The Kitchen

Carrie showed up two days later, wearing a maid's outfit and apron, as instructed by Sundeep. The skirt on the outfit was almost showing off her ass, she thought. Sundeep opened the door, eyeing his conquest. He was wearing a red silk shirt, showing off his hairy brown chest.

"Ready to cook me something?" he asked. Carrie looked back at him lustily.

"Of course, Sunny," she said, licking her lips.

He had her cook him a simple chicken curry and jasmine rice. She did everything wrong of course. A foreign dish, a foreign man, foreign expectations. She was out of her element. And whenever she did anything out of place, he corrected her with a swift slap of the ass.

He finally sampled the meal he had made. He ate most of the chicken curry, leaving behind some sauce and rice.

"Passable," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Barely. LIttle flavor, little seasoning. Something you'd make for a white man." Carrie bowed her head.

"I'm sorry, Sunny," she said. He pushed the scraps of his plate over to her.

"You may eat. Then we'll see if you are better in bed than the kitchen."