Suggested Audio Honey:
Sébastien Tellier Sexual Sportswear
Make yourself comfortable, take a shower before reading this and apply any oils you desire before we proceed. Set the tone should you wish, audio is entirely your choice if you lust it. Strip down for Keeper, to your panties, but keeping your upper torso garmented…for now. Close your eyes, allow me inside your imagination. Feel my tongue gently lapping the juice of your cerebellum. Our journey begins here, the way a true rendezvous of this magnitude should always commence.
Touch yourself, barely enough to register through your clothing. Wisp across wherever you feel the urge…upper torso only…for now. Slow your breathing pattern to a congested crawl, suck in each droplet of oxygen and hold onto it for a moment before each subsequent exhalation. Hear these words inside your head as that is where I currently slink. Right now, you are in complete control but that is about to change.
With eyes wide shut you can feel my touch as I glance my inquisitive feelers across your cheek, so vaguely that the softest fur is barely ruffled and then feel the very tip of my middle digit as I venture behind your earlobe and start to knead it softly. It is time for my rose-buds to taste your heavenly nectar and suckle your honey for the first time. You can feel the warmth of my breath on your skin as I nuzzle your ear, tongue darting inside and using it as a roulette wheel. I’m betting on black. ALWAYS bet on black.
A slight pool of honey is left as my insignia as I embark southward along your soft neckline, lips brushing with strokes of tepid desire as the pathway continues into the pit of your arm. At this point, you feel my strength as I clasp your wrist and fetch it up to my incisors. Tugging…biting…never enough to leave mark but more than sufficient enough for you to know I’m there. I’m so fucking there.
In a second motion I raise your arm high above your head and pin it to the headboard delicately but with fine-tuned ferocity. My tongue is on the move once more from wing to digits. paying particular attention on home and return leg to your inner arm as it climbs back to the apex of your shoulder, about turns and heads back on the inside route to your right breast. Your mammalia are fully rigid now and can feel the faint grip of my teeth as I tug playfully…suggestively…forcefully through the material, taking them deep as my oral honey begins spilling, seeping in around your areola.
I continue on my travels down to your naval and, gripping onto your layers, hoist them above your flailing nipples and over your face. The central line above your abdomen becomes my playground as both sets of feelers slide along your waist and grab your panties in bunches at the side. At first, they pull…enough to gather into your labial font. Directly afterwards, they are yanked free and plummet like a runaway elevator but only to the seventh floor. I leave them at your knocking knees as my mouth goes to work once more.
I’m guessing that your peepers are rolled back and providing very little ocular enlightenment right now…that is as it should be. There is no requisite for visibility as my strong serpent-like licker reaches down into your floral bouquet. It follows that same equatorial line, which proceeds to gape at the seam affording access to the insular confines of your warm sticky center. Flicking and juggling, pressing and rotating…honey drizzling as both lips of your vagina begin to bloat. My hands press hard against both thighs, pinching me in-between and furthering my clitoral claim.
No need to retrieve a pail of water, you are gushing and I can discern as much from my chin which is housed within your hive. My hands move toward your buttocks, elevating them in line with your arched back as I press your genital garland into, onto and around my face, slurping every subsequent drip with not one reaching the canvas. It is time now for you to feel my stiffness as I reach down to unharness my monster from its confines. En route, let’s take the elevator shall we? Panties at ankles, then ground floor as they wrap around your black painted toes.
My erection traces, etching your pelt as it rises back to the thirteenth floor and pounds against your pouting pussy. Knock…knock…by the third I am inside you and I do so with little haste. My belled warrior throbs with delectation, your quim providing it all the head-candy it requisites…and a whole lot more. Deep first…then shallow…then deep once more, each stroke heightening your infatuation for madness as my mouth returns topside.
Kisses…constant kisses of every bit of pelt available but ultimately it’s time for lip-to-lip service. I want to exchange every captured drizzle of honey, trade sauces and help you to taste your own pleasure through the lips of your Keeper. Deep…shallow…deep…You are privy to the imminent eruption as the base of my shaft widens to accommodate a flush of creamed delight. It will decorate you from the inside, paint a beautiful picture with fine and broad brush strokes. But once more, let us not spill. Waste not, want not.
Allow a little tantric tease as I retract my explosion a number of times. I wish our climax to be synchronized and our juices to mesh on equal terms. When you feel ready…let it drool and you shall find my reciprocation instantaneous. Mark my words that once your quill is out of arrows, I shall simply lie with you, skin very much to skin while our convulsions dissipate to reveal that moment of honesty…of love. My work here is done but I shall remain here for as long as you need to recollect your thoughts. When you are ready, either kick off your panties or allow me to slide them back up to your throbbing hub. I part, as always, with a gentle kiss…and a solitary crimson tear.
Mercy….please, Keeper…mercy…have some. A little, even.
You tell me this plan, and a plan it is, really — isn’t it? An itinerary of the most exquisitely painful/pleasurable sort…its gotten me completely high. Completely out of sorts and confused and dazed and utterly destroyed.
I felt everything. Ahhh misery! Misery as I’ve never experienced! The misery of wanting. Needing. The must have’s are assaulting me, deep in the darkest crevice that is me.
I feel such an urge to abandon the whole idea of submission. I feel the urge so powerfully to bitch-slap that part of me, straight to the floor. I can feel parts of me I didn’t know existed. I can feel the fangs growing, just a little. They’re not very sharp…not yet.
I am powerless to stop it if it happens. I am very good at staying in control but you keep making that control slip! It wobbles, as though the lid is not quite on in the best and most secure fashion, and this is dangerous, Keeper. Very dangerous — for you! No danger in me except to regret, afterwards.
There is violence inside me, Keeper, and all of those gentle nuzzles…the plan of lip-to-lip service — do you not see what you are doing? You have confessed to me regularly that my voice alone made you cum. You have confessed that you want me to cut loose, and damage you. YOU have said these things and yet you may not realize that every small confession builds up a certain kind of fire that has stayed safely banked, controlled, and barely burning.
What am I to do if my violent creature slides in and takes over? What am I to do but regret..? Should I regret? What if I hurt you…? What if I say things to you that will shock you? What if my desire proves that I will take you, in the same way you plan to take me..? Do you not know that I am more than capable?
Mercy. Ahhh MERCY. I beg for it now. I have felt every word stroking my mind and…well…yes…certain muscles are absolutely taut, now. My breathing won’t return to normal and I am in tears. I need…I need to hold on that control and I don’t know how I will but …what do I do…fuck. FUCK.
FUCK, indeed. I can’t say it to you but I will. I will tell you what I am going to do, just before I do it. I will damage you and watch you bleed. I will kiss your bloody skin and I will kiss you with your blood on my lips and in my mouth. I will damage you and I will cause you pain. I want to see you weep, Keeper, and I want more than one tear. I need more than one.If you are so in tune with this insanity that we have chosen to step into, then I want what I want. I want more than one Crimson tear. I want more. I have been disguised as an ordinary person for a long time, Keeper, and there is danger in this. You seem to relish your hold on me, and you are blind to the danger.
Lunacy, Keeper. This is pure lunacy and I am so afraid for the end result of the very first union, because it won’t be a pretty picture to look back on, afterwards. It will be your nightmare, and mine.
Is this what you want?
Threads, Keeper. I’m holding on by threads.
And by sin.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014