They
take turns, the rosy cheeks and the pale. The glistening, glowing eyes and
shadowed, weary ones. Eagerness born and bred from others like them to their daughters.
To please the Master. Making sure his ego is kept well fed. So that he doesn’t
feel in-adequate and needs to roar, growl, pounce and break things to mark his
superiority.
The Master…So big, so strong! Weak, unsure, insecure. The Lord, the Conqueror.The Mighty Warrior. Playing mind games, sneaking on his belly. Down on all fours, the Mighty King. Looming higher than life it self! Untiring, demanding….time, devotion and servitude. A gentle massage of pride. A thorough, vigorous ego rub. The hot steamy avowals of loyalty and devotion.
The concubines. Bound in sisterhood. Daughters of different yet same mothers, descendants of Eve. Genetically inclined to emotional servitude and humility. If ever there was an existence more confused and warped, it has yet to be made known. Their hearts laden with hopes of a look of approval; a smile of gratitude; a touch of compassion; for a life time of subservience. Their minds loathing every look, every smile every touch. The knowing, condescending, hungry looks. The smirk of a humiliating smile. The loathsome, slimy touch.
The smugness of knowledge….that you have power. Power over another human being. The power to move, shake and break! The arrogance, the possessiveness of a look, a gesture, a touch, a smile. So serpentine, so venomous, yet so addictive. So feeble from the inside that it’s impossible not to stumble with every step. Yet with a surety that every stumbling step mirrors a proud, strutting gait.
The misery of waiting for every day to end. For the night to envelope and hide the humiliation and pain. The painted, scented concubines count the days till their end. The days that reach beyond tomorrows, the endless days that drag the soul, its dignity and self respect through the thorn fields of lust, deception and the knowledge that there is no deliverance. The lives that they are allowed to bring forth every now and then, will be bonded in the same servitude of flesh and soul.
The angry, wounded soul screams for deliverance. Each night is brought to an excruciating end, when rising from the spent passion of the master, and the exhausted soul of the slave, erupt waves after waves of misery and humiliation. Taunting and hauling insults. Not at the master, never him, for he is the almighty, the superior being. But as all things that flow towards the incline, all the acidic hate and loathing is aimed towards the lesser being itself. A feeling that flows over the senses and permeates the blood to an extent that each new generation is born feeling hate, humiliation and a morbid sense of fear for it self that lasts a life time and beyond. Absorbed in the subconscious to an extent, that it becomes genetic and raises a trait that never lets the humiliated, self-loathing being raise its head. It just allow it to follow in the footsteps of its ancestors, numb with pain and lack of dignity, its existence, bound to serving the Master and trying to work out the feeling of shame, till the very shame is passed on to the new being in line. Such is the faith of the concubines that serve their Lord and Master, his lusts and cravings, with all their beings.
The Master…So big, so strong! Weak, unsure, insecure. The Lord, the Conqueror.The Mighty Warrior. Playing mind games, sneaking on his belly. Down on all fours, the Mighty King. Looming higher than life it self! Untiring, demanding….time, devotion and servitude. A gentle massage of pride. A thorough, vigorous ego rub. The hot steamy avowals of loyalty and devotion.
The concubines. Bound in sisterhood. Daughters of different yet same mothers, descendants of Eve. Genetically inclined to emotional servitude and humility. If ever there was an existence more confused and warped, it has yet to be made known. Their hearts laden with hopes of a look of approval; a smile of gratitude; a touch of compassion; for a life time of subservience. Their minds loathing every look, every smile every touch. The knowing, condescending, hungry looks. The smirk of a humiliating smile. The loathsome, slimy touch.
The smugness of knowledge….that you have power. Power over another human being. The power to move, shake and break! The arrogance, the possessiveness of a look, a gesture, a touch, a smile. So serpentine, so venomous, yet so addictive. So feeble from the inside that it’s impossible not to stumble with every step. Yet with a surety that every stumbling step mirrors a proud, strutting gait.
The misery of waiting for every day to end. For the night to envelope and hide the humiliation and pain. The painted, scented concubines count the days till their end. The days that reach beyond tomorrows, the endless days that drag the soul, its dignity and self respect through the thorn fields of lust, deception and the knowledge that there is no deliverance. The lives that they are allowed to bring forth every now and then, will be bonded in the same servitude of flesh and soul.
The angry, wounded soul screams for deliverance. Each night is brought to an excruciating end, when rising from the spent passion of the master, and the exhausted soul of the slave, erupt waves after waves of misery and humiliation. Taunting and hauling insults. Not at the master, never him, for he is the almighty, the superior being. But as all things that flow towards the incline, all the acidic hate and loathing is aimed towards the lesser being itself. A feeling that flows over the senses and permeates the blood to an extent that each new generation is born feeling hate, humiliation and a morbid sense of fear for it self that lasts a life time and beyond. Absorbed in the subconscious to an extent, that it becomes genetic and raises a trait that never lets the humiliated, self-loathing being raise its head. It just allow it to follow in the footsteps of its ancestors, numb with pain and lack of dignity, its existence, bound to serving the Master and trying to work out the feeling of shame, till the very shame is passed on to the new being in line. Such is the faith of the concubines that serve their Lord and Master, his lusts and cravings, with all their beings.
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