Chestnut hair flowing loose, Eliza throws off her black cloak,

Naked, milky skin.

Her breasts ripe and hardened in the night breeze, Oozing through glass-less windows.

In the depths of the palace, behind fortified walls, Her tendencies went unnoticed.

Two fair-haired maidens heat water over an open fire, Raging furiously in the hearth, Providing Hades’ illumination.

Chestnut hair flowing long, Eliza steps furtively, eloquently, As her servants pour.

Steam rises and Eliza inhales as a finger summons the blue-eyed one.

Annabelle steps forward, her gaze fixed on the stone floor,

Head bowed in deference.

The unwanted wench continues to pour in woeful ignorance.

In the depths of the palace, behind fortified walls,

Two sturdy masked guards appear,

Answering Eliza’s silent call and needing no spoken orders.

They share the burden of carrying a makeshift winch, And rapidly strip the unwanted one, boring the hook into her spine.

Chestnut hair flowing, Eliza strokes Annabelle’s shaking soul, And takes her fill.

Steam rises and Eliza inhales her lover’s breath, hand’s drop low,

Stroking, peeling cloth and stroking her affection until she is undone.

Annabelle’s head bows in shame,

The wanted maiden is carried by her lover to the bath.

In the depths of the palace, beneath stone floors, Two captivated guards watch, throbbing.

Answering Eliza’s expert hands, Annabelle embraces her with tongue,

They share desire in soothing waters as the unwanted one screams in torment.

Perched deliriously on the bath’s edge, Eliza looks down on her maid,

She clicks demanding fingers as her head rolls back.

Chestnut hair flowing, Eliza accepts the sharpened sickle,

From the guards’ submissive hands.

Steam rises and the unwanted one struggles as she is twisted and hoisted.

Her hair hangs deliciously over Eliza as Annabelle feeds.

The sickle is turned and the unwanted one’s neck rips open in shame,

Blood flowing into her mistress’s open mouth, soaking her ivory flesh.

In the depths of the palace, prison’s lost hope, Three witnesses bear the burden of Eliza’s blood fetish.

Answering Eliza’s call, they implicate themselves, to escape from death,

And secure their own handcuffs in the depths of her lustful dungeon.

Perched deliriously on the bath’s edge, Eliza looks down on her maid,

And sweeps the sickle to redden her rejuvenating bath.