He’s in the bathroom, and I can hear the shower running, but I don’t relax. Sometimes in the past, he used to leave the shower room with it runnin... to silently check if I had relaxed my position at all. The shower shuts off, and I see his bare feet approaching with beads of water on them, and I see a towel around his waist. So beautiful a sight, so exquisite. I’m so lucky, so desperately lucky to have this beautiful man own me, I get to please this fine specimen. My Master. I watch his feet. My desk was, invariably, untidy and a new sense of purpose made me clear it up, throwing the unwanted into the bin, filing the necessary. I even polished my desk. I went to the toilet and, on my return, found a piece of paper where, before, there had been nothing. It was blank. For some reason, it disturbed me. I left it there and went into the main body of the library and took over at the desk that people came to to register the books they were taking away. It was busy and I didn’t really. More

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