The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hierarchy of Needs

by Pan

Chapter 17

Do you know what C.S. Lewis thought was the most beautiful word in the English language?

He was extremely religious (Aslan is Jesus and all that) so you might think it was, like, forgiveness or mercy or grace.

But no. He thought the most beautiful word in all of English was ‘cellar door’.

When I first heard that, it didn’t make sense to me. Like, I hear cellar door (which I guess is two words, now that I think about it) and I think dark and dusty and damp. Definitely not, like, beauty.

But then one day I saw a thread discussing it, except they didn’t spell it as two words. They spelled it ’Selador’, and I suddenly got it. There’s something about the way it rolls off the tongue, it has an almost ethereal quality. Selador.

So if you’d asked my opinion up to about a week ago, I would probably have said yeah, cellar door/Selador is the most beautiful word in the English language. At least, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything more striking.

But then, all of a sudden, the word ‘rehearsal’ became very important in my life.

Rehearsal. Such a great word. Such a beautiful concept.

It turns out no, practice doesn’t make perfect. Practice, in the right circumstances, is perfection.

We were halfway through filming a video when the thought first struck me.

And you might be wondering how it was even possible for me to be getting my sister off and able to think of anything else. Which, fair enough, good point.

When I was kid, one of our cousins got an annual Disneyland pass, but when we went to visit they’d sometimes be like “Eh, no, I don’t really want to go this weekend”. It just didn’t make any sense. It was Disneyland. But now that I’m a little older, I get it. It’s like eating chocolate for every meal; after a while, you start craving something a little more solid.

Don’t get me wrong. Getting my sister off, controlling her orgasm, making her cum…it was better than Disneyland. Better than chocolate. And far better than Chocolate Disneyland (which frankly sounds like a disaster).

I was nowhere close to getting sick of it. Watching my sister’s eyelids twitch as my hand brought her to climax—it was the most erotic experience I’d ever had. The best experience of my life, period.

But as she moaned, I found myself wanting to give her notes.

Partially, and I know this is going to sound weird, because directing these videos had actually made me a bit of a perfectionist. I had to fool my sister into thinking that I was, after all, and I guess you eventually become the mask you wear. To keep up the ruse that I was a complete expert, I’d found myself watching a bunch of cinematography stuff on YouTube, buying similar vids the ones we were making, and watching them critically. So, yeah, I had some pretty good ideas about how to improve the execution.

But mostly because I didn’t just want to make my sister cum.

Le me rephrase. I didn’t just want to get my sister cum.

Experiencing Ashley getting off: watching her face and hearing her sounds and smelling the scent of her pussy…it was the hottest thing I’d ever been a part of.

But it had never been the end goal.

Sex With Ashley was the finishing line, and the only way to cross it was to keep on moving. I guess you can argue that what we were doing was a form of sex, but not really. I didn’t just want to give my sister orgasms, glorious though that was.

I wanted to experience them from inside her.

I wanted to feel her wrapped around my dick, experience the sensations of Ashley milking the cum out of me. To see her on her knees in front of me, enthusiastically obeying my every whim.

To know that my sister lived to be my personal sex-toy.

And so I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until Ashley understood exactly what I liked. What I wanted from her.

The end goal wasn’t just to get my sister off, it was to make her yield to my every desire.

For that to work, she needed to be obedient. She needed to know what I wanted, and give it to me, ideally before I even asked.

She needed to be desperate to please me.

So when my sister moaned in a weird way, or came too early, or got distracted and forgot to present her body to me the exact way I wanted, it bugged me.

I’d accepted it at first—again, you get infinite free trips to Disneyland, you don’t complain about the parking—but then an alternative had occurred to me.


What a beautiful word.

The day after I came up with the idea, my sister’s lips were stretched around one of her toys—a big black dildo one of her fans had bought her—and my hand was between her legs.

We were rehearsing.


I’d told her (not entirely dishonestly) that I didn’t have a huge amount of experience touching a woman, and that I wanted to be able to get better at it with real-time feedback, hearing exactly what she liked in the moment (without the distraction of needing to hold a camera at the same time).

Ashley, very flatteringly, had told me that she doubted I had anything to worry about, but I’d insisted.

The first few times she hadn’t been deepthroating a sex toy, of course. She hadn’t even been wearing make-up. From the outside, you might have thought it was an experienced woman guiding her new boyfriend through the mechanisms of sex. You never would have guessed that we were brother and sister.

She’d just moved my hand to her freshly-shaved pussy, and was talking me through how she liked to be touched.

I’m going to be honest; none of it was a surprise. I’d watched my sister get off more times than I’d eaten cereal. (And a few times, I’d done both at once.) Ashley was often naked, sometimes fully-clothed, occasionally dressed up in all manner of costumes. I’d seen her use her hands, toys…and, of course, I’d started using toys on her.

But to actually touch her? We were crossing the most taboo line yet.

And while a part of me wished that I had video record of my first time laying hands directly upon my sister’s pink pussy, there was something so hot about the intimacy of it.

This wasn’t for money. This wasn’t for an audience.

This was my sister, showing me how to touch her.

My sister was guiding my hand, showing me how she wanted me to get her off.

As my finger parted Ashley’s lips, dipping into the wetness inside, it was all I could do not to groan aloud.

She was watching me, so I made sure to keep my poker face. This was business. Educational. I wasn’t touching my sister because I wanted to get her off, I was learning how it worked so the videos would be better.

To make both of us more money.

So far as my sister was concerned, it definitely had nothing to do with a long-held sexual fantasy, or moving one step closer feeling my dick inside her.

As the first lesson continued, my sister got quieter and quieter. Her eyes began to cloud with lust, and I caught her biting her lip once or twice. I pretended to be dispassionately interested, asking questions about what this felt like, and if she enjoyed it if I did that.

Ashley’s responses grew breathier, and so I started taking more liberties. I moved one hand to her tit—a little forward, perhaps, but something told me she wouldn’t object.

Sure enough, she simply arched her back in response, and I had to work even harder to avoid showing my true feelings.

To avoid her seeing my cock thickening.

I’d admired my sister’s tit from afar for so long. Now here it was, in my hand, plump and full. I pinched her nipple (as I’d seen her do to herself so many times) and enjoyed the lustful gasp I got in response.

In my time behind the camera—or watching my sister’s show from the next room over—I’d seen the way her pussy glistened more as she got closer to cumming, but this was the first time I’d felt it, the increased slickness of her passage as I pumped two fingers in and out, rubbing her clit with my thumb, mauling her right tit with my left hand.

“I’m going to cum,” she gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Fuck. Jacob, I’m…”

Allowing myself a grin, I curled my fingers the way she’d shown me.

In the past week, as I’d fucked my sister with a toy, I’d felt the increased resistance as she came. Now, as she climaxed around my hand, I could feel the clenching directly; it wasn’t a single grab, it was a throbbing pulse. Clench, clench, clench, clench.

Soon enough, I’d feel it around my cock.

My sister’s orgasms are interesting. Sometimes, when she’s in performance mode, she can have what looks like a powerful orgasm, then jump straight back into her hosting duties, thanking her audience and pointing them towards her social media.

But sometimes, it’s like she gets…foggy. Like the orgasm drained her brain. If she’s on camera, she’ll still say all the lines, but they won’t be quite as smooth.

And when she wasn’t on camera, if we were just masturbating together (god I loved my life) and she got foggy, she’d just stretch out like a cat, this big satisfied look on her face.

This was different.

After she came, she had that satisfied look on her face, and she definitely looked foggy. But it wasn’t a general malaise.

Instead, she was looking at me adoringly.


I’d gotten her off; not for the camera, not for a video. I’d touched my sister, rubbed her clit until she came, and she looked…grateful.



I couldn’t have been harder.

Part of me was tempted to just pull it out and start jerking off. Honestly, maybe I should have. I had my sister so well-trained, she likely wouldn’t have blinked an eye, and in her post-orgasmic state she looked so…obedient.

But again—that wasn’t my priority. Above all else, I was moving towards Sex With Ashley, and I couldn’t do anything that would risk that. It just wouldn’t be worth it.

Hot though it would have been to have her lay there, content and submissive, and watch me stroke myself. Watch my fingers, covered in her juices, touch myself until I came.

I didn’t jerk off. But I did do something a little risky. I moved my hand to her mouth.

Ashley’s eyes widened oh-so-slightly, but she didn’t hesitate. Her lips parted, and I felt her soft tongue around my digits, as she sucked them clean of her own girl-cum.

“Thanks,” I finally, said, breaking the silence. “I think that was helpful.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said in response. “Not a problem,” she repeated when I pulled my hand out.

All the videos we’d shot in the last week had been variations on a single theme: me using a toy on her while she looked at the camera and begged me not to stop. They were good—the sales numbers had confirmed what my dick already suspected—but now that we’d crossed a new boundary, I knew I could push things further.

And so over the next few days, we mixed things up. The first video or two were just me fingering her, making her cum with my hand.

To my delight, the videos even managed to capture that look of submission, of total adoration. It wasn’t quite as good as capturing my first time touching my sister would have been, but I was pretty glad I had it.

At the end of the vid, I even recorded my sister licking my fingers clean. I was delighted to learn it looked as hot on camera as it did in-person.

But after we’d done that twice, I started pitching other ideas.

Nothing more complex, just…different.

Different enough to require rehearsal. Sometimes a few rehearsals, just to be safe.

“Great work,” I murmured, as my sister gagged on the huge toy. “But it’s not quite right.”

My sister’s eyebrows furrowed at my note, but (for obvious reasons) was unable to respond.

I tutted thoughtfully, my fingers never slowing down for a moment. I loved the feeling of power I had over my sister. The more I’d gotten her off with my hands, the more I’d learned how to control her orgasm. If I felt she was close, I’d slow down, or stop, or—in extreme circumstances—remove my digits entirely.

The look of desperation on my sister’s face as her pussy attempted to chase my fingers, following them as if trying to suck them back up…it turned me on almost as much as the feeling of being inside her.

Finally, I snapped my fingers (the ones on my left hand, not the fingers buried deep inside my sister’s tunnel) and nodded.

“I’ve got it,” I said. “It doesn’t feel real.”

Ashley’s eyes widened in response, and I suddenly realized what I’d implied.

“No no no,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Not like that.”

Not yet.

“I mean…I’m touching you, and you’re sucking on the toy, but it’s like they’re two separate things.”

A narrowing of her eyes was all the response Ashley could to give me.

“Here,” I said, reaching behind my sister and grabbing her hair. Tightly, but not so tight as to hurt her. I read somewhere that grabbing a girl’s hair at the back sends signals straight to the primal part of her brain. Apparently it’s an echo of like, monkeys biting each other on the back of the neck to show dominance.

I don’t know how accurate that is, but I can tell you—my sister got real wet whenever I did it. “You need to imagine that the toy you’re sucking on is a cock. A real one.”

Ashley’s nostrils flared, and—to my delight—I felt her cunt clench around my fingers. In arousal, I hoped, not fear.

“In the video, you’re being played with by a guy,” I continued, trying to keep a degree of separation. “I want you to pretend that the toy you’re sucking belongs to him as well. Except it’s not a toy. It’s his cock.”

Ashley nodded, and I began moving her head up and down the toy.

“Oh yes,” I said, “this is much better.”

My fingers, which had briefly paused as I explained what I wanted, resumed sawing in and out of Ashley’s tightness.

“Great,” I said supportively. “Yes, this is exactly what we want it to look like. Really imagine it; you’re not just choking on a toy for the fun of it, you’re sucking a cock. You’re sucking the cock of the guy who’s fingering you.”

My cock. Your brother’s cock. You’re sucking your brother’s cock.


“Perfect! Yeah, this is going to make the video look so much better.”

Again, Ashley’s pussy tightened at my words. My poor sister—my alterations to her filing cabinet must have really messed with her. Performing, making a video, arousal, me touching her…they were all mixed up in her brain.

If Morality was a higher priority, that probably would have bothered me.

Feeling my sister getting slicker, I decided to push things.

“Uh huh, great,” I smiled. Ashley was staring at me intently, her eyes watering as I forced her head back and forth on the toy. “I want you to focus on my fingers. Focus on the pleasure my fingers are bringing you.”

My sister’s eye twitched with arousal as she did as I commanded.

“Move one hand up to your tit, and pinch your nipple.”

My sister obeyed.

“Great. Think about my fingers. Think about how good my fingers feel inside you. Think about how nice it feels when I touch your clit.”

The look of lust in Ashley’s eyes told me that she was doing exactly as I ordered.

“Now, when you cum, I want you to focus on my cock. My cock, deep inside your throat. Pretend that I’m cumming in your mouth, like that’s what’s triggering your orgasm.”

Ashley let out a long guttural moan at my words. I could tell that she was lost in the fantasy. The fucked-up, incestuous fantasy that I’d spent the last few months slowly building inside her. Slowly shaping her to be a part of.

“I’m cumming,” I said smoothly. “I’m cumming down your throat, Ash. I want you to cum. Cum for me as you suck me. Cum for me while you swallow my cock…”

At that, I could feel Ashley’s vaginal walls clenching around my fingers, her body spasming as she came on my hand. My sister is a performer to the last, and she never stopped staring straight up at me, even as her entire body twitched with pleasure.

When she was done, I released her hair, although I kept my fingers inside her. Casually, like I hadn’t even noticed.

Like a brother having two fingers deep inside his sister’s pussy was completely normal.

Well, I guess for us…it was.

She was hazy—it was another of those foggy orgasms—and so I gave her a minute to recover. Ashley pulled the black toy out, that satisfied smile never leaving her face.

“That was really good,” I said. “We could probably film that…or we could do one more rehearsal, if you wanted.”

My sister’s eyes widened, and I would have given anything to hear the debate that I was sure was going on in her head. Finally, I took mercy on her.

“You know what, I’d feel more comfortable with one more rehearsal. Let’s go again, ’kay?”

“Of course,” Ashley nodded earnestly. “Whatever you want, Jacob.”