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 story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2022 LITTLESALLY666.
AUTHOR NOTES: Just a quick thanks for BG for the help — this is a boy meets girl; boy pisses over girl; girl pegs guy; and then the mischief begins. BTW … have you ever read “The 120 Days of Sodom”? — it’s a great read.
STORY CODES: Religious themes, Supernatural, Age-Play/Young, Demonic/Satanic, Abuse, Corruption, Evil, Devil Worship.
CREATED: 16.03.2022 (V25)
SYNOPSIS OF “SECRETS”
“Everybody has secrets, everybody lies, and everybody cheats …” EK Blair
Outwardly he had the facade of a devout and upright man. He was a regular at church services. He was the owner of the Zion, a Christian bookshop. But bookish Tomas had a dark secret. At forty-two he’d experienced little in life, but craved everything that was not permitted by his godly beliefs. He longed for forbidden things, dark things, nasty things.
She was the devout wife of a local preacher. She was a volunteer at the local convent orphanage looking after the young disadvantaged children. She never complained or had a harsh word to say about her husband’s long hours dedicated to his religious duties and serving his needy parishioners. But petite little Angelica had a dark secret. It was a heinous and twisted secret that churned deep inside her — that made her wish for the wickedness to consume her.
So Tomas met Angelica.
Would it be that they would be fooled by each other’s pious disguises; or would they see each other for who they truly were? … They say that there is a war going on inside everybody. One side is greedy, wicked, selfish and evil; while the other is kind, caring, loving and gentle. Which one wins? Well that depends upon which one you feed!
CHARACTERS OF “SECRETS”
- Mr Tomas Stern – Owner of “The Zion Bookshop”, short, effeminate, 42
- Mrs Angelica (Angel) Bartholomew – Christian, married to Father Eaton, 46
- Father Eaton Bartholomew – Angel’s husband, preacher/priest, 58
- Sister Magnolia – Young nun, 26
ACT 1 — SECRETS IN COMMON (3,534 WORDS)
“Either kill me or take me as I am, because I’ll be damned if I ever change!” …
“Fuck! Is one expected to be a gentleman when one is stiff?” ― Marquis de Sade
The Zion Christian Bookshop had quite a few regular bookish customers that browsed the cramped shelves that were stuffed with both religious trash and treasure. Inside, it smelt of sweet musky leather, coffee and chocolate. The yellowed pages of strange and unique publications about spiritualism, faith and Abrahamic wisdom were long past their use-by date, but that was what attracted its zealous Christian customers — it was their antique nature and authenticity.
Tomas Stern was the owner. He often busied himself with ordering, curating and sometimes doing a bit of book restoration. He had a small working bench out the back with the tools of his trade. He seemed to take great pride in the care he had for these churchly titles. He didn’t care for computers and didn’t even have a mobile phone. Instead he preferred his typewriter, carbon paper and ballpoint pens. He hated how technology was changing the world around him.
Gift or anchor, he had inherited it from his parents and after their passing. He had moved in above the shop. In fact there were several rooms in the four story building that were unused, except for storage of books, periodicals and other rare publications. He’d thought about renting them out to make some extra money, but enjoyed his own privacy too much.
Outwardly he had the facade of a devout and upright man. He was a regular at church services. But Tomas had a dark secret. At forty-two he’d experienced little in life, but craved everything that was not permitted by his godly beliefs. He was a sexual deviant. He’d never really had a proper girlfriend. Women rarely noticed him. His shyness and strangeness made him awkward and inarticulate with the oppose sex.
So when the mood took him, he’d disappear upstairs to masturbate in his secret place — that’s what he called it. Tomas felt safe there. He’d painted out the windows and always kept the door locked. It was as if, in this room, he couldn’t be seen — especially not by the Saints, Angels, or God himself — and whatever he did there or thought about there, was his and his alone.
It was a dirty little room.
There was an electric heater to make the room overly warm. There was a white ceramic chamber pot; a large standing mirror; and a narrow metal framed bed with a heavily stained mattress. The room smelt of his cock. His spent semen. His piss and shit. He’d wallpapered every surface with pornography — in his secret place he was surround by naked sexual flesh.
Tomas had acquired a large collection of child porn that he kept. The magazines were old and tattered, their pages stained with cum and creased from frequent use. They came from a time when there was no censorship on child sexual abuse. He loved the look of very young flesh — as he imagined all the nasty things he’d do to a nice virgin boy or girl.
… but alas, they were just his masturbation fantasies.
He strangely kept a crucifix in his secret place — that he blasphemously used — spilling his seed over the twisted body of Christ or inverting it in a form of devil worship. He loved the thought of primitives. Evil tribes in isolated places of the world. Like transvestite witches or voodoo niggers fucking young ones. Yes, he enjoyed these corrupted thoughts. They made the flesh of his smaller-than-average cock thicken and throb between his wet fingers. The thoughts of a Black Mass … a ritual dedicated to pure evil. It turned him on like nothing else. Homosexual acts. Faggot sex. Pederasty. The thought of sodomizing a young boy bound before the erect phallus of the Baphomet was one of his favorite masturbatory images. The shelves in his secret place were the home to his forbidden books … books about sadism in the occult, devil worship, satanism, sex magic, paganism.
But as much as he indulged his senses in the most extreme … there was the shame… alone in his thoughts he would, afterwards, felt very guilty … the guilt always seemed to follow.
He’d thought many times to purge the entire contents of his secret place — to fall on his knees in church and pray to the Abrahamic God for forgiveness — he’d actually done it a few times before, destroying all the contents of his secret place — but he knew that it would only led to his taboo desires returning again with even greater vengeance.
Mrs Angelica Bartholomew was not exactly a regular at the Zion Christian Bookshop. She had been there only a few times before. She was a short woman with beady eyes, thick glasses and bright auburn hair that was always tied loosely in a bun. A mere four feet, ten inches tall; and in her mid-forties; she had a ‘Girl Guide” kind of innocence about her. She dressed conservatively in her knitted twin sets, long plaid skirts and sensible heels. Her gold crucifix caught the light as she perused the stacked shelves of The Zion.
It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the owner — quite the opposite — there was something about Mr Stern that seemed to attract her to him. There was a familiar prickly feeling that called her to return and often … that gave her a tantalizing wetness between her legs. She felt akin to this effeminate man. And despite being married, Mr. Stern seemed to stir wayward thoughts in her subconsciousness. Angelica’s husband was a preacher. Her father had been a preacher too. Her mother had wanted her to be a nun. Her husband, Father Eaton Bartholomew, had been more her mother’s choice than her own. She had aimlessly followed their lead and found herself caught in a web of expectations that she felt she couldn’t escape.
She hated her life. She hated her marriage. She hated her faith.
Escape she did, but only in her mind. Her much older husband was wedded, not really to her, but more to his church — to his fucking needy parishioners — he spent most of his time there, leaving her to either do church activities or be alone at home. She knew that she shouldn’t, but she bitterly resented it. Her facade of piousness seemed harder and harder to maintain … as darker thought seemed to percolate through her subconscious … all of this, she kept to herself. Outwardly, always the good wife … the supportive partner … and good Christian woman.
Though it was obvious to her that Mr Stern was a devout Christian, Angelica found herself daydreaming about him being — dare she say — something of a secret sexual pervert, just like her — It wasn’t a fresh thought. No, she’d thought the same thing the last time she had visited The Zion. Strange she thought, how he made her feel. She’d sinfully masturbated herself as she imagined them both having sex. But not the kind she had, once a month, with her hapless boring husband. Not the kind of sex that was blessed by their Abrahamic God to bear the fruits of children. No, quite the opposite. She imagined only the most dirty sex, pervert sex, disgusting sex — demonic sex — that made her cunt a hot, raging cauldron of lust, hidden beneath her long skirt that befitted her status.
Today she was no “angel” as she had deliberately worn no underwear. It gave her a terrible thrill to feel the sticky liquid running down the inside of her thighs. The wickedness made her feel so sinful. Satanic — Panicked, she looked around quickly — even as her hand moved of it’s own will to press against her boiling vulva through the fabric. The thoughts of being a seductive succubus filled her mind as she noticed that it was only Tomas with her were left in the store.
The world seemed to heat up around her as she imagined pulling up her skirt and tempting poor Tomas with something so wicked. To corrupt him. Yes, corrupt him. The thought of leading him to the Devil, Satan, should have repulsed her but the possibility further fueled the flames of lust burning up her body now.
Should she? Could she? Something so unlike what she would normally do? With her hand pressing further into the folds of her skirt, she imagined the surprise in Tomas’ eyes as she met his lustful gaze. Yes. Yes. Maybe today … she would do something a little unexpected and see what could happen.
It was a slow day for business. There was only one customer in the shop. Tomas recognized her as Mrs Bartholomew. He was good with names and faces. She was a tiny woman with thick milk-bottle glasses and fiery red hair. She dressed very conservatively, but she wasn’t unattractive. She had a slightly nun-like austerity about her. Obviously she must be very devout, he thought. Tomas knew her husband (or at least knew of her husband), Father Eaton Bartholomew. On all accounts a horrible man. So fucking pious, he thought to himself.
He watched the woman from behind the counter as she moved quietly about his shop. Her head whipping about got his attention but it strayed to center as he saw something unbelievable. Was she playing with herself? He couldn’t believe his eyes. Women like her didn’t do that kind of thing. And certainly not in public? It looked as if she was touching herself through the fabric of her long dress. He knew she helped out at the orphanage. Always seemingly doing good for the local community. The word was philanthropist or something similar? He wondered how she would react if he took her upstairs to his secret place … Would she have a heart attack looking at all his vile things? Or would she break down and confess to her own proclivity towards perversity? His cock stiffened at that wayward thought as his eyes followed her hungrily. Their eyes met.
She sashayed her way to the counter, hand never leaving or moving about her pussy.
“Mr Stern,” said the woman, “I was wandering …”
Surprised, Tomas hastily replied, “Ah, Mrs Bartholomew, please … call me … Tomas.”
His words sounded a little clumsy and graceless. But she still smiled at him all the same. Her eyes bulged with distortion behind the thick lens of her corrective glasses. It made her look a little seedy and extra secretive. Like she had something to hide. But there was a wickedness he sensed in her. He found Mrs Bartholomew rather interesting.
“Then you must call me … Angelica … or Angel for short.”
“Angel …” his lips moved without sound — as if weighing up the appropriateness of her name.
Again she smiled nervously.
“Well, Tomas … errr … I … I was … I was wondering … if you could order a copy of a book … it’s … it’s called … ‘The 120 Days Of Sodom’ …” her awkward voice was no more than a clandestine sultry whisper.
“Author?” asked Tomas.
But he already knew the author. It was none other than the Marquis de Sade — the “father” of sadism — what would this nun-like woman want with a book like this? He knew this deviant book, cover-to-cover. It held a place of honor on a shelf in his secret place. The 120 Days of Sodom, also known as the ‘School of Libertinage’ or in French as — Les 120 Journées de Sodome ou l’école du libertinage — was a novel by Donatien Alphonse Francois — who also went by the title of the Marquis de Sade. Written back in 1785, it told the tale of four rich perverts who sort their most extreme of sexual desires. As the tale goes, they hide in a castle in the Black Forest, with a harem of thirty-six abducted victims — mostly young children. They called upon four brothel owners to inspire them with the worst stories of debauchery and sexual torture; so that they could inflict similar abuses upon their young victims — which quickly intensified until their eventual deaths.
”It’s a … a French author … I … I do believe,” stuttered Angelica awkwardly. Her voice sounded uneven, scratchy and very nervous, “Francois …”
She left the sentence unfinished. Though her hand seemed to be moving faster and faster over her skirt.
Tomas felt his cock throbbing and leaking with precum as he deliberately pressed it hard against the blunt edge of the shop counter. Was this some kind of diabolical scheme of her husband’s, Father Eaton? Was this set up to catch him out and expose him as a sexual pervert? Were they onto him? Did they know anything about his secret place? Surely not. He looked at Angelica’s mousy little face. She twitched with an insane nervousness … or was it intensity? She looked embarrassed by her request. No. This was her. All her. The smouldering, desperate eyes and the fast scratching at her itchy pussy. He imagined her with little horns sprouting from her forehead; or the wickedness of a forked tail; or the glimpse of a penal clitoris rising up like baphometic cock from between her legs … his mind was going crazy with lust … Was it a sign? A gift from Satan? Was she like him, caught in this Godly web too?
“Nothing quite encourages as does one’s first unpunished crime,” he quoted from the dark erotic novel.
Angelica grinned broadly. Her hair looked damp with nervous sweat.
“… If it’s the dirty element … that gives pleasure … to the act of lust … then the dirtier it is … the more pleasurable … it’s bound to be,” she quoted in short, excited breaths.
The scrawny woman’s beady eyes seemed to bulge even bigger behind the thick glass.
It was an open invitation.
“Let me close the shop for a while. I believe I have a copy of that very publication that I can share with you my dear. It’s … upstairs …” he said, pointing upwards and returning her invitation to explore.
He hastily locked the front door. As he turned around, he made no attempt to hide the bulge in the front of his pants. Her eyes made no apologies as they stared directly at the outline of his erect cock as it jutted out from the front. Neither did she bother to hide her fingers, which pressed hard against the wet patch in the front of her thin skirt, as they got busy touching herself in front of him.
“I have a place that I have never shared with anyone … until now … do you want to see it?”
It was no longer about sharing a book. It was about sharing their perverseness.
Angelica nodded enthusiastically.
Emboldened, Tomas added, “I call it my secret place …”
“… Secret … I like the sound of that … is it a place where we can be naked together?”
”Y-e-s …” answered Tomas. He couldn’t believe his ears.
“M-maybe … m-maybe we could pray?” she added.
“Pray?” questioned Tomas
“Yes-s-s … we could pray together … to the devil … and you could sodomize me?”
Angelica quivered uncontrollably in her obvious nervous excitement.
“Yes … I’d love that!” he answered.
Angelica undid the bun of wet auburn hair. It cascaded around her tiny shoulders as she let out a sigh of relief. He stood immediately in front of her. Her small hands openly fondled his erection through his pants.
”Aarghhhhhhh …” groaned Tomas.
He reluctantly stopped her efforts, holding her hand, he led her upstairs. He retrieved the key and opened the door.
The smell inside was ripe.
He’d intended to go there earlier and had put on the heater in anticipation. It was now like a hot house. They walked inside. Tomas closed and locked the door behind them.
“I have imagined you fucking me in all my holes,” growled Angelica, “Fuck the Holy Spirit” … It felt so good to finally talk dirty to someone other than herself … so sexy to openly blaspheme without shame, “I want you to fill me with your dirty seed … and your hot, salty piss — do I disgust you?”
Angelica looked around the small room. It was a vile little place — it smelt disgusting. Yes, there was sometime undeniably exciting about being allowed into Tomas’ private world … into Tomas’ secret place, as he called it. It felt to her like an honor to be brought into his “other” world … something welcoming … into his very unchristian life!
The walls around her seethed with printed wicked lust. From floor to ceiling, the walls were completely covered in full color photos cut from hundreds, if not thousands, of pornographic magazines — like a manic jigsaw puzzle of perverted filth. Even the back of the door itself was completely coated in deviant porn — so much so, that with the door closed — it seemed to almost disappear, as if it were camouflaged in putridity. She couldn’t help being drawn to it. It was like she stepped inside the evil sexual temple of her dark dreams.
Everywhere she looked there was naked flesh; of young cocks and cunts; of piss sex and scat; of bestial sex with a wide variety of animals; of faggots, sissies and transsexual sodomites; of young lesbians licking and pegging each other; and young boys frotting their cocks together. It was a graphic orgy of sinful delights. But among them all, her eyes sort after those images that sexualized young children — their nightmares of abuse being her pedophilic wet dream.
It openly demonstrated to her, Tomas’ obsession with all things taboo. She turned slowly in a full circle to appreciate its raw ugliness … and it’s darkly beauty (as she saw it). He was just like her … this is what she was drawn to as well … like she belonged here.
“Now, I must ask you … do I disgust you?” asked Tomas.
But again, he already knew the answer as he watched Angelica hitch up the hem of her skirt, so that she could finger her cunt directly, digging her eager fingers into her dripping wet hole, as she stared lustily at his work of art.
“It’s … it’s so beautiful … it’s making me so fucking wet!”
“So you are not disappointed?”
She turned to face him. She pulled him closer and kissed his mouth. It was a rough kiss. A hungry kiss. A kiss that she had waited forty-six years for. Their tongues dueled back and forth, almost choking each other with their urgent passion. Finally after several minutes, out of breath, they parted.
Angelica undressed without a word — so did Tomas — and finally they were both completely naked in front of each other. She looked at his meager, hairless, almost effeminate body. He was imperfect, malnourished, yet exactly what she wanted. He had a small boy cock. It dripped with precum as it throbbed with urgent hardness. Everything she had imagined was true. Her intuition had been right. He was a secret pervert … just like her. Just as profane. Just as deviant. A pedophile that would want to fuck and suck young boys and girls with her. It must be a blessing from Dark Lord!? A blessing that she had prayed for every night … long after her preacher husband was fast asleep. A person who would understand and cherish her perverse ways and Tomas was the connoisseur of the most profane and the most blasphemous of sexual pleasures she had always wanted.
“Let’s make an offering … to Satan,” she said, as she brought the white chamber pot to the center of the room.
Angelica squatted over it and began noisily pissing into the pot. The pungent smell of her amber offering perfumed the air and mixed with the sourish odor of Tomas’ secret place. Tomas stood immediately in front of her and began to piss over Angelica’s tiny tits, that were nothing more than childish bumps.
“Yesssss … no limits … no limits …” she hissed in true appreciation.
”Fuck Christ! … no limits … no morals … no boundaries … ” groaned Tomas in response.
His dark yellow urine flowed over her golden crucifix — like a polluted river — then drizzled down over her pale white skin until it run into the chamber pot below … where their urine mixed. Angelica rubbed the piss-wetness of her tits and squeezed her thick bullet-like nipples. Before his urine stream had completely finished, Angelica reached forward and seized his hard-on, guiding the pissing snake upwards, over her delicate chin and into her open mouth as she greedily drunk his salty hot piss.
“Aaaarghhhhh …” Angelica growned.
‘Hail Satan! Yes-s-s-s-s,” hissed Tomas.
”Hail Satan … This is the most exciting day of my life … to know we are the same!” groaned Angelica.
“I feel your darkness … your evil … yes … yes, we’re exactly the same …” Tomas crooked as Angelica stroked the veined shaft of his cock and sucked hungrily at its red-purple crown.
Angelica groped his sweaty little testicles and her fingers quickly found the rosebud of his dirty anus. She pressed her forefinger inside his slimy rectum. Her finger immediately sank inside, up to the second knuckle. She heard Tomas gasp at the intensity of their openness to share every forbidden pleasure. It made her feel like an evil succubus. Yes, she would peg him like a girly slut. Fuck his nasty little ass with nice thick strap-on. He was a faggot sodomite. She knew that he would welcome it — because they were both alike — they wanted the same wicked things; they were turned on by the same evil things; and they worshiped the same God.
They changed places.
Did Angelica have more urine in her bladder? Of course she did. She now stood up in front of him as he crouched lower over the tainted chamber pot. His hands mauled at her almost flat chest, twisting her thick nipples as he waited for her to urinate over him. If her husband could see her now — he would have a heart attack! Maybe that would be a good thing. Fuck him. Fuck God. Fuck Jesus. Then Tomas and her would be free to sin together forever. But then again, he would never be a problem she thought; as he was married to his Jesus fucking Christ! Cheating felt so fucking good. Adultery. Fuck her marriage. Adultery. Why hadn’t she done it sooner?
“Evil acts make me hard – I find in evil, a charm piquant, enough to awaken every sensation of pleasure in me …” recited Tomas.
”… And I give myself to evil for evil alone, and without any other interest than evil alone!” quoted Angelica as she began to urinate over Tomas’ upturned face.
His mouth opened ritualistically to receive her dark golden blessing. Her sourish urine flowed over Tomas’ face and pooled between his lips. Angelica bent down and kissed him as he spat a mouthful of her urine back into her mouth. They were both grinning like Cheshire cats … completely absorbed in the pleasures of Tomas’ secret place.
ACT 2 — SHARING DARK SECRETS (3,280 WORDS)
“Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.” … “Sex without pain is like food without taste!” ― Marquis de Sade
It was nine o’clock in the evening. A bit early for most. But not in the Bartholomew house. Early to bed, early to rise, God willing. That was the saying.
“Did you say that you visited the orphanage today, my dear?” asked Eaton, as he looked up from his Bible reading.
She fucking hated him.
“Yes briefly, but I did some other church errands and then dropped by The Zion,” she answered.
“The Zion? The book shop?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t there long,” she lied.
Her voice was evenly pitched, sounding slightly bored. She hoped that he would also feel her listlessness and not suspect her unfaithfulness. Her cunt twitched at the thought of Tomas. The taste of his salty piss. Maybe she should just tell her husband what really happened at the book shop. Tell him everything. Confess her dreadful sins! Tell him that she hated their fucking boring marriage. That she hated his fucking God. That she wanted sex demons to rape her in all her holes. That she was a pedophilic succubus that fed on abused babies. That she wanted out of their loveless sham of a marriage … that he could never satisfy her desires and twisted lust.
But she self-censored herself.
This wasn’t the time.
“Sorry, I have a headache, Eaton,” Angelica added, “These are difficult times. You have a busy day tomorrow, Eaton. Your congregation will need your strength. I will sleep in the spare room tonight, so I don’t disturb your rest.”
Her fake graciousness was completely missed by her stupid husband. Angelica got up without saying another word. She often slept in the spare room. Sometimes it was headaches; sometimes she needed some space; sometimes because he snores too loud … none of which were the truth. She just loved to be alone … to play with herself … to masturbate with the religious objects that she kept on a small altar … fucking her ass with a long black phallic candle … drinking her own piss … (playing with her own feces) … and praying to the Devil as she brought herself to orgasm after orgasm.
Eaton continued to read his Bible as she disappeared into the spare bedroom.
She closed and locked the door behind her; and then lent back against the door — it was as if she’d been underwater — holding her breath the entire time. Earlier, she’d wanted to think about Tomas. But she had controlled herself … busying herself with the chores. Now, the thoughts of their shared secrets began to rise up within her. Like a tsunami wave … Her mind opened the floodgate as all the nasty things that they had done together came crashing back. Their first tongue kiss. Their dirty piss play. Their anal sex. How she’d sucked Tomas’ cock while fingering his filthy ass … then making him lick her dirty fingers clean.
This was the first time she had ever been her true self with anyone. It had been completely liberating. With their secrets revealed to one another — there was no telling where this could take them — and all the debauched pleasures they shared in his secret place. She grinned to herself. Tomas’ secret place was their secret. Her itchy wet cunt throbbed uncontrollably.
With the door locked and the lights off, Eaton would not disturb her.
She drew back the curtains to allow the light from the full moon to fill the spare room. Like Tomas, she has a full length dressing mirror in the spare bedroom. It had been Eaton’s mother’s. Her mother-in-law passed several years ago. The mirror was an antique and family heirloom. Masturbating in front of it made her feel even dirtier. Disrespectful to Eaton’s fucking old mother. Fuck her. Fuck Eaton.
She untied her dressing gown and looked at her silvery reflection in the moonlight. Beneath her gown, Angelica was completely naked. Earlier in the evening, she’d freshly shaved her cunt. It was completely hairless. In the eerie moonlight, her flat chest, gaunt body and hairless cunt, made her look like a thirteen year old — like one of the young orphan girls that she longed to sexually abuse.
The fingers of her left hand danced over her sensitive clitoris as it elongated and poked out from inside her labia minora like a little demon cock; the fingers of her right hand sank deeply into her needy, greedy wet cunt hole. She suppressed the urge to moan loudly … instead she hissed beneath her breath …
”Hail Satan … Hail Satan … Hail Satan …”
Her mind immediately traveled back to their secret place. She had stood over him as he squatted on the soiled chamber pot. The smell of urea was very strong. She loved that vinegary smell.
“Do you like my little girl cunt? All hairless and completely smooth … just like a child’s?” she had asked him.
He nodded and proceeded to devour her tight little slit — his tongue prizing her apart — just as she began to urinate over him. She bucked wildly in orgasm, just by this simple action, and then proceeded to squirt a gallon more over her perverted lover.
“Imagine I am one of these tiny orphans; or that I am your own preteen daughter … oh daddy I feel so dirty!”
“Fuck! … no limits … no boundaries … nothing is forbidden …” exclaimed Tomas in overjoyed surprise at Angel’s perverted dirty talk.
“Yes-s-s-s … no limits … you can do anything you want!” she encouraged.
Tomas grabbed her tightly and turned her around (her back to his front), so that his cock was aligned to the crack of her slimy ass. His arms were around like a vice. His hands were like demon claws. His cock pressed against Angelica’s oily little sphincter.
‘Aaahghhhh … Fuck God! Fuck the Holy Spirit! Fuck Jesus fucking Christ!” he moaned.
His cock began to sink into her wet colon. Deeper and deeper. His thrusts began to get faster and faster until he began to fuck her tight little anus as hard and as fast as he could.
“Arrghhhh … it hurts daddy! … Arrrghhhhh … take it out! … Arrrghhhhh … you’re too big … please don’t hurt me … not in my dirty place … take it out daddy … please!” cried Angelica in role play — her own orgasm was building faster and faster.
Angelica pushed back to meet every one of Tomas’ urgent thrusts.
“Yes-s-s-s” she hissed, “Fill me daddy … fill my dirty incestuous ass-cunt!”
As Tomas sodomized her, she’d got her entire hand inside her own cunt. He pissed inside her bowels. Like a hot salty urine enema. The smell had been putrid as her liquid shit ran down the inside of both their legs, as they rutted together like wild animals.
“I’m cumming … I’m fucking cumming … don’t fucking stop! Harder! Harder! Aragghhhhhhhh …” she groaned uncontrollably, “Aaaaggggghhhhhhhh …”
Such perverted passion.
After her powerful orgasm, Angelica lay across the top of the bedding, in their spare room. She felt exhausted and unconsciously slipped into a dream.
It wasn’t like her usual befuddled and confusing dreams … this one felt so real … so lifelike. Angelica found herself back in their secret place. But where was Tomas? Why was she alone and completely naked. The room was so hot and sticky. She felt incredibly horny. The smell of dirty sex caught her attention. But the pungency of filth only turned her on more. Her cunt was literally on fire with evil lust.
She needed Tomas to fuck her urgently. That’s when she heard his voice. Calling her. But she couldn’t see him.
Was he outside in the corridor? She looked around the porn-coated walls. Wet cunts. Hard cocks. Horny sexual children. Wayward nuns rubbing their wet cunts on young babies. Where was the door? She couldn’t recognize it. Piss. Scat. Sodomy. Tomas called her again. A transgendered demon with horns and a cock like a serpent. Abuse. Rape. Devil worship. She needed him now … and then it opened … a door opened, but it didn’t lead to the landing. Instead the door opened much like an elevator. She found herself looking inside. Like the walls of the room, the elevator was also covered with more deliciously deviant porn. She stepped inside and the door closed again.
“Take your pick,” said a voice that sounded exactly like Tomas.
Angelica looked at the buttons of the elevator. Each articulated a taboo. Her hand shook nervously as her fingers hovered over the obscene choices. Asian gang bang … Cannibal Black Mass … Beast Cock … Pedo Party … Witch Hunt … Incest Sisters … Her fingers were damp with perspiration. She could smell her own twisted arousal.
She pressed the button labeled “Pedo Party.”
Tomas dozed listlessly on the filthy mattress. After Angelica had left, there had been a void. He felt empty. She was like no other. No limits … she had been like a powerful narcotic fix in his veins … now he was on the downer. His entire body craved her. They had discussed meeting the next day. And though he’d tried to sleep, his cock stiffened at the thought of her … her smell was all over him … Tomas’ secret was now their secret …
“Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?” Tomas had quoted.
Angelica’s answer had been a promise of her return the next day. She had said that she would have a surprise for him … that they would need to “close” the shop early. Her husband’s duties would mean that he would be late, so that they would have more time together.
It was all that Tomas could think of — half awake or half asleep — his eyes were open but he felt lightheaded and dreamy. The room was overly hot and sweaty, like a jungle among the foliage of illicit images that coated every surface. He heard her voice calling him to join her. Join her where?
He slipped unconsciously into a dreamlike state — as he often did inside his secret place …
He found himself standing. He looked around the room. Though the door seemed completely hidden now … he couldn’t even make out the door handle. Strange, he thought. Then Tomas saw the wall open, much like the doors to an elevator. He walked cautiously to the opening and peered inside. It was rectangular inside. An elevator to where? He walked inside and the doors automatically closed behind him.
“Make your choice,” said a voice that sounded exactly like Angelica.
There were buttons with various labels. They were more like hand written words with an indelible marker on torn pieces of masking tape … they were words like … Anal Rapist … Pederasty Orgy … Giant Clit … Pedo Party … Voodoo Cult … Scatology Bathhouse …
Tomas bit his lip. He felt as if his whole body was quivering. He pressed the button that simply said … “Pedo Party”.
Father Eaton always got up at the break of dawn. He liked the early mornings as they were a quiet time. Before all the pandemonium of the day began. He’d left Angelica asleep in the spare room. It was more peaceful that way. She was a complex woman and he was a simple man of God. He was God’s servant. And Eaton felt dutiful in his service of his Abrahamic God. The Lord’s work was never done.
Sister Magnolia met him in the refectory. She was a solemn young woman. Small in stature and youthful for her years. She never smiled and appeared to have the weight of the world upon her shoulders. He often felt the urge to console her — but stopped short — as he knew that they all had their crosses to bear.
Father Eaton had taken her confession once, a long time ago, and knew that she’d been sinful in her desires, before taking her oath to the church — but now she was truly repentant of her repugnant same-sex desires — she had wanted to atone for her sinful mind; asking only for the grace of Christ’s forgiveness; through her hard labor at the Saint Bernadette’s Orphanage.
By the time Angelica awakened, her husband had left for his church duties. Such dedication to his fruitless deity, she thought to herself. She was about to take a quick shower; but decided to leave her cunt as smelly as possible. She resisted the urge to masturbate as she’d done a dozen times that night. It didn’t seem to matter … her urges only seemed to get stronger … she needed to see Tomas — only he would be able to understand her — and her thoughts strayed back to her erotic dream about their secret place.
The evil elevator.
That’s how she thought about it. Was this all because of Tomas’ secret place? Like astral travel, she had felt the elevator descending … for a long while … descending as each of the evil labels glowed in turn, until she reached the one marked “Pedo Party”. The elevator motion stopped abruptly and the doors slid silently open.
It was as if she’d arrived in the midst of a young kids’ party. With colorful balloons, brightly painted decorations. There was a large birthday cake with candy stripped candles and quirky kiddie music … that absurdly sounded like children being tortured rather than enjoying themselves. The sharp, immature cries of pain coupled with sobbing pleas for mercy making a symphony of nipple hardening music.
There were eight young children there — four boys and four girls — all about nine or ten years old. They gathered excitedly around an adult dressed like a weird carnival clown with sad eyes, painted grin and a long pointed nose. And though the striped clown outfit looked very convincing, Angelica could still recognize the person beneath it — beneath the make-up … it was her lover, Tomas. His effeminate movements gave him away as he ushered the young party-goers into the middle of the empty room.
She wanted to say something, but instead, Angelica stood still. Like a statue. She could only watch — like a voyeur — until one of the pretty little party girls grabbed her hand. Small delicious fingers gripped her hand. The kiddie music began to warp and change, as it became more ominous, savage and ritualistic.
“Angel,” said the little girl excitedly, “Look at the clown! Doesn’t his nose look like a nice hard cock?”
It wasn’t the words she’d expected to hear from the lips of a nine year old. How strange the words sounded. “Nice hard cock” … But it was true. The clown’s nose looked exactly like a long white dildo; as it protruded at right angles from the clown’s face.
“Let’s play a dancing game,” said Tomas the clown as he lay down across the confetti covered rug.
His phallic nose standing completely upright.
The children were dressed in meager little outfits that were nothing more than two pieces of white cloth, loosely tied together at the shoulders and hips. They all began to dance barefooted around the clown as he lay spread eagle on the floor.
“When the music stops … the one closest to my nose … must sit on it!” explained the perverted clown. He chuckled to himself evilly … almost comically.
Angelica found herself getting wet watching the horny little young boys and girls frolicking around, as they danced carefree in a loose circle around the evil clown, each trying to be the one closest to the clown’s nose. Angelica could see Tomas was touching himself through the thin fabric of his clown pants — obviously erect and excited by the situation.
“Come and join us Auntie Angel … come and join our dirty fuck dance …” said one of the young boys.
The dirty fuck dance? She realized that her party clothes were identical to theirs. Her small childlike breasts and hardening nipples visible from the sides; her freshly shaved cunt that was beading with moisture, was clearly visible every time her legs moved to the grinding ritual beat.
She followed their example. It seemed completely obscene. The children had no concept of being shy — either about their bodies or their sexuality. Quite the opposite — they laughed and giggled — the four boys were all erect, their young boy cocks standing upright, just at the hemline of their ridiculously short tunics.
The music stopped momentarily and one of the young girls squealed with delight. She lifted her tunic and crouched over the thick white nose of the clown. Angelica groaned as she finger fucked herself watching the young slut sliding down the clown’s phallic nose. The crazy beat just seemed to pause. The tiny young girl grunted and began to rise and fall, up and down, as she tried desperately to reach her climax.
Rising to her feet again, the beat continued as they all danced in a frenzy around the clown — all awaiting their turn to take the clown’s nose, into their preteen bodies.
The dirty fuck dance seem to go around and around; and as it did, the dance degenerated into an all out naked orgy … with the boys frotted against each other; the young girls scissoring together … There were girls on girls, boys on boys, girls on boys. Angelica orally copulated with both sexes as she finger-fucked herself and orgasm over and over.
Tomas felt the lift coming to a halt. The door opened and he found himself in, what he could only describe as a kiddies playroom that had been done up for a birthday party. Streamers and balloons. Bizarrely sadistic music filled his ears. There was a ring of young boys and girls, dressed scanty clad in identical tunics. All of them seemed perfectly happy to be so obviously under dressed. His pedo cock hardened immediately at the delicious sight before him.
In the center was a small female. She wore clown-like make-up and a short striped shirt that barely covered her crutch. Instead of a top, her small perk breasts had been hand painted in rainbow colored concentric circles that radiated outwards from her bullet hard nipples. Underneath the masquerade of juvenile revelry, Tomas recognized Angelica. Again his cock throbbed even harder.
He watched, detached, until a young boy grabbed his hand.
“Come on Uncle Tomas, we’re about to play your favorite game.”
“Yes,” announced the evil female clown as she drew the children closer to her, “It’s time to see who can make Uncle Tomas spurt!”
The kids seemed to erupt in joyous fun. Spurt? It was then that Tomas realized that he was completely naked. His cock standing upright and in full view of the naughty little children, who it seemed, thought nothing of masturbating themselves in front of him and Angel the Clown.
“Come and lay down Uncle Tomas,” ordered the perverted clown, who’s fingers were thrusting in and out of her oily clown painted cunt.
Tomas lay down and immediately found one of the boys taking his hard-on into his moist mouth, sucking it and rubbing it as fast as he could. Tomas could have cum there and then … but somehow managed a sliver of self control. Next, one of the young girls crouched lowly over his face and then began to rub her tiny slit back and forth against his upturned face. Her cunt tasted sweet and smelt of baby powder. As she leaned forward to felate him, another of the young boys began to lick and suck at Tomas’ anus.
“Aaaarghhhhhh …” he groaned as he felt their small fingers in his sphincter.
He felt mouths upon his nipples. Mouths upon his testicles — It was simply all too much — Tomas’ body began to convulse as he looked into Angelica’s eyes and felt himself begin to explode!
ACT 3 — TWISTED SECRETS UNVEILED (3,762 WORDS)
“One must do violence to the object of one’s desire; when it surrenders, the pleasure is greater.” … “Oh! my friend, never seek to corrupt the person whom you love, it can go further than you think!” ― Marquis de Sade
Tomas was on the edge of his seat.
Like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof, Tomas moved about in nervous anticipation. Would she return? Was yesterday just a fever dream brought about by his mind breaking. The heavy weight of his secrets finally wearing him down. Finally it was time and Angelica arrived at the shop. Tomas felt a sensation much like a mixture of euphoria and intense anxiety. Like equals and opposes, clashing violently together.
Inside the small book shop, Tomas had about three customers. It was agonizingly slow waiting for them to leave. Angelica firstly pretended to be browsing and then asked to use the bathroom. How could she be so cool about it, thought Tomas, almost hopping on the spot. They briefly looked at each other with nervous excitement. Tomas thought back to his very strange dream. He thought about the “secret elevator” taking him down into the depths of hell’s perversions … What did it mean? Was it just a dream? It felt so real. Seeing Angelica again reminded him of her crazy-fucked-up clown-like outfit. The whole thing had been so weird, yet extremely erotic … and of course, totally perverse.
The “Pedo Party” had been a dream come true for Tomas. Dreams were the place where you could act out your most extreme desires with any consequence. There was a story to be told there. Evil and twisted as it was. And he desperately wanted to share his vision with Angelica.
Angelica had slipped him a note say to knock upon the toilet door once the other customers had left.
Finally the last of the three customers left. Tomas wasted no time to shut-up the small bookshop even though it was still many hours before his usual closing time. He didn’t give a fuck about anything other than Angelica. She was all he cared about. Nothing else mattered.
Following her explicit instructions, he knocked anxiously on the toilet door. The door opened and Angelica emerged dressed the nun’s habit. She looked perfect in the part. Tomas was grinning from ear to ear. She indicated that they should both go upstairs. He was so jittery that he struggled with the key in the lock of the door to his secret place. And once inside, he undressed hurriedly and then sat naked and fully erect on the dirty bedding as he waited nervously for Angelica to say something.
His cock was already weeping with precum. The room felt hot and stuffy. It smelt ripe. Just as he liked it.
Angelica watched Tomas. She saw him lock the front door to the bookshop. His excitement to see her spurred her on more. She could feel his evil desire as if this dark energy was radiating all around them. Her cunt was wet just being near him. She thought about her strange dream. How she’d found herself in a pedophile’s paradise. And he had been there with her. It seemed so real. Her orgasms beyond anything she’d experienced before. Was it a premonition?
He opened the note she’d given him. He looked so anxious. It felt so delicious. She noticed the beads of sweat on his brow. And the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Angelica slipped quietly into the bookshop toilet. In her bag, she’d kept her little surprise. Earlier that morning, she’d taken some things from Sister Magnolia of the Saint Bernadette’s Orphanage. The discrete young nun asked no questions, but did raise an intrigued eyebrow. Of course, Angelica had made a few alterations.
Angelica stripped out of her conservative dress. Her cunt was already moist with sexual arousal. She could smell her unwashed cunt. Underneath her dress, she wore thigh-high black stockings and an open cup bra. Now she donned a loose black pleated nun’s habit (that she’d altered, so that it could open from the front — more like a robe to expose herself than it’s original intention to hide her modesty. She pulled a white coif over her long auburn hair and then a guimpe over her head and around her neck and chest. She carefully fixed the black veil in place.
Angelica looked at herself in the toilet mirror and grinned wickedly. Her inverted crucifix on a chain was next as she hung it proudly around her delicate neck … and then attached a Rosary (made of used anal beads) around her narrow waist. The outfit was very fetching. She looked like a nun. She felt like a goddess. Only the inverted crucifix told the story of her true allegiance. Her nipples felt rock hard chafing against the rawness of the inside of her gown; and her cunt felt like it was on fire.
She opened the front of the habit and exposed her tiny tits and hairless slit. It felt sexy and blasphemous. Angelica retrieved the strapless dildo from her bag. It was an obscene flesh-colored sex toy with a nine-inch long phallus on one end; and a more bulbous butt-plug-like object on the other. Angelica pressed the bulbous portion inside her juiced-up cunt, so that it slid inside her and nestled firmly against her pubic bone. She felt full on the inside, as the silicon shaped itself to the inside of her throbbing vagina. The hard silicon cock stood upright banana-ing from her pelvis — making it look like a real life shecock.
She concealed her new cock within the loose folds of the nun’s habit, preparing to strut upstairs in her three inch black patent stilettos.
She heard his knock on the outside of the toilet door. Showtime.
Tomas was overjoyed with Angelica’s little surprise.
“I knew you’d appreciate it,” she panted as she parted the front of the habit, displaying her provocative undergarments and her flesh-like cock.
“Appreciate it. Fuck Christ! I love it!” he cried in total adoration.
“Put these on, my little slut boy!” she barked evilly, now getting into character.
Angelica strutted around in her high heels — they tilted her hips forward, so that her cock stood outwards from her pelvis — demanding Tomas’ undivided attention. The nun goddess tossed a small bag, containing thigh high stockings and a cup-less bra, at her eager anal slut.
“Show me that you’re my anal slut! Show me you need your virgin ass raped!”
Tomas gulped. He was so turned on. His heart raced. And precum dripped like clear syrup from his ripe little cock as he quickly cross-dressed for his nun goddess.
“It is time for you to worship the true God … the blasphemous God … the Baphomet God! … anal sluts need to be on their knees before your nun goddess!” Angelica was enjoying their blasphemous game, “Satan is the true God. Sodomy is the true path! … say it … say it loudly … Satan is the true God!”
Tomas grovelled like a true anal slut on the floor before her. He could smell the strong stench of ripe cunt and body odor. He looked up at his nun goddess with true adoration. She was a succubus. A blasphemous she-demon. Her phallus looked so long and thick … surely it wouldn’t fit … it would split him in half … and he couldn’t wait.
“Satan is the true God. Hail Satan!” whimpered Tomas.
“Know thy place, thy anal slut! … Hail Satan!”
Angelica laughed and stroked the length of her phallus. And in the light of Tomas’ secret place. it looked just like the real thing — all nine inches of it — that she fully intended to force up Tomas’ slutty ass.
Angelica lay exhausted next to Tomas on the narrow cot. She had fucked him until his untouched anal slut cock spurted it’s salty load across his own chest. He’d screamed like a like girl as she forced all nine inches of hard latex cock inside his filthy bowel. At one point, as it touched the base of his spine, he’d almost blacked out … everything had gone into slow motion … the sound of his breathing … Angelica’s grunts of passion … as if time itself had been stretched like the inside of his colon. His orgasm hit hard … his body jerked uncontrollably as his untouched cock began to spurt with seed.
Tomas was used to cumming quite a lot — but this was the most he’d ever cum. His neck, chest and stomach were all splattered in his slimy semen offering to their evil God. Angelica had made him eat it. All of it. And then had made him clean her shit-coated shecock — licking the slimy brown contents of his bowels from her long fleshy member.
Now, their naked bodies lay twisted together and glistened with sexual secretions and perspiration. Both lay exhausted in their own post orgasmic nirvana. Their breathing was heavy as they clung to each other.
“… I had a dream last night … About you … About this place …” said Tomas in a low gravelly tone.
“Really? … so did I … Tomas,” replied Angelica between her heavy breaths.
He didn’t catch her reply as he was far too excited to tell her his story.
“I dreamt that the wall just opened up … over there,” he pointed to the wall covered in perverted porn, “To reveal a way to our darkest of fantasies … like a kind of secret elevator to sin …” said Tomas.
“I dreamt … ” Angelica went to say something and then stopped herself in mid sentence — she didn’t want to interrupt.
“The elevator could have taken me to many subterranean floors,” Tomas continued, “They all had these really weird and suggestive names … I cannot remember all of them … but I remembered I pressed the one marked as “Pedo Party.”
“Fuck!” said Angelica, “So … so … you picked that one?”
“Yes. And then the elevator descended downward … a long way down,” Tomas said excitedly, “… It took me to a place where there was a strange little kiddie party. With eight young children. Four boys and four girls. All scantily dressed. You were there, at the center of it all, dressed like a carnival clown!”
Angelica couldn’t believe what Tomas was saying. It sounded exactly like her dream. From the elevator to sin; to the dark perverted choices; to the evil pedophilic party; to the bizarre costume and make-up. How could that be?
“My dream was the same …” she said.
“What do you mean?” asked Tomas.
”I mean … I dreamt I was here … alone …” Angelica explained, “I heard your voice in my dream … you called to me … you asked me to choose a floor … I too picked the “Pedo Party” … and … and … and you were there … you were the clown. Not me. I found you orchestrating the dirty kiddie sex party … and then we both did the most abusive things together to the young boys and girls.”
“How can it be? I mean … how can we both have dreamt the same thing?”
“I don’t know … only that I knew that I could do anything I wanted in my dream … without any consequences!”
“How did it happen?”
There was no answer. Angelica kissed Tomas’ mouth. They both thought the same thing — As they both wondered if it could be repeated?
As they both lay together, exhaustion finally took them. Both of them. Or was it something else in their secret place that had influence over the two evil lovers. Tomas’ eyes felt heavy and without even realizing it … he’d fallen into an uneasy sleep. He found himself alone again in his perverted little room. He heard her again. Where was she? The pornographic images upon the wall opened again, like an elevator door. He knew this was a dream. Deja Vu? Tomas stepped boldly into the elevator.
“Make your choice?” said the voice that sounded a lot like Angelica.
Tomas looked at handwritten messages. Devil’s Horn … Toilet God … Dark Libertine … The inquisition … Fetus Feast … Tomas felt his cock hardened at the blasphemous and criminally obscene suggestions … What would Angelica choose? He thought about it. Her nun costume suggested something religious like “The Inquisition” … Then he thought about how their relationship had opened with the suggestion of the book by the Marquis de Sade … He pressed “Dark Libertine” and Tomas held the wall as the elevator began to shake and descend very fast.
Angelica found herself in Tomas’ secret place alone.
She was dreaming again. She guessed that she might be dreaming. She could really be sure. It all seemed so real. Instead of trying to figure it all out — she decided to go with the flow. She heard Tomas speak, but he was nowhere to be found. Then, the wall began to open up … elevator style. Angelica vaguely remembered being here before. Like a dream within a dream? Impatiently Tomas called to her again. Angelica stepped into the elevator beyond the boundaries of the porn wall. It all felt all so familiar, yet different. She intuitively recognized that this had something to do with choice … but couldn’t work out what it was — like splinter in her mind.
There were buttons, marked with cryptic, yet darkly erotic, suggestions … Witches Sabbath … Nigger Hanging … Cannibal Orphanage … Goddess Lilith … Dark Libertine … The Executioner … her fingers hovered over “Witches Sabbath”; and then “Goddess Lilith” … but then she remembered how their relationship all started with a conversation about “The 120 Days of Sodom” written by the most notorious libertine … “Marquis de Sade” … Yes she thought; as she pressed “Dark Libertine” … And the elevator shuddered with a life of its own as it plunged downwards into the erotic Hell!
Angelica’s heart rate shot upwards. She could hear it’s rhythmic beating loudly in her ears. But before she had been able to collect her thoughts — the elevator shuddered and stopped and doors opened to reveal a darkened theater with a small semicircle of low back couches beyond. The place stank like a urinal. She loved it. Angelica stepped out of the elevator. Her clothes were gone. The stage curtains were down … but the house lights were in suffice to illuminate the full extent of the Victorian-styled room. The floor was red velvet. The walls were dark red. The seating was red velvet too. The blood redness of the hue filled the place with a fake dirty grandeur.
She was sure that she could still hear her own heart beat that sounded like the thumping of a single drum … the constant beating was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a chime.
“Perverts and pedophiles. Boys and girls … and everyone else in between, welcome to the Ballad of Blasphemy,” announced a voice that definitely belonged to Tomas, “The lights are about to dim. The show is about to begin. Take thy front row seats … for the grand finale of dirty treats … The festival of the unclean … and the celebration of our evil and wanton … Dark Libertine …”
The poetic words seemed to only entice Angelica’s perverted curiosity. Her cunt was wet and open. Though she appeared to be alone … she felt as if she was being watched the entire time … like dozens of masturbating voyeurs staring at her nakedness. Willing her to do dirty, unthinkable things. It was intoxicating. She wanted to be stared at — to be watched. She approached the couch at the center of the semi-circle and sat down. The red velvet beneath her thighs felt sensually damp beneath her naked thighs (which smelt of urine and spent semen).
Tomas found himself naked in a darkened theater setting.
There were low couches arranged around the front of the low-curved-stage that was covered in red drapes. Tomas followed the sound of Angelica’s voice as it announced that the “show” was about to start and that he should take a front row seat. He did. The place was dank and smelt funky. There was a sound, much like a chime and then the red velvet curtains began to roll back.
Everything in the theater plunged into complete darkness, until a narrow spotlight shone down on a single delicate figure in the center of the stage. A small ballerina. The ballerina was dressed in a short white teal tutu with white ribbon-pointe shoes. The stage floor beneath the dancer seemed to be cover with shiny black plastic sheeting that shimmered in the lights. The ballerina sat elegantly with a bowed head before the audience of one.
Tomas gasped as suddenly something from below the seat touched his stiff cock. He looked down to see the face of a small naked boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight. The boy coyly began to pleasure Tomas with his small hands and mouth. He seemed reluctant, but still his warm mouth engulfed Tomas’ cock head. And his fingers were obviously very practiced at pleasuring adults.
“Aaarghhhh …” groaned Tomas response to the boy’s masturbatory efforts.
The music began.
Tomas immediately recognized the music as the final scene from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The fairy-like ballerina began to move so elegantly. Tomas’ eyes were drawn to the flowing and gracefulness of the ballerina that looked about eleven, maybe twelve years old. In a flurry pirouettes and fouettés; Tomas noticed the androgynous nature of the effeminate performer who was completely naked beneath the waistline. Despite the overly feminine appeal, Tomas could see his small flaccid cock immediately beneath the tutu. Tomas’ cock throbbed in the warm mouth that engulfed his cock; while small fingers gently stroked his sinful flesh.
The classical music began to become more dramatic — sharper and more urgent.
From the wings of the stage, the ballerina was suddenly surprised by three more performers. They were dressed like little dark creatures — somewhat devilish in their appearance. Tomas liked their rather androgynous appearance. They all wore sheer black tights upon their dainty legs; with small horns upon their heads and black demonic masks that just concealed their eyes. Their narrow chests were left completely bare — displaying what looked like small breasts, that were no more than little cones, each crowned with dark walnut-sized nipples. Though distinctly feminine — these devil dancers moved aggressively and threatening around the little ballerina. They looked a little older than the ballerina, maybe they were thirteen or fourteen.
The devil dancers pranced around and around in a big whirling circle. They seemed hell bent on terrorizing their tiny prey. Tomas noticed how their bulging erections pocked outwards against the thin translucent material of their tights. They thrust back and forth, vulgarity to the darkly oppressive music. As they circled around the poor little ballerina, as the tiny chagrin character cowed in panic and looked around desperate to escape their attention.
Another figure joined the group of devil dancers. Dressed similarly to the others, Tomas recognized the last of the devils as Angelica behind her evil mask. Her long flowing red hair seemed to accent her white paleness, flat chest and narrow boyish hips. Upon her head she wore large curved horns. And poking outwards from her groin was the most enormous of strapless dildos — It protruded upwards from her cunt hole — Her presence on stage seemed to inspire the young devil dancers to pursue the ballerina around the stage, faster and faster — in a relentless decaying circle.
Losing any gracefulness in a flurry of movement; the devil dancers tore at their own stockings, so that their erect cocks stood outwards for all to see. Each had a thick black-cock ring around their boy-sized endowments.
They then descended upon the ballerina, tearing away the delicate white tutu, as they pushed the ballerina to the ground. The stark naked ballerina lay face-up on the black plastic sheets — falling awkwardly — the devil dancers seemed sadistic as they all began to urinate over the ballerina, soaking him in their sour yellow piss.
Even from the edge of the stage, Tomas could smell the urea from their delicious hot, salty urine. He licked his lips at the sight of the three golden torrents of boy piss that splashed over their unwilling victim.
The piss wet ballerina tried to avoid their piss streams, but with little success. Tried to stagger to his feet, the devil dancers grabbed him by the arms and pulled his fragile form to the very front of the stage — immediately before Tomas — who groaned in pleasure and looked on excitedly with anticipation.
Angelica, with her horse-like appendage, joined her devil dancers. She stared through the thin eye holes directly at Tomas. Tomas stared back. It was as if they were communicating without words. Recognizing their evil little dream … where there could be no consequences for their actions. He nodded to her. She screeched in perverted delight. Two of the young devil dancers held the ballerina firmly, as the other kissed Angelica’s mouth wildly as he masturbated and rubbed himself against her strapless cock.
Was it a trick of the light? As Tomas looked on, he could swear that it was if the dildo was made of flesh. Her flesh. No longer did it appear to be artificial — now it looked as if it was literally part of her — not just inserted in her cunt, but literally part of her strange new demonic anatomy. She was no longer human. No longer female. She no longer had a cunt. In the devil’s domain she was a succubus shemale with a serpent of a cock.
Now the devil dancers forced the struggling wet ballerina to kneel down, awaiting for the succubus to rape his pathetic little anus. The succubus gripped his tiny shoulders and pressed the tip of her impossibly long cock against his tiny virgin hole. Finally realizing his fate, the ballerina struggled even harder, but to little or no effect. Obviously this was not part of the choreography … not any part that the ballerina had practiced. He began to scream, but this only heightened the excitement of the audience of one; as well as his succubus rapist.
Soon the succubus’ demented cock was buried half way up the ballerina’s tight shit hole. His boy looked limp. Dancing unconsciously to the thumping beat, in perfect timing to the merciless thrusts of the evil succubus.
“Fuck yer,” croaked Tomas, almost overcome with arousal.
A dream with no consequences. Tomas viciously grabbed the head of the young boy, who had been pleasuring him between his open thighs. Tomas gripped him so tightly that the boy began to squeal like a little piglet.
But the sounds of his opposition were drowned out by the thumping evil music. Tomas was already too far gone and cared nothing for the boy’s struggles. Half standing and half sitting — he violently fucked the boy’s face and gagging throat — matching the rhythm of the succubus on stage. The succubus stood up, lifted the boy’s weightless little body upwards. The boy’s torn body fell limply against the chest of the succubus. Fully impaled upon her rock hard shecock, she began to dance wildly, with the masturbating devils as they feverishly stroked themselves towards orgasm.
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