You're a long-time customer of mine and femdom addict, who has finally worked out how to control your masturbation compulsion urges and break free of the cycle of serving Goddesses. You have a method to resist femdom and findom addiction, and have written a book about it. You go to see your publisher and are shocked to find me in the room instead. But are you really? You know how powerful and intelligent and well-connected I am. How I always get my way. Your publisher is a customer of mine, sweetie. I read your manuscript. It's cute. Nah, it's really good! I want to put it to the test! I'll strip and dirty talk and seductively tease you, and you can jerk off to me. One last time won't hurt, will it? I thought you had a method for resistance! If your book is so good, then this is no big deal at all. You can leave this at any time, right? So STROKE. Pump for me. Either your book is legit & this won't harm you, or you're full of BS. Oops. Why is this so hard to escape? Maybe you're a part of something bigger; ever consider that? Maybe dominatrices are government agents, employed to keep certain men in society docile. Maybe I'm a succubus, maybe you're worshipping pure evil. Maybe I'm Illuminati...