Dog Slave Girl ★ Direct

Elara lowered her face to the bowl. No hands. No utensils. Just her mouth. She ate quickly, mechanically, the cool metal against her nose, the food filling her belly. He watched her for a moment, then turned to make his own breakfast at the counter. The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee wafted down to her, making her mouth water, but she didn’t look up. She focused on her bowl, on being a good girl, on being invisible.

He was her Master, her Owner. He didn’t use her name. He hadn’t used it in months. dog slave girl

Elara picked it up in her mouth, the rubber tasting faintly of vanilla. She chewed on it gently, watching him as he turned and ascended the stairs. He turned off the light, plunging the room back into shadows, and closed the door. Elara lowered her face to the bowl