Dark Erotica

The staircase was slippery, saturated in bloodstains — dripping deep red, So were the walls leading up to her quarters and the wooden planks beneath her bed.

In the still of the night, he slowly crept in, Committed to a painful purpose — feeling impulsively sexual — but not desiring to sin.

He passed by each room, silent and sick. Until he found her, his heart pounding, throbbing hard dick.

He watched her breathe as she peacefully laid, Coursing his fingers over the edge of his blade.

Already an Angel, he justified sending her to heaven, She was his favorite, the last one of eleven.

God made him a messenger to deliver the pure, Her sins needed to be forgiven and his soul to soar.

She trembled in fear as he took her last breath, Bleeding out together — they wept.

He was a light warlock forced to sin, She, a dark witch destined to hell, having killed the first ten!