Controlling the Detectives (The Magic Remote Book 3) Page 3
Heather had never been so turned on in her life. She squirmed in her tiny pinstripe suit against the door, struggling with the want—no, the need—to drop on her knees and finger her steaming hot pussy until she came again and again and again.
Sandra was still in the room, though, shaking her head in shock, gingerly stepping around the cum that had spilled on the floor.
Heather tried to walk it off and began to move around the office. But her resistance only lasted up until the point that she saw Jared's picture on the desk. Knowing it was him, knowing that he was the mastermind behind all of this, somehow made it all the harder to stop herself from delivering herself the pleasure she so desperately needed.
“I-I ha-have to go!”
Heather rushed past Sandra and hurried across the hall to the bathroom, bumping into a few uniformed officers along the way. They whistled after her.
Inside the bathroom, she quickly found a stall. Pushing herself into a corner, she plunged one dainty hand down her skirt.
In her daily life, her thoughts often turned to her kidnapping. It had lasted only a short amount of time, not even a real kidnapping, in the truest sense of the word. But even so, the experience had stained her.
Most people, when they heard about what she experienced, emitted some noises of sympathy or sadness. Those people never understood. Not even Heather's train of psychologists had understood.
When her thoughts slid back to that time, when she had been held under those ropes, it wasn't fear she felt, really, or anger.
It was arousal. Pure, hot, needy arousal spiraling down every one of her bones, coursing through every single muscle, vibrating every single cell of every bit of flesh she possessed.
The feeling of those tight, coarse ropes on her body excited her. The constraints they provided. The knowledge that, if that gang member had just pushed down his pants and put his cock in her face, she would have had no choice but to comply. She would have no choice but to suck him dry, to give in to this perfect excuse to be the total whore that her body cried out for her to be.
Her entire existence had been, in many ways, living contrary to what her nature told her. She grew up privileged, so she purposefully went to a crappy school to show she wasn't obsessed with status. She was beautiful, so she went into policing, a profession where her looks would never help her and would probably get in her way. Her body was deemed physically unable to do more policing, and still she tried to keep at detective work.
It was only in those bonds, where her choices were completely narrowed down to zero, that she had felt most free to be who she really was.
But, no. The gang member hadn't taken the initiative. She supposed she hadn't looked hot enough that day, or he was busy thinking about something else, like how to not get shot from the dozens of cops outside.
A shame.
So, in the dirty station bathroom, where anyone could walk in at any time, standing in her tiny sexy pinstripe suit, all she could think of as she fingered her slit, her thumb riding hard on her hot clit, was how hot it would be to be back in that situation. To have someone strong and able to just wrap his snares around her and control her every emotion and thought. She would never have to feel any guilt, any shame about what she really wanted ever again.
Her orgasm approached her suddenly, imagining her own big tits on display in an outfit even hotter than the one she had on because someone else commanded it.
She started whispering furiously. “Tie me down! Tie me down! Fuck me rotten! Ruin my fucking mind! Break me! Break me!”
Her heels clicked against each other as she came, her plush lips shuddering. All strength had left her legs, her arms. Fuzzy and warm, her thoughts floated across the landscape of her mind, each more distant than the last.
Okay. Wow. Okay. That was one hell of a cum. She really needed to get her mind straight. She had to get some kind of plan into action to stop this kid.
Sure. That was what she wanted. To stop him.
Keep telling yourself that, Heather. Keep telling yourself you don't want your mind coiled up and bound and made to obey everything he ever says for the rest of your life.
She heard someone creep inside the bathroom.
“Heather?” Sandra called out. “Hello?”
Heather didn't answer her, glad for the fact that the walls of each stall went all the way down to the floor, so no one could see what she had been doing, or even that she was there.
She heard the stall next to her open and then close. Pants shuffled downward to the floor. Then, there was the unmistakable sound of fingers inside of pussy—that hot schlicking noise echoing off the tile walls of the bathroom, the same noise that Heather herself had just been filling the bathroom with.
“Oh, Heather,” Sandra whined. “Oh baby. Oh god, your tits! That fucking outfit, Heather! Oh love, love, love, love!”
Heather's heart was hammering as she heard Sandra go on and on. Did Sandra know she was there? No. Of course not. Sandra thought she was all alone. That was what had inspired the outburst.
When it came to Sandra's attractions, and the level of her affection, Heather had her suspicions, of course. But to hear them called out like that, so brazenly . . . that was something else entirely.
* * * * *
Heather had spent all the late afternoon and early evening preparing, but she was finally ready. She had taken up her position in the bushes in the ornately crafted lawn of the Kappa Phi Theta sorority house. This time, though, she would be able to hear what was going on inside. The hot night unleashed its muggy heat upon her skin, covering her in sweat.
Of course, she and Sandra had decided not to obey Russell's demands. Sandra practically demanded it—this was a case, after all, and badness was happening, even if it was to snotty sorority girls.
Heather's own desire to keep going was rather more circumspect, but she could hardly reveal that to Sandra.
How could she tell her partner that what she really wanted to see was Jared totally dominating another woman again?
She would stop him, of course, and reverse whatever effects he made if she could. But there was no denying the incredibly hot falling woozy sensation she felt when she recalled watching him dominate Tracy like he did.
An hour or two before, she had surreptitiously set up a series of transmitters all throughout the house, nimbly avoiding detection from the dozen or so girls running from one room to another, getting ready for the party.
All of this planting of devices, she had hidden from Sandra, who did not even know that Heather had obtained such devices from the department. But Heather had to hear what was going on inside. It wasn't enough, anymore, just to guess.
Just so that she could try and pass herself off as a lost college student while she was installing the surveillance equipment, she had on a pair of tiny khaki shorts and a cut-off tee shirt sporting the logo of the local gym.
She did not think too much about how the outfit mirrored the same one Tracy had on earlier that day.
The skimpy clothing helped now in the heat of the night to keep her temperature down a bit, but even so she was still drenched in sweat, hot rivulets of liquid covering her from head to toe.
It might have been a bit difficult to explain to Sandra why she had been dressed like this earlier when they had met up to plan, except that Sandra had been too busy wagging her tongue over Heather's sweat-covered form to notice very much.
The radio crackled. “How are you over there, Key?”
Sandra had been checking in every ten minutes or so ever since she had arrived. On her position at the other end of the house, she was already seeming like she was getting bored.
“Doing fine. It's eight o'clock. They should be here soon.”
“Copy that.”
Before the mission started, Sandra had made it very clear that a lack of responses from Heather would lead the young detective to calling for back-up, no questions asked. There was too much at stake, and Heather had to agree that Russell's behavior was rather unsettling.
Some other patrol officers had to escort him home after he left Heather's office—the story was that he jerked himself off the entire ride home, calling out his wife's name. Keeping this quiet, of course, had essentially spent all the favors the chief was able to give him from then on.
All at once, outside the sorority house, the party guests arrived, like they had been threatened with severe punishment if they weren't at the front door exactly at eight o'clock.
It was a group of twenty of them, young and beautiful, each over eighteen years of age, each dressed in skimpy swimsuits, adding on to the group of twenty already in the house who were decked out in their finest skimpy wear.
It seemed, for whatever reason, that the sorority girls had decided not to dress in swimsuits, but rather in hot lingerie costumes. There were four sexy cheerleaders, two sexy witches, one sexy doctor, two sexy nurses, three sexy fairies, another three sexy princesses, and five sexy maids. Heather got the impression from listening in to their conversations, though she couldn't say from where, that this kind of outfit was more than just a nightly costume—it was a sort of role play.
Approaching the girls in princess outfits, the maids and the doctors would curtsy, saying, “Good evening, Princess Carmen,” and so forth.
The girl Tracy that Heather had seen brainwashed that morning was one of the cheerleaders. As the new recruits walked inside the house, looking timid, she and the other cheerleaders happily posed and cheered.
“Ready! Okay!” They nodded in unison, and then performed their little dance. “You look fine, you look hot, you've got to—got to—enjoy yourself a lot!”
Heather tried not to think about the cunt-clenchingly hot thought of all forty decorated girls kneeling for Jared at one time. It couldn't be that far off.
That was his device talking. It wasn't her. It was him. It had to be his control. It had to be.
She was . . . .she was going to stop him. Yes. She wouldn't let him control all those girls. She couldn't. That would be wrong.
And just in case she was somehow under his influence, guided to make the wrong choice, she could call Sandra and have her take care of it. It was the perfect fail safe. Sandra would die before letting anything happening to a group of beautiful girls, no matter how much she despised their status.
Heather listened in as the girls made small-talk and passed out drinks as they herded to the living room, where the club president, Alyssa, was waiting.
Heather knew Alyssa by reputation—as a detective, you got to know who the best blackmailers and embezzlers in the city were. Many of those paid directly to the gorgeous young sorority president.
Finally seeing her in person, Heather could easily see why.
The girl was gorgeous.
From the bright red lingerie panties lined with black jewels, to the jewel-encrusted red lace bra showing off her amazing young breasts, to the sexy little red silk gloves on her hands, to the short black sable coat hanging low around her lovely shoulders, everything about Alyssa screamed hot, luxury babe that was too expensive of a ride to even look at, let alone possess.
And yet, Heather thought, Jared almost certainly possessed her. Owned her absolutely, just as he owned Carmen and Monica and Tracy.
Quivers of delight slid across Heather's pussy, watching the sorority queen snootily examine the crowd.
“N-nothing yet,” she reported in to Sandra. “They're not where I can see them clearly.”
“Should I move?”
“No!” Heather took a breath. “No. It'll be okay. Let's wait this out.”
“Roger.”
In the house, Alyssa stepped up on top of a table in front of the crowd of lingerie-clad girls.
“Everyone!” the beautiful sorority president announced. “I'd like your attention, please!”
The music shut off immediately. All the girls looked at the table where Alyssa was balanced precariously on her enormous heels.
“First of all, I'd like to congratulate you all on coming to this party to hang with us! It's been a great year for Kappa Phi Theta, I can already tell you. You all look super sexy, so I just know you're going to be an eyeful for our guest later on.”
One pledge raised her hand. “Where are all the boys?”
“Oh, don't worry about that. Like I said, our guest will be here to review you soon, and I'm sure he'll be very pleased.”
The girls exchanged worried glances. Heather felt a mixture of surprise, fear, and arousal flutter through her body. Alyssa was talking about Jared, Heather could tell. And the way she was speaking about him implied she had already been taken under his control.
Fuck, that was so hot.
From beneath her, Carmen—in her hot princess lingerie—handed Alyssa something.
Heather moaned when she saw what it was.
A crown. The crown.
Alyssa put it on.
The purple light filled the house. There was a collection of hot little gasps and thuds in the room. Heather hadn't been able to stop it. She hadn't come anywhere close.
At every point, Jared was several steps ahead of her. It felt useless to try and fight him, to resist at all.
Or to pretend resisting, as she was rapidly feeling as though she felt. Had that light affected her? Did she only wish that it had?
Inside the house, the drinks of the college girls were on the floor, most of them spilled. Waves of beer and fruit-flavored alcohol sloshed on the carpet underneath their heels.
“You're going to be really in love with this boy who's going to come out soon.”
“Really in love,” the girls chorused. “The boy you show us. Love.”
“He's the best guy on earth.”
“Best guy on earth,” they chorused.
“He basically owns you. It's really hot that he owns you.”
“Owns us,” they all said, monotone. “Really hot that he owns us.”
Alyssa hit the remote again. Purple light flooded the room once more, strengthening the control.
“You should all touch yourselves. Caress your hot little pussies.”
Moaning, each and every hot young, succulent babe obeyed, sliding their hands between their crotches.
“It feels so good to obey.”
“Good to obey,” they sang.
“You obey Master.”
“Obey Master.”
“You'll convince your mommy and daddy to give him all of their money.”
“All of mommy and daddy's money.”
“He deserves it.”
“Yes,” they cooed. “He deserves it.”
“Master deserves everything he wants.”
“Deserves everything he wants.”
“You'll do anything he wants.”
“Anything he wants.”
“You'll even get pregnant if he thinks you're good enough.”
“We'll even get pregnant if he thinks we're good enough.”
Oh god, thought Heather. That was so brilliantly hot. Her cunt pulsed.
“Master wants you to do anything I want, so you'll do that too.”
“Anything . . . you want.”
Heather could see that Carmen, who had obviously already been thoroughly hypnotized by the device, was purple-eyed and chanting just like the rest of the girls.
Fuck, it was so hot. Why oh why couldn't she stop touching herself? Why couldn't she get pregnant like they would?
More than anything, she wanted to be in that room, but Heather just couldn't get herself to act.
Spread out on the lawn, the radio on her hip had jammed into her back. She moved it forward, and realized she had it turned off.
Oh no. How long had it been off? She flipped it back on. Maybe Sandra hadn't noticed. She would make sure to answer the next message.
A door across the house opened, and Jared stepped out, totally naked, a violet-lingerie-clad Monica lovingly wrapped around one arm.
Alyssa pointed at him. “Girls, here's our Master now.”
All the college bab
es turned to watch him enter. Most swooned and collapsed to the ground. Some knelt. All of them appeared to cum, their hands twitching faster and faster on their pussies in their skimpy lingerie.
Jared let his hand slide out over the exposed tits of the kneeling girls. He stopped for a moment to give a few of the cheerleaders an appreciative pat on the ass. He grabbed Alyssa off from the table and slid the crown off of her head and the remote out of her hand, putting them down on the table.
“That's my good girl,” he said, smiling. “That's my best girl. You made short work of them.”
“It works much quicker when you just keep pressing the button as soon as it recharges,” she said.
It didn't seem like Jared paid much attention. He was already pushing her legs out, tearing off her panties. Within moments, he was sliding his cock inside of her waiting pussy.
Alyssa screamed in purest pleasure. Heather moaned with her.
There was a crashing sound from the entry.
“What the fuck is happening here?”
Heather scanned the house—it was Sandra! No! Not now! Not as she was going to watch her Mas . . . as she was going to see Jared consummate with Alyssa!
Heather rushed toward the house. She could hear through the house walls Sandra threatening Jared not to move, or to say a word. One, single word out of his mouth was big trouble for him.
Heather had to hurry. She slid up around to the front of the house, to the busted open door. She could see Sandra holding her gun out, keyed in exclusively on Jared.
Alyssa still had her legs wrapped around his waist, her ass on the table, apparently oblivious to the danger. With her hands around his neck, she pushed him inside of her pussy with little thrusts of her calves, happily kissing his chest and neck.
Monica and Carmen were on either of his arms, fingering their cunts as they whispered hot words in his ears. Their eyes were filled with lust as they traded glances from Alyssa's achingly hot form to his massive cock as it slid in and out of Alyssa's gorgeous pussy.
“What are you doing here?” Jared asked, apparently nonplussed. “This is my time to show off my favorite to girl to all the new girls,” he said. “Just look at how fucking hot she is!”
“Yeah,” sighed Alyssa, in between driving down on Jared's cock. “Look at how fucking hot I am.”