The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amanda regarded herself critically in the full length mirror that she had had installed in her office. Her dark uniform skirt was now a full hand span above her knees, her jacket was severely tailored in at the waist expanding out to the padded shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a blouse, a fact hidden by the regulation scarf at her neck, but that lack concerned her less than what she was wearing underneath—a very stiff and tight all-in-one girdle.

The package containing the girdle had been waiting for her when she had got home last night, along with dry cleaning bags holding the altered skirt and jacket she was currently wearing. It wasn’t until she had removed them from the plastic that she remembered that she had sent them away to be altered. It was worse when she unpacked the girdle, a moments confusion followed by recollection of looking for a corsetiere in the phone book, making an appointment, going in for a fitting. She had done it all two days ago yet hadn’t remembered it until now.

Confused, yet strangely not scared at this loss of control in her life, Amanda had gone through her nightly ritual of dinner, bath and bed. And when she had got dressed the next morning she had put on the girdle without a second thought.

Now she was in her office distinctly aware of the constant pressure on her midriff and of how much more attractive she looked with her hourglass figure. It wasn’t lost on the rest of the station either, it had taken considerable effort of will for the desk sergeant not to wolf-whistle and PC Singh had openly eyed her up when they passed in the corridor.

So why was she doing this and why hadn’t she changed into something more conservative? Actually, she ruefully admitted to herself, the latter was easy to answer—she looked great and at a primal level everybody wants to be attractive.

Was it some sort of midlife crisis then? Was she being overcome with some mating instinct, a precursor to her biological clock telling her she wanted to have a child? Mating—even being that formal made her flush. She was feeling distinctly in need of some physical contact. A thought of her and PC Singh naked and amorous flashed through her mind and she shook it away before it could take hold. It was replaced by an image of WPC Jones, her slender young body clad only in a silk tunic, her tawny hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

Amanda tried again to control her thoughts, tried to push the image of Kelly Jones away only to have it merge into another scene—the young policewoman bent over a desk naked from the waist down, the well built form of Singh fucking her from behind with his huge cock, Amanda waiting her turn ..

A startled squeal escaped from Amanda’s lips as her reflection in the mirror overwhelmed her fantasy. She had hiked up her skirt and was fingering herself! The embarrassment of the situation was increased as there was a gentle knock on her open door and the polite voice of WPC Doxy.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

Amanda quickly pushed down her skirt and stuffed her hand in the pocket of her jacket before turning around. “Uh yes, I .. it was just pins and needles.”

“Would you like me to rub it better, ma’am?” Doxy offered.

“No thank you,” Amanda responded automatically, then did a double take especially as she saw that her junior was staring openly at her crotch region. Amanda’s blush became deeper but the other woman didn’t seem at all perturbed.

“Very well ma’am. PC Singh would like to discuss his leave entitlement with you. If it isn’t a good time ..?”

“No, no, send him in,” Amanda insisted and hurried around to take a seat at her desk, grabbing some tissues from the box on her way. She was busily wiping her fingers when PC Singh rapped on the still open door.

“Sit down,” she instructed him somewhat perfunctorily and he did as he was told. He looked nervous and Amanda felt some pleasure and relief in knowing that she still commanded a certain amount of awe amongst her crew.

“It was about my leave ma’am,” Singh began, “my sister is getting married on the weekend and I was wondering if I could use one of the days I have coming.”

This was a ordinary enough request, normally Amanda would have weighed the short notice and staffing levels against morale and loyalty. Instead she found herself leaning forward and asking in a breathy voice, “Perhaps you need to offer me something in return?”

“I .. I don’t understand ma’am?”

“Surely you do, unless you don’t think I’m attractive?”

“Yes, I mean .. ma’am?” Singh swallowed hard, his composure totally shot as his superior officer swirled her tongue over her lips, making her deep red lipstick moist and glistening.

Amanda reached up to loosen her neck scarf, and regained control of herself as she remembered that she wasn’t wearing her regulation blouse underneath. Somehow the need to be in correct uniform overwhelmed whatever was happening to her. She stifled a scared curse and instead reverted to her work face. Picking up some papers and being very careful not to look at the young man opposite her, Amanda said in the sternest voice she could manage, “Very well, you can have the weekend on leave. Dismissed.” She acknowledged his uneasy thanks with a curt nod and waited until she heard him leave the room before she let herself relax.

What the hell had come over her? She had flirted with one of her juniors. No, it was worse than that—she had tried to use her authority to force him to have sex with her. And deep down there was a nagging irritation with herself that she hadn’t gone through with it.

Seeking distraction, Amanda left her office and was wandering aimlessly when a muttered curse caught her ear.

“Gawd I hate this bit of the job,” Sergeant Blaine griped as she tried to do up the zip on the side of the gaudy red vinyl skirt she was wearing. It wasn’t that the skirt was too tight, it was that it was so cheap that the tab on the zip had already broken from her first attempt. Getting it three quarters of the way she gave up and reached for the fur jacket that was hanging on the hook in her locker. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced.

“I look like a complete twit!” she growled to herself as she viewed an image of a badly made-up woman wearing high heels, fishnet tights, shiny red mini and yellow halter top. The tatty hip length fur coat made it worse when she put it on. “A desperate, slag of a twit.”

“I agree.”

The sharp voice made Carol turn quickly on the spot and sent her reeling towards a bench as she twisted on the unfamiliar height of her shoes. She steadied herself and tried to regain her composure as faced her senior.

“The purpose of this detail,” Amanda stated with a displeased expression, “is to discourage prostitution on Banner Street by luring in would-be clients and then frightening them off. I imagine that only the most desperate would be likely to proposition someone of your appearance.”

Carol flushed angrily. “I didn’t become a cop to dress like a hooker! This whole thing is a waste of time—it’s just how the superintendent gets his jollies, making the female officers dress up for his fantasies.”

Amanda didn’t contradict her, at many levels she agreed with the other woman’s assessment, but she also had her instructions from on high and she was determined that her station was going to excel no matter what the politicos thought was important that week.

“Be that as it may,” Amanda’s voice was low and firm and Sergeant Blaine paled noticeably, “we are going to contribute to Operation Lurid to the best of our ability.”

“Our ability?” Carol blurted out before she could stop herself, then cringed as she waited for the reprimand.

“Our ability.” Amanda reiterated with a thoughtful look.

And that’s how Inspector Amanda Statton found herself standing on a badly lit street corner wearing too much makeup and not a lot else. It concerned her greatly that she had been able to assemble such a slutty outfit from what was in her closet, her recent clothes purchases were rapidly getting out of hand. She regarded her shiny, spike heeled ankle boots, her stocking clad legs, the split leopard print skirt, the eighties velvet jacket with its ridiculously large shoulder pads and the wisp of white hair from her cheap platinum blond wig.

What the hell had she been thinking when she had bought this stuff? Worse, she had enough spare trashy clothes to outfit Sergeant Blaine as well. She could only think that her junior had got the better part of the deal, Blaine looked quite decent in the black leather micro dress, not street wear perhaps but club-wear maybe. Amanda wished she could have looked half as hot in that dress, perhaps that’s why she had been so forceful, so aggressive about doing up its belt. It had felt so good to pull it tighter and tighter, ignoring (maybe revelling) in Blaine’s complaints, until the girl had submitted, the breath nearly crushed out of her.

It didn’t seem to be doing her any harm now, Amanda noted, the girl had a silhouette to die for with her waist cinched in like that. A decent pair of tits too, something that her uniform didn’t do justice to. A car slowing, coming to a stop, broke Amanda away from those thoughts before she had time to wonder where they had come from.

The car was expensive looking, a Jag perhaps although Amanda wasn’t really up on her makes and models. The driver had lowered the passenger side window and was regarding her intently. Amanda fell into her role, tottering over on her high heels and leaning in to the car to give the ‘client’ a view of her cleavage. She felt a tingle of pleasure when she saw the appreciative smile on the man’s face.

“Somethin’ I can do for you, honey?” Amanda tried her best imitation of an east-side drawl.

“Perhaps the pleasure of your company.” The man responded very formerly.

“Sure, honey,” and Amanda got into the car, startling Sergeant Blaine who had been watching the encounter. Seeing the younger policewoman approaching in the wing mirror, Amanda poked her head back out the window and waved Blaine away. Blaine complied with a puzzled expression.

Turning to the man, Amanda appraised him as best she could in the bad light. Good trousers, an expensive shirt and maybe a bit pudgy but still pretty good looking. Then she realised that she hadn’t negotiated a deed or a price, something a real pro would have done before getting in the car. Fortunately the man didn’t appear to be concerned by her lack of hooker etiquette.

“Uh, do you have ..” the man began hesitantly.

“Just up and round the next corner, luv,” Amanda suggested, “It’s a nice quite street and the back seat looks roomy enough.”

Sergeant Blaine was almost beside herself when Amanda finally wandered back a half hour later. “Ma’am? What happened?” she demanded.

“Wha? Oh, I let him off with a warning. He seemed nice enough, not the type of sleaze we’re trying to get rid of. Any excitement while I was away?” Amanda remarked casually, feeling quite contented if the truth was to be told. She didn’t feel a need to tell her companion that she had just fucked a stranger in the back seat of his car.

“A few pervs,” Blaine answered, still regarding her superior with concern. Even over the heavy perfume they were both wearing she could smell other scents on Amanda and she was sure that she had seen Amanda stuffing a handful of twenties into her jacket pocket.