With wicked words written of red,
Across the room defeated, sated men spread.

her mere presence cums like a chill in dead of night,
His chest feels like it's taken a deep vicious claw swipe,
With a ravenous voracious red lioness's bite
It shoots through his soul,
It fells Him to His knees-passion out of control,
The witch coyly smiles as she presents herself- her seductive lust taking its toll.

In the room, Tallying up the easy notches on her lipstick case,
Making haste, not waste,
However she knows; it is no surprise,
Like Angelica Schuyler-she's never satisfied,
She's left wanting; even broom and her wand their vibrations have limit thrill

hath been through the mill,
her defeated prey hath had their fill,
She pouts as today's business is finished...

…that is until,

He wraps His arms around her, her back against His chiseled chest.

One breath, one sniff, one grip, she's hooked,
His hands run down her body and her crotch He cups

One tug on lace, He undoes her scarlet corset,
her head to the side giving His mouth access to her neck.

He bends her over hitching up her dress
she coaxes Him, "I dare you Sir to make a mess"
"This time, I'll take Him!" To herself, she confess.

You see dear reader
It's unknown to her
He hath saved himself for her
And upon her, He unleashed His lust hunger

Each thrust in and out -she squirms and shouts
Crashing against her castle walls within
Tearing resistance down paper thin.

Just as her finger reaches out for her book,
They curl in! Stopped short! Her last will is shook!

Her hair pulled back, moaning looking back and up,
Into his brown eyes, her rapture erupts,
Among the sweet siren serenade, she sings "Enough!..."
She whimpers gasps and begs "Please Sir, Keep it up"
"PLEASE SIR Make Me your witch, PLEASE SIR your bitch..."

She enters that state of a golden twitch
Around her world, Canine pleasure engulfs
She gasps and pants

"I beg of thee, Sir...Your Red Riding Wolf"