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. 

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.

“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?”

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

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?”

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

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

“That’s Detective Vance, Miss.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“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?”

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

“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.”

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

“And how is that working for you?”

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

“Is Mr. Myers included in that lot?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

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

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

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?”

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

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

“His online alter-ego is HypDrone4U.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“Unusual, huh?”

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

“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.

“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?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...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?”

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

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

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

“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.”

“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?”

“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?”

“That’s impossible!”

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

“Excuse me?”

“What are you talking about?”

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.

“Yes, Goddess Amber.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.