tagLesbian SexBecoming a Lesbian Slave

Becoming a Lesbian Slave


Summary: An older business woman is slowly dommed by a younger bitch.

Thanks to MAB7991 for his editing and story suggestions.


1. A trivial beginning

I couldn't believe it had come to this...getting outside help. I had run this business for almost twenty years as the owner and main decision maker and we had been successful throughout our run. My small, but amazing staff ran like clockwork and I had not hired anyone new in over five years.

But since the recession hit, sales had plummeted and after many failed attempts of rebuilding my business I was desperate.

I own a bridal shop called White Wedding in downtown New York City and although a small shop in comparison to the massive corporate takeover of today's society, it had always been quite successful. I believed in creating an experience for my customers so I hired only amazing people and treated them exceptionally well. We sold everything needed for the bride and her party: wedding dresses, bridesmaid dresses, veils, pantyhose and stockings (depending on the bride's preference), matching shoes, garters and so forth. Many of my customers were referrals from previous satisfied brides or family members. We had opportunities to grow over the years, but I liked the family setting and avoided becoming a big corporate non-feeling identity like so many others had become.

The domino effect that would change my life and my business started like I suppose it always does with a casual conversation and no hint of what was to come.

I was chatting with my hosiery supplier on the phone when I asked, "Who did your restructuring last year?" My exclusive hosiery supplier had their own financial issues and I recalled Ariel telling me they had hired some big shot restructuring guru to assess every aspect of their business.

Ariel replied her tone changing slightly, "Amber Anderson."

"Was she worth it?" I asked, thinking the name Amber Anderson sounded like a stripper at some sleazy strip-joint written all over it.

"Well, our profits have quadrupled and many celebrities are wearing our products now?" Ariel said.

"She got the celebrities?" I asked.

"She is a very powerful and cunning woman who does not take no for an answer," Ariel explained.

That seemed like exactly the type of person I needed to turn around the steady decline in my profit margins, which had hit below the breakeven point for the past eight straight quarters, even after I had made various changes to get out of the slow decline. "Is she available?" I asked, seeing the potential to turn this sinking ship around.

"I don't know, she left here a couple of months ago, but shows up every week or two. She was given ten percent of profits in the company as part of her contract," Ariel revealed.

"Isn't that a lot?" I asked, thinking that was a crazy amount.

"Well, I thought so at first, but based on our most recent numbers, I would say it was well worth it. We just had our best quarter in twenty years."

"Wow," she seems to be a miracle worker."

"That she is," Ariel replied, before adding, "But be warned she will drastically change how your store is run and she will want total control while she works with you."

"That seems pretty extreme," I said, hesitantly, having always been the soul decision maker.

"I suppose so, but she gets results," Ariel said.

"So you would recommend her," I asked.

"Wholeheartedly," Ariel said.

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures," I joked and after getting the woman's contact information I hung up the phone.

Did I need a restructuring person? I didn't think so, but if she was available, it wouldn't hurt to at least hear what she had to say.


After contacting her, she sent me her references which were the most glowing references I had ever read. This woman had seemingly turned around several other financially troubled businesses in the past five years. But I have never put much stock in paper references and thus called each of her references, which, in a rarity in a still male dominated business world, were all women.

Each woman, they were all women ran business's I realized, raved about this miracle worker who not only stopped the steady decline in sales, but turned their businesses into such successes that each quarter since Amber's assistance had bested the quarter before. Although all three ladies praised her lavishly, I thought it odd that each referred to her as Ms. Amber and not Ms. Anderson which would have seemed like the logical way to address her.

Confident that the references checked out and desperate that if I didn't do something soon I would lose the store I had spent years building, I decided to make the call.

She was on a holiday in Europe, but agreed to fly back a couple of days early to meet with me on Friday.

Content with my decision, even though asking for help was not a trait I was usually comfortable with, I continued on with my day to day responsibilities.

2. The Interview

It wasn't an auspicious start. This production guru was four hours late, with no phone call. I had given up on her arriving when Sophia, my secretary, came into my office, which she didn't usually do.

"Your 10 o'clock appointment is here, Cassandra," Sophia announced her tone hinting a warning. All my employees called me by my first name, I felt it built friendships and trust and an equal playing field between employer and employee.

I looked at my clock, I sighed, it was 2:12.

I was just about to tell Sophia to make her wait when a young, blonde haired, woman, in a checkered mini-skirt, a white blouse with two buttons opened that allowed her ample cleavage to be the center of attention, sauntered into my office unannounced.

She sat down on the chair across from me sitting her briefcase beside the chair and opened with, "So your little store is in trouble."

I was shocked by her abrupt opening and the fact that she didn't look to be older than twenty, not to mention referring to my store as little. Her hair in a ponytail made her look like a college freshman and not the elite restructuring guru I was expecting.

She sighed as if reading my mind. "I am twenty-five and my age is irrelevant. What is important is analyzing how you allowed your business to fade into potential oblivion."

"Excuse me?" I asked, insulted by her implication.

"That is why I am here is it not?" she asked, impatiently.

"Yes...no. You are here to help me rebrand my store after the economic downturn," I countered, shifting the blame away from me and to the market crash.

"Excuses, excuses," she responded with a roll of the eyes and a flippant wave of the hand. "The reality is your business is falling apart and I am here to fix it, yes or no?"

"Yes," I admitted, slightly rattled by being treated so disrespectfully, especially by such a younger woman.

"And you need me to fix it?" the smug young blonde asked, surprising me again by planting her five-inch black heels on my desk, her legs encased in black pantyhose.

I was flabbergasted by the gall of this young woman, but attempted to hide my growing anger. "Yes, I guess," I answered.

"You guess," she mocked. "Either you need me or you don't."

I hated to admit it, disliking this cocky bitch and her pretentious and condescending attitude, but I was desperate, so I swallowed my pride. "Yes, I need you."

"Good, and Ariel explained my terms?" she asked, blowing a bubble with the gum she so rudely had been chewing.

Part of me couldn't believe I was willing to give my store's fate and reputation over to this bitch, but again my fear of my store going bankrupt overruled my dislike for her. "Somewhat," I answered, wanting to be able to set my own terms.

"Well listen closely," she said, her tone implying she was speaking to a child, which pissed me off even more, "because these are non-negotiable."

"Ok," I replied, although I was very nervous over what I was saying ok too.

"Good, first I get ten percent of all profits, based on the assumption that your earnings improve under my leadership," she explained, standing up and walking behind me.

I'd read books on the power of leadership and knew exactly what she was up to...positional power. Yet, hearing the number of ten percent seemed awfully high. I said, looking up from my still seated position and having to crane my neck to make eye contact which I knew was important in what was clearly becoming a pissing match, "Ten percent is a bit steep from my perspective."

"Take it or leave it," she responded, her tone implying she really didn't care one way or another. "But keep in mind I only get paid if I am successful. If I fail and make your profits any worse than you already have, which is practically impossible, I don't get paid. Therefore your earnings will go up even while paying me my reasonable fee."

Although I hated her tone, hated her attitude and hated her implications that I was to blame, her explanation was tough to argue. All of a sudden, it was a win-win situation for her and me. If she was successful, my store would increase its profit margin even while paying her, much more than I pay my long-time employees, but would not hurt my bottom line. Alas, if she failed, I was back where I started from and I could enjoy tarnishing her name through my many powerful contacts. "Fair enough," I agreed, happy with my internal rationale.

"Good, you are smarter than I initially took you for," Amber said, her hand going to my shoulder.

It lingered there as I tried to understand the purpose of this move and tried not to snap at yet another insult thrown my way.

"Second, I have complete authority to make any changes I feel necessary to save this little store from the bankruptcy abyss it is currently spinning towards," she revealed, squeezing my tight shoulders.

Was she really saying what I thought she was saying? She was making herself temporary CEO, not that my store was big enough to have a CEO, a store I had created and built for the past nineteen years. Not over my dead body I thought.

As I fumed over this absurd second condition, the younger woman assessed, "You seem tense, maybe you need to get away for a week. I know just the place for you to go and relax while I save your business."

I stammered, "W-w-what?"

"Sophia get in here right now," she demanded her tone impatient as if Sophia should have known she was about to be beckoned.

Sophia rushed in concerned that something was wrong, not being accustomed to being called in such a manner.

"Pretty quick, Sophia, you may be worth keeping," Amber assessed, her version it seemed of flattery.

"Thank you, ma'am," Sophia responded, being polite like she always was with all guests to the store.

"You are welcome," Amber replied before asking, "could you please look up the number for Relaxation Sensation."

"Yes, ma'am," Sophia replied, while giving me a look of what the hell?

I just gave a slight nod that implied just do it, a very subtle facial expression I had used before, Sophia and I having our own facial language after all these years, which we both understood.

"And Sophia," Amber added, Sophia stopping at the door, "You will refer to me as Ms. Amber, is that understood?"

Sophia again looked my way, but Amber interrupted. "Sophia from now on I am in charge, so you need not look to Cassie."

"That would be Ms. Williams, or at the very least Cassandra," I shot back, hating both her pretentious attitude and people's willingness to shorten my name. If I wanted to be called Cassie I would say so, it is Cassandra.

"Whatever," she waved me off trivially, not even looking my way as she instructed MY secretary to do her biding. "Get me that number, now!"

Sophia replied, avoiding eye contact with me this time, "Yes, Ms. Amber."

"Good girl," she replied, as if my secretary was a dog.

I was furious and had decided that she wasn't worth it when she turned to me a smile on her face for the first time as she addressed me by my shortened first name. "You see, Cassie, the key to success has three pieces."

"Oh this I am dying to hear," I quipped, sarcastically.

"You really are a stubborn mule aren't you, that should make this way more fun," she said, her words clearly full of intent I couldn't fathom.

"Please, speak to me with respect," I replied, attempting to sound tough, although the power shift lost some in the please translation.

"I am," she said, seemingly surprised by my accusation.

"It doesn't feel that way," I answered.

"Sorry," she began her tone suddenly sounding sincere. "I can come off as brash, aggressive and well, let's be honest here among friends, an utter bitch. I was called the ice bitch throughout high school, which I graduated at sixteen and even worse in college which I graduated at twenty, with full honors. The reality is I don't lose...ever...and if that is perceived as me being a bitch, so be it."

Suddenly I felt bad. She had been judged solely on the basis she is a very smart woman and extremely attractive. "I see your point. I too had been judged harshly because of my dedication to this store over having a man in my life." I realized I was getting too personal something I did a good job of usually avoiding.

Her next words shocked me.

"Are you a dyke?" Amber asked, her social filter clearly not on.

"God, no," I gasped and then joked, "I just don't need some needy man around...love them and leave them I always say."

"A good philosophy," the younger woman replied, our original cold relationship seeming to warm.

Sophia returned and handed Amber a piece of paper.

"Can you get them on the line for me?" Amber asked, her tone though implied annoyance at what she clearly saw as implied when she made the earlier request.

"Sorry, Ms. Amber, I will get them on the line, ASAP," Sophia replied, her facial expression showing her anxiety of again not being good enough.

"And hurry," Amber added, even as Sophia was out the door.

"Could you please try treating my employees with more respect," I requested, still annoyed at her abrupt attitude.

"People work harder when there is a clear line between employee and employer," Amber explained.

"I run my business like we are all a family," I explained proudly.

"And therein lies the problem," Amber countered, as if it was obvious.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Family members who work for family members never work as hard as they would for non-family. It is not on purpose, but family takes advantage of family that is just how families work," she explained.

"But none of them are actually family," I explained.

"But you treat them as such," Amber assessed. "Therefore their productivity will be less than if you treated them with a clear employer-employee relationship."

"They are all very hard workers," I argued. "The family piece enhances a sense of community and pride for their work."

"How many weeks of vacation do your employees get?" she asked.

"Four," I answered, proud of my generosity.

"Are you kidding me? You are losing weeks of productivity or you are wasting money galore on temps," she accused, her facial expression like she had just seen a horrific murder live.

"Well, again I believe if you treat your employees right and make them feel like family, give them a sense of ownership, they will work to the best of their ability," I explained my philosophy.

"How Karl Marx of you," she sarcastically quipped, just as Sophia's voice interrupted us on the intercom.

"Ms. Amber, Relaxation Sensation is on line two for you," Sophia announced.

"Thank you Sophia," Ms. Amber replied politely, like a normal, person would. Moving to my desk, she asked, again politely, "Do you mind if I use your phone?"

Using my usual courtesy for a guest, I stood up and allowed Amber to sit at my desk while she took the call.

As I stood, Amber plopped into my leather chair, flipped her heels off and put her feet up on my desk. I watched in stunned awe as she took over MY desk as if it was hers. She reached for the phone and said, "Hello, this is Amber Anderson."

She giggled like a school girl. "I know it has been a while."

Amber looked at me comfortable in MY chair, at MY desk and in MY office and waved her hand at me as if implying she wanted us to leave.

I stood my ground, flabbergasted at the implication that I was to leave MY own office.

Amber said to the person on the phone she was chatting to like an old lost friend, "Could you give me a minute, Betty?"

Looking up at me, her stocking-clad feet and long legs a bit of a distraction, she said politely, "Could you please give me just a few minutes of privacy?"

Her tone was so polite and unlike her demeanor most of this interview (funny this started as an interview didn't it?), I suddenly felt obliged to give her the privacy. Without a word, I turned and left the room...left MY office...let someone else use MY desk.

In the reception area, Sophia was back at her desk. I looked down at the store through the glass window...not a customer in sight as my two employees, Camree and Tilley, chatted to each other. As much as I hated the idea of allowing a pragmatic woman like Amber to try to fix my store, I really didn't have any other choice. Without a major influx of customers, I would be forced to close my business...and my store...White Wedding... would fade into the oblivion like so many other stores and businesses since the market crash...it seemed the big got bigger, the small got crushed. Determined to keep my shop alive, I sighed at the obvious reality that I needed this woman.

Staring at the empty store, Sophia asked, "Is she the one?"

"I don't know," I said, still staring at the abyss of my store. "Sadly, I don't think we have any other options."

"It's ok," Sophia said, her hand on my shoulder, "We will adapt. Remember, you researched her before inviting her. She is the best, even if she is a bit standoffish."

"That's a nice way to put it," I smiled, turning to look at my secretary since we first opened. She was easily the sweetest, most compassionate woman I had ever met...as well as loyal.

She hugged me like she did when my father died, and when my fiancée dumped me for a younger version and suddenly everything felt right.

"Over the intercom, Amber's voice crackled, "Sophia, could you please send in Ms. Williams."

Rolling her eyes, she went to the machine and replied, "Yes, Ms. Amber."

Turning to me, she asked, "Why Ms. Amber and not Ms. Anderson?"

"Beats me," I shrugged. "But watch out, everything she does seems to have a purpose."

"Agreed," my chubby secretary nodded, but her facial expression hinted at fear.

I walked back into MY office, determined to regain control of this power play game Amber was playing. She was still in the same place as when I left...at MY desk, legs up and heels off. "Sit down, Cassandra," she offered, pointing to my guest chair.

I was again fuming, although happy to see she was using my full name, but after having looked at my empty store yet again, in the middle of the day, I squelched that anger, my humility and sat on MY guest chair. The smile that crossed her face, as I sat on the chair she should have been in, was devious and only increased my fury.

"So good news," she opened with.

"And what would that be?" I asked, desperately trying to contain my sarcasm and anger.

"I got you in," she announced.

"In where?" I asked, sick of playing games already.

"To Relaxation Sensation, of course," she replied, before adding, "although you don't have much time, your flight leaves in four hours."

"Flight? Where?" I asked, my head spinning at both her pretentious tone as well as the feeling of power slipping through my hands.

"Hawaii," she said, "a weeklong trip. I even got you a first class flight."

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