The bitch. Soon enough she had donned the lot. The dress, it fitted, barely, puberty and genetics had been more generous to her compared to her friend... the apron, and of course, what French maid outfit wouldn’t be complete without sheer thigh high stockings with lace topping and platform heels? She was still quizzing over how she was supposed to get any work done in those shoes as she adjusted the straps around her ankle. ‘All I am missing is the feather duster…’ she mused. She folded her. "Before we eat, I have something for you, Vonda." For me? Really?"I handed her the brown paper parcel.She eagerly unwrapped it.Inside was a large black plastic dog bowl. On it, in white letters, was the word "VONDA".She looked confused. "I ... I don't understand." It's very simple. You're my bitch, right now. And bitches don't eat at the table. They eat on the floor, from a bowl." You can use your fingers. Pyx will cut your food in bite sizes. Fluids, like soup and drinks, will be in a separate. More

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