The Masterpiece: A Novel Novels & Stories

I'm afraid that the more I say the word *master* the more I get used to it. "Yes, this is another gift for your slave." He stretched a gift wrapped in bright pink wrapping paper. I walked over to where he was, and took the gift from him. I grimaced staring at the box, merely looking at the colour of the wrapping paper, I could tell this gift isn't something I would appreciate. "Well... Open it." He becokned on me with his hand. I sighed then unwrapped the gift, a book was actually in it. I read the title of the book, *50 ways, a slave could serve her master* what in the world is this.

I asked firmly but deep inside I’m trembling in fear. “I don’t want to go around the bush Celeztine, I’ve been a very straight person. I want you to be my mistress.” He pointed out. “A M-Mistress?” “Are you kidding me S-sir? Who would agree on that? Who wants to be a mistress anyway?” I asked unbelievably. Is this happening? “No one wants to be a mistress but sometimes you have to analyze first before you reject the offer. Who knows this is your chance to save your father?” He uttered.

She patted my cheek and sat down, taking a seat so she was facing me. Jerry was the next to arrive. Jerry was Master's co-worker and second in command. He was running the business while Master was taking his staycation. Jerry is black, the same height as Master, with a ripped body and dreamy brown eyes. Jerry's brown eyes popped when he saw me. Master led him to me to take a closer look. "Julia has been reading all these erotic sex slave novels recently, and I gave her the opportunity to find out what being a sex slave is for real. It's what I've been doing on my vacation," Master said, "taking advantage of the opportunity to fully use my new slave."

"My Master treats me well. He cares for me and loves me, cherishes me for my submission. If he were different from what he was, I don't think I could have loved this as much as I do. When Master first suggested making my fantasies a reality, the thing which scared me the most was that I might love it too much. I was right, in the sense I did love it, but my fears were still groundless, because what difference did it make if I did. My life has never been more perfect. "I suppose if Master hadn't wanted to continue, I'd be miserable now, wanting it, but unable to have it. But if I'm a good slave, who does all I can to satisfy and care for my Master, why should he ever want to end it? Being a g

he had said to her without looking back". His eyes were still fixed outside the window with his pipe in his left hand and a cup in the other hand. Lydia felt chills on her skin as soon as she heard the master's voice and she immediately took off her robe and climbed onto the bed spreading her legs wide enough to accommodate him. Her soul was bubbling with happiness and desires, she closed her eyes and awaited the Master. Master Damien took one more sip from his drink and turned, dropping the cup on the table and facing the naked maiden laying on his bed. He got closer to her staring at her womanhood which was opened wide for him. He suddenly does not feel the urge to lay her, he was looking

Only a being like him could instill such an emotion with a bare look. I am quiet as I walk into the library, that chilling feeling in my bones, unable to go away. I walk through the aisles, and freeze when I see him- The Master. He is early today. He is here before me. His gaze is fixed between the pages of an old book, calmly swiping through them, his hair blowing in the light breeze from the flip of a single page. I watch him for a moment, and the chilly feeling inside me dissipates.

“Get out of my head. I’m not some experiment. I’m a person.” The Librarian smiled, calm and sharp, rows of tiny pearl teeth. “Are you, though? Normal people don’t freeze mountains. Normal people don’t have a thousand monsters calling them ‘Mother.’ You’re a masterpiece, Maya. But even a masterpiece needs a frame.” The bathroom door didn’t just open—it blinked out of existence. Gone. No safe house hallway, just a deep, dark room stretched out before her, picture frames floating in the gloom. Each frame held someone—a girl sobbing, a boy clutching green lightning, others sleeping, dreaming, trapped.

Chapter 25: The Master Copy The sun rose higher over the Brooklyn harbor. It cast a glow across the wide-plank floors of the warehouse. Elena stood by the glass display case near the entrance. She watched the light hit the black iron key and the yellowed edges of the recovered Wall Street manuscript. For fifteen years her words had been a product. They were spun quickly to satisfy demanding platforms. They were wrapped in storylines and hidden behind a fake name. Looking at the pages now she didn't see a trap or a writer's cage. She saw where her fiction had broken down the walls of an empire.

Once Lena stepped out, they blocked her politely. “Reservation?” one asked. She quickly opened the email on her phone. “Here,” she said, showing them her name. They scanned it, then bowed respectfully. “Welcome, Miss Lena Blackwood. You may enter.” Her heart skipped. She looked back at Clara and Collins. “Wish me luck.” “You don’t need luck,” Clara said. “You have talent.” Lena breathed in deeply and walked into a new world. Inside, everything sparkled. Huge marble floors. A giant chandelier hanging like falling stars. Walls lined with glass displays of jewels, each more beautiful than the last. Staff moved around in classy black uniforms. Customers dressed in pure luxury.

She did not know if she really had chosen the right path. “I am still in wonders, Master, as to why you’re terrified when you’ve just created the best masterpiece in this world.” “No, The8, she isnʼt a masterpiece. She’s a monster. I just created a monster. That’s why I’m terribly sorry, and I know I’ll be forever carrying the guilt. I am so selfish, The8. I am only doing this because for myself. I am so selfish.” “Mind to explain what you’re trying to say, my Master?”