah’s head was filled with all the things she could get Helen to do. All the things from her journal. Tell Helen to get her a drink. Tell Helen to kneel.

Tell Helen to lick her shoes.

Sarah frowned. The thought of her sister on her hands and knees, in her underwear, licking the shiny black leather of Sarah’s shoes had delicious waves running up and down her spine.

But it didn’t seem right.

This was Helen, gorgeous, wonderful, Helen. Sarah didn’t want Helen’s lips on her shoes. Did she? She wanted Helen’s lips on hers. Wanted them brushing her cheeks before their lips met and they’d sink together, the world disappearing.

She could do that. After all the kisses from her mother she knew how to do that.

“Kiss me,” Sarah ordered.

Helen was leaning in. Helen was about to…

Sarah couldn’t wait, smashing her lips against her sister’s. Rockets were exploding in her brain.

She

Was

Kissing

Helen!

Not just kissing her sister. But feeling their mouths work against each other, teasing her tongue past Helen’s lips. The sensation was shot through her body, landing at her centre, igniting torrents of raw, red, need.

She held her sister, hands roaming up and down Helen’s back, tingling as they ran over Helen’s bra strap.

Sarah didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. She didn’t care. It could last forever.

Helen was in her underwear. Sarah could unclip her sister’s bra, slip the slinky garment off Helen’s shoulders. She’d see her sister’s breasts. They’d be flushed with arousal. Their nipples would be so erect. And then.

And then.

Sarah knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to do it so much. Lick and kiss and nibble at those breasts.

She wanted it so much.

And everything else.

But while she knew what she wanted to do, she had no idea how to do it.

That thought had her breaking the kiss, frowning at her entranced sister.

Helen just stood there.

No matter how she looked in the outfit she was wearing, Sarah knew that she wasn’t in the least bit experienced.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t look.

“When I tell you to take off your bra, you’ll do it. You’ve seen my breasts so it’s okay if I see yours. Tell me what you’ll do when I tell you take off your bra.”

“I’ll take it off,” Helen replied in that oh-so-flat voice. “I’ve seen your breasts so it’s okay if you see mine.”

Sarah had her sister repeat that before she woke Helen up.

After that she had to try a few times before she could speak. She’d just kissed her sister and she was about to see Helen’s breasts.

“Take your bra off,” she ordered.

Sarah watched, glued to the spot, as Helen’s hands reached behind her back. She wasn’t breathing as Helen shucked the lacy garment off her shoulders. Time seemed to slow down as the cups lowered, as more of that creamy flesh came into view. As the edge of something darker, pinkish-brown, appeared.

Sarah’s eyes had to be as wide as saucers as she stared at her sister’s areola and nipples.

She was seeing her sister’s breasts.

Her hand was almost reaching out.

“Eyes up here, Mouse,” her sister huffed. “You sure you’re not a lezzy?”

Guiltily, Sarah’s eyes snapped to her sisters.

“Geez,” Helen huffed. “They’re just tits. You have them too. Well, more or less.”

Sarah let Helen’s snide reference to the relative size of their breasts pass. She’d seen her sister’s breasts. Nothing more, but she was almost grateful to Helen for that. Sarah wasn’t sure what she’d have done if she’d actually got her hands on Helen. Probably clumsily groped her sister. She didn’t want that.

Sarah wanted her first time with Helen to be perfect.

She wanted every time with Helen to be perfect.

Right now she had no idea how to be anything other than a bumbling ingénue.

She needed to be as experienced as these clothes made her look.

Which meant she needed to practice with another girl.

Sarah had thought about saving her first time for Helen, but the clothes had told her that being experienced would be better. She just needed to work out how.

She could try finding a girlfriend. But Sarah had no idea how long that would take. She couldn’t wait that long. She could try hypnotising one of her pretty friends. Catch one of them at the next practice. Or when they just hung out.

She’d need to get one alone.

Like she’d got Emily.

She’d already hypnotised Emily. Emily wanted Sarah to hypnotise her.

Emily had said that Sarah looked hot.

And even if Emily had said she wasn’t gay, well, Sarah could change that.

For Helen.

(To be continued)