Alone, in my bed area, it was not. I was attempting to wrest my own control but that was apparently not allowed, by what mechanism, I had no idea. But...it was clear, I could not do what needed to be done by myself.A good little whore knows that all of her pleasure comes from her Master.There it was. That word... Master... that had been flitting in and out of my mind, starting to take root.The little shit had absolute control over me, over my body, even my thoughts somehow, but I never saw him. I cruised his lounge room as the kettle came to a boil. It wasn't a room I was comfortable in. It was stainless steel and black and hard. An oversize television screen dominated the space. Everything had its place. It was the sort of room only visited even by its owner. I had been going out, and *****ing in, with him for almost a year but that remained the picture I had of him. He had all the toys --- tailored suit; red sports car; straight cut hair; straighter teeth; shiny trinkets --- but it. More

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