The Interrogation

Chapter 1

by S.B.

Tags: #cw:noncon #dom:female #f/m #femdom_hypnosis #hypnotic_amnesia #mind_control #sub:male #f/f #police #sub:female

Detective Paul Vance stopped by the door of the 22nd Precinct’s main secure interview room and peeked inside. Just like everyone had told him, the young woman inside was quite attractive, temptation oozing from every curve. 

The early twenties African American was dressed in constricting dark-blue latex from head to toe, an almost full bodysuit save for the heart-shaped cutout to give her round and juicy breasts perfect room to breathe. The honey gold wig on her head had purple highlights running through it, and first impressions were of a bubbly personality through and through, given the way she was playing with her phone and giggling at all the social media updates bombarding the luminous screen. Despite the extravagant attire, she didn’t seem the kind of person capable of committing any major felony and yet, as a decade’s worth of crime-solving history had taught him, appearances were often deceiving, and Detective Vance would not risk being caught off-guard. Exhaling loudly, he opened the door and entered the room.

As dictated by best design practices for police questionings, there were only four pieces of furniture in the division: a metal table at the center, a chair for the interviewer, another one for a potential observer, and one more for the interviewee/suspect. The latter had been bolted to the floor with a cuff bar to the side. Despite not being used often, specks of rust were already visible underneath. Two high-definition IP cameras were set in place to record the proceedings, one viewing the interviewee face-on and the other capturing a wide panoramic to the side. A pressure zone microphone was placed on the wall to the left of the table.

Case file in hand, he sat before her, lower lip slightly twitching. It had been three hours since the mid-fifties investigator had had his last cigarette and the lack of nicotine intake was showing.

“Miss Walters, thank you for coming on such brief notice. I’m Detective Paul Vance and I’ll be conducting this interview.” He began, thick Brooklyn accent spewing from his irritated lips. “Before we start, will you please be so kind to turn off your phone, please?”

“Do I really have to?” She asked, not even bothering to look at him.

“Yes. I’m sure your social media profiles can wait.”

“Fine!” She frowned, blocking the screen and placing the device face down on the table counter. “This won’t take long, I hope.”

The Detective scooped the phone to his side of the table and replied: “It will take as much time as it needs to, Miss Walters. Do you have any idea as to the motive I called you here?”

“No clue.” The young beauty shrugged, a perfect disdainful look on her otherwise sweet face. “But this is the part where you’re going to tell me, right?”

The Detective laid his hands on the icy surface and said without blinking: “I would like to talk to you about Brandon Myers.”

“I’m sorry, who?” She momentarily raised a curious eyebrow before going back to her natural, indifferent state. “I don’t know who that is, sorry.”

“Is that so?” He glanced at his papers. “Perhaps you’ll recognize his alias, HighBud07, then.”

Her black eyes shimmered with undeniable recognition. “Yes, that one I do know. Brandon, you say? Curious, I always thought he sounded like a  Mike or something. What did he do, officer?”

“That’s Detective Vance, Miss.”

“Goddess.” She promptly corrected him, glancing at her razor-sharp fingernails.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. If you’re so keen on being referred to by a title, I want you to call me by mine as well. That’s Goddess Amber, Detective. Now, what seems to be the problem? And please hurry because I’ve still got lots of things to do today.”

“Whatever they are, they’re certainly not more important than an ongoing police investigation, so I’m going to ask for your patience once more. Your file states you’re a Hypnodomme, Goddess Amber. Do you mind explaining to me what that means?”

“The word seems pretty obvious. Do you really require an explanation?”

Detective Vance clenched his left hand. “Indulge me, please.”

“Okay. ‘Hypno’ is short for ‘hypnosis’ obviously, and ‘Domme’ is short for ‘dominant’. I’m a dominant woman that controls her clients, submissives, and slaves through hypnosis and other mind-altering techniques. Was that clear enough for you, Detective, or do I need to dumb it down even further?”

“Please moderate your tone while you’re in this facility, Goddess Amber. I’m just trying to understand the person sitting in front of me. No need to get all riled up.”

“I don’t suffer fools gladly...” She rubbed her neck, the squeaky outfit stressing her gorgeous feminine traits.  “... and so far, you haven’t given me any sign you’re not one. Be more mindful of my time and, perhaps, I’ll be more mindful of you as well. You were saying...?”

“... that you’re quite the bitch!” Detective Vance thought before asking: “And why do you do that? Hypnotize people, I mean?”

“For money. For fun. Sometimes for both.”

“And how is that working for you?”

“Pretty well, actually. I love what I do, but most especially my thralls. They are the best.”

“Do you have a lot of those... thralls?”

“I have plenty of men - and a couple of women - under my control, yes.”

“Is Mr. Myers included in that lot?”

“You still haven’t told me what this is all about...” She pouted.

“Just answer the question, please.”

“Yes. Highbud is one of my regulars, and quite the generous one. He’s into all sorts of kinky stuff that would probably make you blush, Detective. I would tell you all about them, but a Domme and her pets have a privileged relationship, not so different from a doctor and her patients, you see?” She smirked.

“Had a privileged relationship.” He tapped the corner of the table and smirked right back at her.

“Oh?” She cocked her head. “Is he...?”

“I’m afraid so. We found him dead yesterday evening.”

“How awful!” She showed a hint of emotion for the first time. “What happened?”

Paul opened the dossier in front of him and showed her a picture of the crime scene. Brandon’s body laid on a white carpet inside a top-floor apartment, a single bullet shot wound to the head, lifeless eyes staring at the camera. “This did.” He replied. “Do you recognize the space he’s in, Goddess Amber?”

“No.” She flinched at the well-lit but otherwise macabre image. “Should I?”

“You’re looking at the flat of Thomas Sanders. Does that name ring a bell?”

“No,  I can’t say it does.”

“So I take it you’ve never been to his apartment either.”

“If I just told you I don’t know him, then the answer to that question is obvious. Stop leading me around! Who is this guy?”

“His online alter-ego is HypDrone4U.”


“Are you still claiming you don’t know him?”

“No. Drone is another one of my clients.” Their eyes met. “Unless now you’re going to tell me he’s dead, too.”

“No, he’s not. Mr. Sanders is very much alive and under our custody right now. He was the one that called the police to the scene. He also confessed the murder, despite claiming at the same time he doesn’t remember doing it.”

“Did he now? Oh wow, that’s quite the shock, but what’s that got to do with me? I don’t get it.”

“Please don’t play dumb. Both the murder victim and his alleged assassin were your clients and you warp people’s thoughts for a living... Surely, you can see why that is a matter of interest.”

“I suppose.” She shrugged. “It is a rather unusual situation.”

“Unusual, huh?”

“Would you prefer I used another word, Detective? If so, what? Please, don’t keep me hanging.” She mocked him, gently tapping the table.

“We’ll go with ‘unusual’ for now. Do you know what else fits in that category, Goddess Amber?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“This.” He produced another picture. In it, Brandon stood by a tempered glass door, 9mm pistol in his left hand, a bag full of money partially visible under a dripping black raincoat.

“What am I looking at?” She squinted. 

“That would be Mr. Myers’ recent ‘extracurricular activities’, so to speak. Two days ago, he robbed the Investors Bank branch down on 5th Avenue. Despite the police being prompt to arrive at the scene, he was able to blend in with the crowd and escape. Now, he’s dead, and the money he stole is still at large. We’ve looked into his phone records and the last person he called before the robbery was one ‘Goddess’ Amber Walters. The same goes for Thomas’ records. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Goddess Amber gave him a half-moon smile and purred:

“I’m seeing a lot of innuendos, each one more ridiculous than the rest. What exactly are you trying to say, Detective?”

“What do you think I’m trying to say, Goddess?”

“It seems you’re implying I had anything to do with both the robbery and the murder.”

“Well... Did you?”

“Of course not. That is absurd and, if you were a serious investigator, you wouldn’t pursue such a flawed line of reasoning.”

“Why do you say it’s flawed?”

“Are you expecting me to do your job for you?”

“I’m expecting you to be fully cooperant in this investigation. Can you do that?”

“I can... if you state exactly what you’re accusing me of instead of beating around the bush.”

“I’m not really accusing you of anything so far.” He looked sternly at her. “However, I would like to run a likely scenario with you.”

“I’m all ears.” She leaned back in her seat, hands slightly below the gentle curvature of her breasts.

“Please imagine this: an ambitious young woman that makes a living turning men into putty one day tests the limits of her power and implants a suggestion in one of her clients. This suggestion makes him quite receptive to the idea of robbing a bank to please her and, since he’s conditioned to obey her, he complies, and makes his escape. She then orders him to hide in the house of another one of her pets until she can meet him there to take the money for herself. However, when she arrives there and sees two obedient toys eager to be of service, she tests her skills even further and...”

“...orders one to kill the other and take the fall? Wow, you have quite the imagination, Detective. Have you ever considered writing scripts for Hollywood?”

“I like what I do a lot too, thank you.”

“Is that it or is there anything more to your delusion?”

“That’s it for now. What do you think?”

“I think as stories go, that one is full of holes.” She allowed her eyes to rove the room.

“And why is that?”

“There you go again, asking me to do your job for you. I really don’t have time for this crap.”

“Make the time, Goddess.”

“Okay then. I’ll play your game, but only because I want to speed things up. Your first mistake is believing I can use hypnosis willy-nilly. That’s not how it works. I use the desires people already carry within them and amplify them in order to make them more subservient to me, but it’s all consensual. They all know what they’re signing in for when they call me. I never cross boundaries unless they specifically ask it in advance and even then, I don’t always agree to it, for I have my own limits, too.”

“Please continue.”

“However, let’s disregard all of that for a moment and focus on more pressing matters. Even if I were an abusing bitch capable of doing the things you’re suggesting, why would I hypnotize two people close to me knowing their connection would immediately make me a prime suspect in the case?”

“That’s what I’m asking you, Goddess.”

“I don’t know. I deal with fantasies every day, but yours are really something else.” She leaned on the table, giving him an unrestricted view of her delicious DD breasts. “Do you have any evidence to support your delirious allegations?”

Detective Vance grinned. “While I can’t prove just yet you actually hypnotized these men into doing these terrible deeds, we discovered your fingerprints on the crime scene.”

“That’s impossible!”

“I would think so too, given you said you’ve never been there, but the report is clear. “He showed her the last piece of paper on the dossier.  “Would you like to change your story now, Goddess Amber?”

The young Domme sighed, crossed her legs under the table and said:

“Okay, no more bullshit. I’m impressed. You’re not really letting this one go, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“All this time, you’ve been playing me, getting me to talk and contradict myself. Well done, I didn’t know you had it in you, and I’m rarely proved wrong. The thing that surprised me the most was how you so adamantly resisted going into trance for me the moment you saw me for real, but that ends now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your subconscious knows, FatPopo. Sleep!” She snapped her fingers.

Detective Vance’s eyes immediately went blank. The most beautiful woman in the entire world was in complete control of his mind. He had to listen and obey.

“Good boy, going deeper for me once again.” She looked at the lateral camera: “None of the recording equipment is actually on, correct?”

“Yes, Goddess Amber.” 

“And all the evidence you collected on this case is in that folder?”

“Yes, Goddess Amber, although there are back-up copies on our servers.”

“Copies I’m sure you will make go away when you wake up... Who else besides the two of us knows about this?”

“Only the CSI at the scene. Her home address is in the back of the fingerprint report.”

“I’ll pay her a visit after we’re done then. Excellent job, slave. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Goddess Amber. Are you planning on continuing your hypnotic experiments?”

“But of course! There’s nothing better than living on the edge and if I fuck up along the way, you’ll always be here to make things right, won’t you?”

“Yes, Goddess Amber. I’m yours. You own me.”

“I know. And as your owner, I now say it’s time for you to forget. The last five minutes of this conversation never happened. When I say your online moniker again, you will snap out of trance, and be Detective Vance once more. You will immediately conclude that calling me here was a complete waste of time. I’m above all suspicions and had nothing to do with what both Brandon and Thomas did. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence they were both my clients, that’s all. Think no more about the subject. It’s useless. ”

“Yes, Goddess Amber. You are innocent and flawless. I’m sorry for wasting Your time.”

“Don’t worry, I forgive you. Back to reality in 3, 2, 1…. Wake up now, FatPopo!”

Detective Vance blinked, realizing far too late he was staring improperly at her generous cleavage. “Did you say anything?” He queried.

“Only that if we’re done, I would like to get back to my business. Minds don’t get fucked on their own.” She nodded.

“Ah, of course. I... my sincerest apologies for dragging you all the way here. It’s obvious now this was all just a misunderstanding.”

“That’s okay. I’m glad the culprit confessed, but be sure to give him hell, okay? No one deserves to go out like that.”

“You’re right. Thank you, Goddess Amber.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see myself out. This was fun, Detective. Bye.”

Never looking back, the Hypnodomme left the room, perky ass mocking his intelligence. Alone with the ideas he believed were his own, Detective Vance pulled a cigarette from the back pocket of his tweed pants.

“What a bust.” He thought as he lit it up. 

Sitting at the wheel of her slave-funded Jaguar XJ, Goddess Amber set the GPS coordinates to the CSI’s house. She had some loose ends to tie up.

((I hope you had fun with this little tale. I always do when writing. Want to have more fun with me? Support my site - - through my patreon page - - and it can be yours, because you’ve yet to see everything I can create. Feedback is always welcome at my e-mail address, too: Thanks in advance.))

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