Derek is my step-brother. We don't live together. He's a few years older than me. I met him when I was in high school. My mom married his dad. It was ...lways difficult for me to be normal around Derek because I was so sexually attracted to him. I was very quiet. I didn't really know how to handle myself around him. It's not that I was experienced and would seduce him. I was a kid without boyfriends and any experience in the sex arena. So, anyway, I kept my distance. As fate would have it, right. He quickly responded that he was not a stalker or killer and asked to see her picture while providing one of himself, which he hoped would not drive her away too fast. She responded almost immediately to the photo email and proposed that they meet at Starbucks the next day after work, around 8 pm. He agreed and closed his computer, excited and nervous about what the next day might bring. The next day was brutal at work, his bosses wanted a bunch of new things done ‘yesterday’ and his colleagues. He agreed to come in once he knew Whitaker was out of the woods.Of course, he’d later regretted those words. He spent almost an entire day going through every moment of the investigation; from the minute he had landed in Dallas a week and a half ago up until he pulled the detonator out of the brick of C4. Then they had him do it a second time, and a third.Taylor ignored the various forms of indignation and outrage his rotating cast of interrogators seemed to exhibit as he laid out all the ways. And I was genuinely confused. Or at least, I told myself I was confused."Master. You will always address me as such. Just as I will always address you as slut. Unless you are deserving of worse names?" The questioning manner of that last kept me from speaking out again. I finished buckling the collar in place.I stood, quietly and waited. I didn't have long to wait before you gave me my first order of the day. "Kneel, slut. This man wants a blow job." I looked up at you, shocked.The man stood.