Lunch

They enter the dining hall, the noise and chatter a stark contrast to the quiet of the lecture hall. Rachael leads Naomi to a table in the corner, away from the prying eyes of the other students.

Naomi sits on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, the clamps still biting into her most sensitive parts.

Rachael sits at the table, her back straight, a picture of poise and control. She eats her lunch, her movements graceful, a stark contrast to Naomi's huddled form.

Naomi watches Rachael, her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten since the peas last night, and the hunger was a gnawing ache in her belly.

But she knew better than to ask for food. She had learned her lesson. She was a pet. And pets didn't ask for things. They waited.

And so she waited, her patience a thin thread, her hunger a growing monster.

Rachael finished her meal, her plate clean. She looked at Naomi, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, her voice a low murmur.

Naomi nodded, her eyes wide with hope.

Rachael smiled. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, silver bowl with Naomi engraved on it. She placed it on the floor in front of Naomi.

She places some ground beef and shredded lettuce in the bowl. "Eat."

Naomi looked at the bowl, at the food inside. It wasn't what she was used to, but it was food. And she was starving.

She leaned forward, her face close to the bowl. She could smell the meat, the fresh scent of the lettuce. Her stomach rumbled, a loud, embarrassing sound.

She took a tentative bite, it was plain with no seasonings on it. But with how hungry she was she ate with gusto.

She forgot about the clamps, about the leash, about the eyes on her. All that mattered was the food, the nourishment she so desperately needed.

As she ate, she could feel Rachael's eyes on her, a watchful, assessing gaze. She could feel the other students' stares, a mix of shock, disgust, and a strange, almost voyeuristic curiosity.

But she didn't care. She was hungry. And she was eating. And for a moment, that was enough.

When she was done, she licked the bowl clean, her tongue rasping against the silver. She sat back on her heels, bits of food stuck to her face but belly satisfied.

Rachael smiled. She reached out and wiped her face.

“Good girl,” she said, her voice soft, a rare moment of affection.