The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cindy trembled.

It was dark outside. Too dark to tell if anyone was actually there. She knew that it would better if she knew—if she was certain that someone was watching.

Or maybe that would be worse.

No, she decided with a nod of her head. It would definitely be better to know—it definitely couldn’t be worse than not knowing whether anyone was staring at her as she stood, totally naked, in front of her bedroom window.

Well, not totally naked. She was wearing sunglasses, a white pair of sports socks, and—of course—her collar.

She could never remove that, of course. The white sports socks were to make sure that she didn’t get cold feet, and the sunglasses ensured that even after her eyes adjusted, no matter how hard she squinted, she wouldn’t know for sure whether was watching.

On one level, Cindy knew that she deserved the punishment. Alex had told her he wanted to cum on her face, but she’d gotten so into blowing him that she’d swallowed his load down without even noticing.

Of course, Cindy wasn’t even sure whether it was a punishment. Another shiver passed through her body as her unwilling exposure stoked her exhibitionist desires. Anyone could be down there, looking up at her—friends from school, enemies. Teachers. Her old boss, her old babysitter. The creepy neighbor who’d been leering at her since she first hit puberty.

If he were down there, he’d be enjoying the show more than anyone.

As she stood, arms behind her back, her head held high, her chest thrust forward, Cindy had plenty of thinking time. This couldn’t go on forever, could it?

Not her punishment—Alex had made it very clear how long that would go for. Exactly one hour—she’d set an alarm on her phone so she’d know when time was up. At least, Cindy hoped she had—her phone had been misbehaving lately.

What if the alarm didn’t sound? She could hardly abandon her post to go check it, but without an indication of when her punishment was over, she could be standing there for hours.

She could stand naked and trembling at her window until the sun came up.

Cindy shook her head, an action that she knew would send a ripple through her body, making her tits bounce and sway slightly for anyone who was watching.

For everyone who was watching.

This couldn’t go on forever. Being fucked in all her holes whenever her little brother had the urge. Being publicly humiliated as a punishment. Being used as a sex slave.

Their mother was already growing suspicious, and that would just grow over time. What if she were to step outside right now, join the throng of people that Cindy had convinced herself were congregating outside. What if she looked up and saw what her daughter had become?

No, it couldn’t go on forever. Before long it have to end, and life would go back to normal.

Why did that thought make her so sad?

The dishes were clean, Alex’s room had been vacuumed, and the kitchen was freshly mopped. Her little brother’s laundry for the week was in the dryer, and Cindy had forty minutes to kill before they’d be ready to be folded and put away.

Mentally running over her list of chores, she realized that she didn’t have any to kill time with. She’d done everything she was meant to do for the week—more dishes would pile up, of course, but all of her chores and Alex’s chores were complete. Even the extra chores she’d picked up to help her mother out were done.

Cindy wandered up to her room; her homework was done, and she’d even completed an essay which wasn’t due for another two weeks.

There was nothing to do. She was ahead on everything, with time to spare.

Cindy spent the next ten minutes trying to work out what to do with her time. She could start the latest in the series of books she was reading, or watch an episode of TV, or even just call her friends up and shoot the shit. When was the last time she’d had actual, genuine downtime?

It didn’t take her long to decide what she wanted to do. For the next half-hour, she wanted to pretend to be a normal girl—she wanted to pretend that she wasn’t her brother’s sex slave, that the collar didn’t exist, and that just thinking about the collar didn’t make her wet.

Although, since she was wet anyway…one thing that Cindy had done as a “normal girl” was masturbate. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gotten off without her brother’s cock inside her, or without a sudden rush of collar-induced arousal.

This would be nice. It would be a little treat—a reminder of simpler times.

Cindy hummed a little song to herself as she prepared her room, propping up her pillows, lighting a candle, playing music from a boy band she’d worshipped as a teenager.

Soon she was laying on her bed, her hands running up and down her skin. That was when she encountered a problem.

What did she think about?

Nowadays it was easy. Just the image of her brother’s cock was enough to make her shudder in pleasure—she knew that it was sick, and wrong, and almost certainly a thought that he’d implanted, but she couldn’t help it. It had brought her so much pleasure, so consistently. Even if it had been fake, against her will, the orgasms had been real.

Thinking about her collar wasn’t much better—as the cause of her imprisonment, Cindy had once hated it. But now…

Now, just being aware of its feeling around her neck was almost enough to bring her to orgasm.

For the next twenty minutes, Cindy tried desperately to remember what used to turn her on. Pop stars? Ex-boyfriends? Fantasies?

It was hard to remember what were her genuine fantasies and what had been implanted or accidentally trained into her. She was sure that she hadn’t always gotten off to images of herself as a slave, tied to the bed and fucked by her master. And what about the thought of exposing herself to the entire mall, seeing all those strangers fucking her with their eyes, wanting her…was that a new fantasy, or was that what she’d always wanted?

Memories and fantasies blurred together, until she couldn’t remember what was what. It wasn’t until she heard the dryer beeping from downstairs that she realized she’d spent all her free time tracing patterns on her skin, working herself up.

If she stopped now, she’d spend the rest of the day uncontrollably aroused…and not even be able to blame Alex for it.

With a sigh, Cindy shut her eyes and imagined her little brother’s cock, forcefully fucking her throat. She pictured him ordering her to strip for his enjoyment, until she was wearing nothing but her collar.

Her collar.

Less than a minute later, she came. Thinking of her collar, picturing it in her mind and feeling it around her throat. As her pussy clenched around her fingers, she breathed a sigh of relief.

That felt so much better.

Cindy got up with a smile, and went downstairs to begin sorting her brother’s laundry.