I could not help but tremble as I waited in the House’s main entry room. In minutes I would meet the man who had purchased my contract six years earlier, the day of my twelth birthday. The man who had paid for my training and ccare those same six years, but whom I had not once been permitted to see — him or any other man. That is not to say I did not know him, my teachers had spent a great deal of time both with him and me. Through them I knew the things he liked, and the things that would upset him most. I would be leaving the house I had lived in for the past twelve years. I had not been beyond the outer walls even once that entire time. And hopefully I would never return; returning would be a terrible shame, it would mean I had been rejected. If I pleased my Master, in another five years I would be free, and would have a small fortune saved. Enough that with frugal management I need never work again — on my back or otherwise.

I, of course, know Master’s name. I knew it from the day he bought my contract. But I will not write it here, lest the matter ever become an embarrassment to him. What happened between us is only for us to enjoy.

The outer courtyard sprawled beyond the main door, two willow trees symbolizing what lay within. I had not been in this room since the day my parents sold my services to Madame Violet. The complex had been something of a safe bubble, insulating me from the outside world. I had even less memory of my parents than I did of the courtyard just beyond that door, I had at least seen that through windows. I do not know if I ever knew why I had been sold. But with the contract I now had I felt very fortunate. A normal contract would have ended on my twenty–first birthday, and would have charged me for every year of food and housing and training, not to mention clothes. I would have left with little, if any, funds at the end of that time. Indeed, I might well have been in debt. My contract, however, was much different. I was not responsible for any of the costs of my own care, or the costs of teaching me the things Master wanted me to know. It did however, last an extra year and contained option clauses even beyond that. If I were fortunate enough for those clauses to be exercised my life afterwards would be quite comfortable, not merely survivable.

Bright sunlight filled the room for a brief moment as the door opened. Then shadows returned as a tall man entered. I couldn’t see him as anything more than a silhouette. I was so nervous I just dropped to the floor, rather than settling in the graceful manner I had been taught. I trembled as I knelt there, not daring to raise my head.

There were soft footsteps. The moment had finally arrived. My heart pounded despite the fact I had every reason to believe there was nothing to fear. He walked close enough that I glimpsed his feet; Master DROPPED TO ONE KNEE in front of me. His hands settled over mine, his fingers stroked the backside of my palms.

“Hello, Dani, I’m very pleased to finally meet you,” his voice was deep and rumbling, with a melodic hint. And so gentle, my tension eased as he spoke.

“Master,” I whispered, my voice a hoarse croak. I felt as if I should say something more, but could not think of what it might be. Maybe the acknowledgment of our relative status was enough?

Master rose, tugging at my hands; I stood with him, not putting the slightest weight on his palm, but rather finally displaying the grace I had been taught under long drill.

I had prepared with meticulous care. My long black hair was piled atop my head, held in place with lacquerred wooden pins. Other than a thin stripe pointing at my clit my body was devoid of hair. At Master’s order a cream had been applied that removed every trace of hair below my neck. It would not grow back for years, if ever. My face too had been treated below my eyelashes. I did not mind that so much, it seemed far easier than keeping myself shaved. That treatment, because the effects might be life long, had added a small bonus to my contract. That I was delighted with the result was merely ancillary.

I let out a nervous giggle upon putting on the robe that had been waiting for me, feeling just how high it hung. I had known it was short. That was plain just looking at it, but not just how short. It was made from very soft slick silk, and covered with many small orchids. It was warm to the touch; I suspected it had just come from a heater. It covered only a few inches of my thighs, and I knew that if I bent over my ass would be on display. The rest of the cut wasn’t quite so revealing, but was made to show off every curve I had. The only other item on or about my person beside the robe and hairpins was the thin golden band around my left ankle that marked both my condition and my Master, it had been replaced yearly as I grew — whether needed or not. I examined myself in the full length mirror one last time, looking for the slightest blemish that might diminish Master’s pleasure.

I approached my Master, very slowly. I was not exactly afraid, but it was still a scary moment. He sat, stone-still, on a wooden chair, the top emblazoned with his family’s crest. I moved to kneel in front of him, the way I had been taught, but he motioned me closer. He reached out, his fingers curling around mine. Master’s hands were so much bigger than my small ones. He tugged; I flowed toward him, my knee landed beside his thigh, a cool draft flitted under the robe teasing my bare skin. He caught my other hand guiding me onto his lap, a knee to either side of my Master’s hips. I looked down and away, blushing. And despite my embarrassment, I was amazed at how easy it had been, to offer myself. Master slipped his hands around my hips then lower, sliding under the cloth resting on my bare rear.