A/N Thanks everyone who has reviewed my story. Your ideas and notes are welcomed. But whether I'll use them or not… that depends. The story is already in my head as I noted earlier. The transformation into written English takes some time.

Ana's POV

My head pounded while I tried to process all the information Christian (or Mr. Gray as I noted back then) had told me. At that point I was still scared to death. I think half of the information didn't come through. The other half was almost too unbelievable which made it almost believable.

I remember the details of that night and it still makes me smile. After hearing the story I went to my room. You know I still had only that simple blue dress and nothing else. No underwear, no shirt to wear at night! I touched duvet, sat on my bed and felt too filthy to be there. So, it didn't matter that I had a shower before dinner, I had one more. I played with my toothbrush, enjoyed the taste of mint.

But I never looked in the mirror. Just like that, being in the beautiful bathroom, being clean made me feel pretty. I had the nagging feeling if I looked into mirror - the whole illusion would crash. I was so afraid of what I would see. I was so desperate to feel something, anything good. So like a true submissive I kept my head down. But my reasons were not a fear of punishment or pleasing my owner. I did it for myself!

I stroke my bed linens again. They are so soft and comforting. I looked around. Funny, how your brain can work through strange loops and lines. Less than 24 hours earlier I was shackled in some dirty basement where everyone could see every part of my body. But this room was so clean and warm that I really tried to hold onto the pretty-feeling.

Of course there was nobody looking but I still felt weirdly shy. I slid out of my robe, right under the covers and took the soft bathrobe with me. The bed was so soft, even softer than I had imagined. I hugged my white fabric robe and I drifted off to sleep.

But my dreams disappeared in the middle of the night. First I couldn't understand where I was. For the last two months and little more, there was always that dim lightbulb whenever I woke up. It took some time, before I knew where I was and what I was told. Mr. Gray had told me that I was no slave and he marked that as a house rule. I silently stood, put my dress on and took shoes on hand. I sneaked to the front door but as I was reaching for the elevator button, Sawyer came from some other door and stood next to me.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave," he told me. And then it hit me – I was still, if not a slave, then a prisoner. I didn't want to be; I didn't deserve it! I sat on the floor in front of the elevator. Some part of my brain played with the idea that whenever Sawyer is needed anywhere else; I'd sprint and gain my freedom. Of course it was silly! He saw my thoughts even before I did and he smirked.

"Please miss, go back to your room and try to get some more sleep." He stepped in front of the elevator and positioned himself like he was a perfect stone figure of a soldier. I sat there some more but finally it was too hard to sit on the floor. I sighed and stood up.

"Miss, you shouldn't feel too devastated. It's only temporary," he gave me a reassuring smile and I went back to my room. My bedding was not that soft and nice anymore. I felt iron bars around me, I tasted sadness again; the pain in my throat was unbearable. Hope can ease your pain, even physical ones, I learned that night.

The next time I opened my eyes, the sun was already up. I heard some noise from the hallway. I found underwear and a yellow dress beside my bed and I only hoped that it was Mrs. Jones who brought items into my room.

Again I avoided mirror in bathroom but it wasn't as magical as in the night before. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I was a grown up woman. Did they expect me to stay in my room or go out? My stomach made the choice for me. I was afraid of food at that moment, but I still had to eat something. I as already felt nauseated.

I stopped at the kitchen door. Mr. Gray sat behind the breakfast bar and drank coffee, one hand scrolling through his fancy phone. Mrs. Jones was busy making pancakes that smelled too good.

"Good morning miss!" Mrs. Jones greeted me. Her smile was warm and genuine. "We were not properly introduced yesterday. I'm Gail Jones, Mr. Gray's housekeeper." Gail! I The woman was too warm for formalities, so from that moment there was Gail instead of Mrs. Jones.

"Good Morning," Mr. Gray greeted as well. I made a small curtsy. "Come, sit down!" he ordered and I followed. "Would you like some pancakes?"

I shook my head. He gritted his teeth and a shiver rolled down my spine. My face was a hot mess recalling his anger from the previous evening and tears found their way down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Gray sighed. "But you have to eat something."

I nodded.

"Eggs?"

I shook my head No!

"Bacon?"

No!

He was visibly tensing up. "Alright, I almost forgot. Here!" He gave me a small notebook and a pencil. "Now you can answer me," he smiled.

I didn't understand myself at that moment and I couldn't read him. He was so scary at times and then, when he smiled, it was the most beautiful smile ever.

"I think you've already realized that eating can be an issue for me as well. Did you have any eating disorders previously?"

I shook my head as no.

"Do you have now?"

No again.

"Then why won't you eat?" He asked.

I took pencil and opened notebook: Throat hurts too much. Can't swallow.

"Fuck!" he yelled and I cringed. "Gail!" I hadn't even noticed when Gail had left the kitchen. Now I know that she is a master of silent exits. Like a true fairy – everything is always done perfectly and you can hardly see her working. Back then I was surprised.

"Can you show me anything you would like?" Mr. Gray asked me when Gail was back. "Maybe Mrs. Jones can figure out something." I started to nod but he stood up so fast that I literally jumped away. He cursed the way I had heard so many times in last many weeks and usually it meant I was in even more trouble than otherwise.

"Mom, how are you." I heard him starting a phone call. He used softer voice now but I was already too freaked out. I just stood there and at some point slid down to the floor.

"Don't worry miss," Gail spoke. She knelt next to me and offered her hand. "Please, if you are able to stand up, can you show me what you would like?"

I nodded, she helped me up and I pointed to the yogurt and a banana.

"A smoothie!" she stated. I nodded. Her smile was contagious. I felt myself like a five-year-old when she worked with the blender and turned for a question. "If you are not allergic, I'd like to add some honey? It goes so brilliantly with bananas and is probably good for your throat as well."

I nodded in complete awe. Gail smiled and calmed me and her full attention was turned to me, but at the same time she didn't make me feel as if I were on stage. When I think back to that day it seems like she deliberately worked longer with blender; creating white noise that so efficiently blocked out Mr. Gray's voice and it also made him walk farther away from us. A small smile played on Gail's face when she looked at Mr. Gray's back.

Finally Gail brought a glass with my smoothie to the breakfast bar and put a wide straw in it. I took my pencil and wrote: Sit with me!

Gail smiled and sat on the opposite side. "We should probably discuss your upcoming diet anyway. So, you start with your smoothie and let me do the talking."

I sipped my smoothie and started to enjoy it. It tasted like heaven!

"I think that the safest solution would be protein drinks. You know those powder's that can be transformed into full meal worth of nutrients."

I wrinkled my nose slightly. I had tasted one of those few years back when one of my friend used those. Back then it tasted like… well, let's say that it didn't taste like food at all. But I understood my position. I wasn't able to taste very well; despite the delicious smelling fish last night and the pancakes this morning. I really had to eat, preferably as healthy as possible. So I took my time and nodded slowly.

"You don't like the idea?" Gail noticed my hesitation.

Can handle, if needed. I scribbled.

"Perhaps for the short term, let's say a few weeks, there is more tasteful solution," she wondered and I listened. "Let's keep those smoothies of yours on going. I can use variable berries and fruits and press the drink through dense mesh so there would be no seeds. I can make cheese soups, cream soups and nourishing broths. If you like those choices better I can buy vitamins and much needed minerals to add to your drinks. What do you think?"

Don't want to trouble.

"Nonsense! If I heard correctly, we'll have a doctor around to ask more specific questions. So, for lunch it would be chicken broth and runny vanilla cream."

It felt like I'd won a lottery. Well I had won the lottery. Jackpot was mine!

"You'll get one smoothie between meals," Gail continued, "but what would you like for dinner?"

I thought about the dinner last night in a beautiful dining room and wrote without hesitation: French onion soup

"Now we speak the same language!" Gail seemed overjoyed and I smiled even wider.