Maureen Roberts strolled through the busy streets of Chicago with a smile on her face the size of the universe. She was exceedingly happy and so was her pussy after being deliciously fucked by the most generous slice of cock in her stable. It was a privilege all who served her dreamed of, but only a select few ever got the chance of turning such dream into an unforgettable reality. Jones - a.k.a. Slave 273 -, had earned his prize after sacrificing an insane amount of money on her the year before, quite an achievement for someone whose first words after they met were "I'm not into Financial Domination." Over little eighteen months of devotion, he had learned he was to like only what she did and now all of his fetishes were an inseparable extension of her will. It was fucking awesome!
Like every woman, she had her routines and beauty rituals, and one of her dearest was starting the year with a tour of favorite stores, a never-ending hunt for both fashion and comfort. If there was one thing Maureen loved more than going shopping was doing so with fresh slave money on her bank account. Yes, for the thirty-three-year-old dominant brunette was living a beautiful life, luxury becoming her every step of the way. It had all begun in her college days when she realized frustrated men were too easy to manipulate. Her older brother was the first to fall for her newly discovered vixen charms, then his hockey team mates, followed by far too many teachers. It was all so simple and better yet, so deliciously entertaining. Being in control just made sense.
In the years that followed, she learned to categorize men in three separate tiers: the "Supreme Alphas" composed of those so far up their asses that the prospect of serving a woman was worse than a deadly sin; the Open Betas who had gracefully accepted their inferiority towards women and were always on the lookout for opportunities to be of service; and the Unknowing Bitches who had yet to discover their true potential under a strong female’s rule. Putting the first in their proper place was always great fun, the second served their purpose in the food chain, making her life easier at a snap of her fingers but the third... oh, the third is what she truly lived for! The thrill of being the first to leave a long-lasting impression on an easily suggestible mind to the point where it couldn't no longer function properly without her guidance and command was unparalleled. Some would claim it to be dangerous, perhaps even cruel. To her, it was just another Saturday.
When she entered Bloom’s Department Store that morning, it was a little past ten, yet the place was already packed. As expected, most of the shoppers were women, a few with their betas of choice in tow, credit cards on the ready as they should. She liked to watch the young couples as they unearthed the beauty of female-led relationships, but the older ones deserved greater respect. Maureen smiled from head to toe when she noticed the late-fifties woman standing at the eastern aisle while her husband kneeled next to her. His half-dreamy gaze as he held the nth pair of shoes she was trying on was more than love, but rather an expression of years of formal conditioning to her every whim. “Way to go, sister. That’s how you do it,” she thought.
She was still lost in her cogitations when a petite cerulean-eyed blonde wearing the traditional green and black uniform of the store came to her, plastered smile reeking of the desire of getting a quick sale out of her. “Good morning," she said, the perfect row of white teeth doing barely nothing to contain the rottenness beneath them. "May I help you find what you're looking for?”
Maureen’s sultry gaze roved the entire store before acknowledging her presence. She was looking for someone, a very special person and when she found him, drowning in boxes of sandals that should have been stored in the warehouse ages ago, she replied: “No. I want him.”
The blonde shrugged, the spirit of unhealthy competition surfacing on her glossy pink lips. “Tim? Are you sure? Because I don’t think he’s what someone like you deser...”
“I said… him.” Maureen shushed her. “Go get him for me. Now!”
“But of course,” the blonde replied, fumigating on the inside. “Anything for our customers.”
Timothy Rogers - Tim for friends and foes alike, not that he had many of both - was a quiet and unassuming young man whose aspirations of becoming a renowned novelist died the moment he realized he couldn’t plot a story over two thousand words no matter how much he tried. A dreamer in every sense of the word, he would start multiple projects at a time only to come to terms with the fact that not a single one of them gave him an inkling of satisfaction. Working at retail, especially in a store mostly aimed at women was far from ideal, yet it helped pay the bills while he pondered on what to do next with his life. He hated the blonde almost as much as she hated him. What was her name again? Jackie? Jules?
“Ah, Janice, how could I forget?”, He muttered as he glanced at her name tag when she stopped in front of him. He didn’t look at her perfect round boobs, but that didn’t stop her from saying he did.
“The pervert strikes again, I see. Someone specifically asked for you. I don‘t understand why would anyone do that, but there’s always a first time for everything. Try not to screw this up, okay?” Janice grimaced, her mean streak in full view. She had been eyeing the position of Store Manager for over ten months now, something he hoped she would never get for, if she did, he would most certainly have to find a new job the day after.
Tim peeked behind her. Maureen was six-foot-three in heels, brown curly hair with golden highlights framing an immaculate face. Her make-up was soft and almost invisible save for a bit of blush and a light brown lipstick. She wore a long-sleeved burgundy jersey top and a pair of tight black jeans hugged her waist, yet the casual look was anything but if one bothered to look at the signature brands on each piece. As a living Goddess, she looked good in everything even fluffy pajamas and bunny slippers but none of her pets had ever seen her in those.
“Do you know her?” He timidly asked.
“No, don’t remember ever seeing her before but it’s obvious she’s loaded so do your best to convince her to buy more than she wants, okay?”
“I’ll try.” He replied even though he hated that part of the job. Yes, just like everyone else, he received an extra if he could meet his weekly quota and more, but why impose instead of letting things run its course? People often told him he was too good for his own tastes, sometimes, and therefore it was no wonder seeing failures piled up one after the other. “And Janice?”
“What?”
“Do you mind taking care of these boxes for me in the meantime?”
“Hell no!” She turned his back on him. “I would do it if Marjorie asked but since she didn’t, that responsibility is all on you. Leave them there for all I care. I still need twenty more sales until the end of the day.”
“Typical...” He sighed. It was because of attitudes like that she would never be a good manager but telling that to her face was almost as the same as saying loud and clear: “I have a death wish”, and he didn’t. Not at that moment, at least.
Apart from his mother and a childhood friend he had lost contact with last Summer, no one knew how those thoughts had once run free inside his mind yet taking his own life was both too easy and too obvious when things went down the drain. Tim was many things, but he wasn’t a coward, so he sucked it up, held strong, and was still alive to tell the tale. Whether he would remain that way after meeting an unashamed Female Supremacist remained to be be seen though. He laid down the boxes in a corner, made sure they didn’t get in anyone’s way and rushed to meet her.
“Apologies for keeping you waiting, Miss. I’m Tim. How may I be of service to you, today?”
“Saying that again is a good start,” Maureen replied, dark brooding eyes focused on his drooping shoulders. “Yep, you have BITCH written all over you but you don’t know it yet.” She thought.
“Say what? How may I be of service to you today?”
“Exactly. Many people seem to forget that very important word but I don’t. Service is a wonderful thing and I’m sure you’ll serve me well, Tim.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He smiled though his was genuine.
“I know,” she agreed, right hand brushing against his collar. Unlike Janice, the color of the uniform looked good on him though she had other chromatic impressions in mind. All of her favorite pets looked good in pink. So would he sooner than later. “Tim...”
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for this beautiful pair of thigh-high leather boots with two silver buckles on each side that used to be on display until last week and now I can’t seem to find them anywhere. I take it you know the item I’m talking about.”
“Yes, of course. They’re quite the popular model but I’m not sure if we still have them on your size.” He looked at her Stella McCartney lace platform brogues. He had never seen them in black before. Custom-made perhaps? Loaded, indeed, if that were the case. “You wear a 7? 7.5?”
“It’s actually an 8, dear, but don’t tell me you don’t have them in stock. I came all the way here on purpose to get them.”
“We moved some things around recently because a new collection just came out. I need to take a look. Can you wait here a minute or two, please?”
“If you promise that’s all it takes, yes,” she bit her lower lip, a flirting gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. “Is she mocking me?” Tim’s inner voice queried him.
He left her by the entrance under Janice’s watchful and prying gaze. Unbeknownst to him, she was thinking the same thing, her natural curiosity firing in all directions. “What game are you playing?” She mumbled.
As if she had heard her which was physically impossible given the distance between them, Maureen stared deep into her eyes, charisma and seduction irradiating like a living magnet. Gaze locked, the Femdom sashayed to where she stood and asked:
“Shouldn’t you be working instead of spying on your co-workers? Do I need to make a complaint to your supervisor?”
“I wasn’t doing anything of the...” Janice tried to reply but was immediately silenced by a vigorous slap on her right wrist.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
“Be quiet. I wasn't finished talking." Maureen slapped her again.
"Look, lady, I don't know what your problem is but you can't just go around doing stuff like..."
The third slap hit hardest, a sting her delicate skin wasn't ready for. Janice coiled as Maureen's indomitable will shone through, sparkling light on her pupils, a bemused expression adorning her angelical visage.
"My problem is that you're continuing to respond to me instead of doing as I commanded. Just so you know, your attitude may fool everyone else around here but I know your type as well, submissive girl.”
Janice’s cheeks immediately turned red, embarrassment rushing like a tidal wave that would obliterate everything in its path. “Excuse me? Submissive girl, my ass! You have no idea what you're talking about! Are you high or something?"
Maureen grabbed the left sleeve of her uniform and reeled her in, their lips coming so close together she almost feel the impression of a kiss.
"Silly little slut. If I had a dime for every bitch I've come across that swears left and right they're anything but, I wouldn't have to worry about anything for the rest of my days. I said be quiet, and I don't like to repeat myself. Here's the thing: I only play with men but, if I didn't, I would gladly teach you a lesson in public about how to address your superiors. I don't want to see you gawking at the two of us while I'm in here, is that clear?"
"Let me go right now or I swear I'll scream." Janice fumed.
"You're talking out of hand again." Maureen shook her head. "Are you sure you want to continue to test my patience?"
"I'm sure you're crazy. Let. Me. Go!"
"I guess you leave me no choice then." The Femdom purred, waving two fingers before her eyes while she continued to exert pressure on her sore wrist. Instinctively, the nosy employee followed the flutter, an imaginary butterfly dancing in the unsuspecting corners of her mind. The butterfly flapped its wings, a sweet breeze mimicking the promise of the kiss that had not come to pass.
"I'll let you go if you let go." Maureen smirked.
"Huh?" Janice licked her lips without conscious awareness of doing so.
"If you let go, you'll drop."
A fog of words and thoughts descended between them as the butterfly continued to hover. "What are you...?"
"All you want to do is drop."
Maureen opened her hand, fingers retracting like slithering snakes. The fog grew thicker, the butterfly brushed Janice's forehead all the way to the base of her slightly hooked nose and she fell to the ground to meet her shoes, devoid of balance or any willful intent."The more you stare, the more you drop. The more you drop, the less you think. Dropping is all you're good for, you dumb bitch. Now, unless you want me to make you kiss my shoes for everyone to see until your tongue grows numb, you will simply say 'Thank you, Maureen. I'll stay out of your way now."
"I..." Janice’s tongue was stuck, glued to the corners of her mouth by the uncontained surge of her rapid hypnotic induction. She was completely overwhelmed and at the brink of ecstasy.
"You may only say what I want you to. Do it."
"Thank you, Maureen. I'll stay out of your way now." She droned, the veil over her mind beginning to thin.
"Then stand up and get out of here, slut!" Maureen spanked her sorry ass. It was a single blow, so swift and imperceptible but both felt the rush of genuine power exchange coming to life and the entranced girl responded in the most predictable way possible. Juicy drips ran down her thighs as she bit her tongue and muttered:
“Fuck!”
Tim returned the next moment, three card boxes under his right arm, wondering if he had missed anything important. Without looking at him even once, Janice left in a hurry and sought refuge in the girl’s bathroom, suddenly possessed by the deep desire to masturbate herself to oblivion.
“There you are, Tim, but you took more than two minutes.” Maureen declared, tapping her left foot.
“Ah, yes... apologies but I had to run to the warehouse to see if there was any pair left and...”
“You couldn’t find any.”
“No, we’re all sold out, I’m sorry. However, I brought along the next best thing.”
“That’s sweet, but I only wanted that pair.” Maureen pouted. “Oh, well... one can’t have them all although that’s not something I’m used to saying.”
“I’m sure you’ll love these other boots, too. Please, let me show them to you.”
Maureen eyed him from top to bottom. “Well, if you’re that eager to please me...”
“This way.” He motioned her to the nearest seat, a comfortable black leather stool in front of a rectangular mirror that ran the entire height of the store. In its reflection, she saw the confused look of another employee who had been looking her way when Janice temporarily lost her mind and cocked her head. Curious... just how many bitches worked there, anyway?
“What have you got for me other than that burning desire to be of service then?” She asked.
"For starters, I've got these."
The first pair was practically identical to the one she was lusting after telling old Matt how much she needed it in her life. Matthew Goodson or how she liked to call him “Door-Matt” was one of her long-time servants, the first man she had enslaved after college. A slimy lawyer who yearned to become a slimier judge, he had nothing to say when addressing her except ‘Yes, Mistress’ and those were the types of opening and closing arguments she preferred above all.
“Cute, but they only have one buckle though and they’re not shiny enough.”
“You prefer them shiny?”
“I’m proud to say I like to be the center of attentions.” Maureen laid down the first pair of boots to the side.
“I can see that.” He thought. The second pair had killer heels, perfect for a bit of trampling after hours and the shine was definitely there, yet the most important detail of them all was absent.
“Sorry Tim, but no buckles, No buy.”
“Why are they so important?” He asked. More than small talk, he was already drawn to her radiant charm, just like he was supposed to.
“Simple. Ever heard the expression ‘buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride?’”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Bumpy is good and so is hard. Hard things on the floor, for instance. Or in your pants.”
“H-hard, you say?” He gasped, cock straining as if she had just given him a phantom hand job.
“Yes, just like that..." Maureen smirked. He looked even cuter when he began sweating. "Another pair, please.”
“Here you go.” He opened the last box.
The third pair of boots was the tallest of the lot, going all the way up to her toned ass. The buckle was small, but it was there, with a wavy pattern that moved rhythmically as the light hit it. She was pleased with his choice.
“Oh, that’s nice. I really like that.” She traced the outline of the pattern with her right index finger, the black sheen of the boots calling to her while effortlessly demanding his attention.
“Glad you think so.”
"Do you like them too?"
"They're very nice."
"Just nice? Surely you can do better than that, Tim. Unless you think I'm the kind of woman that should settle for nice things instead of the very best that life has to offer..."
"I wouldn't dream of saying anything like that."
"What would you dream about then? And where in your dreams would you find me?"
"Well..."
"Awww... look who's blushing. Am I making you feel uncomfortable?"
"No."
"Liar. Don't ever lie to me, Tim. I can always tell. It's getting harder and harder for you, isn't it?"
"Hmmm..."
"It was also hard for Janice but not any more. Everything can be as easy as you wish it to be if you agree to do something for me right now."
"O-okay." He gulped.
"Look closely at my boots. Can you see your reflection in them already?"
"Yes." He leaned closer, the smell of the fabric intoxicating his nostrils, her long legs engulfing his entire world.
"Describe it to me. What do you see when you look at yourself looking at my boots?"
Tim took a deep breath and peered through the blackness, focused only on her. The boots stood still yet they were already walking inside his thoughts, small steps towards an inevitable stride, juggling emotions on a road to submission. Black was black, but it also could be blue, like his swollen balls under the spiked heels, a dangerous proposition he wasn't sure how to deny.
"I see power. It's leaking."
"Leaking away from you?"
"Yes. " Pre-cum bubbled at the tip of his cock as the reflection of his half-dreamy gaze stared back at him, smirking.
"Power is something special. Those who have it and know how to wield it, are always aware of who is drawn to it and simply can't resist and those that want it gone, get so lost in that desire that they instantly enter an altered state of mind in its presence. Power is hypnotic and hypnotic things easily hypnotize you. I would say you're getting hypnotized by my boots and my voice but I would be lying. You can't be getting hypnotized when you're already are, isn't that right?"
He nodded silently, the chronicle of his inevitable acquiescence replicated a thousand times or more. Her voice mirrored his soul, perfection at the tip of his fingers.
"I like easily hypnotized boys. Do you know what else I like, Tim?"
“When people do as you say, no questions asked?” He retorted, his voice trailing off as if it were a mere echo in a cavernous mountain.
“You’re a quick learner just like I knew you would be. Tim, I want these boots and even though I have money to burn, I don’t want to pay for them so what do you plan to do about it?”
“I... hmmm... if you’re suggesting I give them to you...”
“I didn’t suggest a thing, dear, you did. I will, however, accept your generous offer if you insist.”
“I can’t afford these... not with my salary. I'm sorry.” He lowered his gaze to the floor as if he had committed the most heinous of crimes.
“But if you could, you would, right? Even though I’m a complete stranger who's playing with your mind.”
“Yes.” He blushed once more. Anyone looking at him that moment would see a living-size pepper instead of a man. His bulging shaft pressing against the boot heels wouldn't go unnoticed either.
“Good. I love money but that willful submission in your voice is all I wanted to hear. I can still have fun with you, and I will.” She kissed his forehead and slipped a perfumed card inside his pants. "Come to this address once your shift is done and we can talk about all the things you'll willingly do for me from now on, pet."
Maureen got up and exited the store, leaving a very distraught young man behind. Less than a minute gone by, he too rushed to the bathroom, the sound of Janice’s muffled moans on the adjacent wall mixing with his own.
"Is that you, Tim?" She huffed, two fingers stuck in her pussy and two more prodding her tender ass. She couldn't stop nor did she want to.
"Y-es." He shivered, fighting against the rebellious fly denying him from the pleasures of senseless ejaculation.
"That woman, she..."
"I know."
"I don't know what she did to me, but I need more. God, why do I need her so fucking much?"
"You're hypnotized. Just like me, and it's glorious." He faced the bathroom stall door. It was pure white, and dripping nothingness.
"It feels so good. Hmmm... Oh, Maureen..."
Tim and Janice came together, their bodies quivering senselessly. Both had been touched by the most enrapturing of graces yet only one would get to experience it again. His luck was her painstaking woe and he couldn't wait for the sun to go down.
Bathing in the radiance outside, Maureen checked her phone and rejoiced. Another slave had just added five hundred dollars to her daily budget, enough for the shopping spree to last a while longer. It was a promising start to another festival of dominance. If she had a dime for each and everyone she would end up ensnaring and bringing to heel, good old Scrooge McDuck's Money Bin would be more than a cartoon fantasy. The year was young and full of bitches waiting to be taken, conditioned, reshaped. She was ready to take the plunge. No one would escape.
