Stalk: The Scalding

Stalk_Crimson_Quill (14)
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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.

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Stalker: …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 glug 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 Mr. Quill…you motherfucking wanker of a 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.

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“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 nooo…..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,

“…mine.”

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Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

First Knight of TOK
#BrutalWordWrangler #CrimsonHoneyDripper #CruelWordSculptor
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014

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