The restaurant became a moaning menagerie. 

"All for you, my sweet." 

The air, scented with fresh-baked goods and the scent of fear, excitement. This moment burnt deep into my memory, regardless of what would happen before. We each have a moment where things are singed deep, branded into a brain, even if at the moment we didn't know it. I remember in that second looking out at the other captives.

Mouths filled with sponge. Laced with drugs, minds hazy and lurid. Each of their lips packed, wrapped, kissed with sticky tape and cloth. Gagged, hooded, imperiled, sealed up in sacks. All of them anonymous, or soon to be. But I knew which one was truly mine. 

The heat sang a choir to my deed. I leaned in close to the Crimson Weaver. She hook her head left and right and started to groan as I took her head in my hand, inspecting my latest acquisition. I couldn't wait to break in my newest, most beloved toy.

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Art by Grafhou
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Crimson Weaver / Laressa by Menchi https://linktr.ee/menchimenagerie