The Judgment

I summoned the gorgon, and testified before her.

Upon hearing the abominations made against my DM13 namesake, she swiftly declared her ruling: Guilty as charged. The sentencing: Bukkake by Satan's Legion to be carried out in the Second Circle jurisdiction every Wednesday morning for the next 337 years.

Before ordering her bounty hunter to repossess their cheap, snorting, swine souls, we reconfirmed our Friday fornication dinner date, kissed, and embraced in a salacious and genital manner.

Although Alan, Andrew, and Marion were strangers, tonight they would become inextricable fellow bond servants, fastened at the hip by My VENGEANCE.

Let it be known, desecrating the DragnMastr13 name is punishable by WRATH, for I am The Impeccable One! 

A Declaration

It's been an entire month since the severity of your scent has faded from the accepting pores of my skin–along with the dwindling blood supply to my throbbing and earnest cock.

I will accept the withdrawal, the delirium, the confusion, the derision EVERY, SINGLE, TIME, if it means being able to press my pulsating and urgent manhood up against the perilous heights of your body, mind, soul.

Your spell is the mutiny wreaking havoc inside my consciousness.

I declare WAR.

The Autodidact

Roberto was a stupid little man. He considered himself progressive, when in fact, the only thing progressive about him were the masterfully creative ways in which he showcased his ignorance.

As he drowsily awakened from his malevolently-coerced comatose, he noticed an "Anesthesia For Dummies" book nefariously residing on his night stand.

Gradually, the logic of her laughter found resonance in his feeble mind, and he began to sort out what had transpired in the sordid twist of events: she had transplanted his puffy pink areolas onto his eyelids.

He panicked. He knew that the closeted homoerotic attention from his crossfit bedfellows was now lost forever. They would never lust over him again–his new areola gaze was to be the object of their conspicuous scorn.

Her justified laughter was deafening as it reverberated off the crystal chalice she preferred to enjoy her daily horchata fix from.

She had rendered his criticisms moot with two decisive incisions. The precision of her scalpel was deliberate and resolute, and she knew it.

Let it be known, The DragnMastr enjoys the company of such autodidactic women.

A Kiss of Ill Omen

While devouring her mouth, the faint toxicity of selenium in her saliva forecasted My impending doom. That foreboding suspicion deluged into a general malaise, which left Me contorted and paralytic–with a temporary deadness in My jaw.

As her venomous secretions assimilated into the bloodstream and monopolized My body's responses, I perceived My face enter into a horrific catatonia. Streams of calamity ran over the edges of My unresponsive mouth like the heinous bloodbaths of some barbaric society.

I felt the cascading pools of saliva settle on My inner thigh, adjacent to My left sack. The wetness malevolently seeped into My pores and entrenched itself under My flesh like an overzealous scabies infestation declaring holy war.

There I stood, unable to move–dripping. Mouth open, cock limp, and wet everywhere in-between.

Baby Bloodmeal

It doesn't matter! It simply, doesn't, FUCKING, matter!! 

Be like Abraham and BELIEVE. Your faith will be preserved and lauded throughout posterity. 

For she is The Lamia Leeanius, Matriarch of the Gorgon Legion, of the Second Circle. And her technique is masterful across the millennia, immaculate even. 

Look, you can breed another child. Do not attach yourself to that which, by design of The Impeccable One, is temporal and fleeting. The laws He has mandated are immutable and unyielding, and leave no room for such vulgar speculation.  

Besides, the bloodmeal will be used to propagate the mission at hand. It has been prophesied.

All HAIL, The DragnMastr!!  

The Explanation

"Ok, that just about does it. Sign here please." 

"Thank you SO much, we really appreciate it!"

"No problem! Oh, can I use your restroom really quick?"

"Yes! Of course! It's the second door on your left."

"Thank you."

***

"Mother! Mother!"

"What is it? What is it?"

"I, I...I don't know...the young Turk who just installed our water heater outside, he, he..."

"What did he do???"

"He, he...I can't explain it. There's red stubble all over our sink, resembling the glowing-red, forged wrought iron of a blacksmith's!"

"Ok, then I suppose he must've shaved before leaving, how rude of him to do so! How rude, and bizarre!"

"No mother! You don't understand. He wore no beard upon arrival, and he surely was not red-headed, he was a brunette!!"

"Oh dear." "Call your father!"

"Father! Father!"

"Yes? What is it Ophelia?" 

"The young Turk who just installed our water heater outside. He left red stubble all over our sink, resembling the glowing-red, forged wrought iron of a blacksmith's!"

"That BASTARD! I'LL KILL HIM. TERESA! HAND ME MY MACHETE!"

"No father, no! You don't understand. He wore no beard upon arrival, and he surely was not red-headed, he was a brunette!!"

"Dear God." "I'm calling Priest Morales."

***

"Yes, Priest Morales, a word with you please. Ophelia! Here, tell the Priest what has happened!"

"Hello, Priest Morales?...The young Turk who just installed our water heater outside. He left red stubble all over our sink, resembling the glowing-red, forged wrought iron of a blacksmith's!"

"I see. 10 Hail Mary's and 5 Our Fathers."

"No Father, no! You don't understand. He wore no beard upon arrival, and he surely was not red-headed, he was a brunette!!"

"My God in heaven!" "Ophelia, are you sitting down?"

"No Father."

"Sit down, I will tell you at once what has occurred."

"Ok Father."

"Ophelia..."

"Yes Father?"

"The young Turk who just installed your water heater outside. The one who left red stubble all over your sink, resembling the glowing-red, forged wrought iron of a blacksmith's."

"Yes??"

"This is what has occurred."

Little Marmalade Jars of Love.

The simple answer, if you press Me, is that I adore her...dare I say, I love her. Now, I know what you're thinking–this is blatantly heretical coming from The DragnMastr, but, allow Me to explain...

Over the course of months, I consumed her words, absorbed her thoughts, cherished our conversations, and studied every nuance of her immaculate body. In short, she was different, I can assure you of this.

In the emotional isolation that proceeded her previous relationship, My heart was filled with a desire to embrace and elevate her unto her rightful throne. When she gazed into My eyes, I felt an aristocratic air that permeated not only the lungs, but the senses, the imagination.

Knowing that she enjoyed the feeling of being filled with the life-sustaining semen of her male victims, I selflessly offered My seed. I decided that I would start collecting the main portions of My masturbatory sessions for her–preserving them in little marmalade jars that my packrat grandma had saved, and freezing them in our fridge (away from the poultry of course...in My usual considerate manner–I didn't want to spread salmonella).

In a month's time, I had enough creamy load to fill and breed her cum palace with My baby batter, with leftovers to baste that mouthwatering meaty pussy of hers with My cockalicious juices.

August 3rd will forever be known in our personal history as, The Day of Insemination. The rest of the details of that particular day are between Me and her.

Vagina Dentata.

And at once she was straddling Me. I looked down and grimaced in horror.

Her cunt had a dentile disposition–incisors projected out menacingly along the ridges of her labia minora–a pink fleshy spewing gargoyle that existed only to tyrannize My dreams at night with its satanic and caustic clutch.

My range of motion was deprived, but I could feel My body convulse as she governed over My anatomy, My fears, My erection.

I slaved to breathe from the bloodcurdling brutality as she siphoned My seed into the wickedness of her ravenous receptacle, but before I would lose consciousness and the will to live, she was gone in a flash, and so was My virginity. 

Kombucha for the Afflicted

In the teal whirlpools of my youth, there existed a blameless apparition by the name of Zolisephia, cousin once removed of the great phantom Yuki-Onna (Snow Queen to the Japanese).

She spent her idle time chasing hell flies in the abominations of The Second Circle, and spraying the young men of the hinterlands with putrid fragrances that left a corrosive mold and rot in the coarsest hairs of their nostrils.

On my evening twilight flights, I would plunge downward into the desolations of that cyclopean volcano where she resided.

Mile upon mile I would descend and spiral along the Herculean cliffs until, at last, we would meet on a suitable ledge, where we would converse and drink our briny kombucha made of the fermented fears and naiveté of lovers. 

Milkyway Fish Flakes

Bewildered, with inept prescience, I squinted toward the source of the high-frequency clicking that had flagellated both the serenity of that patch of coral reef and My eardrums. Out of the midnight blue rippled-satin obscurity, she emerged, straddling bareback a lactose dolphin through the milkyways and currents of those underseas.

Through and through she traversed through the blue topaz wildwoods that adorned the subaqueous basin frontier.

A Cuban-Filipino China doll with a porcelain disposition that hunted pedestrian fish flakes strolling vegan boulevards.

They galloped past Me, and with a bolt, propelled into the thickets of My reverie.  

The Mundunugu Who Inspected My Muladhara

To the North of the Farasis River lived the Mundunugu who was to inspect My Muladhara.

The waters disallowed man-made vessels, so ferry by amphibious camel was required. Mine possessed a malachite sedimentary coat, with eyes of a rose-quartz sparkle, and an aquamarine swagger that circumvented My doubt. It comfortably sat 2 people in the valleys of its humps–befitting for My sherpa and I.

We treaded toilsomely along spinal upstream currents, and ignored the sirens who attempted to ensnare us in their booby traps. The trip was had in 2 hours and 47 minutes. The sun was receding in the sky and illuminated the red jasper mist in its afterglow as we bushwhacked toward her hut.

When we arrived, My sherpa called out to her, and at once I was greeted by an apparition who licked My chakra with her world-without-end diagnosis. She explained that I possessed a hot tongue, and that the only prescription for this was a licking that lashed My being clean.

It is a generally known consensus among us Dragon Masters that modern-day pharmaceuticals know nothing of holistic healing and well-being. Praise be to the almighty female tongue! 

47 Seconds of Vocal Fry

A langourous vocal fry emanated from the greyness of My imagination, and provoked Me to open the door in front of Me.

In the middle of the cavernous space sat an irregular pipe organ that steamed a lecherous sweat from its brass nostrils, as its operator continued to play unperturbed. She stood on her monopod and greeted Me with her swirling and salacious aphrodisia.

The sonorous prelude of the empusa found residence in My libido, as we stroked each other's gaze. Something within the id had advised Me to stay at that cottage in the woods, despite the decapitated reindeer on the rim of My desire.   

Walking Into the Dark and Calling Out to Them

I walked into the dark, and called out to them.

I could hear my echo rattle the confines of the space and amplify the nightfall. No answer back.

I hadn't formally met them before, but I had a general feeling of how they were supposed to be, and I felt that they would know me just the same.

I continued this practice of walking into the dark and calling out to them for 17 days, and at the end of this period nothing had happened. So I stood there and came to the conclusion that I would try again for another 17 days, and that I would resume in 2 and a half weeks, after the arousal had coagulated.

In the subsequent days, I ate Cuban sandwiches, caught up with reading, spent time with my crystals, and spoke to my vagabond brother's caged animal that slept in the hallway by the bathroom.

That epoch was like an enzyme that catalyzed something within me that I haven't yet figured out.