"When the Lord creates a beautiful woman, the devil creates a new account."

Ambrose Gwyneth Pierce

He stroked her, and she felt a luxurious shock of hair, while only a few layers of silky strands remained on her head, and in some places bald areas were visible. His fingers slid over her skin, and she felt hard, cold, silky skin while she was covered in cuts. She spent such nights with him, with her tormentor and teacher, the spy of her night dreams, those who introduced themselves to THEM.

There was no longer fear in her, she obsequiously looked into his eyes when he came, but she was still afraid of a terrible fate – to become a prisoner of terrible torture after death.

The hardest thing was not even to refuse these meetings – the hardest thing was not to believe.

When you fly into the abyss, and someone saves you, you begin to believe this person, or this