The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I blinked twice, not quite processing what I was hearing.

“What?”

“I, um…”

Neither Belle nor my wife are stammerers. Even in the most nerve-wracking of situations, they have full command of the English language, never faltering or losing their words.

So either Mary, for the first time in her life, had lost her grasp of the English language…or she was putting it on to annoy me.

I know where I’d put my money.

“What exactly did you say to Spot,” I said, my voice as cold as I could make it.

It was quickly becoming clear that we were not going to be having an event-free, early night.

“Spike,” my wife corrected.

“Spike.” I spat. “What exactly did you say to him?”

“Well…” Mary responded slowly, mischief flashing in her eyes.

“Tell. Me. Exactly. What. You. Said.”

As you’ve probably picked up by now, I’m not the most dominant of men. When the mood is right, I can play that role in the bedroom, but for the most part I happily let Mary run the household…and pretty much run me, if I’m being honest.

But on very rare occasions, I lose my temper. I don’t huff and storm about, throwing furniture or shouting.

When I get mad, I get quiet. By now, my wife knows the warning signs.

But for reasons that I was too angry to properly explore, she wasn’t heeding them, or using any of her tricks to calm me down.

If anything, she was doing the opposite.

“Well, he said he was sorry. I mean, not exactly that, but…”

A low growl involuntarily left my lips. My daughter’s eyes widened, her tongue briefly passing over her lips, and Mary continued.

“And then he said that if I wanted to, I—we—could fool around some time. Him and Lacey and me.”

“And what did you say?”

“…I didn’t say no.”

I hadn’t even noticed myself stepping forward, but there I was, towering over my daughter.

You’ve got to understand, losing my temper like this was an extremely rare occurrence. I generally live a placid life. I’m my own boss, I make my own hours, I have a loving wife, and while our relationship with Belle had been strained for several years, it wasn’t like she was stealing money or getting arrested.

The last time I’d gotten this mad was…well, honestly, I couldn’t even tell you. But the thought of Mary offering our daughter’s body to Spike, offering to share her perfect form with him and his new slut…it just made my blood boil.

“What did you say?” I hissed. Again, there it was—Belle’s tongue darted out, moistening her pink lips.

“Um. Um.”

“Mary…”

“…I said that I’d think about it.”

I paused. Not ideal, of course, but it could have gone so much…

“…and then, during gym, he asked me again.”

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was red. Before I could count to ten to calm myself down, Mary continued.

“I told him I’d been thinking about it. I told him…I said that I’d been thinking about it a lot.”

“Mary!”

“And when he asked me after history, I…oh god, Andrew, I couldn’t say no.”

My eyes snapped open.

“What did you say?”

My voice was hard as steel. As was another part of me.

“Andrew, please…”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

My eyes narrowed, and a sheepish look crossed my daughter’s face.

“…but I did, um, nod. A little.”

“Mary!”

“Andrew, please. You don’t understand. This wasn’t like the basketball player.”

As she spoke, Belle’s hands began unbuttoning her pajama top.

“He wasn’t just asking for my number—Spike was offering me sex. Sex, Andrew.”

“Mary, I…—”

“God, Andrew, I need to be fucked. I’ve never needed anything so much in my life.”

“I thought that once a day would be enough, I really did. But this body…”

Without missing a beat, she shrugged off her top. My daughter was standing in front of me, topless, her huge tits softly swaying as I stared at them. I felt like I was frozen, like I couldn’t move.

“…this body needs more than just fooling around.”

As Mary spoke, my daughter’s cool blue eyes were staring at me. Through me.

“It’s more than just the hormones, Andrew. Look at me.”

I stared, transfixed, as Mary stepped out of our daughter’s pajama pants. Underneath, she wore nothing. Belle’s body was standing in my room, completely naked.

“Look at what we made.”

I wanted to say something, but my mouth was completely dry.

“I need to get fucked. I need it. Our daughter has a body that was built for fucking.”

I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Andrew, if I don’t get fucked, I’m going to lose it. Even with our arrangement, even with once a day…I’m climbing the walls.”

“Mary…” I croaked. Adrenaline was still coursing through my body, scrambling my thoughts. My dick was as hard as it had ever been, and there was a naked teenage girl standing in my room.

Begging me to fuck her.

“I need it,” she pleaded, placing Belle’s arms around my neck, pressing her naked body against mine. I knew she could feel my erection through my shorts.

“I need to get fucked,” she repeated. “And if you don’t do it…I’m going to go to a man who will.”

Like I said, I should’ve jerked off. Or, failing that, I should’ve locked the door the moment I got to the bedroom.

Or after she left the first time.

And I definitely shouldn’t have let her get to me. No one knows how to work me up like Mary does—she can press my buttons like no one else. In both senses. When we first got together, we’d engage in screaming matches that lasted all night.

Sometimes the sexy kind, but more often—especially when we were first dating—the angry type.

But at the thought of Spike touching my daughter—fucking my daughter—the room went red once more, and the next thing I knew, Belle’s naked body was bent double across the bed and my pants were around my ankles.

“No one fucks you but me,” I hissed, one hand on Belle’s neck. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, arching her back.

It wasn’t until my cock was halfway inside my daughter that I realized I’d been had. My wife isn’t a liar, but she also isn’t a fool. There was no way that she’d told a teenage drug-dealer that he and his new girlfriend could fuck our daughter.

She’d made the whole thing up. It was all so obvious now. She’d made it all up to trick me into taking her—properly taking her, not like last time, where I’d just lain there. My wife wanted me to fuck her—to really FUCK her…and I’d fallen for it.

Here’s the thing though—when you’re mad and horny and feel like you haven’t cum since the Whigs were a major political party, and you find your dick enveloped in a teenage goddess’s tight, hot pussy, and she’s moaning and writhing with pleasure under you…well, ‘pulling out’ isn’t the first idea that springs to mind.

Over the past ten days, I’d had some moments I wasn’t at all proud of. I’d given into my wife’s machinations far more often than I should have, and my mind had been almost-constantly filled with terrible thoughts.

But, in that moment, with my rock-hard cock sliding into my daughter’s extremely willing wetness, I am proud to say…I resisted.

“No,” I gasped. “Mary, no. We can’t do this.”

The look of heartbreak on my daughter’s face as I pulled out was almost enough to make me regret what I was doing.

Almost.

Mary had gotten me mad, riled me up so that I’d take her, so that I’d fuck her like an animal. In that moment, I suspect she would have given anything for me to bend her over, hold her down, and pound into her as hard as I could.

And honestly, in that moment, there were very few things that I wanted more.

But one of them—the most important—was to be a good father…and so I didn’t.

“Go to bed,” I said softly. I ignored the tears welling up in my daughter’s eyes. Even though I’d only been inside her for a moment, the breeze running across my dick told me just how wet she’d been. “Mary, please. Go to bed.”

There was a look of real pain in her eyes as she shook her head, but I pressed on.

“Honey, we’ll talk in the morning. We’ll fool around tomorrow night. Anything you want. Almost anything. We can get through this, my love. We’re in this together.”

When my wife finally managed to speak, her voice was choked with tears.

“Andrew, I…I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked patiently. Now that I’d gotten through the moments of madness, I was confident in my ability to stay calm, to resist.

I’d done it once, I could do it again.

“Spike…”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the dirtbag’s name, but I forced myself not to get worked up.

“Mmm?”

“Spike and Lacey are…they’re outside.”