The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Paddy knew what he’d done was wrong.

He knew that he should be racked with guilt. He should be beating himself up, avoiding eye-contact with his sister, avoiding even being in the same room as her.

But he didn’t care.

If anything, his taboo act spurred him on. If you’d asked him a month ago, he would have said that his obsession was at its peak; that it couldn’t grow any more.

He knew now how wildly optimistic that thought had been.

Paddy started fanatically documenting his sister’s moves. If anyone had found his notebook, they would have called for him to be locked up. It started with just a record of every time she left the house, but soon that wasn’t enough. Paddy found himself keeping notes on which room she spent the most time in, how often she moved between them, and why.

He wrote down what she ate, what she drank, when she changed, which days she wore which outfits—everything.

It had started simple. After cumming into her panties, he knew he wanted more. No, he needed more.

And so he started tracking when she was out, just so that he could safely sneak into her room and take more.

Google was extremely helpful in teaching him how to clean a pair of panties. He’d steal a set from the bottom of her drawer, masturbate with them, wash and dry them thoroughly, and then return them before there was any risk of her discovering that they were missing.

He started scheduling his day around his panty theft. He could use a pair to jerk off twice before needing a fresh set, and so he was going through two fresh pairs of panties a day…and was too nervous to steal more than one pair at time.

Paddy had no idea how he’d explain himself if he got caught, and so he was diligent. He put more thought, preparation, and planning into his twice-daily panty raids than most people put into organizing their wedding.

With a few weeks, he was intimately familiar with every set of Leah’s panties. He knew what they felt like, what they tasted like. He tried not to pick favorites, but he couldn’t help himself—several pairs were just more of a turn-on than others, and he even considered holding onto his favorite set.

After all, everyone loses underpants. Would she even notice if one set went missing?

The risk of being caught was all that held him back.

After a month, however, it wasn’t enough. He never came without a set of his sister’s panties wrapped around his cock, but he wanted more. Everything she did was so deeply erotic. He would have paid a million dollars just to lick her clit for ten minutes.

And so he stopped stealing her clean panties…and started stealing them used.

The first time he brought a pair of her dirty panties to his mouth, he immediately shot his seed halfway across the room. Knowing that it was her juices—her actual juices, for real—that was resting on his tongue…it was the most erotically-charged moment of his life.

After he started to take notes of what his sister ate, Paddy was equally horrified and fascinated to discover that it affected the flavor of her underthings.

He was delighted when he worked out the taste changed on nights that she had a date. He knew she used condoms—he’d discovered her supply when snooping around her drawers—and so the difference in flavor and texture wasn’t a man’s cum, it was hers.

Paddy could taste his sister’s arousal.

He seriously considered following her on her dates, seeing what kind of man she liked, who got her particularly riled up. But her dates were the best time for him to steal her dirty panties, cum inside them, clean them, dry them, and then dirty them just enough that they could safely be returned to the hamper without suspicion.

As much as he wanted to learn more about his sister’s type, his wet-panties masturbation was quickly becoming a need; he could no longer cum any other way.

Or so he thought.

As he grew increasingly familiar with his sister’s lingerie, her teasing didn’t let up for a moment.

Paddy knew, deep down, that she wasn’t actually teasing him. Just as his history teacher hadn’t actually been flirting, just as the girl next door hadn’t been timing her sunbathing for when he was at home, just as his favorite POV porn-stars weren’t really looking at him, his lust-addled brain was taking every move she made as sexual.

When Leah ate a banana, Paddy was unable to picture it as anything but a thick cock slowly sliding into her mouth. When she licked a strawberry, he couldn’t help but picture her soft tongue making its moves around the head of his cock, coaxing him into shooting off onto her face, into her mouth. When she stretched, crossing her arms above her head, he couldn’t help but see it as an invitation to tie her up and have his way with her defenseless, constrained body.

And when she innocently took her jacket off, he knew that the music was inside his own head, but he couldn’t see it as anything but a strip tease. The thin fabric revealing her shoulders, her arms…god, had he ever been turned on by arms before?

Just from watching his sister’s jacket sliding off, exposing her skin, he’d been so hard that he’d had to cum twice just to calm down.

Paddy knew his obsession was growing. He knew that he was losing control. But, as if under the spell of a siren’s song, he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. His orgasms were the only refuge he got from the constant buzz of arousal Leah’s actions caused.

It was a Thursday morning. Leah had stayed home the previous night, and so Paddy hadn’t had a chance to jerk off since lunch-time the previous day.

It had been sixteen hours, but it felt like a lifetime.

He heard the sound of his sister walking down the hallway. Right on schedule. He jotted it down in the notebook he’d started carrying with him; he could have cross-checked it with the previous few weeks of entries, but he knew the times off by heart, as if they were burned into his brain.

On nights when Leah didn’t go out, she would get up for a morning shower between 8:03am and 8:17am. One day she’d gotten up at 8:34am, but that had been after three early mornings in a row, so he considered it an aberration not worthy of factoring in.

It was 8:06am. She’d take anywhere between twelve and twenty-one minutes to shower, and then turn the water off. Then she’d get dressed and return to her room about four or five minutes later.

He had sixteen to twenty-six minutes. Easily enough time to jerk off. Twice, if the shower was still running at 8:14am.

The only trouble was, he didn’t have a pair of dirty panties nearby.

For eight of his precious minutes, he tried to jerk off without them. He focused on the fact that Leah was just a few feet away, completely nude. He tried to picture her naked form, soaping up her body. Did she masturbate in the shower? It was a question he’d asked himself many, many times before, but he just didn’t know.

It didn’t work. His cock was throbbingly hard, his balls swollen with seed. He wanted nothing more than to earn himself just a few minutes of relief, but he couldn’t. Not without her panties. He needed them.

He was hooked.

At 8:14am, the shower was still running. Typically he would wait until lunchtime, when Leah left to pick up a bagel, but he felt like he was going to burst, like his heartbeat was swelling to fill his entire body.

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Paddy decided to risk it. Pressing his head against the bathroom door—softly, as so to not make a sound—he confirmed that his sister was still singing. Sometimes he’d sit in the hallway as she showered, just to listen to her nudity.

She never left the shower halfway through a song.

Inside his sister’s bedroom, he found her hamper. Sure enough, there were two sets of panties; he took the pair that were closest to the bottom, and least likely to be detected.

As he shoved them into his pocket, two things happened at once.

Firstly, he noticed what was laid out on his sister’s bed:

Her clothes for the day.

She hadn’t taken them into the bathroom with her, she’d left them in here. His four to five minute buffer was gone.

Secondly, he heard the sound of the shower turning off.

Shit.

If he left now, he risked his sister catching him leaving her room. If he stayed, he risked being caught.

He had to…

The bathroom door opened, and Paddy realized he had no choice. He quickly ducked into his sister’s closet and closed the door. As long as she didn’t change her mind about what to wear that day, he’d be able to hide in here until she left.

However long that took.

To his delight, he discovered that he was the perfect height to see through the slats of his sister’s closet door.

She moved to the center of the room. For a moment she paused, and Paddy’s heart-rate shot through the roof. What if she opened the door, and found him standing there, looking sheepish? How would he explain what he was doing there?

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to. He’d be revealed, for the obsessed pervert that he was.

Everyone would know that he was a masturbating deviant. He’d be exposed, exiled.

The thought horrified him, but his fear was nothing compared to the knowledge that if he was caught, he wouldn’t have access to his sister’s panties any more. He wouldn’t be able to see her every day.

He’d spend the rest of his life masturbating to the memory of her instead.

God, he couldn’t even imagine.

After a few seconds, however, her suspicious look faded, and she dropped her towel.

That’s when it happened.

His sister’s naked, dripping body came into view; the body he’d been dreaming of, fantasizing over for months. Her perfectly rounded tits, her pert ass, her smooth skin.

As soon as he saw it, his cock exploded. He managed to stifle the grunts and groans that threatened to uncontrollably spring from his body, but he couldn’t stop his dick from ejaculating into his boxers.

For the next thirty seconds, his body continued to spasm as rope after rope of hot cum shot into his pants. All the while, his eyes never left his sister’s perfect form, as he mentally tried to store as much of her body in his memory as he could. Her nipples were extremely light—‘ghost nipples’, blending in with her breasts. Her breasts were full, with only a small amount of sag.

Her pussy was clean-shaven.

As the sight of his sister’s glistening cunt came into view, Paddy almost creamed his pajama pants for a second time. The image was permanently burned into his brain, and it was obvious that she’d just shaved it then, during her shower.

He mentally committed the song she’d been singing to memory. Maybe that was her pussy-shaving music?

For the next few minutes, Paddy tried to control his ragged breathing as his sister slowly got dressed. Despite his disappointment at his sister’s perfect form disappearing, there was something deeply erotic about watching her put on clothes, like a reverse strip-tease.

Finally, when she was done, she left the bedroom.

Sitting in his sister’s closet, his cum slowly drying, Paddy reflected on what had just happened.

He’d seen his sister naked.

He’d finally seen his sister naked.

He’d seen her.

Naked.

He knew he could never go back.