Fallen Petals- Chapter 1

Chapter 1
The Brothel Master

…Marik

There are no two things more alike than a woman and a rose.
         
      As far as Marik was concerned, women and roses were the two most beautiful things this world had to offer. A rose is soft, silky and fragrant, as is the skin of a woman. A woman’s lips are the perfect shade of red, as is the rose. Like a rose, a woman is delicate, and can wilt under the smallest of touches, or thrive at the slightest caress…and like a rose, a woman must be controlled, or it will grow wild and unmanageable.

      Such was simply unacceptable.

      No one knew women as Marik did. His entire life was dedicated to the study of women, how to woo them, how to understand them, how to control them. Most seemed to think that love was the key to a woman’s heart, but he knew better. Fear was far more superior to love. To love a woman is to admit her his equal, and there was no woman on the planet of Himari, nor any other of the eight planets in the Stellar System, on the same level as he. None.

      Of course that didn’t stop him from sampling all those he came in contact with, all those he deemed acceptable. Marik enjoyed women, all races of them. He enjoyed the feel of them, the smell of them, the taste of them. The terror in their eyes as he over powered them, the panic in their voices as they begged, beseeched, pleaded with him to stop he assault. He was a bee among flowers spreading his…pollen…as he saw fit. He smirked at the thought.

      But a time came in his life when he wanted more than just the occasional fix. To control one woman was commendable, but to control many? To control many would be exemplary! To have power and fear over a score of beautiful women, and through these women, have control over the lusts of men…that was supremacy.


Thus, the Fallen Petals Brothel was born.


      Marik’s reflection was a regal one, the face in the mirror incredibly handsome. A long slick curtain of glossy black hair framed a pale angular face, void of expression. His posture was refined, his form almost feminine in his statuesque gracefulness. He wore a robe of fine material the color of black and gold. His fingers glittered with jewels, and on his ears hung two golden hoops.  To any unsuspecting individual, Marik would appear to be the very picture of refinement… if not for his eyes. His eyes, sharp and haunting, were the deepest of red, filled to the brim with  malice and ill-meaning. They held no remorse, no pity, no humanity. Only evil. The eyes were the only sign that Marik was no human…that he was something more.

         Still… even with the devilish tint in his eyes,  the cloak of elegance he hid under seemed to dampen the  aura of menace that surrounded the brothel master. Of course he could never truly escape it. He didn‘t want to.. Not when it suited him so well.

         Sounds from the beneath the wood of the floors rose up to meet him where he stood at his mirror, the soft murmurs of customers.  Soon he would stand before them, and present to them the most beautiful women in all the worlds, his women, his…Roses. It had taken him some time to acquire the five humans who worked at his brothel. Of course, he had many whores --he had to if he was going to keep business up -- but only five were exquisite enough to be featured as his ‘Roses‘. Now through controlling them, he controlled the majority of men who lived on Himari. It was astounding how much money the men of this planet would lay at his feet, how much land and finery they offered simply to sate their desires for a night. But it wasn’t about the money, not really… it was about so much more than the money… 

         On a table beside the mirror sat a long wooden box. He took this box into his hands before giving himself a final look over in the mirror. The night had begun, and Marik lived for the night. He crossed the length of the well furnished room, exiting through sliding doors, before making his way brusquely down the stairs.

         The Fallen Petals Brothel consisted of three different houses, all atop the hills that stood over the large village of Rose Helm. Marik had seen many places throughout the course of his life, traveled to many planets,  but none had called to him as fiercely as Himari had. He considered himself a collector of beautiful things. With its rolling hills, sloping rivers and vast farmland, the village of Rose Helm fit the category quite nicely, and he knew at once that it would be here he would build his empire. It had taken a some years to establish himself here. Some threats were made, and some blood was spilled, but in the end, Marik had successfully acquired the hills that stood high over the village center.

         No vision matched that of his brothel. Each of the grand houses were connected by a long and winding pathway. There was the main house, which held three floors, the first for the bar and entertainment, the second for the regular whores that worked in the brothel,  and third for Marik’s living quarters… there was the Tea house, which held two levels, simply to accommodate all those who wished to dine, or have tea… and then there was the Rose House, where his Roses lived and conducted their…business. Marik was immeasurably proud of what he had established. This was a haven for all men… and that, of course, made Marik a god. That suited him just fine.

         As Marik descended down the stairs, bejeweled hand sliding smoothly down the polished wood of the banister, he found that the bar area of the brothel was already crowded with men, both  slovenly and distinguished. All races of men, from all corners of the universe came to see the woman of his brothel… from the high minded Manajii people, who’s planet was far beyond the western expanse of space, to the Tammaranians, and even the Faiith people from the water planet, Flourine… all have heard of the wonders of the Fallen Petals Brothel, and wanted to discover it for themselves. Despite the amount of customers, the room was large enough to accommodate all who entered, and decorated skillfully enough to create an elegantly sensuous mood.  The walls glittered a rustic gold, candles lit the smoky air, and to the far right of the room was a grand stage, velvet curtains cascading to a neat halt at the wooden floor. The men were entranced by the women who walked among them, women Marik had employed as table wenches, women he appointed to tease and flirt customers as they took orders and served drinks. He had, of course, all races of wenches, and all were beautiful beyond compare.

         But no matter how efficiently the barmaids did their jobs, it was the Roses they wanted. 

         Of course being that there were so many men, and only five of his Roses, many were going to go home disappointed. But that did not matter to Marik. The highest bidder got the Rose, and Marik always got the money. That’s how things worked at the Fallen Petals Brothel…and even if his customers were not able to acquire a Rose for the night, there were always plenty of substitutes. A man could take any other woman he wanted as long as he’d paid entry. Only the Roses were bid on.

         Marik smiled as the anxiety of the crowd began to peak… it was nearing the time to begin. The Roses would be waiting backstage for his inspection. He crossed the bar area, ignoring the patrons of the bar completely, customers moving hastily out of his way as he passed, as if they too could somehow sense the malevolence that surrounded him and wanted no part of it.  He reached the stage doors without incident, sliding them open and stepping into the low light of the wings.

         Backstage was a lot less grand than the bar area, all dark and shadows. But even in the low light Marik could see the five girls who stood before him clearly. They’d been expecting him of course, he could tell by the stillness of the room. His gaze was cold as he regarded them, indifferent.

         “Roses,” he remarked in greeting, his voice low, deep, reverberating in the space between them. A few flinched  at his address, but they said nothing in return. They had come to respect the sentiment ‘a woman should be seen, not heard’. They were quick learners, and it only took a couple of … demonstrations …  to get them to see it his way. Each one was incredibly lovely, but Marik knew their appeal lay far beyond their looks. There was something immensely special about each one of his rose, something that kept the customers coming from miles and miles away.

They were human.

    There were barely any humans left on Himari, the planet that used to be their home. There was a time when the human population teemed on Himari, their numbers so great they rivaled even the Tammaranians in number. But that time had passed, and the human race was slowly disappearing….the plague had seen to that ten years ago. Some viral outbreak claimed the lives of millions of humans, in such a short amount of time that no one was prepared for it. Some creatures, like the fey people of the forest, could withstand the effects of the virus, but the human‘s numbers dwindled each day. To see a human walking the streets of Rose Helm now was an extreme rarity. The fact that Marik had collected five, incredibly beautiful human girls in his brothel was nothing short of miracle. That was why they were his roses.

      Marik came to a stop at one end of the line of girls, his gaze falling on the pretty blonde before him. “Maia,” she looked up at him with large brown eyes, her full red lips pressed in anxiety.

         “Master Marik,” she bowed her greeting, hair falling prettily into her face. She was his Red Rose, the Rose of lust and passion. She was easily the most seductive of his roses, her pouty lips and voluptuous figure pegging her so. Maia’s eyes were a warm golden brown, alluring and tempting. She was the very picture of what a Red Rose should be, the first rose he had ever acquired, the original, as red is the original color of the rose. Because of this, she had taken on a certain maternal role concerning the other girls. This annoyed him to some extent, but he had chosen not to quash it yet. An opportune time would come.

         Maia’s scarlet dress pleased him, a tightly fitted bodice highlighting her extremely narrow waist, tied with crimson ribbons cascading down her back. Her hair was in an upswept style, leaving curling ringlets to fall around her face and shoulders. The lower half of the dress flared out around her beautifully, and Marik found her very alluring. Not too revealing, but enough so that the curve of her form was visible.  He nodded his ascent and moved on.

         “Amara,” he said to his Pink Rose, who refused to look up at him, her fear so great. He smiled as she began to shiver uncontrollably, bowing her head and mumbling a low greeting. Amara was a prize indeed. The picture of delicate youth, she appeared a good four years younger than her seventeen winters.  Her hair was blonde as well, tumbling down her thin frame in delicate ringlets. Her gown, a long flowery thing that coincided with her youthfulness, was tinted a pale pink, and although he could not currently see them, he knew the color would compliment her wide blue eyes. Currently Amara was holding hands with another of his roses, apparently drawing comfort in the contact. His eyes flashed in annoyance.

         “Amara is a big girl, Nicolette. Release her.”

         “Yes, Master Marik,” Nicolette said immediately, letting the other rose’s hand fall limply from her own. Marik’s eyes lingered on Nicolette for some time, longer than the others. She was the White Rose, his most coveted rose, and for good reason. She was incredibly beautiful for a human. Her eyes were the brightest of greens, and shaded with long, sooty lashes. Apart from her odd angular eyes, the rest of her features were small, but remarkable. Her lips were impossibly red and inviting, and her skin even and smooth, contrasting prettily with the darkness of her auburn hair. Her body was modest, and perfectly proportioned, and her voice, a lyrical sinuous whisper, could leave any man in a stupor…          

         But it was not simply her looks that made her the commodity that she was, not even that she was human.  There was something mysterious about the woman, something even Marik could not put his finger on -- a fact that frustrated him so --. There was a purity about her, an incredibly rare quality to find in a brothel. She seemed to radiate an innocence that captivated those around her, and for that, Marik had rightfully dubbed her the White Rose. Her milky skin went well with the glowing white gown she’d donned. The straps were beaded with a sparkling gem, as was the flattering line at the end of the bodice as it encircled her hips. The skirt of the dress was layered, and similar gems were scattered erratically throughout the fabric to give her the appearance that she was shining. Her hair fell in thick silky waves around her shoulders, stopping neatly below her shoulder blades. 

         Nicolette was his most expensive rose, his most famous. Despite her cost, it was rare that there was not a customer indulgent enough to bid on her. Her beauty was astounding, and not easily ignored. Marik himself had been the very first to sample her, and found that she could be quite addicting, quite endearing. He turned from her, pleased. He knew he would have no problem from the next two roses.

         His Purple Rose, Yukiyo, was his only willing Rose. She had come to him from the streets of Rose Helm and immediately he had placed her in this position. She was a lusty young woman, with such a craving for the things of the flesh that she made him immense amounts of money in her first few weeks. She had fiery red hair and strangely colored eyes, a blue-violet, which appeared to be fully purple in certain lights, hence her title. Her skin was darker, more tan than the other girls, making her even more appealing. She, like the other roses, feared Marik, but she did not cower in her fear. She was bold and brazen, and whenever he made use of her, she did not cringe away, but welcomed his onslaught. She met his gaze as he came to her, an enthralling smile on her face.

         “Yukiyo,” Marik greeted, his smile a knowing one. He eyed her gown, a soft lavender that hugged her curves generously. Perhaps he should pull Yukiyo from the bidding tonight and take her himself… as he pondered the thought he turned to Setsuna, his Black Rose. Setsuna was a mystery to all who beheld her. He’d bought her from a gypsy woman who’d happen to be passing through the village, and so he knew very little of her background. She was the palest of pale, her eyes the blackest of black, her hair an inky darkness that hung in a braid at her back. She was expressionless,  no emotion reading across her face. She had no feeling. She had no will. And she had no sight…. She’d been blind since birth, Marik had come to know, cursed to never know what a beauty she was. Marik found that incredibly ironic, as well as amusing. Her life in the brothel had broken her completely. She was a shell of a woman, her only purpose being to serve Marik. Despite that, her doll like countenance made her appealing to the customers and she was bid on every night. She was dressed in simple black, a black rose tucked into her braid. He did not bother to address her.

         “You all look acceptable.” Marik said and the humans nodded at once.

         “Thank you, Master.”

         Suddenly a gong sounded off in the bar area, signifying the beginning of the bidding. He turned to Nicolette.

         “You are first tonight.” he told her, and she stepped forward, not raising her gaze to him. Nodding to the rest of the roses, she followed him to the opening of the curtain, waiting for him to step through. Marik looked her over one last time before he was to step out onstage… perfection.

          A soft hush immediately overtook the bar as Marik pushed the curtains back, and with an air of sophistication, took his place on the stage. The lights dimmed in the area, creating such an alluring mysterious air that all attention was captured. Marik bowed to all those who sat before him. His smile was cold, a false one, a performer’s smile. The faces in the crowd were eager, anxious to begin the procession. Marik would oblige them.

         “Good evening, Gentlemen,” Marik cited as he took the stage, “I bid you welcome to Fallen Petals. Here, for the right price… all of your fantasies can come true…”