Before I feel him take me, and as always, I wake up. The soft satin sheets are as second skin – sweat enabling them to outline me as a fine graphite pencil. My hair, in a mess, of curls dances around as I sit up looking around – hoping to see him.

It's so funny how things change – priorities before encompassed simple human needs like eating and such but when my body became detrimentally affected with his dark power all I searched for was some sweet release. I had screamed – I always screamed but it never seemed enough to satisfy him and in extent – satisfy me. He always warned yet as his warnings became reality he never delivered.

My needs drove me insane. With no one to talk to and no one to fulfill me my screams could be heard for miles around and as always the peasants and servants around walked in half shame with a deranged mistress and a forgotten master lost in one of the many wars now taking place.

The same dream followed me now for 12 long months. It follows almost the same routine – he comes over me, gives me a taste of heaven, I taunt him as my need increases and with a threat never fulfilled I awake. A scream of desperation escapes my lips…. for what have I ever done to any man or god to be tormented so?

Not even my once pleasurable fingers could give me the so-needed-release I yearned for every waking moment. Life had become a bounty-less search for release, with every venue blocked and not one moment of peace. My lips now perpetually engorged, my moans now became an everyday song people ignored or hummed subconsciously; my pain never ending, my release never coming, and my sanity ever waning. What was I to do? Make a pact with the devil for release? Or the gods?

If the choice were mine, with the devil I would for sure go, yet contacting him has proven impossible... I shall have to settle with the gods, yet the devil himself knows there is no fair deal when a god is involved and multiple trickery was not uncommon, but what else am I to do? All I can do is sell my soul for peace – not too ignoble, for what else is one without choices or peace to do?

So, on a cold crisp morning I set off to Olympus, with my soul on my sleeve, searching for release and nothing to lose, except obviously, my soul…

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Persiannissimo