Stalk: The Crowning

Crimson_Quill_Stalk (8)

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Sin and Punishment,

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

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

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4 Comments

  1. Very hot my Keeper. Well done, I have spent the last chapters, & this one, enthralled. The pictures you have placed in my head are wonderful and I cannot thank you enough. <3

  2. You bring it, Keeper. The rapture. The torture. The pleasure. The pain. What a skilled scene-builder you are! Master to the max! Thank you for always ‘bringing it’ exquisitely to us.
    Respect, awe and adoration,
    Gayle xxoo

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