The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Helpful Hannah

by Pan

Chapter 5

I was halfway out the door when my brother stopped me again.

The orgasm I’d had that morning had really taken the edge off, but I was still horny, and so I’d called my boyfriend and organized to go around.

“Wait,” he said, and I stopped.

“What’s up?” I said, checking my phone for the time. If I didn’t leave in the next few minutes, I’d miss the bus, and my boyfriend had this thing about punctuality.

“This morning, in the kitchen…it was so hot.”

“Yeah…” I said, suddenly blushing. There was something wrong with me—helping my brother out shouldn’t be hot—but I couldn’t deny that the risk of being caught had been a surprising turn-on.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, and it’s gotten me so turned on that I bet I can cum.”

“Right now?” I asked, looking at my phone once more. If I left now—and ran—I could still make it…

…but my brother needed my help.

I quickly made up my mind. As I texted my boyfriend and told him I was going to be late, I pulled my brother into the hallway closet. I quickly checked to make sure that Mom wasn’t going to catch us in the next few minutes, and shut the door.

It was pitch-black, but that was okay. If my brother was as turned on as he’d said, we could get this out of the way quickly, and he wouldn’t even have to look at me. Without hesitation, I unbuckled his pants, and wrapped my hand around his thick cock.

He gasped at my forwardness, and suddenly I became aware of what I was doing. I was touching my brother’s cock—my brother’s cock—in the middle of the house. What was I thinking?? What if Mom opened the door to get a coat, or heard a noise?

I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could, I felt my brother’s hand on my wrist, and he started moving my hand for me. As it pumped up and down the hardness of my brother’s cock, I felt myself really getting into the rhythm.

Up and down. Up and down. Stroke, stroke, stroke…

After just a few seconds, all my stress, all my tension melted away. A peaceful inner voice told me how right this was, how helpful I was being…

I was helping my brother. I was helping my brother with a problem. That was all it was—there was nothing strange about helping my brother.

My phone buzzed in my other hand, and its screen briefly lit up the small room. Despite the darkness, I’d been staring at my own hand as it slowly but confidently pumped up and down my brother’s cock, but now I could see it, I could see its beauty. I could see how hard it was—how hard I had made it—and when my phone’s screen turned off, I was disappointed but could still see the image in my head.

Pump, pump, pump. Up and down and up and down. Stroke, stroke. Up and down.

The darkness and the hypnotic rhythm of my own hand took over, and I tuned out for a few minutes. Part of me wanted to play with myself, but at the same time I didn’t want to get distracted from the task at hand.

Making my brother cum was the most important thing I’d ever done—in many ways, it felt like the reason I existed. After all, I was a woman—every part of me was designed for a male’s pleasure. Every part of me existed to make men cum. My hands, my body…my mouth.

Nothing else mattered as much as making my brother cum.

When I tuned back in again, my brother was zipping his jeans up once more. For a second, I almost asked if it had worked, if I’d managed to make him cum…but no, of course i hadn’t. I would remember something as momentous as that. He didn’t say anything, just reached out and wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as he opened the door and peeked out to make sure that no one was there.

“It’s okay Hannah,” he said. “You did what you could.”

My mind was buzzing…was there anything I could do to help my brother? As I went to the kitchen to get some water and wash the strange taste out of my mouth, I decided to cancel meeting my boyfriend. There was a more pressing matter at hand, and I had to work on fixing it.

* * *

That night, I again sneaked into my brother’s room. If we were going to solve this, I’d decided, we couldn’t just wait for opportunities to present themselves. We had to make opportunities, every chance we got, just as my brother had that morning.

He was a bit cranky when I woke him up, but as I explained my plan, was forced to agree that I was right.

“Do you want me to turn the light out?” he asked, but I shook my head. When the lights were out, it was too easy to lose focus—when I’d texted my boyfriend back that morning, I’d discovered that I’d lost almost half an hour. It hadn’t felt like nearly that long, but something about the darkness had really knocked me out.

The implied question that he didn’t ask was whether I should jerk him off, or whether he should do it himself. I was still struggling with the fact that wrapping my hand around my own brother’s cock had become almost normal, and so I decided to let him handle it.

I knew that the touch of a female hand was more likely to get him off, but the other factor in my visit was that I was worked up. I wanted to play with myself—mainly to help my brother out, of course, but also because I found it so much easier to get off when I was in a relaxed environment, like helping my brother get off.

He wasn’t hard, and so I took off my top and exposed my breasts to him, and it had the desired effect. I watched with a huge smile on my face as his cock hardened at the sight of me. After all, that was what my boobs were for—to get men hard.

Everything about me was there to get men hard. And what was my brother if not a man?

Slipping a finger between my pussy-lips, I was unsurprised to find that I was already soaked. I felt like I walked around in a state of arousal most of the time these days.

It makes sense, a small part of me insisted. When you’re wet, you’re ready to take a cock. And that’s your purpose—to take cocks inside you. To get men off.

You exist to get men off.

I tried to shoo those stray thoughts away, but they persisted. I was just trying to have a nice relaxing masturbation while helping my brother, and I didn’t want it to get weird…but I couldn’t stop thinking about what a sexual being I was.

Your boobs are there to make men hard, I told myself, and couldn’t help but agree. As I repeatedly plunged my fingers inside myself, my boobs had a slight bounce to them, and while I didn’t want to take my eyes off the cock in front of me for a second, I would have bet anything that my chest was what my brother was staring at.

Your hands are there to jerk men off, I thought, feeling slightly guilty that I was making my brother do it himself. Still, touching his cock—a good cause though it was—was still new to me, and something felt wrong about touching myself at the same time as I touched him.

Your mouth exists to swallow cum.

Your cunt exists to get men off.

Your ass exists for cock.

The thoughts were building up, getting more and more deviant. I’d never even had anal sex before, but suddenly the idea was so alluring—it was true, of course. I was made to please men, and if a man wanted to fuck me in the ass, who was I to stand in their way?

Something about the thought process seemed off, but I was too horny to question it. The idea of a cock sliding between my ass-cheeks, filling me up—it was enough to bring me over the edge, and as I came, staring at my brother’s cock, I tried to ignore the persistent image of it being the cock to take me from behind for the first time.

My orgasm was long and powerful, and when I finished thrashing around in pleasure, I drew my attention back to my brother.

“Anything?” I asked hopefully, but he just shook his head.

“I can…”

I trailed off, and there was a long pause. I was tired, and now that I’d had my own orgasm, the idea of touching my brother’s cock had gone back to being weird. He just stared at me, silently waiting for me to finish my sentence. I knew he’d never ask—he was too much of a gentleman for that—and it was that thought that made me smile and finish the thought.

“I can jerk you off, if you like?”

When he politely refused, saying that he just wanted to get some sleep, I tried not to let my relief show. I would have done it, of course—my brother asks so little, and he’s going through so much—but I was tired, and just wanted to crash.

* * *

The next morning, the first thing I saw when I awoke was my brother’s cock, erect before my eyes. I was so startled that I almost screamed, but he held a finger up to his lips and pointed at my open bedroom door.

“We don’t want Mom or Dad coming in,” he whispered, and I nodded in reply, unable to take my eyes off my brother’s erection. I’d never been this close to it before—it was just inches from my eyes—and I couldn’t stop staring at it as he slowly wrapped one hand around it and started pumping.

“Why don’t you close the door?” I asked, as his hand moved up and down in a steady rhythm. Up and down, and up and down…

He didn’t say anything in reply, but the answer immediately popped into my head. If Mom and Dad found a closed door, they’d be suspicious.

Without even realizing, I’d slipped one hand between my legs and started tugging at my pubic hair. I wasn’t normally a morning masturbator, but my brother’s confidence was so relaxing that I couldn’t help but be turned on.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

I would have preferred a slightly more relaxed orgasm, but with the risk of being caught, we didn’t have much time. It wasn’t long at all before I was gently rubbing my clit, an orgasm wracking my body as I thought about how exciting it was, the risk of what we were doing.

You would think that being simultaneously relaxed and excited was a contradiction in terms, but with my brother it just somehow worked. I was relaxed because he was—masturbating in front of a sibling was the most relaxing thing one could do—but at the same time, the delicious tension of what we were doing, how easy it would be for our parents to walk past and see my brother with his cock out…

It was somehow exhilarating, and the excitement turned me on.

I got myself off twice more before lunch. Whenever Mom and Dad were in another part of the house, my brother would come find me, pull out his cock, and wordlessly start stroking it. Honestly, I was just glad that he’d taken to heart my advice the previous night—we needed to take every opportunity we could to make him cum, and that meant that we couldn’t just wait for our parents to disappear.

It was two days later before I saw my boyfriend again. We normally spend time together pretty much every day, but with the increased frequency that I was helping my brother out, I felt bad leaving the house at all. It was only at my brother’s insistence that I finally organized for my boyfriend to come around and pick me up.

The past two days had been a roller coaster of sneaking around and avoiding Mom and Dad. I actually lost count of how many times I got off the second day—practically every time our parents left the room, his erection was out, and my hand was down my pants. We’d even made another hallway-closet visit, and I hadn’t had to go to his room that night—he’d come to mine, kneeling on top of me, jerking off with his cock right near my face.

As soon as we got back to my boyfriend’s place, we started fooling around. It had been a few days since he’d gotten any, and I think the poor guy was really built up…but it just wasn’t doing anything for me.

It must have been a Pavlovian thing. Each time I’d gotten off lately, it was with the risk of being caught, and now that we were in a safe environment, I just couldn’t get turned on. I went along with it, for his sake—what kind of a person would I be if I helped my brother out with his problem and not my boyfriend, hey?—but after he came inside me, I just rolled over, and tried to work out what I could do.

Less than ten minutes later, he was hard and wanted to go again, but I knew that I couldn’t fake another orgasm. It wouldn’t be right.

For the first time since I started helping my brother, I started to worry that it was interfering with my relationship, which I knew was completely unacceptable. If this continued, I knew I’d have to stop.

I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, the idea of no longer helping my brother actually made me feel a bit sick…but on the other, I knew that I couldn’t let it get in the way of my real sex life.

“Hannah?” my boyfriend said, and I realized that I hadn’t responded to his advances at all, just sat there in worried silence.

I made up my mind on the spot: I had to solve this. If I couldn’t get turned on without a little bit of danger, and I wanted to continue sleeping with my boyfriend, then I had to create a little bit of danger. Standing up abruptly, I began pulling my clothes on.

“Come with me,” I said, and when he threw me a confused look, I stared at him. “Trust me.”

Less than five minutes later, we were in the car. He followed my directions, and parked in the lot of the local supermarket, the only shop that was open this late.

“Do you need something?” he asked, confused, and I just smiled in response.

“You,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him.

To his credit, he didn’t question me.