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Mind control incest sex stories

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The Ring Cycle 3, Page 6. A Stacked Deck, Page 6. Showing Off, Page Expanded Universe Beyond Rubies 3, Page 9. The Hidden Knowledge 1, Page 4.

Beyond Rubies 15, Page 4. The Alchemist 4, Page Waiting Room 10, Page 3. Travel Plans, Page 6. Trigger Warning 1, Page 9.

Beautiful Creatures 1, Page 7. Homecoming, Page 9. Saint James Infirmary Merry Christmas! Waiting Room 12, Page 7.

The Alchemist 5, Page 8. Occurrence 4, Page 3. The Convent of St Nicholas, Page 5. Trigger Warning 2, Page 6. Free Trade Zone 8, Page 8. Bearing Gifts 19, Page 5.

The Martian Harem 3, Page 6. After the Show, Page 5. The Ring Cycle 2, Page 4. Unknown Pleasures 4, Page 1.

Checkered Past 4, Page 5. Waiting Room 6, Page 8. The Persuader 5, Page Lost Weekend 2, Page 7. Friend Request 1, Page 4.

Fantasy World 5, Page 3. Roll Playing 6, Page 3. By the Book 12, Page 2. Refresher Course 1, Page 3. Sideshow, Page Obedience, Page So we were forced to stay home to watch the house.

Maddy was especially mad at me that week and she had something in mind. I had embarrassed her in class last Monday by saying something so.

That week she went online and did some research on how to make boys pee their pants. She finally found the perfect plan. As we sat down that night to eat dinner she purposely loosened the cap on my McDonald's drink.

So when I picked it up to take a sip about half of it spilled onto my lap. When she heard this she walked back in. I was trapped. If I told her I had to go change my pants she would think I wet myself.

If I didn't I would have to sit. Which she didn't plan to do. So after we finished she still sat and talked to me.

All the while I was trying desperately to, number 1, get out out of the conversation and, number 2, hide the fact that my jeans were soaked.

But soon I really had to go. I tried desperately to get out but she was in between me and the bathroom and. I just had to hold on.

But soon I felt myself loose control. I totally wet myself right at the kitchen table. She only needed to be able to hear 1 plop of pee on the floor before she could look under the table and see that I had drenched myself.

She got that plop. I felt myself turn red with embarrassment as she said "my my looks like someone couldn't control their bladder.

I think somebody needs a diaper. She led me into the bathroom where she pulled off my soaked jeans and underwear. I wouldn't be seeing those for awhile.

She talked as she changed me into my first diaper of the week. When she finished I was left in nothing but a diaper and a plain white T-shirt.

She burst out laughing. I could do nothing but sit there. Just then I felt a rush. I soaked myself for the second time that night. She was laughing so hard she was almost crying.

Then I felt my diaper sag a little more as I pooped in it as well. Now she WAS crying.

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I concentrated on riding Bandit, on brushing her long mane, on cooking a summer trout that I would catch in the river. The hours passed.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. You have fifteen minutes. I dressed myself already knowing what my destiny would be.

Maybe I had always known. I never saw ma again. The lining of her robe is tattered and she tugs at the strings. She rubs them between her thumb and her middle finger.

They used to yell at her for these nervous ticks. She looks at the scars on her thigh. The longest runs down the center of the right.

It oozed and changed colors and smelled all kinds of awful. She hid it for days. She tried to take care of it on her own.

She never wanted to cause more problems for anybody. They finally found it and she got beat good. She learned then that whether she said something or not, the result would be the same.

She thought about him then. Could she have changed his mind? He was leaving. He was in love with someone else. Are there words that hurt more?

Sure, she thought. She thought about cutting herself. It would help assuage the pain. It would ebb and dull. The situation would become a distant memory and the scar would last forever.

She was tired of feeling endless pain. She was finding herself wanting to die more than she had days when she wanted to live.

She lit another cigarette. Her fingers smelled of ash. She liked it. Sometimes, she touched herself and let the smells mesh into her own perfume.

It was her scent. She inhaled slowly. The plan manifested with each deep exhalation. Each detail materialized into a perfect scene. Someone else would pay this time.

They wanted to be together. They would die together, too. She sat down at her computer and wrote him a long email.

That she appreciated his honesty and wanted to remain friends. They had been together for five years, two abortions, three lost jobs, one eviction, and two temporary assistance applications.

They loved each other and that love should make it okay to be friends. She was, after all, his best friend in the world and he missed her.

After several email exchanges, it was as though they were friends again. She feigned coolness and made up interested beaus to throw him off.

He began confiding in her about his new relationship. They were, after all , friends. She was becoming an expert at having no feelings and wearing the facade of perfect composure.

Inside, she burned with rage. She fumed at the thought of another woman on top of him, of the secrets they shared when they were exhausted with passion, of the tender embraces — kisses and hugs that were hers.

It will be over soon. It was bizarre — the waiting. It required patience that she did not know she possessed.

Months passed and the winter returned with a thunderous homecoming. It reminded her of his words just one year ago.

The pain was as fresh as the first snowfall. She began to drink from her misery, to imbibe herself into oblivion, to sustain herself emotionally and physically from the contentment of knowing that she would be redeemed.

She had kicked him out and he was returning to the only thing he knew. How many times did he do this before? How many times had she phoned him when they had a big fight to find that he had returned to his ex?

Are we just animals? He came over with a few beers and a box of wine. Thoughtful and kind. Beer bubbles made her a little sick.

They ate and drank and laughed about memories that seemed to be invented just then. All she could remember was pain and heartache and loneliness.

We are together, but I am alone. She continued with all of the motions until he began to get playful.

He was nearly there. He removed the pillows that stood between them. She moved slightly more to the corner of the couch. He liked a challenge.

He put his hand on her knee. She smiled slightly. His fingers danced on her thighs. They caressed the seems of her girly cotton panties.

She had waxed so that he would feel her moistness right away. Maybe he slurred. She could not hear what he was actually saying. She only heard the story that played out in her mind.

He grabbed her thighs and slid her closer to him. He lowered her panties and she began to pant. He kissed her navel and stood up on his knees to unzip his pants and undo his button.

He slid into her and started to thrust. The couch is going to get dirty. Oh, well. He grabbed at her breasts and pinched her nipples.

She never understood why guys thought that felt good. Maybe it felt good to them. She grasped onto him, whispering nasty little things that would goad him on.

Give it to me hard. He moved faster and faster, but she felt nothing. She was completely numb. She kissed his neck and screamed his name as she pressed her thighs into his waist.

He began to convulse with sensation and collapsed onto her after a final release. She hummed and he accepted her satisfaction.

He had done good. He got up and went to pee. She dried herself with the pizza napkins and put on her panties.

His awkwardness was worse than the silence. He floundered looking for his jacket. I hope we can get together again real soon.

She locked the door, turning each of the three bolts decidedly. She wanted Nina Simone to keep her company. Here comes the sun, little darling.

She used her panties to plug the drain. She opened the medicine cabinet and removed all of the small orange containers that she had been hoarding over the last nine months — Demerol, Prozac, Xanax, Zoloft, Parnate, Marplan, Percocet, Remeron, Cymbalta, Ludiomil, Vicodin, Strattera, Oxycontin, and Isentress.

She caressed the little marks in the nook of her arm. Each one had felt so good. She said goodbye. She would feel the best high of her life soon.

She started her journey by downing a bottle of Tylenol Cold and Flu. Then, handful by handful, she swallowed the contents of every single bottle.

She did it quickly so that she would be able to get through them all. When she thought she would gag, she gulped down the wine.

Instead of moving towards the light at the end of the tunnel, everything seemed to move further and further away. She sank down into the tub and the water submerged her.

She had quit her job a few weeks ago. She had enough money in her account to continue automatic payments on her rent for two months.

She had no friends or family. There was no need to come looking for her. In the end, she had written only a few sentences.

I had embarrassed her in class last Monday by saying something so. That week she went online and did some research on how to make boys pee their pants.

She finally found the perfect plan. As we sat down that night to eat dinner she purposely loosened the cap on my McDonald's drink.

So when I picked it up to take a sip about half of it spilled onto my lap. When she heard this she walked back in. I was trapped. If I told her I had to go change my pants she would think I wet myself.

If I didn't I would have to sit. Which she didn't plan to do. So after we finished she still sat and talked to me. All the while I was trying desperately to, number 1, get out out of the conversation and, number 2, hide the fact that my jeans were soaked.

But soon I really had to go. I tried desperately to get out but she was in between me and the bathroom and.

I just had to hold on. But soon I felt myself loose control. I totally wet myself right at the kitchen table.

She only needed to be able to hear 1 plop of pee on the floor before she could look under the table and see that I had drenched myself. She got that plop.

I felt myself turn red with embarrassment as she said "my my looks like someone couldn't control their bladder. I think somebody needs a diaper.

She led me into the bathroom where she pulled off my soaked jeans and underwear. You walk in unannounced before you notice dad standing behind her.

Your greeting startles them, but you're almost as startled by the position they're in. Your dad has cozied up behind mom at one corner of the island.

It looks like he's hugging her, but you notice her robe is riding up in the back while the waist of dad's PJ bottoms look low.

But that's all you can make out, having walked out almost directly in front of them. You quickly ignore that and continue forward. She's hunched over slightly and tries to straighten up but dad calmly holds her in place as you approach.

You usually sleep in on the weekend, so you doubt they expected you to be up. Although mom's reaction seems a bit extreme, even if she's easily excitable.

You stop right in front of them, raising an eyebrow at how weird they're acting.

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