Kneeling before the master
She knows the pain will come
The pain will deliver her
To sweet, toxic euphoria.

The knives graze her skin
Cutting ripples and tides
Bringing forth proof of her mortality
And taking her to climax.

The whips and chains exite her,
She knows their torment and their beauty
She cannot be broken, she cannot cave in.
Brutality is her happiness,
Sex her occupation.

If not for the red mote in her eye,
She would be human.
If not for the twisted joy in her veins,
She would not be a whore.

She watches the rose grow up her spine.
With each client,
She becomes closer to her freedom.

She cannot change who she is,
She will not defy her fate.
The flick of red in her eye
Tie her to her craft.
A gift of the Gods is her skill
And her life their curse.

05/21/2004

Author's Note: I dedicate this to my favorite character, Phedre no Delauney. She was sold into servitude to be a whore, all because of the mote in her eye. She is one of the strongest females I have ever had the pleasure of reading about.

Posted on 05/22/2004
Copyright © 2024 Beth K Hannah