James_Moriarty
Masters don’t make “deals” with their property. For me, “deals” defeat the whole purpose.
So…
She’s a simple female, small and not much to look at, anxious, physically uncoordinated and socially inept. She lives alone in a small rural community where she works by herself doing menial jobs that don’t require intelligence, education or skill. She has no one and nothing, except for her body and her secrets.
He lands his jet on a secluded runway in the valley, tucked between heavily wooded ridges of the Appalachian mountains, his crew dispersing quickly, headed for the city a couple hours drive away.
At the chalet he is greeted by the small staff that see to the property. His personal assistant has preceded him here by a few weeks and is among them. The two retire to the billiard room for drinks.
“Everything’s all set, then?” says the man.
“Yes, sir. The guests will begin arriving tomorrow.”
“Fantastic. You said you found a suitable girl?”
“Yes, sir, a perfect little animal for the weekend.” He fiddles with his phone and hands it over. “A bit homely but you can’t have everything. You won’t be worrying about her face once her clothes are off anyway.”
“Christ, she is definitely hard to look at.” The man chuckles. “How do you know she’ll keep her mouth shut?”
“Look at the video.”
He taps the phone, watches the screen for a minute and then looks up with wide eyes, his mouth poised in a wordless “O.”
The assistant grins. “Exactly,” he says. “We’ll bag her tonight.”
