Alternate Prologue
Slightly edited
First version of the prologue:
Prologue
It wasn't a throne he sat on, but it was near enough. Those under his control dreaded to be brought before him when he sat there. The windowless room was dank and cold, it's flat painted grey walls lit only by fake flickering candles mounted on the sides, and a bright spotlight behind the throne, so that no one could see his face easily. Not that it mattered. His face was the kind that one's eyes slid over, leaving one with no impression what it actually looked like.
He gazed down at the girl, no, young woman kneeling before him in his shadow. Like all his girls, her exotic looks, golden skin, straight black hair, made even those jaded to beauty turn to look. It had no effect on him. He vaguely wondered when that had happened. No matter. He turned to the matter at hand.
She knelt before him, on the roughened section of concrete, small and frail. She did not look up. She didn't dare. He relished the fear in her posture. Soon, soon.
"Who owns you?" he said.
"You, my lord," she said, almost too soft to be heard.
"Again," he said sternly.
"You own me, my lord," she said, a little firmer.
"Remember what will happen if you fail me."
She shuddered. She had seen the results of failure often enough.
He had expected her to fail long ago. If she continued to succeed, he would have to take measures anyway. He did not like to do that if he had a choice. If the other girls ever figured out that ultimately their success or failure didn't matter, then controlling them would be made that much harder.
Even some of his goons might rebel. Though that was less likely. He had carefully chosen men who enjoyed giving pain. Speaking of which . . .
He bade her rise, and touched her damaged face with his silk gloved hands. "You should not have said no."
A flash of anger. "But . . ." Then she regained control. "I did not say no, my lord," she said, casting her eyes down. "He did not ask."
She was starting to think on her own. Dangerous. Almost he thought to keep her here. Never send her out again. In spite of the signed contracts. And the questions it would rise. The money was useful, and the pillage as well. But it was the connections she would make that were important.
"Do not contradict me," he said, his surprisingly melodious voice as cold as ice. "You are Useless. You know that. Repeat that."
"I am Useless," she said bleakly. A flash of resentment, quickly controlled.
He signaled for her to go. She bowed deeply, and backed out the door.
Too much independence in that one. He looked forward to crushing her individuality out of her, feeling her strength of spirit leaving her. He should have done so long ago.
He took off his gloves and rubbed his hands together. Death was in those hands, but unless they gave themselves to him, in hopeless despair, it gained him naught.
Let me know which one you like better:
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Two votes and polls closed already? I didn't even see it!
What I would like to see is the comparison. I guess I could download it and do that...
Ok, I used my word processor and looked at the changes. I like the direction of a couple of them, but would have some serious crits even for the new one. But moving in the right direction, I think.