She scolded as the flurry of blows continued unabated, “You are my whore, not some wanton slut! You’re here for my pleasure, not yours!”“Y-yes... mistress! I’m sorry!”“No, you’re not sorry. You’re desperate and drunk! A bitch in heat clinging to whoever will sate this sloppy cunt!”“N-no! I love…” Maura’s desperate plea was cut off when a final hard slap landed on her ruby and onyx colored cheeks. That final blow tore a scream of filthy lust from her throat. Her entire form tensed and fell. That music was titled, 'The Merry-Widow Waltz'.I didn't know my mother could play the piano. When she began, she was sitting on the bench, posture perfect, striking keys and beating time very much like the score intended. Soft and melodic, her music caught me more than by surprise, it caught me like a mercy trap meant for small animals. I'd walked right into it, and the entrance had shut delicately behind me. For the rest of the morning I listened to my scantily clad mother relearn how to play. More

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