It was dark and dreary, when he set out on his quest, to rid the demon, at her request.
He’d bathed in blood, he killed them all, and deep within, he knew he was under her thrall.
His sword it glimmered with his true light, even in the darkest of the night.
His pure soul, it screamed out inside, while he killed, pillaged, and raped for her on the outside.
Then the time had come, when he faced the beast, it saw his form, but also, what was underneath.
So it made its play, towards the heros true self, with a promise to keep, to restore his health.
But the hero charged, his lust too hard to resist, for he wanted more, but the beast did persist.
It promised freedom, it promised gold, but most of all, it promised to release her hold.
Its blood burned deep, as he sliced the beast, the hero, his soul, he cared not the least.
He wanted her, upon his shaft, and for that the happen, he needed to be standing last.
The beast fell dead, at his feet, the beast, the tormentor, faced defeat.
The hero rode, back to her side, and she gave him his reward, and then, he died.
So remember this, when you make a deal, for lust is not, really, real.