Babhi in kitchen

Till lunch I read, only way to spend the day, had a bell I would ring, signaling Baby I wanted my lunch, always either tuna, chicken, or turkey salad ...erved on an avacado or tomato, cup of fresh squeezed juice, Baby made lemon ade, he made the best. He was at my feet, eating his lunch, everyday for lunch was allowed to eat a salad, out of his bowl, greens, olives, and tomatoes,sprinkled with my snots, always saved my boogers for his enjoyment, his chunk of bread I drizzled with my urine,. ”“Quid pro quo,” I nodded.“Very much so John, though if they’d had children, it would be a right of theirs ... not that they knew we could do it ... officially that is.”“Yes. Well, let’s see these young ladies and see where the pressure points are.”Cara and Alexis were still fearful, though felt a lot safer than they did a few days ago. They were now dressed modestly and well fed, their health returned to them after being on the verge of starvation. Their history had taught them not to trust. More

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