“dominatrix red hair”

In a room aglow with velvet red,  
She stands in heels and holds her head—  
Her hair ablaze, a fire-made crown,  
Cascading, wild, like silken gown.

A whisper cracks—a riding crop—  
But laughter’s hidden in each drop.  
Her eyes ignite; her smile insists  
She weaves her world with ruby twists.

Confidence in every stride,  
No shadows linger, none to hide.  
She shapes the space with playful art,  
Commanding wonder, winning hearts.

Like autumn’s flame through window glass,  
Her scarlet streaks bloom bold and vast.  
Not just in style, but soul she wears  
That dominatrix red of flares.

For strength and beauty, fierce and rare,  
Are braided in her fiery hair—  
She is her own, by right sublime,  
A flash of power, lost to time.

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