DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The characters in this story have been made up. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This is story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2017 LITTLESALLY666.

STORY CODES: LGBT themes, Cohesion, Corruption, Lolita, NC, Rape, Bondage, Sadism, WS, Drug use, MC, Black Magic, Devil Worship, Demons, and Evil themes.

CREATED: 04.07.2015

 

THE SECRET MEANING OF THE HANGING MAN

The ‘hanging man’ is depicted by a youth that hangs from a living tree upside down. One foot is crossed in a T-cross position. Even though he hangs above the earth, he is still connected through the contact with the tree. Though suspended and inanimate, he has attained some measure of appreciation of this path of life and death, of good and evil. He has been hunting for something and through the quiet reflection from being restrained; he finds that what he seeks may not be what he thought it was in the first place. Obedience in stillness brings the authentic faith, not from what is perceived but from what is deeper within. Be it goodness from godliness or evil from the demonic. The inner truth of ones self is realized, actuated and activated. What do you expect from the sacrifices you are making? What are you devoted to? How are you hung up? What do you need to give up? What are you trying to escape?

 

HANGING MAN – CHAPTER 1 TO 3 – SYNOPSIS

Young Father Joseph takes on the troubled parish of St. Stephen’s Chapel from his predecessor, Father O’Brien, after this mentor disappears under strange circumstances. The once quiet neighborhood has become increasingly under pressure from the forces of inner city life, poverty, over-population, and crime and vice. Father Joseph steps up to the role, but is still conflicted about aspects of his own psyche. His appointment seems just what he needs to cement is faith, but as cracks appear in his vision of Christian perfection, he is challenged in his obedience to God, against his unwelcome desires that simmer just below the surface. Something unlocks his most feared nightmares of demons. It opens the floodgates to his hellish torments. He must ‘hunt for the devil’ to face this adversary. He must overcome the evil. Triumph he must! But in doing so, he unwithering unleashes something unnatural, something dark that seems to suspend time, repeating its course over and over, unchanging, hanging Father Joseph’s innermost dilemmas of sexual obsession, bisexual lust and demonic possession – he seems stuck in his ‘hunt for the devil’, until the he can find the truth.

 

HANGING MAN – CHAPTER 1 (2,581 WORDS)

“A passage from John 8:44.” Announced the somber Father Joseph, preaching from his walnut pulpit. “You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.”

The small coterie of worshipers at St. Stephen’s Chapel were all very solemn on this occasion – united in their sorrow of their collective loss. It was a tightly knit community of mostly young families with children surrounded by the turmoil of inner city strife, with more than its far share of poverty, over-population, joblessness, crime and vice. With the disappearance of their spiritual leader, the beloved Father O’Brien, under some rather strange circumstances, it seems only fittingly somber. He had also been Joseph’s mentor. He had inspired him, as a impressionable teenager to become a priest and to follow a life of service to God. Now at the age of twenty-nine, it seemed he had some large shoes to fill.

“Tonight, I which to reach out among our community and beyond, to seek the truth. I do not wish to judge, but simply to understand. Please, if anyone has any information, no matter how meager, come forward to help us find Father O’Brien. It has been over a month now since he was discovered missing without a trace, and despite all the efforts of our friends in the law enforcement agencies, nothing has been uncovered.”

St. Stephen’s Chapel was like a ripple-less lake. The only sound was the echo of his voice reverberating in the lofts of the baldachino. Father Joseph lowered his gaze from the parishioners seated in the chapel’s old but sturdy pews. Father’s O’Brien’s bible remained upon the lectern, open on the same page of his last sermon. Joseph had remembered it well. He had talked about the Devil. The Adversary that lived among us, he had preached.

“Beware the Devil for he is cunning.” Father Joseph repeated.

His thoughts recounted the words of Father O’Brien. He remembered it as if it were merely a moment ago. It had felt as if his mentor had been talking directly to him. Imploring him before God to take heed. He had said plainly that you must “Hunt for the devil. Face the Adversary of your fears. For the Devil is the Father of lies. The maestro of sexual obsession and masturbation: pornography and fornication, prostitution and adultery, homosexuality and sodomy. They are all his lies that blind you from the truth and lead you away from his golden pathway to his heavenly redemption.”

xxxxx

The Sunday night mass was over. The last of the parishioners were now long gone. Joseph found himself sitting in the last pew. He must have sat down and just simply nodded off. The clock on the church wall announced that it was eight o’clock in the evening.

Father Joseph got up wearily and locked the old oak doors. He pressed his back against the heavy doors and sighed to himself. Out of habit, his finger dipped in the font of holy water by the door and he made a sign of the cross. As he walked down the nave towards the vestry, Joseph noticed the slow swaying the large candelabrum that hung from the chapel ceiling. It cast a flickering light through the empty chapel. He paused for a second before the Decalogue and pondered its fancy gold script that catalogued the Ten Commandments.

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make idols.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

Honor your father and your mother.

You shall not murder.

You shall not commit adultery.

You shall not steal.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

You shall not covet.

He winced at a childhood memory of the time before he met Father O’Brien. He had been a very angry child. Disobedient. Insolent. Wicked. Sexual. At eleven years old he had experienced his first orgasm through masturbation. It had been a shock. The salty fluids had spurted upwards from the eye of his cock, over his face and chest. He had tasted it. He remembered how he had been filled with dread. God, omnipresent, was watching him. He had done a wicked and sinful thing. He had been thinking about other boys his age, naked, erect, lusty for each other. He had imagined frotting his penis against another boy, then kneeling before him and taking the boy’s hard little cock into the roof of his eager mouth. How he wanted to feel it penetrate his anus, to luxuriate as it pumped against his rectum, filling his rear cavity with hot sticky jism.

Father Joseph shook his head in disbelief. He had tried to consciously wipe these thoughts from his mind many years ago. And now, trying to forget these wicked thoughts again was a struggle – thoughts put there no doubt by the Adversary. It was the temptation of the Devil. His body had ignored his person sermon and below his priestly robes, Joseph could not help but notice his burning erection. The words of his mentor filled his mind… “Hunt for the devil”… is this what he must face? Face your past sins and triumph over them. Become accountable to God. Was this the rocky road to redemption that Father O’Brien had laid out for him? His cock throbbed to be touched. It ached and longed for release. It had been such a long time since these impure thoughts had entered his mind. He must master himself again.

There was a knock on the chapel door. It was not very loud, but clearly someone knocked. Joseph was glad of the distraction. He made his way back to the old oak door and unbolted it.

There on the doorstep was a young boy. Eleven, maybe twelve years old. His face was flushed with tears. He looked like he had been in a fight. His torn shirt hung loosely on his scrawny pale body.

“What is it my son?” Asked Joseph.

“Father. Sorry I had…” Joseph recognized the crying boy as William James, the youngest son of Peter and Kalindra James. He had an older brother and one younger sister.

“No need for explanation Billy. Come inside.”

Father Joseph had seen the boy many times. He had been there at his Confirmation. He was smaller than the other boys of his age and prone to getting bullied. Joseph thought that maybe he was a victim of swaggering, so common these days. Not that he wanted to jump to any conclusions. The neighborhood had changed so much. When Joseph was growing up, there had been a stronger civic mindedness, but now, with so many migrants, criminals and vandals, it felt like a different world.

Taking young Billy under his wing, he led him to the vestry, to clean him up and then call his parents. He did not want another disappearance on his watch. Billy responded to the priest’s gesture of a wet cloth and then a cup of hot cocoa. Joseph took an old gown from the vestry store, so that he had something decent to be sent home in. As the effeminate boy stripped from his torn cloths, Joseph noticed the boy’s broad grin, pulling down his soiled pants and displaying his small but fully erect penis. Joseph gawped unconsciously as he imagined holding the boy’s narrow hips and taking his boy penis between his lips. His own cock became instantly rigid.

“Er. Billy. I think you had better get dressed in this clean gown. I am going to call your father to come and collect you.”

“Please Father Joseph. Daddy is gone. Can you call my mother?”

“Sure. Sure.” Agreed Joseph stepping away from the naked boy to call his mother.

xxxxx

William’s mother came almost immediately and Father Joseph was glad to have escaped the wickedness that had crossed his mind. William’s mother was petite, like her son, her sandy brown hair was tied back in a loose pony tail that made her look like a school girl. Her small attractive features and delicate body were something that Father Joseph had overlooked previously.

“Father Joseph thanks for looking after Billy. Not sure what’s got into the lad tonight. He ran off. Not like him at all.” Weakly defended the demure Linda James.

“Mrs. James, its my pleasure. The boy was no trouble.”

“Please Father, call me Kalindra. ‘Mrs. James’ sounds so formal.” The doe-eyed woman replied pressing her small son against her boyish chest.

“Well, Kalindra it is.”

Kalindra smiled at Joseph. He noticed for the first time her cute overbite and the tiny brown freckles across her button nose and pink-flushed cheeks. She was blushing. His eyes followed a trickle of sweat that ran down her fragile white neck and disappeared into the groove of her A-cup breasts. Joseph blinked back a vision of mother and child locked in an incestuous embrace – her son’s furtive young cock rutting against her hairless mons. She groaned obscenities out loud, professing her love for the Devil as her boney fingers wrapped around her son’s skinny arse drawing him deeper into to her steamy sex.

“Well I had better get going.” She said but lingered on the chapel step. After a rather pregnant pause, Father Joseph said goodnight and finally closed the chapel door. He exhaled deeply.

xxxxx

Father Joseph could feel the lanugo hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. Could it be the Devil’s breath? The air felt as if it was electrified – at any moment sparks could fly out of the chapel walls, turning the sinful priest into a burning funeral pyre. But nothing happened. For all the wickedness that had crossed his mind, he remained steadfast.

A test. He was the chapel’s verger in the absence of his mentor. This was Joseph’s next thought – it was God’s way to test his piousness, his faith and his religiosity. He thought of the Gospel of Mathew, Mark and Luke – all of which talked of the temptation of Christ, as he fasted for forty days and nights in the Judean Desert. During that time, the Devil had appeared to Jesus and tried to tempt him too. Jesus having refused each temptation, the Devil then departed and Jesus returned to Galilee. It was a time of solitude, of introspection. He recounted Mathew 4:9 “Again, the Devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory; and he said to him, “All these things I will give you, if You fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go, Satan! For it is written, ‘you shall worship the Lord your God, and serve Him only.'”

Joseph walked out into the warm night air. A brisk wall would clear his head of such wayward thoughts. He was stronger than that – to allow him self to become a victim of his own baseness. He would be chase. The community depended upon him – until old Father O’Brien could be found at least.

The walk across town, took him past the public toilets by the edge of the dingy old park of dead trees and patchy grey grass. He had heard that it was a meeting place for sodomites. A dank and dirty place. On the only occasion he had been forced to use the urinal, he had smelt its disgusting odors of both fresh and stale piss. He had noticed the obscene drawings upon the inside of the cubical walls depicting scenes of phallic worship, acolytes of auto fellatio, coprophiliac desires and worse. His cock moved. An experience from his past, with a boy in the woods, slipped into his consciousness. There had been an old bomb hole there, not very deep, but quiet and isolated. They dared each other to strip naked. They both did it, giggling loudly, knowing that nobody could see or hear them. After removing their clothing, both sported full erections. The boy said that he needed to take a pee, and asked Joseph to hold his penis while he took a piss. Joseph had been excited to do this, and eagerly accepted his offer. Taking hold of his young friend’s cock, the boy had audibly groaned as Joseph wrapped his fingers around his pencil-thin shaft and drew back his foreskin to reveal is slimy pink cock head. They both screeched out loud in mischievousness fun as the boy urinated over the both them.

Joseph walked faster past the dilapidated old toilet block, indignant about his own surreptitious history. He dug his hands deeply into his pockets, so as to disguise his excited state. Not that there was anyone around to notice. His cock was solid as wood.

Fluorescence from the few working streetlight haloed above him, they glowed with ghostly light – like hagiographical aberrations appearing before him. Several women stood on the street corner of North Street and Grand Promenade dressed in a short skirts with bosoms overflowing their inadequate brassieres. Streetwalkers were nothing new, and usually Father O’Brien had been there to try to dissuade them from their immoral choices – preaching godliness and redemption. But tonight Father O’Brien was not there. Only Joseph. Horny Joseph.

“Hey Mister… Nice priest outfit. Looking for a fallen angel tonight?” Inquired a young Negro girl with a husky voice, nine-inch stiletto heels and ruby red lips.

“Fallen angel?” Meekly replied Joseph.

“YES Mister… your demon luver… to fulfill your every deviant desire…” She cooed in her strong Creole ascent as she lightly touched his bulging cock through the thin material of his gown.

He knew immediately that she was not a genetic woman, but a transsexual prostitute. His eyes searched the dark features for her masked maleness. He imagined her long thick she-cock pressed firmly in the furrow of his backside, as he pushed back against her bucking hips, keen to impale his virgin anus upon her sweet dark meat.

“I’m late. I need to be elsewhere.” Joseph stuttered unconvincingly.

The dark-skinned tranny smiled with bright white teeth and released him from her tentative hold.

“Maybe next time priest boy!”

Joseph turned away and crossed the street. Why could he not save their souls – isn’t that what Father O’Brien would have expected of him. Instead his thoughts were polluted with sin. Images of the transsexual prostitute dressed as the black Baphomet – the hermaphrodite goat-headed idol with exposed breasts, twin serpents encircled its large erect phallic and Sigil of Lucifer.

Joseph was not sure how long he had been walking. It must have been in the early hours when he eventually stopped outside the Grand Cinema. He looked up at the dubious double-billing feature advertised. There was nothing Grand about it. It was another local sleaze pit. Long passed its expiry date, the luster of decades past, of the golden age of the silver screen had left this decrepit place to the likes of pornographic shows and masturbators. No, he had had enough, turning on his heels he walked back towards St. Stephen’s Chapel.

 

 

HANGING MAN – CHAPTER 2 (2,363 WORDS)

Joseph awoke. He found himself sitting in the last pew. He must have sat down and just simply nodded off. The clock on the church wall announced that it was eight o’clock in the evening.

He must have been dreaming. A vivid and rather disturbing dream he recalled. He got up and walked to the rear of the church. With all the parishioners gone, the old oak doors needed to be closed and locked. He had a strangest feeling of déjà vu. He remembered seeing a boy – what was his name? Billy? It was Sunday night? He looked down the street from the chapel porch. Nothing. Deserted. Joseph walked back inside and closed the doors behind. He must have been exhausted with all that had happened.

Out of habit, his finger dipped in the font of holy water by the door and he made a sign of the cross. As he walked down the nave towards the vestry, Joseph noticed the slow swaying the large candelabrum that hung from the chapel ceiling. It cast a flickering light through the empty chapel. He paused for a second before the Decalogue and pondered its fancy gold script that catalogued the Ten Commandments.

You shall not commit adultery or unnatural acts of lust.

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

Something about this all felt so familiar? Something sordid crossed his mind – a fire light orgy of naked young boys, dancing around the graven image of a huge phallic – sensual, vulgar, ominous. The screaming boys openly masturbated themselves and each other as their pagan rite unfolded. A sacrifice was to be made. A human sacrifice offered to their dark god – it was the dance of sex demons worshiping the Devil’s phallus.

Father O’Brien’s words crystallized in his thoughts – ‘”hunt for the Devil.” These words seemed to be confusing. Surely, the pursuit of evil was merely a means to an end? To face one’s fear or was it one’s temptations? “You must ‘hunt for the Devil’ and face the Adversary. For the Devil is the Father of sexual obsession and masturbation: pornography and fornication, prostitution and adultery, homosexuality and sodomy.”

There was a knock on the chapel door. It was not very loud, but clearly someone knocked. Joseph made his way back to the old oak door and unbolted it. There on the doorstep was a young boy. It was Billy. His face was flushed with tears. He looked like he had been in a fight. His torn shirt hung loosely on his scrawny pale body.

“Father. Sorry I had…” Billy mumbled.

Joseph stood still. Had he dreamt this or was it the same crying boy… his same ripped up shirt… his same effeminate expression?

“Father?” Asked the timid boy.

Joseph grabbed the boy, pulled him inside the church and closed the heavy oak door.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and out of these torn cloths.” Said Joseph as he led the boy to the vestry.

The part of the dream that was most vivid in Joseph’s mind was the boy’s erection and his devilish grim, almost taunting him to touch it. He remembered something about the mother, Kalindra, too. Her look enticed him to want her… to seduce her… her and her son together… the vision of mother and child locked in an incestuous embrace. Joseph’s cock became unbearably hard.

Joseph followed the dreamy script. He took an old gown from the vestry store, so that he had something decent to be sent home in. Billy stripped from his torn cloths. Joseph noticed the boy’s broad grin, pulling down his pants and displaying his small but fully erect penis. Instead of pretending not to notice Billy’s excited state, Joseph knelt down next to the naked boy and stroked his perineum with his middle finger. Billy continued to smile and made no protest.

“You like this?” Joseph asked Billy. Billy nodded. “Do you and mummy play special touching games like this together?” Billy shook his head.

Joseph used his thumb and forefinger to pull Billy’s tight foreskin back and forth. Billy’s eyes closed, enjoying Joseph’s masturbatory technique.

“So mummy hasn’t ever touched your pee-pee?” Asked Joseph.

“Only when she washes me. It feels nice and it makes me hard.”

“Oh.” Joseph lent forward and licked the boy’s cock and balls. Billy purred.

“Have you seen a man’s penis… when it’s erect?”

“Only my brother. But he’s only got a small one like me.”

“Would you like to see a man’s penis?”

“Oh, Yes.”

Joseph lifted his priestly gown over his head and sat naked next to Billy. This was wrong and Joseph knew it. If the boy tried to expose him, he would bring out the incestuous abuse, saying the boy made up the whole story. But something inside of him said that it would not happen this way. His cock had never felt harder. Joseph sat on the warm vestry floor with the naked boy kneeling between his legs. He wanted to take the boy from behind, fuck him as hard as he could, spoil his anus with his thick throbbing rod. He wanted to blow his load deep in the boy’s bowels. He could hear the voice of his mother, praising the Devil for taking her son.

“Go on then… touch it.” Encouraged Joseph.

Billy’s small hands gripped Joseph’s cock, its girth too thick for the boy to wrap him fingers completely around. Billy leant forward without provocation and licked at the thick oozing droplets of pre-cum that had emerged from the engorged head of Joseph’s cock.

“Hmmmmmmm…” moaned Joseph in appreciation of the boy’s efforts.

It took all his efforts to hold back from instantly climaxing. As much as he needed to orgasm, he had so much more in store for young Billy before he finally would allow himself to reach his personal Gehenna.

“Tastes salty… but nice.” Exclaimed Billy.

“Come here…” Groaned Joseph as he pulled the boy onto his lap and pressed their rutting cocks together. Cock to cocklet. Priest and acolyte. Man and boy. This was truly the Devil’s playground. He was so far over the line that it was now completely obliterated. The ‘Hunt for the Devil’ had really begun.

xxxxx

Both Joseph and Billy were respectfully dressed again by the time his mother arrived at the chapel refectory.

“Father Joseph thanks for looking after Billy. Not sure what’s got into the lad tonight. He ran off. Not like him at all.” Weakly defended the demure Linda James.

“Mrs. James, its my pleasure. The boy was no trouble.”

“Please Father, call me Kalindra. ‘Mrs. James’ sounds so formal.” The doe-eyed woman replied pressing her small son against her boyish chest.

“Well, Kalindra it is.”

She was blushing so innocently. Kalindra was a hot little fox. Joseph undressed her with his ravenous eyes. His carnal thoughts cast back to his vision of her incestuous seduction. His eyes followed a trickle of sweat that ran down her fragile white neck and disappeared into the groove of her A-cup breasts. He closed his eyes for a second as he could almost hear her groan obscenities out loud, professing her love for the Devil.

“Well I had better get going.” Kalindra said but lingered on the chapel step.

“Why rush? Billy says that your husband is away at the moment… why don’t you come in for a while, we were about to make ourselves some hot cocoa.”

Kalindra hesitated for a second, and then recanting her decision to leave, accepting Joseph’s invitation. Entering the refectory she seemed nervous and jittering. Kalindra and Billy sat quietly together as Joseph fetched the promised beverages.

“There you go.” Said Joseph.

Billy hugged the hot cup of cocoa as he sat on Father Joseph’s lap.

“Hey Billy go play for a while. I need to talk alone with your mother.” Said Joseph.

The boy jumped up from Joseph’s lap and left the room.

“Now, Kalindra, I wanted to talk to you about a delicate matter.”

“Of course Father Joseph, anything.” She responded maintaining eye contact.

“My concern is not so much for Billy, but for you, Kalindra.”

“Oh.” She said, pondering where the conversation was going.

“You see, as your priest in Father O’Brien’s absence, I thought it important to hear your confession. Absorb you of your sins.”

“My sins father?”

“Yes Kalindra, your sins. Thoughts can be sin, as much as actions you know. I want you to know that you can confide in me.” Emphasized Joseph. “Anything you tell me remains between the two of us. I am bound by the church never to tell a soul.”

“No matter how bad it may be, Father?”

“We all have our demons and evil thoughts.”

“Demons?”

“Yes, Kalindra, even priests have demons.”

“Well, it’s been hard lately. My husband, Peter, left me a month ago. He said I was not fit to be a wife or a mother and that he would file for full custody of the children as soon as he could.” She sobbed.

Father Joseph put his arm around her, feeling the fragility of her tiny body. She accepted Joseph’s affection. Her small fingers trembled as they rested on Joseph’s leg.

“Father… I have been so lonely! He is right. I am a bad wife and mother. I am evil Father! I am wicked!” She cried.

“Why do you say this?”

“Father, I am so ashamed of myself. I have urges Father. Sexual urges towards my own children… I am damned to hell! It’s unnatural. Perverted. I fantasize about doing evil things with them… I dream of depraved fantasizes… I even pray to the Devil to sate these deviant sexual pleasure…”

“That is why I am here for you.”

“But Father, did you hear me. What I desire is wrong! Incest is wrong!”

Kalindra lent heavily against his chest as she openly sobbed into his robe. Joseph placed his hand over hers and drew them closer to heat between his legs, pressing her hand against his urgent erection at the same time his other hand groped her braless chest.

“Father?” She said softly, no so much in protest, but more in surprise at his openness.

“Incest can be such a beautiful Kalindra. You should not be ashamed of these desires. Not before me. The Devil is between both of our legs. He has brought us together. He wants us to praise him… to honor his love of us with our shared depravity.”

“Oh Father. I don’t understand?” She was smiling through her tears.

Joseph pressed his lips against Kalindra, enjoying the heat from her open mouth, as their tongues twisted together, promising greater sins to come.

xxxxx

It was already in the early morning hours before Joseph finally left the refectory to continue on his ‘hunt for the Devil’.

The corruption of the young mother, Kalindra, and bringing her son to bed with the both of them had been most exhilarating. Fucking the young faggot while he pumped his pervert-mother’s mouth. Their bodies had been conjoined in all manner of sweat-lubricated couplings, boy to man, woman to boy, man to woman. Spoiling his tight little rectum had been a delightful entrée.

Joseph walked the dark littered streets. No point hanging out at the chapel, if you were to ‘hunt for the Devil’ he thought. After turning the corner, he crossed the street towards the park. It had once been a place for family picnics and children’s games. But that was a long time ago. Now the playground equipment had all be vandalized, the weeds grew longer than the grass, and was the now the domain of junkies and queers.

He hesitantly approached the entry of the retched old toilet block at the edge of the park. Most of the streetlights had been smashed around the gay sex hangout. The warmth of the night seemed to have brought out the sodomites. Joseph stepped inside the gloomy building. Even at the doorway the dank odor seemed to only add to Joseph’s perverse thrill. Surely this was a fitting place for the Devil’s lair?

Joseph passed a couple of closed stall doors on his left and the overflowing urinals on the right. Fecal matter seemed to have been smeared over the walls and windows. The strange sounds coming from the occupants of the closed cubicles made his cock throb even harder beneath his black frock.

He entered the third cubical and eased the door closed. The rancid stench of urea, salty perspiration and excreta seemed to concentrate within the filthy confines of the little cubicle. Obscenities abundant and pornographic graffiti covered every available surface. Crudely drawn in fecal matter was an inverted pentagon. Below it, more scratched into the painted surface of the cubicle wall, were blasphemous words that beckoned followers to ‘Hail Satan! DRINK PISS AND WORSHIP THE DEVIL!’… Joseph felt reassured that he had come to the right place.

Joseph ignored the shuddering walls of the cubicle, as the occupants of the adjoining stall seemed to be making a ruckus. He pulled his priestly frock over him head and hung it behind the door. Now naked, he sat back against the cool porcelain of the cistern and stroked his cock vigorously to the raw sound of their copulation.

Putting his eye to the waist-height glory hole, he peered inside the next cubical and was rewarded with a clear view of its fornicating occupants – two effeminate-looking guys that appeared to be in their late twenties. The thin white torso of one leaning naked against the cubicle door was gasping for breath, shortly before his ejaculation, while the other, knelt naked in the filth of the piss-wet floor, groveling at his partner’s pumping hips. His frantic bobbing motion was met with the guy standing over him, grabbing his narrow shoulders for support, thrusting his bone harder and harder into the other’s mouth.

Joseph stoked feverishly as he watched the two lusty gaunt figures locked together, his heartbeat throbbing high in his own gullet as he imagined taking a stabbing cock in the back of his own throat. Grunting uncontrollably, the kneeling guy sat back, seminal fluid sprayed across his face and chest followed by a hot torrent of urine, baptizing him as he drank greedily from the amber stream. Joseph began to buck wildly in the throws of orgasm.

 

HANGING MAN – CHAPTER 3 (1,841 WORDS)

Joseph awoke. He found himself sitting in the last pew. He must have sat down and just simply nodded off. The clock on the church wall announced that it was eight o’clock in the evening.

It was Sunday night. He knew it. Nothing seemed to have changed. Was this all similar or the same? Had his ‘hunt for the Devil’ begun, or had it just led him back to where he started? Turning in circles? The horny faggot boy and his incestuous mother. Two hot stags in that filthy toilet block.

Joseph noticed the slow swaying the large candelabrum that hung from the chapel ceiling. It cast a flickering light through the empty chapel. He paused for a second before the Decalogue and pondered the fancy gold script that catalogued the Ten Commandments.

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.

You shall not steal.

Joseph stepped out of the chapel into the refectory, returning with a heavy hammer. He swung the blunt instrument and struck the front of the wooden pulpit. With a loud cracking sound it split and splintered under the blow. Joseph stuck it again and again until it was in pieces. He tore the altar frontal and linens away, tumbling the heavy crucifix, candles and ceremonial receptacles, utensils and chalices of mass and Holy Communion. He laughed out loud, smashing the hammer down upon the blessed virgin sending shards of crafted porcelain in every direction. He kicked open the pages of the old bible that had belong to Father O’Brien and opening the front of his priestly gown, he urinated over it. The biblical pages of the Old Testament turned translucent, sticking together as they soaked in his dark yellow urine.

“Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” He spat aggressively looking up at the large crucifix mounted upon the chapel wall.

“Strike me down! FUCK YOU… STRIKE ME DOWN… before your dumb-assed doe-eyed son.”

He paused. Nothing.

“Thought not. FUCK YOU ALL! FUCK MARY! FUCK JESUS CHRIST! FUCK THE LORD! FUCK GOD ALMIGHTY!”

Adjusting himself again, he walked back into the refectory. Joseph opened the church safe box, where he usually kept the cash donations and service collections. Scattering loose coins as he grabbed a fist full of notes. There must have been more than five grand. He pocketed the cash.

As he walked to the front of the chapel, he heard a knock. There on the doorstep was a young boy, Billy. His face was flushed with tears. He looked like he had been in a fight. His torn shirt hung loosely on his scrawny pale body.

“Father. Sorry I had…” Billy mumbled.

Joseph grabbed him and pulled him inside.

“I don’t have time for you right now.” Half walking, half dragging, Joseph pulled the boy over the debris in the chapel and into the refectory. He opened the windowless storeroom and hurled the boy inside.

“Stay here.” He barked.

The boy looked confused and scared. Joseph locked the door from the outside and taking the key, made his way out of the chapel onto the high street.

xxxxx

George Oliver, the owner of the sex shop on Third Street was surprised to the likes of Father Joseph enter his store, especially since it had been his mentor, Father O’Brien, that had led the community effort to having his business closed. An evil and shameless blight on their community – that is how Father O’Brien had described it. “Evil begets evil.”

“Father Joseph?” Exclaimed George suspiciously.

“Just Joseph will do.” He answered blankly.

“I’ve heard it in confession. An older customer of yours… who couldn’t live with the guilt anymore. Tempted by the Devil himself, he said. Wept like a fucking baby… never mentioned it to Father O’Brien you know. No. Didn’t want him getting all up in arms about it again. Stupid if you ask me. Anyway, he confessed to watching porn… Child porn. Not just under-aged sucking and fucking, but something real perverse… evil stuff he said… sexual torture, satanic rituals, snuff? I guess that would be highly illegal right? From Russia or somewhere Eastern European country, he mentioned? You know what I’m talking about right?”

“I think you’re mistaken priest! Go home.”

Joseph emptied the cash from his pocket onto the shop counter.

“That’s…”

“That’s about five grand, give or take some…” Interrupted Joseph. He was not in the mood to waste time.

“Are you trying to bribe me to destroy it?” He said half jokingly.

“No, I want it. I want to see it. The worst of it. The most perverse you have. Now.”

The owner grabbed Joseph by the scruff of the neck, almost pulling him over the countertop.

“Don’t fuck with me!”

Joseph pushed back. “Do you want the cash or not?”

“Are aren’t bluffing… are you?” Exclaimed the shop owner.

“No it’s not a bluff.”

“Wait here.”

xxxxx

The old church video player purred into life as Joseph got comfortable. Billy sat quietly, naked, gagged and hog-tied, so that his genitals were fully exposed to Joseph’s touch. Billy’s eyes were filled with tears.

The quality was not the best, but it was exactly what Joseph had hoped for. What better why to tempt fate, to poison the innocence and to conjurer the Devil himself – the sex shop owner had said that this was supposedly the real thing. No actors, no script, no special effects – just a real human sacrifice offered to the Devil by perverted sex offenders.

At the start there was nothing too revealing. Several very young boys dressed in long black frocks with bare feet, as were the other hooded goons in mock worship, a dull gong kept the rhythm as staccato voices prayed out loud in pseudo-Latin… “…Oh, potens Satanus. Take prestantes innocentia. Cito proferte stolam daemonum, ita ut serviamus in inferno…” Crudely translated that meant “…Oh mighty Satan! Accept our offering of innocence. Bring forth the sex demons that we may serve you further on Earth as it is in Hell!”

The scene was almost humorous in its cliché. It was set in a dungeon, cellar, catacomb or similar. Dark stonewalls that did not appear to be a movie set. Affront was a large ebony-black Baphomet in all its glory with erect phallus. There was an inverted cross, Sigil of Lucifer, black candles, an altar covered with the trappings of satanic worship.

Despite Billy’s bondage, Joseph teased the boy’s cock to full erection, bathing Billy’s entire balls and cock in his cooling saliva.

“Tonight you will help me ‘hunt for the Devil’.”

xxxxx

Joseph awoke. He found himself sitting in the last pew. He must have sat down and just simply nodded off. The clock on the church wall announced that it was eight o’clock in the evening. The chapel looked as it did. The memory of the damage that Joseph had inflicted was absent from sight. He looked upon the Ten Commandments and smiled to himself.

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make idols.

Content in knowing that it did not seem to matter what he did, he seemed to be predestined to be returned to this same point very time he awoke. He felt sublimely enlightened by this albeit set free.

Returning to the refectory, once again, Joseph opened the church safe box, where he usually kept the cash donations and service collections. He grabbed the five grand and pocketed it.

Joseph treated himself to a meal at the most expensive Italian restaurant in town and then stepped into the back of the sleek limousine that he had hired for the occasion. He told the driver to take a leisurely drive over to the intersection of North Street and Grand Promenade. From behind the heavily tinted windows Joseph instantly recognized the slim black transsexual as she stood on the corner. He told the driver to wait for him. Stepping out he approach the Negro prostitute.

“Hey Mister… Nice priest outfit. Looking for a fallen angel tonight?” Enquired a young Negro girl with a husky voice, nine-inch stiletto heels and ruby red lips.

“Fallen angel?” Replied Joseph.

“YES Mister… your demon luver… to fulfill your every deviant desire…” She cooed in her strong Creole ascent as she lightly touched his bulging cock through the thin material of his gown.

“I have a very expensive hotel room a few blocks away. I want you and the blond over there.” Joseph replied pulling out a wade of cash, mostly fifties. The black prostitute’s eyes sparked looking at the thick roll of cold hard cash and waved to her friend, who navigated the short distance quickly despite the height of her stiletto heels.

“Oh the Devil be blessed. You like girls with the extra something, holy man?”

“I’m on a hunt for the Devil!” He said in a matter of fact kind of way.

“If you’re looking for a succubus, you’ve come to the right place… We’ll take you to hell and back, holy man!”

Just then, the limousine pulled up and Joseph ushered the two prostitutes inside.

“I am Toria. This is Jessie. But you call us anything you want darling.”

“Make yourself comfortable… ladies!”

xxxxx

Joseph stripped naked and stepped into the swirling waters of the steaming Jacuzzi on the private balcony of the presidential suite. Toria stood up next to him, the wet black flesh of her rampant cock rubbing against Joseph’s as they sucked each other’s face. Not to be outdone, Jessie, stood up and pressed her hard white prick against Joseph’s buttocks as she whispered obscenities in his ear. The three continued tongue kissing as they all sat in the bubbling spa. Toria’s hand gripped Joseph’s modest cock and rubbed it slowly under the waterline.

“So, yer huntin’ for the Devil, has brought yer tu me?”

“Something like that.”

“Sodomites all! I may not be educated, holy man… but I was brought up in deeply religious family, that rejected my kind and my desires… saying that I was evil because ‘you shall not lie with a man as with a woman…”

“Leviticus 20: 13.” Quoted Father Joseph as he sucked greedily at Toria’s hard little nipples as Jessie sucked upon Joseph’s cock.

“I have since embraced this, holy man. If I am evil, I shall celebrate my evilness, my devotion to evil… my worship of evil… to ritualize my evil…”

“Then let us all celebrate with you. Honor you as we retire to your bed temple. There we shall indeed celebrate our sacrilege with the consumption of semen, urine, blood and feces. Worship graven of our new demonic god. A god, who does not judge us, but welcomes our perverted worship. You are the Black Baphomet – the living embodiment of the God of Cocks. Our Sex Devil God.”

Toria was quivering with delight. The words of praise were met with a frantic rubbing of their exposed genitals. Toria enormous black penis squirted a shower of hot urine between their pressed bodies.

xxxxx

To be continued…

If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email to xpanther2008@gmail.com