Harlot's kiss, Serpent's Hiss

 
This piece was written for a competition based upon the title at another poetry site.  
 
I felt compelled to write somewhat after reading a number of other pieces submitted for the competition detailing the sinful woes of men falling victim to harlots' snares.  
 
Needless to say, my piece was not the winning piece as the tenor of it was not quite in the vein of the aforementioned...
 
 
 
She was a harlot, true enough
Made her living in that ancient profession
She'd learned through time
And bitter travail
Her innate worth
 
Once learned
She never forgot
 
Her clientele came to know her
For her kiss
No other harlot kissed as she
Many chose not to kiss at all
But she,
Oh, she
Her kisses were somewhat else
 
Some men swore that to be kissed by her
Was more and better than to bury their throbbing phallus into another
Others insisted her kisses were the stuff of deepest dreams yet unrevealed in darkest night
Still others said her kisses soothed all cares away allowing burdens to be set aside for a time
Yet, all agreed on one small thing: one must wait for her to bestow her kisses.  
Gifts they were, not to be stolen.  
 
Most men,  
after meeting her and being within her presence,
were content
To wait
At her behest
No great hardship this
 
One man was not content at all
But feverish in his pursuit
The harlot gently put him off
For she had no great need of new customers
She was established in her place
Her skills greatly in demand
 
He refused to be put off, as sometimes men will do
She knew men, had known others of his ilk
Each time her response was the same for conflict did not hearten her
She honestly and openly, yet with innate gentleness and tact
Directed the man to other harlots who would gladly harbor him
But he would have her and none other, he told her forcefully
This detente continued night following upon night
Until one night
After all her clients had left
And she was locking her door
He came and shoved his way in
Throwing her upon the bed  
Covering her immediately
 
Even then, she sought to dissuade him from his path
He would not listen
Cuffing her to shut her up
 
At this, the light within her abode shifted
Became ominous
He was too engaged in shredding her robe to notice
Ogling all he unveiled
He, too, had heard of the wonders of her kiss
And forced his lips upon hers to taste that which was not given freely
At this indignity, a Serpent's Hiss echoed throughout
Even he was given pause so resonant a sound
So foreboding
So presaging
 
She spoke: Leave now before it is too late to leave.
He shook his head and stated that he would not leave
He would have her
She was all he thought of
He was consumed by lust for her
He would sate himself this night
She was a harlot so she must submit
 
He bent to his task again and she began to struggle anew
Pushing him
Begging him to leave
To save himself for she would not wish this on anyone
But he would not go
And
Deity would not be denied
 
The Serpent's Hiss sounded again; it was the last sound he heard...
 
It is said the harlot is favored by Deity so those blessed by her kiss are blessed indeed
 
Those few cursed attempting force, well they, they, they are never heard from again...