Emily tries to fake it.

“Wait!” you gasp at the last moment. His large, powerful hand is still wrapped around your slender wrist. His fresh cum drips from your fingers. It would take barely a twist of his wrist to enslave you forever; despite this, he actually stops.

“I’ll… I’ll do it myself sir,” you whisper with your eyes dropping to stare at your feet. For just a moment his grip tightens around your arm until you wince in pain. Finally he releases you.

“That’s my good little whore,” he grunts as he takes barely a step back. Content, he watches you, eager to see you enslave yourself to him. Slowly you lower your cum covered fingers down under your skirt.

It’s true, you received some sort of weird perverse thrill to find yourself no longer worrying about the curse or what people would think about you if they knew half of what you’d done today. But that doesn’t mean you’re really ready to throw in the towel and accept a lifetime of slavery. But what are you going to do girlie?! You’re surrounded by cornfields with no help in sight! The exhilarating freedom of not having to make that decision is quickly dissipating. He’s **** your mouth and your ass already, if you don’t become his eager slut within the next few moments; there’s little to stop him from finishing what he’s started. Think, Emily, think!

“Hurry up,” he growls, obviously eager for you to start your new life. You nod meekly but continue to hesitate. You can feel the heat of your hand radiating against your sensitive pussy. There’s got to be a way out of this! Figure it out!

‘Fake it!,’ a tiny brain-cell screams from the back of your mind. Would that work? Could you really fool him into thinking that you were his obedient **** while you looked for another opportunity to escape?! It’s crazy… but you’re looking eternal servitude right in the face; you’ll gladly accept ‘crazy.’

“Here goes,” you breathe. Gently you wipe the warm jism against your inner thigh. It’s so close to your pussy that you’re half afraid to move for fear you’ll **** a drop upwards and eliminate the need for the charade.

Carefully you withdraw you hand and hold it up for him to see. “I’ve… I’ve done it, sir.”

“You’re mine?” he asks.

You gulp loudly. “Yes, sir.”

“Master,” he corrects in as gentle as voice as you’ve heard.

“…Master,” you echo. Again you feel the perverse excitement of allowing someone else to subjugate your will.

“And you’ll do anything I want at all?” he asks with a growing grin.

“Yes si—Master,” you reply meekly, “I can’t wait to service your—“ You fight back a sudden gag just at the thought of his disgusting monster sliding across your tongue again. “That is… your… thingie. I can’t wait to service it.”

You watch his eyes narrow as he gazes down at you. Have you blown it? Has he already seen through your pathetic phony act?!

“Good,” he groans, “because I’m ready to try you out. I want…”

What does he want you to do to prove that you’re his ****?