Some nights it's difficult to work within the Mesopotamian Underworld's dungeon torture chambers. I know it's a great honor to serve the death goddess Ereshkigal but sometimes I find myself missing the simplicity of my old life.

Once, long before I discovered the true nature of the universe and became one of Ereshkigal's executioners I'd faithfully served Sultan Mehmed as the Ottoman Empire's high executioner. And after the conquest of Constantinople in 1453, I'd personally overseen the torture and execution of over twenty thousand unrepentant Christian whores within that city's infamous dungeons. You could almost taste the abject terror within the dungeons of Constantinople, every one of those infidel whores, the wives and daughters of the city's wealthiest businessmen, knew they were doomed to die screaming in unrelenting agony and that knowledge terrified them.

But it's different in the Mesopotamian Underworld's dungeon torture chambers. Here these beautiful young whores, these willing pleasure slaves of the death goddess Ereshkigal, that I have the honor of torturing to death on a nightly basis, lack that look of terror I'd come to expect to see in my helpless victim's eyes.

Take Francesca, once long ago, when she'd been a young courtesan in the Italian city of Florence, I might have terrified her, but that was before she'd become one of Ereshkigal's willing pleasure slaves. Now, like all of Ereshkigal's willing pleasure whores, Francesca openly flaunts her submissively masochistic desires. And while I can clearly see the fear in Francesca's lovely green eyes, her erotically desperate longing to endure the obscene pain and death to come taints its fire.

Some nights I find myself longing for just one unwilling victim, one who actually struggles in terror as she'd dragged into my dungeon torture chamber to die in agony. It's just that pleasure slaves like Francesca just seem a little to willing to die in unrelenting agony for the death goddess Ereshkigal's amusement.