Obeisance
by J T and Nye
Chapter 11
A Luncheon with Abby
“Hi Robert, it’s Joseph. I know it’s last minute and even worse, a Sunday morning. But I was wondering if you’d be available to have lunch with me at Western Pines today.”
Robert did his best to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he struggled to come up with some kind of a coherent answer, but before he could utter a word Joseph plunged ahead, “Look, I’m bringing Amanda with me, so I’m thinking it’d be really great if you could bring another girl to keep her company while we chat.”
“Ah, sure Joseph. Lunch sounds fine. When? About noon I’m guessing?”
“Well, almost. I’ve booked a private room at the club for twelve-thirty. Am I right in thinking Carolyn’s still out of the picture?”
“Yeah, she is. I was hoping to bring her home tomorrow, but her release has been delayed until Wednesday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you’re champing at the bit to see her home so you two can get back to some kind of a normal life.”
“Yeah, I am. I really miss her.”
“I’ll bet. Well, if we can’t have Carolyn, why don’t you bring Abby along with you? She’d make a great fourth.”
“Yeah, no problem. But are you sure the club allows collared property as guests?”
“It shouldn’t be a problem. As crazy as it sounds, the ancient game of musical beds continues to flourish now more than ever among the hoity-toity smart set, so there are plenty of outwardly respectable high society trophy wives who’ve suddenly found themselves kitted out in designer control collars and obscenely extravagant couture chastity bras that make the old bullet bras of the past look tame. I very much doubt Abby presence would even raise an eyebrow.
“And like I said, we’ll enter through a private entrance and dine in a private room. As long as it’s not obvious that she’s reformatory surplus it’ll be okay. Oh, that reminds me, I’ll have a little something to give Abby when we come by to pick you two up.”
“Sure, I’ll let Abby know. By the way, does the club have any special kind of Sunday dress code we need to be aware of?”
“No, not really. Suit and tie for you. There’s really no need to wear a tux for an early afternoon luncheon, though some of the older crowd do. Just wear your Sunday best and I’m sure that you’ll be fine.
“Okay then, I’ll have the car come by your place and we’ll pick you and Abby up around noon. That should give us plenty of time to make the reservation.
“By the way, as I’m sure you’re aware, Amanda still hasn’t caught a glimpse of Abby. The funny thing is, the mere thought of the girl terrifies her. Well, truth is, maybe it’s not all that funny for Amanda, she’s not easily amused these days. But I’m certainly quite amused, especially after all the nonsense she’s caused these past several weeks. But anyway, whenever she gets out of line, all I have to do is mention Abby’s name and her carefully contrived tantrum suddenly scatters into pieces like a windswept house of cards. I’m thinking it’s going to be great fun when that hellcat finally comes face to face with your skinny blonde.”
Robert agreed it sounded fun. However, as soon as he cradled the phone, it occurred to him that he didn’t have an inkling of just how he was going to explain to Abby, the product of surviving for years inside the grungy reformatory system, just what dressing in her Sunday best for an elegant luncheon at the Western Pines Country Club actually entailed.
* * *
The moment Joseph caught sight of Abby, Robert saw the staid, dignified attorney do something entirely out of character. Joseph Templeton rendered a soft, heartfelt wolf whistle. Abby, with no guidance from Robert, somehow managed to piece together a simple, elegant, and perfectly appropriate outfit for the posh, uptown world that encapsulated the preeminent culture within Joseph’s exclusive country club. Her hair was arranged in an impeccably neat and uncomplicated updo that somehow sparkled with flashes of light whenever she turned her head. Her makeup was tasteful and understated. Her dark brown, hobbled pencil skirt was paired with a light brown, high collared silk corset-blouse that both accentuated her hourglass waist and elegantly masked her control collar. She finished her outfit with a dark brown bondage jacket which, when coupled with the stylish gag she handed to Robert, perfectly complied with the strict requirements of the latest Female Control Laws and Regulations.
They were about to pile into the limousine when Joseph held up his hand. “Please hold on for a few more minutes. I originally intended to do this after we arrived at the club, but I think doing this now is better, and I’ll explain what I mean by that in a minute,” he said as he grabbed a black leather attache case from the back seat of the car, snapped it open, and removed a letter-sized clasp envelope.
“I have in my hand Abby’s Certificate of Commission,” he announced as he drew a document from the envelope, showed it to Abby, then presented it to Robert. “Abby’s now a fully licensed governess,” Joseph announced with a measure of solemnity that fell somewhat short of fully masking his glee. “Robert, your girl is now duly commissioned to serve as a private governess under your authority as her owner. What that means, and Abby I’m also talking to you now, is that during those times Abby’s actively serving in the role as governess she may not be curbed or restrained in any manner that would hamper or interfere with the performance or execution of her assigned duties as defined by either the territory, or you, her owner. And to celebrate this splendid promotion, here under the entrance canopy of the elegant Fremont Tower Apartments you now call home, I have a small gift I would like to present to you Abby. It’s the official badge of your new position, your sash and quirt.”
Then Joseph paused, looked at Robert, and asked, “Is it okay that I do this? I thought I’d better ask, given that sometimes I overstep without meaning to.”
Robert agreed that the gift would be an excellent way to celebrate Abby’s new position. “But,” he added with a grin and pat on Joseph’s back, “only if you agree to do the honors and buckle that rather fancy sash around Abby’s waist yourself.”
Joseph grinned in return, and nodded as he wrapped the purple silk sash around Abby’s tightly corseted waist and fastened the elaborately wrought silver buckle closed. “There, now it’s official,” he said as he patted and rubbed a trace of imagined imperfection off the buckle’s distinctive art deco figurine of Themis, the Greek goddess of justice.
“But a few words about your new quirt,” he added as he picked the short whip up and proudly showed it first to Robert and then to Abby. “You see, I happen to believe that if you’re going to carry a quirt, or any weapon for that matter, it had better be the best available because your life may depend on it. And trust me on this, a lousy weapon is often worse than having no weapon at all. Now, according to a couple of experts I really respect, this beautifully crafted Vickers 3000 professional electronic quirt happens to be the best money can buy.”
Joseph then bent down, located a sash clip above her right hip, and as he fastened the quirt to Abby’s sash he continued, “When I purchased this impressive bit of weaponry at the Police Equipment Depot yesterday, the clerk behind the counter advised me to tell you not to use it at maximum power unless you intend to employ lethal force. Apparently, in most cases, wielding it at its lowest power setting is all that’s needed to quickly render most females prostrate, servile, and fully compliant, and even the most murderous penal convict of either gender can usually be rendered fully quelled and docile using two-thirds power. Oh, in case you’re wondering, the same charge mat that’s designed to charge your controller will charge your new quirt.”
* * *
As Joseph’s driver shut the case fixing Abby into the Female Auto Carrier sitting next to Amanda’s custom unit, Joseph playfully slapped Robert on his back and said, “Okay, now I can tell you why I wanted to conduct that little ceremony here in front of your apartment building rather than waiting until we got to the club. My plan is to have Abby introduce herself to Amanda while garbed in her governess gear. When Amanda sees this tall, fragile looking, sweetie-pie sporting that purple sash and quirt, it will throw her into one hell of a tizzy. You see, in an effort to preserve what remains of that stiff-necked, vainglorious attitude of hers after that night at Tom’s, Amanda’s been harboring the fantasy that her subjugation could only have been accomplished by a monstrous, knuckle dragging, sadistic prison screw.”
Robert laughed. “Okay Joseph, even though I’ve never seen this side of you before, I get it. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to tell Abby what you said. I’m sure she’d really enjoy it. In fact she might just tease Amanda about it, in her own quirky way of course.”
Joseph chuckled. “Sure, go ahead. You know Robert, I’m beginning to think that this will not be a boring lunch.”
* * *
As promised, the four of them were greeted at the entrance, then shown through a private corridor to one of the fully private dining rooms, where the rules governing female congregation were considerably more relaxed once the large mahogany and bronze double doors were closed. After Abby’s and Amanda’s bindings and curbs were removed Joseph made the introductions. “Amanda, I’d like you to meet Abby. Abby, this is Amanda as she appears when she’s actually free of her punishment jacket and hood. I believe the two of you met before at Tom’s. However, I also believe it’s safe to say that the last time you were together Amanda was fully hooded and blindfolded, and a formal cheek to cheek introduction was quite out of the question.”
As Abby rose and gave a modest curtsy, the presence and significance of her sash and quirt suddenly became apparent. “Good afternoon Miss Amanda. It’s so wonderful to finally have the opportunity to meet and speak with you face to face.”
Amanda, at first stunned by the sight of the delicate features of the elegant and slender governess, quickly recovered and with growing fury glared at Abby. “You bitch!” she hissed. “I’m not anyone’s Missy. I’m Mrs. Joseph Templeton.”
If Abby was surprised, or rattled, or even the slightest bit offended by Amanda’s imperious invective, she hid it well. Robert smiled, and after receiving a brief nod from Joseph said, “Well Governess, I believe the ball is in your court. Show me what you’ve got.”
Abby nodded, shifted her form slightly, elevated her head just a bit, and assumed the manner and character of an exacting, puritanical, Victorian school mistress taking the measure of a disrespectful, unruly schoolgirl.
“No Miss Amanda, you couldn’t be more wrong,” Abby replied as she took hold of Amanda’s chin and forced her to look into her eyes. “At this moment, by command of my owner and with the consent of Mister Templeton, I am your governess. This means, until I see fit to release you, you are stripped of your marital privileges and any other authority you may think you have had. This means, until I decide to release you back into the care of Mr. Templeton, you are simply a girl, a property I choose to call Miss Amanda in lieu of that immuration number you refuse to publicly admit you actually have – and by law, are.”
As Abby released her grip, Amanda turned towards her husband, glared, and snarled, “Joseph, are you going to let this b…”
The blow was quick and brutal. From Abby’s perspective it was just a simple, and necessary, powered quirt strike across Amanda’s lap, but the result was stunning. The remainder of Amanda invective froze in her throat, and as the full significance of the quirt’s impact began to express itself, Amanda face began to register shock and terror in equal measure.
Abby pressed Amanda’s cheek with her fingertips until her head turned and their eyes met again. “Do I have your undivided attention? Yes? Good. Now lets get down to business.
“Miss Amanda, your idiotic display of feigned outrage is publicly inappropriate, completely unacceptable, and an embarrassment to the fairer sex. There may have been a time when that sort of play acting worked in your neighborhood coffee klatches and Junior League soirees; but not now, and certainly not in this world,” Abby declared, her voice soft, yet as hard and smooth and sharp as a finely wrought, well-honed, surgeon’s scalpel.
“As you are well aware, a respectable lady’s strict adherence to the rules of etiquette, as well as her absolute devotion to the proper application of impeccable manners, are qualities every gentleman of distinction requires and expects from his companion.
“However, in view of your recent history, I may be duty bound to advise Mister Templeton to divorce you and replace you with an elegant, well-bred, well trained lady of grace and refinement who truly understands and embraces the principles of absolute submission and sophisticated continence.”
Reeling from that well placed sting, Amanda turned away from Abby and again glared at her husband. Abby simply smiled, then issued a sharp and painful slap to Amanda’s left cheek, forcing her attention back to her new governess.
“Perhaps your husband would be better served if I advised him to dispense with the ridiculous and unnecessary institution of marriage, and simply replace you with an obedient, agreeable, and exquisitely well-trained companion; one that’s wholly designed to serve the needs and dark desires of the professional gentleman. I am, of course, speaking of the westernized version of the privately owned geisha. I’m sure you’ve heard whispers about such creatures, how they’re devastatingly alluring, and unless one’s tastes lean towards the truly exotic, most models are readily available for an extremely reasonable price. I’m also sure that you’re acutely aware of just how easily and quickly you can be disposed of. After all, among the wealthy and powerful, trading up is a time honored ritualized component in the exercise of professional advancement.”
Abby continued to study Amanda as a cat would study its prey. Amanda did her best to hold her ground and defy this most unlikely of governesses until she exhausted every last drop of personal strength she had remaining within her, and her defenses crumbled. She slumped as far into her chair as her rigid corset and locked chair strap allowed, and her head drooped until all she could see were her own clenched hands trembling in her lap. “Now Miss Amanda, let’s address how you might redeem yourself and make amends for that very stupid outburst. How were you instructed and trained to atone for that unbecoming and despicable episode we just witnessed?”
“I apologize,” she mumbled.
“That won’t do, Miss Amanda. I asked you a very specific question.”
Amanda summoned a page from one of the numerous lessons she’d been required to study after her most recent public row at the club, sighed, took a breath, and began to rapidly paraphrase the text, “If, after her infraction or transgression, the girl is still able to speak, and is permitted to speak, the girl will personally apologize to, render atonement, and seek the forgiveness of each and every person she has offended.”
“That’s hardly a perfect recitation, but it will do for now. You will now formally apologize to each person in this room. You will apologize flawlessly, as you were taught, and with full and complete sincerity. If I’m not completely convinced of the veracity and authenticity of your apology, I will again power up my quirt, order a well oiled cane from the chief steward, and you and I will have a round or two that will make our time together at Mister Thomas Stewart’s home seem as warm and friendly as a kindred embrace at a church social.”
Amanda blanched, then nodded. “Yes Ma’am.”
Abby drew her quirt, pressed the rigid tip under Amanda’s chin, and raised her head so they were once again looking looking eye to eye. “What’s that?” she said in a soft, yet commanding voice, “I don’t believe I heard your correctly.”
Clearly flustered to the point of near panic, Amanda quickly replied, “Forgive me Ma’am, I meant to say ‘Yes Governess’.”
Joseph and Robert sat in awe as Amanda apologized at their feet as well as the feet of her governess. Her apologies were immediately accepted and Joseph, wishing to move on from this surprisingly intense and rather uncomfortable moment quickly ordered a second bottle of chardonnay.
As the wine was enjoyed Joseph turned to Abby and said, “Am I correct in assuming that you didn’t learn how to dress down delinquents like that in a reformatory?”
Abby shook her head. “No Sir. However, I did learn to master the use of the whip, and many other tools and restraints, while serving my compulsory duty as a cell block matron in the reformatory.”
“And the rest of it…let me guess. Private school? A boarding school perhaps?”
“Yes Sir, I attended a private boarding school.”
“And where was that?”
“On Long Island, Sir.”
“You know, this would go a lot easier if you just told us your story,” Joseph said with the smile of a slightly exasperated yet still proud father.
Abby glanced over at Robert seeking instruction. He smiled and nodded. “Go ahead. I haven’t heard this part of your story either.
“Yes Sir. Well, I guess I should begin by saying that I was born and raised in the affluent community of Scarsdale, New York. My father is – or was – I don’t know which as I am forbidden to contact anyone from my life before the plot, an engineer who founded a company that designed and produced robotic control systems. My mother was bred and raised to be a debutante, a beauty queen, and the chair of the local chapter of the Junior League, all of which she accomplished by way of extraordinary panache and Machiavellian artifice before reaching the age of twenty five. She also saw it as her solemn duty to administer a perfect household which mainly consisted of ordering the servants to do things over again, or just differently, for no apparent reason other than she desired it.”
“Your mother sounds like a peach,” Robert deadpanned.
“May I assume you jest Sir?”
“Yeah, sorry. Please continue.”
“Yes Sir. By the time I reached adolescence, my relationship with my mother had developed into an uneasy and increasingly dark and bitter disjunction, which played a major role in her decision to have me unceremoniously packed off to a boarding school called Knox, near Stony Brook, on Long Island, as soon as she could arrange it. Upon graduation from Knox I entered Smith College to do my undergraduate work.
“Like my father, I have a passion for engineering, so upon graduating from Smith two years early, I entered MIT, my father’s alma mater. Upon received a master’s degree in computer engineering I went to work full time for my father.”
“Designing robotic control systems I assume?” Joseph asked as he pressed a call waiter button.
“Sometimes Sir, but by that time we were branching out into other kinds of AI systems, so the work I was tasked to do varied quite a bit.”
Abby paused, and it was obvious to Robert that she was waiting for instruction on what to say next. “I believe you were telling us about yourself,” he said with a nod and an encouraging smile.
Her relief and gratitude was obvious as she returned Robert’s smile. “Yes Sir. As home visits during vacations were often bleak and unpleasant events, I usually chose to go elsewhere. As luck would have it, I happened to have the good fortune to be vacationing with some family friends in north western Canada when the plot launched. Although they investigated me for some time, the authorities weren’t able to find any evidence that I had anything to do with the millitanettes. However, because I took much of my education at liberal institutions known to support and host a number of radical feminist organizations and ideas, I remained on their watch list. About a year after the insurrection began a coordinated series of bombings occurred at a number of government buildings throughout the country. It was a big and tragic series of events, and a lot of good people were murdered. During the subsequent investigation the forensic investigators found evidence that the control mechanisms on several of the bombs contained parts manufactured by my father’s company.”
Robert shook his head. “Well, that couldn’t have been good.”
Abby nodded, then shrugged. “No Sir, it wasn’t. It didn’t seem to matter that the parts used were obviously pulled from obsolete and junked equipment that was no longer manufactured. It was enough that the parts had been built by my father’s company, and I was arrested and quickly convicted of being a millitanette supporter. After spending a few years enduring various forms of reformatory incarceration and re-education, it was somehow decided I no longer posed a threat and my classification was reduced to the status of simple property. A few weeks later I was declared obsolete surplus inventory, put up for sale, and eventually purchased by The 3rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club.
“And now, due to another happy turn of events, I find myself sitting at this splendid table as Mister Robert Morris’s property, honored and privileged to serve as his private governess, and experiencing the pleasure of lunching with two fine gentlemen in a cozy private room at the beautiful Western Pines Country Club.”
“Robert, are you sure you don’t want to let this pretty filly go. In exchange, I could put you in a really nice sports car. I’d offer to toss in Amanda too, but I think that the combination of Carolyn and Amanda together might be a little too much for you to handle by yourself.”
Robert grinned at the joke and raised his glass to Joseph and then the rest of the table, “Sorry Joseph, no can do. I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere to satisfy your wandering eye,” Robert said as he smiled and winked at his new friend. Amanda remained silent, glared at her untouched omelet, and glowered as much as she dared.
“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you,” Joseph replied. “Tom Stewart called and left a message saying that Joanne found a couple of candidates that may be suitable to help with Amanda.”
At hearing that news, Amanda did her best to lurch from her chair, but much to Joseph’s amusement she was thwarted by a combination of her locked chair strap and Abby’s watchful eye. Defeated, she simply sank back into her chair and fumed.
“That’s right dear, I’m getting you a governess. Or I’m getting someone I hope is capable of becoming a governess. It seems that unlike western geishas, purchasable private governesses are about as rare as hen’s teeth,” he grumbled. “I’m not going to humor your silly moods and games any longer and risk having you sent to a damn reformatory. They’d crush every last shred of that charming but prickly personality out of you in less than a fortnight. I wasn’t sure how I could save you from yourself, but after seeing what Abby was able to do with you at Tom’s, and now here at the club, purchasing a governess, or at least a competent matron, seems like a good solution. So, unless you want me to send you to that discipline room back behind the reception desk to learn first hand what a skilled governess can do with her electric quirt and a good, well cured, rattan cane, you’ll sit there like the good girl I know you can be and behave yourself.”
With the addition of a sharp and calculated look from Abby, Amanda reached for her barely touched mimosa, reconsidered, put it back down on the table, and softly replied, “Yes Sir. Yes Governess. I promise I’ll behave in the manner expected of a proper wife.”
Abby turned her attention to Joseph. “Sir, you mentioned that Joanne may have found a couple of suitable postulants?”
“Postulants? Is that what they’re calling them now? Shades of old school Catholic nuns!” Joseph exclaimed with a grin. “But anyway, in answer to your question, apparently she has. And one of the reasons I brought it up here and now is because I was wondering if I could call upon you to help me interview them.”
Joseph shifted in his chair, picked up his wine glass, drained it, then continued, “I wish I could talk to Joanne about those two girls but, with that new collar the BFA is forcing Joanne to wear, that isn’t really practical. Heck, I don’t even know if they both work at The Retreat of if she’s importing them from some other corner of the world. But she seems to be under the impression that I’m some kind of personage or some such nonsense, so it sounds like Joanne cast a rather wide net while doing her search. Anyway, regardless of where she found them, I’m thinking that, at the very least, you might be able to make out whether either of these ‘postulants’ as you call them possess the skills and qualities Amanda desperately needs.”
Abby, clearly at a loss as to how to respond, turned to Robert for council with an expression of worry and desperation written across her face.
Catching his gaffe, yet nevertheless undaunted, Joseph continued, “Sorry, it’s a bad habit of mind to forget proper protocol, especially when I’ve had a bit to drink. Of course I do realize that this is not Abby’s decision, it’s entirely up to her owner. So Robert, what do you say? Would you be so kind as to make Abby available to help me weed through those interviews?”
“Sure, I don’t see why not. Of course the interviews can’t be done at The Retreat. Not with the BFA still nosing around and running their test program there. But if you’re good with living with a bit of chaos in your home for a while, and if you can arrange to get the girls over to your house without raising a fuss, I don’t see why the interviews couldn’t be done there.”
Joseph smiled, finished his wine, then nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. This would also give Abby a chance to observe these postulants as they tour the house and interact with Amanda, and she to them. And while she’s there, Abby could offer suggestions on how to upgrade any security stuff that might be needed to meet the new regulations. Sounds like the start of a good plan. Now let’s see about desert. As I recall, their cheesecake is outstanding and goes well with an excellent after-dinner cup of coffee.”
Chapter 12 “Recovery” coming soon