When Dinner was ready, Charity looked nervous as she walked meekly back into the room and waited with her hands behind her back.“Yes, Charity?” my dad asked her.“The food is prepared, Sir,” she told us with polite submission in her voice.My Dad stood up, and everyone followed him into the kitchen. There were chairs for everybody except Karen, Kyle, and Charity. Charity had placed three plates of her scraps finely diced on the floor next to one another.“I didn’t know what or how you ate, so I did my best. I am sorry if it was wrong, Sir,” Charity addressed Mike about the slave food.“Typically, you don’t put anything in a slave’s bowl. You wait and serve the table, and at the end, we’ll decide if you eat,” Mike said as he sat down.“I am so sorry!” Charity apologized again. She bent at the waist, revealing her turnip shaped buttplug as she did and poured the leftovers back into a sealed container and returned them to the fridge.“You are learning,” Mike said as he buttered his bread. The. "I turned to look at the speaker. I heard giggles and from the corner of my eye, I saw Angela and some of her friends staring and pointing at me. The sun was shining outside, making the shop seem darker than normal. I wondered what fate had in store for me now. I groaned inwardly at the unintentional pun. The security guard motioned me to one side."What's the problem?" I spoke warily, aware that, even at this early stage, people were looking at us. The 'little angel' and her friends seemed to find my predicament extraordinarily diverting. The guard ignored my question."Have you paid for everything in your bag today?" The guard spoke with heavy irony, he must have seen something; or thought he'd seen something I amended to myself. Outside the girls were becoming more animated. I started to get a bad feeling about this. I realised that the guard had stopped and was waiting for my answer. I replayed the conversation in my head up to this point."I think so, that is, yes." I had a thought..
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