• Cries of hysteric elation bounced of the dungeon walls,
    Elizabeth Bathory was at it again, with claw-like pincers,
    whipping into the virgins chest, filling the bath with blood,
    orgasmic screams escaped her lips, watching eagerly,
    as the pretty girls face contorted into one of pure torture.

    Onto the next girl, a pretty fair haired young lass,
    Only this time shackled upside down by her ankles,
    Bathory laughed at her distress, at her body squirming,
    Then took a knife, long and sharp and sliced her neck,
    Blood trickled, flowing easily into the bath below.

    Drained almost dry, the girl trembles and finally dies,
    Only this was not enough! For more blood was needed,
    Bathory must bathe in the youthful warm blood,
    Oh she couldn’t age, oh no! She must keep fresh-faced,
    And on she went, more blood, more life, more fun.

    Clothes were shed as she stepped into the bath,
    Blood seeping up and over her body, crimson delight,
    A beauty indeed as the blood trickled over her breasts,
    Sighing she lay back, now and then taking sips,
    Licking her lips she grinned, a Vampire Princess indeed.

    This torture of girls came at a price though,
    For in her ecstatic pleasure and growing excitement,
    The poor Bathory had become careless over the years,
    And as more and more bodies were thrown to the water,
    More and more people would chance a sighting.

    A sighting indeed, but not a pleasant one,
    Of young girls rotting, empty of blood,
    And now the secret was out, alas the time had come,
    Bathory’s fate had arrived, not death however,
    That was to come four years later in a dank and dark place.

    Confined to a small walled up room within the castle,
    She was imprisoned for life, only a small hole for food,
    Four years were to pass in this desolate solitude,
    Until one day she was found, food untouched,
    Dead at the age of fifty-four, after killing more than 600.

    A fitting ending I would say…