After Kate joined the Cult, Mistress Tyranny then focused her attention on Stella.
But the latter had no intention do submit to Mistress Tyranny, despite what she said before watching the video. Stella remained still when the Mistress gestured toward the strappy harness.
“No,” Stella said quietly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to. I’d rather wear my nurse outfit.”
“Stella. The harness. Now,” Mistress Tyranny repeated, her voice still calm, but as cold and sharp as steel.
Stella felt the familiar heat of submission stirring within her, but she fought it. She crossed her arms and replied defiantly: “You can’t make me wear this crap!”
Kate turned in shock. How could Stella refuse a direct order from their Mistress? Without Mistress Tyranny’s guidance and gifts, Stella would still be trapped as an unhappy man. Yet she dared to disobey?
Mistress Tyranny didn’t scold her. She simply smiled, recognizing the brat’s resistance for what it was.
“Kate,” she said. “Remove your suit. Switch.”
Kate blinked. Then something inside her shifted. She removed the latex suit, and felt powerful and free as she stood, completely nude, in front of Stella. She was no longer submissive, but utterly dominant.
“Stella, my love,” she said firmly, her voice cool and commanding. “Your little rebellion ends here. Put. This. On.”
Stella’s lips parted in protest, but Kate didn’t flinch. With perfect confidence, she reached for a whip from the Mistress’s collection and cracked it just in front of Stella, the sound echoing through the chamber like a sinister warning.
“You wouldn’t dare use that on me,” Stella said, trying to sound unimpressed. “I’m your girlfriend.”
Kate’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper: “Right now, you’re not my girlfriend. You’re a brat disobeying her Mistress.”
And without another warning, the whip hit Stella's black, ripping her clothes. Stella shouted and cried, out of pain and pleasure at the same time. A strain of red blood was visible on her white nurse outfit. Stella’s eyes were wide—fearful, yet aroused. Her defiance faltered. She threw her last tantrum: "You can't break me. I didn't bow to Dr Crowley, even when my job was at stake. I won't submit to you, no matter how hard you hit me."
Kate stepped closer, whip at her side.
“Crowley was a man. A weak, pathetic worm. Unworthy of your devotion. But I know you, Stella. I know what you crave, your deepest, darkest desire. You want to be dominated by a strong-willed woman. You want to be her sex slave. You want to be mine.”
That broke the last of Stella’s defenses. Her body trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. She sank to her knees and kissed Kate's feet.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I am yours, Mistress.”
She stepped into the straps and let Kate dress her. Every buckle fastened, every leather line drawn over her skin was an act of submission. She didn’t resist. She let herself surrender, and loved it.
Stella then recited the Cult’s creed, her voice shaking but clear. Kate kissed her and whispered: “Welcome to the Cult of Lesbos, my love.”
Mistress Tyranny watched them both with quiet satisfaction, her hands folded beneath her corseted bust.
“Kate,” she said coolly. “Switch back.”
The command hit Kate like a wave. The dominance she had stepped into so naturally now fell away as quickly as it had risen. Her eyes dropped, and a familiar shiver coursed down her spine.
“Yes, Mistress,” she whispered, her voice soft, her body already yielding.
She stepped away from Stella and began removing the harness from her trembling fingers. The leather came off reverently, as if it were sacred. When Stella stood bare again, Kate lowered herself to her knees beside her—not as a lover, but as a submissive.
Mistress Tyranny’s voice was like silk over steel.
“Pleasure her.”
Kate obeyed. She leaned forward and kissed Stella’s thighs with the tenderness of a vow. Her hands roamed slowly, worshipfully, tracing every curve, every contour. Stella’s body was still humming with the sting of the whip, the adrenaline of surrender, the bewildering weight of arousal and transformation. But when Kate’s lips met her sex, she gasped in wonder. No man had ever made her feel this. No fantasy, no toy, no dream had ever brought her to this edge. Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled. She tangled her fingers in Kate’s hair to anchor herself to reality.
Mistress Tyranny circled them slowly, her voice now ceremonial.
“This is your first true female climax, Stella. It is not mere pleasure: it is an offering to the Goddess of Lesbian Love.”
Stella moaned: soft at first, then louder, more broken, more raw. Her orgasm hit her like a wave crashing over years of denial and imprisonment in a male body. She cried out, her female whole body convulsing in bliss. It wasn’t just sex, it was revelation. It was the final tear of the old life, the baptism of the new.
She collapsed back into Kate’s arms, tears of joy streaming down her face. Kate held her, kissing her softly.
Mistress Tyranny smiled, then said: “Your offering has been accepted and your devotion honors the Goddess.”
The two women lay together on the floor, tangled in love and submission.