The Longstone stands in moonlit glade
Enclosed by ash and oak;
Before it my lady, imperious, proud,
Clad in ermine cloak.

In ermine blue and gold she reigns,
Wild roses twined in flaming hair,
Eyes as black as hells own night:
Canines bright and gleaming white.

Her lips she moistens, her blood red lips,
For on his knees before her,
A victim awaits,
His head bowed low
afraid to look,
afraid to know.

She moves towards him
Graceful, lithe
A panther stalking prey.
Stretches out her her arms to him,
Long sharp nails
Beneath his chin
Gently lifts his face,
She smiles.

She strokes his cheeks,
Caresses brow
Till all his fears are naught,
She feels him calm, steps back a pace
For now spells must be wrought.

She steps a pace and lifts her hands
To the gold buckle that holds the cape.
One tiny movement, it is undone
Now it hangs agape.

Beneath it she is naked
Body white as snow;
Except for rose pink nipples
That stiffen in moonlight's glow.

She takes three paces forward,
He cannot look away.
She stands above,
Looks hungry down and lets her body sway.

To strange ethereal music
Played by worshippers in the oaks.
As now they too come forward,
All dressed in long white cloaks.

The music, strange and gentle,
Her body moves in time
Her back is arched,
The cape is stretched,
Her arms are spread,
Strange words are said.

He cannot understand them,
He cannot look away,
This sorceress moves before him,
He knows he is her prey.

Over him she is so close,
The acolytes around
The music soft and haunting
Has him locked though he is not bound.

She is standing over him
The cape on either side
So close his face brushes flesh
She cannot be denied.

The haunting music rises.
She must satisfy her needs,
The cape is drawn around them both,
She sinks o’er him:
She feeds.

The Longstone stands in moonlit glade
Enclosed by ash and oak.
Before it my lady, imperious, proud,
Clad in blood soaked cloak.