Becoming a Lesbian Slave Ch. 03
Summary:
Cassie learns a shocking truth and goes to lez club.
Note 1:
In Part 1, Cassie is the owner of a bridal shop which although in the past it's been very successful, its sales, and thus its profits, have recently been declining severely during a recent recession. She hires a young woman with a stellar reputation for taking on failing businesses and turning them around into wildly successful ones. But she always demands total control of a business, at least temporarily, before she'll do anything at all for it. Cassie agrees in desperation, signs a contract, and from that moment on, even though within a week the customers and the money are flooding in, she watches her world falling apart as the young woman (consistently referred to or addressed as
Ms.
Amber by absolutely
everyone,
far and wide) assumes iron control not only of Cassie's business, but also of her sex life, by training her to become a thoroughly submissive pet.
In Part 2, Cassie desperately tries to find her way out of her predicament, but instead she falls deeper into submission, including becoming her secretary's pet, servicing a stranger at a hair salon, wearing a vibrating egg in public and the surprising arrival of her mother with Amber.
Becoming a Lesbian Slave Ch. 03
The day had been a whirlwind... just like every day since I'd allowed Amber into my life.
Alone in my office... finally... the taste of pussy still on my lips... I received a long-anticipated phone call from Dr. Carter... the therapist I'd called near the beginning of my humiliating fall.
"Hello, Dr. Carter."
"Hello, Cassandra," she greeted. "Sorry for the delay, I just got your message, and you sounded rather frantic. Are you okay?"
"It's Cass now," I said, then realized what I'd said. Cassandra is what I called myself back when I'd had some self-respect... or maybe it was just pretensions.
"Okay," she said, sounding surprised. "If you feel this is urgent. I have an opening in an hour."
"I'll take it," I said. I wasn't sure what I'd tell her... or how much I'd tell her... but I needed a wise and non-judgemental sounding board with someone I could trust to keep my situation private.
"Great," she said. "See you then."
"Yes, Mistress," I replied out of habit... and then stammered, "I-I-I mean Dr. Carter."
"Interesting. But no worries, we'll chat in an hour," she said reassuringly, although her tone was more like
What the fuck did this woman just say?
"Okay," I agreed, hanging up before I could say anything else stupid or self-incriminating.
Sitting in
my
chair (for a change), I sighed. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed once again, because I now had short hair. A hairdo like a lesbian might have. A dyke. I sighed again.
I then wondered what Mom was having done to
her
hair at the salon... I prayed she hadn't been corrupted by Amber. Amber always seemed to get whatever she wanted... did she want my Mom? Or worse,
had
she wanted my Mom, and now it was a done deal!? And what
the hell
had Amber discussed with her during that twenty-minute period while I'd been hiding beneath my desk eating Amber's pussy but unable to hear a word?
Part of me had accepted my reality... as pathetic as it was.
Another part of me was still resisting... deep down inside... although that part was quickly diminishing in strength.
Part of me felt alive... a steady ebb and flow of adrenaline...but always present... unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
Part of me just wanted to cry.
But all those parts... regardless of my state of mind during the highs and lows of my sexual submission... unanimously did
not
want my Mom getting drawn into this twisted, sick, web of kinks.
I headed out, telling Sophia, "I have an appointment."
"With whom?" she asked, which she'd never ask before Amber, although in truth, she always knew my agenda before Amber had waltzed in... since she'd usually planned and facilitated it.
"Dr. Carter," I answered.
"Going to straighten out your head?" she asked.
"I don't even know anymore," I said. "I first called her way back when I felt I was falling apart, but still had some control in my life, and she just now returned my call."
"And your status now?" she asked.
"Now I have no fucking
idea
where I'm at," I said, altogether frustrated and bitter.
"There have been a lot of major changes in a very short time," Sophia said, for a moment sounding more like my dear old friend than my newer Mistress, although we were still friendly whenever she wasn't Mistress-ing.
"That's an understatement," I laughed.
"Just remember what I keep telling you," she said. "Don't try to fight the inevitable."
"Don't fight?"
"Yep. It's the single most important difference between you and me, ever since Ms. Amber marched into our lives and started cracking her whip: I gave in to her immediately, and I've been having the time of my life as her slave. You're still fighting your purpose in life, and you're constantly miserable. When just like I was, you were born to be her pet," Sophia reminded me.
"I
can't
just be her pet though," I said, ironically having accepted the truth that I was indeed a submissive lesbian plaything... yet equally knowing I needed to find out what else I was... I couldn't
only
be a lesbian pet.
"I understand."
"You do?"
"Yes. I completely accept my role as a submissive pet to Ms. Amber and to whomever she loans me out to," she began. "But I also have other roles. A wife... a mother... a key functionary in this bridal shop... and assistant Mistress to a hot slut."
As I processed this, she slapped my ass, "By the way dummy, you're the hot slut."
"You bet I am," I said, and I headed out.
Thirty minutes later while I drove, with my sexual high dissipated... once again I was questioning everything.
Was there any way out of this predicament? Did I even
want
out?
Could I ever get my business back?
Could I ever return to the life I had before Amber? Did I want to?
I sighed as I parked.
What on earth was I going to say to Dr. Carter?
How much of my new world was I willing to share?
What could she possibly say or do to help?
I stepped into Dr. Carter's waiting room, exchanged polite nods with the receptionist, and took a seat. I selected a magazine with a cover article called
Be the New You.
I began to read it, and I found ten tips to becoming 'the new me'.
One: Find a new passion or activity that makes you happy.
I almost laughed out loud. I had indeed found a new activity... but was it a passion? Perhaps.
Did it make me happy? In the heat of the moment, yes... in the aftermath while I reflected... less happiness and more guilt... which was once again building inside me, since I was alone and I had some quiet time to collect myself... and to reflect... and to realize I'd become a mere fragment of the woman I used to be.
I sighed.
Two: Accept your faults.
This made me smirk. This damn article was conspiring with Ms. Amber!
Should I just accept that I'm a submissive woman who's unable... when push comes to shove... to stand up for myself... or to put a different spin on the same thing, should I accept that at my core I'm submissive, and my greatest inner truth is how much I relish my submissive nature?
Should I accept my weak will?
Should I ignore my conscience... just set it completely aside... and mindlessly obey whatever Ms. Amber tells me to do... to abide by her every whim... especially the sexual ones... without giving any consideration at all to my own value judgements?
Should I simply accept how I get sexually stimulated and become a mindless bimbo in the heat of the moment, and then skip right past those troubling introspections afterwards?
Should I accept that I couldn't save my business on my own, and that the only way for me to achieve a successful business is through sexual servitude to a beautiful but sadistic young woman with an amazing professional track record?
Should I just stop thinking and move forward?
Three: Acknowledge your anger.
This was similar to accepting my faults. Yet it was something slightly different that I also needed to do. I was angry at Amber for tricking and manipulating me. I was angry at Sophia for betraying our long friendship. I was mad at myself for allowing all of this to happen. This anger was undeniable in all three cases, if I was being honest with myself.
Four: Forgive.
Could I forgive myself for my weakness? Could I forgive Amber for exploiting it? Perhaps. It all depended upon the highs and lows of my emotional state at any given moment.
Five: Listen to Other People.
I actually
did
laugh out loud at this one. The only other person in the waiting room was the receptionist, who looked up, shrugged, and looked down again.
That's
exactly
what had gotten me into his horrific situation. Listening to Amber... trusting Amber... obeying Amber.
Six: Be open to change
Shit! I knew this article was about personal change... yet it felt like it was speaking directly to me personally. Since the moment Amber had sauntered into my office, I'd been
inundated
with changes. Changes in my business. Changes in my employees. Changes in myself. Changes in my long-time best friend. A whirlwind of changes, that by now had me unable to locate any solid ground.
Seven: Be respectful
Although that had always been the foundation of my business philosophy... suddenly the concept of respect had coalesced down to using the term Ms. or Mistress. And while my principle of respect had always been mutual between myself and my employees, myself and my customers, myself and my suppliers... now it seemed to be a one-way street... and I was driving the wrong way.
Eight: Be honest and direct
That sure as fuck hadn't worked for me so far. Instead it had backfired miserably, and it had led to humiliation after humiliation, while I performed a variety of sexually degrading and kinky acts that I'd never before seriously contemplated.
Yet Amber was always direct with me... as was Sophia. They were in charge, and that was that... which I guess qualified as their being honest and direct.
But what about me? All my life I'd been honest and direct, yet now those same two core principles were being used against me.
Nine: Never make excuses
I lingered over this one. I'd been making excuses for a while. Excuses for why my business wasn't as successful as it once was. Excuses for why I'd succumbed to this wild sexual submission to a woman half my age. Excuses for the predicament I was now tangled up in.
And I wasn't taking responsibility for
any
of it. When it
was
my fault. When
