. so much . . .” “My pleasure, sweetheart.” I responded, “you seemed to be enjoying yourself.” I finished with a grin. “But you didn't . ..... you know . . .” “I did, but now I'll need to clean up a bit.” But, how? I mean you didn't . . . uh . . .” “Your reactions and . . . everything were just too . . . stimulating.” I grinned at her again. “I feel a bit bad about that, it's like I had all the fun.” she pouted. “We'll have chances to correct that,” I told her. I folded her into my arms, and just. She's placed in the roasting device, which begins to turn and glow a bright orange. I feel my cage being moved, and I watch, crying as my daughter cooks.I hear numbers, but I don't look at the men shouting them. Eventually they finish bidding and I feel cuffs around my hands and ankles. I'm carried to one of the tables right near the bar where my daughter is. The bartender is basting her as I watch. "Who was she to you?", my new owner asks."My daughter." I notice her blink. She must be in. More

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