The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tom lay awake with Emily snuggled up against him spoon-like. He didn’t know what to say or do, and anyway, now she had fallen asleep against him. Guilt was starting to wash over him. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened, what he had just done. He thought back over the events of the day. How he’d been stealing glances at her whenever she was in the same room with him. How he had gotten a glimpse up her dress when she had stepped over him. How he had watched her shorts tighten and tighten as she swung her leg last night, until he could clearly see her crotch molded in the cloth. He tried to rationalize that this wasn’t his fault, that she was so damn hot that he couldn’t be blamed. Do all father’s who molest their children think the same? Had he groomed her in some way? What effect would this have on her?

Emily shifted slightly in her sleep and her rear end pressed back against his groin. Her skin felt so smooth against his thighs. With newfound shame he felt himself start to harden again, his cock settling itself between her rigid teen-aged ass cheeks. Deep in his mind a low, primal instinct urged him to go for it, to “fuck—girl—again”. He repressed it with a shudder of shame.

Slowly and carefully so as to not wake her, he eased himself away and got out of the bed. He was still wearing his robe and he fixed it around him. He looked down at her and her beauty captivated him. She looked so peaceful and innocent in her sleep, more beautiful than any girl he had ever dated. More beautiful than any girl he had ever known! Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, barely concealed by the light-blue silk teddy she was wearing. Another wave of shame fell on him as he wondered what it would feel like to hold those breasts. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them and carefully covered her with her comforter. He stood for a moment longer, then turned and silently left the room.

He returned to his own room but he couldn’t sleep there either. He tossed and turned but as the night grew on he began to worry more and more about what was coming in his future. Would they be able to work through this? Would Emily need counseling? Would she ever forgive him or trust him again? Had he lost his daughter forever? Would she tell her mother? Oh, god, no! Divorce would follow for a certainly, the police a strong possibility.

Eventually the sun rose and after another hour or so Tom decided that he had to get up. He got out of bed and pulled on sweats and hoodie. He didn’t shower or shave. He decided that he would go downstairs, drink a cup of coffee in his office, and then call his lawyer.

He left the bedroom but stopped when he caught sight of the door to Emily’s room. The events of the previous night flooded over him again. He walked softly down the hall towards her door. Should he try to talk to her? They would have to talk eventually. He needed her to know how sorry he was!

He approached her door and saw that it was slightly ajar. Was she in there? He knocked softly and waited. There was no answer. Was she in there afraid of him? He knocked again and pushed lightly on the door, gently calling her name while looking into the room. Her bed was empty. He heard her shower running.

As he reached to shut the door he heard an sudden, sharp, anguished cry from Emily in the bathroom. He froze. His stomach clenched. She sounded almost in pain. He wanted to run to her and comfort her but—he couldn’t. She would be naked in there and it would make everything worse! Her cry turned to wrenching sobs. Completely shattered, he quickly shut the door and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. His life was over.

When Emily opened her eyes the next morning she was alone in her bed. The sun was spilling through the gauzy curtain. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked around. The door to her bathroom was open but there was no sound from in there. Her father was gone. She laid back down on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face. She screamed with delight into it, rocking her hips back and forth and squeezing her thighs together.

She had fucked her father. Or maybe her father had fucked her. She and her father had fucked! It was so, so wrong but at the same time it was so, so hot! Wrong sex is hot sex. She imagined she could still feel his penis inside of her. She pushed the pillow away and lay there breathing heavily. She was horny. She was always fucking horny. She could hide it though; on the outside she was the picture of innocence but on the inside she smoldered.

She got out of bed and walked over to her standing mirror and laughed. She definitely had a “just fucked” look alright. Her long blonde curls were a mess and her light blue silk baby-doll was a wrinkled wreck. She picked up her phone from the bed-stand, pouted into the mirror and took a snapshot. She looked at the picture. She looked hot, but it could be hotter. She moved the strap off one shoulder so the nightgown was barely clinging to one breast then stared into the mirror again this time with her eyes wide and her lips parted in a slightly frightened, vulnerable look. Click. Better but….

She set the camera to delay and propped it up on the night-stand facing her. She stepped back, slipped the straps off her shoulders and dropped the top to her waist. With the mirror behind her showing her backside, she raised both hands to cover her breasts (as much as she could) and put on the same expression. Wide eyed with apprehension, her lips in a little “Oh!” of surprise, as if someone had just barged into the room and caught her undressing. The flash popped. It was perfect.

Setting the phone down she went over to the door of her room. She opened it and peeked down the hall towards her father’s room. The door was closed so he was still in there. She was tempted to go down there and climb in bed with him looking just as she did. She might be able to get him to fuck her again! But then she thought better of it. After all, she didn’t want to seem desperate. No, she had to seem innocent on the outside, that was important for some reason. Pouting a little she swung the door shut and headed to her shower to start the day.

Emily took long showers. She liked to be clean. Lots and lots of soap and shampoo. After a while however, she began to worry a bit about what was going to happen when she went downstairs. Would her father be angry with her? I mean, she had sneaked into his room and put his dick in her mouth while he was sleeping. That was pretty far over the line!

The memory of it was so fucking hot though! Already horny when she’d entered the shower, thinking about the night before was turning her on even more. Last night, when she was in his room giving him a blowjob in his sleep, her father had woken and stopped her. Now she wished he hadn’t. Now she desperately wanted to know what it felt like to have him cumming in her throat. After a few minutes she couldn’t resist it any longer. She turned the nozzle to pulse and lowered it down between her legs, centering the hot jet directly over her clit. The pleasure was sudden, sharp and intense.

She began by imagining going down on her father again, like last night but this time he’s awake and willing. More than willing, he’s eager. Even more than eager, he’s angry with her! Yes! She imagines her father mad at her for last night and he is punishing her by thrusting his dick into her mouth!

She ed the incredible feeling of it filling her throat the night before. Even the up-strokes had sent waves of arousal straight to her clit as his penis had dragged slowly along the sides of her throat. But the down-strokes! When his cock was like a rod stuffed inside her and her lips were firmly around the base of his shaft, when her nose was buried in his pubic hair and she couldn’t take a breath! That was when she had felt the height of ecstasy.

Her orgasm was being frustratingly elusive this morning. She would rise right up the the crest but she couldn’t get it to pop before it would recede again. She tried to imagine her father approaching his climax, which was her own private little fetish. When they cum, you cum. Every. Single. Time. She started the climb again, but frustratingly slowly. Masturbation had never been this hard before! It was like her mind was edging her, nudging her somewhere different.

She imagined her father berating her for being a “bad little girl!” Ooh, that was good! She imagined him calling her an “incestuous little whore!” That was hot as shit! She was on the edge again and frantically rubbing her aching clit. But it wouldn’t break. She was afraid it would recede again!

She had no idea where the thought came from, but in a sudden impulsive move she stopped stroking herself. Moving swiftly she grabbed a handful of her hair with her left hand and yanked her head back just as she jerked the water jet straight up into her face! The shocking torrent of hot water shot into her eyes, her mouth, and up her nose. Orgasm shattered her mind.

She cried out, once, loudly. Her legs weakened and she dropped to the floor of the shower. She felt depraved, violated, abused. She kept the jet of water full-on into her “dirty little face” while her orgasm crashed and raged. She writhed and twitched and gagged. Each wave of the orgasm forced an involuntary sobbing from her lips and a strong spasm of vaginal muscles pulsing against a penis that wasn’t there.

Slowly she became aware of the hard tile floor beneath her. She was lying on her back. The shower nozzle lay beside her dangling from it’s hose, twirling slowly back and forth while jetting water.

“Jesus, did I out!?” she wondered.

“Oh my God that was so fucking amazing!” she whispered to herself. At first she couldn’t move, but eventually she mustered the strength to extend her leg up to the shower controls and with her toes she moved the handle to direct the water to the rain spout. The nozzle stopped twirling and she warm water fell on her from above She basked in the afterglow of her orgasm.

Eventually she was able to stand up. She spent another few minutes soaping and rinsing again, carefully because her legs felt weak and wobbly. She left the shower wrapped in a towel and certain of two things. First, she was still horny and second—somehow, some way—she was going to get her father to fuck her again!

Tom sat in his study staring at his desk and his computer, his coffee going cold beside him. He wanted to google about what had happened last night, what the consequences might be, but he was having second thoughts now. He didn’t know much about computer security and he didn’t think he wanted these things in his search history. He didn’t know what to do. He should call his lawyer he told himself again.

He put his head in his hands and groaned. He could still hear Emily’s cries of anguish in the shower. She would tell her mother soon, if she hadn’t already. They would call the police soon, if they hadn’t already. He needed to get his lawyer prepared. It was Saturday, he was already looking at a weekend in jail. He raised his head and reached for his phone.

“Hi Dad!” came Emily’s cheerful voice behind him. He turned in his chair somewhat taken aback, and saw her coming towards him with a smile on her face. He could see she was dressed to go out, probably to her friend Megan’s. The morning sun was coming through the door behind her which made her skin seem to glow. Her eyes sparkled. Before he could move she wrapped her arms tightly around him and embraced him fiercely, pressing her cheek to his. He put one arm around her awkwardly.

She took half a step back to arms length and appraised him with a wrinkled nose.

“You look terrible!” she said, “you should go upstairs and nap. Bye, I’m going to the spa with Megan.”

And with that she was gone. He stood and stared in silence at the doorway for a moment, the slight scent of strawberries in the air, probably her shampoo. She had seemed—fine. More than fine, she seemed—perfectly fine. He felt a sudden and tremendous sense of relief. Whatever might happen to him, it seemed like Emily was going to be okay.

All at once he felt the full weight of his weariness. He went upstairs to his room, undressed and climbed under the cool sheets of his bed. He was asleep in moments.