The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I could hardly wait until the next time I got to help my brother.

He has this weird psychological hang-up: basically, he can’t cum while there’s anyone else in the room. It’s really started to cause issues in his relationships, so I’ve been helping him out—not anything gross, just being in the room while he jerks off. And, of course, to make sure he feels comfortable, I’ve been masturbating as well—otherwise it’d just be weird, y’know?

Anyway, while he hasn’t been able to cum yet—not even with my help—I knew that eventually we’d get there. And so, the next time the two of us had the house to ourselves, I went into the living room, stripped down to my bra and panties, and waited for my brother to arrive.

I was so excited. Showing off my body helped my brother. I didn’t want him to have to ask, I just wanted him to be able to see me.

“Sis,” he said as he entered, throwing an admiring glance my way, “you didn’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” I said, my brow furrowing. Maybe he was right? Maybe he shouldn’t see this much of me—he is my brother, after all. And we hadn’t even made an appointment, I’d just decided to surprise him with a view of…—

But before I could get too far down that train of thought, he’d pulled his pants down and let his cock fall into view. All my worries drifted away as his hand began to slowly stroke up and down his magnificent shaft. It was so relaxing, just watching the repetitive motion of his hand, and soon my own hand drifted to my panties and I began to get myself off as well.

God I’m horny, I suddenly thought. As I stroked my pussy-lips, watching my brother’s fist slowly pump his hardness, I reflected on why I was so horny. Obviously it was nothing to do with my brother—I wasn’t a pervert, after all. This was completely non-sexual. All we were doing was getting ourselves off in front of each other—nothing wrong with that.

No, I realized, I was horny because of how relaxed I felt. When I felt relaxed, I was truly able to give into my desires. When I was relaxed, I could let myself feel the full force of my lust—when I was relaxed, I was horny. Being relaxed lets me get as horny as I can possibly get, and of course nothing relaxes me as much as watching my brother masturbate.

It all made so much sense. Up and down. Up and down. Stroke, stroke, stroke.

I slipped a finger into my wet slit, and then a second, moving my hand in time with my brother’s. In, out, in, out. Stroke, stroke. It was so relaxing. Watching my brother masturbate is so relaxing. And being relaxed makes me horny.

So horny…

Without even realizing it, I’d started to writhe a bit on the couch. Normally when I masturbate, I just sort of lie there and get the job done, but because I was so relaxed, I was letting myself get more and more turned on. Hornier and hornier. Stroke, stroke.

I was so turned on that I couldn’t control my body—the intensity of my arousal was taking me over. My body was a slave to it, a slave to my own pleasure. And I loved it. I wanted to be a slave to pleasure. I wanted to be nothing more than a pleasure slave…

My brother had been muttering, as always, and as the pleasure overtook me, I closed my eyes for a second, reopening them only when I heard my brother snap at me.

Snap at me? Was my brother talking to me? I reopened my eyes, but before I could ask what he’d said, my attention was drawn back to his huge, beautiful cock.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax, Hannah. Relax. Let your worries float away, I told myself. Just relax, and focus on your brother’s cock…don’t close your eyes. Focus on the cock, and keep your eyes open.

Of course my brother wasn’t muttering. Where did I get that idea from? All I could hear was the sound of my brother’s pleasure, and my own thoughts, reminding me of how horny I was, how horny I got when I was relaxed, how much I loved being relaxed and horny…

I lost track of the time as I played with myself; my attention was so focussed on watching my brother stroke himself, watching him jerk off in front of me. His hand travelled up and down, and I moved my fingers in and out of my pussy in time to match it. My breathing, too, matched the rhythm of my brother’s strokes.

Up and down. In and out. Breathe, breathe, stroke, stroke.

As I watched, I found my arousal growing again, but at a slow, more manageable rate this time. I was getting horny, playing with myself, intently staring at a cock. Sure, it was my brother’s cock, but a body was a body—just as he was staring at mine, it was okay for me to stare at his. What was the harm?

I sat on the couch, enjoying myself, staring at my brother’s cock, imagining it belonged to someone else, watching as he stroked himself. The feeling in my stomach began to grow, as I got more and more turned on. I loved playing with myself. I loved being looked at. I loved looking at my broth—…no, just at a cock. I loved looking at cock.

The familiar feeling of an orgasm began to approach, and I slowed down. I couldn’t cum, not yet. My brother had to cum first—that’s why we were here, after all. That was the purpose of tonight. That was my purpose in being here. My purpose was to make my brother cum.

Even though I slowed my stimulation down, the situation was so uniquely erotic, I couldn’t help but get more and more aroused. I was so horny, and so relaxed. Being relaxed made me more horny. The more relaxed I was, the more I could allow myself to get turned on. The more I relaxed, the more aroused I could let myself get.

I needed a distraction. Even as I kept staring at my brother’s cock, feeling my orgasm creep ever-closer, I tried to think about other things. I told myself that I was only this turned on because I was so relaxed—when I wasn’t here, in this relaxing situation, I couldn’t get this turned on. And when I wasn’t this turned on, I couldn’t cum.

That didn’t quite sound right, but my arousal was pounding at my head, refusing to let other thoughts through. I was a slave to my pleasure. My body was aroused, and my mind was just a slave to my body. I am a pleasure-slave.

I couldn’t cum unless I was turned on, and at that moment, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. I can’t cum unless I’m turned on. I can’t cum unless I’m turned on, and I’m only turned on when I’m relaxed. When I’m relaxed, I’m turned on, and I can’t cum unless I’m relaxed.

God I was horny. And relaxed. Watching my sibling masturbate relaxed me more than anything else I’d ever experienced. I was so relaxed I felt like I could melt. I was so turned on I thought I was going to explode. I’m only relaxed when I watch my brother masturbate, and I can only get turned on when I’m relaxed.

Suddenly it all made sense—that was why I was so horny. I mean, obviously I was horny because of how relaxed I was (and because I’d spent the last half-hour staring at a cock, as it stroked up and down and up and down, over and over again…) but I only ever got this turned on when I was relaxed. I could only cum when I was this relaxed, and so obviously I hadn’t been able to masturbate since we’d done this last.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I came—no wonder I was so friggin’ horny, I could only cum when I was watching my brother masturbate. That still didn’t sit right in my head, but I was right on the brink of orgasm, and I didn’t have the mental room to question it. Instead, the statement just repeated in my head over and over again.

I can only cum when I watch my brother masturbate. I can only cum when I watch my brother masturbate. Watching my brother masturbate makes me cum.

I knew it was rude to cum before my brother—his pleasure was, after all, why we were here—but I couldn’t hold it back any longer. At some point I’d allowed the arousal to take over and started writhing around on the couch again, but this time my eyes hadn’t closed—they were focused with laser precision on my brother’s cock.

My pussy clenched around my fingers, and my hips involuntarily began to buck, over and over. I stared at my brother’s erection as an orgasm wracked my body, and wave after wave of pleasure overtook me.

Watching my brother masturbate makes me cum. I can only cum when I watch my brother masturbate. I’m a slave to my pleasure. I’m a pleasure slave. I’m my brother’s pleasure slave…

After I came, I just lay there, exhausted, strange thoughts flitting through my head, instructing me to pleasure my brother, that everything I did was for his pleasure…they didn’t make sense, and I dismissed them as quickly as they arrived, lacking the energy to process them properly.

Finally, my brother put his cock away, and I looked up at him sadly.

“Nothing?” I asked with a slight pout.

“Not this time,” he said sadly, “but Mom and Dad are away again this weekend—maybe we could try again then?”

“Of course,” I replied, a selfish thought running through my head. This had started as a favor to my brother, but it gave me so much pleasure. Was that something I should feel bad about?

The next night, I was laying in bed unable to sleep, when I remembered some of the strange thoughts that I’d been having while I watched my brother masturbate. Like…that I could only cum when I was watching him pleasure himself. That was, of course, patently ridiculous—I’d been masturbating since I was a young teen, and my boyfriend had made me cum countless, countless times.

Sure, it was relaxing to watch my brother masturbate—who wouldn’t find that sort of thing pleasant? But to say that it was the only time I could cum? That simply inaccurate.

To prove to myself how stupid it was, I shut my eyes, pictured my brother’s hand stroking up and down his cock, and got myself off in almost no time at all.

That weekend, as promised, my brother and I met in the living-room for another attempt. I immediately stripped off, my brother pulled out his cock, and we set to work.

I say “work” facetiously, of course—I had been looking forward to this session since our last one. It was just so incredibly relaxing, watching his hand move up and down. So relaxing…I was so relaxed…

Stroke, stroke. Up and down.

I’d been wet all day just at the idea of how relaxed I was going to be, and my hand immediately found its way into my panties, and I began pulling and tugging at my pussy-hair, enjoying the sensations that it caused.

I can only cum when I’m turned on, of course, but it didn’t take long for my relaxation to jumpstart my arousal, and soon I was on the brink of an orgasm again. I can only cum when I’m turned on. I can only cum when I’m turned on.

Suddenly, I had a ‘lightbulb moment’—this was exactly the problem that my brother was having. He was struggling to cum, and here I was, mentally repeating the solution to myself without even realizing.

My brother needed to cum. I needed to make my brother cum. And how could I do that?

By making sure he was turned on, as much as possible.

The relaxation had obviously helped—no one can cum when they’re stressed, or highly strung, and I knew that being relaxed helped me get as turned on as possible. But it was only half of the equation—I needed to make sure that my brother was as turned on as possible. I needed to do whatever I could to turn my brother on.

“Hey bro,” I said, interrupting the silence. Well, not exactly “silence”—the sound of two siblings masturbating. And my brother’s…no, he wasn’t saying anything. Why did I keep thinking that he was?

“Yeah?” he said, continuing to jerk off. Up…and down…up…and down…

I let myself get distracted by the sight for far too long, before pulling myself together.

“This might sound weird, but what turns you on?”

“Uh….” he said, and there was a long pause before he hesitantly replied. “Boobs?”

I would have laughed if I didn’t know it would hurt his feelings. Of course he liked boobs—he was a guy. I hardly even needed to ask, did I?

What’s more, that was something I could easily help with. After all, I had a pair, and if my brother…stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke…if my brother needed to see them, I was here to help.

I didn’t say a word as I reached behind myself, undid my bra, and let my breasts fall free. I couldn’t take my eyes off my brother’s cock, so I just had to imagine what his face looked like at that moment—his eyes, wide with joy as he saw his sister’s…no, that wasn’t right.

For a second, I was hit with a wave of self-consciousness. I was topless in front of my brother. I mean, sure, he’s seen me in my underwear, but that’s hardly worse than a bikini—this was more than that. I’d exposed myself to my own sibling…

I tore my eyes away from my brother’s cock, and looked up at his face.

“Bro?” I said, and to my surprise he wasn’t even looking at my exposed tits, he was staring back at me, a worried look on his face.

“Sis…” he said urgently, “I think I’m close. Look…”

I immediately looked back at his cock. I couldn’t believe it! We’d done it! I’d helped my brother get over his problem—sure, I’d had to cross a taboo line, but it would only be this once, and it would be worth it if I could…

As I stared at his hard member, I lost my train of thought. I just liked looking at it—I know that probably makes me sound weird, but I’m a straight girl. It would be weirder if I didn’t like looking at cock, right?

And sure, it was my brother’s, but it was so easy to just pretend that it wasn’t. That was obviously what he was doing—he wasn’t staring at his sister’s tits, he just saw tits. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that, and I was just happy that they were giving him pleasure.

To my disappointment, as I continued to stare at my brother’s cock, I realized that his prediction must have been wrong. He didn’t look any closer to cumming, his cock just looked the same as it always did. Hard, standing proud, his foreskin stimulating him each time it was pulled over his head.

Over and over…up and down and up and down…

Still, he’d said he was close…maybe I could do something to help? I’d shown him my tits, and that had almost worked…what else could I do?

I just stared at my brother’s cock for a few more minutes while I thought, my own hand pumping in and out of my pussy. Pump, pump, stroke, stroke. Two siblings, working their genitals in unison.

I’d had a boyfriend who was really into tits, I suddenly remembered. He loved looking at them, touching them, tasting them…I briefly considered letting my brother touch my nipples, but I immediately knew that was going too far. No, there had to be something else I could do, something that wouldn’t cross a line like that…

Suddenly I remembered. My ex had loved to cum on my tits. Now obviously that’s something that I’d normally never consider with my brother, but desperate times called for desperate measures. We’d made a breakthrough here today, and we might never get this close again—I had to do whatever I could to help him cum. If he didn’t manage to, it would be nothing worse than what we’d done so far, but if I was successful…well sure, I’d have to clean my brother’s cum off my tits, but we’d have succeeded. We’d have accomplished what we had set out to do, and I’d never have to watch him masturbate again.

I don’t know why that thought made me so sad, but I dismissed it and spoke up before I lost my nerve.

“Hey bro…you like looking at my tits?”

Yes, I thought to myself, mentally answering for my brother. Of course I do, Hannah.

“Do you like it when I do this?” I replied, and reached up with one hand to tweak my nipple. I’d forgotten how sensitive my nipples are, and the wave of pleasure that hit me made me forget what I was doing for a few seconds.

Pleasuring your brother. You’re pleasuring your brother. Helping your brother get off. You’ll do whatever you can to help your brother get off. Beg him to cum on you. Beg him to cum on your tits.

“Would it help,” I continued after I’d gotten myself back together, “if you could cum on my tits?”

Oh Jesus, I knew he wanted to say, Hannah…you don’t have to do that.

Yes I do, I told myself, and pressed on. “I know I don’t have to…” I said, in my sultriest, sexiest voice. “I want to. I want you to cum on my tits. Please. Please, do it…cum on my tits.”

I think my choice of words shocked him, but there wasn’t a trace of hesitation as he moved towards me, and positioned himself at the end of the couch. I lay down, my eyes transfixed on his huge, beautiful cock…my hand continued pumping in and out of my pussy as I watched it, so close to my face, towering over me, dominating me.

I couldn’t help but think about how submissive this position was—there was a cock was above me, and I couldn’t stop watching it. It was my world, at that moment—he was such an alpha male, and all I wanted to do was help him cum.

“Please,” I continued to beg, “please…cum on my tits. Do it. Please. Cum on your slut’s tits. I want it. I need it.”

I didn’t know where some of that language was coming from, but with every word I spoke, I got more and more aroused. There was something so hot about pleading like this, so degrading about referring to myself in such crude terms. I could feel my orgasm approaching, but I was determined to do everything I could to make sure my brother came first.

“I want to feel your hot cum splashing against my skin…please, I need it so bad. I need you to cum. I need you to cum all over me.”

My mouth was just spilling filth at this point, and my eyes were struggling to refrain from rolling back in my head…but I couldn’t stop looking at my brother’s cock. I needed it, to cum. I needed it to cum. I needed my brother’s cock to cum, and I couldn’t cum myself without it.

What happened next was a bit weird, I’m not going to lie. I guess I went into a sort of frenzy, or a trance state…I was so fixated on the idea of my brother cumming before I did, but I couldn’t stop myself…so I must have gone into a weird fantasy world, because the next thing I saw was my brother shooting his load, his hand furiously pumping the cum out of him, all over my chest.

I swear I felt it, just as I’d said, splashing all over my chest, some landing on my face. I was so turned on that I opened my mouth and let his cum fly into it, swallowing it down, feeling it on my chest as my brother spoke for the first time since telling me that he liked boobs.

“Cum,” he hissed, and I just nodded in response. “Cum until you black out.”

With that, my orgasm overcame me.

“Fuuuuck,” I said, finally closing my eyes as I came so hard that I could feel it in every part of my body. My toes curled, my nipples were so hard I thought they were going to burst, my eyelids fluttered, and my pussy sang with joy.

The last thing I remember were my brother’s words washing over me…and then I was out.

That’s right. I came so hard that I blacked out. I came so hard that I fantasized my brother came on my tits, then told me to cum.

When I awoke, my brother was standing over me, concerned, holding my bra and sweatsuit.

“Here,” he said kindly, “put these back on.”

“What happened?” I asked, and he told me that I’d passed out. That explained the visions—I must have been so horny, so desperate to make my brother cum that I’d imagined the whole thing.

“Did you….”

“No,” he replied, “not this time.”

“Oh,” I said sadly, still confused. “Well, there’s always next time.”

“If you’re sure you want to keep going,” my brother said, and I could tell from his tone that he was starting to lose hope.

“Hey,” I said, “don’t talk like that. We’re going to keep doing this, even if it takes weeks…months…years! You know I’m here to help, bro, no matter how long it takes. After all—what else is a sister for?”