The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hierarchy of Needs

by Pan

Chapter 6:

“Heya Ash.”

“Hey Jake—what’s up?”

“Just wondering what you were up to tonight.”

“Nothing,” she said with a blush, and I couldn’t stop my lips from curling in excitement.

“Okay, cool. Lemme know what time you finish—I’d love to hang out.”

“For sure,” she said, still blushing.

Tonight was the night.

* * *

The moment I’d worked out what I needed to do, I’d nipped to my bedroom for supplies and then gone straight back to the small room beneath the stairs. I hadn’t even waited for everyone to go to sleep; I figured even if someone from my family found me exiting the small, dusty room, they wouldn’t connect it with my sister’s new career as a stripper.

Besides, even if they did catch me, it wasn’t like they were going to ask questions. I’d turned down their curiosity enough to make sure I was indefinitely safe from prying eyes.

Ashley had found a way to deal with the exhibitionist streak I’d given her. She could take care of it in her room, door locked, safe and snug while still getting hundreds of strangers off.

But that wasn’t enough. I wanted her as my own personal slut; I wanted her to be so cavalier about sex that when I suggested myself as a potential partner, she didn’t see a problem with it.

I wanted my sister to sink so low, she’d fuck her own brother without question.

And that meant getting her out there.

Ashley’s drawer was exactly as I’d left it. I went straight to the Exhibitionism folder, and opened the Exposure To Strangers subfolder.

Inside were the same pieces of paper as I’d found in the “Friends” folder—Exposing Cleavage, Exposing Ass, Exposing Tits.

Not what I was looking for.

The order in which Ashley prioritizes exposing her body doesn’t really bother me. No, what I was looking for was something else entirely. Exposing herself in reality, as opposed to exposing herself online.

And since it wasn’t there…it was up to me to add it.

Pulling out the pen and paper I’d grabbed from my room, I had a look at some of the paper already in Ashley’s folders. I had no idea if this would work, but I figured it was worth the risk.

At worst, well…I guess it could have driven her insane, in theory. But it didn’t feel like I was doing anything dangerous. I was just putting pieces of paper into a filing cabinet.

And at best, it got me one more step to fucking her.

As you can see, it was a no-brainer.

In my neatest handwriting (which is, I’ll freely admit, not particularly neat) I wrote ’Exposure To People In Real Life’ on one sheet of paper, and ’Exposure To People Online’ on another. I briefly considered adding a new folder, ‘Exposure To Family Members’, to the cabinet, but now that I’d had a chance to view Ashley’s body through the webcam, seeing it in person wasn’t the driving force it’d once been.

See what I mean? Once we have something, it naturally slips down the priority list.

Besides, Sex with Ashley was my priority, not See Her Nipples Up Close. The risks of adding a ’Family Members’ were too high; she could suddenly start flashing Mom or Dad, or realize that something was up, and go get herself locked up in a mental ward.

This would take a little longer, but it was so much safer. Get her to show off her body at the strip club, get her more comfortable showing off to people in real life. That was the path to success. I was sure of it. And I wanted it all, even if that meant a bit of waiting.

Exposure To People In Real Life went at the start of the folder, and Exposure To People Online at the end. Income was still a high priority, but above them all was Trust In Jacob.

I hoped this would mean she was overcome with the urge to strip publicly, but still keep her side career on US Camgirls alive. I wanted her to have a variety of incomes, all of them related to exposing herself.

I wanted her thinking about sex all the time, day and night.

My sister would be horny, exposing herself every chance she got, and desperate to tell me all about it.

At least, that was the plan.

* * *

“Who’s on tonight?”

The bouncer looked at me strangely. Clearly my attempt to be casual hadn’t really worked—I guess wandering up to a guy you’ve never met before and striking up a conversation is a strange thing to do, but after a glance to size me up, he answered.

“Mindy, Tiffany, Dallas…and a new girl.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying to feign nonchalance. Unfortunately, I think it came across like I was a lunatic, and he just nodded in response.

“What’s her name?” I asked, after a pause. He shrugged, and gestured to the bar.

“She’ll know.”

The woman serving drinks was fully-clothed. I don’t know if that’s standard for a strip club (like I said, I’ve never been) and looked friendly enough, but I didn’t want to go over. I don’t know if they’re even meant to let 18-year olds into strip clubs, but I feel like going over to the bar and asking questions would be a good way to get carded and thrown out.

Instead, I wandered to the very back of the room where it was dark, hoping that the lights from the stage would be enough to stop the dancers from seeing me.

I knew my sister was here. I mean, I guess I didn’t know, but her car was parked outside. It was possible that she’d parked here to go to the diner next door, but that seemed unlikely.

The room felt like it was sweating. It was sticky, with a weirdly sweet smell, and if I didn’t know (or at least hope) that my sister was about to walk out on the stage, I would have left and never come back. Not for the first time, I wondered what the appeal was; there are naked girls on the internet, and they aren’t trying to milk you dry of cash.

Well, they are, but in a far less confrontational way.

The music swelled, and the handful of guys dotted around the place turned their attention to the main stage.

“Hey honey. First time?”

I almost jumped out of my skin—to my right, a woman dressed in a green bikini had touched my arm. She was wearing huge, pink, star-shaped earrings, and was wearing her blonde hair in pig-tails.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, and she smiled.

“How’re you finding it?”

“Great,” I replied, and she sat across from me.

She introduced herself (“Dallas”) and we chatted for a few minutes, me worriedly looking around for my sister’s presence the whole time, until she eventually asked if I wanted a private dance.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m really not interested.”

I felt awful about it, like I was refusing to tip a waitress, but she just flashed me another sparkling smile and wandered over to the next table, where a portly businessman slipped her a twenty.

The black girl on the stage was doing things with the pole that I didn’t even think possible. Was my sister going to be next, or was she going to come out and do the rounds like Dallas?

I had imagined I’d just find her on the stage, dancing, but I was quickly growing aware of the gaps in my strip club knowledge. Learning about camgirls had been easy; there are dozens of free sites to check out, each of them with thousands of girls and total anonymity.

How was I going to learn how strip clubs worked?

I quickly decided that being here was too much of a risk, and started towards the door. As I approached the bouncer, I heard the next dancer being announced.

“And now, gentlemen, get ready for our newest dancer…Ashley!”

I froze, and slowly turned around, causing the bouncer look at me oddly for the second time that evening.

In my mind, she would be stepping nervously onto the stage. It was her first time; she’d be scared, trepidatious.

Of course, in my mind she’d be using a fake name. I wasn’t bothered, but even if my sister’s reputation had still been a priority for me, I doubt I would’ve even noticed in that moment. All I could think about was the sight in front of me: my sister, confidently striding onto the stage.

I don’t know anything about dancing. All I know is that she’d either been practicing, or they’d run her through some kind of course when she joined the club.

Gone was the listless swaying back and forth from her cam show. No, for the next twenty minutes, Ashley enthusiastically gyrated to the music, wrapping herself around the pole, rhythmically taking off her clothes until she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties.

The crowd loved her just as much as I did; her arousal was evident from the moment she started, and when she removed her bra, letting those huge, beautiful breasts burst free, she faltered for a moment, and I swear she came—a small orgasm, just at the crowd’s reaction to seeing her magnificent tits.

Even though I’d seen her naked (and so much more) I was on the edge of my seat, desperately waiting for her to remove those panties. I wanted to see my sister nude, slick, onstage in nothing but a pair of high heels.

But instead, the music wound down, and my sister left the stage, grinning wildly.

Tempting as it was to stick around and see if she’d return to the stage, perhaps getting fully naked, I slipped out before she could find me hanging around.

At home, I spent the next few hours rewatching some of the footage I’d recorded from the previous day’s stream, and pictured her giving “private dances”—whatever that involved.

* * *

That night, I made sure that I was still up when Ashley got home. Except for the six-inch heels she was carrying, she was dressed like she would be around the house. Her face flushed red when I raised my eyebrows at the shoes in her hand, and she glanced around before leaning in close.

“Jake,” she said softly, “can I tell you a secret?”

For the next half-hour, I sat back and listened as my older sister told me everything. Ashley confessed to getting a job as a stripper, and then when it was clear that I wasn’t going to judge her, told me all about her first shift.

She was so hyper. She just sat on the end of her bed, gushing about how much she’d enjoyed the experience. All those strangers’ eyes on her, appreciating her body, admiring her skill. She didn’t go into any sexual details, but it was clear that just telling me about it was starting to get her a bit worked up.

I still had no idea what happened during a private dance—even in her manic state, my sister maintained some discretion—but the fact that she was new, combined with her clear enjoyment of the work had apparently resulted in more requests than any of the other girls; a “new record” for a weeknight, apparently.

If Ashley wasn’t careful, she was quickly going to make some stripper enemies.

It quickly became clear that Ashley was still pretty worked up from it all. A part of me was screaming “Make a move, make a move!” but I held back. ’Sex’ was still a low priority for my sister, and ‘Sex With Jacob’ likely didn’t even exist in her folder.

And so instead, I just nodded, smiled, and listened to her as she slowly wound down. Eventually, she yawned and excused herself. We both went into our rooms, and I was about to drift off when I heard it.


Coming from my sister’s room.

It seemed that the evening’s work hadn’t been enough for Ashley to completely burn off her exhibitionist need—or perhaps by creating the new piece of paper I’d doubled her urges—but I moved to my computer so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t leave a Jacob-shaped cloud of dust, and logged onto the USCamgirls site.

Sure enough, my sister had just opened up her channel. Through the walls I hadn’t recognized it, but coming out of my laptop it was crystal clear: the song that Ashley was playing was the same one I’d seen her strip to, her first song of the night.

For the second time that evening, I sat and watched as my sister slowly disrobed. This time, however, there were two major differences: firstly, I was able to pull my pud as I did.

And secondly, my sister didn’t stop when she reached her dripping panties. As she pulled them off, revealing the fact that she’d shaved since her last show (presumably another requirement of the club), she began to talk, sharing the details of her shift.

A private dance, I learned from her gasping explanation, had pretty strict rules. You take them into a side room, and the client can only touch the dancer on the hips or waist (or, if you’re servicing a woman, the boobs. I have no idea why there are different rules for women).

The dancer, however, can touch the client wherever they like. And Ashley had been so worked up, she’d taken full advantage of this rule.

She didn’t describe any of her clients. From the way she was talking about them, you’d assume they were sexual gods, but I’d been in the club, and the only clientele I’d seen looked like losers; guys who were too old, fat or ugly to get a real girlfriend.

Apparently her exhibitionist tendencies didn’t discriminate, however. A set of eyes was a set of eyes, and that was all my sister needed to get all hot and bothered.

And so when Ashley had gotten her first private dance, the sight of him unzipping his pants and revealing how hard she’d made him had turned her on so much, she’d forgotten herself, and reached out to jerk him off.

Just knowing that my sister was so turned on from exposing herself that she’d jerk off a stranger was pretty hot, but hearing it directly from the horse’s mouth (so to speak)—watching her grope her tits with one hand and rub herself with the other, while she pantingly described the experience…


Apparently she’d had the foresight to aim his cock away from her when he came (which didn’t take long). Returning to the floor covered in cum would probably have gotten her in trouble. And though he tipped extremely generously, she didn’t spend the evening jerking guys off; she’d behaved more professionally with the others, just slowly getting more and more worked up as the night went on.

Driving home, she’d had to pull to the side and get herself off. I briefly considered hiding in the back seat next time she had a shift, but quickly realized how pointless that plan was. Now that I knew her channel, I could watch my sister get off any time.

Still…being in the room as she did was pretty tempting. The sounds, the smells…

My sister’s show lasted an hour before she started to fade, and headed to bed. She came half a dozen times. The shift at the strip club had really gotten her worked up, and it was by far the hottest show I had ever seen, but the tips still weren’t coming in as fast or strong as they should have.

As I shut down my laptop and began to drift off, I smiled. Everything was going exactly as I’d planned—better, in fact. A few small tweaks, and my sister wouldn’t just be jerking off men at the club, she’d be fucking them. Soon enough, she’d trust me enough to let me help with her cam shows, and then I would get to watch her get herself off.

Not only watch, but offer advice. She’d obey my every suggestion, masturbate exactly how I told her to, and from there…

From there, it was only a few small steps to being my complete sexual slave.

I couldn’t wait.