Evening meal

I couldn't believe how fast she got up and ran to the bathroom. I smiled as each moment since I met this woman was nothing like I had ever experienced. I had a feeling that my initial assessment of her a broken woman wasn't exactly true. I think at that moment I decided to see if I was right.

While she was cleaning up I decided to order some food. I called my favorite Chinese place around the corner and sat down. I couldn't help thinking about my ex-wife. We divorced just over two years ago. We had been married for over thirty years, but like a lot of couples, we forgot to pay attention to each other. We grew apart and the last few years it was more like friends without benefits. That was when I started writing erotic stories. I wanted to be to be closer to her, but she had no desire for sex. I marked it up to her Catholic conservative upbringing. Her idea of sex was missionary and lights out. The longer we went without sex, the angrier I got. I think that's why my stories tended towards **** and generally abusive toward women.

Now I had a woman I could **** but why? She had suffered enough or so I thought. After the elevator I'm thinking there's a lot more to her than what I initially assumed.

By the time Carrie walked out of the bathroom, the food had been delivered and I had put it in the oven to keep warm. I couldn't believe how long women could stay in a bathroom. But when she came out I almost gasped. She was practically glowing, her hair was flowing down and almost reaching the middle of her back, and even though she wasn't wearing any makeup, her natural beauty was showing.

Gone were the red eyes, and her posture showed how much better she felt. She stood there wrapped in a large bath towel just outside the bathroom door. She started to drop the towel, but I barked.

"Don't you dare!" I sounded crosser than I intended and the change was immediate.

She froze and a look of fear fell over her face. In an instant her entire being changed and now the **** was back. I wanted to kick myself as for a moment I caught a glimpse of the real Carrie, not the one beaten down but what she was. I knew that if she was to stay I'd need to learn how to communicate.

"It's okay you don't need to strip. In fact I like the look of you in a towel." I tried to recover and bring her back, but she was gone, and in her place was the **** from the hotel.

"Let's eat, I had Chinese delivered." I said and walked towards the kitchen. I made it about two steps before Carrie dashed in front of me. I stopped and smiled, it was going to be a long process to un-train a ****. If that is what I wanted.

Despite my good intentions, in the back of my head were thoughts of all the erotic stories I'd written. I shook my head, those stories were fantasy, not reality. I always say at the beginning of my stories that fantasy and reality should never meet. Now I needed to remember that, and not let those dark thoughts cloud my brain.

I followed Carrie into the kitchen. She was going from cabinet to cabinet gathering plates, and rushing to set the table.

"Please sit Master." She said. "This is my job, I'm to serve my Master."

I heard her speak but something about her tone told me it was the last decade speaking. But I sat down and watched as she efficiently set the table, grabbed the food out of the oven and served me. When she finished, my plate was full and she was standing off to the side. My setting was the only one on the table.

"Carrie..." I started to say, but she cut me off blushing.

"Master I'm not Carrie. My name is ****, slut, and cunt, or whatever you wish to call me. I haven't been Carrie for a long time. Please Master, let me please you."

"Well I'm not interested in a ****. If that is what you are and what you want, then I can arrange to drop you off at a shelter." I said and watched her closely.

At first I thought she might collapse to the floor. Her knees slightly buckled, her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Finally she whispered, "Sorry Sir."

"Now grab a plate and sit down. We need to talk." I barked. I wanted to be nicer, but I needed to take control. Most of her life someone else was in control over her. I see that she at least for now, needed that control. It was going to take time to break that need.

I watched as she grabbed a plate and sat down. She waited for me to say something but I just looked at her, trying to keep my face passive and showing nothing. Slowly she reached out, grabbed a spoon and scooped some fried rice on her plate. I smiled and pointed at an egg roll. For a second I thought I saw a smile but it was so slight I couldn't be sure.

We sat in silence for a minute before I started to ask some questions. At first she barely answered but after a while, she opened up a bit. I learned her parents died in a car crash, and her grandparents had disowned her mother when she married her father. I kept asking questions, trying to learn about her life from the time she was a girl and to when she got married and moved to Chicago. I wanted her to concentrate on her life before she lost control. I wanted her to remember what her dreams were, and what it was like to be in control of her own life.