Eternal Dance Of Time

Chapter One: I Am The Product Of Prostitution

Today was a good day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. The perfect, not a thing could go wrong music was playing. Colors shone brilliantly. Suddenly, everything stopped, and the color drained from everything. The perfect flora and fauna died, leaving wastelands. The music was gone and the perfect scene was being shred in two. Life was a bitch when you actually enjoyed it. But I never enjoyed it. I did once, and that was when I was little. A perfect little angel child. Born into the ways of slavery and prostitution. My mother was a whore. My dad was a successful business fuck. Or so I heard. I am the product of prostitution. Born from the spawns of their little escapades two children were borne. Fabien Juillet (That's me) and Innoko Juillet. But this isn’t about him. Or them or Master. It's about me, and what he does to me.

I shouldn't take on such a nasty tone. I'm not nasty, just fed up. I'm fed up of being someone else’s fuck toy. I like it though, I crave it, I moan it. And he can tell. Who is he? Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll be here. Waiting and watching. I hate him, yet I love him. He's been persistent and never left me. If he did leave me, I don't know what I'd do. I'd drown in my loneliness. I still do, but this would be the icing on the cake. I'm a little insane, you'll have to forgive me. I sigh, there's nothing to do. I haven't been brutally violated in quite some time. I believe I'm healing. This feeling is a little weird. Knowing that you'll be back to near perfection, even if you were no where near having it. My perfection lasted shortly. My perfection was a short time while my brother showed me love. I know it's deemed wrong by society but I felt good. I wonder where he is.

I look at the mirror. Not liking what I see. I have red hair, bright, flame red hair that makes me stand out. My eyes are green, like emerald's and I'm pale. I have no accent. Meek, and shy. Timid and alone. I have wings too, angel ones, that are an icy blue. My best part. They are disfigured and stick the wrong directions because they've been abused all these years. Scratches line this body too, thick and deep, small and frail. Cuts, bruises and bites. But I'm healing. Healing so good I can walk with out limping. Without getting weird looks from the people down the street. Well, it doesn’t matter, I'm a rare breed. It makes me desired and wanted. I only belong to one. One person. One being. One monster. One sadistic Bastard. One Master.

My lavender-eyed, sadistic Master. He's breath taking. He has long black hair that forms one long braid to about his waist. It's soft. His eyes are vicious and cruel. He's tan, deliciously golden. Unlike me, but better built. He's fit, like an athlete. Makes me somewhat envious. Maybe if I wasn't so skinny and feminine looking I wouldn't be so attractive to the sadists, and perverts. Maybe I contribute to the cause? No one really knows. He says he does. I say...Yes Master. I can't help but obey him. He's been around the longest. He doesn't really feed me, or clothe me or protect me. Wait, yes he does protect me. But he comes to my insanity bin, pushes me against the wall, and proceeds to fuck me. It hurts like hell, but oh yes, it feels so right. It feels so right that my screams echo off the white walls. It's alright that he's grinning it satisfaction. It's okay that after he fucks me he leaves me raw. It's alright. I keep telling myself that.

One day he had went gentle, my master. Made me feel good. Soft, fresh and loved. It went slow and lasted for hours. I felt no pain. I should have known. The very next day he came a ranting and a raving. Talking some kind of of mess I could not understand. I did get the message that he was angry. A angry Master is a bad One. He raped me so bad. Molested and damn near maimed me. Broke my wings and so many bones. Fractures, bruises and cuts. I couldn't do anything but whimper. You see, I'm a very devoted slave. Even if I may die like I almost did that one time. I didn't care. I was...loved. I love him. He loves me.

Well, at least he says he loves me. He calls me Fabi-Koi. It's rather cute coming from a Psycho. The way it rolls of his tongue. Hm. I wonder what's going to happen today. If anything. He hasn't been here in a while. Did I mention I’m healing? I can walk straight now, with out limps, or winces or hisses. My vision is blurred from the damage he put me through. I could rejoice if I knew how too. My happiness has seeped away through all my screaming I did through the years. I bet, that if you looked hard enough you would find my happiness. Bundled up, shaking, shivering and afraid of being found. It's pride is wounded too. It's been long since lost. Can you help me find it? A will to escape? To banish my need to be owned? It's not my need, but more of a calling. A call that makes me unerringly come back to him. Akuji.

That bastard, all my thoughts go back to him. I fear what he's going to do to me. I fear how he makes me cower in shame, fear and anticipation. He knows where my spots are how to make me moan and turn it around into the worse, most horrible feeling I've ever felt. I'm his puppet, his pretty, obedient puppy who dances along the strings he controls. I'll dance happily and do back flips to the ocean and drown. I couldn't fly if I wanted. Been broken so many times. Now though, they're attempting to straighten themselves out. Come on my lovelies. I want to fly away into the setting sun. It's warm rays radiating against my red hair. My other Lovely. One day, Akuji will take that away. Make me lovely. And when he does, I'll spiral into the ultimate sin of Suicide. Take away everything else, not my cherished hair or wings. Gee, I sound like some narcissist. I don't like me as a whole, just wings and hair.

It sounds wrong, how one could just hate everything else except two things. Well, I love my brother but that's besides the point. I seem to go on and on about the same things. See how repetitive my life is? Drabble. Boring. Yawn. My life has no interest. Well maybe when what I do could makes whores blush. I feel so dirty, the little bugs digging themselves into my skin and constantly wiggling, turning and eating my flesh. It seems like it's poison falling off the bone. Where once it falls it spasms and sizzles. Sick though, how once it's detached and it hits the floor, it still hurts. My burning, rancid arm. Turning a nasty black. It'll keep on burning, into ashes, the breeze just washing the ashes away like it was nothing. A simple obstacle in it's bitch-tastic world.

Life is great. Life is good. Bull shit. It is good when I'm being so fucking hard it hurts. Life is good when blood pools underneath me whilst I slide. It becoming my natural , slick and wet. Cooling quickly as it leaves. It feels fucked up when you're lightheaded and you're being fucked. I blacked out once. It wasn't pretty. It's like giving your rotten body to a wolves pack. Being thrown around and if you're lucky you'll be okay. Slim to None. And boy, is that slim, slim. I've faced that slim. Danced with the wolves in an ethereal Dance. I felt alive and in so much pain it was fresh, and new. Throbbing and tearing apart my psychological Barriers. My barriers that I've worked not so hard on to built. They're so fragile. They were once so high, so high no one could break them. Over the years, they were beat down into the ground.

Shoved till they were under. So far down I couldn't reach for them with my pathetic existence. However they grew back, thinner and easier to break. And La, De, Da My own brother breaks them this time. They grow...slowly. Painfully. I can feel my soul burning. On fire. It's waiting to combust. Will he help me combust or will he douse the rapidly burning flame. Sometimes though it's a good flame, like the one that lingers persistently around my lower waist, every time he touches me just right. How the flame spreads through my body, making me sweat and blush. That flame, I enjoy. The other one I don't. I want my body to burst into flames of brightest oranges, and reds. It licking at my skin molding it away. But I promise something, When I go, I'll go with a smile on my face. My torture has been ended. Until, I'm reborn. And the useless but very well pleasing cycle Begins.

The cycle, of me dieing won't begin now. For he is here. Master. He looks agitated. After all this time. He comes back to me. Or maybe I come to him. It does not matter, because we are not acknowledging each other's presence. Yet. So the eternal dance of time, patience, fear, lust and love on my part, between me and him shall continue.

End Chapter One