The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My palm stings. I swear, any more and my hand is bound to break. But her butt still doesn’t have the markings she’s been begging for all week.

I sometimes ask myself how I was lucky enough to find myself in this situation. Well, a part of yourself dying—in more ways than one—to gain a new best friend is a bittersweet bit of luck. But even more so, when you do lose a large chunk of your life—even if it’s as distant as my brother was—you use the people & things surrounding you to either kill or reinvent yourself. Life might’ve stacked the deck to deal me a shit hand, but I’ve used it pretty damn decently for myself.

But really, what’s new? Oh, right, the entire last year. And fuck me if there isn’t a better place to start than the morning after it all.

I woke up in my bed alone, and for the briefest moment I thought I’d only wildly dreamt what happened the night before. But as I rubbed my eyes & let out a yawn—my senses slowly coming back to me—I smelt French Toast accompanied by the sound of grease sizzling on the stove.

I don’t think I’d ever jumped out of bed that fast before, and yet as I walked into my kitchen, it felt like life was playing in slow-mo. Her hair was pulled up in a tight top pony tail, the dark waterfall cascading down her back contrasted perfectly with my white “kiss the cook” apron she wore; she only wore. Her bronze-tanned skin sandwiched between was inarguably the easiest thing on the eyes I’d ever seen. And it still is to this day.

“Morning,” I said as casually as I could after everything that’d happened the night before, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty damn good, honestly. Normally this’d be an insult, but you really are great at putting people to sleep.” Turning the stove off and then away from it, she looked at me with a wholesome smile that just briefly wavered as she eyed me up and down; showing the tiniest hint of her true thirst for me. I couldn’t blame her, I’d only thrown on some boyshorts as I rushed out my room, so I now stood near her with my tits out and strong hands just an arms reach away from her curves.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve thanked someone for insulting me, but I bet you could probably make the most sardonic comment sound saccharine.” I teasingly attempted to flirt with her as she turned back try and plate the food. Before she could finish, I came up behind her and put my hands around her, then paused. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she let out a light giggle as my hands roamed from her stomach to her breasts, the right one slowly inching further upwards to her neck. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well,” I said as I just lightly squeezed the sides of her neck, “because it’s always important to have consent. Oh, and you’re literally wearing nothing but a thinly-veiled joke-apron in front of a stove almost as hot as you; plus, there’s grease still popping.”

“Point taken,” she laughed as she turned to face me. My hand now hooked behind her neck while she raised her hand to my cheek. Before I knew it, she was standing on her tiptoes to kiss me; her tongue invading my mouth just as she was invading my heart. “Breakfast is ready, by the way,” she said through a smile that was pressed against my lips. She then pulled back to finish plating the bacon she’d just finished making.

“Wanna split a mimosa?” I asked, taking a step backwards to the fridge. Opening the door, I grabbed the OJ and a bottle of strawberry wine.

“Strawberry?” She looked at me with a cocked eyebrow.

“If you’re gonna have mimosas, ya gotta go all the way: fruity as possible!” I said with a smile and a light laugh. “What, are you gonna turn me down?”

“Hell no! I love brunch & mimosas as much as the next gal, I just wasn’t expecting you to like them.”

“Look, I may lean more toward masculine, but I’m still gay as fuck. You of all people should know that.”

“You’re not wrong.” She paused, turning as she tittered. “So where are the glasses?” She asked, going through my cabinets. I immediately shooed her away and told her not to worry about it.

“Let me pour it for you, Lav. You’ve already done plenty enough with this delicious meal.”

“Alright,” I could tell she was hesitantly relenting and allowing me to help out. Good. As much as I love the idea of having a semblance of a servant, I’m a firm believer that the domme should know how to do everything they have their sub do for them. How else can you properly praise their performance? Or critically critique their crappy job.

“How about you finish setting up the table for us?” I asked, noting that whereas the food had mostly been put onto the table, there were no plates or silverware out yet.

I grabbed a small pitcher and batch made us some mimosas. It only took her a few minutes to complete her assigned task, and so I ushered my little assistant to sit down; pulling the chair out for her. I brought the glasses over in one hand—the pitcher in the other—put them down, and poured us a drink.

As I sat at the opposite end, the sight caused me to immediately start to salivate. The smell was heavenly, my mouth was watering, and the food looked great too! But seriously, she did look fantastic, still wearing that silly apron while sitting across from me.

“So how long have you been up?” I asked as I began to cut up the French Toast; wanting to get some of that in me first before I attempted to ascend the towering pile of pancakes in front of me.

“Uh, maybe an hour? You’re a heavy sleeper, because I swear I kept banging my toes on tables and shit, but you didn’t stir from your slumber.”

“Sorry I was too asleep to be the one banging you.” I said the last couple words with a laugh. “Although in my defense: what can I say, you really tired me out.” I paused to give her a wink. “Which I need to thank you again for.”

“Oh?”

“I like a challenge. And I haven’t had anyone give me a run for my money like you in forever. Careful, I might just throw a collar around your neck and chain you up in my basement.” I let my smirk hang in the air for a brief moment, watching the blush set across her face. Nowadays, I’m usually never this forward, but after last night & with even the tiniest bit of my drink, I was feeling flirty; feeling a little bit like the good parts of the old me had come back. But I didn’t have time to think about that. Not yet at least.

“Well, I’ve heard people need love, yet all they want is danger, so I’m glad I could exceed your expectations.” Okay, now she’s getting a little full of herself. “I think you should properly thank me after breakfast.”

“Oh?” It was my turn to be briefly thrown off. “And what did you have in mind?”

“Oh I didn’t have anything specific in mind. Just that I tell you to thank me, and you get to figure out the best way to do that.” She paused to chuckle. “Let’s set the safe word as Mimosa, shall we?” I could only meet her laugh in tandem as I tried to continue eating.

“As you wish, Princess.” I said teasingly; her face turning from maroon to crimson in an instant. “But would you prefer being worshipped or dominated?”

“Why can’t they be two sides of the same coin?” She asked smugly. I think I was well beyond a crush at this point.

“How do you feel about topping?” I asked; wanting to clear the air of a topic we hadn’t discussed at any point yesterday.

“It can be fun, especially when I’m in a domineering kinda mood.”

“And when you’re not?”

“I can take it or leave it.” She raised her shoulders in a dismissive shrug.

“Sounds like I need to use you as a sex toy; turn you into my own personal dildo holder.”

“Oh?” She took another bite of her bacon, her plate nearly empty. “And how would you go about doing that, pray tell?”

“Hmmmm… well, we’d first pick out a few toys—as a team of course—and then I’d put a harness on you so that we can put those toys to good use. Then, I’d throw you on the bed, and tie your arms and legs to the posts.” I said with a wolfish grin. The meal was filling me up, but I was starving for her. I drank the last sip of my drink and refilled my morning dose of liquid courage.

“Sounds like a fun time.” She said with a mischievous look on her face. “But is that all?”

“Well that depends. Obviously I’ll have a toy in you ...or two; I’m sure you’d look gorgeous with a plug in that cute ass of yours.” I paused to take another sip. “And I’d make sure to have you edged as I’m using you. I’d maybe blindfold you, or even better: force you to wear blackout contacts.” That idea left me with a wicked grin on my face. “And of course I’d do my best so you couldn’t hear anything either.” Her mouth hung open, agape for a solid minute.

“Fuck me, what am I your sexdoll?”

“If you want to be; although I prefer fuckdoll. Maybe even call you my Lavyndoll; you wouldn’t happen to have an instruction manual, would you?” Gods I was openly thirsting for her with no shame. I could feel myself getting wet at the idea of using her for my own personal entertainment. She might want to return the favor some day, but for now, all I cared about was making her mine.

Swirling the glass around, I find myself reminiscing over my previous scenes and trances.

“Are you nostalgic for it?” She asks with a glint in her eye and an angle I’m still trying to suss out.

“I’m not sure. Well… yes I’m nostalgic, but when you ask ‘nostalgic,’ you’re meaning do I miss it? Or something else?”

“Do you wish you could do it again? That’s probably the easiest way to ask.” I briefly ponder why the fuck she can’t just ask that from the beginning, but that’s the wine getting to me, so I just answer to the best of my ability like any normal person would.

“Fuck yeah! One of my subs was such a bitch in heat that I tied her/its arms and legs up, then put it in a trance. Once it was sufficiently down deep, I put one of my knotted toys on my fucking machine and made it think it was getting raped by a stray dog. I had it so long in there that by the time it/she came back up, she was convinced she’d seduced the imaginary mutt herself.” I look up from cutting my food to give her a smirk and a wink. She practically spat her drink out at the last part.

“That’s, uh, wow. I’m gonna have to think about how that makes me feel.”

“You mean whether you’re okay with how turned on you are? Or how easy it was?” Her face flushes maroon; the room’s tension tightening just a slight bit.

“Wh-what? Of course not, I’m, ju—”

“Don’t bullshit me Lav, I can smell you. Which, if I may be honest, is the most delicious fucking pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of devouring. My compliments to the chef.” With that said, I raise my glass half jokingly and half seriously.

“Fuck you,” she said with an adorable snort, “I may be close with my mother, but I’m not that close.”

“Probably for the best. I hope she’s respectful of that boundary as well.”

“Well no duh, my mother may have her issues, but she’s not a monster.” She pauses, then heavily sighs as she looks out my banister window. “Did he, well, tell you about the things she used to do?”

“I… yeah. Did she really scream at y’all’s tv, yelling how a little girl would never be a woman, all because she was trans!?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess she did do that. I’d kind of forgotten about that. I was thinking more along the lines of springing a Disney trip right before I had a bunch of tests. Or asking if I was high all the times I excitedly info-dumped to her.”

“Those other incidents aside, you were dating a super twinky ass femboy when she said it, how could you forget it???” I want to ask if her mother has ever acknowledged how hurtful she’s been over the years, but I don’t want to derail the conversation; that’s something my brother likely would’ve done had he been in my place.

“That’s a really weird way to refer to him.”

“He may be dead, but he’ll always be my dumbass brother, so I get to be the descriptive one.” I can feel myself getting a little heated. “Look, I loved him, I know for a fact that he loved you until the day he died, and if you love your mother as much as he told me, then in some ways, I’m sure he loved her. Honestly, the ways he’d talk about you would make one think he had nothing but love for both you and your mother. Anytime he’d critique her, he’d have a compliment to go hand in hand. I’m not trying to make this weird, but that’s probably why her comments hurt so much. He was hurting for himself, and hurting for you.”

“Yeah, but I never asked him to do that!” She stabbed her breakfast pretty aggressively; which was pretty attractive if I’m being honest. “That fucking dumbass. He, he jus… sorry.” She wiped her eyes with her other hand.

“Don’t be. He was a fucking idiot at times; that doesn’t mean he was in the wrong to feel the ways he did.”

“I guess. But still, I never asked him to do it!”

“You and I both know he couldn’t help it. Look, he got a LOT better at putting up and respecting his own boundaries after y’all fell apart. And yet he was still the compassionate loser we both loved.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I ever stopped loving him.”

“Do you think that’s going to get in the way of us being friends?” I ask with a jovial tone but I can’t remember the last time I’ve been more serious than this moment.

“Friends? I’d ask if you do what we did last night with all your friends, but I’m not sure I want the answer.” She laughs, trying to diffuse the possible tension. But I have no problem with transparency and would rather put all my cards on the table. Although the plates might get in the way.

“No, of course not.” I give a slight titter as I try to get my phrasing best. “Look, if a friend and I have good chemistry, then I’m open to a lot of things, but I’m more than happy to have extremely platonic relations; I’ve had some friends think I’m asexual and aromantic at times.”

“What, do you bake a lot of cakes?” Now it was my turn to snort.

“You caught me.” I empty my hands and raise them like a culprit. “I’m actually an underground baker, and sleeping with me was just a way to get you to taste my pastries.”

“And yet you haven’t left me with any glaze OR cream filling! Gotta say, I’m not impressed, chef.”

“Har har.” I feel my cheeks heat up some more, and not just from the wine. My brother might have been a dork, but we were twins after all, and so this banter is starting to make me feel things that I’d only scratched last night. “Do you like to bake?”

“I prefer getting baked, but I’ll never turn down some munchies.” I know it’s more of her shtick, but I roll my eyes at her turn of ridiculousness.

“I mean, who doesn’t, but seriously do you enjoy cooking?”

“Of course! I love making my favorite foods, and learning how to make some of my friend’s faves too!”

“Still Pad Thai?”

“You know it! My gra—”

“GranGran taught you? I know…” Pausing to think, I realize this is an opportunity for ME to get to know her; without any kind of filter or game of telephone. “But uh, tell me more. I’m all ears.” I say with a smile.

And that’s how I found myself listening for nearly an hour to the story of her grandmother’s restaurant and everything else she felt comfortable sharing.

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen his face when I read them to him!” She said with a cheshire wide grin on her face, swirling her practically hundreth mimosa. I’ve seen her glow in so many lights now, but the crossfading buzz on her cheeks was glowing like daylight that can’t be matched.

“What in the sexy fucking hell compelled you to read them to him?”

“Pfffft. In my defense, my therapist thought it was a good idea.”

“Really!?”

“HELL NO!!! To be specific, like the anal asshole liked to be, They said it was a great way to lead him on.”

“And did it?”

“Oh come on.” She gave me a dead eye with a snarky smirk. “Who would turn down the chance to eat out their ex while she reads erotic fan-fiction of their relationship!?”

“I’d rather read erotic fan-fiction of a partner while we’re together, if I’m being honest.” I reach over and cup her chin as she’s pulled her glass away. “In fact, I think I’d very much like to make some with you write now.”

“You fucking slut,” she laughs as she pushes my hand away, “I swear, I could read the spelling in your voice just now. I thought you punished me enough.” We both laugh for a second before a chill air takes over the room. We look in near opposite directions as we both sigh; an unintended synchronicity that’s seemingly tethered between us over the years. It seemed we were tied together; knot a problem.

“Are you seriously okay with me making jokes?” I say—my face now pointed straight ahead, neither away nor towards her—slowly reaching to meet her hand in the middle of my bright red sectional.

“I…” I hear the sniffle in her voice and I can smell the scent of tears in the air. “I’m not sure. I think it’s funny, no matter how much crap I give you, I gave him a ton of shit back then and so being able to heckle you horrendously down bad might be the best way to honor that adorkable loser.”

“Well then, you have my consent to insult me.” I say with a laugh. “Also, now that you’ve told me about them, you’ve got to read me some of these stories!”

“You’re on!” She says as she leans her head on my shoulder. “But fair warning, I was pretty fucking wine drunk when I wrote most of them. I’ll have to look over them and find ones that are actually coherent. Don’t want you thinking I’m a bad writer after all.”

“Please, I’ve read some batshit writing in my time; written some too! I’d just laugh and keep going if I found your writing unhinged in any way.” Now it’s my turn to lean my head onto hers; before I do though, I placed a kiss on her cheek then nuzzled up as close as I could.

Author’s note: This started off as multiple different chapters for volume 2, but it always felt like too much of a direct continuation to call it that; hence why I’m putting it out together as an epilogue. I have no idea when Volume 2 will actually come out; I’ve got a lot of fun ideas, but am not sure what overall direction I want to take it. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear from you.