Chapter 2

Copyright© 2012 by Pan

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 2 - After hypnotising my sister Lucy, I was disappointed to discover that it wasn't the magic control button I'd been looking for. No, the trick is finding people's limits, what they will and won't do...and then seeing if you can move those limits.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Mind Control   Hypnosis   Heterosexual   Incest   Brother   Sister   Masturbation   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

"Yes," my mother said, in that blank monotone I've grown to love so much. "I think it's good for you and your sister to spend more time together."

"And?" I prompted.

"And when you're alone, I will make sure you aren't interrupted."

Session 11:

I'm not going to lie; watching my sister's tits come into view was pretty much the greatest moment of my life. I remember every moment, in great detail: she was wearing a red sweater, one of those ones that are a little bit stretchy. That's always been one of my favourite tops of hers, probably because it really shows off her tits.

Seriously, I know it's wrong (though the fact that it's wrong is sort of what turns me on about it) but if you had a sister like mine, you'd find yourself wanting her as well. I don't know anything about cup sizes, but in my mind she's a double-H, with "H" standing for "huge".

She reached down, crossing her arms, and dragged the sweater up across her skin, agonizingly slowly (or maybe it just felt like that because of how desperate I was to see them)—the white shirt thing she was wearing underneath got lifted up as well for a second, showing her gorgeous stomach, and before the sweater was lifted past her tits it fell back into place.

The sweater caught for a second on her breasts too, and they too were lifted slightly, bouncing beautifully when they came free of the sweater. I feel like I should have been worried about the fact that while the sweater was being lifted past her face, it was the longest she'd stayed hypnotized without direct eye-contact, but at that point all I was thinking about was the twin orbs in front of me that I was finally, finally going to get to see.

My mouth was practically watering.

Once the sweater was past her head, her arms came back down, and her silky white shirt-thing was lifted up in the same way. I've seen my sister in bikinis before, so I guess technically I wasn't seeing anything new, but the fact that it was just me and her in the room, and that she was stripping just for me ... it made it more intimate, and about twenty times more hot.

(and as I've mentioned, my sister in a bikini is already one of the sexiest sights I can imagine.)

Finally, she reached around her own back, her face still holding that same blank stare that she always has when she's under, unclipped her bra, and let it all hang loose.

They were everything I'd hoped for—she had two large, pink, rosy nipples, and as I stared at them, they grew slightly hard.

It was probably the air-conditioning, I told myself. The room was slightly chilly...

I try to limit our hypnosis sessions to no more than thirty minutes, but today, we went way over that. Aside from checking every minute or two to make sure that she was still under, I spent a huge amount of time just staring at my sister's magnificent boobs. Aside from a slight sag (which is to be expected from anything of that size that isn't surgically implanted, I guess) they were absolutely perfect.

Add to that the fact that they were my sister's, AND the fact that I'd wanted to see them ever since she'd grown them, and I was the happiest I'd ever, ever been.

I had no idea that in the next few weeks, things were going to get so much better...

Session 3:

"Why do you like being hypnotized?" I'd asked her once, when she was awake, and she'd thought about it for a while and told me that she found it relaxing.

I'd asked her the same question while she was under, and she'd gone into a bit more detail.

"I like feeling like I'm floating," she'd said, staring straight into my eyes, her soft voice completely expressionless. "It's like I'm somewhere else—I don't have any worries, any stress. I feel like I'm free, like I've given it all away."

"Given what?"

" ... control. I like feeling like someone else is in control. Like someone else has control of my mind, of my body ... of my life."

Ha. I wish. Like I said, it just doesn't work like that.

Session 13:

"Do you remember anything that happened last time I hypnotised you?"


That had been the answer every other time as well, but it's always safest to check. The last session had just been me putting her under, getting her topless, and then staring at her tits for half an hour before getting her to put her clothes back on. I hadn't even asked any questions ... what can I say? I was excited.

Today, however, I was determined to not to waste another session. (of course, if it weren't for the risk of asking the wrong question and having her suddenly awaken, I'd have gotten her topless and then started questioning her.)

I refreshed my memory by checking what she was and wasn't okay with.

"Would you take off your top in front of me?"


Even when spoken in a monotone, that word is the hottest thing I've ever heard anyone say.

"Would you take off all your clothes in front of me?"


Worth checking.

"Would you let me touch you?"


"In what circumstances?"

"Any normal brother-sister touching."

Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that we have different definitions of what normal brother-sister touching constitutes.

"Would you let me touch your tits?"


"Would you kiss me?"



"Anywhere public except the lips."

I was about to move on, but that one threw me.

"How do you define public?"

"Anything that people can normally see."

"What about your tits?"


"What about if we were at a nude beach?"

There was a surprisingly long pause there. My sister has never actually been to a nude beach, so I don't think she quite understands how they work. Eventually though, she came back with the predictable response:


I made a mental note to explore that, and moved on.

"Would you talk to me about sex?"


"In detail?"


"Would you talk to me about masturbation?"


"In detail?"


I still hadn't brought up masturbation with her outside of our sessions—I didn't want to risk any chance of her working out that something was odd. Anything that ran the risk of ending these session was off-limits. (that was the only reason she was still wearing a top right now.)

"Under what circumstances?"

"If we were staying in a trailer park, and agreed to leave each other alone for a while. Or if there was some kind of medical issue."

I remembered now, she'd said that before.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean by what?"

If she weren't in a trance right now, I'd swear she was deliberately being annoying.

"What do you mean by some kind of medical issue, in relation to talking about masturbation?"

"Like ... if you were in an accident, and you couldn't jerk off."

Hold up. Hold up. What?

"Let's say I was in an accident, and I couldn't jerk off. What would you say to me?"

"I'd be really sorry for you."

"Hang on. So ... let's say I've been in an accident. I was, I dunno, ski-ing."

Shake. I took a deep breath; I was on the way to something amazing here, I could tell. I just had to make sure to choose my words carefully.

"Okay. So I'm on my way home one day, and you know that really high hedge on Elm? Right, well I'm crossing the road, and a car zooms around the corner without really checking to see if there's anyone there. He hits me, and I break both my arms. And my legs."


"You and Mom come and visit me in hospital every day. I've been there for a week, and one day when you come in ... I'm looking really sad."

Nod. I wasn't sure how far I wanted to push the "guilt" side of things, but when a car crash is your starting point, it's hard not to continue down that path.

"Mom goes and talks to the doctors about how long it will be before I can come home, and it's just you and me in the room."


"It's not my room," I quickly added, "but an impersonal hospital room. But there's a door, and no one can see in. We're at the end of a corridor, so we get a bit of warning if someone is coming in."


"You ask why I'm looking sad, but I don't want to tell you. You insist, but I refuse to talk about it."


"Finally, you get it out of me—I'm really embarrassed to say, but ... I'm horny."


"You see a tear come from my right eye, and trickle down my cheek. Because of the accident, I have to be spoon-fed: normally I have a nurse feed me, but sometimes you or mom do it. I can't move my arms or legs at all."

If I'm going to milk the guilty-train, I figured, I may as well go the whole way, hey? Finally, she nodded.

"I explain that normally I masturbate fourteen or fifteen times a week... —"

Nod. Immediately. I wasn't sure if I should have been insulted—I do jerk off a lot, but ... rarely more than once a day. Y'know, a normal amount. Although since seeing my sister's tits, I had to admit, my imaginary numbers weren't too far off.

"— ... and that being immobile like this has really been killing me. What do you say?"

There was a pause, as my entranced sister thought about it, and when she answered it wasn't in the monotone that I was expecting, but in a soft, compassionate tone.

"Are you okay, bro?"

Jesus Christ, I've no idea why that turned me on so much, but I went from half-mast to fully-hard in an instant. A part of me was surprised my jeans didn't burst at the speed of my erection. Normally while my sister's under, I'm at least a little turned on, but knowing that she was completely under my control (well, you know what I mean) but still talking in her normal voice ... for some reason, it really did it for me.

Maybe I could get her to "hypothetically" talk dirty to a hypothetical boyfriend some time, I pondered. No idea why she'd be calling him by my name, but perhaps... —

With a bit of effort, I shook the ideas off, and went back to our conversation.

"I tell you that no, I'm not okay, and," ... fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound... "another tear falls from my eye. What do you say?"

"Is there any way the nurses can help you with this?"

"I tell you that I'm too embarrassed. I apologize for crying, and tell you not to worry. What do you say?"

Another pause. I leaned forward as she answered.

" ... do you want me to help you?"

It was weird, hearing her speak so emotively while her facial expression didn't change at all, her eyes staring blankly at me. She didn't seem to register me punching the air in victory, before turning back to her.

"I nod. What do you do?"


I was hard as a rock by then. There was a long pause as I held my breath, not wanting to rush her.

" ... I make sure that no one's coming, and then I undo your pants, and ... and..."

For a second, I swore she was about to wake up, but after a few silent seconds of glassy staring, she continued.

" ... and I jerk you off."

Trying not to let my excitement take over, I double-checked everything.

"So if I needed it, you'd jerk me off?"


"Sis ... will you jerk me off?"

"I swear, bro, you should do this for a living. What time is it? I feel like I've been under for a week."

Session 25:

"I tell you that I think Mom is kind of hot. How do you react?"

"I agree."

Session 15:

After my fucking obvious mistake (What can I say? Sometimes my dick really does just take over.) I decided to do some damage control, and our fourteenth session was spent reinforcing the fact that I'm her brother, and she trusts me.

The problem was clear to me the second she woke up: I'm not actually in a hospital bed. My arms and legs aren't really broken. I shouldn't have been surprised.

Immediately after I realized my error, I'd gone into my room and jerked off three times in a row. I don't remember the last time I've been so worked up—I was so, so fucking close ... I could practically feel my sister's soft hands around my cock, those blank eyes of those staring at me, knowing that she was doing it out of compassion, out of love for her poor, broken brother.


Tempted though I was to get her top off again, I didn't want to risk her waking up with her tits out. I'd done a bit of thinking, and I was going to be trying something a bit tricky.

"Okay. Hypothetical. I've been hit by a car, can't move my arms and legs, and while I was in hospital, you've come in and helped me masturbate."


"The doctors say that I have to stay in hospital for the next few months while my arms and legs heal. I'm in a lot of pain, and your help is the only way I can get relief. How often do you help?"

There was a bit of thought, but her monotonous response was worth the wait.

"Twice a week."

Wow. I don't think I've really mentioned it, but despite her occasional arrogance, I do love my sister. She's genuinely a good person. I think that's a big part of why I'm so damned attracted to her.

"After I've been in the hospital four weeks, how many times have you jerked me off?"


That stumped me for a bit, until I remember that the "first time" was a week in. She's pretty switched on.

"Okay, so you've jerked me off 6 times, and then they send me home. I'm still in the bandages and all that, but we're home alone a lot..." True. Mom works nights, which is how I get away with putting Lucy under so much. " ... and I ask if you'll keep helping me. Do you?"


"How often?"

Another pause, and then a question I really didn't expect.

"How often would you like me to help?"

That, right there, was the moment when I realized that I should start keeping notes. I remembered that I'd told her some crazy-high number last time, but I couldn't remember exactly what I'd said. I took a punt:

"Once a day. Will you jerk me off once a day?"

"Yes." She didn't even have to consider that one.

"What if I said more than that?"

"How often?"

"Twice a day?"

"No," she replied, and I decided that only getting jerked off once a day by your sister was definitely enough for me.

"So," I said, checking the clock. Plenty of time left, but this was another vaguely risky area. I didn't want to waste the rest of the session by having her awaken early, but I knew that if this worked, I'd want the rest of the session to reap the benefits.

"So ... after a month at home, my casts come off. How many times have you jerked me off, total?"

"34 to 37 times." Quick as a whip.

"So would you say you're pretty familiar with my cock?"


"Do ... do you like it?"


Session 29:

"What do you think about when you masturbate?"


"What specifically?"

"I think about your cock. I think about touching it. I think about holding it. I think about watching you cum."

"What do you think about my cock?"

"I love it."

Session 15:

I hadn't meant to get side-tracked, but I'd been unable to resist checking to see if she'd spontaneously developed incestuous urges. Disappointed (but not surprised) by her low opinion of my junk, I continued:

"So after all that, the sight of me cumming is pretty familiar to you, yeah?"


"You wouldn't be uncomfortable around my cock, not after 34 to 37 times, would you?"


"And you're used to the sight of a hand running up and down my cock, yes?"


"So, hypothetically, if I were to jerk off in front of you, after all that ... you'd be okay with it?"

"No. Of course not. That would be weird."

Damn. I thought for sure I was on the right path there.

"Why not?"

"When I did it, I was helping you out. It was an act of compassion."

"Okay, so..." I thought for a minute, about my sister, about exactly how to push her buttons. "So I'm out of my cast, and I can jerk off myself again."


"But because it's been so long, I ... I can't remember how to do it."

She did shake her head, but the pause was a little too long for my liking. How dumb does Lucy think I am?

Actually, this was a perfect time to find out.

"I can remember how to jerk off, but while you were doing it, you used all kinds of little tricks and tips that I couldn't work out."

Nod. Sexually confident, I mentally noted.

"So it takes me ages, and ... how many times did I say I jerked off, normally?"

"Fifteen times a week."

Jesus, no wonder she was happy to help out once a day. Now I'm a bit annoyed she didn't go for twice a day.

"So it takes me ages, and I just don't have time to jerk off. You were so good at it, and I can't work out how you did half the things that you did."


"One night you're watching TV, and I come in and ask if you can turn it off." Nod. "I tell you my problem, and ask if ... if you'll help. What do you say?"

"No, of course not."

"Okay, so I ask if ... you'll tell me how you did some of the things that you did. What do you say?"


"I'm clearly upset," I add, "and super-embarrassed, and really annoyed that I can't get off as quickly as I used to. And if you weren't so great at it, this never would have been a problem..."

Nod. Once you work out what drives someone ... kindness and arrogance, it seems, are my sister's triggers. I store that away for later as well.

"What do you say?"

Another pause. I remembered an image that had really worked for me last time.

"A single tear trickles down the side of my face..."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, she replied.

"Of course."

My sister: Kind, arrogant, and a sucker for vulnerability.

I was tempted to spend the rest of the session sitting and listening to my sister describe jerk-off techniques, but a plan was brewing in my head, and I decided that I may as well aim a tiny bit higher.

"You explain some of the techniques..."—this all hinged on how low my sister's opinion of me was, and for the first time ... I found myself hoping it was pretty low—" ... but I can't understand them."

The pause was tense, but sweet, in its own way. Finally, she nodded, and I grinned. Even though I was pretty sure it would be smooth sailing from here, I didn't want to repeat any of my earlier fuck-ups.

"You go again, but slower, and more detailed, but I just can't get them."


"You even grab a banana and show me what you mean..." Nod. " ... but I can't work it out. I'm really frustrated with how stupid I am. What do you say?"

I wanted to see if she could get there by herself. It seemed to me that it would stick better if she reached her own conclusions, seem less like I was forcing her into anything. There was another long pause, possibly the longest yet, but eventually she stirred.

"If you want," she said, her normal voice surprising me. I hadn't paid attention to the way I'd phrased the question. "I could watch, and give you tips."

"So," I said, "you'd be okay with, hypothetically, watching me masturbate?"

"Yes." The monotone returned.

"In full lighting, in the middle of the lounge-room, you'd be okay with me jerking off in front of you?"


"Even though I'm not injured, and have full use of my limbs?"


The big moment. I was going as slowly as I could, but it couldn't be held off any longer.

"What would you do if, right now, I were to start jerking off?"

"I would offer you advice on how to do it."

Session A1:

"What do you think of me, Mom?"

"I love you, sweetie. You know that."

"Who's your favorite child?"

"I don't have a favorite."

Honestly, I'd expected that one to wake her up.

"What do you think of Lucy?"

"I love her."

"Have you ever masturbated while thinking about either of us?"

"Of course not."

I don't know how she manages to make a monotone angrily emphatic. Must be a mother thing.

"How often do you masturbate?"

"Well, I certainly can see why Lucy recommended that! I feel much better already."

Finally. Turns out that Mom is harder to shock than I expected.

"Let me know when you want to go again, Ma."

Session 15:

"Okay, now you want to use way more lube than that. That's right, slather it on. Now it's not just a hand, you have to pretend it's a pu ... pretend it's a vagina. Pretend that instead of your hand, you're having sex with a woman's vagina. I mean, unless you're gay, then ... yeah, anyway. That's good. Loosen your grip up a bit, just like that. Good job. Now slow down a bit. Great. Thrust your hips slightly, oppose the motion of your hand. Great, great. Now you're getting it. Okay, now with your other hand, I want you to reach down and slightly tickle your balls. Excellent. Okay, now slightly speed up—don't go crazy, but go just a little bit faster ... and tighten your grip a tiny bit. Now faster, yes, that's it. Come on, you can do it. You're doing an awesome job. Make sure you're going over the head every time you pump—great! You're so close; be a bit rougher on your balls there. Aaaand there we go. Great job, bro. I knew you could do it."

A minute later when I woke my sister up, she sniffed slightly and I froze with fear—I'd cleaned up, but it was still a closed room. Fortunately, she quickly shook it off, and thanked me for helping her relax.

"Any time, sis." I said with a grin. "Any time."

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