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The Scorning


Sweet contradiction. Something which feeds such unparalleled desire beneath my loin cloth. I have come to inflict pain this night, but laced around the most mind-imploding pleasure. I am intoxicated by a heady mixture of rage and painful arousal. They dance around each other delectably, each yearning like famished wolves on this chilly midwinter night. I stand just out of sight to the side of her patio, fully erect just by the scent of her fragrance and the pulsing of her quim which rhythmically regulates inside my temples. All the while my molten fury is bubbling beneath my peepers, as I have a score to settle this night. This isn’t our first rendezvous and the last time I was caught somewhat off guard. Keeper doesn’t make the same mistake twice. Not this night.


She sliced through my pelt with her sweet contradiction, courting madness in the same instance as she showed every dash of coherence and meticulous intent. I was made to bleed, in order to open myself up in front of my addressees and exhibit my own thrashing monster. It writhes on the outside now but only should I encourage this. Mostly it is holstered in the shadows but not this night. This night, I am the tree at her window. My thorny boughs are spitting sap at the prospect of making my way inside. All in good time Keeper. I must bide my time for a minute, perhaps two, until the opportunity presents to slink in unbeknownst. I lie in wait like the blackest panther, incisors bared but tongue flicking wildly behind them. The contrasting emotion has crack-like tendencies and shoots streams of anti-endorphins hellbent on smothering its brethren. Feeling my humanity dissipate is one fucking large head-rush. We’re talking peepers at twelve, pallid headboards of wanton lust. I catch first glance and everything cranks up to 13; she meanders from one side of her boudoir to the other with nonchalance, impervious to anything audible as her head is shrouded in a pure white towel. As she dries off her lively brunette hair, this presents the chance I seek and I bolt for the door stealthily and, with analogous fleetness of foot, slither inside like serpentine mist.


I time it precisely right as I lurch to the shadows just before she makes her return journey to the dresser mirror. The crimson curtains which offer foliage are still swaying but, given the fact that her patio door has been left ajar, she’s still none the wiser. To remain undetected required many mega pixels of motion in such a malnourished time-frame that I need to realign. The edges have begun to creep in and I’m doing the stalking here.


She is clad in her robe and nothing else and she opens it to glance over herself in her full-length reflection. Her angle obscures my visual and this maddens me. I feel my burly cock biting at the rim of my pants, ready to strike fast…and deadly. I contain my monster…for the time being at least. I want her to know I came. She changes coordinates once more, padding barefoot back to the well-lit bathroom. This poses another problem as shadows are no longer my friends, not if I wish to stay on the front-foot at any rate. With less than no procrastination I bound to the open doorway and again play the waiting game.


I need all of my ears about me to decipher her positioning as, should she face me, then a split-second is ample for her to arm herself. My Monster growls at weakness so my next action compounds its fury. I have to glance, once aware she has her back to me, I pour my peepers around the door frame for just one leer of her lustrous pink pelt.


Denied. Her leg is upon the tub as she shaves herself but, again, wretched blind-points obscure my ocular orbs the sight they crave. I linger there for a moment as the robe lifts just enough to reveal her exquisitely rounded back-rack. It also provides Intel as to her shaving preferences as, just as I had thought, there was one region she never shaved. Pruned but never sheared.


It’s game over for my imposing monster as I snatch at the moment and grab her mouth and lower throat and commence to dragging her kicking and screaming back into the boudoir. Although mostly muted I can hear her taunts ricochet from the palm of my left hand. I remain silent for the time being and forcefully encourage her onto the crimson divan.


I then bind her to the sturdy frame with callously tightened electrical wire, tight enough to pinch through the skin but all the while inviting her to struggle. I tie her thrashing pins second and she makes every attempt to spill some of my own crimson. Catching me fully in the cheekbone with her kneecap, I apply a tad more authority when strapping her ankles down. Now I have some down-time, perusal time.


Amazingly her curves are still hidden beneath fabric so my first move is to tease the blade I have slid from its casing behind the straps which tease it closed so efficiently. She hasn’t stopped cursing the whole time but I have shut it away so as not to allow her any kind of reprieve. Now, with her spread-eagled uncomfortably taut across the mattress, the white noise subsides once more.


“You fucking bastard. Untie me this instant” Her pleas fall on indifferent ears as I haven’t lost sight of our previous shared moments. “Shut up cunt or I’ll slice you through to the pine beneath you.” I tug on the straps with the business side of the blade and her gown is sheared wide open.


The Keening


There is a point of no return and I have just crossed the border. Having awkwardly succeeded in restraining my stalker, I am now left to ponder my options. There is a most delectable spread laid out before me, a buffet of flesh for me to run my taste buds over and a smorgasbord of options of where to take things from here. I have my subject bound tight and unable to retaliate, the whites of her eyes have no place to hide and I now have her full undivided attention. Her gown is gaping now, supplying the visceral vista I have craved since her perfume first tickled my delight. It has nostalgic properties, she wore the same scent on our last meeting and I recall my nasal passage cloying with delight as it seeped in and set my senses ablaze. She had succeeded in her intended deflowering that night, ripping free the last remaining threads of my stubborn refusals and replacing them with fear most stark.


“You did a most resplendent thing that night Stalker and I am here to return the favor.” My prose spews out without as much as a flicker of emotion, despite the fact that every fiber is lit with fermenting indignation. There is a second sentiment and that is more intrinsic. Driven by my demon, this puny human Achilles heel is sending whirling waves of wantonness to my gargling monster and I feel almost obliged now to give audience to its petulant pleas.

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I lower my gaze momentarily from her hollering peepers and begin to sip from her full-flavored vessel. She is littered with the most exquisite tracks of prior trauma, scars on her lip, upper thigh and foot are visible from the front and I’m guessing I will locate others when I flip her… and I will flip her. Right now, she is exhibiting no signs of submission and this makes my ejaculate percolate wildly. It seems wasteful to restrain such passion so I reach across and slide my blade beneath the ties that bind her right arm.


Within seconds her wrist is freed but only into the custody of my clenched fist. She is convulsing hysterically and I feel her robust rage against my seat which is rested against her chest as I straddle her. “You gifted me insight, made me look into the jaws of my own demon and accept its coarse tongue inside my eyeballs as it licked my skull. In the same moment you stole something away, something I cannot ever retrieve.”

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I tug open my shirt, buttons scattering as I do and reveal the blackened tattoo she left across my bared chest that night. CQ was crudely scrawled half an inch deep into my fleshed chain-mail. This had been her mark…her doing. I’ve felt her inside me every second since her blade kissed and told and this caused the most delicious contradiction as my inner darkness asphyxiated any light source, leaving me desecrated perpetually in the process. “You sip from my goblet habitually stalker…I wish to quench from yours”. I lean forward, until barely a frame away from her lips. “I shall taste you and take away my own trophy” My lips part ready to kiss as I cannot restrain this necessity any farther. She lunges at me, clamping her teeth into my bottom perimeter and instantly drawing crimson which drizzles down my chin and into the carvings she previously fashioned on my torso.

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I retaliate, plunging my burly tongue into her unguarded orifice and into the back of her throat. Her gag reflex only serves to heighten the intensity of this kiss, and it appears she has submitted to her quim’s desire as she hungrily probes my fillings, forming a meshed pool of saliva which is held tight between our embrace. I pull back arrogantly and she seeks me the whole way, her back arching into me and rigid mammalia projecting forth.


Our peepers are fixated with one another and I can hear the questions calling from behind her retinas. In a flash I am inside her, but my monster is still caged at this point. Within one elongated sip from within I breach her for the first time, retrieving her personal monologue and, for the first time, her frailties are exposed.

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I cannot believe I’ve been snared, so easily. How did he even know where to find me? I was very careful…when I snatched him that night, I was damned near anonymous. I left him no name, had my long shaggy hair rearranged, my make-up was heavy and completely unlike me.

Fuck. FUCK! He caught me at such a vulnerable time…I’m not even dressed. There! Good, caught the motherfucker in the face with my knee. Oh…so much for that. His face has clouded over with a dark look that I don’t think I wish to interpret. His eyes are hot, a little fevered, as though something has taken over deep inside his belly and spread through him.

As he wraps the electrical wire around me, his breathing has changed a little…his tongue slips out and lick his teeth and lips and every now and again he bares his teeth a little more. I have no idea what to think or feel. Can feel rage inside, bubbling. How fucking dare you tie me down like some common animal? How fucking dare you.

Then he pulls out a machete and parts my robe and inside I cringe. Don’t look at me you bastard. Stop looking me over as though I’m some purchase you’ve been dying to acquire.

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I attempt to move and succeed a little, but cannot close my legs, cannot hide any part of me. The electrical wire has me bound tightly enough that I can’t switch positions and I feel a sound escape my lips, one of anger and frustration. His gaze moves to my face suddenly and his lips curve upward, just a little. A look of satisfaction, coupled with something else…rage…electricity…

Oh, CQ…why did you hunt me down..? My intentions were pure. You were slipping into some dark apologetic world in your writing, and not into the original slick dark world you were destined for. I had to awaken you from the numbed slumber. I cut you and awakened you and now you are hell-bent on…..on what..?

I close my eyes and turn my face away from him. However, I can still hear his ragged breathing.

For once in my adult life I have no idea what my future holds, if anything.

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This fresh intelligence invites me to release her other wrist, which is bleeding profusely due to the ferocity in which she has been wrestling with freedom. She lets out a choleric hiss in my direction and instantly springs toward me bellowing obscenities along the lines of “you motherfucker”, I can’t be sure as I am too busy batting her back into the headboard with the handle of my machete.Clearly dazed, her body slackens some and I am afforded a few precious seconds to survey her flesh a little more closely. I had negated to observe her most substantial whitened tattoo, from one side of her abdomen to the other. It is the beautiful aftermath of childbirth and I feel, once more, that twinge of humanity.


I may own a monster but am I a monster? What am I hoping to achieve here? Retribution or enlightenment…or both?I take advantage of her limber state to slide lower, onto the moist mattress between her thighs and I run my tongue along her injury, painting it with the crimson from my own tattered lip. Sweet, bitter, metallic and, in the same instance, sickeningly organic; her flavor delights my darkness sending shimmers of inked delight to the shaft of my monster. We have come too far for me to turn back now, whatever punishment I have planned needs to be dealt.


The Carving


Oh, mercies above, help me….he is on top of me and my rage is boiling over. The plastic-covered wire on my wrist is slick with blood and I do not feel it as I twist and pull. I must get away…

I traveled thousands of miles to….to what? To vacation, I think — and so inspired by the sights and sounds of the beautiful country I had slipped into, and remembering he lived in the middle of all this beauty, I had captured the notion to capture the Keeper and wake him from his slumber of numbness. That must have been a mistake. How could I think I could return home, after, and nothing would go wrong?


FUCKING HELL he is staring into me…can he hear what I think? Why is he staring so deeply into my eyes..?
No emotion displayed, he cut the ties on one of my hands and my hopes soared. I thought I would grab at him but no…his fingers clamp over my wrist, tightly, squeezing.
I see his intent as he leans closer to kiss me. Motherfucker…no you won’t…
He grunt as I bite down on his lip. His blood pours down, so much blood — did I bite so ferociously..? It appears I did and before I can draw breath or speak, his mouth is covering mine and his tongue is attacking me, gagging me. The coppery taste floods my mouth…blood…his blood. I can feel him shaking ever so slightly and a growl loosed deep in his throat as I respond. Stop it, stop it….stop kissing him…I cannot stop and he pulls away with a disdainful glance at me even as I lean forward for more.

My face feels flushed and hot and I tremble with rage, this time directed at my own weakness. His blood is smeared on my lips and chin and I can feel it drying. I am so angry, so unbelievably angry. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING.


He cuts the ties to my other wrist and there is my chance — I lunge for his throat. If only I could get away I would never bother another soul ever, the thought courses through me and I swear blind to myself that I will not “help” this way, ever EVER AGAIN and… oh God… he has blocked my attempts and his long fingers have wrapped around my throat and… I can’t breathe…
Oh, I hate you, Crimson Quill — I hate you so much…I fucking hate you...
The room is swimming as he applies more pressure and I can feel the beginnings of bruises on my neck. My back arches because how did he know this was not hurting..? ohh…no I have to stop responding to him this way…you fucking bastard…oh you motherfucking bastard…


Every word as clear as day. She plays deeper into my hands with each flicker of consideration. It is as though she invites me inside her, her thrashes are ultimately mere lies as I know she wants this. More than oxygen. I hold the cards here, any guilt was knocked out of me back in the academy of life. She sees not beyond these eyes.


I slide my tongue south through her trimmed thicket and straight into the jaws of her Monster, licking all apologies away. Her floral bouquet fills me up as the tip of my nose jostles into her labia. Saturated between her blushed lips it nuzzles inside, pulling instantly back out and proceeding to trace back to her asshole. At this point I release another restraint, setting free her left leg this time and flip her straight over awkwardly. She grunts “You fucking bastard. I hate you” and I feel a delicate flutter in my roll-cage, releasing pollen into the chilly air.


Every fit of rage is an invite which I gladly RSVP with a grateful bite of her edible rump. This damaged delicacy houses another abrasion, on her right cheek. I lick and lacerate its frazzled circumference with incisors that twinge with outlandish delectation. Fuck, I’ve never seen it like this before. My monster threatens evacuation and the top button of my denims fritters away to afford some breathing space. It breathes…congested nasal growls emanate from the taut shaft in grizzled yaps as it cites its rancor.


Our peepers reacquaint and, despite the words “Demon” and “Cunt” are trickling from her oral cavity I’m sure I catch her out. She glanced right there, I caught her pupils post-dilation as her eyes froze in the glare of my muttoned Medusa. “It is my monster which feeds this night Stalker” encourages a yelp as fear takes precedence just fleetingly. Her lip shimmies and she swiftly turns, plunging her face teeth into the pillow.


Another invitation, again accepted. Now fully submissive, I take it upon myself to dominate. My jaws clamber up her malleable back tissue, swinging left to right…right to left…as they navigate with gnawing arrogance. There shall be new additions in her gallery before the night is through, the first of which I intend on fashioning now.


I reintroduce the glimmering blade, already dusted in cruor and prod it into her sternum, just sufficient enough to pinch. Surveying briefly for the pulse within, it gulfs within the pelt around her cavity, drinking in two conjoined vertical lines and then a slightly offset third. “You shall remember me stalker…I set you free this night, just as you did.” My words are delivered with icy cold intent and stuffy warmth as I reposition the metal, carving horizontally in two swift motions.


A…T…with steady hand I have made my first mark, one which provokes a howl of inked pleasure from its recipient. Some piece of art, her pelt parts so beautifully for me that I shiver through to the marrow at the prospect of tasting this sweet, sweet honey. Hunched over, I clench both jaw-floors into the surrounding skin and climb her chest until faced with her strapping nipple.


“Chow Keeper…bite me!”  My stalker really is the gift that keeps giving and my response is lightning fast. “Don’t mind if I do” is my rejoinder and…I do. Grazing its roughness but not breaking it down, I tug the mammalia to breaking point and release, causing ripples through her right breast. She supplies audio to the tune of “Do it…Don’t” and I muffle her prose with my searching tongue, hauling myself topside so the two sets of lettering bleed into one another.


A…T…I feel their sharpness cutting through my rounded initials and we let out analogous rasps of desire. This in turn encourages both tongues to take their shots and mine nestles onto her taste buds, so as to leave its sour insignia. She reciprocates this and, in that second, we synchronize souls.


No amount of brevity can muzzle what just transpired. I saw through my Stalker…and she mine. The time is nearing for our Monsters to scuffle, it is going to happen and it is a union she shall recount many years from now on her death-bed. It is a mere box-ticking exercise from hereon in, or so it would appear. However, Keeper of the Crimson Quill comes prepared this night like a cocky boy-scout.


I have devoted time, in advance of our soiree, to sculpting a tool. It has the rusted appearance of a medieval torture instrument but has been meticulously chiseled to bear a stamp of sorts. It is behind the curtain so I leave her bound as I ghost past the log burner to reclaim my toy. My stalker makes no effort to untie the cables shackling her ankle and lays in recovery position as she awaits with child-like awe and asphyxiating dread for my return.


The Scalding


Precious oxygen depleting. My lungs are gasping, grabbing for air which isn’t there right now. Every ventricle is pulsating, my body betrays me beautifully, as does hers. She is stealing each gasp and frantically using them to keep herself from discontinuation. Hungrily she feasts with every last part of her. It is as though she has been malnourished and I have the power to cut her life-line at any given moment.

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I don’t desire this, she will live a long life and this night is merely a chapter for her. Keeper is very protective over those he holds in such contempt, I shall allow nothing to harm her other than myself. She has tears, sobbing sorrow which lights all my beacons concurrently. I watch them flow crookedly down her cheeks, catching light at each turn and snuggling into her soft neck-blanket. My tongue rises to meet each droplet, I feel the sour pitter-patter in my mouth as I sip incessantly. After consuming enough of her body’s betrayal I return to the task at hand.

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Her eyes are fixated on the flickering flame in the middle of the adjoining fortification between chamber and washroom. They appear to be making a request, pleading for its tepid glow against her pelt. “All in good time Stalker.” I’m not entirely convinced the words even leave my lips but she answers with her sticky haunch as it juts forth a gush of submission which I rapidly stoop to survey closer.

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Last ankle untied and this is followed instantaneously by a lengthy lick along her metatarsal, over the ball of her foot and into each crevice between her toes. There is no resistance, her defenses are shot and she is now resigned to whatever cruel teachings I have in mind. My stalker isn’t privy to the solitary crimson tear which drizzles down my left cheek but her body responds as it drops onto her painted nail. I watch it slide along the sty and she emits the vaguest pant in the split-second it settles.

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Again, my speech-carpet is furling….upwards of her knocking knees and along the innermost pathway to her juiced center. And once more it doesn’t falter, instead ploughing into her clamping anus with delicate affection mirrored with great vigor. I grab both ankles and raise them high, 120 degrees high and use my nose, which is burrowed into her reservoir, to crank her body above us both. She holds this position willingly…hating me with every inch of herself the whole time.

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My framework realigns once more, this time my forehead presses her heel as a rasp of unsolicited air leaves her back passage. I’ve dislodged something within her, broken the seal so to speak and this excites my monster to the point where my foreskin can offer no more cover. It slides back and I slide forward, resting it on her bloated quim, primed for entry.

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Not yet…this can be teased out a little longer. My stalker has yet to be introduced to the dull sheen of corrugated iron which stares from the bedside. One inescapable flicker of my eyes towards her landing pad confirms the fury of her own monster. It bubbles like lava, spits ferociously into my urethra so as to taunt the next move out of me. Can I take any more? It’s clear she cannot. She too is primed to the hilt, full body betrayal now.


She is struggling… exhaling no! over and over… inhaling yes… between clenched teeth. This is information in my domain, the insignia left on her serving tray has tapped her thoughts, nudging them into clarity with no attempt on my stalker’s part at concealing this Intel any longer. Sweet contradiction…my most favorite of things. The love in one’s hate, the taste of numbness, the trust of betrayal. Wild convulsions of calmness meet and greet my frivolously frittering pheromones and the eye in her monster begins to suck at the very tip of my cock, teasing out a gulp of lubrication which assists in breaking another of her seals. I am inside her now.

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“Not…yet…..Stalker.” I leave her in a vacuum of confusion yet again, wrenching free a faint stream which traces along her undercarriage. I carry her misery in my pocket as I vacate hers, caressing it with tingling hatred as my knob swells to swill it down. Not a drop spilled. I feel it coating my testicles as I move my shaft into the area around her knotted balloon but this is where I halt momentarily…just long enough for my eyes to reassure her of something. For the first time…not the last…I afford her a glance into my inner gentleman.

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“I know you desire pain here…and I give you my word as an upstanding scholar of life to honor that request.” I punctuate her ever so slightly, enough only for her to feel the warmth of my brunt in the softest point of her clench. There is…no pain. I kept my promise, her agony has been compounded by my sweet, sweet contradiction.

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A little honey is suckled and she widens just a little for me, enabling access to the next rung in her ladder. I respectfully oblige, but don’t overshoot it…instead I hold it close as our opposites kiss and it’s a long lingering embrace. There is no pain…such excruciating pain. With a fond goodbye peck my monster bids her adieu and flumes up the crack into the dimple above her buttocks. It takes sanctuary there while I reach down the side of the bed.

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Her kneecaps are resting against her chest, affording her a clear vantage as her eyes flank to discern the stiff rod which I clasp in my left palm. “It is time for you to roll over whore of my darkness” I request sternly and, no sooner have the words escaped into the atmosphere, than both breasts are suffocated in the sodden mattress. Entirely submissive, broken to the atom, stripped of any indignity. There is no longer sin in my actions, she has handed herself over to me now. With that in mind…I sin…I fucking sin.

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She crooks her head and strains to drink in the full length of my pile-driving iron as I hoist it above the sheets, giving her all the insight she requisites. I tower above her, my shadow molesting her in the interim as I turn with the poker and walk it over to the fire. As I return to my murky spotter and climb back into its light, I do so with a clutch of cinder which I have scooped from the dancing orange furnace.

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I still taste her tears begging in my larynx but there is an air of calm in the vapors she emits now. “CQ have I ever mentioned how much I fucking hate you” she gently retorts. I offer my response immediately. “I know you do…” The reply to her vulnerable statement is lovingly delivered and with eyes locked into her glazed Peepers as I continue “…that is why, my beautiful whore, I am here. I promise you that it is with undistillable hatred that I grant this of you tonight”.

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“You see…I hate that you hate he, there is rage unparalleled incited by you Stalker. I owe you my Monster…everything. After all it is the least I can do.” It fills me up to hear her next words. “You fucking bastard!.” I exhale, peepers rolled over to face my pounding cerebellum and deliver the three most beautiful words I can muster to show my disdain. “My beloved cunt.” I kiss her lips tenderly and raise my hand to stroke her shaggy hair from her face ever so gently. As I do this, I trace my knuckles over her flushed cheek and whisper into her lobe three words.


“Truest of hatred” The world stops spinning for a few stolen seconds and there is such tranquility in these brief seconds, leading tantalizingly to the ember of my weapon being moved into position. “Mine”The solitary word speaks a biblical testament of my real reason for coming. She howls as I plunder the rounded head of my customized branding iron onto her right ass-cheek, sizzling its intent as it begins fashioning my insignia around her scar tissue. I hold it in place for several seconds until entrenched enough to leave behind its cruel mark. “Mine” is her quivering reply.

Pain and flesh and no…..yes…someone help me….no…leave me be…

The tears flow now. I have made it to sanity’s edge and now am unable to turn back. There is blood smeared here, and there…

My rage has abandoned me, leaving me cold and I smell the burning flesh as he places the hot branding iron against my skin.

I hear the whispering caress, “…Mine.”

The vicious burning crawls through every nerve and bursts through my mouth as I howl. How will I ever go back to any sense of normal existence after this..? Will I even want to?

I am branded now. I am a possession. There is a flash of exhilaration followed immediately by a flash of confusion. Possession.

I reply in turn, in a breathless whisper,


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The Crowning


C…Q. Right there in blistering Technicolor before me. It is the maiden voyage for my customized branding iron and, indeed, it shall become synonymous to my kills from hereon in. For its unveiling however, I choose only to leave a gentle reminder of her leasing conditions, no toe-tag on this occasion. My Stalker showed me my monster, that is some big shit right there. This is all my way of showing my appreciation. I grant her such agony because I know she asks that of me. Her eyes tell never a mistruth, and her flailing hysteria has been merely drawn-out foreplay. The foreplay is over with now.

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Upon expecting my handiwork I opt for that rosy quim once more. I have tasted its nectar and the sweetness keeps flowing forth akin to a damaged faucet. Her monster taunts me with its cold staring beady eye. As I return it slides along my throbbing shaft as though custom-made. With a warm welcome like that, I can but thrust deeper and this time I fill her up to the stump, aggravated testes banging like a couple of unruly pit-bulls. This incites a wild thrust of her pelvis as she welcomes the beast into her lair.

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After a handful of rambunctious pummels I slide it once more to her foyer and tease her with the belled-end of my sturdy warrior. Then I shift up once more, reaching back as she tugs wildly at my shoulders to drive me further still. I slurp at her neck, rising occasionally to take in her lobe and pluck it playfully. She reciprocates by guzzling my shoulder-blade, tongue pressed into the joint and jaws clamped deep enough to stimulate the crimson to the surface.

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Her fresh stamp generates heat around my upper thigh as I pound mercilessly away at any remaining resolve. With each pump the vague sound of sobbing becomes more evident, although her delicate moans are not in keeping with her bodily encouragement. I take from this exactly what it means to her, these tears are of such undying hatred that her initiation has evidently left her moved. I know what it is that she desires and I swiftly assume the required position.

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Two digits pressed on either side of her throat, I begin to squeeze. Instantaneously her neck muscles strain as she commences drowning in her own saliva. No oxygen can pass, I have taken away her intravenous needle and, at this moment, I could end her suffering with a slight tweak, collapsing the whole goddamn cathedral. I have no intention of desecrating such a place of sanctuary, instead I am merely granting her the wish her peepers request.

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I loom over her, monster freed once more and now pressed into her naval, crown sipping from the pool of her wanting liquor. The air has become somewhat cloying and those chilly winter jostles of wind have entirely dissipated. Both of us are sopping in our own perspired sauces and there is a slight squelch beneath us as her buttocks drill the mattress with the cruelest pleasure imaginable revving her ferocious engine.

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Her eyelids begin to flicker signalling either imminent pass-out or an oncoming tsunami between her sodden thighs. I loosen grip and instead my monster is called swiftly back into action.  Each convulsion brings her ever nearer to final release and it is every bit my intention to proffer her the rodeo she merits. I refrain from re-entry momentarily as her quivers intensify, to the point where I feel eruption is imminent and then, at the point when her yearning begins buckling at breaking point, my monster tastes her darkness for the final time.

Crimson_Quill_Stalk (12)

She climaxes within moments of my rod’s anointment and this incites me to do likewise. Flailing screams of pleasure fill the air with their arrangement, her falsetto cries complimented exquisitely by my baritone grunts as I ride her volcano with vigorous intent. Her eyes are way back in her head and the tears are flowing with constancy now, running coarsely down her cheeks in dense rivulets of sheer dismay and cruelest delectation. I cry too, but my grief is woven into that solitary crimson teardrop…the only way I know how.


A surge of creamy ejaculate bursts from my demon and douses her delight with its  suffocating arrogance. My sauce meshes with her spitting molten emissions, citing the apex of our union. It is a long drawn-out moment which stops time around us. No longer is the flame crackling behind me, the air has closed up entirely and there is only us. Our conjoined throes cease together and, for the first time, we simply lay.

Crimson_Quill_Stalk (3)

The deafening silence subsides as I grant her my final thoughts. “You desired this Stalker, your yearns have not gone unnoticed. This has been for you”. She replies in an instant…”Thank you Keeper”. Pleased as punch that I have punished her suitably, My fed monster wrenches free from the maxilla of her anointed quim for the final time, pulling free a scour of bottled air and the last few drops of her condensation.

Crimson_Quill_Stalk (10)

I lean in for a final kiss and this time there is no one-upmanship. I press my lips against hers and plant a delicate parting gift. As I rise to my feet, her body orbits mine, desperate not to lose its atmosphere. I take a final look at the freshly carved lettering on her chest, kiss each of her scars one last time with my peepers and, with that, I made my exit. As I vacate, the oxygen rushes back into her boudoir.

Truly, Clearly, Really, Sincerely,

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014



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