Pierced

originally posted February 13, 2006

I had her pierced. The whore in purple silk, wearing the plain, heavy collar of the Boarding House, Nirah, was pierced tonight. The Leather Worker inserted his tool as his apprentice held her by the hair. The girl, on her knees, could not move. He squeezed and it was done. Her nose was pierced. The septum punctured. A thin rivulet of blood ran over her lips even as the hot tears, not sobs, but her body's reaction to the pain, fell down her cheeks. In a moment, the Leather Worker replaced the tool, extracting the claws which had briefly distended her nostrils, with a tiny golden ring. He pinched the ends of the ring closed through the newly formed hole and it was over. She was pierced. It was important to her that I approve. When it was done, before she had a moment to catch her breath, she lifted her chin that I might assess her. The resemblance, before, was undeniable. Now, it is uncanny.