She Accepts

"You haven't left me with much of a choice. I accept your offer. This place is amazing. I'd like to live here, and I do want to continue acting, even if it means selling out and running your fake charity." Emma says, putting as much attitude into her voice as she dares, in front of this man. He doesn't seem angry or upset by her tone though.
"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it. I look forward to seeing what you can do. One point of clarification though. My charity is not fake in any way. It will be real, and it will make a significant difference in the lives of a great many women, and you will be the face of it." He paused here to let that sink in. "Also, I am placing a great deal of trust in you. You have no idea how much leeway I am giving you. Many of my associates in The Society think my methods are far too soft. They are for the most part, stuffy old men, whose minds are closed to new ideas, but I would hate for them to be proven right. If you disappoint me, Emma, you will soon find that I can be vicious and wicked. I have given you all this luxury, but ultimately, you are my **** and I am your master, you would do well to remember that." He flashed a charming smile that Emma found oddly disconcerting. "Follow me. I'll show you what we've got for the charity." Holding out his hand for Emma to take he led her to the elevator and pressed the button for Floor 19. "In addition to your penthouse and the lobby, you will also have access to floors 19 and 20, to run the charity. You biometrics have been added to the elevator it will give you access to those floors, and only those floors, if you try and access any other floor, it won't work. Got it?" Emma nodded her head demurely.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a spacious office. It was very modern and trendy, with lots of glass and clean lines, though carpeted floors added a softness and made the place feel less industrial. The elevator opened onto a long hallway, with shallow alcoves set into the walls. Emma could see the doors of many smaller offices coming off the hallway. To her left was a communal break room and to her right was a small kitchen where workers could prepare meals, like in many offices all over the world. The man led her down the corridor to the door at the end.
"This will be your office." He said, pushing open the door. Emma gasped. It was very plush, much like her penthouse upstairs. She also had two closets here for clothes and shoes, albeit much smaller than the ones upstairs. The room was dominated by the sleek wooden desk and the high-backed chair that flanked it. Sitting in the chair was a woman. A brunette with olive skin, soft features, and what looked like just a trace of Middle-Eastern ancestry. She smiled and waved at Emma, but said nothing, obviously waiting for the man to introduce her.
"Emma, this is Sierra, she will be your personal assistant from now on. At least, until I get a few more slaves, then I can give the job to one of them. She will also be your personal stylist. She knows how I like my slaves to look. When you are talking to other people about me, you may refer to me as Charlie, when addressing me directly, however, you will ALWAYS refer to me as Master or Sir. Am I clear?" Emma again nodded her head. She was starting to learn to remain silent. This man would tell her what she needed to know, or he wouldn't. There was no use asking questions.
"We'll be back soon Sierra." The man said, as he opened the door.
"Yes, sir." Came her reply.

"Well, Emma, it is now twenty minutes past ten. I have called a press conference at 1pm for you to announce your new charity. I've taken the liberty of drafting a speech, but feel free to change it if you want. I also expect you to be wearing something different, and make sure you get Sierra to do your hair and makeup, this will be all over the evening news."
"Um...sir." Emma asked. "Does the charity have a name?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I can't believe it slipped my mind. I thought we'd start off small, just in Britain, and then expand, so the charity is called Britons In Television and Cinema Helping and Empowering the Sisterhood or B.I.T.C.H.E.S, for short."
"I'm sorry, sir, did you say the charity is called BITCHES?" Emma asked.
"Yes, but don't worry about that. I'm sure you can make the name work for you. Anyway, I have somewhere I must be. I'll see you at the press conference. I'll send Stevenson to pick you up."

A little over two and a half hours later, Emma stood backstage, thumbing through her speech. It sounded a little stilted but she knew she could pull it off. She had changed out of her black and white skirt and into a form-hugging black dress. It had been Sierra's recommendation, Emma still wasn't used to wearing the latex yet.

"Miss Watson, it's time." An usher called, poking his head around the curtain. Emma took a deep breath, and, knowing she had to do a good job for her master, strode confidently onto the stage, her high heels clacking loudly as everyone in the room was rendered speechless. Composing herself, Emma took her place at the podium.
"Thank you all for coming..." she began.