Maureen Roberts sat outside a coffee shop in Lincoln Avenue, Chicago, dangling her expensive heels under the table. While the mesmerizing financial dominatrix was smiling, the truth is she was fuming on the inside. Derek, a.k.a. Slave 32, a.k.a. MoneyMutt had promised to meet her there at ten for a cash drop and he was already ten minutes late. She hated waiting - a superior Goddess should never have to do that! - but what irked her the most was the lack of communication. If something was the matter, he should report to her right away. Everybody gets stuck in traffic sometimes, but only jerks keep quiet about it. 
There was, of course, another explanation, one that also annoyed her to no end. Subs often chickened out, the voice in their heads telling them that their hard-earned money belonged to them and no one else. She had seen it happen time and time again even with the most experienced subjects, so why would he be any different?
Derek was a recent addition to her stable. If memory served her right, it hadn’t even been six months since he had been drawn to her. He had been recommended by a Domme friend of hers for being reliable and trustworthy and things progressed smoothly in the first couple of weeks. However, she soon noticed some hesitation creeping in now and then. Most of the time, doubts and fears could be conquered with a bit of subtle coaxing and manipulation but sometimes they kept on festering beyond control. If that had happened, there was nothing she could do except wait for a change of heart, but if that didn’t come to pass, well... MoneyMutt was no more.
Five more minutes elapsed, and she was about ready to call it quits and go home. Derek would be blocked for wasting her time and getting back on her good graces would cost him more than he could afford. She asked for the check and that’s when she noticed something that made her blood boil even more.
Two young women in their early twenties, a blue-eyed brunette dressed in black and a fake blonde with a spray tan so obnoxious that made her skin the color of a ripe mandarin were harassing the barista, a black man with a gentle smile who seemed confused at the verbal lashing he was being subjected to. The women were speaking from a position of privilege, their bank accounts filled with daddy’s money. The more they screamed the more they made Maureen’s head hurt. Now, she loved a good public humiliation but only when it was consensual and both parties gained something out of it. The scene she was witnessing was anything but that, just a form of senseless abuse over something as trivial as extra foam. It would have been easy to ignore the altercation like all the other customers on the premises were doing, but she was not that kind of woman. Maureen stood up, walked toward the counter, and said,
“I think that’s enough.”
The dirty blonde, who had been the loudest of the two complainants until that moment, cocked her head to look at her and fired the following reply,
“Who the fuck asked you anything, bitch? This is none of your business, so back off.”
“I’m making it my business,” Maureen declared, tapping her heels. She raised her sunglasses and punished the two women with an icy stare that could make even the strongest man in the world shake in his boots. “I said that’s enough, and I don’t like to repeat myself. Leave!”
The brunette pursed her lips and gulped, the primal instinct of survival kicking in. She was smart enough to recognize an apex predator when in the presence of one and made her intentions known.
“We better leave, Janice. Come on!” she said.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Janice growled. “The hell I’m leaving! We’re not done here.”
“I’d listen to your friend if I were you,” Maureen hissed almost silently, but the unnerving sound still reached their ears. June’s furious gaze met Maureen’s impassable strength and she blinked away, storming out of the coffee shop without saying another word. The findom glanced at them on their way out and smirked. Just as she suspected, those two were all talk and nothing more.
“Thank you,” the smiling barista nodded his head, “but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I only do what I want to do, and I can’t stand bullies,” Maureen replied. “You shouldn’t allow people to talk to you like that.”
“Dealing with stuff like that is almost part of the job’s description. Besides, the customer is always right.”
“Even when they’re wrong?”
“We’re not allowed to say things like that,” he shrugged.
“No. I suppose you’re not. Still, unless you enjoy having others walk all over you, you need to draw a line and stand firm on it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, Miss, I do,” he said but there was no genuine conviction in his voice. His body language was giving off all the wrong signs, too. Deep in his mind, all he wanted to do was to carry on with his shift and then clock out before any more trouble came his way. However, she had other plans.
“May I ask your name?” Maureen looked at his uniform and failed to see a name tag there.
“It’s Gregory, Miss.”
“Nice to meet you, Gregory. I’m Maureen. Is there any chance you can take five? I’d like a word with you.”
“My shift just started, Miss. This is very irregular.”
“I insist,” she declared. “And I’ll make it up to you for the lost time, I promise,” flashing a pair of C-notes before his eyes. “Find a way.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.”
Maureen headed to the front door and stared at the street outside. Derek was already a footnote in her perfect mind, one she could erase from existence with a wink. She didn’t have to look back to know that Gregory was already coming to meet her, his natural curiosity being put to the test by her dominant charm.
“Walk with me,” she said.
“I can only be gone for ten minutes max,” he replied.
“That will be more than enough for what I have in mind.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re about to find out.”
Gregory opened the door for her, and they both stepped out into the lively metropolis. The late November air was cold and moist, with the temperature around 35 ºF. Few people were walking around but the number of visible cars was astounding. They moved so fast that they were nothing but rainbow-colored blurs and if people stared at the colorful trails for too long, their minds were sure to slow down.
She stopped in front of a busy intersection, smiled at the befuddled man, and said,
“Tell me what you see.”
“People going about their business.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. Was I supposed to be noticing anything else?”
“You’re quite tense, Gregory. Relax a little, it will do you good.”
“Forgive me, but I’m thinking about...”
“Your job? You have nothing to worry about because I keep my promises. Right now, I would like to play a game with you if that’s okay. Choose a spot to look at and focus on the cars passing by. Name the brands you recognize in order or, if you’re not very good with names, just say the colors out loud, okay?”
“I don’t understand. What’s the point of this?”
“It’s one of those things that only makes sense without an explanation. I know we’ve only just met but I’m going to ask you to trust me.”
Gregory bit his lower lip, no doubt wondering what he had gotten himself into. Unlike the two women who had just tried to belittle him to feel good about themselves, he sensed no malice in Maureen’s words but had no clue what to make of them either. Still, if playing along meant a hefty tip, he could indulge her for a while.
“Okay. Colors then because they’re easier to follow.”
“When you’re ready then...” she stopped next to him, eyes fixated on his silky lips as he began to name them in quick succession.
“Red, black, black, white, gray, blue, black, yellow, gray, gray, white, green...”
The words flowed from his lips, and he quickly settled into a groove. The chromatic melody had no discernible pattern, but it was quite captivating, a soothing distraction from all the woes of customer service.
“Blue, black, white, gray, black, orange, red, red, white, yellow...” he continued, his pupils turning glassy. Maureen picked up the early signs of an altered state of consciousness right away, reached for his right hand, and whispered in his ears,
“Red is the color of passion, the fiery cravings we all have inside. Black is the color of the abyss that consumes all, even thoughts. White is the color of a mind stripped to its very core and willing to listen. Listen, Gregory. Listen to me. Keep looking at the cars that pass by, noticing their colors and the way your consciousness declines. It’s okay to drift away. You’re safe when you do so for me. Say the colors. Don’t stop and go deeper.”
“Black, yellow, purple, black, white, red, blue, blue, blue, white, black, red, black...”
“You’re seeing a world in motion, busy bees going back and forth. They all dream of better days, better paychecks, better houses, caught in a consumerist spiral that wants them all asleep and controllable. Pretty much everyone can get swept away in the current if they’re not careful, and become meek, docile, thinking this is all there is and will ever be, and not strong enough to fight for what they want. Nowadays society breeds more slaves than ever, but they’re oblivious to the fact. They don’t know they’re slaves and those that do realize it, never keep that thought for long, engulfed by a new shiny ad or the irresistible sheen of a credit card straight out of the envelope. You’re part of the wheel too, crushed every day by others as oppressed as you. Misery loves company, and never seems to go away, does it? However, you can set all those things aside by focusing on the colors and the sound of my voice and listening to every suggestion I want you to remember forever. Let me hear you, louder than ever.”
“Green, black, brown, white, blue, red, red, white, yellow, black, gray, gray, blue, white, yellow...”
“Yellow is the color of the sun, of the warmth we all keep inside. When you stare at the sun from down here, you don’t see much except a golden circle. It doesn’t even feel real but it’s a pulsating star brimming with the power of creation and life. It’s also you, me, and everyone who’s too busy being busy to appreciate the finer things in life. The sun is strong and so are you, and if you fly close to it, you will burn for its radiance can’t be contained. Our planet orbits around it to receive light and heat, and the blessings of the Universe that are too great to be numbered. You are the sun, and no one walks all over you. You are the sun, and you shine every day, illuminating everything around you. See it as clearly as you listen to me. See the yellow in your mind and keep it there, a perpetual reminder of just how powerful you are. When you’re ready to accept this, every color will be yellow. Tell me what you see, Gregory.”
“Red, black, white, red, green, orange, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow...”
“Good, that’s it. The trigger sinks in and your strength increases. No one will ever walk all over you again. You’ll be diplomatic when you need to, but you’ll stand your ground no matter what. You are strong. You are capable, and you are worth the world. Shine on, Gregory. Shine on.”
“Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow...” he repeated, a single tear of joy running down his cheek.
“In a moment, you’ll wake up and go back to work, feeling refreshed and revitalized. Forget those dumb bitches and focus only on your well-being, and becoming every day the force of good you wish to be. All the colors in the world will return to normal but the pulsating yellow will always be with you. Shine on.”
Maureen snapped her fingers and the barista returned to the normal flow of the world, looking at the cars passing by and wondering where that mysterious woman had run off to. He returned to his workplace with two one hundred-dollar bills on the back of his pants and had the most pleasant day in a long time.
For two months straight, he waited for Maureen to stop by the coffee shop once again, but she never did. He continued to dream of warm yellow and his place in the world, unperturbed by nagging clients who wanted to brighten their day at the expense of this. Time and memory ebbed away to the point where he started wondering if the hypnotic findom was even real. If she wasn’t, then he had the best dream ever.
And then, one day, almost at the end of his shift, he noticed her sitting down at the same table as before with a pleading man with his eyes cast on her feet, begging her to take his paycheck away from him. His name was Derek, and he was obsessed by her intoxicating feminine power.
“I deserve it all,” she said, before glancing at the wide-eyed Gregory and adding, “And so do you. Tell me what you see.”
Yellow. Always yellow. The sun in his heart and soul. The universe was waiting for his smile, the most beautiful expression of all. It didn’t have to wait for long.

The End