The mysterious monks of Temple Bratuns have penetrated the
shadows of Peregrine Varga’s past, but they need to go deeper still, fully
opening the sealed doors of the troubled roughneck’s mind. Only by confronting
his past can Peregrine’s life truly become his own.\
With the refractory period following his intense orgasm at
the hands of Brother Mateus subsiding, Peregrine smiled blissfully and reached
out his arms as if to embrace his robust Romeo. Brother Mateus, however, was no
naïve neophyte. He saw the predatory gleam in Peregrine’s eyes and moved away before
the infected roughneck had a chance to sink his emerging fangs into the monk’s
“Tut tut, meu delicioso pedaço1,” Brother Mateus chided. “I have no desire to become enslaved to a sirene du mer through your tainted bite. Now, tell me truthfully, is it really, as your delightful bosom companion Senhor Iker refers to him, the salty little fucker who is controlling your mind, or is it in fact the memory of one Master Léandre Anandi Bruhn?”
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Peregrine snarled, his eyes flashing red, then turning black
as the skies over a stormy sea. The other monks restrained the raging roughneck,
returning him to the bondage bench and securing him in a kneeling position.
“Bring the cooling salve,” Brother Laocoön
Iker opened his mouth to speak but the commanding friar
touched a finger to his lips.
“On my say-so, meu caro amigo,” he advised. “So our methods
will have the strongest impact for both you e seu amor.4”
Iker’s cheeks flushed, but if Brother Laocoön noticed, he said
nothing. He simply led Iker to Brother Mateus.
Although Iker heard the senior monk’s voice, his attention
was drawn by Peregrine’s behavior and the animal grunts and snarls emerging from
his friend’s lips as the monks massaged his pulsating muscles with icy,
“I cannot stress strongly enough the key role that you play
in your friend’s potential salvation, meu delicioso companheiro,5” Brother
Mateus advised as he strode to the bondage bench where Peregrine wantonly
groaned and writhed under the skillful ministrations of the erotic clergy. “For
you see, when Brother Saiful was so lusciously pleasing you, he was not only
experiencing a thrilling ride, but he was also opening you to releasing the
secrets of your subconscious mind. Had you been the one bitten, your
transformation would have been even more difficult to manage than your lover’s,
for your secret shame runs even deeper.”
“Those days are long forgotten…” Iker protested.
The senior monk silenced him with a kiss.
“Denial will not save su menino amante.6 Only by
working together can we hope to rescue him. I ask you now to help me prepare
for a deeper probing into the mind and body of the dangerously delicious
Peregrine, meu gracioso servo.7”
“I’m ready to do whatever you ask, Brother Mateus,” Iker
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Ornery Thoughts (Contains Swearing and Mild Peril)
I'm still ironing out the routine with Readers Roost. (http://bit.ly/ReadersRoost) July was a complete cluster-fuck and August is shaping up to be at least a minor cluster-fuck. All of these cluster-fucks are cutting into the things I love to do.
The organized among you probably think that I am the biggest disaster to befall the planet, and I probably am. If you know someone like me who always seems to be running around like a chicken with their head cut off, please be patient with them. The likelihood is that they have ADHD like I do.
If I had learned coping and management skills at a young age, I wouldn't be having to try and teach them to myself now. I tend not to be very nice to myself when something I do doesn't work out as I'd hoped and sometimes this leads to a psychological crash that can last anywhere from a day or two to a couple of weeks.
There's so much that I want to do and even if I were to do it all, I'd have people telling me that I've failed to do something else, probably something involving making myself pretty, appearing young even if though I'm not, and becoming thin. None of those things are ever going to happen barring either a miracle or a disaster, and at this stage of the game, I honestly don't understand why people place so much value on them. What one does should be more important than what one looks like--always.
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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