How many staircases has she been carried down
how many cold steps of rough-hewn stone
into how many dank cellars
damp dungeons, mad laboratories
underground labyrinths, suburban basement torture chambers
transported across how many moonlit moors towards how many castles, cemeteries, ancient mausoleums, abandoned construction sites and midnight back alleys?
How many times has she been cradled in the arms of some hulking goon, priapic vampire, lunatic henchman Frankensteinian monster, lifted over how many thresholds like a bride, but always unconscious
always in diaphanous nightgown
always barefoot, head and arms dangling
toes tensely pointed to the floor in orgasmic anticipation step-by-step descending in an embrace
of muscle, bone or moldering flesh
to meet her softcore fate?
How many walls has she been shackled to
drawn up by chains and ropes on tiptoes
how many pagan altars has she been staked out upon
how many times has her blood been drained by some suave bisexual aristocrat,
some Count or Countess Bathory
how many times has she fallen the pretty prey to the overly complicated machinations of a madman from the wax museum?