undercover

At some point I stumbled across a story about a young policewoman who was investigating undercover in the red light district.

It was written by "Saunawelt" a few years ago. I hope "he" or "she" doesn't take it amiss if I take up this thought again without being asked.

What happened until now. Bettina is a policewoman, young blonde, pretty. She is smuggled undercover into a club. Only her "boss" there, Madame "Colette" is involved in the operation. She ignores warnings from a colleague.

She is dressed in the club and already experiences her first baptism of fire with many men she has to serve. Your behavior is completely contrary to your bourgeois stuffy life. She recognizes a deep-seated submissive inclination that comes to the surface as soon as she is humiliated.

Maybe you read the original story yourself because now my sequel follows as I imagine it:

So far my story has been told, but now I will tell you how my life slowly but surely got on the joints.

In the early morning, dressed in the clothes from our reserve room, I ordered a civilian vehicle that took me to the station. I was finally able to get out of those damn high-heeled shoes and, even though I was 10 cm smaller, I was happy to feel solid ground under my feet again. I carefully removed makeup and lipstick. Finally I was Bettina again, if only for hours. In the early afternoon I woke up in our apartment with a pounding head. The effects of the in the champagne had worn off and after taking an aspirin I felt better. Uwe, my friend opened the apartment door around 5 p.m. He has a job as an accountant at a chemical company. Uwe is a rock-solid, really productive guy with no discernible flaws, what made me believe so far to love and respect him. He was the man I would one day have children with. I thought rituals strengthen a community. So it was clear to me that Uwe would first put the briefcase down in the hallway, then he would swap the patent-leather shoes for comfortable Birkenstock slippers, and then he would greet me with a happy "Hello my darling" and kiss me on the forehead. After I confirmed my love to him he asked like every day. "Well, how was your day and how was your mission yesterday?" after that he would exchange the patent leather shoes for comfortable Birkenstock slippers and next greet me with a joyful "Hello my darling" and kiss me on the forehead. After I confirmed my love to him he asked like every day. "Well, how was your day and how was your mission yesterday?" after that he would exchange the patent leather shoes for comfortable Birkenstock slippers and next greet me with a joyful "Hello my darling" and kiss me on the forehead. After I confirmed my love to him he asked like every day. "Well, how was your day and how was your mission yesterday?"

I had already laid out the lies carefully. "I slept until just now, it was a long night. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anything about the investigation, sorry. Only that we're investigating in one of the nightclubs. I even had to adapt to the clothing style of the girls working there, but I'll tell you , that's boring and totally sucks. I even had to wear high heels." Uwe was still so busy thinking about his work that he probably didn't even notice how nervous I was. Last night I had to suck a few cocks from complete strangers to start with and this Peter had totally thrown me off the hook with his demanding, dominant manner.

Uwe was probably glad that I didn't tell so much and just said, "You must have looked ridiculous in high heels and lipstick." And then he told me about his job, which didn't interest me at all. Yes, we've been a couple for a long time and suddenly I realized how stuck things were with us. Everything had its fixed order. Just like the sex. It was there on Saturday evenings from 10 p.m. depending on the TV program. Uwe wasn't a particularly good lover, but it had never bothered me before. After sex he fell asleep immediately so I could read another round.

In the evening I said goodbye to Uwe, who was very absorbed in listening to the 8 p.m. news. Kisses on the forehead. Uwe murmured the standard sentence of the evening when I had to go to work at night. "Bye see you tomorrow, take care, love you" and I was on my way to the police station.

I quickly slipped into the wide leather skirt from the day before, with stockings and suspenders I didn't have as much trouble getting dressed as the day before. The heels made me a little uncomfortable at first, but soon I was confident in them again. Like the day before, I was awaited by appreciative whistles from my male colleagues and of course my driver, who drove me to the club today without a word.

Had I now expected to experience an adventure every evening, I saw myself deceived. Although I had to put on the high patent leather boots and put on the tight leather mini again, I was hardly noticed. Madame Colette had assigned me to work at the counter, which turned out to be absolutely boring today. A single guest sat down on the bar stool in front of the counter that evening and after only the second beer, he began to babble on about any problems with his "old lady" and how frigid and ugly she was. His compliments were so jaded that I yawned several times. Later, of course, she brought me a rebuke from "Madame". "We treat every guest with the same courtesy and friendliness, right?" she asked me in a general's tone. I nodded sheepishly.

So this evening was absolutely "for naught" as the saying goes. Not a suspect (because the old fatso didn't really strike me as picking up prostitutes by the dozen). Peter hadn't looked at me that evening. Maybe it was better that way. And so I mastered the second evening of my undercover mission without any problems. PS My feet were already hurting worlds less than on the first evening. The whistles at the station when I returned from my "night shift" went straight past me.

The following evenings also passed without any special events. Although I sat with the other girls in a kind of waiting room where potential customers could examine us, but none of these guys had chosen me. I pretended to be bored, always sat a little apart and never sought direct eye contact or a conversation with the customers, which of course my “colleagues” did all the more vehemently, after all they made their living from the job. They smoked lasciviously, allowed themselves to be wooed by piccolo after piccolo, and finally disappeared into their rooms with the suitors. It was fine with the whores, because without me there was one less competitor who reduced their earnings. Only Natalia, that was her club name, tried to integrate me. She offered me cigarettes, which of course I politely declined. Furthermore, she gave me tips on how to lure a client and even showed me the art of erotic make-up. How to spice up your mouth and give your eyes the bedroom look that most customers are into. She was like a friend to me.

At some point Madame Colette took me aside and gave me a sermon. She was the only one who knew about my mission. She was concerned that my cover would be blown if I continued to behave in such a prudish manner. I should kindly play along and finally take off the policewoman at least in the evening. It was hard for me even when I tried to act like a real whore.

Apparently Peter had also noticed how much it made me jump into the box with the first suitor. However, he was very rough in his speech. He would throw out a whore who didn't fuck, but he accused me of having the blessing of his boss. There was something dangerous but also attractive in his dark eyes. I got wet again when he reprimanded me. What was that? This submissive creature took possession of me as soon as he looked into my eyes.

And then came the evening that was to change my life and my views.

I followed Natalia's advice as far as possible and so I always put on some make-up and lipstick in the evenings.

I was just strutting to the bathroom to freshen up when I felt him on my back. Peter. My gait immediately became unsteady, although I could now walk perfectly in the long black boots.

Before I could close the door to the toilet he was already in the door frame. His hands gripped me like a vise and steered me in front of the mirror I wanted to step in front of anyway. Now I saw his diabolical gaze, just like mine, in the mirror. Without a word, he pushed my tight leather mini up so far that my bare buttocks were exposed. Ratsch, he routinely opened his zipper, took out his erect penis. Yes, back then it was still a "penis" for me, today I would call it a "hot hard cock". Before I knew it he had already pushed a finger between my labia. He parted them mercilessly and his finger penetrated my cunt. Satisfaction spread across his face because he felt just like me how wet and ready I already was. I couldn't react just saw our two faces in the mirror. The prudish but dressed up whore and her horny glasses. He was in complete control of me. He immediately pressed his cock mercilessly into my wet cunt. Yes, from that point on I had a cunt, a horny wet cunt. I sucked in the air, startled. The feeling was wonderful. He was so big, so demanding and so I sucked in the air with the next thrust and let it escape as soon as he pulled his tail back. Peter followed his elaborate plan. From the pocket of his white shirt he conjured up a long thin cigarette. Like Natalia and most whores smoke. I was too perplexed to understand what he was up to. would I have stopped him? I heard the lighter click as the next thrust of his hard cock catapulted me higher. Already with his next hard push he put the cigarette between my lips. I breathe in. The smoke immediately burst my lungs and I coughed. He didn't give me time. Breathed only a rough "It's good, my horny hooker. Smoke!!' My coughing subsided. And the fag was between my lips again. He pushed, I inhaled. I can no longer say how often this procedure was repeated. But I wanted it. I could have ended this game at any time, after all my training as a police officer was successful. I saw in the mirror a horny, made-up whore with smeared makeup. Tears were welling up from my eyes so much I had to cough at first. Now he pushed me harder. Again and again he slammed me violently against the sink I was leaning against. I wanted his cock, concentrated on the fuck. He didn't have to hold the fag anymore. She dangled in my hooker's mouth. I was a hooker, I wanted to get fucked and I wanted to smoke. With the cry of my salvation, the almost smoked butt fell into the sink. Almost at the same time I noticed the warm sauce, hot as a lava flow, paved the way to my boot shafts. I stood paralyzed in front of the mirror with my face twisted with lust and looked into the shiny eyes of the fucked whore. He didn't have to hold the fag anymore. She dangled in my hooker's mouth. I was a hooker, I wanted to get fucked and I wanted to smoke. With the cry of my salvation, the almost smoked butt fell into the sink. Almost at the same time I noticed the warm sauce, hot as a lava flow, paved the way to my boot shafts. I stood paralyzed in front of the mirror with my face twisted with lust and looked into the shiny eyes of the fucked whore. He didn't have to hold the fag anymore. She dangled in my hooker's mouth. I was a hooker, I wanted to get fucked and I wanted to smoke. With the cry of my salvation, the almost smoked butt fell into the sink. Almost at the same time I noticed the warm sauce, hot as a lava flow, paved the way to my boot shafts. I stood paralyzed in front of the mirror with my face twisted with lust and looked into the shiny eyes of the fucked whore.

Peter had already tucked his member away. "Get clean and put on your make-up, you're not here for fun after all," he snapped at me harshly. But in his hard face I also saw the triumphant smile of the winner. He fucked me and I smoked the first cigarette in my life. And I have to say there have been far worse things in my life. I enjoyed it. Every thrust he took and every puff on the cigarette.