The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Jordy stirred in his office chair, the music was still playing. The swirl of colors was still rotating on his screen. And, looking at it momentarily, he thought, ‘What’s happening to me?’

sleep

And then his mind floated away again.

By the time Jordy woke up that day, his mother and father had already both left, his mother to work at the Italian restaurant down the block, his father to do whatever he did with himself to earn a little bit of money for them...mostly casual labor, paid in cash. When sober, his father could be quite responsible, and had in the past held regular jobs for up to six months. But he couldn’t stand being completely sober for any length of time, and so he picked up what work he could, wherever and whenever he could, until the bottled called his name his name again, and he disappeared into other neighborhoods to wrestle with his demons. ‘At least he doesn’t embarrass us too often at home,’ Jordy thought, remembering again what his father had told him so many times in the past: “Don’t shit in your own backyard.”

Except...now Jordy had done exactly that, hadn’t he? As much as he wanted to punish his sister for what she’d done, as angry as he’d been last night...in the bright sunshine of the morning after, what he had done nagged at his conscience, as he replayed the scene over and over in his mind. It didn’t matter as much anymore that he had caught his sister in the act of stealing. He had, at the very least, assaulted her...and held her against her will for part of the day in a locked building. ‘Assault and kidnapping,’ he thought to himself, ‘and the day isn’t half over. What next?’

Even as he pondered that question, he gathered a few things he knew he would need to bring with him when he visited the shed today. He took the water jug he carried with him when working during the day and filled it from the tap. To that he added some of his mother’s homemade cornbread from the refrigerator, with a dab of butter; a washcloth from the sink; some rubbing alcohol from the medicine cabinet; and...a book...something to focus on while the rest of his brain contemplated what to do.

He left a note for his mother saying that he was going to work on what was left of his tomatoes, then go to the library for the rest of the day. A perfectly normal summer day for him, it would raise no alarms with either of his parents. He also wrote a note to post near the front door of the building, saying that the shed key had been misplaced, and that it would be locked until the super got back Wednesday, or until Jordy found the key. Given the heat of the day, and the age of most of the people who used the garden, he figured no one would even come outside once they read the note, giving him two things he needed...privacy, and just a little time.

And then he went to see his sister.

Big city afternoons in August seem to bring inanimate objects to life. The shimmer of heat from the pavement makes the street seems to move with its own rhythm; the air, thick and heavy, seemed to gain a substance that made movement difficult, leaden...slow. Only children, with the aid of a fire hydrant or water sprinkler, seemed to be able to cut through the air without feeling winded and weary. So Jordy had the side of the building to himself as he walked back to the shed, the rest of his small world searching for some cooler alternative, perhaps in front of a fan, or in a small bit of shade.

As he opened the door to the shed, a wave of damp, earthy air rolled out. To some, the scent would be unnatural, after being raised on the smell of car exhaust and rotting garbage and concrete. To Jordy, it smelled just right, clean and purposeful...it smelled like growth, or the potential for growth. He smiled to himself, thinking himself to be the oddest of ducks...the city boy with dirt under his nails, and a yen to make good things come from small packages. Until someone came along and tried to take away what he had achieved....

As he closed the door behind him, Jordy heard the tarp rustle, a slight movement that indicated that his sister was at least conscious. The shed itself did not seem too hot, but then, he was accustomed to working in the heat, and she spent most her time indoors, sleeping away the days, and doing whatever it was she did until daybreak, when she came home and dropped right to sleep again.

Putting his makeshift bundle on the work table beside the door, he moved over to where his sister had lay during the night and removed the plastic sheet. That she had tried to break her bonds was obvious, as she lay awkwardly on her side instead of on her stomach; apparently she had tried to roll around for a time, then, becoming more and more exhausted from her efforts, she had simply found the position which hurt the least, and then stopped moving. Streaked with dirt and sweat and tears, she was a mess from head to toe, a thought that Jordy’s desire for her punishment found vaguely comforting.

They regarded each other quietly; Jordy looked down on her with a slight frown, his brow wrinkling with the thought of what he should do next. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with anger, replaced a moment later with a wide-eyed look of pain. Jerking her legs frantically, she began to writhe on the big bags of dirt.

‘Cramp,’ Jordy thought, grabbing his pocket knife and cutting the twine binding her wrists and ankles together. “Hold still,” he said to Sarah, “and point your toes.”

Not knowing if it was her calves or the back of her thigh, Jordy began kneading the knotted muscles in both her legs, pushing his thumbs deep into the tissue where the cramps might be. At first Sarah resisted, trying to pull away from his hands, twisting her lower body hard. But, as Jordy persisted in his massage, her resistance started to melt. For the first time in hours, a part of her body actually started to feel less pain; as Jordy’s hands worked up and down the backs of her legs, she started flexing her feet, feeling the cramps loosen and the pain start to fade. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of relief wash over her...until Jordy removed his hands and once again stood over her, silently considering what to do.

He knew that he needed to untie her, at least for a little while, to let some circulation come back into hands and feet. He also knew that he needed to find some way to restrain her afterward, before she could try to clout him and make her escape. He looked around the shed, trying to find something he could use to keep her from making a run for it until he was ready to let her go. Once again, his eyes fell upon something that suited his needs perfectly, and he smiled to himself, thinking how perfect it was.

Until about a year ago, the super of the building had owned a pet bulldog...Harold, a big brute of a canine that looked fierce and growled menacingly at all who dared visit his owner’s apartment. Until, of course, you fed him a hot dog, as Jordy had done several times, and he became your best friend for life.

Harold had died late last year, basically from old age. The super had not been seen for a week afterward, refusing to come out of his apartment, even when the pipes burst in a fifth floor bathroom, flooding the apartment below it. Instead, he remained in his apartment until his grief had passed enough that he could walk though the halls of the building being cranky and intimidating, as opposed to cranky and liable to fall to pieces. Once, in a fit of drunken melancholy, he had thrown Harold’s collar and leash at Jordy, telling him that he could no longer stand to look at either item, and to get rid of them permanently.

However, being perfectly useful items that someday might come in handy, Jordy had brought the leash and collar to the shed. Where the set had remained, untouched, hanging from a nail on the shed’s sidewall. And now, Jordy knew that he had been right in not throwing the duo away.

Moving quickly while Sarah was still on her stomach, Jordy pulled the chain and leash from the wall, then went to where his sister lay and, straddling her, sat on her. He sat gently, not really wanting to risk twisting or tearing something in her arms, which he pinned between his legs; or, worse, having her choke or stop breathing as his weight pressed the air from her lungs. Sarah squirmed only a little when he sat on her, but could offer only token resistance after her night in bondage. When she stopped moving and lay her head on the sacks in silent defeat, Jordy felt something stir within himself...or, more specifically, his cock, which twitched at the feel of having his sister helpless and unresisting beneath him.

Reaching out a hand, he stroked her hair like the owner of a frightened pet, trying to calm her nerves. “I’m going to cut the twine here in just a bit, and let you get some feeling back in your legs and arms. But I can’t take the chance you might try to do something to me once you’re free, so I’m going to tie you differently. If you fight me, I’m just going to let you lie here, and the next time you cramp up, I’m not going to help you. Cooperate, and I’ll let you have a nice long drink of water.”

Sarah didn’t move or make a sound, and Jordy wondered whether she was thinking about what he’d said, or planning some way to overcome him when he cut her loose. Either way, she was taking her time, and time was a resource of which Jordy was disquietingly unsure.

He stopped stroking her hair, and instead began gathering it his hand, until he held it all loosely in his closed fist. Then, without warning, he began to pull.

As her head started to come back toward him, he said quietly, “Don’t think about running away. Don’t think about anything except doing what I tell you. If you don’t, you’re going to very, very thirsty soon.”

She didn’t resist the pull on her hair, and let her head be pulled back as far Jordy wanted to take it, her only response being to close her eyes...and to very, very slightly undulate her hips. Sitting as he was, Jordy could not help but feel the motion between his legs, and that made his cock even more excited.

Continuing to pull her hair, he managed to get Sarah onto her knees; letting go of her hair for a moment, he grasped her around her waist and pulled her into a kneeling position, ass on legs, back to him. It took only a few seconds to lift up her hair, fasten the dog collar around her neck, and then resume his grasp on her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to lift you slightly; when I do, I want you to swing your legs forward so you can sit normally.” And, when he did lift her, Sarah managed to get her legs unfolded and in front of her, though she cried in pain from not having the use of her muscles during the time she’d been in the shed.

Having gotten her legs facing the way he wanted, Jordy turned his sister so that her back was against the wall of the shed. Then, wrapping the chain leash around her neck twice, he slid the leather handle at the end of the leash through a hole in one of the support beams, pulling until there was no play in the chain. Sarah sat against the side of the shed, her head against the boards; the chain, wrapped tightly around the leather of the collar, kept her pinned against the wood. Jordy then tied the chain off by wrapping it around another beam and hooking the handle onto a nail in the side wall. Until Jordy released her, the girl would sit pinned against the wall, knowing that if he pulled the chain a little tighter, she would begin to choke; as it was, the dog collar only protected her throat a little, and she felt restricted from taking really deep breaths by the pressure around her neck.

Jordy pulled his pocket knife out again, and Sarah watched it with wary eyes. Leaning over her, Jordy put the knife behind her back and slowly cut away the twine that was holding her wrists together. Then, gently sawing on the twine wrapped around her head, he parted those bonds and pulled them away from her face. Then, saying nothing, he stepped back and sat down on a short stool to watch her.

Sarah’s arms felt like pieces of rubber with little pockets of feeling; here and there, she could still tell they were her arms, but they had that numb quality that a limb gets when you’ve slept on it all night and wake up wondering why it won’t move like you want it to. Slowly, she stretched her arms upward, then outward...feeling pins and needles starting to run across her flesh as the feeling slowly crept back. Putting her hands together, she worked her fingers like a pianist getting ready for a recital. After only a few minutes of stretching, the scrapes and bruises of the night before started to assert themselves, and, involuntarily, tears started to run from the corners of her eyes. She whimpered quietly, trying not to let the pain overcome her desire to be strong in front of her brother, to keep up the front of defiance and haughtiness that she’d always shown him. But that part of her that held Jordy in contempt was unsettled and fearful; she had never expected anything like this would ever happen to her, and now she sat chained to a wall, her legs still tied at the ankles. She was weak with thirst and hunger, and still in pain from being tied up. And, worst of all...she was TURNED ON by what was happening to her, and she could feel wetness inside her panties that had nothing to do with needing to go to the bathroom.

She chanced a glance in his direction, and looked away quickly. He sat watching her intently, his eyes focused directly on her face, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his intense stare. ‘He’s changed,’ she thought, looking down at her hands as she rubbed and pinched the life back into them. ‘He’s not a “squirt” anymore. Not a man, either.’ She looked up again, into the eyes that stayed locked on her every move. She saw hardness in that gaze, a resolve to carry through whatever plan he had put into motion. She met those eyes for a moment, looking for something else, something softer...and, not seeing it there, she again lowered her eyes.

Having restored feeling to her hands and arms, she reached up to her face and removed the kerchief he had forced into her mouth the night before. Quietly, she asked for a drink of water.

Jordy saw his sister open her mouth to say something, but what came out sounded as much like words as sandpaper scraping on cement. Her mouth and throat, bone dry from lack of saliva, rasped out some noise, but the words were garbled and unclear.

Still, he knew that she must want something to drink, and he walked over to the table by the door and removed the jug of water, as well as a small plastic tumbler. Sitting back down in front of her, he poured the water into the cup and sat the jug down by his feet. Then, with deliberate slowness, he drank the water in the cup, and, when finished, rolled the cup between his fingers as he continued to look at her face.

Though she knew her words hadn’t come out clearly, Sarah felt some hope when Jordy moved from his stool toward his things by the door. Her spirits lifted even more when he brought back the water jug and small cup. As he poured, her tongue escaped her mouth, licking her lips in anticipation, but her dry tongue touching her sore lips only deepened her desire to have the glass in her own hands.

But when he drank the water himself, her lightened spirit ran away like a cockroach in the light. Again she looked down at her hands, but this time, her lower lip trembled as she realized he was going to toy with her. ‘I guess this is about more than just stolen tomatoes,’ she thought wearily, through the mixture of anger at being teased with water, and the emptiness that replaced her momentary elation. In brief flashes, she recalled the times that Jordy had asked her for small things, things that she could have easily shared...a bite of ice cream, a sip of Coke, help with the after-dinner dishes. She would tease him with the possibility of giving him what he wanted, and then, as she had known she would all along, she would leave him hanging. She thought of it as typical older sister-younger brother teasing at the time. Now, looking into Jordy’s dark brown eyes, she realized that nothing that she did ever escaped his notice...or his memory.

“That’s lesson number one,” he said aloud, looking back into her eyes. “From now on, what’s mine is mine, and if you want it, you can ask for it.”

He worried that he still sounded like a boy, not the image of a man that he wanted to present to her at that moment. He hadn’t realized until the moment he put the glass to his lips how much he resented all the times she had ignored him. How he had hated begging her to help him or to share with him. How she had used him in the past.

How much her petty selfishness had made him dislike her.

‘But it’s all going to change. Right now,’ he thought to himself, as she finally broke his gaze, looking down at her hands again. She looked up again at the sound of him pouring another glass of water. He held it in his hands, examining it for a few moments. Very, very slowly, he brought it toward his mouth.

Until he heard her voice, raspy and small, saying “Please...?”

In her mind, she always fancied herself a strong person, someone who controlled those around her by whatever means necessary. Sometimes, as with Jordy, she simply bullied the person until she got her way. Or, as with all the boys in the neighborhood, sometimes she used her charm and her body to get what she wanted. For the adults, she had developed a sad puppy-dog look, followed by a huge smile when they finally gave in to her demands. It was all about finding what made someone tick, and then using it to get what she wanted.

Initially, the shock of what was happening to her, as well as the pain of being tied up, had robbed her of her instinct to turn the situation to her advantage. But now, having gotten the feeling—and the pain—back into her hands, having been denied a drink...now a little flame of anger and resistance was forming again. ‘You can get him to do what you want,’ a voice whispered in her head. ‘Play him.’

Looking down, she summoned memories of the times she had gotten her parents to buy her clothes, even when they couldn’t really afford it. Her eyes misted, her lower lip started to tremble, and, when she looked up again, seeing him about to drink again, it took no acting ability to let one word leave her mouth.

“Please...?”

The glass halted a fraction of an inch from his lips, and he looked back to her face.

“’Please’ what?”

Sarah said nothing for a moment. Then, as if it was something that had to be pulled from her by force, she spoke again. “Please...may I have that?”

“’That’ what?”

“Water! Can I please have some water?”

Jordy sat for a moment, contemplating. Then he moved the glass forward again.

“PLEASE?”

His hand stopped.

“How badly do you want it? Badly enough to do what I tell you to do?”

Another pause, as she thought it over. She lowered her head again.

“mrrph.”

“I didn’t hear that, Sarah. Say it again.”

She looked up at him. “I said ‘yes.’”

“Okay. Put your hands above your head and put your hands together. Leave them there until I tell you.”

Sarah didn’t move. She sat there staring at him, the trembling lip of the moment before replaced by a grimace; the eyes ready to brim over with tears changing to an incredulous expression.

Jordy brought the glass back to his lips and took a sip, keeping his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

Sarah simply sat staring.

Another sip and swallow, and Jordy saw realization dawn in Sarah’s eyes.

And, slowly, she began to raise her arms above her head.

‘Damn him!’ Sarah raged internally. She didn’t know how, but he had seen right through her, and now he was toying with HER! With every sip of water that he took, she felt her resolve slipping away. Until, without conscious thought, her arms simply started to lift of their own accord.

At the same time, she felt the wetness return to her pussy.

Jordy trusted Sarah about as far as he would trust his father to hold down a steady job for more than two months. He had seen the “puppy-dog” routine too many times to be taken in by it. When she tried it on him, any sympathy he had harbored for her ceased to be.

When she had fully raised her arms above her head, he told her not to move until he said she could. Then, continuing to pull tight on the chain holding her neck to the wall, he walked over where she was sitting and stood over her. He took the slack out of the end of the leash, and looped it over one of the low beams that supported the roof. Then, he pulled the chain tight over the beam, pulling it down to the height of her hands.

He had enough play in the leash to wrap it around each of her wrists twice. Then he knotted the whole thing off by wrapping the last of the loose chain in the space between her wrists, knotting it off using the little leather loop attached to the leash as a handle.

When he was finished, Jordy stepped back to admire his work. Sarah’s arms were fully extended above her head, her wrists securely bound and unlikely to slip from the circles of chain. Moreover, if she tried to pull them down, it would pull her head even tighter against the wall, to the point where she might even begin to choke. Now, she would stay in one place until Jordy decided to let her free, and there was no way she could strike at him without hurting herself in the process.

Satisfied that she was secure, Jordy walked back to where he had left the water glass, picked it up, and returned to stand above her again.

“Look at me.”

The tightness of the chain made it difficult for her to move her neck; straining, she pushed her arms up a little further, enabling her to tilt her neck enough to look up at him.

“Do you want some of this?” he asked, gesturing toward her with the water glass.

She nodded.

“What do you say?”

She hesitated a moment.

He moved closer to her, taking a handful of her hair in his hands, and lowering his voice both in volume and in tone. “What do you say?”

“Please?”

“No, that’s not good enough. What else?”

She thought for a moment. “Please, Jordy?”

He pulled on her hair, pulling her head slightly from the wall and stretching her arms even further upward. “No, I don’t think that’s good enough either. Try again.”

“Jordy, please...I don’t know what you want! You’re hurting me!”

His voice lowered again, whispering now in her ear. “From now on, Sarah, you can call me ‘Sir.’ And if you want anything from me, you’ll ask me politely, and you’ll use ‘Sir.’ Otherwise, you won’t get anything at all. Do you understand?”

Since she had become a woman, Sarah had used every talent and trick at her command to get what she wanted. In doing that, she had never experienced any doubt that what she was doing was wrong, because the small moments of joy it brought her smoothed over any small flares of conscience, until that very underused entity faded away entirely.

But now, helplessly bound, in pain over most of her body, with her brother whispering menacingly in her ear, she realized a few things.

That she took from people because no one ever really told her no.

That she didn’t really care about what she got, only the slight joy she got in making them give whatever it was to her.

That what her brother was doing to her was really turning her on.

That she didn’t want him to stop.

“Yes, sir.”

Hearing those words from her lips, Jordy stopped pulling on her hair, put tilted her head upward just a bit more.

“From now on, we’re going to do things my way. Whether you like it or not.”

And he put the glass to her lips, and let her drink.