TRAINED WORKERS
by Colleen Whyte
C1 : POLICEWOMAN
WPC April Winters, Polly to her friends as she reminded them of the spunky but innocent heroine, knocked firmly on the wooden door. She was young and attractive in a pretty way with her honey blonde hair, girlish face and slightly plump figure that was enhanced by her knee length skirt and tight navy blue sweater. Sometimes the guys down at the station teased that she looked more like a girl guide than a policewoman, but she took it all with good nature because that was her way. Despite two years on the ‘beat’ she still managed to maintain an air of innocence by classifying actions by the people that did them. The bad things were done by bad people, which is why the good people needed the police.
Today she was checking up on a report that the woman at this address was running a brothel. Polly didn’t really understand why men would pay for sex, and even less why women would provide it for money, it was just one of those things she put down as, if not necessarily bad, but weak people. She always felt sorry for the women working the streets, they were so hard and bitter, which just confirmed her belief it was done out of desperation.
The door opened and Polly breathed in with surprise, inhaling a pungent perfume scent as she did. The woman in the doorway was easily six foot tall, towering over Polly’s five foot eight, and at the same time statuesquely beautiful with long black hair, fine features high lighted by expertly applied make up and a body hugging black dress that flaunted her buxom figure.
“Oh, a policewoman. How quaint,” the woman said in a sensually husky voice that reminded Polly of Joan Collins. Gathering her wits, Polly drew upon her training to reassert some authority.
“WPC Winters. I would like to discuss some serious matters with you. May I come in?”
“Of course, luv.” the woman stood to one side to let the WPC in and Polly accepted the invitation, taking her hat off out of politeness. Inside she found the house was very comfortably furnished but not gaudy as she had half expected. So far it looked much like any house in a richer neighbourhood, if it wasn’t for the all pervasive smell of perfume throughout. She was taken through to a sitting room with large leather bound armchairs and Polly noted the incongruities that suggested not all was as it seemed. For one thing there was no television or video, although there was an expensive looking stereo. Another factor was the lack of photographs or nic nacs, just a few small paintings.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” the woman said, seating herself in one of the chairs, crossing her legs so that her long dress fell apart at the slit and revealed shapely stocking clad legs. Polly chose a more ‘mature’ posture, sitting upright with her hands on her lap. “So what did you wish to talk to me about, constable?”
“There have been reports made to us that you are using these premises for illicit gains, specifically for prostitution.” Polly said as boldly as she could manage, this was always the hard part, accusing the person. She was relieved when the woman smiled rather than erupted into a rage like many did.
“A bordello? How absolutely wicked!” the woman replied with a jolly intonation. “But no, nothing so basic. I run a stress relief clinic that caters to a discrete clientele.”
For a moment Polly thought that sounded okay, but she knew she would have to have more information for her report. She just wished the perfume smell wasn’t so strong, it was making her a bit light headed. And that wasn’t helping her deal with the woman who seemed completely at ease in dealing with the police. Now what was she going to say?
“You have a nice smile,” the woman commented into the silence and Polly blushed at the compliment. It served to distract her even further and she noticed that the slit in the woman’s dress seemed to have opened up even more to reveal a glimpse of milky white flesh between her stocking tops and panties.
“And lovely eyes,” the woman added, moistening her ruby red lips with her tongue. Polly found her breathing had grown heavier and she was drawing in even more of the scented air although it no longer seemed unpleasant. She had totally lost track of what she was going to say now.
Getting to her feet with a fluid grace that Polly envied, the woman offered, “Perhaps it will help if I show you some of our facilities.”
“Okay,” Polly quickly agreed. She needed time to compose herself and a look round would give her more information for her report. She felt like a clumsy child as she struggled to get up out of the chair, she hadn’t realised how far she had sunk in to it and her reactions seemed to be a bit dulled. She followed the woman down the hallway and in to a large bedroom, replete with a double bed.
“This is one of our main work areas,” the woman said and had Polly had her wits about her she would have remade the brothel accusation, instead she had a somewhat dreamy expression as she looked around and admired the soft colours and stylish furniture.
“And in here,” the woman opened a pair of double doors and Polly saw that it was a lighted, walk-in closet well stocked with a variety of clothing, “Is our work attire.”
Curious, Polly went over to have a closer look and was impressed by some of the very elegant looking dresses hanging in the closet. Then she spotted one that seemed to be made out of black leather, and another which was far too skimpy to be worn in public. And down the bottom there were so many shoes, all with heels, some of them impossibly high.
The woman opened a drawer that was built in to the back wall and Polly was surprised to see a collection of lingerie that would have done a store proud. With a gentle smile the woman pulled out a pair of silky black stockings and stroked them against Polly’s cheek. Instead of flinching, Polly found herself enjoying the feel.
“Stockings are so much nicer than pantyhose, aren’t they?” the woman asked somewhat rhetorically. Polly seemed to be in a trance now, with a dreamy smile as she took in the sights and smells.
“You’d much rather be wearing these sexy, silky stockings that your boring, drab pantyhose, wouldn’t you?” the woman intoned, cocking her leg ever so slightly to show off her own stockings again. Polly nodded, her pantyhose did seem so plain and dull.
“If you take your skirt off, I’ll help you put these on,” the woman said, dangling the sheer black material in front of the young policewoman’s eyes.
Polly so wanted to wear the stockings. Unzipping her skirt she let it drop to the ground and stepped out of it. Her sensible shoes and pantihose soon followed. The woman produced a small stool and had Polly sit down so that she could raise her legs and point her toes into the stockings as the woman ran them up her smooth legs. Polly squirmed at the feeling of another person’s hands on her legs, thoroughly enjoying the experience. Once the stockings were on and smoothed she held out each leg in turn so that she could admire them.
“Those panties really spoil the effect,” the woman suggested, “Would you like to try these instead?”
Polly eagerly accepted the black satin briefs and tore her own panties in her haste to get rid of them. Sliding snugly into place Polly felt so sexy from the waist down, like a movie starlet. And so frumpy from the waist up, she thought ruefully.
“Please miss,” she asked, feeling very much like a school girl, “Can I have a sexy bra too?”
“Of course, dear,” the woman smiled, She knew the young policewoman was hooked now, the drug-hazed atmosphere and her own hypnotic skills had completely dominated the pretty young blond. “If you were to take off the rest of your clothes I’ll see what I can find.”
Polly happily peeled off her sweater and unbuttoned her regulation blouse with its name tag and police insignia. Underneath was her plain cotton vest and bra and she was glad to get rid of them. She suppressed a happy giggle when she spotted that her nipples were quite erect. Was it the cold, she wondered, or was she as turned on as she felt?
The woman produced something very different from the bra that Polly had been expecting. At first she mistook it for a sleeveless top, then she realised that it was a corset! A moment of panic hit Polly, but it went just as quickly as the woman gave her a reassuring smile and wrapped it around Polly’s ample body. Polly loved the way her largish breasts fitting into the firm cups of the garment, and how it made her cleavage seem much deeper. Then she felt the corset being laced up behind her and wondered if it would hurt. Slowly, gradually it was laced tighter and tighter and rather than discomfort Polly liked the sensation of being held so firmly, of her chubby stomach being pulled in and shaped, of her waist becoming more slender. And her breasts! With everything squashed in, they looked twice as big. Polly definitely liked this and felt a thrill of pleasure as the woman attached garters from the corset to the stocking tops.
Only able to breath lightly, Polly nonetheless felt so in control, so strong. She slipped on a pair of four inch heel pumps and strutted out of the closet with the woman. Looking at herself in a full length mirror Polly almost came. She was gorgeous with her ample bosom pushed up and out by the corset, her now waspish waist and her legs so elegant and sexy with the stockings and heels.
The woman moved up behind her and Polly was aroused by the scene in the mirror as the woman cupped Polly’s breasts and kissed her shoulder and neck. It seemed so distant and so close, Polly almost felt like she was watching it all through a window, yet at the same time she could feel the woman’s hands running over her body. Turned on like never before in her life, Polly had to reciprocate the woman’s kindness. She let the woman lead her over to the bed and watched in excited fascination as the woman shed her slinky dress to reveal her own corset clad body.
Polly gave herself to the woman, surrendering entirely to the pleasure. She let the woman grope and fondle her body, finger fucking her tight blond pussy, and in turn she eagerly learnt to pleasure the woman with her tongue. The policewoman was lost to the ecstasy of being the woman’s toy, and soon she was her slave as well, freely and happily surrendering her own will because that was what her mistress wanted.
C2 : SOCIAL WORKER
Greta Nelm sat uncomfortably in the leather armchair, it was much too plush for her liking and her general discomfort wasn’t helped by the vile odour that seemed to permeate this house. She was used to bad smells in the houses she visited, being the visiting social worker in charge of this area, but usually it was the smell of decay, or vomit, or dirty nappies. This was something else. Glancing across at her mandatory police escort she wondered why the fresh faced young blond didn’t seem to be at all affected by it.
Looking down at the case folder opened on her lap she flipped through the information to pass the time until the subject of the investigation finished getting dressed. Greta had been put out by being greeted at the door by the tall woman in her flimsy night gown. In some ways it did add credence to the low moral values of the subject but equally she appeared clean and healthy which did make Greta wonder why social services had been called in.
Her file showed nothing unusual, there were reports from neighbours that she had strange men and women coming and going at odd hours, a custom’s raid without any prosecution, and the only really damning piece of information, a report of a school girl being seen on the premises without adult supervision. But all in all, the agency would have marked “Eveline Gray” as low priority except for the direct intervention of WPC Winters. That self-same constable was now sitting quite calmly only a few meters from her.
A nice enough girl, Greta thought, not at all what she expected in a police officer. Most of her dealings were with brawny males who kicked down doors and helped her wrest screaming children from screaming mothers. Ten years working for the agency had given Mz Nelm a dark and bitter impression of humanity, especially in the inner city and she really couldn’t see WPC Winters lasting that long. Greta straightened her shapeless grey suit jacket, brushed a wrinkle out of her slacks and then glanced at her watch.
Eveline Gray chose that moment to stride into the room with a confident gait and a slight smile. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, but as Polly knows it just takes forever to dress yourself.”
Greta didn’t make the connection between “Polly” and WPC Winters, otherwise she probably would have had some forewarning of what was to come. Instead she took an instant dislike to this woman’s attitude and clothing. For Eveline’s part she was dressed in a red silk china doll dress with a slit that showed off her shapely, and stocking clad, legs. Her waist was impossibly narrow and made her bust even more pronounced. With the exotic makeup and long black hair she looked like a fashion model to Greta which didn’t please the woman from social services at all. To have been kept waiting just so this woman could spend too much time getting tarted up! It drew attention to Greta’s own drab and figure hiding suit, and her stony, harsh face free of any makeup or other frivolities.
“Think nothing of it, we at social services have nothing better to do than wait around while people get dressed,” Greta snapped. And then wondered why she had voiced her thoughts out loud, she didn’t have to resort to such cheap tactics to establish dominance. The woman had managed to rattle her and that wasn’t a good start, as from the way she was smiling Greta knew she was on the back foot already. Clearing her throat she went on;
“Mz Gray, we have reports of a juvenile on your premises and no record of any child being in your care.”
“That would be Tracy, one of my girls. ‘Girls’ in the sense of prostitute, of course. She often dresses up as a little girl for the clients.” Eveline replied easily.
Greta glanced at WPC Winters and was surprised by the lack of reaction. This woman had just admitted to having both prostitutes and customers on the premises yet the policewoman was just smiling blankly at the woman. The girl clearly just wasn’t suitable for police work outside of public relations.
Then Greta wondered why was she being so critical. Perhaps it was that annoying incense or whatever that was irritating her, although that didn’t seem as objectionable as before. In fact she found she quite liked the scent now, perhaps she could ...
“Miss Nelm?”
The social worker started as she realised she had been daydreaming. How could that happen, she was usually so focussed when on a case. She was so rattled that she couldn’t manage more than a “Huh?” in response.
“I was just asking, Miss Nelm, if you would like to see over the premises and the facilities we offer.”
Greta shook her head and started to say no. She didn’t have time for such frivolous activities, she had already spent too much time on this case. However before the words could come out, the young policewoman had come over to her and taken her hand. The feeling was electric, the flesh on flesh contact made Greta squirm in her seat as a tingle of sexual tension hit her. The WPC gently pulled and Greta found herself getting to her feet as though she had been levitated out of the chair. Standing there so close to the smiling girl she found herself quite flushed and excited.
“This way please, Miss Nelm,” the dark haired woman said with a distinct undertone of command. Greta found herself helpless to resist as the policewoman put her arm around her waist and guided her into another room. It was the bedroom Polly had experienced days earlier and Greta wondered why she had been brought there, and why she wasn’t trying to leave. She had so many cases to take care of, several more that she had to visit that afternoon alone, yet she was standing here in bedroom staring blankly at a wall.
Then she felt something stroking her cheek. With a great effort of will she managed to shift her head just enough that she could look in that direction and discovered it was the policewoman’s hair brushing against her face. The blond girl was snuggled up beside her and it felt so comfortable and natural that she hadn’t reacted. Greta knew something was very wrong now, but still couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it.
Eveline reappeared in front of her, holding up a filmy black baby doll nightie, causing it to sway and catch Greta’s attention. “Isn’t it lovely,” the woman suggested, “My girls love to wear things like this. It makes them feel so sexy and feminine, doesn’t it Polly?”
Greta’s pulse doubled when the young policewoman beside her replied in the affirmative. The WPC was working for this woman? Greta wanted to run, to flee and keep going until she was safely back in her office. But she couldn’t look away from the lingerie being dangled in front of her, couldn’t break away from the pleasant embrace of the blond girl.
“I think black would be your colour, Greta,” Eveline said, “You would be so sexy wearing something like this, a real looker to captivate men’s attention.”
Greta wanted to shout No, to deny that the flimsy black material held any interest to her, to be offended by the thought of men leering at her. But she couldn’t, instead a perverse fascination overwhelmed her. She had never worn anything so blatantly sexual, so feminine. She didn’t think she could. Yet Eveline seemed to think she could and Eveline was so in control, so confident. Greta reached out to take the nightie from Eveline and the dark haired woman smiled.
C3 : NUN
Sister Mary Margaret allowed herself to be lead down the hallway away from the luxurious sitting room. Like most modern nuns she had done away with the traditional black habit and instead sported the slightly more modern long grey skirt, white blouse and grey cardigan. She couldn’t quite remember why she had come to this place, there had been a reason that Father O’Doul had sent her but that seemed so long ago. Back before meeting Eveline, and the strange and overpowering scent that permeated the sitting room. Now Eveline was showing her the rest of the house and the Sister found herself meekly in tow.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” Eveline was saying, “Father O’Doul personally recommended you. Said you were young and quite attractive.”
The nun felt a slight warmth at the thought that the senior priest found her attractive, she really wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or pleasure. Her entranced state didn’t allow her to analyse it any further and within moments it was forgotten as Eveline opened a peephole in one of the doors.
“This is WPC Polly,” Eveline said matter-of-factly as she stood aside to let the nun look. Within was a mock-up of a police interview room, although few of those had a large leather couch or padded table. Seated at the table was a middle aged man who was perspiring heavily, the reason for his excited state was the attractive blond policewoman who was sitting on the edge of the table in such a manner that her short skirt had hiked up to reveal the white flesh at the top of her stocking clad leg. Even with her limited experience Mary Margaret could tell the policewoman was shamelessly seducing the man. The nun felt an unusual but pleasant sensation that she couldn’t quite describe.
“And over here,” Eveline said catching the nun’s attention and drawing it over to another peephole, “We have young Tracy from St Hilda’s.” Obediently the Sister looked through. This time it was a small school room with desks, blackboard and teacher’s table. And in this room there was also a man and a woman, although the later was dressed in the traditional school girl garb of gymslip and knee socks. If the WPC had been blatantly seductive, this girl was absolutely wanton as she moved around the man who was pretending to try to write something on the blackboard. The way she swished her short skirt and rubbed against him!
“And this,” Eveline said taking her to a third door, “Is Doctor Greta our resident psychiatrist. She helps our customers with there mental and emotional wellbeing.” Beyond was a psychiatrists office of wall length bookshelves, open leather couch and subdued wood tones. This time there it was two women in the room. One was dressed in a tailored woman’s business suit with her hair back in a tight bun, thick rimmed glasses and a notepad that she was scribbling on. The woman reclining on the couch was middle aged, slightly overweight and reminded Mary Margaret of a local politician. As the nun watched the scene it became evident that the ‘patient’ was relating her sexual fantasies to the ‘doctor’, who was becoming progressively more aroused.
Sister Mary Margaret suddenly realised that she too was aroused, she could feel her hard nipples rubbing against the inside of her rough bra and a distinct wetness in the crotch of her panties. Confused she allowed Eveline to take control of her again, taking her to the final door. Instead of opening the peephole this time, the tall woman opened the door and led the nun into a small chapel. “And this can be your room, if you wish.” Eveline made it sound like an offer but she already knew she had the nun entranced.
Not really thinking anymore, merely responding to Eveline’s dominance, the nun entered the room. On a pew lay a cluster of black garments and Sister Mary Margaret picked up the black satin bustier and stroked the material. It felt so sensual to her aroused state and without further bidding she changed into the clothes Eveline had provided. All in black, from the bustier and stockings to the traditional nun’s habit that she donned without a thought to her old life. Turning around, she presented herself to Eveline for inspection.
“Yes, very appropriate, Sister,” Eveline said as she looked over the black robed figure in front of her, the diaphanous material of the habit hinting at the sexy black lingerie against the nun’s pale skin. “Father O’Doul would like you to hear his confession, apparently he’s been quite a bad boy.”