Saturday, 8 August 2015

Training Carrie, chapter 13

novel by Jay West

Training Carrie by Her Master

by Jay West

Chapter 13

 The driveway ran straight down a gentle grade for maybe 150 feet, then
curved around a bend. When we cleared the bend, the guest house was visible
about 75 feet farther on, on the left. I could now see that there was a
dense stand of trees and shrubbery that hid each house from the other.
There was a large gate across the drive just the other side of the house.
It was obviously closed and locked, and there was heavy duty fencing
leading away from each end of the gate. There seemed to be plenty of lights
to light everything up at night. I was surprised that I had never noticed
the glow from all that lighting at night, and I made a mental note to look
for it after dark tonight.

    When we arrived at the house, Beverly was standing outside waiting for
us. Her appearance wasn't what I expected. She was actually a very
attractive, impeccably dressed woman. She looked like she was mid-fortyish,
but I was betting she was in her fifties. Seeing she and Philip at the same
time, it was obvious they were out of place out here in the country,
guarding a security gate. They were city people. That spoke loudly to me
about the depth of their love for and commitment to Carrie, that they would
cancel whatever lives they were living and move here to protect her.

    Beverly hugged and kissed Carrie, and then said she wanted an
introduction. Carrie introduced me. She said, "Beverly, this is Bill, the
man I love." Then she turned to me and said, "Bill, this Beverly, the best
Mother I ever had."

    I put out my hand and said, "I've been looking forward to meeting you,
Beverly." But she wasn't having any of that. She took a step forward and
hugged me, and I returned her hug.

    Beverly said, "She didn't need to tell me she loves you, Bill, I could
see it in her eyes. Do you love her, too?"

    "With all my heart, Beverly. When you learn to read my eyes, you'll
know it's true," I said.

    When Beverly let me go, I looked back at Philip, and he looked like he
was in awe of what we were doing, it was so totally different from what he
was used to seeing. It occurred to me that, if anyone gave us away to
Beverly, it wouldn't be Carrie or I, it would be Philip. I was betting he
was here to do damage control after the train wreck he had thought this
meeting would become. Beverly invited us all inside, and I lagged back and
held the door. As Philip passed me to go in, I told him to relax, we would
do just fine. He smiled and said he was beginning to believe we would.

    We all sat down in their living room, and Beverly served iced tea and
cookies. Then she sat down, and we all began talking. Of course most of the
talk was between Beverly and Carrie, but Beverly was good at including
everyone in the room, so we were all participating. It felt like a very
warm environment to be a part of. I had decided I would say as little as
possible, because there wasn't much I could truthfully tell her without
reaching the limits of our cover story. But she was having none of that,
she kept drawing me into the conversation. Soon I found I was making up
little lies, one after the other, to keep her away from dangerous
conversational paths. Sometimes Carrie would smile when I did this, but
most of the time she was able to avoid reacting. I was just hoping that I
wouldn't weave a self-contradictory web of lies that I wouldn't be able to
explain away. In spite of my previous occupation, I was a lousy liar.

    The most interesting event I remember was that once, Beverly slipped
and called Carrie by her previous name, Marlene. She caught herself
immediately, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Phil, I don't know where that came
from." I should have kept my mouth shut, but before I could stop myself I
said, "It's Ok, Beverly, I know that Carrie once had a different name." I
really only wanted to relieve her distress at using that name in my
presence. She turned to me and asked me directly, "How do you know that,
Bill." I almost told her the truth, that I knew her when her name was
Marlene, and that I was part of the reason she had to abandon that name.
But I did the right thing, I lied again. "Carrie told me," I said. She
turned to Carrie, and said, "You shouldn't have done that, Darling." Carrie
said that Bill could be trusted without reservation, and that like Beverly
and Philip, Bill would never do anything to cause her harm. Philip spoke up
at that point and said that he, too, believed that to be the case. I looked
him and smiled.

    We talked of trivial things for awhile, then Beverly took Carrie away
to see something in another part of the house. When Philip and I were
alone, I thanked him for helping us out of a jam. He said that he simply
spoke the truth. I moved so that I was in the closest seat to his, and said
that I had been thinking that some of Carrie's money should be invested in
digging up enough evidence to shut the organization down and put them all
in jail. I said that everything would have to be very hush-hush and
discrete, because if we were discovered we would be worse off than before.
I said I also believed in letting sleeping dogs lie. But if it turned out
that the dog wasn't sleeping, this would be a useful tool to fight them. It
might even make the difference that kept Carrie safe. He said that such an
endeavour might result in my arrest along with the rest of the organization.
I said I had thought of that, and it was not a consideration. I said I
would be the first volunteer to rat them out and testify against them, and
I could probably provide enough clues to allow some of the unwilling
trainees to be located and freed from whatever hell they are in now. I said
that would probably get me off with light punishment. But that didn't
matter, I would know that whatever price I had to pay, Carrie would be safe
and waiting for me at the end.

    He looked around to see if the women were near, then he told me that
project was already underway. That had been the secondary goal of the
detective that brought me here. Now that I was out, it was his primary
mission. He said that the detective passes all usable information, as soon
as he gets it, to an agent of Mr. Collins, there was no way that the
detective's activities could be traced to Mr. Collins or to him, so it
should not add to Carrie's jeopardy. He said that a complicating factor was
that the organization had powerful friends, because they had powerful
clients. But if enough data could be gathered to prosecute them, a venue
could be found to convict them. We heard the women returning, so I said
"Excellent," and returned to my original seat.

    When they came back into the room, Carrie came to my chair and crowded
in next to me. I scooted over to accommodate her, and put my arm around
her. She laid her head on my shoulder, and said, "Beverly, I'm so in love.
I'm constantly afraid I going to burst open, because I can't contain my
love for this man. I'm his forever."

    I kissed her on the forehead, looked at Beverly, and said, "She's the
love of my life, Beverly. I live to love her." A tear ran down Beverly's
cheek. She said she had waited so long for her little girl to find peace
and happiness, now she could die happy. Carrie told her not to even think
that. I began to worry that she would get around to asking if we had set a
date for the wedding yet, so I told Carrie that we had imposed on these
fine people all afternoon, we should give them a break and go home. She
agreed and said we would come back and see them again. Beverly laughed and
said how about tomorrow?

    Carrie got up and went to Beverly and hugged her. She said that she and
Bill were in an antisocial mode right now, exploring each other at the
expense of the outside world. She said that eventually we would work
through this intense phase and would again be able to make time for other
concerns. She asked Beverly and Philip to understand and to be patient with
us, that she loved them and they knew that, but she needed time to explore
her new love right now. Beverly hugged her again and said of course she
understood, and it was enough for them to see how happy we obviously were

    We prepared to leave, and Philip said he would walk back with us. I
told him that was silly. He was home, he should stay home. We would see him
tomorrow morning. He said that tomorrow was Saturday, and he wouldn't be
back at work until Monday. I told them both to enjoy their weekend, Carrie
told them both again that she loved them, and we walked back toward the
driveway, hand in hand.

    When we were at the driveway, I asked her how many times she came, and
she said not one time. I told her she was awesome, and took her in my arms
and kissed her hard. I immediately felt her come, and when the kiss ended
she said "Oops!" With my arms around her waist and her arms around my neck,
I picked her up and swung her around in circles, and yelled at the sky, "I
love this woman!" Carrie threw her head back and yelled, "This is Bill, and
I will love him forever!" Then we became self conscious, I put her down,
and we turned back to look at the guest house. Philip and Beverly were
standing with their arm around each other, and beaming at us. They both
waved, and we waved back, then turned toward home. It had been a good

    When we got back to the house, she started to undress as soon as she
stepped inside, while I was locking the door. When I noticed, I put my hand
on her arm and told her to wait awhile, she looked so pretty. "Yes,
Master," she said, smiling at me. I was sorry to see the end of Bill, and
vowed that, as she had told Beverly, we would do it again. I asked her if
she was ready to remove the plug, and she said not yet, if that was Ok. I
told her she could wear it as much as she wanted to, except when it was in
my way. She said it was only a placeholder, the real thing always had
priority. I told her to meet me in the living room.

    I came into the living room a minute later with a glass of wine and a
tray of cheese. I offered Carrie the cheese and a sip. then I took my own
piece of cheese and a sip. We stood looking at each other, and I asked her
if I could please have another dance. She curtsied and said nothing would
please her more. I turned the radio on again, and the song was perfect for
a slow dance. I took her in my arms and we danced. The song ended and we
kept dancing. The next song started and we danced to that. I think we
danced without stopping for half an hour. Finally we stopped, and I wrapped
her in my arms and began kissing her. She began having one orgasm after
another, and finally her legs buckled. I held her up, and still we kissed
and she came. She finally pulled away and asked me to take her to bed.

    I scooped her up in my arms and walked over to the fireplace. I told
her to snag the glass of wine off the mantle, and then carried her to the
bedroom. I carefully put her down, and she seemed steady on her feet. I
took the wine from her, fed her a sip and took one myself, then set the
glass on the bedside table. I slowly, carefully, and lovingly undressed
her, as if we were new lovers seeing each other's bodies for the first
time. Each area that got uncovered was explored and caressed. She was
having orgasms just from being undressed, I could hardly believe it.
Finally she was naked, and she undressed me the same way. It took about 20
minutes for both of us to get naked. She said she wanted to feel what it
was like to be filled on both sides, then we would take out the plug. But
she started by pushing me down on the bed and attacking my cock with her
mouth. I thought she was trying to get me off as soon as she could, but as
I became aroused she backed off. She held me just short of an orgasm for
maybe 10 minutes, I was going crazy. Then she rolled off of me onto her
back, and asked me to fuck her hard.

    After I was in her, I was determined to make it last, although I still
felt right on the verge of coming. I flipped us over so she was on top,
then slid her down to get the maximum clitoral stimulation from my cock. I
had her raise her shoulders and breasts off my chest, and I took her
nipples between my fingers and thumbs. She said she felt her nipples and
clit were working together to drive her crazy. I was pumping her slowly,
but as deep as I could. She started to pump her hips, but I told her to lie
still and feel everything in her ass, pussy and nipples. She had a crashing
orgasm, the strongest I remember her ever having short of passing out. She
put her head back as far as she could, so she was almost facing the
ceiling, then gave a long, piercing scream, then she said, "It's too much,
it's too much, I can't stand it."

    "Of course you can," I said. "My woman can stand anything. She's the
best there is."

    She smiled down at me. "It's for you. It's all for you, Master. I can
do anything for you."

    I kept pumping her, and she had a couple of more strong orgasms. She
was getting very tired and having trouble holding herself up off of me. I
told her to relax and lay her head on my chest. She did, and then she said
"Cum, now, Master. I need you to cum now. Cum for me, Master." So I did it
for her. I wanted to scream too, but her head was right there, and I didn't
want to deafen her. The sensation moving up my spine was so strong it
scared me. I remembered what she said after her first orgasm, she thought
it might be a seizure. I wondered if seizures ever start as a very strong
orgasm. Then I couldn't think of anything for awhile.

    When I became aware again, she was still on top of me and crying. I
asked her why, and she said she was so filled with emotion it was leaking
out her eyes. I asked her if they were good emotions or bad emotions, and
she said they were about her love for me and her sorrow and regret over her
loss. I told her to cry as long as she wanted to. I fumbled around until I
was able to pull the cover over us, then I put my arms around her and held
her. The last thing I remember was looking at the clock. It read 5:48.

    She was kissing me all over my face when I woke up. I instinctively
looked at the clock, and saw it was now midnight. I asked her how she felt.
She said she felt wonderful, but her ass was a little sore. I told her it
was probably the fingers on the plug digging into her skin. When we took it
out I would check to see if the surfaces that contacted her skin were as
smooth as possible. I apologized for going to sleep and leaving her, and
asked her how long she cried. She said I shouldn't apologize, I had been
right here all along. She knew I would come back to her any time she needed

    I asked her again how long she cried. She said maybe an hour, until she
had finally gotten to a point that there were no tears left. I asked her if
anything had been resolved, and she said she wasn't sure, but she felt her
grief had almost run its course. All of the memories of her family that had
been flooding back and bringing pain and regret with them, all of those
memories were available to her now. But she could examine them, and
treasure them because they would always be part of her, but they no longer
brought pain with them. She said that she was sure there were no more false
feelings of guilt and no need for punishment stemming from the accident. I
thought it was a good sign that she used the word "accident." I couldn't
remember hearing her use that word before to describe her husband's and
son's deaths.

    I told her I thought we should go and remove her plug now, especially
if she was starting to get sore. She agreed, and we got up and went into
the bathroom. I had her bend over and rest her hands on the tub rim, Then I
carefully pulled the plug out. It hurt her coming out, because almost the
first part that had to pass through her sphincter was the widest part, so
her asshole was kicked open and then gradually closed, metaphorically
speaking. I told her that, unfortunately, this plug would always hurt her a
lot more coming out than it did going in, and that she would understand why
when she saw its shape. While she was still bent over, I examined her skin,
and it was red where the fingers had rested. I touched the areas and asked
if that was where she was feeling pain. She said yes. I got some cortisone
cream from the medicine cabinet and carefully rubbed it over the red areas
and on her sphincter. I told her to straighten up, then handed her the plug
and told her to wash it.

    After she washed the plug, she handed it back for my inspection. I
looked at it carefully, and saw that there were mold lines on the fingers
at exactly the wrong points, where they would irritate the wearer's
sensitive skin. I asked her if she had any emery boards, and she got one
for me. I worked on the fingers until they felt smooth to my finger, then
touched them up until they felt smooth to my lip. I told her they shouldn't
irritate her again. I set the plug on the back ledge of the basin, ready
for the next use. I pointed out the arrow head shape, and said that was why
it hurt so much to remove, because her asshole needed to open wide right
away to let it out. I said that nothing short of Novocain shots in the ass
would change that. She said the pain was minor compared to the pleasure the
plug had given her today, it was like being fucked in the ass all day long
by her Master.

    I took her in my arms and asked her if she had a good day. She said it
had been glorious, and thanked me. I said no thanks were necessary, I had
enjoyed everything we did today, and looked forward to another visit with
Beverly and Philip. I said I also looked forward to the next meeting of
Carrie and Bill, and assured her that it would not be long before that
occurred. I also told her that there would be a whole series of meetings
between Carrie and Bill, at regular intervals. She jumped up and hung from
her arms, wrapped around my neck, and gave me a big wet kiss. She said
nothing could make her happier than that.

    I asked her if she needed to use the toilet, and she did. As usual, I
knelt in front of her and kissed her passionately while she eliminated her
waste. Then she did the same for me, and we both used the bidet. She said
she was starving, so I dressed her in her blouse and low heels, and we went
to forage for food. I gathered up a bunch of random items from the
refrigerator while she went to get a blanket. I told her to spread the
blanket on the carpet in the living room, and we populated it with the
food, some wine glasses and the open bottle, and had a 1 AM picnic.

    After we had eaten and drunk our fill, we wound up necking on the
blanket until about 3:00, then went back to bed. We fell asleep in each
others arms without having sex again.

    I woke up about 8:00 AM. I decided to let her sleep, and wandered into
the living room to see how much damage we had done last night. I cleaned up
all of the plates and miscellaneous stuff and took them to the kitchen.
Then I wandered into the guest room with a pair of scissors, to implement
an idea that had hatched in my mind. I took the results of that endeavor
with me, back into the kitchen. I stuffed everything dirty I could find
into the dish washer, added soap, and started it up. I'm not normally into
appliances, but I was amazed at how quiet the dishwasher was. "Ain't money
great?" I thought.

    I was making breakfast when she wandered naked into the kitchen.
"Master, you left me alone," she said.

    I told her that she was not to be naked outside the bedroom without
permission, and to go and put on her blouse and high heels and return here
at once. She did a wordless about face and left to obey my command.

    She returned very quickly, dressed as required, and repeated the same
thing she said when she first came in, only this time there was definite
petulance and irritation in her voice,

    "Like you said last night, Slave, I will always be available to you
when you need me." I held half a glass of orange juice up to her mouth and
tipped it back while she drank.

    I put the glass down and held up her latest piece of Slave clothing,
and asked her how she liked it. "An apron?" she asked. Clearly, the orange
juice hadn't helped her mood. I decided she needed a cheerful example to

    "No," I said, "it's the minimum Slave house wear. It looks like an
apron, but the Slave wears it backwards, with the apron part covering the
Slave's ass. That way, the Slave is as naked as it can be, but it is still
allowed to sit down. Pretty cool, isn't it?"

    "No, Master, I hate it."

    Still sounding upbeat, but beginning to get irritated myself, I said,
"Your Master made this with his own hands, using only a pair of scissors,
from a discarded blouse. And the Slave hates it. That's gratitude for you.
It's made from a see-through blouse! You are as naked as possible, yet you
can still sit down with your Master. It's really cool, Slave, get with the

    I put it on her and tied the sash around her waist in a bow knot. It
hung perfectly over her ass, revealing every line and curve. Now I wouldn't
be deprived of the view of her gorgeous back and ass. I removed her blouse,
then took her to the nearest chair and had her sit.

    It was a big turn-on for me. It was so cool, she was essentially naked,
yet she could still satisfy the rule for sitting on her bare ass. I
resolved that, whether or not she liked it, this was her weekend house wear
from now on, and I told her that.

    Now she was actually frowning. I asked her what was wrong, and she said
she thought I was making fun of her with this silly reverse apron. I asked
her how this was different from her open-front blouse, except now I  could
see her beautiful shoulders, back, and ass, and she didn't answer. Still
trying to sound reasonable and conciliatory, I told her that I wanted her
as naked as possible, and that she had never objected to that before. I
said that, if I felt like it, I could keep her totally naked and forbid her
to ever sit down. That meant she would eat all her meals either standing or
kneeling, we would have conversations with me sitting and her either
standing or kneeling, et cetera, et cetera. What she called an apron
allowed me to see her naked, and yet allowed her to act like a fellow human
being in my presence. Was that so bad?

    She said when I explained it like that, it made sense. I asked her if
that meant she was going to get over her snit, or ruin our mood after the
wonderful day we had yesterday. She apologized, and said she understood its
function now, but even if she didn't understand it, she was wrong to argue
with the Master's choice. I said that she was correct, and that there was
no need to discuss it further. I asked her to come over and kiss me to seal
our agreement that this was now her weekend Slave house wear.

    She still sounded unhappy, but I thought it would be Ok when she asked
if the kiss could also signify that she loved her Master very much. I said,
"Hmmm, a dual purpose kiss. Why, yes, I believe that is allowed in the
by-laws. Plant a big one on me, Baby!" She came over and gave me a peck on
the lips. Clearly we had a problem.

    I returned my attention to breakfast, and tried to salvage what was by
now overcooked. Fortunately, nothing actually burned during our
mini-argument. I plated everything and set the plates on the dining room
table, along with two cups of coffee. I watched her while she sat using her
new house wear. I sat and told her to dig in. I said that if she thought the
food was overcooked, it was because someone was having a hissy fit with the
cook while he was trying to prepare breakfast. She said, "I'm really sorry,

    We ate in silence. I noticed that she was just nibbling at her food,
and she didn't drink any coffee. I finished my meal and cup of coffee, and
I just sat quietly and watched her. Finally she put down her fork, and she
also sat quietly. Her eyes were downcast like she was Posed.

    I was sitting at the head of the table, and she was on the first chair
to my right. I laid my right forearm on the table, with my open hand near
her. She reached out and put her hand in mine, but still did not look up. I
said, "Is the Slave so angry at her Master that she will not even look at

    Still looking down, she said quietly, "Master, this Slave is not angry
with her Master, she is ashamed." I told her that if she would look at me
and tell me the cause of her shame, then there wouldn't be any more reason
to be ashamed. She looked up and met my gaze. Tears were welling up in her
eyes. She said, "Master, I'm ashamed because I've peed on the chair."

    In a flash, I knew why she had wandered into the kitchen naked, and
what she meant when she said I had left her alone. She woke up needing to
pee, and I wasn't there to give her permission. That's what she wanted in
the first place, permission to use the bathroom. I had immediately sent her
back to get dressed, then I wanted to talk about the stupid house wear, and
I wasn't listening to her or taking care of her needs. So she got angry and
decided to just hold it, and not say anything.

    I hopped up and pulled her chair out. She stood up and turned toward
me, and we both looked down at the chair. There were a couple of drops of
her urine, beaded up on what was obviously a stain repellent fabric. I
grabbed a paper napkin and blotted up the drops, then felt the chair bottom
with my hand. It was warm from her body, and perfectly dry. I looked at her
and asked her if she still had to pee, and she said she did in the worst
way, she didn't know if she would make it to the bathroom. I told her to go
there as fast as she could walk and still maintain control. Walking beside
her, I pulled a free end of the "apron string," and removed her house wear.

    She made it without another spill, sat down and immediately released a
stream. Standing above her, I asked her why she didn't tell me at the very
first that she had to pee. She said I hadn't given her a chance. I told her
that this was a ridiculous situation she had put us in, and that it was
totally unlike her to act like this, and she wasn't getting up from the
toilet until we had talked through it. I sat down in front of her with my
legs folded, and put out both hands. She put her hands in mine. I said,
"When you walked naked into the kitchen, the first thing you said was, 'you
left me alone.' If you came to find me to get permission to pee, why
weren't your first words, 'I have to pee?'"

    She paused and then, slowly and carefully, told me the real problem.
"Master, because even though I had to pee badly, my main problem was that I
was afraid, but I didn't want to tell you that. That's why the first thing
I said was a complaint that you left me alone. I woke up and you were gone.
Since you came back to me, you have always been beside me when I woke up. I
haven't been afraid once in these last few days until I woke up and you
weren't there. Before you came back, I lived in constant fear.

    "Do you want to know the real reason I didn't tell Philip to get the
guns out of the house? Because, as much as I hate guns, I wanted them for
myself." She pointed to the tub. "I slept most nights, that is the nights I
got any sleep at all, fully dressed in the bathtub, with a blanket wrapped
around me, and that pistol from the bedroom in my hand. I was all alone in
the house at night, and I was sure they were coming to take me back any
day. When the training room was finished, a few weeks ago, I started taking
the gun down there and sleeping on your couch at night. I felt safer down
there, because it's hard to find your way there unless you know how."

    I asked her why she didn't tell Philip, and she said that Philip and
Beverly were doing everything they could to protect her. They gave up their
lives to come here and do anything they could do. She couldn't whine to
them that she was afraid to be alone, when they had left everything behind
for her. She said that when she escaped from that idiot lawyer they sent
with her, she just thought of it as correcting a big mistake she had made.
She was sure Mr. Collins could find a way to reunite her with the man she
had fallen in love with, and they could live long happy lives and forget
the organization. Then she saw Mr. Collins' reaction to her story, and
then, when he had carefully uncovered more information about the
organization, he went into "panic mode," to use her words. He told her she
had to change her identity and move far away from the organization. He
found and bought this property for her. Then he contacted Philip and asked
him to come and protect her, and Philip and Beverly were here in less than
a week. From then on, she realized the enormity of her mistake, and how she
had upset the lives of the people closest to her, and she lived in terror
until I came back to her.

    I asked her if she was afraid now, and she said no, I was with her now.
I told her I was with her when she woke up, I was just in another room. She
said she knew that, but her fears sometimes overwhelmed her, and made her
act irrationally. She said that in her mind, when she woke up and I was
gone, it was because they had captured me, and next they would come back
for her. I wiped her with toilet paper, picked her up and moved her to the
bed, then climbed in next to her and held her. I told her I would not
always be right beside her whenever she awoke from sleep. What if I had
gotten up to use the toilet or get a glass of water, and she happened to
wake up? She said she knew she was irrational about this, and that she
should have told me up front, but she didn't know how to explain it all. I
told her she just did a pretty good job of explaining it, and I was glad I
understood now. She said that if there is a next time that she wakes up and
I'm not there, and she starts acting stupid, her Master should ignore
whatever she's talking about and instead address the fear that she is
feeling but can't express. I said I would remember that.

    She  asked  if we could restart our day, she really wanted to spend a
happy day with me, doing anything that would please me. I told her the day
was restarting right now, that the previous start was cancelled. I said that
magically, we had bellies full of overcooked food, she had marvellous new
house wear that let her be gloriously naked, but otherwise we had just waked
up and needed to plan our day. I asked her if she would like to plan this
day, our first Saturday together. I said that the only constraint was that
her plan had to include a time for her weight training in the basement this

    She immediately reeled off a list of events. Flogging and butt fucking
in the basement, weight training, finish examining the fetish equipment
while she wears her breast harness and jingle bells, leisurely fuck on the
floor in the basement, shower together upstairs, lunch, long naked walk
outside with much fucking, naked slow dancing, dinner, conversation, more
naked slow dancing, bed, exhaustive fucking.

    I told her to hold on while I made a schedule. First, I told her that,
if she wanted to be flogged before her butt fucking, then she would have to
do the weight training first. She said Ok, weights first. I wrote down
everything as I remembered and showed it to her. She pointed out some
mistakes, which I corrected. We looked it over together, and simultaneously
we said "Perfect," then laughed at the coincidence.

    As we walked to the mural room together, she told me she was proud that
her Master wanted her entire body naked, visible, and available to him. My
mind was already elsewhere, because I was afraid we had a big problem, and
I was going to have to do some unpleasant things in order to find out for


  1. One of the things that many could learn from these the importance of communication. I think we all know how important it is, but sometimes it is just hard for many.
    hugs abby

    1. You know Abby, nurses have what they call an SBAR chart in their pocket of their uniform. And it gives them a some examples of lines they can use with a doctor if they worry about a patient.
      Training Carrie was our SBAR chart at the time. It gave us ready made examples of lines of communication we could improve our communication.
      And you are right it is hard. And sometimes, frankly, it still is. But it helped.
      We learn every day, at least I do,

      Thank you for your comment, Abby,

    2. How do you know about SBAR, Han?
      I can't believe you have SBAR too..


    3. There's more to me than just a pretty face, Mona Lisa!
      Please confirm to Abby, I was not talking nonsense...


    4. Yes, Abby, nurses have a SBAR in their pockets.
      Smile back, Han.

      Mona Lisa

  2. She had an unvoiced expectation and when it wasn't met, she got scared but rather than honestly communicate that fear, she threw a temper tantrum. If he is going to help her to be honest, she needs to face the consequences of her dishonesty. I feel he's actually reinforcing some self-destructive behavior. Just my opinion, which along with $1 will get ya a cheap cup of coffee. ;)

    Hugs and blessings...Cat

    1. Yes, difficult chapter ahead. But I think they need it both. Is he doing her a favour, or does he deepen the pain that is there? Let's find out.

      For me, your opinion is a Starbucks mug with your name on it, Cat.

  3. I still Think she need a profesional help.

    We will see..

    Mona Lisa

    1. Maybe you are right Mona Lisa. Maybe you are right. Would love be enough to mend what is broken? Or does she need to talk to some one who is trained in these situations? Let's find out,



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