The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Now I know why they call this ‘the box.’ Can’t you do something about the temp in here?”

“That’s enough out of you, dipshit! We’ll ask the questions!” Sergeant Dias was rolling his eyes. He looked like one of those chubby cat clocks with the wagging tail and the rolly eyes Miss Johnson had hanging on her kitchen wall. I always hated those things.

“It doesn’t look much like a box to me. You sure you guys don’t wanna sit down? I got up, offering the lone chair to Dias and Gilbert.

Gilbert grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me back down into the chair. Whatta man. “Sit the fuck down, shithead! I don’t sit with rapists!”

I spread my hands face down on the table in front of me and stared straight into the huge mirror across the way. “I’m not going to answer any more questions unless you ask me nicely.”

Dias sat his fat butt down on the table in front of me—I barely moved my hands out of the way before they got squished—and stared me in the face. “Listen, scumbutt, we got you dead to rights on a rape charge. You better start giving us some real answers before we just go ahead and hand you over to the DA.”

My turn to roll my eyes. “Hey, I didn’t rape nobody. You got the tape. One minute she was arresting me, the next minute she was giving Mr. Chuckles the strobe light treatment. Then you guys show up and slap the cuffs on and next thing I know, I’m here getting stomped on by Briscoe and Curtis!”

I was having second thoughts about the whole thing. At first it was kinda new and different, messing with the city’s finest instead of the faceless drivers zipping through the hood. Kinda fascinating in a perverse way. That trouble with authority thing, I suppose. But once we got out of the car and into the station house, it just became...well, kinda routine and boring. Hooper went off to get rape kitted or whatever they call it—they’ll be some strange looks flashing ‘round the department with they take the samples off her face, heh—while Dias and Crowley hustled me off to get processed. I was just about to correct Gilbert when he dipped his fingers into the ink, but I guess he’s got nice enough prints. Sarge’s fingers are just too damned fat to look good on a guy’s rap sheet, and the clerk at the desk looked like he was bored out of his skull, which is probably why he didn’t notice what the hell was going on. I caught the name on his badge, Officer Bernard, and he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. And here I thought police work was supposed to be exiting. I kind felt sorry for him.

But that was before he handed me that huge fucking stack of paperwork to fill out. Ah, he can rot with the rest of ‘em. All three of ‘em looked at me kinda strangely when I seemed to fill out the stack in five minutes or so. It was the only fun I’d had up until that time. They put a copy of the prints with the paperwork in a file and Gilbert was waving it around in my face at the moment.

“And what the hell is with this, anyway? He was yelling. “Hannibal Lector??!!! This is the police department you’re screwing around with now, you homeboy wannabe! What you wanna bet that when your prints come back, you’ve got a record a mile long.”

Idiot. “I’d bet you your pants, but you’ve already lost them once tonight.”

OK, so I was getting bored. But he kept on going down the rest of my sheet.

“Address, 1440 Pennsylvania Avenue? What the fuck is that?”

OK, so I’m not terribly creative either. So arrest me.

“...And it goes on and on.” He threw the file against the mirror and I could almost feel someone dodge on the other side. Sarge Asshole isn’t the only guy who’s seen a lot of TV cop shows.

But it gave me an idea.

“OK,” I said. “What’s say I’ll answer your questions if you’ll answer mine.”

Dias grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around in my chair. The wheels weren’t greased very well and it was all I could do to hold onto it as he got in my face again.

“Listen up, shithead, WE’RE the cops! We’re the ones who have the power to put you away or let you go! You got NOTHING! Understand? NOTHING!!!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then.” I smiled back. Mr. Chuckles woke up.

“For the last fucking time, what is your real name?”

“Warren.” Warren Bandan.”

Dias backed down and sat back on the table as Gilbert started scribbling in a notebook. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Address?”

I folded my arms. “Nope. Not until you answer one of mine.”

“Oh, for crying fucking out loud....this isn’t 20 questions here.”

“Who’s on the other side of the mirror?”

“What the...? None of your damned business.”

I smiled broadly. “Then if you won’t answer my questions, I wanna lawyer.”

Gilbert and Dias both clenched up at the “L” word. Like I said, they ain’t the only ones who watch cop shows. I could almost hear whoever it was behind the mirror suck it up too. Better than profanity around here, that “L” word.

Dias glanced to the mirror like he thought I wouldn’t notice. These guys should learn by now, I notice EVERYTHING. It’s one of those survival instincts you learn on the streets.

He sighed. “That’s our LT. Our Lieutenant.”

“Is he always here this late at night?”

“She. And no, she’s not. But when an officer gets raped...”

“She?!!!” You take orders from a woman?!!!!” My eyes opened wide in mock astonishment. Mr. Chuckles was starting to pay attention now. Much as I gotta say I love the sistahs, this was just tooo good to pass up. As I said earlier, I LOVE getting honest answers. So much you can do with ‘em.

“Yeah,” Gilbert had to put his two cents in. “But she only got the promotion because she was black.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ventured, looking straight into the mirror. “A real sistah in charge? What do you think about that, Officer Dias, sir?”

His face was twisted a bit, one eye on me and one eye on the mirror with his mouth walking a tightrope between the two. Tough question, that one. But he was a real trooper, Sergeant Asshole was.

“Uh, I guess she’s....she’s....Oh, hell, she’s a real bitch, is what she is.”

A real trooper, but not much of a politician.

At just that time, the door next to the mirror crashed open and LT. Sistah herself came lurching into the room. She was almost 6 foot tall and looked like she had to get off the interstate at each one of those weigh stations, if you know what I mean.

My kind of woman.

And boy was she PISSED about something or other.

“Dias!!! Crowley!!! IN MY OFFICE!!! NOW!!!!

Mr. Chuckles was trying his best to claw his way out of my pants. Boy was I embarrassed. OK, maybe not so embarrassed. Whatever was going on here, neither one of us wanted to miss it.

“Sorry, Miss Officer LT. person, but we were just in the middle of something import...”

“Don’t you EVER interrupt me, you little white excuse for a worm! What kind of a rapist are you supposed to be anyway?!!! I’ve met tougher perps in the line for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean!!!”

She was almost in my face now. That’s when I discovered wintergreen breath mints don’t work on bean burritos. But it didn’t matter. Mr. Chuckles was in love.

“Well, I’m not really a rapist, really...”

“Damn straight you aren’t!!!! Little skinny asshole like you!! I bet you couldn’t even find a pussy, much less stick it in!!!” Her humungous boobs were just at face level as she continued to spew her words (and dinner) at me.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far...”

Dias picked up his backbone and shoved it back down his uniform just about then, and tried his best to get between us and calm her down. “Hey, LT, maybe we should...”

She didn’t take to that at all and thankfully turned her attention away from me. “What the fuck?! Like you were getting anywhere with this little prick?!!! He’s clearly got an attitude problem and needs is a little reminder about who’s in charge here!!! He was leading you two dicks around by the head!!!”

She was on a roll now. I’d seen some upset sistahs in the last few years and I gotta tell you there’s just something about black women and power. No white woman I ever met could whoop ass like a sistah in the mood. And this sistah was IN THE MOOD.

As was Mr. Chuckles. With both men’s attention focused on the boss, I nonchalantly closed the door. This didn’t sound like something she wanted the rest of the station to hear.

She turned her full attention on Gilbert. “And I did NOT get my promotion because I’m black. I got it because I sucked off the Commissioner in the back of his car. Get your fucking rumors straight!!!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, softly, lowering his head.

She hovered over him like a Marine in basic. “I can’t hear you, Crowley!!”

He started down to his knees. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She reached around and fiddled with the clasp on the back of her long skirt. “I don’t believe you, Officer Crowley.”

Oh, this was something Mr. Chuckles definitely wanted to see. So I sat down in a corner and let him out to watch. Everyone so often, I’d look over at the mirror to see if I could make out any shadows.

As the skirt fell to the floor, LT Sistah stood there in long boots, black blouse and plain white panties. What is the deal with cops and white panties, anyway? Must be a dress code thing. Oh well.

As Crowley crept between the massive black thighs to show his regret, I glanced at Dias. He was staring at the scene, with mouth open but not saying anything. He had taken his hat off again—I think that must be something he does when he’s turned on. He started creeping ever more closely until the black woman noticed him. She’s pretty good, I figure, at noticing things too, considering the treatment Crowley was giving her. Most women close their eyes when guys are slipping them the tongue and two-fingers, but not LT Sistah. She had her eyes wide open. Cop instincts, I guess—always on the alert.

“C’mon over here, Dias,” she hissed, as her right hand reached around to slide her wet underwear down past her massive butt, “and I’ll show you what a bitch I can REALLY be.”

Being the good by-the-book Sergeant Asshole that he was, Dias did as he was commanded and lost himself so deep between Mount Ebon and Mount Onyx that I don’t even think Lassie could’ve helped him find his way out. After a minute or two, the only way I could tell he was breathing was by the way his legs shuffled on the floor every time she tensed a bit. Well, that and the incredibly loud slurping noises, of course. After a while, though, I couldn’t tell whether they were coming from in front or behind.

By then Mr. Chuckles and I were both pretty excited watching this black/white/blue six-legged sex show monstrosity slowly quiver and sway from one side of the “box” floor to the other. Had a hard time figuring how she stayed standing through a couple orgasms. Best guess was kinda like when a crowd gets so packed that you can just get carried along. The LT had one hand on the back of each cop’s head and was playing with their hair as they went about their business.

I could’ve watched for a while longer, but Mr. Chuckles was tired of being ignored. So I meekly approached the trio as they leaned against one wall.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, Luetenant, Ma’am, but wasn’t I supposed to be the one under interrogation here?”

“Oh....yeah....ahhh....the punk...I forgot...ahhh....”

“No problem, really, but if I’m not needed anymore, I’d like to ask permission to leave.”

“No...way...uh...ahh...Mr. Bandan....if that’s...Oh, Jesus....really your name.”

“Uh, yeah, but I ain’t no rapist.”

Between gasps, she glanced down at Mr. Chuckles.

“ahhh, no, I guess you’re....damn...not. Couldn’t hurt....aaaaahhh...a fly with...that...thing.”

Well, Mr. Chuckles knows when he’s been insulted and I started to tell her as much when she suddenly reached into her blouse and pulled one huge black bosom out of her bra and stuffed it in my mouth...

“You talk too...ahhh...much. Here....something to keep you...ahhh, quiet until...damn...I’m ready to...Jesus...deal with you.”

What can I say? I mean, how do you argue with that?

So I didn’t. Like I said, this was my kind of woman. And her nipples were HUGE. I hadn’t had to five finger Mr. Chuckles to cough up in a long, long time, but I was really tempted to do it then. But I figured a better time would come along, so I held off.

About five minutes and two orgasms later, I guess she was finally ready to “deal with me.” She shoved Dias and Crowley away from her and parked her butt on the table. Amazingly, it groaned and swayed, but didn’t break. She motioned for me to sit down in the chair.

“OK, let’s get one thing straight, little man, this is MY department and I run things MY way around here.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“So, you’re going to answer every question I ask you and if I don’t like the answers, I’m going to put your head through that mirror. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Did you rape my officer?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She pulled her other boob out of her bra and started playing with the nipple. “Now, let me get this straight. First you deny you raped her, now you’re saying you did?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She moved her other hand between her legs and I couldn’t help but watch. Sistahs have THE most amazing pussies on Earth. The darker the skin, the more the contrast between outside and inside. And that curly hair. The LT had hair halfway to her knees. Again, I know a lot of guys find that disgusting, but some like it, so I thought I’d mention it.

“I don’t believe you. Do you expect me to believe a skinny little white clown like you could take one of my officers down?” She said as she brought her nipple to her mouth and gave it a nibble.

“Well, she really didn’t have much choice. You see, I can control minds.”

With that, she leaned back and tossed her braided hair behind her head. I thought she was going to fall off the table, she was laughing so hard. Fortunately, her other hand kept its position, fingers standing apart like two guards at the door.

“Did you hear that, boys?! Little white homeboy wannabe can control minds.”

To her left, Dias and Gilbert had their cocks out at full attention, stroking slowly and were shaking their heads (all four of ‘em) in laughter.

“Stop wasting my time, little man. If you were a rapist who could control minds, you’d have me over there sucking your cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, I suppose so.”

She let out a deep series of chuckles that shook her all over. “Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen. I’ll tell you what IS going to happen, though.”

She parted her thighs a bit more and spread herself wider. “This is MY precinct, little white boy, and what’s GOING to happen is that you’re going to come over here and suck my proton until I have the best cum of my entire life.”

Again, what can I say?

So I did.

And she did.

And Gilbert and Dias did.

And Mr. Chuckles did.

Cryin’ shame only two of us remember it.