Chapter 1: An Unfortunate Meeting
"I just don't know what you see in that guy, Grace" Lauren says looking down at her coffee. Lauren's feelings for Grace are known by both but she accepts that her fantasy will never be lived out.
"I know, he's a bit dim, but sometimes....you want something just for fun." Grace winks and giggles and leans back in her chair bumping into someone behind her. " Oh, sorry" she smiles at the older woman.
"We need to find you a girlfriend, Laur." Grace chuckles again. It would be fun to double date.
I could bring a girl, you bring a guy, and we could all laugh at how terrible our choices are." Lauren chuckles, but the words feel hollow. The coffee shop is nearly empty now, the afternoon light slanting through the windows, dust motes swirling in the golden haze. The barista yawns behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with a rag that smells like burnt sugar and regret.
Grace stretches, her tank top riding up just enough to reveal the faintest hint of toned stomach. Lauren’s breath catches. She’s seen Grace like this a hundred times—casual, effortless, oblivious to the way Lauren’s pulse spikes at the sight of her.
Once again Grace bumps into the stranger behind her. "Excuse me miss!" The stranger sighs. "That's twice you've hit into me."
"Sorry " Grace says sincerely "but it's not my fault they put the tables so close, you could move a table over " Grace says with a smile.
"Or you could just be more careful" The woman replies with a smirk. "Esme Finch" she says extending her hand. "I own the occult shop down the street."
"Grace" She shakes her hand. "And this is my best friend Lauren" Lauren blushes and waves at the woman.
"Ah, best friends" Esme says with a knowing smirk. "The most dangerous kind." She leans in closer, her dark eyes flickering between them. "You two have that energy—like you’re holding onto something you don’t even realize you want."
Lauren’s stomach flips.
"Uh. Ok. Thanks for that." Grace says as she turns around to Lauren and rolls her eyes.
"You know young lady, it's very rude to turn your back on someone like that." Esme states flatly.
The comment is like a red rag to a bull for Grace who pivots around. "Oi, you've made your comments. I've apologised now leave us the hell alone." Lauren stifles a laugh as this the commanding attitude she has seen many times in Grace . Esme just smirks and says "You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you, sweetheart?" She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small, stoppered vial filled with a swirling, iridescent liquid. "This is for you. A little something to... *spice things up*." She presses it into Lauren’s hand before Grace can react, her fingers lingering just a second too long. "Use it wisely."
Grace scoffs. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Esme just smirks.
"You'll find out soon enough." She winks and walks away, leaving the two women in stunned silence. Lauren stares at the vial in her hand, the liquid inside shimmering like liquid gold under the coffee shop’s dim lights. Grace snatches it from her, examining it with a skeptical frown.
"Jesus, what the hell is this? Some kind of weird perfume?" She twists the stopper, sniffing cautiously. "Smells like… I don’t know, something expensive."
Lauren’s fingers twitch, itching to take it back.
"Grace, don’t—"
But it’s too late. Grace tips the vial back, swallowing the entire contents in one smooth motion. Her throat works as she swallows, her eyes widening slightly as the liquid slides down. She sets the empty vial on the table with a *clink* and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Tastes like… honey and something else. Like… fire." She exhales sharply, her cheeks flushing.
Lauren’s stomach drops. "Grace, what the hell was that?"
Grace’s fingers curl around her coffee cup, her knuckles whitening. "Probably just some weird herbal shit.
"I can't believe you just drank some weird....whatever that was....hey! How come you didn't let me try it." Lauren sticks out her tongue and grins. " But do you...feel ok?"
Lauren asks with concern. Grace's eyes flicker with something Lauren has never seen before. A hunger. A heat. A possessiveness that makes her breath catch.
Grace's tongue darts out to wet her lips, her gaze locking onto Lauren's mouth. "I feel... different," she admits, her voice lower, rougher than usual. "Like I can finally see what I’ve been missing."
Lauren’s pulse hammers in her throat. "What do you mean?"
Grace leans forward, her elbows braced on the table, her fingers tapping restlessly against the wood. "I mean, I’ve been thinking about you, Lauren. A lot." Her voice drops to a whisper.
Lauren leans back. "Ok. Fuck off, that's not funny Grace...you know....we agreed we, I, wouldn't bring that up again" Lauren says with a nervous laugh, but Grace’s expression doesn’t waver. Her blue eyes are dark, intense, burning with something Lauren can’t name. "I know what we agreed," she says, her voice low and rough. "But I can’t stop thinking about it. About *you*."
Lauren’s breath hitches. "Grace, you’re drunk. Or high. Or—"
Grace cuts her off with a sharp shake of her head. "I’m not fucking drunk. I'm absolutely clear minded....although I kinda want to visit that woman's shop..." Grace's voice is low and husky, her fingers drumming against the table like she's itching to touch something. Lauren swallows hard, her throat dry. The coffee shop is nearly empty now, the barista already flipping the sign to *Closed* in the window. The only sound is the hum of the refrigerator and the distant clatter of dishes being stacked in the back.
Lauren’s skin prickles. "What woman? You mean Esme, the one that gave you that drink?" Lauren asks, her voice trembling slightly. Grace's fingers twitch against the table, her knuckles white. "Yeah, her. The one who knew things she shouldn't have. The one who looked at us like she *understood*." Grace's voice is rough, almost guttural, like the words are being dragged out of her against her will. "And now I *understand* too." Grace’s eyes are dark, dilated, her pupils swallowing the blue. She’s never seen her like this—so intense, so *hungry*. The air between them crackles, thick with something Lauren can’t name.
Grace leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as a moment of clarity seems to hit her. "I think that drink did something to me....I can't stop....I want to see you naked. It's all I can think about." Her voice quivers with nerves.
Lauren stands up. "Ok. Something is going on, let's find that old bitch and find out what she did to you!"
Lauren says grabbing Grace by the hand. Grace's grip is tight, her fingers digging into Lauren's palm as she pulls her out of the coffee shop and onto the street. The afternoon sun is still bright, but the air has a chill to it, like the world is holding its breath. Grace’s steps are quick, her body humming with an energy Lauren has never seen before. She’s not just walking—she’s *marching*, her muscles coiled tight beneath her clothes, her jaw set in a way that makes Lauren’s stomach flip.
"Grace, slow down—" Lauren tries, but Grace doesn’t listen. She’s already halfway down the block, even though Grace is much shorter than she is her legs seem to carry her with an urgency she hasn't seen in years . The occult shop looms ahead, its black-painted door slightly ajar, a dim glow spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A sign hangs crookedly—*Esme’s Curiosities*—the letters peeling at the edges.
Grace doesn’t knock. She just shoves the door open, the bell above it jingling like a warning.
The shop is dim, the air thick with the scent of incense and something metallic—like old coins and dried herbs. Shelves groan under the weight of jars, crystals, and strange, twisted figurines. Esme stands behind a counter, her dark eyes flickering up as they enter.
"Ah," she says, her voice smooth as aged whiskey. "Back so soon?"
Grace doesn’t waste time. "What the *fuck* did you give me?"
Esme raises an eyebrow as Lauren enters the shop and stands next to Grace who is breathing heavily. "Give you...I don't remember giving you anything. I did however give a vial of a special potion to your friend." Esme leans forward. "Don't tell me you drank it instead?!" Esme's voice drips with amusement, her dark eyes gleaming with something between mischief and triumph. Grace's fingers curl into fists at her sides, her knuckles whitening as she struggles to keep her voice steady. "I didn’t *drink* it. I *swallowed* it. And now I can’t stop thinking about *her*." She jerks her chin toward Lauren, whose face burns under the intensity of Grace’s stare.
Esme’s smirk widens. "Ah. The potion works faster than I expected." She leans against the counter, her long fingers tapping against the wood. "You see, that little vial wasn’t just for fun. It was a *test*.
Grace snarls through gritted teeth "What. Kind of test...." a soft moan escapes her mouth as her eyes flick to Lauren.
Her lips part slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them. "I need to fuck you." Grace growls, her voice rough and low. "I need to make you mine." Lauren’s breath catches in her throat. The air between them is thick with tension, electric with something primal. Grace’s fingers twitch at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab her. Lauren’s pulse hammers in her ears, her skin prickling with heat.
Esme watches them with a knowing smirk, her dark eyes gleaming. "Ah, the potion works quickly. It amplifies what’s already there—desire, need, obsession." She leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I thought you could use it in your search for a girlfriend." Esme says addressing Lauren. "I saw something in you." A gentle laugh escapes her as she returns her gaze to Grace who is now visibly shaking.
"You were trying to help me?" Lauren says edging forward. Her dark hair matching the black surroundings of the store.
"I saw something in *both* of you," Esme corrects, her voice dripping with amusement. "But it seems the potion chose its own path." She steps back, her hands raised in mock surrender. "I won’t interfere. But if you want to reverse it, you’ll have to find the antidote yourself."
Grace doesn’t even glance at her. Her entire focus is on Lauren, her eyes burning with a hunger that makes Lauren’s knees weak. "Fuck the antidote," Grace growls, her voice rough, almost feral. "I don’t *want* it."
"Sit!" Esme commands. Without thinking Grace slumps into a nearby chair without any resistance. "What the fuck" mouths Lauren. "Oh, anyone who drinks one of my potions has an urge to obey me...just a little side effect i'm happy to work with." Esme smirks, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other customers to attend to." She turns away, leaving Lauren and Grace alone in the dimly lit shop. The air between them is thick with tension, the scent of incense and something darker—something *hungry*—lingering in the space.
Grace’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair. Her knuckles are white, her muscles coiled tight beneath her skin. She looks like she’s fighting a battle she can’t win. "Grace…" she whispers, her voice trembling.
"Grace, what the fuck is happening to you?"
Grace’s eyes snap to hers, dark and wild, her pupils blown wide. "I don’t know," she admits, her voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "But I *need* you. Right now." The air between them is thick, electric, charged with something she can’t name. Grace’s fingers twitch against the chair, her thighs pressing together like she’s trying to hold herself back.
"Grace, we can’t—"
Grace cuts her off with a growl, surging to her feet in one fluid motion. Before Lauren can react, Grace’s hands are on her, gripping her hips, pulling her close. The force of it makes Lauren gasp, her back hitting the wall of the occult shop with a thud. The shelves rattle, jars of dried herbs and strange trinkets clinking together. Grace’s mouth crashes onto hers, hot and hungry, her tongue forcing its way past Lauren’s lips. The kiss is rough, almost violent, nothing like the soft, hesitant pecks Lauren has fantasized about for years. This is *need*, raw and unfiltered.
Grace’s fingers dig into Lauren’s hips, her nails biting through the fabric of her sweater. Lauren moans into her mouth, her hands flying up to tangle in Grace’s long blonde hair, pulling her closer.
"Uh uh uh, Grace." Esme stands in the doorway with 3 cups of tea. "Leave her for now. Back in your seat." Grace obeys, her body trembling with restraint as she sinks into the chair, her fingers curling into the wood like claws. Lauren’s chest heaves, her lips swollen from Grace’s bruising kiss, her skin alight with a fire she’s never felt before. The air between them is thick with tension, the scent of Grace’s arousal—sharp and musky—filling the small shop.
Esme sets the teacups down with a clink, her dark eyes flickering between them. "You two need to *calm down* before you tear each other apart." She smirks, her voice dripping with amusement. "And i'm going to help you. Lauren, I understand you've been in love with Grace here for a while, I can sense these things so don't look too shocked." Esme says as she hands Lauren a cup of tea. "But you need to understand something about this potion. It doesn't just make you *want* her, it makes you *need* her. And not just in a romantic way. It's primal. It's *animalistic*. It's going to make you fuck her like you've never fucked anyone before." Esme's voice is low, almost hypnotic, her dark eyes locked onto Lauren's. "And it's going to make her *beg* for it." Lauren's breath hitches, her fingers tightening around the teacup. The liquid inside sloshes dangerously close to the rim, but she doesn't dare move.
"Lauren I'm guessing your more submissive in your relationships, I'm your life in general. At least. Compare to Grace here" Lauren listens at Esme seeming to read her like a book. Grace looks like she wants to pounce out the chair she is stuck to. Her eyes are wild, her chest heaving, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair like she’s trying to tear it apart. Lauren’s pulse hammers in her throat, her skin prickling with heat.
Esme’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. She smirks, her dark eyes flickering between them. "And I'm going to help you."
Lauren’s fingers tremble around the teacup, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare breathe.
"umm. Maybe but what has that got to do with this...." Lauren's voice trails off as she watches Grace squirm in her seat. Grace's fingers are curled into fists, her knuckles white, her thighs pressed together like she's trying to hold herself back. Lauren can see the wet spot forming on Grace's jeans, the way her hips twitch like she's fighting the urge to grind down on nothing. The sight of it makes Lauren's mouth water, her own arousal pooling between her thighs. She shifts uncomfortably, her clit throbbing with need. "You're both fucked up," Esme says with a smirk, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "But that's what makes this so fun."
"So here's the deal, Lauren. I am going to train you both. You get to have a loving relationship with the woman you've loved not so secretly. But I get a new dominatrix to train up." Esme pauses letting that sit in the air before continuing. "Grace's new life will be what I choose, but through that training you will get unbridled pleasure. And the choice is yours." Esme grins mischievously.
"You two are going to be *so* much fun." She leans back in her chair, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "First, we need to establish some ground rules. Grace, you're going to be *mine* for the next few weeks. I'm going to train you, mold you into the perfect submissive. And Lauren, you're going to watch. And learn. And *participate* when I say so."
Laurens eyes go wide. "But but I thought you picked me out as a submissive."
"I did. I'm not wrong either. But where's the fun in training a dominating personality to be dominant. The real fun is quelling a fiery woman like Grace into become a well trained sub and the timid little creature you are into being a confident and no nonsense...bitch." Esme's smirk widens as she watches the shock ripple across Lauren's face. "But don't worry, darling. You'll get your turn. And when you do, you'll be *thanking* me." She leans forward, her dark eyes locking onto Lauren's. "Now, let's get started." Esme stands, her movements fluid and predatory, and walks over to Grace, who is still trembling in her chair. "First things first, pet. You need to learn to *control* yourself." She reaches down and cups Grace's jaw, her thumb brushing over her swollen lips. "You're *mine* now.
And you're going to learn to obey." Esme's voice is a low, velvety command, her fingers tightening around Grace's jaw. Grace whimpers, her breath hitching as Esme's thumb presses against her lips, forcing them apart. "Open," Esme orders, and Grace obeys instantly, her mouth falling open like a good little slut, her tongue trembling out to meet Esme's touch.
Lauren watches, frozen in place, her own body betraying her as she feels a rush of heat between her thighs. She’s never seen Grace like this—so *submissive*, so *willing* to be controlled. It’s intoxicating.
"Oh but one formality. Lauren. I need to hear you agree to this..." Lauren’s voice is barely a whisper, her throat tight with anticipation. The air in the shop is thick with the scent of incense and something darker—something *hungry*. Grace’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair like she’s trying to tear it apart. Her thighs are pressed together, her hips twitching like she’s fighting the urge to grind down on nothing. The wet spot on her jeans is growing, the fabric clinging to her skin in a way that makes Lauren’s mouth water.
Esme’s smirk widens as she watches the two of them, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Well, Lauren? Do you accept my terms?" The question hangs in the air, thick with tension. Lauren’s breath catches, her fingers tightening around the teacup. The liquid inside sloshes dangerously close to the rim, but she doesn’t dare move. Her gaze flickers to Grace, who is still trembling in her chair, her thighs pressed together, her hips twitching like she’s fighting the urge to grind down on nothing.
"Y-yes," Lauren finally manages to choke out. "I agree."