The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 1

Sister Agnes and Sister Mary were late. They had hoped to get to the convent before sunset, but the old bus they were traveling on was struggling with the steep hills and was already way behind schedule. To make matters worse the convent, like so many others, was reclusive and some way from the route of the bus. The prospect of having to walk the several miles from the bus stop to the convent in pitch darkness was something they didn’t relish.

Finally, the bus reached the stop and the two nuns disembarked, carrying their meager belongings in small suitcases. Sister Agnes, the older and more responsible of the two, took stock of their situation. Neither of the two nuns knew the surrounding area very well, this being the first time either of them traveled in this area. Night was falling and the autumn chill was starting to creep into their bones.

“We’d better find some alternative place to spend the night.” Sister Agnes said to Sister Mary.

“I see a farmhouse over there, maybe a mile away.” Sister Mary replied, indicating a westerly direction with her hand. Sister Agnes squinted her eyes.

“Yes, that looks like a convenient place to stay.” She said, hoisting her suitcase.

In the rough terrain the walk took the better part of an hour. The farmhouse was a small one, but well tended. Sister Agnes knocked on the door, hoping their late arrival wouldn’t upset the farms’ people too much. The door was opened by a gorgeous young blonde girl, about 16 years of age. She invited the nuns inside and fetched her father. The farmer, a stocky man of about 40, greeted the nuns warmly.

“We are members of the St. Catherine’ Convent down on the plain,” Sister Agnes began. “We’re on our way to Our Lady’s Convent, but were delayed. I was hoping we could spend the night here and continue our journey tomorrow morning.”

“No problem,” the farmer replied to the relief of the two nuns. “We have a spare room you can sleep in. My name is Jonathan, this is my daughter Samantha,” the farmer pointed to the girl that had opened the door, “and this is my daughter Clara,” indicating an 18 year old stunning brunette that had joined them. “But the convent is more than 10 miles away. If you want I can give you a lift over there tomorrow.” Jonathan concluded. Sister Agnes heartily accepted his offer.

Samantha showed the nuns to their room and after freshening a bit they joined the small family at dinner—a simple, but very nourishing meal. As usual when in company Sister Agnes was reserved but polite, while Sister Mary, only a little older than the farmer’s daughters chatted throughout the meal.

The conversation, mainly small talk about the local area and the climate, lasted awhile longer once the dishes were cleared of the table, but soon Sister Agnes excused herself and she and Sister Mary retired to their room, tired after their day long journey.

The guestroom was in the back of the house. Its one bed was barely large enough for two persons. Sister Agnes contemplated asking the farmer if he had another bed, but decided not to impose any further on his generosity. The inconvenience could be tolerated for a single night. The two nuns changed into their nightgowns—retrieved from their luggage—with their backs turned, their ingrained modesty making them shy about naked flesh like all good brides of Christ. They recited their prayers in unison before crawling onto the old bed and turning off the light.

Before long Sister Mary began to gently snore, the young nun having no trouble falling asleep in a strange bed with another person beside her. But Sister Agnes couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on the bed, trying not to wake her sleeping sister. Abruptly she noticed that Sister Mary had stopped snoring. Instead her half-opened mouth was now emitting low moaning sounds. Then Sister Mary started squirming on the bed, moving her head left and right and gyrating her sensuous hips. Sister Agnes realized that Sister Mary was having a wet dream. Despite her prudence Sister Agnes knew very well what a wet dream was, having had a few herself over the years. She believed they were induced by demons trying to seduce her, so she tried not to linger too much upon them, trusting that a confession would spirit out the demons. But now, as she lay there beside the warm body of Sister Mary, those dreams started to come back to her. The memories mingled with the soft moans of Sister Mary and Sister Agnes started to sense the uncomfortable feeling of arousal. She desperately tried to bottle it up, as she had so often did in the past, but this time it proved to be impossible with the wriggling body beside her fueling her own repressed fantasies.

Sister Agnes rose from the bed, fleeing from the sexual tension that threatened to overwhelm her. Wiping her hot, sweaty brow she looked down on the bed on Sister Mary. For the first time Sister Agnes noticed how beautiful the young nun was. She scrutinized the angelic face, the slightly parted lips, the tip of her tongue visible through perfect white teeth. Running her eyes down Sister Mary’s body she noticed her ample breasts and long legs, the thick woolen nightgown failing to disguise her loveliness. Sister Agnes shook her head, trying to clear her head of these sinful thoughts and the even more sinful images that followed. She needed fresh air. She left the room and went to the living room at the front of the house. There she opened a window and drew in deep breaths. The cold air calmed her a bit. After a few minutes she was getting the shivers so she closed the window and left for her room.

On the way back she started to again her low moans. ‘What is wrong with me?’ she thought, ‘now I’m hearing things.’ But the noise was not in her head, neither was it coming from the spare bedroom down the hall. The noise was coming from the room of Clara, the older of the farmer’s two daughters. Sister Agnes noticed that the door to the girl’s room was slightly ajar and with her curiosity awoken she peeked inside. What she saw shocked her to the very core of her being.

On the narrow bed Clara was lying naked with her legs thrown high into the air. Her face was contorted in sexual bliss. And wedged between her legs was her father, furiously fucking his young daughter. Sister Agnes wanted to scream and run away from the wicked sight, but her feet were rooted to the spot. She watched the two sweaty bodies slam into each other on the bed, grunting and gasping. In all her 35 years she had never witnessed anything like it. She wasn’t totally ignorant in sexual ways—she knew about intercourse and the birds and the bees, as her mother had so gently put it years and years ago, but she’d never imagined anything like the frantic coupling taking place before her eyes. And the fact that this was an act of incest made it even worse. Yet she couldn’t avert her eyes. Was it her curiosity getting the better of her, or was it something more sinister connected to her own feelings of arousal only minutes earlier? She couldn’t tell. But she recognized the feeling of arousal rising again within her, making her head spin and her body felt like it was not hers anymore.

Her mind took her back to when she had just hit puberty back in her childhood home—to the night she had accidentally spied on her parents making love. Throughout the years Sister Agnes had always felt guilty about her immoral act of voyeurism, not the least because of the sexual arousal she had felt at the sight of her parents fucking. She hadn’t seen all that much—it was dark and the bed covers hid most, but the animalistic sounds and the sight of her mother, normally so solemn and reserved, in throes of orgasm was something that could still moisten her vagina if she let her mind linger on it for too long. And now, with the similar, but much more revealing scene before her, these guilt-ridden images from her past were back with a vengeance.

The couple on the bed had now changed positions—farmer Jonathan was now lying on his back while Clara straddled him, lowering her engorged pussy onto her father’s cock. For the first time Sister Agnes got a good look at farmer Jonathan’s cock. It was the first cock she had seen in her life and it looked enormous. Stiff and throbbing with an angry red tip it looked big enough to cleave poor Carla in two. Clara deftly directed her father’s cock into her pussy, as soon as contact was made Jonathan started to piston in and out of the pussy, which eagerly engulfed the rock hard member. The depraved sight coupled with their cries of pleasure was making Sister Agnes dizzy, the shaken nun staring in unbelief. Mingling with the sounds of the fornicating family members was a wet sloshing sound coming from their genital areas—made by farmer Jonathan’s thick member as it withdrew from his daughter’s tight pussy flowing with cunt-juices. The father lewdly fondled his daughter’s firm, high-riding breasts, knitting the stiff nipples between his strong fingers. After a few moments of furiously riding her father’s cock Carla leaned down for a more relaxed fucking, Jonathan now thrusting his cock as deep as he could into Carla’s cunt.

“Oh, yes, fuck me deep and hard, daddy!” Carla moaned into her father’s ear before she moved her head and kissed him passionately.

Watching aghast, Sister Agnes finally managed to tear her eyes away and retreat to her room. The shock over what she’d seen fought with alarming feelings of excitement inside her. Fortunately, Sister Mary had now fallen into deep sleep. Sister Agnes climbed into the bed, her mind a turmoil. Silently she prayed for ease of mind and to escape from this house of sin unscathed. She fell asleep in few minutes, but her dreams were troubled, filled with anxiety and sinful images.

Chapter 2

The next morning Sister Agnes awoke at dawn as always, but she still felt dead-tired. The astonishing events of last night slowly came back to her and she shivered. Sister Mary was already up—Sister Agnes hurriedly put on her robes, not wanting the innocent young 20 year old to be corrupted by the evil farmer. Her mind was already conjuring horrible images of farmer Jonathan ravishing Sister Mary and she rushed to the kitchen. But when she entered Sister Mary and the whole farmer family were seated around the kitchen table, happily eating breakfast like any normal people. Sister Agnes cursed herself silently for her foolish thoughts and joined them at the table. ‘Maybe last night was just a bad dream. It can happen when you sleep in an unfamiliar bed,’ she rationalized. And yet the glances that Jonathan and Clara sent each other seemed to speak volumes, like two lovers silently communicating their affection for each other rather than the innocent glances one could expect between father and daughter. ‘I must be going crazy,’ Sister Agnes thought, ‘How should I know how lovers look at each other.’ She glanced at the younger daughter, Samantha. ‘I pray for her sake that this is just my imagination.’ But finally she gave up trying to deceive herself, she knew what she had seen last night—farmer Jonathan and Clara fucking each other like wild animals.

After breakfast Jonathan said he would get the truck ready. All of a sudden Sister Agnes remembered that she had agreed letting him drive her and Sister Mary to the convent. She tried to find a quick excuse to back out, but none came that wouldn’t offend the family. Reluctantly she returned to her room with Sister Mary to fetch their suitcases. Back in the room, while they were packing their nightgowns, she contemplated confiding in Sister Mary and enlist her help, but she brushed the notion aside as soon as it surfaced—she couldn’t tell the innocent nun about the dreadful things Sister Agnes had witnessed. Not the least because in doing so she would have to admit to watching the fuck session for several minutes, something she now felt deeply ashamed of.

So the two nuns climbed into the back of the old pickup truck alongside Clara, while Samantha was up front with her father. The bumpy ride was made bearable with bags of hay. The truck drove on the main road for a few minutes, then turned onto a old gravel road. Sister Agnes and Sister Mary sat side by side with their back to the steering house. Clara casually sat across from them, the wind twirling her hair around her head. She was clad in skin-tight jeans and a revealing t-shirt. When Sister Agnes met Clara and Jonathan this morning she’d looked for any signs that they had seen her watching them. She now began wondering again, but Clara gave no indications that she knew. So Sister Agnes let her mind drift to the younger daughter Samantha, alone now in the front with farmer Jonathan.

Sister Agnes watched the countryside rolling by, the serene beauty of it setting her mind at ease. But no sooner had she relaxed than an all-too familiar sounds invaded her ears. Sounds of sex and unbridled lust. Returning from her pastoral reverie Sister Agnes noticed that the noises emitted from the truck’s cabin. ‘Oh, no,’ she thought, ‘this can’t be happening, not in broad daylight!’ And yet the noise was unmistakable. The slurping noises conjured lewd images in the mind of Sister Agnes, images of young and innocent Samantha eagerly sucking her father’s enormous penis, using her pink little tongue to tease the hard shaft and throbbing crown, her small hands playing with his hairy balls. Sister Agnes had to use every ounce of her willpower to exorcise the images from her fertile mind. She looked at Carla. She had a coy little smile on her pretty face, obviously she heard the noises too and knew all too well what was going on up front. The girl leaned casually back on the haystack she was sitting on, her hands roaming her scantily clad body. Sister Agnes glanced at Sister Mary. The young nun stared in amazement at the girl in front of her, her eyes following the hands as they pinched the erect nipples through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, then traveled southwards to her crotch. Sister Agnes also felt compelled to watch as if some unseen force was steering her, although she ashamedly suspected it was simply her own libido taking momentary control. The moans from the cabin coupled with the young girl in front of them lewdly feeling herself up combined to have a spell-binding effect on the innocent nuns, their minds in turmoil as they experienced at once the most erotic and the most depraved moments of their sheltered lives.

Sister Agnes wanted to shout for Carla to stop her self-pleasuring, or for farmer Jonathan to stop the truck and let them out. But her mouth was dry and she couldn’t utter a word. She sat there immobile as Carla removed her t-shirt in one swift motion, her youthful tits bouncing joyously in the cool morning air.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve ogled my breasts, is it Sister Agnes?” Carla asked teasingly, holding her breasts up as if for closer inspection. Sister Agnes’ face became beet red. Carla looked over to Sister Mary sitting there with her mouth hanging slightly open as if she was frozen in disbelief at the sights and sounds assailing her. She was also visibly perspiring despite the temperature.

“Oh, didn’t Sister Agnes tell you?” Carla teased. “She spied on me last night when I was fucking my father. She stared so hard I feared her eyes might pop out,” she finished laughing. Sister Agnes hid her face with her hands, her awful secret out in the open. How could she now judge the farmer family when she herself was so obsessed with their activity? Luckily for Sister Agnes her traveling companion was in no state to comprehend what the teenager had just said, so enamored was she. Carla never missed a stride in her exploration of her own body, now she had one of her hands buried under her jeans, furiously massaging her swollen cunt. She was enjoying the situation enormously. Masturbating in front of these two women of the cloth intensified her feelings to the tenth degree. The electrifying pleasure-waves bolting from her crotch were making her dizzy with lust. She started humping her pelvis up, her eyes boring into those of the younger nun. The nun was getting caught up in the moment and her hands were unconsciously exploring her own body’s erogenous zones. It was as if time had stopped flowing around them, they took no stock of their surroundings, their concentration focusing solely on their young nubile bodies responding to the touch of eager hands. The innocence of poor Sister Mary was being exploited horribly, she was now the victim of feelings she didn’t comprehend and had thus never learnt to control. She felt as if her body had taken on a life of it’s own and was now responding in ways she was totally unfamiliar with. Like a small boat in a vast ocean of emotions she was lost and adrift, a passive yet not quite unwilling passenger in her own body aflame with glorious, sinful lust.

Sister Agnes tried to cover her ears and squeeze her eyes shut to block out the knowledge of the hot, sweaty bodies around her and the moans they were emitting. It didn’t work. She grabbed the crucifix hanging around her neck and tried a prayer. It was hopeless. ‘I should at least try to save poor Sister Mary from falling from grace,’ she thought, but she could barely keep herself from following suit to her fellow sister, which now had both her hands buried in her crotch, massaging her inflamed pussy through the thick habit. Slowly her hands were inching the hem of the habit up and before long she was stroking her bare thighs. Her white panties were already soaking wet with her pussy juices. Sister Mary’s beautiful face was contorted into amazed ecstasy, never before had she witnessed anything of this sort, let alone touched herself in such a shameful way. The girl in front of her was teaching her new ways of pleasuring her body every second and before long she had her habit up by her waist, her sticky fingers exploring her steaming pussy with vigor, pumping in and out in rhythm to that of Carla. Deeply ashamed Sister Agnes desperately wanted the same, the fire in her loins driving her crazy.

Fortunately for Sister Agnes she didn’t have to fight the temptation for long because the truck arrived at the convent. Carla leisurely put her cloths back on as if she didn’t care if she was seen naked by the inhabitants of the convent. Sister Mary, snapping out of her lust-filled haze, hurriedly covered herself, sneaking furtive glances around her. Sister Agnes breathed a sigh of relieve. Finally they had made it to the convent. Unscathed perhaps, but definitely not unspoiled. Sister Agnes thanked farmer Jonathan courteously, the big smile on his red face the only sign of the successful fellatio few minutes earlier. She watched the truck drive away before joining Sister Mary in the final steps into the convent. Neither woman spoke a word of what had just transpired. There was a lot on their mind and they weren’t quite sure how they were supposed to act. Sister Agnes decided that what she needed most of all at the moment was a long hot bath.

Chapter 3

Soaking in the tub in the bathroom assigned to her Sister Agnes put the events of the last 24 hours at the back of her mind and tried instead to focus on the task at hand. Our Lady’s Convent, being an old and established convent, had through the ages collected a huge amount of religious relics and artifacts, books, statues, holy relics and similar items. These items had never been examined carefully or fully catalogued and this was the task Sister Agnes had come here for. Sister Mary was her assistant. She wasn’t a learned archivist as Sister Agnes was, but there were many menial tasks that needed to be performed, such as filing and packaging.

Sister Agnes wondered what kind of items they might come across. Most of them were undoubtedly fakes or mundane things with no religious significant. This was especially true for items that supposedly belonged to saints or other holy figures, these were almost always forgeries. But Sister Agnes had visited enough convents to know that all had at least some items of great interest and there was a fair amount of rumors about the great treasures hidden in the vaults of Our Lady’s Convent, which must mean that there was at least something to be found there. The convent was very rich, it had for a long time received the youngest daughters of prominent and zealous families in the region and been paid handsomely for it. These girls had been raised a very sheltered lives; at very young age they had been sent to a catholic school where every minute of their life was watched and directed. By the time they arrived at the convent having finished their novice hood they were well-versed in the scriptures, but, at 18, had little or no knowledge of life outside the convent. The high walls of the convent were not only intended to protect the convent from thieves and scoundrels; they also shielded the nuns from the outside world. The same could be said of many other convents, and although Sister Agnes’ order was not quite so strict as the Order of the Holy Lady regarding travel she knew that she was privileged to be allowed to travel on the outside. Thinking back to the events with the farming family she realized this privilege came with a burden and she saw the wisdom in keeping the convents isolate.

After her bath it was time for Sister Agnes to pay a visit to the abates. Walking the corridors of the convent Sister Agnes saw the nuns at work. They had a beautiful garden where they grew much of the food they needed. They also had looms where they weaved not only their cloths, but also tapestries with religious motives. There also was a good-sized library, located above the rooms where the religious artifacts where stored. She also noted that most of the nuns where quite young, most of them had only taken the cloths in the last few years. She recalled that all nuns above the age of 50 went to another convent nearby that had a spa and much better medical facilities. Sister Agnes, only half past thirty, felt oddly old and out of place. Once she entered the offices of the abates she saw that she had been somewhat wrong, as the nuns that worked there were near her own age. Obviously, the younger nuns handled the menial tasks. News of Sister Agnes arrival had already spread and she was shown directly into the chambers of the abates. The abates was perhaps a decade older than Sister Agnes, making her one of the older inhabitants, but she looked remarkably good for a woman nearing 50. Sister Agnes prided herself on her analytical mind and she studied the woman before without overtly staring. The abates, Katrina was her name, was a little shorter than Sister Agnes, perhaps 5′ 5″. Sister Agnes knew she came from Eastern Europe and she could see the Slavic resemblance, but she also noticed a more exotic trace. She suspected the abates had some Armenian blood in her, or even Persian. The overall effect made the abates, with her black hair and dark eyes, stunningly beautiful, Sister Agnes admitted to herself. Coupled with a curveous figure obvious even through her tent-like garments and full, rounded breasts made Sister Agnes feel a bit envious and what...? Intrigued? Yet there was also a hint of sadness in Katrina’s eyes and the just-visible scarecrows by the side of her mouth and eyes told Sister Agnes that this was a woman that had had her share of soul suffering in the past.

After going through their formal greetings abates Katrina gave Sister Agnes the keys to the storage rooms, as well as an incomplete inventory list.

“This list is more than 40 years old and it was never finished, but at least it could help you start out.” Katrina explained.

“Why was it never finished?” Sister Agnes enquired, flipping through the neatly written list.

“I can’t say for sure. This was before my time, of course, but I’ve heard some stories. From what I can gather the nun that was compiling the list snapped one day and went berserk. She took two of her sisters with her before being brought down. But other stories say she didn’t go mad, but had simply ran away with a couple of other nuns. In any case, I doubt it had anything to do with her work, at least I’ve never heard any rumors regarding that.”

The two of them made some small talk for another 10 minutes, then it was time for mass. The rest of the day went by in a blur, Sister Agnes tried to focus on the tasks at hand in preparation for her work. She only met Sister Mary briefly during dinner, as both of them were unpacking their belongings, which had be sent ahead and arrived the day before. After the evening mass Sister Agnes was becoming rather tired. Obviously, her sleep had been erratic last night and the day had been tiring as well. But before going to bed she decided to drop in on Sister Mary first. The two of them had to settle earlier events and come to grips with it, so they could put things in order again. She found Sister Mary in the chapel in deep prayer. Sister Agnes waited patiently for the girl to finish before approaching her. Sister Mary was, thankfully, her old self, shy and full of innocent piety. After assuring herself that Sister Mary was not overtly disturbed by the recent events Sister Agnes told the young nun that she had to confess at the earliest opportunity to cleanse her spirit anew. She then followed Sister Mary to her bed chambers and ordered the her to go to sleep, hoping that a good night’s sleep would expel the most emotional memories, including when Carla exposed her dirty little secret from the night before. When she was about to leave, Sister Mary, now snuck in her bed with the covers up under her chin, asked: “Sister Agnes, will you stay with me until I’m asleep?”

Sister Agnes sat by the bed and Sister Mary grasped her hand in hers. Sister Mary smiled shyly, “I have some trepidations,” she confessed, “as if some impending doom is looming over us.” Sister Agnes smiled and brushed a lock the girl’s hair from her forehead.

“You are just emotionally upset, my child. It is making you sense things that aren’t there.” Sister Agnes said in a comforting tone. “Hush, now and go to sleep.” She finished and smiled reassuringly. Her words seemed to sooth the young girl, though she still clasped Sister Agnes’ hand firmly. She closed her eyes and before long she was deep in sleep. Sister Agnes sat for a few more minutes, feeling maternal love for the young girl she was responsible for. She decided that the two of them would start their work early next morning. Sister Agnes knew from past experience that nothing was better for letting time, the great healer of body and soul, pass than hard work one could get absorbed in. She rose from the bed, tucking the bed covers around the sleeping girl on the bed. The memory of Sister Mary’s exposed sex flashed through her mind for an instant. Not a girl—a woman, Sister Agnes thought forlornly as she left the room.