Witchcraft in the flesh

 He promised winged lies, ​feeding his appetite for the  
inexperienced and preferenced young beauties. Those firm bodies  
​beneath summer umbrellas and their giggles of love on garden strolls  
​amongst silken petals. This was the nectar of his many boasts. Naive and bewildered expressions of first touches was where his beast laid draped in fine and conquered medals.The taking of such protected and feminine jewels graded of the highest quality in societies elite. One after another glorious one, he ruined in meet. Leaving gifts of destroyed reputations and proposals of never's onto seduced and blood stained sheets. Virgins and their willing or not virginity's was the challenge his low class ​lineage hated with laughing frivolity. Many palms held the heads of fathers in great rage and vengeful plots, drenched in angers well, failing to find ​the nameless man who's cock spoils the lot.  
​A blend of romp and quiet frolic he basks in before taking flight, shaded  
​by the accomplice of another assisting night.  
Yet.....it only took one, to cease his  
evading efforts and unworthy mesh...  
She was immortal, above his kind and witchcraft in the flesh.
Her beauty he could not do without attempts to fuck.  
Permissioned or not, to get her alone was all he thought he needed more than luck.  
Diamond pupils and sky blue iris, gifts her with the perception of sixth sense.  
The spirits unveil to her what is hidden in whispers of murdered virginity's no more...
from the grave and their useless defense. Night falls and he offers a stroll from cobble stone streets ​and their lanterns. He smiles onward to moonlit paths beneath frightful  
trees a place she too prefers to canter....  
​He now follows her feminine lead and obvious wits of seduction masterfully belonging to her.  
​With cyanide laced lips she offers a kiss. In fading vision he follows the red and orange  
glowing embers left behind in her footprints of blur.....  
​She dances beneath the moon, the dance of  
seductions tease. The towns crowd behind she leaves, her pale white  
voluptuous breasts, lifting her Gothic black dress revealing silken thighs and silver blades she calls her thieves. Enchanted, he can do nothing but walk in potions poisonous wade.  
She tilts her head back and smiles in play.. allowing her long pitch black curls that house  
ravens nests to fall and sway. She enjoys his licks of dried seeming wine, trailing  
​into her cleavage and invited to dine. He falls limp and struggles with clarity,  
suddenly aware of her similarities... he realizes he is now the one cornered no longer above but beneath in parity. He hears voices and spells carried on the eeries of the howling winds.
He begs confused and now the one overpowered... by her much intended grin..  
She smiles and recites incantations with bladed fingernails....  
 
 
" The right hand from one who has stolen from many (blade slices),  
​for entertainments pleasure requiring not a penny. A ball of the eye  
​from he who has seen given fear (gouge), hearing the  
​cries with uncaring and raping ears (snip). Another ingredient for  
​my cauldrons crave....one foot!!..(slice) from one nearing the grave.  
The cause of a broken hymen not blessed out of wedlock. Taken  
and in three pieces needed, is an unwedded cock (diced)."  
 
"Your remaining eye asks me why? ....  
and I suppose I could grace you with a reply"....  
​  
"They call me Witchcraft....... and Like you.... I find sport in  
the weakness of others! Then I take... and I greeeeedily take...  
for my own collected pleasures  
and for thy witches sake"......  
 
**distant cackles