The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Constable Max Rhodes’s black boots left prints in the gravel as she approached the long car. She paused to put her uniform hat on. She adjusted it carefully. She already had her citation book in one hand.

The lights from her cruiser reflected off the glossy black finish of the luxury automobile. It wasn’t often that she got to pull over a stretch limousine. She walked the considerable distance to the front of the car. The driver’s window was already rolling down.

“Good afternoon,” she said evenly, touching the brim of her hat. “May I see your licence and vehicle registration please.”

“Is there a problem, officer?” the driver replied, predictably.

“Licence and registration please, ma’am,” Max said. Her professional decorum covered her surprise.

The driver’s behaviour might be predictable but her appearance was not. She was young, maybe early twenties, and almost dazzlingly beautiful: an artistic maze of bright blonde curls cascading over her shoulders; full, kissable lips; a soft, perfectly clear complexion; and eyes so deep blue as to be almost azure.

The driver smiled: a warm flash of white teeth limned by red lips. “Of course,” she said patiently. “I hope this won’t take long. My employer is in a bit of hurry.”

Max received another surprise. As she leaned over to retrieve the papers from a compartment under the dashboard, the chauffeur revealed a fetching display of bright-coloured underthings. She was dressed in a purple leather fantasy of a chauffeur’s uniform. Apparently its designer was so intent on molding the sleek garment to the driver’s hour-glass figure and showing off the half-moon perfection of her breasts, he forgot completely about covering her legs.

After searching long enough for Max to realize that the woman actually wore matching stockings and garters as part of her uniform, she withdrew the papers. She handed them to Max with another smile.

Max studied the papers more intently than necessary. Even the blonde’s picture on her driver’s licence looked sensational.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. She turned toward her cruiser to check the licence.

The rear door opened. “Katriana, why have we stopped?” said a male voice.

“Passenger, please remain in the car,” Max said sternly. “I am pursuing a speeding violation. This concerns the driver of the vehicle.”

But the man in the back was still getting out. Max felt herself tense. A passenger who did not obey instructions was always a risk. She was a solitary officer.

“If we were speeding, I am responsible,” the man said, climbing out. Polished shoes glistened on the roadside gravel. “Katriana was acting under my instructions.”

“Nevertheless I must ask you to remain in the vehicle,” Max responded.

She gave him her best tough-cop glare, while looking him over. He looked familiar. The man was tall, and handsome in a rugged kind of way. There were deep scars on his chin and one cheek. His complexion was dark, perhaps mixed race. He wore a fine pin-stripe suit that spoke volumes about style and wealth.

Dark, wrap-around sunglasses obscured his eyes. Max didn’t like that. The windows of the limousine were tinted.

The man smiled. “Katriana,” he said affably, “were you speeding?”

Now the chauffeur was getting out too. She opened the door and gracefully swung her long legs around. She was wearing suede platform boots that matched the purple uniform.

“I’m afraid so, sir,” the luscious chauffeur replied, standing up. “You did say to get to the city in all haste.”

“I’m sorry,” she added. She sounded genuinely contrite.

Max took a step backward to keep both of them in view. This was getting weird. Did this woman dress like that every day?

She decided to take charge. “Both of you return to your vehicle and remain there while I run a check on your licence.” Again she turned toward her cruiser.

The man didn’t move. “Constable, is this delay really necessary? I am already late for a rather important board meeting.”

“Then perhaps we can save some time by not arguing. It will take only a moment to write a citation.”

He looked frustrated by her attitude. Max had no sympathy. Why did speeders always think that their affairs alone justified being a hazard on the road?

The man looked at her for a long time without speaking. It was impossible to know where his eyes were looking behind those opaque glasses. Max was acutely aware that her youth and looks were not what some people expected of a cop. She worked hard to make sure that people knew she meant business when she was in uniform. At the academy they called it “officer presence”. It didn’t seem to be working on this fellow.

At length the man said, “Constable, I am certain we can work this out amiably. Why don’t you step into my car for a moment?”

Did the man take her for a complete fool? She opened her mouth to repeat her order.

He took off his sunglasses.

Max stopped in her tracks. His eyes were unlike anything she had ever seen. The irises were immense and multicoloured, dominating everything. Max found herself staring in spite of herself. For a moment the outside world seemed to disappear, so strongly did the unexpected sight hold her attention. She was peripherally aware of a long, happy sigh from Katriana the chauffeur, who was looking on with rapt attention.

“I don’t want to discuss this standing by the side of the road,” the man said evenly. “There is plenty of room in my car. Please come in an sit down.”

“Come in and sit down,” Max repeated. She found herself moving toward the door. This wasn’t at all standard procedure. There was plenty of room in the car.

She stopped after a half step. “No. There is no need to enter your vehicle. I clocked your speed at—”

Those eyes swung her way again. “Step into the car. Please. It’s very comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Max said uncertainly. His eyes seemed to have no whites at all. The pupils were tiny points of midnight black.

The man held the door for her. “Come in and sit for a moment. There’s plenty of room.”

Max was still trying to tear her gaze away from those fabulous eyes. They seemed to be every colour at once, like a pinwheel painted by a madman.

“Let’s get back on the road,” Max heard the man say over her head. “I’ll work things out with the officer.”

“Yesssss sssssssir,” came Katriana’s sleepy voice in reply. Max imagined her walking back to the driver’s seat in her slick leather micro-dress and narrow platform boots. Unaccountably the image struck her as deliciously erotic.

Max climbed into the limousine. She set her hat on the seat beside her. The inside of the car was posh with wood and leather. There was a wide seat along the back and another along one side. An open briefcase lay on the table in the middle, with papers and documents scattered around it.

On the front seat, which faced backward, another woman was sitting.

Max stopped again. “Oh. I didn’t realize—”

The man climbed in beside Max. “Mia, my executive assistant” he said briefly. He pulled the door shut behind him. “We were going over some business matters.”

“Good afternoon, officer,” Mia said formally.

Mia did not look like she was concerned with business matters. She was a svelte, leggy brunette with smoky brown eyes and lips like a red bow on a birthday gift. She was wearing a figure-loving minidress decorated in vertical stripes the colours of the rainbow. There were more rainbows on her frilly little gloves, and her frilly ankle socks, worn over sheer white nylons. The girlish socks contrasted with the pure white, platform sandals on her feet.

Max was becoming alarmed. This situation was not right. “Sir,” she began. “Your personal affairs are your own. However, we have a matter of a speeding violation to attend to. I will write the citation now so as not to waste any more of your time.” She still had her book in one hand.

The man smiled indulgently. “Please relax,” he said in that calm, centred voice. He met her eyes with his.

Max found herself looking into his eyes again. There was so much colour there, they seemed almost three-dimensional. She felt some of the tension fade from her muscles.

“Relax,” Max repeated. That was a sensible idea. This situation was peculiar. She needed to stay calm.

“That’s better,” he said. He slipped his glasses back on. “I’m sure we can discuss things amiably.” He pushed a button on the cherrywood panel along one door. “OK, Katriana,” he said.

The chauffeur’s husky voice wafted back from a hidden speaker somewhere. “Of course, sssssir,” she said. She sounded like she was getting a sensuous backrub from someone she liked a lot.

The stretch limo pulled away and accelerated smoothly. They waited for a dark green sedan to go by. Max watched through the rear window as her cruiser dwindled away behind them. The warning lights were still spinning. No cruiser meant no radio. An alarm flashed somewhere in her mind.

The man beside her poked at the papers and things on the table. “Never take over a bank,” he said off-handedly. “Endless paperwork. Mia, clear all this up for now, won’t you.”

“Of course,” Mia replied. She began efficiently stashing the papers and files back in his briefcase. Her heavy enamel choker and earrings repeated the rainbow pattern of her clothes.

“Sir,” Max interrupted. “Stop this car at once. I am only here to issue a speeding citation. I must return to my vehicle.” She wondered vaguely why she wasn’t more upset.

The man regarded her with a patient grin. “Constable you are downright intense. There is nothing to be concerned about. Take it easy. Have a drink.”

“I’m on duty,” Max snapped.

“Of course you are. That’s why we won’t tell anybody. Go ahead. One little shot won’t hurt anything.”

“Look,” Max replied with growing irritation. “This has gone far enough. Stop this vehicle immediately and—”

The man took off his glasses again.

Looking into his eyes was like contemplating infinity, in technicolour. Max gazed into them, spellbound. Her voice trailed off. For a moment her jaw kept working, though no sounds came out.

“I think you need a drink,” he repeated.

“Need . . . a . . . drink.” She nodded her head slowly. It was obvious.

He replaced his glasses. “Mia, pour something for the officer. No ice.”

“Pour. Something.” Mia’s voice sounded like she had been caught fantasizing about undressing her favourite movie star. After a long moment she stirred herself. She pressed a button on the table in the middle of the car. A panel underneath slid back neatly, revealing rows of bottles with exotic labels.

Mia mixed something from two different bottles, threw in a dash from a third and stirred it all with a yellow plastic straw. She handed the result to Max. The underthings she flashed were shiny white. Max had been wondering about that.

“Thank you,” Max said. The drink was grape purple and smelled exciting. No ice. It occurred to her that the limo must have a built-in ice machine.

“Drink up,” said her host.

Max tipped the glass and tasted the liquid. It was spicy and strong. She drank it all down at once. It felt like a layer of liquid warmth sliding down into her stomach.

“That’s better,” the man said approvingly. “That will help take the edge off. Mia, make her another one please.” He smiled, bending the scars on his cheek.

“Wait a moment,” Max declared. “You—you’re Milford Cline!” She let Mia take her empty glass.

He smiled behind his dark glasses. “Well deduced, Detective Constable.”

Max knew all about Milford Cline. The papers had followed his story from the beginning. Disfigured in an industrial accident, he received a handsome settlement when he sued his employers for negligence. The suit brought to light the fact that the experiments in which Cline was involved were dangerous, clandestine, and probably illegal. The details were never revealed. Several directors resigned. Milford Cline became a rich man.

As time went by he became even richer. Several months after his name faded from the newscasts, Cline’s surgically reconstructed face re-appeared, this time as an entrepreneur. He parlayed his accident settlement into a string of clever and successful investments.

Cline’s style was to find a small business that was doing well and convince the owners to let him become a partner. He handled financing adroitly, though he was a chemist by training. Persuading sceptical investors to pour money into his companies seemed to come naturally to him. As time passed and his resources expanded, Cline’s investments, more often take-overs lately, found larger and larger targets. Everywhere he turned, the money always seemed to follow.

The press loved him. He was a success story. He had turned tragedy into dramatic success. He had style. He favoured hip night-clubs and expensive hotels, always appearing in public in well-cut, tasteful suits. He wore his wrap-around glasses all the time, even in the office or at night. They became his trademark, along with the way he took to signing himself “MC” in large, flowing letters.

And Max was sitting beside him in his stretch limousine, hurtling down the highway toward who knows where. What an unusual day this was turning out to be.

“Now you know who I am, Officer,” Cline rumbled. “And what do people call you?”

“My name is Constable Rhodes.”

“No, no, I mean when you’re off duty. When you are out of that dreadfully unflattering uniform and allowed to be yourself.”

“Oh. Maxine. Everybody calls me Max.”

“Delighted to meet you, Constable Maxine,” Cline said. His voice was constantly tinged with humour. “I suppose people are always telling you you’re too pretty to be a cop.”

In fact people always were telling her that. But she was hardly about to share intimate details with a stranger. “Perhaps we had better return to the matter at hand. Your speed—oh, thank you.” She took the drink that Mia handed to her.

Cline laughed gently. “My word, Constable Maxine, you do take your work seriously. Can’t we chat for a moment? It wouldn’t hurt to let your hair down once in a while.”

Max was already working on her fresh drink. It tasted no less potent than the first one. Something told her she should be concerned about drinking on duty. The drink was delicious.

“I am a police officer on duty,” Max explained, as she felt the drink warm her. “I cannot—”

His glasses were in his hand. His eyes filled the room with swirls of endless, unimaginable colour. They seemed to be spinning, around and around and around like a whirlpool seen through a prism.

“Why don’t you try it. Let your hair down. Here, I’ll hold your glass.”

Without looking away from those unfathomable eyes, Max reached up and pulled out the pins that held her hair in place for duty. Her chestnut brown hair tumbled free. She shook her head, loosening the braid to fall over her shoulders. She caught a glimpse of Mia, staring into Cline’s impossible eyes with an expression of bliss on her face. In her rainbow-hued micro-dress and fancy white platforms she was the image of carefree sexiness.

Cline put his glasses back on. “Much better,” he decided. He handed her half-full glass to Mia, who looked dazed. For a moment she stared at it, smiling. When she came to herself she filled it up again.

“I, I don’t usually do—on duty,” Max said uncertainly.

“Yes, I don’t imagine you do. You look like you are in uniform all the time. You need to be gentler with yourself, pretty Constable Maxine. Look, how can you even be comfortable when you’re wearing all that hardware?” He gestured toward the utility belt around Max’s waist.

Max began to protest. “No, I, I—my handcuffs . . .” The image of Cline’s eyes was still swirling about in her brain.

“That’s all right,” the man said kindly, “you finish your drink. Let Mia get rid of all that stuff.”

I must put a stop to this, Max decided inwardly. Instead she took a deep draft of the drink in her hand. Mia slipped gracefully off her seat, only flashing her gorgeous panties for a moment, and sat down beside Max. Efficiently, she began to unbuckle the belt of cop tools Max wore around her waist. Her pretty gloves didn’t seem to impede her at all. Max wanted to stop her, of course. She had to finish this yummy drink first.

“Wait, I, I don’t think—” she sputtered, when the glass was empty. The drinks were starting to hit her hard. She felt warm and woozy.

“Lean forward a bit dear. That’s right. There we go.” Mia lifted Max’s belt off and away. Holding it between two fingers like a dead rat, she deposited it into a compartment beneath the seat.

Max watched dully. That was her tool belt. Handcuffs. Taser. Not supposed to take that off. She searched around inside her mind, trying to find outrage. She couldn’t seem to grip it in the fog of boozy contentment. What was going on here?

On her left side, Cline said: “There, isn’t that a little better? All that unnecessary weight. I want you to be comfortable while you are my guest, pretty Constable Maxine. Mia, help the lady with her boots, won’t you?”

“My pleasure,” Mia replied, with enthusiasm. “These are all wrong for you, honey.” With surprising grace she slipped off the seat and onto the carpeted floor beside Max. She began to unlace Max’s uniform boots with colourful gloved hands.

Max had had enough. “No!” she shouted, as panic finally bubbled to the surface. She pulled her feet away. “Get off me! This has gone far enough. Stop this car at once and . . . and . . . ohhhhhhhhhh.”

Cline had taken off his glasses again. Once again Max found herself locked into those brilliant, unfathomable eyes. The irises were spirals of fantastic colours. They led her gaze inward and downward to the points of infinite blackness that were his pupils.

“Please don’t be upset,” he said calmly. “There is nothing at all to worry about.”

Max’s alarm of a moment earlier drained away like water from an unplugged bathtub. “Nothing . . . to worry,” she repeated passively, as the feeling of warm contentment descended once more.

“We want you to be as comfortable as possible while you are our guest,” Cline explained in the same reasonable voice. “Have another drink. Let Mia give you a little foot massage. It will help you relax.”

“. . . relaaaaax,” Max repeated blankly. She let herself sink more deeply into the comfortable seat.

“That’s better,” Cline encouraged, slipping his glasses back on. “Mia, another round for the cute constable, if you would.”

“. . . round?” Mia murmured. Her eyelashes fluttered. From her place on the floor she reached up sluggishly to mix more liqueurs in a glass. She handed it up to Max, who took it without protest. Max found herself admiring the other woman’s utterly impractical sandals. They did great things for her legs.

Cline said: “Tell me, Constable Maxine, how long has your fetching form graced the police force?”

Max sipped her drink. “little over six years,” she said. She watched as Mia efficiently unlaced her left boot and began to slide it off. She lifted her leg to make it easier for her.

“Six years? A major boost for morale, I’m certain. Have you been on traffic duty all that time?”

“Mostly. Sometimes beat patrol. Or station work.” She lifted her right leg. “Junior offishers get a lot o’ routine paper work.” She hiccuped.

Cline chuckled slyly. “I think the male officers just wanted to keep you around the station, where they could admire.”

Max giggled at the compliment. The conversation had wandered a long way from a speeding ticket. She wasn’t concerned. She was very relaxed, not to say tipsy. She felt cool air on her toes. Mia had efficiently removed her socks. Now she was gently kneading her feet between her gloved fingers. It felt wonderful.

“Mmmmmm, niiiiice,” Max murmured. She let her head loll back against the car seat. She closed her eyes. Somehow she could still see the image of Cline’s amazing eyes in her inner vision. They danced and spun before her like pinwheels, celebrating her worry-free happiness.

The feel of something warm and wet on her toes prompted Max to open her eyes for a moment. A bottle of perfumed lotion lay open on the floor beside Mia. She was carefully working the exotic onguent into the skin of Max’s feet.

“You need to take better care of your feet, sweetie,” Mia told her seriously. “Those workboots are awful. And you on your feet all the time.” The wedge heels on her sandals were more than six inches high.

Max murmured her agreement. She took a long draft of her drink. She closed her eyes again.

She heard Cline’s voice. “That would be a start. I think you need to take better care of Constable Maxi all around. Here, Mia, loosen things up here, won’t you?”

Max had to open her eyes to see what he was referring to. She found herself quite close to Mia’s flawless face. She was on her knees, sitting up tall to deftly loosen Max’s uniform tie.

“Wha?” she murmured. “No, wait, you can’t—I mean—uhm—”

She was having a great deal of difficulty mounting a meaningful protest. Getting angry meant losing the snugly fuzziness she was sinking into like a child sinking into her favourite pink blanket. This close to the other woman, Maxi found herself drinking in Mia’s cover girl beauty: the red, lipsticked lips, the high cheeks, the liquid blue eyes, all surrounded by carefully disordered chestnut hair.

Mia’s hands were deft and quick in her pretty gloves. Maxi’s uniform tie clip disappeared, and her tie came loose. She could only defend herself with one hand, lest she spill her delicious drink. There seemed to be nowhere to make contact, nowhere to touch Mia that wouldn’t be a sexual gesture. Every inch of her was erogenous. Maxi’s hand flailed about loosely.

Mia slid back up on the seat beside her. She was undoing buttons now. “No, please, I—” Maxi murmured, still unable to stop her.

Mia leaned close as Maxi’s black, functional bra came into view. “Baby you are something special,” she whispered affectionately.

Something like panic welled up inside the young police officer. The spinning eyes inside her mind wouldn’t let her feel it. They filtered out everything except mild discomfort and a touch of confusion. Mia was very close. Maxi’s blouse was half undone.

“Please . . .” she whispered.

Then Mia was kissing her. Or perhaps Maxi was kissing Mia. It was very hard to tell. All Maxi knew for sure was that it felt soft and warm and luxurious. Mia kissed her light and slow, her red lips pursed and roaming.

Maxi closed her eyes again. She felt the sensation of the lovely kiss somehow translated into charming, rainbow colours, the colours of Mia’s sexy dress and her Sunday-church gloves and her silly little socks. The colours were all spinning and twirling, huge and sky-bright in her mind, like a gayly decorated Ferris wheel limned against the evening sky, or a pair of impossibly deep, haunting eyes. The colours and the sweet touch of Mia’s lips (and now her tongue a little too) almost made Maxi forget that she had never in her life kissed another woman on the lips.

“Uh . . .” Maxi said when Mia’s mouth separated from hers. She was slumped back in her seat. Her uniform shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. She wasn’t sure when that happened.

For a moment she sat there blankly. The car hit a bump. It jostled her drink. Maxi emptied the glass down her throat so that wouldn’t happen again. She couldn’t think of any other way to respond to the situation.

Cline took her empty glass and set it on the table. “So,” he said conversationally, “Constable Maxi-cop is a woman after all. I am relieved to hear it.”

Maxi jumped a little. She had almost forgotten that Cline was there. Mia had her arm around Maxi’s neck in a very friendly way.

“Lis’en,” Maxi said, struggling to find decorum, “this has gotta shtop. Stop. I can’t be here. I must not . . . I . . . I . . .” Her jaw slowed and stopped as Cline regarded her patiently over his glasses. Those eyes!

“Please, Ms. Maxi-marvellous, you don’t want to leave just yet. You’re having far too much fun.”

Diving into those world-engulfing eyes, Maxi felt a long smile spread across her face. She was having a great time. She was drunk. Life was good. “Don’ wanna leave,” she breathed, staring at him.

“Course you don’t. I rather think you want to enjoy yourself some more. Kick up your heels. Fool around. Play with yourself.”

“Fool ‘round. Play . . .?” Maxi mumbled. She was still staring into his eyes. They transported her to a place where any emotion beyond serene happiness seemed barely possible.

“Go ahead,” her host continued. “You must be very horny. Slip a hand down and get yourself off.”

Maxi’s right hand was already moving. “Verrrry horrrrny,” she droned. Her gaze never left his eyes.

“Horrrrny” drawled another voice, that Maxi eventually realized was Mia’s. She was leaning on Maxi’s shoulder, pressing her lush body close against hers. She was staring into Cline’s eyes with the same blissful rapture that Maxi was feeling. Her hand disappeared under the hem of her gaudy rag of a dress just as Maxi’s hand slipped into her pants.

It took a moment, and some fidgeting, to negotiate past the restrictions of her uniform trousers and cotton underwear. When her fingers found the spring that was gushing into her underthings, they dove in and went skinny-dipping.

Maxi’s back stiffened. She groaned in delight. She was so horny. She needed to get off. Cline had put his glasses back on. It hardly mattered. The colours of his irises were acid-etched on the surface of Maxi’s mind. They seemed to pulse and bend in rhythm with her hand. She shuddered in delight.

Police Constable Maxine Rhodes was half-undressed and inebriated, masturbating in the backseat of a total stranger’s automobile while a candy-wrapped movie starlet panted in her ear. She had never felt better. She turned toward Mia. Perhaps she intended to say something. The moment she opened her mouth, Mia’s lips were there. The pair fell into a long, aroused kiss. Maxi’s eager fingers never stopped. Mia used her free hand to stroke Maxi’s face lovingly.

Cline watched the women neck without comment. Eventually he said, “Mia, I think our guest is having a little trouble. Why don’t you loosen her trousers for her, there’s a good girl.”

Mia broke the kiss, sighing. “Here baby, let me help you,” she whispered. She began to unbuckle Maxi’s uniform trousers. Maxi grunted when the zipper came down, freeing her hand for deeper strokes. “Sooooo horny,” she whined. She lay her head back against the car seat.

Mia was still doing things down below. “Lift your hips for a moment, K sweetie?” she whispered. Maxi did so, hardly paying attention. She felt her trousers sliding down her legs as a distant event of marginal interest. Her panties were going with them. It didn’t matter. She needed to cum.

Mia folded Maxi’s trousers neatly and set them in a corner. From a drawer somewhere she withdrew a pair of simple gold slides. She slipped them on Maxi’s feet. “There,” she said with satisfaction, “isn’t that better than those ugly old boots? You have such pretty feet, angel.”

Maxi looked down on her redressed feet as if from a long way away. The slides had high heels. They were bedroom shoes. They looked sexy. They felt sexy. Her hand was still busy. She was panting now, close to orgasm.

Cline was watching with prurient interest. Maxi noticed. It excited her more. “Why don’t you finish the job,” he said to his gorgeous assistant.

Maxi turned to look at him through lidded eyes. “Wha. . .? Finish . . .?” She bent forward limply in response to Mia’s touch. The other woman unfastened her full-cup brassiere with a few deft movements of her gloved fingers. A few seconds later Maxi’s breasts were free. The nipples were red and stiff with excitement.

“Not you at all,” Mia said. She tossed the functional garment away dismissively. “Angel, you need to get some new pretties for those lovely titties!” Deliberately, like she was tasting fine wine, she bent her head and sucked one nipple between her lips.

It was too much. Maxi’s world exploded. She cried out in delight as the best orgasm in years swept through her. Her back arched. Her pussy bucked and gushed around her fingers. Mia placed one hand over Maxi’s, forcing her to keep stroking, prolonging the pleasure-ride even when the intensity was almost unbearable. She continued to suck and nibble artfully. The orgasm was a great warm wind, lifting Maxi bodily into the heavens and then returning her slowly, ever so slowly, back to the earth. She collapsed, gasping, into Mia’s arms.

Milford Cline chuckled softly. “Feeling a little better now, I hope, Constable Maximum Hottie?” he inquired gently. Maxi looked back at him, breathing deeply. She felt boneless and floating.

A bell chimed somewhere. “Sir,” came the chauffeur’s woodwind voice, “we’re arriving at the city. Do you want to proceed directly to the bank?”

Cline pushed a button on the armrest. “No, I don’t think so, Katriana. Call the Board and tell them I will be delayed. We have some business to complete with Constable Comely here. Why don’t you drive over to McGrath Park. Take the Downing Street entrance.”

“Yes sir!”

Cline released the button. He smiled down at Maxi. The limousine lurched, braking suddenly. Maxi glanced out the window to see a black-haired young woman in tight red shorts dash across the road, stopping traffic. “Jaywalking,” she said absently. “Should give her a reprimand.” She shook her head, confused. Her police training began to resurface, slowly, like bubbles moving upward through molasses.

She was in the back of a stranger’s car, naked. This wasn’t right. She fought through the wondrous, pacifying colours in her mind. “. . . have to stop,” she mumbled. “Not, not supposed to be . . .”

“We will be stopped in a few moments,” Cline offered. He took off his glasses. “You would love to have me fuck you now, wouldn’t you.”

Instantly Maxi’s resolution dissolved in a sea of shining, pinwheeling colours. “Fuck me!” she cried, intense with renewed sexual need.

“And me!” begged Mia, reflexively tightening her grip around the naked police officer. Both women stared raptly into his eyes.

“Now now, Mia,” Cline chided his assistant, “Constable Maxine is our guest. It’s only polite that she go first. You’ll enjoy watching, I’m sure.”

“Yessss . . . . watching,” Mia sighed.

“Please fuck me,” said Maxi. She was already slipping into his arms as he slid his dark glasses back on.

The wide bench seat of the luxury automobile seemed to have been designed with sex in mind. The plush leather felt cool and supportive beneath Maxi’s back. Mia had efficiently helped Cline remove his suit and shoes. Now she had retreated to the far seat, watching the proceedings avidly. Her gloved hands were already slipping under her microdress, above and below. Her choker glistened in the afternoon light.

Beneath the expensive suit Cline’s body was toned and strong. He kissed Maxi warmly, holding her in his arms. She responded hungrily. Still kissing, she let him slide her down onto the seat until she was lying supine, legs spread receptively, with Cline on top. There was no need for foreplay. Maxi fumbled with his boxers until she freed his manhood, then guided him urgently into her wet, impatient pussy.

The fucking was exquisite. Cline set at once into a steady, lively rhythm, building Maxi’s pleasure slowly and surely. He used his tongue and one hand to adore her hard-nippled breasts. The gentle bounce and sway of the stretch limousine as it slowed and turned made little surprises in the way their bodies connected. The hand play a few minutes earlier, delightful as it had been, paled in comparison with what Cline’s shaft was doing.

Maxi let one long leg slip onto the carpeted floor. She could see the gold slide she was still wearing. Bedroom shoes. She gasped in delight as her lover pistoned into her. She turned her head and discovered she could see right up Mia’s dress. The girl’s white stockings ended in ruffled garters. Her panties were as shiny as her shoes. Her fingers were busy. She blew Maxi a hot kiss.

Maxi hardly noticed that the car had slowed until she heard the chauffeur’s voice again. “We’ve arrived at McGrath Park, sir”.

“Park somewhere private,” Cline ordered, between strokes. “Then . . . huh. . . come back here . . . huh! . . . and help out Mia.”

“Oh, yes Sir!”

A few moments later the car stopped completely. The hum of the engine died. The door behind Maxi’s head opened. She could see the delicious blonde chauffeur in the reflection off Cline’s dark glasses. In her foreshortened purple uniform and gaudy platform boots she was a walking sex fantasy. She pulled the door shut and slid onto the seat beside Mia. “Oh, I was hoping he’d do her,” she told Mia. “She is such a cutie. I am soooo turned on.” She slid one arm around her panting companion and locked her in a powerful kiss. Mia made no objection when the blonde removed Mia’s hand, the one that was stroking beneath her minidress, and replaced it with her own.

Maxi groaned and wrapped her arms around Cline’s back, pulling him closer. “Oh, fuck me darling, fuck me deeper and harder and oh god yes I want you!” The vigour of their coupling was making the big car rock. On the facing seat, Mia and Katriana had become a moaning medley of curvaceous female bodies, kissing and licking and stroking amid swaths of half-removed clothing. The air in the car was steamy with sex, like a tropical forest just before the rain begins.

Maxi closed her eyes. Colours spiralled endlessly in her mind. The colours were turning, faster and faster, brighter and brighter, attuned to her rising heat and the pulses of insistent pleasure streaming up from her cunt. As her peak approached the colours began to flow together into a perfect whole with only a single black dot at the very centre. She screamed happily and surrendered to the orgasm washing over her like the tide.

She had at least a couple more before he finished.

Some time later, Maxi picked herself up off the floor, where she had landed during her last orgasm. She hauled herself limply onto the seat. Cline was sitting up, semi-dressed, sipping a glass of sherry that Mia had poured for him. The girls were carefully adjusting their pretty clothes. They looked tired and contented.

“You know,” Milford Cline said thoughtfully, “I think I have an idea. It’s getting to the point where I could use a little security. Someone to keep the media at bay, and take care of safety problems. Security clearances for employees, that sort of thing. Seems to me you would be excellently suited to that position, my sweet constable. What do you think?”

Sprawled on the leather seat, slaked and satisfied and wearing nothing but one gold slipper, Maxi was having a hard time thinking at all. She looked around lazily. Work for Milford Cline? Why not? Wait—wasn’t she already a cop? She noticed her police cap lying on the seat, thoroughly crushed in the course of their activities. Yes, she had a job already. She was—a police officer, right?

“Uhm,” she said out loud. “I’m not sure . . .”

“I think we could start you off at, oh, maybe double your police salary,” Cline offered. “Plus some rather generous fringe benefits.”

“Wait. I, I’m not sure. There’s something . . . funny. I doubt—”

Cline took off his glasses and all her doubts disappeared.

Five minutes later, Maxi stepped out of the enormous limousine, following Katriana. The former police officer was wearing nothing but the blue shirt from her uniform and her new gold slippers. She blinked in the late afternoon sunlight. The car was parked at the edge of a grassy lot, beneath a line of giant oak trees. There was only one other car nearby.

“Now don’t you worry,” the leggy chauffeur said. “We’re about the same size and I always carry a few extra outfits, for emergencies.” She led Maxi around the back of the car. Maxi stumbled drunkenly in the grass, unfamiliar with high heels. Katriana seemed to have no trouble at all with her platform boots, though her heels were even higher. Maxi checked out her legs with frank admiration.

A sound caught her attention. In front of the other car, a pretty woman in fancy white boots was being screwed in the open air by a man in the remnants of a dark blue suit. She was leaning over the bonnet, legs spread wide, while the man plunged her pussy from behind. As a police officer, Maxi would have intervened at once. Now she found her heat rising as she watched.

Katriana laughed. “Don’t worry about them, honey. I doubt they’ll even notice we’re here.” She opened up the rear hatch of the limousine. Inside lay enough bags of clothing to stock a small boutique. Katriana pulled out a few things, considering. When she settled on something, she helped Maxi dress in the open air.

When Maxi climbed back into the car again a few minutes later she was transformed. Katriana’s trove included a couple of outfits that resembled a porn fantasy of a policewoman’s uniform. The one Maxi wore was deep blue latex, with fancy brass buttons and a completely unnecessary black belt, hung with gold handcuffs. The dress slicked over her curves like a coat of paint. The hemline stopped near the top of her thighs, revealing the full length of her blue fishnet stockings. The soft black ankleboots had blocky platform heels.

Maxi climbed unsteadily into the car and took a seat. She felt cool leather against her bare ass. She wasn’t going to chase down any suspects in this uniform. She felt magnificently sexy.

Milford Cline smiled his approval. “I think we can be on our way now, Katriana,” he said to the blonde chauffeur. “Unless my new head of security has any problem with that.”

He peered at Maxi, momentarily lowering his glasses. Maxi caught her breath. Colours exploded everywhere.

“No . . . problem,” she replied, dreamily, “no problem . . . at . . . all.”

The limousine pulled out of the lot and smoothly merged with traffic flowing into the city.