AUTHOR: T. A. BEAU

TITLE: My Mind-Controlled Daughter Pretends To Be My Girlfriend At My High School Reunion #2

SUBTITLE: A NONCON, Mind Control/Hypnosis, DAD/Daughter Erotica Short Story with public play.

Copyright © 2025 T. A. BEAU

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.

WORD COUNT: 8000 words

MINDWARP HYPNOSIS SERIES #2

“Stop fidgeting with your tie, Dad,” Zaya says, drawing the keycard to the suite from her pink purse. “The reunion’s going to be great-you’ll see.”

I grunt in response, watching my daughter’s glossy dark curls bounce as she shakes her head at me, her soft, hand-sized breasts-I know because I’ve held them more times than I can count lately, thanks to MindWarp-jiggling slightly in her pink hello kitty shirt. She’s not wearing a bra; her nipples poke through the flimsy material, demanding my attention.

Fuck.

Ever since Zaya graduated from college and moved back home, we’ve gotten even closer than we were before-and we’ve always been close. She’s a bit of a daddy’s girl, which I attribute partly to her never really having an actual mother figure growing up. Her mother was a drunk one-night stand I bumped into all those years ago. The sex was great, but then she woke up the next morning and decided she wanted nothing to do with me.

Months later, she dropped a baby girl with me, claiming it was my daughter.

Ever since then, I’ve had my Zaya.

Her mother co-parents once in a while, but I’m still the more present parent figure in my daughter’s life. So, of course, she’s a daddy’s girl.

Even more so these days.

When I stumbled across MindWarp all those months ago, I almost couldn’t believe it. A hypnosis course that promised complete submission and obedience from anyone? It was just too good to be true. I didn’t have anyone to try it on, of course, especially since I didn’t have any friends or family besides Zaya-and she’s the only one who treats me with an ounce of respect.

So I decided I’d try it on her.

I didn’t think it would work at all. I figured it was probably a scam. But then I asked my daughter to get on her knees and take my cock into her mouth, and she did just that. After three minutes of her sucking greedily on my cock with her hot little mouth, I shot my load down her throat. And then she got up and walked into her bedroom like nothing happened.

She never remembers what happens during the MindWarp process. And I’ve been using hypnosis on her for a while now. My daughter’s a sexy-looking girl, and it’s been impossible to ignore the way she makes me feel. Sometimes, I hypnotize her into going on dates with me and acting like she’s in love with me.

I preen with pride whenever I see the lust and barely concealed jealousy in strangers’ eyes when they see us: a college hottie next to a man like me, having eyes only for me.

If only they knew she’s my daughter.

I’ve taken her on numerous dates to stroke my ego. Using MindWarp, I’ve also gotten to fuck her tight, wet pussy over and over and over. It’s been so intense, so fucking crazy. At first, I felt guilty about what I was doing to my own daughter-I mean, we’re blood-related-but it didn’t stop me from using hypnosis on her, making her spread her soft, creamy legs for me. It doesn’t stop me from shoving my cock inside her wet, ready pussy and fucking her till she passes out and-

“Dad? Are you even listening?”

I jerk my head up to see Zaya gazing at me, concern in her eyes.

“Do you think they would find it weird if your daughter came with you to the reunion?” she asks as we keep walking and look for the door with our room number on it. “You look so worried, it’s making me worried.”

Her gaze meets mine, and I force a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Don’t be weird, sweetie. I’m fine. Just thinking of what to wear,” I lie, laughing as I adjust my grip on my overnight bag. The marble floors of the Grand Plaza Hotel echo with each step we take toward the elevators, reminding me of just how hollow I feel inside.

“Oh, come on, Dad. You have nothing to be worried about. You’re doing pretty good, and it’s not like you had any bullies when you were in school.”

“Of course not, Zaya,” I say with a chuckle. “Your dad isn’t a man to be bullied.”

If only she knew.

What I had back in high school weren’t regular bullies. They were creative. Sure, we’re all adults now, and Trevor Hamilton can’t exactly stuff me into a locker anymore. But he can still make me feel inches tall with one well-placed comment about my stutter, which took years of speech therapy to overcome. And Brad Peterson could remind everyone about the time they convinced me the hot cheerleader wanted to meet me behind the bleachers, only to dump a bucket of sports drinks over my head.

Fucking bastards. They bullied me for long enough.

But not anymore.

I glance over at my daughter. She has no idea what I have planned. The thought of walking into that reunion with Zaya on my arm, watching Trevor Hamilton’s and Brad Peterson’s faces when they see us together...it’ll be worth everything I’ve had to suffer at their hands growing up.

We finally reach our door, and Zaya leads the way to our adjoining suites. She’s already reaching for her laptop bag-probably eager to dive back into her latest thriller. Her first book, Midnight’s Whisper, didn’t top any bestseller lists, but she has a small dedicated following. I’ve read every draft of her second book.

“I’m so excited, Dad,” she says. “I think I finally figured out how to fix that plot hole in Chapter Three. All I need is a quiet evening with my humidifier and some wine.”

“You and that humidifier,” I tease, trying to keep my voice steady.

In two hours, I’ll have to use MindWarp to get my daughter to abandon her writing plans and join a scheme she knows nothing about.

“Get some rest,” I tell her, pausing at the door that connects our suites and swapping my card to my suite. “Work on that twist ending you were telling me about.”

***

Two hours later, I’m standing in front of the door between our suites in my best charcoal suit, my hand frozen mid-knock. That familiar feeling of guilt washes over me at the thought of what I’m about to do again, but I push it to the side. I can’t let my conscience stop me now.

Through the door, I can hear her humidifier running. The soft, classical music she always plays while writing warbles into my ears. When I knock and enter, the sight of her makes my mouth go dry, and my cock hardens in my pants.

She’s curled up in an armchair, copper-toned legs tucked under her, wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe. Her hair is wrapped in a towel, and her bare face is even more stunning than her usual subtle makeup. Her laptop sits balanced on her knees, a half-empty wine glass on the table beside her.

Fucking hell.

“Wow, Dad,” she says, looking me up and down. “You were worried for nothing. You clean up so well.”

I adjust my tie, my heart hammering. She has no idea she’s about to become my fake girlfriend for the evening. Looking at her now-so relaxed, so beautifully unaware-I almost lose my nerve.

“Here,” I say instead, pulling out my phone. “You have to watch this.”

She leans over to watch the video, and I stare at her for a few seconds, noting the way her eyes glaze over, and her head starts to droop before I whisper, “MindWarp.”

It takes only a second. When she raises her head, gazing into my eyes, she is completely under my control. Her expression is blank, calm, and waiting for my command.

So fucking sexy.

I straighten my shoulders, preparing to give her my first instruction. My voice comes out steady, controlled. “You’re coming to the reunion with me tonight.”

It’s not a question. The nervousness that’s been plaguing me all day dissolves into cool certainty. I’ve planned this too carefully to back down now.

“You’ll be playing the role of my girlfriend,” I continue, pacing slowly in front of her chair. “We’ve been together for eight months. We met at a writing conference where I was researching sustainable architecture for a character in your next book. You were immediately drawn to my innovative thinking and professional success.”

Zaya’s fingers have stilled on her laptop keyboard. The classical music drifts softly between us as I lay out her character.

“You’re about to sign a major deal with Penguin Random House. Three books minimum. Your agent is in bidding wars with Netflix for the rights to your first novel.” My voice remains measured, each word precisely chosen. “You’re completely, irrevocably in love with me. The kind of love that makes other couples jealous.”

I stop pacing and turn to face her fully. “You will look perfect by my side. You’ll hold my hand, laugh at my jokes, and make everyone in that room wish they were you.”

The silence stretches between us. Zaya looks up at me, her expression dead. Then, simply: “Yes.”

I nod, satisfied. Everything is falling into place exactly as I planned.

“Now come here.”

She obeys without hesitation, taking small, deliberate steps toward me. Her bare feet make no sound against the hardwood floor, but the sway of her hips is almost audible, a hypnotic rhythm that pulls me deeper into my own desire.

My gaze sweeps over her body, drinking in the sight of her: the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts, the way her thighs press together just enough to hint at the heat between them.

“Strip,” I command, my voice low and commanding, laced with just enough menace to make her shiver.

Her hands move slowly, almost reverently, to the rope that ties her robe. She pulls it off and lets it fall to the floor beside her. Next, she shrugs off the robe, and I watch as it slides down her body, down her legs, until she’s standing there in nothing but her panties.

Those come next, slipping down her thighs and pooling at her feet. She steps out of them, leaving herself completely exposed to me.

I let out a low whistle, more to myself than to her. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy, Zaya,” I murmur, stepping closer.

My fingers trail lightly over her collarbone, down the slope of her breast, teasing her nipple into a tight peak.

She gasps softly, her breath hitching as my touch ignites something deep within her. I drop to my knees in front of her, my hands gripping her hips to steady her. She’s already trembling, her body reacting to my proximity even before I can pleasure her. I lean in, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of her arousal.

My tongue darts out, giving her pussy a single, teasing lick. She moans, her hands instinctively reaching for my hair, but I catch her wrists before she can take hold.

“No,” I growl, scowling up at her. “Keep your hands away. You’re mine, remember?”

She nods, her lips parting as she tries to form words. “Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I approve. I release her wrists and let my hands slide down to her thighs, spreading them wider so I can fully appreciate the view.

Her pussy glistens in the dim light, begging for attention. I give her another lick, slower this time, savoring the taste of her on my tongue.

“Do you remember what you have to do today?” I ask, my voice muffled against her skin as I continue to tease her with lazy strokes of my tongue.

She stammers, trying to focus despite the pleasure coursing through her body. “Y-yes. I…I have to…”

I interrupt her with another lick, longer and more deliberate, dragging my tongue up the length of her slit before flicking it against her clit. She cries out, her knees buckling slightly, but I hold her steady.

“Tell me,” I demand, my breath hot against her sensitive flesh. My tongue circles her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper.

“I-I have...to…be your girlfriend tonight,” she manages to say. Her voice is shaky and uneven. “And…and I have to behave. Be perfect. For you.”

I hum in response, the vibration making her whimper. “That’s right,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her clit as I speak. “You’re going to be perfect, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her hands clenching at her sides as she fights to keep control.

I dip my tongue inside her pussy, tasting her arousal. She’s soaking wet, her body showing me just how much she wants this, wants my tongue. I lap at her hungrily, devouring her like a starving man. Her hips buck against my face, needing more friction, more pleasure, but I keep my grip firm, holding her in place.

“Who do you belong to?” I demand, pulling back just enough to let her answer.

“Y-you, Daddy,” she gasps, her voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

“That’s right,” I growl, my tongue returning to her clit with renewed intensity. “And you’re going to show everyone tonight just how perfect you are. You will be well-trained. You will be mine.”

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, as I work her closer and closer to the edge. I can feel her muscles tightening, her body coiling like a spring ready to snap. I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it rapidly with my tongue, and that’s all it takes.

With a cry, she comes apart, her legs trembling as her orgasm rips through her.

I don’t let up but continue to lap at her until her tremors subside, and she slumps forward, resting her hands on my shoulders for support. She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“Good girl,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before standing up. I brush a strand of hair from her face, tilting her chin up so she’s looking at me. “Now, go to my closet. I have a surprise for you.”