A Halloween Vixen's Ball

A Halloween vixen is donning her mask
       A black-widow spider of sorts
Musing of how she will mete out her task
       And letting her plan run its course
A night full of torture, a feast of delight
       Of bondage, in webs she has made
An orgasmic feast for the spider all night
       And torture on him, whom she preyed
Her venom injected, but not in his vein
       And not from a bite, but desire:
The spider has teased him, and poisoned his brain
       By keeping his passions afire

The Halloween vixen is tying some ropes
       A spider-web trapping of sorts
Occasional swats mixed with genital gropes
       As wicked plans run through their course
Her prey has not climaxed for thirty-one days
       Since autumn leaves started to turn
Such beautiful flora – October's bright blaze –
       Reminders of tormenting burn
A month of denial, engorgement, and pain
       Ensures that he won't be defiant
Her feminine wiles have poisoned his brain
       And made him exceedingly pliant

The Halloween vixen is grasping her whips
       Some spider-fang weapons of sorts
To redden the flesh down between his two hips
       And hear him cry out from the force
The naked man, bound and secured in her den
       Completely unable to move
She starts with some moderate tapping, and then
       Begins to get into a groove
Each cry for relentment a pleasing refrain  
       To only inspire more thrashing
His need for a climax has poisoned his brain
       So now he's enduring a lashing

The Halloween vixen is taunting her prey
       With spidery language of sorts
The naked man daunted to hear the belle say
       Her plans for reversed intercourse:
"I'll be the thruster, you'll feel the filling,"
       She coos as she scratches his nape,
"I hope that you'll love it – but if you're unwilling,
       I guess you'll just have to get raped."
The thought brings a shudder; he wants to complain,
       To beg not to roleplay a victim
But her gleeful enjoyment has poisoned his brain
       So he must submit to her dictum
 
The Halloween vixen is yoking her tool:
       A spiderly sex-change of sorts...
Her posture is confident, her smile is cruel
       This rapist will feel no remorse!
She first stands before him, to study his face –  
       Filled with curious horror and dread –
To relish his look of accepted disgrace,
       (For he knows she will do what she said)
She takes a step closer, grabs hold of his mane
       Instructing him, "Baby, now suck it."
Her intimidation has poisoned his brain:
       His mouth forms an 'O,' and she fucks it

The Halloween vixen is grabbing his hair:
       A mantis-like thrusting of sorts...
She was spurred on by his gasping for air
       And choking that sounded quite hoarse
"Now deep-throat it, baby!  Yeah, take it all in!"
       His protests stay muted and hollow;
"Oh, baby, such skills!" as she mocks with a grin
       "I wish I could shoot, make you swallow...
There's one little problem – your lips are too plain
       Compared with my dildo, they're duller.
Let's see if some lipstick can poison your brain
       When I pick a suitable color."

The Halloween vixen is browsing her kit
       A spider's collection of sorts
Intending to pick out a near-perfect fit
       From Maybelline, Revlon, and more
She narrows it down to three luminous hues
       With embarrassing brilliance and flair
She carries them over, and gives him the news:
       "You now get to choose what you'll wear."
She makes him beg "please" for the color by name,  
       (Not just indicate a selection...)
This girly enactment has poisoned his brain
       And even begun an erection!

The Halloween vixen is coloring lips
       A spidery venom of sorts
And soon, once again, she is thrusting her hips
       As though she were riding a horse
She thinks of how women have felt through the years
       Pressured for oral delight
Their men unaware of discomfort, or tears
       So, using his hair, pulls him tight
Each gag brings a giggle – to her, it's a game –
       She revels in this role-reversal
The feminization has poisoned his brain
       And this is just one mere rehearsal!      
 
The Halloween vixen is lubing her gear,
       Her spider-like palpus of sorts
Musing of how she is hoping for tears,
       To hear him get broken and hoarse
Her palms grope his ass-cheeks, he cannot resist
       (Their lingering warmth seems to thrill her)
His hog-tied position: feet bound to his wrist,
       Like prey in the web of a killer
His helplessness causes her swagger to reign
       She's keen to begin and deflower
His open exposure has poisoned his brain
       And forfeited all of the power

The Halloween vixen is thrusting her hips
       A spider-like mating of sorts
With coos of delight flowing out from her lips
       In language so vulgar and coarse
"I know that you like it," she mocks with a grunt
       "You cannot refuse – I've not cum yet!
It's feeling so good, and I love your tight cunt,
        Don't worry, I won't get you pregnant..."
These tired, old lines of seduction, his bane!
       Unaccustomed to hearing  them spoken
The date-rape reversal has poisoned his brain
       Until he is tearful and broken

The Halloween vixen is doffing her vibe
       Her spider-like tendril of sorts
Prepared to commence on a new kind of ride
       A jaunt he won't want to abort
She's relished his whimpers and savored his breaking,
       Loved using him just like a toy;
But now she is ready to feel herself quaking
       From this vulva-pleasuring boy
Removing her panties (with now-glist'ning stain)
       She gives him a glimpse of her coral
The scent of her womanhood poisons his brain
       Compelling his service with oral

The Halloween vixen is smothering his mind
       A spider-like pouncing of sorts
He fancies the taste, but it's taxing to find
       An available oxygen source
Her wet streams of rapturous orgasms pour:
       At least six, with nary a bad one –
But each time she shudders, it does underscore
       How long it has been since he's had one!
He wonders, while tasting the honey-drenched rain,
       Will she take a ride on his member?
Or will – and this horror-thought poisons his brain –
       His denial stretch into November?
 
The Halloween vixen is ending her feeding
       A spider-like mealtime of sorts
(Though somewhat reversed, in that he did the eating
       But she was fulfilled by the course)
Her demeanor has softened, he can't help but think
       He is near to his long-craved release
But each time her hands bring him close to the brink
       The strokes on his genitals cease!
So deftly engorging and waxing his pain –
       And using her words for more egging:
Sardonic "Poor baby's" have poisoned his brain
       Until he is groveling, begging

The Halloween vixen is baring her chest
       A spider-like tempting of sorts
Each button unbuttoned revealing more breast:
       A manifest femme fatale force
"Would you like to shoot?  Get ten seconds of bliss?
       How badly do you think you need it?
I'll grant you release, but promise me this:
       That when you are finished, you'll eat it."
Reluctant assent, for he needs to be drained
       It's fruitless to keep on resisting
Her too-knowing smile then poisons his brain,
       Turned on by her stubborn insisting

The Halloween vixen is mounting her prey
       A spider-like suction of sorts
Ready to feel how effective the sway
       Of her spread-open siphoning doors
She lowers it slowly, her warm, fleshy sheath –
       She knows he won't last but a minute;
He's sure to explode all his thirty-day load
       As soon as his penis is in it.
With eye-contact made, it reduces his strain
       As her hips begin rhythmic action
Her facial expressions send jolts to his brain,
       Beginning the semen extraction

The Halloween vixen is purring a sigh
       A black-cat contentment of sorts
They climaxed together, and now, satisfied
       She's holding his warm smorgasbord
There's no turning back from his bargain, and so
       He has to devour the paste
She tells him, "This won't be the last time, you know..."
       And hobbles up close to his face
Her unpinching fingers massage as she drains
       His pungent payload from her goblet
And though all the poison is gone from his brain,
       He still has to savor each droplet!