The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Do it with your hands,” I muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Do it with your hands,” I practically screamed.

I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Had I gone mad?

Yes.

I was leaking uncontrollably; twitches of pleasure were moving through my body every few seconds.

My pussy was in control now.

“Do what?”

“Make me cum,” I begged.

My eyes were shut. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at my brother. What if he was disgusted? He was finally seeing what a pervert his sister was. He’d always been such a good, supportive brother.

And now he was realizing that his sister was nothing but a horny little slut.

“Please,” I begged. “Please…”

I opened my eyes. Melvin had a look of lust on his face.

My poor brother.

He’d never so much as kissed a girl, and now here I was—half-naked, writhing around his bed, screaming at him to make me cum. If I’d been anyone else, this would have been the greatest day of his life. I know what I look like—I may be short, but I’m a blonde bombshell.

There was no way he could resist me.

Melvin didn’t want to touch his sister, but I knew he couldn’t help himself. I was sex on legs—he’d do whatever I said.

And here I was, taking advantage of that fact to make him get me off.

“Okay,” he said, reaching between my legs.

As he started to pull my panties off, I grabbed his hand by reflex, trying to keep it in place.

“It’s easier this way,” he said.

I let him strip me, and he removed the small piece of cloth standing between him and my pussy.

Now he had full view of my vagina. Now he had seen every part of me.

God. Why did that turn me on?

Before I could spend too much time thinking about my naked form, completely exposed to my twin brother, his hand reached its target. I felt a finger delicately part my lips, quickly finding my engorged clit.

I gasped.

Yes.

This was his first time—this must have been his first time—which meant that he was…a natural. An immediate expert. His magic fingers were good for more than just massage.

He started tenderly rubbing my clit with his middle finger while the rest of his hands felt up my meat curtains, lubricated by my wetness. He took his time, enjoying the texture of my vulva before he started getting more aggressive with my clit, upping his pressure and tempo.

I couldn’t hold it any longer.

Here was, lying on my nerdy brother’s bed, completely naked, seconds away from having an orgasm at his hands. He had complete control of my body, my arousal. The look on his face was one of fascination and lust as I writhed around. His attention was wholly on the wetness between my legs.

It’ll be more than a puddle this time, I realized.

Every now and again, his eyes would flick up to my breasts, bouncing around as I thrashed with pleasure. My boyfriend was two miles away, at a football practice. Keenan had no clue that I was about to reach climax at my brother’s hands.

He could never know.

There was no way to justify this. This wasn’t a massage. This was sex.

I was being fingered by my brother.

I let out a screaming moan as I came. Thank god our parents weren’t home.

Wave after wave of pleasure passed through my body. Every part of me felt alive. My nipples, my clit, my fingertips. If you’d handed me a lightbulb, I swear it would have glowed. Maybe even burst.

As I came down, I lay on the bed for several minutes, breathing heavily and twitching with the aftershocks. It was the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had. Melvin left the room without saying anything, perhaps realizing that I wouldn’t want to talk.

When my legs stopped feeling like well-cooked spaghetti, I stood up. I couldn’t find my panties anywhere, which struck me as odd, so I picked out another pair, and started getting dressed.

As I was closing the drawer, I accidentally knocked the massaging wand to the floor.

It immediately started buzzing.

I spent the entire next day at Keenan’s.

I had to.

What I’d done, it was…

I didn’t even want to think about it.

When I arrived, Keenan was in the living-room with his parents, watching TV. It was so nice to sink into the couch, into my boyfriend’s warm embrace, and let my mind switch off for a few hours.

That night, his parents were going out to a show. The moment they left, I moved my mouth to Keenan’s.

“Side-effects are still strong, I see,” he said, but I didn’t have the capacity to come up with a reply. I just kept on kissing him, eventually moving his hand between my legs.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe that like, his touch would wipe away my brother’s. Maybe I just wanted to remember something other than Melvin’s fingers pleasuring me.

Melvin’s magic fingers.

By comparison, my boyfriend’s efforts were amateurish. Clumsy. But it was still enough to make me cum, and that was all that mattered.

“I could get used to this,” Keenan joked, licking his fingers clean.

Had my brother licked his fingers clean?

Had my brother tasted my juices?

I pushed Keenan down on the couch and rode him to another orgasm, just to get the questions out of my mind.

I fucked him three more times before his parents came home, trying desperately to think about anything other than my brother’s face as I came.

But I couldn’t.

The next day was Tuesday.

TV day.

Melvin didn’t even say anything about us missing the previous day’s massage practice, which just made me feel worse.

When I’d seen that the massaging wand wasn’t out of power, I’d immediately jumped to the worst of conclusions. That my brother had lied to me, that he’d manipulated the situation so that I’d beg him for an orgasm.

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I was just projecting my own guilt onto him.

He’d never asked to touch my pussy—that was all me. All he’d wanted to do was practice his massaging skills—I was the one who had made it sexual. I’d begged him to get me off. I’d been the one to leave puddles on his bed, to get all hot and bothered just because a man was touching me. Any man.

My brother.

The massaging wand’s battery had probably just been knocked out of alignment by my thrusting, and dropping it had fixed the issue.

It was all my fault.

But a day away had given me time to think. If it was my fault, that was even more of a reason that we shouldn’t continue. That we couldn’t continue. Clearly, my perversion was starting to get in the way of a normal, healthy, brother-sister relationship.

It had to stop.

It had to.

And since my brother was too kind to end things, it was up to me.

“Melvin,” I said softly, and my brother turned to me with a smile.

“Hey! I’ve been reading up on some new techniques, and…—“

“I can’t.”

“Okay,” he said, not missing a beat. “That’s fine. Tomorrow, I’ll…—“

“No,” I interrupted again. “Melvin, you don’t get it.”

“What?”

I took a moment, trying to collect my thought. Just being in the same room as my brother was…doing things to me.

God. What was wrong with me?

He cracked his knuckles, and all I could think about was those long, talented fingers on my body.

In my body.

“I’m listening,” he said patiently, and I realized that I’d been standing there silently for a long while, staring lustfully at his fingers.

“We can’t do that again.”

“Of course,” Melvin said. “I understand. We can’t do that again.”

“We can’t do any of it,” I continued, aware of how pathetic I sounded. I was basically telling him that if he touched me, I couldn’t control myself.

I was telling him that because it was true.

“No more massages?”

“Right,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. He got it. Of course he got it.

He was the normal one.

“Oh,” he said, the disappointment obvious in his voice. “I just thought…”

“What?”

“I just thought you wanted to help me practice. I’ve been studying, and…—“

“Melvin,” I reasoned, “you’re clearly skilled at massaging. You don’t need more practice.”

“Thanks,” he said dolefully. “I guess.”

“We just…we can’t, okay? I can’t.”

“Of course, sis,” he said. “I understand.”

I’ve never seen so much sadness in my brother’s eyes. I wanted to take pity on him, to help him out, to be a good sister, but…I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

“We can still watch TV,” I said, trying to throw him a bone. “You just…can’t touch me.”

Melvin looked like I’d slapped him. After a few seconds, he smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

I was the worst sister in the world..

The feeling didn’t go away as the show started. I just couldn’t stop thinking about my brother. I’d broken his heart. All he wanted was someone to practice his massage on, but my uncontrollable sex drive had made it weird. All he wanted to do was give his twin sister a massage, and I’d made it perverted. I’d practically buried my face in his crotch on Sunday, and then I’d…

I’d begged him to touch me.

My pussy. I’d begged him to touch my pussy.

I’d begged him to make me cum.

I was lying on his bed, like I always did when we watched Netflix. I hadn’t even registered it at the time, but he’d moved to his desk chair.

Because I’d told him he couldn’t touch me.

Touch me.

Lying on his bed, my mind was still occupied by all the things we’d done in the bed. He’d played with my boobs…no, massaged. He’d massaged my boobs.

He’d shoved my face into his crotch…no, that had been me. I’d tried to get his cock in my mouth.

His cock in my mouth.

His finger had rubbed my clit, brought me to a screaming, moaning, gushing orgasm.

I couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on the screen. All I could think about was being used by his soft, strong hands. I was reliving every moment of it, except for the pleasure part. I needed a distraction. Netflix wasn’t good enough.

I needed something.

Something small, to keep the thoughts at bay.

“Could you massage my foot, please?” I asked him, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could fully process them. “I think I hurt it yesterday.”

I hadn’t. But I needed to be distracted, or I’d go mad. All I could think about was how I’d begged him, pleaded for him to touch me.

To make me cum.

“It’s hard to massage you, if I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“Touch me,” I wanted to scream.

I’d been reliving it for days.

“Alright,” I said instead. “You can touch me. Just not there.”

“Not where?”

“You know where.”

Melvin wrinkled his nose. He looked genuinely confused. He couldn’t be this dense, could he?

Innocent, I reminded myself. He’s not stupid, he’s just clueless. He didn’t want any of this. It was all me.

“You have to be specific,” he replied.

“My pussy,” I mumbled.

“What?”

“My pussy,” I said, slightly louder. “You can’t touch my pussy.”

My face was a bright red. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. As the words left my mouth, my mind began reliving it again. Melvin’s hands on my pussy. Rubbing, touching. Running his hand all over it until he made me cum.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t go near it. Anyway, it was you who asked for it last time.”

My blush grew deeper. He was right. I’d given him permission. No, more than that—I’d begged. I’d begged him to touch me.

Touch me.

And when he had, I’d cum. His skilled hands had only needed a few minutes to make me cum, to make me buck my hips and cum loudly.

God it had been good.

I was wearing a white top, a grey sports-bra, and denim shorts. I normally wore skirts, but not today. I’d known he wouldn’t try anything, not without permission, but…I didn’t want to make the temptation any greater.

If I was wearing a skirt, it would be so much easier for him to touch me.

Touch me.

It would be so much more tempting to ask him. To beg him.

Beg him.

Please.

And so instead, I’d worn shorts.

I took my socks off, but kept the rest of my clothes on. I wanted protection in case his hands started to wander.

Once I was sock-free, I lay back on my stomach. He sat down behind me, took my feet into his lap, and started massaging them with oil.

Oh. My. God.

Twice, now, I’d received foot-rubs from my brother, but somehow…somehow, I’d forgotten how magical they are. His fingers are truly gifts from God.

Wherever they’re working their magic.

Almost immediately, I felt the stress draining out of me. My entire body began to relax. Melvin was so damn good at this.

And other things.

I let out a long sigh, allowing myself to focus on the pleasure of a massage while it was anything but sexual. Just an innocent foot-rub.

As Melvin massaged my foot, I endeavored not to think about where else his fingers had been. I tried not to think about the way he’d rubbed my breasts, or massaged my ass. His skilled fingers, working their magic on my nipples, sending pulses of arousal through my entire body.

I desperately wanted to avoid thinking about how great it had felt the previous day, when he’d been rubbing my clit, melting my mind, making my pussy clench with pleasure.

But as he continued to massage my foot, I couldn’t help myself. I could feel my pussy growing wet, my nipples hardening.

From a foot-rub. What was wrong with me?

As his fingers kneaded the ball of my foot, I let out a long, soft moan.

My eyes widened, my cheeks again blushed red with shame, but my brother didn’t say anything. He just kept massaging.

To my horror, it happened again. And again.

I couldn’t look at his face. I wanted to ask him to stop, to tell him we had to stop, but I couldn’t. All I could do was lay on the bed, moaning and writhing with pleasure as my brother massaged my foot.

And that was when I felt it.

It.