Soliloquy of a Prostitute

If you ask me Reader, I will not even be able to precisely recall the day I was thrown into the dungeons of this world; that shall not be talked about with someone as elitist and polished as you. One must not be disgraceful Reader, I am aware, but this disgrace is the shadow of the world that I inherited, and inheritance good or bad is inherently characterized by the virtue of its own property of being inevitable. I was aware of the ideas of consumption and consummation at an age that should have bloomed with memories of innocence. But such is the grace of the Superior Master who invented your world, and if so it is, It is Praiseworthy!

I beg you not to abhor me Reader, because I trade my body, for my soul is still intact, long protected from the perversions of its Perpetrators. The rules of this trade are such that once this piece of molded clay is stained there is no outlet that shall enable me to avert it. But this I do not offer as an excuse for my sins, rather it is my effort to ameliorate the judgments that you have formed about me influenced by the morals of your world.

I am only looking for a few answers and before you get hassled let me assure you that I do not expect them from you. Neither is it introspection since I know I shall not be able to justify even if I tried a good peep into my soul, but such is the inquisitive nature of this being and it is inevitable. I look for those eyes Reader, eyes that inhabit the sea of love and not the hounds of lust, eyes that Inhabit a quarter of respect and not the lulls of a Lech, for I do not commit this crime to gain coins of gold but because I hardly have a choice!

Pardon me Reader, if I ask for the unforsaken…