The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next time Ash came around, he didn’t even touch me. I was reading a book when he entered—I immediately put the book down, of course, but he didn’t even look at me. As he began unbuttoning his jeans, I wanted to stand up, to offer my body to him, but it was like I wasn’t even there. To my horror, Georgie followed suit, and soon I was seeing more of my teenage daughter than I ever thought I’d see. As soon as she was naked, he pulled her toward him, and as his hands started roaming across her skin, I found myself desperately wishing it were me.

Ash was still fully clothed—his dirty red jeans were unbuttoned, but they weren’t even lowered. Without hesitation, my daughter knelt in front of him, and began giving one of the most passionate blow-jobs I’ve ever seen.

A large part of me was horrified, of course—no mother should see this side of her daughter. Also, just like last time, I couldn’t help but notice that Georgia’s technique was impeccable…a strange thing for a mother to be proud of.

But most of all, I was just distressed. I was so used to Ash leading the interactions, including me in the sick games—but now, it was as if I didn’t even exist. A small part of me wanted to leave, but I knew that I wouldn’t. Not without being told, and not when there was still a small chance that I would be the next target of Ash’s attention.

And so I just sat there, feeling disgusted with myself, too timid to leave, and too proud to start playing with myself…tempted though I was.

Watching my daughter expertly blow her boyfriend, I realized that Ash was willfully playing with me by not playing with me. I’ve been around long enough to know a power move, and this was Ash’s way of telling me that he called the shots.

Why did that make me so wet?

Instead of cumming in the mouth of my naked daughter, however, Ash tapped her head and pulled her up. Maybe they determined this beforehand, or maybe they just know each other, but without needing to say a word, Georgia turned around and put her hands on the bookshelf of the study.

I gasped, and very nearly said something. Surely he wasn’t going to…not here…not in front of her own mother. Again, as if he could read my very thoughts, Ash turned and stared at me, that cocky grin back on his face. The worst part of it—I got a small sexual thrill form his attention. I felt included, and that—sick as it is—was enough to turn me on.

My daughter let out a long, ragged moan as Ash pushed forward, and I couldn’t help but lean forward to watch. Ash’s cock had been the source of so much joy for me—I was unable to stop myself from getting the best possible angle of his long cock as it penetrated my baby girl.

She twitched with pleasure, and her mouth opened wide, as if shocked by what must have surely been a regular occurrence. The idea that it wasn’t—that I was watching my teenage daughter lose her virginity—was repulsive, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. It just kept swimming around, over and over.

Ash, deflowering my precious angel, while I sat there and watched. My daughter Georgia, having her cherry popped with her mother in the room.

It was wrong. It was sick. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the more I fixated, the hotter the idea got.

As the thoughts raced through my head, Ash continued to stare at me, and I kept sitting there, breathing harder and harder, as he slowly thrust in and out of my daughter. She was panting and moaning, and even though I wanted nothing more than to reach under my dress and touch myself, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t debase myself like that.

Not without permission.

Georgia reached between her legs—my eyes were uncontrollably drawn to the action, and so I watched as she began to rub herself. I wanted to look away, I wanted to look at anything else, but wherever I looked I just saw the same thing—my daughter’s naked flesh, her flushed skin, her nudity as she was penetrated by Ash.

His movement was smooth. It was clear that he’d done this before—I didn’t want to think about how many women he’d taken, how many women he’d used for pleasure before my daughter.

Before me.

As his rhythm increased, I knew he was approaching orgasm. I knew he was going to cum inside my precious little girl. He wasn’t wearing a condom—I hadn’t even questioned that until now, but my daughter was being fucked bareback.

God I wished it were me.

I was still watching Georgia’s hand as it frantically rubbed at her clit, watching the way that she ran her thumb over her little pleasure button, occasionally dipping down into her own juices to get it wet.

But something told me to look up, and I did. I looked up to see Ash staring at me intensely. As we made eye contact, he began to cum.

I sat and watched as my daughter’s boyfriend came inside her. It was clear that his orgasm triggered hers as well—her knees buckled, and my eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to her pussy.

As she twitched with pleasure, some of Ash’s cum escaped, dripping onto her thighs. I was horrified.

Horrified and turned on, in equal measures.

I didn’t even blink as Ash slowly removed his softening cock from my between my daughter’s legs. I should have been surprised when he turned to face me. I knew I should have objected as he approached.

And when he pushed my book to the side and slipped his flaccid penis into my mouth, there were a thousand things I should have done instead of dutifully sucking it, cleaning away the last few traces of his cum.

Cleaning away my daughter’s wetness.

No mother should know what her daughter’s arousal tastes like. No mother should be responsible for cleaning her daughter’s sex from another man’s cock. But I never even considered questioning it, I never even considered resisting.

Instead, I shut my eyes, and tried to pretend that the tang I could taste on Ash’s skin wasn’t what we all knew it to be.

It was well past midnight the next night when I saw him.

I should have been sleeping, but I couldn’t. The knowledge of what I’d done was overwhelming—I was filled in equal measures with self-loathing and a more powerful arousal than I’d ever before encountered.

The previous night I had barely slept a wink. As soon as I was sure that my husband was asleep, one hand was between my legs, the other exploring my body. I tried desperately to think about anything other than my daughter’s juices in my mouth. I even tried to think about the first time Ash had made me cum, or my time on my knees in front of him.

I constructed elaborate fantasies of Ash sneaking into my room, taking me in my marital bed with my husband right beside me. Sometimes we were quiet, to avoid waking him up, sometimes we were loud, not caring if he knew, wanting him to hear.

Wanting him to know that his wife was the property of a scruffy-looking teenage boy.

But ultimately, no matter what I tried to imagine, no matter how hard I attempted to avoid the thought…whenever I got close to orgasm, it was the same image that returned to my mind.

My daughter, naked, panting in the corner, while I cleaned her cum off her boyfriend’s flaccid penis.

Flaccidity is far from arousing, but just remembering how it felt on my tongue, the total debasement I felt from being used like a wet towel…

If my husband wasn’t a heavy sleeper, I’m sure the whimpers that came from my mouth would have been more than enough to wake him.

That night, I knew I couldn’t repeat the events of the previous night. Each and every time I brought myself to orgasm I felt worse than before. Cheap. Broken. Dirty.

I was a bad mother.

Not only for letting Ash do the things that he did to me. Not only for letting Ash do the things he did to my daughter. But for wanting more. For enjoying it.

I was a bad person, and a worse mother.

Instead I was laying in bed, staring out the window, trying to sleep.

And that was when I saw him.

Just for a moment. Just a short glimpse. But I’d spent hours picturing his face—there was no doubt it was him.

He glanced my way, and then disappeared.

And I knew where he was heading.

Making sure not to disturb my husband, I slipped out of bed. I didn’t bother getting dressed—I was spending more and more time without clothes these days, knowing that if Ash wanted access to my body, I’d be naked before too long anyway.

I padded down the hallway in the nude, and—sure enough—heard the sound of my daughter’s bedroom window opening.

Silently opening the door, I saw my daughter’s face light up as Ash entered her room. It seemed that Georgia had begun sleeping in the nude as well—her bedside lamp gave me a clear view of her increasingly-familiar naked form.

Ash didn’t even say a word. He reached between my daughter’s legs, and smiled arrogantly as she emitted a soft moan. Within a few seconds, she was writhing on the bed in pleasure, and soon his pants were off and his hardness was exposed.

I silently moved forward, disgusted by how desperate I was to see his cock up close. Ash grinned as he noticed me, and gestured to the foot of the bed. Surely he didn’t want me to sit there.

Surely he didn’t expect me to sit next to two rutting teens…one of which was my daughter.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and I found myself rushing to obey his silent command. I sat on the end of the bed—if Georgia knew I was there, she certainly didn’t seem to care about my presence.

I was less than two feet away as Ash positioned himself at my daughter’s entrance. I could practically see every pore on her skin, every freckle. I could see her wetness beginning to glisten as her boyfriend’s hardness ran up and down her lips for lubrication, before pushing forward and entering her in one smooth motion.

And I could hear her every breath. She was whimpering, moaning, groaning with pleasure. Ash’s breathing was heavy but not loud, while my daughter seemed to have lost all control.

I knew that feeling. But I wanted to be where she was. I wanted to be the target of Ash’s lust, to feel him entering me, filling me up, using my wet cunt to cum inside.

As my daughter moaned, I found myself moaning as well. Not with pleasure, exactly, but with need—with lust. I couldn’t remember ever being so full of desire, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Georgia’s legs straightened, and I found one of her feet in my lap. Like a drowning man grasping onto a life preserver, I gripped it with both hands. I could feel tremors of pleasure traveling through her body, twitches of lust. As I held her foot, her toes curled and her sole arched. Holding her foot was like a little microcosm of my daughter’s joy—I couldn’t be the one fucking Ash, but I could almost feel it by proxy.

Again, it wasn’t long before Ash was cumming. Again, my daughter’s orgasm seemed to exactly match his. Again, as soon as he was done, he withdrew from my daughter’s wetness and presented me with a flaccid penis to clean.

And again, I took the opportunity. Releasing my daughter’s foot, I bent double and ran my tongue over every inch of Ash’s penis.

As soon as I was done, he redressed and left—not through the window which he’d entered, but through the bedroom door, firmly shutting it behind me.

My face was bright red—since my first encounter with Ash, I hadn’t been alone with my daughter, not even for a minute. It took me a few seconds to muster up the courage to even glance in her direction—she was smiling, a dreamy look on her face.

When she noticed me staring, she directed her smile at me, and before I could say a word, she’d clambered over and sat on my lap—something she hadn’t done for at least a decade.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us said anything as I slowly wrapped my arms around her, embracing her, holding her tight.

The silence grew more comfortable as I hugged my naked, freshly-fucked daughter. It was more than half an hour before I kissed her on the forehead and left her to sleep, returning to my room and getting the best night’s rest I could ever remember having.