Maybe the dark wisps of your hair hide your true nature. Or the subtle cons you play on my mind. Or it could very well be those bedroom eyes that take my tongue.
Perhaps it is the full compliment of wicked tools at your disposal, worked in concert, to drive me past any sense of rational. Madness.
I fight, I even gain ground…sometimes.
I know if I give into you, if I allow myself to crumble into your control, I will pay.
I will pay dearly, dear.
I feel your unholy laugh greet my vain attempt at salvation, I know that you offer no quarter. Sanctuary is but a lie.
All you offer is unrepentant physical and emotional damnation, in garters and lipstick.
A hell of thrusts and tastes and hungers and cataclysmic release. You represent a temptress who corners her prey, plays with her food, toys with their very soul. Succubus, demon, woman.
I know all is lost. I know I will falter.
…you will devour me.