Yes, like an obedient servant should.

Riya's hands come together in a praying position, and she bows politely. As far as I can tell she's serious about serving me like one of the millions of village girls in India serve the wealthy.

“Yes, Master. I'm so sorry I disappointed you.” The posh British tone is replaced with the singsong Indian accent that I expected from her when we first met. “Please don't send me back to my village, Sir.” It's easy to see that Riya likes the role of a servant and me as her all-powerful boss. I guess after the intimate conversation we just had, that is pretty much the dynamic that we are moving towards.

“Well off with you, girl.” I dismiss her with a wave. “We'll see if there's anything at all that you are good at.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her head bobs in a curious circular motion that is as endearing as it is curious, and then she heads for the staircase.

I admire her tight ass as she scurries up the stairs in her designer jeans. I have to admit though, that as good as she looks in Western clothing, I can't wait to see the pretty young exchange student in the outfits she brought from her home in India.

Less than five minutes later she is hurrying rapidly back down the stairs to where I'm waiting; I'm not in the least disappointed in how sexy she looks.

“You called for me, Master?” In the simple red and white cotton sari she looks even younger and more innocent that she really is. A recently bloomed beauty ripe for the plucking.

“I did.” I keep my tone firm, “I'm trying to determine what, if anything, you are good for.” Her dark eyes lower shyly to where her hands fidget nervously in front of the loose cotton dress. I watch her standing there nervously and I can feel my cock start to throb in anticipation. “You can't cook, can you?” She shakes her head quickly. “Have you ever done laundry using actual machines, girl?”

“No, Sir.” I'm pretty sure I see a hint of a smile on Riya's face when she hears that last comment about doing laundry. “We did all our family washing at the riverbank.” I'm still getting used to this young woman's conflicted feelings about her homeland. As proud as she is in her country's achievements, she is just as deeply ashamed of just how backwards the villages and rural farmlands are.

“Well,” I grumble doubtfully, “you're probably smart enough to learn.” The idea that this double Math/Econ major might not be smart enough to run a washer and dryer combo is ridiculous, but Riya goes along with it without missing a beat.

“I can learn, Master. I promise.” Riya's small hand touches my arm softly before pulling away. “If you teach me.” Her eyes look up at me sweetly. “I'm willing to learn anything at all. If you to show me what you want me to do.”

“Anything?” I smile in anticipation and cup her soft cheek with my calloused palm, “What do you know about pleasing men, my Dear?”