Some holy warriors are sent on a divine passage... others are ushered, under hushed breath, as an offering to the perverse. They are sent to a place where morals mean little, and life hangs by a thread pulled taut against a razors edge. It is a test. A test most will fail.

This feminine young thing wasn't like the other boys... She was clearly different. Some parts were similar, but the looks she'd gotten all her life made it clear that she was something special. She could try to deny it... refuse to accept it... but beauty cannot hide from truth.

If you catch eyes staring at your feet or between your legs... try to imagine what those darling eyes would look like staring up from down below. Beaming with grace and the longing to please. A servant, saint, and slut, all the same.