Night of the Vanguard – the Worst Romance Story About Raniere and Allison Mack Ever Written

The following story is fiction. I originally published it in four parts in July 2017, about a month after I broke the story of Keith Raniere’s branding and blackmailing women through a secret group called DOS.

My idea was to ridicule him, to openly mock him, and make him look like a fool to his followers who were increasingly reading Frank Report.

I did many posts mocking him and I found that sarcasm was a good thing to mix with the more serious stories. I also believed that I could demystify him and make him seem impotent and puerile for if he failed to sue me he would seem powerless to his followers. If he did sue me, I would use discovery to expose to the world his crazed branding and blackmail scheme. This would solve my challenge of getting mainstream media to take up the branding story.

This story is a parody of Harlequin Romance novels, starring Raniere, where he meets a woman named Allison Mack LaRue at a party at Nancy Salzman’s house and takes her to a private residence. Then, after getting her excited, he just selfishly satisfies himself.

To get suitably ridiculous, romantic purple prose I had to borrow from the Bulwar Lyton Fiction Contest and, for some of Vanguard’s quotes, from the New Age Bullshit Generator.

I call it…

Night of the Vanguard

By Allison Mack LaRue 

Chapter 1:

Our eyes met across a crowded room at a party at Nancy’s house. He was called Vanguard, I was told, and he had been so named for his ability to lead the world to a new movement of light.

His eyes were silvery gray, the color of moonlight reflecting on storm clouds.

I experienced a churning in my belly as I felt my heart plunge to my stomach at the impact of his gaze. I watched with both trepidation and excitement as he rose from his seat. His piercing gaze never left mine, never wavered in its intensity as he approached.

I was unable to control my reaction to his devastating maleness.

“Hi, I’m Vanguard.”

My tongue felt large and swollen in my dry, heated mouth. I became dizzy, all the blood leaving my head in a mad dash to my heart and other, lower places.

“Hi, I’m Allison.”

Aware of the multitude of stares from the other women at the party, I was tremulous and apprehensive. My heart was racing, my limbs mysteriously weak. I thanked God I was already sitting for I knew my legs were incapable of supporting me.

He said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

The weakness in my arms and legs seemed to increase. As I arose, he hugged me, pressing against me. Every muscle in my body tightened, clenching almost painfully in response to his heated flesh.

***

As we walked down Oregon Trail, a fine sheen broke out on his forehead and upper lip. My stomach continued churning from the near-contact of his delectable body. I trembled uncontrollably. Goosebumps covered the column of my spine.

We stopped at an apartment that happened to be empty; the door was unlocked. He led me to the couch and sat down.

“I am a tantric master and I can teach you Kamasutra,” he said. Then he touched me with marvelous ingenuity; he caressed me with his wild manhood. His beauty struck my heart, then my loins.

My thighs turned to mush.

He told me the lives of seven billion people hung in the balance. The welfare of the world depended on his teaching.

He lowered his head towards me, licking his hot, dry lips in preparation. I understood his intent and parted my lips, waiting breathlessly. Closer, his hot breath fanned my quivering lips. He could feel the stuttering, faltering beat of my heart against his own. My trembling increased, my fingers and toes tingled. My stomach roiled and sweat ran in rivulets down my forehead, burning my eyes.

“You are ruled by disintegrations. Do not let it make you a suppressive,” he said.

Vanguard brushed his lips across mine in a feather-like caress. A slow smile curved my luscious mouth. Then he pushed me back into the soft, buttery luxury of the leather couch.

***

nov 1

One of several proposed covers for the romance novel, “Night of the Vanguard”.

Chapter 2:

His masculine fingers, with well-trimmed, clean nails, started a journey down the buttons of my shirt. I leaned back, away from the table, and let him do with me as he wished. My breathing became a hungry panting, as he shoved my skirt up around my hips; my ivory thighs were bared.

With a groan, he ripped open his pants and exposed his red-white-and-blue Tommy Hilfiger jockey shorts. I nibbled at his chin, his ear, touching his face with my fingertips.

“This life is nothing short of an invocation quantum shift of karmic power. The goal of ultra-sentient particles is to plant the seeds of potential rather than delusion”, he said. “There will soon be invocations of growth the likes of which the universe has never seen.”

My pulse was beating madly as his hands traced the lines of my back and lightly gripped my scantily covered fanny.

He whispered into my hairline: “Only a traveler of the quantum matrix can reveal the all-encompassing astral energy.”

***

He bent forward to lightly kiss my pouting lips, dark curls tumbling into his eyes. The combination of that tender kiss and the sudden gleam in his eyes made my knees give way. He bent forward to kiss me again. First, my soft mouth, then the rapid pulse at the base of the hollow of my elegant throat, then finally his lips and hot tongue glorified the mounds escaping from my brazier.

“You and I exist as sonar energy. Do not let the turbulence extinguish the knowledge of our path,” he said.

One of his hands touched my silvered breasts, baring them further. Soaring high, I daringly kissed him, fondled his tongue with my own, and nearly screamed with the sudden surge of pleasure as he suckled my lower lip. He looked at my creamy breasts and pulled his writhing tongue back into his mouth.

“The stratosphere is calling you via ultra-sentient particles,” he said.

He kissed me quickly on dewy lips while his hands roamed lower. I buried my hands in his dark mop of beard and rasped gently with elegant nails against the sensitive maze of his ears.

“This life is nothing short of a rekindling of astral presence,” he said, as I purred as his deft fingers scaled my moistened peaks in magical circles. I arched my back to put my wanton protrusions more firmly into his hands.

He took off my bra to roughly tease my nipples and trembling lips with it.

Part 3: 

While Vanguard tentatively began toying with my pebbled mound, he leafed through my billowing folds to unveil the unbreached portal to my sanctuary of sensation. I was already flowing with the honey juices of love, and his nostrils flared at the alluring scent of my arousal.

“You and I are travelers of the astral galaxy,” Vanguard said. “The dreamscape is approaching a tipping point.’

He clasped me against him tightly and tilted my chin up. Removing my hand from his ear, he generously laved my palm and lowered it between his legs.

He slid his hand between my spread thighs; the sensation of perfumed night air on my private folds distracted me. I felt his fingers explore, moving along my crests and valleys until they discovered the tiny cushion of carnal delight and staked their claim there with a rhythmical dance of celebration. Closing my sapphire orbs, I was prepared to submit to lusts his touch fanned from embers to fierce flames. I spread myself wider, urging him towards a goal I could not imagine.

He watched me squeeze my eyes shut, as I clamped my thighs against his wrist and snapped my hips up, before I froze, all the muscles in my thighs and belly and bottom tense and quivering.

“The quantum soup is calling via meridians,” he said. “Now I will navigate your Vedic biosphere!”

 

nov 11
Proposed cover for “Master” – a romance novel about Vanguard.

Urging his own buttons to part. I could not tear my eyes from his manly acorns, nestled in a wiry thatch of dark hair. His manhood plopped out into the cool evening air. He placed it softly on my skim milk-white breast.

I felt a pearlescent drip of masculinity-sprinkled-dewdrops on my bulbous breasts and thirstily erect nipples, eager now for his glans to engorge and raise up his genital pride.

“The ultrasonic energy consumes the ionic cosmic supra-sacred consciousness,” he said. “If you never experienced the quantum leap, it can be difficult to exist without me.”

I whimpered and writhed, distracted by the rising need he created for him to plunge into that chalice of heaven-sent pleasure and encircle like a raptor on thermal winds. I spread my legs and closed my eyes waiting, quivering in anticipation of my own sweet honeyed libations of pleasure. My love juices had begun to flow and needed now only his enlightened manroot.

He trailed his strong hand up my soft, buttery thighs drawing a long low moan from my lips as he brought his turgid tumescent appendage, its tip gleaming with unshed pearly drops of manseed, toward the fragile pallor of the perfect complexion of my face.

I lowered my hand and cupped him. “What do you call these?”, I inquired.

‘They are my love sacs,” Vanguard said mightily. ‘The big one I call mama, and the little one I call baby.”

Meanwhile, his questing fingers found their way home amidst my dewy moist petals, allowing the bud to almost bloom under his expert ministrations.

“Oh, my Vanguard, you make me feel strange things in my untouched parts,” I said and closed my eyes waiting for his shaft of pleasure to enter.

But instead, he took his turgid, tumescent beast of carnality in his hairless hand and quickly laved my panting breasts then cried out as he found his own earth-shattering release: a teaspoon measure of white fertile seed. The shock of those tiny drops of hot rain on my face made my hips squirm.

I dreamily opened my eyes, but my expression went from ardor to confusion, as I saw him putting on his Tommy Hilfiger shorts, and then his trousers.

“We have to go now,” he said. “You are now mine forever for I have delivered unto you the quantum elixir. From this day forward, you may never be with another man for the rest of your life.”

I said, “I knew when you circled the smoothness of my areolas with your tongue”, and I purred “I am yours forever” and we embraced passionately, wantonly, allowing the gentle ferocity of the moment to convey feelings that we could never express in words that–

Vanguard interrupted, “Yeah, yeah… tell me later — now can you get dressed a little quicker? They are waiting for us at Nancy’s party.”

The End.

nov5
She had a captivating smile and eyes the color of a poisonous frog he’d seen on a trip to Wakaya Island in Fiji.

 


About the author

Frank Parlato

14 Comments

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Leave a Reply to Pea Onyu Cancel reply

  • And it’s supposed to be funny? Mr. Raniere?

    You are not funny, nor creative, just bullying a victim, and this shows how much of a GREAT man you are frankly…

    I’m curious about the REAL number of clicks you had this year since you can’t stop lying at all.

    I doubt that a million viewers would come to this pathetic blog unless by pure accident or if a hacker found funny to redirect some people’s clicks to your website…

    You are exactly like this idiot Keith, be careful not to end up like him…it starts with little bad jokes and then, before you know it, you have your own harem and destroy good people’s lives.

    You are already halfway there, Franky…you just miss the harem at this point.

    You disgusting pathetic pervert! Nothing good in you, definitely.

    • I never knew Raniere to tell any good or bad jokes and he had a harem since very early in his life. LOL

    • Anonymous 11:33 –
      You doubt a million people would come to Frank’s blog? You just did. LMAO!
      Congrats on helping Frank get to another million!!!!!

      Toni Natalie is that you?

      You should sue your plastic surgeon.

      BTW: Dummy Frank published an article a few years ago and how the hell is Alison Mack a victim? She enjoyed victimizing other women.

    • To the anonymous troll calling the good man Mr. Parlato a pervert is a far stretch. You stand so low on the totem pole of man kind you can clearly identify what a cockroach fart smells like. I can tell by your emotional response your a female. Are retarded? Maybe you find sex offensive. Seriously read the stats FR is here to stay. Glad you’re surviving the Wuhan Frank. Thanks for this deliciously hilarious nxcapades.

  • Who knew, Frank could have been a male writer of romance novels like Danielle Steel.

    Now out in stores! Frank Parlato’s latest novel a love tale, “Vanguard & Cankles, a Love Story”.

  • How lucky that Mack didn’t get pregnant. If she had, then a difficult choice would have to be made. Either abort the child as Raniere regularly demanded – or have a child who has Raniere for a dad. Tough choice. Interesting that Raniere has two known offspring, both sons. I wonder if he allowed the sons to be born but the daughters had to be aborted, as it is obvious he hates women.

  • Thanks for explaining the purpose of humor in your news reporting. That is very interesting. Good reporting, Frank

  • This post sickens me. Keith always satisfied us. Every woman left was totally satisfied. His touch was equal to a 1000 orgasms of a regular man.

    His white lightning electrified our every cell and molecule in our body and one drop of it is equal to a million gallons of an average man. There is no comparison.

    • This million gallons of sperm idea is so
      V-A-S-T-L-Y amusing, and now we know how Flabturd busted his hot tub. Thanks for the cartoon. Keep being Krakatoa, East of Java with your comical fiasco of devotionalism, but none of you extinct Reignhogs were ever the Queen of sexual discernment. All you ever got was stinky leftovers.

Frank Parlato Investigates

Frank Parlato Investigates

Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist.

His work has been cited in hundreds of news outlets, like The New York Times, The Daily Mail, VICE News, CBS News, Fox News, New York Post, New York Daily News, Oxygen, Rolling Stone, People Magazine, The Sun, The Times of London, CBS Inside Edition, among many, many others in all five continents.

His work helping take down NXIVM is featured in books like “Captive” by Catherine Oxenberg; “Scarred” by Sarah Edmonson; “The Program” by Toni Natalie, and “NXIVM. La secta que sedujo al poder en México” by Juan Alberto Vasquez.

Parlato has been featured prominently on HBO’s documentary “The Vow” and acted as lead investigator and coordinating producer for Investigation Discovery’s “The Lost Women of NXIVM.”

Parlato will be featured in an upcoming episode of American Greed.

If the whole world stands against you sword in hand, would you still dare to do what you think is right?

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