Innocence was a girl. A whore in fact. She had pretty, shining blue eyes and the customers always found themselves intoxicated by her youthful face, her petite frame, her delicate, seemingly unspoilt body. She seldom spoke. In fact she never spoke at all. This was another thing the customers appreciated about her. She very much made up for her lack of speech with the sheer expressiveness of her eyes. She was one of those where you fancied you could see her soul peering out at you through those glittering blue irises. A lot of men came looking for Innocence. She was, I suppose, the "star attraction" and she made a lot of money for her boss. She was alluring. She had a natural flair for the sultry. Those who made eye contact always swore they could see her begging for more in her starsea eyes, though she may never have contemplated anything of the sort. Some liked her quietness because they could just get on with their business without distraction. Some liked her fragility because it gave them a sense of power. Some liked her youthfulness. For a little extra, the boss would allow the use of ropes, gags, chains, leather straps, handcuffs, neck nooses, belts, manacles, and various other forms of restraint. The one thing he didn't allow was violence. Noone was allowed to hurt Innocence. She was a precious commodity and had to be preserved. She was only valuable for as long as she remained unspoilt. Her expressive face often left the customers fantasising about her. They found her look very arousing. Submissive, nervous, glances. Quaking, fearful, stares. The shivering border between pain and ecstasy as she screwed up her eyes, clutched at the bedsheets and moaned softly into the pillows. That inviting curiosity reflected in the deep, pure blue of those shimmering irises. All this they found very, very sensual and as such, Innocence was the most sought after commodity in the business.
One of the whores who worked with Innocence was called Intellect. She was taller than Innocence, more voluptuous and darker skinned. What Innocence had in charm, Intellect had in beauty. She was fantastically beautiful, a body which put Michaelangelo sculptures to shame. Skin of rich colour and smooth texture. Lips which invited and provoked fantasy. She knew how to talk dirty to a man, how to make him lust for her. She knew what noises he wanted her to make and when to make them. She knew which types liked it rough, which ones wanted her to dominate them and which ones wanted to dominate her. She knew exactly how to caress and massage to bring forth the best climax. She knew precisely how to produce a prolonged experience. She knew with perfection where and when to bite, lick, squeeze, suck, twist, thrust, control, yield, give and take to make any man cry with pleasure as if she were the first and sweetest angel he'd met in heaven. But for all this, Intellect was unpopular. They said she appealed to the wrong crowd, wasn't able to bring the men in, despite her beauty and talent. Why couldn't she be more like Innocence they said. Why was she so haughty and aloof? She should know her place they said. The fact is, any men looking for Intellect would never come to a whorehouse to find her. And this angered Intellect. She was jealous. In spite of her exceptional beauty, those perfectly proportioned breasts, those arching, elegant curves, and in spite of her talents for seduction, that silent, modest girl with the pretty blue eyes was somehow exceeding her? Impossible. Intellect could not see why so many customers would choose Innocence over her. Why when she was flawless. When she could perform any and everything the customer desired, why then would they pick a little girl, a tiny, weak, inexperienced little girl over her? Why? She could not understand. She would not. And in her rage, Intellect, in a way typical of herself, hatched a plan.
She payed the fee to be alone with Innocence for an hour and entered her room. She was a customer today. Innocence was draped over the bed, dressed in soft, white, lacy lingerie. Intellect looked on her with distaste. She pushed Innocence back and brought their faces close together, smelling the faint sweetness on her breath and seeing the fabled glimmering light in her very blue irises. She asked Innocence what she knew about men, how did she enthral and entice so many into her bed when Intellect's room was dry and empty? How she asked. How? Innocence only looked back at her, her expression curious, docile, almost angelic. Her silence angered Intellect, who took her look as pitying, her silence as arrogance. Intellect cried aloud she would make Innocence show her how she bewitched the men. She stripped her naked and touched her, stroking here, rubbing there, licking and kissing, all the while hating Innocence for her ignorance. How could this girl gasping and sighing like a virgin, who knew nothing about the hearts of men still ensnare so many? Why? Why, why. Why, why? WHY? Intellect looked into Innocence's fearful, shivering blue eyes and told her that she hated them. She hated Innocence's eyes. She felt that without her eyes Innocence would be nothing. With Innocence blind, people would see her for the unremarkable, unintelligent little girl she was. Without those eyes, people would finally recognise Intellect as the superior. Intellect produced a small silver knife from her bag. Innocence drew back in terror but was pinned down hard. Intellect drew closer to Innocence's face, closer and closer, the knife hovering, poised over one radiant, deep blue iris, dusted with the glint of tears, the blade tip quivering as her hand shook. Intellect leaned over Innocence's face and gave her a kiss on the lips. A slow, lingering kiss, which made Innocence swoon with delight. Intellect told her she was going to open her eyes. Innocence shook with fear, those deep blue eyes brimming over with tears. I will open your eyes. The knife had an inscription etched into the blade. It read Knowledge. Open your eyes. Intellect took one final look into those starsea irises. o p e n y o u R e y e s . Innocence spoke.