Two weeks ago, Destiny had been in this very boardroom. It had been packed with managers and executives. She’d been crammed into a corner but had the benefit of witnessing Abduction Company’s deliberations after Head Mistress Stephanie had disappeared. Today, it was almost empty; she stood at the head of the table. A young woman in a light blue latex dress was distributing papers, manual sand contracts, laying them out across an expanse of dark, luxurious woods.

Officially, Destiny was to join the ranks of management. More than one document would certify her new position. But she was more intrigued by the young woman in latex. The blue seemed to contain some elements of black and the ceiling lights seemed to accentuate all that was beautiful about her. She moved on her patent leather Mary Janes – a classic choice for a fetish shoe – as if it was no effort at all. Those must be five-inch heels, or more perhaps, thought Destiny. Her own feet would hurt like hell if she had to wear heels like those for any length of time.

The blue latex covered – and slightly compressed – the young woman’s breasts, and blatantly revealed the studs in her nipples. Her attractive shoulders, her barely rounded belly and firm buttocks, caught and released the light as she moved. Her dress appeared to shimmer. She released papers and folders from a large leather valise and set them in seven columns across on the boardroom table, as if they were over-sized solitaire cards.

Destiny wanted to ask where she bought her latex clothes.  That one must be made-to-measure. Zippered up the back, the rubber came up to a snug, thicker collar where single, slender D-ring was attached under her chin. Somewhat limited by the latex across her thighs, the young woman took short steps. The sleeves extended to her wrists. Her fingernails were a matching shade of blue, almost aquamarine. She wore silver-stud earrings and beige latex stockings with black seams up the back of her well-muscled legs. She straightened up and smoothed her dress, as if it had ridden up her hips while she laid the papers on the board room table. She had obviously polished her outfit before work.

Their eyes met. “I’m Destiny. Or probably, you know me as Evelyn Talbot?”

“Very pleased to meet you, Mistress Talbot.” The girl approached and shook Evelyn’s hand. “I’m Zoe, Giselle’s assistant.”

“Actually, I go by Mistress Destiny. Evelyn Talbot is my real name . . . “

There was a rapid knock at the door. Before Zoe could reach it, Giselle burst in, followed by another woman, perhaps in her late-thirties, anda very fresh-faced young man. Destiny thought him young enough to have been Giselle’s son. But no, there was not much of a resemblance. His hair was wiry, an attractive shock of vibrant ginger-red. He approached Destiny, without actually looking at her. She could see his eyebrows and the hair on the back of his arms was red too. He and the other woman had brought a few more forms. Giselle conferred with Zoe for a moment, then indicated where they were to go on the table. Zoe asked Destiny if she’d like a coffee, but Destiny preferred something cold. Zoe left to get her a bottle of orange juice.

Giselle took Destiny’s hand in her both of hers. “Wonderful to see you. So glad you’re joining our team.” Destiny allowed herself to be hugged. “I remember meeting you at that Montreal Fetish-Con. Was that in 2009? What a great presentation you gave.” Destiny smiled and blushed a little. Giselle’s voice was sunny and bright. She was full-figured, slightly shorter than Evelyn, but a powerhouse of enthusiasm. Her blonde feathered hair cascaded across her shoulders. She turned to the young man and directed him, with a gentle hand on his back, to a seat and whispered in his ear. She gave him a document that he folded once and put it in a zippered pouch he carried.

Destiny hadn’t seen hair like Giselle’s for many years. It was pure Farah Fawcett, an actress that had been famous for a hypnotic mass of blonde curls – lightly permed and probably tended by a stylist  on a daily basis. Fawcett was enormously popular for her role as Jill Munroe on  Charlie’s Angels – both in the made-for-TV movie and the first season of the TV show. She’d been married to the actor Lee Majors, himself the star of a mid-1970s fantasy show called  The Six Million Dollar Man. As a teenager,Destiny had had a crush on both of them.

Idolizing Farah Fawcett, the young Evelyn Talbot – who would later take the name Destiny—had decided to become an actress. Eventually, Evelyn’s acting career transitioned into professional escorting. Even five years after  Charlie’s Angels had gone off the air, she would occasionally meeta man who wanted a companion that resembled Farah Fawcett. Destiny would humour them. Sometimes she tried to style her long brown hair as Farah had done. It rarely worked. Destiny was tall like Farah, but she lacked the power-packed smile of the model and television superstar.

Fetish dressing was evidently not required for all staff at Abduction Company. Giselle’s outfit would have been appropriate in any business office or public media session. She wore an elegant white silk blouse and a sensible, tapered burgundy skirt, with two silver bangles on her left wrist. “Let me introduce you,” Giselle said. “This is Davvy, who has been in my department less than six months.” The young man stood up, put his hands behind his back, nodded, and said  Hello so softly no one heard him. He blushed deeply and sat down. Turning to the woman beside her, who wore a beige blouse and a knee-length pale orange skirt, “This is Mary Williamson, our Payroll and Benefits Specialist.” They shook hands.

Mary was the tallest in the room. “Glad to have you on the Abduction team. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here. Some of us feel you’ve been a role model for building female identity in the BDSM subculture. Oh, I’m sorry.I hope that’s not the wrong thing to offer at a hiring meeting.” Everyone laughed.

Zoe returned with a bottle of juice and a glass and put them where Destiny would sit. “You’ve already met Zoe, who opened up the room for you,” continued Giselle. Zoe was moving down the opposite wall. “Welcome to The Abduction Company,” she said over her shoulder. She sat beside Davvy.

“My team! They help me stay on track with all we have to do around here,” said Giselle. Everyone turned to the paperwork. There were multipage articles on management responsibilities, health and safety protocols, and payroll-required disclosures. Giselle and Mary were both efficient and kind. Every document seemed to include additional lines to be signed or initialed and dated. “Lots to read,” Giselle and Mary offered, more than once.

Eventually a few forms (and an employee manual and a management procedural guide) were given to Destiny for her to take back to her suite. Destiny considered how best to pick up the papers. Giselle handed her one final single sheet.  “Yours too. A memo  from Head Mistress Stephanie, dated just five days ago, authorizing your hire. For your files.”

“Zoe, did you bring a valise for Mistress Destiny?” She had not. Zoe left the room to find one.

As Zoe stepped out, Number Two – acting chief Francis Purley– came in. Then, two others from Giselle’s department, a boy and girl, interns perhaps, one Black and the other South Asian, slid through the door behind him and closed it.

“Congratulations Destiny, or would you prefer . . . .Evelyn Talbot?” said Number Two. He gave her a warm handshake.

“Thank-you, Francis. It’s a strange feeling, after running my own operation. Almost like a new world.” Giselle and Mary followed his congratulations with warm handshakes and welcoming smiles of their own. Number Two and Giselle began to confer. He signed a few documents on behalf of The Abduction Company. He asked Destiny about the progress of the church, Destiny’s future domain and workplace. There was a knock at the door and Acting Head Mistress Magda came in. She shut the door gently and stood with her back to the wall, smiling and silently greeting those she knew.

“Good to see you, Magda” Number Two continued. “Since the disappearance of Mistress Stephanie, Mistress Magda will oversee all the programming activities in AbductCo. Also, she has acting control of HR, and Housekeeping, Purchasing,Leases, and Facilities. In my role as Number Two, I will continue to be responsible for Finance, IT, Security (and investigations), and Executive Management (management board), and Special Projects including Church construction, Product Design and Development, and ownership transition.”

Another knock at the door. A senior male manager entered, his identification tags swinging back and forth on his lanyard. He seemed out of breath. Like Giselle, he seemed to be above the fetish dress code of the company. The room was beginning to feel crowded, Destiny thought. Everyone seemed interested in her hiring. “Ah, Jeff. You made it.” Francis conferred with the newcomer in a low voice, then addressed the room. “Destiny, this is Jeffrey Gordon, head of Product Design and Development.”

“I’ve been texting you. Then I phoned,” Jeffrey said to Number Two.

Francis declined to be pulled off course. “Jeffrey’s hoping you’ll review the Confession Box they’ve been working on. I don’t personally think it’s ready.”

“We were hoping to have your permission to deliver it, Mistress Destiny. And then, to continue testing on-site.”

Though Jeffrey had put himself squarely in Destiny’s field of vision, she looked over at Number Two. “I was at the church yesterday Francis,” Destiny said. “The building looks very good. All the major structural work is done. Plumbing, washrooms, a kitchen. Electrical is in. Walls in place. Much of the painting is done. It’s a lovely space for dungeon play with a religious, inquisition, torture flavour to it. We’ll even be able to perform a wedding, as long as the attendance isn’t massive. The pews are there. The poles, the beams, thewinches. Trap-doors, underfloor cages. It’s all there.”

Number Two nodded. Destiny turned to Jeffrey. “Francis isn’t the only one who is skeptical about your confessional. I heard about the testing failures.”

“Yes.”

“My problem is I’m not qualified to decide if the Confession Box is ready to be installed. I’ve heard – third-hand – that it contains too many electrical tortures and digitized routines. Like a computer’s idea of S & M. Has artificial intelligence been used? Is there a danger that it might operate on its own? That a domme who is not a technical wizard might not be able to shut down certain routines as quickly as necessary?”

Jeffrey squirmed. He’d heard these rumours and opinions before. “I admit it is behind schedule and a little over-budget. But I beg you to visit our testing area and see for yourself how it functions.”

Destiny nodded. “And yet, I’m to be in charge of when it’s used, who uses it, where it will be installed? I use a much simpler kind of confessional. It’s made of wood. Nothing but wood. And I like to beat my slaves with my own hands, my own canes, whips, whatever I choose. And I don’t ever want to delegate those decisions to a machine. What I’d like is an elegant black upright coffin with restraints in the back, two sides, the floor and over the head, that can be tightened from the outside. So, if you want to build me a confessional make it traditional. Put a window on either side for the priest or priestess. Install a simplified electrical torment for those inside. The old-fashioned kind. Turn the dial, send the current, hear them moan. Wooden spikes under bare feet perhaps? Occupant forced to stand? Wooden spikes under buttocks? Occupant strapped down in a Discomfort Chair?”

Number Two smirked but said nothing. Giselle watched the reactions of her staff. All eyes were on Destiny.

“If I maybe allowed to reply? Redesign has begun, Mistress. We received extensive feedback from our own testers, and we have been implementing improvements, likely many you are unaware of.“

A soft knock came at the door. Zoe had returned. She carried a beautiful brown leather case. She displayed it to Destiny and pointed out some of the features such as the shoulder strap and inner zippered compartments. Giselle whispered, “Zoe,honey. Surely that can wait. Mistress Destiny and Jeffrey are speaking.”

“Sorry Madame.”

Destiny glanced up at Zoe and suddenly felt a great sadness. Zoe reminded her of herself, the young, ambitious Evelyn Talbot. She whispered, “I’ll figure it out. Thank-you. It’s lovely.”

“. . . the designer of the Confession Box was from out of the country.”

“Who was it? Did the design get executive approval?” asked Giselle.

Francess hook his head. “Not from me. But I think Stephanie voted in favour of it, at a board meeting, long ago.”

Destiny resumed, “I’d like to meet the other counsellor, who has been on vacation, but is now, I understand, returned. Who is . . . ?”

“Her name is Crystal Schneidermann,” said Giselle. Suddenly the three youngest HR staff, Davvy and the two girls – who seemed to be there only as observers – burst out laughing.

“Davvy! Miranda! What??!”

Davvy stood. “MIranda asked if Mistress Destiny is going to become the new Mother Superior for the whole organization?” The two girls seated behind him snickered.

Giselle replied. “It’s not a joke. That motion was moved and carried a few days ago at the management meeting.” Giselle whispered to Destiny,“His girl works in the Ball & Chain as a supervisor of wait staff.”

Giselle turned to the room. “Are you two going to get married Davvy? Or you will simply be living in sin all your lives?” Now it was the turn of the older attendees to laugh.

“OK. I have another meeting,” said Number Two. “Jeff, you need to send me the final testing results on the Confession Box. Your department is reporting to me, in Stephanie’s absence. And for gods-sake, invite Destiny to your lab, and listen to her. She’s going to be responsible for it. She may not be the primary user of it, but it’s a health and safety risk if any top touches it that doesn’t know how to use it. Effectively you’ve created a device that has a poor track record, and even if it works flawlessly in the end, users will need a three-week course and a hundred-page manual to understand it.”

This seemed an exaggeration, but Jeffrey nodded. He began typing into his phone. Number Two said his good-byes. He stopped at the door and whispered with Magda. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jeffrey stood up, his phone at his side.

“Mistress Destiny, I’ve sent you a note, and suggested possible times we might meet to review the Confessional. Please make an appointment with me, and I will be happy give you a personal and reassuring tour of the device and the PDD facility.” Destiny nodded. Jeffrey’s face brightened a little. He’d been wounded by her lack of interest. The project had lingered for more than two years. The manager who had championed it was no longer on staff. Head Mistress Stephanie had been enthusiastic about it, but clearly Number Two and this new Mistress were not. Perhaps it didn’t have to be deployed in the church. Later, he would realize there was nowhere else to install a confessional. He couldn’t put it in the main concourse of the Shopping Atrium!

Jeffrey nodded to those who remained in the room, and then left. Mistress Magda followed him.

“Normally we’d have some light refreshment at this point,”said Giselle, “but time is getting on. We all had a good breakfast, right? And since we have the famous Mistress Destiny with us, and we’ve legally hired her, I’d like to invite her to punish our incorrigible bad boy, Davvy. Yes, young man. You are about to be her demonstration dummy. Dear Evelyn, we are all great admirers of your work but so few of us have met you in person.” She continued. “I have arranged with Evelyn to improvise a scene to torment our young man, using our equipment. Evelyn, I don’t mean to impose on you. Please just think of it as our welcome-to-the-company event.”

Destiny nodded. This was not a surprise. Giselle had broached the idea in an email a week ago. Destiny would give a forty-minute sadism demonstration using Davvy. Giselle had forwarded his preferences and tolerances. Destiny had reviewed the file last night and had a copy on her phone. Davvy had consented to Giselle transferring her workday authority to another domme.

“Let’s adjourn to my office.” said Giselle. As they walked back to the heart of the HR section, Giselle mentioned how inspirational Destiny had been to her personally. “I remember you once spoke about working for Terri Bedford. What a legendary, courageous woman!”

On Destiny’s other side, Zoe kept pace, carrying her new valise. Giselle had gone quiet; she studied her phone. Destiny began to chat with Zoe and realized the girl was probably not raised in Ontario or even in Canada. Her accent and her easy politeness suggested she was from Europe. Was she Dutch? German? Polish? She looked vaguely Nordic, except her closely cropped hair was a rich dark brown. It gave her a severe, boyish look while her latex dress emphasized her femininity. “I assume Zoe, you’ll watch me handle Davvy?”

“I hope so. Could be fun.” Zoe stifled a laugh with the back of her hand and glanced behind her. Davvy and the two other HR employees followed at a respectful distance. “Davvy’s really nervous about you.”

“I’m sure he is,” said Destiny. “What can you tell me about him?”

Giselle interrupted and said, “I would like to see you subject him to your exclusive handmade cock and ball stretcher that works with a steel waist belt. You once gave a talk on that device. We have one in the department, in my attitude adjustment chamber. Sanitized and ready to go.” Giselle seemed to have witnessed every training and academic talk Destiny had ever given.

“Attitude Adjustment Chamber?”

“Oh, yes, every manager at the rank of B1 or higher has one adjacent to their office to help modify employee behavior and administer corporal punishment as necessary.” Giselle dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ll check to make sure he has used his enema bottle recently.”

Giselle walked back and confronted him. He nodded. “Yes Mistress Giselle. I cleaned myself out this morning. After breakfast and the bathroom. Before I came to work.” Giselle squeezed his shoulder.

“And your cock is caged too?” she asked.

Davvy nodded. She let her hand wander between his legs, feeling his groin. She clutched his cock cage, and felt its contours through his slacks. Her fingers and thumb pressed on either side of his ball sack. “Good boy! We should make the best possible impression.” Davvy nodded, breathlessly. His two female companions, who had moved several steps further back, giggled again.

Once in the main HR suite of offices, Davvy and the two junior staffers returned to their desks and workstations. Mary checked her phone. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said, though when the time for Davvy’s punishment arrived, she found her workload for the day too much to spare the time. Davvy was to carry on with work at his desk until he was called.

Giselle and Zoe began touring Destiny through the Attitude Adjustment Chamber. It was a fairly typical dungeon set-up. There was a shallow vertical cage for imprisonment – attached to a wall and set approximately a foot off the floor. The victim imprisoned behind bars could not move much in any direction. Giselle pulled back a floor-to-ceiling curtain that concealed, not a window, but a long wall displaying an extensive set of canes, whips, paddles, gags, hoods, and collars. There were also various steel restraints, dangling pre-cut lengths of chain, and shelves of containers with various kinds of locks. As well, there were a range of yokes: some to extend the wrists horizontally from the neck. Another design of yoke was available in two sizes. These were full-body steel restraints, colloquially called a fiddle. It was a straight steel structure that would bend the victim at the waist: first, by securing the ankles close to each other, then joining the hands together in front in a prayer gesture further up the bar, and the top, which encircled the neck and kept the victim leaning forward. When the fiddle was closed, these five attachment points joined along two steel struts that hinged behind the neck. The two struts would appear to be a single rod that enclosed the ankles, wrists and neck. The difficulty for the fiddle’s occupant would be in finding a way to relax, as they could neither lie down and stretch out, nor sit comfortably.

Several columns held steel cuffs of various shapes, sizes, and designs. Amongst the hand and leg cuffs, and the steel collars, there hung several styles of male chastity cages. As well, Destiny noted the male and female full-chastity belts. (For sizing and ordering purposes, said Giselle.) There were various vaginal and anal probes in the collection. Destiny saw the fairly rare “Destiny’s cock-stretcher” device. She winced. In fact she had not desinged it, but had endorsed it, for a fee, many years ago.

Another wall provided the domme with as many lengths, thicknesses, and colours of rope as could possibly be needed. There were also many smaller tormenting devices such as nipple clamps, Wartenberg wheels, electroshock devices with plugs, probes, clamps, electrodes for the skin, wires, and battery-driven electrical prods of various sizes including a cattle prod.

Giselle chattered on and on about the room’s equipment – of which she was justifiably proud. For Destiny, was all quite a familiar, if too elaborate, for her taste.

What saved Destiny in the end, from this never-ending tour, was that Giselle’s phone would simply not stop buzzing more and more urgently in the pocket of her bag. Finally, she apologized that she would have to leave Destiny at this point. “Zoe will show you the rest.”  As Giselle pulled the door closed behind her, she apologized once more to Destiny, reminding her again of how happy she was that Destiny had joined Abduction Company.

Destiny and Zoe shared a smirking glance as Giselle’s footfalls receded down the hall. “Whew! I thought she’d never finish.” Destiny exhaled and laughed, and gently touched Zoe’s arm.

“I’ll wrap this up quickly,” said Zoe. “In the centre of the room, there’s an adjustable steel shaft that rises out of the floor. I’m sure you can see how it would be used – in conjunction with a dildo or similar implement of one’s choice – as a one-bar prison.” Destiny nodded. “There’s an attachment somewhere around here for spreading the person’s legs. If you need to.”Destiny saw the vertical bar could be removed from the floor so as not to be in the way.

Zoe demonstrated the control panel for the several motorized winches and hoists overhead. “You might need these.” The winches were equipped with attachment hooks – one already held a steel spreader bar, with wrist openings at either end. The winches could be moved along tracks set in the ceiling. From floor to ceiling, the adjustment chamber was at least twenty feet high.  The floor and one of the walls had numerous attachment points for fastening a victim for longer-timed spreading and restraint. “These rings are inset so they lay flat in the floor when not inuse,” said Zoe. “Still, you should be careful. Don’t be tripping yourself or catching a heel in one of them. I’ve done that a few times.”

Destiny asked Zoe about a prisoner’s box, in which the victim sat, with an opening for their neck in the top, so their head protruded; the box could be pulled or pushed to another place as it travelled on a dolly-platform. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. And very snug in there. You quickly feel the confinement and it makes for a weird psychological and physical pressure in your joints. There is a steel frame version of the sitting box as well, over there, which I have to say, I prefer.”

“Do you?” asked Destiny mischievously. They approached the open-frame version of the sitting box. “How long have you been kept in either of these?”

“Fifteen minutes in the box with the closed sides. I lasted about an hour in this one here, with the open sides. This one, you can get your legs around two of the uprights. When you get your knees outside of the box-bars, it’s a little easier to take. It took me a long time to straighten myself out. But I loved it. Yeah, so, in this open version, the victim is secured by a heavy steel neck piece, made up of four steel rings sitting one on top of the other. Each neck ring is connected to, and supported by a horizontal bar. The four bars that radiate from the neck connect to four thick vertical posts built into the corners of the bottom wooden platform. Tops of the vertical posts also connect to each other, not just to the prisoner’s neck. She pointed to the connecting steel shafts, made outlined the top square of the box.

“The victim can be dragged around in either the open or closed box. In the open box frame, the hands are cuffed behind, either loosely, or tethered by a chain to the back of their neck. Mobility is never a problem because of the swiveling wheels underneath. They sit cross-legged. Ankles can be shackled with a chain pulling feet upward to one or either or both of the uprights. This gives you access to your slave’s cunt (probably not to the ass) or if you have a guy in here, you’ve got his cock and balls just where you want them. You can tether his chastity cage to the wooden floor of the box. See, there’s an attachment.”

Destiny smiled. They had some good ideas here; the chamber was well-designed. Zoe continued: “As this is an office-themed dungeon, we have a work-desk, to which an underperforming employee can be chained, shackled, roped, or otherwise attached in a kneeling, squatting, standing or crouched position.” She smirked. “Not fun, I can tell you. As well as making the sub quite accessible for cane strokes or blows from a paddle or strap, the desk includes a frustration punishment. This one is equipped with an old, slow-processing computer in order to torment anyone tasked with doing a certain amount of work in a short period of time, setting them up for failure and further punishment, as needed. We have an optional  chair for this desk, either on wheels, or a fixed-floor model, that can be bolted in place, either too far or too close the desk for comfort. The chair, as you can see, can be lined with inward-pointing wooden spikes in the seat, across the back, and on the armrests. There are seven straps to hold the victim into the chair: two straps hold each leg to a “leg-rest” which is built-in, and three more longer straps can hold your torso secure against the chair back. If you are to get any work done, you need to have your hands free.”

“Depends on what kind of work,” said Destiny. “Your invention, Zoe?”

The girl grinned. “No, that chair is an adaptation of a device on the old Insex.com. Master Jeffrey’s department – the same ones who are building the hi-tech Confession Box – made that one for us. For this office setting.” Zoe paused. “Hang on. Sorry.” She pulled out her phone. “If you don’t mind Mistress, I’m going to send Davvy in now. I have some urgent work before my next meeting.”

“Certainly, my dear. Thank-you for the tour. I can see the rest for myself.”

Left alone, Destiny examined a rugged metal rack beside the shallow cell on the wall. The incline of the rack was adjustable from horizontal to a fully vertical position. There was also a St. Andrews Cross,and a long table with a hole in the centre, so a victim could be confined under he table, their shoulders and arms strapped to the underside with their head protruding through the tabletop. Destiny imagined a person being humiliated (or included) in a meeting of their department peers, as necessary.

Finally, Davvy appeared. He told her that she would be the only one present as he took his punishment. Everyone else had been called away or was too busy. “There’s a new note on my file, from Giselle for you. Can you please read it before we begin?”

“Since you asked me so politely, yes, I will.” Destiny nudged her phone awake.

Giselle’s note reminded her of what she didn’t like about bureaucracies. The relentless record-keeping and documentation. She knew punishment sessions could be scheduled like a meetings and attendance would be recorded on an employee’s file. Sessions could also be recorded, though this was rare, as filming required one or more videographers, and these were a limited resource at Abduction Company. Giselle’s note said that Davvy was to be disciplined for “indiscreet statements about people who work for Abduction Company,” for “insubordination directed at co-workers in his own office,” for “persistent lippiness” (in a series of encounters over the past week with his boss, Giselle) and for “publicly mocking the notion that Mistress Destiny might take the title of Mother Superior (may it please Her Highness) for the soon to be consecrated Church of the Abduction Company and located in this Northern Ontario branch.”

Though Giselle and one other woman were listed as Davvy’s dommes in charge, Destiny was taking over (the session / meeting description said) because Giselle had been called into an emergency meeting with the Supervisor of Housekeeping.

Zoe had also sent a note apologizing for the absence of the junior members of the department: Miranda and Belkin could not spare the time to watch Davvy humiliated by Mistress Destiny, as educational as the experience might be. Besides, Davvy was their friend. And they’d seen him tormented by Giselle before. It happened every couple of weeks, almost since the first day he’d joined the department.

Destiny ordered Davvy to strip. “And, put your clothes on a hanger. Over there.” He went to a corner clothes rack, removed everything he wore and managed to arrange his garments on a single hanger. Nothing fell to the floor.

Now he stood before her, his eyes down, naked except for his cock cage. Destiny looked at herself in one of the many floor-length mirrors. She wore a white blouse, fawn coloured riding breeches, and black leather boots with rounded heels. Something was missing. She turned to the boy. “Since I’m meeting you for the first time here, Davvy, I will take it easy on you. Does my outfit give you pleasure?”

Davvy raised his chin, allowing himself to look at her, up to her shoulders. “Very handsome, very beautiful, Mistress.”

“And since there was to be an audience and now, there will be no audience, I do wonder about the sincerity of your boss. Do you feel like this session is going to be – oh, I don’t know – beside the point?”

He moved his hands, so they no longer covered his cock in its cage. “I couldn’t possibly comment on Madame Giselle. She is my supervisor and instructor and disciplinarian. I’ve only been in her department a little time.”

“For how long?”

“Five months.”

“Alright.”  Destiny took a tissue from a box on a nearby table. Covering her fingers with it, she pulled his cage up and from side to side, inspecting his balls. She didn’t say a word, though she thought the base ring looked a little too tight and his scrotum looked very red, almost purple-blue. She let his cage down and put the tissue in a trash can. “This isn’t my room, so I don’t know where everything is. Fetch me a pair of black leather gloves.”

Davvy knew what would look good with her equestrian outfit. He scampered to one wall, to a bank of drawers, each tagged and labelled. He returned with gloves that would extend halfway up her forearm. “These are sometimes worn by Madame Giselle. They are not one of her personal pairs.” Destiny pulled them on. They fit adequately and were almost new. “Now, find the riding crop and the cane you would like to be beaten with.”

“I, I, I . . . .the one I would like to be beaten with?”

“Yes, I said I would take it easy on you. I meant only that you may select your tools of punishment.”

Davvy went to another wall and returned with a twenty-six-inch cane and a double-tongued tawse that looked to be about fourteen inches long. Destiny felt the tawse, then twisted it. It was rather heavy. Two thick pieces of leather had been sewn together. The sewing was exquisite and thorough. She flexed the cane. Finally, she put both implements on a nearby table.

While Davvy had been fetching her gloves and the tools with which he’d be punished, Destiny had noticed a wall-poster of a man modelling one of Abduction Company’s porter uniforms. She had seen male porters all over the building. The standard uniform consisted of black and burgundy pants and tops. Additionally, porters were always collared and they each wore a small pillbox hat held in place by a thin strap under the chin.

The man in the poster wore trousers with a tailored open crotch. His pants were in fact, leather chaps, in the corporate colours. His penis and balls were caged in a perfectly fitted chastity device with stainless steel bars. Destiny thought he was also encumbered with a urethral spout, to judge by the protruding steel tip of the cock cage. It was a photo under glass, so it was difficult to tell.

Destiny scowled at Davvy. “On your knees.” He got down quickly, each hand flat on the floor. She went to the basket marked  Solid Steel Cuffs and returned with a pair of figure-8 handcuffs. “Hands behind you.” Davvy complied. Destiny locked them on him, and immediately saw they were too large. “Get up,” she ordered. “These are too loose, aren’t they? Slip out of them. You can do it.”

Davvy slipped his wrists free and offered the locked cuffs to her. “Put them back where I found them.” Davvy sprinted to the shelf and put them in the correct basket. When he returned, his eyes were downcast. Destiny imagined he had undergone some training. “Never look at a superior woman in the eye?”

“No Ma’am, never.”

Destiny took him by the arm and led him to the shallow cage against the far wall, made him mount a stepstool and get inside. Then he was to turna round and present his cock and balls. The depth of the cage could be adjusted but Destiny was uncertain how, so she left it as it was, which meant it was slightly loose around him. She closed the front door and locked it in two places. She reached through the bars with her right hand and squeezed his balls. He howled. She had found the right pressure.

She held up her left hand; she flexed her leather-gloved fingers. “Thank-you for helping with these.” She paused.

“Your department, including your boss with her serious case of celebrity worship – (and I am NOT a celebrity) – has managed to leave you to my tender mercies. Today, it will be only you and me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She didn’t know Davvy at all, but this sounded like rote talk. He didn’t seem engaged. Rather, he looked inexpressibly sad. Not the horny young man she expected.

“Have you been looking forward to a session with me?” She looked away, gave him one more squeeze and released her grip on his balls. She walked back to the table and picked up the cane. She swished it in the air a few times. She liked its weight and it made a pleasant whistling sound. She returned to Davvy and gave him her worst angry glare. “Have you agreed to this session?”

“I have.”

Very listless, she thought.

Zoe reappeared at the door across the room. Destiny walked over. Zoe held out a nine-inch dildo in a strap-on harness. “For you to use. Freshly laundered. We keep a locker here of personal devices only for use on particular subs in our department. Davvy’s name is monogrammed on the leather harness.See?”

Destiny took the harness and strapon. Zoe continued, “Little Davvy gets this only as a special treat. Depends how busy we are. Giselle commands his workday and can make use of him. A boss’s prerogative. You’ve heard of the workplace wife? Davvy has a girlfriend, but during the day, Giselle isDavvy’s primary instructress, his trainer. Nine to five. Monday to Friday.” Destiny nodded.

Zoe began to retreat. “I’ll leave you two. There’s a camera,if you want to record your session.”

Destiny shook her head.

“No? Just as well, we’re super busy, with hiring and interviews and paperwork.“

Destiny shook her head again. Zoe backed out of the room and closed the door.

“What shall I call you? Davvy, are you a slut? A whore? Or simply a bad boy who will never amount to anything?” He did not reply. She glanced to her left. An open red door led to a small theatre, for presentations perhaps.

Destiny heard him sobbing and she looked back at him. He shouldn’t have been able to raise his arms in the shallow cage, but they were up. He held face in his hands. His torso heaved as he sobbed. She tried to think what to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he cried.

Destiny leaned her cane against the wall and took the keys from her wrist and opened the locks. She pulled out the step stool and helped him down. Then she gave him her cane to carry and led him to a corner where they could sit in a couple of office chairs. He was crying, bawling actually. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Davvy coughed and spluttered. She took the cane out of his hands. He sat down in one of the chairs and she held out the box of tissues. “No-ah, I mean yes, I would like to but, not really, not now. You’re the great Mistress Destiny, you’re a really famous lady and you’re just going to be disappointed with me. And Madame Giselle is going to be furious with me.”

“How do you know that?” She put the cane on the floor and dropped the tissue box in his lap. Then, she took another chair and moved closer to him. He’d covered his face with his hands again.

“Show me your face,” she said softly. “We’ll only do what you want to do.”

Tears ran down his cheeks. He was blushing. “Mistress Giselle will expect me to be disciplined. When she gets back, she’ll want to see marks. She’ll ask me if I permitted you to turn on the camera. Zoe was going to take some pictures with her cell-phone, but she said she didn’t want to.”

“Did you ask Zoe to?”

“No. She told me she wasn’t going to do it.”

“Who are we doing this for, Davvy?”

“I don’t know, Mistress. I don’t know!” he wailed.

“You have a girl you’re sweet on?”

He nodded.

“Do you love her?”

He nodded again. “I think I’m too young for this.”

“Too young for what?”

“To be working in this department.”

“Oh, so Giselle and you aren’t getting along very well?”

“No. Madame is always humiliating me. I can’t take it anymore. I’m only twenty-one years old.”

“I see. For some people, that is very young to be active or intensely active with sadism and masochism. Most men don’t really understand themselves at that age.” Suddenly she thought of Martin Porter, the last client she had seen at her own dungeon. Martin was thirty-two, perhaps older. He was one who definitely didn’t know what he wanted. She remembered his father Conrad and the wonderful long relationship they had had. Conrad had always seemed to know himself and Evelyn Talbot too.

“I better get dressed,” said Davvy. “I’ll get dressed and go home.” He pulled out several more tissues. He blew his nose and went to the rack where he’d hung his clothes. Destiny followed him and helped him dress. He helped her put away the cane and the tawse.

“Davvy, would you like to speak to me again? In a different setting? Without any of the power imbalance or the funny clothes?”

He looked into her face for the first time, not comprehending.

“Without all of this?” She gestured at the room’s paraphernalia. “Just to have a counselling session. Help you figure out what you might want to do.”

“I’d like to talk about my future here. Yes.” Davvy sounded more certain than at any point since she’d met him.

“That would be fine. I can help you with that. You have my contact information. I am starting, right now, to take clients for counselling.” Destiny burst into a wide smile. She wanted to give him a hug.

Davvy laughed and wiped his face. Destiny pointed him towards the mirrors across one wall. He checked his look, touched his hair and turned to her. “I’ve been putting up with more than what I wanted to. To please others.”

“I’ll make you an appointment for next week,” Destiny said.“You won’t stand me up like the rest of your department did today, will you?”

“No Mistress, I won’t. Name the time and place. I’ll be there. Thank-you. Very, very much.”