Greetings once again Grueheads to this sinful utopia; a place shoe-horned with dark splendor and delectable delights of the carnal kind. It is an optical orgasm, multiple no less, each throe of passion underscored by sweet sick agonizing bliss.
Keeper was introduced to this luxuriant paradise months ago now; desperate to flee the confines of morose reality, I took my first taster of the illicit outgrowth. Now, biblically it is taken out of context; Adam and Eve fell foul of the serpent’s magnetism consuming the very fruit which, according to folklore, allowed the vile evil contained to run free and spread like contagion. Many would have you believe that what ensued was pure melancholy, but what they negate to cite is that, once alerted to their nakedness and initiated into sexual longing, the famished pair most likely spent the remainder of their mortality in the nearby clearing fucking like minks until they eventually dried up to extinction.
Sin is good my dear friends, the flesh is there to be exploited. The inner exhibitionist lays dormant in most, repression prevents these traits from ever being embraced fully. That wrenches my heart; too many simply restrain their true selves, some until their final intake of breath. Tragic, so pitifully fucking tragic. My familiarity stems from doing the self-same thing. Fast-tracking towards my death, stepping out each day to a ‘career’ which raped my aspirations, strangulated my creativity and confiscated my voice.
I remember with lucidity the first moment I entered this Garden of Eden. I had nothing left to lose, my dignity and liberty in tatters and daily fellatio of the course corporate cock had reduced me to a flimsy, comatose globule of algae. It tasted scrumptious, the apple I mean, moreover with eyes wider than a young lad on the cusp of puberty catching his first peep of Erotica. I quenched myself, filling every follicle, ventricle and nerve-ending with such unique outlawed bliss.
I was faced with two flawlessly sculptured centerpieces. Matt’s “ruffian icon looks”, as referred to during my first dip into his bloody lagoon, are so much more than just eye-confectionery. Every inch of his painted, bronzed skin is calculated and maintained tirelessly.
His baby blues are like concentrated crashing waves, the perfect storm so to speak and they bleed raw integrity, fierce fidelity and ferocious self-assurance. The Mohawk is like a shark’s fin, cutting through the Rivers of Grue with the swiftness and refinement of a cygnet.
But like the strikingly elegant swan it’s under the surface that the shit goes down. His brain casket stores such complex brilliance, every idea is a bullet and his chamber is full to capacity with mental ammunition. Further down his dark essence pulsates, sending shock waves to every interconnecting waypoint and outpost, providing hefty might, unrefined verve and brutal sexuality. All the while there’s a warmth, a benevolence, a nobility; the qualities of a true sovereign.
Diane stands assertive alongside her fellow commandant, cutting an alluring figure of darkness and mind-convulsing beauty and leaving a continual imprint on our souls. She bears her own ripened fruit with skin bursting with cruel flavor and yearning eyes akin to lighthouses, which guide us securely through this vicious blizzard whilst, in the same moment, transfixing our gaze with the tenacity of a lusty Medusa.
They can stop a man’s heart in an instant, ensnare you in smarting ecstasy and slay you time after time. As they part dark light is emitted, beckoning us to her like a Siren’s call. No earthly man can resist her cruel charm, we hanker for the tang of her darkness and, once tasted, we are ceaselessly held captive. This is not against our will.
Agreeable submission brings a bloody rainbow of sweet, sinful agony; its vivacious colors dance from her glorious chest-plate, offering gorgeous contortions amidst those delectable delicacies, ripened cherries nestling topside.
The glistening stream of cruor persists in its descent, grouping once more in her soft naval but only slows momentarily. Ultimately its course leads it to her moistened haunch, causing sighs of convulsion that send each of us into bloody rapture.
Each beat of her dark heart is in rhythmic synchronicity with our own; we are constricted by her serpent-like grasp as she commences to devour our souls. Beneath layer upon layer of sensuality lies a voracious spirit, unrivaled aptitude and burning sincerity. These savage gatekeepers fuse to create constant emissions of heavenly hell; my pre-amble into this secret garden filled the quill to capacity and continues to do so perpetually. I bleed unfathomable dark adoration with each word scribed; their architecture and furnishing of this lavish limbo causes Keeper’s heart to beat intermittently, such is the orgasmic sensation which it affords. The moment when I was knighted, their faith in my endowment shifted something within me. We commenced making bloody ripples as our sanguine sauced meshed with fluidity. They have extended their Bloody Rainbow to me and I bask in its effervescent rays.
Join us; the Rivers of Grue gush into this expansive ocean, replenishing it with constancy. Along with my fellow knaves, a tight-woven battalion primed for unholy combat at all times, we craft these lustful light sources which illuminate your every filament. At the end of this Bloody Rainbow is a goblet filled with grue which never depletes. Take a pew weary voyager, rest those aching thighs and allow our dark Queen to caress them with her cruel prose. Once the fruit is bitten, infinite brutal pleasures will be made known and your shadowy vaults eternally quenched.
Great minds combine within this shrine
secret joys girls and boys to uncover
come and taste from our goblet this fine deep red wine
as we share it between one another
Let it drip down your chin sending wild streams of sin
ever deeper your Keeper implores you
such elation dark nation accept it within
while her unflinching peepers explore you
That twinge in your groin causes waves through your loins
crafting ecstasy tantric and true
insert that dark member that cruel bloody coin
in the slots of our Rivers of Grue
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
First Knight of TOK
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013
Gallery of Kunkle
Artwork Courtesy of Chuck Kunkle