This story is mature rated! It will contain various BDSM themes and Kinks - opportunity to get involved below. Readers 18+ only.


I'm standing here in the entrance hall to a very normal-looking apartment building. To anyone walking in off the street, they'd have no hesitation with renting one of the state-of-the-art wings, bar the rather large price tag. Unfortunately, there aren't any available. There are never any apartments available unless you're of a very specific clientele.

I'd been exploring the community online and come across an advert from a local gentleman.

Looking for a young woman to help me meet my needs in exchange for hefty benefits.

Apprehensive about what it would be like, I got in contact to find out more. I was pleasantly surprised to get a prompt response with an invitation to meet him here.

My excitement about the meeting had been so high. The idea of finally being able to explore the fantasies in my head is like a dream come true. Unfortunately, now that I'm here, the excitement is starting to morph into anxiety.

Why had I done this?! I've got such a perfect little life at home, everything going right, why would I give all that up? The answer comes to me instantly and gives me the strength to keep moving – my life is boring as hell.

Looking around the space, I see a set of comfortable chairs near the door. They're red which compliments the white and black accents around the room. I perch myself on the edge and brush out the pencil skirt I'd put on that morning.

Deciding what to wear had been another significant challenge. Part of me had wanted to please him by wearing something sexy, but I've never really owned anything like that and I want to hear what he has to say before I start making such clear advances. So, I'd chosen a simple blouse with a red bra and a knee-length pencil skirt with matching ballet flats.

I take several deep breaths to try and settle my nerves when I hear footsteps coming from down the hall. Glancing up, I can see the most drop-dead gorgeous man striding towards me. In the interest of anonymity, the site I'd been on banned any photos that allowed for easy recognition, so until now, I hadn't realised just who I was meeting.

With each step, I can feel my arousal rising. His bronze hair bounces around his pale face, the colour making his amber eyes appear to glow.

"Isabella?" he asks standing before me.

I nod my head slightly forcing my mouth shut. If I'd realised I was here to meet a supermodel, I would have seriously reconsidered. "Yes, you're Edward?"

"Indeed. Please," he says gesturing back down the hallway. "If you'd accompany me, it will be easier to talk in my rooms."

Edward starts walking back down the hall, each of his long strides graceful and fluid. Remembering everything that my dad had taught me about never going anywhere alone with a stranger, I hesitate.

"I don't have all day," he says, not turning around and I hurry after him. I'd approached him after all. I'm surely not what he'd expected so I can at least do him this courtesy.

He doesn't slow to wait for me and I trip over my feet several times in my attempt to catch up with him. Just around the corner, we reach a smart-looking elevator. The doors open immediately and we both climb inside.

I watch as he swipes a key card and pushes a button for the 10th and top floor.

The ride-up is silent and awkward, though he never shows it. I shift my weight between each foot and wring my hands in front of me.

When the doors open, he steps out and I follow him, still rather clumsy.

"This is my apartment," he says gesturing around. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Y-yes," I stammer, overwhelmed by where I am. Everywhere there are signs of how rich this man is. Everything from the gleaming surfaces to the high-end technology on the walls.

He gestures towards one of the couches and I make my way over, once again tripping over my own feet. After everything he's seen so far, I'm amazed that he hasn't just sent me packing.

I've just sat down when he hands me a chilled bottle of water.

"So," he says sitting down opposite me, "tell me a bit about you."

"Well…" I splutter, "there isn't much. I live alone and work a boring office job."

"I am aware," he says and I gape at him. The site is anonymous, how could he possibly know? Just as I'm about to question him, he continues. "Tell me about how you ended up on that site."

My cheeks flame bright red. Although I'd been expecting this, his openness about the topic scares me somewhat.

"Well, I find it fascinating." I stop, not quite sure what to say, but at his encouraging expression, I continue. "I've never been able to imagine myself in a vanilla relationship, but finding someone at a bar who understands has been hard."

"You're inexperienced then?" he asks, slightly amused.

Flushing even redder, I nod.

"That is unexpected. You intrigue me, Isabella Swan." How does he know my last name? "Before we continue, I would like to share my proposition. If you are still interested?" I nod my head eagerly. "Well, I am looking for a special someone to join me in my home. You will be required to perform certain duties, all of which training will be provided for. In return, you will not need to concern yourself with anything else."

Perplexed by his vagueness, I question, "What do you mean?"

He smiles in an understanding way. "I would like to take responsibility for you, in every way. I will provide everything you may need and in return, you will work for me."

Although I'm inexperienced, I'm not unknowledgeable. I know that his offer involves my submission, but this is a level further.

"You seem nervous, Isabella. Tell me your fears."

"I'm … I mean … You don't want me," I manage to gasp.

"Quite the contrary. I desire you. There have been many to contact me, yet you are the only one I've invited here. You've already admitted your desire to explore this lifestyle. I am offering you complete security." He pauses. "Besides, you are not a girl to contact someone on a whim. You put great thought into this."

He's correct and already seems to know me so well.

"I've never…" I whisper. "Is that a problem?"

"No. I am pleased. Are you interested in learning more?"

Gulping, I say, "Yes."

Reaching over to the side table, he pulls out a pile of paperwork. "I'm sure you know what this is?" he asks. I nod. "Great! These are the long-term papers," he says placing a larger pile on the left of the coffee table, "and this is the paperwork for a single session," he places a much smaller pile to the right. "If you are amenable, I would like to offer you a trial of 48 hours. This will allow you to make an informed decision."

Letting out a sigh of relief, I nod. "Yes, a trial sounds good."

He pushes the smaller pile towards me. Trying to still my shaking hands, I pick it up and read through it. Everything is as expected, the standard Dominant and submissive session contract.

"Are you happy to sign?" he asks.

"Yes," I say back, forcing confidence into my voice.

"I am happy to start this session now, however, if you have prior commitments – "

I cut him off, "No, now is good." I've got a suspicion that if I leave, I won't come back again. As it's Friday, I've got the whole weekend free and no one is expecting me.

Not replying, he pulls a pen out of his jacket and hands it to me. "Fill in the relevant parts and then I shall sign."

I go through each page, marking my name as appropriate, and then hand it to him. He signs quickly and then seals the paperwork into an envelope.

"Kneel," he says in a tone of voice I've only dreamed of being said to me.

Hurrying to obey him, I slide out of the seat and drop to my knees keeping my legs tight together and placing my hands on my lap.

"Good," he praises. "From now, you are under my instruction. You will address me as Sir. If asked a question, you will respond with either yes please sir, no thank you sir or if it pleases you, sir. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I say, already feeling my insides start to squirm.

"Very good. We will use the colour system. Do you know these?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me what they mean."

"Sir, green means keep going, orange means to slow down and red means stop."

"Correct, I will also use the safe word Apricot to mean you wish to end all contact. Do you understand your safe words?"

"Yes, sir."

He gets to his feet, moving to stand in an open space. "Stand and come here," he says and I rush to obey. I stumble on my way up, but luckily do not fall. "You will learn to move with grace. Only once you can move correctly can you add speed. I do not wish you injured. Strip. Place your clothes neatly on that chair."

Embarrassed by the request, I feel my face start to heat up again. Slowly, being careful not to fall, I remove each item of clothing, folding them and placing them on the chair.

I turn to face him, "Everything," he says simply.

This is what you want I remind myself as I unclasp my bra and slip my panties down my legs.

"Good," he says as I cover myself with my hands and turn to face him. "You are exquisite," he praises. "Stand ready for inspection. Hands behind your neck, legs wide and eyes on me."

I hurry to follow his instructions, completely forgetting my nudity in the thrill of the movement. This is a position I've practised many times at home in front of the mirror, so I'm confident in my ability. It's not cold, but I can feel my nipples already standing to attention.

"Very good. Unless asked a direct question, from now you may not speak." He walks around me, looking me up and down. "You will learn more throughout the weekend. Follow me."

He walks away and I walk two steps behind him down a corridor and into a room.

"For the duration of your stay, this will be your room." Unlike the main room, this space is simply decorated with a single bed and door which I suspect leads to an ensuite bathroom. "You have 45 minutes to clean up and cook dinner. The instructions are on the counter and all of the ingredients are prepared."

With that, he walks away to somewhere else in the apartment. I try to process everything that's happened. In a matter of minutes, I've committed to what I hope is going to be the best 2 days of my life serving.

I head into the bathroom to quickly clean myself up and then go to find the kitchen. As expected, it's large and overly technical.

Picking up the sheet, I see that it is very simple instructions for a tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich. As he'd said, all of the ingredients are freshly prepared so it barely takes me any time to put everything together.

While it's simmering, I glance at the sheet hoping that it'll give me a guide on how many portions to serve, but it doesn't.

Just as I'm starting to panic, he comes into the kitchen. "This smells wonderful Isabella," he says perching on a barstool on the opposite side of the island. "Serve a single portion and place it in front of me."

I do as he says, ladling a generous portion of soup into a bowl and placing the satisfyingly crispy sandwich onto a plate. From a drawer I'd found earlier, I pull out a soup spoon and napkin, then place everything neatly in front of him. I step back, bowing my head and placing my hands behind my back in the way the website online had instructed me to do so.

"Good girl," he says looking down at the serving. "Kneel, knees together, hands behind your back and head up." I drop down to one knee and then to the other and position myself as requested. "Good." Each time he says that word I can feel my arousal growing. I've pleased him.

He lifts the spoon and takes a scoop of the red liquid, blowing on it slightly, he brings the spoon to my mouth. "Open," he instructs and I do so, closing my lips around the spoon as he pushes it into my mouth.

One spoon at a time, he feeds me the soup. When the bowl is finished, he breaks off a piece of the sandwich and places it at my lips for me to bite through. I do so, my lips brushing his finger ever so slightly. His finger is cold, colder than I'd have expected given the warm temperature, but I brush it off as unimportant, focusing on chewing and swallowing each piece of food he gives me.

"Very good, Isabella. Please clean up the kitchen and come to my office. It's the door just over there," he points just out of the doorway where I see another door.

I wait until he has fully left the room before I stand and clear away everything I've made, leaving the leftovers on the side to cool.

Walking as quietly as possible towards his office, I knock on the door softly. "Come in," he calls. Entering, I look around another large and exquisitely decorated space. "Isabella, come kneel here." He points to a small pillow on the floor, just large enough for me to fit my legs on. "I have work to attend to. You will remain still and quiet. Each time you move or make a sound, I shall make a record and you will regret it later." I gulp, worried at how well I'm going to meet his expectations. "Bow your head."

With that, he turns his attention to his computer.

Kneeling in this position is hard. Within minutes my legs are starting to go dead and I wonder how long I'll be here. I've been there for what feels like an hour but must have only around 10 minutes when Edward starts to talk makes me jump. Instinctually, I look up and see on the screen that he's joined a video call.

Panicking, I start to breathe faster. As Edward pulls a piece of paper towards him and makes a tally mark, I remember the instructions. Stay still. Stay quiet.

Dropping my head back to the floor, I hope beyond hope that I can't be seen. I consider saying orange, but then a feeling of trust washes over me. He wants me to stay, he won't hurt me.

I take a steadying breath and focus my thoughts on remaining still and breathing through the position.

Did you enjoy this? Let me know if I should continue writing and what you'd like Edward and Bella to explore.