The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Some would say that being Pinefield’s Chief of Police was a dull job when compared with the violent crimes and vices available in the big City down the road. But for Chief Samantha Marsden, the odd burglary, a drunk in the tank, or a cat stuck up a tree was quite enough excitement after her time in the Army, thank you very much.

Everything about Sam said ex-military. Tall and buxom, but with stocky well-built muscles and short cropped auburn hair. Pinefield’s very own female Arnold Schwarzenegger of law and order.

She was staring at the packet of pink cigarettes on her desk. Pinefield’s comfortable existence was currently being upset by the controversial opening in town of The Project, a centre to help refugees and the dispossessed of Brunchester City get back on their feet, sponsored by some big shot internet media company called BMTV.

Views on the opening of The Project had predictably split down liberal or conservative lines, and there had been the evitable, but good natured, protests and demonstrations to police. But now The Project was up and running, sure they were a lot more black faces around town, but there had been no sudden crime wave, and Sam was sure folk would soon settle down again.

Everyone except for Trent Williams of course, the self-proclaimed leader of the local opposition, who was still badgering Sam daily about why her entire small team weren’t staking out The Project round the clock in some FBI style operation, to uncover whatever conspiracy his imagination was cooking up.

No, Trent’s paranoia aside, the only trouble The Project had actually created in town so far was over at Pinefield College, and possibly these pink cigarettes.

Chief Marsden had taken a call from Dean Fairburn at the College. The Dean was worried about the numbers and young black guys from The Project hanging about to the College gates chatting up the female students. It was inevitably leading to scuffles and fights with some of the male students.

In addition, Dean Fairburn was concerned about a start of term craze, amongst her girls particularly, for these pink cigarettes. She suspected the cigarettes might be linked to the young men at the College gates. She feared they might be narcotics.

Sam opened the email from the police lab in Brunchester City, read their tox report on the pink cigarettes and smiled. No trace of any illegal substances. Just a load of herbs and weird shit. At least the Dean would be relived. Only a harmless passing crazy amongst the young students.

She sauntered down the corridor to the rec room, where that morning’s shift officers were starting to gather, and let them know the good news that they weren’t about to be pitched into an episode of Miami Vice. Curious as to their attraction to the young students, several of the officers, including Sam, tried puffing on a few of the passed around, now classified harmless, pink cigarettes. But like fidget spinners, the point of the overly sweet sickly pink smoke remained a complete mystery to the older adults.

While the narcotics scare might have gone away, Sam still needed to send someone over to the College, to baby sit the gates and prevent any further scuffles between jealous students and young black guys from The Project. She grinned. Everyone knew who would get the assignment. This was a clearly job for the Runt.

The Runt was the Station nickname for whoever was currently the newest officer on the team regardless of rank. Even Sam, despite being the new Chief, had also been known as the Runt for her first four months at Pinefield, before the first of her new recruits had shown up.

Currently the Station Runt was Probationary Officer Timothy Hollard, just six months into his first posting, and about as green as they come. It was unfortunate that Tim also happened to looked like a Runt, young, small and weedy. Still Sam reckoned that the uniform and nightstick ought to be sufficient deterrents for even young Tim to be able to maintain order, and after all he was here to learn and hopefully grow in stature and confidence with experience.

Two nights later, Chief Marsden was starting the graveyard shift. An officer was required to staff the Station overnight, for the rare occasion someone was actually in custody.

To spread the pain, and lead by example, Sam had introduced the policy that everyone on her small team would take their turn on the graveyard shift, without exception, including her. Most of her officers simply kipped down in one of the three empty cells when it came to their two night turn on shift to help maintain their daytime body clock. But Sam liked to use the quite nights to catch up on her least favourite part of being Chief, the Station paperwork.

So Sam was put out tonight to find her work time was to be disturbed by an actual prisoner in one of the cells. The Runt had made a disorderly conduct arrest outside the College gates, and had dumped the unlucky chap in a cell overnight to cool off. One Bill Master according to the custody sheet.

Sam stuck her head into the cell room and was surprised to find that Bill Master wasn’t the young tearaway she was expecting. Instead, he was an older man, with strong looking muscles cutting an imposing figure. The Runt must have more about him than she gave him credit if he had managed alone to bring in this big black guy easily three times his size.

“A bit old for harassing young college girls aren’t we Bill” she asked the prisoner. “What can I say darling, they just seem to love what I’m packing” he answered, griping his crotch with one big hand by way of explicit illustration.

“That’s Chief Darling to you Bill” Sam said as she left the cell room groaning inwardly. She looked at the stack of paperwork awaiting her and sighed. She just knew Bill Master was going to be a talker, not a sleeper. Sam had meet his type before in the army, even slept with one or two of them. All loud, big muscles and over the top bravado. The trick she had learnt was to give as good as you got, and not to be intimidated.

Sam moved her pile of paperwork to the cell room custody desk, resigned to a long unproductive night babysitting Bill Master. Then went out again to refill her water bottle at the cooler. She stared at the water cooler for a moment. It was new, with a ridiculous little sticker on it urging users to ‘stay hydrated’. Sam couldn’t remember authorising the expenditure for a new water cooler, nor anyone complaining that the old one was broken for that matter. She sighed again. No doubt it was all waiting for her buried somewhere in the pile of paperwork.

Back in the cell room, Master had at least toned down his sexual boasting to a softly spoken diatribe which Sam could easily filter out. But the desktop computer screen had developed an annoying flicker. There was a yellow postit note stuck to it in the Runt’s handwriting saying the fault had been reported to their IT support. Fortunately this too seemed to fade from Sam’s consciousness as she started on her backlog of admin.

Sam snapped awake nearly two hours later. She must have zoned out completely, which was odd. Graveyard shifts never usually affected her that way.

She could have sworn the prisoner had still been talking softly as she came to, but now the imposing Black Man was just staring at her grinning.

Sam stretched the sleep away, and got up to refill her water bottle. She didn’t remember finishing it, but she knew it was important to stay hydrated.

Unfortunately Bill was back to his old self when she returned. “Come over here darling” he urged laughing, one Big Black hand still holding his bulging crotch suggestively. “We shouldn’t waste our night together. Perhaps a strip search or a big hard interrogation.”

Fortunately, when Sam simply ignored him and returned to her paperwork, Master resumed his quite softly spoken diatribe once more. But try as she might, Sam found herself unable to concentrate on her work, just staring blankly at the flickering screen, listening to Master’s words without really hearing them.

Sam zoned out again, thinking about her occasional army lovers. The Big Black Cocks that had filled her so perfectly. The disappointing little white dicklets that could never measure up. Wait… she hadn’t thought of it like that before had she? Yes… she had always known that Big Black Cocks were superior. It was just natural.

Sam snapped out of her daydream once more, only to find she was drooling slightly and was definitely feeling horny. She realised Master was right, she should be doing something more useful with her time. She looked over to see the prisoner had dropped his pants, so that his Big Black Cock was now through the cell bars, swinging slowly from side to side like a hypnotic pendulum.

Chief Marsden knew this wasn’t right. She should lay down the law. She should go over there and show him she couldn’t be intimidated. Show him who was boss. Take her nightstick and give that beautiful Big Black Cock a whack.

Sam stared at the hard black nightstick on the desk. She imagined working the long black shaft in and out of her horny wet pussy.

The growing fog in Sam’s head parted again for a moment, and she snatched away her hand which had been idly playing with an erect nipple through her top as she daydreamed.

Yes, Master knew best, she was wasting her time on this admin. Instead Sam grabbed the charge sheet and scanned it again. Master had given his name on arrest, but had then refused to answer any other questions. Well she’d see about that. Sammi would show him who was boss. She would get a confession out of him.

She wouldn’t need the nightstick. His type would be expecting the tough cop act. But there was more than one way to skin a cat. The trick was to play along, make Master think he was in control, then bam, get what she needed when his guard was down.

Little Sammi positively purred like a cat in heat as she sauntered over to the cell bars. She ignored Master’s attempts to intimidate her, and instead simply took his pendulous Big Black Cock in her hand, as if it was just the most natural thing in the world to do.

Her unexpectedly brazen behaviour had caught him off guard for sure. But it was hard not to feel incredibly horny with the hefty thick weight of his Big Black Cock in her hand. Even thinking about the Black Cocks she had fucked before, this Master’s cock was a particularly impressive specimen.

No, she would show him who was in control here. Sammi knelt in front of the cell bars, removing her top and bra, hard erect nipples still standing proudly to attention. Her ample tities provided a good handful for one of Master’s groping hands, as she rubbed his increasingly hard Big Black Cock between the valley of her welcoming white breasts.

Oh yes. Sammi would soon be getting his confession. Getting what she wanted from him.

The glistening mushroom head of his now fully erect Big Black Cock was pointing directly at her face, almost toughing her lips, its musky scent of a real alpha male making her head spin wildly.

It required no thought to simply part her lips and instinctively take the Big Black Cock into her mouth like a good girl, its meaty girth stretching her open. Sammi ran her tongue down the thick veiny shaft, and sucked on a Big Black Ball, before her lips rubbed back up his mighty member to continue blowing her Master’s Big Black Cock.

Yes, her slutty act had him completely off guard for sure. She would soon extract what she needed from him.

Five minutes later Sammi began to realise that her Master had more stamina than she had thought. His confession refused to cum. She should have guessed. Obviously a superior Black Master was going to be so much stronger than any weak little beta white boy, who would have surely succumbed to her slutty interrogation by now. No, an alpha Big Black Cock was going to need the big guns.

Sammi the slut opened the cell door and stepped inside, shedding her trousers. She was the boss here. She pushed her Black Master down onto the cell’s cot and straddled him, so that he could pull her panties to one side and burry his Big Black Cock in her obedient white cunt.

Master’s Big Black Cock filled her completely, like no other cock had done before, feeling as if it would split her in two.

“Fuck me harder Daddy” she urged, “I need your Big Black Cock deep inside me” wanting him to think she was completely his bimbo fuckdoll slut, determined to get the confession she needed so badly.

Bimbo Sammi’s cleaver sexy tactics worked a treat. Her Master grunted and jerked, his Big Black Cock finally giving her exactly what she needed, warm and sticky deep inside her.

As the newly Blacked mindless white bimbo slut lay in the powerful arms of her Master, Pinefield’s former Chief of Police could feel some of the hard earned confession leaking from her well fucked cunt. She giggled, and reaching down scooped up the escaping superior Black Cum with her fingers. Sammi popped the sticky digits into her mouth to lick them clean. After all she didn’t want to lose a single drop of evidence.

The next evening, on the second night of her graveyard shift, Sammi was delighted to find that the Runt had made further arrests outside the College.

Tonight three hot young Black Masters were in the cell, all grinning at her hungrily. The white bimbo slut smiled at them as she started to unbutton her top. It would be a long night, and take all her holes to extract the confessions she needed, but Sammi was dedicated to her work.

Early the following morning, the Runt arrived to ensure the prisoners were long gone before the first day shift officers arrived. He was dressed more like the gay police officer in the Village People than the fresh faced Probationary Officer Hollard of just a few days ago.

His arrival woke Sammi, still naked in the cell with their three Black Masters, dried cum stains across her face, tits, cunt and ass. He joined them, so that Sammi and Timmy could each wake a Black Master with a worshipful blowjob, welcoming a breakfast load of superior Black Cum in their stomach, before the two white slaves shared the third Big Black Cock. A white bimbo fuckdoll, and a submissive little sissy slut, each giving themselves willingly to their Black Masters, as nature intended.

As the three Masters left the Station, and Timmy headed over to the College for his day shift servicing more Big Black Cock outside the school gates, Sammi smile happily to herself. Within just a few weeks the whole Station will have cycled through the graveyard shift rota, and all her officers would share the joy of being enslaved by their Masters in the Black New World Order.