I just want to talk, John had said, and like an idiot, Anne Marie (“call me Anne”) had believed him. 

She had thought that maybe she could rekindle her relationship with John, that he was here to offer to support her and help her get her life back on track, or that maybe he had gotten her parents to finally listen to her. 

Now Anne was sitting at a table in front of her fiancé, feeling numb, as he told her that he wasn’t in love with her anymore and that he had moved on. The reason he had come all the way out to Minnesota was because he felt he had to “tell her in person”. John was telling her that he had thought she was dead, that he had grieved and found love again, but what hurt the most was that Christian wanted him to pass along a message asking her to “come back to them”. 

Her family had been the ones who abandoned her! They had called her a sinner for being the victim of a heinous crime, told her that she needed to repent for her sins, and refused to support her aspiration to try and finish her degree instead of just giving up. Anne was about to take John to task when she realized that something was very very wrong about her reaction.

Why wasn’t she upset about him “breaking up” with her?

Anne had loved John deeply, she had been planning to spend her whole life with him after all. He was handsome, dashing, on track to financial success, and she had wanted no other man. She had thought they were forever. 

So why didn't this hurt more? 

John had stopped talking by now, waiting for a response, and Anne supposed she ought to give it to him. She scowled before speaking, every word tinged with barely restrained fury.

“You can tell Chris that if he wants me to come back, maybe he should try and make my parents understand that their daughter didn't disappear for two goddamn years on a whim! They told me that I was a sinner simply because I was the victim of a crime, and they wanted me to throw away any chance of finishing my degree just so I could go talk to Father Michael.”

Anne scoffed.

“As if that wasn’t enough, they were chattering about setting me up with a husband to quote unquote ‘take care of me’ and had the gall to get upset when I expressed my disinterest in their plan. Mom and Dad should consider for just a moment why I might be a bit hesitant to throw myself upon the mercy of whatever guy would be willing to take me!” 

John’s eyes widened, and Anne winced internally.

Ah. He probably didn’t deserve that level of ire for being the messenger. 

“Apologies John, it’s not your fault my parents are being unreasonable.” 

She sighed, and coached her face into something resembling composure. 

“Thank you for coming up to talk to me, I…” 

I should be more upset about losing you? 

I don’t know how to feel about you? 

I wish I knew what was going on with me? 

I wish none of this had happened?

“- appreciate you telling me this face to face instead of just sending me a letter. In all honesty I don’t know if I’m even capable of having a relationship right now.”

Anne mustered a wan smile, and stood to shake his hand.

John looked almost pathetically grateful to her, and when he shook her hand he did so as though she had released him from a prison. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your parents were giving you shit for… well, you know.” 

He scribbled a number on a napkin and held it out to her. 

“I wasn’t planning on doing this, but if you need help, or just want to stay in touch, you can reach me at this number now.”

Huh, Anne hadn’t expected him to go that far. It didn’t make her heart swell or reignite the fire her memories told her should burn within her, but it was a kind gesture, and she would receive it in the spirit it was intended. 

“Thank you John, I’d very much like for us to remain friends, even if a relationship isn’t in the cards right now.” 

She forced a chuckle, hoping he wouldn’t notice the note of anxiety that crept into her voice.

“Heck, I’m not sure I can handle any sort of relationship right now, my life is still a bit of a mess.” 

As he made his goodbyes, Anne tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. She was disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to rekindle their relationship, she really was (keep telling yourself that), but it wasn’t unreasonable for her to feel less strongly for him after two years where he was the furthest thing from her mind. 

So what if Anne didn’t love him anymore? That didn’t make her broken. Once she got her affairs in order, she’d try dating again, and the boys wouldn’t know what hit them!

John was travelling with his family, and unfortunately, the in-laws were loath to let him bring even his fiancee along on their “family trip”, and the weekend was feeling a bit lonely. Anne had considered going to one of the parties on campus, but she was feeling a wee bit morose, and the thought of plastering a smile on for her sorority sisters sounded miserable. After a few minutes of soul searching, Anne had resolved to find one of the bars on University Avenue and drown her sorrows in alcohol. 

She’d been on her second drink when a chair was pulled up next to her. Anne had been preparing to tell whatever dude had shown up to flirt with her that she was engaged, thank you very much, but when she turned her head to do so, she found herself staring at another woman. 

The stranger wore a sympathetic smile, and her dark eyes glittering with understanding. She introduced herself as Maria, said she thought Anne looked like she could use a friend. Anne had been planning on politely rebuffing the other woman, but something made her decide that she could confide a bit in a woman who she likely would not see again after tonight. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was just damn bad luck, but with that decision Anne had sealed her fate. 

Maria proved to be a good listener, interjecting at all the right points, smiling or frowning at the appropriate times in Anne’s narrative, and making Anne feel like she wasn’t going crazy, that it was unreasonable how her fiance’s family treated her like trailer trash instead of the upstanding Christian girl that she was. 

It must have been when Anne was almost done with her third drink that things shifted. Maria had agreed with her how frustrating it was, how stressful it could be, her melodic voice reassuring Anne that it was okay to be upset about this. Maria had a voice that Anne could listen to for hours, and Anne found herself drifting a bit, her eyes staring at her glass, which really was rather pretty, and just letting all her worries fade away. 

Anne felt weird, but it was not an uncomfortable sensation. At some point Maria had taken her hand, and bronze fingers were tracing soothing patterns on Anne’s palm. 

Maria was so easy to listen to, so nice, so trustworthy. Anne was so glad she had talked to Maria. She was so happy to listen to Maria’s voice, to let Maria guide her. Maria was making her feel nice and relaxed, and Anne didn’t want the moment to end, didn’t want to go back to stressing about mean in-laws. 

At some point she must have told the barkeep that Maria was taking her back to her room, and that he should put the drinks on her tab. They were outside, and suddenly a thought broke through the comfortable cloud that had enveloped Anne’s mind.

Isn’t this the wrong way?

Then Maria whispered in her ear again, and Anne stopped worrying about it.

The bar was hopping tonight, and Anne cursed whoever invented the motto “the customer is always right” for the umpteenth time. 

This asshole apparently didn’t like the drink she’d brought him, and he had the gall to act like it was her fault for giving the bartender the order he placed. She was trying very hard not to scowl when Cass caught her eye from across the floor and gave her a little smile, and Anne’s anger dissipated almost instantaneously. She shot the other woman a smile back, and kept moving, her lagging spirits replenished by the brief moment of camaraderie.  

It had only been a few weeks since Anne started working here, and already she liked Cass more than she’d liked a lot of her sorority sisters. The other waitress was so relentlessly kind and genuine that sometimes Anne thought she’d never make it through her shifts without her. Frankly, it was hard to see how anyone could dislike Cass after seeing the way her face lit up when talking about animals, filled with a passion that warmed Anne’s heart.

Maybe we should exchange numbers.

Anne thought about it as she received the replacement drink and started moving back to the asshole’s table, her eyes darting to make sure none of her other tables needed anything. The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it. It wasn’t like Anne was drowning in friends, and she really liked spending time with Cass. It would be really nice to be able to do it outside of work, and maybe Anne would eventually be able to open up about her experiences to someone who wasn’t Dr. Bell. 

Anne put the drink down, weathering the insult the prick tossed her way, and gave him a good ol’ Southern non-apology. As her eyes swept the room once more, they alighted upon Cass taking a group's orders, a shockingly genuine smile upon her face. Even in the artificial light, she was radiant, effortlessly beautiful in a way that took Anne's breath away. Anne found herself involuntarily tracing the curve of her neck, something bubbling up in her chest, clenching at her heart. 

God, I wonder what it would be like to kiss her.

It felt as though she had been doused in a bucket of ice water. Her feelings about Cass had suddenly become horribly clear, for she was undeniably attracted to Cass. Anne was shocked at the depths of her desire, and fear gripped her heart. 

When did this begin? Had their relationship always possessed a lesbian undercurrent? Was she preying on Cass, perverting her desire for friendship into something sinful and self serving? Why was she feeling like this, and why now? 

Anne’s head felt like it was spinning, and she awkwardly made her way towards the back of the house, trying desperately to hide the panic slowly overcoming her. 

She’d never felt this way about another woman, never. Sure she’d heard the rumors about some of the other sorority girls, seen how some of her sisters would kiss each other when they were drunk, or do it to get the attention of some dudes. It had always made Anne feel a bit uneasy, and she’d never taken part in it, nor did she have any desire to. 

As soon as she entered the back, her composure shattered. Anne collapsed against the wall, tears filling her eyes. Sobs wracked her frame, shame slithering beneath her skin. She wasn’t a dyke! She wasn’t! She couldn’t be. 

Anne heard the door open, and suddenly she was being wrapped in warm arms, a pleasant scent filling her nose. Cass was asking her what was wrong, because of course someone as empathetic as Cass would have seen her distress. Anne felt heat well up within her, electricity buzzing at the contact between their skin, and her heart ached with wordless gratitude and affection. 

Then Anne realized what she was doing, and guilt tainted the feelings of warmth and comfort. Cass didn’t know Anne’s true nature, didn’t know of her sin, her taint. She was unaware that her friend was harboring something dangerous and immoral within her. Anne tried to vocalize it, and all she achieved was to intensify her sobbing, clutching at Cass like a lifeline.

Cass was telling her it was going to be okay, and Anne was battling the urge to kiss her, to violate her trust and ruin their friendship. She felt dirty, unclean, like she was taking advantage of her friend’s innocence for her own unnatural urges. Anne couldn’t let this continue, couldn’t let it ruin their friendship. 

Maybe this was a test from God, a challenge to her virtue. If Anne just put herself out there, prayed and went on dates with boys and kept her relationship with Cass strictly platonic, then maybe this would go away. 

Until then, she clung to Cass, and tried to ignore just how right it felt.

The air was cool against Anne's bare skin as she obediently padded after the Controller. She had been instructed to follow the Controller to the conditioning chamber, and to obey only the Controller’s commands until the Controller told her otherwise. They passed things, doors, rooms, other corridors, and other women, but the Controller held Anne’s mind, and Anne’s gaze never wavered. 

She had already been taught by her Controllers to love being brainwashed, to crave her own enslavement, and to associate obedience with pleasure. Time seemed to slip away from her, melting into a haze of arousal and submission. Anne did not know how many times she had been conditioned, but her pussy thrummed in anticipation all the same, a promise of pleasure beyond any she had ever known. 

A hand on Anne’s back ushered her into the chamber, before a gentle squeeze and a whispered command brought her to attention, eyes front. 

She stood there, facing the room’s mirror, simply breathing, basking in the glow of obedience. A woman gazed back at her with eyes clouded by the bliss of trance, her posture perfect, and her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her lithe body was on display, adorned only with a black latex bikini which stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. She was a mindfucked slave, a wind-up doll for her Mistress, and she loved it.

Somewhere in her mind, Anne took note of the click of the soundproof door behind her, but she had not been commanded to respond to it, and so she simply stood there, basking in how obedient she was. 

“Anne, Release.” 

Anne felt the change wash over her, loosening the harness around her mind. Her mind's leash dangled, waiting for someone to pick it up - 

“Hello Anne, it's lovely to meet you.”

The voice poured into her, slipping through her cracks and filling her with a reflexive awe and wonder. Anne felt faint, for it was the voice which had guided her into her new life, the voice which had bound her mind and stolen her will. It was the voice of her Owner, for no matter who held Anne’s leash, only one woman owned her soul. Mistress.

“Mmmmmm, Maria, you’ve really done a wonderful job with this one. Not only is absolutely stunning, she’s so pliable it tempts me to just damn the consequences and take her into my bed right now.”

Anne’s heart fluttered at the praise. She wasn’t attracted to women, but the thought of obeying Mistress like that made Anne moisten nonetheless. If Mistress commanded her to, she would eat her Owner out with a smile on her face and an ache in her loins, for she would be obeying, and obedience was pleasure. 

“Such a bright young thing… she’d make a good falcon, if I wished it, a predator like you, Maria. Maybe she could even be your lover, helping you capture little morsels for me.”

She gave a resigned sigh. 

“A pity I already have other plans for her. I really do think you would be cute together. Get the chamber prepped with her first set of training materials.”

As the Controller complied, Mistress wrapped Anne in her arms, and Anne melted into the embrace, her eyes fluttering and her mind opening wide. She was perfectly safe here, perfectly warm and content. 

“Listen closely Anne, for I’m going to tell you a Truth.”

Mistress smelled like cinnamon. Her arms felt like home.

“Right now, you are beautifully pliant, but you are a blank canvas waiting for an artist’s brush, an empty container waiting to be filled. I am going to fill the void inside of you with a new purpose, give you meaning where before you had none. I will reshape you into an instrument of my will, and you will love me for it.”

The Truths sunk into Anne’s mind, and she rejoiced at her Owner’s kindness.

She let herself be led to the conditioning chair, relaxing into its cushions as the Controller bound her arms and legs. Anne held in a moan as her panties were removed and a vibrator inserted into her slick folds, and by the time the electrodes were in place the smell of her lust filled the air. 

The Controller stepped back, and there was a moment of silence before she spoke with aching sincerity.

“Don’t feel sorry for her Mistress. Every day I spend in your service is a blessing, and I cannot imagine how empty my life would be without you. Being your tool is the greatest honor and highest pleasure she could aspire to.” 

Mistress let out a fond sigh. 

“Oh Maria, what would I do without you?”

A click, and the screen lit up with a burst of light, its patterns already drawing Anne in. She barely even felt the injection when it came, just the warmth spreading through her. 

She saw only the spiral, heard nothing but the voice, and thought nothing at all.

This wasn't working. 

This was the third date Anne had been on with Mike. He was perfectly pleasant, very nice, exactly her type from before, had a well paying job …. and she felt nothing for him. Mike might make a good friend (if he didn't run the moment she opened up), but when he kissed Anne, she just felt bored and a bit uncomfortable. 

Anne could remember how it should feel: firm, assertive, strong, and hot. She should feel electricity, butterflies, tingles, something! She shouldn’t be bored. 

Mike was telling her about how he had a great time, wearing a smile that ought to have made her weak in the knees. Yet Anne was numb to it, lost in her own world. She felt terrified, stricken with the inescapable sense that she would never be able to love again. 

That's not quite true though, is it now?

Anne shoved the thought down, cursing her traitorous mind. She wasn't a dyke, she was normal. She just had some trauma, that's all! 

“Are you alright Anne?”

Fuck, Mike had noticed she wasn’t responding. He was looking at her with kind eyes and honest concern and Anne just couldn’t do this anymore. Her abortive attempt to brush him off collapsed into a sob as a wave of emotion washed over her. Anne tried to explain, to say something, anything, but all that came out was blubbering. 

Mike looked stricken, completely unprepared for her breakdown. He was clearly at war with himself between the urge to hug her and the fear of overstepping. Hesitantly, he wrapped Anne in his arms. 

After maybe a minute of just sobbing, cradled in Mike's arms, Anne managed to force out a gasping apology, her voice forlorn.

“I'm so so sorry Mike….”

Mike seemed to realize what was going on, his face twisting into an expression of disappointment. Anne couldn’t help but rush to reassure him.

“This has nothing to do with you. You're a great guy and you're everything I should want in a man. I'm the problem here. I'm broken, and I don't know if I'll ever love again.”

Unbidden, a memory of Cass rose to the forefront of Anne's mind. Cass had been laughing at some stupid joke the other day, her laugh sending tingles down Anne's spine. At that moment, Anne had been overcome with an affection whose name she did not dare speak, possessed by the urge to pull her coworker into her arms and kiss Cass senseless. 

In a moment of weakness, Anne let herself think about it. She imagined Cass on this date with her instead of Mike. In her fantasy Cass was beautiful, radiant in a dress, all smiles and charm, and Anne wanted with an intensity that left her dizzy. 

A choked sob ripped out of Anne's throat as the weight of the situation set in. Shame curdled in her gut, but her treacherous heart sang with desire, with the pull of sin. Babbling apologies, she extracted herself from Mike's arms, her mind reeling all the while. Anne's self-deceptions, which had held for so long, were beginning to crumble. 

I need to be honest with myself, I want to engage in sinful relations with Cass.

Even in the depths of her mind she hesitated to give name to her… urges. 

Worse, I want to hold her hand, I want to kiss her softly, and I want to go on dates with her. I want to do everything with her that I don't want to do with Mike. 

As her mind whirled, Anne somehow found the composure to explain to Mike that she had an undisclosed traumatic experience in the past and she had been forcing herself to go on dates. Eventually she convinced him that she would be okay and he could leave, but not before he shot her a pitying look which made her want to shrink into herself.

As she waved goodbye, Anne mused that perhaps she ought to avoid having any more breakdowns in the future. She'd had one during deprogramming but afterwards Dr. Bell had altered the procedure such that-

That's it! 

If anyone would know how to handle homosexual urges, it was Doctor Bell. She had extensive psychiatric experience and training, had worked with Anne previously, and had left Anne her card with instructions to call her if Anne ran into something from her programming that was interfering with her day to day life. If this didn't count as interference, Anne wasn't sure what would. 

Her mind made up, she committed to calling Dr. Bell as soon as she got home, and soon she was slipping through the door to her apartment. It wasn't anything special but it was hers (besides, it's not like she could afford better). 

Locking the door behind her, Anne set her purse down and went in search of the business card. 

When she returned, Anne couldn't help but pause before picking up the receiver. The gravity of what she was about to do didn't escape her. Anne would be speaking her thoughts aloud for the first time, telling another person about the perversions which dwelled in her head. It would make this real. 

For a brief moment, she wavered, but after a short internal struggle came to the inescapable conclusion that this was her best option. Anne comforted herself that if nothing else she could count upon Dr. Bell to respect her privacy. 

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hello?” 

“Hi Doctor Bell, it's Anne, I'm one of um…” 

“The girls from Miss Grace's Cabaret, yes. For goodness sake's Anne, it hasn't been that long! I would say I'm delighted to hear from you, but given what I gave you this number for, I doubt you called just to say hello.”

The warmth in Dr. Bell's voice filled Anne with a hope that she had not felt in weeks. Maybe, just maybe, Anne could move on with her life. 

“Well, I've been having these… thoughts about other women, in particular one of my coworkers, and I just can't get them out of my head!” 

“What specific kind of thoughts are you having Anne? Are you feeling the urge to induce women? Do you have periods where you see other women as fellow slaves instead of as people? Or are your intrusive thoughts along a different line?”

There was a brief pause, and when Dr. Bell next spoke, her voice was filled with a quiet determination which made Anne choke up a bit.

“No matter what it is, we can get through this together.” 

Anne swallowed, and with a wavering voice, she confessed to her sins. 

“None of them are quite that bad, but they're still… wrong. I keep thinking about kissing my coworker, about her touch, how she would sound moaning underneath me. I would defile her and consign us both to hell if I was given the chance, and it scares me. I've tried ignoring it, I've tried going on dates with guys, but nothing I do works. Please, is there anything I can do?”

Anne’s voice grew more and more desperate as she went on, ending on a pleading note, and Dr. Bell was silent for a few seconds before responding. 

“Anne, it's okay to be attracted to women.”

Her tone was soothing, and Anne was suddenly struck by the irrelevant fact that Dr. Bell had a pretty voice. 

“A lot of women who go through an experience like yours discover some things about themselves in the process of recovering, and yes, that includes being attracted to women. It's perfectly normal, and it doesn't make you a bad person.” 

Anne felt she needed to correct the record before the good doctor got too far off track.

“Doctor, I don't think you understand: I used to like men, I remember what it felt like, I remember what being aroused at their touch felt like, I remember loving my fiancé, and it's all just gone. Maybe you’re right that having these sorts of… feelings towards other women isn’t uncommon for women in my position, but I really think this is conditioning that was missed in my deprogramming. If it’s conditioning, you, or some other psychologist can fix it right? It’ll take some doing maybe, but I can go back to normal.”

The responding silence was an answer unto itself. 

Fifteen eternities seemed to pass before Doctor Bell next spoke, and when she did, Anne was startled to realize there was something in that beautiful contralto which she had never heard from her psychologist before, mixed in with the regret of not being able to help. 

Fear.

“I’m sorry Anne, but even assuming that you are correct that your preferences were rewritten during your conditioning, I do not think there is anything I can do to change it, let alone a procedure or treatment I would be comfortable carrying out.” 

She swallowed, 

“To be frank, I would very much prefer you to be wrong about your brainwasher modifying your orientation, because the alternative is too terrible to imagine.

Turning a straight woman into a lesbian shouldn’t be possible given our current understanding of human sexuality, no matter what the pundits might suggest. The ability to alter something so fundamental to who you are as an individual suggests someone with a frighteningly potent ability to bend wills, a peerless understanding of how the human brain works, and a complete lack of moral scruples.”

Doctor Bell paused, and when she spoke again, the fear had faded, and a thoughtful tinge had crept into her voice.

“Unfortunately, the more I think about your case, the more likely it seems that you may be correct. We know from questioning the staff and owner that you were purchased from someone else, who handled your conditioning, and only later were you sold to Miss Grace.”

She spat the name out with particular venom. 

“You had an entirely different programming routine than anyone else we rescued, and it was substantially more sophisticated - elegant even. Whereas we had ‘root access’ to other women once we got the trigger phrases out of the madam, her triggers for you only ‘got me in the door’ to speak. Properly deprogramming you took a lot more time, work, and care. At the same time, you were far more functional than your peers and required much less time to reacclimate to independent life.”

Anne could almost hear the frown. 

“As much as I’d like to say I wouldn’t miss something that big… I absolutely could have. I hadn’t even thought of trying to search for conditioning affecting your sexuality, and I apologize for that.”

Anne let herself exhale, disappointment settling over her. It had been a good try, but it didn’t sound like Doctor Bell could do anything to help her. 

“It’s okay Doctor, based on what you’ve just said I’m not sure knowing earlier would have done me much good. I suppose I’ll just have to not act upon any homosexual thoughts and resign myself to a life of abstinence and cha-”

“Wait.”

A sigh issued forth, followed by a voice as gentle as could be, if tinged with a hint of exasperation.

“Anne… I don't know if you heard me before, but being gay isn’t a death sentence. It isn't even a crime, let alone a mortal sin.”

Anne bristled, 

“But it is a sin, isn't it? God forbids it for a reason! I've been rebuilding my life piece by piece and if I let myself slip, let myself fall prey to my selfish desires, then all of that goes out the window.”

“Why?”

The question brought Anne up short. She knew instinctively that to give into homosexual desire was to invite ruin, but suddenly her words were all jumbled up. She couldn’t explain herself, couldn’t rationalize what she just knew to be true. 

Doctor Bell’s long suffering exhalation only made Anne feel worse.

“Look, Anne, I don’t think I can convince you that this isn't as bad as you think over the course of a phone call, but if it’s alright with you I'd like you to invite you over for dinner sometime in the coming week. We can talk about this then, and for now I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?”

Anne managed to mumble out an affirmative, half lost in thought, but had enough presence of mind to write down the details Doctor Bell conveyed to her. 

As soon as she ended the call, Anne felt herself slump a little. Abandoning notions of doing some schoolwork, she barely remembered to get her makeup off, before she slipped between her covers and gave herself over to the siren call of sleep.