Wanton, Ovulating, Motivation, Appreciation, Neuroticism
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Welcome Grueheads to the third and final entry in the W.O.M.A.N. sequence. It seemed only right that we close with our Dark Queen, Diane Foster, as there are few women alive quite so tantalizing a prospect to speak about than she. Lady Die slays us in every conceivable manner and represents different things to many people. She is a beautifully elegant white swan flecked with deep red, a voracious Amazonian huntress, free spirit, ambassador, and object of perpetual fascination, yearning, lusting, and love to all of us. Indeed, it’s hard restraining myself from bolting straight from the gate when musing over this resplendent spirit. Fortunately, the Crimson Quill has staying power and waxing about Lady Die keeps it well stocked. It is my task to siphon that dark desire through with delicacy with every last word scribed.
I suspect you are already feeling that twinge but suggest you hold onto it for the time being. My cards are on the table from the offset and, make no mistake, this is very much adult content so I shall offer no apology for my menstrual prose. First I must clean something up (minds out of the gutter Grueheads). The word porn is not applicable, I don’t believe that she falls into that category for one second, and shame on anyone for believing such as our dark queen possesses far more class than that. Nay, erotica is far more accurate, and there is actually a world of difference in my opinion. Right now you view her at her most primal as we have invaded her quarters when at the very height of her flow.
What finer banquet could there possibly be than one comprising Lady Die? Our monarch is about to get bloody, leading from the front with machete unsheathed and raised aloft, revealing her malleable underarm to quench upon. She wears deep red like a Catholic priest sports a choirboy and it is most becoming when spattered over her wondrous orbs, dripping towards her navel canal and filling it with a thimble of crimson delight, before heading south to her smoothly rounded hub. Rare is the operative word here as Lady Die is dripping in cruor for our benefit and there is no rump more tender and succulent than hers.
If you’re looking for prime rib, then pull up a seat and I shall grab you a napkin. Second thoughts; better make it a handful as your table manners may well slip over the course of this article. As Master of Ceremonies, it is my job to ensure that the juices are seasoned accordingly and my prose is therefore designed to tantalize those taste buds before you sink in your incisors. Should it comes across as a tad incestuous then I would remind you that ours is a particularly close family unit and here there exist absolutely no boundaries whatsoever.
Gentlemen, I urge you to rasp your own quills and prepare to squeeze out those first drops of crimson. Ladies, I suggest you slide across those panties as my sanguine solution is likely to cleave straight through their fabric as it captivates your quim. Allow me to elaborate more on these two savage instruments. Metaphorical? If the slipper fits, I can only lead you to the source of this torrent, it is you who quench how you desire. It cascades all around us, her menstrual cycle is synchronized with my own, and my cranium is filled to heaving with blushing ovuli right now. Diane Foster, when mid-flow as she is currently, is a prospect that I positively relish devouring and there ain’t nothing allegory about those words!
noun – recognition and enjoyment of the good qualities of someone or something.
a full understanding of a situation
I’m sure we would all agree that we gravitate towards like-minded souls; those who really get us. Lady Die understands what she means to us and, most critically, what we mean to her. Should you offer belief to an individual like her then she will pay that encouragement forward a hundredfold in return and reflect the love straight back out to you. She does this habitually by kissing us with her bloody love. Her lips are both soft and rough in the self-same moment; delicately puckered while her serpentine tongue prepares to probe furiously. All the while, her incisors tug at our own cherry mouth gear, making bleeding an absolute given. Don’t fret over any blood loss as she will be sure to lap it up with her ferocious licker and ensure that not a solitary drop is wasted.
Jeepers creepers , I love me some peepers. Diane’s are like delectable trays of emeralds and rubies combined,sparkling with both harsh intent and cruel kindness. They tell fables with each glance and her eyes reveal a little more of her beautiful soul, ancient mirrors of truth which reflect all, above and beyond. Said exquisite soul has clearly traversed former lifetimes before breathing essence into this crimson butterfly. I often make comparison with screen greats such as Katherine Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe and do so because I feel their presence when I become locked in her captivating gaze. Classy doesn’t adequately convey her regalia. However, she is more than simply a mirror. Behind her deep red mist lays a savage brute, chomping at its leash to consume its prey.
noun – a reason or reasons for acting or behaving in a particular way
My core was breached the very first time I slid The Orphan Killer into its incision and witnessed the sickness first-hand. She bled so beautifully throughout as she battled both her petulant sibling and her own dark furnishings, whilst dangling from crude barbed shackles like a tortured token. It was here that I noticed the cruelty of Lady Die in no uncertain terms and it bubbles beneath the surface tantalizingly each time she paints on her deep red tunic. She enjoys nothing more than playing with her food and savoring the juice from its very marrow. Make no mistake, she could tear us limb from limb at any given moment and would gleefully skip rope with our intestines should such be necessitated. However, she won’t lunge without due reason either. Like a proud lioness, she protects her litter, even the squalid human refuse that she calls big brother.
Nuzzle her sin and drink from her claret
Guzzle it in and rinse out your dark palette
Feed as she bleeds she won’t think it treason
For tonight our dark queen’s at the height of her season
We’re fated to mate as she gushes intent
Embellished with riches as each drop is spent
Those emerald eyes hold rubies within
In turn this supplies many with reasons to sin
The ink is thickening in the Crimson Quill as we reach our main course and our dark queen is stoked with desire to ovulate openly in its presence. She takes our hands gently as she guides us through each pictorial with those precious jewels, lashes gently fluttering across our navel, kissing our sex now. Deep red currents are percolating and are currently strong enough to suck us right under. We feel a surge at this point and ride each subsequent wave but her grip keeps us afloat. When the time comes to sink below the surface she will submerge herself also and bring us around with her bloody kiss of life.
There is that twinge once more only now it’s more urgent. While our sailors are no doubt awaiting orders to step off the plank, I implore that we don’t fire our muskets just yet. Hold onto it for a little longer as the quill has plenty of crimson left and plan to celebrate the moment when we finally bolt the gate. Right now, be content with banking that impatient fire inside. Let’s get tantric Grueheads; there simply has to be at least a degree of torture right? We aren’t disillusioned enough to suspect we would walk away without battle scars. Indeed, I know that we wouldn’t want it any other way.
Of course, climax is as inevitable as a Pacino monologue, and can only be expected to abstain from spillage for a few minutes longer. Eventually, she will have her way and when she does it will most certainly cause our eyes to roll back in our heads. That’s right, it’s almost time to practice our best Elvis faces so prepare for the cheeseburger. Right now, it is time for us to slide our prime rib into the glazed eye of her bloody bagel. Relish cums last.
Panties at ankles now or, better yet, sopping and discarded. I trust you have one finger astray at the back, milking this for all it’s worth. Head for the back wall and I’ll already be there. Her toes, painted deep red of course, rub teasingly against our thighs, playfully, ushering us forward while controlling each subsequent convulsion. It’s agonizing right? I prefer to call it blissful agony. As we thrust into her sticky hub the crimson begins to congeal at the very tip of our cannons. Her pelvis massages each stroke , coaxing it nearer, delicately slowing as she still ain’t fucking done yet. Maximization is key to true gratification. Don’t squander a G-spot, plunder it. Bite on cloth, preferably no lemon slices unless you have a spotter, reach the apex with her.
She’s saturated in deepest red but the sheer strength of her clench keeps friction savage. There are no sheaths to numb this particularly feeling, only bed sheets screaming to be soiled and soiled they will be very soon. You ready for another burst? The twinge is uncontrollable now right? Keep rolling with it and remember…
She’s biting our wrists now, enough to draw blood but taking only what she needs. Never gluttonous, she loves us all too much to drain our essence. What she takes she replaces with love. That dark affection gestates and spreads the unholy word that touch broader. Love, love, brutal, savage, salacious, voracious, erotic, hypnotic, contagious, advantageous love my dearest Grueheads, that’s key. She loves us as we enter her, every one of us. Let it wash right the fuck over you. As it crashes against the banks she still isn’t ready to concede the feed. Temple veins are likely bursting in unison, that all keeps the crimson flowing.
I’ve toyed with you enough now, Diane has toyed with you enough, I’m just well-informed wing man with self-styled Honey Dripper. It is time the banks are breached, our crimson is fused and we’re primed for climactic release. Don’t fret if you bolted already; though I would suggest next time you consider a stopwatch. For those of us still in the game I shall give you a countdown via optical pleasures.
Still here? Keep working that crimson. Stay with me as we tease the last few droplets from your quills and quimms. Remember gents, we’re all joining hands so we’ll all know if you roll over and fart. Hold it… hold it… let the crimson fountain gush freely from within, feel every sensitive shiver and don’t forget to breathe (lemon suckers, this means you!) The only thing left now is for Keeper to rock you lovingly to sleep via lullaby. Sweet darkest dreams Grueheads.
Convalescence such essence causes bleeding profuse
Lady Die pulls the strings chaperones us
The mere presence such essence offers up to infuse
Drips from wings as she sings bloody owns us
Drink it in all this sin let it gestate inside
Love profound we have found in her peepers
Should we sin from within then our queen goes all in
Lusting every last thrust that much deeper
Sinning With Sovereignty,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
First Knight of TOK
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013