Journalist to Billionaire's Pet

As I got out my pen and notebook, Dominique stares at my breasts. I guess being a black lesbian who'd clawed herself up to CEO by the age of twenty-eight didn't make Dominique less of a creep than the other tech-bros I've interviewed. We're in her mansion. She looks exactly like she did on the cover of *Deca Dance* magazine. Black suit pants and a crisp white shirt juxtaposing her dark skin, collar open, with the sleeves rolled above her elbows. She has a pixie cut, brown, except for blond highlights. On the couch opposite me, she sprawls back, 'man'-spreading, with an expression that could either be fascination or boredom. If she's bored already, why did she explicitly ask for me to interview her?

'Ms. Ka-' I begin.

'Call me Dominique,' she demanded.

'Dominique,' I say. 'Your-'

'You're single,' Dominique says.

I suppose the information is out there. I'm more shocked that a billionaire would bother to check my relationship status.

She continues: 'I'm thinking of settling down.'

And there's the reason she wanted this interview. She's not even asking me on a date. The entitled money-hoarder just tosses the thought in the air like she expects a servant to set up a date immediately.

I put my notebook back in handbag. 'Maybe I should leave.'

'You won't get your interview.' Dominque does not stir from her lazy posture.

'I'm not getting one at the moment,' I say. 'I'm getting a come on. If I wanted that, I could go to any old pub.' I walk to the exit of her living room, her stare like a laser on my arse.

'Alright,' she says. 'I'll let you interview me.'

'Let', she says? She fucking demanded it earlier this week.

I sit back down. Pen on memo pad, I start with a light question, 'You've disrupted the spice industry, the fitness industry, and the travel industry-' (and put countless people out of their jobs) '-what do you do to unwind?'

'Every week, I master a new skill,' says Dominique.

Typical self-improvement nut.

'This week,' she says, 'I mastered hypnosis.'

I laugh but play it off as a cough. 'I didn't think a CEO would waste -- spend their time learning party tricks.'

For the first time since I came in, Dominque smiles. Smirks, rather. She leans forward in her chair. 'I don't learn hypnosis for parties. It's therapeutic. I like feeling... in control.'

Dominique raises her finger in the air. Instinctively, my eyes follow it up. God, is she trying some fucking cruise ship routine on me.

'Your eyes are stuck on my fingertip. Your eyes follow my fingertip.' She sways her finger back and forth, up and down.

Yeah, my eyes do follow her finger. My eyes follow flies, doesn't mean flies have any control over me. Before I can pull my eyes away, she says:

'And now your name is gone.' She snaps her fingers. 'Your name vanishes from your mind.' ' SNAP! 'The more you try to remember, the harder it is to remember.' SNAP!

She lowers her hand. I look at her face, her smug, smirking face. She thinks she's made forget that my name is... My name is...

Surreptitiously, I write some names on my memo pad. 'Joan'? 'J' names sound right. 'Jackie'? No.

Dominique chuckles. 'Making someone forget their name takes no skill. You forget names all the time. It's very easy to make someone forget to do unconscious things. You just make them think about doing what they do unthinkingly, like holding a pen.'

My fingers clench my pen too hard. I scrawl on the page before my pen tumbles to the floor.

I reach down for the pen. 'V-very funn-'

'Even speaking, you can tie someone's tongue by making them think about where their tongue is, how their mouth's shaped.'

My tongue feels too big. I babble, 'nubyi, ka...'

How do I make an 'h' sound?

'It's the easiest thing in the world to control someone's unconscious skills,' Dominique says, 'especially if they're very intelligent and imaginative.'

Is that a compliment? With my butter fingers and my dumb tongue, I don't feel complimented. I feel... I don't know what I feel. Helpless? My body feels empty, like I want something, someone to fill me.

'With an intelligent and imaginative girl like you,' Dominqiue says, 'I can say "beach" and you can feel the sun on your skin.'

I wish I weren't wearing a suit today.

'Just by snapping I can make the hot sun pouring down on you that much hotter.' She snaps, and snaps.

I clench my fists and refuse to fan myself.

'The hot sand beneath you that much hotter.' SNAP!

My back burns. How am I so hot and not even sweating?

'With every snap, the sun glares hotter.' SNAP! 'The sand burns hotter.' SNAP!

Dominque snaps leisurely, each snap making my eyes water, my body burn.

'And the only way to cool down is to expose your body to the cool air.'

I can't take off my suit, can't take off my suit, can't take off my suit. I can't let her think she's won, that she can just push me around. She keeps snapping, like she doesn't even see me whimpering. I fan myself with my memopad, I curl over into my lap, I stretch my body out, I spread my legs, run my hands through my hair, I try to find any posture that will delay the sky-rocketing heat.

'You've shown me how strong you are, pet,' says Dominique, 'but everyone has a breaking point.' SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

I concede the smallest ground by taking off my suit. I fan myself with my memo pad and my hand, but it's like trying to blow out a forest fire. And Dominique keeps snap, snap, snapping.

'I like my pets stubborn.' Dominque snaps faster and faster. She smiles at my groans. 'I like it when they think they have a chance. But now you find your clothes are so rough, itchy on your skin.'

Every movement scrapes fabric on my heat sensitive skin.

'Every inch of fabric bites you like a bug.'

My clothes are eating me. I bite my lip as my clothes pierce every inch of flesh in me.

'Like fire ants.'

I give up! I unbutton my shirt. Every time my fingers slip off the buttons I groan from the pit of my stomach. When I'm down to two buttons I just tear off my shirt. I kick off my shoes, throw off my trousers, throw down my panties and bra. Oh, thank fucking God!

I collapse back onto the couch, sprawling back as the cool air licks my wounds. I don't even care that I'm spreading my bare legs in front of an evil hypnotist. I just need the cool air to wash over every part of me.

'Anyone could make a smart girl like you do that,' says Dominique.

Her compliment gets mixed up with my endorphins and I smile.

'If I wanted you to know how much power I have over you, pet,' says Dominique, 'I'd need to make you do something you could have total conscious control over. Something that takes time, time enough that you have time think about what the fuck you're doing.'

Dominique pretends to be lost in thought, as though she hasn't planned exactly how she'd ravish me well in advance. Is it part of the hypnosis that I want to see how she'll ravish me?

She chuckles once. 'Pet. Take off my shoes and socks.'

I resist the command. I'm amazed I can resist her words. I won't kneel before her, with her burning brown eyes on me, as I take off her shoes and socks. I just need to keep lying back on this couch.

It's like disobeying a habit. It feels like I've left home without locking the door. Every nerve yells at me to get on my knees and take off her shoes. My nerves win.

I walk over to her. Her smug face spurs me to resist falling to my knees. Oh, but I needed to see those bare feet. I kneel before her. She offers up one shining leather shod foot to my hands. My fumbling fingers undo the laces. She does not say anything to hurry me along. I peel off her black socks and see her dark, elegant feet. I cringe at the smell. She offers up her other foot and I do the same.

'Do my feet smell nice?' Dominique wafts her foot beneath my nose.

I pull my head back, only slightly. 'No...'

Her pedicured toes brush my lips. 'Would you enjoy sucking my toes?'

'No...'

'If I ordered you to suck my toes, would you enjoy it?'

'I... don't know...'

Her toes push at my lips. I clench my lips shut until she orders:

'Lick.'

Half humiliated that I'm sucking the toes of someone I've just met, half relieved that she ordered me to do what she was always going to order, I open my mouth and suck her foot. It tastes as sour as it smells, but I can't care. I can't resist. I don't want to resist. My tongue wraps between her toes because she told me to.

'How does it feel, your mind and body being weaker than a single word from my mouth?' Dominique asks.

I want to say, 'Indescribable,' but I cannot take my mouth from her foot, so I only garble it. Dominique laughs at my failure.

'Stop.' Dominique takes her foot from my mouth, and my lips follow it like she stole a lollipop from me.

Dominique rises. I didn't see how tall she was when she was sitting. She seems taller than in all of her public appearances, like she could scoop me up in one hand. With her foot, she pushes down on my forehead. I yield, until she's pushed me onto my back. She towers above me, smirk on her face, hands in her pockets, toes touching my collar bone.

'Now do you see?' she says. 'Hypnosis is so much more than a party trick. With just a few words, I can make your mind betray you. Just one word, I can make you do things you never thought you would.'

She traces her toes back and forth on my collar bone. Everything she says is true. I'm weak. I'm helpless. I tremble. I have nothing to prove, so let my hands rush between my legs.

'Hands by your side.'

Oh, fucking hell. Just before I can touch my pussy, I pull my hands back.

'A single word,' says Dominique. 'Like: aroused.'

Heat washes over my body. A good heat this time. A horny heat which melts my brain.

'Sensitive.' Dominique traces her toe around one of my breasts and then the other. 'Every inch of your skin, sensitive as your needy cunt.'

I squeal and shiver as her foot sends sparks flying beneath my skin. The ball of her foot rubs circles on my stomach. My breaths gasp out. My knuckles whiten. I rub my thighs to push me closer to an orgasm.

'Look at you,' says Dominique. 'Ready to cum just from being stepped on. Do you want to cum?'

'Yes!'

'Yes, what?' Her foot lowers past my stomach, down my pelvis. Her foot goes down like a lit fuse to my pussy. Her foot kneads my pussy. My throat dries out.

'Yes... Please!?' I moan when she shakes her head. 'Ma'aaaam!?'

'Closer,' says Dominique, quickening her pace on my pussy.

Oh, fucking Christ, I wish I'd paid closer attention to my BDSM-nut girlfriends.

'Yes... Mistress?'

'Good pet.' She removes her foot. 'Cum.'

I writhe on the floor, arms and legs stuck in place, as shuddering arousal crashes down on me. Dominique doesn't let my orgasm stop. She keeps talking it on, deepening it, drawing it out. My brains melts out my ears by the time she says:

'And now feel it dying down. Breathe deeply. Let your muscles relax.'

Every muscle in my body untensed. Air filled my stomach. The arousal slinks away.

Dominique sits back down on the couch. 'Get on my lap.'

I want to lie here all day, but I must obey. I wobble over to her and collapse into her lap. She kisses my neck as aftershocks rock me.

'I am looking for a girlfriend,' Dominique says. 'Or rather, I'm looking for a pet of my own species.' She runs her thumb over my lips. I open my mouth to let it in. 'I'll treat my pet well. I'll feed her the finest food, groom and dress her with the finest brands, and I'll even let my pet sleep in my bed. Does that sound nice?'

I stop sucking her thumb to say, 'Yes...'

'I'm going ask you on a date. You will answer without fear. You will answer truthfully. You will know that if you refuse, we will return to our interview as if nothing at all has happened. No consequences.' Dominique pulls her thumb from my mouth. 'Now, pet, would you like to go on a date with me?'

'Yes, Mistress.'