劳伦·赖斯站在全身镜前，微微侧头，对着镜中的倒影。这套警察服装的选择颇为大胆——她以前从未穿过，但紧贴身形的造型让她感觉强大、大胆，还带着一丝顽皮。挺括的海军蓝衬衫紧贴着她的曲线，整齐地塞进配套的迷你裙里。她乌黑的头发盘在鸭舌帽下，银色的警徽在帽檐上方闪闪发光。黑色长袜一直垂到靴子，一个玩具枪套紧紧地套在大腿上。

她深吸一口气，缓缓呼出，感觉熟悉的紧张和兴奋在胃里翻涌。奈特先生一直鼓励她爱玩的一面，今晚她要以另一种方式回报他。

她调整手机角度，自拍了几张——有些照片里是警官严厉的目光，有些则是揶揄的嘟嘴。她快速浏览了一遍，为自己看起来如此令人信服而得意地笑了笑。她给奈特先生发了一条短信，并附上简单的说明：“先生，已准备好接受检查。”

几乎立刻，她的屏幕亮了起来，显示一条回复。

“我正在路上。在我到之前，请蒙上眼睛。”

她读了两遍短信，心中涌起一丝期待。她的手指摸到了之前铺好的柔软的白色围巾——她预感他会提出这样的要求。围巾折叠起来，放在眼前，感觉凉爽顺滑。她轻轻地在脑后打了一个结，世界顿时陷入黑暗，她静静地站了一会儿，让自己的感官变得敏锐。她身上的香水味在空气中飘荡。靴子踩在地板上发出的轻微嘎吱声比平时更响。她的心跳在胸腔里，持续地跳动着。

等待的时间很短，但期待却让她感觉漫长得多。她听到门锁开锁、打开、关上的声音。轻柔的脚步声穿过房间。

“赖斯警官，”奈特先生说道，语气浑厚，充满赞许。“你看起来太漂亮了，有人怀疑你太危险了。”

她轻声笑了笑，双手仍然垂在身体两侧。“是吗？”

他绕着她缓缓走了一圈，让寂静持续下去。她能感觉到他的目光落在她身上——落在她精心准备的每一个细节上。然后：

“站直。慢慢转过身——我要看个全貌。”

劳伦遵从了命令，在原地慢慢旋转。布料的沙沙声和皮革轻微的嘎吱声在寂静中回荡。她无需观看就能感受到他的赞许。

“现在，面向镜子。双手平放在玻璃上。”

这命令让她浑身一阵新的颤抖。她向前走去，直到手指触碰到冰凉的表面。镜子在她掌心下光滑，与她脸颊上涌起的温暖形成了鲜明的对比。

他走到她身后，近到她能感觉到他的存在——虽然不算触碰，但同样令人心潮澎湃。然后开始搜身。他的手从她的肩膀开始，滑下手臂，在手腕处徘徊。然后到她的身体两侧，抚摸着她的腰部、臀部，再到大腿。他的动作缓慢而彻底，既正式又亲密。

“警官，你摆出一副很不礼貌的样子，”他在她耳边低声说道。

“我认罪，”她低声回应。

他一言不发地解开了她腰带上的玩具手铐。手铐发出轻柔的咔哒声，但最终还是响了起来，她的手腕被反铐在身后。她轻轻地试了试束缚，眼罩后露出了微笑。

奈特先生双手稳稳地扶着她的肩膀，把她从镜子前领走。“我们去沙发上坐吧。你需要一点时间反思一下你的……行为。”

穿过房间的路程很短，但每一步都步步为营。她坐下后，他跪在她面前。她能感觉到胶带顺滑地贴在脚踝上，稳固但不生硬。每一层都小心翼翼地贴着，从小腿到膝盖上下，再到大腿。他的手稳重而从容，从不慌乱。

“先生，您做得真周到，”她轻声说道。

“我认真对待我的职责。”

最后，他起身，再次绕到她身后。她能感觉到胶带缠绕在她上臂和胸部时带来的轻柔张力，胶带紧紧地包裹着她，却又不失呼吸的自由。与其说是严格，不如说是象征——这身束缚的服装与她的角色完美契合。

然后，他后退一步，欣赏着自己的成果。

“好了，”他说。“你被安全软禁了。你的判决是：坐在那里，享受每一秒。”

劳伦轻声地、心满意足地叹了口气。眼罩增强了一切——被注视的感觉，被呵护的感觉，踏入一个充满想象力的世界。

他没再说一句话。他不需要说。

她听到他的脚步声短暂地远去，然后又回到附近——无声的陪伴，让这一刻萦绕。她只能挣扎着抵抗着严酷的束缚，过了一会儿，他回来了，这次他拿着一根Doxy性爱魔杖，用它让她达到了[X_X]……Lauren Rice stood in front of her full-length mirror, tilting her head slightly as she took in the reflection. The police costume was a daring choice — not something she’d ever worn before, but the way it hugged her frame made her feel powerful, bold, and just a little mischievous. The crisp navy-blue shirt clung to her curves, tucked neatly into the matching mini skirt. Her dark hair was tucked beneath a peaked cap, the silver badge glinting just above the brim. Black stockings stretched down to her boots, and a toy holster hugged her thigh.


She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling that familiar flutter of nerves and excitement building in her stomach. Mr. Knight had always encouraged her playful side, and tonight was her way of returning the favor.


She angled her phone and snapped a few selfies — some with a stern officer's stare, others with a teasing pout. She reviewed them quickly, smirking at how convincing she looked. She sent one off to Mr. Knight with a simple caption:


“Ready for inspection, sir.”


Almost immediately, her screen lit up with a response.


"On my way. Blindfold yourself before I get there."


She read the message twice, a pulse of anticipation coursing through her. Her fingers found the soft, white scarf she had laid out earlier — she had a feeling he’d make such a request. The cloth was cool and smooth as she folded it and brought it to her eyes. With a gentle knot behind her head, the world faded into darkness, and she stood still for a moment, letting her senses sharpen. The scent of her perfume hung lightly in the air. The faint creak of the floor beneath her boots sounded louder than usual. Her heart thudded steadily in her chest.


The wait was short, but the anticipation made it feel far longer. She heard the door unlock, open, and close. Quiet footsteps crossed the room.


“Officer Rice,” Mr. Knight said, his voice rich and approving. “You’re under suspicion of looking dangerously good.”


She laughed softly, hands still resting at her sides. “Is that so?”


He walked a slow circle around her, letting the silence draw out. She could feel his eyes on her — on every detail she’d so carefully prepared. Then:


“Stand tall. Turn around slowly — I want a full view.”


Lauren obeyed, spinning slowly on the spot. The rustle of fabric and the quiet creak of leather played in the stillness. She could feel his approval without needing to see it.


“Now, face the mirror. Hands flat against the glass.”


The order sent a fresh thrill through her. She stepped forward until her fingers touched the cool surface. The mirror was smooth beneath her palms, a stark contrast to the warmth rising in her cheeks.


He stepped in behind her, close enough that she could feel his presence — not quite touching, but electric all the same. Then came the frisk. His hands started at her shoulders, sliding down her arms, lingering at her wrists. Then to her sides, brushing over her waist, her hips, down her thighs. His movements were slow, thorough, a mixture of formality and intimacy.


“You’re carrying a lot of attitude, officer,” he murmured near her ear.


“I plead guilty,” she whispered back.


Without another word, he unclipped the toy handcuffs from her belt. The click of the cuffs was soft but final as her wrists were drawn behind her back and secured. She tested the restraint gently, smiling behind the blindfold.


Mr. Knight guided her away from the mirror with steady hands on her shoulders. “Let’s move to the sofa. You’ll need a moment to reflect on your… conduct.”


The journey across the room was short, but each step was measured. When she sat, he knelt before her. She felt the smooth press of tape at her ankles, firm but not harsh. Each layer was applied with care, wrapping up her calves, above and below the knees, then her thighs. His hands were sure and deliberate, never rushing.


“You’re being very thorough, sir,” she said softly.


“I take my duty seriously.”


Finally, he rose and circled behind her again. She felt the gentle tension as tape was wound around her upper arms and chest, snug enough to hold her, but with room to breathe. It was more symbolic than strict — a costume of restraint that matched her role perfectly.


Then, he stepped back, admiring his work.


“There,” he said. “You’re secured and under house arrest. Your sentence: to sit there and enjoy every second.”


Lauren gave a quiet, contented sigh. The blindfold heightened everything — the sense of being observed, of being cared for, of stepping into a world where imagination was queen.


He didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.


She heard his footsteps retreat briefly before returning to settle nearby — silent company, letting the moment linger. She's left to struggle against her strict bondage, then after a while he returns, this time with a Doxy sex wand which he uses on her to bring her to climax...