EXTRACT FOR
Pleasing The Master
(Ella Louise)

"I just need a glass of water, please."



The man on the other side of the table just looked at me.  His dark hair framed a handsome but oddly unremarkable face.  If I saw him on the street, I would probably think he was cute, but not cute enough for much of a second thought.  A few dark, curly hairs snaked up from his collar, ending below the short-cropped beard on his chin.  I wanted to run my fingers over his chest.



After several moments, I realized why he was still sitting there, ignoring my request.  "I mean, I need a glass of water please, Master."



He nodded, stood, and wordlessly left the room.



I blushed, embarrassed that I had already forgotten one of the rules on his contract.  I should have read it more carefully.  This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I did not want to mess it up.



The sound of running water from a room nearby was barely audible even though the door to his office remained wide open.  The sound-proofing in his house was probably a major priority.  If his house weren't at the top of a winding driveway through the woods in the middle of nowhere, I would wonder if his neighbors ever complained about his clients screaming, moaning, or otherwise making noises that neighbors generally don't want to hear.  The remoteness of his location was probably by design.



Another rush of nerves surged through me at the thought that I wasn't reading other people's accounts online and living vicariously anymore.  I was actually here.  I really paid this man, the most famous in his controversial line of work, to tie me up and do possibly unspeakable things to me for a whole week.  Soon, I would be the client whose screams and moans of agony and pleasure would bounce off the soundproofed walls.