More Limits

Lick. Lick. Lick.

I smiled as I glanced down at my sister, who was dutifully on her knees, licking my cock. For whatever reason, actually taking my cock into her mouth crossed the line...but she was fine with licking it.

The sight alone would probably have been enough to get me off, but the feeling of her soft, wet tongue moving up and down my shaft, the way she swirled it around my head and stimulated the little spot right between the base and the head...

"Now," I moaned, and she looked up at me with a smile, opening her mouth and catching my cum.

"Thank you," she said softly after swallowing my load, and I nodded before putting my cock away, handing her some water (to wash the taste out of her mouth) and waking her up.

Session 23:

You would think that finally getting to live out my fantasy, finally getting to cum on my sister's tits—not in a hypothetical, not in the abstract, but actually doing it—you'd think that would have been enough to satiate me for a while.

But it just made me hungry for more.

Don't get me wrong, cumming on Lucy's huge, soft boobs was a dream come true. I loved every second of it, and couldn't wait until we could repeat the experience, but I wanted more. I wanted to fuck them. I wanted to fuck her—her face, her pussy, her ass. I wanted to turn my sister into my own personal sex slave, wet and willing to do anything I asked.

And, more and more, I was starting to believe that it was achievable. I'd already come so far...in just 22 sessions I'd convinced my sister to talk to me while I jerked off, to masturbate in front of me as I did the same, and I'd even started to control her dreams and sexual fantasies. I'd seduced her best friend, and I had managed to plant memories in my sister's brain—memories of her jerking me off while I lay in hospital, and even when I got home.

In my sister's mind, she'd seen me cum thirty-four to thirty-seven times.

In real life? Only twice. But I knew what I was doing now. I'd pushed past more limits than I'd ever thought possible, and there were so many more to go—I still hadn't managed to touch my sister, or convinced her to touch me. And no matter what I did, I hadn't been able to affect her waking life—except for letting me say "thank you" after I masturbated, our relationship was the same as it had ever been (if a tiny bit more open about sex).

So when I sat my sister down for another session, after having finally cum on those glorious breasts of hers, I didn't repeat the experience. I didn't even get her topless.

I got straight to work.

"Hypothetical—we're jerking off in front of each other in the living room, Mom comes home, and you let me cum on your tits."

Nod.

"What does it feel like?"

"It feels warm. Hot, I guess. And slippery."

"Does it turn—...would you tell me if it turned you on?"

"No."

A warm blush began to rise on my sister's face. A part of me wanted to laugh—she'll masturbate in front of me, cum as I ejaculate onto her tits...but she won't talk about whether or not she finds it hot, even though she clearly does.

Like I've said before, everyone has limits. I don't know where they come from, but the more you understand them, the easier they are to move.

"Would you tell me if it turned you on if I came in your mouth?"

A potentially confusing question, but Lucy is pretty bright, and answered almost immediately.

"No."

"Would you tell me if it turned you on to think about jerking me off?"

"No."

I was pretty sure that a "no" in this scenario meant that yes, it turned her on, but I figured it was worth checking. I wanted to move forward with as much information as possible.

"Would you tell me if...I dunno, if my ass turns you on?"

"Yes."

"Does my ass turn you on?"

"No."

"Would you tell me if my cock turned you on?"

There wasn't even the tiniest of pauses before she responded.

"No."

Even in her hypnotized state, as my sister monotoned and stared straight at me, her face twitched, as though she wanted to glance down at my pants, and that familiar flush appeared on her ears. Yeah, I was pretty sure that her denials were actually confirmations.

"Would you tell me what you think of me?"

"In what sense?"

"Would you tell me what you think of me sexually?"

"No."

Good sign.

"Would you tell me what you think of Mom, sexually?"

"Yes."

"What do you think of Mom sexually?"

"I think she's an attractive woman for her age, but I have no physical attraction to her myself."

Tempting though it was to see if I could play with that, I had an agenda. I wanted to get my sister sleeping with me, before I turned to the perhaps-impossible task of getting her to hook up with Mom.

Oh, fuck. I could picture it now...Lucy's huge boobs coming into contact with Mom's equally-mammoth mammaries. If I died before seeing that image come to life, I knew I'd have lived a wasted life.

No, focus. Get inside your sister before you get her inside Mom.

"Siblings should be honest with each other, shouldn't they?"

"...to an extent, yes."

"To an extent?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"There are circumstances when siblings shouldn't be honest with each other."

"Will you tell me what those circumstances are?"

"Yes."

"When shouldn't siblings be honest with each other?"

There was a long silence, while Lucy thought. Her incredibly sexy blush never left her face, and I stared at her as she came up with an answer. Finally, just as I was considering skipping the rest of this session and going straight to cumming on her tits instead, she monotoned an answer.

"When one of them is doing something wrong."

"Why does that matter?"

There was another pause, not nearly as long as the previous one.

"Because being honest could be embarrassing, and it might destroy the relationship."

Ah ha. She didn't want to embarrass herself (or maybe me)—I knew just what to do.

"Lucy, who can you trust more than anyone in the world?"

"You."

I'd already laid the groundwork on this one.

Session 14:

"Why do you like being hypnotized, Lucy?"

"Because it makes me feel free."

"Why does it make you feel free?"

"I feel like I've given someone else control. It's nice. It's relaxing."

"Why is that relaxing, Lucy?"

"Because I don't have to think."

"That's right. You just have to obey, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Do you like obeying?"

"Yes. Sometimes."

"When do you like obeying, Lucy?"

"When I need to, and it's someone that I trust."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"You like obeying me because you trust me, is that right?"

"Yes."

"And that's why you like being hypnotized?"

"Yes."

I considered moving on, but wanted to make sure that the thought process was clear.

"Lucy—you enjoy being hypnotized because you trust me, right?"

"Yes."

"Why do you enjoy being hypnotized"

"Because I trust you."

"Say it again."

"I enjoy being hypnotized because I trust you."

I studied dramatic irony in high school, and I was pretty sure I'd just found a perfect example of it.

"Do you ever let anyone else hypnotize you?"

"No."

"So you must trust me more than anyone else."

Pause.

" Is that right?"

"...yes."

"Say it."

"I trust you more than I trust anyone else."

"Good girl. Say it again."

"I trust you more than I trust anyone else."

"Why do you let me hypnotize you?"

"Because I enjoy it."

"And why do you enjoy it?"

"Because I trust you."

Session 23:

I knew that if I wanted to get anywhere, I had to get Lucy talking. The more I could get her to tell me, the more info I could get on where she was, the easier it would be to plot my next few steps. I was so close to affecting real life that I could taste it.

So far, I'd only discovered one way to control Lucy in real life: by giving her a hypothetical, waking her up, and making her think that it had actually happened. That was how I'd managed to convince her to let me go up to her and start thanking her every time I masturbated. That was how I'd turned Marcie into my real life sex-toy, as well as using her to get off when I was hypnotized. Lucy and I had even become a bit more open with each other as a result.

No matter how much I got someone to change their mind about something while hypnotized, it didn't translate to real life. I'd managed to convince Marcie under hypnosis that she should go down on me, but until I altered her memories, she didn't so much as make a move for my pants. Sure, we made out, but I already knew she was a little bit into me.

BUT—if I could get them to theoretically agree to a change in morals, the change would stick, whenever they were under. That was how I got Lucy to agree to letting me see her topless, or how I first got Marcie to start going down on me. That was how I'd persuaded Lucy to let me cum on her tits. And that, I was sure, was the key to what she was thinking.

"Lucy...it's not healthy to bottle secrets up, is it?"

"No."

"Would you tell me if you have any secrets?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any secrets, Lucy?"

"Yes."

Her blush deepened, and I was pretty sure I knew what those secrets were.

"Do you have secrets you won't tell me?"

"Yes."

"But it's dangerous to have secrets, isn't it?"

I wasn't sure how safe these slight rephrasings were—dangerous, after all, is not the same as "not healthy"—but my sister still had her top on, and so worst-case scenario, today would be a shorter session. There was a noticeable hesitation before she responded, and I made a mental note not to push the rephrasing too far.

"...yes."

"Who do you trust most in the world?"

"You."

"You should tell secrets to people you trust, shouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to bottle your secrets up?"

"No."

"So you should tell someone, shouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"And it makes sense to tell me, the person you trust most in the world...doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"So Lucy...will you tell me your secrets?"

"No."

Damn it. My sister was a tough egg to crack. It was a constant struggle to refrain from just stripping her off and watching her masturbate again, but I had to think of how far I'd come...and how far there was yet to go.

Session 47:

"You'll want me to fuck you, don't you Lucy?'

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

"You want to feel my cock inside you, don't you?"

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

"Do you play with yourself at night imagining me fucking you?"

Nod. Shudder.

"Are you looking forward to me cumming inside you?"

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

"What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?"

Twitch. Twitch. Shudder.

"Lucy? What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?"

A series of short pants and moans were my only response, as my sister came, her tits bouncing and her cunt clenching repeatedly around my fingers.

Damn it.

Session 23:

"Why won't you tell me your secrets?"

It was a risky question, but we were running out of time: we were almost at half an hour, and if she was going to wake up, this was as good a time as any for it to happen. It just meant that I wouldn't get to cum on her tits, which—honestly—I was really looking forward to.

There was a long silence, before she answered softly.

"Because I don't want you to think I'm a pervert."

I smiled. That was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for.

"Lucy, do you remember when I told you that I needed help jerking off?"

"Yes."

"I was super embarrassed, but I told you because I trusted you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Did you think I was a pervert?"

"Well...no, not really."

"I took a risk, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"I took a risk because I trusted you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me not to judge you?"

"...yes."

"It's not healthy to bottle up secrets, is it Lucy?"

"No."

"And who do you trust most in the world?"

"You."

"Who should you tell secrets to, Lucy?"

"To...to someone I trust."

"So if you were going to tell someone a secret, who would it be?"

"...you."

"And you don't want to keep your secret to just yourself, do you?"

"No."

I paused, and took a deep breath.

"What's your secret, Lucy?"

"I..."

I could definitely have danced around this a bit more, but I was eager to push forward. If I could get her to answer this, I'd still have time to jerk off onto her before we had to wrap things up.

"What's your secret, Lucy?"

"I..."

There was a long pause, and her eyes fluttered slightly. I tried to arrange my face into an innocent expression, in case she woke up, but after several seconds of silence, my sister's answer arrived in her familiar monotone.

"...I think you're sexy."

Session B22:

"What did you dream about last night?"

"You fucking me."

"When did you last masturbate?"

"This morning."

"What did you think about when you did?"

"You fucking me."

"Do you find the idea of me fucking you sexy?"

"Yup."

My sister's best friend. My favorite test subject; if I wasn't sure if something would work on Lucy, I came to Marcie first, and tested it out. She was sexually open in every way except actual intercourse, and my next goal was simple—I wanted to find a way to get her past her weird hang-up, and into bed.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

There was a long pause, and a lot of twitching. I just sat and watched Marcie struggle with her desires. On one hand, I knew that she really wanted me to fuck her—on the other hand, she considered it a big step, a commitment of sorts.

I could have stepped in, but I really wanted to see which side won.

"...nope," she finally said. There'd been a risk of her waking up, but I wasn't worried—I hadn't started a hypothetical. Her memories were safe.

"Why don't you want me to fuck you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You don't love me."

"Do you love me?"

"No way."

I know it shouldn't have—I was literally using her as a play-thing and lab rat—but yeah, that stung a little.

"Why does it matter if I love you?'

"You should only fuck someone if you're in love."

I paused for a second, before remembering one of the first hypotheticals that ever worked on Lucy.

"Who do you think is the hottest actor in Hollywood?" I asked, and was surprised when the answer of "Josh Hutcherson" back. I didn't even know who that was.

"Okay," I continued, undeterred. "Hypothetical: Josh Hutcherson comes by your house."

"Yuh huh."

I had to be careful not to wake her up from this one...if she started telling people about the time Josh Hutcherson visited her, everyone would think she was crazy.

"He says that he got your email—you wrote him an email—and he thinks you're gorgeous. You attached a photo."

I paused, let her process the information, and had to hold back a laugh as a blush spread across her face.

"What do you say?"

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!"

Phew. I was glad I'd done this when no one else was home. I rubbed my ear in pain, and shushed the excited girl.

"If Josh Hutcherson made a move, would you let him fuck you?"

"Of freaking course." No hesitation there.

"But are you two in love?"

"Not yet." I couldn't help but laugh at her optimism.

"So it's okay to fuck when you're not in love, right?"

"Right. When it's Josh freaking Hutcherson."

Sometimes her slang sounded so strange, coming out of her in a monotone.

"So it's okay to fuck someone if you're not in love...if you think they're sexy. Right?'

"Well...yeah. I guess."

"Yes or no, Marcie?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah...if you've had a crush on them forever."

I smiled. She'd opened a window; all I needed to do was climb in.

Session B23:

I'd spent the rest of our last session implanting memories of a crush that Marcie had had on me forever. It wasn't hard—perhaps I was just getting better at it. Snippets here, snippets there, tie them all together, and then wake her up slowly and suddenly she believes that she's been wanting me her whole life. I even managed to tie it into the first time we hypothetically hooked up, altering the memory I'd already implanted, making our first kiss the culmination of years of her desiring me.

Now, to see if all that work had paid off.

"Marcie."

"Mmm?"

"What did you think about the last time you masturbated?"

"You fucking me."

"What do you think about every time you masturbate?"

"You fucking me."

"How long have you been doing that?"

"Years."

"How many years?"

"As long as I've known you."

I took a deep breath, and asked the ten thousand dollar question.

"Hypothetical: we're fooling around. You've just started going down on me, and I tap you on the shoulder and ask if I can fuck you. What do you say?"

"Of course."

It was almost too easy.

Meanwhile, progress with Mom was slow going. A week or two ago, I'd successfully convinced her that if Lucy and I met as adults, it would be okay for us to hook up. I wasn't sure exactly where I could go with that, but it felt like a big step forward. I'd spent the next four or five sessions trying to expand on it, but thus far I'd been having no luck.

But I remembered from my early days with Lucy, the only way forward was to play around until you found something that stuck. And so I'd started leading Mom down random alley-ways, turning back each time a hit a dead-end.

Finally, I found something. It wasn't exactly what I'd been planning, but it was something I could work with.

Session A23:

"Do you still think incest is wrong if it's between animals?"

"No."

Not that. That wasn't what worked. That was just another example of me casting a line and seeing what I could catch.

"Do you think it's wrong for a brother to be sexually attracted to his sister?"

"Yes."

"What if she's really, really hot?"

"It's still wrong."

As you can tell, I was getting pretty desperate. I'd started just asking whatever random questions came to mind.

"Would you have a problem if Lucy started wearing short skirts all the time?"

Hell, Lucy would have a problem herself if she started wearing short skirts all the time. But like I said, I was fishing.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate."

"Why not?"

There was a long pause, and I tentatively allowed myself to be hopeful.

"...it just wouldn't be."

"Okay," I said with a smile. I'd found a gap. "Would you ever wear a short skirt?"

"No."

It was true. I'd never seen Mom in anything shorter than a knee-length dress.

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate."

"Why not?"

"Because...my legs aren't good enough."

Interesting. Also, incidentally: false. From what I'd seen of Mom's legs, she could easily get away with a short skirt. Just the idea of it was enough to get me hard.

"Are Lucy's legs good enough?"

Another long pause.

"Yes."

"So why can't she wear one?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate."

"But why not?"

"It just wouldn't be."

Mothers. Even through a monotone, I got the distinct "and that's final" tone from her words. But I wasn't done yet—there was something here, and I wanted to explore it.

"Okay, hypothetical: what if you had amazing legs. Then would you wear a short skirt?"

(She does have amazing legs, so clearly the issue was in how Mom perceived herself.)

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't feel comfortable in it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd be too aware of myself."

"Yes," I said, clearly not understanding the ways of women. "But what if your legs were good enough? What then?"

"I still wouldn't wear one."

This had me stumped, and I wasn't sure how to proceed.

"How could I convince you that you've got good legs?"

"You couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't."

"But..."

Hmmm.

"Okay, how could anyone convince you that you had good legs?"

"They couldn't."

For a moment, I wondered if I'd somehow managed to break my mother, but I figured I just didn't know enough about how the female mind worked. Fortunately, I had a female on-hand who was much more communicative.