DEVIL’S HOLLOW

Feature Writer: Encolpius / [email protected]

Feature Title: DEVIL’S HOLLOW

Published: 01.02.2021

Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Young, Pregnant, Orgy

Disclaimer: This story contains elements of theistic Satanism. No offense is intended to people who are Satanists.

Author’s Notes: Feedback is appreciated. Write to [email protected] / Remember that Nifty needs your help! Hit the donate button!

Devil’s Hollow

A girl. Just turned thirteen. She is in the center of a circle in the woods, lit by the fire of torches around the perimeter. Behind her are the priestesses. The first rank of the circle surrounding her are all men. Young boys, barely pubescent, to men, full grown. They are hard, erect. They wait in greedy anticipation. They are white hot in anticipation.

Her name is Mara.

She was conceived here just this way, by her mother who was also conceived here in this way. She is a priestess behind her. Her grandmother, her great grandmother and unbroken line. At thriteen, they were here. If she doesn’t get pregnant this time, there will be another. And another. Until she did. Part of her wants it to be this time. It is Samhain and any child born on a holy day must surely serve the Lord Satan best. But part of her wants it to take a while. She is looking forward to it. The fevered pitch of it. A great dam of lust and heat and uncontrolled ecstasy exploding. All the lust in the world descending on them. She can feel it. The hunger. The desire. The need. The ceremonies are all sexual, of course. The Lord Satan is best honored carnally. But this fever is overwhelming.

Her great grandmother reads the words, makes the incantation. Not even sixty but she looks far younger.

Her mother and grandmother disrobe her. They will tend to the foreplay. But just the sight of her firm young breasts, her nipples hard, a rounded mound of flesh and her broad hips and the hairy bush of her pussy raises the temperature of the circle. The men grow hornier. She can feel it. The women touch and squeeze her breasts. A hand goes to her crack, a finger in her slit. She is all ready wet. Wet from the anticipation.

They put her on the ground. There are hands on her. Hands on her tits. Hands on her pussy. Soft wet lips kiss her, tongues meet. Her mother, women she has known all of her short life. But she is not bound by any morality. Not here, not now. There is no law. There is no evil. A hand on her clit. A finger in her pussy. Mara shivers. It feels good. She is hungry and she wants it. Her mother pushes her legs back and apart and gets on her muff, licking and sucking her. Mara sighs and leans her head back, arching her back in sensual luxury of being pleasured. She has to squeeze her own tits, play with her own nipples.

The heat in the circle is building to overwhelming. Men and boys are stroking their erections, waiting for the signal and they will devour her. The younger kids around the circle watch in fascination as the older kids and the young men are washed in a fever of pure lust. They don’t feel that but the little boys, naked, are hard and they crane their necks to see. The women in the community openly masturbate themselves, adding to the heat.

It is Samhain. If she conceives, it will be special.

The dam breaks. The men rush forward as the women retreat. It is feral. It is animalistic There is no order. The strong rule. Younger boys, barely able to ejaculate but proud of their status in the first rank, fight for their place but the younger men are too strong. They are roughly shoved aside. The young men are strong, muscular, raging with testosterone, insatiable. They fight, punch, claw their way to the girl.

One wins. He is first. He rams his hard dick into her wet pussy and starts to fuck her hard. It is savage. He is burning. He roughly grabs her tits and pounds her box. He cannot care if she is pleasured. He needs relief. But she is. Mara lets out a scream, a cry of ecstasy. It is everything she had thought it would be, All those nights masturbating thinking about this night. He fucked her hard and she longed for the next one and the next one and the one after that. Behind, him the melee continued, men fighting to be the next alpha male.

When he came, when he unloaded in her, he was shoved violently out of the way for the next. And he was no more gentle. As he fucked her, a few of the men dropped out. Too overheated, they had shamed themselves by masturbating out their seed, standing over her and dropping it on her naked body. The rest were even more frantic. Their needs were only growing stronger and hotter.

Another one fucked her. And then another. Whatever they were at other times — sons and partners and fathers — now they were wild beasts. It was with the third one fucking her that Mara had her first orgasm. She almost blacked out at the power of the feeling sweeping over her. Her second was with the fifth one. Her third was with the sixth, a beautiful lean boy with golden hair in curls, a boy she had seen before and lusted after briefly — and many of the men and boys she knew — and he entered her but not savage and brutal and hard. Sensual. He had a look on concentration on his face as he devoured her and she was weeping pussy juice as he did. She wanted him to fuck her forever. She massaged her clit and called out to the Lord Satan as he did, shivering and gasping for air on the beauty of the orgasm.

Finally it was over. The last of them had done it and that a small boy who had not caught his growth. She was battered and bruised. A dozen orgasms later. She carried the semen of five dozen men. Only one sperm had to find it’s way to the egg, just one. And it was the golden haired boy’s that did. She hadn’t said anything at first when she missed her periods – she wasn’t regular anyway — but the women knew.

“A child conceived on Samhain. Oh, Lord Satan, what if it’s a boy?” her mother said out loud.

“All the better for us,” her great grandmother said.

On the purple and gold plains of Hell stands a palace of white marble and a kaleidoscope of color. It was there in the lush central courtyard, as the Demons of Hell stood crowded around, the Lord Satan pushed his own member into his consort, Lilith. His sister, his wife, himself. They watched him, witnesses. She would conceive, of course. That was the point. The Lord Satan could devour that which he wished. Whenever. And that was frequent. He burned with lust. He had an enormous need. But the pleasure he took, he gave. In all things, what he demanded, he returned. But this was special. They peaked and orgasmed together, two spirits in one, knowing and feeling the other, inseparable.

And it was done.

Mara was just beginning to show when she met Lilith by a stream in the woods. She would get up early and walk. At first, the morning sickness had been awful but it had lately given way and she enjoyed a peaceful walk from her home down to the river, roaring through the rapids and rocks as it poured down the mountain to link up with another and become a great river. The Indians called it Ostagulya, at least the map makers said, and it coursed its way through the hollow but the people that lived along it called it the River Saklas. The hollow extended a mile or two between the mountains on either side of the river for a twenty-five miles length. Mara was drawn to the sacred wood in the middle portion of the hollow, near her home.

The other girl was beautiful, red haired and fiery red eyes. She didn’t hide herself from Mara.

“I am Lilith,” she said.

Mara fell to her knees. It was a sacred visitation. The manifestation of the great God had been revealed to her.

“I am your friend. We are making the journey together,” she said, “We can share everything.”

They met everyday. Each stage along the way, they went through together. At the quickening, each felt the baby of the other move. Mara told no one of her visits. She supposed she should but she felt special and she hid the truth. The midwife was surprised when there were two girls in labor at the same time but the priestesses were not. They knew. Two girls, sweating and calling in pain, labored together. At the same time, they gave birth. Mara had a baby girl. Lilith, a boy.

Only for a minute. The small room of the old house at the edge of the wood, two girls had labored and brought into the world two children. But then as everyone turned away for a second, there was one. One mother, one baby. A boy.

He was named Aamon.

For all her lust of him, the boy with the golden hair was seen no more. It was as if he never existed at all. No one, not even Mara, could call his name and soon forgot his existence. He had no family, no one to speak his name or remember his face or manner. But another girl with flaming red hair, saw him walking down a lonely county lane in the pines barrens of the small town in the sweltering mugginess of the Coastal Plain, walking toward her house. She was alone in the summer, in her thirteenth year, and she saw him from afar. When he turned and walked up the way, past the mailbox and to the house to ask for some water, her heart raced. She was excited. She got him the water, her hands trembling. He was so beautiful. He smiled and her heart melted.

The deed was done against the back wall of the house in the clear daylight. Done urgently and passionately. He drove himself into her virginal box and unloaded. She hid that she missed her period. Then when she missed a second, she was terrified. She hid it when she missed a third. But soon there was no hiding it. Her father, a Holiness preacher, sent her to live with relatives in the city and when she gave birth, the twins, a boy and a girl, with her flaming red hair, they were given away for adoption.

The boy with golden hair was in a pure white room, gleaming and almost painful. A young man, beautiful beyond compare, entered through an unseen door.

“All has been done. Master,” he said.

Satan smiled and nodded. “I am grateful to you Malphas. We will see as to the result.”

CHAPTER ONE

Paul Marcion turned off the two lane road, just outside the small town of Nebro, into the overgrown yard of a small whitewashed old church. He pulled around to the back and centered up the camper that they were going to live in until they could make the parsonage livable.. His wife and three kids piled out of the crew cab truck and took looking at the small church.

“It doesn’t look like anybody’s used it in a while” His wife Jena said.

“No” he replied . They had driven through the small community and he had noticed that there wasn’t the usual collection of Methodist and Church of God churches. It seemed that it wasn’t only the Baptists that had trouble getting a foothold in the hollow. “It doesn’t. But that’s why the Home Mission Board sent us. We’ll be warriors for Christ in this little valley.”

He sounded braver than he felt. They had crossed the bridge over the River Saklas and Paul had seen below a quartet of older teen boys or younger men, in perfect masculine form, diving into the water, naked. He couldn’t linger to look for fear of driving off the bridge. But other than that and the absence of church steeples, the town was pretty. Many of the houses were Victorian or craftsman era, some seemingly from the Sears catalog but well maintained and there were no mobiles. It lacked the obvious poverty of the rest of Appalachia.

“It is beautiful,” she said.

Framed by rounded mountains a mile distant, it had the untouched beauty of the Appalachians. It was a warm summer day and the kids had the summer to get used to their new lives before school started. The eldest, Trip, was leading his younger brother and sister around exploring. He was nearly as tall as Paul was but lanky, running toward skinny. Even though he was a good boy, he had become a bit moody and Paul reflected that life in the camper would be hardest for him. Boys at fourteen sometimes need a bit of privacy to do what they need to. Just for a moment, an image flashed across Paul’s mind of his son stroking his long fourteen year old hairy dick and shooting out gobs of white milky cum. He had to banish that idea from his head. He was prone to linger on it.

Ben trooped after Trip as they explored the edge of the woods at the back of the lot. Rachel held back a bit. Ben hero worshiped Trip, much to the older boy’s annoyance but he was also a mischievous and an all ready rebellious boy at twelve. Paul told Trip to bear up and remember that it could be worse but Trip had sullenly reminded his father that it wasn’t like they were his real brother and sister. The difference between them was stark. Trip, like Paul, was black haired, fair skinned and blue eyed. The twins were so obviously adopted that no one even asked., red haired, green eyed and freckled. Paul thought idly to himself that if Trip was plastic and malleable, one that would rebel tamely and then dutifully line up for his received lot — and Paul entered notions of full time Christian service for him — the twins were not. Rachel was quietly stubborn and Ben gather more loudly.

The building hadn’t been used for a while. There were boxes stacked in there like someone was using it for storage and the paint was peeling. There was graffiti everywhere. The building definitely needed maintenance. Paul was disappointed and felt overwhelmed. Jena came up to where he was standing at the doorway and put her hands around his hips and told him that they would get it sorted. He gave a thin smile. A missionary was sent a decade ago but clearly nothing remained of his efforts. It was so strange, a small community in Appalachia and no Baptist church. No church of any sort it seemed.

The next day was the first work day and Paul drafted the kids into helping. They began by tackling the junk inside, tossing it all out and taking it to the landfill. They had almost a first load when Paul realized that he didn’t know where the dump was. Google was no help. Google Maps had barely heard of Nebro. In fact, it was almost as if the valley didn’t exist as far as the internet was concerned. He headed toward the truck with the kids inside the cab when he turned back to the church trying to remember something he had forgotten. There was a boy sitting on the steps that had not been there before. He was golden hair, fair skin, lightly bronzed with piercing blue eyes and quite handsome. He was the age Trip was, clearly young and beardless but not gawky and struggling to find where his hands and feet ended. He got up and walked toward Paul with natural grace.

“Hi! You fixing up the church?” the boy asked. Paul crooked his head and said he was, “It’s been a long time since anybody used it. Not since Preacher Joe.”

“When was that?”

“Dunno. A while,” Paul knew it was a decade before, when he would have been a small boy.

“I’m Aamon.”

“Paul Marcion,” he said sticking out his hand formally to shake. The boy had a large strong hand and a firm handshake, “You want to come with us to the dump? You can give us directions.”

“Sure,” he said, “Like Martian?”

It was an old joke to Paul and he gently corrected the boy.

In the truck, he made Trip give up the front seat for Aamon -which Trip did grudgingly – but Aamon was more interested in the kids in the back seat than in giving directions. But he got them there and they unloaded, Aamon making a game out of it. By the time they got back, he made fast friends with all three of them. Paul decided they would take out the pews so that the inside could get washed down in preparation for repainting. Inside and out there was a mass of graffiti. He had privately confided to Jena that a lot of them were Satanic symbols.

Aamon and Trip did most of the lifting and lugging out. But Aamon made it fun and all the kids were laughing. As it grew time for the evening meal, the boy joined in with them, bowing his head as they prayed.

“You live near here?” Trip asked.

Aamon shrugged, “In the woods. It’s a cabin. Sometimes with my mom but not always. It’s good. People bring me things and I do things for them. It’s fun.”

“You live in the woods?” Jena asked, “By yourself?”

“There are other people that live in the woods too. Mostly men, though. Some girls. It’s not near here though. They live deep in the woods and they don’t come out to town much. But they’re my friends. I know. I can show Trip where it is now and then you can all come and visit me after church on Sunday.”

“Can I Mom?” Trip asked.

“He won’t get lost. I promise. It’s not far at all.”

“I suppose. Just be back by dark.”

There was no path into the woods but about ten feet in was an old barbed wire fence, the posts half falling down. Aamon ducked in through a small opening and Trip followed him, getting his shirt caught as he did. Aamon came back and got him untangled. A few feet inside the fence was a depression like a dried up stream bed and Aamon took off walking down it, talking away. Then there was a open space in the trees and Aamon led him across it down a narrow path through the underbrush. After a time, that path interescted with another and they took off down it.

“You are a lot deeper in the woods than you think,” Aamon said, “And down there is a very special place but I live over there.”

That took them down another path and across a small stream. The woods were thick and dark at the point and Trip had no sense of how to get back or even whether it was still light or dark or not. Aamon was unconcerned. The path, now broadened out, took a giant curve and Trip could see a one hundred yards distant to a cabin.

“Count to a one hundred slowly and then walk, don’t run to the cabin. I’ll be there,” Aamon said, bolting toward the cabin.

Trip did what the boy said. A slow count to a hundred and he walked toward the cabin. There was an outhouse away from the cabin and a well on the other side, well away. Getting there, he cautiously opened the door. The inside was lit with a flickering oil lamp that didn’t throw off much light.

There was a girl naked.

“Come in,” she said.

She went up to Trip and started kissing him. He had never kissed anyone that way before. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty. Confused by who she was, part of him wanted to flee immediately. Run away. But he was frozen there. Kissing her. Wild thoughts crossed his mind at lightning speed. Where was Aamon? Who is she? But he kissed her anyway and her hand went down to his crotch. He was incredibly hard down there, far harder than when he hurriedly pleasured himself in the night. It was literally throbbing. It was uncomfortable and he wanted to be free of the clothes that bound him, wanted to be naked and pressed up against her. Inside of her.

He was shy but he moved up and squeezed her titty. Soft and spongy but firm too. It was amazing. The nipple was hard, pointing out. He broke off from kissing her. and leaned down to suck on the nipple. She moaned. Then she purred as he flicked the hard nipple with his tongue. Trip as so hard and horniness was flowing over him. The lust was driving him. He was scared and his heart was racing. He wanted to run and he wanted to throw her down and ravish her.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, “Let me see you.”

Staring at her, he pulled off his T shirt and undid his shorts. His boxers showed a big bulge from his hard cock. He was a little embarrassed naked. He was skinny, flat chested and flat bellied but some lingering baby fat and everything was out of proportion and awkward. She reached over and slowly pulled down her boxers. His dick was no more than average length and girth and he had a nearly full bush, untrimmed, and hairy balls.

“Where is Aamon?” he asked.

“Open your mind to me and you will have perfect pleasure. Concentrate on us right now,” she said,

He was breathing heavily. He wanted her so bad. He reached down to stroke himself but she gently guided his hand away. She put a finger in his mouth and he sucked on it and then she ran that wet finger down his torso and eased herself down, kneeling in front of him. She took a hold of it and swallowed the whole cock down, her nose in his pubic hair, his balls against her chin. That warm wet mouth on that sensitive dick and he thought he would cum right then. He was the very edge of an orgasm. But then it was like somebody dialed it back. He was taken back from the edge. It was intensely pleasurable but it seemed as if that pleasure could go on forever.

Her tongue swirled around his dick and she rubbed it up against the piss vein. Then around the head. Her mouth went up and down on the thick hard shaft, rigid like steel, coming up to the head, her tongue flicking just underneath the slit, His whole body shivered as the intense pleasure of it as she kissed his cock head hard, sucking on it. He was frozen but wanted to just grab her had and drive himself into her mouth. He was too shy and for a split second fought the notion but then it almost seemed as if an outside force had given him permission. He held her head and face fucked her.

She took it. No gagging. She was rubbing on her clit as she did, squeezing her tit with her other hand. He thought he could do this, ram it into her mouth and unload there but was being held back. Not held back from the lust and horniness, which were overpowering, but from the release. In that moment he could smell her, her intoxicating scent. Then she put a hand on his crotch and slowly stood up, Pressed against him, she kissed him again.

“Taste me,” she said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

Trip went down to a crotch and put his face in her crotch, smelling her earthy scent, her musky smell. Hesitantly. he licked his tongue between the skin flaps of her slit, the wetness o this tongue adding to the wetness of her pussy.

“Taste me,” she moaned, “Eat me!”

Emboldened, he buried his face in her crotch. He felt more masculine than he had ever felt before, a dominant and powerful being. He wanted her pussy. Wanted her to shiver and shake. He was becoming an animal without conscious thought. He tasted her and it tasted good. The scent and feel of pussy on his tongue felt right and perfect. His hardness and his throbbing need shut out everything.

“Fuck me,” she said.

He stood and pushed her against a wall and grabbed his dick to shove it in from the back side. She had to reach back and help him but then he slide it into her tight, wet, slick hole. He had never felt anything more amazing that that in his whole life. A hot pussy around his bare dick and Trip felt like a man. She was bent slightly over and he reached around and grabbed her firm tits and he fucked her, the instinct of manhood kicking in, driving his cock into her. He could only concentrate on that. On the sex. It was so amazing, so erotic and dirty and taboo and he knew he was disappointing his parents and that only made it hotter. It made him hornier to know that he shouldn’t. That they wouldn’t approve.

“Mmmmmm,” she purred, “Give me your lust!”

He grabbed her by the hips and held her, pushing her back onto his cock as he piled it into her. He fucked her rapidly, no control over his lust now. He gave in to it completely. It was slap, slap, slap of bodies coming together and the moaning and the groaning and whimpering cries as she massaged her clit from the front as he gave it from behind.

“Oh God!” Trip called out and rammed it in one more time, unloading in her.

It was by far the greatest sensation he had ever felt He kept his hard dick in her as it softened after cumming, reluctant to break the spell of it. Then he pulled it out and his dick dripped semen. Then they kissed, slower, sensual. He was comfortable now being naked with her.

“You’ll never be the same after this,” she said.

“I don’t want to be the same,” Trip answered, “This was incredible. I want to do this again. I want to see you, not just for sex but …”

She shrugged, “Life and reality aren’t what you think they are.”

Reluctantly, he dressed. He looked around for Aamon and asked about him but she ignored him. Finally, he was dressed and Trip again said that he wanted to come see her again.

“Go that way and think about home, The forest will get you there,” she said.

He was even more reluctant to leave the cabin but it was pitch dark, the full moon rising above the canopy of trees. He knew he was in trouble. His Mom had said to be back before dark. He walked down one path and then turned and walked down another. He recognized none of it but came up the dry stream bed and crossed it. Once he got past the fence, he saw the bright light on the other side of the tree line. He emerged from the woods just a few feet from where he entered in the late afternoon sun. He want back to the camper.

“That didn’t take long. You were only gone ten minutes” she said, cleaning up.”

“Yeah, it’s not far.”

“Is he coming back tomorrow, you think. He can be our first convert. We can baptize him,” she said.

She was happier than Trip ever remembered seeing her. Quietly in the night, careful not to disturb anybody, he masturbated remembering it, searing the experience in his mind. Then, as he slept, he relived it again as a wet dream.

THE END