He didn't laugh, he didn't whip out a camera. He just watched, my somber grey uncle standing right beside me as I slipped the studded dog collar aroun... my neck and under my hair. Swallowing hard, I fastened the little silver buckle on my throat. "Good girl," Uncle Mitch whispered, patting me on the top of the head like I was a good dog. I raised my chin, the weight of the collar a tactile reminder of my submission.Before my head was all the way up, Uncle Mitch grabbed the sturdy metal ring on. “We don’t have much room but I can see how with Abigail blossoming that it may be safest If they were to find other accommodations,” he said. He had a very aristocratic bearing about him and the confident swagger of a man who was used to being right about his opinions at all times.“No, that would not do at all,” Madame said. At first, I thought she meant to offer us the charity of her forgiveness. “Your seminary is no doubt swollen with those seeking your aid and I’ll not send two lazy, open. More

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