Gentle Reader: My head was topsy-turvy: Of course, since I was trussed as a plucked holiday fowl for carving, the rushing sensation was likely blood draining from my extremities. You would be excused for thinking that—sans an apple in my mouth—my nude form resembled a basted porcine instead of a goose, but my mind was razor sharp. So, I stammered a bit and insulted Mr. Jones-Smyth by questioning his sincerity. “You what? I mean… how… why? Are you sure? I thought you bought me… to use and be trained as a whore?” He demonstrated his displeasure quite succinctly.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.