The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I smiled at my sister as she sat down for her lesson.

She was wearing a thin white tank top, a pair of black panties, and nothing else. It was Saturday, so Dad was up the other end of the house.

But I knew he wouldn’t interrupt us.

“I will not interrupt my children when they study,” I’d intoned, as he tried to solve the crossword the previous morning. I’d been met with a nod, but tried several variations on the phrase just to be safe. My children shouldn’t be disrupted when they’re alone. I should leave them alone when they’re together.

He’d non-verbally agreed to all of them...although he did grumble slightly after finishing the crossword. “Five minutes slower than normal. I don’t know why I had such a hard time with that one.”

Kayla shivered with pleasure at my attention. I drew it out, my eyes roaming her body, appreciating her curves. She liked my gaze on her, and I loved watching her get turned on.

“You look relaxed,” I said after several minutes of checking her out, and she nodded. “Good. I think you do better when you’re more relaxed.”

Kayla nodded again, the movement making her chest jiggle enticingly. Neither of us said a word as I happily stared at them, and she just as happily let me.

Over the last few sessions, I’d been working on Kayla being aroused by my attention. It had been a risky bridge to cross—everything else I’d done had really emphasized that my gaze wasn’t sexual, that I was just her brother, that my enjoyment of her was totally safe.

The path I’d taken was a bit different to Mr. Freudenberger’s methods...but of course, so was the situation. He’d been hypnotizing his students, not his sister.

Although hell, maybe he had. Who knew if the secret got ed down to guys and girls in his family.

But the key thing I’d learned from watching him was how careful he was, how slowly he moved. And since this situation was different, so was my technique.

I’d been so proud of myself when I figured it out: I’d told Kayla that while my attention was completely brotherly, her reaction could be sexual. My gaze was safe, her response didn’t have to match. “Your body likes my attention,” I’d told her. Cautiously. Carefully. Thinking each sentence through before I said it—after the mess I’d made before, I didn’t want to take any chances. “Your body likes it when I watch you. Your body doesn’t know that I’m your brother.“

“All your body knows is that I’m a man.”

The ‘body’ angle had been the key. I’d tried a few variations first, but nothing stuck until I started externalizing it a little, telling her that was where the reaction was coming from.

Kayla, apparently, didn’t see her and her body as the same thing. Which made sense, once I thought about it—my sister was brilliant. One of the greatest minds of her generation, blah blah blah.

But she was in the body of a porn star.

It made sense that she’d feel a disconnect, especially given how much effort she put into hiding her curves. So when I told her that her ‘body’ reacted to something, I finally—after almost two sessions of trying different angles—got a nod in response.

After that, it had been pretty smooth sailing. I’d told her that her body found a man’s attention erotic. That her body didn’t care that I was a relative—when I checked her out, she got wet.

Not because she liked her brother checking her out. But because her body did. I told her that her body was getting turned on by my attention, that her body loved it. Craved it.

And soon enough, my sister was listening to her body. After the next session, she was masturbating while thinking about me watching her.

I mean, I don’t know for certain that she was masturbating. I didn’t, like set up cameras in her room or anything. But the way that she’d she’d blush and squirm and rub her legs together whenever I stared at her...

I was pretty sure that I knew what she was doing. And I was pretty sure that I knew what she was thinking about while she did it.

“Your body is a work of art for your brother to ire. Art evokes all kinds of reactions; all of your brother’s actions while staring at you is acceptable. It isn’t sexual.” That had been a good one. She’d liked that, and once that thought was cemented, it had been easier for me to stare at her, to ogle, even to show off my erection in my shorts.

I mean, I hadn’t pushed it. Yes, she’d agreed that all of my actions were acceptable, but I doubt she just would’ve stood there and smiled if I’d...I dunno, murdered the president.

Or pulled out my dick and started masturbating.

But so far, I hadn’t found that limit. Anything I did, Kayla was fine with.

Yeah, I was getting hard while looking at her. Yeah, she was lounging around in erotic outfits for my enjoyment.

Yeah, she was masturbating to the thought of me checking her out.

But none of it was sexual.

The logic didn’t truly make sense, but Kayla didn’t question it. Didn’t overthink it.

And fortunately, none of my tutoring was going to cover the logical fallacies of sibling-inspired masturbation.

“You like the idea of men masturbating while looking at you,” had been the next instruction. That one had been met with more resistance than I expected. I guess I’d assumed that it was...y’know, a thing girls liked. I loved the idea of women masturbating while looking at me.

But I guess that’s a gendered thing. Like, if you spend your life trying to hide your body, random dudes jerking it while thinking about you is probably not the most appealing prospect.

I’d gotten there eventually, but it had taken almost a full session. I’d eventually persuaded her that it was just the flip side of her liking men’s bodies, that it was just a more pure form of attention. That sexual attention meant she was attractive; when she was attracted to someone it wasn’t creepy, so why couldn’t the reverse be true?

It had taken a lot of work, but I felt like it was important—if Kayla didn’t like the idea of men in general jerking off to her body, I felt like it’d be weirder that she liked me specifically doing so.

“You like the thought of your brother masturbating. You enjoy his imagining his erection. You like the fact that you makes him hard.”

The earlier effort had been well spent; Kayla had accepted the ideas without hesitation. She liked men’s attention, I was a man, she liked my attention—it all made sense, and clicked into place without effort.

And now I was ready for the next step.

“Let’s start by revisiting what we did last week,” I said with a smile. Kayla didn’t question my methods, of course. She trusted me—and my tutelage—absolutely.

As she consciously revisited the previous week’s lessons, her subconscious had the previous week’s instructions reemphasized.

It didn’t take long, and soon I was ready to build upon what I’d spent so long setting up.

“Feeling relaxed during your lessons is of the utmost importance,” I instructed, carefully timing the rhythm of my voice to the metronome.

Nod.

“Wearing fewer clothes makes you feel relaxed, doesn’t it?”

Nod.

“What else makes you feel relaxed?”

“Taking a bath,” Kayla answered. When she was focused on something else, her answers came out like she was wasn’t even listening. Her concentration—consciously, anyway—was 100% on the task at hand. I was talking past her conscious mind, directly to her subconscious.

I swear, Dr. Freudenberger should’ve won a Nobel Prize or something.

“What else?”

“Music,” she said, and I nodded. “Getting a massage.”

I filed that one away for later.

“Anything else?”

“Drinking. Weed.” My eyebrows shot up at that one—I hadn’t realized my sister partook. “Sweets. Cuddling.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her brow furrowed. I glanced at her worksheet; she was less than halfway done. The more I demanded of her, the slower she went, but—like Dad and the crossword—she wouldn’t consciously notice. He’d only been aware of it because he actually timed himself.

Good thing he didn’t record himself, or I’d have been screwed.

“What about masturbation?”

Kayla nodded.

“Does masturbation relax you?”

“Yes,” she answered, after a few seconds. “I masturbate to get to sleep.”

Something else I hadn’t known.

“You should be as relaxed as possible during these lessons, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But we can’t drink, or smoke weed, or cuddle.”

That one was tempting, but again—I filed it away for later.

“We can’t play music, because we need the metronome to help you learn. And you can’t have a bath. So what’s left?”

“Sweets,” Kayla murmured. She was approaching the end of the review I’d given her.

“Too messy.”

“Massage.”

“I don’t know how to give them.”

There was a pause, and Kayla’s pen hovered over the final answer on the worksheet I’d prepared. I watched, waited.

And finally, as her pen moved towards the answer, she spoke.

“Masturbation,” she murmured, and her face flushed red.

I smiled.

“Well done.”

Kayla’s blush deepened.

“What next?” she asked. I wondered if she was consciously aware of her embarrassment.

“Imaginary numbers,” I said, and Kayla nodded.

It took me almost fifteen minutes to explain them, but she listened, rapt, the whole time. I’d told her to hang on my every word, that I was a great tutor.

And never to question my methods.

“Make sense?” I asked, and Kayla shook her head.

“Not really. I mean, I kind of get it, but I don’t get why the square root of a negative number makes a new axis appear.”

I frowned slightly, and was surprised by the look of disappointment that appeared on my sister’s face.

I’d made sure that she respected me, as a tutor. And the instructions I’d been giving her were leading to a full-blown crush. But just the sight of my unhappiness, it was like it deflated her a little.

Deflated her attitude, I mean. Not her curves. If making me unhappy deflated her boobs, I’d go full Joker, and get a smile permanently tattooed on my face.

But the small droop of her shoulders told me how important it was that she please me.

“I think you’re stressed,” I said. Normally I’d lead her further down the path, but I wanted to see how far she’d get on her own, without any further guidance from me. “When we started, you were so relaxed, but now...”

I trailed off, and let her take the next step.

“You’re right,” Kayla nodded, and then there was a pause. A small silence that I refused to break. “I...I should try to be more...relaxed.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself to not smile.

The next silence was even longer, nothing but the tick, tick, tick of the metronome, until finally...

“Can I...would you mind if...”

Kayla’s voice was no louder than a whisper, and she was staring firmly at the worksheet.

The worksheet she’d been doing when I implanted the idea in her mind.

I still said nothing, and as the silence stretched on—tick, tick, tick, tick, tick—she eventually assembled her thought. “Would you mind if I masturbated?” she asked, her cheeks almost as red as her hair.

“Not at all,” I replied gently, and my sister visibly relaxed. “I mean, if you think it would help.”

“I do,” Kayla said, and it was all I could do not to punch the air in triumph.

“Well, then,” I shrugged, as though it meant nothing to me. As though siblings watching each other masturbate was as normal as sharing a meme. “If it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Kayla nodded, and—still not looking at me—she leaned back in her chair.

At this point, I had absolutely no idea how my sister masturbated. I’d never asked her about it while she was under—it felt like one of those things that if she heard it, there was no possible way I could justify it.

So was completely in the dark as to what her routine was. I absolutely wasn’t expecting her hand not to move straight between her legs—as my hand did when I jerked off—but instead start roaming over her body, over her belly, up to her breasts.

She gently kneaded her girls, her fingertips stroking the skin above the neckline of her top, and as her hands traveled beneath the white fabric, I saw her grab and pinch her nipples.

“Oh, god,” I said, unable to help myself. I couldn’t see her nipples, but knowing that she grabbed them when she masturbated, that my sister touched her huge, perfect breasts while she played with herself...

My eyes met hers, and I tried to hide my panic. But it was fine: Kayla clearly wasn’t suspicious.

She trusted me.

Her face was dark with lust, and when our eyes made , her entire body shivered with pleasure.

She bit her lip as she continued playing with herself, but her gaze never left mine. In my periphery, I could see her hand move between her legs, but I kept eye , I kept staring my sister deep in her eyes as she touched herself.

As she came.

I didn’t even realize she was ready to cum until it happened. Her her mouth opened, and without warning she was arching her back, moaning her release, the words tumbling out of her.

“Fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck, yes, YES!”

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it ended. Kayla slumped back into her chair, panting, sweat glistening on her brow.

But she never stopped stared me in the eyes.

“I think,” she said, her voice hoarse and breathless. “That I’m relaxed.”

“Great,” I said, doing all I could to sound casual and disinterested...and failing completely. “Let’s, um, get back to studying.”

She nodded.

“So,” I said, it taking all the mental energy I had to how the English language worked. “Imaginary numbers...”

After that, Kayla masturbated every time she studied.

To my surprise...it actually helped. I’ve heard of, like, “post-orgasm clarity”, but I didn’t realize that applied to education as well. Maybe schools would do better if they had little jerk-off chambers in the corner.

No, look, I hear it now. That’s a terrible idea. Pretend I never said that.

But yeah—Kayla genuinely picked up new ideas better after masturbating. And so whenever we got stuck, she’d sit back and touch herself while I watched.

Sometimes we’d make eye the whole time, like that first day. Sometimes my eyes would roam her body—it felt like wherever my attention was would twitch, like my gaze was the most important thing she’d ever experienced.

And sometimes her eyes would drift shut, her head leaning back against the back of the chair.

That was when I worked it out. When masturbating, my sister was...’concentrating’ isn’t quite the right word for it.

Distracted.

The first time I did it, I stuck to safe topics. But sure enough, she replied in that same dreamy voice, like she wasn’t even aware she was talking. Like the conversation was completely skipping her conscious mind.

After that, whenever her eyes closed as she masturbated, I’d talk to her. While she touched herself, I’d give her further instructions. It was the perfect level of distraction, and my words sunk in so easily.

It felt like she’d do anything I told her to.

I no longer had to worry about her hitting the end of the worksheet without me noticing. Her orgasms—although they snuck up on me—were clearly signaled, and so I knew to shut up, not even end whatever thought I’d been starting.

Whether she was studying or masturbating, I could directly to her subconscious. To program my sister’s thoughts directly.

It wasn’t hard to shift things so that it wasn’t just during our study sessions that Kayla would get off. When we were alone and she was scantily-clad on the couch, dressed in something as revealing as a bikini, my attention would get her so worked up that she couldn’t help but slide her hand beneath the fabric. When she was sitting at the dining table, I’d see her rubbing her legs together, her cheeks pink.

Without a metronome going, I couldn’t give her instructions—so taking advantage of her distracted masturbatory state was still limited to our study sessions—but once she was used to touching herself in front of me, she’d do whenever she felt like it. Never in front of Dad; at most she’d tease herself a little. It took several days of crosswords to be sure he wouldn’t notice, or wouldn’t care—if she’d screamed out with pleasure he’d still have realized something was going on, but I managed to ensure he paid as little attention to Kayla’s shenanigans as possible.

Soon, the sight of my sister’s orgasms became...well, I’d never say ‘boring’, but common-place. It was hot as hell, each and every time, but soon I was used to it.

Well, ‘used to it’. That’s not what I mean.

I mean I wanted more.

“Keep your eyes closed until you cum,” I instructed, as soon as my sister leaned back in her chair. She nodded; I had until she was done to set up the next step.

She was wearing a lacy white bra and panties; lingerie was increasingly her choice of study outfits. We were doing roll, pitch, and yaw—the part of her curriculum that was the most directly relevant to flying, so Kayla was enjoying it the most...but when I’d offered that we stop so she could ‘relax’, she’d taken me up on it immediately.

Her nipples were rock-hard, and her panties were soaked through.

“You like it when I watch you masturbate.”

Nod. That was well, well established by now—it was practically one of my sister’s defining traits.

“But there’s something unfair about it.”

Kayla paused, just for a moment, but didn’t open her eyes.

The more mental work my suggestions required (coming up with ideas, or agreeing to stuff that was outside her comfort zone—like moaning my name whenever she came. That had taken some real effort to set up) the longer it took her to do whatever she was doing. A test could take up to twice as long, and masturbation...

Well, when my sister was touching herself in front of me while fully conscious (I loved my life) it could take her up to five minutes or so to cum.

One time when I was imparting suggestions, she’d been playing with herself for a full quarter of an hour before she finished.

“It’s unfair that you get to masturbate and your brother doesn’t.”

Nod. Faster than I’d expected.

“Would you be comfortable if your brother masturbated at the same time that you did?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want my brother to masturbate. I want him to masturbate at the same time as I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not fair that I get to and he doesn’t.”

“Why really?”

“Because I want to see it. I want to see my brother masturbate.”

“Would you like him to masturbate because he’s watching you?”

“Yes.”

“Because of how hot you are?”

“Yes.”

“Would you...—”

My words were interrupted by the sound of my sister groaning my name, so loudly that—had I not taken precautions for this exact situation—I was worried that our father would come down the hall to see what was wrong. (“I trust my son’s study methods. No matter what I hear while he’s helping Kayla study, I will never investigate. I will never be suspicious. I will forget it as soon as I hear it.")

I just smiled, as my sister came down from her orgasm. Sometimes it felt a little like the orgasm ‘locked’ the thoughts in, like they immediately got transferred from unconscious thoughts to conscious thoughts.

Of course, maybe I was just imagining that. It wasn’t like I was about to call Mr. Freudenberger and share tips.

“You feel more relaxed?” I asked, and Kayla nodded...although I noticed a twinge of guilt appear on her face. “Are you ready to continue?”

Kayla didn’t answer, and I paused, waited for her to process the thought she was having. It didn’t take long.

“What about you?” she asked, concern in her voice. “Are you relaxed?“