Of course she might have been jesting…the opium I’d smoked was taking its toll.
The room’s total was illuminated as well-violently-by a refracted madness, or so I remember… the exchange.Īn old queen next to me claimed she would have Justine at any cost…that Justine would then be decapitated in front of our privileged group…we would then feast of the child…drink her blood-such remarks horrified me, for I thought the old drag serious. The girl was a certified virgin, Caucasian, of noble lineage (Welsh?), and had been in solitary confinement for all of her twelve years-so she knew nothing, nothing at all, not even how to speak (later I found this very true).Ī powerful, clear light poured through the cage, exposing in detail every slightest curve, facet… of the pale debutante’s exquisite flesh. How she-anyone-could breathe in such a contraption, was an unsettling question. Justine was on the revolving auction block in a solid glass cage. The chamber was a makeshift opium den below a faux temple leased by the ambassador.
