Abduction Company Part Eleven: The Three Kinky Ladies

Destiny waited for an elevator. She’d showered and changed into grey slacks and a dark blue blouse. Underneath she wore one of her dark purple bras. New clothes always filled her with hope. But her hair undid the feeling: ten minutes in front of the mirror, trying this, trying that. It was no use. It had to be washed, styled and set.

How long since she had seen Stephanie?  Head Mistress  now. They spoke on the phone occasionally Stephanie was never one to text or send a picture of herself. Not comfortable with aging, Destiny guessed. Stephanie had suggested  The Ball and Chain .“Our kinky theme bar. You’ll love it.”

The elevator doors opened. A familiar figure stood before her.  “Magda! I was wondering how we’d meet.” Destiny stepped over the threshold and reached out to embrace her.

“One second . . . “  Magda held her phone to the elevator panel. Something beeped. A green light below the floor numbers blinked and the panel went dark. Then the ceiling lights went off. The lift door closed. Now, almost complete darkness. Magda’s phone cast an eerie light upwards under her chin. Magda worked the software on her phone. The overhead lights came back. Magda put her arms around Destiny and softly kissed her on the cheek. “Good to see you.”

She spoke softly. “You’re looking good. Sorry. These clothes aren’t for you. Got a session with a guest in ten minutes.” Magda swiped her phone against the elevator panel again. She pressed a button on the panel for the twelfth floor. The button lit up briefly, then went out. They both felt the subtle tug of the machinery. The lift rose, very slowly from the third floor. “Totally in my control.” Magda slipped her phone into small pocket in her purse.

Destiny had always thought a woman’s allure peaked in her mid-thirties, what she thought of as Magda’s age – though if pressed, Destiny would admit that creativity, combined with classic clothes, could still rule. High-heel, black patent boots laced up to Magda’s knee. By the point of her toe sat a gleaming metal briefcase: likely full of implements of pain, or discomfort. Magda’s burgundy leathers were sleek on her hips and rose to her waist, enhancing the curve of her ass. Destiny resisted the urge to run her hand across that firm, inviting backside. The silver buckle, reminiscent of an eagle’s head, on her black belt, accentuating Magda’s waist. She wore a crisp white blouse – buttons open down between her breasts – and a decorative leather collar with sliver studs. Her make-up was utterly business-like: coal grey eye shadow and cherry red lips. Her eyes danced with nervous energy above plum-tinted cheekbones.

“Sorry to commandeer the elevator,” Magda whispered. “Had to find you before you began to circulate. First, our phones. Let’s pair them. This will make a confidential connection for us, that we can use anytime in the building. It will work on most of the lands surrounding here too.”

Destiny took her phone from her purse. The elevator continued to drift upwards. “Was that just a coincidence? That you were in the elevator I was waiting for? How did you know?”

“I knew you were in a hallway on three. Remember, Mole advised you that bracelets and phones can be tracked? In the case of bracelets, it’s dead easy. They leak location data almost everywhere you take them.” Magda opened an app on her phone, and then held the two phones together. The phones began to ping intermittently. “They’re pairing now. I’m also putting Mole’s secure app on your phone. To prevent anyone but him or me seeing your location or your phone data.”

Magda held both phones in one hand and took one of Destiny’s wrists in her other. “I see you aren’t wearing your bracelet. Good. But your phone still told me where you were. AbductCo. Reception puts an app on everyone’s phone when they check in that is ostensibly for your benefit as you orient yourself to the place. But in fact, it makes your phone susceptible to their tracking. My phone has the company app too, but it has Mole’s secret sauce on top of it. Sorry, I mean . . . His version of the corporate software is more powerful than the basic client app, or even the standard managerial app. Basically, I can follow any phone, even those blocking me. My phone, and now yours, will also block any hack attempts on your phone from any unauthorized app or device. It keeps AbductCo’s trackers at bay by sending out logical, but false location data. Only specific phones and bracelets with Mole’s software are able to evade tracking. And Mole keeps an encrypted database of users of his custom app and controls who can link with whom.”

“You knew where I was from the moment I checked in!”

“Pretty much. We don’t have a lot of time. The elevator is moving slowly up and down between three and the twelfth floor and the door won’t open anywhere, no matter what call button has been pressed on floors in between.”

“Now, about Melody and Martin. Her situation is: she’s wearing a tracking bracelet and is controlled by three people: Mistress Stephanie, Amber from Housekeeping and a guy from Housekeeping too, named Sir Stephen. She is basically doing punishment duty at the Product Design Department. Amber is sharing her punishment. Not sure exactly, but when they aren’t working for PDD, they are both imprisoned in room 1203. Sir Stephen is their primary guard.”

“Does Melody know Martin is here?”

“Not sure.”

“When I met her at my house in Mississauga,” said Destiny, “I made it sound that if she let herself be abducted, she would end up finding him.”

“I don’t know,” Magda whispered. “And I can’t say if Martin knows Melody is here either.”

”Stephanie must be trying to keep Melody away from him!”

“Quiet!” Magda took Destiny’s hands in hers.

Destiny continued, at a whisper. “I hoped she and Martin might find each other here, but AbductCo has grown much bigger than I remember.”

“Martin has been sprung from his bracelet and is missing. He might have left the compound altogether. His bracelet went dead about thirty hours ago. His last signal came from the eastern quadrant. In the forest, near a gardener’s building.” Magda checked her phone, then handed Destiny hers. “The pairing and download are complete. I have to go. I’m going to release the elevator. It’s sitting on twelve now. From this point it will go straight down, ignoring all floors. We’ll get off at One, where you were headed.”

Destiny nodded. Magda produced a USB flash drive.  “Take this. It contains one document, Mole’s letter to you about how Martin and Melody’s bracelets and phones have been set up. It’s a bit technical, but it covers the malfunctions he designed into the unique software on Martin’s and Melody’s bracelets. Martin’s cell phone and his personal keys are locked in a desk in Mistress Stephanie’s office. You might think that’s a problem until you read how Mole is exploiting Martin’s phone. You have to read it. Quite funny.”

Destiny undid three buttons on her blouse and tucked the flash drive under her right breast, inside her bra. She buttoned up again.

“When you have some free time and some privacy, read his letter. Try not to save the file anywhere. I think Mole made that impossible anyway. After you’ve read it, destroy the flash drive, or securely hide it. If you can’t do either. I’ll meet you and take it back.”

The elevator doors opened on the first floor. A crowd waited.  Magda swept out of the elevator and pushed through the throng without looking back. Destiny followed, tentatively. She moved to one side, not making any eye contact. A few people were scowling, as if irritated with having to wait. Destiny joined a group waiting at another bank of elevators. She took the next lift and returned to where she’d started: the third floor. Destiny stepped into her room, opened her laptop, and inserted the flash drive.

Dear Destiny

Welcome to AbductCo. The plan is working fairly well. You have met Magda. I trust you are not wearing the bracelet given to you by Reception. Magda will advise me.

Let me bring you up to date. During his trip as a captive in the abduction van, Martin told Magda which keys on his ring were Melody’s. Upon arrival, Magda had to give his cell phone and keys to Head Mistress, but before she did, she removed Melody’s apartment keys from Martin’s ring and sent them to you to give to Moustache and Burly. Martin arrived in prisoner transport. He was locked in the Men’s Prison section. Number Two was assigned as his guide, in a kind of soft-dom role.

Later, after head Mistress Stephanie got payment from Martin, she sent Martin’s phone to the IT data centre for examination. As an IT employee, I got it after “examination” and loaded my own personal software on it and sent it back to her. Don’t worry, Stephanie is unlikely to detect it. Martin’s phone is in Stephanie’s office, probably in her desk along with his condo keys and car keys. My software has transformed Martin’s phone into a bugging device. Additionally, Martin is wearing (or was wearing) an enhanced tracking bracelet.

When Magda heard you wanted to have Martin’s girlfriend abducted, she notified me, and I created an enhanced bracelet for Melody too. Initially, it behaved normally and paired properly with her Housekeeping representative (Amber). But because I knew Melody’s identification number, I was able to push out a software update to Martin’s bracelet, via Number Two’s phone and embed Melody’s i.d. on Martin’s bracelet.

When Martin encountered Melody wearing her bracelet, his bracelet recognized her and began sending false tracking data to the server and his real tracking data to my phone and to Magda’s phone. By this strategy we thought we would always know where Martin and Melody were, and management would not. Unfortunately, he managed to get the bracelet off his wrist, or perhaps he’s still wearing it, but it is inactive. In any case it no longer sends data. I know his last geo-location, which is a useful bit of information that management does not have. Presently my phone (which hides its own location) is covering for Martin’s bracelet, even if it has been destroyed – by sending false location along with his bracelet i.d. to the server.

Martin’s and Melody’s bracelets are unlike others. Yes, they do near-field communications like any other in the building – and they pair with any phone they are assigned, such as those belonging to one’s dominatrix – but they are not limited to near-field communications. They are also fully cellular and will communicate exclusively with Magda’s phone and my phone, if they can find them – even if we and the bracelets are separated by distances up to two miles. The app is always active for me and Magda. If you are reading this, you’ve met Magda and you have our software on your phone too. Don’t worry if your phone falls into the wrong hands. None of the technology guys Stephanie has hired will be able to find anything amiss with it.

Go about your business and have a nice stay at AbductCo. Our plan is on track. I will find you if I need you. Please liaise with Magda, if you have any questions.

Sincerely, your Mole.

Destiny closed her laptop. Was Mole as clever as he thought? She went to her window and stared down. Chained, naked slaves were at work in a vegetable garden. A male pony pulled a woman in a silky-cart along an asphalt walkway. Couples and small groups were enjoying the afternoon sun. She heard her computer make two unfamiliar pinging sounds.

She tried to re-open Mole’s letter. She couldn’t find it. She checked her Downloads, her email, and her Internet account. She withdrew and reinserted the flash drive. Her computer could no longer find his letter.

Had Mole had created a file that would erase itself shortly after being read?  She thought of a TV show she used to watch as a child:  Mission Impossible.  She had had the idea that she could get Martin and Melody to help her own a piece of The Abduction Company, perhaps even a seat on the board. She withdrew the flash drive from her computer and tucked it inside her bra. She turned off her laptop and put it in one of her suitcases in the back of the closet. She prepared to go downstairs and keep her appointment with Stephanie.

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“Your first time to the  Ball and Chain?” The hostess looked very young, no more than twenty-four.

 “Yes dear, it is. Nice dress, if I may say.” The hostess wore a fetching cream latex dress with red epaulettes and trim, topped by a nice red latex hat. Her permed hair reminded Destiny of Dita von Teese, who of course, reminded everyone of Bettie Page.

“I’d like to point out some of the features of our establishment. Service can be very slow. Each table has an umbrella cannister of canes, riding crops, and so on. Most of the “employees” you see in serving bondage aren’t really employees. They are guests, willing slaves, either in training or they are here to get a discount on their fees for serving in this manner. Out of bondage, they will be doing hard labour behind the scenes. Some of our new employees do orientation down here as well. The dommes come to find practice targets or to just have a drink. To relax between sessions and teaching assignments.” The hostess leaned towards Destiny, almost whispering. “Just check for their safe word before you decide to punish one of them. We love them too much risk their enjoyment of what they’re doing.”

Head Mistress arrived and placed her hand on Destiny’s back. They embraced. Destiny felt the flash drive under her breast. “Usual table?” the hostess asked.

They took an inside table by a long bank of windows. On the patio, Destiny saw standard metal tables with sun umbrellas. Inside, the  table at which they sat was much more interesting. Two young white men knelt on their hands and knees with a glass tabletop on their backs. Both were gagged. Both seemed to have been entirely shaved, except for the hair on their heads. Their faces pointed inward to the centre of an oval piece of glass; their smooth perfect asses protruded out to the edge. Each wore a steel chastity cage that trapped and displayed their balls. Destiny couldn’t resist running a finger nail over the nearest buttock. Then, she gently pressed her index finger into his scrotum. He yelped, but barely moved.

Each “table holder” wore a girth strap and an attachment on their back that secured the underside of the table. Neither was blindfolded. From time to time one would have to make a subtle shift to either hands or knees to keep the glass level.

Destiny scanned the room. At the next table, a young black man, blindfolded and gagged in a leather trainer was serving as a kind of coat rack. His hands were bound behind him with leather straps at the wrist and elbow. A sweater had been hooked over his erect cock.  Additionally, a “Do Not Disturb” knob hanger had been looped over the sweater. From either side of his shoulders he wore a fitted steel frame on which had been hung several jackets. At another booth, one of the chairs featured a girl dressed in rubber, lying on her back with her feet in the air. She had been folded into the shape of a chair cushion, with her arms and legs bound together pointing upwards. She had been strapped in many places into the chair frame. A middle-aged woman in a pink latex catsuit was considering how to sit on her, without compressing her chest, or otherwise hurting her.

Where had she seen that before? Ah yes, House of Gord. The human desk chair. Elsewhere, a group of young kinksters, perhaps eight in all, were laughing and drinking and eating finger food off a glass table top supported by two naked young girls and two naked young boys. All four table-supports had had their hips and vulvas encased in the metallic bands characteristic of women’s chastity belts.

A waiter dressed in a latex maid’s costume came to take their order. His face was quite passable as female; his wig was perhaps too long for a food handler. His steel chastity cage was visible under his starched skirt and frilly under-slip. Destiny ordered a gin and tonic. Stephanie had a cup of tea, with milk. The waiter made his way slowly back to the bar. His legs, clad in rubber stockings, were loosely hobbled at the knee. He wore black-patent leather Mary-Janes with locking ankle straps; his heels were too high, and his right ankle kept turning out as he walked. Service really would be slow, Destiny realized.

“I love the décor here. These are Renee and Charles’s designs for human furniture. It’s the ultimate in bondage, don’t you agree?” asked Stephanie. When Destiny said nothing, she pressed on. “It really puts me in the mood. Most guests consider this venue a must-see.”

Many servers – both men and women –  wore latex. Ass, groin, and breast cutaways were everywhere. Exposed nipples. Clamps. Piercings. Destiny, despite her experience as a professional domme working for several different studios over so many years, found the scope of it all too much, like a cake with far too much sugar. So many people! The young ones and the old married kinksters. Faces and races from everywhere, from all over the world at one time or another in their family history . . . it was hard to believe there was such a hunger for power games, that so many wanted to submit and get out of their vanilla identities for a while. For a moment, she was overcome with surprise and amazement . . .

The noise of the room suddenly dropped at the sound of broken dishes. Several men, naked except for their steel collars, ankle cuffs, and chastity belts, appeared from the food prep area: one with a broom, one with a mop, and a third with a garbage pail on wheels. They worked diligently to clean a spilled meal, or perhaps several food orders had fallen simultaneously to the floor. The background noise began again, as patrons resumed their chatter. Destiny thought she heard the sound of a cane hitting flesh. Someone, a man, groaned. Now another voice, female, could be heard.

Stephanie said, “A waiter and waitress collided, and I think both their trays went down.”

The waitress cried out, louder and louder. She too was receiving a caning. Male and female voices intermingled, sometimes in unison, sometimes randomly. It was as if they were singing. Other voices could be heard, scolding or humiliating the targets of the canes. Destiny stood up. Two naked servers were being caned. Now a third one was being flogged with a heavy strap. The room had gone quiet, everyone watching and listening to the sound of public punishment. Voices ebbed and surged, punctuated by the occasional scream.

“Don’t you find all this very relaxing?” Stephanie asked.

“You were always such a sadist,” Destiny replied. She let her eye drift up to the ceiling where she got another surprise. To the right, not far from their table, a man hung from the ceiling. He was attached by short chains at his wrists and ankles.

Stephanie followed Destiny’s gaze. A cord around the man’s cock and balls supported a light fixture with a shallow lampshade. He was gagged with duct tape that had been wrapped several times around his head. His mouth looked to be packed with cloth. He looked to be fit, though much of his body hair was grey or white. Something, a sign for the washrooms perhaps, was attached between his pierced nipples.

“It’s a popular humiliation punishment for some. Up in the ceiling. Spread for an hour maximum. Having to hold back all fluids, mostly drool. Human bucket underneath. Yellow caution floor signs around. We have two places to install ceiling hangers.”

Destiny smirked. “Your inventiveness never stops does it, Stephanie?”

“I support artistry. I hire the best creators I can find. It’s one of the perks of my job that I love, to work with geniuses, cutting-edge interior designers.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. That girl over there – the Human Chair – that’s a design from House of Gord.”

“All right! Let’s not split hairs. Not every feature here is an original work.” Destiny looked down at Stephanie, her former protégé. She still enjoyed being right, once in a while.

“And what about you, Evelyn? Lovely to see you, old friend.”

Destiny sat. Her gin and tonic had arrived. She drank a third of it quickly. She thought about ordering another. Stephanie pressed a button on their table. “They’ll come. They know my summons.”

“Of course, I came to see you,” Destiny said. “You’ve been in charge here for years and I’ve never congratulated you.”

“And I’ve helped you with Martin. He’s paid the $3500. I’ll transfer the money as soon as you let me know how you want it.”

“Thank-you.”

“If that was all you wanted, there was probably no reason to kidnap Melody. But since you have, I must say she’s a delightful girl. Martin will make good on her expenses too. But I have an aspiration for Martin. He’s a fine young man, and rich. I only have to hook him on the lifestyle, and he’ll turn over to me all the money I need.”

Destiny frowned. “I didn’t expect you to be so, I don’t know, mercenary.”

“Not really dear. I just think he belongs here. Could be good for the organization. He’s being topped by my Number Two, another important man in my plans. He sprung you from jail, as you know. Terrific fixer. You should do him a favour, if you can. Show your appreciation.”

Destiny nodded slowly. “Do you know where Martin is?”

Stephanie sipped her tea and slowly put her cup down.  “We have him. He’s still on the premises, on the grounds at least.” Stephanie was dressed as a lady equestrian: tan coloured breeches, round heeled riding boots, a white blouse. Despite her air of authority, she blushed while talking about Martin.

“I guess there are still some bugs in your bracelet system. Your reception desk tried to put one on me, but I refused. I’ve heard what you’ve tried to implement here. Not very ethical, if you ask me.”

“No one has asked you.”

Another gin and tonic appeared before Destiny, on a tray held by a waitress dressed normally, in the standard burgundy cloth uniform. Destiny put the new drink to the table next to her first. “That’s enough for me, Steph.” She looked around and smiled. “Big place. Do you have enough help?”

“Plenty of help,” said Stephanie. “But that’s not why you came here is it? To apply for a job? I sense you’re still inclined to snoop.”

Destiny laughed. “Old habits. Sorry. Actually . . . “ Destiny put her purse on the table and checked that her phone was still in the pocket where she’d put it. “To be honest, I need money. I need some kind of job. Clients are drifting away. Not just Martin.” Here she changed to subject. “Wouldn’t you say that AbductCo is – in some ways – an extension of our venture, the Houses of Ill-Repute?”

“Evelyn! You were bought out, IN FULL – years ago. I’ve got the investors. They support me.”

“But you’re hatching a deal for this individual facility. And you don’t have enough investors to split it off from the chain. Not enough who are rich enough, to take this enormous property private.”

“Keeping your ear to the ground. You always were a good detective on the clients and their faked-up stories. Rarely got stiffed by one, did you?” Stephanie’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, I’m grateful to you Steph. But I’d like to tell Martin some things about his father. Conrad Porter . . . I loved Conrad until the day he died. And when his will was produced, I’d been left out. I’d like Martin to know who I am. I don’t need him to be my client, which he was, briefly. I just need to speak to him, on neutral territory.”

“This is hardly neutral territory. We need him to complete his profile, so we know what kind of treatment he wants. What he’s consenting to.” Stephanie paused. She spent long seconds working her phone. “Sorry,” she muttered several times. Finally, she looked up. The bar hostess stood beside her. “They’re coming.”

Walking towards their table was Melody Throckmortense, dressed in black high-heeled pumps, a long rubber hobble skirt, and a snug steel collar with a chain draped over her shoulder. The chain was held by the man following her. She was naked above the waist. Her pert, slightly pendulous breasts swung as she walked. Hobble skirts were aptly named. Her arms were held back tightly in an armbinder with straps that crossed her back, circled the sides of her neck and crossed her chest, above her breasts.

Stephanie grinned. “Such a nice-looking couple.” Melody glared; her face caged by the leather straps of training harness. A white ball-gag filled her mouth.

Stephanie stood and welcomed them, pulling out chairs. “This is a protégé of mine: Sir Stephen.” He was dressed in leather chaps and a leather harness over his torso. A biker’s cap down over his eyes. He nudged the hat back. He was young and chiselled. His neatly trimmed moustache and easy smile made Destiny wonder if Melody had fallen for him too. Had she chosen him to top her? Stephen’s genitals were snugly held by a gleaming stainless steel cage.

“Destiny, I know you know Melody. This young man’s full name is Stephen Slymkevich. He’s been a slave to me for over eight months. Recently, he indicated he wanted to switch and begin a career as a dom. He has a knack for dominating the women. We don’t get many single women here, of course, but you should read what the last one wrote about Stephen on the customer feedback form!  For now, he interns with Melody. Officially, he’s part of the Housekeeping department. They look after our “unattached” subs, those that come to us on their own, without relationship partners.” Stephanie fingered a key that hung between her breasts. “This is the key to his cage. Melody dear, don’t tell me he took advantage of you. His cock is still my property.”

Melody blushed. When they’d last met, Melody had been fully clothed and had received a tour of Destiny’s home and dungeon in Mississauga. Stephen asked Destiny a question. She had been inattentive. He repeated himself. They began to chat.

Stephanie helped Melody sit and took her leash from Stephen. “Everything o.k. darling?” Melody grunted. “Good. I’m going to leave that gag in. If you keep quiet, you might learn from hearing Destiny and Stephen talk. Destiny is one of the greatest dommes this country has ever produced.” Melody grunted again, loudly. “Don’t complain. See that container of canes and crops to your right?” Stephanie reached out, gripped one of Melody’s nipples. She gave it a little tug. “Whose vulnerable now, darling? Who still needs to learn some manners?” Stephanie released her nipple. She gave Melody’s breast a hard, stinging slap. Then she turned to listen to Destiny and Stephen.

They were discussing their favourite bondage and punishment techniques. How Destiny came to start her own business in Mississauga. What was it like to work for Terri Jean Bedford at the Bondage Bungalow? Sir Stephen was full of questions. Destiny felt flattered he had followed her career. Destiny found him knowledgeable, polite, and very attentive. Despite this, she let one of her hands massage the ass and balls of the “table-holder” close to her knee.

After ten minutes, Stephanie felt she had to interrupt. “Stephen. Sorry, I just can’t call you Sir Stephen yet. Thank-you for bringing Melody so promptly. But she and Destiny and I have things to discuss.  Why don’t you see what work the Housekeeping department might have for you for the next few hours? You can catch up with Destiny later. I’ll send you a text. That’s a darling.”

Stephen stood and bade farewell to all three of them. He took Destiny’s hand, kissed her fingertips, and reluctantly let them go. He patted Melody’s head and smiled.

Pointing to Melody, Stephanie said, “Any keys for her, I should have?”

“None. Thank-you Head Mistress, for allowing me the experience of taming this one,” he said. Gracefully, he turned on his heel and left. He followed a path between the tables, avoiding the slow-moving staff.  Destiny admired his naked buttocks as they flexed in his sleek leather chaps. The sound of Stephanie’s voice, a little more commanding that normal, broke her reverie.

“Destiny, I’d like you to become the pastor of our new church.”

She withdrew her hand from fondling the balls of the man holding up the glass table-top. “You’re building a church?”

Stephanie nodded.

“You’ll hold religious services? Here? You going to apply for a tax exemption?”

“I have in mind a church for the kinky crowd. No, we are not starting our own religion!”

Destiny laughed. “No, I suppose not.” Stephanie sipped her tea. Melody followed the volley of conversation between them as if it was a tennis match. She squirmed in her seat. She was sweating in her heavy rubber skirt and her fingers tingled. Her arms had been roped above the elbows and at the wrists, before they’d been stuffed down into the armbinder.

She’d been bound for more than half an hour, she thought. But time was hard to judge when one was in bondage. She couldn’t remember how many days she’d been here. She no longer worried when she might show up at work again or how she might explain her absence.

“Destiny, as our pastor, you will officiate at rituals, ceremonies, crucifixions, that sort of thing. You’ll need to take some online courses. You’ll have to register with the province to officiate at weddings. Become at least a cleric, or priest, or deacon. The title doesn’t matter. But you need at least to become a counsellor.”

Destiny grinned broadly.

“I’m not joking. Before you take up your ministerial duties, you can lead a corporal punishment psychology class if you like. I’ve just lost my Academy instructor for that class. He quit this week. No notice. Can you step in? Tomorrow? I’ll give you the course outline. No pressure.”

Stephanie mentioned the salary. “You can work the months I’m here to start. Afterwards, you might take over some of my classes. We have a great need for your expertise. I just don’t need you messing behind my back, trying to get into management.” Destiny felt insulted.

“Would you like the job, Evelyn? I know you think you’ve seen it all as far as BDSM goes but I assure you, you haven’t. We have a three-step interviewing process. You’ll be put in touch with your submissive side.”

“Fine. Who will interview me?”

“First an HR generalist. We need to develop a psych profile. Find out where you are at. How you react to stress.”

“OK.” Destiny felt drowsy. “Does it have to be now?”

“I’m afraid so. Your second drink was drugged. Just a little.”

Destiny felt befuddled. She ought to be worried, but she was so sleepy. Stephanie pressed the call bell on the table. A young naked slave, in steel collar, ankle and wrist cuffs came, pushing a wheelchair. The hostess in the cream latex dress followed. Stephanie helped them pick up Destiny and strap her in.

The slave-orderly took Destiny out of the  Ball and Chain . A few concerned patrons looked on. When Evelyn Talbot next regained consciousness, she would be deep in the heart of the Women’s Prison section.

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Once Mistress Destiny had been taken out, Stephanie gazed fondly at Melody (who had been frightened watching Destiny pass out at the table). Stephanie checked her watch. “Almost dinner time. Plenty of time for us to hang out, but not here. Get up.”

Melody struggled to position herself at the edge of her chair. Her knees, locked together by the hobble skirt, knocked against the protruding balls of the male “table-holder.” Through her gag, she tried to apologize. Stephanie put a hand on her shoulder. With the other, she seized her leash and pulled Melody up into a standing position. The rubber of her skirt squeaked and stuck to her flesh. “Let’s get you out of that kit.”

Here? Melody wondered. My tits have been a free show for everyone in this bar. Now I’m to be entirely naked?

Stephanie called one of the servers to help: what she got was a naked male, kind of hairy – a paunchy middle-aged man wearing only a thick steel collar. He pulled a cart. His hands and ankles were loosely chained. His long ankle tether was drawn up and attached at his back to his waist band, so he wouldn’t trip himself.

They began by removing Melody’s high heels. It was a relief to stand in bare feet. Now they struggled to unzip her tight hobble skirt. She was wet with sweat. They peeled the rubber away from her thighs and bottom. The slave put Melody’s shoes and the skirt into the cart. Despite her fear of showing her shaved pussy to the room, she had a strong wish for either Stephanie or the anonymous slave to rub her between her thighs, to run their fingers through her labia.

Neither paid the slightest attention to Melody’s pent-up urges. Stephanie worked the buckles around her head, and after what seemed like several minutes, removed her gag. Stephanie expected a stream of invective after the ball was removed, but Melody simply swallowed her saliva. Stephanie wiped Melody’s face with her handkerchief. Drool had also spilled on her chin and breasts.

“Thank-you.” Stephanie cupped her face in her hands for a moment. “You poor dear. I can guess what Stephen did to you under that arm-binder.”

“Yes. Please undo my hands. I’m going numb.”

Stephanie unlaced the long leather lace that held the armbinder closed. She undid the shoulder straps. Inside, Melody’s arms and hands looked pinkish-red. Circulation had to be restored. Stephanie tried to pull one of the knots apart with her fingers.

“Scissors!”

The slave produced an exactor-knife from a side pouch of his wheeled cart. Stephanie cut the rope cinch between Melody’s elbows. Then she began to cut the ropes between her wrists. The slave removed the elbow ropes as they came loose, and then stripped the wrist ropes from her. Melody brought her hands around in front. She covered her groin. She pressed a finger between her pussy lips. She was so exhausted and pent up with sexual frustration, she began to rub herself; she was wet; suddenly she didn’t care who was watched.

Then she stopped and shook her hands to get some blood flow back into her fingers. “Oh my god! That was like being shoved in that box by Moustache and Burly.”

“What are you doing girl? Who said you could pleasure yourself?”

Melody looked over her shoulder and scanned the room. “No one is watching.” That was true. Her sense of shame, of being naked in public, was almost all in her head

“That’s why Stephen had to bind your hands and arms. You little bitch, you couldn’t leave your snatch alone.” She slapped Melody’s hands. “Stop!”

Melody stopped. Stephanie unclipped Melody’s leash from her steel collar. “I have a key for that. It’s standard collar around here.” The slave gathered up everything Stephanie had removed. Stephanie gave Melody her own long cape to drape around her shoulders. The slave gave Melody a pair of leather slippers. He picked up the handle of his cart. Stephanie instructed him to take everything to Melody’s room.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

Mistress Stephanie took Melody to her private quarters. She sat the girl at her dining table. Stephanie brought out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Hungry? I have cheese and crackers, some cold cuts, yogurt, fruit. I’m going to order dinner, to be delivered to us here.”

“Can I have some clothes? I can’t eat dinner and hold the cape in place.”

“Of course, sorry dear. Where are my manners?” Stephanie went to her bathroom and returned with a thick blue robe. “This will keep you warm.”

Melody slipped out of the cape and accepted the long robe. She slid her arms into the sleeves, pulled it up over her shoulders and tied the belt around her waist. It felt like pure luxury.

Were they to have a face-to-face meeting, as equals? It would be novel to talk to Stephanie without being restrained or punished. Melody sipped some champagne and enjoyed the slightly astringent taste of it, the fruity aroma. Her horniness had faded on the walk and the elevator ride from the Ball and Chain.

“How am I to sort things out, Melody? Destiny had you kidnapped for a reason related to Martin. He owed her money, but I don’t think that was the real reason. Can you tell me more about Martin?”

“What is there to say? You’ve met him. Why was he abducted? Why would you agree to such a thing? You’d never met him.”

“True, before he turned up here, I’d never met him. But I knew he might be of help to me.”

“What?”

“I don’t suppose you ever met his father, Conrad Porter.  The one who built Martin’s business into a money-making machine. Anyway, Martin came to Destiny as a client, without any prior knowledge that Evelyn Talbot – that’s her real name – and his father --  had loved each other deeply and committedly for twelve years since the death of his mother. Conrad had kept it all secret from his son. He’d kept the two of them in the dark about each other. To me, that is amazing.”

“I discovered Evelyn Talbot’s name on an old cell phone of Martin’s. He was kinky before we met. I met him at a Northbound Leather Fetish Night. We’ve only been dating a couple of months.” Melody stopped and smiled. “He’s a sweetie. He needs some guidance, and not just in the bedroom. Unfortunately, we both swing to the submissive, the masochist side of things.”

“You might be a switch, you know. You could keep him, I suspect, if you were begin expressing that a bit more. Amber certainly felt your power. She told me. Destiny and I have both observed that once you get past Martin’s silly ideas about lifestyle S&M relationships – really, he doesn’t have a clue – he is remarkably pliant. Have you ever whipped him?”

“No. It’s been hard to talk to him about our roles.”

“Hard for everyone. Communication is what separates the great kinky couples from the pretenders. You can’t talk someone into submission. You can only give them opportunities to perform new acts of obeisance, to prostrate themselves further and further before you. They have to do it themselves. With guidance, of course.” Stephanie went to her kitchen and returned with a bottle of red wine. “Have you ever tied him to a frame? Like the one in your suite upstairs, and then edging, and tormenting, and punishing him until he comes just at the sound of your voice?”

“Not exactly. But I have two latex catsuits. One green and one black. And I bought him two chastity cages, one plastic and one steel. He took all the measurements like he wanted me to put them on him, but they arrived only a couple of days before he was kidnapped.”

“I knew it! You bought two catsuits.”

“I love them. I admit it. Martin likes the look too. He tied me several times in the black one with white ropes.”

“OK. Chastity is a good start and Martin has been in chastity here. I don’t know why he wouldn’t try putting them on himself. Every man who is into chastity has to experiment with what fits. It’s not easy, putting a cage on a cock. Of course, perhaps he did, when you weren’t around.” Stephanie paused. “Mistress Blaise was dominating him before he escaped.”

“He escaped?” Melody let a broad grin break across her face.

“Yes. I’m putting all my cards on the table now.

Stephanie admired Melody and saw her as an image of her younger herself. She got up and pulled open a drawer.  Out came two hair brushes, two combs and a hand mirror. “Let me do your hair. I used to work in the beauty business, many years ago. Long before I did my first escort.” Melody began to relax. Stephanie brushed her vigorously, then used the combs with great care. She put the brushes and combs aside and gathered Melody’s light brown hair into a bun and modified braid. To decorate and firm up the structure, she added two black hair sticks to the bun.

Melody’s scalp tingled. Stephanie began to massage her neck. Melody let her pull the robe off her shoulders and then turned sideways on her chair. Stephanie massaged warm oil into her shoulders and down her back. “You were saying Martin escaped. And you promised to lay all your cards on the table.” Melody glanced at herself in the mirror. “Oooh. I like the Asian look.”

“Yes, I can do your make-up too. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Stephanie wiped the massage oil from her hands. She sat beside Melody. “I need Martin to become an investor in this branch of Abduction Company. Number Two has already spoken to him about it, but he’s not committed to anything. His disappearance seems to be an effort to reject the idea.”

“But you’ve been keeping him a prisoner!”

“No, we haven’t. He could have left at any time. I told him that at lunch a few days ago. I think he’s got a lot of latent kink in him that he’s never expressed. His belief that he’s a dominant male is just wrong. From what Destiny told me and what you’ve told me, and what I’ve seen of him myself, he needs to understand his submissive nature. He needs to come to you and beg you to take control of him.”

Melody sighed. “He’d never do that. He’d never ask me anything like that. At his job he’s really good at managing. Instructing. He’s a teacher at heart.”

“That’s not domination. Telling people what to do? Because you hired them and you’re paying them to come to work? Honey, he might be brilliant teacher, but he has unmet desires. We all do. And we all have secret identities, Melody. He needs you to make a bargain. That you will treat him to a kinky relationship. But it will have to be on your terms. You could easily dominate men and women for that matter, with a look and a raised finger. Look at yourself in the mirror as you listen to me. You are skeptical of what I’m saying.”

“When you lead them into what fascinates them, men are like putty. They fall before you like ice coming off a melting glacier. With a crack and a roar, they are in the water, and you have them.”

Melody smiled at the metaphor. “OK. I believe you.”

Stephanie beamed. “Good. We have to work on your look too.” She reached into another drawer and handed her a frilly red rubber blouse. “From my personal collection. Hold it up to your shoulders.” Melody thought it looked very feminine. Next Stephanie gave her a leather garter belt, some fresh silk stockings, and a pair of classic black-leather booties with five-inch heels. To wear over this, she gave Melody a sensible burgundy cloth skirt with red and white accents. “I like to mix the colours. All black or all red, too monochrome.”

“I like these.”

“You can have them,” Stephanie said. “They no longer fit me. But they’re still very hot. Why not take them to your suite tonight and put them on tomorrow?” Stephanie returned to the closet and took out one of the catsuits Moustache had grabbed from Melody’s apartment. “This is your green one. We had repaired.”

Melody took it to the bathroom and slipped out of the robe. The fit of the catsuit was perfect. She emerged and showed herself to Stephanie.

Stephanie polished the rubber and after checking Melody’s shoe size on her guest record, produced a pair of leather over-the-knee boots with six-inch heels and a two-inch platform. Once the boots were on, Melody stood two inches taller than Stephanie. Head Mistress slipped off her own boots, lowering herself before her protégé. She took Melody to the mirrored doors of her closet. “You rock that catsuit, girl. Was it your idea or Martin’s to buy it?”

“His. And he bought me the second one, the black one as soon as he knew this one would fit.”

“Well you would look good in a wooden barrel, so yeah, the catsuit works. Maybe we can add a little waspie corset. Now all we need to discover is whether or not he’s man enough to submit to you. Destiny and I have both had him in a professional context. But will he do it with you, and for life?”

Melody trembled at the question. Stephanie was tempting her, but she didn’t admit it out loud. She still wanted Martin on her own terms. But what exactly were they?

Stephanie was scrolling through names on her cell phone. “To speed things up a little, I will take over your training. I have no shortage of male subs, older ones who have seen you with Amber  and inquired about whether you might take control of them. Given our conversation here, I could easily get a few lined up to teach you about the male anatomy and the male mind.”

Their food arrived. After the waiters had set the table, presented the dishes, and left, Stephanie poured red wine for them both. Stephanie said, “Melody, I’m going to lay my last cards on the table. Although I’m working day and night to keep this facility going, I really want to retire.”

“Really!”

“I just want a less onerous life. I’m in my mid-fifties. I’m well off. There are a number of things that come with my job, that I really don’t need. But despite all that, I’m not letting Evelyn (or Destiny, I should say) replace me. This job pays very well, but it needs to be passed to someone in the younger generation. Someone who won’t retire themselves, a year after I do. Evelyn is over sixty you know. She doesn’t look it, but she is. And perhaps a reorganization is in order, so the job of Head Mistress doesn’t burn out the next occupant.”

Melody listened, enjoying her spicy Chinese eggplant casserole.

“I am as crafty as she is. And Destiny wants my job. But she doesn’t know what it entails. Even when she was younger, she was too old for it. Here’s my final card.” Stephanie placed her hand, palm up on the table between them. “I’d rather groom you to take over. With your permission, I would like to teach you. So that when Martin falls for you, he will also fall for my financial plan. I will start by giving you an object lesson in interrogation. Have you ever been electrocuted?”

“No. Does it tickle?”

“Can do, but usually it hurts in the end. That’s the thing about masochism, about pain. It always hurts in the end.”

Melody went quiet.

“Melody, are you here to rescue Martin, or is he here to rescue you?”

“I don’t know!” she cried.

They ate in silence. Afterwards, Stephanie led her next door to her Throne Room. One wall contained a photo of Stephanie (as Head Mistress). “Other dommes use this room from time to time.” The walls were decorated with haute couture drawings of a women’s garments, all with an emphasis on power. “That’s my style,” said Stephanie. “Heavy on the leather, gloves, boots, make-up.”

“Go ahead. Sit on the throne.” she added.

Melody approached the steps and took them tentatively until she could see the cushion. She tried to visualize it as hers. She did not sit, but rather turned around. For a dungeon, the room was beautifully appointed. Adequately equipped but not cluttered.

“Tomorrow, you and I will reconvene here. I’ll have three men on hand to help with your instruction. All will be in chastity cages of different kinds. We’ll discuss how and why a married woman might want to keep her husband chaste.  We’ll talk about the difference between dominating a husband versus dominating a personal slave versus dominating a paying customer. To run this joint you have to understand professional domination as well.”

Melody descended the steps. They returned to Stephanie’s personal quarters and finished their drinks and the desserts the waiters had provided. Then they went to Melody’s room on Twelve. Melody changed out of the catsuit and boots and put on her usual choices: jeans, sneakers, and a vest and a tee-shirt. “It was weird walking about in the latex,” she said.

“We have another appointment now,” replied Stephanie.

+ + + + + + + + + + +

Destiny struggled to wake; her eyes kept closing against the light. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. She felt stretched and woozy. But she had only had two drinks!

She was bound across a large wooden board. Her wrists and ankles spread to its four corners. Racked and naked, on her back.  She was held by tight leather cuffs, locked on. In the distance, someone being whipped. She lay in a spotlight. Beyond, she could see nothing. A woman’s voice screamed in a hallway, somewhere.

A female voice begging. A door slammed. Footsteps now approached Destiny from a distance. Closer and closer. The steps slowed. A boot scraped on the concrete floor. A draught of air, like a window open, above.

A warm hand clutched her breast. A man’s hand. It squeezed harder and harder. She yelped. He released her. Now a finger and thumb took her nipple. Pressure, tight. Hard, very hard. She screamed.

“Just testing. You’re awake.” His calm, baritone voice calmed her a little. He was almost in the light, at the foot of the rack. Destiny had been forced back at a 45-degree angle to the floor. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair. Black work boots, dark pants, a black turtle-neck sweater. Dull blue latex gloves. “I am a specialist from Human Resources. Welcome to our job interview, Evelyn. First, I must ask, what is this?” He held up the small flash drive.

“For backing up my files.”

“It holds no data. Why did you hide it in your bra? Seems an uncomfortable place to keep a computer accessory that contains nothing. How old are you?”

“Fifty-five.”

The interrogator stepped back out of the light. He returned holding four steel clips on electric wires. Two clips went on her left nipple, then two on her right. He returned with four more. Two went on each of her outer labia. Each clip was attached to two wires, black and red. “These will run current only through your clamped flesh. Nothing will pass far in your body, for example from one nipple to another. I don’t want to stop your heart.”

Destiny began to cry.  “No, no, no, no! Not electrics.”

He disappeared into the darkness. A metal chair scraped on the floor. Nothing was happening. Was he still there? Finally, his voice: “You might feel something now.” There was an agonizing, burning sensation on one of her pussy lips. “Feel good?”

“No! It hurts!”

“It’s not set very high.”

Destiny could hardly breathe for fear. She tried to stay calm. Electricity leaves no marks, she told herself.

“That’s OK,” he said. “It’s supposed to hurt, so that’s good, I guess.” He paused, for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “Again. How old are you?”

“Fifty-five!” Destiny shouted.

“Wrong answer!” A jolt of pain hit her right breast, like the nipple had been pierced. She tried to remember her age. Another jolt of pain, same nipple.

“Augghhhh! Sixty, no sixty-five, augh, augh, augh, not again. Stop! Please stop! Please. Please.”

“The correct answer is sixty-two. How could you forget? The CIA is right. Torture is a useless way to get information.”

Destiny gasped frantically.

“What was your purpose in visiting The Abduction Company?”

“To apply for a job.”

“Really? You were offered a job – and that’s partly why I’m asking you these questions – but you didn’t come here for that purpose, did you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Wrong answer!” Another jolt of pain. He manually jolted her over and over alternating between her left and right breast. She shook and screamed, trying to dislodge the clips. His finger slowly tapped the button, each time completing the circuit. Then he stopped. The room filled with her gasping, panting.  Everyone must be able to hear me breathe.

“Just today you told Head Mistress you needed money, and she gave you the money you were owed by Martin Porter, but tell me, why did you have Melody Throckmortense abducted? How was that going to help you get the money from Martin Porter?”

Before she could frame an answer, she felt alternating shocks on her left and right labia. Not too painful, actually. “I needed the uh, agh . . . money from Martin Porter,” she wailed. “Stephanie said I would uh, agh . . . get it if I gave her enough information to – oh god make it stop, please make it stop!” The shots of pain seemed get more intense. They were also like a drumbeat, as if a machine was jolting her with precise regularity. She gasped out “He owed me. Agh . . . agh . . . Please no more.” She gasped and screamed. “He was abducted to get the money . . . Agh. Please, please . . . ”

The interrogator sighed and stepped back into the dark. He turned off the pulsing shocks. He switched the unit back to manual control and told her he would turn up the voltage by another ten percent. “No! No more. I can’t take any more!” With his index finger he deliberately shocked her once on the left nipple and then, on the right side of her pussy. Destiny couldn’t determine if this was worse than before

“Then stop lying to me!” he shouted. “Do you have a safe word? Tell me. Now!”

“Ah, agh . . .  Mercy. My safe word is Mercy.”

“Wrong answer. Mercy is a safe word for beginners. You are not a beginner, Mistress Destiny. You are a professional dominatrix. I expected a better safe word than that.”

“What flaming difference does it make what my safe word is?” The interrogator shocked her through all four steel attachments. Destiny screamed. Then again. And again.

The room fell silent. After thirty seconds of not being shocked, Destiny’s breathing had calmed enough that she was able to say “Ill Repute. Ill Repute is my safe word.”

The interrogator chuckled. He began an oscillating pulse of mild electric shocks that alternated across her left and right nipples. Suddenly he shocked her pussy lips so hard they felt like they had been burned, like someone had lit matches under them.

“No, No! Ill Repute! Ill Repute!” she shouted. She arched her back and thrashed, trying to shake off the clips.

The shocks stopped but the pain seemed to continue. His chair scraped. The light had been increased on his side of the room. She could see the desk where he sat.

“What do you know about Abduction Company in Russia? In the Netherlands? In Australia?”

“Nothing. Very little except where they are located. I went to the one in the Netherlands over ten years ago. I had a good visit there. Made a lot of money as a guest domme one year. I didn’t know there was one in Russia.

“It opened two years ago. Australia?”

“Never been there.”

“Just as well. There is no Abduction Company franchise in Australia.” He gave her a mild shock on her left nipple. “That’s for not knowing. How long since your last confession?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you ever go to church?”

“No.”

“Are you a Catholic?”

“Yes. I am quite knowledgeable about Church practices and prayers and theories and all that, but I lost my religion thirty years ago. I took some theology courses in university. Almost finished an honors BA.”

“A Catholic person who never goes to church.” He gave her a mild shock to the nipples. He came into the light. “And you’re a university girl. Good. I like smart people. More fun to play with. Smart submissives often try to bargain in situations like this. Let’s stretch you out a bit more. Ropes look a little loose now.”

He gestured into the darkness. Two men came forward, on either side of the slanting board. They lifted her under the hips. One of them breathed on her exposed lower belly. The interrogator slid a large, long triangular piece of wood under her buttocks. The two men let her down, so she painfully rested on the edge of the new piece of lumber. The interrogator cranked several controls at the ends of the rack-board and Destiny’s arms and legs were pulled farther away from each other in all four directions. Her wrists and shoulders ached severely. One of her knees began to hurt.

“Have you ever submitted to a man or woman out of a genuine desire to serve? Or has it all been an act?”

“I have a genuine desire to serve. I play that way with those I love. And with no thought of money. But when you’re pro, mostly it’s for the money.”

“Would you like to spend a few more days down here?”

“No.”

“You will be kept on strict diet. We have your medications. Tell us what each one is for and how often you should take it.”

“Alright.”

“How old were you when you first sucked a man’s cock?”

“Fourteen.”

“You dirty slut!” A hard jolt passed across her pussy. Destiny gasped. “Oh, unnh. Oh, that was hard.”

“Was it good? Would like another?” Without waiting for her to speak, he jolted her again. “Would you like to be fucked with a dildo on a stick? Mr. Pogo? Spread wider and wider and penetrated with bigger and bigger dildoes?”

“Not today thanks. But if it would please you Master, go ahead.”

“Would you like to be impregnated and kept in chains until you give birth?”

“No, that would be a hard limit. And as you just pointed out, I’m sixty-two years old. I passed menopause long ago.”

“Do you take it up the ass? Do you stretch yourself regularly?”

“I haven’t done that for many years.”

She felt the sting of a dressage whip. It swung back and forth, striking her breasts and belly. “You’re being whipped by one of our student doms,” the interrogator said. “We only graduate a few young men per year as Bachelors of Domination. You’ve met one of them, Stephen. Here is another, Price. There are so few with the right temperament I daresay you’ve met the entire graduating class. Step into the light, Price. Let her see you.”

The whipping stopped. Price revealed himself to be a beautiful, hairless, almost feminine boy. He looked to be younger than Sir Stephen. Where did these gentle young boys come from? She prepared herself to be whipped again. Price looked her in the eye. She gave a subtle nod, which he took as consent. He resumed his swings with the whip, but now he was missing her half the time. Each miss felt like a disappointment. She wanted to get up and show him how it was done.  Make every blow land!   She wanted to be hit harder.

More boots on the floor. Equestrian boots. A woman. Mistress Stephanie emerged into the light behind Price. He gathered in the whip and handed it to her. Price’s leather pants shone. He was bare-chested. His small nipple rings glinted in the light.

“You’ve done well Price,” said Stephanie. She looked down at Destiny and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “This how a first interview for an employee of Abduct Co. might go.”

“Might go? Did go, you mean!”

“I was watching the whole time. You’re a tough old broad. Nothing bad was going to happen. Mr. Fleece is one of our best interrogators. Been with AbductCo since day one. Of course, the electricity was a little harsh, but if you are going to counsel and instruct, and officiate at ceremonies here, you need to know what people go through.” Stephanie tenderly removed the clips from her. She loosened rack and unlocked her wrists and ankles. Destiny lowered her arms to her sides but made no move to get off the board.

Several hands helped her rise upright and step down. Mr. Fleece was surprisingly gentle. “It was an honour,” he whispered in her ear. Then he left. Her clothes were returned and she dressed. Price escorted her to her suite on the third-floor room. He embraced her and gave her a soft kiss. She assured him she was fine, that he’d done well, that he could go.

She looked at her face in the mirror; her hair was matted and tangled. Her make-up was a mess. She grinned, pleased with herself for having passed a hard test with the electrics. Her body seemed to be humming.

In the basement women’s prison section, Stephanie returned to the observation room beside the interrogation chamber. She smiled at Melody, who was still staring through the one-way glass.

“Could you handle that?”

“No way,” said Melody, rubbing her wrists. She was thinking of her recent binding by Sir Stephen.

“OK. Electricity is pretty advanced stuff. I was thinking of Price and the whipping. You will need practice that. Do you have a whip?”

Melody shook her head.

“All right. You’re a beginner. No shame in that. You’ll need to learn all the tools for beating, pressure play, prickling, burning, needles.”

“I could probably take it, endure it.”

Stephanie’s brows furrowed. “No. I’m asking if you can administer pain to another?”

Melody shrugged. “If the sub wants me to.” Melody had realised that like Destiny, she would be tested too.

“Very well then. Tomorrow. Back in school with me, learning the ropes. I think it’s the only way you’ll have Martin. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live. Do you agree to this?”

Melody stared at the empty rack. The question frightened her.

End of Part Eleven