The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amanda dragged a long scarlet fingernail over her rouged nipple and shuddered in delight. She was feeling deliciously wicked right now, sprawled naked in her chair. On her desk the monitor was relaying her the video from the security cameras. The largest picture was showing Chief Inspector Arthur Statton stopped by the secure door, putting on his best ‘photo-op’ smile as he waited to be buzzed in. Behind the smile Amanda could see he was having more than a few indecent thoughts about the surprisingly attractive desk sergeant. In the background the photographers duly took their pictures with a static of flashes as the door opened.

The publicity piece had been Counsellor Harlow’s idea—‘Proud father visits daughter .. youngest inspector in force .. following family tradition’—it all made good copy and Arthur saw it as improving the career prospects of both of them.

Amanda picked up a string of large beads from her desk. Ass or cunt? Ass she decided, it was still a bit tighter despite PC Wells best efforts. One by one she pushed the beads into her back hole, shivering as each one popped in.

Looking back at the monitor Amanda saw CI Statton moving through into the corridor beyond. By the way he hesitated Amanda knew he was surprised by her new colour scheme, the soft pastel pinks and fluffy carpet. She admired how he quickly refocused, not letting his unease show.

Glancing at the itinerary her father had sent her, she made ready to tick the first item. As arranged, a police officer looking busy hurried past the chief inspector and reporters with a respectful ‘Sir’ bordering on a salute. Amanda giggled, as much lust directed towards the well-muscled constable in his skin tight uniform as in amusement at her father’s growing discomfort.

Next on the list was the operations room, where there should be a female officer, preferably non-white, looking professional as she did something that looked technical.

There was a non-white officer, in fact there were two. A buxom Jamaican and a slender Chinese PC. The former was wearing little more than a black and white checked bikini to go with her high heels and police hat, the latter wore even less in the form of a leather loin cloth. The room was furnished with a large bed, satin panelled walls and little else.

Amanda almost wet herself in pleasure as CI Statton quickly slammed the door shut, not sure how much the reporters had seen. She could almost see the vein in his forehead throbbing and his agitation was getting her more and more aroused. It was all she could do not to reach for her vibrator—but she needed a clear head. Instead she took the moment she had spare to run her black stockings up her legs.

With a jolt Amanda realised she had taken too long, engrossed in stroking her silky legs and so near to fingering herself. The press entourage had moved on to the bar and was clearly as confused as the person they were following as to why there should be such a visible supple of alcohol in a police station. The camera angle didn’t let Amanda see her father’s face, but she could tell by his body language that he had begun to suspect that something was up.

Knowing she didn’t have much time, Amanda hurried up her dressing although it felt wrong to do so. She so liked to take her time putting on her clothes, admiring herself in the mirror, like a striptease in reverse. Not that she didn’t enjoy a good striptease either—it was a skill she had made sure all of her officers were adept at.

CI Arthur Statton was clearly losing it now, he had hurried the reporters out of the bar only to find himself in a decadent bedroom, the next door was now better, revealing a dungeon of restraints that weren’t police issue. The throng of reporters were getting even more agitated, and Amanda could see tell-tale signs that some of them were getting sexually excited.

Amanda struggled to zip up her boots while keeping her eyes on the monitor, trying not to laugh as her father was almost jogging now, trying to keep the reporters from seeing anything else. She quickly flicked to another camera and got a close up of his face, and his wide-eyed expression of horror and recognition as he came to the lounge.

A very familiar lounge—to him at least. There were a dozen sofas, and draped across them in the most indiscrete poses were half-dressed young woman. The reporters, who Arthur seemed to have forgotten, pushed past him. A shower of flashes were going off, the cameras were being zoomed and reporters were already trying out sensational headlines.

Amanda emerged from her office to greet the party.

“Hello, boys and girls,” she purred, “See anything you like or do you have a special request?”

“My god!” Arthur Statton burst out, unable to control himself any longer, “This place is like a brothel.”

Amanda moved in and wrapped herself around her father, her long skirt falling open at the slit so that her stocking clad leg could rub against his crotch. “Isn’t it just.” Amanda said to the accompaniment of a dozen more flashes from the cameras—each one another nail in coffin of Chief Inspector Statton’s career and reputation.

In the background Doxy slipped away to report that Operation Harlot’s Revenge had been a complete success.