The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Where’s Helen?” Sarah asked when she finally made it home.

Her mother’s car, surprisingly, had been in the driveway.

“Oh, I think she’s at a yoga class,” her mother called from deeper in the house.

Images of Helen, in lycra, danced before Sarah’s eyes. Her sister stretching, posing. That glorious body so clearly outlined. It took Sarah a moment to realise that she wasn’t breathing.

It took her mother calling her name to snap her out of her daydreams.

“Shouldn’t you still be at work?” Sarah replied grumpily. She’d wanted some time alone with Helen. To try to decide what to do. Maybe even some time by herself.

“Oh, I finished early,” her mother smiled, emerging from the kitchen.

Rachel wasn’t wearing any clothes. That wasn’t a surprise.

The sight still made Sarah gasp.

Her mother’s underwear was white. Skimpy, lacy panties and a tight corset. Bows and frills and straps. Sarah’s eyes traced the line of white suspender to the pale stockings covering her mother’s legs. Her mother hadn’t been wearing that outfit in the morning, at breakfast. What she’d been wearing then had plainer, simpler. She must have changed after Sarah left. Or maybe after she’d come home.

A part of Sarah hoped that her mother had worn all this to work. Under her professional outfit. She pictured her mother talking to her colleagues, showing potential customers around some house they might buy, while all the time she’d been wearing that underneath.

Just waiting for her daughter to see it.

Had any of those other people stared at her mother’s legs, encased in those stockings? They might have wondered about what else Rachel had on. Might have pictured it.

But they wouldn’t have known.

Something coiled, deep inside Sarah, whispering to her, as her eyes traced the curve of her mother’s hips, lush and full and tempting.

“I have some time off owing to me. Plus, the buyers signed off on two places today. So I thought I’d come home.” Her mother lounged in the doorway, one hand poised against the frame as the other rested on her hip. “Spend some time with my girls. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Rachel sauntered in her daughter’s direction, hips swinging provocatively, ample breasts pressed together by the corset.

Offered up.

“My beautiful girls,” Sarah’s mother whispered, her finger under Sarah’s chin, lifting her daughter’s head.

Sarah was frozen, mesmerised, as her mother’s lips inched closer. As they brushed against hers, thoughts draining away as fire shot from her lips to her pussy.

“Would my little girl like to spend some time with her mother?” Rachel breathed, as her lips worked against Sarah’s.

Need pulled at the teenager. Her mother was beautiful. Her body was wrapped up like a gift in that lingerie, breasts spilling over the top of the corset. So many bows to undo. So much to find. Sarah knew exactly what her mother meant. She could hear the desire behind her mother’s words. Desire matched by the surging need in her own body.

She could say yes. She could so easily say yes. Say yes and drown herself in her mother.

There was more she could learn, a little voice told her. Emily couldn’t teach her everything. Her mother must have had female lovers. Must have. She could teach Sarah so much.

For Helen.

Like Emily had.

Except this wasn’t like Emily.

Partly it was. Sarah was the one wearing clothes. Emily had been naked. Her mother was in her underwear, but that wouldn’t stop Sarah taking what she wanted.

Or was it her mother taking her?

With Emily she’d been in control. These clothes said she should be the one in control. Now her mother was trying to set the terms.

Sarah wasn’t having that.

“No,” she said as her mother leaned in for another kiss.

Sarah firmly pushed her mother away. She at least allowed herself to do it by placing a hand on her mother’s chest.

Tingles shot up her arm.

“I said no,” Sarah repeated at the look of pouty disappointment on her mother’s face.

It would be so easy to say yes. Her body cried out to say yes. Despite the hours she’d spent with Emily. Sarah knew how good it would feel to say yes. To run up stairs with her mother, hand in hand. To lose herself.

To cry out her mother’s name.

She wasn’t going to do that. Not like this.

She was going to be in control.

“I’ve got things to do,” Sarah declared. She didn’t know what things but she’d find something. “Let me know when Helen gets back.”

“Alright, dear,” her mother smiled.

It wasn’t a smile a mother should give her daughter, those tingles spreading to the darkest corners of Sarah’s body.

It would be so easy to say yes.

Sarah told herself that she needed to stay in control.

That it was her mother who was tempting her so badly didn’t bother her at all.

“Your sister’s home,” her mother announced, sometime later, standing in Sarah’s doorway.

Her mother’s pose was so inviting, one hand on cocked hip, one leg crossed over in front of the other, calf stretched by her high heels.

Rachel’s other hand slid over her thigh.

“Are you going to tell her what to do?” Sarah’s mother asked, eyes hooding.

Sarah jumped off her bed, pushed passed her mother.

Her mother, who was openly staring at her daughter’s chest.

“Leave it on,” Sarah gasped as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her sister already half out of her exercise gear.

“You sure?” her sister frowned

“Yes!” Sarah cried. Then made herself add, more calmly. “Yes, I am.”

“Whatever,” Helen shrugged, pulling the lycra back up.

“T-turn, turn around,” Sarah ordered, gesturing with her hand. She’d wanted to see Helen in this outfit. Wanted to see how it hugged her sister’s body. She’d lain on her bed imagining it.

As her fingers had traced the line of her opening through her panties, teased at her clit.

Her sister’s arse looked so good, curved but taut, nothing flabby about it at all.

“That’s it, dear,” her mother whispered from behind her. Sarah hadn’t even heard her mother coming down the stairs after her. “Make her bend over. Make her pose.”

“Mum!” Sarah snapped, spinning around to glare at her mother. She wasn’t just going to be a mouthpiece for someone else’s orders. Even if the idea of getting Helen to show off some of her yoga poses was so very tempting. She was the one in control.

“Go have your shower,” Sarah ordered, turning back to her sister.

“That’s telling her what to do, too, dear,” her mother whispered, as Helen swept passed.

Sarah ignored her mother’s words, revelling in the sight of her sister.

Desire flared in the teenager as she felt her mother at her back, breasts pressing against her.

Arms slipping around her waist.

It would be so easy to turn around.

“Haven’t you got something to do?’ Sarah grumbled.

“If you say so, dear,” her mother smiled. “But if you want me, you just have to call.”

Sarah tried to ignore how her insides were melting.

Sarah simply stood there as her mother sauntered off. She didn’t know what to do. She could wait for Helen. Maybe even follow her up the stairs. Catch a glimpse of her sister, towel wrapped around that heavenly body. Maybe even tell her to drop the towel.

See her sister naked.

Or she could follow her mother. It would be some time before Helen emerged from the shower. Time enough to sample what her mother could teach her.

The stairs called to her. Helen would be naked in the shower. Maybe Sarah could find some excuse to go into the bathroom. Catch just a glimpse.

That didn’t sound like someone in control.

Sarah wanted to tell herself that she was in control. Despite the need pulsing through her. The desperate yearning in her centre. The ache in her breasts, wanting someone to touch them. Hold them.

She could call Emily, Have the girl come over. She could make up some excuse for Helen.

Emily wasn’t her sister.

She wasn’t even Sarah’s mother.

Sarah didn’t know how long she stood there, indecision plaguing her.

It was long enough for Helen to finish her shower.

Sarah’s knees buckled as Helen came back down the stairs.

Sarah’s sister was wearing a frilly pair of panties, a corset tight around her body, her breasts offered up. Garters stood proudly on her thighs, Sarah drinking in the sight of her sister’s stocking-clad legs.

It was the twin of their mother’s outfit.

Except it was in black.

“Oh, fuck,” Sarah moaned.

Helen raised a single eyebrow. “You got a problem, Mouse?”

“Oh, that’s a nice set, dear,” their mother observed.

Sarah’s eyes swivelled from her sister to their mother and back again. Matching black and white outfits. Blonde hair spilling around shoulders. She was drowning. In need. In desire. She wanted to launch herself at her sister. Run her hands over that corset, grab her sister’s arse and press their bodies together.

Maybe she was ready. Hadn’t she learnt so much from Emily?

Or maybe her mother. With that fuller, curvier, figure. But not by much. Only what maturity had blessed her with. Her mother had a figure to die for.

Sarah was dying.

“Do you want to say something, Sarah?” their mother asked.

There was so much she could say. Her mother and sister were both looking at her.

Waiting for her.

She was in control.

She needed to show them who was in control.

“H-Helen,” she began, then took a breath. “Get me a drink.”

Helen didn’t say a word as she turned and headed into the kitchen.

Their mother simply smiled, the smile of a parent proud of their child.

And something more.

“And?” Helen asked as she handed her sister a glass of water on her return.

Sarah looked from the glass to her sister. She knew what Helen wanted. Could feel the need radiating off her sister.

That wasn’t how this worked.

“Follow me,” she said, before heading into the lounge room.

“Kneel,” she declared, pointing at the middle of the floor.

Helen looked at her, just for a moment. Sarah caught something that might be a smile on her sister’s face before Helen walked past her

With a shake of her head, that glorious blonde hair flowing around her shoulders, Sarah’s sister sank to the floor.

Desire flared through the younger sister. She wanted to stroke that hair. Bury her face in it. Breathe in her sister’s scent. Wrap herself around Helen, feeling her with every inch of her body.

She didn’t.

She wanted to make Helen obey.

Something seemed so right about that.

“Hands behind your neck, knees spread.”

Without another word, Helen obeyed.

Sarah was sure there was a smile on her sister’s lips.

Sarah sank into one of the lounge chairs. Staring at her sister. Her sister, posed in front of her, displayed.

She was sure Helen’s nipples were diamond points.

Just like hers were.

Sarah sat there. Staring at her sister.

“Shoulders back.”

Sarah had to stifle a moan as her sister’s back arched, presenting Helen’s chest.

“Such a little lezzy, Mouse,” Helen grinned.

“Shut up!” Sarah cried, leaping out of her chair. “Don’t call me that!” She was the one in charge. Someone in charge wasn’t called Mouse. “I don’t want you calling me that. Don’t say a word!”

Angrily she circled her sister. Helen’s arse was temptingly displayed, her waist held so tight by the corset. “Spread those knees. Wider!”

As she rounded back in front of Helen Sarah’s eyes fell to her sister’s centre

And the damp patch on those lacy panties.

Helen was turned on.

Sarah could see it. In the flush on her sister’s face. The slight pout of her lips. Even the way she breathed.

Was it simply because she was doing what Sarah had told her? Or was it something more?

Helen would be wanting to play with herself. Sarah could have her sister kneeling in front of her, hand inside those panties.

Or she could drop Helen now. Give her the same commands she’d given Emily.

Make Helen want her.

Helen had to be drowning in arousal. The same arousal that was clawing at Sarah. Making her want touch her sister. Kiss her.

Take her.

It would be so easy to take that arousal, use it to mould her sister.

Make her desire Sarah.

She could tell Helen what to do.

Make her show Sarah every pose she’d done at yoga.

Make her show Sarah everything.

Sarah wanted her sister so much.

She didn’t know what to do. It was so tempting to give Helen order after order. Maybe have her get a collar, like Emily. A shiver shot through Sarah as she imagined what Emily would look like, with a collar around her neck.

What Helen would look like, with a matching one.

The two of them, crawling after Sarah.

She was sure that damp spot on her sister’s panties was growing larger.

Her own panties felt like they were soaked.

She could make Helen do anything.

But this was Helen.

Sarah had to do something.

“Show me something from yoga.” She could just imagine what Helen had looked like. What she could look like. But Sarah knew very little of yoga. She didn’t want to show her ignorance. She was the one in control.

“Um, isn’t there one called the tree pose? Do that.”

Gracefully Helen rose to her feet, her arms straightening over her, palms meeting together above her head. Her left leg rose, knee bending and pointing straight out to the side.

Helen looked so beautiful.

So perfectly still.

Almost.

Helen’s left foot was resting against her right inner thigh. So high up. So high up her stocking-clad heel was nestled in her crotch.

Pressing into her centre.

Helen was playing with her herself.

“Stop that!” Sarah cried. “You don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to!”

Helen simply raised an eyebrow as her foot moved a couple of inches down her thigh.

Sarah glared at her sister. She wasn’t going to be provoked.

It took a moment before she trusted herself to speak again.

“How long can you hold that pose?” Sarah asked. Even if she was annoyed at Helen her sister was so beautiful.

“A few minutes,” Helen replied.

Sarah gazed at her sister, need prickling at her skin. The muscles in Helen’s thighs were so taut, the corset tight around her body, arms stretched over her head, skin so smooth.

There was only the movement of Helen’s chest as she breathed.

She was like some beautiful doll, posed, so still, ready for Sarah to play with her.

Helen’s right leg twitched. Then again. Sarah’s sister teetered then right herself.

“Hold that pose,” Sarah cried.

She could see the quivers running through Helen, the effort her sister was putting in.

Because Sarah had told her to.

Need surged in her centre.

Helen’s knee sagged, then straightened.

“Hold it!”

Helen swallowed, Sarah’s eyes fixed on her sister’s throat. She could take two steps. Kiss just there, where she could see Helen’s pulse.

Her sister wouldn’t stop her.

Helen was shaking now, tension radiating off her.

“Keep holding it!”

Sarah could see where Helen’s nipples were thrusting into the corset. Helen was so turned on. Because Sarah had told her to be when she did what she was told. That damp patch was so large now.

Helen wasn’t the only one quivering.

With arousal.

With need.

“Please,” her sister gasped, her face flushed with exertion.

Helen never said please to her. Never.

Guilt flared through Sarah. “You can stop,” the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Helen fell to the floor, her chest heaving as she sucked in air.

Sarah wanted to reach out. Touch her sister. Run her hands over that glorious body.

She wanted to give her sister another order.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

She could kneel down in front of Helen, take her cheeks in her hands and kiss her.

Or stand in front of her sister. Tell Helen to crawl after her as Sarah swept from the room.

Orders.

Kisses.

Sarah wanted to give her sister something.

She wanted…

Sarah gazed down at her sister.

Helen looked back, something in her eyes that Sarah couldn’t interpret.

Sarah could…

Without another thought Sarah bolted from the room. She ran up the stairs two, three, at a time. Hurtled through the door to her room, slamming her door behind her.

Sarah threw herself on her bed. Pulled out her diary.

It was so much easier, here in the safety of her room, With her fantasies. She didn’t have to worry, here. Here her sister didn’t give her looks that Sarah couldn’t understand. Here Sarah didn’t worry about she should do next. She could imagine whatever she wanted. Do whatever she wanted.

Imagine her sister however she wanted.

Sarah’s hand slipped to her panties.

Helen was so beautiful

“Mouse!” her sister cried, Sarah’s eyes shooting wide as her door was thrown open, Helen standing there, the sight taking Sarah’s breath away. “What the fuck! What about me?”

Helen was pointing at Sarah’s centre. At where Sarah’s hand was up under her skirt. With a flash of guilt Sarah started to remove her hand.

Then she stopped.

She was in control.

“I told you not to call me that!” Sarah snarled. “Just for that you’re not to touch yourself for the rest of the day. No touching. No playing. Nothing. Understand?”

“What?” her sister shot back. “You!” Helen glared at her sister, then looked away as Sarah stared back. There might have been a smile on Helen’s face. “Alright.”

Sarah was surprised at how easily her sister had given in but it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more. “Say yes! Say ‘Yes, Sarah.’”

Helen turned back to her, straightened up. “Yes, Sarah,” she said. “That good enough?”

Sarah exploded. She was supposed to be the one in control. “No! You don’t answer back like that! Get over here.”

Sarah pulled herself up, sat on the edge of her bed.

Helen was standing next to her.

“Lie on my lap,” Sarah ordered. “Face down. Do it!” she added, as Helen just stood there.

Even so, Sarah couldn’t help savouring the sight of her sister’s legs, wrapped in the stockings.

“Now!”

As Helen moved to obey Sarah couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like a dream. Or a nightmare. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like her.

But she had to do it. She was the one in control. She was the one who decided. When Helen got to touch herself. When Helen got to cum. Helen had to do what Sarah told her. Helen had to learn that.

Helen was so close to her. Beautiful, amazing, Helen. That body, that she’d lusted after for so long. There was a light in her sister’s eyes. Something blazing. Sarah would have expected anger, but it wasn’t that.

She could almost believe it was arousal, that light a burning need.

But somehow it wasn’t for her.

Sarah couldn’t believe how turned on she was, her own arousal blotting out everything else.

Sarah could feel her sister tensing.

For a moment the fog Sarah’s head cleared. Helen was lying across her. They were touching. Helen’s weight was over Sarah’s thighs, heat spilling through her. Helen’s arse was presented to her. She could reach out, let her fingers glide over that arse. Explore, caress.

Give in to the need pouring through her.

Smack!

“You do what I say!” Sarah heard herself yell, ignoring Helen’s sharp exclamation.

Smack!

“You only get to touch yourself when I say!” She didn’t even remember deciding to hit her sister’s arse.

Her sister’s glorious arse, that Sarah had dreamt about so often.

Smack!

“You don’t answer back!” Every contact sent a bolt of lightning to Sarah’s clit, sharp and clear and delicious.

Helen’s arse was red now. Sarah could see a handprint there. Her hand. Where she had touched her sister’s arse.

Her centre was on fire.

Smack!

Helen gasped again, her back arched, her body rigid as it lay over Sarah’s lap.

“You only cum when I say!”

Sarah was staring at her sister’s arse. Her sister wasn’t resisting. Wasn’t saying no.

For so long she’d wanted Helen not to say no.

Smack!

“Do you understand?” The words were almost a snarl, Sarah’s hand poised in the air, ready to hit her sister again. Ready to add another mark.

The marks were so red. Enflamed. Like the flames leaping through Sarah. Red and wild. Arousal and need and darker things.

Sarah shook her head.

She was the one in control.

“Do you understand?” she hissed.

“Yes,” Helen nodded, something in her voice Sarah didn’t understand. “Sarah.”

“Get up,” Sarah ordered brusquely. She looked at her sister. Her beautiful sister. Whose arse she’d just smacked, repeatedly. Whose arse she’d smacked as arousal had swirled through her.

She wanted to do it again.

She’d never wanted to touch her sister like that.

She’d wanted kisses and gentle touches and warmth.

She wanted her sister back over her lap.

She didn’t know what she wanted.

“Get out!” Sarah screamed. “Get out! I don’t want to see you again for the whole afternoon. You’re not to touch yourself. You’re not to cum! Get! Out!”

Sarah threw herself on the bed. She didn’t want to look at Helen as her sister left. If she did, she’d see Helen’s arse. The marks there.

“Shut the door!” she cried, her words half-muffled by her pillow.

She only relaxed a little bit as she heard the door close.

Sarah buried her face in her pillow. She didn’t understand what she’d done. Or why she’d done it. That wasn’t how she’d imagined her first time touching her sister. Like that.

The image burnt in her. Of Helen lying across her lap. Of her hand striking Helen’s arse. Her sister squirming as she lay there.

Sarah hadn’t wanted to do that to her sister.

It had turned her on so much.

Her hands shot into her panties.

She gasped, her back arching, her crest crashing over her, the moment her fingers found her clit.

Then she hurtled out the door.

(To be continued)