Abby watched Mason’s car disappear around the corner and then turned on her heel and headed for the nearest tram stop. She didn’t understand why Mason had insisted on driving her and then had behaved like it was such an imposition. If he hadn’t wanted to give her a ride, then he could’ve walked away when she first said no to his offer, instead he had made a big deal out of it and then not spoken to her the entire time. The man was impossible.

The tram came to a stop and Abby boarded with the other passengers who’d been waiting, tapping her Myki card on the card reader and finding a seat. There was no way she could’ve given Mason the actual address of where she was going, so she’d ended up catching the tram anyway, which was what she should’ve done from her apartment. Now she was all… she couldn’t even find the words to describe it, but being in the close confines of Mason’s car and feeling his eyes on her had messed with her head. She would’ve sworn that he was undressing her in his mind and the way his eyes had kept straying from the road to her had made her all hot and squirmy and yet he hadn’t uttered a sound and it had felt beyond awkward. Now she had a meeting with the owner of a sex club about possibly beginning a sexual relationship with someone she hadn’t even met in real life and all she could think about was the man who had been starring in her X-rated dreams. It was enough to make her brain turn to mush.

The tram came to a stop and Abby exited. She took a few moments to breathe deep and compose herself before walking the remaining couple of blocks to her destination. The building was an old redbrick warehouse that had been reclaimed and renovated. From the outside it was nothing special, it didn’t scream fetish club, but then what had she expected? Bold flashing lights and a big sign proclaiming the activities that went on inside? There actually wasn’t a sign at all and Abby was worried that she had the wrong place until she saw the subtly etched name ‘Fetish’ inscribed on the smokey glass doors.

She smoothed her skirt and tugged at her vest and then took a deep breath, struggling to find the confidence she had felt in her bedroom when she was getting dressed, and pushed through the doors. Abby crossed the threshold into a sparsely furnished reception area dominated by a large desk on the far wall. Behind the desk, attached to the wall, was a logo. A stylised letter ‘F’. In front of the logo and behind the chrome and glass desk was a beautiful man. Handsome wasn’t the right word for him, he was beautiful in an angelic kind of way and he looked young and innocent - far too innocent to be working in such a place. He looked up at her and smiled.

“You must be Abby,” he said, his voice melodious and soothing.

Abby cleared her throat and started towards him, “I am.”

“Welcome to Fetish, my name is Carlos” he said, standing, “If you’ll come with me, I have a room prepared for you.” He walked around the desk and opened a door set into the wall that Abby hadn’t noticed.

“Ah… I’m here for a meeting—”

He stopped and turned, smiling easily at her. “Of course. But first we need you to fill in some forms and answer a questionnaire and then Madam will be with you.”

“Okay,” Abby replied meekly and followed him through the door.

They walked down a carpeted hallway that was softly lit by modern glass wall sconces. The carpet was a dark grey and the walls a muted taupe. There was no artwork or photographs and the only thing disrupting the clean lines of the walls were several doors. Carlos opened one of the doors and stood aside to let her enter. It was set up like a comfortable sitting room with leather couches arranged for ease of conversation and a small table and chairs that could be used to serve refreshments. It was a windowless room, but had bright, modern art on the walls and if Abby hadn’t known better, she’d think she was in someone’s home. Soft music played through speakers mounted on the walls and a sideboard contained an array of drink preparations.

“Make yourself at home,” Carlos said. He walked over to the table and laid down a folder that he had been carrying. “There is tea and coffee or something cold if you’d prefer. Here is the paper work you need to fill out. A confidentiality agreement, a questionnaire and a club membership contract. There is also a welcome pack with some information about our club and behaviour expectations. When you have finished filling in the forms, just press this button,” he indicated a small switch like a light switch on the wall near the sideboard, “And Madam will join you.”

He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him and Abby turned slowly around, taking it all in. She was beginning to think that her preconceived notions of what a fetish club looked like were ill-informed. There was no cupboard full of whips and chains, no spanking bench or St Andrew’s cross. It looked like a comfy living room and went a long way to putting her at ease. She walked over and poured herself a glass of water before sitting down at the table to go through the required paperwork.

Deciding that her new persona was going to be in charge here, she used her full name, Abigail, at the top of the forms. She answered the general information questions; her address, date of birth, occupation etc. She filled in the parts asking for her driver’s licence number (which she didn’t have), Medicare number, Passport number, all the things needed to prove she was who she was. With each new section she filled in, she felt more at ease. Knowing that they required her to prove her identity meant that DomMPF had to prove his too and that if anything went wrong, then he would be traceable.

The questionnaire started off easy, a few questions about her hobbies, likes and dislikes and then they got progressively more personal. Asking things like when her last menstrual cycle was, her last doctor’s checkup, her last blood test. Had she been tested for any sexually transmitted infections? Would she be willing to submit to one? And then the questions moved on to a more intimate level. Was she a virgin? Did she masturbate? What was her favourite sexual position? Abby’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she continued to answer the questions. What were her hard limits? Here was a list of things she might be asked to do and she needed to indicate if she was willing to do them. Being tied up, being flogged, whipped, wax play, needle play, fire play etc. Half of them she hadn’t even heard of, some of them were an easy yes and some an easy no and some were a maybe. She had to mark her known erogenous zones on an illustration of a female body. There were the obvious ones of course, breasts, nipples, neck, clit, and she’d read about others like the inside of the elbow and behind the knee, but had never actually experienced them. By the end of the questions she had become more sexually self aware than she’d ever been before and more intrigued. Some of the suggested play sounded like something she’d like to try and she wondered just what DomMPF was into and how far he would take her.

She put down her pen and straightened the forms in a neat pile. She’d read through the member’s welcome pack and was impressed with the level of professionalism. Everything that she experienced so far went a long way to making her feel more comfortable with her decision and more eager to finally meet DomMPF in real life. She pressed the button and waited for the next phase of the interview.

Mason walked into his South Melbourne office building still reeling from his encounter with Abby. He crossed the marble-floored lobby heading for the elevator that went to his office, barely paying attention to his surroundings.

“Excuse me!” a voice called out through the quiet space. “Excuse me sir, you can’t go in there.”

Mason stopped and turned, looking for whoever it was that was trying to subvert his security. The only people in the lobby were himself and the security guard.

“Are you talking to me?” Mason asked, stepping towards the man who stood beside the reception desk.

“All visitors need to sign in,” the guard said, “And that elevator is off limits to the public.”

Mason smirked. He couldn’t help himself, it was just too outrageous. This security guard was obviously new and hadn’t met him yet, not that it was the man’s fault. Mason avoided the building as much as he could, he found he got a lot more work done at home where he wasn’t interrupted, well he hadn’t been interrupted in the past, but since Abby moved in…

He cut off that train of thought. He’d only just gotten his body under control, he didn’t need anymore thoughts of Abby to further complicate his day.

“What’s your name?” Mason asked the security guard.

“Carl,” the guy said, suddenly seeming unsure of himself.

“Well Carl,” Mason said, “I want to commend you on you dedication to your job and I’m sorry we haven’t met before. I do actually work here, although I don’t often come in to the office.”

“Mr Pressfield?” another voice joined the conversation.

Mason turned to see the building’s concierge, Miles, approach from one of the offices behind the reception desk.

“Ah, Miles,” Mason said with a small smile, “I was just introducing myself to Carl.”

Miles looked between the befuddled security guard and Mason and gulped. “I’m sorry I was away from my desk when you arrived—”

Mason waved away his apology. “Not to worry Miles, as I said, I was just introducing myself to Carl.” He turned to the security guard and held out his hand, “I’m Mason Pressfield.” The other man shook his hand uncertainly. “It’s good to have you aboard, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for a meeting.”

Mason strode away from the embarrassed concierge and the bewildered security guard with a smirk on his face and a shake of his head. He could hear the furious whispers of the two men and he imagined Miles giving Carl a dressing down, but it wasn’t the guard’s fault. Mason really should come to the office more, but he found the environment far too claustrophobic and much preferred his living room to his office. He made a mental note to email Miles and assure him that he wasn’t upset with Carl and to go easy on him because he was only doing his job. It was good to know that his people were diligent in the execution of their duties, even if it did mean he was accosted in the lobby of his own building.

Mason stepped into the elevator and looked down at his t-shirt and torn jeans. He knew his hair was too long and he hadn’t shaved this morning so he was sporting some impressive stubble. The sleeves of his t-shirt were short enough to reveal the bottom of his tattoos and the scuffed leather boots he wore did not scream billionaire. Maybe he should have worn a suit to work, but he wasn’t like Brooks or Hunter, or Jonathon or Declan for that matter. They all wore suits to work, but Mason was a gamer at heart, never mind that he’d built a billion dollar company, and he hated the restriction of a tie and jacket. He didn’t expect any of his employees to dress that way, although he knew that most of his executive team did, he was more interested in what they could do than what they looked like.

He stepped out of the elevator on the executive floor and was greeted by Felicity, his Personal Assistant. Miles had obviously called ahead and alerted them to his presence in the building which meant that for the next four hours he would be inundated with requests for one on one meetings. He tried to get his employees to use Skype or instant messaging to contact him, but they all seem to want the IRL experience instead of the virtual one. His game developers and animators and all the creative types that worked for him got it, they lived in the virtual world and were quite happy to work in a virtual office, but his executive team still resisted the technology.

He sighed as he sat behind his rarely used desk, Felicity’s constant stream of conversation rolling over him like white noise. He held up his hand to stop her and she fell silent.

“Just give me the bullet points,” he said.

Felicity rattled off a series of urgent requests and Mason green-lighted most of them but vetoed two. He would deal with those ones later when his head was clearer.

“Coffee,” he said when she had finished, “And I want to see Jax and Tim first up and then I want a meeting set up for lunch time with my Creatives and then an Executive meeting for straight after. Organise food for both. I’ll do the Creative meeting in the conference room on the Creative’s floor and the Executive meeting up here. I want Phil to be at both.”

Felicity made a note on her tablet and one of the other assistants (he didn’t know her name, she must be new too) brought in his coffee and nervously sat it on his desk. Felicity dismissed the girl and then turned her piercing gaze on him.

“Phil won’t be happy,” she said and he inclined his head in acknowledgement. She sighed and turned around to leave the office.

“Felicity,” he called and she stopped and turned to face him. “The last time I checked, I was still the boss, not Phil.” She nodded sharply. “Also I’m waiting for a call from Charlotte O’Hannesy, put it straight through, regardless of what meeting I’m in.” She nodded again and left, closing the door behind her.

Mason sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Madam Charlotte was meeting with NewGRL549 today and after his encounter with Abby this morning he was more than eager to move forward with the liaison. He just hoped Madam Charlotte approved her.

The woman who entered the room exuded sex and had an indisputable air of authority. She wore a red skirt suit which fit her like it was tailored specifically for her. The pencil straight skirt hit her knee and the jacket was nipped in at the waist with a single button. She wore nothing under the jacket, save a gold chain with a diamond pendant that nestled between her breasts. Her hair was sleekly arranged in a sophisticated chignon and her skin and makeup were flawless.

Abby had stood to greet her when the door opened, but now she felt like she should curtsy or kneel or something. She dropped her eyes and waited to be addressed. She noticed the woman’s nude Louboutin stilettos and felt a strange feeling of envy. Abby was not a shoe person, but the way these looked on her legs, Abby wanted to be.

Madam used a long, polished fingernail to lift Abby’s chin so that the had eye contact and the other woman smiled.

“I am Madam Charlotte,” she said, not taking her finger away from Abby’s chin, but instead using it to turn her face to and fro as she examined her. She ran the nail down Abby’s throat until it rested on the hollow between her collarbones and then lifted it away. “Turn for me, dear,” she said and Abby obeyed, making a slow revolution. “You’ve finished the paperwork?”

“Yes Madam,” Abby said.

“Then let’s sit, shall we,” Madam Charlotte said, indicating the couches. Abby walked over and took a seat and waited for Madam Charlotte who stood by the table perusing the forms that she had filled in. “You prefer to be called Abigail?”

“Yes, Madam,” Abby said.

Madam Charlotte walked over and sat on the couch opposite Abby, crossing one long leg over the other while she continued to page through the forms. “Is it your real name?”

“It is,” Abby replied.

“But?”

Abby blushed. “Most people call me Abby, but I think I would prefer to be called Abigail while I’m…” She didn’t know how to describe it and waved her hand around to indicate the room, the club and everything else it entailed.

Madam Charlotte nodded and smiled. “Most people prefer to have an alias when they come to Fetish. We don’t dissuade it. It is important to us that everyone feels safe and if that means taking on another name, then that is okay. What we discuss here is completely confidential and for your safety. Only the details you wish to be revealed will be passed on to your partner, so you can rest assured that none of your personal details will be made available to them until such time as you request it.”

“Thank you,” Abby said with relief. It was another layer of security to know that if things did go wrong then DomMPF couldn’t stalk her.

“This is your first time at Fetish?”

“Yes,” Abby said with a nod, “It’s the first time I’ve ever considered… this.”

Madam Charlotte nodded. “I can tell you’re nervous, but I want to assure you that DomMPF is a very discerning man and an experienced Dom. I have a high regard for him and if he is to be your first, then I think you have chosen well.”

The more time Abby spent with Madam Charlotte, the more relaxed she became. It was easy to submit under her undeniable authority, it gave Abby a sense of safety and a sense of relief to lay down her own control and let this woman take over. She barely remembered her parents, but she imagined that this was what it would feel like to have a mother care for you. Her aunt had not been the nurturing type in the slightest and had instead looked to Abby to be the adult and to take care of her. It was quite an emotional realisation that she could in fact lay down her burdens and trust Madam Charlotte to look after her and she felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. How could it be that a perfect stranger could make her feel cared for in such a short amount of time? Was there something wrong with her?

“Abigail,” Madam Charlotte’s voice broke through her internal distress. “What you’re feeling is quite normal.”

Abby looked into the concerned eyes of the other woman and felt another wall of resistance fall. She nodded and sniffed, dabbing at her eyes and hoping to stop the cascade of tears that threatened to fall.

“Being a submissive in a world where strength and independence is held up as the ideal, is hard. Young women are told that they don’t need a partner, that they can and should do it on their own, but for those young women who are submissive by nature, those words don’t inspire confidence, but fear. They are torn by what the world tells them they should be and by what they feel inside. They are told that if they want someone to take care of them that they are weak. The men in their lives tell them they are too clingy, too needy and their friends tell them they need to get a life and learn to be independent. For some young women, independence is thrust upon them without their consent and at an age when they are not ready for the responsibility heaped on their small shoulders.” Abby stifled a sob and Madam Charlotte leaned across the small gap that separated them to lay a hand on her knee. The touch was comforting and Abby could no longer stop the tears from falling.

Madam Charlotte stood and crossed to sit beside Abby, putting an arm around her and pulling her close so that Abby’s head rested on her shoulder.

“It’s okay Abigail,” Madam Charlotte said, “This is a safe place and when you come here, you will be taken care of. You have been so strong for so long and it’s time for you to lay your heavy load down and rest.”

Abby succumbed to the need to cry, the comforting warmth of Madam Charlotte felt like a motherly embrace and she cried for her loss, for having to grow up without knowing a mother’s love, for having to grow up so fast and for never feeling truly cared for.

Mason’s phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket to answer, indicating that the meeting should continue while he took the call.

He stood and walked out of the conference room, putting the phone to his ear.

“I have Ms O’Hannesy on the phone for you,” Felicity said.

“Put her through,” Mason replied. “Ms O’Hannesy,” he said, “How was your meeting?”

“I met your little sub,” she replied and he could tell she was smiling, which eased his worry, “She’s lovely.”

“So she passed your inspection then?”

Madam Charlotte laughed, the sound throaty and full. “I found her delightful and I’m really rather jealous that you happened to stumble across her.”

“And is she…”

“Her name is Abigail and yes, she is eager to move forward. I said you would be in contact with her. How do you want to proceed?”

“I’d like to meet with her before the end of the week,” he said.

“Oh my, aren’t we eager. Okay then, I have a private room available on Thursday, does that suit?”

“Yes,” he replied, the need to wipe Abby from his sexual fantasies urgent. He knew the only way to do that was to replace her face with someone else and NewGRL549 seemed like the perfect person to do just that.

“I will reserve the room and I’ve emailed you her hard limits and any other relevant information I thought you should be aware of.”

“Thank you Madam Charlotte,” he said.

“One thing,” she said before they disconnected, “She is a little fragile and if it was anyone else but you, then I wouldn’t be letting her move forward. I can trust you to look after her, Mason, can’t I?”

“Of course,” Mason replied, not offended that she would ask such a question. It was the reason he went to Madam Charlotte in the first place, he knew she looked after the women in her care and her concern for his sub only reinforced her high standing in his opinion.

“She’ll be good for you,” Madam Charlotte said cryptically before hanging up.

Mason frowned down at his phone, not quite sure what to make of her last comment, but then he wiped it away to concentrate on more pleasant things. He would finally get to meet NewGRL549 and put a face to the name which would remove Abby from his dreams…hopefully.