A Day In MC Jail
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Officer Doran said. “Are you sure you want to go through with it?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My heart was beating like a drum. I could feel sweat prickling down my back. Two weeks of negotiations with the police department, two weeks of haggling over every last detail of the wavier they made me sign … two weeks had left me in absolutely no doubt that, once the process began, there would be no getting out of it until it was done. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now—staring at the handsome young police officer and the wand resting on his belt—I was having second thoughts. And third thoughts.
“This is your last chance,” Officer Doran said. There was nothing in his voice to indicate how he might be feeling, as he studied me. Did he think me a brave woman, or a silly little girl? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Are you sure …?”
“Get on with it, before I lose my nerve.” My voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to a stranger. I hadn’t felt so nervous since the day my ex had taken me white water rafting. “Please.”
Officer Doran drew his wand. “By the power vested in me, I formally place you under arrest,” he said. “Abracadabra.”
He tapped me on the forehead. My mind went blank. No, not quite blank. I could still think, but I could no longer move or speak. I knew, on a very primal level, that all he had to do was command and I would obey. I was completely at his mercy. A flurry of disturbing sensations ran through me, from fear to arousal. I felt a sudden ones between my legs, mingled with a sudden awareness of my complete helplessness. He could do anything to me, make me say or do or believe anything, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was his now.
Officer Doran studied me for a long moment. “What is your name?”
The words spilled from my lips. “Rebecca. Rebecca Carney.”
“And why am I placing you under arrest?”
I tried to keep myself from speaking. It was futile. “I am a reporter who volunteered to be placed under arrest so I could write a story about what it felt like to be placed under an arrest spell.”
It was more complex than that. Ever since magic had returned to the world, the police had been using compulsion spells to arrest suspects and keep them under control until they could go in front of a judge and jury. I had been fascinated by the stories from the moment I first heard them, stories about how different people had different reactions to the magic binding them, controlling them, from outright terror and helplessness to sexual arousal. The obsession had grown and grown until I had determined I had no choice, but to put myself in a position where the police would not only arrest me but put me under control. It struck me, too late, that I might say precisely the wrong thing, now the police had me at their mercy. There were supposed to be rules governing the kind of questions they could ask, but I wasn’t really under arrest. If Officer Doran demanded the truth, I would tell him. I would not be able to help myself.
A shiver run down my spine. I had thought I might be able to resist, that I could keep my body and mind to myself no matter what sort of magic they used. It was clear, now, that I had been wrong. The magic was irresistible. I felt completely and utterly submissive, utterly obedient. There was no escape.
Officer Doran smiled. “Place your hands behind your back and lock them together.”
I shivered as I felt my hands moving without my permission. They moved behind my back, my fingers interlocking together gently but firmly. Officer Doran looked me up and down and then ordered me to follow him. My legs moved of their own accord, my body twitching oddly as it followed him downstairs and into the lobby. The cameras were already waiting, flashing lights sucking my progress as my body carried me across the hall, out of the door, and up to the police car. I had a sudden mental impression of just how I must look, to my co-workers. A young woman in her early 20s, her eyes blank as she shuffled after her captor. It struck me, too late, that no one was ever going to let me forget it. I had done some stupid stuff in my time, in pursuit of a good story, but this took the cake.
Officer Doran helped me into the car, giving me a handful of instructions. My hands remained behind my back as he strapped me in, locked the door, and clambered into the front seat. I sat there, unable to move, as the car roared to life. The sensation of being completely under his control was both exciting and terrifying, part of me wanting him to make me do much more and part of me cursing myself for ever considering the story in the first place. The heat between my legs grew warmer. I wanted him to do more. And yet it was the last thing I wanted him to do.
The drive to the police station felt like hours. It was actually twenty minutes. I felt weirdly calm as the car came to a halt, the door opening to reveal a grim-faced policewoman. She ordered me out of the car, putting out an arm to help me because my hands were still frozen, and led me into a reception area.
“What do you have on you?”
My voice was that of a stranger. “My phone. My keys. My notebook. My pen.”
“Take them out, put them in this tray,” she ordered. “Take off your shoes and socks too.”
I did as I was told, my hands moving of their own accord. She hit me with a handful of other questions, checking everything from the spelling of my name to just why Officer Doran had placed me under arrest, then ordered me into the next room. It was a waiting room, a handful of other prisoners sitting on benches waiting to be called. Male and female, young and old
… their eyes were dead and cold, the mind control spell holding them firmly in place. My body sat down, as ordered, opposite a young man a few years older than myself. It would have scared me to be in a room with a prisoner, who had committed an unknown crime, if I hadn’t known he was no more in control of himself than myself. As it was, his eyes were dull and his hands locked behind his back. A faint bulge in his pants suggested he had an erection. I knew how he felt.
It felt like hours, again, before my name was finally called. My body marched out of the chamber and followed a policewoman down a long corridor, into a reception chamber. The policewoman asked my name again, then a bunch of other questions. I heard her snicker as I confessed I had volunteered to be arrested. I was starting to think she had a point. I was trapped.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered. “All your clothes.”
I shivered, helplessly, as I removed my jumper. My breasts bounced out, barely contained within the bra. The bra came off a moment later, leaving my breasts to bobble free. I was oddly glad of the trance-like feeling gripping me, keeping me from panicking. It was not the first time I had gotten naked in pursuit of a story, but it was easily the worst. I pushed my jeans to my ankles and stepped out, my panties following my jeans to the floor. My arms dangled uselessly by my side the moment I finished carrying out my orders. She could see everything I had. I couldn’t even begin to cover myself.
Her voice was cold, professional. “Turn around, bend over, and spread your cheeks.”
I felt the warmth between my legs grew stronger as I obeyed, demanding attention. I could not do anything as I bent over, finding yourself trapped in a helpless and utterly embarrassing pose. She must have noticed I was aroused, as a gloved finger poked at my vagina and then slipped into my ass to check I wasn’t hiding anything in my cavities, but she didn’t say or do anything as she pulled out. I hated her in that moment, for not taking advantage of me even though it would be monumentally unprofessional. I wouldn’t have complained if she had fucked me with her fingers or her lips or even a strap-on, I wouldn’t have minded if she had made me eat her out or do something, anything, no matter how obscene, as long as my needs were tended to. But she did nothing.
“Stand up,” she ordered. “Lock your hands behind your back. Follow me.”
I obeyed, helplessly, as you walk through another set of doors. It was a second waiting chamber, larger than the first, a handful of naked men and women sitting on cold metal benches and waiting to be seen by the judge. Their hands were held behind their backs. I couldn’t help noticing that many of the men had erections, their cocks monumentally stiff as they waited. The woman weren’t so obviously excited, but I could practically smell their arousal. I sat and waited, the pulsing between my legs increasingly uncomfortable. If one of those men had broken free and commanded me to bend over to be fucked, I would have done so without hesitation. I was not normally a submissive woman, certainly not on the first date, but now …
It was the most maddening time of my life. I had never wanted something, anything, to happen as much as I did while I was waiting to be seen by the judge. The heat between my legs was overwhelming. And yet, I could do nothing but wait as time went by, each second feeling like an hour until it was finally called into the next room. The judge didn’t seem to notice that I was naked. It seems the final ultimate insult, after everything I’ve been through to get my story, not to have my body noticed. But, like a doctor, he must have seen so many naked prisoners, male or female, that he no longer cared.
“You may talk freely to me, if no one else,” he said. His face was grim, but his voice was almost kind. “Do you want to remain here overnight?”
I found I could speak once again. “No, Your Honour,” I said. It felt as though I was taking the coward’s way out, and perhaps I was, but my emotions were a mess and there was a bit of me that just wanted to go home and finger myself into orgasm. Again, and again, and again. “I think I’ve learnt my lesson.”
He surprised me by laughing. “I guess you have that, at that,” he said. “Are you going to do something this stupid ever again?
I shook my head. “Definitely not.”
The judge dismissed me. Another policewoman led me into the changing room, where my clothes and personal possessions were waiting for me. I was still under the spell, but I had a little more freedom to dress myself before making my way outside. Officer Doran was waiting for me.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said. “I’ll release you from the spell when we get back to your apartment.”
The hell of it was I didn’t want to be released. I was suddenly very aware of his body as he led me outside and helped me into the police car. I wanted him inside me. I wanted … a shiver ran through me as he drove back to my apartment, talking about nothing.
He glanced back at me. “What do you want to do now?”
The words came unbidden from my lips. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Really?”
I couldn’t have lied, even without the spell. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me have sex with you. I want you to bend over and fuck me. I want …”
We parked outside my apartment. I was very glad none of my neighbours were in view as he ordered me upstairs and into my living room. My body did as it was told. It was exciting and scary and the scariness made it exciting once again.
He closed the door behind us. “Take off your clothes. Make it look good.”
My hands moved of their own accord, slowly removing my carpets one by one. His eyes lingered on my breasts, devouring them, as I played with them, before my hands dropped to push my jeans and panties to the floor. I felt a shudder of excitement as my hands rose again, brushing against my pussy and slowly slipping into me. The surge of excitement was so great that I came on the spot, my entire body convulsing about my fingertips as if they were an imaginary cock. His eyes never left me as I shuddered time and time again, my fingers moving in and out of me.
His voice was breathy. “Undress me.”
I did as I was told, carefully undressing him piece by piece. His body was surprisingly muscular, his cock as big as I could have wished and more. I shuddered lightly as I took him in hand, my fingers moving up and down as his arousal deepened. His orders, when they came, where everything I wanted.
“Turn around. Bend over. Rest your hands against the wall.”
I obeyed, shuddering in delight as I felt his cock slipping into me. He grunted, raw and animalistic, as he realised how wet I was, how easy it was to ram his shaft deep into me. I had turned him on so much it felt like bare seconds before he came inside me, shooting his load deep into me. I barely noticed. The shock of the orgasm was so strong it nearly left me comatose. I almost fainted on the spot.
“Was it what you wanted?”
I spoke against my will, one final time. “Yes. Yes it was.”
He tapped me with his wand. I felt my entire body shake as the spell lifted, control returning to me. Another flurry of emotions ran through me, shame and fear at being so helpless, so completely at their mercy, mingling with arousal and a certain desire for it to happen again and again. I understood, now, why so many people I had interviewed for the background had been so ambient about the whole experience. It had been strange, like being made to feel excited against your will. And yet, I had volunteered for the experience. I had …
Officer Doran helped me to sit down. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, relishing the feeling of not having to answer his question. My body felt weird, as if I was both a free woman and somehow his property, even though the charm was gone. I didn’t have to do anything he told me any longer. And yet … I eyed his crotch, wondering when he’d be ready to do it again. It had been a great fuck and yet it hadn’t been anything like enough.
He grinned at me. “How much of this are you going to put in your story?”
I had no answer. I had sworn to be honest. I didn’t have to describe how he had fucked me, after driving me home, to detail what had happened from the moment I had been placed under his control until I had been released from jail. And yet, the sexual arousal was part of the story. But I write a proper without mentioning how the whole affair had been exciting and scary at the same time?
“I’ll think about it,” I said, finally. God alone knew what the editor was going to say, if I told him everything that had happened. Even if I stuck to the being in jail part, it was going to be a difficult story to write and harder still to edit. “I …”
I stared at him, feeling desire pulsing between my legs. “Can we do that again one day? Not the going to jail part, I mean, but the fucking. The fucking under your command.”
He smiled, and reached for his wand. “I thought you would never ask.”
And then he put me under his control once again.