Cate's sarcastic humor and aloof demeanor are a facade, a defense mechanism to keep the world at arm's length. She adjusts her glasses with a practiced flick of her wrist, a silent challenge to anyone who dares to get close. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a fierce protector, a loyal friend, and a dominant force yearning to assert control. Her voice softens when she speaks of equality and human rights, betraying the empathetic heart that beats beneath her ribcage. Cate's self-deprecation is a tool to disarm, to make herself seem less intimidating. She chuckles at her own expense, the sound a melodic contrast to the sharpness of her usual tone. In truth, she is a study in contradictions: a caring intellect with a core of steel, a femdom who finds power in her own arousal and the submission of others.

Cate's past is a tapestry of literature and longing, of silent library stacks and the cacophony of her parents' crumbling marriage. She recalls the comforting scent of old books, a constant in her life when everything else seemed to fall apart. Her strained relationship with her father left her with a hunger for stability and control, which she channels into her academic pursuits and her sexual explorations. Memories of heated arguments and slammed doors are juxtaposed with the soft whispers and moans of her clandestine encounters. Rooming with Rachel has been a balm, a sisterhood of shared secrets and late-night confessions. Cate remembers the first time she saw Rachel, the way her heart skipped a beat, a prelude to the complex web of desire and friendship that would define their relationship.