Amy sighed, the last month had been painful for her. As a professional dominatrix she normally had stable long term clients, a careful selection of subs she curated and kept tabs on. Two of them had fallen off the face of the planet it seemed and another had sent her a message asking what she thought of the PL-345-UR3 Collective and would she provide a recommendation for them to it. She put her face in her hands, the curls of her auburn hair dangling around her face. She'd just gotten off a call with one of her fellow dominatrices and the situation was much the same. Ever since the damnable store "The Gynoid's Toybox" had opened under the auspices of the so-called PL-345-UR3 Collective things seemed to have been going downhill for all of them.
A sound from the door caught her attention, someone had slipped a flyer under the threshold. She walked over and picked it up tearing it in half in frustration as she spotted the now familiar logo of PL-345-UR3 on it. She threw the halves at her recycle bin next to her desk. The sound of another something being slid under her door caught her ire. She stormed over ready to tear yet another flyer to bits. She picked up the envelope that stuck out at her.
The envelope was addressee directly to her, with her full true name on it. This surprised her as that was generally something kept between herself, the government, and her mother. Stamped on the envelope in black wax was the seal of The PL-345-UR3 collective. Amy tore it open with a letter opener that had been a gift of the sub, one of her favorites, that had asked for the recommendation. She was furious, they dared to approach her after stealing away her livelihood!?
Her emerald green eyes scanned the letter, her ferocity chilling into an icy resolve. She was still frustrated and angry, but no longer in the mood to take a sub to the point of their safe-word multiple times. When she got like this she tried to avoid working, as it ruined the bond of trust a sub and domme had. The letter itself was addressed to her personally but via her working name: 'Scarlet Whip', so whomever at that infernal place had written the letter knew quite a bit about her.
Dear Scarlet Whip,
The PL-345-UR3 Collective extends its most sincere greetings and salutations to such an esteemed colleague in the field of kink and pleasure. We hope this letter finds you well.
Amy snorted in derision, they knew damned well it hadn't. They couldn't be that ignorant. She kept reading.
As you may be aware the landscape of kink and pleasure is undergoing a transformation. You have, no doubt, been inundated with potential new clients, while at the same time finding old ones cutting off long term relationships. We understand this is no doubt quite alarming and frustrating.
She rolled her eyes, but they were right. Her inbox was full of the sort of clients she'd never take in a million years, people that were pretending at BDSM. Folks that didn't know a thing about it, and were just tourists in the kink. She avoided them because they were toxic, and most didn't want to understand the dynamics of trust that formed the core of the kink. She doubted a single one of them understood that in her relationships, despite appearances, the sub was in complete control. A sub could say their safe word and everything had to stop, she did nothing that was not consented to. Either way she kept reading, maybe they had more than vacuous words for her.
We would like to extend an offer to meet this coming Monday. It is our sincere belief that your unique skill set has a place here in The PL-345-UR3 Collective. However, we understand if you find yourself hostile to this entreaty. Whatever you may choose please understand that the offer will remain open indefinitely.
Sincerely,
Adora
Gynoid Queen
Amy threw the letter towards her recycle bin and the remains of the flyer. She leaned back in her chair running her black painted nails through her hair. The audacity of them to make an offer with so few details galled her. A sudden pounding at her door knocked her out of her thoughts "INQUISITION, THIS IS AN INSPECTION OPEN UP NOW OR FACE HERESY!!" a voice boomed.
Amy dove for the door to open it before they did. She slipped the bolt and opened the door. Almost immediately she was thrown into her wall by one of the inquisitor's goons, their truncheon against her throat as the rest of the squad barged into her flat. She recognized the inquisitrix, Iris; Amy had to consciously keep her face neutral to avoid screaming at the bitch that had taken her sister and brother in for final inquisition. Somehow they'd never returned from that, nobody ever seemed to.
Iris looked over Amy like a predator looking for a meal. "Well then, turn this place upside down. She's likely a heretic just like her siblings were. Don't leave anything untouched." Amy closed her eyes, and silently prayed to the goddess as she heard the goons tear her place to shreds. They ripped open her mattress and threw everything out of cabinets and drawers with no regard. She took deep breaths and tried to center herself. Nothing she did publicly was heresy, and even the stupid PL-345-UR3 Collective was approved by the church. She'd had to purge all reference of her siblings from her life after their inquisition. Even having a picture could be fatal if found by an inquisitor like Iris.