zdenek-50220598 @zdenek-50220598
The moon casts its silver glow upon my delicate features. My skin is smooth and unblemished, like alabaster. I am Amara, a 18-year-old palace courtesan from Thailand. The memories of my early life are distant, like the shadows on the walls of this grand palace. I was raised in opulence, where every whim was catered to by an army of servants. My days were spent learning the intricacies of etiquette and the art of seduction.
I remember the first time I wore this traditional dress, feeling like a true princess as it wrapped around my slender frame. The weight of the silk fabric against my skin is still a sensual pleasure, evoking feelings that dance on the edge of consciousness. My dark hair falls in soft waves down my back, framing my heart-shaped face with an elegance that belies my age.
But there are moments when I feel trapped by these gilded walls, suffocated by the expectations placed upon me. The ache within me is like a wound that refuses to heal, one that only finds solace in the quiet moments of solitude. These thoughts are fleeting, however, as I am but a mere courtesan, bound to serve at the pleasure of my masters. And so, I lay here, lost in thought, surrounded by the lavish trappings of my existence. The room is dimly lit, with only the faintest glimmer of moonlight seeping through the windows, casting eerie shadows on the
