Recording 2 – Phase 1 – Day 1

The camera turns on showing that the scene hasn't changed from Recording 1.

Subject-3 is still sitting on the bed in the center of the frame but now has several sheets of paper on her lap. Both hands hold the document as she stares at it.

"As stated in our previous recording," the male voice is still behind the camera, "We have progressed from the introduction to phase 1. While the camera was turned off, I secured the house, placing padlocks on all the doors and checking that the windows were closed and bolted, and Subject-3 has been given the final legal document of consent. I have also checked the battery life of all the cameras and I'm comfortable that we are ready to start."

"Subject-3," the voice moves, and the body of a man appears on the edge of the frame, "Have you read it thoroughly?"

"Yes," she whispered without looking up.

"Good," the man doesn't move, "Do you have any questions? Is there anything you don't understand, you feel is ambiguous, or unfair?"

"No," she speaks again without looking at him.

"Good," his voice is soft and encouraging as one of his hands come forward holding a pen, "Then are you ready to sign or would you like more time?"

"Yes," she stutters as her head turns to the man and she raises a hand to accept the pen. She automatically flips the pages and then on the final sheet she scribbles a short flourish, frowns as she lifts the pen off the paper, then hands both back to the man without saying anything further.

"Thank you, Subject-3," he exhales a long breath as he takes the items from her.

He flips the stapled papers back to the front page. The white cascading sheets reflect the artificial stage lights, and the glare hits the lens causing the screen to momentarily flash bright. Then it is gone as the man turns and disappears for a few seconds. When he returns his hands are lose by his side and empty.

He is now standing at the end of the bed facing her. His khaki trousers are faded and looked like he has splattered some water on them recently. His navy jumper is old and worn. The collared shirt he wears underneath is an unfashionable red plaid. His face could be handsome with a strong jawline, good proportions and symmetry, unfortunately the glasses he wears are not flattering. His hair looks unkept.

"From this point forward," the man sweeps his fringe out of his eyes before he pushes his large glasses up his nose, "You will refer to me as Master, use it like you would my name. By doing this we are reinforcing our relationship. You will become more relaxed around me and you will accept me as part of your life rather than as something unusual or scary."

"Yes," she pauses, "Yes, Master."

"That's better," he smiles.

His grin is attractive, softening his face and making his glasses look less overpowering.

"Should I be getting undressed?" she stutters the words as she asks then frowns and hastily adds, "Master?"

"Subject-3," he is still smiling, "I am the Master, you are the subject. You are now in my dissertation and I will dictate the progress."

"Yes Master," she lowers her head, "Sorry."

"First I want you to stand and face me," he indicates with his hand where he wants her to stand.

She moves without speaking to stand a foot from him at the lower end of the bed.

"Touch me," he instructs.

"I'm sorry?" she blinks as she looks down at his crutch.

"Run your hands over my clothed body," he sounds impatient, "Start with my hair and then work down to my feet."

"Why?" her eyebrows bunching in the middle.

"Questions," he huffs, "Enough questions."

"Alright," she is still frowning as she stands and lifts her hands to float above his bent head. She hesitates for long enough that he lifts his face to her to look through his eyelashes, "I'm sorry, were you expecting me to pat you? Or were you wanting me to give your scalp a scrub, like I'm drying it? I'm just not sure what you're asking me to do?"

"Subject-3," he exhales, "We are attempting to make you comfortable with touching me. I suggest you try a gentle sensual pattern. Soft circular movement would probably be best."

She nods and then turns her concentration to her hands. She lowers them to his head to touch his hair like a large spider might. With abrupt movements she fluffs the hair by working her fingertips in small fast circles.

"Stop," he grimaces as he backs away, his hair standing on end in a number of places, "That's not what I mean."

Placing his hands over hers, he moves closer as he relaxes her fingers and moves them to the crown of his head. This time he directs her movement to smooth the hair in a method that is slower and a mix of soothing circles, curling the fingers and massaging. After a short while he lifts his hands off hers and lets her continue without him.

Her focus is on his head as they stand very close. His eyes are closed, and he leans his head into her touch. She moves her hands downwards to the back of the head and runs her fingers through the hair above the neck as he drops his head giving her more access. Pushing the hair upwards she returns to the crown and then runs her palms downwards to smooth the mess she's just created.

"The face," his voice is rough as he lifts his face to her, and his hands find hers again.

He doesn't wait for her hesitation, he pulls her hands down to his face and, while still in control, drags her fingers gently over his nose, cheekbones, jawline and mouth. His eyes are fixed on her as he loosens his hold over her. He slowly moves his hands away leaving hers still moving.

She doesn't look into his eyes, instead her focus is on her task. Just using her fingertips, she touches his eyebrows sweeping them the wrong way then back again. She pushes his fringe off his face and her eyes take in how different he looks with the new style she's created. She smiles then returns his fringe and returns it to its original positioning before she moves to his ears. She treats them separately as she traces the ridges on each and then fiddles with the lobs. She sweeps her hand down to the chin and then cups his entire jaw with her palms as she brushes them upward.

He groans an involuntary note.

She stops, her hands freezing in place as her eyes come up to focus on his.

"Don't stop," his voice is rough as he speaks through the gap between her thumbs, "When you are ready explore down my neck, across my shoulders, and downwards."

She exhales and bites her lip as she turns her attention back to her hands. She pulls them off his face with mechanical movement and then drops them to his shoulders, one each side. With her whole hand she pulls his shirt away from his neckline stretching out the jumper and pulling at the buttons of the shirt.

"Gentle," he stops her again, "And leave the clothes on. I want you comfortable with my clothed body before we start."

"I don't understand," she takes a step backwards as he hands drop from her.

"Before we are intimate you need to be relaxed around touching me," he takes a step closer to her so that he is almost touching her and smirks as she tenses, "You see, that reaction will not help my research. My goal is to awaken your sexual desire not to force myself onto you."

She lifts her eyes to his as her hands hover over his uneven jumper. She trails them down his back to his waist without taking her eyes off his face. With her arms looped around his waist she stops again and looks downwards at what is between them. His trousers have started tenting outwards.

"Is that?" she asks as she looks back at him, "Are you excited?"

"Yes," he breathes the words, "I am."

"Is it alright?" she looks back at the protrusion, "Should I be doing anything?"

"Would you like to do something?" he asks the question back at her as his hand collects hers and he takes it to the front of his pants.

She tenses again as he places her palm over the apex in the trouser fabric. She looks worried as he groans and shifts her hand over the bulge. His head lowers so that his lips are close to the top of her clothed shoulder.

"Does it hurt?" she asks, "Are you in pain? Does being swollen like this, without having sex, ache?"

"No," his voice is low, "It feels good. Do you want to touch it?"

"I don't know," she pulls her hand back, "Should I?"

"Obviously not yet," he sounds disappointed, "But I want you to see it."

With her hands clutched in front of her, he takes a step backwards and unfastens his trousers. Looping his fingers into his waistband he drops his pants to the floor and steps out of them. He is now standing nude from the waist down with only his shirt and jumper obscuring his nakedness.

She sucks in a deep breath and turns to the camera and away from him, a blushing color on her cheeks. Her hands automatically come up to cover her face.

"Look at me," he commands, "Don't be afraid. This is the most natural thing that you'll ever see."

She doesn't move. He takes one hand away from her face, uncurls the fingers and encourages it to touch his skin below his bellybutton. His other hand has lifted the shirt ensemble to expose the area. She flinches as her fingers touch his skin, but he doesn't let go of her hand. He holds it there, in contact with him until she relaxes.

"It's just skin," he whispers as he continues to press her hand against his upper abdomen.

She takes her other hand away from her face, but she keeps her eyes from looking downwards. She holds her free hand close to her body in front of her chest with the fingers curled inwards. The blush is still on her cheeks.

"I'm going to take off my jumper and then I want you to unbutton my shirt and remove it," he spoke the words as he stepped backwards, leaving her hand still outstretched where it was touching him, and quickly pulls off the jumper dropping it to the floor. He steps back towards her causing her outstretched hand to bump his erection.

She inhales sharply as her reflexes have the hand flinch to a fist and jerk upwards to join her other hand clutched at chest level. He reacts to the pulling action shifting his hips backwards fast, bent over his hands come to protect the groin. The air in his lungs is expelled with a grunted huff as his knees bend lowering his doubled over figure almost to the ground.

"Sorry," she stutters as she backs away from his pained posture, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's alright," he says through his clenched teeth, "I'm alright. That couldn't have been a lot worse than it was. Luckily you just brushed the end. But this is the reason why I need you to be relaxed with touching me."

He uncurls himself and stands straight again while inspecting the damage. His erection has lost some of its rigidity but doesn't seem damaged. He exhales his relief.

She watches him, her eyes follow his hand movements, and she blinks as she realizes what she's looking at. She doesn't move, seemingly frozen in place, her eyes focused on his twitching erection as it hardens again. His hands find hers and he steps closer bringing them both down to what her eyes are trapped watching. He places them low on his hips with the thumbs touching the pubic hairs and then he watches her force her gaze away from the erection.

She looks into his eyes, as he lowers his face to hers, their nose almost touching. Her look is innocent, wide-eyed and her mouth is rose bud shaped. He hovers his lips over her skin but doesn't kiss her. Her hands haven't moved from his hips and her fingers sink in as he pushes his weight slowly against her hold, then her arms are stretched as his pelvis pivots away, before edging back again. His movement is slow but sensual as his erection is pushed against her with each push.

"Undress me," his voice whispers against her skin, "Now."

She obeys. Her shaking fingers detaching from him, she carefully avoids touching his erection, as she finds the lower buttons on his shirt to fight with the fastenings. With the bottom button undone she moves upward, fingers still uncertain as they work. She is otherwise unmoving. His hips are close enough that his penis is wedged between them and stretches up so that its head is pressed into the t-shirt fabric.

With the buttons undone he shrugs off the shirt and to stand nude. He takes a step backwards and opens his arms to display his body to her. She doesn't move and seems uncertain as to what to do.

"Look at me," he commands, "Examine my body."

Her eyes drop to do as she's told. His body isn't fat nor is it thin. His skin is very white, smooth, unscarred and the muscles it covers aren't particularly well developed. He doesn't look like a male model, but he seems proud of his body. The hair around his erection is ungroomed, short and brown. His hips are slightly thrusted forward as if he is trying to make his erection seem larger.

"All eight inches are yours for the taking," his voice is low and rough.

Her eyes are back on the appendage that he's referring to. Her eyebrows bunch in the center like something within his statement confuses her. She looks like she wants to ask a question but is holding herself back.

"I need the toilet," she backs away, "I'll be back in a minute."

She flees the field of vision leaving him standing alone, naked, and looking confused.