The accounts department looked at the numbers.

Fifty million dollars in profit.
People, worldwide, were insatiable.

At the far end of the prop,
The pornstar laid.

Foundations of makeup masked her tearful face.

A prisoner of pleasure, she was

Being raped repeatedly,
While feigning ecstasy and pleasure for the cameras.

Slapped, mutilated bodily,
All meant at sustaining the arousal of her fans.

She was at the doctors four hours back.

Diagnosed with Chlamydia and Syphilis.
Her fans did not know that.

Her male companions took enhancing drugs,

Suffered penile fracture during the act,

Risked the threat of stroke and heart failure,

But the fans never knew.

*Break time is over* The director shouted
Breaking up her train of thought.

Back to creating an illusion of the highest deceit.

She shouted in agony
Her fans interpreted it as pleasure moans.

*Save me*, she shouted
*Oh yeah* the fans thought they heard.

The video shoot finished,
Teary eyed, she drove home.

Knowing the havoc she had helped create.

For she had painted a false picture of pleasure.
She had invoked an unmatchable yearn within her fans.

She knew they would suffer.

For their fantasies could never be satisfied in the real world.

For their frustrations would drive them to addiction.

Addiction would drive them to loneliness.

Loneliness would bring self destructive thoughts.

She had helped destroy their chances for a blissful marriage.

She bowed her head

*God, if you are there, save them all*,

For they were in greater bondage than she was.

okonta kosi